________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| |\ /| /\ |\ | | /\ \ / | || | \ v v / | __| | v |/ \| \| __| /__\ \/ |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| | |\ /| |/ |/ \/ | | \/ | |\_// /\ |\ /| | _ | / __ / __ | v | | | / \ . |\ | / \ / \ | | | | \__ | | \| | __ \__ 11 May 1998 | | | | \ | | | \__| \ .....................|..v_____/.|.|..|____|____/ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, the battered figure replete with bandages and bruises, sits calmly on a stool in the IIWF interview area, the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt glinting in his lap. Kowalski looks up and fixes the camera with a stare as he speaks:] SK: No rest holds. No fancy Dan gimmick matches. No need fer a rubber match. 'Cause this is the be all, end all. Either the be all of Serge's career. Or the end all of mine. I'm sittin' here in this recordin' booth. My heads' poundin' like a jack hammer... An' I don't think it's gonna stop anytime soon. I don't know if its the pain. Or jus' the statement I wanna make, tryin' to get out. So let me say it... I'm not gonna train fer this one. Not gonna pick up a weight. Ain't gonna run the streets. I'm jus' gonna sit. And wait. Gonna wait five more days. Then I'm gonna roll outta bed. Take my ass to the airport an' hop a ride. Get off the big bird, hitch a limo to the arena an' walk in. Not gonna stop in the locker room... Listen to the guys wish me luck. Nope, I'm walkin' right to the ring. I'm comin' right fer ya. An' in what follows, I will show ya, the IIWF an' the world... Why _I'm_ the champ. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera fades in on the IIWF Interview set, with the IIWF logo strung high in the air, along with a Birthday Bash II logo. The 'Lethal Protector' Serge Annis stands in front of the IIWF symbols, still clad in his wrestling gear. A small spot of blue swells underneath his right eye, the formation of a black eye. Annis grins at the camera.] SA: Tonight... was a good fight. Musashi made sure to give me a shiner to remember it. But as I brawled with Takezo, I couldn't help but notice a certain Fury standing in the background, watching from the sidelines... because he is too weak to participate. Kowalski, Spreadbury offered you a way out of our match. And you declined. Is it stupidity? Ignorance perhaps? Or was it fear? Kowalski, you're afraid to take the easy way out of our match. You want to go in, like you were at one hundred percent. Well, we both know you're not. Steve, you're afraid of all the wrong things. You should be afraid what the Lethal Protector is going to do to you inside that ring, because... well, you're in for a long night... and an even longer stay in the hospital. Kowalski, I'll see you at Birthday Bash. I have promises to keep... and a destiny to unfold. [The camera fades to black with Annis' icy blue eyes staring straight through the camera.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Team Sychosys ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The pre-Birthday Sychobash in the IIWF parking lot following the last regularly scheduled IIWF Saturday Night. While most of the crowd chants and parties around a burning effigy of Tiger Claw in the background, about a dozen or so of the most hardcore fans stand with "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur. The tag champs have their belts slung lazily over the shoulders, as an angry Petrow speaks:] JP: Prostates, three things seem to have escaped from your memories, possibly as a result of all those fish fumes you've been inhaling as of late: This ain't 1997. Or 1996, for that matter. You ain't the world tag team champions. And you ain't the number one team in the world anymore. This _is_ 1998. We _are_ the IIWF World Tag Team Champions, something we intend to be for a very long time. And after next Saturday, there will be no doubt from anybody that we are the number one tag team in the world. But as a result of your misconceptions, you seem to feel that you still call the shots around here, just like you did when we beat your championship asses in a non-title match and refused to grant us a title shot. Wrong. You wanna limit my fans to just 10? Go ahead and try. What if I bring a 100, or a thousand. What exactly are you going to do about it? You want a straight-up match. No [BLEEP]'in way! We're gonna play as crooked-up as we like. Why? Because we're the champs, and that's the way we like it. See, we got issues here. Tell 'em, Mac. 4M: Derek...you think I've forgotten Snow Brawl? You think I forgot how you tied me up and dragged me off to that deserted beach, and did all those _sick_, _perverted_ things to me with those fish? I mean, I know people have some pretty sick fetishes and all, but you just leave me out of it, alright? I mean, I still have nightmares, you know, you with that big goofy grin on your face, and that Humuhumunukunukuapua'a coming closer and closer to my... JP: Like I said, we got issues! Unique, this'll be what, the eighth time we've met in a match? I've dominated you each and every time, yet you still keep coming back for more, one last trip on the Joe Petrow gravy train that remains the only reason anybody pays attention to you! And don't even get me started on Derek's aquasexual fantasies that have become the talk of the locker room! Well, it's gonna stop! Cause we ain't your typical one-cycle champions! We still got a full agenda to take care of: the Black Hawks, the Natural Disasters, the Biggest Fangs Gumming, the Tupac Coalition, the Armenian Clipons, you name it! Prostates, if you wanna do something useful, then take those United States tag belts you've been sitting on for over a year and bring them to the people who should've had them a long time ago. 'Cause we intend to bring tag team wrestling into the Kilpatrick era whether you like it or not! [Joe looks like he has more to say, but Maurice uncharacteristically jumps into the spotlight.] 4M: _This_ [Maurice holds up his tag title belt] is all about honour. Respect. Main events. The good life! I intend to get all of that! And I intend to address to all of those internal issues that are getting in the way of that in due time. But Prophets...payback is long overdue. And you're gonna find out just what happens to guys that mess with Mr. Majestyk. [With that, a strangely confident (or so he appears) Maurice McArthur walks out of the shot. A confused Petrow looks on, mutters "what internal issues?", before shrugging and walking off camera himself.