[Cut to a darkened room. One light bulb hangs overhead, weakly
flickering in and out, revealing a network of pipes. The faint hiss of
steam can be heard. Obviously, this is a boiler room of sorts. The
silhouette of a man stands in the doorway.]

VO: They said ya'd be down here...

[The Northern English accent is easily recognizable, but the low growl
Christopher Black speaks with now is rough and tight. The man's body
is taut with tension, like a pressure cooker ready to burst. His cold
blue eyes watch the shadows in readiness.]

CB: Someone has to hurt. Someone has to bleed. [He steps forward,
raising a hand and clenching it. The knuckles are wrapped in a maroon-
stained bandage.] Craven spoke o' a muse o' violence. What do you have
to offer? What can you teach?

[Silence. Black continues to stare into the dark, not caring that who
he seeks could probably tear his head off and piss in the hole without
a second thought. Then again, maybe that's the answer Black wants
after all. Finally...a darker piece detaches from the shadows as the
dreadlocked form of The Spectre steps partially into view.

The goth grappler is wearing his standard attire outside of the ring:
tattered trench coat, black jeans, black t shirt and combat boots, as
he regards Black with those pale blue eyes.]

Spectre: Offer, friend Black? Offer is such a loaded term. We possess
nothing that you do not already have...we simply offer insight into
how to unlock it...on how that potential for true violence might be
freed from the seed of mere sociopathic tendencies.

[The lunatic smiles at Black, his eyes never leaving the
Englishman's.]

Spectre: You've come to us prior to our dance later this evening. This
is an excellent sign, it gives us hope, as only one dedicated to the
proposition that their Beast is meant to be freed would do so...so
tell us, friend Black: Tell us what guidance you seek...

[A heartbeat of silence. Then...]

CB: Enemies everywhere. They think they're smellin' weakness now. Too
many targets, too many sides to assault. [He hisses, drawing in a
sharp intake of air. Then he flexes his other trembling hand. It
sports a similarly stained bandage wrapped across the knuckles as
well.] Acid burnin' in my veins. [Black grits his teeth, that rare
time when he speaks of himself in the first person.] There's a rage in
my blood an' it needs to be honed. Make it focused an' sharp an' cold.
[Black stares unblinking at the goth-clad nightmare.] That's what I
want -- what I _need_ -- friend Spectre. The enemy can't ever be
allowed to breathe an' forget that fear...

[Black's voice drops to a harsh whisper, as his hands clench into
empty, grasping claws.]

CB: ...to forget what I can _do_.

[The dreadlocked goth looks at Black, unblinking and unmoving for a
moment before he nods slightly.]

Spectre: You wish to unleash that anger...that torment...that horror
that dwells within your breast on an unsuspecting and unprepared
world...to use your rage as a weapon.

You've found something to hate...something that you must seek
out...something you feel must be destroyed...

You have piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general
rage and hate felt by the whole of the race from Adam down; and then,
as if your chest were a mortar, you shall burst your hot heart's shell
upon it...

[Spectre smiled slightly.]

Spectre: But you seek guidance from us in order to guide that mortar
burst...

[His head quirked to one side and the sinister smile returned,
followed by a nod.]

Spectre: This we can help with...and it starts tonight. Heap such
abuse upon our opposites that the spectators quake and the level of
violence that has been brought...show them that you are capable of
anything and care not a whit for anything but the visceral pleasure
you take from their undoing...and teach them to fear the dark.

[Again, that uncomfortable silence fills the dank, shadowy room.
Reflexively, Black squeezes his eyes shut, weighing in the words of
wicked wisdom now offered by the Spectre. His thumbnail drags deep
across his bandaged knuckles, tearing open a new patch of scarred
flesh underneath with oozing red damp. A shudder of near-starving
anticipation courses through the Englishman's lank frame. He nods
grimly.]

CB: From hell's heart then, if that's what it'll take. Drag them
bastards down an' tear 'em apart with a rage that's
neverendin'...never enough, but it don't matter now. Just one spark
an' their sufferin' begins anew...

[Another nod from Black, but this one in slow, deliberate respect to
the dark and who it holds. He exits, finally leaving this oracle of
chaos to his own devices.

Cut to the sounds of a soft ticking clock ... It grows louder and
louder and louder ...





               ____         ___         ___        __   __
              |  _ \   / _ \   / _ \  |  \ /  | | | | | | |
              | |_) ) | | | | | | | | |   v   | | | | | | |
              |  _ (  | | | | | | | | | |\_/| | |_| |_| |_|
              | |_) ) | |_| | | |_| | | |   | |  _   _   _
              |____/   \___/   \___/  |_|   |_| (_) (_) (_)







Fade into the PVW logo ...]






       __________  ____   ____  __      __
       \______   \ \   \ /   / /  \    /  \
        |     ___/  \   Y   /  \   \/\/   /
        |    |       \     /    \        /
        |____|        \___/      \__/\  /
                                      \/




        ----------------------------------
               Live in @ Rosequarter
               Portland, Oregon


                     HEATWAVE
        ----------------------------------




[The logo on your television set explodes!  And we are inside the
Rosequarter in Portland, Oregon.  PVW Heatwave finishes it's
California tour and continues to march through the west Coast.


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


Camera leaves the fans and focuses in on the squared circle.
Standing alone ... proudly ... are three letters that have made it
through it all.  They've seen the highest of the highs. And it's made
it through the lowest of the lows.  In black-red-and a little orange -

And before the two men who bring flavor the PVW can begin their
opening delivery ... A spotlight focuses on four people, two men and
two women, each wearing a different monochromatic polo shirt.  They
stand up and begin singing...]

GYC:            #Believe it or not #
                # Danny's Pee-Vee-Dub Pres #
                # We never thought that #
                # it's something we'd see... #

                # He beat Detson #
                # Now he's in charge #
                # Who could it be #
                # It's "Your Hero"...  #

[The spotlight then moves over to the entranceway, where, standing,
wearing a white tuxedo...]

D"YH"D:  THAT'S ME!

[Danny Daniels beams out as the Greek Yuppie Chorus sits down.  He
starts walking down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans of PVW and
grinning from ear-to-ear.]

CL:  Ladies and Gentlemen, we're opening the show with the man who won
the PVW Presidency last night...

FH:  I think I'm going to be sick.

CL:  Danny Daniels beat Johnny Detson at Boiling Point, and he's
certainly embracing the responsibility.

FH:  Can't we recall him?  Put back Detson... or Gibson Hayes... or
hell- you can do it, Chip.  Anyone's gotta be better than this
goofball

[Danny reaches ringside and walks in, picking up a house microphone.]

D"YH"D:  GREETINGS... AND SALUTATIONS!  I'm Danny Daniels- YOUR PVW
President!  With your support, we were able to overcome the Detson
regime.  Tonight- PVW begins under new leadership.  Leadership, that
puts YOU [Danny points to the PVW audience]  first and foremost!

[Cheers from the fans.]

D"YH"D:  As your President, I want you to know that I am thinking of
the PVW fanbase.  And, just as you have given so much to us, we at PVW
wish to give back to you.  Literally minutes before this show began, I
was on the phone with St. Jude's hospital in Portland.  And I'm
THRILLED to announce that...

[Dramatic pause.]

D"YH"D:  ALL OF TONIGHT'S PROCEEDS WILL GO ST. JUDE'S!

[Heartwarming Cheers.  Danny gives a small bow before continuing.]

D"YH"D:  Every wrestler's payment for tonight's show will be given to
the good people of St. Jude's, who will continue their wonderful work.

CL:  A noble gesture...

FH:  Noble?  Danny just took money from every wrestler on the roster
to make himself look good!  I won't be surprised if there's riots.

D"YH"D:  And it's not just the wrestlers- every dime from every
employee of PVW, from myself to the ring crew to the managers to the
announcers, will be donated to St. Jude's.

FH:  Oh, you've GOT to be kidding me.

CL:  I think...

FH:  Don't think, Lester.  That hypercaffinated ferret just stole
money from our wallets.

CL:  It's for a good cause.

FH:  Bah, humbug, Chip.

D"YH"D:  In addition, I believe that I should represent the fans.
Unlike the previous regime, I want to share the PVW experience!  While
I have a match tonight against the fighting Austrian, Adrian
Freemason, I want to spend the early matches among the fans to see
things from THEIR perspective.  Therefore...

[Danny reaches in and pulls out a ticket]

... I purchased a ticket tonight and will be watching the early
matches with the greatest fans in wrestling today!

[Danny rolls out of the ring and heads over to the front row, where he
hops over the guardrail and takes an empty seat.]

CL:  So our new PVW President will be at ringside for the first few
matches.

FH:  Bah.

CL:  Witty commentary, Fred.

FH:  So what?  Is he going to dock my pay?  Let's get going, and watch
these wrestlers risk life and limb for free...

CL: As always you don't disappoint.  And to think I was just
apologizing to Joshua about having to work with Matthew Anderson.

FH: For good reason!

CL: Oh brother ... Well, folks we have our President in the front row
sharing popcorn with a fan.

FH: I wouldn't eat after these animals!

CL: We have a whole night ahead of us ... and without further adue,
Herk Douglas is headed inside the ring.

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall ... Introducing first,
hailing from Phoenix, Arizona and weighs in at two hundred and fifteen
pounds ... this is ...

[The camera focuses on a short dirty blonde hair man attired in full
length white tights and white boots with flames up both legs. He is
wearing a white vest and hoody combo with a red and orange Phoenix
emblazoned on its back. His face is covered in red, orange and white
face paint, that seems to take the shape of a stylized bird.]


!!! PHOENIX !!!


[The face painted man makes his way down the aisleway quickly slapping
the hands of the young fans as he does. The camera catches a few kids
in the crowd with red and orange face paint on.]

CL: Phoenix suffered a set back at Boiling Point when Larry Gionet
finished him off with the rolling armbar.

FH: Gionet brought back the move that the PVW was built on.  I heard
that even Perry Fontana was envious.

[Marilyn Manson's "Cake and Sodomy" blares over the loudspeakers.]

HD: And now, coming to the ring, accompanied by Arachne and
Belladonna, the Black Circle Girls.

#Virgins sold in quantity#
#Herded by heredity#

HD: He stands six feet two inches and weighs two hundred and forty
five pounds. From the streets of San Francisco, California. Here
is....



SHADOW STALKER

CHANCE HOLIDAY!!!


[As the music continues, the lights dim, as two women step out from
behind the curtain. Both are dressed identically, in skin tight black
dresses, the skirts slit high on their thighs, their bodies barely
contained by the low cut front of their dresses. Their hair is dyed
jet black, and their nails are painted the same color. Bright red lips
contrast vividly against their pale skin. These are Arachne and
Belladonna, the Black Circle girls. As the fans let loose with obscene
catcalls, they walk to the ring with an unnatural calmness and
serenity. And behind them, his head bowed, is their messiah, Chance
Holiday.]

#White trash get down on your knees#

[With his head bowed, his long black hair obscures Holiday's face.
Holiday's body is covered in a black duster that touches the ground.
Holiday walks at a slow, deliberate pace, ignoring the crowd around
him.]


#It's time for cake and sodomy#

[The Black Circle Girls open the ring ropes, and Holiday slowly
ascends the stairs. Before entering, he throws his head back,
revealing his dark eyes. They have a hollow, inhuman look to them and
are sunken in, surrounded by heavy circles of black. Together, the
Black Circle Girls remove his duster, revealing that his ring gear
consists of black wrestling trunks that go to his knees, black boots
trimmed in red and rubberized black tape on both fists. Holiday moves
to the corner, his followers kneeling in supplication in front of him.
Expressionless, the Shadow Stalker waits for the bell to ring.]

FH: You gotta like a guy who comes down to the ring with a circle of
ladies!

CL: Those ladies would tear you to pieces, Fred.

FH: Yeah ... but, what a way to go!

CL: Oh brother ...  Our President, Danny Daniels has to be curious
after the way Chance Holiday entered the ring.

FH: He was just doing Daniels a favor and take out the trash that
littered the PVW locker room.



=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Phoenix v. Chance Holiday

=========================================


*DING*DING*DING*

[There is the sound of the bell, and the PVW newcomer didn't waste
any time as he charged Phoenix and unloaded on him.  He drove another
knee to the gut and sent the face-painted superstar through the ropes
to the concrete floor.]

CL: Chance Holiday is known as a dangerous superstar.  He has wrestled
in some high profile places already in his short career.  And, he is
now exiting the ring.

FH: Chance doesn't waste time inflicting pain.  He is known for his
hard-nose aggression.

[The Shadow Stalker leaps down and lunges forward with a devastating
lunging mafia kick sending Phoenix staggering right into the guard
rail.  Chance Holiday drives his shoulder forward and again ... He
then grabs the back of Phoenix head and charges him towards the ring
steps and sends him flying crashing into the steel steps.]

CRAAAAAASH!

CL: Chance Holiday made his debut under unexpected circumstances at
Boiling Point II ... and now here in his inring debut he hasn't spent
any time actually in the ring yet.

FH: Why use the ring when you can use the props set up around it to
destroy your opponent?

[Referee, Max Kelly stands in the ring counting down both men as he
reaches a five count.  Holiday charges and stomps right into the side
of Phoenix head smashing it against the steps ... Then, looks side
ways into the front row where PVW's President, Danny Daniels is
sitting.]

FH: You have to wonder if that was a message for Daniels.

CL: I'm not sure, but looking by the face of our President, Chance has
his full attention.

FH: Serves him right for taking our pay checks.  How am I going to be
able to afford that bracelet your money hungry wife has been ragging
me about.

CL: *sigh*

[Chance now rolls under the ropes and back inside the ring.  He glares
at the referee then quickly drops to his back and rolls back to the
outside and meets Phoenix who is lifted up to his feet and nailed with
a Russian Legsweep into the guard rail.]

CLAAAANG!

CL: Get this match inside the ring.   Enough is enough ... this is the
PVW and we pride ourselves on _wrestling_.  Just watch guys like Perry
Fontana, Chris Hartt, and Supreme Wright.

FH: Three men who make terrible rolemodels if you ask me.  I like the
Shadow Stalker ... and if Danny Daniels had any sense he would find a
way to give him a pay check or we may never see Phoenix in the PVW
again.

CL: We don't even know if Chance Holiday heard the announcement.

[Daniels says something that the camera can't catch up, and Holiday
just smiles before dropping a Fist to Phoenix's Groin.]

BOOOOOO!

CL: Oh, come on now!

FH: Chance is really earning his pay here tonight ... All ZERO dollars
of it!

CL: You sound bitter.

FH: Do I?

CL: Yes.

FH: GOOD!

[Chance continues to beat on Phoenix outside the ring, He pulls the
face-painted superstar to his feet ... rears back for a punch, Daniels
from the front row and over the guard rail hooks the arms and explains
that closed fists are NOT allowed, especially outside the ring.]

[POP!]

CL: Daniels enforcing the rules!

FH: He better be careful ... The Shadow Stalker isn't in the mood to
listen to Danny Daniels here tonight.

[Daniels continues to jabber, as Chance snarls yanking Phoenix up and
then rolling him inside the ring.  Chance follows suit and makes the
first cover of the match.]

CL: Chance is going for the cover.

FH: Might as well.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: And Phoenix isn't done he fires out with a kick out.

FH: His funeral.

[Holiday follows up by mounting Phoenix and begins tossing right hand
after right hand to the face, making sure that Daniels and everyone
else knows that these are with closed fists.]

CL: Chance Holiday driving those close fist down into the face paint
and skull of Phoenix.

FH: A direct message to Danny Daniels on the outside.  HIT HIM AGAIN!

CL: You are really sour about your pay check tonight aren't you, Fred?
It's for a good cause.

FH: The only good cause that I work for is ruining my liver ... and to
...

CL: Let's just leave it at ruining the liver and that's it.

[Holiday hops off Phoenix and ignores the jeers from the Portland
crowd.  He yanks the painted superstar to his feet and sends him into
the corner with a big irish whip.  He then turns and charges at full
speed to hit a running avalanche ....]

BAM!

[POP!]

CL: NOBODY HOME!  Holiday now stuck in the corner as Phoenix stumbles
out and turns and charges and LEAPS ... PHOENIX SPLASH!

FH: Chance had to be distracted.

[Phoenix grabs Holiday and takes him down with a snapmare takedown.
He then hits the ropes and somersaults over him grabbing Holiday's
neck and driving it down with a neck snap.]

CL: Phoenix may be in some pain, but he is rising from the ashes!

FH: Oh ... real clever there, Chip.

[Phoenix now pulls Holiday up and scoops him up and slams him down on
the mat.  He then turns and begins climbing up the ropes ... He waits
for Holiday to rise and leaps off taking him down with a leaping
shoulder block.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Holiday fires out with a kick out!  Phoenix slaps the mat in
frustration as he pulls the Shadow Stalker back up ...

[CHEATING BOO'S!]

... Face rake, by Holiday ...

[Holiday then grabs the head of Phoenix then drops down with a huge
snap force and DDT's Phoenix to the ground with a huge THUD.]

FH: Chance Holiday has one of the best DDT's in the business, and
Phoenix just found that out first hand.

CL: That may have just ended things for Phoenix right there ... Chance
is pulling him back to his feet, and LOCKING his head for a second
DDT.

THUUUUUUUUD!

[BOOOO!]

[Holiday stands over the now motionless Phoenix who just ate, two
DDT's into the mat. However, the Shadow Stalker isn't done he begins
pulling Phoenix right back to his feet.]

CL: Just pin the guy!  Is this really needed?

FH: This is what happens when you don't pay your wrestlers, Daniels!
Just think, Chip ...  Phoenix is inside that ring right now getting
his head smashed for ... FREE!

CL: No .. For a good cause.

[Holiday from behind with a vicious back double underhook
piledriver, otherwise known as a vertebreaker ...]

THUUUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: Holiday calls that the Circle Breaker and if the two vicious DDT's
didn't do the job that did.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!


*DING*DING*DING*

CL: Well, I may not agree with his methods, but I have to admit that
was about as impressive of a debut as we have seen in the PVW.

FH: The Shadow Stalker has arrived!

HD: The winner of the match, The Shadow Stalker ... Chance Holiday!

[BOOOO!]

CL: Wait ... no.

FH: Yes!

[Holiday begins to pull Phoenix up again ... He grabs a hold of his
head and sets him up for _another_ DDT.  He then swings back and drops
with full force crashing him down to the ground.]

THUUUUUUUUUUUD!

*DING*DING*DING*

CL: You have to be kidding me ... enough is enough!  And he just
turned and SHOVED Max Kelly to the ground he is looking to inflict
even MORE damage.

[The crowd pops as Danny Daniels has now hopped the guard rail and
grabbed a hold of Phoenix's ankle and pulled him to the outside
standing inbetween Holiday and the fallen wrestler.]

[SAVING POP!]

FH: What?  First, he takes our pay away ... now he takes our FUN away!

CL: Attacking a wrestler after you have already beaten him and
threaten the PVW official is not, "Fun" ... and it's uncalled for and
I for one am glad that Danny Daniels was around to step in.

FH: You have a very odd definition of fun then, Chip.

[Chance Holiday stands inside the ring and glares down at Danny
Daniels who keeps both eyes on the PVW newcomer.]

CL: Daniels is now assisting Phoenix to the back.

FH: What a waste of a good front row ticket.

CL: Chance Holiday continues to glare his way ... Let's go backstage
where we have cameras set up all over.

[Cut to the visitors locker room, where we see Supreme Wright in his
wrestling attire, seated on a bench. The "Mega Prospect" is staring
down at the floor with an intense look of concentration on his face.
He keeps his focus, remaining motionless, apparently hyping himself up
for the match to come....that is, until a door slammed open breaks his
concentration. Supreme winces a bit, as an annoyed look forms on his
face. He turns to confront the interloper as a voice calls out to
him...]

"Supreme Wright."

[The look on Wright's face softens and he smiles, as he suddenly
recognizes Heath Dawson, standing before him.]

SW: Well if it ain't my old friend, Mr. Heath Dawson. How the hell are
ya' doing!

[Supreme gets up and offers his hand to Dawson, who accepts the
handshake.]

HD: Been a while, cuz. Glad to see some things are still same as ever.

SW: Well, not exactly the same, but I'm doing good. I didn't think I'd
ever see you again though, boss. You're gonna' stick around for the
long haul this time instead of tucking tail, right?

[Wright glares a hole through Dawson, who raises his eyebrows and
takes a step back.]

HD: Yeah... we'll see what's in store around these parts. So far,
there's not as many of them S&M freaks in leather masks. Not nearly as
many ball gags either, so things are looking up.

[Dawson offers a half grin to Wright, who does not return said
pleasantry. Heath cocks his head to one side and gets all quizzical.]

HD: If you got something to say, let's get it out in the open here,
pal. I came to tell ya good luck, and that it was good to see a
familiar face, but I ain't getting' the same vibe from you. Is there
somethin' I need to know about?

SW: Just keeping my expectations low, boss. I'm sure you aren't gonna'
hold it against me if I'm not exactly 100% positive you aren't going
to run off when things don't go your way again.

[There's a slight frown on Dawson's face as he's reminded of his past
failures.]

SW: Don't get me wrong, I'm hoping you really have changed and you're
taking wrestling seriously now. I'm rooting for you, 'cause I know
you're better than what I've seen, but I ain't seen it...yet.

[Dawson doesn't look too happy to hear all this, but he nods his head,
understanding Wright's point.]

SW: You got a second chance, boss...just don't blow it.

HD: Right. I'll keep that in mind.

[Dawson extends a fist to Supreme Wright, who just looks at it.]

HD: You can only get pissed on for so long before ya snap back or pack
it in. I'm sure you're feelin' the same thing right about now. But
don't worry, packin' it in isn't on my list of things to do.

[Wright nods and pounds the fist, and Dawson turns to leave.]

HD: And hey, like I said, only a few ball gags and no perverts in
latex body suits. Things are lookin' up.

[Supreme smirks and shakes his head as we cut back to the ring side
where ... "Schism" by Tool begins to echo throughout the arena and the
PVW fans unfurl a MASSIVE POP!]

CL: Whoa, what is this!? Sinister's music has begun to play
unexpectedly and listen to the fans!

FH: Seriously!? He isn't even scheduled to wrestle here tonight.
Didn't HOPE already prove their point on Shockwave?

CL: Again with the insults from over here Fred! I have yet to see you
say anything negative or insulting to Sinister's face.  Why is that?

FH: Shut...up! Sinister wouldn't understand anything I say anyway
because he lacks mental capacities!

CL: Oh please let me see you say that to his face Fred! I would pay to
see that!

FH: Dammit Chip, you're really starting to push me!

[During the conversation between the announcers, Sinister, donning a
black t-shirt with "Chi-Town Beast" etched in red letters on the
front, black jeans and red-and-black Nike Air's has already slapped
numerous hands on the way to the ring, stepped inside and motioned for
the microphone which he now has in his right hand while his left holds
the black baseball bat known as "Soul Pole". He rests the "Soul Pole"
over his left shoulder and surveys the crowd. Another LOUD POP
emanates from the jam-packed arena and Sinister raises his right fist
skyward, acknowledging the crowd while holding the microphone skyward.
He lowers his hand towards his mouth]

Sin: What's up Pooortlaaaaand!!??

[MAJOR CHEAP POP]

CL: Sinister having a bit of fun here and the crowd loves it!

FH: He'd better enjoy it because soon enough he'll end up having a lot
of troubled times!

Sin: Allow me to get right to it ladies and gentlemen. First off,
allow me to give proper respect to The Biz [HUGE MIXED POP]. Biz, you
demonstrated that you're smarter than you look and also a bit
craftier. I enjoy the fact that you turned the tables by wrestling a
clean match...for a while anyway. I respect that and it was a good
psychological ploy because people began to question me for the bending
of some rules, which I normally don't do.

FH: See Chip!? Even_he_admits that he isn't up to speed mentally!

CL: Notice how you ignored the word 'ploy'?

FH: Notice how I ignored your retort?

CL: (Mumbling) I wish that were the case more often. (Speaks more
audibly) I think anyone who knows the history between Sinister and The
Biz can understand why Sinister pushed the limits of the rules!

FH: Yeah, of course, he knows Biz is the better man so he had to cheat
to beat him!

CL: And The Biz didn't cheat at all, right Fred!?

FH: Chip, you better watch it!

Sin: However Biz, I honestly don't give_a_damn...what people say about
me! [HUGE POP] Anyone with a mouth and some air can talk a good game
but the bottom line is this: When you step your carcass into the ring
and you partake in various actions that are questionable, to say the
least, expect it to come back and bite you in the ass! Remember Biz,
you are the one who brought that chair into the ring. You are the one
who took a big swing and missed! You are the one who left me no choice
but to crack you over that damn thick skull of yours!

[FACE POP]

CL: Sinister is right Fred! The Biz began the match as a wrestler but
his true colors emerged and he began his underhanded tactics as usual.
When he missed with that chair that was the beginning of the end for
him!

FH: Sinister got lucky and you know it Chip! If Biz connected with
that swing, we wouldn't have to hear this guy talk because his jaw
would be dislocated! Imagine the beauty of that!?

CL: Be that as it may, Biz felt the steel chair across his skull and
it left him a bit bloodied and rather defeated, submitting to the
'Demon's Palm'!

Sin: And Biz, I know it hurt inside...deep down...to have to tap out
to me and admit that you couldn't continue the match. I saw the hurt
in your intense gaze when we locked glares on my way up the ramp after
you tapped out. I know it burns at your soul but believe me, that is
only the beginning! However, that is enough about that. There are
other matters of business to address.

[The large man from Chicago lowers the microphone and the "Soul Pole".
He lays the "Soul Pole" down on the mat and begins to pace back and
forth slowly, like a caged animal awaiting its opportunity to strike.
The intensity in Sinister's face is very acute and informative; he is
rather perturbed]

CL: You can feel the change in mood from Sinister and the fans can
feel it too! His intensity is palpable Fred!

FH: Yeah, and so is his stench Chip! This guy disgusts me!

Sin: Boiling Point...[THUNDEROUS POP] was very successful in various
facets. Yes, it was a Pay-Per-View that brought the house down. Yes,
it was a Pay-Per-View that allowed many men to display their talents
or their willingness to push their own limits, as well as their
opponent's. And yes, it was a Pay-Per-View...that seriously pissed me
off!

[Sinister's mellifluous voice echoes throughout the arena, the anger
in his voice easily heard and a SURPRISED POP emanates from the crowd]

CL: Ladies and gentlemen, I have to admit that I've not seen Sinister
this angered before. Undoubtedly this is due to the actions of the
newly formed 'HOPE'!

FH: He's just pissed off that not only was he not invited to be a part
of such a powerful, capable faction, but he knows that now he has no
choice but to get beat down night after night and there's nothing he
can do about it, ha, ha!

CL: Nothing he can do about it!? For the time that Sinister has been
in this league, when has this man ever lay down and allowed anyone to
run roughshod over him!?

FH: What is he Chip, you're savior!? You're always defending this guy
and it sickens me!

CL: I can't defend Sinister, a man who does his damndest to uphold
respect, honor and dignity in and out of the ring, but yet it's
perfectly fine for you to support men like Biz who perform sneak
attacks, burn people with fireballs and try to end careers before they
truly begin!?

FH: Well...yeah!

Sin: Taking nothing away from the talent on display because I was very
impressed by many wrestlers: Supreme Wright and Adrian Freeman
wrestled one hell of a match [LOUD POP]; Sammy Knight and Spectre had
a brutal match where Spectre sent his form of a message [HEEL POP];
the 'Crown Of Thorns' match between Nevermind and Chris Hartt showed
what those two men were willing to do to better the other; the
American Championship battle between Pretty Fontana and Herscher von
Donkerhardt was one hell of a display of technical savvy and
tremendous skill, that is until Derek Weaver interfered; the Barbwire
Hell match...[UNREAL HARDCORE POP]...words can't describe what Rob
Cole and William Craven did to one another.

[Sin cringes and shudders quickly]

Sin: I just hope Mrs. Cole is all right; a brutal tag team cage match
that saw Max and Sal become the new tag champs. We also saw what was
the beginning of some unforeseen events with Todd Johnstone dropping
Livestock and Gutch; Daniels, and I still can't believe I'm sayin'
this, is the new PVW President! [BIG POP]; Ash versus...[he pauses to
say this name with sheer disgust] Hayes [HEAVY BOOS]. I'll get to that
in a minute, and of course...

[He pauses dramatically and smiles widely while nodding his head
slowly]

Sin: My little brotha' Senor Cloak Dos...[THUNDEROUS POP] defeated
that damn bastard known as 'The Bad Wolf', Christopher Black! By the
way Cloak, that new bone white mask is seriously bad ass!

[MAJOR POP]

Sin: And Josie...

[He looks skyward and thrusts his right fist skyward once more as the
fans immediately begin to chant...]

JOSIE!! 	 JOSIE!! 	 JOSIE!!	 JOSIE!!

[Sin lowers the microphone to his lips.]

Sin: My beautiful little angel that watches over me from above, I know
your cried tears of joy and jumped up and down out of sheer joy and
that warms my heart more than you will ever know! Siempre con nosotros
indeed.

CL: I'm impressed that Sinister remembered that much about Boiling
Point, but then again, he is the assumed 'General' of the locker room.

FH: General!? Who the hell calls him that!? Sinister couldn't lead a
blind man across the street!

CL: I'll be sure to tell Sinister you said that Fred!

FH: Listen, Chip, one more quip like that and I'm going to pummel you
into the ground!

CL: No need to get all worked up Fred, I'm just sayin'!

FH: You're sayin' too much!

