________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| C + O + U + N + T + D + O + W + N T + O _____ ___ _____ _______ ___ ___ _____ __ ____ \ __ \ \ / \ __ \ | | \ / \ / \ __ \ /\ \ \ \ / | | \ \| | | | \ \|/| |\| | | | | | | \ \ / \ \ \ / / | |_/ /| | | |_/ / | | | |__| | | | | | / /\ \ \ v / | __ < | | | __/ | | | ____ | | | | |/ /__\ \ \ / | | \ \| | | \ | | | | | | | | | | _____/ \/ / | | | || | | \ \ | | | | | | | | | |/ \/ / | | | || | | |\ \ | | | | | | | | | | / /\ | |_/ /| | | | \ \ | | | | | | | |_/ / / /\ \ /____/ /_\ /_\ /__\ /_\ /_\ /_\ /____/ /_/ /__\ _____ _____ ___ ___ \ __ \ /\ / ___ \ \ / \ / | | \ \ / \ / / \_\| | | | | |_/ / / /\ \ \ \_____ | |__| | | __ < / /__\ \ \_____ \| ____ | | | \ \ _____/ \ \ \ | | | | | | |/__ \ \ / / | | | | | | | \ \____\ \___/ /| | | | | |_/ / \______\ \___/ | | | | /____/ /__\ /_\ /_\ ------------------------------------------------------------------------ with Larry Morton 15 May 1998 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [The shot opens with the new Countdown set...plus a couple extra chairs. Seated in the large, overstuffed chairs, from left to right, are Larry Morton, Steve Roberts, Tim Dross, and Luke Steele.] LM: Welcome IIWF fans for a very special show! This is Countdown to IIWF Birthday Bash! We are just one short day away from the top pay-per-view in the wrestling business! SR: Stop with that celebrating! This is a solemn occasion! We should all be in mourning right now! LM: I assume you are talking about Steve Kowalski. SR: This is the end of the Fury! It has to be stopped! TD: The only one who can stop this now is Steve Kowalski himself. LM: The future of the IIWF World Champion may cast a pall over this otherwise exciting event...but let's not get ahead of ourselves! My name is Larry Morton, and I'm in one heck of a good mood this week, for reasons of my own! There's nowhere I'd rather be right now than the IIWF and counting down to Birthday Bash! This somewhat somber fellow to my left is none other than "Soundbite" Steve Roberts! SR: Yadda yadda. LM: To his left is the one true icon of the IIWF, Tim Dross! TD: Well, gee, Lar. I'm flattered. LM: And on his left is "The Real Deal" Luke Steele! LS: Thanks Morton. LM: Without any further ado, let's get to the Bash! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| PREVIEW: IIWF Saturday Night - 16 May 1998 |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... LM: Live fron the IIWF Coliseum, here in Portland, Oregan comes the greatest three hours available on pay-per-view! IIWF Birthday Bash! SR: Quit with the hard sell, Morton! The vultures will all be there to pick the carcass of the greatest warrior to ever step through the ropes! TD: It is true that there are people who will want to see the carnage, but there are a lot of great looking scientific matches filling the card. LS: The Meatman Challenge? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Champion Match: Steve "The Fury" Kowalski vs. "Lethal Protector" Serge Annis ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The main event is the match that Steve Roberts has be talking about...some say obsessing about. TD: He is right, though. This could be the end of Steve Kowalski. SR: I've tried to talk him out of it...I've tried! LS: Bottom line is this: Annis is at 100 percent, or near it. Kowalski, at best is about 30 percent healthy. There is no way this match should even happen, because Kowalski is going to be hurt, and hurt badly. Annis will have the belt, what these fans are going to tune in to see is if Kowalski is maimed, or paralyzed... or worse. LM: So I guess we're all agreed...Annis will end up with the belt. SR: Like hell! The Fury may end up a bloody mass of pulp after this match but the only way you'll ge that belt from him is to pry it from his cold, dead hands. Unfortunately...that is a possibility. TD: It's somewhat telling that I was sent on assignment this week to get comments from Serge Annis -- but Kowalski didn't request any interview time for tonight's show. He's making good on the promise he made after last Saturday's show: that he'd go home and rest for as long as he possibly could. Tomorrow night, he's going to need all the guts and determination he has... and then some. LM: Let's hear from the challenger. [The camera fades in from black to a black and white picture of The "Lethal Protector" Serge Annis, from Ring Wars IV. Annis' face is soaked in blood, especially around his neck area. Serge is looking right at the camera and is shown mouthing the words, "Who's the damn man now?" Tim Dross begins a voice over.] TD: For over sixteen monthes, Serge Annis has been in the IIWF, searching for both respect, and the world championship. [Clips of Annis smashing Requiem's gutair, Annis attacking Brody Thunder and thus joining Genesis, hammering Dan Kauffman with a double axehandle, piledriving Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven, crotchslasmming Mad Dog Watkins, chokeslamming Creed.] TD: The road to Birthday Bash has been a long one for the former Epitome of Evil, filled with bumps and turns along the way. [A clip of Annis and Kowalski standing nose to nose is next.] TD: But Serge Annis has finally made it to his big chance for glory as he goes into the main event of Birthday Bash as Steve Kowalski's challenger for the IIWF World championship. [Another clip of Annis and Kowalski standing nose to nose, eventually leading into a brawl between the two.] TD: Right now, everyone is concerned with the health of the World champion... everyone except for Serge Annis. I had the time earlier this week to catch up with the reformed superstar to get some candid comments on his match at Birthday Bash. [The shot of Annis and Kowalski trading punches slowly fades out. A new shot of a city park fades in. It is a beautiful day outside. Sun shining. Birds chirping. Kids playing on a playground off in the far distance. A man walks his dog along a pathway twenty feet away from the camera. Tim Dross can be heard speaking.] TD: This is Tim Dross on location, from Oakville City Park in Oakville Ontario, which is the home of the IIWF's number one contender for the world championship, Lethal Protector Serge Annis. [The camera pans left to reach Tim Dross, who is sitting on a park picnic table. Dross is wearing blue jeans and a light green IIWF golf shirt. The sun glistens off his bald head. Across from him, on the opposite side of the picnic table is the man he is talking about, the 6'8", 290 pound Serge Annis. Annis is wearing a black "Napalm Enema" t-shirt, and a pair of blue jean cut-offs. Serge leans against the table with his elbows, listening to every one of Dross' words. Two joggers are seen jogging by in the background.] TD: Serge, first off, I'd like to thank you for granting this interview, and for choosing such a pleasant location to film in. SA: Well, you're welcome for the time. I figure I owe it to you guys. It's beautiful, isn't it, Dross? This park. It's so relaxing. I remember back when I was a little boy. I had to come straight home after school, or else my father would beat me... more than the usual beating. But I'd walk through these pathways to get home and to go to school. This park is like a sanctuary for me. It clears my mind of all the turmoil in my life. I remember one time, I decided not to come home. I wanted to play with the other kids on the monkey bars. But they didn't accept the big tall smart kid. They were afraid of me. And then my father... well... when I didn't come home, he came out looking for me. I don't really think I should say what happened next. [Annis runs a hand through his hair, and looks very uncomfortable talking about his tortured childhood, and his haunted past. Dross, being the experienced and skilled interviewer that he is, picks up on Annis' physical signs of uncomfort, and quickley changes the question.] TD: Serge, this weekend you are going into the biggest match of your career. You're facing the IIWF World Champion, Steve Kowalski. You are main eventing a pay-per-view. How does that make you feel? SA: I'm not nervous about this. Some guys go into their "big" matches with butterflies in their stomaches. I dunno... for some reason, I don't have any butterflies. After all I've been through in the IIWF... after all the guys that told me I couldn't do it. All the guys that held me back. I want them to look at where I am now. I'm headlining a pay-per-view. I've become something in the IIWF. Whether they like it or not, no one can call me an over-rated hack any more, because I have made it to the same level that they all competed at. But to answer your question, I'm not nervous about Birthday Bash. TD: Then what are you? SA: What am I? Hmm... concerned... I'm concerned that I might just put Steve Kowalski out of wrestling. TD: You are referring to Steve's depleting physical health? SA: Yeah. He's not fit to be wrestling this match. You know it, I know it, and it seems everyone else knows it, except for him. The damage to his head is so severe, he can't think straight. Now, if he wants to go ahead and wrestle this match after Dan, Gregg and seemingly everyone else has offered him a chance out of it, then I won't feel bad at all about beating the life out of him for the World championship. But the fact is, I've put many men out of this business. Creed, Watkins to name a few. I'm concerned with what I might do to him, Tim. This is the big match for me, so I can't let down my offense just because of an injury on his behalf. But after the match is over... well, Kowalski might find himself permanently on the shelf. TD: What does winning the IIWF World Championship mean to Serge Annis? SA: Wining the title means everything to me. It throws everything back into the faces of the people that said I couldn't do it. It casts me one step further away from the shadow of Requiem. And it means I've fufilled a promise, and a commitment I made to my dead mother's grave. When I got my first World Championship shot in December... ever since then, it's all been for her. [Several more joggers can be seen running along the trail, and a chick-a-dee is heard somewhere off in the trees. Annis looks around at the park.] TD: What are your thoughts on the special guest referee? You've been fairly silent in this area. SA: I don't give a damn who the special referee is. It could be Casey James for all I care. As long as they call it down the middle, and they aren't biassed against me, then I couldn't really give a damn who it is. TD: Any guesses? SA: Yeah. But I'll keep them to myself. I don't want to stir up any rumours or anything like that. TD: Fair enough. Do you think it was more than just a coincidence that you got your big shot at the title, directly after Gregg Osterhout had you on probation for three monthes? SA: Oh, for sure. The two are directly related. I told him and Dan that I'll do whatever it takes to get off probation, and get the shot. So I did what I had to do. A lot of people are calling me a sell out because of it. I don't see it like that. I see it like a business deal. In order to get what you want, you have to make sacrafices. You have to adjust yourself. So I've conformed to the rules of the IIWF. Plain and simple. Now, I have my shot. I'm happy. Osterhout is happy. TD: And seemingly, so are the fans. You've gone from being one of the most notorious rulebreakers around, to the Lethal Protector. You have the crowds behind you now. How does that make you feel? SA: To be honest, I used to never give a damn about the crowd. I figured they were just a bunch of dumb morons who paid money to see me lose. So I never gave 'em the opportunity. But after Ring Wars Five. When I was in the hospital for two weeks... that was where it all changed. I saw other guys... guys in the business for two weeks. They got more cards from the fans wishing them to get well, than I did. I didn't get one single card. It was then that I realized... they don't care. They don't care about me. It actually hurt, Dross. TD: But now... even after you have been taken off probation, you've kept with being the Lethal Protector. You didn't switch over to The Epitome of Evil when you had the opportunity to. Why? SA: Why? Because I like it, Dross. Who would have ever thought I'd be saying that? I see guys like Joe Petrow and Takezo Musashi out there, causing up their brand of trouble like I did... and I realized that these guys are just plain and simnple [bleep]-holes. It felt really good when I was attcking these guys. It felt... right. Everyone's expectations of Serge Annis was to go back to being evil as soon as I got off probation. It's been two weeks Dross. I haven't changed. I like this role. And no one can play it any better than me. I'm the right man to do it. For once, I feel needed. Even obliged, to do this. TD: It did take you a while to earn everyone's trust... SA: Of course it did. No one believed me. Hell, half the locker room still has their doubts. But that's okay. If that's what they want to think, then that's their own opinion. It's wrong... but what am I going to do about it? TD: So as you go into Birthday Bash, what is your opinion of Kowalski? SA: He's a stubborn fool... but he's the best in the IIWF right now. It's my job to knock him off his throne. And since he's hurting the way he is, it might just be all that more easier to do. I am not fond of Kowalski, but I respect his will to keep on going. But at the same time, I almost pity him. Because frankly, Dross, I'm going to hurt him. Bad. There's no way around it. I'm not going to let off him just because he's hurt. I didn't wait sixteen months to get to this, and end up having to go easy on the champ. That's not the way it works. I feel bad about it, but that isn't going to change things. TD: So what will be next should you win the World title? SA: Well... I am in the Deschenes Cup this yea, and my first round opponent is the IIWF's "greatest" champion the "Outlaw" J.W Hardin. I owe this guy a major beating. He once threw a brick at my face, Dross. A goddamn brick. He's a tough S.O.B., but if I could go into that match as the IIWF World champion... it would change the complexion of things. He wouldn't hold the mental intimidation factor any more, because if Serge Annis walks into that match with the World title, after beating the toughest man in the business today, Steve "The Fury" Kowalski, then I won't have any troubles beating the Outlaw. I know I can do it. It's just a matter of doing it. Then the IIWF is going to go on a brief break. Maybe I'll take a few weeks off down in the Bahamas. I haven't really decided. I'll worry about that after I win the World title. [Tim gets up from his spot on the picnic table and offers his hand out to Annis. Serge also rises and shakes the hand of Dross.] TD: Well, thank you once again for your time today. And good luck at Birthday Bash going against The Fury. SA: I don't need luck, Dross. I just need the opportunity. TD: Well said. From Oakville, Ontario, I am Tim Dross, signing off. [The camera fades to black as the two exchange a few words that the camera does not pick up. The camera zooms in at the last minute on Annis' face. Cracking a smile... fade to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Intercontinental Championship Final: "Party Maniac" Marty Warnett vs. "The Savior" Simon Lebec ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Here we have two men who have fought thier way to this match, over men like Shadoe Rage and Timothy Turner... SR: Men? TD: There is no question that Marty Warnett deserves to be in this match... Lebec, I'm not so sure. SR: Who cares how they got here? I just know that it's time for the Savior to kick the maniac out of the party and leave him shaking and wiggling on the floor! LS: I feel as though I should be in there for the Intercontinental title, but nevertheless Warnett got past me. I'm not crying over spilled milk, but between those two, give it to Warnett. Lebec's had chance after chance at the belt, but Warnett's hungry. I'll say this to whoever wins, though: I'm going to be on you like white on rice. I still feel like it's my belt, and one way or another, by the next PPV, I'll be up there defending it. SR: Nothing like the guy who couldn't cut it acting like he's the dangerous one! TD: I don't wish to put the cat among the pigeons, but I tried to fix up an interview with Marty Warnett for tonight's show -- and was told that he was laid up in bed. Warnett's not instructed the IIWF that he's injured, so we're still expecting him to be in action tomorrow night... but something's up. LM: As much as I prefer Marty Warnett, I've got to go with Lebec. He blew a big chance at Ring Wars against Duncan Macbeth... I don't think he'll let another chance slip away. He had a few words for our cameras this week. [Camera opens with Tim Dross, sitting on a couch with mic in hand] TD: Fans, tomorrow night, we will witness the crowning of a new Intercontinental Champion at Birthday Bash. In a battle of the titans, we will witness two age-old enemies contest for one of the most coveted titles in wrestling. The battle between Marty Warnett and Simon Lebec may prove to be a classic. Right now, I'm here with one of the combatants, I give you... "The Savior" Simon Lebec. [Camera zooms out to reveal Simon Lebec, wearing a "Wrestle Hard" t-shirt. He has scars and bruises covering his face from the previous Saturday night. He looks at Dross and smiles:] SL: That's right, Timmy. It ain't 'bout no barges no more. No haircuts. No cages. No nothin'... 