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Fade in: The Prophets of Rage are inside their broken down tour bus, riding along with a pack of Disciples. The Disciples in back are engaged in a rousing debate whether this is a scene lifted from "Get on the Bus" or a brilliant parody of a weak parody of some other promotion's attempt to promote a wrestler nobody really ever cared about anyway. The decision seems split.] DR: No, this is like "Get on the Bus." We have a focus group of people from different socio-economic backgrounds all thrown together for this one vignette. See, we even have a son chained to his father. Just like the movie. [He points to a man who has his two year-old tethered to his wrist by a velcro strap.] DDUA: [rolling his eyes] And I thought I was a crazy muhfuh! Yo, we goin' to a mall, man? We been on strike and ain't been wrasslin'! I done got my forearm surgically altered, too! DR: You did? DDUA: Yeah, I had a boil lanced! [The pair burst into laughter.] DR: At least you aren't diving into tubs of yoghurt. Disciple: But you're throwin' fish! DDUA: I ain't never throwed a fish for no reason. They ain't know that that's a pure soul food inspiration, right? Dreamin' of fish flyin' that's a prophecy of something good. And who better to prophesise something good than a muhfuhin' Prophet? [Everybody is stunned in the bus. Even the driver takes his eyes off the road, looking back at Dirt Dog in amazement.] Driver: There really was a point? DDUA: Yeah, I have a point to the ish I do, muhfuh! DR: We're building a legacy here. Disciple in a blue leisure suit: So who you going to have in your corner? DDUA: You mean durin' that lumberjack match? Well, we gotta see about that? I mean, we got til whut... Thursday to come up with ten of y'all more interestin' than those muhfuh'in Sychopaths? I mean, how do you top a muhfuh been thrown off a bridge? DR: How about a Disciple who's a human fly? DDUA: Man, you is weird. DR: Just trying to get into the spirit of it all. DDUA: Muhfuh, get off my bus! DR: The sequel about the trip back, right? [Fade out] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Tiger Claw ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Tiger Claw walks into the backstage interview area, apparently coming in straight from the chaotic brawl at the end of Saturday Night.] TC: Musashi, Musashi... That was quite a sparring session we had there, wasn't it? I always like to get warmed up before the actual match, you know what I mean? Learn my enemy's tactics... Give the enemy a few false leads... Some bait that maybe he'll take. What's the real me, and what's the set-up, Musashi? One thing that was real out there was obvious... The ring isn't going to be able to contain us for long. This fight is about two men with a score to settle, and not about guidelines that we're forced to follow. That's why I have an idea, Musashi... The idea is that we should make the match no DQ, No Countout, falls and KOs count anywhere. How does that sound to you, Musashi? Do you think you can handle that? Of course you can... In fact, I have a feeling that there's people thinking right now that I'm crazy to suggest stipulations like that against a man like you. You're known for your... wild side. Well, Musashi, I can handle your wild side, and I can give you a taste of mine in return. The entire IIWF Coliseum is a more fitting battleground for us, isn't it? I await your response, Musashi. Don't disappoint me by turning my suggestion down... [Claw goes to move off camera, and then, as if remembering a last thought, stops, and turns to the camera again...] TC: Oh, and for those keeping track... I didn't go to Petrow... He came to _me._ It's just natural... The mid-carder always targets the main event for some publicity... [Claw cracks a smile, and walks out of the shot, snickering to himself. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Enigma" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi paces about wildly in the backstage area of the IIWF Coliseum, his mind consumed with thoughts of violence and revenge. Abruptly, he about turns and faces the camera, a dangerous gleam flashing in his eyes.] TM: Tiger Claw, when you turned around and kicked me down to the canvas in one cowardly swoop, on a night during which your fate was well and truly sealed, your only success was in further cultivating my wrath. The flood gates of my soul were inched open a little further, and now, the gush of molten steel that is my anger spews forth in greater torrents than ever before... and with greater, white hot intensity. Am I concerned with a single petty betrayal? Will my reckless quest to plunge the IIWF into ever greater depths of chaos be stemmed, or even held back quivering momentarily, like an arrow upon the string? No. It was but the sting of a fly upon the crown of my head, a brief falter, and then bloody carnage unleashed once again. But can I allow you to go unpunished for your transgression, no matter how puny it will prove to be in the eternal wheel of fate? It can not be so, for I am a warrior, and pride is among my most cherished possessions. For I take pride in what I do... in every drop of blood I spill, in every punishing victory I take, in every bone I break. In the ring, in my domain, where I am King, I can permit no other to be my master... I can permit no other to beat me at my own game, even for just one, tremulous, fading second. You invaded my realm, Tiger Claw, and for the briefest of moments, moments that will rapidly be forgotten by all when I tear you into bloody shreds, yet moments that will hang vivid and suspended in the vengeance deranged brain of the Enigma until he has satisfied his lust for a retribution... in those brief moments, Tiger Claw, you dared to challenge my might and authority. That, my old comrade, is something that I can not permit you to do. You must be rebuked with your own blood. Tiger Claw, you are deluded in your vanity, for you will never be the IIWF's Messiah. You must know, that under my jurisdiction of anarchy, there will be no place for banners and ideals, no saviours for the pain and misery inflicted among men, only empty, empty nothingness, and souls gnawing upon darkness within that nothingness. Utter destruction is the only goal I set before myself, the only burning design that drives me onwards, and after utter destruction... well, how can there be a Messiah when there is nothing left to save, no people to lead, nothing to live for? And unlike that weakling prophet Jesus, you will become no martyr for your cause. If you are remembered at all, it will only be as another victim of the hurricane of fury, the tsunami of carnage that is the Enigma. All we be trampled and bloodied under my foot before the hour glass of fate runs out, but those who meddle in my affairs are vanquished all the sooner... but that fact is slow to dawn on the petty minds of the weak... on _your_ petty mind, Tiger Claw. Pray that your destruction will be a swift affair... but I warn you in all sincerity, my hand is not merciful, and suffering is my greatest art. And at Birthday Bash, I intend to demonstrate my artistry - in all of its delicate, subtle, intricate agony - to the very full. One last time, Tiger Claw, I salute you as my brother in war. After this, our tale of woe begins. [Musashi's stare of madness and anger burns holes through the camera lens as the image fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: Extreme close-up. A pair of black, stiletto high heels on the floor. The camera pans up, taking in the lovely feet and legs in the shoes. Lovely, somewhat muscular, _hairy_ legs and feet. Knobby knees, but those are covered by plaid knee pads. And next... a red plaid skirt, er, _kilt_, not to mention the immense shadow cast by what is underneath the kilt. Finally, a brass buckle fastening the belt of the kilt. On the brass buckle is a pair of golden arches and the slogan "over ten million serviced." Focus there a second... the identity of the kilt-wearer still unseen.] VOICE: This is _nae_ a tag team! This is _nae_ a tag team! _Nae_! _Nae_! [horse-like] Ne-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-eigh! [Pan the rest of the way up. The kilt-wearer, who was speaking, is wearing a black hooded sweatshirt that conceals his face... meaning that he is, of course, the Hooded Kilted Man. He laughs. Then, into the frame steps the smirking, squinting, beared form of Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines. Gunnar is wearing a blue plaid flannel shirt, with an "Extremist" t-shirt on underneath. Snickering, he gives the Hooded Kilted Man a thumbs-up and a Grizzly Grin... then he kind of eases the Hooded Kilted Man out of the shot and proceeds to speak himself.] GGG: Not a tag team, Black Watch? That's right... Caleb Temple and I are not a tag team. We've demolished the entire tag team ranks in the Double Eye, yeah... and sure, we've mastered teamwork... but we're not a tag team. But let me tell you something, Andy Panda and Duncan Donuts. You went and attacked us... you kept us from completely settling my little score with Sycho Joe, as I had to settle for merely injuring him... and you kids cost us two belts we _earned_. And you know what, ya two fart stains? Gunnar Gaines simply does not put up with that, and neither does Brother Temple. So now it's come to this. You two twerps are up against the two most vicious sons of bitches in the entire IIWF, the wheel is picking what match it's gonna be, and no matter where it lands, it ain't gonna be a pretty sight. How best can I describe what's going to happen to you two? [He scratches his beard quizzically, smirking... then brightens.] GGG: Perhaps I should leave that up to the Kilted One. [On cue, the Hooded Kilted One steps back into the shot.] GGG: [to HKM] Say the line from Shakespeare. You know... LADY Macbeth's infamous line. You know the one. HKM: [in a strained "female" falsetto, histrionically] Here's the smell of the blood still! All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh! Oh! Oh! GGG: [laughing] Simply _poetic_, O Kilted One. And when it's over, people will ask, "Who would have thought those two lily-livered boys to have so much blood in them?" And then... _trust_ me... we'll be drinking to the general joy of the whole table at the Gaines house, as the Bard himself put it, with Brother Temple as the most honoured guest. [cackling, snorting and guffawing] You understand, Bum Watch... Shakespeare was damn near _prophetic_ when he wrote the tragedy of the Macbeths. And then, what is done... _to_ you... _by_ us.... _won't_ be undone... _ever_... not even if every damn doctor in Portland is in the house! Why not? Because we are the two men who _do not care_! Don't like it, kilt rangers? Well, there's only one thing you can do about it. You've got to beat... the Baddest Thangs Running. And kids... [more laughter] GGG: ..._trust me_. I don't think you can! [Focus in on a Grizzly Grin... then fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 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 has become a familiar sight, the 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: "What man is he that feareth the Lord? Him shall he teach in the way that he shall choose." Psalms 25:12. [His face creases with a wicked grin.] CT: I'll explain, shall I? It is a simple little lesson, after all. To put it in it's simplest and most basic terms... you asked for this, Black Watch. What Brother Gaines and myself have in store this coming weekend, you asked for every little bit of it. Now, I _hate_ to categorise myself with those fools who label themselves "the Kings of extreme", or "the Masters of Hardcore". Lord knows there are enough of those idiots out there already. But the fact of the matter is, Macbeths, that Gunnar Gaines and Caleb Temple can, and WILL, fight you two boys under _ANY_ set of rules you can come up with. And furthermore, we'll beat the hell out of you. [His face takes on a deadly serious countenance.] CT: That's what makes what's going to happen to you this weekend all the more sweet, Macbeths. The anticipation. The possibilities. Oh, the possibilities. How sweet will it be? See, _you_ allowed _us_ to choose the very manner in which you shall suffer. [He grips the wheel and gives it a mighty spin. The blur of colours begins again.] CT: And you know what, boys? We're going to take our chances. [The wheel begins to slow, and we see some of the options drift past... Texas Death Match... Singapore Cane... Coal Miner's Glove... the wheel slows... slows... stops... we hear a soft yet sinister chuckling sound. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Black Watch ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Andrew and Duncan Macbeth, the Black Watch, stride into the IIWF interview area after the chaotic scene that closed IIWF Saturday Night. The massive Andrew, smirking, strokes the curls of his red-gray beard as his younger cousin wipes his damp, ruddy-blond hair out of his eyes and fixes the camera with his cold jade stare.] DM: Quite a nigh' wha'. We saw our auld friend an' teammate, Tim Turner, kick th' closet door open in front o' th' whole wrestlin' world. Can't say it surprises me -- ye always were more concerned about yuir bleedin' ring wardrobe than yuir opponents, Tim. But I have t' give ye credit, 'cause tha' took some guts. If ye'd showed tha' kind o' spine earlier, we'd probably still be a team today. All I can say is... guid luck. Ye may have cost yuirself th' Intercontinental Title tonigh' wi' tha' wee revelation, 'cause if th' suits couldn't handle me as champ when I was poundin' Lebec in t' a smear at Ring Wars 5, I'm sure a gay champ won't exactly thrill 'em either. I honestly hope tha's all ye'll lose, but again, 'twas yuir call, laddie. [Andrew nods somewhat hesitantly, then steps forward, his iron-gray eyes suddenly twinkling with mirth.] AM: Enough wi' th' soap-opera bollocks -- let's turn t' a more amusin' subject, shall we? Gaines, Temple... how did yis like th' Barnacle Brothers an' their wee skit tonigh'? I have t' admit, watchin' those two sorry bastards oot there spinnin' their wee wheel, an' tryin' fer all they were worth t' act like everyone in th' IIWF was pissin' their drawers at th' sight o' them, tha' put a big smile on me face, aye. [Duncan leans over and whispers something in his