CL: Like you, I'm paid to call the action in the ring!

FH: Not tonight ...

CL: Well the St. Jude chairty will get that hard earned pay check.

[Sinister stops pacing and he rubs his chin with his left hand for a
few moments before continuing.]

Sin: Cloak Dos fought through turmoil, mental anguish and physical
pain to achieve what he set out to do...gain justice! [HUGE FACE POP]
I have great respect for him because he brings justice to the PVW, but
personally, I am out for something else...[his voice deepens and
quiets, a menacing growl]

_Vengeance_!

[SHOCKED POP]

[The emphasis on that last word is very prominent as Sinister turns to
glare directly at Fred Hoyle.]

FH: Wh...why is he looking at me!? I'm over here commentating, nothing
more!

CL: I don't know why Fred but I think we'd both better be cool right
now!

Sin: For far too long now various individuals...[he steps to the side
of the ring closest to the announcers table and leans on the top rope,
glaring a hole through Fred Hoyle] have doubted me, insulted me,
cheated me, and blindsided me! As I said, I truly don't give a damn
what people say about me, but that does not mean I don't know what was
said about me!

[ANTICIPATION POP]

FH: I...don't like this!  He is looking at me like, Matt Tiegs looking
for the exit door!

CL: Look at his eyes!

FH: I...I don't want to!

Sin: Hoyle, you're one of many men who run around here, shooting your
mouth off about Sinister can't do this, he can't do that, he's
worthless and other crap like that. I say this to all of my doubters,
so listen closely! If you think I can't do anything in this ring, then
bring your b ass into it and feel me break you in half!

[HOLY CRAP POP]

CL: Sinister is incensed ladies and gentlemen, and I have a very
strong feeling all of this stems from the actions of various men at
Boiling Point!

FH: He better not...come over here Chip! I'm just a commentator!  And
I refuse to get hurt while working for FREE!

Sin: I'm a very patient man, a very respectful man, a very disciplined
man but I am...a man! Every man on God's green earth has his limits
and when those limits are reached, or passed, then other actions are
necessary. Too many sorry asses around here conspire, connive and
aren't real men who battle others face-to-face, instead taking cheap
shots, shortcuts, and overall being an insult to what a real man is
about!

[SUPPORTIVE POP]

Sin: I'm sick_and_tired of it! I've held my tongue too often,
overlooked some events once too many times, and haven't partaken in
actions I feel need to be done. No longer! People around here think I
don't have what it takes to be a menace nor am I someone to be
concerned about. From now on, trust me when I say if you don't take me
seriously, I will not be held responsible for what happens to you!

[FACE POP]

CL: Sinister is sending a message to the PVW, Fred! He has been the
locker room leader for a while now and it seems he feels it's time for
him to do even more!

FH: I don't care what he does, as long as he stops looking this way!

[Sinister turns away from the announce table but not before one long
last look at Fred. Sinister then begins to pace the ring once again]
Sin: That brings me to my last topic of discussion. [He takes a very
deep breath and looks skyward, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly.
He stops pacing momentarily, lowers his head, and speaks very
intently] HOPE... I know you're all very capable men and now have what
you consider to be a certain amount of power in the PVW. All of you
are skilled wrestlers and anyone who says you're not is a fool, of
which I am not.

[Sinister pauses, looks at the Soul Pole, picks it up with his left
hand, and studies it for a few moments while Chip and Fred comment]

CL: The faction known as HOPE has put the entire league on alert
because they have the ability to make key decisions in the league as
well as having the ability to be a force in the ring!

FH: You're damn right Chip! Daniels may be the President, which I
still can't believe, but HOPE is the group running the show!

Sin: [Begins pacing slowly again while resting the Soul Pole over his
left shoulder] Beginning with Derek Weaver and Herscher von
Donkerhardt, let me break it down like this. Donkerhardt, I have
always had respect for you and your abilities in the ring, because as
everyone here knows, I like to dabble a bit in the science of
submission wrestling myself. However, your participation in what went
down with Ash...[he shakes his head intently a few times]... is
unforgivable. I thought you were a man of respect and dignity though I
hardly agree with your perspectives. You've shown your true colors and
it's a damn shame, because I'm going to have to show you true colors
of a different sort...[he stops pacing and points the Soul Pole
towards the wrestler's entrance] your own damn blood!

[UNBELIEVABLE POP]

CL: Sinister is obviously very upset about Ash being singled out after
his brutal match against Hayes, locked in a cage and beaten down
severely by HOPE members!

FH: He can cry about it all he wants, what's done is done and there's
nothing... [Hoyle catches himself as he recalls Sinister's warning
earlier] ... he's going to find it very difficult to overcome the
odds.

CL: You wanted to say something to belittle Sinister, didn't you Fred?

FH: Shut the hell up Chip!

Sin: [Paces once again] Weaver, I don't know much about you but what I
know is enough to make me sick! You're supposed to be a skilled
wrestler, a dangerous opponent, and you attacked a man who had already
been brutalized. Is that what you're about you little piece of crap!?
[HEAT POP] All right, since that's how you carry yourself, I'll deal
with you in the same damn manner! Uncle Frank, I know what you're
about: tough, talented, mental case. Do you honestly think you're the
first guy like this I've ever come across!? There will be a time when
you have to own up to what you've done, and when it's me you face in
the ring, mental case or not, masochistic or not, trust me when I say
you will_not_enjoy what I do to you!

[FACE POP]

FH: Who does he think he is!? Is he going to_try_and take on HOPE all
by himself!? They'll cream him!

CL: Sinister will do what he thinks is best Fred and you have seen him
do that many times. Whether you agree or not, he will always fight for
what he believes in and that, along with other facets of who he is,
garners the respect that he receives from the wrestlers and fans!

FH: That's also going to garner him a trip to the hospital and
possibly his right knee forever damaged!

Sin: When I step into the ring with any of you again ... [ROOF SHAKING
POP as Sinister smiles widely] there will be hell to pay!

[MAJOR ANTICIPATION POP]

CL: I have a feeling that was a message from what went down after the
six-man tag match on Shockwave.

FH: Oh yes, there will be blood and it will flow heavily from the body
of Sinister!

Sin: HOPE, each and every one of you better be prepared for one hell
of a fight because you have the Chi-Town Trifecta of Terror comin' for
you to do_one_thing ...

[The crowd grows silent as Sinister stops pacing, lowers and looks at
the Soul Pole in his left hand, then raises it into the air]

... decimate!!

[BLOOD-THIRSTY POP]

CL: Ladies and gentlemen, Sinister has had enough and he has just sent
a message to HOPE!

FH: HOPE has backed their message up twice now.

[Sinister hands the microphone to the ringside attendant, gives him a
nod of respect then makes his way to the center of the ring. He shifts
the Soul Pole to his right hand and again thrusts it skyward,
receiving another MASSIVE POP. He then steps over the top rope and
makes his way up the wrestler's ramp, slapping numerous hands on the
way.]

CL: Whoa .. What fire!! And, what a message from the General.  You can
bet that Todd Johnstone was listening and is trying to come up with a
plan on how to contain the Chi-Town Beast.

FH: Sinister better find himself a few friends.  As he found out at
Shockwave it takes more then big words to scare HOPE.

CL: We still have a lot to get to tonight so let's go back to the ring
where Herk Douglas has taken Sinister's place.

FH: Hey, if you want to blame anyone ... Blame Sinister for taking up
fifteen minutes of valuable time to cry about HOPE.

[Cut - Inside the ring where the Voice is standing by.]

HD: The following match is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen
minute time limit. Introducing first...

[The sounds of approaching helicopters comes over the PA system. They
get louder and louder getting almost deafening, and then get quieter,
as if they were passing overhead. Just as they fade away to nothing,
machine gun bursts take their place. A few seconds later, a whistling
sound is heard, and then 4 large explosions rock the arena, one right
after the other. A large smoke screen engulfs the entranceway,
blocking it off from view. Just as the smoke reaches its maximum
density, "Funeral March" by Chopin comes playing through the sound
system.]

HD: ...weighing 265 pounds... from The Bunker!

THE MEEEEEEEEERRRCENNAAAAAAAAARRRYYYYYYYYYYY!!

[A pair of figures can then be seen making their way through the
smoke. They come to the edge of the entrance way, and stop, bowing
their heads. The figure on the left is definitely female, and she is
dressed in a black suit jacket over a very short black skirt, black
nylons and black 4-inch heels. On her head is a large brimmed hat and
a veil covering her face. The only thing visible through the veil is
her bright red lipstick. Beside her is a man who can only be the
Mercenary. He is dressed as he normally is, except his usual green
camouflage has been replaced with shades of black and grey and
accessorized with a black armband with a neon green X on it. And
instead of carrying his trade-mark Haliburton, Merc is instead
carrying a small ceramic urn. As the depressing music continues to
play on, Merc and Jessica Marshall slowly make their way to ringside.
Merc hands Jessica the urn and climbs the ring steps and enters the
ring. Jessica makes her way to the other side, taking a seat at the
announce table, and places the urn on the table.]

FH: So, uhm, to what do we owe this pleasure, Ms. Marshall? You don't
usually honor us by sitting with us.

JFM: (in a fake, trying to sound sad, voice): Oh Freddy... I've been
going through such a rough time lately. With the end of Alex Epstein's
career weighing so heavily on me, I can barely stand on my own two
feet nowadays. It's just so sad...

CL: Oh please, you've been trying for years to end his career.

JFM: Yes, you are correct there Chip. But it's just, now that I've
achieved what I've wanted for so long, I'm kinda depressed. You know
the feeling, don't you Chip? To want something so badly that when you
finally get it, you have a major let down.

CL: Well, not really...

FH: That's because you've never achieved anything, Chip.

JFM: The very thought of it, I just, I can't stay here with you right
now.

[Fatality quickly slams her headset down, picks up the urn and walks
away.]

FH: How can you be so insensitive, you monster?!

CL: *sigh* What a... strange, sick pair.

FH: I'll say. Neon green to a wake, come on now. He's got better taste
than that.

[The Funeral March dies down and Merc allows the referee to pat him
down, but not before threatening to backhand him. Back to Herk.]

HD: And his opponent!

[The lights go out in arena as the haunting vocals of Deborah Harry
can be heard over the PA system.]

# Step into a world #
# Where there's no one left #
# But the very best #
# No MC can test #

["Step into a World (Rapture's Delight)" by KRS-One begins to play as
the crowd responds with a "Hey, we recognize you!" face pop! As the
song kicks into high gear, Supreme Wright steps through the entrance
in a long-sleeved, ankle-length black coat with red lining that is
closed at his chest, flaring out with ragged ends. As usual, Wright
has a rather intense look on his face, not so much as hinting at a
smile. He doesn't really acknowledge the crowd, but does blindly slap
a few outstretched hands on his way to the ring, as he bobs his head
to the music, hopping around and throwing shadow punches to loosen up.
However, through all this, his eyes remain completely focused on the
wrestling ring.]

HD: Hailing from Sherwood Forest, Baton Rouge, Louisiana... weighing
225 pounds...

SUPREME WRIIIIIIIIIIGHTTTT!!!!

[Wright enters the ring and proceeds to remove his coat, revealing a
lanky, but powerful build, with extremely well-defined musculature,
cutting an impressive figure. He wears MMA-style shorts, half-army
camouflage/half adorned with an airbrushed image of a dragon clawing
it's way out from the fabric. Wright's hair is pulled back into
cornrows snaking into an intricate "S"-shape design and his arms and
chest are covered in various tattoos. He wears MMA fight gloves on his
hands and amateur-style wrestling shoes. There's no doubt in his
demeanor...he's ready for battle.]

CL: This is going to be an awesome fight, Fred, and a huge
opportunity.

FH: Yes, an opportunity for Merc to splatter this kid like the cock-a-
roach he is, and end this ridiculous hype we've heard about him.

[The music dies down and the ring lights come back on, as Supreme is
checked down by the ref in kind. Both guys pass the test, and the
referee signals for the bell.]

=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
The Mercenary v. Supreme Wright

=========================================


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: And here we go, Fred, an interesting clash of styles here, with
the grizzled veteran brawler squaring off against the impressive
technical prowess of Supreme Wright, who everyone seems to think has
got big things in his future.

FH: Not me, Lester, I'm not buying what this greenhorn is selling.
Wins make you impressive, not empty words.

[The two men make their way to the center of the ring, Supreme
immediately bending his knees and getting into an amateur wrestler's
stance, Merc less inclined to do so. Supreme probes with his right
hand, looking for an angle to take, but Merc simply throws a right
hand that Wright dodges.]

CL: Supreme saw that one coming a mile away, and swiftly goes up an
under into a hammerlock. You've got to be impressed by Supreme
Wright's technical know how, Fred Hoyle, he made that seem extremely
easy.

[Not to be outdone, the Mercenary powers out, shifting his weight and
twisting up and underneath into a hammerlock of his own!]

FH: I'm extremely impressed by _that_, Chip! The Mercenary might have
forgotten more about wrestling than Supreme Wright will ever know.

CL: A rare technical reversal from the Mercenary-


"WHAAAAAAAACK!"


CL: -and that's more like it, a forearm to the small of the back by
Merc, and now a rabbit punch to the back of the head.

FH: I believe that's called having an eclectic ring style.

[That's quite enough for Wright, who reaches back with his foot and
trips Merc with a drop toe hold, breaking the hammerlock and then
grabbing an armbar of his own. Wright gets to his feet, drives a boot
to the ribcage of Merc and then wrings the armbar, keeping Merc on his
knees from the pressure.]

CL: Supreme Wright now, winding in the armwringer, keeping his
leverage up top so he's got the higher ground. Wright winds it in one
more time, flipping Merc over, and drops the elbow on the arm. First
time we've seen Wright focus on an arm, Fred, as he's usually
targeting a lower body part.

FH: His Dorf On Wrestling game plans seemed to have worked so far, but
remember, this isn't Merc's first barn dance, he's seen this before.

CL: Wright now, applies the seated armbar, but the Mercenary... crawls
for the ropes, and there we go, Merc's in the ropes.

FH: See? Merc forces the break and Wright is just the kind of guy to
give it to him. Just that easy.

CL: It's called honor and sportsmanship, Fred. Those are good things!

[Supreme gives the clean break, backs off from the Mercenary, and then
applies the armbar as soon as he gets to his feet. But Merc's got a
plan...]



"THWAAAAACK!"


FH: Greco-Roman punch to the mouth!

CL: A hard right hand breaks up the armbar, and now Merc's on the
attack! Big right hand, another one, and a third drives Supreme into
the corner.

"WHAAAAAAAACK!"

CL: Hard kick to the side of the leg by Merc, now another- no, caught
by Supreme Wright! Wright grabbed his foot out of midair and leads the
Mercenary to the center of the ring, Merc at the mercy of this
impressive newcomer!

[Big pop!]

CL: Dragon screw legwhip sends Merc sliding across the ring. Back
up... picture perfect high dropkick catches Merc right in the chops,
and he goes scrambling to the outside! The Mercenary has got to
regroup from that explosion by Supreme Wright, who came with something
to prove tonight!

FH: See, he should be trying to press his advantage here, Supreme
Wright needs to keep the momentum rolling. But he's stupid and he's
soft, Lester, and now Merc is able to take his time and slow things
down.

[Merc confers with Jessica Marshall on the outside, allowing new
Swedish referee Yorus Turley to lay in the count as the crowd cheers
for Wright.]

CL: Supreme Wright, impressive in the early going, and the Mercenary
is taking a break.

FH: He's got til the count of ten to get back in, Chip, might as well
take advantage.

CL: Referee Yorus Turley doing his job and counting Merc out.

FH: Yorus Turley, what kind of name is that? Sounds like someone got
drunk and spelled their name wrong.

[Not entirely untrue.]

CL: Okay, the Mercenary's back in at the count of seven, and this
match continues. Merc now, getting in that amateur wrestling stance,
but Supreme Wright strikes quickly, grabbing and twisting back into
the hammerlock.

[Merc quickly reverses into his own hammerlock, but just as quickly
spins Supreme around and FLOORS him with a lunging lariat! HEEL POP!]

FH: He had that one scouted, Lester, that was trap!

CL: Whatever it was, Merc drilled him with the clothesline and that
puts Wright on the defensive. Jessica Marshall seems happy about it.

FH: Yeah, she's Jessica Marshall and she approves this beating.

[Merc brings Wright to his feet and sends him for the ride, then
catches and launches Wright into the air on the rebound, grabbing him
by the head on the way down and ramming him face first to the mat.]

FH: Big, biiiig flapjack there from Merc! Call it like it is, Chip.

CL: Nicely done by the Mercenary, that's for sure. Merc's got Supreme
right back up, both hands full of hair-



"BAAAAAAAAAAAM!"



CL: And he DRIVES Wright facefirst into the turnbuckle!

FH: And only one time, praise by Jesus!

CL: Merc's still got Wright by the hair- up and over the top rope!
Supreme Wright crashes to the protective mats outside, and Merc's
going to get him.

FH: Watch how it's done, my friends, the Mercenary knows how to press
his advantage.

[The Mercenary drops to the outside and deposits a harsh knee to the
breadbasket of Wright. A fist to the back of the head puts him down to
his knees, and another knee lift brings Wright back up. The crowd
jeers as Fatality claps from afar, and Merc shouts out orders.]

CL: Big right hand from Merc, and Fatality is telling people to move.
Merc, with Wright by the arm-



"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!"



CL: HEADFIRST INTO THE GUARDRAIL! SUPREME WRIGHT EATS THE GUARDRAIL,
AND THIS MATCH HAS RAPIDLY GOTTEN OUT OF HAND! WHERE'S YORUS TURLEY?!

[Distracted by Ms. Marshall of course. Merc lays in a boot to the body
of Wright, who is in a sitting position against the guardrail, and
Turley tells Merc to get this thing back in the ring. The veteran
obliges and slings Wright back in the ring, and slides back in behind
him.]

CL: Good golly, the Mercenary did a number on the outside of the ring.
Supreme Wright just isn't built for that-

FH: And Merc doesn't care. What he did to Epstein at Boiling Point is
just the start for this guy, he's got blood on his mind!

CL: Merc now, kicks the leg of Supreme Wright and then reaches down,
wishboning the legs and dropping a sharp elbow to the knee. Are we
seeing the Mercenary use the same strategy that Supreme Wright uses?

FH: No. We're seeing Merc attempt to blow someone's knee out. Wright
attacks body parts for a strategical advantage. Merc just attacks. Big
difference.

[Merc drops a second elbow, then gets to his feet and reaches down for
a third, but Wright pops up and wraps the veteran up in an inside
cradle! POP!]

CL: ONE! TWO! NO SIR, KICKOUT!

["Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"]

CL: But he just about stole a victory there, Merc was caught totally
unawares.

FH: A slick move, I'll admit, but a desperation move. Supreme's being
_physically dominated_ by the Mercenary right now.

CL: Merc brings Wright to his feet and whips him to the buckle...

[But Supreme puts on the breaks at the last second and kicks his legs
up, expecting Merc to rush underneath him and hit the buckle. But
alas, when he turns around, he finds Merc shaking his head.]

FH: Merc's a step ahead!

CL: The Mercenary didn't take the bait, but Supreme-


[POP!]


CL: -savate kick to the solarplexus! Lightning quick by the Louisiana
native, and now a back elbow knocks him over. Back up, Wright grabs
the arm again and winds in the arm wringer!

[Merc flips over from the torque, landing on his back, and Wright
drops the leg.]

CL: Short legdrop, jamming all of his weight onto the arm, and Supreme
quickly scissors that arm- into a cross armbreaker! Supreme Wright
applies the jujigatame, and that pain is excruciating!

[The Mercenary quickly wriggles out of the hold and slides out of the
ring, shaking his head. The fans pick up on it and rally, clapping and
cheering as Supreme clears the cobwebs on the outside.]

CL: I don't think we've seen Supreme Wright use the cross armbreaker
to that effect, but maybe it's something we should keep an eye on! He
was a second away from cinching that in, and the Mercenary would have
been in a world of pain.

FH: No doubt about it, but again, he didn't. Couldn't lock the hands
and ankles, he couldn't seal the deal.

CL: True as that is, the Mercenary isn't exactly having an easy time
of it. Wright has an answer for everything Merc is throwing at him,
and in some cases is a heartbeat away from winning the match.

FH: Desperation, Lester, don't confuse desperation with inspiration.
He's grabbing at straws.

[Fatality speaks to her charge once more and Merc slides back in,
getting back to his feet and booting Supreme in the gut.]

CL: Merc with the boot, here's a front headlock... _snapped_ over with
the suplex, and Mercenary floats into the cover!








ONE!!










TWO!!!!!




Wright kicks out in time!


[The crowd cheers and stomps their feet as Merc drags Wright back up.]


CL: Supreme gets the shoulder out, but he's a little slow getting to
his feet. You may be right, Fred Hoyle, the physical style of the
Mercenary is starting to wear on Supreme Wright. Merc just measures
him now, holding him with his left hand- BAM! Big right hand across
the jaw, and Supreme Wright is down.

FH: Everybody's got a plan til they get punched in the mouth, Lester.

CL: Insightful.

FH: Mike Tyson.

CL: Two things that always go together.

[Merc goes to work, wishboning the legs, and planting his right boot
into the thigh area of Wright, pressing down and then twisting and
tearing at the leg. HEEL POP! Wright hollers in pain and swats at
Merc, who bears down and attempts to twist Supreme's leg off like a
bottle cap.]

CL: Merc is going to work, doing a number on that leg. And like you
said earlier, Fred, I don't think he's trying to unfurl a strategy.
He's trying to cripple the man.

FH: And look here, here we go. Merc turns him over and grabs the
ankle, lifts that leg up... and DOWN to the mat, knee first! That's
big boy strategy, Lester, that's how you do it.

CL: Supreme Wright is in serious pain, we can hear it from our seats
at the announce position. He's in pain just from trying to walk
around, and now the Mercenary, he's got him in suplex position
again...

[With a grunt, Merc lifts Supreme up into the air and steadies him
there, letting the blood drain from the youngster's body and giving
Supreme ample time to think about it... and then shifts his weight and
drops down, bringing both of Wright's knees slamming to the mat! Merc
lands on his butt and rolls away, as Wright rolls around on the mat.]

CL: My God, my goodness! Wright's knees went from suspended in midair
to crashing down to the mat in a split second! The toll that must
take, I can't imagine!

[Merc jumps into the cover...














ONE!!!!!














TWO!!!!!]

CL: Only two for the Mercenary, but that might have been pure
instinct. I think Supreme Wright might have still been in shock from
the amount of pain going through his legs! Merc now, absolutely in the
driver's seat, draaaaaags Supreme to the corner and sets him up...

[For what, we don't know, but it ain't good. Merc turns Wright around
so his legs are facing out, and then slides outside the ring, bring
Supreme's legs with him, so that the Louisiana native's legs are
straddling the ringpost! The crowd immediately gets hot and bothered,
and begins to buzz with anticipation...]

CL: The Mercenary has something something horrid on his mind, as he
folds Wright's left leg over his right, and he tries to- can he hook-
NO!

[POP!]

CL: BOOT TO THE FACE BY SUPREME WRIGHT! MERC TRIED TO GO FOR THE
FIGURE FOUR AROUND THE RINGPOST, BUT SUPREME WAS HAVING NONE OF IT!

[Another boot by Supreme, this time to the arm he was previously
working on, gets Merc totally off of him, and a third one staggers
him. Supreme goes from flat on his back in sit up position to flat on
his stomach in push up position in about half a second and grabs the
arm he just kicked...



"CLAAAAAAANNNNGGGG!!"



...and gets some revenge! BIG POP!]

CL: Merc gets pulled headfirst to the ringpost, from the outside in!
One more time- this time shoulder first!

FH: And notice it's the same arm he tried to work on before! Merc's in
trouble!

CL: Wright drags the Mercenary in, still slightly dazed, and tries to
pull him up-

FH: Look Lester, look, the damage is done! Wright's limping all over
the place.

[With a noticeably hitch in his gait, Supreme gets to his feet and
turns around just as Merc charges... but the former Sin City Saint
sidesteps and grabs, puts his elbow between Merc's shoulder blades and
drops with a single arm DDT. POP!]

FH: Oh, ohhhh, that's sick! Single arm DDT, and I think I just saw
Merc's shoulder pop out of the socket!

CL: It was hard to see from here, but certainly Merc's screams of pain
make you think something went wrong!

[Merc's in agony on the mat, and Wright pounces as best he can,
bringing the veteran to his feet, wrapping his arm behind him,
scooping and slamming. Merc wriggles in pain as Wright drops for the
cover...]

CL: ONE!!!!!


















TWO!!!!!!!!!!!






















THR-NO, KICKOUT, MERC GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

FH: And even that hurts him!

[The crowd roars as Supreme gets to his feet and again brings Merc
with him, once again winding in a hammerlock, and then turning so he's
face to face with Merc. Wright secures the hammerlock with his left
hand, grabs a half waistlock with his right hand, ducks the head...
and DRILLS Merc with a suplex! BIG POP!]

CL: HAMMERLOCK NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX, WITH A BRIDGE!
















ONE!!!!!!!!!





















TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



















THR-


["OOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"]

FH: There it is, Chip, there it is! He couldn't hold up!

CL: Wright couldn't keep the bridge, his legs gave out from underneath
him. I'm amazed he could get Merc up and over with that suplex to
begin with, but there's just been too much damage done to that leg!

[Wright rolls to the side as Merc does the same, and Supreme gets to
his feet as Merc gets to his knees...]

FH: The Mercenary is in prime position, Lester, you know what Wright
would like to do now!

CL: We know he likes to lay in those buzzsaw like short roundhouse
kicks to a kneeling opponent, but you gotta wonder if he's thinking
twice about it because of his legs!

[Nope.]




"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!
"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!




[The crowd loses it as Wright unloads with four roundhouse kicks to
the dome of the kneeling Mercenary, but might look just as bad due to
the pain and stress they put on his legs. Supreme limps around in a
circle, trying to get feeling back, then rears back for one more
kick... that Merc catches. Everybody in the crowd says something that
sounds like "OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH SHIT!" as Merc gets to his feet,
and brings a hopping Supreme Wright with him.]


CL: Merc caught the kick, Wright went for one too many kicks and the
Mercenary caught it!

FH: And Wright knows it too, he knows he screwed up!



"WHAAAACK!"



CL: OH! Headbutt right between the eyes, Wright is on dream street!

[Merc looks at Fatality and nods, then drags his thumb across his
throat.]

FH: He's calling for it, Lester, here we go, get your check book out.

CL: He's calling for the Payoff, and here we go! Supreme Wright, front
chancery, the Mercenary lifts him up...

[But at the top of his lift, Merc's right arm goes out, and Supreme
drops down harmlessly behind the combat veteran. And when he turns
around? Pain.]





"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"





[The first sound is Wright's foot, and the second sound is Merc's
shriek of terror, as an unGodly roundhouse kick unleashed by Supreme
slams right into the part of Merc's arm he'd been working on the whole
match. The Mercenary drops like a rock and rolls around on the mat in
pain, while Wright similarly drops, having used his bad leg to deliver
the strike. HUGE POP!]

CL: My God what a kick! What a kick by Supreme Wright! If he would
have hit his head, he might have knocked Merc out!

FH: But he hit his arm, and he damn well might have broken it! That
thing sounded like a gunshot! I have NEVER seen the Mercenary down
like this!

[Yorus Turley looks at both men writhing on the mat in pain, one
clutching his arm, arm clutching his leg, and decides to do the fair
thing: he begins to count them out.]

CL: An unbelievable kick from an unbelievable athlete, and you have to
think that any lingering questions about Supreme Wright have been
answered on this night.

FH: But look at him, Lester, he's not exactly looking like a million
bucks right now.

[Indeed, lost in the moment is the fact that Supreme Wright might be
worse for wear. While Merc at least clings to the ring ropes and
attempts to stand up, Supreme Wright can put no weight on his leg. An
attempt to get up ends with him dropping to his belly, and another
attempt gets no farther than the pushup position. Turley continues the
count, holding up five fingers to both men.]

CL: Supreme Wright- that might be everything he had left, period. That
hellacious kick took it out of him, and he's having trouble even
getting to a kneeling position.]

FH: Lesson learned, Chipster, he might have won that particular
individual battle but he's about to lose the war.

CL: Somehow, the Mercenary is back on his feet first, able to beat the
count of referee Yorus Turley.

FH: It's also possible that dumbass can't count past the number eight
in English.

[Merc is on his feet, oblivious to Wright, shaking out his arm and
breathing heavily, trying to regain feeling in his arm... and then
spots the downed Wright. Suddenly, Merc's arm doesn't feel so bad and
he begins to move in.]

CL: Merc sees what everyone else sees now, and he's just waiting for
the opportune moment. Merc now, kicks Wright onto his stomach, you've
got to think-

[DEAFENING POP!]

CL: HE WAS PLAYING POSSUM! SUPREME WRIGHT WAS PLAYING POSSUM!

[And just as Merc bent down to pick him up, the goldbricking Wright
sprang into action, swinging his legs up and around, scissoring the
arm and sitting all the way down, until his boots are locked over
Merc's face. The Mercenary goes down immediately and tries to squirm
out, which just makes the hold worse, as Wright locks his hands and
ankles, and cinches the cross armbreaker air tight. The crowd goes
bananas and begins to stomp and clap, encouraging Wright to lock it on
even tighter and hoping the Mercenary will tap!]

CL: JUJIGATAME! RIGHT IN THE CENTER OF THE RING! MERC TOOK TOO LONG,
AND THE YOUNGSTER SPRANG ONE LAST TRAP! HE'S GOT NOWHERE TO GO! HE'S
_GOT_ TO SUBMIT!