'cept th' strap. TD: First of all Simon, Lebec, your thoughts on last week's match with Timothy N. Turner, which, to say the least, was filled with controversy and surprises. [Lebec pauses] SL: Well, I'll be damned. I got me a break here in th' Double-Eye! Shocked me more than anyone. After all the horseplay that went on, ol' Janois decided ta give me th' win. Guess that's 'cause they don't want no sinner fightin' fer th' gold. TD: You're referring to Timothy Turner, and his shocking announcement about his sexuality? SL: Yeah Drossy, ya got that there real straight. All's I gotta say 'bout that is it ain't right. Now, I'm a man o' th' nineties. I watch "Ally McBeal" just like th' next feller. An' Turner can do whatever he pleases when he's out o' th' ring. But in th' end, when th' Reaper comes a knockin', he'll have ta answer ta God hisself. And th' Lord is gonna say, "We don't let no homos in th' Kingdom o' God." Then, eternal damnation fer th' "Rocket Man", reduced ta havin' sex wit' midgets in Hell. [Lebec takes out a cigarette and lights it.] TD: Sexuality aside, it was a very courageous thing for Turner to admit in front of millions of fans. SL: Sure it was! Give 'em an Oreo! If anyone, I give 'em full credit in th' world! Still, he's gonna learn that showin' courage don't do much. Hell! I told th' world that I needed help. Told th' world that I had problems. Told th' world that I was goin' ta try m' best ta be a role model... rassle hard... be a champ. What did they do? They laughed at me. An' let lil' punks like Stonebreaker innerfere in m' matches. TD: Which brings me to the next question. What are your feelings about Christopher Stonebreaker, and his accuasations that you did not want to fight him in the ring? [Lebec chuckles to himself, puffing on his smoke] SL: Chris Stonebreaker ain't nothin' but a punk. I didn't put 'em outta th' tourney 'cause I was scared o' 'em. I wanted ta teach young Turner a lesson. That's all. Just business. Nothin' personal. [Lebec points to Dross.] However, if young Stoney wants ta make it personal, I ain't got no problems wit' that. I ain't got no problems wit' ignitin' a war. Ever since I came back ta th' Double-Eye, I worked long. Fought bravely. An' did what th' shirt says. [Lebec points to his "Wrestle Hard" T-shirt.] I ain't never backed out o' a fight in m' life. If young Stoney wants a shot at me... a shot at th' belt that he wanted so much... he's gonna have ta wait just one more match. One more match till I get me that there belt. An' then... an' only then... will I concern m'self wit th' likes o' Chris Stonebreaker. An' Timmy... with God as m' witness... then he'll get th' match he's lookin fer. Th' shot at th' brass ring that eluded me fer years. [Lebec puffs his smoke, fire blazing in his eyes as he smiles.] But fer now, I got me that there shot at th' brass ring. Th' shot ta be th' champ. An' I'm focused. Focused on winnin' tomorrow night at th' Bash. TD: And speaking of the Bash, Simon Lebec, the opponent you will face is none other than Marty Warnett, a man with whom you have had quite a history with. [Lebec grins] SL: Yeah, me an' ol' Warnett ain't gonna make a duet album in th' near future, that's fer damn sure. I got wit' Marty what Satan has wit God, an' that's a hate-hate relationship. We cut each other's hair, bloodied each other in a cage, and downright nearly killed each other everywhere in between. TD: And Warnett holds the edge with a 2-0 record against you in career matches? SL: Yeah, ol' Marty's been known ta leak it out in th' end, haven't he? But not this here time, Timmy. No sir. Not a chance. I got me settled on winnin' tomorrow night at th' Bash. He can't stop a man an' his dream, Timmy. Two victories 'gainst me? But ask yerself... what has he done lately? Not much o' nothin', I'd say. Been damn near th' invisible man. An' this here is this man deservin' o' a champeen? Over me? A guy who fights nearly ta th' death every single night? A guy who has come so far, after sinkin' so deeply? No way. Not this time, Timmy. Not this night. This here will be Simon Lebec's night ta shine. TD: And if you fail? [Lebec gives Dross a strange look, followed by a long pause beforte responding] SL: Then maybe there ain't no God. [Lebec stands, glaring hard at Dross before exiting the set, leaving Dross by himself as the camera fades.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF Cruiserweight Championship Match: Icehawk vs. Derek Mota ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Here we have the current Cruiserweight Champion fighting a former champion. TD: Though he claims to be the current champion. SR: Neither of these guys can hold a candle to the only true hero in this event, but I have to say that Mota has been on the right track lately. Icehawk is an embarassment in this fed. Let's turf him! TD: How can you call I fighting champ like Icehawk an embarassment? LM: He is one of the toughest cruisers in the business! LS: Cruisers? Who cares about cruisers? Well, I know Mota pretty well, that tough little bastard took my ESWP TV title before, and of course there was the deal with him and me in the Discordiacs. Even still, I really think he'll take the belt, because he knows how to capitalize on an injury. Icehawk talks tough, but his neck cannot be back at full strength. Mota's going to snap it on his way to a second title reign. TD: Hawk keeps the strap. LM: I have to agree. Let's see what the challenger had to say. [As the shot opens, we can see a zoomed out image of the CN Tower in Toronto, Canada. The shot zooms in quickly, and as we begin to see the enormity of this wonder, the sounds of steps get louder and louder. We can hear loud breathing as the camera finally enters the bottom of the tower and begins to chase someone up the stairs. A man wearing a pair of black snap pants and a black hooded sweatshirt is running up the stairs at a quick pace, the camera barely keeping up.] DM: You gotta follow me everywhere? Man, don't ya get any privacy in this damn place? [Derek Mota stops for a second, pulling back the hood of his sweatshirt. Beads of sweat pour down his face as he catches his breath, his chest rising and falling at a breakneck pace.] DM: You want some last minute comments, huh? Well comin' ta Derek Mota right now was the best career move for ya. You could've interviewed Icehawk right now, but why bother? I can just imagine what it would come out to... [Mota pulls his sweatshirt over his face and suddenly becomes all hyper.] DM: Yeah! I'm gonna beat that bad man Derek Mota! What is he thinking, stealing my belt away! Bear! Go beat him up! [Derek has a good laugh as he removes his "mask" and slowly begins walking up the steps again.] DM: Hehe, Icehawk. Good one. Yeah, I guess you will have to worry about that belt in the future. Not only does it have my name on it, but after Saturday it's gonna be mine again! I ain't leavin' it go, dammit! I don't wanna just carry the best this time, Saturday Night I ain't leavin' without the IIWF Cruiserweight Titlek You can sign my name on a belt, throw me into the damn parking lot, but it just wans't good enough! Now it's time ta step into the ring to find out just who is the best wrestler. Trust me, you've one of the best around, but when it comes to pure guts, when it comes to high flying ability, no one matches Derek Mota. Get ready ta hand the belt out to me. [Mota quickly laughs and then goes to wipe the sweat off his face with a blood stained white towel. Mota goes to put the towel away, but reconsiders at the last second.] DM: What, you thought I was gonna give up that easy! Williams, you can trust me on this one, the towel ain't goin' anywhere! Last chance, Icehawk. Last chance. Get out while you still can. I'm sure that the fans would understand you if you did. Ah well, chance over. Get ready ta bleed. Hehe. Birthday Bash PPV is comin' up. You've got the toughest match of your career coming up here... and your countdown is almost over. Your lease on my title is over, Icey. And I'm coming to take it over again tomorrow night. Hope you had a good reign! Hehe... I know I will! [Mota puts the hood over his head once more and he begins jogging up the longest stairway in the known universe. Finally the cameraman gives up and decides to get back down. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ IIWF World Tag Team Championship Lumberjack Match: Team Sychosys vs. the Prophets of Rage ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: An amazing thing has happened over the last month. The fight for the tag titles has been as hot as January in Nome. It seems all the other teams look at the winner of this match as easy pickings! TD: The Prophets are never easy pickings... but Team Sychosys may disintegrate before anyone else ever has to face them. SR: The brothers are ripping the two Sychos new sets of lungs. Period. LS: Petrow's starting to realize that 4M isn't quite the pushover he used to be, and goofy Joe doesn't like it. As for the Prophets, they're as nuts as always, but if they can expose Petrow for the fraud and the jealous freak that he is, then we'll have new tag champs. Who knows who the lumberjacks are going to be? For all we know, the Prophets will pull ten wrestlers from the MLWO out of the audience. It's tough to say. LM: If this panel is reading this match right, it's going to be a long night for the champs. Let's hear from the Prophets. [Fade in: The Prophets of Rage march back and forth before a rabid throng of Disciples, all bearing fish. They are in the middle of the scrub. Dirt Dog paces up and down, wearing an army helmet and camouflage pants. He wears a ratty old undershirt and untied combat boots which he keeps stumbling and tripping over. Derek is cool in khakis and a fishnet mesh T-shirt. His cornrowed hair shines. He is reading a book, not paying attention to his partner's detailed evaluation of the Disciples before him. The observant will notice that the book is Elmore Leonard's "Mr. Majestyk" a gritty crime thriller.] DDUA: [slurring and stammering] All right you muhfuhs, I wanna know one thing. Who the fuh right here can get me a Mooselips? [Somebody rummages through their bag and pulls out a can. Dirt Dog takes it, cracks it open and downs a mouthful before spitting it right back in the kid's face!] DDUA: Sychopath! Get the muhfuh'in first bus outta here fore I kick yo ass! Cain't nobody infiltrate the Dirt Dog's heroes! Company, beat him up! then give him ten seconds to run! [The Disciples start pounding the Sychopath infiltrator with their fish, driving him off.] DDUA: One... two... three... five... aw hell... TEN! [Dirt Dog grabs a flounder as the kid runs for the horizon, measures him and throws. The kid ducks as the fish sails overhead.] Disciple: You missed. DDUA: Did I? [The flounder, oddly, starts to boomerang back and nails the sneaky little Sychopath right between the eyes. He collapses cold. Derek just looks up from his book, flipping the page with his wetted index finger. He looks bored.] DR: Colonel Klink, don't forget we gotta get him back to his mom's house before curfew. Don't just leave him out there! DDUA: [rabid] Muhfuh! The camera's on! we supposed to be bad-asses! This is war! DR: [nodding] Sure. Let me know when you invade Normandy, all right? [The giant returns to reading. Dirt dog turns back to his troops. In the background you can see the bus driver working under the hood of the rickety, overheated multi-coloured bus. Pizzazz and Medusa watch, flicking hot nickels at his plumber's crack and giggling like school girls every time he swears, leaps and bangs his head. "Ow! Damn, that's hot! Quit that!" Dirt Dog listens to the cursing with more frenzy than normal.] DDUA: [slurring] Dammit, thish ish war! Where my dogs at! DR: The DMX video shoot. You got muhfuhs, remember? Or a clan. DDUA: Thank you, i kinda remember that. Hey, y'all remember my wife, Shakeemah, right? We wuz reunited a while back. Funny thing, though. She done disappeared again almost as if it was all some sick little story. [shouting] Soldier, where's your warface? Soldier: [sucking in his breath, puffing out his chest and contorting his face] AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! [He yells til he turns blue and starts gasping for air.] DDUA: [considering it with a mouth shrug] Yeah, I guess that was a warface. I also woulda accepted a tongue stuck out, you know. But I like the enthusiasm! You're in, muhfuh! [Dirt Dog steps down the line to the next Disciple, a woman.] DDUA: All right, soldier. What do you do? [She turns around and moons him. Derek looks up just in time from his book. He looks over to see if Pizzazz is watching and says:] DR: She's in! DDUA: She ain't do nuthin' but show me her cat! DR: [firmly] That's why she's in! DDUA: I need soldiers! Somebody to make 'em say 'UGH!' DR: They already did that video. Think Killarmy. DDUA: [sighing] Oh, how I suffer for my art. [Derek checks his watch, realising the time wasted his eyes bulge.] DR: Dog, this is ridiculous. We got ten to pick and there's only nine here now that you knocked out that kid for the sake of the storyline. Let's get back on this bus and get to the arena. We aren't going to make it in time. DDUA: I need to choose my soldiers, though! You, what can you do? [He yells to a kid, holding the front of his pants. The kid shakes at being put on the spot. He's a real geek with tape on his glasses and everything. A wet stain spreads across his trousers. Derek looks at the scene in disgust.] DR: You know what? That's it. Everybody get in the damn bus, this skit is over. Come on, you geeks, freaks and pencil necks. Let's go see Uncle Joe. He wouldn't want us to keep him waiting. He is the champ, after all, and he has to call the shots. [The Disciples all dutifully file into the bus. Some murmurs can be heard about the pay scale for extras with speaking parts and how much the Sychopaths are rumoured to be getting. You hear more obscenities and a "good shot, Zazzy" as another hot nickel finds the mark.] DDUA: Didn't he want to call the shots before he was champ, too, though? DR: Oh yeah, I guess he figures he'll always be pushed. DDUA: well, it's that or quit again, I guess. DR: Whatever. I don't really care. Let's just wrestle this match, Dog. DDUA: I guess there ain't nuthin' left to do with these brave kids after this match is over, though, is there? I mean. They don't need no fish no more. DR: Oh well, you know how this gimmick game goes. You seen a Dirty Doggie in a while? DDUA: [shrugging and then smiling] So, you think we can get our very own Jobber Justice squad member as a pet? Or at least a platypus? They're funnier than a Howard the Duck ripoff. [Rage pats Unique on the head as they walk to the bus. The sun begins to set on the duo.] DR: Sure, Unique, we can get a platypus. DDUA: And I'll hug him and pet him and feed him. Hey, we forgot to say so long to the cameraman! DR: So long! DDUA: And thanks for all the fish! DR: Sheesh, what about two months of throwing fish just for that punchline. Dirt Dog, you one crazy muhfuh! DDUA: [embarrassed] Aw, muhfuh, you's the sweetest thang! [Fade out as Derek and Dirt Dog get into the bus and it drives away. The screen remains black for a long time as we listen to the bus engine and then we hear a shout.] DDUA: [off camera] Damn, we forgot the kid! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ King of the Cruisers Final Match: "Iconclast" Sean Watts vs. Big Greggy Cool ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: _The_ event of the wrestling world culminates tomorrow night on Birthday Bash as these two wrestlers come together to find out who is the King of the Cruisers! LS: This is Spreadbury's idea of jacking up the buy-rate, and I'm not even going to comment on it. SR: Jacking up the buy rate by showcasing a couple of midgets who aren't even part of the greatest organization in the world? I call it charity. TD: I think we're going to see a fantastic match-up, but Sean Watts... with the possible help of Eddy Jacks... will come out on top. LM: Big Greggy Cool has got to be the sentimental favorite, and I think he'll pull it off. Let's hear from all interested parties. SR: That leaves me out. [SCENE: IIWF locker room, midday. Darkness. Only the vaguest outlines of the mundane furnishing in the humble IIWF locker rooms are distinguishable, the rest of the scene cloudy and indistinguishable. Light. The click a switch heralds the return of light to the room...an indifferent light that falls over all things equally...a fluorescent, unwholesome light. It is into this room that Eddy Jacks, khaki trenchcoat failing to conceal his immense girth, enters. Gym bag in hand, he walks into the locker room, strides quick and confident, countenance one of expectation...and patient waiting. Behind Jacks walks Sean Watts, cocky and petulant, clad in ragged jeans and a black “Wesley Willis Fiasco” t-shirt, a striking picture of the stereotypical nineties Gen-X’er. The two men reach their individiual lockers and begin to unload their bags. Jacks moves swiftly, tossing his singlet and deoderant into the the locker and quickly shutting it. Watts, however, is hesitant, and he moves laboriously, gradually emptying the contents of his bag into the locker. Jacks, noting the younger man’s moment of indecision, gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.] EJ: Kid...yer gonna knock ‘em dead. I ain’t one ta tell otherwise an’ I sure as hell ain’t one ta speak my mind. Ever since I got involved wit’ ya cruisers af’er that match wit’ Icehawk, well....I knew ya had promise. I knew ya was somethin’, back when ya wuz jus’ an SCRA scrub.” [Sean isn't quite sure how to take the last remark, seeming to bristle just a little bit at the idea of being called a 'scrub', pausing to shuffle the contents of his locker about before replying.] SW: Thanks for the compliment. I... think. I'm not exactly used to having someone offer to help me out. Especially someone like you... Of course, after the time when you kicked my butt around the ring... [Jacks pauses, suddenly contemplative.] EJ: I didn’t always use ta be bitter, kid. Don’t ya think fer one minute somebody wit’ yer God-given talent needs ta be. Jus’ think o’ yerself as da hero o’ ‘is lil’ one-act play. I ain’t one ta run my mouth off an’ I sure as hell ain’t one ta make predictions...” [Jacks grins, thumping Watts heavily on the back.] ...but I’m bettin’ da Vegas line on’ ‘is ol’ champ_een_ship match ain’t too fair fer ol’ Greggy. Goin’ inta this one, ya got one up on that en_pee_dubbya_ay dandy, Seany, an’ a ‘vantage like ‘at’s somethin’ ya gotta be happy ‘bout. An’ then... [Pause.] ...ya got Big Daddy Sweetness...da Canadian Crusher...da Idol o’ Ottawa...well, les’ jus’ say ya’s got ol’ Eddy Flaps watchin’ yer back. An’ that’s a helluva t’ing ta have in yer corner, eh. Sure, I been thinkin’ ‘bout other things, kid... [Watts nods.] ...but who ain’t? I’m sure ya got yer mind on an eye_cee belt, too...an’ I know I gotta be thinkin’ ‘bout Mister Sits-Down-Ta-Pee the Mad...but ya gotta look at it ‘is way: on ‘at one glorious night, ya got a chance ta win or lose ‘cuz ya got that heart... [Pause.] ....’cuz yer worth it. I ain’t been worth much o’ nothin’ in my career, boy, an’ mebbe that’s what I saw in ya. An’ so help me God if anybody so much as comes near ‘at ring, if they so much as try an’ keep this t’ing from goin’ da way it’s s’posed ta go...well, I ain’t one who’s quick ta make friends...an’ I sure as hell ain’t ‘bove makin’ a few enemies. Ya unnerstan ’, kid? ‘Cuz ya gotta unnerstan’, y’see. Hellfire, I woulda killed ta ‘ave a fella like me take me aside when I wuz jus’ a pup like ya is an’ tell me how it is. This, Wattsy... [Pause.] ...is yer big chance. I ain’t never got a break like ‘is...not once in my damn life. Ya did. Now ya gotta jump on it. Tell me ya unnerstan’, kid, even if it seems tough an’ mixed-up, an’ ya ain’t all ‘ere... [Jacks taps his skull.] ...ya gotta unnerstan’. [Sean lifts his head, casting a sideways glance at Jacks, his face lighting up a bit in apparent understanding of something for a moment before he lowers it once more. He pauses for a moment, and when he raises his head once more it has reverted to a mask of calculated indifference.] SW: So far, in everything I've ever done people have always been trying to make me into something I'm not, or trying to force me to be something they want. Which of course, has lead me to fight even harder to show them that they're wrong. No matter what that meant being. I guess I don't have the whole picture yet. But I think I'm getting there. I've been a little too worried about making sure that I'm _not_ this, and that I'm _not_ that. I'm going to go out there and try to win this thing. I'm just going to be myself. I understand that much. [To punctuate his final sentence, Watts shuts his locker and steps away, turning towards the exit. Jacks pauses a moment, giving a glance to the camera as he considers Sean's answer before the two of them begin to make their way out. As the scene begins to fade, a barely audible comment from Sean can just be picked up over the footsteps of the unlikely duo, "Thanks."] [The scene opens up with Big Greggy Coo; lying down on a black couch in a Psychologist's office. Big Greggy Cool is wearing beaten up old Pumas, knee length cargo shorts and a white "IIWF: Not just for Brits anymore." t-shirt. His medium length brown hair is normal and he's wearing a spiked dog collar around his neck. The other man is Dr. Bryant the psychologist. He's wearing brown shoes, slacks, and a white button down T-shirt plus a tie. The flash starts in the middle of their conversation.] DR. BRYANT: Again, it's great to see you again and I congratulate you on your success, but I am worried about your training against Sean Watts. Most young men have a problem of not caring and slacking off, wear mentally... I think you need to vacation. Obviously you're taking this way too seriously. BGC: Not so, doc. This is the big time. If I win this I get it all... Shoe deals, McDonalds commercials, and if my old high school will ever admit I attended there, I might even go back and do a motivational speech. DB: Admirable goals, I assure you. BGC: So then, what's the problem? DB: I believe that this match is definitely becoming an obsession of yours. BGC: Calm down, doc. DB: I'm not angry, I'm trying to point out the cycles of your mind that... BGC: I SEE WHAT THIS IS! [BGC's eyes open up like sewer lids.] BGC: You're becoming a bad guy! Why is it that all good guys become bad guys? I have to admit I liked you much more as a good guy and not a rule breaker. Lemme tell ya this, it'll never work. I'm where I am because people genuinely love me. The chants of "B.G.C." show that I'm loved. You'll just do good for like a week on "cheap" heat and then you'll fade away. I've seen it happen a thousand times before. Are you gonna hire a manager now? DB: I'd suggest you take a break and don't wrestle on Saturday. You're delusional. BGC: I get it, you're in cahoots with Sean Watts, eh? You wanna duke it out or something first? [BGC walks around a weirded out Dr. Bryant's office. BGC goes over to the his coffee table and tries to find the cut in the middle of the table to fall through.] DB: I think wrestling is a big part of your life, but it's becoming too much. You do know that a Sigmund Freud study years ago showed that... Good lord, your forehead's bleeding... Let me grab you some tissue. BGC: Don't worry, it'll stop in a few moments, I kinda sliced my forehead open accidentally with a razor. DB: We're going to need to get you some help. I'm going to get you to a place where you won't have anymore stress and Dan Spreadbury can't play games with your mind anymore. BGC: You're such a quack. I bet you only got to this point in your life and you're only driving that phat car outside because you went through life pretending not be hurt and never helping other people look good. DB: Mr. Cool, your profession is endangering your mental health. You need to change and I know some people that can hel you. [BGC starts to become a bit sadder...] BGC: Whatcha trying to say, doc? You think I need a gimmick change? [BGC closes his eyes out of being very very tired mentally. Suddenly the phone rings twice and right before the third ring...] BGC: MY SHOULDER'S UP! MY SHOULDER'S UP! Second wind! [BGC jumps up and starts to head for the door.] DB: Mr. Cool, please remain... [BGC slams the door on his way out and continues to walk down to the hallway.] BGC: I'm prepared, I'm ready and I'm psyched no matter what Dr. Bryant has to say. Ever since I was a kid, me and all my little Gregamaniacs were preparing for this moment. We're eating our vitamins, saying our prayers, brother, and now it's time for this all to pay off. What's truly a greater honour than being known as The King of the Cruisers? You can win a Cruiser strap in any number of feds, and each fed has like one guy with a pulse and some sort of coordination and a lot of other guys just trying to pick up a check. The IIWF is where the cream rises to the top, and a fluke or two. Saturday I will prove to everyone that I'm no fluke, I'm about as serious as cancer.... And the greatest part is my motivation of getting here. I got here being me. Being Big Greggy Cool. I didn't have to be obnoxious, claim I was some sort of "deity", wear T-Shirts that say I'm a "loser" or "slacker"... Or even be British! I wrestle because that's what I like to in life, and I love myself and life. [BGC smirks.] BGC: And when the biggest day of my life comes, I won't be out-flashed by a crack-headed, strung out, dirtball kid who doesn't even deserve his own "3:16" t-shirt. [As BGC walks away he puts a little hop into his step.] BGC: I may or may not be the best going, but you got to love me! [BGC struts away as the scene fades out.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Grudge Match: Tiger Claw vs. "Engima" Takezo Musashi ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: A match that some people never thought they would see, at least not in the IIWF! TD: Past problems have been put aside and the man who many picked to win the King of the Cruisers tournament is back in the IIWF. Quite the turn-up for the books. LS: If Claw wanted back into the IIWF, he'd have come up with something smarter than this. Musashi is looking down the barrel of a loaded gun, and Claw isn't afraid to do whatever he wants, because he's not afraid of being fired. Claw is going to destroy him, kneepads or no kneepads. SR: Naw. Claw's gone soft. Musashi is going to pour out all of his Laotian rage all over Claw's Australian ass. TD: Sigh. LM: I think Luke has the right idea. I'm not sure who could stop Tiger Claw right now... but it's not the Enigma. [SCENE: A run down, debilitated warehouse somewhere in the seedy side of Portland; a nightmarish vision of industrial wasteland. Twisted miasmas of lead piping stretch up to the ceiling like wild, rampant vines. Cast iron boilers churn and rumble with a neglected, forgotten purpose. Steel wreckery piles up in jagged mounds, the refuse of relentless, grinding industrial production. Mist drifts like a stealthy grey cat across the floor, and fat droplets of acid flecked moisture drip down from the ceiling. Every now and then, great jets of steam blast forth with a roaring whoosh from vents in the wall. The camera pans across all the metal junk and machinery, coming to rest on an alcove upon the wall, sitting in which, folded in a meditative position, is the figure of the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi. The oriental demonic madman is attired in a loose fitting two piece body suit of jet black cloth, and his face is blackened up with paint like a terrorist infiltrator. Slowly, he unfolds his limbs and drops down agiley to the floor, his movements akin to a jungle predator's. His eyes are filled with the quiet menace of an assassin.] TM: When I retreat from the battlefield of the ring, my heart seeks sanctuary, and a place where the outside world reflects the black visions I hold within. Often, I imprison myself in this hideaway, forgotten and unseen by the dull eyes of the world, cultivating my visions of violence and chaos until they swell and pulsate vividly before my eyes. These charred and twisted remains are a fair equivalent for the blackened and warped recesses of my mind, are they not? Tonight, my thoughts of violence concern you most of all, Tiger Claw. You have become a thorn in my side... of little ultimate consequence, perhaps, but a dull, throbbing ache all the same. I have destroyed men for lesser transgressions than your own, for I permit none to trespass in my kingdom. You thought you could once again make yourself a force to be feared in the IIWF... at my expense. But a true warrior never allows himself to be compromised. I bow before no man. You thought you could become the IIWF's Messiah, the antidote for its cancer. But you must know, Tiger Claw, that