cousin's ear. Andrew looks slightly embarrassed for a moment, then grins into the camera, his eyes narrowing.] AM: Wait a sec... I believe tha' was YIS two I was watchin'! Sorry aboot tha' sweethearts... yis'll have t' forgive me, 'cause I honestly could no' tell th' difference! [Andrew chuckles to himself, and then his demeanour grows dark as he growls into the camera.] Ye see, tha' bit wi' th' Barnacle Brothers was nothin' more than a bad joke. Jus' like th' two o' yis. An' th' biggest joke o' all is goin' t' happen one week from tonigh', when th' big, mean, tough-talkin' Baddest Stanks Reekin', wi' their big kilted bodyguard t' protect 'em, an' their wheel wi' all th' circus sideshow matches tha' passed fer wrestlin' in their pathetic auld Appalachian backwater fed... ...when th' team tha' seemingly has all th' odds on their side... ...STILL gets the holy shite kicked oot o' 'em at Birthday Bash. An' here th' reason WHY. Duncan? [Duncan Macbeth steps forward, a confident grin spreading across his face, and he opens his mouth to speak, but instead of his thick-burred English, a strange, soft, breathy lilt escapes his lips, the sound incongruous with the young Scot's fierce countenance.] DM: Ní neart go cur le chéile. [Duncan then simply turns and walks out of the shot. Andrew watches him leave, then turns back to the camera, looking quite satisfied.] AM: Have yuir kilted nursemaid translate THA', tossers, while she's holdin' yuir dear wee hands crossin' th' street. Or jus' bring 'er t' th' Bash next week, an' we'll be happy t' explain th' meanin' t' all _three_ o' yis... [Andrew turns and follows his cousin out of the studio. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Deathbringer ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [SCENE: The IIWF interview area. Deathbringer is standing in front of the camera, still dressed in his wrestling attire. He wastes no time before beginning to speak with his known voice] DB: Staley, do you never learn? You just keep blindsiding me, you keep on jumping me from behind and you keep on getting in my way... I do not care about you, so why do you care about me? Now please do not answer this question for your answer is of no relevance... In just a few days we will meet in the squared circle which, at that time, has been surrounded by a fifteen feet high steel cage.... No way out, not with me as your opponent... And no way in... I will make sure that no one interferes, Staley, trust me... So this leaves the two of us, two warriors fighting against each other, because of reasons unknown to me and, I suppose, unknown to you as well... I want you to understand this, Staley, on Saturday, on Birthday Bash, you are going to die for... well, nothing... But this is your very own choice, and although it might have been your last, I will respect it... However, despite all that respect, one thing has to be very clear... You, Staley, do not stand a chance against me, and I guess you know it... I will take you apart piece by piece... And if I were able to feel, I would probably enjoy it.... Staley, enjoy your final days on this earth... Staley, prepare to meet your maker! [Fade as Deathbringer lowers his head.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Vagabond" Chris Staley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A light powers on. It's coming from Chris Staley's tripod. Staley chuckles to himself before speaking.] CS: Ya just don't get it, do ya, ya piece of roadkill? Yeah, I'm talkin' to you, deadboy. The more you ignore me, the more you unleash the fury of the flame. You can have 50 clones, for all I care. I'll just keep getting up and getting up again. Believe me when I tell you that it's time to roll the dice...in more ways than one. Heh. And I ALWAYS have a backup plan in case Plan A don't work. Rest assured, this steel cage match will not end our feud. This feud will continue to be an Unholy War which threatens to decimate the very core of the IIWF. Beware for the Reich shall rise to rule with an iron fist. What that means you'll have to figure out for yourself. Just two other things to address. Number one is Tiger Claw. Or should that be Claw is number one, if ya know what I mean. I don't know where you come off with this smug attitude. You brushed this federation aside like a bad habit when you left back at Leavenworth and now you're expecting everybody to bow down to you. Pal, expect to be stalked like your namesake does. If this whole return to the IIWF is a one-shot deal, well, I always know where the opposition goes to play. And for you, it shall be where you die. And the other thing I need to address is this. Annis and Tragedy, don't be surprised to find yourself in the same place in the near future. You'll know what I mean very soon. Well, I've gotta go. Gotta go pick up my plane tickets. I'm headed to Japan for extensive training after the Bash. So I leave you with this. Deadbones, the brightest flame burns quickest, and the bright flame of Chris Staley shall make your ungodly soul smell of brimstone for eternity. Snake Eyes is comin' ta getcha. Don't say I didn't warn you. Burn... in... HELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [BBBBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZTTTTTTTTTTT] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steve Sampson ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [A deserted hallway in a local Portland hospital is the scene. Seated by himself on a row of waiting room chairs is Steve Sampson. Dressed in a Big Greggy Cool T-Shirt and jeans, Sampson adjusts the icepack on the back of his neck.] SS: Well, It's been a long time since I've been in the hospital for precautionary measures. Gotta admit, I should have thought before I went out and cracked your arm, Williams. But I didn't, so Deathbringer reminded me of what this place looked like. This weekend, Rick, you and I, we're gonna settle our issue. You wanted to use me to launch your career to a new stratosphere, but the only problem was, you didn't expect me to fight back. You really thought I was going to sit around and take what you did to me three weeks ago? You really thought I wasn't going to try to break your arm every chance I had? Oh yeah, like I'm _really_ going to be afraid of you and Derek Mota. Please. [A doctor walks into the picture, and talks with Steve for a couple of minutes. Sampson exchanges heated words with the Doctor, before the Doctor throws up his hands and storms off. Sampson throws the icepack down and shouts obscenities at the Doctor before continuing.] SS: I have a lot of problems going into Birthday Bash, Williams. I have to worry about beating you from one end of the Coliseum to the other. I have to worry about Mota becoming a factor in the match, and I have to worry about my own second abandoning me. Rob, what was up with that hostility? I'm not the one that cracked you over the skull with that baseball bat. Maybe you're just pissy that someone was actually