[As the crowd screams "TAAAAAAAAP!", and Supreme screams
"TAAAAAAAAAP!", Merc's literally got nowhere to go. He stretches his
boots to the ropes to no avail, then tries to rock out of the hold.
Wright leans back and torques the arm, and puts an end to that attempt
as well.]

FH: Merc's running out of time, he's got to find a way out! C'mon
Fatality, think of something here! Do your work!

CL: There's nothing she can do, Fred, he's too close to the center of
the ring!

[Or is there? Fatality squirms underneath the ropes and pushes the
bottom rope as far as it'll go, and stretches Merc's foot as faaaaar
as it'll go and manages to hook one on the other by the closest of
margins! BIG HEEL POP! The referee turns around to see Merc marginally
into the ropes and calls for the break.]

CL: C'mon ref, she directly interfered in the match, how can you not
see that?!

FH: It's not what you know, it's what you can prove! Didn't you ever
see Training Day?

CL: The hold is broken, Supreme Wright released the hold, but the
damage is done. The Mercenary is leaning over the middle rope, in
agony from the pain...

[But not in too much pain that he can't accept a small ceramic urn,
and put it to good use just as Wright gets to his feet...]



"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSHHHHH!!"



[HEEL POP!]

CL: OH C'MON! REALLY?! MERC TAKES THE EASY WAY OUT!

*DING*DING*DING*

[Referee Yorus Turley calls for the bell, as shards of ceramic and ash
settle into the ring, stunning and temporarily blinding Supreme
Wright. Merc makes the most of it and jumps right on him, not paying
any attention to the bell.]

CL: Stop this, stop this! Supreme Wright had the match won, he had
this match in the bag and Jessica Marshall went to a desperate tactic!
Merc had enough, he knew he couldn't win!

FH: Probably the best loss he's ever taken, Lester! But look in the
ring now, tell me who's the winner and who's the loser!

[Merc smothers the hurting Wright with punches and kicks, then drops
down and slams his head against the mat! Fatality loves it, although
she's finding it hard to see while the ashes are settling. Supreme
tries to cover up, but Merc just punches through, driving rights and
lefts into Wright's face and head.]

CL: Merc- drilling Wright with those heavy fists, just wearing him
down!

FH: I'll tell you, Chip, Wright isn't bad from bell to bell, but he's
just not equipped to defend himself when a ref can't do anything!

[Yorus Turley tries by God, grabbing Merc by the shoulder and
attempting to stop him. The veteran looks back and cocks his arm as if
to strike the ref, and from the fakeout alone the official goes
flying.]

CL: He struck a referee, that's a fine!

FH: He didn't do anything, come on Lester, the ref flopped like Dirk
Nowitski!

[Merc brings Wright to his feet, then winds up and jolts Wright with a
double axehandle to the back, and measures a stumbling Supreme with a
right hand to the jaw. The wrestling phenom falls to his knees in the
corner as the Mercenary yells to Fatality, telling her to go around
the ring to the corner Wright is in.]

FH: Adrian Freeman has to be backstage enjoying every second of this.

CL: This is getting bad Fred, someone needs to-

[Chip doesn't finish his statement, as the crowd buzzes when they see
someone rumble down the aisle way and slide into the ring. A big right
hand from the blur knocks Merc off track, and before he knows what's
going on, the Mercenary gets thrown by the hair to the floor, flying
up and over the top rope and landing with a thud.]

CL: Heath Dawson! Heath Dawson makes the save for Supreme Wright, and
not a moment too soon!

[The crowd cheers, more for Merc getting thrown around then for the
guy who did it, and grows louder as Dawson helps his old friend to his
feet.]

FH: Supreme Wright is supremely _lucky_ that Dawson here saved his
hide, but let me tell you something, Chip. PVW isn't a place where you
can just walk in and wave it around, you've got to earn your stripes.
We've got a lot of new guys walking around here like the world owes
them something, and these two guys are prime suspects. That's not how
it works, there are rules, Chip, this is not Vietnam.

[Merc and Fatality slowly backtrack down the aisle as Dawson and
Wright stand in the ring, Dawson mouthing something to them and Wright
shaking the cobwebs out, none too happy about what just transpired.]

CL: Dawson will be in action later on tonight, but thank goodness he
was on hand to stop things before more PVW superstars got hurt.

FH: Losing Supreme Wright would be no big deal.  Adrian Freeman
already proved he was the better wrestler.

CL: He did?

FH: You obviously weren't watching the same match that I was at
Boiling Point.

CL: The Mercenary was looking to send out Wright in the same fashion
he did, Alex Epstein.

FH: If only we could have been that lucky.

CL: With the locker room's attention at an all time high after Boiling
Point ... The Mercenary was only able to begin the assault.  The ring
crew has come down to begin cleaning up whatever ashes those are.

FH: They are Alex Epstein's!

CL: In the mean time let's cut backstage.

FH: Epstein ... we hardly knew ye. *sobs*

[Cut to the backstage PVW banner before which stands reporter
"Swinging" Dean Hayes, sans mask and back on the job.]

SDH:  Ladies and gentlemen, Dean Hayes, here...

Fontana [interrupting]: How are you, cousin?

SDH:  I'm... better. I'm fine!

[Dean grins in surprise, expecting more hostility from the callous man
known as Perry "Le Phenix" Fontana, standing beside him, cloaked under
the hood of his blue boxer's robe... his back turned to the camera.]

SDH:  Happy to be back, thank you!  How about yourself, Perry Fontana?

Fontana:  I'm only truly happy when I hear the wails of my opponents,
Dean-o.  That means I'm pretty miserable, tonight... but yeah, I'll
live.

SDH:  Tell us, after the injury sustained at Boiling Point II, how
soon can you return to in-ring competition?

[Il Eterno turns around.  Beneath his robe, he's in street clothes;
faded jeans and a striped dress shirt.  And judging by his limited
movements, it's becoming increasingly obvious that the Canadian
wrestler's left arm is pinned by a sling beneath the silky folds of
his boxer's robe.]

Fontana:  Doctors estimate that I could be back in action as soon as
the next edition of Heatwave, but if it was up to _me_, cousin, I'd be
back in that ring right here TONIGHT, aaah ouais!

SDH:  But I guess what everyone's wondering is... once you do return,
will you declare war on HOPE?

[The King of Armbar's hood slowly turns towards the reporter.]

Fontana:  No.

SDH:  Then you'll join forces with Ss... wait, _no_?

[Hayes seems profoundly shocked.]

Fontana:  No, there'd be no point.

SDH:  No point?? But HOPE is... is...

Fontana:  HOPE are four of the _best_ wrestlers in the entire sport,
cousin, so it's no surprise to see the meatballs holding three PVW
championships. If the PVW brass books me against any of 'em, it'll be
my pleasure to go down to that ring and kick some ass.  And if I deem
'em worthy, I'll even make 'em tap.  But if you're asking me if I'm
gonna hunt them down and and take 'em out, then no.  No point.  I
don't _believe_ in HOPE.

SDH:  And I can't believe what I'm hearing!

Fontana:  Frank Knight, Hersher von Donkerhardt, Derek Weaver and
Gibson Hayes, all among the world's best... individually, they're all
top notch. Separately, they're all threats in their own right.  But as
an united _group_, I don't believe in HOPE.

SDH:  Even after what happened at Boiling Point II?  When Derek Weaver
struck your head with a steel chair?  ...And shocked the world by
costing you the American Championship and saving HvD's hide?

Fontana:  What, you want me to _chase_ down Weaver and RIP his _arm_
off... that it?

SDH:  Maybe not the whole arm...

[The King of Armbars shakes his hooded head.]

Fontana:  As far as I can tell, Dean-o, Weaver's just the hired gun.
For the right amount of money, ouais, the mighty Brown Belt from Sears
could have gotten anyone to swing that chair.  The result would have
been the same; HvD retains.

SDH:  A travesty that was.

Fontana:  He wanted it more.  ... You know, I really wanted to do that
championship proud, Dean-o.  I was ready to _sacrifice_ my whole BODY
to win it, ouais.  But Donkerhardt _sacrificed_ his entire SOUL.

[Il Eterno nods.]

Fontana:  Apparently, blood vendettas don't mean what they used to,
ouais. On his hands and _knees_, Herscher von Donkerhardt crawled back
to Johnstone's feet.  The milquetoast grovelled at his _worst_ enemy's
belt buckle and BEGGED him to make that _scary_ Perry Fontana go away.
The meatball betrayed everything he stood for to willingly become his
nemesis' _bootlicking_ little baseborn Hofdame.

SDH:  His what?

[Perry pulls off the hood of his eyes, his voice a mere gravelly
whisper as his intense black eyes pierce through Dean.]

Fontana:  His little bitch, Dean-o.

SDH:  Oh! Oh...

Fontana:  Why did a man with that much skill turn himself into such a
palooka?  Good question.  Apparently... because he's _terrified_ of
ME.

SDH:  He wouldn't be the first.  I hear even Alex Martinez is afraid
of you...

Fontana:  It's an armbar thing, cousin.  But HvD... He bested Gibson
Hayes. He stood up to Manson.  He fearlessly faced the likes of
Craven, Nevermind, and Spectre.  But as soon as I got in the picture,
aaaa ouais, I was so damn _scary_ he had to hide behind a restraining
order.  And when that ran out, he whored himself out to his nemesis.

SDH:  Perhaps there's grounds for a rematch?

Fontana:  I'd be lying if I said I didn't want one.  I came here to
climb the ladder one rung at a time and get to the TOP!  Even if I
slipped down that ladder a little, it doesn't mean I'm no longer an
_ambitious_ man, cousin.

A rematch?

[The Everlasting One grimly shakes his head, and the friendly
muttonchops sway from side to side.]

Fontana:  There are a whole lot of men hoping to get a shot of their
own. You know most only get _one_ shot, Dean.  I already got mine, and
no one's obligated to give me another.  I came to Boiling Point II
thinking I needed that American Championship... and now that I _get_
it, now that I understand that it is in fact the American Championship
that needs _me_... there's a chance it might be entirely too late.

SDH:  No, but maybe Hersh-

Fontana [interrupting]:  HvD was so damn _scared_ he sacrificed his
integrity to avoid facing me square!  Such _cowards_ don't volunteer
rematches out of the blue.

SDH:  I suppose that must make the loss that much more difficult.

Fontana:  No.  That makes it a more difficult _win_ for the Dutchman.
We may never find out who the best technical wrestler is, Dean-o, but
we do know who's the better _man_.  With or without the title, I am
one of the most dangerous men in the sport.  Meanwhile, HvD is the
American Champion.

SDH:  That doesn't sound bad at all!

Fontana:  Sounds pretty sweet... until he loses the strap.  Then all
he'll be is a lily-livered, bootlicking stooge with a total lack of
integrity. When that day comes, will he still think it was worth it?

SDH:  You can expect HOPE will do its best to ensure that day doesn't
come any time soon.

Fontana:  Aaah, but I don't _believe_ in HOPE, Dean.

SDH:  How in the world can you NOT believe in HOPE?

Fontana:  Why?  Because HvD's a chronic turncoat, and anyone who
thinks that he, Hayes and Johnstone are suddenly BFF's has to be out
of his mind.

SDH:  Allies don't always have to be friends...

Fontana:  I don't believe in HOPE because Uncle Frank is a loose
cannon. He's like a wild animal, and just when they think he's been
_tamed_, he'll go feral on their hides.

SDH:  I suppose I could see that scenario happening, yet...

Fontana:  I don't believe in HOPE because Weaver used to be a man of
principle.  Instead of sticking to those principles, he whored himself
out to join HOPE.  He's become a man he's not.  Either he'll remain a
parody of his former self... either he'll revert to his true nature...
a nature that is deeply _incompatible_ with HOPE.

SDH:  I understand Weaver is conflicted about his actions, but...

Fontana:  They're a threat, Dean, a _big_ one.  You know they'll win
the first few battles, but as soon as it hits the fan, the bastards
will turn on each other like the Donner Party.

[The King of Armbars' lips draw a confident smirk.]

Fontana:  Most importantly, Dean, I don't believe in HOPE because the
PVW believes in men like Sinister and Senor Cloak Dos.  It's men like
these that will push HOPE's back against the wall until it _implodes_
on itself.  And if Chris Hartt doesn't deal with Hayes tonight,
cousin, remember that Johnny Detson still has that Called Shot.

[Perry claps a hand down on Dean's shoulders, and raises his eyebrows
as he peers down into the interviewer's eyes.]

Fontana:  So at this point... if I went after HOPE too...

[The rugged Italian-French-Canadian flips the hood of his boxer's robe
back over his jet black hair.]

Fontana:  It'd just be _overkill_.

[To those final words, the Deathless One backs out of the frame, and
Dean cocks his head as he turns back towards the lens.]

SDH:  There you have it, Chip.  "The Everlasting" Perry Fontana, set
to make his return very soon!

[As we cut back to the announcers, Chip's voice is heard only for a
second when ... The lights dim to black as the booming intro of
"Driven" by Sevendust can be heard through the PA system.]

(stop the man)

From endin' up with all the chips so he can't

(promise him an only chance)

To have the freedom that's been takin' from me

CL: And here comes the PVW Warrior, Fred. The man who has been making
quite a statement inside the ring the better part of 2011.

FH: At Boiling Point he continued making that statement win over
Phoenix. I for one am curious to find out what message he has for the
PVW here tonight.

[Mini Strobe lights, rotating between blue and red flash up the
scaffolding, circling in the dark chaos of the darkened archway
illuminating the figure of a man standing in the darkness. The lights
begin flashing near the rampway off and on surrounding now the visible
figure of Larry Gionet before fading out again. Larry Gionet steps up
out onto the stage with mic in hand as loud fireworks shoot up in
stereo bursts from either side of the stage! He looks across the sea
of fans as a chorus of boos resonate throughout the arena.]

(you - can - try - to - lift - your - head - no)

You f up with me now live with the truth

Find a reason to lie (try)

[Larry Gionet slowly walks to the ring as the boos become louder.
Without hesitation, he just shrugs off the noise heard from the crowd.
With a menacing look on his face, he stops at ringside and raises a
head to stare at the crowd with a deep stare taking in a very deep
breath. The fans become a blur as he turns towards the ring]

Seems like it hasn't been long - I've given

(so much how could you hide)

You're sick with all the guilt you're never - forgiven

(you try to wash it away - wash it away)

[The music crashes around him as he heads for the ring steps. Climbing
the stairs, Gionet makes his way along the ring apron's edge. He looks
out across the rows of waving fans, and hand locked on the top rope,
steps inside with authority. Larry Gionet walks right across the ring
as he climbs the buckles and pounds his fists as the jeers continue
mercifully.]

(ask again) why all the dreams I had

Are now left broken

(punished for a wounded past)

Afraid to wake and find reality breathin

(why - has - life - been - taken - from - me)

I f up and now I live with the truth

With no reason to lie (I)

[Larry Gionet drops down, raising both arms, one hand clamping his
other wrist as he looks out across the arena, cold blue eyes
focused....]

Feel like it hasn't been long - I'm driven

(to keep myself alive)

You're sick with all the guilty you're never - forgiven

(you'll never wash it away - wash it away)

[The lights begin to rise as a striking electric guitar solo blares
throughout the packed house leading his entrance theme like the cold
glare in Larry's eyes streaming out across the arena. Gionet grates a
thumb across his neck signaling for his music to be cut. He raises the
microphone to his mouth.]

LG: You know something PVW, I have been here a long time. And I earned
my shot here; night after night I have continually been overlooked.
Every time it seemed as though I would get that little taste of
success in this place they find a way to pull the rug out from under
me!

CL: What!?! Gionet has had every opportunity here in the PVW.

FH: Shhh... Let's hear what the man has to say, Chip.

LG: So I figured it was about time this company knew what it was like
to have the rug swept out from under them. It was about time that my
voice was heard loud and clear. About time that I made a damn impact
around here.

[Larry Gionet looks around the arena with a snarl forming on his
lips.]

LG: I did it the only way I know how BY FORCE! I have steam-rolled
through superstar after superstar. I broke PVW's heart when I smashed
Chris Hartt.

[The crowd voices its displeasure of Larry Gionet turning on his close
friend. Larry shrugs it off.]

LG: It was ME that ripped out PVW's soul when I ended the career of
Caleb Foley.

[The boos become louder knowing Larry took out their golden boy Caleb
Foley. He just shakes his head in disgust.]

LG: And just recently at Boiling Point, I DESTROYED the Phoenix .. the
image and name that this company has been built on.

[The crowd becomes increasingly pissed hearing their symbolism being
shattered. Larry leans against the ropes and sternly looks into the
sea of faces.]

LG: You hurl your hate at me all you want but you know deep down in
your pathetic hearts that I am speaking the truth. I have caused all
this carnage using the move that PVW cemented its legacy with ... the
rolling armbar! THE END GAME!

LG: So I am calling out Phoenix Valley Wrestling right here right now!
I will take on anybody...past, present or even a future PVW star
looking to prove that they deserve a shot here!

CL: With half the roster unable to compete? Larry, has hand picked
this time to look good in the spot light.

FH: He speaks the truth ... Give, Gionet his due respect that he has
earned, Chip. Any man that got rid of the Celtic Crybaby is okay in my
book. And after the Main Event tonight ... The Paladin Pansy will join
his friend in the unemployed line.

[The PVW Warrior stands in the center of the ring with a look of
satisfaction as the fans boo ... when a voice is heard.]

"Larry, Larry, Larry... I always thought you, among a select few,
where above this..."

[Chase Williams throws the curtain aside, and the crowd goes bananas.
Dressed in street clothes he smirks at Gionet in the ring, who looks
like he has seen a ghost, and raises a mic.]

CL: IT'S CHASE WILLIAMS ... PVW's _FIRST_ HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!

FH: What? What is he doing here? He should be standing in that line
with Foley ... and Hartt!

CW: When did you become a desperate housewife Larry? I thought I
remembered you as one of the tougher guys in this business. Now all I
see is a whining, move stealing punk.

[The former champion pauses to let those words set in as the camera
cuts back to Gionet for a split second who has a look of total
distaste.]

CW: Night in, night out, I've watched you embarrass yourself, walking
around with a chip on your shoulder like you've earned it. Are you
kidding me? Got a problem son, do something about it other than
talking, and trying to get famous using _my_ move. The most feared
submission in Phoenix Valley Wrestling _history_.

FH: I'm not so sure about that ... I can think of a few moves that
could rival it ... well at least when Chase does it!

CL: The End Game along with the Amputation has been wildly considered
PVW's most dominating submission move for quite some time.

CW: The suites in the back tell me that they've got no room on the
roster for me, a former PVW Champion.

[PVW Championship mention POP!]

CW: That's why I'm here, I was trying to get my job back ... The
greatest job in this industry.

[He's interrupted by boo's from the crowd, which raises some
eyebrows.]

CW: They've got no room for me but a guy like you still has a job? Did
PVW open a women's division?

[OUCH, POP!]

FH: Hey, now!

CW: Honestly though Lar, Can I call you Lar? Anyway, I get it. I
really do. I've been there myself. You feel like the Rodney
Dangerfield of wrestling. It's you against the world, everyone and
everything be damned, its about one thing and one thing alone, what
you feel is owed to you, and you'll do _anything_ to get it. I've been
there, and I'll tell you, the hardest lesson to learn, the one that
ultimately cost me my job, and everything I'd worked my ass off for ,
is that no matter how good you believe you might be, there is always
someone better.

[Pop!]

CL: This is a side of Chase Williams, we have never seen before. He is
quite humble.

FH: The unemployment line will do that to a man.

[The veteran continues as the fans are in full support of the former
champion.]

CW: On any given night, anyone can lose everything in the blink of an
eye. I used to believe myself infallible too Larry, and I'm standing
before you in street clothes telling you the road you've chosen isn't
worth your soul...

[Chase nonchalantly drops the mic, and turns to walk back through the
curtain, but stops when the PVW Warrior responds.]

LG: You are nothing but a fraud Chase, a God damn COWARD! Go back to
whatever you called a life and leave the real wrestling to ME!

[Security sees this from the back as Chase Williams stops dead in his
tracks and turns around. Before he can head down the ramp, security
swarms him denying him access. Larry laughs menacingly as he points
his finger at Williams. The security get him back towards guerrilla
position as the crowd boos the developments.]

FH: Remove him, he isn't even on the PVW roster _anymore_. Let him
join the likes of Caleb Foley and Joshua Curtis. Maybe, there is a
home for him back where the females smack around the real men.

CL: Chase Williams has a strong place in PVW history ... He is one of
the men who helped build this company into what it is today. While, I
have no idea what was said between the PVW execs and the former
champion, you would think there would be room for a man like Chase.

FH: Not when you burn enough bridges.

[The crowd chants - CHASE ... giving the former champion the respect
he deserves. He quickly regains his composure and holds up his hands
and begins to head back towards the back. Gionet lets out one final
cackle as he rolls out of the ring.]

CL: The PVW Warrior has laid out a challenge.

FH: And to bad that Chase Williams is unemployed!

CL: There has to be more involved with that then we know.

FH: Chase Williams is yesterdays news ... PVW doesn't like to live in
the past.

CL: You can bet that somebody in the back is ready to step inside the
ring with Gionet.  For now, the ring has been cleared and the Voice is
headed up the stairs.

FH: It's showtime!

[The doleful sound of "Rooster" by Alice In Chains begins to play
throughout the Cow Palace.  Pale blue spotlights illuminate the aisle
from underneath, playing off of a thin mist rising from the floor...
creating an ethereal-looking effect as the powerful frame of the
challenger slowly walks through the curtain.]

HD:  From Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania!  Weighing in at 295
pounds...MARCUS...MANSON!

[Backlighting Manson's entry is the big screen, which shows only the
words "CAN YOU HANDLE THE MISERY?" in bright pale blue lettering...
along with the aisle lighting, this is the only source of light in the
arena

Manson takes his sweet time walking down the aisle, his brow furrowed
in a look of concentration; a look made more ominous by the scar
running from above his right eye all the way to his chin.

Marcus is wearing a decades old beaten leather trench coat over his
full-length black tights, red kneepads and elbowpads, and black
striking gloves and boots.  He doesn't pay attention to the crowd at
all, his entire focus on the ring.   With deliberate steps, Manson
gives the crowd a scowl before stepping over the top rope into the
ring.]

CL:  The crowd really has come to back this tortured man.

FH:  Marcus has sold his soul for a shot at the title someday. I hope
he looks back on this period as the "losy years" and returns to the
days of the Misery Machine again. That is the Marcus Manson I wish to
see again.

CL:  He hasn't changed at all, just the fans perception of him.

FH:  Semantics! Manson can't be a killer that fans love. It is like
finding a smart blond or an intelligent Landis....it doesn't exist!

[The lights go out and spotlights shine on the top of the stage as "I
Will Be Heard" by Hatebreed begins to play plays over the PA system.]

##
Now is the time for me to rise to my feet
Wipe your spit from my face
Wipe these tears from my eyes
##

[The fans begin to boo as they await the arrival of the most hated man
in professional wrestling.]

##
Now is the time for me to rise to my feet
Wipe your spit from my face
Wipe these tears from my eyes
##

[Out walks from behind the backstage curtains The Biz, Mike Bisignano
wearing a plain black hoodie, a pair of black fighter shorts, black
fighting gloves, black kickpads, and black wrestling boots. The hood
is pulled over his head hiding his face as he just stands at the top
of the entrance ramp. He is joined by JDM Superstar who is dressed to
the nine's as always and has a Bluetooth in his ear.]

CL:  There is the manager, never far from his client's side.

FH:  JDM has been a steady player in the game forever and his guidance
is leading Biz right toward championship gold.

CL:  In this case, right toward a tail kicking!

##
I've got to take my life back
One chance to make it right
I've gotta have my voice be heard
And bring meaning to this life
##

['The Biz' begins to walk down the aisle to the ring and refuses to
even acknowledge the fans as he heads to the ring. JDM jaw jacks at
the fans as they boo him and his client.]

##
Cause I've trusted for nothing
I've been led astray
I've been tried and tested
But I won't accept defeat
Now I've done things I regret
And its time to reverse the rules
I just want to make good on
All the promises that I have made

I will be
##

FH:  That's right, put the slobs in the stands in their place!

CL:  You ever think JDM writes checks that Biz's body can't cash?

FH:  Never because Biz's body is an ATM in that sense, Chipper!

[The Biz stops in mid aisle and stares at the ring. He pulls the hood
off his head and looks around at the crowd. A snarky smirk grows on
his face as he continues moving forward towards the ringside area.]

##
I will be...I will be heard
I will be...I will be heard

Now is the time for me to rise to my feet (I will be heard)
Wipe your spit from my face
Wipe these tears from my eyes (I will be heard)
##

[Once he reaches the ringside area, 'The Biz' proceeds to remove his
hoodie and hands it to JDM before climbing on the ring apron and into
the ring.]

##
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be heard
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be heard
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be heard
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be
##

[The music fades out as The Biz walks into his respective corner and
just leans forward into it so his forehead is resting on it with his
back facing the ring announcer and referee.]

HD:  Standing in the ring at this time....from New York City, New
York.....he is joined by the "Guru to the Stars" JDM
Superstar...weighing in at 200 pounds...he is...


       MIKE

               "THE BIZ"


                           BISIGNANOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!



[MASSIVE HEEL HEAT!!!]

[The Biz lifts his head and just begins to pound on the turnbuckle pad
with his fists as he awaits the match to begin.]

CL:  Mike Bisigano is pumped up for this one.

FH:  Either that, or he has undiagnosed Torrett's.

=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Marcus Manson v. The Biz

=========================================


*DING*DING*DING*

[Bisignano walks toward Manson at center ring to get this one started,
the size difference visible even in the nosebleed section. Manson
looks down toward "The Biz" as the referee gives the general
warnings.]

CL:  Is Bisignano mad?

FH:  He looks fine.

CL:  No, I mean insane. He is giving up several inches and dozens of
pounds here!

FH:  Then his plan is working because you are already underestimating
what he is capable of.

[Bisignano quickly slaps Manson right across the face. The fans begin
booing the undersized heel for such actions as the referee motions for
the bell.]

CL   What a way to start! Biz is just going to piss Manson off!

FH:  That is just his opening salvo!

[Manson feels his jaw for a second and then gets a slap to the other
side of his face.]

CL:  Biz has a death wish, I'm certain of it now!

FH:  He's just showing that he isn't afraid of Manson's power.

CL:  For a veteran, Mike isn't being very smart with that idea. I know
guys twice his size that fear Manson's power!

[Manson takes a big swing, but Biz ducks under and hits a quick kick
to the lower right thigh. Manson swings again, but same result: Biz
ducks and then hits his lower left thigh with a stiff kick.]

FH:  Bisignano knows how to take down a bigger man. You have to take
their legs out from under him.

CL:  Easier said that done. Manson's legs are as thick as a tree
trunk!

FH:  The bigger they are, Chip!

CL:  I know, the harder they fall.

FH:  Well, not in my own personal case, but yes, you are correct!

[Manson has had about enough of this messing around and lunges in to
grab his more elusive opponent by the waist and arm. He gets back off
his knee and whips Biz into the corner with force. Biz caroms off the
turnbuckle back into a knee to the gut.]

CL:  Manson just hit the "kitchen sink" knee lift to the gut! Biz
better get his wits about  him or it will be good night!

FH:  Even Manson knows Biz won't get taken down this early. He will
try to make a point here and it will backfire on him.

[Manson clubs Biz across the back with those giant forearms and sends
him to the canvas. Marcus looks up the ramp for a second and then
turns back and stomps on Biz's shoulder with his boot.]

FH:  What is he looking at?

CL:  He is probably watching out for Uncle Frank or any member of HOPE
that may try to show up here.

FH:  They don't need to show up, Biz has this well at hand.

CL:  I realize you are sometimes a little strange, but blind is a new
issue for you, Fred.

[Manson pulls Biz up like a test dummy and whips him into the ropes.
Biz rebounds back as Manson readies and throws his powerful lariat.
Biz ducks under the arm and grabs it, swinging his legs up and around
Manson's head and dropping the big man back to the canvas, clamping on
an arm breaker hold of sorts.]

FH:  WOW!

CL:  Biz using inertia to his advantage and now he has a submission
hold on the big man!

FH:  Break his arm!

CL:  Biz can definitely slow Manson's power surge with his hold.

FH:  Slow it?  Know many weight lifters who can clean and jerk with
one hand?

CL:  I know an announcer who does.

[Manson's leg hits the bottom rope and the referee calls for a break
on the hold. After the five count, Biz lets go and Manson rolls to his
knees and takes a moment to feel his arm and make sure it is ready to
continue.]

FH:  That was uncalled for, just like that call for a break! His foot
hit the ropes, it didn't rest on it.

CL:  The referee felt it was enough to justify the call.

FH:  Then he needs to go back to referee school or whatever cracker-
jack company he came from!

[Biz rushes over to keep working on Manson, but Marcus blocks the kick
by grabbing the right leg of the smaller man. Manson jabs his fist
against Bisignano's right knee and releases the leg.]

CL:  That will even the playing field!

FH:  That is an illegal blow to the knee!  He could end his career!

CL:  Biz just finished trying to break Manson's elbow and you say a
quick jab to the knee to protect himself is excessive?

FH:  It is. Manson hurts his elbow it is no  big deal, Biz loses his
knee, his career is finished!

[Biz rolls over holding the knee for a bit and then starts pulling
himself up. The punch didn't do any major damage, but he has a slight
limp in his step. Manson stands as well as Bisignano takes off running
toward the bigger man full force even with the limp....]