a cancer can never be wiped out entirely, least of all with a passing strike. For I _AM_ the cancer. I am the bad cell that multiplies with sinister, unseen purpose, until it envelopes the entire organism with its horrendous grip. Like cancer, my blackened teeth bite deep into the heart of the IIWF, with no motive other than the sheer thrill of destruction. When you hold such visions of derangement in your head as I, when you can no longer bear the basic fact of existence, no other motivation is needed. Pure nihilism. Pure evil. They are my hallmarks. You didn't wipe out the cancer, Tiger Claw... it is still out here in the darkness, and it is growing stronger every day. With each second that goes by, in every waking moment, the thought of your destruction is driven ever deeper into my brain. I have become consumed with hatred for you, and my soul cries out restlessly for violence. I have become a walking time bomb. To come within any distance of me now, Tiger Claw, to even enter my field of vision for a moment, will be enough to set off the explosion. Carnage unleashed, eyes clouded with red mist... you can never hope to contain my hurricane of fury. Tomorrow night, we shall dance our dance. It shall be all too sweet, and all too fleeting. A brief frenzy of aggression, and then it will be over. I shall leave the ring, the exultation of bloody triumph fresh in my brain, headed for greater conquests, leaving nothing behind but your shredded remains, Tiger Claw... and they will be swept from the IIWF forever. Your time is already done, but mine has only just begun. [Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Spin-the-Wheel and Make-the-Deal Match: The Black Watch vs. the Baddest Thangs Running ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: The match that has caught the attention of the fans is this one. TD: The mystery of it all has got to be the allure. SR: No, the allure is that somebody is probably going to get his head bashed in. The fans are sick. Just like poor Steve... LS: If this isn't the injustice in the IIWF, I don't know what is. You've got two guys in Gaines and Temple who are legends elsewhere, but in the IIWF are basically unproven. Screw the PCW, screw the legendary status, Temple and Gaines are just two newcomers as far as I'm concerned. And Black Watch, that's just an example of MacBeth running from the singles ranks because he can't cut it. He loses the Intercontinental title and disgraces himself, so he runs crying to cousin 'Drew, and the two of them pull every disgusting trick in the book to be thought of as real bad-asses. I'm gonna be watching this one, but not for who wins the match. It'll be for who the suits are gonna prime for a title run. Imagine Petrow against Temple and Gaines. What a clash of egos. SR: I never thought I would agree with Banana Peel here, but he's right about one thing... if it ain't the IIWF, it ain't squat. At least one of the MacWeenies cut his teeth here. TD: I don't think Temple and Gaines can match the teamwork of the Macbeths. In fact, I'm not sure any team in the IIWF will be able to match the Macbeths. To me, this looks like the team of the future. LM: I still like the Benjamins, but the Scottish guys are pretty good too. Both squads had comments for the cameras this week. [SCENE: The interior of the darkened IIWF Coliseum, mere hours before the big IIWF pay-per-view spectacular, Birthday Bash. The arena is decked out in its finest for the huge event, with IIWF banners hanging from the rafters, and extra rigging installed above the ring to carry the extra television lights and pyrotechnics that will be used for the broadcast. Below the rigging, the ring is illuminated by harsh worklights, and three figures can be seen from the camera's position in the upper bowl of the Coliseum -- Barnacle Brothers Bluto and Seadog, both lying spread-eagled and face up on the mat, and Black Watch member and former Intercontinental champion Duncan Macbeth, who is standing over the big sailors, hands balled into fists, glaring down at the hapless jobbers. The camera's mic can pick up Macbeth's angry bellow as it echoes throughout the cavernous stadium.] DM: Get up, yis lazy-arsed tossers! We're payin' yis 'till ten, an' yis're goin' t' WORK 'till ten! Get up an' get wha's comin' t' yis, wha'! BBB: Arrr... we've 'ad enough, matey! I've a thunderin' headache as it is, and besides, your scurvy cousin's takin' a break! I want t' go home an' watch "The Price Is Right" now, arr... [The furious Macbeth jerks Bluto up and paintbrushes his face with an open hand before slinging him into the ropes, and catching him on the rebound with a back-handspring elbowsmash flush in the face! Seadog jumps to his feet to aid his shipmate, and Macbeth kicks him in the gut, facelocks him, and gourdbusters Seadog right onto the skull of Bluto! Macbeth's jade eyes are wild as he turns on the prone Barnacle Brothers once again.] DM: GET UP! Yis can quit when we're BOTH finished! Now, TO IT! [The Barnacles groan, and slowly begin to drag themselves to their feet as the camera swings around and settles on the other member of the Black Watch, Andrew Macbeth, who is seated in the upper bowl looking down at the action on the ring below. Andrew chuckles as he mops sweat away from his broad brow with a white towel, which he then drapes over his scarlet-curled head as he turns to the camera.] AM: 'E's always been like this, aye. Ne'er kens when t' quit. [Down in the ring, the Barnacles attempt to double clothesline Duncan, but the young Scot is miles ahead of the move, and he ducks under and drops to the canvas, springing back up with a reverse mule kick that sends Bluto and Seadog sprawling across the canvas.] AM: Tossers. Ye ken, Duncan's got a lot o' strings in 'is bow, but wha's made 'im a success more than anythin' else is tha' e's never once in 'is life given oop. I remember when 'e first started oot in this biz, jus' a wee lad o' seventeen, an' every single town we'd hit on th' regional circuit, 'e'd always walk oop t' th' biggest, baddest bloke in th' area an' call 'im oot. 'E weighed aboot two bucks an' a few pennies back in those days, an' people jus' could no' believe th' nerve o' 'im, an' e' got 'is clock cleaned on numerous occasions. Back then, 'e had a lot o' talent, but didn't have th' mind-set t' back it oop. But 'e took 'is licks like a man, and came back fer more when others hung oop th' boots an' went in t' real estate. An' slowly, e' got bigger, 'e got tougher, an' e' got MEANER. An' no' too lang after tha', 'twas 'E who was doin' th' cleanin', aye. [Andrew strokes his gray-streaked beard, and grins.] AM: An' 'twas me who taught tha' lad everythin' 'e kens. [Andrew's iron-gray eyes narrow, and his voice drops in pitch, suddenly serious.] AM: But no' everythin' _I_ ken, aye. [The Barnacles finally manage to bull Duncan into a corner, and they begin hammering at the young Scot with lefts and rights, but Duncan escapes the double-team by poking the eyes of Bluto, and grabbing Seadog's skull and ramming it into his partner's head before running both of them out of the corner and driving them into the mat with a double bulldog! The impack reverberates throughout the empty Coliseum as Duncan proceeds to run up the turnbuckles of the opposite corner, and executes a picture perfect moonsault, slamming into both Barnacles in the middle of the mat! Andrew shakes his head, both at his young cousin's skill and the appalling ineptitude of the Barnacles, before turning back to the camera.] AM: Tha' boy's th' only one in th' family tha' could hae brought me oot o' retirement. Angus was ne'er in th' biz fer more than simple amusement, an' Malcolm jus' wanted t' hurt people, an' could nae give a stuff aboot trainin' an' studyin', but tha' lad... tha' lad's special. Talent... skill... drive... desire... 'e's got it all. But 'e's lacked focus as of late, wha' with tha' business wi' Tim Turner. We knew aboot Tim fer a lang time, but Turner was lettin' 'is personal issues affect 'is ring performance, 'an I could no' stand by an' let 'im drag Duncan doon with' 'im. I used me influence as th' head o' th' Macbeth clan t' convince Duncan t' quit carryin' Turner an' ignorin' 'is duties t' th' Intercontinental Title, an' 'twas me who orchestrated their split at Ring Wars V. It nearly killed th' lad t' do it -- tha's th' kind o' friend 'e is -- but in th' end, 'twas best fer both o' 'em... Duncan regained 'is edge, an' Tim gained th' courage t' face 'is issues an' share 'em wi' th' world. Duncan's put up wi' a lot o' grief aboot tha' business, an' though 'e tries t' shrug it off, I can tell it bothers 'im still. Like when tha' windbag Warnett was shootin' 'is mouth off las' week -- I saw th' last match ye wrestled 'gainst me cousin, Welshman, an' I find it interestin' tha' ye had t' use brass knuckles t' get oot o' tha' match alive, after Duncan damn near tore yuir fool heid off. I can understan' why ye did no' exactly beat doon Duncan's door fer a title shot when 'e was th' Intercontinental Champ, Warnett -- jus' like all th' other lazy, bellyachin' cowards oot there. Spreadbury should hae given half o' those goldbrickers their walkin' papers, instead o' given' 'em tha' soddin' title tournament. Prizes oot o' a Crackerjack box are worth more than tha' belt now. [Duncan now has Seadog in a full nelson, and snaps him over with a vicious suplex before turning on Bluto and rocking him with a Super Fishermanbuster. Both Barnacles are lolling on the mat now, semiconscious, but Duncan is relentless, and pulls Seadog up again for more punishment. Andrew watches as Duncan nearly takes Seadog's head off with a scything clothesline off the ropes, then turns back to the camera.] AM: But when Spreadbury stripped 'im o' th' title, tha' put th' iron in 'is soul. 'E's oot fer blood now, an' notin' goin' t' stop 'im until e' gets another title 'round 'is waist, jus' t' cram it doon Danny-boy's throat. Too bad fer yis, Gaines an' Temple. Ye've tried to scare us, ye've tried t' intimidate us, ye've tried t' outwit us, but yis two wee sweethearts obviously haven't realised jus' who yis're dealin' with yet. Ye've been doin' a load o' gum-flappin aboot how tough an' mean an' unbeatable yis are, but t' date, yis've collectively beaten only a few jobbers. Oh, an' th' Meatman. Impressive, aye. Ye talk sae much aboot how th' two o' yis are goin' t' defeat us easily, but still ye've got yuir kilted nanny watchin' yuir backs fer yis. Ye talk an' talk an' talk about how yis can beat us in any match listed on tha' fancy wheel o' yuirs. As long as were talkin' aboot a backwater circus sideshow match, an' no' a proper _wrestlin_ match, aye? A psychoanalyst might listen t' yuir cocksure blusterin', an' say tha' th' two o' yis are sweatin' this match. Sweatin' it big time. 'Cause against us, no matter wha' kind o' match we end oop wrestlin', yis're goin' t' need somethin' tha' Aunt Alice won't find in' 'is bag o' tricks. Somethin' tha' yis're no' goin' t' find by tommorow nigh'. Somethin' tha' yis'll likely _never_ find. [Andrew switches from English to Gaelic, and his harsh brogue suddenly becomes light and airy, as the next phrase flows of his tongue like water.] AM: Ní neart go cur le chéile. Did Alice figure this one oot fer yis yet, sweethearts? Some translator 'e turned oot t' be, aye. It seems we rude Heilan' men wi' our strange way o' talkin' jus' may no' be as ignorant as yis take us fer. But, since I ken yis lads have a hard enough time wi' two-syllable words, let alone th' problems posed by bilingualism, I'll happily enlighten yis. "Ní neart go cur le chéile" means "There is no strength without unity". [Andrew gazes down at his young cousin, who has just laid out Seadog with his Claymore Frankensteiner, and now has Bluto high over his head in a tower suplex, before dropping the Barnacle and driving him into the mat with his Highland Hammer piledriver.] AM: Tha' boy nearly died on tha' barge on th' Thames. An' if they asked 'im t' do it again, 'e'd be there. There's no one I'd rather have in me corner. 'Cause 'is loyalty, 'is drive, 'is desire t' win can never, NEVER be questioned. An' righ' now, 'e needs me. An' I will no' fail 'im. Tha's family, Gaines. It's nothin' t' joke aboot. I honour tha' lad, Temple. Like I did me own mother an' father. Like I did me wife. Sae ye keep talkin' yuir big talk, Stanks. Keep actin' like yuir shite draws no flies 'ere in th' IIWF. Bring yuir wheel, bring yuir kilted, hooded insurance policy, bring yuir poncy baseball bats an' gloves an' all th' other leftovers yis dragged wi' yis after yuir beloved EWA went tits-oop. None of it's goin' t' save yis tomorrow nigh'. 'Cause yis're jus' two men. Two egotistical, loudmouth, arrogant individuals. Th' Black Watch is a TEAM. An' tomorrow nigh', our star will rise in th' IIWF tag team division, an' yuirs is goin' t' fizzle oot an' fall t' earth. Beat _YIS_? [Andrew leans into the camera, gray eyes narrowing into slits, and his deep voice growls confidently.] With _pleasure_. [Amdrew stands, drops the towel to his shoulders, and walks out of the shot. The camera pans back down to the ring below, and the spotlights show the two Barnacle Brothers unconscious on the mat, and nothing else. The slamming of steel exit doors can be heard in the distance as the shot fades to black.] [SCENE: The empty IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon. A soft, swishing sound echoes around the cavernous building which, in a day or so, will house "Birthday Bash". The camera pans around the arena, catching row upon row of empty seats, stopping finally on the ring which has seen some of the Pacific Northwest's most epic battles. The swishing sound continues, drowned out momentarily by a calm, soft voice.] VOICE: I wonder if Andrew and Duncan are familiar with Proverbs 20:26, for they truly are prophetic words. [The camera moves slowly around, and the scene is set. The voice could belong to only one man. Caleb Temple is standing beside what has come to be known as "The Wheel of Misfortune". It is a multi-coloured wheel, placed on a stand. In each coloured segment of the wheel, a match stipulation is written. Temple spins the wheel once more, and we hear that swishing sound again. The wheel spins, slowing, slowing, and eventually stopping... on "Taipei Death Match". Temple looks at it, and smiles devilishly.] CT: "A wise king scattereth the wicked, and bringeth the wheel over them. The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord." [The camera pans around a little further, passing a now-familiar Hooded Kilted Man, and on to Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines.] GGG: Brother Temple... that's an odd line about candles that you bring up there. After all, I was thinking more like, "Timothy Turner is a candle in Duncan's wind," or something. "Candle in the Wind 1998." Elton John could make a mint off that, Butt Watch. The proceeds could go to your memorial fund. [He laughs.] Speaking of wind ... a mighty _foul_ wind it is, if you get what I'm saying. I mean ... it's the kind of wind that blows up kilts from the inside. It explains why they spoke _Gae_lic in that last interview, if you catch my drift. [He snickers.] GGG: Not that there's anything wrong with that! [He makes some Seinfeldian "popping sounds," accompanied by "gun" motions with his fingers -- followed by a Grizzly Grin.] GGG: But speaking of skirts, and kilts ... you kids in the Butt Watch called the Hooded Kilted Man here ... [Pan quickly over to