________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 20 April 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade into the IIWF backdrop. A lone chair sits in the middle of the scene. In limps the reigning IIWF heavyweight champion of the world, Steve "The Fury" Kowalski. With a crutch under his left arm, Steve thumps down. The New Jersey Nightmare drops the crutch to the side and starts...] SK: Petrow, Petrow Petrow. Need to steal that spotlight again? Those tag straps aren't as prominent as ya thought? Or is 4M becomin' four times the bull[BLEEP] ya are? When this broken-ass sonuva bitch took everything that land o' the risin' sun reject could dish out an' still come out on top... Ya realized somethin'. Ya realized that doin' charity work fer jobbers has set yer career back a year. The last productive thing ya done in the past year was get rid of Quigley. But I guess... I guess yer startin' to believe yer own line of [BLEEP] at this point. The taste of gold can do that to a man. I know. Four times a champ later, I still shovel it hard an' heavy. Or is it ya gotta bitter taste in yer mouth from the Birthday Bash match. Ya got the 'W'. Thumbs up to ya. But even in winnin' ya still lost an' I guess it still bothers ya. Stings doesn't it. Workin' yer ass of an' getting knocked back down? Well, we jus' come full circle. From top to bottom, we're both gotten gold. But as ya found out. It ain't never 'nuff. So what'cha say? Too full to swallow yer pride an' dance... one last time? I ain't never ducked ya, Joe. An' I never will. Ya can dodge in the tags all ya want or ya can come out of hidin' an' see if ya really champion material. My sched's open. I'll be waitin' fer yer answer. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The usual Sychopath post-card tailgate party proceeds as usual...far off in the distance. In a slightly quieter section outside the IIWF Coliseum, "Mr. Majestyk" walks along, holding his sleeping son Conor, flanked by "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, both dressed in normal clothes, yet both wearing their IIWF tag team title belts, gleaming slightly under the glow of the street lights. Away from the riff-raff of the gang party, a slightly more sombre, serious tone is cast on the talk.] 4M: Joe... I mean, I don't know what to say. There you were, confronted with all those painful memories of your girlfriend and your son. And not only did you pull it all together, you actually went out and reunited me with my son. I can't thank you enough... you're one amazing guy. JP: Thanks for thinking so. Hearing you say that, it almost makes me wish that story was true. 4M: Well I... [stops dead in his tracks] WHAT?! [The sleeping Conor starts in stir in Maurice's arms. Realising this, he hoists him up again, and lowers his voice.] 4M: What? JP: Nah. Never happened. No such girlfriend, no such kid. Sychosys came about because I got my ass kicked real bad and I wanted to make sure it never happened again. [Maurice stands dumbfounded, as Joe continues to speak to the camera.] JP: Gunnar Gaines. I know pain. I am a master at suffering, both my own and others. I know the difference between real pain and fake pain. And I knew your story was a load of crap right away. But I figured I could use that to my advantage. And what happened? Three of the top six ranked wrestlers and the fastest-rising star in the business today in the ring at the same time. In an IIWF _tag_ team title match. A ringer match if there ever was one. Not for the singles title, but the tags. What does _that_ tell you about the importance of these belts now? You guys put up a good fight. Still, we had you beat, and you know it. It's just a shame that the tag teams in this league can't police themselves. It seems that they know they won't defeat us. Ever. So they try to do what has been to the world singles title: reduce its value to nothing. But never let it be said that we aren't trying to do something about it. From now on, we have a standing offer for "Locked Door Rules" for any title defence that Team Sychosys makes. If you got the guts to take us on straight up, we'll do our part to make it happen. Still, there's only so much we can do. Prostates, we wanna give you a shot as soon as possible. Hell, we even asked to give you a shot this _Wednesday_. But the reply we got was that you guys are more entertaining when you are picketing. So I guess you guys really are valuable to the company in your own special way. Bottom line breakdown: Down Boys, we want the satisfaction of pinning your ass in the ring. Prostates, we wanna shut you up once and for all. Predators... well, you've had plenty of shots already, you get in line and wait your turn like good little boys. And we'll process everyone else out there just as fast as the system will allow. Oh, must not forget little Steve Kowalski. Not much to say though. Just get used to craving things you will never have. Like honour. Like respect. Like having the satisfaction of successfully defending the IIWF World's Heavyweight Championship against Joe Petrow. You couldn't keep that other belt from me, no reason this would be any different. Just remember. When you think you know the questions... I change the answers. [Joe walks away, a smug expression on his face. Maurice has stood watching the whole time, unsure exactly how to feel. Finally, he walks off after Joe. Parting words are heard off-camera.] 4M: Joe, I think you shouldn't be working your own partner like that! JP: When did I say I _wasn't_ a low-down sun of a bitch? [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: A locker room area in the back stage of the IIWF Colosseum. The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, blood and sweat trickling down his forehead, most of the paint smudged away from his face, paces about like a restless, caged animal. After several moments he whips around and faces the camera, a strange combination of anger and exultation -- an expression of emotion, perhaps, that could only be felt by a deranged man -- painting a picture of intensity upon his face.] TM: Another night of mayhem in the IIWF. Another night comes crashing down under the thunder storm of chaos that I weave. You can make up all the laws you want, you can station an army of vigilantes at ringside, you can etch the rulebooks in stone... it doesn't mean a damn to me. Because it is never enough. It never will be enough. There is not a force on this Earth capable of containing the Enigma. A fire burns within me for which no quench exists. It is the fire of chaos. It comes to a man when there is nothing left for him in this world; when he has suffered such pain that he no longer sees as other men see; when his gaze pierces the false images we surround ourselves with -- law, order, compassion, morality -- and recognises the true nature of things... the seething river of eternal discontent; the ruthless dance of fate; the one constant in the entire history of this unfortunate accident we call a universe... Chaos. Can any man hold this vision before him and retain his sanity? It is enough to drive many men of lesser will to their own destruction, but in the mind of a strong and ruthless man, in the mind of a man such as myself, it is merely the impetus for a transformation; the unravelling of reason and sanity; an overthrowing of everything human beings have held dear hitherto. I no longer hold any ideals or values. I care for nothing upon this world or beyond. I seek only to wreak unholy havoc and hell upon all of the meek, unknowing fools around me... and I take pleasure in the carnage. Destruction is the only mantle left for me to embrace. When such a fire rages in the soul of one man, it overflows and vents upon the world like the flood of a volcano. Is their any code of law, or any force of mankind, that can withstand such intensity? Demonstrate it to me, and I will tear it into bloody shreds. An iron will such as my own, fused with the fires of chaos, places me beyond the mere grasp of humanity. I have become something else altogether. Something almost... Inhuman. [Abruptly, Musashi flings himself around, and with a bloodcurdling war cry, lashes out with a savate kick to a locker close at hand. The blow is delivered to the steel hard and unflinching, yet Musashi demonstrates no outward symptoms of pain as he lashes out again and again until the locker crumples up like a tin can. The frenzy complete for the moment, Musashi turns back to the camera.] Serge Annis, you made me laugh tonight. I enjoyed your feeble efforts to offset the anarchy I have set in motion. It will amuse me greatly to toy with you, to inflict a little suffering upon your skull... to draw out the agony you experience before crushing you with finality beneath the weight of the apocalypse within me. Did it make you