[The camera cuts to the familiar scene from the last Burning Effect
running on a television screen backstage at The 52nd Street Armory.]

CL: The guilt.

February 20th, what do I do?

The past or the present...

*Ring!*

...

[He buries his head in his hands.]

*Ring!*

...

CL: Which becomes my future?

*Ring!*

...

*Ring!*

...

*Ring!*

...

*Ring!*

...

[Snapping out of deep contemplation, Charles finally picks up the
phone.]

CL: What else do you want, Detective?

Voice: Detective?

[A female's voice. _The_ female?]

Voice: Oh no, silly...

[She looses a maniacal laugh that's just oozing with sex...]

CL: Hello?

[Silence.]

CL: [scared, curious, shell-shocked]: Hello? Who is this? Who is this?

[Another mysterious, devious, seductive burst of laughter...]

CL: Who the hell is this!?

[... then a click.]

CL: Hello?

[Dial tone.]

CL: Hello?

[Desperately....]

CL: HELLO!?

[Pan back to reveal The Spectre, crouched in front of the screen with
a hand to his chin.]

Spectre: Interesting...very interesting...

[The ghoulish wrestler takes out a cell phone (naturally black and
somewhat the worse for wear) and brings it up to his face, dialing
briefly.]

Spectre (into the phone): Yes.  We have need of you.  How quickly can
you be here?  Excellent.

[Closing his phone, Spectre smiles coldly at the screen, reaching out
and lightly touching the anguished face of his prey.]

Spectre: Soon, friend Lassiter.  Soon.




###############################
###############################
##                           ##
## Phoenix Valley Wrestling  ##
##        Heatwave           ##
##        02.20.08           ##
##                           ##
###############################
###############################



[The screen fades to black for a split second.  A red P appears
followed by a yellow V and finally a red W.

The logo is gone and we are ring side at 52nd Street Armory.  The
camera pick up on the two men who will breath life into the PVW with
their words.  On the left has a black sports coat, dress shirt and
navy tie. He is a well groomed man in his early 30's with a black
trimmed goatee.  Mic in hand he is considered an up and coming play by
play in wrestling, we introduce Chip Lester.

To his right, we have confidence and arrogance.  An older man in his
mid 40's in an expensive golf shirt and slacks sits full of pride.  He
has short hair and the start of a receding hair line, a small pair of
red shaded sun glasses sit firmly across his eyes.  Somewhat new to
the wild world of wrestling, but wont admit it sits "Putter" Preston
Winfield.

They sit just at ring side in front a pretty plain wooden table set.
Stacks of paper sit in front of the two men as they await their que to
begin.]

CL: PVW is back on the air!!!  I am Chip Lester and sitting next to me
is the ever so infamous, Preston Winfield.  Last week we saw a
Champion crowned, this week we continue to steam roll into the world
of Professional Wrestling!

PW: That's right Chip!  Last week Chase Williams outlasted fifteen
other men and captured the PVW Heavyweight Championship.  What an epic
performance it was.  While mammoths like Johnathon Monarch and Major
Damage were sent packing there was one sly fox left at the end and
that was indeed Chase Williams.

CL: Chase Williams deserves all the congratulations in the world, but
tonight he begins his path of being the hunted.  It is unsure up to
this point who will receive the first shot at the champion, but in our
main event we will see four of those contenders face to face in a FANS
CHOICE match!

PW: I have to give the fans props on that one.  Though I guess they
want the 52nd Street Armory tore down.

CL: There is that possibility, but either way the fans have spoken and
Spectre, Cole, Major Damage, and Charles Lassiter will go head to head
in tonights main event!

[A female voice filters in over the PA.]

"Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the top choice of them all?"

[The female voice fades and is replaced by a male one]

"You, you are, you conceited bastard..."

"You, you are, you conceited bastard..."

"You, you are, you conceited bastard..."

[_MONSTER_ heel pop as "Conceited Bastard" by Rass Kass bumps the PA
system. A single spotlight falls on the top of the ramp as it becomes
clouded in smoke.]

##I created verb-noun pronunciation (The most beautifullest shit)##
##I make up like foundation, now who you facing?##
##The waterproof emcee,##
##Ras blessed the mic faster than Ramadan at mach 3##

[The crowd heat builds as a silhouette appears first, pausing, and
letting the tension build before emerging through the shroud of smoke
like a golden god!]

[ROOF-BLOWING HEEL POP!!!]

PW: THE CHAMP IS _HERE_!!!

##Get off my dick, nigga##
##And tell your bitch to come here##
##And stick your dick in your eardrum and fuck what you heard (Yeah)##

[The champ stands stoic atop the entryway, basking in the hatred from
the crowd. Dressed in an immaculate gray pin-striped suit, his blonde
hair is untethered and spills across his shoulders. Bronze oversized
aviator style sunglasses hide his eyes. His reason for being, the
Phoenix Valley Wrestling Heavyweight Championship looks like it
belongs on his shoulder as it glitters in the spotlight. He smirks
smugly at the crowd, as he thrust the title into the air!]

##Fa sheezy, articulate drama**
##Multiple lacerations between consecutive commas##
##I like my I'll nana wet, my martini dry##
##Whippin' a BMW 540-I (drunk driving Miss Daisy)##
##Devil in a blue dress packing heat##
##While I'm doing doughnuts in the middle of the street##

[The man that everyone wishes they where finally begins a calculated
ascent to the ring, half-strutting down the aisle with a confidence
that seems to ooze from every pore, but careful to not let any of the
filthy rabble in the aisle soil his perfection. He climbs the steps
and slides between the ropes, striding to the center of the he pulls a
mic from his jacket and throws the title over his shoulder.]

"Take a good look peons. Your Heavyweight Champion stands before you."

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!"

[Chase pauses and turns his nose up to revel in the hatred from the
crowd.]

"Can you imagine the rush that the female population of the world gets
when the Heavyweight Champion walks out on live television?"`

[He arrogantly twirls for the camera, letting the ladies get a good
look at perfection.]

"Because lets face it, when you make in excess of a million dollars a
year, when you ride in nothing but stretch limousines, and fly around
in your own gulf stream, YOU'VE GOT THE BIGGEST HOUSE, ON THE BIGGEST
HILL, IN THE BEST PART OF TOWN, AND YOU'VE GOT ANY WOMEN IN THE WORLD
FALLING OVER HERSELF FOR A SECOND GLANCE FROM YOU..."

[He pauses long enough to remove his glasses and arrogantly schmooze
the camera.]

"Well there isn't much else, is there?

[More boos. What you expected an answer?]

"But I can't expect you feeble minded people to know what it likes to
live the life of a champion, at least you get a chance to brush with
greatness when I deem you worthy of my presence. Now!

[He removes his jacket and folds it over his arm.]

"As your champion I have a certain responsibility to manage all
fronts, and as much I don't care and already bloodied and disposed of
this peasant, I would be remiss not to briefly mention a certain wet-
behind the ears little punk that seems to have taken to trying to get
noticed by questioning my methods. He's been walking around backstage
under false pretenses, letting people get inside his head and he's
starting to believe his own hype."

[He flexes arrogantly for the camera.]

"Don't let yourself think for one second that you can hang with this
kid. I would laugh if it wasn't so pathetic. I don't need the luck of
the Irish..."

[Chase looks slightly perturbed as a "Foley" chant breaks out in the
crowd, but he plays it off with a smirk.]

"Chant all you want, he knows better than to come out here. This whole
situation boils down to one thing. When I part that curtain and walk
that aisle, I _AM_ the Pee Vee Dubya Heavyweight Champion, and no
scrub like Foley will ever get his hands _my_ title as long as I'm
breathing..."

["I'm Shipping Up To Boston" by The Dropkick Murphy'splays over the
PA. as the arena fills with cheers. On the Shootfire Screens we see a
graphic and it reads "From Dublin, Ireland" CALEB FOLEY]

[Williams stands shocked and his face reddens as the blatant
disrespect from Foley sets in.]

"I'm a sailor peg
And I lost my leg
Climbing up the top sails,
I lost my leg!
I'm shipping up to Boston (Way Oh)
I'm shipping up to Boston (Way Oh)
I'm shipping up to Boston (Way Oh)
I'm shipping off... to find my wooden leg"

[Caleb stands at the entrance just bouncing to the beat of the music.
He has his red hair buzzcut and an eager look on his face. Dressed in
all black, from the kickpads to the boots and the jacket itself, Caleb
begins to walk down the entrance when he stops, he bends down and
pounds his knuckles to the ground as a huge pyro display goes off!!]

[CROWD POPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

[Foley heads toward the ring, he hops up onto the apron and jumps over
the top rope catching himself on the second turnbuckle where he
salutes the crowd, as they pop for him!! Foley asks for a microphone
and he sits perched on the top ropes before addressing the first ever
Phoenix Valley Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion, "Conceited
Bastard" Chase Williams. A faint Foley chant can be heard...]

Foley: "Sorry to interrupt your World Championship ceremony Chase but
I feel I need to get something off my chest.."

[Foley stares at Williams right in the eyes...]

[MONSTER Face pop!]

Foley: "You got LUCKY. Plain and simple you had LUCK on your side
whether you want to admit it or not. But see Chase besides LUCK you
also had something called FATE. You see you had both those things on
your side but do you think it was LUCK or maybe perhaps it was FATE
that we were in the victors of the very first ever PVW match. Do you
think it was LUCK or FATE that you busted me open and then eliminated
me. Do you think it was LUCK or FATE that we are in this ring right
here right now. So Chase I have a question for you...

[Foley directs his direction to Chase's World Heavyweight Title...]

Foley: "Do you believe in FATE and do you feel LUCKY?"

[Foley doesn't wait for an answer and turns his back to the World
Champion. Chase for his part, looks about ready to put his title
through the back of Foley's head but instead just smirks and shakes
his head.]

"You know something Caleb? There was a time in my career when I
would've left you face down in a pool of your own blood for even
coming out here, let alone interrupting my championship coronation,
and spouting off a bunch of nonsense.. Fortunately for you, I'm not
the same hot head I used to be. This is your _one_ and _only_ warning.
I'm _allowing_ you to walk up that aisle and not end your career right
here and now, out of respect for this..."

[He holds up the title to a mild pop from the crowd.]