HKM, who gives a thumbs up and a laugh. Then back to Gunnar.] GGG: ... you called him a hag. Now since ol' HKM here is merely a reflection of YOU -- your indecipherable language, your irrational tempers, your stylish and provocative evening wear, and on and on ... you're just calling _yourselves_ hags. Short for haggis, I guess. [He smiles, scratching his bearded chin and thinking ...] GGG: Now I wonder why two people, even twerps like you, would call yourselves hags. But then I also wondered why you sent two fat hopeless jobbers to do your work, yet you did that too, so who the hell knows. None of it matters ... because none of it will stop you two from getting hung on the trophy wall of the Baddest Thangs Running. If you hit us, we hit you twice as hard. You make us bleed, you'll bleed twice as much. You give us bruises, you'll be _covered_ in black and blue yourselves. HKM: Don't say we didn't, because we _wer-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rned ya! We wer-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rned ya! GGG: It's Grizzly's Law, and to enforce it, we've got _just_ the match for ya kids... hell, we got a dozen of 'em. And when the wheel lands on the right one, the wheels are coming OFF your little wagon, and it's gonna crash and burn, confirming _once and for all_ that this is _nae_ your tag team division, and ye _cannae_ do a bleedin' thin' abou'tit! HKM: I'll drink to that! GGG: [aside] We certainly will. [to camera] Blood flowing in your locker room ... celebratory wood grain flowing in ours. So it is written, and so it shall be done, and that's the way it's gonna be, whether or not my friend here can find the scripture to prove it. [Grizzly Grin] CT: Now, you have to understand something, Macbeths. When you've known Gunnar Gaines for as long as I have, you'll know something very important about him. It's a small thing, a personality trait of his, an endearing quirk, if you will. You'll know _exactly_ what the Grizzly Grin means. The Grizzly Grin, Macbeths, means that this big, bad old bear smells fresh meat. He smells BLOOD, Black Watch. [Gunnar licks his chops, rubbing his hands together with fiendish glee.] CT: And when the Grizzly smells blood... trouble's a-brewing. HKM: Heh heh heh. He said "brewing." [Caleb smiles a sly smile of his own.] CT: See, last August, that same Grizzly and I went toe-to-toe amidst a pile of ruins in Anaheim. Now, you two boys might choose to write that encounter off as just another match in just another bush league. But not the scholars amongst our audience. No, no. The scholars amongst our audience understand the _significance_ of that matchup. Something which I think might just have escaped you two. But you'll realise. Yes, come "Birthday Bash", you _WILL_ realise. You'll understand, Black Watch, that the surroundings are not important. The prestige of the promotion and the history of the surroundings matters less than the substance of the conflict. And the conflict which Brother Gaines and I had last August had a somewhat unexpected implication. [He runs his hand through his dark, stringy hair, sweeping it back and away from his face. The cross-shaped scar in his forehead stands out like a beacon of light on his already-pale face.] CT: It made us realise that there was not and _IS_ not a damn thing that ANYONE can do to either of us which could match what _WE_ did that night. GGG: No ... there ain't. But Caleb, you mentioned the bush league. Now be careful, or you'll get Duncan thinkin' about Timmy again, and it'll distract him from the match. Once again ... not that there's anything wrong with that. [He snickers ... then his face turns deadly serious.] GGG: But as for OUR match a year ago ... me and Brother Temple ... you two twerps ain't never seen or even HEARD OF that kind of violence, let alone been there. This man ... [he points to Caleb] GGG: ...this man is _sick_. He's sick, twisted, violent, gory ... and he's your moral and relgious superior. He fights like a bastard ... _I_ fight like a bastard. WE fought like bastards ... and then we took it a step beyond. We raised ... [he raises an imaginary object of some sort to his lips] GGG: ...well. Let's just say we raised the _ante_. And if you'd seen that match, and witnessed the carnage ... you'd know why we are _blood brothers_. And you would also know that the wheel of fortune will _not_ spin in your favor tomorrow night, ya little fart stains. CT: Tomorrow, Black Watch, Brother Gaines and I have a little something special planned for you. Something which might, oh, I don't know... appeal to the Dionysian side of your natures. Call it... a gesture. GGG: Call it a gift... from the Baddest Thangs Running. HKM: A gift that keeps on giving ... blood, pain and broken bones. CT: Because it's the LAST thing you'll take from us. [Caleb chuckles softly, and Gunnar flashes that Grizzly Grin again.] Trust me. [Caleb spins the wheel again. Fade.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Steel Cage Match: Deathbringer vs. "Vagabond" Chris Staley ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Here we may see the untimely end of a promising newcomer. LS: Again, the suits see a newcomer that they think could bring them money in the future, and they pump him up right now against everyone's favorite walking stiff this side of Becky LaRue. If there was any justice in the world Deathbringer would destroy that chump, but this is the Double Eye, so who the hell knows? SR: If there was truly any justice, Deathbringer will go down and stay down...and I don't mean Turner's way. He has become the one unforgivable thing in this business. He's boring. TD: While I don't think 'Bringer is boring but I think he could be heading for a fall. Staley looks poised to break out. We'll have to wait and see! LM: But we won't have to wait to hear from Chris Staley! [A black screen is shown as a dark voice booms over the speakers.] Voice: Darkness. Nobody is truly sure what exactly lurks in it. But we get an idea when the fallen angels come out into the light and give there all. One such dark individual is Chris Staley. [A scene of Staley sitting on the boardwalk in front of Morey's Pier. From a vantage point behind Chris's dirty-blonde locks, we can see The Great Nor'easter rumbling through its trackage. A little farther off, the Atlantic Ocean is visible. The scene quickly fades.] Voice: A man discouraged by the turn of events that humanity has planned out for him, Chris Staley is fueled by anger and pain. Kindness and compassion are two words not commonly associated with this child of the darkness. A man who for years had to survive on the streets just because nobody cared about him. Now, he's getting his revenge. His revenge on the society that has become unshockable. His revenge on those that turned their back on him. His revenge on those selfish dregs who only care about themselves. Now, the unshockables are in for the utter shock of their life. Their scapegoat is about to show them that payback is a real bitch. This king of darkness has dreams to destroy everybody and let the black of night reign in blood over this useless world. And he isn't letting anyone get in his way anymore. It all starts with Deathbringer at Birthday Bash. It all ends with the world cowering at the ground he walks upon. And his dreams of a Fourth Reich shall start at the hands of the IIWF. Let the Unholy War begin. [A scene of Chris Staley standing victorious over Jimmy Steele plays. He lets out a rebel yell. The scene fades.] Voice: IIWF and the world, tell me, are you prepared to face your captor? Don't even try. This is a battle you are incapable of winning. Let the Harvester of Sorrow take your miserable, wretched lives away. The worst is yet to come. The Reign of Terror hasn't even come close to starting. {The voice fades away. The screen suddenly shows a shot of Tim Dross impatiently checking his watch. He notices that the camera is on and clears his throat.] TD: Hello, fans. This is Tim Dross and I'm apparently waiting for an IIWF superstar. This was a last minute assignment just handed to me this morning and my subject should have been here by now. Speaking of that, does anybody know who requested me to be here? [The camera shakes in a "no" motion. Dross checks his watch again. At that moment, a figure with black hair shows up on the set wearing an "R.I.P: Faith No More" shirt. He also sports a thin black mustache, looking quite a bit like Dave Navarro of the Chili Peppers and Jane's Addiction. Dross squints trying to recognize the figure. His eyebrows raise as he recognizes who it is.] TD: Wow. Chris Staley. A new look for you. CS: Not exactly. Black is my natural hair color. TD: Hm. Anyway, what did you want to speak about? CS: Well, actually, I was hoping that you would ask the questions. Fire away with anything that may be of interest. TD: Okay, well, my first question would be, why wrestling? CS: Simple. It's a good way of letting out my aggression on someone without killing them. Should that happen, oh well, [BLEEP] happens. TD: Er, okay. Why do you have such anger towards everybody? CS: [with a dark look in his eyes] Because I'm sick and tired of being persecuted by these vile creations known as [spit] "Humanity". For all my life, I lived on the streets while everybody else just went about their way, thinking life was perfect. I'm sick of it. I had people spit on me and call me a bum. Was it my fault? HELL NO!! So now, I'm having my revenge on this disgusting race of humans. TD: [with a taken aback look on his face] Woah. Maybe we better change the subject. Why have you set your sights on Deathbringer? CS: Hey, he wanted to interfere in the battle royal, now the fossil's paying for it. Preliminary wrestler, my ass! When the [beep]s the last time he did anything that impressed anybody, huh?! Yeah exactly, it was so long ago that nobody remembers. Time to die, you son of a bitch. TD: Please, Chris! Show some restraint. CS: For now, I will. I just don't know exactly how long I can go without snapping. All I can say is that it's pretty damn close. Remember that movie "Falling Down" with Michael Douglas? What that guy did is going to look like nothing after I'm done destroying everybody's lives. TD: Alright, alright! Next subject. I've noticed that you seem less hostile towards Serge Annis recently. What's going on there? CS: I realize now that Serge was just doing what he had to do. After all, he was involved in the battle royal, UNLIKE OTHER MEDDLERS I COULD MENTION!! I believe that Annis could be a valuable asset. I'll watch him with great interest. You never know what will happen. TD: Okay, how about some word association? I'll give you the names of the former world champs and you tell me what you think of them. CS: Shoot. TD: "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin. CS: To be honest, I think people toot his horn a little too much. Even though he's damn good, I don't think he's as great as most people make him out to be. He's way overblown. TD: Fair enough. Subway Psycho. CS: Another guy who's overblown. Notice that when rough competition showed up here, he became a nobody. He's damn lucky he was here when he was. TD: Well, I think we can skip Deathbringer... CS: No, no, no. Let me give you my honest op... TD: Chris, we don't need any more vulgar langu... CS: No, I'll give you a fair answer. He's a damn intimidating man who just doesn't know when to quit, which is funny, because I've heard the same said about me. TD: Hm, that wasn't so bad. Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. CS: A very tough man who I'd relish working with. He was one of the greats. Probably the toughest punches in the world. TD: Dan Kauffman. CS: Y'know, I hated his attitude, but damned if he didn't give his all. Just wish I knew what the hell happened to him. TD: Casey "Blackheart" James. CS: A REAL legend. To me, his joining of the Syndicate was the thing that really vaulted the IIWF to stardom. He was my big reason for joining the IIWF. I liked how he went out and did things his way. Another guy I wish would come back. If he doesn't get voted to the IIWF Hall Of Fame, then something's wrong with this fed. TD: Interesting. Requiem. CS: Severely underrated. He was better than most people gave him credit for. I'd like to see him back too. TD: "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder. CS: Hell of a man. Damned if he can't talk with the best of them and then go and back up everything he says. I just wish I knew where he went. TD: As I understand, he's still under contract. So don't rule out a return. CS: Good. TD: And finally, Steve "The Fury" Kowalski. CS: Tough as nails. A flat-out legend. He is truly in his own class. He's not much of a talker, but his toughness sure as hell makes up for it. Great to see a fellow Jersey native get his due. TD: Well, I must say. You handled yourself fairly well. I'd love to sit down and talk again. CS: Yeah. Maybe some other time. Right now, I've gotta meet someone. Deathbringer, you will die by my hand. [And with that, Chris is gone. Dross watches him go and turns to the camera.] TD: What an interesting man. I look forward to seeing what he does in the future. For now, this is Tim Dross. Back to the studio. [Fade back to the "Countdown" set.