CL:  Manson raised the leg and Bisignano just floored himself!

FH:  That boot must be loaded!

CL:  The Biz just got the business end of Marcus Manson's size
sixteens!

FH:  Manson could have given him a concussion!  That kind of attack is
just wrong, especially when your opponent is so much smaller.

CL:  Calling for mercy?

FH:  How about decency?

CL:  Oh brother.

[Manson is back in control. He stalks over to Mike Bisignano's fallen
body and pulls him up, lifting him with relative ease. He moves to the
one side of the ring and performs a textbook fall-away slam that sends
Biz reeling and nearly out of the ring.]

CL:  There is the power game we knew would play a key role in this
one.

FH:  Manson doesn't have many that can go power-for-power with him,
that is for certain. It is an advantage he uses well every match.

CL:  I'll say!  That nearly sent Biz to the arena floor and the fans
are loving it.

FH:  They don't appreciate the Biz they way they should.

CL:  I disagree. I think they appreciate him plenty when he is getting
a beating.

FH:  Lester, you are a real tool sometimes.

[Manson is again up and standing over Bisignano. Manson slowly pulls
Biz to his feet and grabs him around the waist. He lifts suddenly with
an overhead release German Suplex.]

CL:  Biz goes flying yet again!

FH:  Manson's suplexes look even sicker with somebody so much smaller
taking them.

CL:  Marcus Manson is methodically tearing Bisignano to pieces! He is
a machine in there right now.

FH:  Biz needs to shake the cobwebs out and get in gear!

[Manson takes his time getting back to his feet and again takes a
gander up the aisle, ever mindful of the current landscape in PVW.]

CL:  Manson is ready for anything tonight. I almost think he expects
to get attacked.

FH:  It makes sense. He is almost daring them to come out with those
glares up the aisle, as if that is where they would attack from.

CL:  Well, he is sending a resounding message to men like Uncle Frank
with this performance.

FH:  No matter what he tries, it won't matter because Uncle Frank is
much more unpredictable than Bisignano is.

[Manson is back over to Bisignano and Biz tries to throw a punch, but
Manson grabs the forearm and uses it to whips Biz across the ring and
into the ropes. Manson catches Biz on the rebound and lifts him into
the air for a flapjack lift, then catches him on the drop for a nasty
spinebuster.]

CL:  Flapjack Spinebuster!

FH:  Good God!

CL:  Manson looked like he was just showing his power off with that
lift, but then turns it into that signature spinebuster that may have
this one over.

[Manson slides Biz off his knee and to the canvas.]

FH:  Biz certainly looks to be in rough shape.

CL:  Manson leans down and covers Bisignano for the pinfall!


!!ONE!!


!!TWO!!


!!THR--------KICKOUT!!!


Bisignano escaped at the last second!

FH:  Still a lot of fight in this guy. Don't forget he has been around
for a long time and has even beaten death!

CL:  That is easy to do when you fake it.

FH:  I think your wife feels the same way about you.

[Manson is unfazed by the kickout. He just gets to his feet and moves
over to pull Bisignano up as well. Manson gets Biz up to his feet and
manhandles him into powerbomb position.]

CL:  Looks like things are about to get worse for Mike Bisignano.

FH:  With the size difference, a powerbomb would end this one for
sure.

[Manson lifts Bisignano for the powerbomb, but at the apex of the
lift, Biz jabs Manson in the throat and sends both men falling
backward. Bisignano and Manson stumble into the referee and fall to
the canvas, Biz's weight landing on Manson's chest as the land on the
canvas.]

CL:  Biz with a cheap shot to save his skull!

FH:  And back, ribs, etc etc

CL:  The referee got hit!  He is on one knee and checking his eye.

FH:  Did he get shot in the eye?

[Manson has hold of the bottom rope, but obviously has the wind
knocked out of him. Biz's legs are still draped over Manson's chest,
but he is half under the adjacent ropes. The referee is checking his
eyes about five feet away and has his back to the two wrestlers.]

CL:  Not unless he walked in on you. I think Manson's arm swung out
after the throat jab and caught him in that right eye!  Both men and
the referee are down!

FH:  This is a perfect time for Frank, HOPE, or anyone really to show
up and do what they need to do.

CL:  I have to agree.

FH:  I knew you'd see the light of brighter intelligence someday.

CL:  Don't hold your breath, Fred.  On second thought....

FH:  Very funny.

[Bisignano gets a kick on Manson's jaw that stuns the bigger man as
they both lay near the corner.]

CL:  Looks like Mike Bisignano is in self-preservation mode now.

FH:  Can you blame him?  The guy is trying to keep from getting
powerbombed to China!

[Biz grabs Manson's feet and pulls him to the corner, sliding under
the bottom rope and to the arena floor. He yanks on Manson's leg and
gets it near the ring post. Suddenly he slams the right knee against
the steel ring post.]

CL:  Mike Bisignano getting sadistic!  He is trying to take that knee
out!

FH:  The kicks didn't work earlier, so time to use his surroundings to
his advantage!

CL:  He is still a little woozy himself though. If he does manage to
hurt that knee, Manson's power advantage is gone.

FH:  And then we see just how big and bad the machine is without one
of its gears!

[Biz gets on the ring apron and jumps into a sitting legdrop on the
ring apron on that same knee! The referee still not paying much
attention with his eye issue on the other side of the ring.]

CL:  The Biz going to work on that right knee!

FH:  The guy is a survivor. He survived death. He survived his early
days in that hell-hole of an indy promotion. Most of all, he survived
Manson's power attack and now he is dishing out some pain himself!

[Bisignano pulls himself back to standing while on the ring apron and
grabs both feet, crossing them and locking on a figure four leglock
around the ring post!  Manson feels the pain immediately as Biz lays
back to the arena floor to add pressure.]

CL:  The Biz is trying to break that knee around the ring post!

FH:  This is the kind of fire we like seeing from The Biz. Everyone
doubts him for one reason or another and now you see why he has been
so successful.

[The referee looks to be messing with a contact lens and trying to get
it back in its proper spot and missing the entire illegal submission
hold.]

CL:  The referee is not there to break this up. He is still checking
his eye out over there!

FH:  He is trying to make sure he can see, that is all. It is an
important factor in what he does.

CL:  So is making sure someone doesn't get injured on his watch!

FH:  He's not wearing a watch. As a play-by-play man, you ought to be
more observant than that.

[The referee finally seems to have recovered and turns around to see
the ring post figure four. He rushes over and starts yelling at
Bisignano to break the hold.]

CL:  Finally, the referee calling for the break and he is back in the
action!

FH:  Biz isn't letting go just because he said so.

CL:  Finally at five he lets go and Manson rolls over, grabbing that
right knee.

FH:  Look at Biz. This guy is so good that nobody can appreciate it
now.

[Bisignano with a vile grin on his face as he sits on the arena floor
and looks up at Manson. He gets to his feet and gingerly walks toward
Manson, who is lying just under the bottom rope holding his knee.]

CL:  I don't like that look at all.

FH:  Who cares?  All I know is it means bad news for Marcus Manson and
I am all for that!

[Bisignano grabs Manson by the head and pulls him under the bottom
rope in reverse headlock position. He gets him about half out of the
ring and his arms drop and dangle to the ground. Bisignano then drops
a nasty DDT on the arena floor.]

CL:  Big time hanging DDT on the floor by the Biz!

FH:  I think Manson is out cold!

CL:  He is all crumpled out there and Bisignano is sitting next to him
and smiling!

FH:  Sometimes you have to stop and admire your handiwork! Not many
people could have pulled that kind of turnaround the way Biz just did.

[Biz gets to his feet as the referee begins counting both men out. He
pulls Manson slowly to his feet and kicks that right knee with full
force, dropping the big man back to the floor.]

CL:  Now he is just adding insult to injury!

FH:  The injury part is what is most important. Manson may not be able
to do any real power moves if  that leg can't hold the required
weight.

CL:  The referee is up to seven and Bisignano slides into the ring.

FH:  Manson is grabbing the ropes and trying to pull himself up, but I
don't think he'll beat the count!

[He does, barely. Manson slides under the bottom rope just as  the
referee was counting ten and stays alive in the match. Bisignano is up
and stomps on Manson. Manson is knocked back under tech rope and to
the floor.]

CL:  Bisignano actually cost himself a countout win there. I think the
referee was going to call the match has Biz not ran over and started
stomping Manson when he was down.

FH:  It is instinct.  It just takes over.

[Bisignano steps through the ropes and leaps for another attack, but
Manson throws a heart punch fist at him, missing low and drilling Biz
in the stomach, knocking him tot he floor.]

CL:  Manson counters with a heart punch!

FH:  He tried, but he missed low!

CL:  I don't care where it hits, I wouldn't want to get hit with
Manson's powerful heart punch anywhere!

FH:  Point conceded.

[The referee begins the count again and both men are straining to get
up and back to the ring.]

CL:  These two are both trying to beat the count now!

FH:  They have definitely waged a war in the ring.

CL:  Even more surprising is no sign of HOPE or even Uncle Frank
alone.

FH:  I think even they believe Biz can close it out without the help.

[Manson and Bisignano both slide into the ring beating the count of
the referee.]

CL:  The action will be back in the ring now, but which one will
launch the next attack?

FH:  The first one to his feet, might be your winner here.

[Both men pull on the ropes near them and get to their feet.]

CL:  So much for that idea, Fred.

FH:  Win some, lose some.

[Biz manages to hit Manson with as strong a savate kick as he could,
sending Manson backward and into the ropes.]

CL:  Great kick by Biz!

FH:  This may be his big moment!

[Manson uses the rebound from the ropes to launch himself full force
back at Bisignano, drilling him with a powerful lariat from hell that
nearly flips the Biz around and drops him flat on the back of his neck
with force.]

CL:  What a lariat from Manson!

FH:  he tried to take his head off!

CL:  Nasty landing for The Biz and he isn't moving!

FH:  Get up!

CL:  Manson grabs the legs for a roll-up pin and this one is in
jeopardy for Bisignano!


!!ONE!!



!!TWO!!



!!THREE!!


Manson wins!

FH:  That clothesline was devastating on someone as small as
Bisignano!

CL:  And it gets Manson a big victory over one of PVW's rising stars.
The fans are showing their appreciation for the Misery Machine.

FH: They will root for anyone who takes on HOPE.

CL: Maybe so, but Marcus Manson has earned his stripes here in the
PVW.

FH:  Bisignano finally comes back to life as the referee snaps his
fingers in front of his face.  That lariat knocked him cold.

CL:  I hate to think Manson may have found yet another deadly move to
add to his arsenal!

FH:  Well even if he has, I'm sure Uncle Frank will be ready when that
time comes.

[With Manson already out of the ring.  The Biz is looking and headed
towards the ring ...

Out go the lights]

FH: You know, the lights going out is kind of a cliche bit.

CL: I don't disagree.

[The big screen lights up with one word: Mediocrity. A dull voice
begins]

Voice: This place, it is...saturated. Saturated with weakness. A place
that was once great and is now inhabited by the likes of...the
Mercenary.

["Mediocrity" fades away to show a picture of Mercenary]

Voice: The Biz...

[The Biz]

Voice: Spectre...

[Spectre]

Voice: And the very epitome of mediocre. The every-man. The one you
settle for...Rob Cole.

[Cole]

Voice: This place it reeks. It has a dankness to it. An pungent, vast
pit of...blah.

[Cole's picture fades away and is replaced with a quote]

"I could have stretched forth my hand and stricken you and your people
with pestilence, and you would have been effaced from the earth.
Nevertheless I have spared you for this purpose: in order to show you
my power and in order that my fame may resound throughout the world."

[The lights return. The ring is completely covered with...]

FH: Frogs?!?!  Eww ... Get out of there Biz!

[Yes, frogs. The screen changes once more...]

At Shattered Dreams...he is coming back.

[And out goes the screen.]

CL: The Biz has quickly stumbled out of the frog-mess inside the ring.
I have .. no words.  What in the bloody hell was that?

FH: Get that away from me... Chip's wife doesn't like warts!

CL: The Biz is stumbling up the aisle way and he looks about as
confused as we do!

FH: Just get the ring crew down.  We don't want the wrestlers slipping
in frog poo for the rest of the night.

CL: How did they get these in?  Were they dropped from the ceiling?  I
am confused ... But, Fred is right this needs to be cleaned up before
we can continue the show.  So let's go to footage elsewhere for the
HIT II.

FH: Time for Heat to HIT BACK!

[A brown and gold interlocking logo comprised of a G and two W's
stacked on one another with the center made to resemble a snow capped
mountain appears on the screen. Welcome to Great Western Wrestling.
The opening 1:07 instrumental portion of Freezepop's "Less Talk More
Rokk" accompanies a montage of highlights from GWW. Finally, a red
haired woman in her middle 30s appears on the screen. Dressed in a
gray sports jacket with a golden GWW pin on the right lapel and a
burgundy blouse, the woman addresses the home audience.]

Woman: Hello, and welcome to another edition of Great Western
Wrestling's Rocky Mountain Rendezvous! I am your host, Alison Goswell
and tonight we will be bringing you another half an hour of exciting
action from the various shows that take place at The Barrows Corral,
our home arena here in Billings, Montana.

[A gold and brown interlocking GWW logo wipe hits the screen and a
second camera (to Alison's right) kicks in and she continues.]

AG: Our first of three matches this evening is a match for the #2 tag
team here in Great Western. Last week the #1 contenders match took
place between Clark & Fitzhugh and The Rocksteady Boyz. The Boyz lost
but were not ready to call it quits just yet. The Rocksteadies
immediately declared themselves the #2 team and prepare to prove it
tonight against The Hill Street Connection. Let's have a look!

[We join the match in progress. A stocky man of about 5'9" and around
300 pounds is facing off against a leaner man of around 6'. The taller
and lighter of the two hits a Russian leg sweep and follows it up with
a cover.]

AG: And Lance Chamberlain caught B. B. Balzak with a beautiful Russian
leg sweep but only gets a two count. Riki Ram-Ram is livid and
demanding the refree outlaw the maneuver from his spot on the apron!

[B. B. Balzak is a butterball of a man who is almost bald and has what
remaining hair of his dyed pink while Riki Ram-Ram has his short
cropped hair dyed aqua blue. Lance Chamberlain is a well built, albeit
slim, man with chesnut brown hair. His partner is a muscled man in
very tiny white trunks with long blond hair.]

AG: Samuel St. Lawrence is asking for a tag! Chamberlain drags 3B
towards the Connection's corner! A quick tag to Sammy from Lance and
Chamberlain holds Balzak while St. Lawrence goes to the second rope...
double axe handle! B. B. falls down and Chamberlain is leaving the
ring. Riki Ram-Ram is yelling loudly and head referee Yancy Quinalt is
having none of it!

[As SSS goes to BBB (try saying that over and over again), the crafy
RRR (jeez, terrible!) has distracted the referee! Balzak reaches into
his tights and... throws pudding into SSS's face? Why the heck did he
having pudding in his trunks?!]

AG: Nooo! Not again! Balzak has yet another pudding cup stashed away
in those ludicrously large neon orange parachute pants of his! While
Ram-Ram has the refree distracted Balzak has blinded Samuel! Lance
charging into the ring to help his partner... and the referee is
turned around by Riki! Quinalt right there to intercept Chamberlain!
And look at how smug the Rocksteady Boyz are at this moment!

[The 'steadies grab hold of SSS and deliver a tandem lowblow followed
by the just as fat Riki Ram-Ram and B. B. Balzak doing their double
head butt finishing move before Yancy Quinalt finally turns around. B.
B. covers!]

AG: This is baloney! The count... 1, 2, and 3! The Rocksteadies win
again but by cheap methods! What's funny is they were beaten at their
own game by current Granite Peak Tag Team Champions "Royal" Eddie
Traveller and Jean LaFrench, aka Canada's Finest. Anyhow, we have to
go to commericals but we'll be back with "Heidi" Blake Rogers versus
"The Oklahoma Thunderhorse" Steve Albright!

[Commericals for the upcoming Missoula show and for The Wrestling
Channel as well as for Fatty BouyZ Meat Snax! We return to GWW Studios
to see Ms. Goswell at the ready.]

AG: Our next match is the very first Great Western Heritage
Championship defense by "The Oklahoma Thunderhorse" Steve Albright.
He's facing long time veteran and... well, a very odd man - Blake
Rogers. Rogers, infamous for changing gimmicks all the time, has
actually held championships in other federations but has never
fulfilled the potential seen in him by other promotions. Could this be
Rogers's chance to prove his detractors wrong? We'll find out, after
these messages!

[Advertisements shilling North American Grappling Council videos and
an advertisment for Three CK Casinos! The come back from commerical to
the ring where Blake Rogers, dressed in girl's leiderhosen, a very
poor blond pig tailed wig and jackboots is being toss into the
northwest turnbuckles by a big young man with long black hair and
wearing an Oklahoma State University wrestling singlet.]

AG: Albright has been very aggressive out of the gate; how Rogers's
wig has stayed on, I'll never know! Albright in a three point
stance... and BOOM! He just avalanched Rogers into next week! Albright
not done yet...

[The Thunderhorse grabs Blake, foists him over his shoulder, carries
him to the center of the ring and military presses him not once, not
even twice but three times over his head! Then he drops Blake behind
him like yesterday's garbage! Blake pops back up immediately!

AG: Rogers is up! I can't... no, wait, he's down.

[Just as quickly, Rogers does a pratfall onto his face. The
Thunderhorse covers for a very decisive 3 count. We get a shot of
Albright holding up his title before we head back to the studio.]

AG: Albright with another early defense but only time will tell if his
reign will be memorable.

[Camera swap so Alison has to face front.]

AG: At the latest Rendezvous, Great Western Wrestling owner Clay
Longabaugh announced a major new partnership for GWW. Let's have a
look!

[The Barrows Corral, formerly an actual ranch on the outskirts of
Billings, Montana, looks to be well attended. A few hundred folk are
in attendance and standing in the ring are a tall, slim caucasian man
with gray hair wearing a sweater and jeans. Standing next to this man
is a shorter man of Asian decent wearing a brown trenchcoat over his
pinstriped suit.]

TSC: Thank you so much, loyal Great Western fans! When I started this
company three short years ago I never expected us to be reaching up to
Calgary with our partners in the Royal Academy of Wrestling, to Idaho
Falls with assistance of the School of Opportunity run by Todd
Johnstone and all the way down to Cody, Wyoming - home of a big ole
PPV back in the day! We're growing and expanding and provide the Rocky
Mountain region with the wrestling action that it craves!

[Good ole fashioned home crowd excitement! Longabaugh basks in the
adulation of the crowd but motions for them to let him speak after a
short period of time.]

CL: Thanks so much, guys and gals! But wait, we're not done! Tonight
there is a big announcement! Not only will there be a Granite Peak Tag
Team Championship match but also telling you all just who we got
coming in store for the future! Right here, with me in this very ring,
is Henry Maruyama. Mr. Maruyama is a representive of...

[And Clay is all smiles as he lowers the microphone to tease the
audience.]

CL: PHOENIX VALLEY WRESTLING!

[There we go. Our fine friends in attendance nearly lose their minds
at the possibilities of big name stars (in their primes) maybe
visiting
the GWW and vice-versa!]

CL: Mr. Maruyama, thank you so much for coming all the way up here in
Billings. Kinda cold for you, isn't it?

[Maruyama chuckles.]

HM: Compared to Phoenix; it's a freezer up here. Then again, a little
cold never hurt anyone, right?

[Our audience approves of this quip!]

CL: I'd like to thank you and Phoenix Valley Wrestling for agreeing on
this deal that'll have us as a developmental territory. With your
backing it means we can grow and maybe produce the next big PVW star!

HM: Think nothing of it - PVW is always looking for quality wrestlers
and if that search includes helping the health of the industry as a
whole, then it is a win-win situation in our book.

[The GWW audience cheers as the two men shake hands and the GWW takes
us back to Alison.]

AG: In our final match of the night Granite Peak Tag Team Champions,
Canada's Finest, claim to be taking on a more worthy tag team for the
titles tonight. The Finest are in the ring so let's go down to the
action!

[A scrawny man with a mop of brown hair has a microphone in his hand
and standing next to him is a well built man with long blond hair and
a hook nose. The two are wearing matching red and white singlets with
the scrawny one also wearing tights while the blond has on speedos.]

SM: So, tonight, instead of wasting your precious time and, most
importantly, *OUR* precious time, Canada's Finest has taken full
advantage of the situation...

[The blond shakes his head.]

SM: ...er I mean opportunity and have brought in a big tag team from
Phoenix Valley Wrestling to face! Clark & Fitz-puke had best wait in
line! You people are lucky, you get to see a real tag team match!
Tonight "Royal" Eddie Traveller (that's me!) and the Alberta Power
Station, that's Jean LaFrench, we're taking on... THE HEAT!

[Ferry Corsten's "Fire" begins to play over the PA system. A
surprising amount of applause for the visiting big name tag team pops
up. PACO and the short fat guy with a belly shirt and straw cowboy hat
are carrying a giantic trophy while Florine (dressed as Heidi, damned
that Blake) is carrying a HIT balloon. Maxime follows behind the main
group while out in front and all simles is none other than Arvelle
"MAGIC" LaFayette.]

AML: Ladies and gents The HEAT has come to reignite the volcanic
activity in this area! Tonight we have the very first match in the
Heat Invitation Tournament - EXCLUSIVE ACTION right here in Great
Western Wrestling under the brand spanking new partnership with
Phoenix Valley Wrestling! That's PVW - where everyone wilts from The
HEAT!

[The crowd throws jeers at the awfully dressed Arvelle (he's wearing a
two sizes too big sequined tuxedo that is half brown and gold (GWW's
colors) and half black, red and orange (PVW's colors); truly, his
fashion taste is awful.]

AML: On this glorious evening Maxime and PACO Magnon will be taking on
one of the top tag teams in the world; your fighting champions who
uphold the honor and values of the Traveller and LaFrench families!
You folks are in for one humdinger of a match - much better than if
you were forced to watch those cheap, no good carpetbagging losers
known as Sally and Maxy! Those two cheating creeps done stole the very
first HIT finals away from us but this year the HIT II has safeguards
against such chicanary! The HIT is the largest and greatest tag team
tournament in the world and it is an honor to bring all of you the
very first match of this annual event!

[Eddie Traveller and Jean LaFrench nod their heads and applaud as the
rest of the people in attendance boo. Traveller raises his
microphone.]

RET: Thank you so much, Arvie, for this fantastic opportunity to show
those losers in Phoenix what the meaning of fair play and the pay off
to honesty and integrity. Canada's Finest would like to show its
appreciation for you upping the class of this two bit podunk town by
allowing you to choose the rules of the match - as visitors and hosts
of the HIT!

[LaFrench pantomimes being shocked and Florine faux faints into the
little creepy guy's arms... then slaps him as he gets fresh. Arvelle
is pretending to be taken aback by such a startling development.
Arvelle has climbed into the ring with PACO, Maxime and the VOLTRON of
Trophies.]

AML: Goodness! I didn't think no one had no manners but I have been
proved wrong.

RET: It's the least we can do since we'll be defending our titles
against true competitors tonight as well as we kick off the HIT!

AML: Mighty nice of you to offer the Granite Peak Tag Titles - fine
titles defended by fine gentlemen and scholars like yourselves, but
we're gonna have to pass on that gracious offer. Y'see, these people
up here, they need _YOU_ two to show them just how good tag team
wrasslin' is done. Your accepting of the HIT invitations is thanks
enough Eddie and Jean!

[Arvelle, Eddie, Jean, Maxime and PACO all shake hands. As the other
four men exchange pleasentries, Arvelle continues to yap.]

AML: Women and boys in the audience, tonight's very first HIT II match
will be a dangerous match - a Northern Rockies Three Joker Scramble!

[Eddie, Jean, PACO and Maxime all stop shaking hands and look
surprised. Meanwhile, Florine faux faints again... and again slaps
that creepy little guy as he gets fresh.]

RET: A Northern Rockies Three Joker Scramble? Are you sure Arvelle?
Careers end in that sort of match. Now, me and Jean, we respect that
The HEAT have beaten the current PVW champions twice in a row and that
you are the undefeated, uncrowned #1 contender for the PVW World Title
(but sadly retired), but no one said anything about *THAT* kind of
match...

[The audience starts chanting "Losers" and "U-S-A". LaFrench covers
his ears while PACO yells at the crowd to shut up... and does a
gesture that causes the cameras to cut away from him.]

AML: I'm sure my boys are up to it and, don't you think your adoring
legion of fans deserve such action?

[Eddie thinks for a moment, whispers in Jean's ear and Jean makes hand
motions. After wasting another 2 minutes, the Finest nod their heads.]

RET: Arvelle...

[Arvelle hangs on the next words.]

RET: ...ring that bell because you've got yourself a match!

[We have Arvelle joining Alison for some brief commentary.]

AG: And... what in the world is going on here?

[Eddie and PACO stand in the ring, face to face. The two jaw for a bit
and raise their right fists in the air... and shoot! PACO goes rock
while Eddie goes scissors!]

AML: Miss Goswell, what you're seeing is the most dangerous match this
side of the Mississippi! Did you see that action? PACO came out strong
and stunned Eddie. Traveller is going to his corner, hugging his
partner and looking for guidance! The thing about the Finest is that
they work so well together, always supporting one another and showing
the dingbats out there how true wrestlers should work together -
unlike those cheats Max and Sal and those losers Clark & Fitzhugh who
keep pretending they can hold a candle to Canada's Finest!

AG: Max and Sal have worked hard to win Phoenix's tag titles and Clark
& Fitzhugh have been trying to get Canada's Finest to actually face
them for three months!

AML: Canada's Finest is just making them wait so they can get better
and not lose in :58 seconds... oh... Traveller tagged in Jean! PACO is
tagging in Maxime to match muscle for muscle! The HIT II is already
the greatest tag tournament of the year and we're just one match into
it!

[The stockier LaFrench cocks his left arm back as Maxime throws his
right arm out... Maxime has paper while Jean has scissors!]

AML: MY GOD! We're in sudden death! I've never seen such effort on the
part of four men in a wrestling ring that parallels what we've seen
today! I hope y'all record this for posterity! We're witnessing
history! Such punishment! Such grace! Such majesty! Punks like The
Beserkers, who tried to get me disqualified to prevent their little
friends the Prophets of Retirement Benefits from being shown up by my
astounding wrestling skills! Those Beserkers better watch out because
the HEAT is coming for you too!

AG: If I recall correctly you spent the entire match bloodied and on
the floor.

AML: LIES! Oooh, ooh, LaFrench has tagged in Eddie and they're double
teaming... but PACO flies in! DUAL SCISSORS FOR THE HEAT WHILE THE
FINEST WENT PAPER PAPER! IT'S OVER! HOMINA HOMINA HOMINA! The winners
of the inaugural HIT II match - THE HEAT~! Such an amazing display!
How those four men can even move after this match is beyond me,
Amberson.

AG: It's Alison.

AML: Ambercrombie, whatever! The HEAT and Canada's Finest just had the
MATCH OF THE YEAR, bar none! Sugar, let me tell you, you'll never see
another match like this ever! This is a once in a generation occurance
and I, for one am... *slight quivering voice* nearly moved to tears at
such competition! And look! What a display of sportsmanship as The
HEAT and The Finest hug in the center of the ring! Those pigs Sam and
Ham or whatever, who are ducking The HEAT, could learn a lesson. Same
with the Beesmirchers or whatever Dog and Drool are called! Wait!
What's this?!

[Running in from the back, breaking up the hugfest is a short blond
man and taller black man. The HEAT immediately bail out while LaFrench
manages to get out of the ring. Traveller tries to leave over the
ropes but his caught by his tights! The crowd roars in approval at the
thought of Traveller getting his!]

AML: What malarky! Are these bozos Clark and Fitzhugh?

AG: Yes... I thought you were familiar with them!

AML: I mistook them for shaved gorillas, ok?! After such a hard fought
and exhausting match, how could those two jerks come in and try to
shanghai both The HEAT and Canada's Finest! Oh no, they're trying to
steal Eddie's clothes!

AG: It's called karma!

AML: It's called assault!

[Traveller's tights come partway down, exposing his heart patterned
boxers. LaFrench is pulling on Traveller's arms while Clark (the
african american) and Fitzhugh (the white guy) pull on one leg each.
Finally, Clark and Fitzhugh leg go, causing Eddie to crash into his
partner. The Finest recover as the audience and Clark and Fitzhugh
laugh at them. Meanwhile, the HEAT celebrate their win on the outside
and show off a giant HIT II poster!]

AML: Folks, keep your eyeballs peeled for the HIT II and...

AG: We're just about out of time! Our thanks to Clark and Fitzhugh for
ending this travesty...

AML: STOP LYING!

AG: Come back next time for more Rocky Mountaint Rendezvous!

[The scene ends with Eddie being consoled by LaFrench and C & F
leading the audience in a 'Na-na-na-na; hey, hey, hey - good-bye'
chant. Fade with an overlaid GWW logo.]

CL: Oh brother ... Leave it to Arvelle to bring us _that_.

FH: Who the heck are the GHIJKL?

CL: I am getting word that PVW has allowed Heat to travel and hold
their HIT II tournament in approved affiliate programs ... Places,
where PVW has up'd their scouting department.  ASLL was the first
place that PVW extended an olive branch ... and apparently GWW is the
second.

FH: There wasn't enough announcer of the year footage there.

CL: The Ring crew have been frantically working to eliminate the
masses of ... frogs that were dropped inside the ring.