feel noble, perhaps, to take upon your shoulders the illusion of law and order? Did you enjoy the feeling of warmth when all the little people, the cowards and harmless sheep in the audience, the ones who made you a misfit and an outcast all of your life, finally took you in as one of their own? Did you learn a little something of compassion? Human companionship? Such are the pre-occupations of feeble minds possessed by the weak. Such things are of no consequence to the Enigma. They never have been, and they never will... At last, Serge Annis, you have been unveiled. You are no man of violence and action. You are no warrior infused with blood lust and berserk spirit. All your life, you have never been anything more than a coward who looked up at the mediocre mass of humanity and wished you could become a part of it... but you never could fit in no matter how much you tried. I have never been a part of humanity, but I've never desired to be. I've always been destined for greater things. You, Serge Annis, are merely a misfit, a mental defect, a less than imperfect creation. You had to put on a big charade to impress those idiots in the stands. You made it look like you were a psychopath. Somebody to be feared. Now you lack even the strength to uphold this... "image". Gaze into my eyes, Serge Annis. Any others who may doubt me, look there also... [At this, the camera begins to close in on Musashi's face. There is a gleam of frenzy in those eyes; an unhinged intensity. It is almost indefinable, but unmistakably there... the ruthlessness, the cold fearlessness, the tension before the explosion of violence, the look that makes you avoid the stranger on the midnight train... the window of madness.] Gaze into my eyes, and you will witness the difference between "image" and "substance". There is no falsehood in what I project to the world. I have never been anything less than honest. I forge no "angles" to fool the crowds and make myself out to be something that I am not. I am no gimmick. I relish in every bone I break; in every act of violence and destruction I unleash. Pure evil does exist in this world, and it is standing right before you... This is real, Serge Annis. That is where we differ. And that... my unfortunate, naive, foolish friend... shall undoubtedly be your downfall. This time, Serge Annis, you chose to meddle in the affairs of the wrong man. [After burning holes through the camera lens with his gaze for several moments, Musashi abruptly seems to calm a little, and perhaps, something of the old focused, clear minded Enigma surfaces.] Steve Kowalski, our battle is not yet done. A warrior's challenge still stands between us. Soon enough... our time will come. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Caleb Temple ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. A familiar figure stands, back to the camera, head bowed, although he is a newcomer to _this_ particular arena. We hear the figure inhale deeply, and his shoulders rise and fall in time with the breath. The figure is Caleb Temple, who begins to speak his usual soft, Southern drawl.] CT: "To me belongeth vengeance, and recompense; their foot shall slide in due time: for the day of their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make haste." Deuteronomy 32:35. [He turns slowly around, and we see the man who almost captured the IIWF Tag Team title on his debut in the promotion. He is dressed in his customary street attire, sleeveless black t-shirt with a white cross emblazoned upon the heart, black jeans, black boots with three silver buckles, and fingerless black gloves. His dark hair hangs in long rat-tails over his pale face, and his muscular, tattooed arms hang loosely by his side.] CT: Oh, the day _SHALL_ come, of that you can most definitely be assured. Andrew and Duncan, you two have just made the most fundamental of errors. In crossing that line, in laying your soiled hands upon Caleb Temple and Gunnar Gaines, you have broken that which has come to be known as "Temple's Law". I'm sure you've already been introduced to "Grizzly's Law", which my friend Brother Gaines practices and preaches with such fervour. If not, then doubtless you _WILL_. But I'll leave the explanations of THAT particular verse to Brother Gaines himself. No, today I'd like to talk to you about "Temple's Law", Black Watch. [The slightest hint of a smile crosses his face, then disappears as quickly as it had formed.] CT: "Temple's Law" is the most basic principle of elementary violence. [He turns his back to the camera once more, and peels off his t-shirt, revealing the huge Crucifixion tattoo which covers his back. Below it, the words "Vengeance is Mine. Romans 12:19". He turns around to face the camera one final time.] CT: Try to comprehend the _true_ meaning of that verse, for it forms the very basis of what is known as "Temple's Law". Vengeance for the shunning of the Light I bring. For every man who chooses not to accept my testament, a lesson in fear and pain is to be learned. [He closes his eyes for a moment, and inhales deeply.] CT: Consider _this_ to be "Temple's Law"... "Those who turn away, will be turned _UPON_." [He chuckles softly to himself.] CT: Trust me. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: IIWF Coliseum. Empty as the camera pans across... until it comes to the second row, where Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines is seated, feet up on the row one chairbacks. He's munchin' something which appears to be a haggis -- some sort of Scottish concoction with heart and lungs boiled in a wee sheep's stomach. It's wrapped in paper that says "Haggis" on it in case the viewers at home can't figure it out. He munches with delight, then wipes off his chin with his shirt.] GGG: Welcome to another revealing episode of The Good, The Bad and the Ugly. Only I think I'll call this "The Dumb, The Dumber and the Just Plain Moronic." [Grizzly Grin -- for those who aren't tuned in, it's a wide, toothful, squinting grin with the chin tilted slightly forward] GGG: First off, the Dumb. Joe Petrow... putting those belts up was about the stupidest thing you could ever have done, because Mr. Temple and I had your ass. We abused both you _and_ your partner and basically did whatever the hell we wanted. You still have those straps, but it's not because of anything _YOU_ did. And you had to have known this would happen. After all... we're Gunnar "The Grizzly" Gaines and Caleb Temple. We're the Baddest Thangs Running. _Duhhhhhh!_ [Holds up two fingers] GGG: Second of all, Dumber. That's you, Bear! Now Kuyler Grayson and your partner, Mud Hen, knew well enough to hold ya back. They know you don't mess with me. But noooo... you had to come out and get your ass kicked by da Grizz. Funny thing is, you were just a pawn in Petrow's game. I told you he only put those belts up to protect himself but you didn't listen. Motivated by resentment that you _yourself_ can't get a damn shot to save yer pathetic life, you had to come out and be his pawn. And you even failed at _that_, son. Now go back to your cave, kiddo. Just because you're an ordinary _bear_ and I'm a Grizzly, _doesn't_ mean you have to come out again and get your ass kicked, yet _again_, by the Baddest Thang Running. [Grizzly Grin] GGG: Third of all, Just Plain Moronic. This is gonna be you, laddies. [He holds up his half-eaten Haggis. Focus on that image and... fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Black Watch ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A loud commotion can be heard approaching as the camera fades up on the IIWF interview area, and the studio door suddenly bangs open, sending crewmen and technicians scattering for cover as the Black Watch, Andrew and Duncan Macbeth, storm into the studio and square off in front of the camera. Andrew Macbeth, the elder cousin, is the picture of contempt, while the mercurial Duncan is positively boiling over with rage.] DM: Tha' was th' team tha' Spreadbury thought deserved a bleedin' title shot? THA' BLEEDIN' TRIPE? Gunnar tossin' Gaines, an' Caleb tossin' Temple? Wha' th' hell is this anyway, th' IIWF's Salute t' th' Cable TV Leagues Month? AM: Wheesht, cousin. [Andrew steps forward, his foreboding mass filling the frame as his steel-gray eyes glint with scorn.] Gaines an' Temple, or Baddest Stanks Reekin', or wha'e'er th' Jaysis yis call yuirselves, I'm sure yis had visions o' title belts dancin' in yuir wee pin-heids tonigh'. I'm sure yis thought yis could jus' walk in t' th' IIWF, an' in t' th' Black Watch's tag team division, throw aboot a wee bit o' tough talk aboot how yis were sae great back in th' Poughkeepsie Recreational Hardcore League or wheree'er, an' trick tha' moron Petrow in t' grantin' yis a shot. [Andrew breaks into a sly grin, and shakes his head, chuckling.] Och, we're