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Loser Leaves Town Cage Match: The Machines vs. the Fabulous Ones ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: After this match there will be one less team in the IIWF. SR: Now there is something worth celebrating. LS: I know the Machines, and I know to get Paul Wong to do what he did, the Fabs and Miki had to really piss him off. Simon's highstrung, sure, but Paul is usually a laid back kinda guy. For him to clothesline that tramp, for him to powerbomb moneybags 40 feet, they had to completely shatter his world. I hope the Machines break the Fabs' spirit before they throw them out of the IIWF like the pieces of trash they are. TD: I can't think of anyone who deserves expulsion from the IIWF more than Paul Wong. What he did was barbaric. SR: I think it was a crime. I mean, beat the hell out of Tsuburaya all you want but leave that fine Miki alone. I mean, even in my grief over the Fury, the Soundbite's got needs! LM: I personally can't stand either of these two teams after what they pulled on Countdown. I don't even want to introduce the clip. TD: Here's the Machines. [The camera fades in to the basement of the IIWF Coliseum, where the backup ring is stored. It's been put together as part of it's monthly checkup. Right now, two figures are in the ring. Paul Wong is sitting on the top turnbuckle, while Simon O'Neal is sitting down on the mat, using the ropes as a headrest. Simon looks straight over to the camera.] SO: We don't need you... just the camera. Come back in about an hour. [Apparently, the cameraman agrees. We hear footsteps, a door opening, and then, silence. Neither Machine speaks for a moment.] PW: You know, this is all because of a woman. SO: Yeah. Miki. I to... PW: No, not Miki. Bertha. SO: [chuckling] Bertha Erlington. The Lovely Bertha. AEWA announcer, and all-around psychopath. Nice ass, nice legs, a little small in the breast department, but she was fun for a little while. I'm sure Sho Satsuma could tell you more than I could. PW: You shouldn't have slept with those stewardesses while you two were an item. SO: Newsflash, Paulie. We were never an "item". It was just cheap animal lust. I can't help it if she went Fatal Attraction on me afterwards. PW: Well, she sent the Fabulous Ones after us. SO: I remember. They showed up just in time to cost us our first shot at the titles. PW: Then they decided to make our lives hell. SO: Sneak attacks, insults, cheap shots... fine with me. Hell, I can give as good as I get. PW: And then... she got to me. SO: Yeah, well... that was over the line. PW: I still can't believe how stupid I was. SO: Not stupid -- just naive. It never occurs to you that a woman who looks like Miki could turn out to be... PW: ...a bitch from hell? SO: Exactly. Hell, none of my ex-wives ever treated me that bad, and they had better excuses. PW: She told me she loved me. I bought her line. I turned my back on my friends, my family, everything, for her. I still can't believe I let them jump you. SO: YOU can't believe it? Imagine how I felt! PW: [Laughing] And then, she had her boys attack me, and leave me in a heap on the floor. And I remember thinking that I had nothing in the world. I left everything else for her, and she left me. I was in a bad way. SO: You almost retired. PW: Retired? I almost did a lot worse than that. I don't know what would have happened if my family hadn't supported me... and if you hadn't forgiven me. SO: Don't worry about it. You got screwed in the head. It happens to all of us. The important thing is to get back at the people who caused it. PW: Well, we've been doing that. And the more I see how things are around here, the more I'm agreeing with you. SO: People are idiots? PW: Yep. When I clotheslined Miki, I wasn't expecting applause. But dammit, I expected just a little understanding. After everything she did to me, I was due for a little payback. SO: And instead... all of the people around here hate your guts. PW: Not just the fans. Spreadbury and Osterhout have been wanting to get rid of me ever since. Said they didn't want a "woman-beater" on the payroll. [Paul pauses] PW: Screw 'em. She deserved it. SO: She deserved a lot worse. But, Paulie... I gotta admit, even I thought the jumbotron stunt was over the edge. Seriously... Tsuburayu deserved to get smacked around as much as everyone else in the Daimyo, but dropping him twenty feet onto a bunch of fans was... PW: ...bad. Yeah, I know. I lost it. If I had to do it over, I'd just powerbomb him on the ledge and be done with it. [Neither man speaks for a minute.] SO: This is it. PW: It's gone on too long. Too much has happened. SO: After Saturday, the Fabs are gone. PW: I'm not promising anything at Birthday Bash. Maybe Tsuburayu didn't deserve those injuries. But... SO: Our careers are at stake. We'll do what we have to. [Paul nods. Simon stands up, and heads over to the camera. The camera abruptly shuts off.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "It's Fun To Be Unemployed" Farewell Tour: The Down Boys vs. the Natural Predators ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This match also features the departure of a tag team from the IIWF ranks. SR: This just gets better and better. LM: But which team will win? LS: Down Boys all the way. Great to see them getting back to basics these last few weeks, and I think if they stick to their usual gameplan, the Preds won't know what hit them. Bear and whatever the hell the other one's name is, they just got pissed off at the Down Boys for showing them up. TD: Both teams are former tag champs but I think it's the Predators who have that extra edge. SR: I hope that the Down Boys win...as long as they cripple the animal boys and both teams leave! LM: One thing for sure... the Down Boys will be missed. SR: Speak for yourself. [Lights come up, Kuyler Greyson sitting in his office, wearing a pair of glasses, reading through report after report after repotrt...scouting, financial, scheduling, etc. The dim light cast by the solitary desk lamp flickers a bit as the door to Kuyler's office opens and Michael Wolcott, aka the Grey Phoenix, steps in] GP: Kuy...you got a minute? KG: Not really, Mike, but come on in....I could use a break from all this paperwork. GP: What happened with Janois...? Monday, you were pretty upset.... KG: Five thousand. Public beration of an IIWF official. GP: Oh.... KG: Drop in the bucket, to the fines he's claimed to have levied, but... What's on your mind, kid? GP: Oh, the usual. PPV stuff. The Down Boys, yet again. It still gets to me, Kuy, I mean, we trusted them....and they backstabbed us. They look like their on their way to being good guys again, and they attack us while we're rescuing our 4-D teammate? KG: Things with them...you know, they play the time-crazed rock star wannabes pretty well...but under it all, no one has been able to make head or tail of them from their debut here. GP: It's just...Dan and Adam changed so totally. KG: Curse of we managers. We shape the minds of our protegés and tell them what to do, how to train, how to prepare...in essence, how to act. Why most wrestlers snap and attack their managers before they fire them. Awesome T put the killer instinct in them, but they never really showed how good they were, I mean really good, until they freed up in that ring. GP: I don't even claim to understand this. KG: Well, look at you and Daniel, hmm? I mean, for two young superstars such as yourselves, you've been guided, taught moves by people I brought in...you built on your natural talents and began to pull away from the pack. To be more than just the carbon-copy team that every other team struggles to be. I mean really, look at the Black Watch, and the Machines. Both of them like Licensed for Devestation. GP: With half the calories and talent. KG: [wry laugh] Something like that. And you two are amalgamations of every teacher you've had. Ivan Smolecki, Damon Case, Big Luke Durgan....you have to admit, Bear has taken on a lot of their traits. As for you, Colin Gehan and Diego Carnivál.... GP: I know, I know...but why would they backstab us again? KG: Because, I think, deep down inside, after losing to Team Scoliosis, Mighty Mouse McArthur and Shaven Joe Eye-brow...they want to go off on a winning foot. GP: And by attacking us? KG: Go in with an advantage. GP: And what about Smoky Joe? KG: Joe Petrow is as full of Petrow (note: Use like Steve Roberts' "Quigley") as he is obnoxious. Thinks he can sit there in the crowd, with a stuffed parrot spray painted black taped to his arm, quoting himself... GP: With that sick boy McArthur at his side. KG: Exactly. He's going to keep shooting off that big mouth of his until we face him again. GP: "Natural Disasters?" KG: Former tag champs from a rival promotion. GP: Ah. KG: Thing is, Joe Petrow is the reason they invented the fast-forward button. He gibbers and moans, laughs, cries, bleats, baas, sings, quacks, yells "Mama!" and wets himself... And no one cares. He took a title that meant something...claiming he would bring it glory...and all he's done is make it that much more tedious. Even the Harlequins couldn't do that. Tell you, if I were managing Team Neurosis, I'd gag Petrow and tell McArthur to do all the talking. At least HE makes some sense. GP: Yeah. Marty made a good point...he'd make a good 4-D'er... KG: Yeah, but then we'd be 5-D....and 5-D 4-M sounds like a locker combination...or a box score for Arizona and Florida... GP: That's true enough....Kuy? KG: Mmm? GP: I looked back over those tapes. The ones the Harlequins are so upset over. KG: Yeah, I know. Pretty convincing to the untrained eye. Icehawk gets locked in a closet, you help him out, and Daniel gets the blame. It's a picture book set-up. GP: You've been watching "Homicide" again, haven't you? KG: Best show on television. Thing is, we just need the right clues to put it together. You know who did it. GP: Anyone but a clown and Steve Roberts could see it... KG: But those selfsame clowns....who it took forever to get to notice we even existed...and that was only because we got paired with Chaos and what's his name....who you two wanted to face early on, to build a rep, a rep that much stronger since you built it step by step without them...those selfsame clowns now want to declare war not only on us, but on 4-D as well. GP: I just don't get it, Kuy. KG: See, here's my take on things. Harlequins got screwed out of a title shot.... GP: But Bear didn't... KG: [interrupting] I'm not finished yet. Harlequins lost a title shot when Derek Mota came out. Harlequins need a scapegoat. Meanwhile, 4-D, the largest active stable in the IIWF...and without a doubt, one of the least played up, so there can be no claims of "Genesis II..." GP: That would be Exodus, right? KG: Uhm... [looking at him unblinking] Genesis, the stable. GP: Ah. Not Mike Rutherford and Tony Banks... KG: No. Thus far, all we've done is watch each other's backs...level the scales a little better. Who better to frame for "self-interests" then the most powerful group? GP: Marty and Icehawk...? KG: Well, I spoke to them about this...and they pretty much agree whoever did this has some major beef against 4-D...and I have a pretty good idea who it is. GP: Think we all have our suspicions. KG: Point is, I've tried to get in touch with Comedy....she seems to be the brightest of them, and the most open to suggestion. GP: Steve Roberts... KG: I know, I know, would have a field day with that line....but I wasn't saying it like that. If we can convince her of the truth, then maybe this war can be averted. If not... GP: Guns a-blazin', right? KG: Exactly. GP: So...as opposed to the last two pay-per-view eves, when we relaxed, took time to ourselves, and made sure we were ready, you've locked yourself in this office taking care of paperwork. Why? [Kuyler looks up, taking off his glasses] KG: Michael...just because you and Daniel are the only wrestlers I'm actively managing, it doesn't mean that things don't pile up. GP: That's not it, Kuy....where's Karen? [Kuyler sighs] KG: She's with her sister in Cascade. The hiatus is coming at the best possible time...and by throwing myself into this... GP: ...you aren't thinking so much about... KG: Exactly. GP: I was thinking... KG: Trademark of the Grey Phoenix, from what these scouting reports say. You and Bear made the cover of IIWF Ring Report this month. GP: Really? [GP picks up the magazine, buried in under a stack of papers, with an action shot of the Natural Selection against the Barnacles] "Ten reasons why the Natural Predators will regain the Tag Team Gold." KG: Yeah. Article's not so bad. Go ahead, read it out loud. Page 10, there's a column of reasons and a background writeup of you. GP: [turning the pages] "The Natural Predators: Title Bound. Ten Reasons why the Natural Predators will regain Tag Team gold by year's end." KG: Yeah, I think you'll like the reasons. GP: "#10: Tag division is rapidly shifting. Following Birthday Bash, two, and perhaps three, veteran teams of the IIWF will no longer be in active competition. The Predators have had strong victories over both the Machines and the Fabulous Ones, and their long-time rivals, the Down Boys, who have thus far proven to be...." KG: Go on. GP: [voice flattens] "...have thus far proven to be the better team in one-on-one competition..." We've stood toe to toe with them how many times? KG: Just keep reading. GP: "...all have chosen to leave the IIWF, some for good. Whether the Machines or the Fabulous Ones remain, the Predators benefit from knowing that being the constant on a shifting roster allows them a solid scouting base before actual competition begins. #9: 'Gimmies'. Teams like the Black Watch and the Baddest Things Running show more interest in hurting opponents than winning titles. If the Machines remain, they fall into the same niche. While these teams have tremendous talents, they have shown capable of being pushed over the edge." KG: Resonates truth, doesn't it? GP: "#8: Kuyler Greyson..." Oh, this is what you wanted me to read. KG: No, keep going. It gets really good. GP: "#8: Kuyler Greyson. The grizzled vet of the mat wars forsook his career to guide the talented tag team to the top. Close to twenty years of wrestling experience has made Kuyler Greyson, the Rookie Manager of the Year in the IIWF last year, a modern wrestling guru, taking raw talent and shaping it into superstar proportions." KG: Keep going. GP: "#7: 4-D. The old days of gang warfare seemed poised to return with the mutual announcement of 4-D and the Discordiacs at Ring Wars V. With the fall of the Discordiacs, fears shifted to the powerful 4-D becoming a new Genesis. With Marty "The Party Maniac" Warnett as the driving force behind the newest force to reckon with, 4-D has reached out to embrace the fans and made more than sure that they stick to the straight and narrow..." Guess the Harlequins didn't get their say in this article... KG: It went to press before what happened, happened. GP: [continuing] "....despite the departure of Edmund Fitzgerald, the addition of Icehawk has made 4-D the only stable currently in a position where all four superstars embrace the fans, a sense of justice and fair play, and the potential to possess 3/4ths of the IIWF Championship belts." "#:- Joe Petrow..." What? KG: Basically says he can't make up his mind, losing fan support, and the question of Maurice's effectiveness in the ring still lingers. And what he's losing, the other teams in the IIWF are gaining. GP: "#5: Relief. No longer having to be the only fan favorite tag team in the IIWF, with both the American Dragons and the new young team of the Benjamin Brothers, the Natural Predators can relax a little easier knowing they have allies in the tag team ranks who stand for more than just personal gain or hurting people." "#4: Adaptability...." KG: Oh, you can skip over that one. GP: "#4: Adaptability. With Grey Phoenix... [pause, wide smile...Kuyler just points back at the magazine] ...With Grey Phoenix proving to be one of the most adept tag team leaders to have appeared in years, and the guiding force behind in-ring tactics, the master aerialist and the wrestling guru, Phoenix and Greyson, have taken a young strongman....who could arguably have succeeded as a one dimensional wrestler...and taught him a variety of tactics, patterns, and skills necessary to further his career and the career of the team....the Natural Predators have experienced one of the most successful runs for a new team in the IIWF ever, moving from a 2-4 record early on into one of the top tag teams in the IIWF's history." KG: Oh, don't stop there....what did the Police Warden say on the Sentinel? "A little gloating is good for the soul." GP: "#3: Fan base. Arguably the most popular tag team in the IIWF today, and one of the most popular ever, the Predators have been more marketed than any other tag team in IIWF history. "Natural Selection" and "Natural Predators -- Where the Wild Things Rule" t-shirts rank among the top sellers at IIWF concessions, as well as the new "4-D" shirts. The Predators are the only team in IIWF history to appear on both "Space Ghost: Coast to Coast" and "VIVA!", a German version of MTV, and the syndicated animated series "Predators 3000" has just been renewed for another season of 13 episodes. Perhaps the "Wildest" thing about the Predators is their popularity in a place where tag teams are usually among the second tier of popularity." KG: Just don't let it go to your head. You're no Steve Kowalski, and it's not all there is to winning in the ring. You get sloppy, you'll start losing...and then I put you through hell. GP: Right, Kuy, gotcha.... "#2: Balance. In an era top heavy with brawlers, or tag teams based on similar styles and skills, the Natural Predators remain true to the old constant: each wrestler makes up for what the other wrestler does not have in abundance. Bear, the "IIWF Strongman", possesses natural gifts of size and strength, and a high tolerance for pain. While it is possible he could wrestle alone and still be a tag team champion, it is the driving speed and agility of Grey Phoenix that makes the team a double threat. Each has gained a little of the skils the other holds in abundance, with Bear capable of limited aerial abilities, and Grey Phoenix quick in his learning of various suplexes and throws. Both men mesh wel as a team, but especially so since the base pieces are so different." KG: That's one of the reasons you and Daniel make a better team than he and Vic would have. Or you and Colin. Both of you, and both of them, are similar in what you can and cannot do....but for you and Daniel, utter opposites...and it fits better than most teams the IIWF has had in the past year. LFD tried it, and failed. Tiger Claw is back, but the Syndicate was too small. Down Boys are both small. Parity is important. GP: "And the number one reason... 