FH: It's been a close call, Chip.  However, tell your sexy wife that I
have avoided all interaction with these things.  No warts here, but
I'm not sure the same can be said for you.

CL: ...

[Slight pause, but Chip is always the professional.  Nobody knows how
he does it, but he just does.]

CL: Moving along folks ... The ring is almost cleared, but tonight we
still have Gibson Hayes and Chris Hartt in action ... Also PVW
newcomers - Eric Seiger and Heath Dawson are set to step inside the
ring with Spectre and Christopher Black.  Plus, we have Freeman and
Danny Daniels ... and Johnny Detson taking on Tom Landis.

FH: It will be interesting to see what kind of condition, Johnny
Detson will be in.

CL: Both physically and mentally.

FH: Never question the mental condition of Johnny Detson.  He will be
just fine.

CL: There are quite a few rumors going around.  At this time _nobody_
has talked to the veteran since Boiling Point.

FH: They are just that ... rumors!

CL: Hopefully, we will have some of those answers here soon when he
takes on Tom Landis.

FH: The only answer we will have is that Tom Landis is STILL a huge
vagina.  That never changes.

CL: Oh geez.

[With the ring now cleared ... The lights go down, to be replaced by a
blue-wash.  A thin silhouette stands at the entrance way, standing out
against the blue light.  Nothing happens for a moment, and the
audience's noise has starts to die down when the opening chords of
"Try Honesty" by Billy Talent begin to play.  The blue-wash changes to
regular lightning and "Subzero" Adrian Freeman runs out, smoke
billowing out behind him.  Some of the fans boo and jeer, and Adrian
takes a moment to sneer at them before sliding into the ring.]

FH: Now there's a real technician, Chip.

CL: He does know a thing or two about his craft, but Adrian Freeman's
too arrogant about it for my tastes.

FH: Like him or not, you'd best remember that he backs it up.

[The lights go down, and someone steps from the back.  It is... a
trumpeter? The trumpeter blasts a bombastic little fanfare on his
trumpet, and a banner unfurls from the top  of the entrance-way.  It
reads: PLEASE WELCOME YOUR PVW PRESIDENT!!!  And yes, it does have
three exclamation points.]

FH: Really, more banners?

CL: Nothing wrong with a little bit of fanfare, Fred, especially for
the President.

FH: The election was fixed!  There should be a recount!

CL: And it would still be one, two, three.

[Following the fanfare, "Believe It Or Not", the theme song from the
Greatest American Hero, starts up.  The fans give a loud face pop for
the over-the-top introduction of the new PVW President, "Your Hero"
Danny Daniels.  Daniels bursts from behind the welcome banner, arms
spread to soak in all of the glory of his legions of fans, imaginary
and real.  The bulky young man with the straggly blond hair still
wears his white tuxedo, a snazzy suit that seems ill-fitted for the
night's contest.  A pair of wraparound shades inhabit his clean-shaven
face, as does a big goofy smile representing his joy at being so
exulted by the fans.]

FH: Is that idiot still wearing that?

CL: Have some respect for our new PVW President, Fred!

FH: It's a white tuxedo!

CL: And he makes it look good, too!

[Daniels sweeps down to the ring, shaking hands with fans on both
sides of the aisle. He jumps onto the apron, and climbs the ropes on
the outside.  He gets to the top rope... and seems to grow a little
disoriented by the height, so he steps back down to the second rope
and THEN poses grandly for the crowd, ripping off his tearaway tuxedo
to the cheer of the fans!]

FH: Oh, how I wish the title of President could be that easy to rip
away...


=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
President Danny Daniels v. "Subzero" Adrian Freeman

=========================================


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: Here we go! Both men are ready, and looking to lock up!

[Freeman and Daniels circle each other before meeting in the middle of
the ring in a collar and elbow lock up.  Both jockey for position, and
just when it looks like Freeman is in a position to take down his
opponent, Daniels forcefully pushes him off, the Australian landing
hard on his back.]

CL: And the President makes a strong handed statement, here.

FH: Freeman's seen tough guys before, I'm not worried.

[Adrian brushes himself off, getting to his feet with an unmistakable
arrogance, making it clear he's only indulging Daniels.  The two
resume circling each other, and after switching sides, they lock up
once more in the middle of the ring.  Freeman pushes down on Daniels'
arm, twists to apply a three quarter face lock... and the fans rejoice
when Danny Daniels pushes him off again, forcing Freeman to crash face
first on the mat!]

CL: Daniels' looking like a much tougher opponent than Freeman
expected to face tonight.

FH: Can you blame him?  Danny Daniels is such a goof!

CL: Danny Daniels is fresh off a huge victory at Boiling Point II,
Fred.  And the man he beat wasn't just anybody, it was our Called Shot
winner, Johnny Detson, a man who beat both Juan Vasquez and Gibson
Hayes... in the same match!  Daniels was our Supreme Champion and now
he's our Supreme President.  What's wrong, Fred?  Cat got your tongue.

FH: Just call the match, smartass.

[Back on his feet, the two wrestlers circle each other once again, and
this time Freeman seems quite confident his skill will prevail over
Daniel's brawn.]

CL: Here comes another lock-up...

[The men lunge at each other for the lock-up, but Danny ducks, and
Freeman flips over him and crashes hard on his back!]

BRAAAAM!

[HUGE POP!]

CL: WOAH!

FH: How dare Daniels! Not only does he rob Adrian Freeman of his
salary for the night, he tries to make him look like a fool, too?

CL: I don't know about that.  I can't think anyone would have expected
Daniels to duck!

FH: He'll regret this, Chip!  Mark my words, he'll regret this!

[Freeman gets back to his feet, his patience wearing thin.  He smirks,
motions towards the grinning President, daring him to try that again.
The men circle each other once more... and when Daniels leans in for
the lock-up, Freeman practically knocks off his head with a huge
European Uppercut!]

FH: HA!

[The spectators jeer when the President rocks back into the
turnbuckles, seemingly out on their feet.]

FH: You don't need to be a heavyweight to knock a man out if you know
how to aim it right!

CL: Daniels got rocked, but I don't think he was knocked out!

FH: Only because there's nothing to knock out.

[Daniels shakes off the blow, and comes back at Freeman, landing a big
punch!  The Australian stumbles back, but that only gives him the room
to step forth with a forearm smash!  Danny responds with another big,
meaty punch!  Freeman comes right back with another European
uppercut!]

CL: I can't imagine Freeman out-brawling Danny Daniels, Fred!

[Freeman lands his blows, but so does Daniels, and his hard hitting
punches take a visible toll on Freeman.  When Daniels lands another
big right, Subzero switches things up with a series of quick chops to
the sternum!]

THWAAACK!


THWAAACK!


THWAAACK!


FH: Maybe he can't knock out Daniels, but he can take his breath away.
Freeman knows what he's doing, Chip!

[With Daniels gasping for air, Freeman leans in and grabs his opponent
in a tight standing headlock.  Subzero clasps his hands together, and
with every grinding twist of his arms President Daniels grunts in
pain!]

FH: See?

[This isn't what the fans expected or wanted, and they let the Aussie
know.  That, of course, only makes Freeman derisively smirk, muttering
back a few choice insults that wouldn't make the land down under proud
if the microphones could catch them.  But instead of massive jeers,
some of the fans begin to cheer.]

CL: It's Supreme Wright!

FH: He's got a chair! Someone disqualify Daniels, Wright has a chair!

[Still maintaining the punishing headlock, Freeman spots the Louisiana
native who takes a seat on his unfolded chair in the middle of the
aisle.]

CL: Supreme's only here to scout the match, Fred. You know he's done
it before.

FH: It should be illegal!

THUUUUUD!

[HUGE POP!]

FH: NOOO!

[With Adrian's attention drawn elsewhere, the headlock was loosened
just enough for Daniels to break out of it, and push Freeman face
first into the top turnbuckle!]

FH: You see?  You see?  Daniels should be disqualified!  This is all
Supreme Wright's fault!

CL: Freeman should be focusing on his match, Fred.  He's been taking
"Your Hero" much too lightly.

FH: He's not my hero!

CL: Perhaps, but he's your President!

[Danny sprints and crushes Freeman with a huge tackled into the
turnbuckles!  When Adrian wobbles out, Daniels picks him up over his
shoulder, takes a few steps, and bodyslams him hard into the middle of
the ring!]

THUUUUUD!

[The Supreme President takes aim, bounces off the ropes and comes back
with an elbow drop!]

THUUUUD!

CL: Right on the sternum!  He hooks a leg...


!!! ONE !!!

!!! TW- !!!

CL: Freeman kicks out!

FH: Of course he does!  Now it's Daniels who's underestimating his
opponent!

[But Danny Daniels quickly takes hold of Adrian Freeman's head, and
squeezes it tight into a standing headlock of his own!  In fact, he's
strong enough to apply it with a single arm!  He raises the other up
high, balls it into a fist... out of which a single knuckle pops
out... and he brings it down to the top Adrian Freeman's head!]

FH: Wait... is that a noogie?

[HUGE POP!]

CL: It's a Presidential noogie!

FH: It's an aberration!

CL: And the people love it!

[Freeman hasn't said his last word, though.  He grabs Daniels and
lifts him up for a back body drop, but instead drops him spine first
on his bent knee!]

THUUUD!

FH: Backbreaker!  I believe that trumps a noogie, Chip!

[Favoring his back, Daniels gets to his feet and straight into another
standing headlock!  Before the President can power out of it, Freeman
smoothly floats around and over into a hammerlock!]

CL: Good grief! Daniels really feeling the pain on this one!

FH: That's how you know a real technician's doing the hold, Chip.

[The pain is real, but Daniels is resilient and strong, and slowly,
with the undying support of his electorate, he powers out of the
hammerlock, untwisting his arm with brute strength!]

FH: Aaah! Do something, Adrian!

[As soon as Daniels breaks out of the hold, the Aussie switches gears,
twists the President's arm again, this time in a wristlock.  He
maneuvers Daniels in the right position, floats out into another
headlock, and takes Danny Daniels down to the mat with a headlock
takedown!  With Daniels now face first on the mat, Freeman rolls over
to the other side, and applies a chickenwing.]

FH: This President is getting schooled!

[With the chickenwing firmly applied, the referee closely monitors the
President's condition, periodically asking if he gives up.  But Danny
Daniels isn't the kind of President that just gives up on a match.
And so, Freeman responds by maintaining the hold while driving big
knee drops into the small of Danny's back!]

FH: Such a resourceful fighter that Freeman.  Wright should be taking
notes!

CL: I bet that's exactly what he's doing.

[Subzero drives another knee square into Danny's spine, but he
stubbornly refuses to give up.  Undeterred, Freeman applies a second
chickenwing, then rolls the President on his back for a cradle pin!
The referee slides over into position and begins his count!]

!!! ONE !!!

!!! TWO !!!

!!! THR-

CL: Kick out!

FH: This close, Chip.  This close!

[Daniels stumbles to his feet, but Freeman was stalking him, and the
Australian leaps into a rolling armbar, and the President falls to the
mat, trapped in another painful predicament!]

CL: Woah! Now there's a rolling armbar that could make Chase Williams
jealous!

FH: In fact, there's a certain "King" that would be jealous of that
one too!

CL: Well Danny Daniels isn't about to give up, Fred. His fans are
counting on him.

FH: And if add his actual fans to his imaginary ones, that makes a lot
of fans.

[Danny won't give up indeed!  Fighting through the pain, Daniels gets
to his knees and picks up Freeman... who still has the armbar
unmercifully locked on...]

THUUUUD!

CL: Bodyslam!

FH: But look at this, Chip!  Armbar's still on!

[Daniels is fighting back the tears, now, but even with Freeman
maintaining the armbar firmly applied, the President hoists his
opponent again, and bodyslams him as hard as he can!]

THUUUD!

[DEFLATED POP!]

CL: I can't believe it!  Freeman still has that armbar applied!

FH: That's how you keep a move, Chip, through thick and thin.  Bet
Supreme Wright learned something right there.  Maybe he'll be able to
improve, now!

CL: And I can't believe Danny Daniels is able to withstand this
punishment!  Talk about stamina!  Talk about heart and resilience!

FH: I'd rather talk about your wife...

[Freeman pulls back on Daniels' arm, working the armbar, but in spite
of it all, Danny's hanging in there.  In desperation, he picks up the
Australian again, musters all of his strength, and slams Freeman into
the canvas again!]

THUUUUUUUD!

[POP!]

CL: He broke free!

FH: But he didn't break Freeman!

CL: Or did he?  Here comes a pin...

!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: No, kicks out!

FH: I told you!  Listen to me when I tell you stuff like this, Chip.

CL: Good grief, you're too much.

FH: Funny, your wife said the same.

[Danny Daniels picks up his opponent, grabs him by the head and leans
into a huge headbutt that stuns Freeman, freezing him into place.
Daniels runs into the ropes, and charges back to knock Adrian back
down with a running kneelift!  The President gives the cheering fans a
Bill Clinton style thumbs up, runs the ropes again.  Just as Freeman
rises again, Daniels runs in with a big brawler's clothesline that
makes the Aussie spin three hundred and sixty degrees in mid-air
before crashing to canvas!]

CL: Woah!  Daniels really making use of his size advantage here! And
he drops down for another pin!

FH: Oh, no!  Adrian!

!!! ONE !!!

FH: Wake up, mate!

!!! TWO !!!

CL: This could be it...

!!! THREE !!!

CL: That's it!

FH: No! Freeman got a shoulder up!  Oh thank God, he got a shoulder
up!

CL: But Danny Daniels isn't done with him!

[The new President pulls Freeman up to his feet, grabs him by a
handful of brown hair and slams his face right into the nearest
turnbuckle!]

THAAAACK!

CL: Ouch!  Freeman has no clue where is anymore!

FH: Nonsense, he always knows where he is... he's just pretending not
to know!

[Daniels grabs Freeman by the hair again, then points to the other
turnbuckle across the ring!  When the fans roar their approval,
Daniels stomps along the ropes, carrying Adrian with him to give him a
face full of the next top turnbuckle!]

THOOOOOCK!

FH: No!  No more turnbuckles!

[Still firmly holding Freeman by the hair, Daniels points to the next
corner!  The fans explode in cheers, so he walks Freeman towards the
next ring corner and slams him face first into a third top corner
padding!]

FH: Noo! Were a hundred of them not enough?

[POINT! POP!]

CL: And here we go again!  All four corners, Fred!

FH: Someone stop this insanity!

[Daniels forces his victim across the ring, aims to slam Freeman's
head into the final turnbuckle, but...]

CL: Freeman blocks!

[DEFLATED POP]

FH: Thank God!

[With a boot on the second turnbuckle, Freeman stops Danny Daniels'
momentum dead in its tracks.  With a stiff back elbow to the jaw, he
startles him backwards.  And with a push off the second rope, Adrian
flips over the President, deftly applies a waistlock and lifts him
overhead!]

THUUUUD!

CL: German suplex!

[Freeman pulls his opponent up and Irish Whips him chest first into
the opposite corner!]

THUUUD!

[As Daniels stumbles out from the impact, the Australian grabs him by
the neck and delivers an inverted headlock backbreaker... and before
Daniels can fall down, Freeman kips up and jumps onto the President's
back and falls backwards in a lungblower!]

THUUD!

FH: Another move to Danny Daniels' back!  I smell the Deep Freeze
coming!

CL: That does look like what he may working towards.

FH: Ring smarts, instinct and technique, he's got it all!

CL: He may even have a pin right now! He hooks the leg and...


!!! ONE !!!

!!! TWO !!!

!!! THREE ???

[BIG POP!]

CL: No! Daniels kicks out, just in the knick of time!

FH: Daniels may be a tough nut to crack, all nuts end up cracking
eventually.

CL: Some end up cracking the teeth that bite them, though...

[Still on top of the situation, Freeman grabs Daniels by the boots,
which makes the fans stir with anxiety!]

CL: Could it be the Deep Freeze?

FH: That would be the end of Daniels for sure, maybe the end of his
entire Presidency!

CL: No!

[HUGE POP!]

CL: Danny kicks off Freeman!

FH: Freeman had him!  Curse you, Supreme Wright!

CL: Wright didn't do anything!  He hasn't moved from his chair!

FH: I feel some kind of Louisiana voodoo at work, Chip!

[Freeman grabs his opponent in a front facelock, and executes a
picture perfect fisherman's suplex!]

THUUUUD!

[Never breaking his hold on the front chancery, Subzero maneuvers both
men back to their feet and hoists Daniel up into another fisherman's
suplex!]

THUUUDD!!!

FH: And a third one!

CL: Freeman keeps that leg hooked for the bridge pin...

!!! ONE !!!

...

!!! TWO !!!

...

!!! THREE-

CL: Daniels kicks out!

[POP!]

FH: That was a slow count!  Slow count!

[As he still holds on to Daniels' leg from the frisherman bridge pin,
despite the kick out, Freeman transitions to a leg lock with ease.  He
gets to his feet, his opponent lying on his stomach, and reaches for
Danny's other leg to complete the switch from leg lock to Deep Freeze!
But...]

CL: No go!  Daniels kicks him off again!

FH: This has got to be some type of Cajun voodoo at work!

[Freeman charges in with a quick jab, but Daniels isn't fazed and
retorts with a right hook of his own!  Subzero lands a forearm that
sends Daniels bouncing into the ropes... but that same momentum helps
him fire back with a series of ham-fisted punches!]

THOCK!

THOCK!

THOCK!

CL: And a big clothesline!

THUUUD!

CL: And another!

THUUUD!

CL: AND ANOTHER!

THUUUUUD!

FH: What's going on here??

CL: Danny Daniels is raising the roof, that's what!

[Fans on their feet, clapping and cheering, and the President picks up
Adrian Freeman!  He props him on his shoulder, takes a few steps for
momentum and stamps the Australian into the canvas with a gigantic
running powerslam!  With Freeman in a pinning predicament, the referee
slides in for the count...]



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



!!! THREE !!!



CL: He did it!

[HUGE POP!]

FH: Nope!  Nope!  Adrian got a foot on the bottom rope!

CL: You're right, Fred!  It was real close, though.

FH: Only a second generation wrestler like Freeman could have such
wrestling instinct!

[Danny Daniels isn't done, though.  He stomps down on Freeman, then
picks him up in his arms, powering him up in a military press before
bodyslamming him hard on the canvas.  With a quick gesture, the new
President climbs up to the second turnbuckle, and fans know what's
coming!]

CL: Here comes TOODLES~!

FH: But wait, Danny's wasting too much time, here... What is he doing?

[Danny Daniels looks at that top turnbuckle and... in this time of
change, in this new Presidential era in the PVW... and with tonight's
proceeds going to charity... maybe a top rope TOODLES~! will finally
work?]

CL: No!  It won't work, Danny!  Get down from there!

FH: Look at him wobbling on that top rope!  You'd think he just downed
two bottles of vodka!

[Yes, Daniels has ascended to the top turnbuckle... and he'd have
better luck trying to surf on a mechanical bull!  To make matters
worse, Adrian Freeman slowly gets back to his feet!]

CL: Good God, Danny!  Do something!

[He leaps! ... Or, to be more accurate, he loses his balance and falls
towards Freeman who fluidly catches him straight into a big, ring
shaking spinebuster!]

THUUUUUUD!

FH: Tood'loo, Danny!

CL: Freeman hooks the legs...


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



!!! THREE !!?


[SHOULDER UP POP!]

CL: Almost!

[Still holding both of Daniels' legs from the spinebuster pin, Freeman
rolls his opponent over and into the Deep Freeze!]

FH: Call the fat lady and tell her this one's over!

CL: Don't speak to soon...

FH: Did you hear what I said?  Call your wife!

CL: Prepare for disappointment, Fred!

[To apply his devastating hold, the Australian had to roll closer to
the ropes, and even as he screams from the pain, Danny Daniels can see
just how close the ropes actually are.  He musters all of his power to
drag himself and his tormentor just a few more inches to reach the
ropes and break free!  The fans explode with cheers... but then their
reaction changes, the crowd buzzing with anxious febrility.]

CL: What's going on?

FH: It's Chance Holiday, walking down the aisle!

CL: And right past Supreme Wright.

FH: Did they exchange a look?

CL: I'm not sure, but I hope Holiday's not here for some revenge...

FH: An eye for an eye isn't revenge, it's justice!  And even
Presidents aren't above justice!

[But in the ring, the combatants have not spotted the Shadow Stalker,
who is still making his way to ring side.  Freeman tries to grapple
his opponent, but Daniels knees him in the gut and stuns him with a
big headbutt!  He applies a front chancery and hoists up the
Australian in a delayed vertical lift!]

CL: What power!

FH: What a show-off!

CL: The blood flow to-

FH: I know, but it's still showing off!

[Daniels leans back, springboards his victim off the top rope and...
from the outside, Chance Holiday pulls on the President's foot!
Daniels looses his balance, and he lands flat on his back, Freeman
crashing right on top of him!  The ref slides in for the pin...]


!!! ONE !!!


CL: Holiday's holding down Danny's legs!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Daniels can't kick out!


!!! THREE !!!


FH: Serves you right, Mr. President!  That's karma for stealing
paychecks!  That's just what happens when you interfere in Chance
Holiday's business!

CL: Neither Freeman nor the referee saw what Holiday did!

FH: Your Mega-Prospect did, and did he lift a finger to stop it?

CL: This is just outrageous!

[His task accomplished, the Shadow Stalker retreats back up the aisle,
smirking with self-satisfaction, walking by Supreme Wright again...
who still hasn't left the comfort of the chair he set in the middle of
the aisle.]

The Voice:  Here is your winner... "Subzero" ADRIAN FREEMAN!

[The referee raises Freeman's hand as Daniels rolls out of the ring
and up the aisle, still stunned by the turn of events, still unsure of
what exactly transpired.]

CL: Well, it goes down as a victory in the record books.  I may not
like it, but this is the biggest victory in Adrian Freeman's young PVW
career.

FH: You are looking at a future champion right there, Chip.

CL: Who Supreme Wright?

FH: FREEMAN!  I am surprised that Wright can even sit up straight
after having his head smashed with that urn earlier.  Where is Heath
Dawson to protect poor little, Supreme.

[Inside the ring, Freeman turns his attention up the aisle, where he
spots Supreme Wright, slow clapping his performance. The Australian
grabs a microphone, calling out to his foe...]

AF: Well, it looks like I have a new number one fan.

[Wright seems bemused by the callout, and gives him a thumbs up.]

AF: That's right, applaud away.  If you looked closely, maybe you
could learn a thing or two about technical wrestling.  But I don't
think that's why you're out there.  Ever since you and I stole the
show -- well, mostly it was me, but I'll give you partial credit --
people have been asking about a rematch.  The brass wants a rematch.
The fans want a rematch.  I know you want a rematch.

[Wright nods.]

AF: Well too bad.  That chair right there is the closest you're going
to come to being in the ring with me again.

[Heel pop! Wright's eyes narrow in anger as he stands up out of his
chair and makes his way down to the ring, drawing cheers from the
crowd as they anticipate a fight. Supreme is handed a microphone as he
enters the ring and he strolls up to Freeman, staring the Australian
right in the eye.]

SW: Do you mind repeating what you just said?

AF: You already had a chance to beat me, and you proved you couldn't
do it.  Listen, Supes... I'm on a road right to the top, and I don't
have time to spend months playing patty-cake with a small-pond star
like yourself in the opening match.  You were lucky to get one shot at
me.  Don't press that luck.

[Supreme drops his head and chuckles.]

SW: I thought after what happened at Boiling Point, you'd be ready for
another match...I thought you'd want to settle once and for all who
the better man is...but it looks like I had you all wrong. I got you
all shook up and the fact is...

[A cruel, mocking smile forms on Supreme's face as he leans in close,
taunting Freeman.]

SW: ...you're scared!

[Face pop! Freeman looks around angrily, shaking his head, venemently
denying it.]

AF: Scared?  This isn't the playground, you know... I just have better
things to do with my time than waste it on you.  Why, as if I'd be
scared of such a... such a...

[Obviously flustered, Freeman has trouble coming up with an insult on
the spot.  A group of fans in the front row begin making loud clucking
noises.  He turns to shout at them as Supreme shakes his head at
Freeman.]

SW: Mr. Freeman, right now all I'm hearing from you is a bunch of
excuses and not the answer that I want. If you won't GIVE me the
rematch...then I suppose I might just have to use a more "direct"
approach.

[And with that, Wright tosses the microphone aside and advances upon
Freeman, drawing a roar from the bloodthirsty crowd. Freeman quickly
holds his hands up, imploring Wright to calm down.]

AF: Whoa, whoa, whoa, let's not be so hasty...  Listen, MISTER Wright.
I don't want to fight you again.  Been there, done that, got the T-
shirt.  But I also don't want to have to listen to you prattle on and
say patently untrue things about me after every one of my matches.  So
let's be civil about it.  Let's compromise.

[The crowd mutters, confused.]

AF: I could maybe give you a rematch... but you'd have to EARN it.

[Freeman stares at Wright, trying to read his face for any sign of
danger, as the "Mega Prospect" contemplates Freeman's words. After a
moment, Wright picks up his discarded microphone off the canvas.]

SW: You want me to prove myself? You think I have to "earn" a rematch?

[Freeman nods, drawing Wright's ire.]

SW: Are you out of your dam-

[Freeman cuts him off.]

AF: This is the only way! Lay a finger on me now and you get nothing.
So do we have a deal or not?

[Wright hesitates for a moment, before reluctantly nodding his head.]

SW: Yeah...we got a deal.

AF: Since this is a gross imposition on my rise up the ranks, you'd
have to make it up to me somehow...  Hmmm...

[Freeman taps his chin, as if deep in thought.]

AF: Well, I'm sure I'll come up with something. You'll just have to
wait and see.

[And with that, Freeman drops the microphone and rolls out of the
ring, leaving behind an uncertain looking Supreme Wright.]

CL: Wow ... I am not sure that Supreme Wright should have to rise up
the ranks just to _earn_ a rematch with Adrian Freeman.  Both, Freeman
and Wright entered the PVW at the same time.

FH: You obviously know nothing about this industry, Chip.

CL: Please enlighten us then.

FH: You have the guys who fill in time slots like, Supreme Wright.
They know how to wrestle ... but, they lack that superstar quality.
Then, you have guys like Adrian Freeman ... The full package.  He has
the _it_ factor to become a champion.  He has already wasted enough
time by giving Wright a match on a PPV never the less.  It's time for
him to move on.

CL: Supreme Wright is one of the hottest up and coming young
superstars in this industry.  How can you even --

[Fred cuts Chip off.]

FH: He sucks ... plain and simple.  He isn't in Adrian Freeman's
league.

CL: Well, I guess we will find out.  Supreme Wright will wrestle
anyone and he will "earn" that rematch.

FH: He better ... otherwise he might have to come sit in a chair every
time Freeman wrestles.

CL: Folks, now that Boiling Point II has come and passed.  We are
Vegas bound ... PVW, will return to the Sin City for Shattered Dreams
II.

FH: Man ... I can get in a lot of trouble in Vegas.  Hopefully,
Daniels doesn't take away our pay for that night ... otherwise half
the roster will be in trouble.

CL: As long as it's for a good cause ... I won't complain.

FH: No, but your wife might.

CL: This year ... PVW introduces for the first time ever.  A thirty
man rumble.  With the winner receiving the highly coveted PVW World
Title Shot in our return to Phoenix, Rise From the Ashes III.

FH: So many names to choose ... but, really in the end it doesn't
matter.  They will lose to Gibson Hayes.

CL: If, Gibson Hayes has the title still.

FH: Who is going to beat him?  Sinister?  Senor Cloak Dos?  AsH?  Give
me a break, Chip!

CL: All three could beat him ... but, at this point we don't know who
will be challenging Gibson Hayes at Shattered Dreams.

FH: Whoever does has a better chance at winning that thirty man rumble
then beating Gibson Hayes.

CL: It will be interesting to see how the next few months shape out
and where all these new pieces fit into things.  _THIS_ is the cycle
where quite literally anyone can raise that ladder.

FH: Not, Supreme Wright, we already discussed this.

CL: Supreme Wright has had a lot of success in Vegas.  I would think
in three months we might be talking about him as one of the favorites.

FH: Whoa ... Way to go out on a limb there, Chip.

[Suddenly "Son de Mi Tierra" by Mariachi Vargas de Tecalitlan (check
it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9w4BH7Ix_NI) plays over the
PA and the fans.. JUMP TO THEIR FEET!]

FH: Why do people like, Sinister and Senor Cloak Dos continue to
interrupt us!?! Isn't he supposed to be dead?  I mean...Black clearly
killed him at Boiling Point.

CL: Senor Cloak Dos won that match, Fred!  He killed the demon and did
what everyone was praying he'd do...

FH: I like the way I remember it better: Senor Cloak Dos left lying
and bawling like he was looking for Caleb Foley's dad.

[A masked man walks out from behind the curtains. He has black tights
with cherry colored boots and wrist tape. He has a black luchadore
mask that covers his entire head with cherry colored eye visors that
prevent us from seeing his eyes. He also has a cherry colored "SCII"
on his forehead. Senor Cloak Dos is walking out to the ring and the
fans are going wild!]

CL: Huge ovation for one of the few bright spots for the fan favorites
at Boiling Point...

FH: Does he even speak English?  I mean really speak English?

CL: Would you stop?  He's been doing interviews since his arrival here
in PVW.

FH: I can't seem to recall anything other than some Speedy Gonzales
noises and a squishing noise.

CL: You're disgusting, you know that, right?

FH: Announcer of the Year, disgusting.