"But if you actually believe _any_ of the crap you just sputtered to
me a second ago, You're dead where you stand. I got _lucky?_ You're a
funny [beeping] guy Foley. You should take up comedy. It's something
to fall back on after I cripple your ass if you dare stick your snotty
little nose in my business again."

"Fate and luck are crutches that pathetic never will bes like _you_!"

[Big heel pop!]

"and your precious fans..."

[He arrogantly sweeps an arm across the arena.]

"Use when you actually manage to accomplish anything. True champions,
born and bred, don't need excuses, because we simply... _Don't_..."

[Beat...]

"_Fail_."

["Conceited Bastard" plays again as Chase sneers at Foley who finally
disappears beyond the curtain. Williams soon slides out himself, and
the boos follow him up the aisle.]

PW: Caleb Foley is lucky he's not dead! The audacity to interrupt the
champion, Williams will tan his hide!

CL: He's got guts Preston. He wants Chase to know he isn't afraid.

PW: Let's see what this kid can do on his own later tonight.

CL: Speaking of action, Herk Douglas has entered the ring and we are
ready to kick the night off.

HD: Introducing first from right here in beautiful Phoenix, Arizona.
Weighing in at 205 pounds and standing at 5 foot 11.




' A R I Z O N A     K I D '    F R E D D Y   T R A V I S ! ! ! !




[An upbeat guitar solo hits the PA system.   The native youngster
emerges from the back of the 52nd Street Armory.  He has on a white
wrestling singlet with a red outline of the state of Arizona.  He
slaps the palms of the fans as he trots to the ring.  He turns towards
the front row fans before making his way into the ring and pumps a
fist in the air hyping up the home town fans.  He then turns and dives
under the bottom ropes and in one fluid motion leaps to his feet.]

[The smooth intro of Common's "Southside" pumps out from the PA
system. The fans let loose with a modest pop.]

# La, la, la, la, la - and everybody say #
# La, la, la, la, la - I know you, I know you... #

HD: Coming to the ring at this time ...

[The bass heavy, upbeat track finally kicks in ...]

# I know you're thinking, thinking that it must be #
# Armor-All flow 'cause it never get rusty #
# I ain't gotta say it, man dawg trust me #
# Bust somebody head, G.L.C. where was we? #

HD: ... from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 222 pounds, here is -




C D K   A B D U L L A H ! ! ! !






[CKD Abdullah enters the arena, garbed in a black headband, black
singlet, black pants with white stripes, black boots, black elbow pads
on both elbows, and padded black gloves. The fans cheer as the young
African American grappler storms towards ringside.]

# Still rock the Prada 'fore that, rock the Starter #
# Ni**as had the Georgetown, the Magic way harder #
# Thinking back to the projects, and they way they tore 'em all up #
# Like when I do a project, and come back and tear the mall up #

[Inside the ring, CKD Abdullah climbs to the second turnbuckle and
gazes out at the crowd. He raises both arms triumphantly.]

# We coming from the.. #
# South (side), South (side) #
# South (side), South (side) #
# South (side), South (side) #
# South (side), Side of the Chi #

[He then springs off the turnbuckle and prepares for action.]

CL: We don't have a lot of information on Abdullah right now, but I am
told he has an interesting wrestling style.  A mix between technically
sound and martial arts.

PW: He doesn't show all that much emotion does he.



[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Singles Action, 15 Minute Time Limit:
	CDK Abdullah
	v. 'Arizona Kid' Freddy Travis

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]



<<< DING   DING >>>


CL: The bell has been sounded and the match is under way.  Abdullah
walks straight forward as Travis begins bobbing and weaving.  Travis
with a quick jab and another... Abdullah still moves straight forward.
Travis sends Abdullah into the ropes and a Spinning heel kick by
CDK!!!!

PW: That was pretty much out of nowhere!

[CDK Abdullah pulls Travis up and quick snap kick followed by
another...  Travis is bent over and Ipponzei!!!]

CL: Abdullah quickly back up and as Travis reaches to his feet busaiku
kick!!!!!!!  Travis crumbled like a cheap violin...




ONE ...




TWO ...




PW: Apparently not enough as The Arizona kid with a shoulder up.

CL Abdullah pulls the hometown youngster up and a big chop.... Another
and he backs Travis up against the ropes,  He goes to whip him
across.... Reversed!

[Travis leapfrogs as Abdullah rebounds...  Travis drops to the ground
as Abdullah shoots across, Travis is up and connects with a picture
perfect drop kick.  The Arizona kid quickly on his feet and as
Abdullah
reaches up Cross body block!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




CL: Abdullah with a strong kick out.  Both men up, OUCH!! PALM STRIKE
BY CDK ABDULLAH!!!  He has Travis back into the corner and KNEE...
KNEE... ELBOW...  Travis drops to his knees and Abdullah backs up and
takes off running...

[He absolutely dismantles Travis with a running soccer-style kick to
the face of Freddy Travis.]

PW: This guy is brutal.  He has a take no prisoners type mind frame.

CL: Abdullah is locking on a double chickenwing and lifts Freddy
Travis up in an elevated position!!!!  Travis is holding on not giving
up....



}}



[POP!!!!!]


CL: ELEVATED DOUBLE CHICKENWING INTO A SIT-OUT FACEBUSTER THIS COULD
BE IT!!!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!




PW: NO, Travis _just_ gets his shoulder up!

CL: That was close.  CDK Abdullah quickly back on the offense and has
pulled Travis up into a Ranhei...




ONE ...





TWO ...




PW: Another kick out by Travis.  The kid has a lot of heart... Just
isn't the greatest inside that ring.

CL: The fans are a bit torn on who to root for here.  Travis is a
hometown kid, but Abdullah's aggressive style is quite popular here
tonight.  Both men up and Travis with a little burst!!  Quick jabs and
a kick to the midsection.... He whips Abdullah into the corner with an
Irish Whip!!!  Travis charges... MONKEY FLIP!!!!!!!

[The Arizona Kid quickly on the top ropes and as Abdullah is getting
to his feet he leaps, CDK just ducks out of the way and Travis hits
the mat.  Travis slowly tries to push himself up, but he is absolutely
CRUMBLED as Abdullah charges in with an enzu elbow smash...]

CL: Travis is out of it!  That was a devastating elbow smash into the
back of the youngsters skull.

PW: A move like that can give a guy an concussion.

CL: CDK Abdullah quickly locks on the Black Dragon Clutch otherwise
known as an inverted cloverleaf....  The Arizona Kid has just enough
sense left in him to quickly tap out as CDK Abdullah drops the hold.

PW: Wow an impressive debut!

[Referee, Jay O'Riley raises the hand of the warrior known as CDK
Abdullah the fans applaud his impressive debut inside the PVW
gladiator circle with respect.]

CL: CDK Abdullah has arrived in Phoenix and he means business!

PW: He is going to give a few head aches around here.

CL: Abdullah is a welcomed addition to the PVW roster.  Another much
anticipated match tonight is when Paul Styles steps into the ring with
the hero, Chris Hartt.  Rob Cole has been training Chris Hartt
preparing him for a match with the wrestling icon.  It will be
interesting to see how, The Paladin uses it to overcome the stable of
tricks from the Rolemodel.

PW: There hasn't been that many men in this industry who has out
smarted Paul Styles.  Rob Cole is one of the few.  Chris Hartt better
have listened to him or he will end up like the rest.

[The piano exit to Layla by Derek and the Dominos plays over the sound
system as the crowd turn towards the entrance from the locker room as
“Rolemodel” Paul Styles and Carl Stevenson emerge. They are both
greeted with a loud, drawn out, rumble of displeasure from the crowd.
Paul, dressed in the same “Sweater vest, dress shirt, slacks, and
dress shoes” outfit he wrestles in. Carl sports a three piece suit and
carries a locked briefcase. Carl heads towards the ring as Paul slowly
follows down the aisle speaking with fans along the way]

[Johnathan Monarch is a few steps behind Paul, dressed in a dark dress
shirt and dress vest over a pair of matching suspenders. He doesn't
pay much attention to the crowd and just seems to be chilling as he
heads towards the ring checking stuff out (fans, signs, etc.). Once at
the ring, he climbs the steps to join Carl and Paul inside where Carl
is holding a microphone as the music dies down]

Carl Stevenson: Alright Johnathan… I've been asked repeatedly by the
PVW front office about your opinion of their Blood Bowl event for the
fans. So… how do you feel?

Johnathan Monarch: How do I feel? I lost the match so I'm not too big
a fan of the event to be honest, Carl. My problem isn't with losing a
battle royal though. I can deal with losing a match. I'm a
professional…

[Johnathan is distracted momentarily by Paul Styles wandering along
the ropes in front of him smiling at the girls at ringside]

JM: We… are professionals, we don't take a loss personally. What I'm
not a big fan of is five men teaming up against me during a battle
royal. The pivotal rule of a battle royal is it being every man for
himself. It’s the entire point of a battle royal! I didn't lose a
Blood Bowl battle royal. I lost a handicap match that broke out in the
middle of it.

[Johnathan pauses and slightly nods to the crowd to back it up]

JM: Williams, Lassiter, Spectre, Embrey… those guys did great in their
handicap match against me. But I don't plan on wrestling in many more
handicap matches. So the next time I find one of those men in the ring
they probably wont have their partners, and if I have a few minutes to
spare at the time, I'll put them in the hospital.

[Paul nods at the suggestion and gives Johnathan a thumbs up with a
serious expression on his face from across the ring. Johnathan
responds with a thumbs up, with an equally serious expression, back
before continuing]

JM: That’s what I'm owed. Those guys went against the professional
wrestlers code when they teamed up in a battle royal and that is what
has to happen to make it right. It might not happen next week but at
some point it will happen… I don't forget.

CS: And it likely isn't going to happen tonight because we're busy
with the first paladin we've wrestled in our careers, Chris Hartt…
that’s Hartt with two Ts.

PS: Chris Hartt, the classic fairy tale of the unknown rookie trying
to make it big! The only problem is Chris The Paladin has no
experience, talent, or potential and has to make up for it with a lot
of heart. And while that makes for a great Paladin story their isn't
enough heart a overcome a world class athlete like Paul Styles. Not
even a big Paladin Hartt could do that… even with two Ts.