more hardcore than you. I really do have respect for you, Donovan. I do, but you need to get your ass in gear. So what if you're taller than a damned building and more hardcore than Scott Bloom. That's not going to matter at Birthday Bash. What's going to matter is you NOT throwing in the towel. I don't care if you hate my guts and think I'm going to die. Do NOT throw in the towel. After Birthday Bash, we'll handle our problems. Right now, I'm focusing on Williams. Don't cross me, Donovan. [Sampson walks down the hall slowly towards the exit, as the camera slowly fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "To Excess" Rick Williams ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens to the IIWF area, where the gum-chewing figure of "To Excess" Rick Williams stands, water bottle in hand. Dressed in black jeans and a red shirt, which hangs loosely open, he appears to be favouring his right arm, following his earlier altercation with Steve Sampson. Taking a drink from the bottle, he places the cap back on as he begins to speak.] RW: Well, well, well... who'd have thought it? _Superstar_ had a plan, huh? Will wonders _never_ cease? Well Stevie, your little plan had all the impact you and your buddy, Donovan, will have in the Double Eye... and we all know that I'm talking Destructo-levels here. You see, _Superstar_, you can try to injure "To Excess" in advance of Birthday Bash -- Hell, I'm used to opponents making one last desperate attempt to gain an advantage over me -- but your problem is that Derek still won't be throwing in any towel next Saturday because we have a common goal... Coalition success. [Pausing briefly, Williams pushes his shoulder-length hair from his face before proceeding.] But what of _you_, Superstar? You trust Donovan? And I mean, _really_ trust him? I sure hope so... because you're gonna have to trust him to ensure that your career can continue on its downward spiral for a little while longer. You see, I don't want to put you out of action permanently, _Superstar_... but I'm relying on your buddy's good sense to tell the world when you've had enough. [He raises the water bottle to the camera.] So, here's to Donovan's common sense... and here's to "To Excess" proving a point... _IIWF_ style. [Grinning that devious grin, Williams laughs an almost evil laugh, as screen fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Derek Mota stumbles onto the IIWF Interview set following the main event at IIWF Saturday Night. Mota's head is cut wide open, a trickle of blood coming down his nose.] DM: Whoa, that was fun! Told you guys I had somethin' in store for ya! Icey, ya showed me ya had some guts... parking lot brawl, usually that's my zone, but you didn't do so bad... cut me up pretty damn good. That's okay. I don't mind a little blood. Don't mind it at all. I guarantee we're gonna put on a good show. Throw fists with the best of 'em. But tonight I wanna talk about another match. My Coalition partner "To Excess" Rick Williams is fightin' the so called "Superstar" Steve Sampson. And I'm holdin' the towel for the Coalition. Williams, we may not be best friends, but we're together in this thing. We both got somethin' to work together for... or more like _against_. They're out ta hold us back, Williams. So we gotta work together ta make sure that it don't happen to us. We ain't got no funny gimmicks. We ain't got flashy finishers. We're just great _wrestlers_. And so we got the whole world against us. So you can count me in on your side, Rick. I ain't turnin' against ya anytime. And I _ain't_ throwin' in the towel. No matter what. [Mota grabs a white towel from the side of the stage and wipes the blood off with it. He then goes to drop it to the ground, but thinks twice and keeps it in his hand as he walks off the stage. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Machines ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Paul Wong steps up to the empty IIWF Interview area, carrying a chair. He sets the chair down and sits on it.] PW: My turn this week. You know, I was taught never to hate anyone. Anger, disgust, sorrow... I could feel those, but hate was a wasted emotion. And until a few weeks ago, I'd have to say that I never hated anyone in my life. I can't say that anymore. Daimyo -- I hate you. I hate you with a passion I didn't know existed. I powerbombed Tsuburaya off the jumbotron; I almost powerbombed Miki. But they were just the appetiser; they couldn't be in this position without Satsuma and Nakajima. [He pauses] I can't say that I enjoy hating this much; I just know that it's dominating my life right now. Once the Fabulous Ones are gone, the hatred should disappear. At least, I'm hoping so. But first, I have to embrace the hate. Simon and I are going to destroy the Fabulous Ones. They are going to leave the IIWF. I don't know if they'll walk off, if they'll be carried off on stretchers, or if they'll need bodybags. And quite frankly, it doesn't matter to me. [Wong gets up and leaves the set.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament Finalist: Big Greggy Cool [NPWA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The scene opens up with Big Greggy Cool sitting down in his Portland, Oregon hotel room laying back on the bed relaxing, three pillows underneath his head. BGC is wearing only a pair of long brown shorts and spiked dog collar around his neck and a towel over his face. BGC reaches to his side and pulls up a little tape recorder. BGC begins to speak.] BGC: Dear Time Magazine. My name is Mr. Big Greggy Cool. I would officially like to throw my name into the hat for 'Man of the Century'. I know it seems odd to elect a professional wrestler for such an honour, but I don't see what other man is as deserving as me. I understand the power and influence that I have over a great number of people so I donate a lot of time and money to charity. My wrestling skills are second to no... Ummm, 'exceptional', and with my King of the Cruisers title, that means I'm really much better than a whole lot of other people and that should count for something. I'm a community man. I spend countless hours working on charities to better society. For every 'BGCDDT' I hit, I donate two bucks to the Battered Woman Foundation! The Swiss Cancer Institute, better known as the SCI is using me as a spokesman when I started up the charity "Kickin' Ass For Cancer!" [BGC stays silent for ten seconds in thought then continues.] BGC: Plus who else do you got? Sigmund Freud, what the hell did he ever do? Read his experiments on humans, he screwed up more people than he helped. And that Winston Churchill guy... Whatta loser, I mean after that big scoring drought he was in, his career was over. Yeah he was a great mid fielder in his prime, but after that he could barely dribble straight. That's why I feel that your Man of the Century should be... Big Greggy Cool! Danke! [BGC smirks and clicks off the tape recorder as the scene fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Tournament Finalist: "Iconoclast" Sean Watts [SCRA] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The camera opens up for one final Musings against the black vinyl King of the Cruisers backdrop, the tournament logo silkscreened on in a fiery red. Two men stand before it this time, one of them quite obviously not a Cruiserweight by even the most liberal definition. Sean Watts stands just left of center, a hand pressing his ruffled blonde hair back against his head. His poor posture is evident as ever in an obviously old Fugazi tee shirt from some former tour, and an equally worn pair of blue jeans. Eddy Jacks, clad in his standard white “Ottawa Wrestling: Cap That Ass” t-shirt and black jeans, stands beside his stoic partner, arms clasped around his thick chest, mammoth pectorals rising and falling with the taking of each passing breath.] EJ: Yer lookin’ at da last real cruiser in da world. Yer lookin’ at da livin’ legend, da uncrowned king, da regent-in-absentia... [Pause. Jacks grins, slapping a meaty palm on Watts’ shoulder. Watts, never the personable competitor, grimaces...but takes the gesture in stride.] EJ: ...yer lookin’ at Sean Watts. An’ yer lookin’ at da winner. I don’t give a god_damn ‘bout Greggy Cool, plain an’ simple, an’ I’m sure ol’ Sensational Sweetness ‘ere’s thinkin’ da same thing. Got somethin’ ta say, Seany-boy? [Watts nods, his long blonde hair gently rustling as he moves his head. Jacks steps to the side, allowing the camera to pan over and center itself entirely on Watts. Sean pauses for a moment or two before finally raising his eyes to meet the camera, beginning to speak a moment later.] SW: Introspection. That's how I spent my week away from all this. Such as why I took on the moniker of 'Iconoclast'. And no, it isn't the idea of taking out guys who're self-professed icons or anything like that. It's all about how I live my life outside the ring. And the way I see it, that life isn't any of _your_ business. [Watts raises up a hand, a finger taking a stab towards the camera to lend a bit of emphasis to his words. His shoulders shift a bit as he lowers his arm, voice raising a bit as he speaks more forcefully.] SW: And this weekend, I get a shot at changing my life around. A shot at turning my career all the way around. It's not exactly something I can sleep real easy with. I have to choose between staying where I've been for a long time, or moving into something a whole lot less comfortable. Continuing to be a "coulda been," or becoming something of a target. Now I don't have all the answers, but between Greggy and I, we'll find 'em on Saturday. I just really don't have anything exciting to say about it right now. Maybe I should hire someone to write something up for me, eh? [Sean gives jacks a slap on the back of one his shoulders before the two turn make their way out of the Musings area. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Harlequins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [There is a lot of noise heard in the background, but all that can be seen is darkness... and the word "REC" blinking in the lower right hand corner of the screen.] VOICE1: I SAid wE'Ll be dOINg thIS OURSelveS! VOICE2: Is that thing on? VOICE3: Patience Melody, patience. VOICE4: We shoot our own promo, yes? VOICE5: I can't see anything? VOICE2: Comedy, the lens cap is still on! VOICE5: Oops! [The darkness dissappears to reveal the recording studios at IIWF Towers. Some of the backdrops and equipment have been knocked over. The camera points at a camerman, knocked out on the floor, then swings up towards the lights, then passes by the Harlequins and to the floor.] CHAOS: wilL You pOInt thaT THIng aT Us AlreADY? COMEDY: Hey! This thing's heavy! [Tragedy walks towards the camera and reaches towards it. He is soon out of shot as the camera swings around to Comedy who smiles. Then it swings back and steadies on the Chaos and Terror, only Chaos' head is out of frame.] TERROR: Yogi and Booboo! This past Saturday... TRAGEDY: Hold on Terror, I need to zoom out. MELODY: How long is this going to take? TRAGEDY: Damnit, where's that button? COMEDY: Just back up. TRAGEDY: I can't the camera cord's not long enough. Chaos, you're going to have to squat down so I can get you in the shot. CHAOS: *groan* [Chaos squats down next to Terror.] TRAGEDY: Now Mel, you get in between them. [Melody takes her position.] COMEDY: Ready, and 5, 4, 3, 2... TRAGEDY: Just start. CHAOS: NATuraL PredaTORS! SATurdAY Night was ONLY THe BeginNING! TERROR: Your treachery will not go unpunished, yes? Vengeance will be ours, yes? MELODY: That's the little thing about promises, _both_ ends are expected to keep them. Tragedy kept his to Icehawk, but he didn't keep his. TERROR: And now you all die, yes? CHAOS: BEAr, yoU FIred tHE First SHOt. SAturday wE RETALiated. anD WE'RE juST geTTINg wARMed uP! MELODY: And all of 4-D is guilty by association. So Phoenix, Hawk, Marty, all of you are marked men. TERROR: Prepare to be near, that which you fear! COMEDY: [off camera] Okay! It's our turn! CHAOS: I'll HOld the CAMEra. TRAGEDY: Hold on, I think the baterry is... [The image cuts out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Benjamins ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene opens on the Benjamins standing relaxed in the IIWF Interview Room, Joe with one of his hands over his other hand, which is balled into a fist, and Bobby with his arms folded] BB: Six days from now, the Benjamins get to take part in the greatest wrestling Pay Per View in the whole world -- The Double Eye's two years old now, and we get to celebrate along with all you awesome fans out there. JB: Of course, we'll be doin' it by taking on a team that we're gettin' pretty familiar with now. BB: Yeah, we fight the team of d'Artois and Magnusson. Y'know, you've [points to camera] given yourselves a new name, but from what I've seen, you're still the same arrogant guys you've always been. Now that you're called True European Excellence, you're even insultin' your own home, 'cos all you've shown here so far is that you're real sore losers. We're representin' the USA, and even if we lose against ya, we'll know that it'd been all that we coulda done -- we woulda done ourselves, and our country proud, just by tryin' our best, 'cos that's all you can expect... you guys... [shakes head], well, you guys don't even look like you're tryin' to win. JB: At the Bash, we're gonna knock your attitude outta ya. It's about time that you got the clean loss that you ain't gonna be able ta argue with. BB: Everytime you haven't won a match, your excuse has been that it didn't count, that you got a moral victory out of it -- I mean, are you still calling this your debut match? [Throws hands in the air] Come on! JB: We ain't the same team who you fought a month ago... We've seen a lot more, we've learnt a lot more, and yeah, we've FELT a lot more. We've... [pauses] well, me especially, have