[Dos gives out high fives and accepts embraces from fans as he makes
his way towards the ring. He touches his masked head to the masked
heads of younger fans at ringside wearing replica masks. When the
luchadore gets to ringside he makes his way towards Herk Douglas,
shakes The Voice's hand then asks for a microphone. Douglas gives him
one and Cloak thanks him and climbs into the ring with the
microphone.]

FH: Five bucks says he mentions that little girl and starts to cry.

CL: You need to stop.

[Dos looks out at the crowd..]

Crowd: DOS! DOS! DOS! DOS! DOS!

[Then shakes his head a bit then lifts the microphone to his masked
face.]

SCD: Gracias, amigos! Thank you for the nice welcome but mi amigos.. I
do not deserve it!

[WHA? Pop]

SCD: I do not deserve it, uno, because without all of YOU..

[Dos points to the fans who.. POP FOR THEMSELVES!]

SCD: I would have had no chance in gaining justice for our little
amiga!

[Cloak does a quick sign of the cross.]

SCD: It is only thanks to all of you and your support that we were
able to overcome Senor Black! On my own I never could have won against
Senor Black, he is too great a fighter. But because you were all on my
side.. We did it!

[BIG POP]

FH: So...it was a handicap match!  I knew that little runt cheated his
way to a win against Black!  No way could he beat him fair and square!
CL: Sometimes I wonder what color the sky is in the world where you
live.

SCD: But amigos.. There is another reason I do not deserve your warm
welcome.

[Dos looks down for a moment before continuing on.]

SCD: I failed mi amigo, AsH. When he needed me most, I was unable to
save him. I failed my friend who took the time to help me out time and
time again. Whenever I needed help there was Senor AsH and Padre Sin.
Always, without fail, they saved me too many times to count. But I, in
return, have failed them.

[The luchadore shakes his head and hangs his head sadly for a while.]

CL: What in the world could he mean?
FH: You heard him!  He's a big fraud!  Check his Green Card!  Deport!
Deport!  Deport!

[Dos finally looks up.]

SCD: Senor AsH, I have already asked for your forgiveness.. And I know
what you said to me.. But now it is time for me to live up to the
words that I told you.. I will seek justice against HOPE!

[WOAH! GOING AFTER HOPE POP]

FH: Never mind...

CL: WHERE?!?!?

FH: Shut up, Lester...that's my gag.  If this pipsqueak is going after
HOPE, we don't need to deport him...we just need a spatula and a baggy
to dispose of his remains...

SCD: HOPE.. I may appear to be one little man in a mask but I have
many friends! Not just comrades in arms in the back but more
importantly.. ALL OF THEM!

[Dos points to the crowd who.. GO NUTS POPPING FOR THEMSELVES!]

SCD: So I do not go into this alone! Together let us-

[The lights suddenly cut out.]

FH: Did we forget to pay the electric bill again?

CL: I don't know...

Tha-Thump

Tha-Thump

Tha-Thump

Voice: Do you fear the dark?

CL: Oh no!

FH: YES!  He's not gonna get to see HOPE!  Spectre's gonna kill his
little butt right here and now!  Adios, and Sayonara, amigo!

[PVW's goth madman pauses at the entryway as the crowd comes to their
feet, full throated in their disapproval of The Spectre's appearance.
Wearing a tattered black trench coat, black cutoff jean sorts, a black
sleeveless t shirt and a pair of Doc Marten combat boots, he pauses,
then stalks down the aisle towards the ring, where Senor Cloak Dos
takes a big gulp then a deep breath and then gets into a stance, ready
for trouble! Spectre slides under the bottom rope and comes to his
feet, pulling a wireless mic out of his right pocket and looking down
at the luchadore.]

Spectre: We're sorry, little luchadore...we were almost certain that
our ears were playing tricks on us.  You see, we could have sworn we
just heard that you intended to declare war on HOPE...to act as PVW's
savior against its influence...

[The crowd roars in approval of the idea as SCD takes another deep
breath then nods his head as Spectre looks around at the crowd, his
face a calm mask.]

Spectre: You see...we know that this cannot be the case.  The
individual that stands against HOPE will need to be strong.  That
person will need to be resolute.  That person will need to be
fearsome.  That person will need to be an avatar of destruction, able
to make the members of that organization fear for their safety...for
their very lives.
And your proposal is for that savior to be...

[Spectre steps closer, leaning down and putting his face inches from
Senor Cloak Dos's, only the mic separating them...]

Spectre: You?

[Dos looks down at the canvas for a moment then looks up at the
scariest man in PVW.]

SCD: I do not propose to be a savior of any kind, Senor Spectre. I
have given mi amigo, Senor AsH, my word that I will seek justice for
him against HOPE.

[Spectre shakes his head slowly.]

Spectre: Poor little delusional luchadore.  We feel for you...but in
your time here you've been weighed, measured and found wanting.

[The crowd erupts in boos.]

Spectre: How do you propose to save PVW from what HOPE will do to it?
Thus far you've let down these fans that mean so much to you.  You've
let down yourself in that match against Friend Black...

[Spectre looks at him, an evil half grin playing at the corners of his
mouth.]

Spectre: You failed that child that you professed to care so much
about.

[MASSIVE round of boos as SCD sighs and hangs his masked head sadly.
Spectre looks around at the crowd, his expression still calm as he
turns back to look closely at the smaller man.]

Spectre: There there, little one.  No need to succumb to
despair...perhaps you WILL be the savior that leads the charge against
HOPE...we hope to see it happen as well, for what place has done as
much for us as this?

[Spectre looks down at the smaller man and nods, a sinister smile
spreading on his features.]

Spectre: Yes, little luchadore...it has been decided: We will assist
you in your endeavor.

CL: That doesn't sound good.

FH: For anyone...

Spectre: We will MAKE you worthy of the role to which you aspire.  We
will see you put through a crucible the likes of which you've never
contemplated in your wildest nightmares.  You will become that which
you crave...or you will be broken in the process.

[Cloak shakes his head and wags his finger a bit but the Goth Madman
continues.]

Spectre: We would term it as an offer, but there is no turning down
our instruction.  Weather the storm as you will.  This organization
requires a savior, a role for which we are uniquely unsuited...but
once you've been remade...Reborn...

You can teach HOPE to fear the dark...

[With a smile and nod, Spectre drops his mic and exits the ring,
heading towards the back as the stunned crowd jeers and boos his
retreating form. Senor Cloak Dos takes a long sigh and watches the
goth madman walk to the back. The luchadore runs his hand over his
masked head and then climbs out of the ring, hands the microphone back
to Herk Douglas and then makes his way to the back, giving high fives
to fans along the way with a nervousness.

We cut backstage, to where the camera is following... Preston
Winfield?

Yes, it is Preston.  Dressed in the latest Tiger Woods looking golf
shirt and dress pants ...  The man in charge around here... well,
besides Danny Daniels, obviously... is looking unhappy as he heads to
a door.

Walking inside, we can see that this is one of the common-area locker
rooms.  Several wrestlers are here, gearing up for their matches, or
unwinding after them, as the case may be.  All take notice as Winfield
comes in; all interested to see who the head "producer" has come here
for.

Preston goes to the opposite corner, where Masked Maniac, One-Eyed
Willy, and a young black-haired wrestler with bad teeth, a dusky skin
tone, and Union Jack trunks are seated.  The enhancement talent looks
up at Winfield, and immediately straighten up.]

PW: Alright.  I just got word; Johnny Detson has not been medically
cleared to compete.  I need an opponent for Tom Landis.

[All three men immediately raise their hands and shout "Pick Me!  Pick
Me!".]

PW: Maniac, you've already wrestled.  Your dark match... didn't go
well.  The doctors suspect that you have a concussion.

MM: Nuh-uh!

PW: Nevermind dropped the ring barricade on your head.  Look, how many
fingers am I holding up?

[Preston holds up two fingers; his index finger and his middle
finger.]

MM: That's a trick question!  All three of those are thumbs!

PW: Moving on!  Willy... this is a TV match.  I... need a more
competitive opponent than you.

[The lifelong 'jobber' sulks a bit.]

1EW: What're you talking about?  I beat Marcus Manson last week!

PW: By disqualification.  Because you backed into his truck in the
parking lot.  And he almost beat you to death with a tire iron.
That's... not winning, Willy.  That's being a victim.  And while that
sort of thing is not necessarily bad for ratings, I don't think Tom
Landis is going to show that kind of verve tonight.

1EW: I could go out and back into his truck!  I mean, for a Heatwave
check?

PW: Forget it.  That leaves... you, what was your name again?

[The guy with the buck teeth seems confused.]

MM: Oh, uh, Curt is a little slow.

PW: Right, right, I remember now.  The guy who had the tryout match
tonight.  You, uh, play a nice tambourine.

MM: Hey, watch what you say about his tambourine.  He says he's a
member of the Hong Kong Triad Syndicate up in Wales!

PW: So... right.  That means I'm down to the last option.

[All three 'enhancement' wrestlers look at Preston incredulously.]

MM: Aw, you can't mean... him.

1EW: Haven't you heard the stories, Mr. Winfield?  I mean, wasn't he
the guy who...

PW: Yes, yes, he has a bad reputation from Los Angeles.  But he can
wrestle... and I have to say, guys, he's definitely better at it than
at least the non-masked members of the contingent.

MM: I was a TV Champ, Preston!  I can wrestle with a concussion!  I
wrestled with a broken arm, didn't I?

PW: Enough.

[Preston goes over about fifteen feet to the left, to the one person
in the locker room around whom is a lot of empty space.  He has short
brown hair, in a nothing-fancy straight style.  He's good-sized, at
maybe six-five, but with a pretty average "wrestler's" build.  He is
wearing plain forest-green wrestling trunks, knee pads, wristbands,
and boots.]

PW: Kevin Quartermann.

[The man answers with a nod.]

KQ: So we're all a little desperate tonight.

PW: Kevin, it has been a long time since you've been in a wrestling
ring.  You got yourself the worst kind of reputation during your stint
in Los Angeles.  Unprofessional... unlikable... disrespectful... the
locker room hated you...

KQ: Yeah.  I know.

PW: You came here asking for an opportunity.  Most wouldn't have given
you one, but Mr. Willingham gave me a call.  He reminded me that this
is the land of the Phoenix.  We do second chances here.  And you've
come every night dressed to work, waiting for an opportunity.
Patiently.  So you've earned one.  You've got Tom Landis tonight.  I
hope you're ready.

KQ: Ready has nothin' to do with it, Mr. Winfield.

PW: Oh?

KQ: 'Ready' is what ya need to be when you're fightin' for a livin'.
Or fightin' for honor, or for glory, or for kicks and giggles.  No,
no, no... I ain't fightin' for any of those things.

I'm fightin' for my LIFE, Winfield.  I'm not 'ready', I'm 'desperate'.

So... ready or not, here I come.

[With that, Quartermann stands, and exits the screen.]

PW: *sigh* Desperate times, indeed.

[And we cut back to the booth.]

FH: We signed Kevin Quartermann?

CL: No, we haven't.  Quartermann was last seen wrestling in the later
days of the Los Angeles promotion before its closure.  He always
showed flashes of potential, but he sabotaged his own career by being
a miserable paranoid wreck both in and out of the ring.  No promoter
would touch him with a ten foot pole after that... missed dates, lack
of respect, and a whole host of psychological problems.

FH: But guys like William Craven, Rob Cole, and The Spectre have no
problem finding work?  "Psychological issues" nothing, he was
blackballed.  Probably a petty grudge held by some rotten promoter.

CL: No, no... it isn't the same thing.  Quartermann was very
unreliable and self-destructive, so he fell out of the sport for some
time.  The negative reputation was quite justified; he won't be able
to get away with that sort of behaviour around here with the likes of
Sinister policing the locker room.  Anyway, we'll see him get another
opportunity later on tonight, though it will be a difficult task to
say the least against Tom Landis.

[The fans are heard to react in the background.  A pretty tame
reaction, all-in-all.  Quartermann is arriving at ringside and
entering the ring... no theme music, no 'entrance' at all.  Being a
non-roster substitute, he has none of those things.  But some of the
fans recognize him and react in surprise.]

FH: Well, it's sad that Johnny Detson isn't medically cleared.  I was
really looking forward to this match.

CL: Yes, a match between Johnny Detson and Tom Landis would have been
an outstanding contest.

FH: Ha ha, no, I mean I was looking forward to Detson getting back on
track with an easy win after the Boiling Point debacle.

CL: Please.  Landis looking to throw his name back in championship
contention with a win here... let's go up to the ring.



HD: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SET FOR ONE FALL,
AND A FIFTEEN MINUTE TIME LIMIT.

INTRODUCING FIRST, IN THE RING... REPLACING THE INJURED JOHNNY DETSON
THIS EVENING... FROM ATHENS, GEORGIA... WEIGHING TWO-HUNDRED SIXTY-
THREE POUNDS...

   ...KEVIN QUARTERMANN!

[Quartermann remains stoic, keeping his eyes and ears on his business
rather than the crowd.  His expression is fairly casual, as he's
obviously trying to stay 'loose' rather than think about the
consequences of the match.  The fans give a moderate reaction.

The reaction gets much larger when "You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell
hits.  The crowd cheers strongly as the lights dim, and the arena
lighting casts a subtle cast of red
light over the arena.  The entrance is similarly bathed in the red hue
as the voice of Chris Cornell comes in.]

# If you take a life, do you know what you'll give
# Odds are, you won't like what it is
# When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me
# By the merciless eyes I've deceived

[As the lyrics go on, the commentators speak.]

CL: And these fans love Tom Landis!  Landis has been through highs and
lows in PVW, but he is one of the most resilient men in the sport
today!  And he is bouncing right back to make another run at PVW gold,
Fred Hoyle.

[And after a few seconds, a figure emerges through the portal to
standin the midst of the red light.  He stands, frozen there as the
spotlights begin to pulse around him.]

# I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
# But you yourself are nothing so divine
# Just next in line

FH: The only way Landis is going to get any more gold in PVW is
dependent on what he replaces his teeth with, should he face a man
like, say, The Spectre!

[And as the chorus hits, the lights come on in blindingly full force
to reveal "Hellraiser" Tom Landis standing there.  He's dressed for
combat, wearing full length black tights with a silver and red design
running up the legs, and "Hellraiser" written on the seat of the
pants.  He's also wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt with the "ACW"
logo on it.  Tom begins to walk down the aisle towards the ring.]

# Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
# The odds will betray you
# And I will replace you

CL: But Landis has beaten the Spectre!

FH: ... DAMMIT!  Why did you remind me!

CL: And Gibson Hayes, for that matter.  In fact, when you go down the
list of men Tom Landis has defeated, it reads like a who's who of PVW!
And while he won't get an opportunity to add Johnny Detson to that
list tonight, Fred, you can't deny that Landis' PVW track record gives
him a lot of clout with the Championship Committee.  And tonight, he's
going to get an opportunity to make a big statement.

[As Landis arrives at ringside, he circles the ring, slapping hands
with the fans.  As he does, Herk Douglas gives the intro:]

HD: AND HIS OPPONENT, ENTERING THE RINGSIDE AREA... FROM CHICAGO,
ILLINOIS... WEIGHING TWO-HUNDRED FOURTY-ONE POUNDS...

   ..."H E L L R A I S E R"  T O M   L A N D I S  ! !

[As he gets up on the apron, Tom wipes his feet on the mat before
climbing into the ring as the cheers crescendo!  He takes to the
middle turnbuckle, raising his arms to the crowd.  After this, he
removes the t-shirt and proceeds to his corner as the music fades.]

FH: I would like to personally apologize to every fan in America for
this match's glaring lack of Johnny Detson.

CL: One hundred turnbuckle smashes is a sure concussion.  He's frankly
justified to miss a week of action.

FH: I apologize for that happening, too.


=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Tom Landis v. Kevin Quatermann

=========================================



CL: Alright, collar-and-elbow tieup.  Quartermann and Landis jockeying
for position, and the larger Quartermann backing down Landis... nice
hip lock takeover by Landis!  And an armdrag as Quartermann rises!
And anoth... no!

[Landis' armdrag is countered by Quartermann simply going to a knee.
Landis, unable to whip his opponent over with the altered center of
gravity, falls on his ass.  Since Quartermann is already in position
for it, he applies an armbar.]

FH: Smart counter.  QUartermann's probably rustier than a Los Angeles
trash barge, but his key attribute was always his intelligence.  He's
got a genius IQ, and he uses that as his primary weapon.

CL: Often at the expense of the rules, it must be said.  But this was
totally legal, and a now-embarrassed Landis getting to his feet.
Quartermann shifting to a standing wristlock... wrenches the arm and
goes behind for a hammerlock!  Nice chain wrestling.  Landis flips him
over with a snapmare to escape.  Tom Landis off the ropes... and
ducking a clothesline attempt by Quartermann!

FH: Just watch.  Quartermann's setting him up with this clean
wrestling crap.  He'll clobber him with a weapon when Landis least
suspects it.

CL: Leapfrog by Quartermann over the charging Landis!  Drops down in
front, Landis jumps him and keeps running... high cross body by
Landis, but Quartermann rolls through with a three-quarter cradle!

ONE!

FH: Not gonna pin a guy that early!  Come on, Kevin, are you THAT
rusty?

CL: But you make him expend energy.  Landis up fighting, and he throws
a combination at Quartermann, who is covering up boxing-style.
Haymaker... caught and countered into a hip toss by Quartermann.
Landis kips right back up... AND FLATTENS KEVIN QUARTERMANN WITH A
SWIFT DROPKICK!

FH: ugh.  Landis is hustlng out there, I gotta give him that.

CL: Quartermann back up... ANOTHER DROPKICK!  Knocking the Georgian
down a second time.  And ag... no!  Quartermann rolled towards Landis
and took a single leg pickup as he stood!

FH: Ha!  Landis can't dropkick him now!

CL: But he can... ENZUIGIRI... DUCKED!  Quartermann predicted that
move!  He set Landis up knowing what he would do, and capitalized!

FH: That's that intelligence we were talking about.  Then again,
outsmarting Tom Landis is kinda like outrunning Christopher Reeve.

CL: Fred, the man passed away!  You need someone else for your
insensitive disability jokes!

FH: No, it just makes my comparison more apropos.

[As the banter goes on, Quartermann kicks Landis across the ring with
a boot to the ribs as the "Hellraiser" tries to stand.  Landis
scampers up, and Quartermann turns his back and walks to the opposite
side of the ring, spreading his arms to the crowd.  Landis runs at
him... Quartermann turns and ducks, but Landis isn't falling for
that.]

CL: Quartermann tried to backdrop Landis over the ropes, but the
veteran slides between his legs and pops him with an uppercut!

FH: Dumb as he is, Landis has instincts.

CL: The "Hellraiser" gets up, hooks Quartermann... brilliant vertical
suplex!  Tom landis in control now, and Quartermann slides out
underneath the bootom rope for a breather!

FH: Or not!  He pulled Landis out after him!

CL: Kevin Quartermann slides back in after tripping Landis and
dragging him under the bottom rope!  What was the point of that?

FH: I don't know.  Kevin's a bit unstable, but there's always a reason
for the things he does.

CL: Landis jumps back in, and he's going after Quartermann!  Right
hand by Landis, and Quartermann with a kick to the abdomen.  Now
rights and lefts by Kevin Quartermann, all to the body!  He's got a
size advantage on the veteran from Chicago, so brawling may be a
useful tactic for him.

FH: Brawling is ALWAYS a useful tactic, Chip.  Unless you're so
outsized that you don't belong in there with a man, knuckling up and
bashing his face in is never a bad call.  That's how real men fight.

CL: Quartermann with a side headlock, and a takedown.  Nicely done,
and pressing the shoulder down!

ONE!

CL: Landis powers up, and Quartermann uses his weight advantage to
press him back down!

ONE!

FH: What's he trying to prove?  Even Landis wouldn't be in danger from
this!

ONE!

CL: No, but he's expending a lot of energy as he has to push out from
underneath Quartermann each time.  Landis slips his knees underneath
him, and pushing his way back to his feet.  Lifts... AND A BIG BACK
SUPLEX TAKES QUARTERMANN DOWN HARD!

FH: Kevin's not landing big enough moves... everything he's doing is
too passive.  What gives?

CL: Landis up, and off the ropes... big elbow drop!  Now he's got
momentum back on his side!  Lifting up Quartermann... and an Irish-
whip... reversed!

FH: Come on, Quartermann, stop with the drop-downs and do something
painful!

CL: Landis again jumping Quartermann and off the ropes... leapfrog by
Kevin... off the ropes again and a beautiful spinning heel kick by
Landis!  Quartermann slides all the way outside, and he is hurt!

FH: The ring rust is obvious, though.  If Johnny Detson were here, he
would have won this match twice already.

CL: He's not, so get over it.  Landis rushes after Quartermann to push
the pace, and not give him time to recover!  Big chop by Landis, and
rams him into... no!  Quartermann blocks, and he sends Landis into the
ring apron instead!

FH: Finally!  Use the post, or a chair!

CL: Quartermann... what is he...

[The Athenian native grabs Landis' wrist for an Irish-Whip... but is
standing right next to the apron.  So when he whips Landis, the
"Hellraiser" collides with the apron immediately, his abdomen hitting
the apron edge!]

FH: That'll take the wind right out of you!  Now follow up with the
concrete floor!

CL: No, Quartermann sending Landis back into the ring and following
him in.  Kevin Quartermann lifting up Tom landis... gutbuster!
Planting the veteran, and now Quartermann is going up to the top rope!
This isn't ordinarily part of his arsenal!

FH: I dunno, maybe he learned flippy crap when he was, uh, doing
whatever he was doing these past few years.

CL: Landis recovers, and runs right up the ropes after him!

[The fans cheer as Landis jumps up on the second rope, punching
Quartermann.  He starts to set up a superplex on his opponent, who is
now seated on the top turnbuckle... but Quartermann shoves him off the
ropes.  Landis climbs back up... and Quartermann shoves him back down.
And again!  Frustrated, Landis jumps up on the second strand, and
springboards into a dropkick on his vulnerable foe!  The maneuver
elicits a loud reaction from the crowd!]

CL: SPECTACULAR!

FH: But not all that effective... Quartermann had his guard up!  He
blocked!

CL: It still knocked him from the ropes onto the apron!  Kevin
Quartermann is reeling, and Tom Landis grabs him!  Hooks him... and
suplexes him back into the ring the hard way!

FH: Johnny Detson would have countered that into a Peruvian Half-
Nelson Spinecrusher and pinned him for an eleven count.

CL: No.  Landis with the reverse chinlock... no, Quartermann gets out
of that immediately!  Stands up and starts punching away at Landis!
Combinations, lefts and rights... Landis is reeling!

FH: Here we go!  This is what I was waiting for!  Aggression!

CL: Quartermann whips Landis to the turnbuckles!  Follows in, boot to
the ribs!  Now whips him opposite side!  But Landis bounds out of the
corner and catches Quartermann coming in with a huge flying forearm!

FH: You can bounce Landis like that by throwing him into any hard
surface.  That's one of the few reasons Tara Marshall married him, I
hear.  That, the money, she wanted to be the man of the house while
still being straight, and she was drunk.

CL: Landis pulls up Quartermann into a seated position... beautiful
rolling neck snap!  Quartermann is in trouble again!  Landis hooking
the ankles... no, Quartermann kicks him off immediately!  Every time
Landis goes for a hold, Quartermann reacts frantically!

FH: True.  Huh... I wonder.

CL: Quartermann up, and Landis nails him with a jumping knee!  Tom
Landis has been the aggressor all match.  Bending Quartermann over...
crossing the arms... double-leg takedown by Quartermann to block the
crossed-arm powerbomb!  And he hooks the legs in a doubleleg pin
combination!

FH: Use the ropes!

ONE!





TWO!

CL: Landis kicks out at two, and Quartermann staying on top of him.
Punching him in the midsection!

FH: He blew a golden opportunity... the ropes were right behind him!
He could have put his foot on them and got that extra count!

CL: Both men up, and throwing!  Landis battering Quartermann back into
the corner!  Grabs the wrists... monkey-flips him out!  Landis up and
over with a chinlock... again, Quartermann shoves away immediately!
Avoiding holds seems to be part of his strategy, whatever that is.

FH: You know... I think I get it, Chip.  I see what Quartermann's
doing.  He's trying to tire him out.  Tom Landis has been rehabbing
injuries a lot lately.  You can't do a lot of cardio when you're
rehabbing injuries.

CL: Quartermann up, and Landis with the drop toe-hold... no!
Quartermann steps over it, and kicks Landis in the midsection!  Waving
Landis up with fists clenched, and Tom is ready for the challenge!
Both men exchanging blows!

FH: But Quartermann keeps backpedaling and moving.  That's what he's
doing!  He's trying to wear out Tom Landis!

CL: Landis ducks a haymaker, shoots in, and Russian legsweeps
Quartermann!  Floats over for the cover!

ONE!

CL: But Quartermann grabs his leg and pulls him over, reversing the
pin!

ONE!

CL: Landis kicks out easily, but... you're right Fred.  Now that I
think about it, everything Quartermann has done has forced Landis to
either run and move or shove Quartermann off of him... often without
Quartermann having to exert as much energy!  Shoving him off the top
rope repeatedly, the Irish-Whips... surely, Landis has to recognize
what is happening.

FH: That's why he keeps going for sissy holds like chinlocks.

CL: Landis with the headlock... Quartermann fires him right off,
pushing him into the ropes!  And leapfrogging him as he comes off.
Landis with a head of steam... puts on the brakes as Quartermann
dropped down!  And a big leg drop to Kevin Quartermann!

FH: Even Landis won't fall for the same thing forever.

CL: Landis picking Quartermann up... suplex position.  IS HE GOING FOR
THE CHICAGO THUNDERBOMB?!

[The fans cheer as it sets up that way... but stop as Quartermann
floats over the back, grabbing Landis' waist as he falls, and rolling
him into a reverse cradle pin!]

ONE!





TWO!


CL: Landis reverses!


ONE!


FH: Quartermann re-reverses!  Use the tights, Kevin!


ONE!




TWO!


CL: Landis kicked out!  Quartermann kept it clean, and you can see
that his strategy is working.  Landis is moving slower, and taking
longer to kick out of the flash roll-ups.  Landis getting back up....



CL: ...WHAT WAS THAT?!

[That was Quartermann, who was basically standing after the last
kickout, hooking a slowly-rising Landis' head between his legs in a
piledriver position... but instead of lifting him or grabbing and
hooking anything, he dropped straight to his knees, slamming Landis'
head straight to the mat with Quartermann's weight behind it!]

FH: THAT WAS THE _NOSE DIVE_!  OUT OF NOWHERE!

CL: Quartermann hooks the leg...


ONE!






TWO!






THREE!


CL: ...AND GETS THE UPSET!  I DON'T BELIEVE IT!



FH: Landis was too slow!  Quartermann tired him out and planted him
with his finisher!

[The fans react with a shocked mixed blend of noises, as Quartermann
stands and raises his hand.  Landis, being knocked semiconscious with
the Nose Dive, just sort of stares upward in disbelief and pain.]

CL: Tom Landis got almost all of the big offense... but Quartermann
managed to keep him from pacing himself, and because of that he got
caught.  That really WAS ingenious.  Let's get the official word!

HD: THE WINNER OF THE MATCH...

   ...KEVIN QUARTERMANN!

CL: And it was as clean as a whistle, Fred.

FH: Yeah... what happened?!  The Quartermann I knew would have used
the ropes, pulled the tights, hit Landis with things... all in pursuit
of that strategy still, but he had a lot of opportunities to help
himself and he didn't take them.  Must be ring rust.

CL: Well... the Phoenix is all about second chances, so I guess
Quartermann just earned one in a big way.  It would be hard to justify
not offering him a contract after that win.  And for Tom Landis...
wow, that loss just brutalized his campaign to get into title
contention.

FH: To quote Tara Marshall: "Noone underperforms at critical moments
like Tom Landis."

CL: SHE DID NOT SAY THAT!

FH: No, but you can tell she's thinking it.

CL: You've been hanging around Sam Steeley too long.

FH: Who?

CL: Suuuuure, Fred.  Anyway, Kevin Quartermann with the upset win, and
the repercussions of this match will be felt for some time.

[Quartermann exits the ringside area, a smile finally playing across
his face.  In the ring, Landis (who is now recovering his senses after
being driven onto his head) pounds the mat in frustration and anger.]

FH: Johnny Detson would have won in twenty-one seconds by submission
with a body slam.

CL: Will you stop?!  Sometimes when doors seemed locked and shut ...
Unexpected opportunities arise and those doors have the slightest of
cracks.  Tonight, Kevin Quartermann finally found that crack.

FH: The question is ... Will the PVW grow to regret their decision?

CL: With the skeleton crew that we are traveling with ... I am not
sure there was much of a choice.  Who was going to go out there and
wrestle ... YOU?

FH: Back in my day ... I would have wrestled twice a night!  Heck,
even at this age I could of competed with TOM LANDIS!

CL: I'm ... not so sure about that, Fred.

FH: Not for free, however.

CL: Thankfully, Kevin Quatermann was waiting for that one opportunity.
I won't lie I am worried about being the one place that offered that
opportunity to Quartermann ... God knows we already have plenty of
wild cards backstage.   However, he came out and earned another shot.
I hope the PVW gives it to him.

FH: I am starting to get worried about, Johnny Detson.

[Backstage - surrounding Sir Tyler Holbridge are none other than the
members of HOPE. Gibson Hayes, Uncle Frank, Herscher von Donkerhardt
and Derek Weaver stand straight and unreptetant while Todd Johnstone
is still taking delight in just how much PVW hates him at the moment.
Holbridge looks to the camera.]