[the unpleasant rumble from the crowd starts to increase as Paul looks
to Carl who only responds with an uninterested shrug]

PS: So Chris… later tonight you bring all the Paladinity you have to
the ring and we'll see what you got. No random lottery partner, no
battle royal, just The Paladin and The Rolemodel… and it sounds like
The Paladin is out of his league.

[The piano exit to Layla, by Derek and the Dominos starts to play as
Johnathan comes up and pats Paul on the back. Carl returns the
microphone to the ring announcer before all three men leave the ring
and return to the locker room, each with the same reactions to the
fans as when they entered]

CL: Full of confidence as usual.  However as expected he has failed to
mention, Rob Cole.

PW: Why does he need to.  He has been there and beaten him.  No glory
in doing it again.

CL: You'd think he would like to answer the strong words the Outcast
has said about him.   Also don't forget Rob Cole has also beaten Paul
Styles so that goes both ways.  It's obvious there is still a little
unfinished business there.

PW: Yesterdays news.

[The locker room is quiet as Rob Cole continues to tape his fists for
the match this evening.  Across from him, Chris Hartt warms up for his
own match with Paul Styles.  The two men are silent with one another
for a few moments before Hartt breaks the moment… ]

Hartt: So...you think I got a real shot at this?  I really appreciate
all you've shown me lately.  Despite what everyone else says about
you, I kinda consider you a real friend...

Cole: I'm not your friend.  I'm not your buddy.  We ain' about to
take a warm hot shower in the wee hours of the night, and we sure as
hell ain't about to hold hands and skip to the loo… you want to know
why I'm helpin' you?  Paul Styles doesn't even see you as a work out…
he doesn't see you as anything more than some pathetic little man
trying to play in the realm of the Gods.  It would humiliate him to
lose… it would absolutely embarrass and humiliate him to concede that
you beat him.  That's why I'm helping you, Hartt… that's why I gave
you those tips, worked you out in the ring, and gave the benefit of my
experience with Styles.

Hartt: But...this guy's a joke!  He's all show, no go!  He just talks
a big game and then turns tail and hides!  What kind of challenge is
that?  He thinks *I'm* nothing?  At least I can go out there and work
a good match!  I've got lots of skills!

Cole: Don't think he's all talk… don't even pretend he's all talk.
He's a former champion… he's beaten me without luck or interference,
and he can just as quickly snatch a win out of you the moment you
underestimate what he's capable of.  He's dirty, he's rotten, and he
gets the job done… tonight, you have the chance to either slap the
taste out of his mouth or become just another statistic.

Hartt: I'm ready to go out there and show him who the best damn
technical wrestler in this company truly is!  I'm not a joke.  I'm not
someone to overlook, either. NOBODY in this company better look at me
that way anymore!

[Cole finishes taping his wrists and looks up to stare at Hartt…
there's anger there, hatred, and fury.  The Outcast gets to his feet,
rolling his neck before a knock at the door interrupts what he's about
to say… a stagehand comes in.

Stagehand: Mr. Hartt?  There's someone on the phone for you… she
sounds a little worried and wants to talk to you.

Cole: You've got to be kidding me.

Hartt: I'd better go take this.  I think I know who that is...

Cole: Go… talk… keep your mind on the game.  I have to put myself in
my own match, tonight… and it's probably better that you not be here
when I do that.  Remember, Chris… I'm not a nice guy.  Don't thank me,
don't wish me luck, and never forget what I do to people in the ring…
I will do it to you if I have to and if the opportunity ever comes up.
Are we clear on it?

Hartt: FIne.  We're clear.  I'm sorry it's so impossible for you to
let your guard down and allow yourself to have a friend once in a
while.  When the time comes and we're in that ring, there'll be
nothing between us but the need to kick the high holy crap out of each
other.  I won't reflect on any "old times" nor will I expect anything
but the animosity you're renowned for carrying against all human life.

Take care of yourself.  I guess it's what you're best at.

[Cole suddenly snaps, smashing his forearm into the locker… ]

Cole: NO!!!!  NO!!!! NO!!!!!  GET OUT!!! GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!!!
You maggot piece of filth… I will tear out your innards and shove them
down your throat!!! GET OUT!!!!

[The stagehand and Hartt back out of the door in a hurry, the camera
following as furniture begins to fly.  Roaring screams and brutal
crashing can be heard in the locker room as Cole continues to rant and
rave… ]

Stagehand: That guy is sick in the head…

Hartt: That's what makes him the monster under your bed.

[Fade back to a priceless look across both Chip Lester and Preston
Winfield's faces.  When they realize they are on the air they quickly
continue with the show.]

PW: Rob Cole isn't as stable as Chris Hartt thought.  I could have
told him that!

CL: The Hartt and Styles match has all the writing to be one of the
best matches inside the PVW up to date.

HD: Introducing From Tombstone, Arizona...  Led to the ring by the
lovely Varsity....   Standing at six foot five and weighing in at two
hundred and eighty pounds...




H O R S E    T H I E F ! ! !




["The Devil in Miss Jones" by Mike Ness begins to play over the PA
system.  The first to emerge is the gum-chewing blonde bombshell
Varsity.  She is quickly joined by the big and scruff Horse Thief.
Horse Thief has a tall and solid frame. Clad in brown pants with a
long belt strap hanging and a huge belt buckle. His boots are dirty
and so is his messy black hair. A red bandana sits over his face and
black gloves cover hands. The two make their way to the ring.]

CL: Horse Thief looking to get on a roll here tonight.

PW: Nobody can overcome the six fingered man!

HD:  His opponent, wrestling out of Dublin, Ireland. Standing at 6
foot 1 and weighing in at 215 pounds.




' F I G H T I N G     I R I S H M A N '    C A L E B    F O L E Y  ! !
! !





["I'm Shipping Up To Boston" by The Dropkick Murphy's
plays over the PA. as the arena fills with cheers. On
the Screens we see a graphic and it reads
"From Dublin, Ireland" CALEB FOLEY]

"I'm a sailor peg
And I lost my leg
Climbing up the top sails,
I lost my leg!

I'm shipping up to Boston (Way Oh)
I'm shipping up to Boston (Way Oh)
I'm shipping up to Boston (Way Oh)
I'm shipping off... to find my wooden leg"

[Caleb stands at the entrance just bouncing to the
beat of the music. He has his red hair buzz cut and an
eager look on his face. Dressed in all black, from the
kickpads to the boots and the jacket itself, Caleb
begins to walk down the entrance when he stops, he
bends down and pounds his knuckles to the ground as a
huge pyro display goes off!!]


[CROWD POPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]


[Foley heads toward the ring, he hops up onto the
apron and jumps over the top rope catching himself on
the second turnbuckle where he salutes the crowd, as
they pop for him!!]

CL: We saw Foley earlier tonight after coming out to congradulate the
PVW Heavyweight Champion, Chase Williams.

PW: I still say that Chase should have planted him on his head.  He is
indeed lucky!



[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Singles Action, 15 Minute Time Limit:
	Horse Thief
	v. 'Fighting Irishman' Caleb Foley

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]



<< DING DING >>


CL: The bell has been sounded and Horse Thief is ready for a fight!!!
He charges in and an unexpecting Foley is taken by surprise with
barrage of right hands.  Horse Thief whips him across and Foley down
quickly with a tilt-a-whirl slam!




ONE ...




TWO ...




CL: Kick out by Foley and Horse Thief quickly back on the attack.
Lifts up the youngster and CRUSHING back breaker.  He hooks the leg
going for another early count.




ONE ...




TWO ...




CL: Foley with a shoulder up.

PW: What has gotten into Horse Thief he rushing out here looking to
pick up a quick victory.

CL: He came out with a lot of hype and thus far he hasn't lived up to
it.  Perhaps the Horse Thief is looking to make up for some lost time.

[Horse Thief lifts Foley up again, but Foley slides behind the much
larger man.  A chop across Thief's chest... Another stiff chop!  Caleb
Foley hits the ropes and leaping forearm takes Horse Thief off his
feet!  The Fighting Irishman waits for Horse Thief to get to his feet
and a low dropkick right to the kneecap of Horse Thief!]

CL: Caleb Foley now working that right knee over and drops an elbow!
Varsity is on the outside slamming her fist on the mat attempting to
fire her man up.  Horse Thief back up, but a running kneelift by Caleb
Foley.

PW: Caleb Foley is fired up tonight!

CL: He sure is Preston and he is climbing the ropes.  He leaps into a
big double leg drop -

[BOOO, No body home!   Foley does the constipated look as he lands
squarely on the mat. Horse Thief lifts him up and big vertical suplex!
Hits the ropes and knee right into the midsection. Horse Thief bends
down with that big hand of his and begins choking the life out of
Caleb Foley. Referee Duke Martin begins counting, but it falls on deaf
ears!]

CL: Horse Thief choking Caleb Foley with that big right hand of his.

PW: ALL SIX FINGERS!

CL: The Referee is in Horse Thief's ears warning him if he doesn't let
go he will be disqualified.

[Horse Thief jumps up and is in the officials face threatening to
swing at him.  This allows Foley to regather his composure and a roll
up from behind!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




CL: KICK OUT!!!  Horse Thief is up and standing dropkick!  Both men
quickly back to their feet and DDT by Foley he hooks the leg...   This
could be it!




ONE ...




TWO ...




[No avail, Horse Thief with another strong kick out.  Foley up and
Springboard Moonsault!  He hits the ropes, Varsity grabs his leg
causing the Fighting Irishman to trip!  Foley quickly up and looks
towards the smug valet.  He turns just in time to duck under a wild
right hand by Horse Thief and Gutwrench DDT!!!]

CL:   Caleb Foley is rolling now.  Not even a outside distraction has
slowed him down.  He is climbing to the top ropes...  Pointing as the
fans are on their feet!!!!   Leaps -




[FINISHER POP!!]




IRISH EYES ARE SMILING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!




CL: The picture perfect 450 splash known as Irish Eyes are smiling
seals the deal for the youngster out of Dublin, Ireland.

PW: This is so sad.  I had so much hope for Horse Thief and his six
fingers...  If he keeps this up he will be nothing more then a myth.
An after thought.

CL: Caleb Foley picks up a huge win as he fights his way to the top
and a match with rival, Chase Williams.