sae, sae sorry t' tell yis this, laddies, but I'm afraid it's no' quite tha' simple. Tha' bollocks may work in th' bush leagues, but yis're in th' Double Eye now. [Duncan steps forward, glowering into the camera.] DM: Y'see, tossers, th' Black Watch decided... are ye listenin', Danny-boy? WE decided tha' yis were no' FIT t' be th' IIWF Tag Team Champions! Th' Black Watch were no' jus' goin' t' stand idly by, an' watch a pair o' overhyped eejits jump th' queue fer th' titles tha' will soon belong t' US. We OWN th' IIWF tag team division, Stanks. An' we DON'T allow squatters on our territory. AM: Machines, Harlequins, yis pack o' useless scunners... yis lot are jus' th' kind o' garbage tha' we're tryin' t' dispose of in th' IIWF. On th' one hand, ye've got tha' talentless Irish pipsqueak an' 'is big pet sissy, an' on th' other, th' two tired clowns-fer-hire whose collective I.Q.s make Valtharius look like a Rhodes scholar, an' who would hae been thrown out o' 'ere months ago if Danny-boy weren't bein' serviced daily by their two crumpets. We'll be dealin' wi' yis lot soon enough, mark me. DM: First, we've got those wee silky-boys, th' "Universal Arseprobe" an' "Sweetcheeks" t' bitch-slap 'round th' ring this Wednesday, wha'. AM: Aye, th' Freudian nightmares, in' th' oh-so-painstakingy-sculpted, waxed, an' oiled flesh. Th' proud defenders o' a culture tha' thinks buyin' a soiled pair o' girl's knickers oot o' a vendin' machine is perfectly normal behaviour. Thunderin' Jaysis, yuir kind make me SICK tae me bleedin' gut! Listen oop, yis bleedin' closet cases, 'cause I'm goin' t' take particular pleasure in messin' oop those pretty, pretty faces o' yuirs, before Duncan an' I tear yis each a new arsehole, sae yis'll have a bit more variety in yuir sex lives, aye! DM: An' yis'll be wantin' t' get rid o' all th' mirrors in yuir wee love-nest before Wednesday nigh', 'cause when we're done wi' yis, yis're goin' t' be bawlin' like th' wee girls yis ARE every time yis see yuir own reflections! An' yis'll have th' Black Watch t' thank fer yuir fine, rugged, manly new looks, wha'! [The Macbeth cousins break out in peals of raucous laughter, and turn away from the camera as they head for the exit. Andrew leaves the studio, but Duncan suddenly rushes back in, stepping right up to the camera and glaring into the lens.] DM: An' NorthPukes -- yis pathetic tosspot bush-league losers... We whipped yis like DOGS tonigh'. Now get th' [BLEEP] out o' th' IIWF. Or yis're goin' t' get SHIPPED out. Feet first. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Down Boys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera pans in on the IIWF backdrop with Dan Oliver and Adam Peterson sitting in folding chairs in front of it. Look familiar? Yeah, I thought so. Doesn't matter...] DO: A lot has happened over the past month or so. [Looks down at his black and white Discordiacs shirt] This. The World Tag Team Titles. Wins over The Natural Predators and the Harlequins. Losses to Team Sychosys and the Prophets of Rage. AP: Over that period of time, we've had a lot of fun. We've enjoyed every minute of being in this company. Dan Spreadbury brought us in when no one outside of Japan and Florida had ever heard of us. He took a risk, and I think it paid off for the both of us. DO: When we lost to the Predators and Petrow and McArthur, a lot of things went through our mind...namely, getting those tag belts back. We always wanted a shot, one on one against the mighty Petrow and his improving sidekick. Things got much worse after what Petrow did to Moxy. AP: We wanted...vengeance. The fun was gone. All we wanted to do was win. We didn't give a damn about entertaining the fans...we just wanted the belts and our pride back. DO: Hell, look what we did to the Natural Predators. We jumped them. That's SO not our style. But we were busting our asses, entertaining the fans, and the fun wasn't enough for us. We, admittedly, got jealous. AP: So to the Predators...we apologise. DO: Looking around the IIWF now, it's becoming more and more evident to us that maybe the Down Boys aren't exactly needed here. I'm not gonna say why I feel this way, but by looking around, I just get that feeling. AP: When we entered the IIWF eight months ago, there were like five tag teams here. We came in along with the Predators. Now, there's twelve, not including us. I'd like to kinda think we gave a rebirth to the tag team division in the IIWF. DO: We're not sure if that was because we made it interesting, or if people were just saying "hey, if they can do it, why can't we?" AP: Very true, but nonetheless, major stars seem focused on tag team wrestling now, whether it be Duncan Macbeth or Joe Petrow. DO: Now, where does that leave us? Well, I don't think it leaves us in the IIWF anymore. We're committed until the next Pay-Per-View, and we have no problem with that, but it's going to be a little different. AP: We're not going to be bitter like others have seemed to make us want to be. We're not going to be vengeful. We're gonna be the old Down Boys... the ones who had fun, and who made tag team wrestling interesting for everyone but Steve Roberts. DO: Sure, we're due a title shot, but that's not up to us. That's up to Joe Petrow and Maurice McArthur. We're putting our names on the line for an open contract...ever heard of the Down Boys and want to give yourselves an opportunity to beat us? No problem, go right ahead. We'll wrestle anyone, and have a damn good time doing it. AP: I mean hell, what have you got to lose? If you win, you beat the Down Boys by pinfall...and the only time that's ever been done cleanly in the IIWF. If you lose, well, you can just bitch to the sheets that you only lost because we were leaving. DO: HOW CAN YOU LOSE? AP: As for T... well, A-T's gonna be shooting for getting Luke Steele some IIWF gold, but when we leave, he's coming with us. I hate to do it to Luke, but he was ours first. [For the first time, a smile crosses the Down Boys' faces] DO: So, line 'em up... you've been watching us from the sidelines. If you've ever wanted to prove your tag team against the Down Boys, here's your last chance, IIWF. AP: We'll be waiting. Unskinny Bop, nothin' more to say... DO: Damn, we haven't said that in a while. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Savage" Shadoe Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: Clips of all the matches between Shadoe Rage and Harlequin Tragedy flash back and forth across the screen, the Prophets of Rage defeating the Harlequins, Shadoe Rage beating Harlequin Tragedy in the three way dance at Snow Brawl. Individual high spots. The sequence loops and loops and loops ad nauseam until the sequence because not just boring and repetitive, but irritating and aggravating. Finally, the clips stop and Shadoe Rage is faded into the picture, Marissa Monet standing over his shoulder. She smiles smugly, her eyes glinting with certain knowledge, a certain knowledge that she doesn't seem to be prepared to share with the rest of the audience. Shadoe Rage watches the camera, his eyes cold and glassy, faraway, but intense. There is a piercing light in them as he runs his hand through his pony-tailed hair.] SR: Harlequin Tragedy, how many times have we danced this dance? How many times will we have to dance this dance? It's almost embarrassing, isn't it? Being forced to dance this predictable routine so many times. Hammerlock here. Body slam there. And in the end everybody knows how the dance will end. MM: The winner and advancing in the first round of the Intercontinental Championship tournament... the number three seed... the man it took two men to throw out of the ring... the man who refused to be beaten by landmines... the man who refused to surrender to anybody in the IIWF... Shadoe Rage. SR: That's right, Tragedy. You may have been a talent sometime in the past. You might have been a great man once, but since you left the Harlequins your career as a singles wrestler has simply been tragic. You still rely on your pals, don't you? You still need Chaos, Melody, Comedy, Tragedy, Terror, Binky. You still bring them out in each and every match so the people know exactly who you are and what you're about. The fans forget you as soon as you walk out the arena don't they? Oh yeah, that clown guy from the tag-team... wasn't he a champion once? I know. I understand. Sometimes every man must stand up and make themselves accounted for. Sometimes every man must stand alone. But I am not the man to stand against. I am not the man for you to try to defeat in your quest for a title. I am too good, too fast, too strong and just too savage to be beaten by the likes of you. MM: Or anybody in the ranks. Nobody is stopping Shadoe Rage from becoming a champion in the IIWF. Nobody. SR: Tragedy, the eponymous title of your biography and wrestling career! The man who could have been somebody. Who could have been somebody if only... if only they had the courage... if only they had the guts... if only they had the talent and the drive to reach out and strangle the spotlight and drive yourself forward to the light, to the top! MM: He don't have the balls, Shadoe. He doesn't have the courage to throw it all on the line. SR: Well, I am tired of this endless dance, Tragedy. Saturday night, we dance the final steps and I write the final verse. You shall be defeated by your own lack of individuality, Harlequin. The clown hidden behind all that paint will be stripped down, beaten, ruined before all by this most visceral enemy, this savage demi god. And the sole reason is that you... you have no grasp of how insignificant you truly are and truly have become. That's the tragedy. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Marty Warnett ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: IIWF Interview Area. A bruised and battered Marty Warnett, fresh from his first round win over Luke Steele, enters screenshot. His hair is matted down with sweat, and a painful grimace exists on his otherwise happy face. His left eye is swollen pretty badly.] MW: Luke... you put up one hell of a bout tonight. Hell of a bout. All I can say is... never, ever take me for granted, because right now this "baby doll" is on fire. Right now, I'm off home to rest, recover, recuperate and have some fun. [Marty coughs, having to hold his ribs as a result.] MW: Two weeks to prepare... To work this cute butt off in the gym. To study the video-tapes. To do what 4-D want, what my fans want, and damn it, what I want, to regain that belt is my goal in life, and then to face whatever challenges come along... All I wanna do, right now, is sing a little song to celebrate a moment in time, twenty-six years ago on April 20th 1972... "Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday dear me, Happy birthday to me" [Marty then limps away. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Real Deal" Luke Steele ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up to the IIWF interview area. Before the camera stands "The Real Deal" Luke Steele, dressed in a pair of jeans and the black and white Discordiac t-shirt draped over his neck and shoulders, but the sleeves are cut off. Evidence of his battle with Marty Warnett, Steele's head is shiny from the sweat. Off to one side of Steele is the massive bodyguard, Stone, as impassive as ever and dressed in a pair of jeans with a black t-shirt and leather jacket, dark wraparound sunglasses as usual. His hair is slicked back, and Stone towers over Steele, unmoving. On Steele's other side is Awesome T, wearing baggy jeans and a baseball cap backwards. Steele and Awesome T both have downcast expressions on their faces.] LS: Well, haven't we done this before, baby dolls? I guess I wasn't the guy after all to give the Blue Crew something to cheer about. I blew it, all right. AT: Luke, don't beat yourself up over it. Those 4D goofs were out there, and with that pyro freak Annis stirring it up, you were distracted. LS: Maybe, but I can't help wondering if there's something else wrong? AT: Hey, you might be out of the tournament, but don't give up on yourself. You'll be wearing gold yet, I promise. By the end of your career, you'll be able to look back and say that you held IIWF championship gold. LS: Yeah, but in the meantime I've come to a decision. I see fools running around promising gang warfare, promising to wrestle clean, to wrestle hard. What I don't see is justice. Annis meant well, but he didn't do a good enough job at upholding the peace. And attacking Griff wasn't the answer either. No, I think I'm going to show everyone what the true meaning of the word "enforcer" is. And it starts this Wednesday. [Fade down as Steele looks defiantly into the camera, Stone remains unchanged, and Awesome T seems a little shocked.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Eddy "Flap" Jacks ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Jacks stands behind a large IIWF backdrop, mic in hand, clad in his typical street garb... nothing fancy, merely black jeans and a white "IIWF" t-shirt. His demeanour is calm, his gaze set... utterly cold and unfeeling.] EJ: Another _damn_ week. [Pause. Jacks scratches at his rough, unwashed beard.] Another week the IIWF greases my palm wit' that piece o' trash they call a paycheck. Another week I gotta work. Another week 'til I die. An' ya don't get it back. Ya don't never get nothin' back. [Pause.] 'Cuz don't nothin' ever come back. Not the hours, not the minutes, not the seconds I'm spendin' talkin' here. An' Derek Mota should know that. [Pause.] He should know that on Wednesday he ain't never gonna get that match back. He ain't never gonna be in the ring wit' Eddy Jacks at that time...an' he's gonna wonder why he didn't make those minutes count. [Pause.] 'Cuz I still owe you, boy. I was silent on Friday 'cuz I didn't have nothin' ta stay... nobody ta fight. An' that don't matter. Not_one_damn_bit. [Pause.] All that matters ta Eddy Jacks is Derek Mota, boy. Ya took my chance, took away minutes, took away my match... an' I ain't never gonna be in that situation again. Ya made me lose ta that half-wit god_damn Icehawk, boy, an' it's the worst decision ya ever made. [Pause.] Yer gonna wish ya ain't never had those minutes, Mota. Yer gonna wish yer ass was never born. Minutes don't come back. Weeks don't come back. Ya don't get nothin' back... but ya always keep the hurts. An' as I my daddy use ta say, 'you gonna take a whole lotta hurts, boy.' [Jacks shrugs emphatically, still emotionless. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Derek Mota runs onto the interview stage after being chased out of the arena by both Serge Annis and the Natural Predators. Once the camera begins to focus in on him, he slows down rapidly, almost strutting to the podium, a sly grin on his face.] DM: Hehe... Sorra ya had ta lose that one, Icey. Seems like yer a one trick pony in the Cruiserweight division, aren't ya? Ya won the title with a fluke win, and now it had ya hopin' that you were gonna win this tournament. Don't work that way, kid. This Youth Gone Wild kid just kicked your ass. Don't matter that you had Annis on yer side, don't matter that you had the hometown crowd on yer side, ya just couldn't pull it off. And I hate ta tell ya, kid... the downward spiral ain't endin' here. Ya got me on your tail, kid... your spiral is just startin'. Ya ain't got nothin' left ta hide behind, Icey. All you've got is my title. Yeah, you heard me right. MY title. Take a good look at it, kid. I know that title belongs to me. You know the title belongs to me. The fans know. I got my imprint on it. Now it's just a matter of me puttin' your shoulders down in the ring for it. Give it up now, Icehawk. You know you're undermatched here. You know that without Fitzgerald you're nothin'. Spare yourself the embarrassment. Gimme back my title. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Icehawk ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview set. Icehawk is dressed in street clothes, with his title belt draped over his shoulder. For a man who was just eliminated in the first round of the King of the Cruisers, he looks amazingly chipper.] IH: That was a hell of a lot of fun. I might have lost, but I lost to a great wrestler who didn't cheat or get any help to beat me. I just want to congratulate Youth Gone Wild -- I think you and I showed the fans of the IIWF just how spectacular cruiserweights can be. Well done, and I hope you win the whole thing. As for you, Mota, you can come out and yap at me all you want. I can't blame you for being jealous and wanting to look at my belt. [Icehawk takes the belt off his shoulder and holds it up to the camera.] IH: Remember this, Mota? You used to have it, and now it is mine. It even has my name on it. See? [Icehawk points out the name plate, which as the camera zooms in, clearly reads "Derek Mota".] IH: What the hell? MOTA!! [Icehawk turns and sprints back toward the lockerrooms. He quickly vanishes from camera range, but the sounds of his calls for Mota's blood are still clearly audible. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner stands in front of the over sized IIWF logo in the interview area. His face shows a mixture of confidence and introspection.] TNT: I am more prepared for this tournament than I have been for any match...including the won where I won the Cruiserweight title! It looks now like my next opponent after Stonebreaker will be Lebec. As much as I would love to get my hands on "the Savior" again, I am not so blind as to look past Chris Stonebreaker. I have already found his fatal flaw. He is so arrogant that he ignores his next match-up. Timothy Turner is not a stepping stone for anyone. Ask Andrew Macbeth. Ask Derek Mota. Ask Kevin Christiansen. Ask Ryan Howard. Oh wait, those last two aren't here anymore, are they? I guess they couldn't take the heat. Stoney... I look forward to our match. You shouldn't. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ NorthPac Coalition ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["The Immolator" Akira Saito and "Constable" Tom Turner stand in the IIWF interview area. They don't look happy. Not even a little bit.] CTT: The whole reason the NorthPac Coalition joined the IIWF was to get even with the Black Watch. Well, we got our chance and what happened? We got our butts handed to us! The Macbeths thumped us all over the ring! We looked like a couple of jabrones! I guess it's time for us to slink back to Japan with our tails between our legs. Not likely. AS: North Americans know very little about honour. Let me give you a crash course. We came to the IIWF to help Timothy out of an obligation born from our battles together. We joined the IIWF to avenge a brutal attack upon us by those two dishonourable Scotsmen. This became a blood debt after Andrew Macbeth attempted to sully the name of out beloved Emperor. We were unable to pay that debt. Giri requires us to give some recompense. In some circles, sacrificing a finger would accomplish this. I, instead, have decided that our obligation to finish the Black Watch has not ceased. We have only to take a more strategic approach. CTT: What Akira is getting at is that things are a little different here in the IIWF than what we are used to. We haven't yet adapted to that change so we weren't able to beat the Macbeths. So what do you do when you are overmatched? Do you give up? No. You make a strategic retreat, shore up your weak areas, and attack again. We are going to go through the IIWF tag ranks... fighting all comers. We will win some, we will lose some... but by the time we are done we will be ready to face the Black Watch again. At that time the outcome will be a little different. AS: Our first adversaries on this new road are the Down Boys. We have faced this team twice before in Japan. We won once and we lost once. It is time for another win. CTT: After that I would love to get my hands on the Night Patrol. Those guys give law enforcement a bad name! AS: Remember Tom. The road to enlightenment begins with a single step. That step...is the Down Boys. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Vagabond" Chris Staley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [There is nothing but blackness. All of a sudden, an image kicks in of Chris Staley. It's obvious that Chris is outside the Coliseum and is doing the Musing himself with a camera mounted on a tripod.] CS: Don't know quite where to start. I've got topics to address as usual. I guess I should explain why the hell I'm doing my Musing like this. Well, you see, after the last two interviews I've done, I've knocked out the cameraman. When I went to the cameraman, he said, "Oh no! You want to talk? Do it your own damn self!" So, I'm doing this by myself. And that's the way it'll be now. Now, on to more pressing matters. Deathbringer. The Man Who Lost His Voice. So, I heard your feeble friend say you wanted me to shut up. [Stares seriously into the screen] Make me, Gimmick Boy. Show me that you have the cajones to come out when you're SUPPOSED to! For the last time, sign the damn contract or stay the hell out of my way. Just remember that when I make the long, arduous climb to become champ, you ain't gettin' a title shot if you duck me now. Come on. I dare you. Look fear in the eyes and jump in the fire, boy. Otherwise, the world will know what an utterly useless coward you are. Speaking of cowards, where the hell was that corporate boy Annis when I came out of the crowd? I see the "Epitome of Talentless" was too busy trying to count how many guys were in the ring during that match. You'll have to excuse Annalid. He thinks the first three numbers are "A", "B", and "C". Next time, why don't you try getting your ass in the ring with me? Of course, I know that you can't remember you're not a real man, so obviously you've forgotten that I made the challenge to you as well. Pity how idiots are the ones getting pushes in this fed. Then comes Charlie Scheffield. People ask "Well, why did you help Chaz?" Simple. For two reasons. One, it was that moron Deathbringer who attacked him. And two, Charlie is a guy who's unfairly classified, just like myself. People think that just because he's rich, that means he's a spoiled brat. Couldn't be further from the truth. Scheff's a class act. I was glad to help him out. Now, my final matter. I've got Valtharius on War Room? WRONG RETARD, SPREADBURY!! I ASKED for 'Bringer and Annis. Instead, you give me the guy worse than the two of them combined. Forget it, Spreads. I know you're against me, just like everybody else. I ain't showin' on Wednesday, or any other match for that matter, until you get me 'Bringer and Annis's carcasses on a silver platter. As a matter of fact, to up the ante, I want a Steel Cage Match. Just me, Annis, and Bringer. No way out. No DQ. You can only lose by pinfall. Until then, I'm on strike. Hey Prophets, save me a seat, will ya? See ya in hell. Have a bad day. [Staley switches the camera off to fuzz.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The IIWF interview area. Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, the American Dragons, stand in front of the IIWF banner backdrop. Both men wear their leather jackets, and Bob is wiping the coloured ink from the earlier attack off his face.] JS: Well, Ms. Hawkings, I see you're up to your old tricks. We're not surprised. Honestly, I had a damn good idea you'd pull out the old legal aspects. I'm sure you've been in Portland City Court, filing injunctions left and right, interviewing witnesses, issuing sub poenas. It's all well and good, Ms. Hawkings. Go ahead and look at our pasts. I've got nothing to hide. "Soundbite" can say all he wants about us being White Bread... ...well, it's true. BI: Hell, the only thing I got is a citation from doing 107 miles an hour on I-50. I mean, if you really want to waste all this time on paperwork, when you should be getting Blazer and Garcia ready for the beatings of their lives... Hey, we KNOW the real reason you're pushing all this paper, Brenda. You know that the Night Patrol can't beat the American Dragons in a straight, stand out, knock down fight. I threw one of your boys out at Ring Wars, and we had you beat a couple of Saturdays ago, except for a dumb-ass DQ. But hey, you don't see US pushing paper over it, do you? JS: Heck, interview ANYONE you want, Hawkings! We... [Scalercio is interrupted by an anonymous page, who hands him a note. Joe reads it... and a smile emerges on his face... not a Grizzly Grin(tm), but pretty damn close.] JS: Oh, Prophets... BI: They accepted? Damn, I was wrong. They do have guts... JS: Rage, Allah...don't expect pushovers. You ain't the best team in the world anymore...hell, Derek and Allah, you TWO never were! BI: Be prepared for a good old-fashioned ass kicking...Dragon style. [Joe and Bob turn around, showing the Dragon logos to the camera.] JS & BI: Any team, any time... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: the Prophets of Rage come bearing the two signs abandoned by the American Dragons. Dirt Dog holds up the "Prophets Swallow" sign. Derek studies the "Prophets 2.0" sign. Both wrestlers look absolutely disgusted.] DR: Spreadbury, if you want us to quit just say so. It's as simple as that. Because we're about two steps from asking for a release anyway. If you're going to insult the Prophets of Rage, the legacy of this team, our experience and our track record in the IIWF as Derek Rage and the Dirt Dog then [beep] you. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of second rate tag-teams like the Drag-Queens coming out and calling us out and you have your men shill this like it's going to be some kind of wonderful privilege for us to come back from weeks of being held on the shelf while you short-sightedly bury your head up Petrow's ass and any singles wrestler on the RSPWF top 200 list who want to join up. You will either respect us and reward us with equal quality of opposition or you stand up and come out next week. You come out next week and you tell us that you don't want us in the tag team ranks any more. DDUA: 'Cause we really ain't freakin' takin' it. Yo, muhfuhs, we ain't lost as a unit yet! We ain't ever been beaten and this is what you do for us, muhfuh? This is what you do to the best muhfuhin' _team_ you got? Yeah, muhfuh, we'll take on them freakin' Dragons. We'll take 'em on, but you understand this, that's the last freakin' time we play second fiddle to anyone. That's the absolutely last freakin' time! We want your respect! We win, you leave us off the pay-per-views. You done forgot about us, but we still here muhfuhs! WE'RE STILL HERE! DR: And there ain't a way in hell that we're going to be relegated to matches against opening carders. There ain't any way we're going to just beat teams and be punished for it? No. So we're going to take on your little Dragons. And make no mistakes that we will beat them. We will hurt them. And then we take control of the script. You understand that? We are taking control of the script and somebody else is going to be the puppet around here. [Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Valtharius the Mad ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Valtharius walks past the interview area as he scratches himself most unceremoniously. Black oily smoke fills the air before the IIWF sign and Karachel suddenly appears] K: It looks as if Valtharius has nothing to say. I, however, am never lacking for words as I am... The Voice of Reason! [Karachel's voice changes timbre ever so slightly as he crosses his arms] K: Edmund Fitzgerald... Ah yes... "The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the big lake they call..." [strokes chin] Now it doesn't matter WHAT they call it since Edmund Fitzgerald is no longer afloat in the IIWF. Natural Predators, you keep mentioning Valtharius and I... Do you have ANY idea what it means when you speak the infernal name of a demon? Do you understand the implications involved when you set loose a beast like Valtharius by attracting attention to yourselves? I would think that after you saw what my pet slave did to your "shipmate" you would have more brains than Valtharius and let things be. [Karachel looks to his side as Valtharius lumbers in from stage left] VTM: ME NO FIND WEASEL HERE!!! WHERE MORE MEAT??? K: Would you like to play with the Natural Predators instead? VTM: YES!!! ME VALTHARIUS WANT PLAY WITH STUPID ANIMALS!!! K: Yes, but first you must play with "The Meatman," my mindless beast. VTM: MEATHEAD!!! HE FEED VALTHARIUS TONIGHT!!! RAW MEAT GOOD!!! [Valtharius stomps off waving his arms about like an ape in heat. Evidently happy he has some "friends" to play with in the future] K: James Steele... Natural Predators, in the future you will learn to respect Valtharius and I... You see, we understand the pain you have felt... do you know why...? BECAUSE _WE_ CAUSED IT!!! [Karachel throws his head back and cackles with insane glee as the black boiling mist gathers around him and suddenly he is gone as the smoke dissipates. Valtharius plods past the camera once again scratching himself under his filthy loincloth and mumbling something about eating a live goat and its screaming. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Benjamins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Bobby and Joe stand in the IIWF interview room, the IIWF logo hanging proudly in the background. They look loose and relaxed in their ring attire, giving the fast-becoming-familiar Benjismiles.] BB: Y'know, it seems like every show that we come out here and talk about how we're learning, how we're getting into the way of life in the Double Eye -- by being in the ring, or even just by gettin' a close-up view of the all the action that goes on here. You may be askin' 'why are they doin' this?' JB: Well folks, the reason is that we're being paid damn good in the IIWF, and we want to earn our money -- to repay the faith that the scouts showed in taking on a promising but really raw team of youngsters. BB: By getting used to these bright lights [looks and motions around the room], we're learnin' one of the most things in pro-wrestling -- how to talk to the people who pay our wages, the people that matter the most in this business. [Pauses, and points directly at the camera] You fans, watching at home. You're the ones that pay our wages, and you deserve the very best from us wrestlers [puts his hand on his brother's shoulder]. By coming here week after week we're improving ourselves -- and if we keep getting better by talking to you folks out there, it can only mean that we're going to get better in the ring -- and that's gonna be good for everybody... JB: ...Well, except for the other tag teams... [The two Benjamins look at each other, and break into a light chuckle] BB: Yeah, good call, little bro... Anyway, because of this, you're gonna be seein' a lot of the Benjamins on your box, in the next few months. We're just beginning our roll to the top, and we need you all great guys and gals with us. I'm telling ya, stick with us and you won't be disappointed. JB: Yeah, IIWF fans rule! [pumps fist in the air] Remember to keep it locked to the two best-lookin' [even bigger smile] kids on the block, 'cos: IN UNISON: It's all about the Benjamins, baby!! [Camera fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The screen is filled with a picture of what used to be Paul Wong's clean BMW. However, it now looks like it should be in a junk yard. The windows are smashed out of it. The left side door is gone, and the right side is kicked in so badly it wont open. The rear end is smashed down like a pancake. And, the front end has a six inch in diameter hole that goes through the centre of the hood to the ground. A voice is heard in the background.] VOICE: How's it going, Paul? Like my remodelling job? [The scene changes from the wrecked vehicle to the inside of a luxurious jet. "Sweet" Sho Satsuma and the Lovely Bertha sit next to a window talking.] SSS: I think it fits your personality. LB: Sorry Paul, but I guess I (looking upwards) might of let the cat out of the bag. Ooops! I didn't mean to tell Sho how much of a car buff you are. SSS: Don't be mad though. She did it because she cares. Last Friday when she said to me, "ShoStealer, sweety, Paul loves his cars, especially his BMW. Maybe, you should clean it up a bit." [Bertha is smiling like she's Paul best friend.] So, I did. How'd you like it? [Both Sho and Bertha start laughing. The camera swings past them to the set of seats behind the couple. There, sitting next to a gorgeous blonde, is "The Universal Heartthrob" Agito Nakajima.] AN: I'm sure Sho covered the Machines part of this interview, so I'll talk about the Irish pub men, Fat Watch! You come out and sneak attack us, and I'm sure you're going to be running at the mouths about it with all your sheep-screwing friends, after all isn't that what you Irish do in your spare time? As for what Sho said last week, which you two beer swilling fools harped on last Friday. That wasn't an attempt at intimidation, it was a warning. Maybe, you can go around talking about the Japanese with the NorthPac around, but if you do it with the Fabulous Ones, you're going down! [Sho leans over from the seat in front, laughing.] SSS: Hey my man! You rhymed! [Sho gives "The Universal Heartthrob" a high five then sits back down.] AN: As for our sexual preference, which I'm sure you two really want to know, since there are a lot of Irish known for going both ways, here's your answer. No! We're one hundred percent heterosexual. That means in your terms, we don't go there or with sheep! [The blonde next to Agito starts giggling.] B: Too bad, because I'm sure their every waking thought is of having the perfect human play thing. [She runs her hands over Agito's chest than the two start making out. She stops for a second, looks back at the camera...] B: Eat your hearts out Fat Watch! Your jealousy will be your downfall. [She goes back to making out with Agito. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: Tiger Claw [independent] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Tiger Claw stands in front of the familiar IIWF backdrop in the interview area. He is dressed in street clothes... Clothes that include a T-shirt reading "I mark for Marty."] TC: First thing's first... El Hijo Del Satanico. I'm sorry that you lost. I'm sorry that you couldn't beat me. It's too bad you spent so much time apologising to me, and not to the folks where you work for something you did to annoy them. Take it from me, little man... You have to make sure your enemies are in their place before trying to move on for the big prize. So that brings me to the guy I have to face next. Sean Watts. I have to hand it to you, Watts. I was really expecting to face Kabuki Kid in the second round. I've fought him before, and he's a hell of a fighter. You've got to be pretty damn good to be able to get past him to the second round. Don't get too cocky, though, because I'm a whole different story. It's funny... Here you are, a true professional... A guy that doesn't care about the money, who doesn't want to be a role model... A guy that just comes out, wrestles his match, and then leaves the ring, taking pride in a job well done. Me? I'm the guy the fans are calling a sell-out. I'll admit, I'm not the type of guy to turn down money for doing an honest day's work. Hell, for over two years now, I've been working in the Syndicate, and that's a group that _revolves_ around money. But hey, I value integrity at the same time. Watts... You've got integrity, and I respect that. You've got talent, and I respect that too. The simple fact is that I'm beyond any measure of talent these yokels around here can understand. I can not only beat a man officially, but beat him soundly as well. I can hurt an opponent without a second thought. Careful, Watts, because I'd hate to have to see such a bright career end up shortened because you were unlucky enough to face me in the ring. Arrogance? Nah... I can back up what I say. Just as I'm sure you can too, Watts. You're a straight up guy, Watts... And from one straight up guy to another... Just lay down and save yourself the pain and agony of facing me. Worst case, you're looking at a fifteen minute clubbing at my hands. I've ended a career in five. Think about that, and choose wisely. [Claw turns around and walks off camera, showing the back of his shirt which reads "'THE MAN' can't keep a brutha down!" Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: "Iconoclast" Sean Watts [SCRA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The shot fades in to a slightly tense looking Sean Watts who is leaning back against the standard Monday Musings background, arms folded across his chest. His head raises slowly, jaws absentmindedly working at a piece of gum which probably lost its flavour quite some time ago. For a change he's dressed rather neatly, clad in a pair of reasonably clean blue jeans and a faded red plaid shirt. His normally unmanaged hair is tucked neatly away beneath a decades long defunct Atlanta Crackers baseball cap whose neatly creased bill just barely shadows eyebrows knit together in contemplation.] SW: A week sure as hell can make a lot of difference. Especially a week spent idle with no distractions. A week where all I've had to think about is Tiger Claw. Well, thinking about him and a way to beat him. Or if it comes down to it, just a way to get past him. It was a week that started off with some anxiety. I had to try and figure out if I had the skills to beat him. And yeah, after a lot of thinking, I reached the conclusion that I do. And he's got the skills to beat me. And the next day, I had to ask myself another question; Do I have what it takes to beat him mentally? And that's where I really had to stop and think long and hard about this. I thought about my whole damn career, and my laissez-faire attitude. And then it dawned on me. [Sean pauses here to spit his gum across the room, the mic just barely picking up the soft sound of it impacting against the floor.] SW: I _didn't_ have it. I've never had it. I've never had that killer instinct drive. I've never really tried to give my all, or do any more than I could get away with. I've always been an underachiever. But much like Tiger Claw, this is something I'm doing for myself, and not for anyone else. So I'm going to _get_ it. This time, I'll have that killer instinct. This time, I'll put in my best effort. And I'm not going to do it prove other people wrong. And I'm not going to do it so people will stop talking about what I could have been. I'll do it for my own reasons. Reasons I'm not necessarily going to share. And I'm going to make one prediction, I'm allowing my ego that much. No matter who makes it to the finals. No matter who wins this whole tournament, or even who wins this match. This is going to be the best damn match of this whole thing. Period. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: Jeremy Fullbright [GFWA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens on Jeremy Fullbright sitting ringside at the Tokyo Dome, he is facing the ring, and his back is towards the camera, the back of his shirt says: DISCORDIAC 4 LYFE, and that's the only article of clothing you can see...] JF: Big Greggy Cool, son first let's get A FEW things straight. FIRST, You are NOT going to beat me with humor. When we're in the ring, your jokes will get you no where. Pretending to be some washed up IIWF superstar won't exactly make me laugh so hard that I fall down and just let you pin me. SECOND, You're not going to intimidate me by your smooth talking, and your front as a dumbass without a clue. If I wanted to see videos of some jerk off trying to smooth-talk the women, I'd go down to Stamey's and rent Austin Powers. [Jeremy Fullbright turns around in his chair, revealing the front side of the T-Shirt saying "The Moxy Blue Second Annual Retirement Tour '98"] BGC, or BDC, whatever... I went into that match with Sengir like a proverbial bat out of hell. I had nothing to lose, so I went W.F.O., or Wide [bleep]ing Out. But alas, I need to be more structured in my preparation for you. I thought about making myself take the position of the "underdog".... but then I thought "Nah, he doesn't have that much of an advantage over me to go to the trouble of making myself look like a pansy." I mean sure, you're more experienced than me, but hell... how many times have you stayed two weeks in Japan to wrestle 2 matches? How many WORLD WIDE tournaments have _YOU_ been in? I'm not exactly your biggest fan, and I haven't really followed your career, but I'm pretty darn sure that the answer to my questions are all ZERO. But as usual, I digress. You see, this is the first time I've ever been to Japan, and I'm happy to be here. The SJPW people are treating me better than I could've ever expected. This is the first tournament I've ever been in period. But unlike the team that makes it to the playoffs for the first time, I won't be content to make a good showing, Greggy, I intend to win. So... come Sunday I'm facing the Biggest, Greggiest, Coolest Wrestler ever. Big whoop. No one thinks I'm gonna win, but hell... upsets can happen.... after all.... Ronnie D is in the second round, isn't he? Maybe I have a chance in hell after all. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: Youth Gone Wild [UWF] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Youth Gone Wild has just gotten out of the shower following his stunning upset victory over Icehawk in the King of the Cruisers tournament. Still flush with exhilaration over his achievement, he runs his hand through his still-wet hair before beginning.] YGW: Let's see, Derek Mota and Serge Annis feel the urge to stick their pair noses into my match with Icehawk, and the ring announcer gets food poisoning... if I hear "Welcome to the IIWF" one more time... [Wild pauses to laugh, remembering the chaos.] YGW: You know, I heard a few of the things Soundbite said about me. Not that I didn't expect them... I hear a lot of the same stuff in the UWF... usually from guys I've just beat. Don't get me wrong, though... Icehawk may be the best guy I've ever faced. Like I said, earlier, I think I could win this thing. And I think I just may have beaten the best guy in the tournament, but we'll see who we've got in the second round, and whether they can present as much of a challenge as beating the IIWF's best in the IIWF Coliseum. [YGW stands to go, then turns around, remembering one last thing.] YGW: Hey, Soundbite...best weekend of my life. [Wild smiles, and exits.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: "Playboy" Ronnie D [EMWC] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [We open on a busy downtown street. Flashy sports cars zip by the camera with blatant disregard for the speed limit, bleached-blonde bimbos walk by wearing fishnet stockings, high-heels and _micro_skirts, and neon signs light up the road. A white limo containing a few rowdy teenagers on a night out flies down the street as the occupants stick their heads out the sunroof. The camera zooms across the street and up to a flickering red sign, some of the letters missing, which reads "Six-Sh ot n' Sam' Spo ts Salo n." It should read, "Six-Shootin' Sam's Sports Saloon," but Sam has just let the lights expire, probably for fear of being shot while replacing them in this, the red light district of whatever city we're in. As the camera focuses on the sign, the humid coolness of the night air, the strangest feeling, can almost be felt through the camera. We cut to the inside of the bar. Young men and women dance on the wooden dance floor as rock music plays in the background. The yellowy light exposes the smoke in the bar. The camera moves through the dancing masses as it makes it's way to the bar. A large mass of twenty-something girls is huddled around the bar. But why? As the camera moves through, the reason for the huddling is apparent. At the bar, wearing black jeans, black boots, a blue denim shirt and a black stetson is a man with long, sandy brown locks let loose down his back. He drinks quietly as the women stare and titter. The camera moves behind the bar to see who this figure is. The figure slowly tips the black stetson up as he raises his head from his poison, a tall mug of beer. As he picks up a half-smoked stogie from an ashtray beside him, it is apparent who it is. It is none other than the icon, the marquee man, the main event... "Playboy" Ronnie D. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette before he speaks in a low voice, a little uncharacteristic for the pretty boy. He looks up to a TV monitor on the wood ceiling, and who do we see but Steve Manning talking with Larry Morton.] Ronnie: _Real_ funny stuff... [On screen, Manning smacks Morton before the channel switches to a curling match. The gruff voice of Sam, the owner, is picked up off camera.] Sam: That's a pile o' boring horse crap. [Ronnie looks at the camera, and after taking a drag, speaks again.] Ronnie: Yeah, Sam's right. Manning is boring horse crap. It's stuff we've all seen before. You know, Steve, I could run around slapping announcers to make myself feel like a man, but I have better ways to do that. Just ask them. [Ronnie hikes his thumb over his shoulder, making a few of the girls behind him scream in delight.] Ronnie: We've all seen the raving psychos before. They all show up in wrestling, for some reason. And curling. [In the background, we can hear the curlers on TV screaming at the top of their lungs. "HARD! HARD! HURRY! WHOA... Whoa... HURRY!"] Ronnie: You know, Little Stevie, we're both in the wrestling business to prove something. You and I both know that. There's no other reason that we're in this here tournament. We've all got our reasons. Ol' Tiger Claw is in here to prove that it's the "Year of the Tiger," and that he can still get the mojo risin' for some suits he doesn't like. Youth Gone Wild is here to prove that he and everyone else in the world is better than the IIWF Cruiserweight Chumpion. We _had_ Sean Stevens in here to prove that it didn't matter whether he won or lost. He cared a little more than he let on. I'm here to prove that I'm the best wrestler under two-thirty to step in the ring, even though we all know that already. You, you're here to prove something. You're here to prove that you can actually win something. You're like that kid with one eye and one leg. You've done a lot of crazy crap, but none of it was ever worthwhile. The most you've ever done is become King of the Jobbers. You don't deserve to be here with me. I've won straps, I've beaten legends and icons, and that's why I am the icon, the marquee man, and the greatest thing since sliced bread. You've hit an announcer and nearly been crippled by your brother. [Ronnie takes a quick puff of his stogie before continuing.] Ronnie: I've become the icon, the marquee man, the god of wrestling... The most recognised man in the sport. You've read the dictionary. [Ronnie takes and extra long drag and puts out the tobacco product before takes a sip of beer. He continues talking after he swallows.] Ronnie: Stevie, come Saturday night, it won't matter who the Terrific Trio up in the Towers like. The fact of the matter is, I've racked up the accomplishments and proven to everyone that I deserve to be the King. You sat in a wheel chair and put shoeboxes on your feet for a year. It's the icon's ring, Manning, and you're not gonna last very long in it. [The girls go into a wild fit of applause as Ronnie empties the glass and the camera fades to the sign outside of the bar that reads, "Six-Sh ot n' Sam' Spo ts Salo n." The camera fades to black as the "S" in "Sam" blinks out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: Big Greggy Cool [NPWA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens up with Big Greggy Cool standing in front of a black back drop with "Big Greggy Cool" written in silver marker. Big Greggy Cool's medium length brown hair hangs in front of his forehead. You can only see him from the waist up. He's wearing a "IIWF: Serge Annis" T-Shirt."] BGC: First off... I'd like to just take a minute out my little... Yet long drawn out speech that the world will be just as well off without hearing to give me sincere apologies to Jeremy Fullbright, a man who actually deserves to be in this tourney less than I do! [Smirk] Apparently, you want to win this King of The Cruisers match really really badly, but ummm... I don't mind losing in the NPWA where like no one will ever see me, but for god sakes, there's a whole lotta people who waste their money of this "douba eye" thang... While I'm taking the _winner's_ side of the purse, I'll feel awfully bad and buy a you a Diet Coke! I forget what your phat move is called, but I think Las Vegas has me betted to be locked into that in about six minutes flat. One again... _Unfortunately_ I can't let that happen. I don't know how well my immediate future in the IIWF will be like? I don't know if I'm that much worse than your average cruiser, and I don't know if I'm that much better either. As much as I may playfully tease about losing, I truly _hate_ to do that. That's why, standing in my five foot, eleven frame, I don't care if you're better than moi. Take all the talent you want, you're _not_ beating me. I'll fly, I'll cheat, I'll call upon divine intervention, or slip a twenty spot into Spreadbury's breast pocket... But there's too many ways in this great great world for a cool cool guy to win. [BGC skanks a couple times to show the world his trademark.] BGC: On a _serious_ note, I sat down with my Golden Retriever the other night and talked some things out. I came to a decision. I decided when I came to the IIWF, that I would win. That I would work my way up the ladder. I look at the bottom rungs with the records that aren't quite as sparkling, and I began to wonder what went through their heads when they decided to suck and everything. Okay, see like, this guy in back of the camera is giving me the cut throat sign so that means that my interview is over. Damn shame. ...You may not remember the message... But you'll sure as hell remember the messenger! [BGC smirks as the scene fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: "Armitage" Steven Spector [LWC] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Backstage at the Nagoya dome, "Armitage" Steven Spector is seen pacing back and forth in front of the King of the Cruisers banner. He looks dishevelled, and his eyes are baggy from lack of sleep. He also appears to be a bit... nervous as he faces the camera.] SS: I'd be lying to everyone here if I said I didn't beat Joey Rappoport by luck, but by skill. I was able to pull out this victory by the skin of my teeth last night... Luckily I've had similar experiences with the Cherry Blossom Bomber over the years and I knew then to lift my shoulder up... man, I live by the CBB, and I die by the CBB. I hope that Joey's watching me right now, I'd got something I'd like to admit to him... You're the real deal. You have the potential to be one of the best in the world that people of all ages can look up to. I just hope you don't make the same mistakes I did down the line... someday, Joey... I'll send you some tapes of my career, you can watch and study and avoid where I went wrong. Best of luck, man, you're going places. [Spector smiles.] SS: I figured after many sleepless nights wondering how I was gonna beat Joey Rappoport... figure I'd catch up on some sleep, right? Think again... I face Youth Gone Wild next... and that guy's... man, he's got a rep a mile long. A lot of people consider him one of the best Cruiserweights ever to step foot into the ring. He proved it the other night, beating the IIWF Cruiserweight champion on his home court! He's gotta add that name, Icehawk... to a LONG list of the cruiserweight greats he has beaten to get where he is today. [Spector rubs his chin.] SS: I don't really plan on joining that list. Not saying that you won't beat me or anything, just consider that comment in the spirit of competition. I'm willing to wager something with ya, Youth... ever since we both broke out in the sport, fans all over the world have been clamouring for a match between us... They'll finally get it. And they will enjoy it. [Spector grins.] SS: Don't expect me to go hardcore on ya, too many people expected it last night... and I proved that I can still wrestle and fly with the best of 'em. Japan is always a positive influence, so you can bet that I'll do what I can to make the fans enjoy our match without too much bloodshed. I'm starting to sound like Joey Rappoport instead of Steve Spector. Hee hee... well anyway, I think I've rambled on and on enough. Good luck, Youth... and I'll see you in the ring. [Camera fades out.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+