done a lotta work at the Power Prep and things are startin' to come right. Last time we were lucky, this time it ain't gonna be luck. BB: It's getting to the point now where we can't go back to our rookie tags if we lose a match -- we're gettin' the experience that we needed, and still need. Yeah, we're still raw, I'm not [shakes his head] saying that we aren't, it's just that now we can't use that 'new kid tag' anymore... We've been round long enough to get a feel of things and it's about time that we started producin' the goods. JB: And you know what? We're gonna start this Saturday against d'Artois and Magnusson. We're not little kids anymore and we've got nobody to hold our hands -- it's all up to us [points to him and his brother] now. BB: We're ready to step to the next level in our game. To do that, we gotta do well against d'Artois and Magnusson -- and you can be sure that we're gonna try our hardest, 'cos... IN UNISON: ...It's all about the Benjamins, baby! [Camera fades out on Joe and Bobby giving the camera the 'thumbs up' signal, bright benjismiles emanating from their faces.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ True European Excellence ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Scene fades in the Saturday Night locker rooms. Robert d'Artois is standing there, along with Reiner Ver Magnusson. They are seemingly waiting for a cue, and when it's given, d'Artois immediatly adress the IIWF viewers.] RdA: What's our official record as of now, Reiner? RVM: I think it's 0-3-2. RdA: And what was the fan's reaction during our match? RVM: They didn't care about us. RdA: And what was our place on the cards? RVM: Usually, the opening match. And we'll be relegated to the Birthday Bash Free-For-All. RdA: That's sad. Very sad. But there's one positive thing that I can see, concerning our place on the pay-per-view. There's more people who will see us destroy, humiliate and tear apart the perpetrators of our current losing streak. RVM: How come? RdA: Think a little bit, Reiner! Do you think that just about every IIWF fan will buy the event? Sure, I'd would have been better that people paid to see us wrestle, but we have to see the positive parts, and more people will be able to see exemple that we will made out of those snot-nosed kids The Benjamins. RVM: That's true... But as far as I'm concerned, the important thing isn't when, how or where we beat the Benjamins. It's just that we beat them up like the crap that they are! We are the laugh of the IIWF, the fans aren't even into the greatness we represent. How do you want our new standards of excellence to be taken seriously when about 80% of the people don't even care about who you are! RdA: And it's all the Benjamins' fault. RVM: At Birthday Bash, it'll be time for revenge!!! I'm sick and tired of those two's little skits about the fact that they are just young kids trying to get a break!!! We don't care, we don't care this time!!! At our first two encounters, we showed MERCY and we sure PAID for it!!! BUT THAT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN!!! I WON'T ACCEPT TO BE HUMILIATED BY TWO BRAINLESS IDIOTS!!! RdA: Calm down, Reiner. RVM: I DON'T WISH TO CALM DOWN!!! THEY ARE DRIVING ME CRAZY!!! IT ALMOST SEEMS LIKE THE ONLY THING WE ARE ABLE TO DO SINCE WE LOST TO THEM IS LOSING OR WRESTLING TO NO CONTEST!!! RdA: Reiner please!!! We are on TV!!! RVM: THEY... OHHH... WHATEVER... I'M OUTTA HERE. [Reiner Ver Magnusson storms out of the room.] RdA: It's all because of that first little meaningless loss... But after Birthday Bash, all of that bad dream will be forgotten... Birthday Bash is our new debut, it's the rebirth of our mission in the IIWF. Benjamins, you will be destroyed, you will be excellently destroyed. We named our tag team "True European Excellence" and that isn't just a bunch of word, it's the truth! And at Birthday Bash, we will not only prove that we can win, we will prove that we can win cleanly, fairly and decisively!!! A l'evenement anniversaire de la IIWF, vous verrez le second debut des vrais legendes de cette organisation!!! La Veritable Excellence Europeenne sera devoile et vous serez emerveilles par notre talent, nos capacites... Et en meme temps, vous serez desoles du sort reserve aux Benjamins, qui seront humilies et battus comme ils aurait du l'etre il y a pres d'un mois... We will win. [d'Artois slowly gets up, picks his bags and leave the room. The screen slowly fades to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [It's backstage in the IIWF Coliseum. We hear the sounds of the rabid crowd echoing back here, cheering the athletes of the best fed around. An IIWF EMT is wrapping a bandage around the forehead of Joe Scalercio, one-half of the American Dragons, who was injured after a nightstick attack by the Night Patrol earlier in the evening. Joe is without his leather jacket, wearing his wrestling tights from earlier] JS: So it's not that bad? EMT: Nah. You don't have a concussion, thank God. They just opened up one HELL of a nasty laceration. JS: How long's it going to take to heal? EMT: Odds are you'll be wearing that bandage for about a week. JS: A week? So I'll be wearing this on the PPV? EMT: Yeah. JS: Damn...I might as well paint a bullseye on my head. EMT: It's the Night Patrol. What did you expect? JS: You've dealt with them before? EMT: Oh, yeah. I've wrapped up the Harlequins, G.W.R... JS: It's kind of comforting knowing I'm not the only sucker who's been jacked by them... [Bob Ivey walks in, a cup of water in one hand, which he hands to his partner. He's still in his wrestling gear, also] BI: Here you go. JS: Thanks. BI: Bear and Grey Phoenix say they're sorry... JS: For what? Hell, it because of them we lasted as long as we did in the match. It's cool. EMT: Okay, you'll have to change the bandage every day, and probably have to swab it too. BI: Can he still train? EMT: Yeah. All it is is a bad cut. Just a surface wound, but it got spread out. BI: Thanks. EMT: No prob. Let me get a page to grab your stuff... [The EMT leaves the room] BI: So, revenge is now a motivation? JS: Heck yeah. You think I want the Night Patrol to have the sastifaction of knowing they beat the snot out of us? Hell no! BI: At least it's not serious. How long they want you to wear it? JS: Till next Sunday...when it'll get torn open again, no doubt. BI: Oh, like a few more kicks to the head is going to do anything. JS: [smiling] Bite me. BI: All right, let's get out of here. I'm buying. JS: Anything but Texan. BI: Shut up, you West Coaster. [Both Dragons smile] JS: They're dead, you know. BI: Oh, yeah. I plan on beating both of them into a bloody pulp. JS: Leaving any for me? BI: Of course. You get Miss Hawkings. JS: Goody. The stars shine. BI: Come on, let's get out of here. JS: What about the catchphrase? BI: For one week, let's forego it. JS: Nah. Let's replace it... [Scalercio turns and looks right at the camera] JS: Patrol, you're dead. Period. [Ivey opens