________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 27 April 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Dave Bacon, nervous and shaken, rushes the medical team down the hallway. His shirt is wet and his pants are damp. The EMT's wheel the gurney behind them as they go by. Not really sure what to do as the confusion ensues, Bacon looks to his left, looking for a leader. The leader is here. Dan Spreadbury, president of the IIWF, walks in on the scene.] DS: Where is he? What did he do now? I can barely keep the rest of those maniacs in line. I really don't need this right tonight. DB: I was supposed to meet him in the dressing room. I came down to do the after-match interview. I figured after such a big win, y'know, he might be in a good mood. But he didn't answer the door, when I knocked. DS: I asked where he is. Is he still in there? DB: Danny... DS: Dave, look, I have a dinner date. Whatever he did to you, I'll fine him, okay. I'll... DB: You're not listening! [Surprised by the urgency in Bacon's voice, Spreadbury finally concentrates on the upset reporter's words.] DB: He didn't answer, so I went in. He was in the shower. I told him whenever he was ready. He just grunted. I figured it meant okay. So I give him more time. I'm waiting and waiting. So I get brave... And I check on him. An... an... DS: And what? DB: Dan, he was just lying there in the shower. He collapsed! He just fell! His head was bleeding again. He was all crumpled up like a ball. I tried. I tried to help him up. Every time he tried to stand up, he got dizzy and fell down again! I couldn't lift him! I don't know if he was in shock or what! I was trying to talk to him. All he kept saying was, "gimme a sec to get up." But, Dan, there was no way he was getting up. [A door opens and the sounds of the EMTs telling everyone to get out of there can be heard. On the gurney, Steve Kowalski is prone and barely conscious. The medical staff push him by the strained Bacon and the surprised Spreadbury. One of the, if not _the_, only times compassion concerning Kowalski is shown on the President's face. Spreadbury walking with the gurney, tries to speak with the fallen champion. Seizing the opportunity, the cameraman follows.] DS: Steve, what happened? I saw you walk from the ring... Is it your head, your hip? SK: [In a weak voice] Dunno. All's I know is... sumptin' broken. [And with that Kowalski is whisked off, with Spreadbury standing there, confused. Just watching the two EMTs open the back of the ambulance. Bacon rushes up and...] DB: Dan, you have to pull him off the circuit. [With a surprising stern-ness, Spreadbury answers.] DS: The IIWF doesn't pull champions off the circuit. If he can't compete, he'll just lose the belt. I would never release a wrestler based on an injury. [It's now we are caught off guard by the sheer passion of Bacon's words.] DB: Are you out of your mind?! He doesn't quit! He never does! He's too stupid. Dan, he'll kill himself, if you don't pull him! I know he can be a prick and he's done his share of ruffling your feathers, but come on! DS: He is a tough customer. He'll be okay. DB: Bull[BLEEP]! That's the buy-rate talking. PPV's three weeks away and you think he's going to make it? Do the right thing and save him. He won't save himself! DS: [Angrily] Since when did you have so much compassion for Kowalski? DB: Compassion. That's right, Dan. You should try it some time. [With that, Bacon walks off without another word. Spreadbury wants to retort but thinks better of it. Instead he turns back to the ambulance. The doors are shut and it pulls away. All he can say is...] DS: I am compassionate... aren't I? [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Backstage at the IIWF Coliseum, an infrequent visitor to the standard IIWF Monday Musings backdrop walks in to have his say. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow walks in, fresh from his defeat at the hands of Steve Kowalski, both tag team belts hanging from a loose right hand grip.] JP: Why ain't there such things as fairy tales in the real world? Why don't stories in real life ever end with "they lived happily ever after"? Why is it that people spend months and months begging Joe Petrow to come back to singles competition, only to boo him when he tries for the brass ring just one more time? Exactly who did I sell out to? Aw hell, it doesn't matter to me. It never really did. I got the world tag team title belts. That's what I wanted. And now [Petrow looks down at the belts in his hand] I still have what I wanted. And I'm still living happily ever after. [Petrow looks down for a couple of seconds...then suddenly whirls around, and appears ready the throw the belts against the back wall...but stops himself midway through the windup. He takes a moment to compose himself, then turns back around to face the camera again...] JP: I...we...Team Sychosys are still the world tag team champions. And there ain't no one out there who can do anything about that. Not the Harlequins. Not the Prostates. Not the Black Watch. Not the Down Boys. Not anybody...and especially not Maurice McArthur. [Joe punctuates his final odd comment with a long stare of silence, before stalking off the set.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. Deathbringer is standing all alone in front of the camera, dressed in his usual attire, his piercing red eyes shining brightly through the black mask. He begins to speak in his low, growling voice after a few seconds] DB: I am pleased. The last edition of IIWF Saturday Night turned out quite the way I wanted it to. Mass Destruction, a vicious display of superiority. Who was there to stop me? No one. Not Serge Annis, not Harlequin Tragedy and especially not the living bodybag Charles Scheffield. Yes, it indeed seems as if the little man has finally shown the world what he is capable of. And, what is even more important, the IIWF officials obviously now give me the respect I deserve. A championship match against the Fury. This coming Saturday. IIWF, be prepared to see a new champion. Be prepared to, once again, see the Reaper himself climb up the ladder to the very top of this league. Be prepared to watch me raising that belt high into the air, and be prepared to look at the dead and twisted body of Kowalski, who's lifeless eyes will be staring at the ceiling at that moment. For too long the Fury has reigned in this league and for too long this league's experts have put me amongst the Harlequins and Meatmen of the IIWF. In just a few days, you will learn about the real power that lies within my mortal shell. [Deathbringer lowers his voice.] DB: And this takes me to yet another mortal who thinks he can mess with Death himself, this takes me right to Chris Staley. Who do you think you are? Why do you think you have any right at all to step into my path? No matter whether you are new to this league or not, you should have heard my name by now, and you should have heard that I do not take these things lightly. Go to a local bookstore, buy a book about the history of wrestling, especially one about the last ten years or even better, buy one of those nice, coloured "IIWF -- Heroes and Villains" -- books. Be sure to look up my name... And be sure to read the list of my victims thoroughly... Then you can decide whether you can do better than Dan Kauffman, Otto Verhoeven or Requiem... But whatever your decision will be, there is something that happened already, something for what I will make you pay... Last saturday you chose to jump me from behind. Well, I just made a decision myself... The next time we meet, I will end your life. [Without any further word Deathbringer leaves the scene. Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: Medusa Rage exits the dressing room, swaggering out in a black pantsuit with a red wide-collared blouse underneath. She smiles proudly, two picket signs underneath her arm. Pizzazz emerges behind her, the cigarette stuck firmly between her lips, a satisfied smirk across her face, too. She sees the cameras and holds up a hand.] MR: You'll just have to wait a moment. The Prophets are just putting the finishing touches on their outfits. OC: [off camera cameraman] Those new cornrows? MR: Exactly. They want to look their best at all times. OC: I'm not sure what we saw out there. Why did the Prophets of Rage just quit on the match and throw it? P: C'est facile. Zey are on strike. Zere is only one match zat zey are interested in... Team ychosys. MR: See, it's all very simple. The Prophets of Rage made a pledge. They said they would not wrestle until they got the recognition they deserved and that is a title shot. That's all they want. That is all they will accept. People think that this combination of the Prophets of Rage is too new to deserve a title match, but I don't think anyone realises Derek and Dirt Dog have been together since a month before Ring Wars IV. And this match that they refused to complete. This match was their first loss as a unit. That's it. They've beaten every opponent that was put in front of them. And their reward? P: Zey 'ave been ignored. Zey were left out of contention. Zey were not given a ranking. Zey were not given a shot even when ze Natural Predators zaid zey would be ze next opponents. None of zis materialised. So, 'ow do you expect ze Prophets to react? Zey will not play zi game any more. Zey 'ave more zan qualified to be ze next contenders. C'est pas necessaire to face anybody else. MR: Exactly. And see, unlike Joe Petrow -- who by the way stole a couple nice moves from a man whom he once claimed had no imagination, neat trick, eh, -- the Prophets of Rage stand by their word. They were forced into this match. They had their fun, but the fans, their fans, reminded them exactly what they were trying to do. They cried out that the Prophets were on strike and kept them true to their word. P: And zat iz going to be zeir triomphe. Petrow, who knows, per'aps 'e will 'ave vacated ze tag-team titles by now in protest and petulance. Per'aps 'e will never face ze Prophets now because 'e iz going to be pouting about 'is defait. It zeems ze last time we zaw him defeated by Requiem we zaw 'im leave ze federation. Well, maintenant, we shall 'ave to see if zere iz even a Team Sychosys. [The dressing room doors burst open and the Prophets burst through in jeans and leather car coats over their over-sized T-shirts. Dirt Dog and Derek pushes past the cameras and out the door.] OC: Hey! MR: [shrugging] They are on strike after all. What can I do? [Fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Caleb Temple ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. We hear a soft swishing sound, as a multi-coloured blur fades in, slowing down and stopping. Suddenly, it begins again, as does the swishing sound. As the camera pans back, we see Caleb Temple standing beside what is obviously a multi-coloured wheel on a stand. He is dressed in his customary attire of 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: "Thus saith the Lord, I offer thee three things: choose thee one of them, that I may do it unto thee." 1 Chronicles 21:10. [The wheel slows down once more, and comes to a standstill. We now see the writing upon each of the coloured sections. Each one bears the name of a match stipulation. Texas Death Match, Cage Match, Barbed Wire Match, Scaffold Match, the list goes on.] CT: Very appropriate, I feel. Very... very... appropriate. Oh, it's almost poetic, isn't it? [A wry smile crosses his lips.] CT: I've always been a man who prefers to take a very _literal_ approach to vengeance. After all, a lesson taught is worthless if the student learns nothing. And, Black Watch, I _know_ that you two have some serious lessons to learn. But you know, I don't see anyone else in these parts _capable_ of teaching you those lessons. I have a sneaking suspicion that you two boys know that to be true. Why else would you come to Caleb Temple and Gunnar Gaines? See, Black Watch, what I think it all boils down to, is that you _KNOW_ no-one else can push you like the Baddest Thangs can. And leaving the choice of rules up to us... well, that was just the icing on the cake, wasn't it? [He chuckles softly.] CT: So you'll learn, Duncan and Andrew. At 'Birthday Bash', you'll learn how the Baddest Thangs Running came to be known as such. Because, no matter who the opposition, no matter what the circumstances of the match... "Those who turn away _SHALL_ be turned upon." [He spins the wheel with one last sudden motion, and hisses...] CT: Trust me. [The camera closes slowly in on the multi-coloured blur. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The back entrance to IIWF Coliseum in Portland, Oregon. Parked there is a truck... a broadcast truck. The cameraman walks around to the open back doors, expecting to find someone inside...] VOICE: Hey, moron. [The cameraman turns around. Nothing there. We hear a door slam. The camera man turns around again... and standing _next_ to the truck is none other than Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines, wearing red flannel, blue jeans, a brown beard and a pearly white smile.] GGG: What... you didn't _seriously_ expect to find me hiding out in some truck, like some lily-livered, skirt wearing little fart stain, did ya, son? [The camera operator, wisely, shakes the camera side to side "no."] CO: I, uh, was just told to meet you here for an interview... GGG: [condescendingly] ...and you did. Good job! Want a Milk Bone? [He reaches out and pats the camera man on the head.] CO: I, uh... [Gunnar makes the "zip it" sign with his hand across his lips...] GGG: Is this interview about you? Hell no. So SHUT UP AND LISTEN. You know, I was just pondering something... [He grins, scratching his chin...] GGG: I was pondering how _well-planned_ this entire "broadcast interruption" by the Butt Watch was this last Saturday night. Oh, _supposedly_ it was sudden revenge for getting their kilted keisters kicked out of the building... [He shakes his head side to side, then points to it.] GGG: _Uh-uh_. It was a plan. For you see, that locked, sealed truck was about the safest place for those two to blow each others' bagpipes, look up each other's kilts... and most of all, hide from the Baddest Thangs Running. The _only_ safe place. Now, the Macbeths may be stupid... they may be unintelligible... they may be failing their "English as a Second Language" courses... and they may be about as sharp as a bowling ball, only slightly more dense. [He chuckles...] GGG: But even _they_ know... you _just_ don't mess around with Gunnar Gaines and Caleb F'n Temple... and live to sell the movie rights. You see, the Macbeths proved something on Saturday night by subjecting the crowd to more "bollocks and tripe" than they've ever _complained_ about before. Butt Watch proved that _they're_ merely annoying... [More laughter... then a serious tone.] GGG: ...but _we're_ dangerous. [Grizzly Grin] GGG: Well, run all you want, laddies. Sooner or later, you're going to be run _down_... by the Baddest Thangs Running. Beat _us?