STH: Thank you Chip and Fred. As you may have observed I am in the
presence of the group of men collectively known as HOPE. To my right
is the Phoenix Valley Wrestling World Heavyweight champion Gibson
Hayes. Flanking him, on his right, is Phoenix Valley's Television
title holder Francis Knight. To my left is none other than the Phoenix
Valley American champion Herscher von Donkerhardt and flanking him is
the recent signee Derek Weaver. Along with this quartet is none other
than Todd Johnstone. Gentleman, to what do I owe this pleasure?

[Johnstone scoffs.]

TJ: The pleasure is all ours, Tyler. You see, rather than have to deal
with a biased nitwit like Dean "Hayes" we went to someone who would
not let silly sentimentality get in the way of holding a microphone.
You see, PVW, this group of four men is here to take you by the head
and shove you into the toilet known as life. You have all 3 singles
championships in this joint in one collective. As if that wasn't
enough, you have a man of Derek Weaver's caliber as the sentinel -
judging those who are worthy to even think of meeting the true
believer Frank Knight or the enforcer known as Herscher von
Donkerhardt, let alone the Standard, Gibson Hayes. But enough yapping
from me - take it away boys.

[Johnstone spits at Holbridge's feet but Sir Tyler mere turns to Uncle
Frank.]

STH: Francis, what are your feelings on the actions and words of one

Marcus Manson?

[The look on Frank's face, up until now the very picture of gleeful
joy, turns very much sour at the mention of that name.  With slightly
better microphones one could probably hear him grinding his teeth
together.  For a second it looks like he's about to go for Sir Tyler's
throat, but at the last second he stops himself, takes a deep breath
and is all smiles again.]

FK: Marcus Manson is a bad man.  A bad, bad, terrible, horrible man
who hurts people!

STH: Right, well, Mr. Manson does have a reputation as a dangerous
individual, but you yourself are...

[And Frank just keeps on speaking as if Sir Tyler had not interrupted
him.]

FK: He hurt the belt!  The shiny, shiny belt!  Do you know, Sir Tyler,
how much it hurts to have your skin rubbed raw and bloody with
sandpaper?

STH: I can't say I...

FK: Uncle Frank does.  It hurts.  A lot.  The belt never did anything
to Marcus Manson.  The belt never hurt anyone.  He didn't have to do
that to the belt.

STH: Now, really, an inanimate object...

FK: He did it to get at Uncle Frank.  Oh yes, he and Matthew Tiegs
planned it all.  Uncle Frank knows they did.  Uncle Frank knows THEY
were the ones who recruited Sinister and the Berserkers into their
Conspiracy of EVIL to stand in the way of HOPE on Shockwave!  Uncle
Frank knows they're guilty!  They're ALL guilty!  Guilty of working
against A Bright Future and A Better Tomorrow!  Guilty of causing
perhaps irrepairable damage an innocent!  It may never be the same
again, Sir Tyler!

STH: Now that's just silly, the PVW can simply order a new...

[Frank doesn't appear to be listening.  Instead he raises the
Television titlebelt, which has been held out of view of the camera so
far, up high for all to see, the result of Frank's labors plain for
all to see.  The belt itself, as seen on Shockwave, has been bandaged!
That's right.  The belt has had bandages wrapped around it to cover
the damaged spots and of course the metal and plexiglass displaycase,
first revealed on Shockwave as well, encases the section of the belt
with the golden plates, a padlock keeping the plexiglass lid shut and
the slits in the side allowing the leather strap to escape
confinement, making it possible to still wear the belt with the
portable "safe" still attached.]

FK: Well, Uncle Frank has taken steps, as you can see!  Uncle Frank
has taken all necessary steps to see that an innocent does not suffer
at the hands of evil men like Manson or Tiegs or anyone else in the
locker room.  But those are only the first steps.  Oh yes.  only the
first steps.

STH: And what would be next then?

[Frank suddenly looks at Sir Tyler instead of the camera, his voice
all full of friendly cheer.]

FK: Uncle Frank is glad you asked, Ty.  Do you mind if Uncle Frank
calls you Ty?  Uncle Frank considers you a good friend, Ty.

STH: Well, I'd prefer...

FK: Fantastic! The second step, Ty...

[And he looks straight at the camera.]

FK: ...is punishment.  It's the only way they will learn.  It's for
their own good.  They'll all say they're sorry.  They'll SCREAM
they're sorry!

[Pause, and now he's in full creepy grin mode.]

FK:  It'll be ever so much fun.  Trust your Uncle Frank.

[Holdbridge nods his head and turns to Weaver.]

STH: Mr. Weaver, you have a career marred by unsavory actions and a
plethora of opponents left nearly crippled or grievously
incapacitated; however you have always conducted yourself with a
strict adherence to a certain, how shall we say, decorum. What ever
could have been worth violating your own sense of competition?

[Derek, previously staring into nothing is snapped back to reality by
the microphone thrust in his face. He looks at it, then at Sir Tyler,
and towards the camera. He smacks his lips, as if just waking up and
his face goes slack of emotion]

DW: Before I answer your question, I want to know why you deign
yourself enough of an expert to ask me about my proclivities towards
hand to hand, one on one combat. I want to know what makes you think
that you can put me on the spot and accuse me of abandoning my
principles.

So tell me, Holdbridge. Have you watched every match in my career?

STH: Well, I did study tape and---

DW: So you saw the fear in the eyes of Nick Demola.

STH: Well, no, but...

DW: And you heard the doubt in the voice of Tommy Danger? Lazz
Sterling?

STH: Again, no, but---

DW: Surely, you must've been close enough to feel the shock and
despair when Sterling's brother squealed and his eye gave way,
covering me in intraocular fluid, blood and... tears.

STH: My God, no--

[Derek's hand comes up and grips the microphone and Sir Tyler's hand,
squeezes and knuckles and plastic can be heard popping over the air]

DW: Then don't sit there and TELL me that I went back on everything
I've ever stood for. Don't sit there and look down your nose at ME,
you little parrot. You come out here and just echo the questions that
the masses have. You don't take time to understand that their
ignorance is of no consequence. My actions speak for themselves.

[Derek looks at Johnstone and his lip curls in a sneer]

DW: But what I did, I did for a very good reason. The first condition
simply allowed me in the company. It allowed me the chance to get on
the stage and spread my message again.

STH: I'm-- I'm almost afraid to ask, but is this message the same?

DW: Does the truth ever change, child? Of course it's the same. The
world is a hard and brutal place. Those that cover themselves in the
false garb of righteousness, and piety, and goodness are performing
the greatest rouse ever known.

But those men and women who embrace the grey... the people who realize
that by turning the world to black and white have painted themselves
into the darkest corner available. They turn their back on their own
humanity and thereby become something worse.

They become the monster that they've so long labelled me.

I'm the last bastion of truth, Holdbridge. And how I choose to spread
that truth, whether it be at the expense of a match between
Donkerhardt and an outmatched, edited version of Fontana or ripping
every ligament in your leg... that's my business.

And you'd do well to remember that.

[Holdbrige visibly looks disturbed before working up the will to ask
his follow up question]

STH: But why, then, does such a notorious lone wolf join with these
men. Why would you, of anyone, join HOPE?

DW: Next question.

[Johnstone snaps to attention and immediately points to Weaver. Weaver
looks over to Johnstone and his jaw clamps down tight. He releases
Holdbridge's hands and clenches his right fist. The bones and tendons
pop in reaction]

Johnstone: SAY IT!

DW: Once.

Johnstone: SAY IT!

DW: Never again.

Johnstone: FINE! JUST SAY IT!

[Derek turns back to Holdbridge]

DW: [dripping with sarcasm] For a bright future and better tomorrow.

[Holdbridge nods, unfazed by the imminent danger. Instead, Tyler turns
to von Donkerhardt.]

STH: And you, Herscher, do you truly believe that holding onto your
championship is worth working with two men you do not know and two men
you yourself said "despised"?

HvD: Despised you say? I wouldn't say I despise them, I would say they
disgust me! These men I hold in complete contempt. Todd Johnstone is a
pig of a man and Gibson is the slimiest sneakiest person i have ever
had the displeasure of encountering.

STH: Then why did you align yourself with them?

HvD: I aligned with them for just those reasons. They are who they are
and they are successful at what they do. Look at Gibson in the past
few years you can count his losses on one hand. He has beaten all the
so called big names in PVW. He is the longest reigning PVW American
Champion in the titles history and he will no doubt go on to be the
longest reigning PVW World Champion. And then there's Todd Johnstone,
every time he opens that filthy mouth of his I feel violently ill from
pure disgust.

He is hateful, a weasel and absolutely despicable. Yes he has a proven
track record of success. Almost all of the men he has managed have
gone on to win titles and have successful careers. He has been the
manager of not one but two World Champions. He knows this business
better than anyone. He has led men to hold every title in PVW and now
he is the manager of all but the tag team champions. Todd and Gibson
know the secrets to the winning formula everyone in this business only
dream of discovering. Yes, I don't like the men, but i do appreciate
their results. I want to have Gibsons success and I want to keep the
title I have worked damn hard to retain.

STH: So you say you wanted success. Are you sure you didn't seek these
men out because you were afraid you couldn't beat Fontana in a match
in your own. Is it more likely you did it because you felt weak?

HvD: DON'T CALL ME WEAK! If I was weak it was because I made the
mistake of caring what the fans thought of me, I smiled i tried to be
an example of what the PVW should be. As they say i wore the white hat
and what did it get me? A target on my back and a neck injury that
nearly ended my career. I played by the rules and was made to look
like a fool by anyone who wanted the title i carry with me. The rules
weren't in my favor and they needed to change, so i found the men who
are the best at making their own rules. And no I wasn't afraid that i
would lose to Fontana. Fontana, as good as he is. Is still not my
match in the ring.

STH: No, you just needed help, is that right?

HvD: I didn't need anyone's help in defeating Fontana. I knew i was
going to beat him, i just wanted a little insurance policy in case he
tried something. Like i said before the rules weren't in my favor so i
decided to may my rules.

STH: I see... and now we come to the World Champion. Mr. Hayes, you
did not address your current foe - Chris Hartt. Do you have any
thoughts about your upcoming confrontation with Mr. Hartt?

[Hayes, dressed in his dark blue suit with white shirt and tie, lowers
the tinted sunglasses that were hiding his eyes.]

GH: Tyler, you ask me if I have any thoughts on Chris Hartt. You, ask
*ME* if I have any thoughts on Chris Hartt? What can I think of a man
who takes so much pride in having won a relic from PVW's past? What
can I think of a man who clings to his one moment in the sun like a
castaway struggling to keep his head above water. What should I think
of the man that I beat in the ring; a man who's defining moment I
ripped away from him. What do I think when I look at Chris Hartt? I
think of the look on he probably had on his face when I tore off the
Rising Phoenix Heritage championship place off that leather belt
Herscher wears and replaced it with the *MOST DIFFICULT* championship
to acquire in Phoenix Valley Wrestling history.

[Gibson opens his jacket and loosens his tie.]

GH: Hartt, you did not wear that belt with respect or admiration. You
did not make that belt the hardest to claim prize in this company. *I*
did. (Gibson juts a thumb at Herscher) And he's continuing the
tradition. You go on and on about what you think, Hartt, but the last
I checked thinking doesn't get things done. You have to act and you
have to face the very best and come out alive. You took a big step
against Nevermind, you showed some of that old fire Mr. Rising
Phoenix. Too bad I took your title and burnt it to ash, remaking it in
a better image. Do you even know how many men have held that title? 3.
You, me and von Donkerhardt. The American title is the test of
survival. I defended that belt more often than anyone has defended any
belt in PVW, *SUCCESSFULY* defended, I might add. Herscher is well on
his way to doing the same. What about you, Chris? Oh, the past doesn't
matter? I've got news for you Chris, you may have some of the stuff
that helped you win that title in one night but that isn't going to
cut it nowadays. Look real close at this face, Chris. Can you take it
to the man who's beaten not only Sinister, Tom Landis, Johnny Detson,
Herscher, Doc Holliday, Rick Marley, Ash, you and countless others?
Can you rise from your ashes, Paladin? You got the job done against
Nevermind but this is a different ball game here, bucko. You don't
have to win, you gotta beat me. Can you do it, Chrissy? I don't think
you can. Prove me wrong.

[Johnstone, Hayes, von Donkerhardt, Knight and Weaver exit.]

STH: Strong words from the HOPE faction. Gentleman, back to you at
ringside.

[Cut back to ring side.]

FH: Words from a true champion right there, Chip.  I wouldn't want to
be Chris Hartt tonight ...  Actually, let me rephrase that.  I
wouldn't ever want to be Chris Hartt, but especially not tonight.

CL: Todd Johnstone and Gibson Hayes has always talked big.  I didn't
expect tonight to be any different.

FH: Not with _THREE_ Champions in the room.  That looked like a trophy
case.  Next time they all get together and give an interview ... they
need to let me know so I can take my, Announcer of the Year trophy and
join in!

CL: Yeah, that would of made things even better.  Todd Johnstone,
Gibson Hayes, and Fred Hoyle ... The three biggest loud mouths in the
PVW.

FH: Hey!

CL: Time is money ... and let's go to the ring where the Voice is
standing by.

HD: This match has been scheduled for one fall ...

[The fans cheer as a loud beep goes off, and then the hard guitar riff
to "Remedy" by Seether rocks the Rose Quarter. The lights dim and then
flicker on and off, rhythmically with the downbeat, one side of the
arena and then the other. Spotlights bounce around in a frenzy at the
entrance way as Heath Dawson walks out from behind the curtain to a
big reaction, holding his arms out to the crowd and then hooking his
thumbs at himself.]

#Throw your dollar bills and leave your thrills all here with me
And speak, but don't pretend I won't defend you anymore you see#

#It aches in every bone, I'll die alone, but not for you
My eyes don't need to see that ugly thing, I know it's me you fear#

#If you want me hold me back!#

HD: And their opponents... first...

From Venice Beach, California! Weighing in tonight at 278 pounds...


..HEEEEAAAAAAAAAATH DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWSOOOOOOOOON!!!!


[Dawson strides powerfully to the ring, slapping hands with fans and
exchanging exploding fist bumps with a lucky few, and then deadleaps
onto the ring apron and ducks in. Heath is a cut and defined
individual, with light brown hair short and spiked. He wears red and
silver tights that go to mid-thigh, and black boots that go to knee
level, with three silver buckles down the front. His right arm has an
elbow pad, and both fists are wrapped in black athletic tape.]

#Frail!

The skin is dry and pale! The pain will never fail!
And so we go back to the remedy!#

#Clip!

The wings that get you high! Just leave them where they lie!
And tell yourself, "You'll be the death of me".#

[Herk ducks out of the way as Heath hops onto the nearest turnbuckle
and unleashes a yell at the crowd, letting it out as he throws his
arms back and flexes his upper body. He pounds his chest with both
fists and shoots them at the crowd, feeding off the energy of the
people. Heath hops down and backs into the corner, then wraps his arms
around the top rope to stretch.]

HD: His partner ... Lead to the ring by Dallas Lawson.  Wrestling out
of Baden-Baden, Germany.

DER KREUZRITTER ...

ERICH SEIGER!

[The moody Latin chanting of "Ebla" by E.S. Posthumus fills the venue
for a few moments.  The last word fades into for a few seconds, before
the low-key synthazizer and poundy drums kick in.   The crowd turns to
face the entranceway, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the
mountain that soon parts the curtains and steps into the aisleway.
Mild cheering, and low murmurs, greet the large young German man who
gazes across the crowd with a stern, neutral stare.  This is "Der
Kreuzritter" Erich Seiger, wearing a one-piece red singlet and black
boots.

As opposed to the look of determination on the young man's face, that
of his manager, local Phoenix resident Dallas Lawson, is one of
excitement.  Leaning on her silver cane, she leads the way, limping
slightly as she heads towards the ring, her charge walking behind her.
Seiger's arms hang at his sides, moving slightly as he walks, ignoring
the crowd reaching out to touch the monument to humanity.

At ringside, Seiger lifts Lawson up by her hips, depositing her on the
apron before climbing up himself.  He follows her into the ring after
holding the ropes, giving the referee a firm nod before heading to a
neutral corner.  There, he stands, arms crossed, eyes forward, focused
solely on the match at hand, only responding quietly to Lawson's
halting, passable German as she gives some last minute instructions]

CL: Here are two men that PVW has invested quite a bit in for their
future.  Erich Seiger made his PVW debut at the Boiling Point Preshow.
While, we saw Heath Dawson a little earlier come to Supreme Wright's
aid.

FH: You can call them the future of the PVW ... I will call them
roadkill after tonight.

HD: And ... Their opponents.

[HEEL HEAT!]

CL: And the fans are already booing.

FH: I never thought that Portland has any class.

HD: wrestling out of Lancaster, Lancastershire, England.

[THAT CAN BE ONLY ONE SOB BOOOOO!]

... Weighing in at 203 pounds.  Accompanied to the ring by his
Financial Advisor, Jacob Rose.

[MORE BOO'S!]

... The Bad Wolf ... CHRISTOPHER BLACK !!!

[We hate this guy reaction from fans.  The jeers are drowned out by
"Painkiller" by the Freestylers w/Pendulum.  At 6'8"/ 300 lbs
Financial Advisor is the first to emerge from the curtains. The
English hothead is right behind him.  Wearing his usual beat-up black
leather jacket.  The duo make their way down the aisle way.]

CL: Black doesn't seem all there tonight.

FH: He sought out the guidance of the Spectre ... Do you think any man
is "all there", after doing that?

[The arena lights suddenly cut to pitch black without warning.  Over
the PA system, the faint sound of a heartbeat begins after ten seconds
of complete silence.

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

"Do you fear the Dark?" a gravelly voice asks in a whisper.

A single red spotlight cuts through the blackness, illuminating the
solitary form of The Spectre as "Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson
cuts in over the PA System.  Spectre, clad in a pair of cutoff jeans,
a black t shirt and combat boots stands with his taped forearms held
up at angles away from his pale, scarred body as the combination of
his dark dreadlocks and the red lighting paints a ghastly picture over
the ghoulish wrestler.

As the music picks up, the lights start flashing in time with the
beat, creating almost a stobe-effect as The Spectre makes his way
towards the ring, ignoring the fans lining the aisles.  As he reaches
the apron, the pale skinned grappler speeds up to a run and slides
smoothly under the bottom rope, standing and stalking towards the
ropes in front of the announce table.  Climbing to the second rope, he
stares coldly at the announce team for a moment before stepping down
and moving to his corner to await the start of the match.]


=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - TAG TEAM MATCH
Dawson, Seiger v. Black, The Spectre

=========================================


*DING*DING*DING*

[The bell rings, and both Spectre and Black rush forward starting
things off with a brawl!]

FH: Spectre and the Bad Wolf and welcoming the two PVW newcomers to
the PVW!

CL: And, they are doing it the only way they know how.

[Spectre is driving big blows into Heath Dawson ... while the _much_
smaller, Christopher Black has charged forward only to get turned
around and backed up in the corner by the seven foorter, Erich
Seiger.]

CL: Spectre continues to back Dawson into the corner and is now
diagonal from Erich Seiger who has done the same.  Spectre drives a
knee into the midsection, but the big rookie, Heath Dawson spins the
PVW Anti Christ around and places him in the corner!

[YOU GO BOY, POP!]

FH: What has gotten into Heath Dawson.  He is standing up to Spectre
and he isn't backing down!

[Dawson drives close range forearm shot after forearm shot.  Seiger
engulfs the much smaller Bad Wolf with his big boot and pushes him to
the ground.]

CL: Seiger and Dawson are actually in control of things here.  And,
referee Jay O'Riley is trying to get either Dawson or Seiger to leave
the ring so we can get this tag team battle under way.

FH: Yeah these cheaters!

CL: Spectre and Black were the two that started this all-out brawl.

[Seiger turns to head towards his corner listening to the PVW
official, but the Bad Wolf hops up and see's an opening and goes low
with a chop block to the side of his left knee.]

FH: Take that Seiger!  Black proving he is not only the best, but the
smartest wrestler out of Europe!

CL: Seiger was trying to do what the referee asked him ... Come on!

[Now with Seiger down to one knee ... Black drives an elbow to the
back of his skull and neck area and then leaps onto him with a blatant
choke.]

CL: Black isn't even trying to play by the rules here tonight.

FH: It's a baptism to the PVW ... Just the way Spectre likes it.

CL: Speaking of Spectre!

[Dawson goes to send the mad man into the corner with an Irish whip
... The goth bounces out and Dawson goes for a death valley driver,
but Spectre slides out and slams his head forward with a brutal
headbutt ... that sends both men stumbling back.  Dawson lunghes
forward with a clothesline, but Spectre ducks under and grabs a hold
of the California native and drives him down with a Russian leg
sweep.]

THUD!

CL: The tides have turned and now, Jay O'Riley is trying to get Black
to let go of the choke hold on Seiger!

FH: Spectre is going over to the turnbuckles and he is starting to
remove the top padding.

[Jay O'Riley has quickly made his way over to stop the PVW madman ...
Except, the Bad Wolf has dropped the choke hold and grabbed the back
of Jay O'Riley and tossed him _OUTSIDE_ the ring.]

[HEY NOW HEEL POP!]

CL: WHOA ... Now, that isn't right at all.

FH: The Bad Wolf has taken Spectre's guidance and he is running with
it all the way.

[However, as the two heels turn ... Dawson and Seiger are on their
feet and they charge forward driving the two men back towards the
ropes ... and THROUGH THEM!]

CL: Dawson and Seiger aren't about to be bullied and they have just
sent both Black and Spectre _out_ of the ring!

FH: And right into Spectre's playground.

[Jacob Rose backs away as he isn't sure what to think right now.
Dawson and Seiger look at one another and follow both men as the crowd
roars in support.]

CL: Heath Dawson and Erich Seiger are sending a message here tonight
that they aren't about to take any crap from anybody.  Dawson now has
the Bad Wolf and he sends him _HARD_ into the guard rail.

CLAAAANG!

[And the seven footer has now dropped down a double axe handle on the
mid-back of Spectre.  He grabs the back of his head and sends him
flying towards the side of the ring apron.]

THUD!

FH: I am going to go on record and say that both men are going to
regret that.

CL: Perhaps, but they are _not_ backing down.

[Seiger then follows up with a mafia kick drilling into the chest area
of Spectre who is seated against the ring apron.  Dawson pulls the Bad
Wolf to his feet, and Black grabs with his finger nails and face rakes
the PVW necommer blinding him and then grabbing the back of Dawson's
head and drives him head first into that same guard rail that he was
thrown into.]

CL: Seiger is now bending down to help the referee up ...

FH: So he is a gentle giant ... awww how nice.

[Dallas Lawson tries to yell, "Watch Out" ... but, Spectre BLASTS the
big man after a leap from the apron! The axe handle hits the mark and
the big man is brought to one knee... and Spectre follows up with a
forearm to the side of the head! Another forearm... and he suddenly
gouges one thumb into the eyesocket, gritting his teeth as Seiger
cries out!]

CL: Nothing but horror from Spectre! He's gouging that thumb in the
eye, looking to pluck it from the socket of his opponent... and Seiger
with an elbow to the ribs in order to break the hold!

FH: But the damage is done and Seiger putting some distance between
him and the psycho, wiping the tears from his eye as the referee
finally manages to crawl to his own feet...

CL: Spectre coming after the big man... but he gets caught by the head
with a face palm... and SHOVED back against the ring apron! I don't
think I've ever seen anyone just manhandle Spectre like that... and
Seiger with a big kneelift! He hauls the brawler in... but holds on to
the head, hanging it over the apron... and delivers a HUGE forearm
down across the chest! Another!

FH: And that big German lug arrogantly steps over the top rope... big
show off!

[Seiger stalks his prey as Dawson continues to brawl with Black on the
floor. The smaller man continues to get pummeled and staggers back up
the ramp... where he manages to deliver a low blow!]

CL: This is insane... the referee needs to get some sort of order back
in this match! Black hooks the neck... and brings Dawson down with a
rolling neckbreaker on the ramp! And Seiger in the ring delivers a
falling fist across the skull of Spectre...

FH: But here comes Black! Sieger up to the ropes... and Black yanks
down that top rope! HAH!!! Bet that joker isn't happy about being
seven feet right now!

CL: Seiger just dumped to the arena floor, tumbling backward as Chris
Black pulls himself up to the apron... he charges and SPIKES a running
knee to the face of Seiger!

[The crowd is getting into the brawl as Dawson clutches at his neck
and sees the carnage a dozen feet away... Black continues to deal a
punch of stomps to the back of Seigers head as his opponent comes up
from behind!]

FH: And look at that coward, Dawson... up from behind Black and he
hooks a half-nelson...

THUUUUD!

CL: Up and SLAMS him on the outside ring pads!


[POP!!!]

FH: But here comes Spectre!!!

CL: Slingshot plancha dive!!!! Up and over the top rope... he CRASHES
into Dawson! This is a pure pier six brawl! I don't think the Referee
is able going to get these four men IN the ring!


P V W ! ! !   P V W ! ! !   P V W ! ! !


P V W ! ! !   P V W ! ! !   P V W ! ! !


P V W ! ! !   P V W ! ! !   P V W ! ! !


[Now, all four men have worked their ways back to the outside.  The
fans are going wild as the chaos and carnage continues.	 Christopher
Black has worked his way to his feet again.  He stumbles over and
yanks the usual weapon of choice of the Spectre.]

FH: Christopher Black is taking the guidance of Spectre ... to a T!

CL: This isn't looking good ... Spectre is up and he is yelling for
Black to finish the job.

[Heath Dawson from behind on Spectre with a gutwrench ... POWERBOMB!]

THUUUUD!


CRAAAAAACK!


CL: BLACK JUST DRILLED SEIGER AS HE WAS GETTING TO HIS FEET WITH THAT
BELL!

FH: And, Black is glaring at Lawson.

CL: Don't do it!!!  For the love of god!

[He grips a hold of that bell ... the look on his face motionless.
Even, Jacob Rose looks worried.]

CL: HERE COMES THE DUKE ... And he is calling for the bell!

FH: Black ... has the bell.

[PVW Head Referee, Duke Martin has thrown this match out ... but, The
Bad Wolf continues to stalk Dallas Lawson ... until he was clothesline
by a charging around Heath Dawson!]



[HUGE POP!]



CL: Heath Dawson came charging around that outside and leaped into a
huge clothesline taking down the Bad Wolf.

FH: Dallas Lawson picked the wrong guy to manage it appears.

[Heath Dawson backs away Dallas Lawson as the rest of the PVW
officials have made their way down to ring side at the encouragement
of Duke Martin.]

CL: Look at Spectre ... he is just laughing?

FH: This was probably Spectre's plan from the start.  He doesn't care
about wins or losses.  All, he cares about is creating chaos.

CL: He created it right here in Heath Dawson's PVW debut and Erich
Seiger's Heatwave debut.

FH: What has gotten into the Bad Wolf?

CL: I don't know, but it doesn't look good.

[Christopher Black is the first man out of the group to begin to head
back up the aisle way ... reaching back for a second to hold the back
of his neck where he was clobbered with that giant arm from Dawson he
disappears with no emotion.]

CL: What a night it's been.  Seiger and Dawson were just welcomed to
the PVW by Spectre and the Bad Wolf.  However, that match right there
has been sort of the poster child for how tonight has went.

FH: That's what happens when you take our pay checks away for the
night ... we turn into animals!  Let this be a lesson to you Danny
Daniels.  This is _all_ your fault.

CL: We still have one match left to go.

FH: And it brings HOPE to saving the night.

CL: Let's go backstage where Chris Hartt is headed through the
hallways.

FH: Oh, now we have to watch Chris Hartt walk ... what has tonight
come to!?!

[Backstage, Chris Hartt walks along a hallway. He chats with a few
techs and some of the other wrestlers milling about.  Turning a
corner, he bumps into the lanky form of 'Bad Wolf' Christopher Black.
The Englishman seems taken aback at the collision, as if the Paladin
was an electric shock.]

Hartt:  Ohmph!  Hey, sorry about that.  Didn't see you there.

[Black eyes Hartt with a cold stare, Hartt's words not even appearing
to register with him.]

Hartt:  Would you mind?  I've gotta get somewhere.

[Black cocks his head a little as he just continues to look over the
Paladin, eyes narrowing in what seems to be curiosity.  He leans back
on his heels slightly as if to turn away finally...

...but then Black takes a direct step forward, planting himself firmly
in Hartt's path.  The Englishman cracks his neck with a quick pop.]

CB:   [with the trace of a growl]  Yeah, I kinda do mind, mate.  How
'bout ya try an' make the Wolf move...

[An incredulous Hartt just shakes his head in disbelief at the
challenge.  Then a brief smile crosses his face as he finds his
answer.]

Hartt:  You mean like Senor Cloak Dos did?  Seems he had you out of
the way several times over.

[For a moment, Black stiffens.  A faint, odd noise escapes him -- as
if the Bad Wolf finally woke up from his slumber.  Then a spike of
pure anger hits his ice blue eyes as he suddenly grabs the Paladin's
head and slams him against the wall once...twice...thrice.  Before
Hartt can recover, the snarling Black is already behind him, cinching
in a vicious chokehold.

Hartt struggles, trying to get the Englishman to loosen his grip with
a few elbows to the ribs.  Then the Paladin changes tactics, twisting
his body and suddenly rushing back to knock the Bad Wolf against the
wall, the impact forcing him to release the hold.