the door, and we fade out on both men leaving] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ KG: Damn it! [Lights up in the Predators' training gym, Bear with an ice-pack on his shoulder, Grey Phoenix wiping a little blood from his mouth. Kuyler is bellowing into his cell-phone] KG: No, _you_ hear this...if you're so damn keen on making sure everything is run on the up and up, then you roll back the damn videotape of Saturday night and you REVERSE THE GODDAMNED DECISION! [pause] Listen, Pepper Spray? Night Sticks? How [bleep]-ing stupid are you, Janois? [pause] Fine. Bill me. [he hangs up. throwing the cell-phone down in disgust, smashing it on the desk] You know, I thought that everything was going along just fine here in the IIWF...4-D looking good, Predators shots looking good.and all in one night it falls apart. Comedy, I'm going to ask you this, since it seems the rest of your kith and kin are too blind to see the obvious. What indication was it that Bear was the one who attacked your boy, hmm? A big man in a hooded sweatshirt? When was the last time you saw Bear even WEARING a hooded sweatshirt, hmm? When was the last time he hid his face from the fans? So you tell me, Comedy, tell me this...was it the "finisher"? The Kodiak Drive? A Piledriver that can be done by pretty much anyone, especially to a cruiserweight? Do you need a list of NAMES of people who could have done this? Here you go, then: Gunnar Gaines. Piece of {bleep} faked his own spawn's death, would you put it past him? Derek Rage. Hey, tough tag division, Bear being the IIWF Strongman doesn't hurt motive...plus your old feuds with them. Reiner ver Magnusson. Another big guy, with power to spare. Especially after they had you beat on War Room, but for D'Artois' pin. Deathbringer. God, after all the chaos you clowns caused with his mask, what's more fitting? Not to mention people who might be on their way back...as you put it, you want a damn war? You got it... Black Watch, Night Patrol, you crossed the line..._again_. Believe you me, this is going to come to one hell of a conclusion. Gaines...damn dog [bleep]-ing chicken [bleep]...we can only hope that between you and the Black Watch, one team manages to kill the other. Which brings us to the Down Boys. [laughs] What the hell was that tonight, hmm? You still have this idea of "honor among thieves" with Derek Mota from the "Discordiacs"? You almost suckered us into believing you wanted to be who you were...that the damn backstabbing, double teaming, whiners that Awesome T created were back to the good, old fashioned, honest competitors that we knew when we got here. Almost. Oliver? GP: Dead. KG: Peterson? B: Dead. KG: This ends here, Down Boys. You are far and away not the worst of the cancers in the IIWF. But your departure is going to be an end to the lie. Maybe you really do want to be who you were. I don't know. Maybe it is all a lie. But the IIWF has never had a very strong base for people to look up to...and when you betrayed that...betrayed the people who looked up to you...you hurt a lot of people. And no amount of candy-talk changes that. So get yourselves ready. This will be one hell of a goodbye lesson from the Predators...and it's time to start weeding out the tag- team ranks once and for all. GP: Neyho neyehe hiyo. B: We will triumph. [camera fades to black] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Valtharius the Mad ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [Valtharius stands before the ever-familiar IIWF sign in the interview area chewing on a rotting cow udder from "Meatrice". Karachel glides in with his arms folded. His eyes glow a deep blue blaze as a black mist hangs heavy about him. Valtharius seems unphased with his countout loss to James "The Meatman" Steele] K: Mr. Steele, I must congratulate you on outwitting my moronic slave... [Karachel claps sarcastically] K: As you might know by now, Valtharius is a eunuch... no interest in women what-so-ever... just the interest in the raw meat you have provided him in your effigy of Meatrice. Again, you appeal to Valtharius basest instinct... raw meat. Come your so-called "challenge" at the PPV we'll see who the better man, or in this case, beast is. [Valtharius chews sloppily as drool and half chewed rotten meat slides down his chin onto his chest. Karachel grabs the chain about his proteges neck] K: As far as this "Mr. Dexter" goes... The Karachellian Cult is watching you, your house, your place of employment and your family. If you think to strike out myself, my cult, or Valtharius, it shall be your body on my altar and your beating heart in my hand. Do *NOT* cross The Voice of Reason... Men have tried before and have paid dearly... HEART AND SOUL!!! [Karachel cackles insanely and walks off right dragging a slobbering Valtharius behind him. Fade to black] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Timothy N. Turner & NorthPac Coalition ------------------------------------------------------------------------ ["Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner, "Constable" Tom Turner, and "The Immolator" Akira Saito all stand in the IIWF interview area. Tom looks annoyed and Akira looks as unreadable as ever. However, Timothy looks somewhat...relieved.] CTT: I told you to just leave it alone. You're not in Birthday Bash now because of your little "revelation". TNT: Just say it, Tom. I'm gay. So now the world knows. I don't think that's why Janois reversed the decision. The fact is, the match should have been a double count-out. AS: The result is as the result is. A dishonourable man is given the opportunity to wear gold. TNT: An opportunity I had in the past...and squandered. Things are different now though. CTT: I'll say they are! Don't you realize what it's going to be like now? You won't be able to share a locker room with anybody! Everywhere you go there will be people whispering! TNT: Don't you think I don't know that! This was the hardest decision I've ever had to make and I'll be damned if I am going to stand here and listen to you second guess me! That's right, I'm gay. I always have been gay. This isn't some secret revelation in order to boost ratings. I saw how the crowd reacted but I haven't changed. I'm, still going to go out there every week and kick as many asses as I need to so I can show the world it is possible to be gay and tough. With the crowd we go through, it's pretty mush a prerequisite. I don't care what is thrown in my way! If the fans jeer me for this, I'm truly sorry for them. If the league won't support me, I'll prove on my own that I deserve support. If you don't support me, then the hell with you! Stay the {BLEEP} out of my way or I'll take you down first! [Timothy storms off the set.] AS: Don't worry, Tom. He didn't mean it. CTT: Yeah he did...and I don't even know if I care. [Tom walks off the other side, leaving Akira to wonder which direction to go as the shot fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+