PW: He is only a rival inside Foley's mind.  I mean who wouldn't want
to rival the champ?  Chase has bigger fish to fry.

CL: Either way an impressive win by Caleb Foley.

You might want to roll with this later on .. have the announcers
confirm that Outlaw did NOT get a title shot...

[Cut to the jobbers locker room.  The Arizona Kid is sitting in a
corner, shoulder hunched, noticeably unhappy.]

Masked Maniac: Cheer up little buddy.  You did good.  You made us
Jobbers proud.

Jason Dynamite:  Yeah Kid.  At least you were on the card tonight.

[A murmur of agreement from the rest of the jobbers.]

Masked Maniac: You'll get him next time.  You'll see.

[The locker room door busts open.  The jobbers turn towards the door
as Outlaw steps into the locker room.  His duffel bag trails behind
him, dragging on the floor.]

Brian Masters: [under his breath] Not this guy again.

[Outlaw slumps down on a bench, dropping his bag to the floor.  He
lets out a loud sigh.]

[silence..]

[He looks around the room again, waiting for a response.  Getting
none, he sighs loudly again.]

Masked Maniac: Is everything ok?

Outlaw: Does it [bleep] look like everything is [bleep] ok?

Masked Maniac: Uh.. No?

Outlaw: Exactly.  So [bleep] get this.  Did any of you guys [bleep]
realize that in a Blood Bowl you're NOT supposed to go over the
[bleep] top rope?

[The jobbers collectively nod their heads.]

Outlaw: Why the [bleep] didn't anyone [bleep] tell me?

Jason Dynamite: Kind of assumed you knew?

Outlaw: Well [bleep], you guys should [bleep] know better than that.
Here I [bleep] was in full control of the [bleep] Blood Bowl.  I had
already [bleep] tossed out Bobby Cole, and [bleep] Major Damage, and
everything was [bleep] going great.  I even had [bleep] Paul Styles
begging for [bleep] mercy.

Masked Maniac: Uh, Paul Styles was replaced by Jonathan Monarch, no?

[He looks at the other jobbers to get confirmation.  They nod.]

Outlaw: That's what I [bleep] said.  So everything is going [bleep]
great.  I'm about to [bleep] crush Chase [bleep] Williams, when I
noticed Mike Chrisson [bleep] standing around like a [bleep] moron.

Arizona Kid: Chris Michaelson?

Outlaw: At least someone's [bleep] listening.   So I [bleep] launch
myself from like forty [bleep] feet in the air and [bleep] nail that
[bleep].

Ed Green: The Golden One?  I think you mean the Golden SUCK!

[Outlaw cocks his head to the side and stares at Green.]

Outlaw: I like your [bleep] style.  So anyways, I [bleep] kill this
guy, and the ref tells me I'm out of the [bleep] Blood Bowl?  What the
[bleep]?

Masked Maniac: Sounds like you were robbed.

Outlaw: You're [bleep] right I was.  So after the show, I go find the
[bleep] owner

Jason Dynamite: You talked to Dex Willingham?!?

Ed Green: No way!

Arizona Kid: Dex is awesome, I still haven't gotten a meeting with him
wait.

Gene Gaines: Is he really as smart as everyone says?

Brian Masters: Is he really as funny as everyone says?

Masked Maniac: Is he really as dreamy as everyone says?

[Everyone stops and stares at Masked Maniac.  An awkward silence.]

Masked Maniac: I mean.. uh.. as tough as everyone says?

[The awkward moment continues..]

Outlaw: Riiiiiight. [bleep] moving along now.  So I'm [bleep] talking
to Tex.

Brian Masters: Dex.

Outlaw: [bleep], pay attention.  So I'm [bleep] talking to Dex, and I
[bleep] say to him.  "What the [bleep]".

Jason Dynamite: You didn't.

Outlaw: [bleep] right I did.  So he says, "What seems to be the
problem."  And I [bleep] say, "What's with the [bleep] stupid [bleep]
rule.  Nobody [bleep] told me about it."  So he looks me [bleep] over
right.

Masked Maniac: Right.

Outlaw: Then he [bleep] says.  "All the participants were re-explained
the rules before the match".  I was all "[bleep] hat, I wasn't [bleep]
told anything."  And then he has the never to [bleep] say, "You might
be right, I believe at that time you were busy stealing the PVW
Championship belt."

Brian Masters: Wonder where he got that idea from.

Outlaw: So I [bleep] realized the [bleep] guy is insane.  ME stealing
a [bleep] title belt?  Please.

Brian Masters: Preposterous.

Outlaw: That's what I [bleep] said.  So I got the [bleep] out of his
office at that point, because lets be [bleep] honest here, some people
are out of their [bleep] minds.

Arizona Kid: So now what?

Outlaw: Well before I [bleep] left I managed to convince him to give
me a [bleep] title shot against Chase [bleep] Williams.

Arizona Kid: No way!  You have a title shot?

Outlaw: Of course I [bleep] do.  It just has to be [bleep] made
official.  But after that, Chase [bleep] Williams is mine!

Brian Masters: Uh huh.  I'll believe that when I see it.

Outlaw: So anyways, just wanted to let you [bleep] guys know that I
won't [bleep] forget you when I'm at the [bleep] top of PVW after I
beat Chase [bleep] Williams.

Arizona Kid: That's great!  Can I get a title shot after you win ?

Outlaw: [bleep] right Kid.  [bleep] right.

[Outlaw gets up and grabs his bag. ]

Outlaw: Gotta [bleep] go guys.  I've got some [bleep] friends coming
by tonight.

[Outlaw walks out of the room.]

[Masters turns towards the Kid.]

Brian Masters: you do realize he doesn't actually have a title shot
right?

Arizona Kid: But he said he did.

Brian Masters: If he has a title shot, I've got a bridge to sell you.

[Cut back to the announcers.]

PW: Wait a second here Chip.  Does Outlaw actually have a title shot?

CL: I don't know.  I think we'll need to talk to some of the higher
ups.  Dex Willingham is a man of the people, and he wants to keep them
entertained.  It's conceivable he would give Outlaw a shot at the
title.

PW: God help us if he did..



HD: Introducing first, From Chicago, Illinois.... At a combined weight
of four hundred and twenty pounds...




' D O C T O R '   B O N E S   E L L I S


' T H E   M A S T E R   O F   A F R O D Y N A M I C S '   A P O L L O
J O N E S


T H E   U N R I V A L E D   F U N K Y   O N E S ! ! !




[A woman's voice echoes out.]


V/O: Hit that music and make it funky, baby!


[Then comes the funk in the form of James Brown's "Living in America"
the lights around the entrance portal begin to flash and swing to the
beat of the song.  Smoke begins to pour out the entrance ramp and from
the back comes out the duo known as the Unrivaled Funky Ones.

On the right, is the Master of Afrodynamics, Apollo Jones who is
sporting a full on afro, wearing a pair of American Flag boxers,
sleeveless matching vest and matching boots with red tassels hanging
off of those. To the left, is his partner in crime, a Real Cool Cat,
"Doctor" Bones Ellis.  Ellis is a little less flashy wearing a black
t-shirt which reads "Funk 'til yer Dead." and a pair of wrestling
tights that has variations airbrushing on it - tonight features an
angel embracing a demon with Ellis' face.]



# Living in America, eye to eye, station to station #

# Living in America, hand to hand, across the nation #

# Living in America,  got to have a celebration #



[The two make their way to the ring, Jones continues to dance his way
towards the ring, while Ellis plays it cool keeping his eyes on the
ring at all times.  Ellis hits the ring first by diving under the
bottom ropes as Jones uses the steel steps to boogie on up.  He then
leaps over the top ropes in a great show of skill.  The music fades as
Jones removes his American flag vest.]

CL: Can you feel the funk Preston?

PW: Is that what it is?  I thought it was a bowel movement.

HD: Their opponents... From West Palm Beach, Florida..  At a combined
weight of four hundred and forty pounds...


I A N   R O S E


A N D R E W   S T E V E N S


S E X U A L   E N E R G Y ! !  !




[A shot of red and white pyro explodes as "Gett Off" by Prince begins
to blare throughout the arena. From behind the curtain walks out
Andrew Stevens and Ian Rose, both wearing red tights with the word
"Sexual" written on the right leg in white lettering, and "Energy"
written on the left leg in white lettering.]



[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Tag Team Action, 20 Minute Time Limit:
	U.F.O's
	v. 'Sexual Energy

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]



<<< DING   DING >>>


PW: Well here we go. The most decorated tag team in the business today
facing off against the ..

CL: The FUNKIEST of the funky!

[Apollo Jones elects to start the match for the UFOs while Ian Rose
starts off for Sexual Energy. Slowly the two men circle one another.]

PW: Sexual Energy has yet to have the success here in the PVW while
Apollo Jones has had problems with Paul Styles.

CL: Both men slowly circling one another …

[The two men lock up in the center of the ring. Rose pushes Jones into
the corner. Referee Chris Cole ordering for the break, but Ian
responds with a stiff elbow to Jones’ jaw after which he steps back
with a smirk on his face as Jones feels his jaw. Rose motions for the
youngster to lock up again and Jones does just that. This time Jones
powers Rose into the corner and once again Chris Cole orders for a
break and Jones responds with an elbow to Rose’s jaw. Jones mouths
payback.]

CL: Rose doesn't seem to happy as he charges from the corner …

PW: Jones connects with a drop toe hold and is quickly to his feet.

[Jones winks at a female fan before turning to once again look at
rose, who has returned to his feet.]

CL: Rose with a vicious right hand that rocks Jones back.

PW: Rose apparently didn't like being humiliated there with that drop
toe hold.

[Rose fires a second right to the jaw of Jones that forces him into
the ropes. Rose quickly grabs Jones by the arm and whips him across
the ring.]

PW: Rose with a picture perfect standing dropkick. And like the
veteran he is, Ian drops an elbow into chest of Jones and drags him to
his corner where he tags in Andrew Stevens.

[Andrew climbs into the ring and fires a stiff kick to the midsection
of Jones doubling him over. Ian begins to climb to the top rope as
Andrew lifts Jones into the air with an electric chair like move.]

PW: Ian comes off with a flying clothesline …

CL: They call that HARDER!