4-D." Huh? KG: Read on, Macduff... GP: "No, this isn't a misprint. Both the team and the ideals behind 4-D are key in keeping the Predators on track for the titles. Determination. Drive. Dedication. And one of the most important: Desire. The Predators and 4-D will succeed because the basis of what they do is the 4 D's. It is not to win, but to try that is important. And the Predators never put forth less than a hundred percent when they try. For these reasons, it's only a matter of time before the Natural Predators enjoy their second title reign. Marya Hunter." Never heard of her. KG: She's one of the chief writers for the IIWF Ring Report. Likes writing for the tag team scene, and doesn't resort to insults or crude comments. Been a reporter for about ten years. She's one of the more objective reporters I've met in recent years. Last issue she did a solid write up on the Fabulous Ones, NorthPac, and the Down Boys as the Japanese style tag influences grow here. GP: Hmph. KG: So...? GP: So what? KG: Why you still here? Go ahead, Daniel's already headed out for the evening. Take some time out with your fiancée, go out for a good dinner, relax. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for 4-D. GP: You got it boss-man. Don't hang around here too long, though. KG: Nah, go on. I'm okay. I can get through this... [GP smiles, nods, and exits...Kuyler puts on his glasses and sighs] ...in about five more hours, anyway... [lights fade out on Kuyler, reading balance sheets] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Towel Match: "To Excess" Rick Williams with Derek Mota vs. Steve Sampson with Robert Donovan ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: This match will involve somebody deciding the fate of somebody else! SR: Aren't all matches like that? LM: Well, um... LS: Boring. Next! SR: I'm with you, Crusher Creel! TD: I must disagree! I think the home town hero is going to walk away with this one! LM: Assuming Mota cares about Williams at all. It seems to me that the wrestler who has a second who doesn't care if he gets hurt has the advantage here! Let's hear from Portland's own... [A barren IIWF Colesium sits quietly, keeping watch over the ring. The ring dressing for Birthday Bash already surrounds the ring, as several workers walk to the back, their jobs done for the day. The cameras pan over through the seats. In one days time, these seats will be full of IIWF Fans, frothing at the mouth for the action that only the IIWF can provide. The floors will be littered with empty beer cups and hot dog wrappers. And in the ring, before the main event, one man will put his pride on the line in his adopted home town. If given the chance, Steve Sampson might have reconsidered alot of his strategies entering this matchup. Hindsight, however, is always 20-20, and Steve now sits in the cheap seats, looking down at the Colesium, thinking about the choices he made coming into this matchup.] SS: [speaking softly] Hard to believe I've only been here for a month. It seems like I've been coming here for five years. It's all the same, I suppose. Only the names change. This time, it's Derek Mota and Rick Williams against me. The Coalition, they like to call themselves. Well, men, it's only a matter of hours away now. Tomorrow Night, Williams and I enter the ring, and we don't stop attempting to kill each other until Mota or Rob Donovan throw in the towel. Rick Williams...the man they nicknamed "To Excess". He's been playing this IIWF game for a while now. He's seen it all here, and he's been through it all. I've played these games in PCW. I've played these games in the EWA. I've been to Canada, Japan, Australia and all ports in between. I know why Williams targetted me. It's simple. Rick Williams, looking to embarrass Dan Spreadbury, took a shot at the "hometown" boy. He embarrassed Dan by running down Dan's invited guest. He embarrassed me by making me look like a damned fool in front of the people I spent two years wrestling in front of across town. Most importantly, however, Rick Williams embarrassed himself by messing with the wrong man. [Sampson stands up, and begins to walk down the stairs, headed towards the exit to the ramp. When he reaches his destination, he looks down towards the ring once again.] SS: It's been since June of last year since I've wrestled a pay-per-view match in front of my friends and fans here in Portland. To say I'm not worried about it, well, that'd be lying to you all. I'm nervous and anxious and about every emotion in between. Let's face it. I don't want to trip over my shoelaces and look like a fool. Tomorrow, though, I do get in this ring, and I'm not going to lie. My mission is going to be to beat Rick Williams within an inch of his worthless life. And to have Robert Donovan on the outside, I can honestly say, I'm keeping my eye on the big goof. Donovan, you and I are friends, and sometimes friends have heated debates about things. I'm willing to forgive and forget about what happened last Saturday. What I want from you right now, big man, is a promise that to throw the towel in for me, someone will have to pry it from your cold, dead hand. This isn't a time to be having a lover's spat, Rob. I'm really not concerned if your wife isn't putting out, or if your kid has turned into something out of the Exorcist. This is business. Tomorrow night, Rick Williams, I'm not going to stop until I see Mota throw that damned towel in. Beat me with a chair, I'll come back with a bat. Beat me with a bat, and I'll come back with barbed wire. Beat me with barbed wire, and you better damned well make sure you kill me. Because I will keep coming back and back and back until one of us isn't walking anymore. And that's a promise. [Sampson walks down the exit corridor, and into the back of the Colesium as the camera pans back around to the ring. It slowly focuses in on the Birthday Bash ring dressing before fading to black.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Meatman Challenge: Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele vs. Valtharius the Mad ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Now this match... if it's a match... TD: I hear it's not. SR: This is stupid. LS: I hope Val pounds the Meatman into stringy slabs of sirloin. He's just too big, too lumbering, too... well, too one-track-minded. TD: That reminds me of Valtharius. LM: I have to side with my co-host from War Room, Dave Bacon. We need more wrestling and less...of whatever this is. TD: Now, let's not pass judgement until we find out what is going to happen! LM: Either way, both participants had opinions this week. [Cut to clip. Tim Dross stands beside a meat truck in the May sunshine.] TD: I come to you from Watsonville, California. Last stop on the Meatman's Road Kill Tour '98. [The meat truck is parked on a rise, surrounded by children. The Meatman hands out beefsicles from the back of the truck, while the Meatboy takes his turn signing autographs.] TD: What does the Meat have to offer children? You would be surprised, fans. In the hour he's been here we've seen a petting zoo, a Meatman look-alike contest, celebrity appearances, and a mock battle between "The Meat" and members of San Francisco's "Incredibly Strange Wrestling." Looks like question and answer time now. Child 1: When are you gonna be champ? Meatman: Soon, and I'm gonna do it for all my little cutlets! Child 2: Why do you hate Oprah? Meatman: Hate? I love Oprah. She's my number one customer. You know why she bloats up? Because every night she goes home and stuffs herself with Jimmy the Meat's turkey sausage! Child 3: Can you be cruiserweight champion? Meatman: Next question. Child 4: Can you beat Steve Kowalski? Meatman: Yep. Child 5: Why did Gunny Gaines pretend you killed his baby? Meatman: Ya got me. Child 6: Are you afraid of Valtharius? Meatman: Valthalisbury? [Suddenly, an eerie female voice issues from the truck. The puzzle flesh construct called "Meatrice" appears.] Meatrice: Valthariusssss. Valthariussssss. Come to me my manimal. [Meatrice's limbs are made up of beef strips wrapped around bone. Her torso is an open cow abdomen, dangling innards. Her breasts are made up of two bulbous cow udders which bob and glisten invitingly. The children squeal with delight. Camera swings back to Dross.] TD: Fun time may be over for the Meatman when he faces Valtharius at tomorrow's Meatman Challenge; a mystery event which takes place at his Emeryville processing plant, and we have seen indications that this event promises to be more than just a game. From Watsonville, I'm Tim Dross. [Fade] [Scene opens the black raven flies through the night. Storm clouds gather in from the west as lighting is seen brightening up the sky for an instant. The clouds form that of a skull for the briefest period as the raven comes to land upon he branch of a dead oak tree. The raven calls as its lonely voice echoes into the night air. The scene pans downward from the ravens perch as several fires are seen. Scattered about the encampment are bodies in black robes laying in different forms of the grotesque. A thick gray smoke covers the ground as in the distance a truck is heard driving off as if in a hurry. The raven flies into the encampment and lands atop an empty cage... its door swinging freely as a cut chain drops to the ground. The startled bird ruffles its feathers as a boiling black cloud suddenly appears from behind. The oily-black cloud gibbers and moans as if the Gates of Hell have opened up and allowed the damned to walk the earth once more.... stepping through the darkened mist is Karachel... The Voice of Reason. He surveys the encampment and helps a cultist to his feet and mumbles something to him. The Karachellian Cultist moves about helping others to their feet as Karachel walks to the center of the pentagram in the middle of the encampment and raises his arms. Lightning flashes as his voice takes on a thunderous quality] K: Infidel defilers! They shall all drown in lakes of blood. Now they will know, why they are afraid of the dark; now they will learn, why they fear the night! [Several cultists cower in fear of their dark master] K: What has happened here? Where is Valtharius? [It is quiet for a moment then a cultist stands and speaks] C: Dark Master, several men shot canisters into camp and another brandished a large gun and shot Valtharius whilst he feasted on raw meat within his cage. The next thing that I remembered is being helped to my feet by Brother Kleth. [The cultist immediately gets back down on his knees as Karachel paces within the large pentagram] K: Worms! What is the meaning of our cult? [The cultists chant in unison] Cultists: To crush our enemies, see them driven before you dark master, and to hear the lamentations of their soul!" K: Very good my Children! Remember this, man is a fool and a blinded toy... though his fire still flickers and burns, we are the cobra coiled in the cup called life, and will strike them back in return. [Karachel sits within the center of the pentagram and raises his finger towards five candles which all light in unison.... a dark gun-metal blue flame burns brightly from each] K: I have a feeling my children that Valtharius was drugged and abducted by this Dexter Galbreath individual.... I also fear that James Steele has suffered a similiar fate. This Mr. Galbreath shall pay for his crime... he breaks into my house, he injures my children, and he takes my pet! His life will be a living Hell! For his life is a lamp with the glimmer gone, the oil so dank and a darkened. I swear by the darkness within my soul and by the grip of the grave that I shall exact my revenge upon Mr. Galbreath AND Mr. Steele. Most of all I shall exact revenge against the whole of the IIWF! [The black-oily fog builds up around Karachel and lifts him from his sitting position to hover above the pentagram. The raven flies from the cage and lands upon the shoulder of Karachel. Karachel's eyes begin burning a deep crimson and blue. His mouth seems as if it is full of dark fire] K: Listen to the Voice of Reason and let this be known to the IIWF and all of its worthless souls! Towers shall shake and the stars will reel under my dark grip. The skulls of the dead and slain shall be heaped before my throne. My voice shall be that of rolling thunder, and my words shall be jets of agony that shall lance the hearts and minds of our foes, piercing them to the very soul! [The pentagram begins burning with the same dark light as the candles. The trees groan as the bend away as if seeking escape from the Master of the Arcane. The Karachellian Cultists scatter, only to regroup a short distance away. A few have seen their master in this mood only once before.... and survived] K: The officials and members of the IIWF speak of paradise. I cannot believe in a paradise that is glorious, undefiled, with gates all scrolled and streets of gold. These are nothing but the tales of a dreaming child! [The Voice of Reason pauses and raises his arms outward. The cultists back up a step] K: I am too lost for shame that it moves me unto mirth. But I can envision a Hell on Earth for all to live in.... for I understand their pain... for I am the one that caused it! [Karachel looks over towards the empty cage that Valtharius inhabited and sighs deeply] K: Ahhhh... people of this day and age speak of little, they speak of foolish things, as more befitting to their shallow brains. They no longer dream of the powers of the pre-Atlantean kings, nor launches on that dark uncharted Main that holds grim islands and unholy tides, where many a black mysterious secrets hide for their discovery. It is I that am truly enlightened with the dark knowledge... for I dream dreams of dark power.... I dream of the ebon blooms that swell in these ghastly woods, and this grim, voiceless bird that ever broods upon my shoulder. [Karachel reaches up and strokes the ravens neck with gnarled fingers. The cultists gather closer to the pentagram now] K: Yes my Children, when I close my eyes I see this place... a place through black boughs where a wind of horror blows. A place where ungodly, slimy shapes glide, slither and crawl! I see the unreckoned gulfs where souls sing their songs of the damned against the serpent of life. Against my power they thrust up their hissing heads, and they mock me with the eyes of the serpent. For they are no