Gasping for breath, Hartt still lashes out with a kick to Black's
knee, then clubs the back of his neck.  Pushing off, Black once again
lunges for Hartt, catching him with a chop to the throat as the two
men drop to the floor engaging in a flurry of fists and kicks.

THUD!

TWAP!

THUD!

Finally,  security, refs and other wrestlers rush in to separate Hartt
and Black.  A couple of unlucky security officers pull the Englishman
off his prey, herding him away as the camera briefly catches the
predator's grin back on the Bad Wolf's gaunt face.   Hartt is brought
to his feet and looks all the worse for wear, but medical techs check
him over, just as the scene cuts back to ring side.]

CL: HOLY COW!  Chris Hartt is set to wrestle the PVW World Champion,
Gibson Hayes next ... and he just went toe-to-toe with the Bad
Wolf backstage who just got DONE wrestling!  What was that all about?

FH: You heard Christopher Black earlier on when he sought advice from
the Spectre.  He is in no mood to be pushed aside ... not tonight!
Chris Hartt should of stayed in his locker room and avoided trouble on
such an important night.  Instead he messed with the wolf ... and he
got bitten!

CL: You have to wonder if that will effect the Paladin's performance
coming up here shortly.

FH: We can only hope.

[Fade.]

Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated
warriors go to war first and then seek to win.

Sun Tzu

[Clips of PVW superstars begin to shuffle through ...]

VO: PVW Superstars ...

[The Clips continue.]

VO: Head to the bright lights of Sin City ...

[Clips of rookies, veterans, superstars, and legends.]

VO: With a chance of life time.

[...  and stop on the PVW World Heavyweight Championship.]

VO: To accomplish what very few men have done ... A chance to head
back to Phoenix to challenge for the PVW World Heavyweight
Championship.

[Cut to some of the most intense stand off's in PVW history.]

VO: Where feuds and hatred become an after thought ...

[A spin around camera shot of the bright lights of a jammed pack
crowd.]

VO: 30 Men ...

[The PVW ring.]

VO: One ring ...

[I Stand Alone by God Smack begins to play lightly in the background.]

VO: A shot at Immortality!

[The PVW - Shattered Dreams logo. The words - RUMBLE explode and form
underneath.

Cut, back to ring side where ... 'Unbreakable' by Fireflight plays
over the speakers, as video spots of The Paladin Chris Hartt plays on
the screens. Hartt walks out in a sleeveless hoodie with a pointed
front, via Assasin's Creed & typical white shorts bearing his logo,
black kneepads and boots..]

RA: ...from Minneapolis, Minnesota, standing 5' 11", weighing 245
lbs., 'The Paladin' Chris Hartt!

[Hartt walks down the aisle, looking to the cheering crowds at each
side. Small amounts of boos can be heard amongst the throng of fans.
Hartt doesn't acknowledge them. He carries on down to the ring,
slightly wincing in pain from Black's earlier attack, and climbs in,
gingerly mounting a turnbuckle, whipping back the hood and holding his
arms out in a cross display.]

CL: Chris Hartt is really aching from that vicious assault by
Christopher Black!  I don't know how's managing to go through with
this match!

FH:  He's not concerned with anything other than being in a fight.
He's letting the lessons from Nevermind stick in his head. But he's
still a stuck-up panty waste.

CL:  Why don't you say that when he's over here and could hear you?

FH:  All he hears is church bells and harps, Chip.  God's whipping boy
won't lay hands on me.

CL: There go those hit points.

FH: Huh?

Herk Douglas: AND THE CHAMPION...

[As the crowd whips itself into a frenzy of anti-Gibson sentiment, the
opening electronic tones and drum beat of Eliot Lipp's "Rap Tight"
begins to play over the PA system.]

GIBSON SUCKS - GIBSON SUCKS - GIBSON SUCKS

GIBSON SUCKS - GIBSON SUCKS - GIBSON SUCKS

GIBSON SUCKS - GIBSON SUCKS - GIBSON SUCKS

[As the beat goes on, several spotlights come to life, illuminating
the entrance way.]

HD: Hailing from Tuscaloosa, Alabama and weighing in at 221 pounds; he
is the first and only Triple Crown winner in PVW; he has the most
successful title defenses in PVW history; he is the man some call the
"Standard of Professional Wrestling"; he is also known as "Mr.
Tradition" but he is always "The Last, Best HOPE for a Bright Future
and Better Tomorrow"; ladies and gentleman, your PVW WORLDHEAVYWEIGHT
CHAMPION - GIBSON HAYES!

[A torrent of jeers and snarls from the audience climb the decibel
ladder as, from behind the curtain, emerge Gibson Hayes. As always,
Hayes is flanked by Todd Johnstone, Big Bubba Hayes and Evelyn
Prosser. The band of thieves are in their usual attire (horrible suit
for Todd, brown suit with the sleeves torn, and Saint Etienne kit for
Evie) while Gibson is in a dark crimson cloak with the hood obscuring
his face. Gibson's ring attire is red with baby blue piping and white
kick pads with white knee savers and elbow pads. Hayes ignores the
crowd and walks purposefully to the ring, calm as ever.]

FH: And this is how it all started, Chip! Gibson Hayes began his
"streak" by defeating Chris Hartt for what was... at the time... The
Rising Phoenix title and later became the American Championship. THIS
is where it started and this is where Chris Hartt fell off the map and
into obscurity those few years ago!

CL: You are right, Fred... but Chris Hartt took some time off and he's
been struggling with where he is in his career for some time. He's
been facing some harsh personal demons and now he has an opportunity
to shock the world and leap to the forefront of the World Championship
contendership.

[Both men keep to opposite sides of the ring, Hartt maintaining his
focus on Hayes. The World Champion folds his title twice over on
either side of the plate and hands it off to Todd Johnstone. The
manager of champions, for his part, offers a few muttered bits of
advice... or a private joke, because Hayes laughs as he turns to
regard Hartt.]


=========================================

PVW - HEATWAVE - MAIN EVENT MATCH
Chris Hartt v. Gibson Hayes

=========================================


*DING*DING*DING*

FH: Referee calling for the bell, and Hartt moves in... but Hayes with
a disdainful shove! He's jawing Hartt down... and another shove!

CL: BUT HARTT FIRES BACK WITH A FOREARM!!!! Right beneath the jaw!
Another right... and Hartt shoves the World Champion against the ropes
for an irish whip! And he just drives him to the mat with a HARD
elbow!

FH: That's no way to treat a world Champion, Chip!

CL: Hartt pulling the champ to his feet... and he scoops him up and
just plans him down with the spinebuster!

[The referee turns and stops Johnstone from getting on the apron as
Hartt turns and sees Bubba trying to slide into the ring... the big
man drops back from the apron, and Hartt spins to face... ]

CL: The champion to his feet... but Hartt is too quick, and Gibson
begs off a few steps... sliding one arm over the top rope as he backs
into the corner! The referee is there to stop Hartt from moving in,
and Hayes calls Johnstone over for a quick consultation?!?!! What the
heck?!?!!

FH: This is called "controlling the pace", Chip... Keeping distance
with Hartt, cutting off the steam before it really gets going. And
Johnstone is telling him to avoid ... something... I can't quite hear
it.

[Johnstone continues to call out... "Look out for it... he's got it
amped and ready, so don't let him get it on ya'!" He steps back as the
referee demands that Hayes get in the ring and back to the match. The
champion nods his head and slowly enters... Hartt shakes his head with
disgust and the two men circle one another again.]

CL: Hartt moves in... but the champion quickly backpedals away! Back
between the ropes... and Hartt can't believe it!

FH: This is all about getting in Hartt's head, Chip!

CL: But Hartt isn't about to sit around and wait... he moves past the
referee... Oh no!

FH: And right into an eyerake! HAH!!!

[As Hartt wipes at his eye, Hayes quickly delivers a kick to the
thigh! Another! And another! HE quickly snatches the head... ]

CL: Swinging neckbreaker! And Gibson Hayes makes a cover... hooking
the leg!!!





One...








Two..






KICKOUT!!!!

FH: The champion looking for an early night tonight... and he nearly
had him!

CL: I think it's going to take a little more to put away Chris
Hartt... the Paladin knows that opportunities like this don't come
around very often!

[Gibson Hayes is furious... he rises and challenges the referee's
count, but Mark Barnett shows him a steady count and that Hartt
clearly kicked out before three. Hayes shakes his head in disgust and
turns around to snatch Hartt up as the Paladin tries to rise.]

CL: Sideheadlock... Hartt caught, and Gibson Hayes takes him down and
over! On the mat with that hold, forcing Hartt to carry his weight and
The Paladin keeping his shoulder off the mat as he struggles to find
some leverage! OH good god... and the champion with a blatant display
of disrespect... noogie on Chris Hartt!

FH: See, it was just a matter of time before the World Champion was
going to take command of this match! He's wearing down Hartt...
telling the referee to ask for a submission, but Hartt refuses. Just
give it up, Hartt... pack it up and go home! Whine home to MAMA!!!

[Hartt finally manages to twist his body under and behind the
Champion, forcing Hayes to rise as Hartt gets to one knee... and then
up to a nearly vertical base! Quick forearm to the ribs! Another! The
crowd begins to get behind Hartt... and Hayes twists headlock around,
away from the referee... and JABS a thumb in the eye!]

CL: Sickening display from the Champion, but he releases the headlock
as Hartt clutches at his eye... blinking tears from that eye as Hayes
moves up from behind and snaps a HARSH forearm across the back!
Another!

FH: Fantastic strategy from Hayes... wearing Hartt down and then
taking the occasional shortcut to cut the Paladin off, keep him from
gaining momentum! Hayes moves in... and snaps an armwringer!

CL: But the Paladin answers with a right forearm! Another breaks the
hold!

FH: The referee should check those closed fists!

CL: Those were forearms!

[Hartt moves in and lays shots to Hayes' head.  Backing Hayes into a
corner, Hartt lays in a hard knee to the chest.  Hayes doubles over
and starts to fall. Hartt leaps up and drops Hayes to the mat with a
knee draped across the neck. Hartt drops to a knee, himself, and
winces in pain, holding his ribs.]

CL: Hartt is laying on the punishment!  He was not joking when he said
he was taking Gibson Hayes to task for his actions, but it looks like
he's damaging himself as much as he is Hayes!

FH:  Hayes isn't champ for nothing!  Hartt has the pin,




1...





.... but Hayes kicks out at 2!






CL: Hartt is so focused, right now.  He's like an avenging angel.

FH: Ahh, he's a cherub. Widdle baby in his diaper!

[Hartt straddles Hayes and lays in a few hard shots to the head. He
drags Hayes to his feet and scoops him up into a sidewalk slam.  Hartt
with the cover.






1..









2..








Kickout by Hayes!]





CL: Hartt's trying hard to hurt Hayes where he lives. The win column.
If Hartt can pull one out, even in a non-title capacity, it'd stick in
Hayes' craw worse than a thorn.

FH: Hartt's trying too hard! All these cover attempts, he's giving
Hayes the time to rest up. If he really wanted to win this match, he'd
keep on the guy with the punishment.

[Hartt drags Hayes to his feet and Irish Whips him into the ropes.  On
the rebound, Hartt hits him with a snap DDT.  Hartt stands up, dazed
and wincing again from the pain, but looks to the crowd, who leap to
their feet, knowing what's coming next.]

CL:  The Avenger!  He's gonna lock on that crossface chickenwing
submission!

FH: Hayes won't let that happen!  He'll find a way out!

[Hartt drops to his knees and slowly hauls Hayes to his, wrenching the
arm behind him and setting on the hold.]

FH: And Johnstone is on the apron... screaming at Hayes, who snaps his
head back!!! DAMN!!! Right into the bridge of the nose as Hartt
releases the hold, clutching at his face!

CL: And Hayes staggers forward, clutching the back of his own head as
well! Jam packed arena is on their feet... this match could go either
way!

FH: What are you kidding?!?!!! Hayes just reversed the Avenger and
he's got a look out for that weapon in Hartt's arsenal!

CL: Hayes turns and tries to deliver a right... but Hartt blocks and
delivers a right of his own, bringing the arena to their feet! Another
block, and Hartt returns with a nasty right of his own! Another right!
And another... Irish whip on the ropes! AND HARTT TAKES HIM DOWN WITH
A SPINNING HEEL KICK!!!!

[And Johnstone is again on the apron... and Hartt is rolling to his
feet, feeling the adrenaline pump through his blood! He moves to the
ropes... and quickly veers off course, SNAPPING a kick that sends
Johnstone off the apron!!!!]





[HUGE FACE POP]







FH: HE CAN'T DO THAT?!?!?!!  Todd Johnstone might be seriously hurt
right now... Chris Hartt just snapped a kick right over that top rope,
and Johnstone is on the ground and hurt! This is disgusting!

CL: You say disgusting, I say justice is served! Gibson Hayes dazed
but he sees Johnstone being attended by Bubba... and Chris Hartt yanks
him to his feet.... AND DRIVES HIM DOWN WITH A SINGLE ARM DDT!!!!

FH: WHAT?!?!!

[The champion clutches his arm... he rolls away from Hartt, begging
off as the Paladin shakes his head and shoves those begging palms away
and stomp kicks the Champion in the chest! He rushes and springs up to
the second rope... ]

CL: SPIRAL TAP!!! And now Chris Hartt with the cover...






One....











two....





[Johnstone quickly reaches up and over the bottom rope, YANKING his
clients leg over the bottom rope!!!!]




THREEE!!!!


DING DING DING!!!!!!


[Chris Hartt hears the bell and leaps to his feet, eyes wide as a
smile blasts across his face... he staggers back to the center of the
ring, looking around himself in a daze of joy as he raises one
hand!!!]



FH: WHAT?!?!?!!! NO NO NO!!! HE has his foot on the bottom rope he has
a foot on the bottom rope!!!

CL: The referee rising to his feet... he sees the foot as Johnstone is
pointing, and he waves off the count... Oh no! Hartt is shaking his
head! He doesn't believe it... he can't believe it... but Mark Barnett
is shaking his head, pointing to the foot that is STILL on the bottom
rope! This match will continue....

FH: There is a god! Thank heaven... you can't just let Chris Hartt get
away with that dirty tactic...

[From the heights of victory to the frustration of it being yanked
away, Chris Hartt shakes his head and... he rushes the rising Champion
and RAMS him head first into the top turnbuckle!]

CL: The World Champion staggers around and drops face first in the
center of the ring! He is completely out of it and Chris Hartt rushes
the ropes again... but Bubba hooks the ankle!

FH: And Hartt face down!

[The crowd boos loudly and Hayes lifts his head in a bit of a daze,
eyes wide as he pulls his knees out beneath him... and then lies flat
down again as Hartt immediatley shoots up, and turns to face Bubba! He
starts to yell at him, "STay out of this!!!" and that's when Hayes
quickly gets to his feet with a sinister smile... ]

FH: This is it... Hartt is distracted and here comes Hayes!

CL: He delivers a hard forearm to the back... and Hayes turns him
around! RED LIGHT Snap mare, and Hartt is taken over hard... but Hartt
is on his feet! GOOD LORD.... Hayes doesn't waste time celebrating and
he takes Hartt down with a NASTY lunging front kick!

FH: The look on Gibsons face has completely changed, Chip... the
Champion isn't just taking this match as easy as we all thought it
would be.

CL: "We"?

FH: You'll learn that it's perfectly acceptable to admit you're wrong,
Chip. And you were wrong... Chris Hartt is proving to be a better
wrestler on this night than he's ever been before.

CL: You're ridiculous!

[Hartt struggles to get to his feet, and the World Champion moves
in... and delivers a solid chop to the throat! Hartt staggers back,
choking for breath.... leaning back against the ropes where the World
Champion snaps a hard right beneath the jaw!]

CL: Back to action in the ring... and Gibson Hayes is pulling out the
stops now as he delivers a solid punch to the throat!

FH: Classic offense from Hayes...

CL: Nasty offense and Barnett is getting in his face, telling him to
watch the throat... warning him of a disqualification as Hartt still
struggles for breath. Hayes shoving the referee out of his way and he
delivers a quick kick to the gut! Press against the ropes...
and the irish whip!

[Hayes ducks for a back body drop.... and Hartt manages to recover
fast enough to leap up and over and hook the waist.... ]






CL: ANd Hartt rolls into a pin attempt on Hayes....






one!!!!








two....





Hayes rolls back out of the pin!!!






[The fans are roaring as Hayes rolls back... and then flips over,
grabbing the thighs as he goes up and over into a Pin attempt on
Hartt!!!!]







ONE.....








two....






CL: And an amazing snap bridging rise stops the count... Hartt showing
amazing strength, and he twists under and crosses the arms... JAPANESE
OCEAN BOMB!!!!! And he holds him down for the pin combo...









one...









two....









KICKOUT FROM HAYES!!!!

FH: And Hartt is frustrated... he has no idea how to put away the
champion! These desperate pin attempts are just prove positive that
he's not ready for the big stage!

CL: You have no idea what you're talking about, Fred.... Chris Hartt
has the will, the determination, and the talent to not only rise to
the top of this sport... but to stand with that title held high!

FH: Everyone has an opinion... and a single brown eye...

CL You're disgusting!

[Chris Hartt taking a deep breath as he pulls the dazed champion to
his feet delivers another right arm across the pit of the neck! He
snaps a top wrist lock... and forces the champion backward and arching
Hayes back with the hold!]

CL: Hayes in trouble again... both legs caught beneath his own body as
Chris Hartt applies the top wrist lock and presses him backward! Hartt
with a simple modification to a basic hold, and Hayes is crying out...
refusing to tap out!

FH: You're not going to make Hayes tap to a wrist lock! Are you
insane?!!!

CL: Any hold could end the match... any move could mark the end of a
streak, the end of a title reign, or simply the end of a career! A top
wrist lock... applied this sway, with this leverage, is forcing the
champion to recognize the frailty of his own body! A frailty we all
have, Fred... so why don't you show some respect?!?!!

FH: JEesh...

[And Hayes still refuses to tap... but does manage to slip one leg
out, releasing alot of pressure as he twists his body toward HArtt and
reaches up to grab a handful of hair! The referee quickly starts a
count, but the Hartt is still forced backward and Hayes gets up to one
knee!]

CL: And Hayes with a shot to the gut! Another shot! And another
finally breaks the hold... but Hartt with a knee!

FH: And Chris Hartt yanks him up... SINGLE ARM DDT??!?!!!  NO!!!! The
Champion sees it coming and he back pedals out of the ring!

[Hayes able to rush back out, and drops between the ropes to the
apron... and his entourage quickly surrounds the champion, wrapping
their arms around him to keep him safe from any offense from Hartt.]

CL: Chris Hartt is on fire... and Hayes knows it! He saw that Avenger
coming again and he back pedaled out of .... YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING
ME?!?!!!!





[FACE POP!!!!]




[The crowd is on their feet as Chris Hartt suddenly rushes the
ropes... and suicide dives through the top and middle rope, plunging
into the crowd around Hayes and driving everyone to the arena floor!]


FH: He's gone insane!!! He's spent way too much time with Senor Cloak
Dos and Rob Cole... Chris Hartt is absolutely insane and the
"Entourage" is on the floor... where's the rest of HOPE!??!?!!  Hartt
is making their leader look badly... this can't keep happening! This
can't keep happening!

CL: Hayes is in serious trouble right now... everyone here in the
arena is on their feet, they're watching Chris Hartt prove that he
belongs on the top of the mountain! This is the moment he's been
waiting for his entire career... this is why he fought so hard to
overcome Nevermind, this is why he won the Rising Phoenix title all
those years ago, this is why he fought back to earn his spot in this
company... this is the real leader everyone is looking for in that
locker room!


[Hartt rises to his feet at the same time Hayes crawls up the
guardrail... and as Hartt moves in, Hayes suddenly leans forward and
grabs the waistline of the Paladins' tights!]





[HEEL POP!!!!]




FH: HAH!!!!! So much for that "leader"... Hartt clutching his chest
after being yanked against it by the Champion!

CL: Short cut from Hayes and he gets to his feet... and NAILS the
European uppercut! Hartt staggers back to the apron... and Hayes moves
in for the scooop.... AND THERE'S THE HOT SHOT!!!! Hartt dropped
throat first against the guardrail!!!

FH: Look at him gasp for air... like a fish out of water!!! This is
fantastic!!!!

[Chris Hartt gasps for air... and Hayes grabs him from around the back
of his tights and just tosses him back in the ring! The fans pour the
heat on, and Hayes takes a moment to glance back and send a smirk
toward ringside... he bows, "I'm still your hero!" He tilts his head
back and laughs before ducking between the ropes and regarding Hartt
with a studious gaze.... measuring the Paladin.]

CL: Hartt getting to one knee as Hayes rushes around to his side....

FH: FSK!!!! FSK!!!!!!


[HUGE HEEL POP!!!!!]


CL: Good god... a sickening impact to the side of the head, rocking
Chris Hartt back and down.... Gibson Hayes with that deadly Front Side
Kick, and Hartt is out!!!! He's on his back in the center of the ring
and Hayes drops down and lays back across the chest of Chris Hartt!!!!



[Referee drops into position as Hayes raises one hand to count along
with his fingers as the referee....









one.....















two.....















thr... KICKOUT!!!!!!!











[HUGE FACE POP!!!!!!]



CL: OH. MY. GOD!!!!!! Gibson Hayes can't believe it... he's staring
down at Chris Hartt as the Paladin rolls to his side, clutching the
side of his head! Chris Hartt kicked out of the FSK... and Hayes is
beside himself! He's absolutely beside himself!!!!

FH: Calm down, Chip.  Gibson has this under control.

[Hayes is now on his feet and he wipes the sweat from his brow.  He
pushes Hartt back down onto his stomach with his foot.  He lets out a
laugh as the Paladin is starting to look more mortal.]

CL: Gibson Hayes has obviously rebuilt that swag.

FH: He is the champion after all.

[Hayes slowly backs away and he dares the Paladin to get to his feet.]

CL: Hayes is calling for Chris Hartt to get to his feet.

FH: He is looking to hit the GHK-1!  If he hits this you know it's
over, Chip.

CL: Chris Hartt has taken the PVW World Champion to the LIMIT here
tonight ... Even after getting into an altercation with the Bad Wolf
backstage.

FH: Maybe, that woke up the usually near dead ... Chris Hartt.

CL: Gibson Hayes continues to call for the Paladin to get to his feet
... and Chris Hartt is nearly on his feet.

FH: Gibson squares up ... takes aim ... and!

[Hayes spins into his vicious roundhouse aiming right for the side of
the Paladin's head ...]



[HE DUCKED FACE POP!]


CL: CHRIS HARTT DUCKED UNDER !!! HE GRABS HAYES FROM BEHIND AND DROPS
DOWN WITH A LUNG BLOWER!


[ROARING OMG POP!]


FH: WHAT THE ... I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS!

CL: You and the whole world, Fred.  Chris Hartt is on his feet and
look at that emotion!  One of PVW's originals ... The man who stood
inside this ring at the end of Tradition 1, WINNING a one night
tournament to become the Rising Phoenix Heritage Champion.  He has had
his high's and low's ... Tonight, he is in this ring giving it to the
PVW World Champion like nobody has before!

FH: This is just a bad dream ... pinch me, somebody!

[Chris Hartt now in the Champion's shoes just moments before ... He
stands daring, Gibson Hayes to get to his feet.]

CL: Could it be Avenger time!?!  The PVW World Champion has been
ducking this move the whole night.  Have, we finally found, Gibson
Hayes kryptonite!?!

FH: America's great HOPE ... has no weakness!

[Hayes begins to stumble up ... Hartt goes to lock on the Avenger, but
Hayes swings his lower leg back for a blatant low blow ... but Hartt
was waiting and shut his knees blocking it!  He then reaches around
with his free arm and hooks the cross face in!]

CL: The Avenger is ALMOST locked in!  Hartt is working that
chickenwing ... Hayes is trying to scramble!

[HUGE HEEL POP!]

FH: FRANK KNIGHT ... TO THE RESCUE!

[The HOPE enforcer slides under the ropes ... and the Paladin drops
the Champion and ducks under a charging, Uncle Frank and hits the PVW
American Champion, Herscher von Donkerhardt with a spinning heel kick
as he slid under the ropes behind, Frank Knight.]

[HUGE POP!]

CL: HOPE has come down to save, Gibson Hayes ... Give me a break!
Uncle Frank is checking on Gibson Hayes ... CHRIS HARTT ISN'T HAPPY!

FH: Turn around Frank!

[Chris Hartt spins Uncle Frank around and ... begins to unload with
huge right hands.  The fans are going wild as Mark Barnett still
hasn't called for the bell, since Chris Hartt has taken it to HOPE!]

FH: Chris Hartt ... is taking on HOPE!?!

[... and Derek Weaver dives under the ropes and as Chris Hartt turns
with a huge adrenaline rush ... Weaver grabs the unexpecting Paladin
and snaps him over with snapmare, Weaver pulls his arm straight
before dropping down on it with a quick axe kick, attempting to
dislocate the Paladin's shoulder.]


*DING*DING*DING*


[ROARING BS BOO'S]


CL: Finally, Weaver was able to slow down the 110 MPH, Chris Hartt!

FH: You win some ... and then you are Chris Hartt.

CL: Oh, make no mistake about it, Fred... Chris Hartt won tonight.  He
proved every doubter out there wrong.

[Weaver snarls down at the Paladin as HvD and Frank Knight begin to
join in on the stomp parade.]

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

CL: Look at HOPE stomping away at the man who was seconds away from
making the PVW World Champion say, I Quit.

FH: And, Gibson Hayes is on his feet ... He is calling for HOPE to
pull him up ...

CL: No ... Not again.

TWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!

[Hayes swings back with a full blown slap of disrespect across the
Paladin's face.]


[BOOOOOOOOOO!]


.



.



.



[OH HELL YES POP!]



CL: THERE IS BIG DADDY SIN!  AND HE DOESN'T LOOK HAPPY!

FH: Who invited that big clown out here?

[Sinister steps out on the entrance ramp ... He stands at the top and
stares down at HOPE who all stand inside the ring.  The PVW World
Champion begins to smile as he walks over and opens the middle and top
ropes inviting the PVW locker room general inside.]

FH: You want to be so big and tough ... Well here is your chance!

CL: And, Sinister is turning towards the entrance way ... and WAVING
somebody down with him.

FH: The more ... the ...

[Hoyle stops in mid sentence as the PVW locker room begins to empty
down the aisle way ...

... Senor Cloak Dos!

... Heath Dawson!

... Supreme Wright!

... The Berserkers!

... Erich Seiger!

... President, Danny Daniels!

... Marcus Manson!

... Talion!

... Cow and Chicken!]

CL: The PVW locker room is surrounding the ring.  They stand united
and
HOPE has now let go of Chris Hartt who joins them on the outside.

FH: This isn't looking too good.

[Uncle Frank glares at Marcus Manson who just nods eagerly ... HvD and
Gibson Hayes, one time foes stand side by side with their fist raised
... While the Hope madman, Derek Weaver dares the whole f'n group of
wrestlers to get in the ring.]

CL: Wait ... Here comes SPECTRE!

FH: You can't have a party without Spectre.

[The PVW madman comes running down in a full sprint ... And, he leaps
and lunges into the group and we have a fight as HOPE rolls out and
joins him ...  Rushing down joining in on the mix is the rest of the
locker room ... The Mercenary, Larry Gionet, Christopher Black, Chance
Holiday, The Biz, and Adrian Freeman.]

CL: THERE IS AN ALL OUT WAR GOING ON!  Supreme Wright is going towards
Adrian Freeman ... Christopher Black has found Chris Hartt _AGAIN_!

FH: These men don't want to wait for Shattered Dreams.

CL: HOPE stands in the middle and SINISTER IS FIGHTING HIS WAY
THROUGH.

[Total Chaos has erupted as we have ourselves a mini-rumble going on.]

CL: For the second show in a row, we have complete and utter chaos
here in the ring!

FH:  We have half the locker room fight against HOPE and the other
half of the locker room fighting against the half of the locker room
that is fighting against HOPE.

CL:  You're right Fred.

FH:  Mr. Announcer of the Year to you Chip.

CL: As much as we want to stay on the air ... we have been getting the
wrap up sigh for a few minutes now.

FH: The fans at home are going to hate us.

#Who's to know if your soul will fade at all#

#The one you sold to fool the world#

#You lost your self-esteem along the way.#

[The action is interrupted by "Fake It" from Seether playing
throughout the arena.  And out on the entrance stands one person.]

FH:  Our rightful leader has returned!

[Johnny Detson stands on the ramp as the song continues to play, just
glaring down at the ring.  Detson has on a pair of blue jeans and a
black hooded sweatshirt.  About a week's worth of stubble is on his
clean shaven face.  Detson begins to walk slowly, almost gingerly,
down to the ring.  His eyes and demeanor, however, are full of
purpose.]

CL:  Folks as stated earlier, Johnny Detson has not been cleared to
wrestle here tonight and I have to question Detson's decision to come
down here tonight.

FH:  Quiet you, our great and rightful leader does not have to listen
to some quack medical staff put in place by that hack of an
illegitimate President.

[Detson gets to the ring and rolls in.  He stops and just glares at
the chaos surrounding him just for a second ...  Then, charges forward
and takes down with a double leg take down,

GIBSON HAYES!]


[SHOCKED POP!]

CL: JOHNNY DETSON HAS JUST TAKEN DOWN THE CHAMPION AND THE FIGHT
CONTINUES TO RAGE ON!  FOLKS, WE REALLY ARE OUT OF TIME WE HAVE TO GO!

FH: What has gotten into, Johnny Detson!?!?!

[And those are the last words we hear as we fade.]