[Chris Cole is finally able to force Ian out of the ring and Andrew
hooks Jones’ leg for the cover.]




ONE ...




TWO ...




CL: JONES WITH THE KICKOUT!

PW: Not a lot of authority there but he does barely get his shoulder
up.

[Stevens glares at the ref as he pulls Jones to his feet once again.
He locks on a front chancery and executes a vertical suplex taking
Apollo down once again.]

CL: Sexual Energy has been in complete control so far in this match

PW: and that’s the way it should be. The UFOs are completely
outclassed here.

[Stevens points at Ellis in a mocking manner as he pulls Jones to his
feet and whips him into the corner where Rose is standing. Andrew
walks towards Bones and begins to jaw jack with him as Rose begins to
choke Jones with the tag rope.]

CL: COME ON REF! Rose is chocking the life out of Jones in the corner.

PW: Well if Bones would have left Andrew alone the ref would be able
to do his job correctly.

[Andrew shoves Bones to the mat and turns around rushing across the
ring and driving his shoulder into the gut of Apollo Jones. Stevens
quickly tags in Rose who grabs Jones by the arm and drives a chop into
the chest of Jones.]

PW: That looks like it stung. And Rose follows up with a second chop
to Jones’ chest.

[Rose whips Jones to the ropes and takes him down with a quick
clothesline. He follows up with a knee to the right shoulder of Apollo
keeping him grounded on the mat. Rose smirks as he pulls Jones to his
feet and drops him quickly with a DTT.]

PW: Rose in control, just the way it should be.

CL: Jones has seemed a step off of this match thus far.

PW: And that’s because Sexual is the premier tag team in the business.

[Rose pulls Jones to his feet and goes for a right but Jones blocks it
and connects with one of his own. Ian shakes off the punch and goes
for another but Jones beats him to the punch one more time.]

CL: Jones fighting back! A vicious knee lift forces Rose to the ropes
…

[Apollo Jones begins to do the robot.]

PW: What the!?!? He’s been getting beaten all over the ring and he has
time to do the robot? Does he know this isn't a dance contest?

[Apollo Jones spins and catches Ian rose with a spinning pimp slap.]

CL: The spinning pimp slap!

PW: The only thing that could do is piss off Rose.

[Jones points to Ellis who puts his foot on the top rope and Apollo
grabs Ian by the head and slams it into boot. Jones gives a cocky nod
to Ellis and tags Bones into the match for the first time.]

CL: Bones Ellis in the match for the first time and he starts off with
a solid elbow to the back of Rose’s neck. And he follows up with a
stiff knee to the jaw knocking Rose back.

[‘Doctor’ Ellis quickly takes Rose to the mat with a Russian Legsweep
and floats over to a quick cover. But before the referee can make a
count Rose kicks out. Rose rolls to his feet and attempts to catch
Ellis off guard with a quick clothesline but Ellis ducks, turns about
quickly and catches Rose in a sleeper hold.]

CL: Ellis catches Rose in a sleeper hold! But Rose is close to the
ropes and grabs them forcing the referee Chris Cole to begin the five
count on Ellis.

PW: Ellis finally breaks the hold at four and locks on a side head
lock.

CL: Yet, Rose with a side suplex separating Ellis.

PW: Look at the awareness of Rose as he rolls to his corner making a
quick tag to Stevens.

[Stevens is quickly in the ring and connects with a low dropkick to
the knee of Ellis as he attempts to get to his feet. He grabs Ellis by
the waist and drills him to the mat with a vicious German suplex.]

PW: Stevens folded Ellis up like an accordion!

CL: And Stevens floating over for the cover!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THR -




[Apollo Jones dives across the ring slamming his elbow into the back
of Andrew Sevens head.]

CL: Heads up save by Apollo Jones!

[Bones Ellis is back on his feet. The U.F.O’s grab Steven Andrews and
execute a double hip toss. As Stevens crashes to the mat they execute
stereo leg drops.]

CL: Great double team move by the U.F.Os!

PW: Come on ref break this travesty of justice up!

[Apollo Jones winks at the same lady in the front row that he winked
out before. Ellis pulls Stevens up and takes him to the mat with a
brainbuster suplex.]

CL: Ellis compacting the neck of Stevens with that brainbuster.




ONE ...




TWO ...




[And Rose drills Ellis in the back of the head with a knee drop.]

PW: Sexual Energy showing why they are still the best at time work!

[Rose tosses Ellis into the ropes and executes a spinning heel kick
drilling Ellis in the head. Jones rushes the ring and spears Rose out
of his boots. The two crash to the floor as both Ellis and Stevens
slowly return to their feet.]

CL: We got a war on the outside of the ring as …

PW: AS JOHNATHAN MONARCH AND CARL STEVENSON slowly make their way to
ringside!

CL: This cannot be good for Apollo!

[Apollo Jones whips Ian Rose into the guardrail and turns to slide
into the ring to help Ellis out who is being stomped in the corner by
Stevens. But before he does so he sees the Royal Family. The referee
turns about and orders Jones to his corner as Rose is lying in a heap
on the floor.]

PW: The Royal Family has Jones’ attention at the moment but it doesn't
seem to matter as ‘The Doctor’ is once again in control in the ring.

[Ellis pulls Stevens to his feet and drills him with a Running
Lygerbomb.]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THR -




PW: STEVENS WITH HIS SHOULDER UP!

[Ellis slams his hand to the mat and looks towards Jones who is
screaming at the Royal Family.]

CL: Ellis screams at Apollo to get his head in the game.

[Jones turns around and is pulled to the floor by Monarch. Monarch
connects with a vicious right and whips Jones hard into the ring post.
In the ring Ellis locks on a front chancery and executes a leaping
fisherman’s buster!]

CL: TOTAL BURN OUT! And Ellis hooks in a small package!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!





CL: THE U.F.Os pick up the win!

PW: Maybe Ellis did but at the moment Jones is on the receiving of a
beating by Monarch and Stevenson is just barking out orders!






!!! WHAAAAMMMM !!!






PW: Again Jones is tossed into the ring post! I think that is the
third time his shoulder hit the steel!

[Ellis turns around and rushes to the far side of the ring where
Monarch is dismantling Apollo Jones! Ian Rose slides into the ring and
catches Ellis with a spear!]

PW: ROSE BACK IN AND CUTS OFF ELLIS!





!!! THHHUUUUUDDDD !!!!





CL: Jones’ head just bounced off of the ring steps!

[Inside the ring Rose and Stevens have pulled Ellis to his feet!]

PW: WHO’S YOUR DADDY! Ellis just drilled with the combination jumping
roundhouse and leg sweep!

CL: This is just becoming a massacre of the U.F.Os!

[Sexual Energy stands over the fallen Bones Ellis as Monarch begins to
pulls Jones to his feet once again.]

CL: HERE COMES SECURITY!

[Security stands between Jones and the Royal Family and begins to
force them back. Stevenson just laughs as Jones lays on the floor.]

CL: What has gotten into the Royal Family.  Is Paul Styles still sore
over a missed spot?

PW: If Apollo Jones can't hit the right target then he shouldn't be
trying all those funky moves.

CL: Well they are the unrivaled Funky Ones.

PW: Before we get to the next match I want to clarify something for
all the PVW fans. I had my sources in the back look into the supposed
Outlaw title match against Chase Williams and it is not going to
happen. I repeat Outlaw does not have a future title match against
Williams.

CL: Thanks for the clarification Preston. I guess sometimes you can
come through with important information.  The Funky Ones are on their
feet now and the fans cheering them as they head back up the ramp way.
Big win by Jones and Ellis as they defeat Sexual Energy.  These two
have an amazing bright future here in the PVW.

PW: They better make peace with the Royal Family.

HD: Introducing first from Minneapolis, Minnesota... Standing at five
foot eleven and weighing in at two hundred and forty five pounds...




' P A L A D I N '     C H R I S     H A R T T  ! ! ! !





['S.S.C./Stand or Fall' by Anthrax plays, as Chris makes his way out
onto the stage. Red lights shine in a grand display, as Chris holds
his arms out to the sides, then walks to the ring, leaping onto the
apron, climbing in and mounting a turnbuckle, repeating the sign of
the cross.]

CL: Here is The Paladin.  The best technical wrestler in wrestling
today, but now with a few tricks up his sleeve thanks to Rob Cole.

PW: Could you imagine spending that much time with Rob Cole?

"A LITTLE BIT MORE ATTITUDE"

["Mad Mad World" by 7A3 plays as RJ Souza runs to  ringside. He is
quickly restrained by security while RJ is pointing to Chris
Hartt.......off mic, but loud enough to be heard on TV.]

"Bad Karma" RJ Souza: Don't you know you don't screw with MY WIFE,
Chris!!! I know she's been calling you scumbag!!!

[One of the larger contracted security guards holds Souza back.]

Security guy: Calm down, RJ. You are not a part of this match.

"Bad Karma" RJ Souza: Look, an 18 year old girl is flashing...

[I guess we shouldn't contract them out eh?]

Security Guy: (Turns his head) Where??


}


[Souza with a Karma Kick to the back of his head out of nowhere...]

"Bad Karma" RJ Souza: There!!

[Getting free, RJ Souza begins to climb into the ring, but the
assigned PVW referee, Max Kelly steps in front of the upset
superstar.]

Kelly: RJ, I have orders to keep you from ringside.  If you interfere
with this match you will forfeit any chance you have at Chris Hartt,
because you will be suspended from action inside the PVW.  Go and grab
a seat  if you want, but touch anyone and you will find yourself with
out a paycheck.

["Souza  Sucks" chant starts up as RJ shakes his head in anger. Souza
backs away slowly looking at Hartt and drops to the outside setting a
chair up near the time keeper.]

PW: I guess Souza has made it his business tonight.  What is this
about Hartt hitting on his wife?

CL: Chris Hartt is an upstanding guy.

HD: His opponents... Introducing from, Toronto, Ontario. Standing at
five foot ten and weighing in at two hundred and thirty pound... Led
to the ring by Carl Stevenson!




' R O L E   M O D E L '    P A U L   S T Y L E S ! ! ! !