better than we! [The gibbering black cloud about Karachel begins to grow outward from the pentagram and enshrouds each of the members of the Karachellian Cult] K: We, like the people of the IIWF were conceived and bred in the blackened pits of hell. But unlike us, it is OUR words that set the stars afire for the other members of the IIWF were born of black maggots writhing in a broken shell filled up with burning mist of goodness and the golden mire that causes them to dream dreams of flowers and butterflies. [Karachel pulls from his robes a contract] K: This so-called President Spreadbury... the one who wears the royal purple is wearing an illusion! For the royal purple he wears is a moldy shroud and the laurel crown upon his head is that of cypress fixed with thorns! His champions who hold their belts of gold so high, are holding nothing but straps of withered leather, notched and dull. And these wrestlers who think themselves Narcisis are wearing the false face of beauty for they actually wear a grinning skull and their breath stinks like that of a rotting corpse. And come the night when they must prove themselves against Valtharius they shake and quiver in their soul's red cavern for they hear coming down the ramp and into the ring the loud rattle of cloven hoofs and the smell of brimstone when Valtharius finally arrives! [The cultists are absolutely taken in by every word of their dark master] K: We all know that justice is a lie... That good and light are baubles filled with dust. For this is a world's slave-market where swine sell and buy others like so much cattle and they have been blinded by their eyes with lies and lust. Their souls belong to us my Children.... and we shall feed upon them! [Karachel stands atop the boiling black cloud as lightning strikes several times in succession about the pentagram. He raises his arms above his head as the wind begins blowing as a maelstrom] K: RING UP THE DEMONS FROM THE LOWER PITS, SINCE EVIL CONQUERS GOODNESS IN THE END! BREAK DOWN THE DOORS OF THE IIWF AND LET THE FIRES BE LIT! ALL HELL SHALL RAGE AGAINST THEM IN OUR BATTLE AGAINST THE FORCES OF LIGHT! WE SHALL EMERGE VICTORIOUS AND NONE SHALL BE ALIVE TO STAND AGAINST US, FOR IF ANY FOLLOW THE PATHE OF LIGHT THEY SHALL SURELY WITHER AND DIE! SO SAYS THE VOICE OF REASON!!! [Immediate blackout followed by the insane cackling of Karachel.... as it fades only the lonely cawing of the raven is heard before fading to nothingness] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Texas Death Tornado Match: Night Patrol vs. the American Dragons ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: Four men...fighing it out...until only one team is standing. SR: Night Patrol. The Drag Queens are going to end up eating lunch through a straw when this thing is over. LS: I wouldn't pay to see it, I won't waste my time talking about it. SR: That's the spirit! TD: I certainly would pay to see it! This is going to be knock-down drag-out fighting at its best and it's time the American Dragons came out on top! SR: Did you say the American Dragons are coming out? First Turner, now this! What is the IIWF coming to? LM: The Dragons are poised for a big jump...and the first hurdle is the Night Patrol. [We open on Larry Morton, standing in front of the IIWF Colosseum, resplendent in suit and tie, mic in hand. For once, he looks calm, not too flightly and jumpy] LM: We almost ready? CM: [off-camera] Just a few more seconds, Mr. Morton. LM: Mr. Morton...that has a nice ring to it... [A few more seconds pass, we hear "And....we're on!"] LM: Ladies and gentlemen, in two short days, the IIWF will celebrate its second birthday in grand fashion, when live on Pay-Per-Viw, the IIWF will present Birthday Bash II! A spectacular card is lined up, with grudges, feuds, and titles on the line! [Morton takes a breath...but before he can speak, the American Dragons walk in the background behind him. Morton turns around and see them:] LM: We have two of the competitors right here! Joe! Bob! [Joe Scalercio and Bob Ivey turn around, facing Larry. Both men are wearing their leather jackets and blue jeans, zipped up in the Portland spring. Bob wears his cowboy hat, while Joe sports the bandage on his head, a gift from the Night Patrol last Saturday] LM: Ladies and gentlemen, these two young men will be taking on their hated rivals, the Night Patrol, in a Texas Tornado Death match! Anything goes, the only way to lose is by both men being unable to to continue, as judged by a ringside physician! Gentlemen, can I get a few words? BI: No problem, Larry. LM: What are your thoughts on this match? JS: Thoughts? Larry, I've got a HUGE freakin bandage on my head! What the hell do you think my thoughts are! LM: I don't know, that's why I'm asking! JS: Okay, listen up, then. Blazer and Garcia cracked me upside the skull with their nightsticks a couple of times. What am I thinking? Revenge. Plain and simple revenge. BI: The Night Patrol...those two clowns... LM: Clowns? BI: Yeah...those jokers have been a thorn in our side for how long? We've tangled with them four times ever since we arrived here in the IIWF and they just happened to come back at the same time. Now, since we're 0-4 against them, we may look like easy pickings against a veteran team like them. We've underestimated them in the past, always thinking they couldn't gel. Well, they have. They're a good team. JS: But we've had enough of those two clowns. LM: Clowns! JS: Yes. Those jesters think that we're going to sit back and let them beat on us. This is for the future of the tag team ranks here. Yeah, yeah, we may be opening a PPV for the second straight time. But everyone else in the tag ranks is a joke. Team Sychosys? One guy's carrying that team, and he'll go back to singles when it's not fun anymore. The Prophets of Rage? What have they done? As soon as they have the balls to step into the ring with a REAL tag team, they're done. The Down Boys? Gone. The Machines and Fabulous Ones? One of them's going to be gone, and both of them suck anyway. The Black Watch and the Baddest Thangs Running? They're so dumb, they'll kill each other at the PPV. The NorthPac Coalition? Good team, but they've gotten wrapped up in TNT's mess. The way I look at it, there's us, the Patrol, the Preds, the Euro-Elite, and the Benjamins. The Benjamins and TEE are too green, and the Preds are wrapped up in the whole 4-D thing. LM: What about the Harlequins? BI: Who? JS: My point is, whoever wins this match is going to have momentum going into this summer. When we come back from break, AFTER winning this matchup, we'll be on solid enough ground to challenge for the belts...FINALLY! BI: All it means in taking out those two Texas Clowns... LM: CLOWNS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! [Morton drops the mic and runs screaming into the night. The Dragons look at one another and shrug] JS: Guess he doesn't like clowns? BI: Seems to be. JS: Last word. Patrol...time's up. It all ends here. [Joe and Bob turns around, showing the dragons on the back of their jackets to the camera] JS & BI: Any team, any time... [Fade out on the logos and the echoing screams of Larry Morton.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Free For All: The Benjamins vs. True European Excellence ------------------------------------------------------------------------ LM: I think it's perfectly normal to be afraid of... TD: Larry, we're back on. LM: Oh, uh, the Free For All kicks us off with a top flight grudge match! SR: The undefeated Europeans fight the big loser Benjamins! TD: It sounds like you've been reading the press clippings of d'Artois and Magnusson! LS: Remember what I said about Night Patrol versus the American Dragons? Times two. SR: Everything I've ever said about you... I take it back. Well, maybe some things. LM: I really like these young kids. They have a lot of heart. TD: I agree, Larry. I thin they are going to beat the Europeans again and this time no one will call it an upset. [Scene opens on the two brothers standing outside a door in white t-shirts and blue jeans, benjismiles apparent] BB: Hi all! How are ya? Me and Joe are just about to go inside the IIWF control booth [points to door] to see if we could get a quick interview from one of the world's best wrestling commentators, Larry Morton. JB: Yeah, we thought we'd be a little different and surprise the interviewer for a change. [Bobby knocks on the door, and a faint 'come in' can be heard] BB: [Even wider smile] We're in. [Bobby and Joe walk into a rather spacious room with much electronic equipment around them, lots of buttons, LED displays, switches etc... In the center of the room sits Larry Morton wearing a headset, fiddling with some controls. When he sees the Benjamins come through the door, he takes off his headset and welcomes the two with a smile as he stands up] LM: Hello guys -- this is unexpected. JB: Yeah, we know... we just thought we'd grab a camera and see if you could give us an interview. LM: Sure, of course, this is rather unusual. Normally it's the interviewer who looks for the interviewee. BB: We like doing things differently and besides, we get to talk to one of the best in the business... LM: [Modestly] Well I think Tim's... JB: [Interrupting] Hey, so what are ya doin'? LM: Oh, err... I'm just helping out the technicians gear up for the Birthday Bash. It's shaping up to be a great card. BB: Sure is. So what's your favorite match going to be? LM: Well, I think tha... [pauses] Hold on, who's supposed to be doing the interview here? BB: Whoops! Sorry! LM: No, that's okay... [with a slightly glum look on his face] nobody ever seems to want to talk to me anymore [begins staring at floor and mumbling] -- they all want Dross, just because he's the best inter... JB: [Interrupting by coughing] Ahem. [Puzzled look] Uhh, Mr Morton? LM: [Looking up again] Oh, what? Sorry about that... Right, where was I? BB: Umm, asking us some questions? LM: Yes, that's right. So, how have you found the IIWF so far? JB: Aww man, it's been great. Everybody's been so nice to us, that we're settling into things really well... BB: Not quite everybody, little bro. JB: Oh yeah, I forgot. Y'see Mr Morton, you've got two guys who are whinin' and cryin' about how they ain't getting the wins or recognition from the Double Eye. They keep blaming us for how bad they're doin'. Of course, it ain't our problem that they're sole losers. We won fair and square, no question about it. [Directly to camera] Y'know, d'Artois, I've picked up a bit of French over the years, and I've found that you guys are as stuck-up in your language as you are in English. Maybe if you could back it up, you might be able to say that stuff, but you haven't done anything in the Double Eye yet. Neither have we, really, but we know that we're not the best at the moment. You can keep saying that you guys have got the best way to do things, and you can keep puttin' down Americans, but it's not going to help you this Saturday at the birthday of the Double Eye. Y'see... LM: [It is now Morton's turn to interrupt by coughing] Ahem. JB: [Turning back to Morton] What? LM: The interview? JB: Oh... sorry... [sheepish smile] I'm still getting used to this interviewing thing [looks down at floor]. LM: That's alright. Moving on, how are you going to approach the big match? BB: The same way as we always do. We'll treat d'Artois and Magnusson as if they were World Champs, no matter what their record. Every team is a challenge for us, and while we're getting pretty familiar with them, it's still going to be hard. LM: And how's the preparation going? BB: Awesome! We've had quite a few good workouts, and the Power Prep's teaching us a lot. LM: Well, how do you... [Joe suddenly looks at his watch and turns quickly to his brother] JB: Oh man! Bobby! We gotta go right now! Mom, dad and sis are in town for the big Pay Per View. I forgot to tell you that we were supposed to have lunch with them. We're gonna be late! BB: [Shakes his head] Joe, I just don't know what you're doin' sometimes. [To the camera] Sorry about this folks, but ya gotta be good to your family when they're around, y'know? One last word. True European... err... [muttering undder breath] geez I feel stupid saying this... excellence, tomorrow means a lot to us. It gives us a chance to defend the fed that you guys are insultin' almost every time you open your mouths, and it gives us a chance to show Mom and Dad how much we've learnt. You thought you were angry before? Just you wait. You know why? JB & BB: 'Cos it's all about the Benjamins, baby! BB: [Shakes his head again] C'mon then, bro... Where are we meeting them? Oh, [turns to Morton] and thanks Mr Morton. JB: I can't quite remember... I wrote it down somewhere... [Turning to Morton] Yeah, thanks Mr Morton. BB: You're hopeless! [benjismile] Let's go then... [The young Benjamins run out of the room, leaving the camera, Larry Morton, and an open door. Morton slowly walks over to the door and shuts it. Then, he walks over to his chair, and sits on it once again. After a few seconds he shakes his head and sighs, muttering:] LM: Kids... [Fade out.] [Scene fades in the IIWF interview area. Two men are standing there : Robert d'Artois and Reiner Ver Magnusson, the team also known as "True European Excellence".] RdA: Only a few hours before we finally get our hands around the throats of those pathetic, stupid Benjamins... And you watchers out there, be sure to tune in for their execution. You won't have any excuse! It's free for God's sake!!! And what you will witness will be the total elimination of all the idiocy in the world today! RVM: The Benjamins, you might be young, you might be brave, but the fact that you beat us the first time around proves absolutely nothing, in our minds that is. The problem is that in the other's minds, you've beaten us, and you have humiliated us!!! You have ruined our grand debut here in the IIWF, and we won't let you ruin our pay-per-view debut, our second debut! RdA: You see, Benjamins, I didn't came in the IIWF for the same reasons than you. You just seem to be happy to be part of the best, part of the IIWF. But I'm not here just to be part of the best... Like Reiner, I'm here to be the best of the best! RVM: The problem, you see, is that you are there, being happy, playing the innocent little kids, and you are stopping the course of our rise to greatness here. I wouldn't care if you just wanted to play with the real wrestlers, but actually trying to provoke them is another story. RdA: You've been a torn on our side for too much time. You've insulted our intelligence for too long. RVM: Since actions are stronger than words, we will stop this interview now, and we will continue it on Birthday Bash. RdA: Were the words will turn into action. [They leave as the screen fades to black.] LM: The Free For All also will bring you interviews with "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner and "Sanguinary" Steve Manning. SR: Freak and freak. LM: Birthday Bash will be the last IIWF event for a short while as the staff gear up for a very special summer, so don't you dare miss it! It's only on pay-per-view so join all the top stars as they put on the show of the year! TD: Order now! SR: Don't be caught up in the hype! Kowalski is the man! Don't watch him fall! LM: On behalf of my special guests, Tim Dross, Steve Roberts, and Luke Steele...this is Larry Morton...see you tomorrow night at IIWF Birthday Bash! +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+