_ [He guffaws and chortles...] GGG: Trust me, kids. I don't think you can! [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tiger Claw ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Tiger Claw stands in front of the IIWF interview set, still in his wrestling attire, looking off camera, shaking his head, and snickering to himself.] TC: You know, sometimes, I can seem really serious, and some might even call be a bit intense. But I know when something's funny. I may not show it, but I've got a great sense of humour. I can tell when something is supposed to make you laugh... What's _funny._ And guys? Tonight... That... That was _damn_ funny. What am I talking about? Annis? Nope. That was business. So was Musashi. The man quoted the right price, and he was able to obtain my services. No shame in that, folks, even though you might call me a sell-out. Supply and Demand... Supply and Demand... Musashi needed my services... Demanded it... Was willing to pay any price, so I supplied him with the muscle he needed. Scheffield? That was just a matter of the wrong place at the wrong time. Scheffield, this time, you got lucky. You haven't seen enough of me to know what I'm all about... I took it easy on you... That kick? It was nothing. I can kick harder. Much harder. So who is it that is making me laugh? Watts? Nope... That's not funny... That's dumb luck. Now, don't get me wrong... With me out of the way, I do believe that Watts has what it takes to win the tournament. I think he could be the king. Just remember that anyone can get lucky at anytime. That's what happened in our match, Watts, and I proved that after it was over. You let your guard down, and I punished you for it. Don't let it happen again. I'll be watching. So... Who's the funny one? Kowalski? No, he's not funny either... He came to me like a man. He's got some things that I'm sure he feels the need to get back at me for. The triple-cross... Although what happened to him was nothing compared to the other stuff that went down... He does have a case with the hip, though... That's my doing. No, that ain't funny... That's just being stand up... Being a man. In fact, everyone I dealt with the entire night dealt with me like a man, in one way or another... Except... for the "top brass". You see, now I'm in this tag match that I never wanted. The suits know me. They knew that just asking me to be involved might not work, so they took another route. They know that my pride won't let me walk away from a challenge. And you know something? They're right. I've never backed down from anything in my life. I'll get into this little match, and I'll show you why it is that my name still spreads fear in the IIWF. Annis, Scheffield, you two had better go into this match with your differences put aside, because you can't afford to allow Musashi and me the slightest opportunity. I came into the tournament to test the waters, and I've been thrown into the deep end. What they didn't expect me to do was swim. [Claw walks off camera, laughing much like the man who's heard the funniest joke in his life as the camera fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades in from blackness to the IIWF logo standing tall in the IIWF Interview Area. Before it stands the 6'8", 290 pound Serge Annis. Serge does not look happy, as one hand runs through his hair, and his face bears a sneer. Serge's piercing blue eyes stare into the camera.] SA: Charles Scheffield... I thought that it would take everything I have, to be able to get by one match by wrestling "clean". And I did it. I don't care about Macbeth, Deathbringer or Staley. My concern is that I did it. But apparently, I was wrong Scheffield. There is one thing in this world that would take more... and that is to team with the likes of you. [Annis runs his hand through his short hair again, and points to his forehead.] SA: Look at that... not one stitch. Not even a cut. No blood. But that is your, and Greg Osterhout's definition of a clean cut, pure wrestling match. And if that is what Osterhout wants... then... sigh... that is what he'll get. [Serge brings his hands down to his dies, and hangs his head low. Serge's eyes look up to the camera.] SA: But Takezo Musashi... you, I care about. I don't know what the Hell started this little quest of yours to make my life Hell, but I drew the line tonight. You want a piece of The Epitome... [A quick "HEY!" is heard from off the camera. Serge looks over and sighs.] SA: You want a piece of the Lethal Protector? Well Takezo, I'm willing to strike back. And just because you've found a friend in Tiger Claw, doesn't mean I won't cut into you like a warm knife through butter. I'll stab Claw with the knife too if he gets too close. Scheffield, it's going to get ugly on Saturday. It's gonna be a real mess. I won't have to strictly be 'wrestling clean', and I can guarantee you that Claw and Musashi sure as hell won't be wrestling clean. Scheffield, I'm dragging you down into a war... engaged in the pits of Hell. And no matter how much it depresses me that I have you at my side... I'll see to it that we walk out with the win. Scheff... I tasted your kind of match tonight... and now I invite you to taste mine. [Annis looks away from the camera for a moment, and then back.] SA: One more task. One more task before I am set free. And I won't say that I am anything less than anxious. Claw... I don't know what the Hell your involvement is with this whole thing... and I could care even less. You're in my way, and you'll pay the cost. You and Musashi... heh heh... Claw, welcome back to the IIWF, even if it is a quick tour around. Things have changed... the laws have changed... as... have... I. [The camera cuts out, showing Serge finally grin, as if he knows what is going on and everyone else is out in the dark. Fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Charles Scheffield ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens up to Charles Scheffield standing before the IIWF backdrop, well dressed as usual. It seems as if Scheffield has cut off his albeit short pony tail as his brown hair has reverted to looking its naturally curly state rather than pulled