[The crowd begin to jeer as the Piano Exit of Layla, by Derek and the
Dominoes begin to play over the PA system.  First to emerge is Carl
Stevenson.  Carl is a normal sized man, only a few pounds lighter than
Paul Styles himself. He is decked out in a tailor-made three piece
suit.
Joining him at to his right is 575 pounds of Jonathon Monarch and to
his left side is the wrestling legend and hall of famer, Paul Styles.
Paul is slim but fit build, Clean and proper, He has on a dress shirt,
dress pants and lace up dress shoes. The legendary trio head down the
isle way ignoring the jeers from the fans.  Every so often one will
get under Paul's skin and Carl Stevenson will shout at him to keep
their hands away from Paul. Finally they reach ring side.  The first
to walk up the steps is Carl Stevenson followed by Paul Styles.  The
two enter the squared circle where they prepare.]

CL: Hartt is a little out numbered here.  Even though Souza has orders
to stay out of the match the Royal Family is down at ring side and in
numbers!

PW: Oh, woe is Hartt... who cares?  If any of them get involved in the
match, Hartt takes the win... if Hartt is better than Styles, like he
claims to be, than Hartt will win.  Where's the disadvantage?  Seems
to me that Styles has to contend not only with his opponent but with
the over enthusiasm of some three guys at ringside... plus, you never
know what Cole might wind up doing!





[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Singles Action, 20 Minute Time Limit:
	'Paladin' Chris Hartt
	v. 'Rolemodel' Paul Styles

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]



<<< DING  DING >>>


CL: And the referee calls for the bell... Styles circles, but Hartt
shoots right in there for the takedown!  Styles forced to the mat, and
he back crawls to the ropes... I don't think he expected Hartt to just
shoot in like that!  Referee calls for a break, and Hartt back to his
feet... watching Styles like a hawk!

PW: Veterans don't usually shoot in like that... so Styles was
probably expecting more of a feeling out period, not for a big dive
like that one.  Crawling back to the ropes forces Hartt to break his
own momentum, and it gives Styles a chance to breathe.

CL: Styles back to his feet... Hartt shoots in, but Styles sidesteps
and rushes his own corner!  Referee getting between him and Hartt.

PW: The veteran is only too happy to play this kind of game with
Hartt... slowing down the pace and frustrating the youngster!  Hartt
went through all the trouble of working with Cole, only to find out
that Styles can play Russian bulldog with the best of them!

CL: Styles circles and Hartt moves in again, but Styles ducks the lock
up and puts himself against the ropes again!  Styles moves in, but the
referee backs him up once more... Monarch on the apron!  Hartt turns,
and here comes Styles!  Chop block brings Hartt down to the mat, and
the Rolemodel yanks that leg up... and drops an elbow across the knee!
Up again... and down!!! And once more!  Hartt clutches at his knee as
Styles lets him go, the crowd showing their disapproval!

PW: This is the way a veteran like Styles plays the game... Styles
moves in for the kill!

CL: He yanks up Hartts' leg, warning the kid about stepping into his
ring... he's going for the dragonscrew, but Hartt rolls through and is
up on his feet!  Styles up... ARMDRAG!!!!  Styles stunned at the speed
of Hartt's recovery... backing to the corner, but Chris follows him
all the way in and delivers a kick to the gut!  Front chancery, into a
beautiful suplex!

PW: Give credit where it's due, this kid got toughened up this past
week... not many guys are willing to gut out some knee damage in order
to execute these types of moves!

CL: And now it's Chris Hartt's turn to slow things down, applying a
top wrist lock to the kneeling veteran... Hartt with all the leverage
here as Styles refuses to submit!

[The crowd continues to cheer in approval as Hartt forces Styles down
to the mat, forcing his shoulders down... he gets a two count, but
Styles shoots one arm up!  Hartt shifts his weight, causing Styles to
cry out in pain... and his arm drops once more, forcing the shoulder
down where the referee counts him down for two once more!]

CL: Hartt in a strong position... Styles grabs a handful of hair and
forces the Paladin to break the hold!

PW:  And Styles isn't going to give Hartt a chance to lock it again,
using the referee to cut off the Paladin as he slips outside!

CL: But Hartt just dives past the ref... to the outside, and Styles
spins into a knife edge chop!!! Another staggers the legend!  And
another one... and before the Family can get around the ring, Hartt
throws the Rolemodel back in!

[The crowd roaring their approval as Hartt rolls in after the
Rolemodel... the crowd really gets to their feet as Styles begs off,
Hartt clenches his fists and smiles as he stalks on the veteran!]

CL: Hartt moves in on Styles and pulls the veteran to his feet...
chop! Another one!  He forces Styles against the ropes, sends him
rushing with an irish whip... snapping armdrag!  Styles rolls back to
his feet, clutching that arm as Hartt moves in... SINGLE ARM DDT!!!!

PW: I can't believe how aggressive Chris Hartt has been in this
match... and I'm starting to notice the pattern as Chris just seems to
be targeting Styles' arm throughout the evening!

CL: Styles begs off again... but Hartt is showing no mercy as he pulls
up on the arm and twists it with a straight armbar!  Elbow to the
crook! Another elbow!  Styles is in agony!

PW: You know, he may not be one hundred percent after that injury a
few weeks back!

CL: I think we can let him make his own excuses... Styles front flips
out of the armbar, ducks beneath and snatches a single leg takedown!
Hartt back rolls, dodging the elbow from Styles who clutches his arm
in pain... and Hartt with a single-arm chickenwing, into a hammerlock
as Styles scrambles for the ropes!

PW: Carl Stevenson up to check on Styles... what the hell?!?!!  Hartt
just knocked him off the apron, and Monarch is trying to get into the
ring... referee cutting him off!

[Crowd gives a huge heel pop as Styles nails a low blow on Hartt from
behind!   Hartt falls, clutching himself, and the referee turns just
in time to see Styles cover... ]




ONE ...




TWO ...




KICKOUT !!!




CL: Close count, and Styles isn't happy that this match isn't over...
he pulls Hartt to his feet, and drills him beneath the chin with an
elbow!! Another shot!!!  And he goes for the leg... legbreaker across
the knee! Hartt falls to the mat and Styles yanks the leg up... and
drops down with elbow across the knee once again!

PW: Classic strategy for a ring veteran... isolate the joint, work it
over, and warm it up for a good old fashion submission hold!  This is
why Paul Styles is such a ring general!

CL: Rolls Hartt to his stomach... and stomps on the back of the leg!
Another stomp!  Hartt tries to roll back over, but Styles snatches an
ankle... stump puller!!!!

PW: Beautiful!

CL: Styles signals for the figure four... he hooks up Hartt and spins,
but Hartt curls up and yanks Styles down with a small package!!!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !?!




NO!!!! Styles kicks out!

PW: What the hell?!?!!!

CL: Hartt is up, Styles with a single leg takedown and he tries to
snap on the figure four again... but Hartt counters with a legscissor
into a drop toe-hold!  Hartt floats over the back.... AVENGER!!! Hartt
hooks on the Avenger from out of nowhere and Styles flails on his
stomach!!!!

PW: No!!! NO NO NO!!!!

[The crowd is on their feet as Hartt hooks on the hold... and cinches
it up!  Carl Stevenson starts going nuts at ringside, and finally
launches himself to the ring apron!  Monarch rushes around the ring...
and snatches up the Louisville slugger from Souza, who holds up his
hands.]

CL: Hartt ignores the antics of Carl Stevenson, and the referee
continues to check on Styles... Styles lifting his hand, considering
the tap out as Hartt hooks in that cross-face chickenwing in the
center of the ring... Styles with no leverage, face down as he is!
Wait a minute!!!!

PW: Monarch throws the Slugger in the ring!

[The referee intercepts the slugger, and begins to yell at Monarch who
drops from the apron.  Styles starts to tap out wildly, and Hartt
releases the hold and raises both arms... stopping, however, when he
notices the referee is holding Louisville with his back to the
competitors!]

PW: Hartt pointing at Souza, though!  Souza didn't do a thing...

CL: He certainly didn't stop Monarch...

PW: Stopping Monarch would have been interfering!

[Styles continues to clutch his wounded shoulder as Carl tosses him
the brass knuckles... Styles nods, doesn't bother to fit it around his
fists and NAILS Hartt from behind!]

CL: The referee doesn't see the brass knuckles... and Styles makes the
cover in desperation!!!!





ONE ...




TWO ...





THREEEEEEE !!!





PW: He did it!!! Paul Styles overcame the training of Rob Cole and
buried another wannabe in the graveyard... Paul Styles continues to
rise in the ranks of the PVW!!!!

[Styles doesn't wait for the announcement, he just rolls out of the
ring and raises his non-wounded arm as Stevenson snatches the brass
knuckles away and keeps them out of sight.  He pulls his client back
up the ramp as Hartt rolls to his knees, clutching the back of his
head... staring after the Rolemodel with absolute hatred!]

CL: It was a well fought match, and Hartt certainly showed everyone
that he has the heart of a.... DEAR LORD!!!!

[The crowd erupts into a chorus of boos as R.J. Souza NAILS Chris
Hartt from behind with the Slugger!  Hartt slumps to the mat and Souza
stands over his prone body, his eyes cold as he stares down at his
former friend.  He lifts the baseball bat and clutches it in both
hands...
DRIVING DOWN INTO THE BASE OF HARTT'S SKULL AGAIN!!!!]

PW: I don't believe it... I thought these two were like brothers!  I
can't believe Hartt would go after another man's wife... this is
horrible!

[Souza wraps the bat around Hartt's throat, and yanks the man up and
continues to choke him... he halls him up to his knees, yelling in his
ear. "MY WIFE!!!!  SHE'S MY WIFE!!!!  I'LL END YOUR CAREER BEFORE YOU
TOUCH HER AGAIN!!!! YOU HEAR ME?!?!!"  Souza shoves Hartt down, blood
pooling from the wounds to the back of his head... his face soon wet
from the puddle as Souza continues to stand over him, eyes cold as he
regards his fallen friend.  A man he once considered his brother.]

CL: What's this!?!?!

[Destiny Souza rolls into the ring screaming for Souza to stop.  RJ
Souza rolls out of the ring and slowly backs up the isle way.  Destiny
bends over checking on Chris Hartt, every so often looking up at RJ
with a look of half disappointment half confusion.]

PW: Okay now things are just getting weird.

CL: RJ Souza has lost it.  He is scheduled to face Johnny Oakes later
and we have no idea what kind of mind frame he will be in.

PW: From the looks of it a loose canon.

CL: Chris Hartt and RJ Souza were like brothers they stood side by
side and now for some unknown reason, RJ Souza has pinpointed Chris
Hartt and taken years of frustration out on him.  I hope Destiny can
talk some sense into him.

PW: Mans rule numero uno...  Never mess with another man's wife.

CL: I highly doubt that Chris Hartt has placed a finger on Destiny
Souza.  Both of them are loyal figures in his life.

PW: Apparently Chris Hartt isn't anymore.

[Cut to show the back hallway of the Armory, where three men carrying
briefcase wear gray suits while walking. The largest (let's call him
Papa Lawyer) is a tall, fat tub with little hair and a caveman's
sloping brow. His buddy (let's call him Mama Lawyer) is about the same
height, but handsome, fit and kinda buff. The smallest (let's call him
Baby Lawyer) is still above average height, but has shocking red hair
with white streaks, matching beard, and wears a neck brace. Okay, all
jokes relating bears to lawyers aside, it's Livestock and the Gutch
with their manager Zeke. Livestock Zappa (Mama Lawyer ... dammit)
is the first to speak up.]

Livestock: Okay, so we don't have a match this week, so I was thinking
we should probably go over the contract with that studio for putting
PVW matches on those cheap-ass “Legends of Wrestling” DVDs. It's not a
bad deal, financially, but we need to do a cost-benefit analysis to
figure out if its benefits to our clients outweigh the stigma of
having our product sold in the “dollar bins” at “the Wal-Marts”.

[Next the Baby Lawyer, er, Broderick Ezekiel Craven, speaks up, his
middle aged salt-and-Cheyenne pepper beard bristling.]

Zeke: Good gravy man, are you serious? The show is going on right now
and you want to focus on drudgery? That paperwork can be done any
time!

[Finally fat old Papa Lawyer, AKA Gutch Bartilucci. Now all we need is
an analogue for Goldilocks.]

Gutch: Well, what you want us to do? I guess we could pummel some
random dude with our 'cases or somethin'...

Zeke: No, no, nothing so pedestrian. Lord, I don't know, just
something to get us noticed so that you two morons can spend more time
busting heads
and less time getting the details wrong on paperwork...

Livestock: Hey!

Zeke: Okay, so Gutch makes most of the mistakes, but still!

Gutch: Hey, I hadn't eaten that day.  Anybody could've made that
mistake.

Zeke: You put in a plea ... of not guilty ... due to TOTINOS PIZZA
ROLLS, Gutch!

??: Errraerrrmm...

[Your usual 'excuse me' noise. As the men turn they have been
approached by the Jimmy Lane and Steven Hayes otherwise known as the
Thrillers. They
stand there with their chest puffed out attempting their best to look
tough. Joining them rather slowly is Samuel Cunningham. The 56 year
old
southern gentleman is decked out in a white suit, but still sports the
neck brace thanks to that dastardly Darius Walker!]

Cunningham: I am sorry to interrupt, but I hear you are the boys to
see if you want to get a little justice around here.

Lane: I told ya boss we would take care of -

[Quickly cutting Jimmy Lane off.]

Cunningham: I told you to be quiet.

[The respectful southern man turns back to the trio. Who have placed
all eyes on Cunningham.]

Gutch: Uhhhm...

Livestock: Errr...

Zeke: You'll have to forgive my two large buffoons, sir. For the
record, I assure you, they are housebroken. I'm sure you understand,
since you seem
to have a pair of your own. Dynamite neck wear, by the way.

[Tugging at his own neck brace, Zeke grins wide.]

Zeke: But perhaps you'd care to elaborate? I mean, we offer the best
justice that money can buy, and seeing as you (if I recall correctly)
and I have the same employer, said justice may just be covered by our
retainer.

Cunningham: That no good Darius Walker and his band of thugs cashed a
check they couldn't write with my boys here. So like any professionals
we went to
settle our differences inside the PVW ring.

[Lane and Hayes nod in the background as Cunningham continues to
talk.]

Cunningham: Apparently Walker didn't have the same idea in mind. As
Jimmy here was beating Shawn Covell inside the ring fair and square.
Darius Walker assaulted me outside the ring unprovoked. He grabbed me
and slammed me on the rock hard cement head first. I blacked out for a
solid two minutes and suffer from extreme memory loss. My bones are
old and fragile and Walker who is in the peak condition had no
buisness assaulting me!

[Cunningham holds his neck in severe pain as his face turns red in
rage.]

Cunningham: I am a well respected gentleman in South Carolina. I
haven't been in a physical altercation since I was 14 standing up to
the school yard bully. My reputation speaks for itself.

[Nodding emphatically, then tightening his neck brace for no reason
other than to keep up the appearance of needing it, Zeke replies in a
very serious, businesslike fashion.]

Zeke: I see. Well, I'll have to look over the minutiae of your
contract, but the boilerplate blanket clause concerning criminal
prosecution are ironclad. In short: you can't file charges in criminal
court. The good news is, however, that you may be able to get
emotional and even punitive damages, if you can prove mental anguish,
and any of the dozen or so variants on mental anguish redundantly
spread out through the many books of tort law. In short ... you could
take the man's house, his cars, everything. Pretty sweet, eh?

[For the first time in a long time a smile forms across the lips of
Samuel Cunningham.]

Cunningham: I knew I could count on PVW's finest to represent me and
hit Walker where it hurts. Covell and Frost are nothing, but toys for
Darius Walker, but I want to hit him where it hurts. I want to make
him feel the same hurt and embarrassment he has put me through. I
can't eat! I can't sleep at night! Who knows if I will enjoy another
minute of my life. I will pay whatever it cost just deliver the same
torture to Darius Walker that he has given me.

[Cunningham grabs a briefcase from Steven Hayes and hands it to Zeke.]

Cunningham: Inside is a copy of my PVW contract. You will find the
clause that I wouldn't be involved in any physical confrontation quite
interesting. Also you will find a nice down payment underneath.

[Eyes growing wide, the Gutch steps forward, and with an excited
whisper akin to Gollum from Lord of the Rings says--]

Gutch: Briefcase...

[Cunningham and his boys look over at the big tub of a man strangely
as he takes the case from Zeke, who doesn't bat an eye. Apparently
this is normal.]

Zeke: Right, I'll look that over in depth and get back to you. Again,
criminal prosecution is unlikely due to the phrasing of the overall
contract, but the “no contact” clause could make the case for a civil
lawsuit.

[With a smile, the southern gentleman extends his hand, which is
accepted by Zeke.]

Cunningham: Pleasure doing business with you, sir.

Zeke: Likewise, I'm sure.

[The two teams and their respective managers depart, the camera
following the lawyers.]

Livestock: Think he knows that PVW pays the legal fees for its'
employees via our retainer?

Zeke: Judging by the weight of that case?  Not a chance.

[The camera cuts to a different part of the backstage area, where the
broad-shouldered form of Judd Marley, stalking the hallways with his
younger brother, and active wrestler "Showtime" Rick Marley. The
siblings turn a corner and come face to face with (presumably) the
object of  their search: Livestock, Gutch and their manager Zeke
Craven. Additionally, the cameraman following the lawyers is in the
shot, but quickly backpedals to escape being filmed. Judd opens his
mouth to address the trio of attorneys, only to have Rick step towards
the much larger men, his temper flashing hot on his face, his taped
and injured ribs completely forgotten.]

RM: There you are, you piece of [bleep]

[Looking around in feigned shock and confusion, Zeke says--]

Zeke: Dad?

JM: (under his breath) I'd have gone with hello...

RM: You know what, Zeke? Enough is enough. Call your behemoth of a
brother off, and do it now.

Zeke: My brother? I'm not sure what you mean. Bill's in that decrepit
basement apartment of his back in Detroit.

RM: That's a load of horse[bleep] and we both know it. I don't care
how many times I hear that it's not Bill under that mask. I was THERE
in WWO when he went on that rampage. I was THERE backstage when they
loaded those guys into the ambulance...and I know that Bill doesn't
have enough marbles rattling around in that head of his to come up
with something like this on his own.   You though?  You're plenty
dirty enough, and a lawyer to boot.

JM: (to Livestock and Gutch) No offense meant to you two fine
shysters...

[Both big men shrug, look at one another, and nod.]

RM: So here's the deal Zeke...you're gonna tell your psycho brother-

JM (under his breath again) As opposed to my oh-so-sane one...

RM: -that he's gonna back the hell off of me, do you understand? If
you don't, then we get to find out just how banged up that neck really
is after all these years.

Zeke: Sounds like you and Bill should compare prescriptions there,
Ricky. You're exhibiting about his energy level right about now.

Livestock: Okay, I admit it.  It was me.

[Stepping forward, the tall, muscular attorney makes himself known.]

Livestock: It's true, I set up the LCD screen that displayed ol' gas-
mask-puss in your locker room. See, I took an ITX motherboard with 128
megabytes of ram, an IDE converter that allowed the system to run off
a compactflash card, and a 15 inch LCD with LVDS connection, and ran
the whole thing off of a lithium ion battery and DC power supply
pulled  from an old laptop. The webcam was just a cheap thing I had
laying around. The whole thing cost like 80 bucks.

[Suddenly everyone's staring confusedly at Livestock, except for
Gutch, who's shielding his eyes from his partner's little speech and
playing  with
the locks on the new briefcase.]

Livestock: But, in my defense, Damage just walked up to me with a
briefcase of money. Being a lawyer, and thus loving both briefcases
and money, I had
no choice but to accept.

RM: YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY!?

Livestock: Uhm ... yes?

[Judd steps between Rick and the attorneys, holding his hands up.]

JM: C'mon...this isn't any way to settle things. Let's negotiate,
right Rick? Zeke and his boys here are all lawyers...lawyers like
negotiations.

Zeke: We like them so long as they go our way, new Marley guy. What
exactly do you propose?

JM: Right...so how about this: The Wild Cards v. Livestock & Gutch in
a tag match. If the Wild Cards win, Bill Craven will leave Rick alone.
Period. No
more mind games, no more stalking, no more nothing.

[Chuckling to himself, Zeke shakes his head and rubs his temple with
one hand.]