back. Scheffield has a calm look on his face with the hint of a smile. It doesn't seem as if anything is bothering him currently.] CSc: Well, Annis... isn't this a strange turn of events. First we are mortal enemies locked in combat... now we are teaming with each other? If this were happening just a few months ago... or even a week ago I would be quite apprehensive. And it wouldn't even be because of not trusting you... it would be because I don't believe I could stomach wrestling alongside a man who uses totally brutal and technically insignificant manoeuvres. By that I mean that I need a partner who can wrestle effectively within the rules. Last night you showed me something, Annis... that one doesn't need to be a complete wrestling technician in order to wrestle forcefully without compromising the rules. I will admit that you almost had me last night... I really don't know how I came out without losing the whole thing. Of course, it was at that time when I knew I couldn't toy with you... and that is why now I realise that come this Saturday, us as a team should be unstoppable. Of course, I do realise that you do not want to team with me. I, as a civilised man, am willing to put my differences aside for one match. I guess you have reluctantly done so due to the fact you really want to reach that light at the end of the tunnel. I feel, however, that if you just think back in your mind to what happened after I got back into focus... you will realise that it's better to be on my side as well. How did it feel when I tied you up in my patented leglock/full nelson? Yes... that was a creation of my own that Lord Byron used to defeat Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. If you don't believe me, you can turn to my very first Wednesday War Room match and see me using it... well before Byron ever met with Verhoeven for that last time. Aristoclutch 2.0... patent belongs to Charles Pierce Scheffield. You have to admit that any other wrestler in that same predicament would have been out for the count. So as you can see, we shall be an effective team. I really do not want to team with you myself because my morals tell me that helping out a man who has done so much to harm the sport of kings is truly not something I should indulge... but I realise that you are trying to change, therefore I shall give you the benefit of the doubt. Now if you can see things that way, let's take Tiger Claw and Musashi out! That is all I have to say. Carry on. Oh... and one last note. Staley... I know you really don't think I have accomplished anything here... but you really should ask Annis about the first time we met. Deathbringer was another wrestler whom I did stop from garnering a victory over myself. Yes, it was a count-out win... but that is because I am far more cunning than Deathbringer gave me credit for. Staley... if a victory over these two tremendous wrestlers is accomplishing nothing... I would like to know what is... [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Savage" Shadoe Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Shadoe Rage stalks out of the dressing room, wearing sharply-creased wide-legged black gabardine trousers and a long, flowing wide-collared sky blue shirt open under a black leather car length coat. His hair is twisted into braids. He has his bag slung over his shoulder. He doesn't even look tired, a satisfied smile crosses his lips. He walks towards the exit and pauses as he seems to notice the camera for the first time. He beckons it close.] SR: Tragedy, I hate to rub things in, but all your talk, all your mutterings about being sick of the Rages, being fed up and tired of the same old same old? Well, you brought our new style. You brought your little Clown/Crow look or whatever that was. It wasn't a bad look, though. Next time, try to cover more of the face. You talked your game and you shot your wad. And you came up bankrupt, didn't you? You know why? You know why? Because you forgot one thing. You are and always will be a little clown. A pathetic little clown who didn't come from a tag-team of any note, either. And you stepped into the ring with the Black Jesus. You may have survived the 15 foot piledriver by the Deathbringer. You may have shown some toughness by bouncing off the mat every time I dropped you to the canvas, but understand that the Rage will always burn inside me whether I stand by my family or stand alone. You think anything you've done will ever stand up to my performance at Ring Wars V? Not even a Skullpump onto a landmine will stop my career. And I didn't even show you my A game yet. Tragedy, let's face the facts. You've gone as far against me as you ever will. I am better, bigger, tougher and far more ferocious than you ever will be. I am a _super_star in this federation. You are a decent midcard performer. That's all there is to it. And those are the last words I shall ever speak to you about the difference between you and I. [Shadoe's attention is drawn towards the exit which swings opens. Marissa Monet slinks through. She is robed in the shortest sky blue minidress and high-heeled skyblue sandals. The smooth, powerful muscles of her calves and thighs are exposed, lean and graceful. She is polished, manicured and scrubbed to perfection. Her braids are left loose and free. She smiles seductively at Shadoe.] MM: Baby, come on, don't waste time with that camera. If you want to see yourself on tape I have something better for you to tape. [Shadoe simply turns over his shoulder and smiles.] SR: To the victor go the spoils. To the losers... a tragic ending. Can it be so simple? Yes it can. [Marissa reaches out a long arm and takes Shadoe by the hand, pulling him out of the shot. Fade out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Derek Mota is standing at the IIWF Interview area following the unveiling of the new Coalition in the IIWF.  Mota is alone, however he is talking to Rick Williams who is just standing outside the camera angle.] DM: You know what they say about Derek Mota ... Unpredictable.  Betcha the world wasn't expectin' the Coalition ta come back. Betcha that right now, they don't even care. But one thing that I've always been good at is gettin' ya losers to notice.  This time ain't any different. Ya put the best two wrestlers in the IIWF together, and ya get the Coalition. Pure talent.  And it's gonna be pure success, as poor Steve Sampson already found out.  People don't want us ta make it.  But you know what?  I don't care.  And neither does Williams.  We made a living on making it when we were expected ta fold.  We ain't plannin' on changing that anytime soon. Think that Mota is inept?  Think that he's a Discordiac?  Just keep watchin'. You're gonna find out what the TRUE IIWF Cruiserweight Champion is all about.  Maybe you're gonna be surprised... [The camera gradually fades out as we hear Mota say "Let's go get us a beer, Williams" and he walks off the set.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens to the IIWF interview area, following Saturday Night, where the gum-chewing figure of "To Excess" Rick Williams stands, waiting to speak. Dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt, he wears a victorious grin, evidently pleased with his night's work. Spitting the gum to the floor, he begins to speak.] RW: How do you like _that_, Dan? Was that embarrassing enough for ya? Dammit, I bet you're glad to see me back, huh? [Chuckling at the recollection of his earlier actions, Williams pushes his hair from his face before he proceeds.] Well, no matter how embarrassing it was for you, _boss_, at least you know it wasn't as bad as everything I had to put up with before my recent hiatus... so I guess you should think yourself lucky. And what about you, _Superstar_? Any first impressions of the Double Eye? A little rough? The guys in the big league don't play fair? I may have been big in the EWA, but around here, I'm not at El Super Gecko's level? Well Steve, I really hope Derek and I didn't put you off signing that contract... after all, where else would we find a washed-up "legend" who deserves his reputation about as much as Lebec deserved the IC Title shot at Ring Wars? Nah, we hope you enjoy your stay here, Steve... it's just that when your welcoming committee is the new Coalition, it's bound to be a bumpy start. [Laughing aloud, Williams prepares to leave the interview area. But seemingly thinking better of it, he turns to the camera once again.] And as for you, Derek, you remember the rules. This is The Coalition, not Bestest Buddies incorporated. I'll be the best damn partner you ever had... but we'll never be drinking buddies, I'll never attend your birthday party, and I'll damn sure never send you a Christmas present. [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve Sampson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [In the back of the IIWF Coliseum, several IIWF Officials are gathered around a man who looks dishevelled from a fight. In fact, Steve Sampson had just been in a fight that he wasn't expecting, as he was attacked and beaten by Rick Williams and Derek Mota. Sampson takes a drink of water, and looks with an irritated glare at IIWF President Dan Spreadbury.] SS: So this is how it's done in the famous Double Eye? This is the way people get treated here when they're in negotiations. I'd hate to see what you do when a contract's up. This is a good one, Dan. Really makes me want to sign on with you guys. Get attacked when you're a guest of the federation. Nice. [Spreadbury begins to say something, but Sampson glares at him again, silencing Daniel.] SS: Shut up. This is a real nice one, Dan. Well, I've got an idea of how we can get this all ended now. Give me a chance to speak my peace on Saturday. I promise I won't shoot. Just give me the chance to give Williams and Mota a piece of my mind on Saturday, and we can pick up negotiations like nothing ever happened. [Sampson places a bag of ice against the back of his neck, as he looks at Spreadbury. Spreadbury has his head down, looking at the floor.] SS: I'll give you a couple days to think about it, Dan. Give me the word soon, though. Or else you can consider negotiations broken off. [The scene fades out as Sampson rolls his neck around again, and Spreadbury and his officials stand up and walk out of the room.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Eddy "Flap" Jacks ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Jacks stands in the IIWF interviewing area, arms clasped around his chest, thick bull neck clearly visible as it threatens to burst out of his small t-shirt. His hairy java man forearms appear to be twice their normal size, accentuated by the tremendous pressure exerted by his pronounced, bulbous chest. He grabs the mic...and flashes a rare, wry smile.] EJ: So ya done gone an' voted me most pop'ler. Like I said before.... [Pause.] I'll_be_damned. An' that, ladies an' gents, is from da bottom o' da heart. I been many things in this biz...I been called out, I been smacked down...I got concussions from steel cups some jokers in the stands done gone an' threw at me 'cuz they sucked down one too many beers...but I ain't never been voted onta a damn popya_frickin'_larteey list. [Jacks crosses his fingers, placing a meaty palm against his chest.] Scout's_honor. Hell....that don't mean much, though, considerin' the Scouts wasn't even 'round back when I was highlightin' shows in da back o' John Lilley's garage up in ol' town Pittsburgh. Rough days, then. Rougher now, I guess. 'Leastwise that's what good ol' boys like Chris Stonebreaker been sayin'. [Jacks smirks.] Yeah, Stoney_frickin'_breaker. The backwoods legend. The darlin' o' the Georgia set. The southern god_damn dandy. Guess the booker was off suckin' on a big ol' stick o' whacky-weed when they done went an' booked me ta take on this two-bit, moonshine-guzzlin' Johnny Reb on 'ere second-best match show...'course, seein' how da Double-Eye ain't rich 'nuff ta afford but two damn shows a week, War Room's gotta be the second best show. [Pause.] So, Stonewall Breakson, it's gonna be yer ass in the ring wit' me. I kinda like War Room...all nice an' roomy-like, sorta like how the armory use ta be back in ol' town Philly. Not a buncha fans, not a buncha lights. Good ol' fashioned rasslin', hand ta hand... [Pause.] ...man_ta_frickin'_man. An' when yer friends ask ya what a good ol' axehandle from one o' da few throwbacks in this god_damn sport feels like, dixie flower.... [Pause. Jacks cracks...a third smirk.] ...tell 'em it hurts like hell. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner stands in the interview area with a slight grin on his face.] TNT: A great wrestler once said, "I'd rather be lucky than good." Well tonight, I was both. Chris Stonebreaker may have been robbed, but it wasn't by me. I said that my only goal was to get past Stoney and I did that so now it's time to set a new goal. Lebec, you must be crazy to help me win. Do you forget how I dominated you when we met before? You were no match for me in the ring then and you are no match for me in the ring now! You couldn't beat Duncan and I sure as hell can! Simon Lebec. The "Savior". Are you trying to find your way into heaven? Prepare for the one way, Rocket Express...to HELL! [Fade] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ NorthPac Coalition ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Constable" Tom Turner and "The Immolator" Akira Saito stand in front of the IIWF logo in the interview area.] CTT: The climb has begun! The NorthPac Coalition is clawing the way back up to the top! AS: We accomplished something tonight. We showed that we have champion caliber ability as we beat two former champs. We evened an old score from our days in Japan. We scared the Black Watch. CTT: That's right! Those Macbeths are terrified that we will make it back. They dominated us in our last meeting and they could have left us for dead. Instead they lighted a fire and they know that if they don't put a stop to us now, we will grow and grow until we crush them like the bugs that they really are! AS: We must also take this opportunity to thank the Down Boys who came to our aid after the match. We are sorry to see you go. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Vagabond" Chris Staley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade up on Chris Staley's tripod camera. Chris is being pulled into the shot by various members of security, who haven't left his side since his brawls with Deathbringer. He shoves them off and prepares to speak. There is a noticeable growth of hair on his face. He composes himself before he speaks.] CS: DEATHBRINGER, YOU IDIOT!! Never, NEVER, turn your back on your enemy! Christ, might as well've painted a freakin' target on your back for all the room you gave me to strike! Are you honestly SO stupid that you believed I wouldn't show up? Damn, you're dumber than I thought. Well, Deathbringer, doesn't leave you much choice now, does it? You, me, Birthday Bash. No way out. Literally. Also, I noticed this dumb-ass alliance you proposed to everybody to join you. Guess what, 'Bringer? I've got a few cards up my sleeve. And, believe me when I tell ya that they're... [scratches his chin] Oh, how should I put it? Hm. [smiles] Ah, yes, real WILD CARDS! Heh heh heh. Let the mind games begin. Don't say I didn't warn ya. Now, as for Saturday, I see I've got me the Meat himself. Hey, I don't have to beat the meat. That's what my girlfriend's for. I don't have to beat you. You have to DESTROY me! There can be no other way. I love the smell of rotting meat in the morning. Yer gonna be made inta spam when I'm done with ya. By the way, hey you spammers, STOP SENDIN' ME STINKIN' E-MAIL TO BE IN YOUR NO GOOD [BLEEP] [BLEEP] [BLEEP] FEDS! IF YOU'RE THAT DESPERATE FOR NEW GUYS, I AIN'T GONNA JOIN! Damn idjits. And Scheffield, don't forget what I said. The offer's open. And now I extend the invitation to YOU, Harlequin Tragedy. You could make for a very valuable asset. Let me know if you'd enjoy getting your hands on Deadboy again. Until then, see ya in hell, and as usual, have a bad day. [The screen switches to static.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Harlequin Tragedy ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Backstage after the Intercontinental Tournament Match. Tragedy, still covered in blood, addresses the camera.] TRAGEDY: No girls, No brother, no cousin, no chainsaw. And it still took your girlfriend and the "little man" to beat me Shadoe. All your posturing and inane ramblings weren't enough to take out this "clown". [Tragedy starts to snicker a bit.] As for you "little man", I understand where these outbursts are coming from. Though you've retrieved your precious mask, you realise that the power it once held is gone. It resides here now, in the body of the Tragic One. Your outbursts only demonstrate how mortal and scared you truly are. I could punish you for your actions, but I will allow Mr. Staley that privilege for the time being. Now, on to other things. [Tragedy holds up a piece of paper.] Matthew, Matthew, Matthew. I applaud your fighting spirit, but this open contract is going to prove to be the biggest mistake you ever made. After all you've been through with Musashi and all you are going through with Mota, giving me the opportunity to face you for the Cruiserweight Title is not a bright thing. [Tragedy then holds up an old style fountain pen. Bringing the tip up to his brow, he slowly draws some blood into it. He then takes the pen and signs his name on the dotted line.] Overly dramatic, I know. But that's how much I want to be the one to take that title from you Icehawk. You look at me and you think of the past, our partnership, our title reign, our "friendship" as you put it. But this Saturday, none of that will matter one bit. But I'll make a deal with you. You keep 4-D in the back, and I'll do the same with my Harlequins. No tricks, no double-crosses, just you and me, one on one. Even though I am better suited for things other than "fair matches" I'll give you this one. After all, what are "friends" for? [Tragedy starts to laugh as the camera fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Harlequins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Chaos and Terror, collectively known as the Harlequins, sit backstage as the camera rolls.] CHAOS: oH My gOD! wE GOt a tITle ShoT! we Got a TItlE shOT! TERROR: We face the champions, yes? CHAOS: THis iS LIKe thE FIrst TiME sinCE TRag leFT thAT We'Ve goTTEN a SHOt at the BELts! TERROR: Team Sychosys, yes? CHAOS: mAN oH MAn! anD WIth evERYthiNG goING THe wAY THey aRE Now... TERROR: Yes? CHAOS: I COuld beCOMe thE YOUngeST TaG TEam chamPION in IIWF hISTOry! TERROR: Seventeen, Yes! And the plan is? [Chaos stops with a dumbfounded look on his face.] CHAOS: plAN? TERROR: Plan to win, yes? CHAOS: PLan. UhhHH... WHat pLAN? TERROR: We don't have a plan? CHAOS: TErroR... SINce whEN Do we PLAn anYTHing? TERROR: Oh yeah... CHAOS: *sigh* BUt fiRST, we NEEd to bUILD soME momo... mome... uhh... TERROR: Momentum, yes? CHAOS: THAt's iT! MOMentUM! THOse tWo neW GUys we hAVE to fACe WEDnesdaY, D'ArTOIs and magNUSSOn! TERROR: You can pronounce their names but not momentum? CHAOS: SHut uP! [Terror rolls his eyes.] CHAOS: WE HaVE to beAT Them ON WEDnesday. we jUST Have tO. TERROR: And what's the plan for that? [Chaos glares at Terror and smacks him upside the head as the camera fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Once again, the backdrop is the IIWF interview area. And once again, our interviewees are Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey, the American Dragons. Both men are sans their leather jackets, and drip with sweat. Bob holds a towel his head, and Joe has a bandage wrapped around his right wrist. It's obvious these two men are fresh from their matchup with the Prophets of Rage and their post-match beating by the Night Patrol] BI: Why am I not surprised? Why the HELL am I not surprised? Prophets, you walked away. I don't care if you're on strike, you two gutless wonders walked away. Hell, you RAN away! For two guys who think they're all big and bad, you walked away from the American Dragons. But that's not what we're ticked. Oh, no, boys and girls. [Bob holds up the new rankings] BI: If you look at the new rankings, you'll see we're not on it anymore. We've been bumped off. JS: But if you look closely, you'll see who's the #1 contenders... THE FREAKING PROPHETS OF RAGE! What the hell is up with THAT?! I guess the Prophets must be gratifying someone in the front office! They walk OUT on us, giving us a win. Yeah, it was a countout win, but we didn't keep them out of the ring...they walked away! And they get the top ranking? BULL! BI: I see what's up. The Prophets don't wrestle, they get preferential treatment. Petrow comes back, he gets one of the main events at a PPV. JS: Yeah, we're mad. Hell, we're steaming mad! But we ain't going to whine about it. You suck it up, and you go on. Prophets, take your ranking and take whatever the front office wants to shove up your... BI: BUT! Don't forget, Ragers. Don't. After we take out the Night Patrol at Birthday Bash, you're next on our list. JS: Any team, any time! [Fade out on the pissed off tag team] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Robert d'Artois & Reiner Ver Magnusson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene is in the IIWF TV studios. Reiner Ver Magnusson and Robert d'Artois are standing there. As soon as the screen fades in, they adress the cameras.] RVM: I'm sure that all of you IIWF losers are looking forward to this great week of IIWF action, perhaps one of the greatest weeks ever... I can see you wondering... Great? Why is it a great week? Well, for the sole reason that myself and Robert d'Artois will greet you with our presence at every single IIWF show! RdA: That's exact, you will see a week full of real wrestling. That will make a change, because ever since the IIWF opened, you never had the chance to see two truly talented athletes in the ring. Sure, you had some good brawler, but let's face it, none of the wrestlers that competed in the IIWF ever since it opened it's door came close to the new standards of excellence that we are bringing to the IIWF. RVM: Exactly, and we have two matches this week. The first, against the Harlequins, and the second is the rematch against the Benjamins. RdA: How can this will be a rematch? The first match didn't count!!! RVM: Well, I've checked the IIWF official rankings and it seems that they have decided that this match was of any value... It's completely stupid, as far as I'm concerned, but it seems that the ranking committee has actually put us 0-2-0... RdA: 0-2-0? How could it be. We never fairly lost a match here in the IIWF... We are undefeated!!! RVM: I still say that we are undefeated. These rankings are just a joke and they don't mean anything. This is just a representation of the misguided American politics! We never really lost in this federation and that's the only thing that matters! RdA: You are right, Reiner. How could these guys actually think we could lose a match... Completely stupid, silly. RVM: Harlequins, be prepared to serve as an example. And you Benjamins, you will pay, and you will pay dearly because of your stupidity and of the humiliation you brought upon us!!! RdA: We never forgot that, and be sure that we will annihilate you, we will outwrestle you, and when everything is said and done, you will have no choice but to accept the fact that we are your superiors and the superiors of the whole IIWF roster!!! RVM: We just can't be beat! [They leave as the screen fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Benjamins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens on the smiling Bobby and Joe Benjamin in the IIWF interview room. They are standing in their ring attire, with bare torsos and hands on hips as they stare down the camera lens.] BB: Another great week in the Double-Eye, and we're feelin' awesome! [He pumps fist in the air] JB: Yeah, we've really been putting in the work, trainin' every day, just tryin' to make the grade here. BB: And it's gonna be all worth it, when we see all the fans out there cheering us on Saturday Night. JB: Yeah, d'Artois, Magnusson [points to camera], you're going down! [his index finger turns downwards. Then he turns to his brother] Bro, what's with these guys? [throws hands in the air] I mean, they're really good wrestlers and everything, but why do they have to talk the way they do -- all arrogant and stuck up? BB: [Turns to brother] Little bro, that's what can happen when you get into the big-time. A few lights, and people that were normal end up gettin' real big egos. JB: [Shaking his head] Geez, I hope that doesn't happen to me... BB: Keep your feet on the ground, always remember who you are, and it won't, got it? JB: Yeah, gotcha. [nods with a benjismile] BB: Magnusson, d'Artois, you guys talk as if you're the be-all and end-all of pro-wrestling. You come to the States and you start sayin' that Americans don't know how to wrestle. You come to the IIWF and start insultin' the greatest fans in the world [pauses and gets closer to the camera]. Worst of all, you're insultin' our dad and all the wrestling greats that have come outta the IIWF, and the U S of A. [steps back] JB: Our dad's taught us the basics of the American style of wrestlin', and he told us that you could have no better base in your wrestlin' career. We believed that -- we still do, and for you to trash the American way of doin' things really gets us mad. BB: Maybe we're not ready for this match. Maybe we're still too raw. After our first match here, we knew that we had got beat good, even though we did get the win. So we went away and started gettin' things together. We're almost there, but not all the way. You could've said anything you wanted about us bein' rookies and idiots an' all, we didn't care. But when you started attackin' American wrestling and called yourselves the saviors of this illustrious sport, we had no doubt that we wanted to sign for this rematch. JB: Am I ready? Probably not. I've still got some way to go before I can hold my head up high with all the other Double-Eye superstars, but I'm fightin' this one with all the pride I've got in the Double-Eye, in my country, and in my family [hits his chest with a clenched fist]. BB: You ain't saving the Double Eye... and the only thing that you're gonna be saving on Saturday Night is yourselves. It ain't just gonna be the American style you're dealin' with, either -- I've got a few tricks up my sleeve for you. JB: So get ready to be rocked, because: IN UNISON: It's all about the Benjamins, baby!! [Camera fades out on the intense looks on the Benjamins' faces.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Lights come up on Kuyler Greyson, sitting behind a desk, laughing as Joe Petrow is held down for the three count, and the cheers for Steve Kowalski erupt through the building] KG: Well, Mr. Petrow... who's had too many championship shots now? [grins] A word of advice: if you want to talk about credibility, then please, by all means, prove by example and not by just words. You condemned us for wanting our titles back. Face it, Smoky Joe...it was the only reason you and Maurice got the title shot in the first place. And you, well, you threw out your singles contract...said, and I quote "Kowalski, you want to get in the ring with me? Find a partner" Looks like we know who the men are you can really trust. Predators, not Sychosys. And the best part is, no one interfered. And you still lost. Keep our belts warm, Smoky Joe. We'll be back for them real soon. And this week, the Predators have a rematch against the Night Patrol. Well, I can tell you this, Blazer, Garcia, Ms. Hawkings. Thus far you've managed to pretend quite admirably to be the lawmen of the IIWF. Of the Tag division. But all you are is vigilantes. And believe me... you cross that thin blue line, you'll wish you were never born. It's hard not to respect your skill. You were US Tag Champions. Former champions face each other. And believe you me... it's going to be a match to remember. And we're coming at you in 4-D. [Camera fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: "Armitage" Steven Spector [LWC] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Steve Spector, semi-finalist for the King of the Cruisers Tournament is seen sitting next to a cameraman assigned to cover the King of the Cruisers event. Spector appears calm as the camera focuses on him, an eased look on his face. Spector lets out a smile as he nods toward the camera.] SS: Well, two down, two more to go... I think I can now be categorised among the elite of Cruiserweights from around the world now. Takes a special wrestler to... [Spector is interrupted by a voice speaking in Japanese over the PA. Spector knows enough Japanese to know that this announcement can't be good for him. It's solidified when the voice starts to speak over the PA.] PA: Cathay Airlines Flight 393 from Tokyo, Japan is now ready to depart from runway 8 for Los Angeles. [Spector's face turns from a smile to a disappointed frown, and you can see him grasp firmly on the arm rests of his seat.] SS: Damn... The vacation couldn't last forever. It's back to America... the land where everyone's gonna kick my rear end as soon as I step off of the plane. [Spector sighs.] SS: Wish I could take my Japanese... persona with me, but even if I do it won't be long before something irritates me. [With those words Spector clenches tightly on his arm rests, ripping a hole near his index finger.] SS: "Iconoclast" Sean Watts... Fortunately for you, you've made a big name for yourself in the wrestling world by reaching the final four... Unfortunately for you... on Saturday you'll go face to face with me... and in America, no less. It's almost a given that something will happen between now and Saturday that will really make me... pretty damn mad. Better hope nothing like that happens... because I'm certain to be taking it all out on you. Nothing personal, but you'll be punished for someone else's crimes... and besides... it's all about being the best cruiserweight in the world... and it's something that I _WILL_ have. [Spector grins.] SS: And nobody is going to stop me, plain and simple... See you in the ring. [It becomes obvious that the plane is beginning its taxi down the runway, and as soon as the plane starts to lift off the ground, the camera fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: "Iconoclast" Sean Watts [SCRA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene fades in to the IIWF's Monday Musing set, the camera panning across the now familiar King of the Cruiserweights vinyl banner which has been hung against the wall. There is, however, one new element of the set; a rather bruised and battered Sean Watts who leans back against the vinyl backdrop, one arm appearing to try and keep the world in place.] SW: People talk about giving their all. Their one hundred and ten percent. They never talk about taking it though. And with good reason. Tiger Claw gave it to me. And then gave me a second helping without my having to ask him to pass the can of ass whippin'. And yet... Somehow I managed to get by him. I'm going to worry about things like that later in the week. For now, I'm off to an acupuncture session with some hot lights. And once I'm done with my Eastern style method of dealing with the pain, its time to curl up with a good bottle of pain killers. I've been rethinking one of my basic tenets. That of not doing product endorsements. If the makers of Soma brand painkillers need a spokesman, I think I could do a real good job of it. Give me a call if you're watching. [Sean begins to slide down against the vinyl as the scene mercifully fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament participant: Big Greggy Cool [NPWA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens up with BIG GREGGY COOL aka Bigreggie Smalls wearing brown boots, baggy jeans, a "Run DMC" T-Shirt, black shades, a gold cap on one of his front teeth, an afro wig and a gold swan's head cane. BGC is sitting next to a nice little low rider in the middle of an alley way. BGC has his arms folded and a big smirk showing off that gold cap.] BIGREGGIE SMALLS: A'ight... Comin' from dah hood an' all, we learn how to go through life the rough way... Not askin' no questions, not carin' 'bout no answers. We just see what's front of us 'den we beat dah hell outtah it. Chris Michdiggity, Jer'my Fizznit, all dem went down 'cuz they didn't know what's up and they'z sho' nuff weren't down, y'know. Dah reason why dem fall, wuz they didn't know how tah handle dah pain, yo. Painz' pain any way you lookz at it. In dah ghetto you feel pain, you know what it is. You'ze like dah pain, it don't phaze ya. [Big Greggy Cool fixes his afro wig.] BS: Them li'l rich boys and playboys don't know nothin' bout nothin' and even less 'bout feelin' it. For every right I get in, you might be gettin' a bomb in tah me, but fo' real it don't faze me. And 'ventually, I'm gonna hit my BGCDDT and jo' azz is gonna get cut! Parta' bein' from dah hood is knowin' how tah keep it real, yo. I got mah head on straight. I know that you can't win all dah time, and losin' is partah the game. But some more shizzy I know is dat I'm not gonna lose to no one who don't even deserve their own "3:16" T-Shirt, yo. [Bigreggie Smalls stands up and starts walking towards the camera.] BS: A'ight, yo. Come Sat'rday, don't say dat BGC didn't warn yo, ass or something like that, because, umm, I'm from the ghetto and everything and ummm, I guess I'll hurt ya or something like that. Uh huh. [BGC grins as the scene fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Black Watch ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in to the interview area, some time after the end of the card. A handful of reporters are gathered around a monitor watching a sports highlight show.] REPORTER #1: Anything still on? REPORTER #2: Nope. R1: Triple-overtime hockey game? R2: Nope. REPORTER #3: Figure skating exhibition? R1: Nope. R2: Australian rules mumbledypeg? R1: Sweet F.A. [A few moments of hand-wringing ensue.] R3: That's it, then. I'm going home. If my paper wants a story on the Macbeths, they can go to the damn bookstore and buy some Coles Notes. [The reporter turns and leaves in a huff, leaving only the two reporters and the cameraman shooting the scene.] R2: Why the hell are we here? They've were banned from the arena for the whole card! They took off in their car. They're not coming back! [The first reporter, obviously a veteran of the game compared to his younger counterpart, holds up a hand as if to say "Silence!"] R1: If you film it... they will come. R2: Huh? [Inexplicably, the Macbeth cousins burst through the door, approach the cameraman, and...] DM: HOW MANY TIMES DO WE 'AVE T' TELL YIS?!! GET THA' SODDIN' CAMERA OOT O' TH' BLEEDIN WAY!!! [Andrew Macbeth straight-arms the camera lens, causing the cameraman to fall yet again to the floor. The Macbeths leave through the same door they came in.] R2: Jesus! What the hell was that all about? R1: That's our footage. Time to go home, son. [The elder reporter helps the cameraman up to his feet. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+