Zeke: Fine, but if my team wins ... you and your boys will dress in
camouflage in AND out of the ring for a month. That includes jammies,
ladies.

RM: You've gotta be-

JM: Deal.

RM: What!?!?!?! If we're in camo, that's like painting a bullseye on
our backs for Craven to come and kick in...

JM: So you'd better not lose then, huh?

Zeke: I don't kick things in anymore. Oh, you meant my brother. I'm
not sure what you mean. Bill's in that decrepit basement apartment of
his back
in Detroit.

[If Zeke's repetition of that sentence seems odd, it's because his two
oversized junior associates have crept around to the sides of the
Marley brothers and are brandishing briefcases in a dangerous-looking
way. Zeke moves his eyes back and forth between the two brothers as he
speaks, keeping their attention focused on him, then flashes a
conspicuous  grin.]

*WHA-WHANG-WHANG!!!*

[Two large lawyers, three sound effects. That's because Gutch has not
only his own briefcase, but the one given him by Samuel Cunningham,
and has
sandwiched Rick Marley's head between them.]

Zeke: You know the spiel, gentlemen: Conflict builds character, and
violence maintains the viewer's interest. Carry on.

[At that, Zeke departs, twirling his own briefcase and checking his
watch as he goes. Shrugging, Livestock and the Gutch commence to
stomping on
the stunned Marley boys.]

JO: HEY!

[As the two Marley siblings are being beaten down, Black Jack Baldwin
and "The Shark" Johnny Oakes round the corner and see what's
happening, causing
them to break into a run, which sends the attorneys heading for the
hills.]

JO: What the hell was that!?! I'm telling ya man, there is no way this
is gonna fly. I only been here a month and already I'm more pissed off
than a
fat kid who just got told MacDonalds is outta business.

(Oakes squats down to see how the Marleys are and smacks the floor)

JO: This aint getting outta hand on my watch. We need to take care of
this and fast. No way I’m sittin here scratchin my ass with these
nimrods
cruising round. You fancy a good fight?

JB: Well, we can add this to the eighty bucks you just got from me at
the poker table...I'll wring it out of those bloodsucker's asses, I
swear
to God...

[Oakes and Baldwin tend to the Marleys as the camera angle widens to
encompass all of them, and catches, in a darkened closet in the
background, a pair of glowing red dots that first flare into
existence, then die away slowly. It seems that Major Damage has been
watching the whole time, thus setting the record for most wrestlers in
a single PVW backstage segment (10 counting managers). Cut back to the
arena.]

PW: So was that like the whole PVW roster right there?

CL: That was quite a ..... Well conflict..   Rick Marley continues to
have his issues with Major Damage and it appears that Livestock, The
Gutch, and Johnny Oakes have been pulled into it.

PW: So how does Extreme Conditions and The Thrillers fit into that?

CL: I don't know, but they just have..

PW: Why can't everyone just get a long?

CL: You didn't...

PW: I did...

HD: Introducing first  From Chicago, Illinois.  Weighing in at two
hundred and forty pounds and standing at six foot four.




' T H E    G O L D E N   O N E '

C H R I S T O P H E R    M I C H E A L S O N! ! ! !





[The instrumental version of “Go to Sleep” Eminem begins to play
throughout the 52nd Street Armory. After a few moments a figure begins
to walk from the back stage. The figure is that of ‘The Golden One’
Christopher Michaelson who is attired in a long glamorous Cobalt Blue
robe, the robe has gold trim around cuffs, bottom of the robe, the
belt is gold as well. Upon the back of the robe written in script is
MICHAELSON.]



[Michaelson slowly runs hands through his long brown hair as he
approaches the ring. He pauses for a moment the base of the steel ring
steps as he looks into the ring. He smirks as he slowly ascends each
step. As he stands on the ring apron he wipes the soles of his boots
before he enters the ring. Michaelson removes his robe revealing full
length cobalt blue wresting tights with golden stripes running down
the sides of both legs. He hands his robe to the ring attendant and
you can him say this is worth more than you so be careful.]

[Song starts: 31 days to wreck your plastic face. The crowd rises as
"Suckepunch" by Envy on the Coast blares through the arena.]

HD: And his opponent.  Hailing from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada.  Standing
6  feet tall, and weighing in at 210lbs...




O U T L A W ! ! ! !





[A pop from the crowd as Outlaw appears on the entryway.  Dressed in
his standard ring gear, camouflage shorts, and a PVW t-shirt, he
raises his arm to the crowd showing a pair of leather grapple gloves.
As usual, his brown hair hangs in his face.]

CL: The popular Outlaw!!!! The crowd is really getting behind this
guy.

PW: They feel sorry for him.

[Outlaw takes a couple of steps towards the ring, and blue and white
fireworks shoot off behind him.  He quickly sprints to the ring, and
slides under the bottom rope.]



[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Singles Action, 20 Minute Time Limit:
	'Golden One' Christopher Michaelson
	v. Outlaw

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]



<<< DING   DING >>>


The Referee calls for the bell, the match begins, and the crowd cheers
in unison, just for good measure. In opposite corners of the ring,
Outlaw tugs on the top rope, Michaelson loosens up his chiseled
shoulders, and the two men slowly begin to circle one another, stares
locked, neither wanting to take his eyes off the other...

CL: The bell sounds, here we go...

[Both men motion for a tie-up simultaneously, and lock horns in the
centre, struggling against one another's strength. Outlaw takes the
early advantage, but Michaelson spins it around, and the two stumble
back against the turnbuckles.]

CL: These two are so evenly matched...

[Rolling along the ropes, neither man can take control of the other,
as the ref squeezes himself between the two, to separate them.
Michaelson backs away slowly, his palms in the air.]

PW: I just can't pick a winner!

CL: It's going to be nip-and-tuck, no doubt about it...

[Michaelson steps back into the middle of the ring, and motions for
Outlaw to come and try things one more time. Outlaw obliges with
another collar-and-elbow, and, after some more grappling, Outlaw
finally takes the advantage, with a side headlock...]

CL: Here we go! Outlaw clamping on that headlo-

PW: Hold your horses! Michaelson with the reversal!

[Michaelson slips back into a hammerlock. Outlaw winces, grabs his
shoulder, and reaches for a get-out. Finding nothing, he reaches back,
and lashes out with a back elbow, but Michaelson ducks. However,
Outlaw, too, is quick to react, spinning, setting him up, and...]

CL: Russian legsweep! PERFECTLY executed!

[To his credit, Michaelson bounces right back up after the move, the
two men to their feet in stereo. The crowd applauds, as Michaelson
holds the back of his head.]

CL: Both men back up, and another stand-off, here...

PW: Are they just gonna do this all match?

CL: I would think not.

PW: Good. Cause this is NOT what I paid to see!

CL: This is a scientific exchange of- wait a minute!

PW: What?!

CL: You didn't pay to watch this!

PW: Oh. Yeah.

[In the meantime, the two men are once again circling one another,
moving around the ring, the crowd buzzing with excitement. Another
tie-up is won quickly, but Michaelson this time, as he clamps on a
side-headlock of his own. Outlaw quickly counters, dropping to his
knees and attempting to take his opponent over in a fireman's carry,
but Michaelson counters, flipping out of it and landing on his feet.]

PW: Look at that! What an athlete!

[Michaelson's momentum carries him into the ropes, and he rebounds, as
Outlaw drops to his stomach. On the return, Outlaw goes downstairs
again, before springing to his feet and going for a hip-toss.
Michaelson tries to counter with one of his own, but it's blocked.
There is a momentary stalemate, until Michaelson nails a boot to the
mid-section, drapes his head across the back of Outlaw's head...]

CL: Michaelson flips out of it...

[Michaelson goes for a clothesline, but Outlaw ducks, and counters
with a waist lock. Michaelson manages to block the suplex attempt,
slipping behind with a waist lock of his own, and rolling back into a
smart pinning clutch.]

CL: Wait a minute!

PW: Where did THAT come from?

CL: Michaelson with Outlaw rolled up!











ONE ...












TWO ...









[In the blink of an eye, Outlaw rolls back into a pin of his own...]


CL: Outlaw counters!













ONE ...












TWO ...










[The force of Michaelson's kick-out sends Outlaw careering into the
ropes, tumbling through and into a heap at ringside. He slaps the mats
in frustration, as his opponent gets back to his feet back in the
ring.]

PW: Jeez... that was some kick-out, huh?

CL: It sure was. Outlaw landed right at our feet...

[Michaelson adjusts his kneepads, as Outlaw pulls himself back up.
Pausing for a moment to catch his breath before climbing up on to the
apron, his opponent moves in to grab him, only to find Outlaw driving
a shoulder into his abdomen...]

CL: Ooof!

[Vaulting the top rope, and somersaulting a bent-double Michaelson,
Outlaw grabs the legs, and attempts to pull him over. The fans cheer,
as Michaelson reaches out and swipes at the top rope, struggling to
keep himself from being pulled over...]

CL: OH MY! Sunset flip!!

PW: He can't get him over... can he?!

CL: NO HE CAN'T!

[Suddenly, Michaelson drops to his knees, pinning down Outlaw's
shoulders...]

CL: MICHAELSON COUNTERS!













ONE ...












TWO ...










[And then, Outlaw reaches up with his feet, rolls Michaelson up...]


CL: WAIT A MINUTE!

PW: WHAT THE-?!

CL: OUTLAW RE-COUNTERS!












ONE ...












TWO ...










NO!!!!




[HEEL POP!!!]


[Michaelson rolls back out of the pinning combo, keeping hold of
Outlaw's ankles as he goes. Rolling forward, he hooks both of his
opponent's legs up tight in a vertical press...]

CL: And now Michaelson with ANOTHER pinning combo!


PW: I... I can't keep up with this!












ONE ...












TWO ...





[Outlaws links his arms around Michaelson's abdomen, bridges up to a
standing position. The fans sound an impressed pop, as he spins
Michaelson around, hooks the arm...]


CL: BACKSLIDE BY OUTLAW!













ONE ...












TWO ...












THRE- NO!







[SOOOO CLOSE DISSAPOINTMENT POP!!!]





[Michaelson rolls back out of the move at the very last instant, he
and Outlaw both back to their feet at the same time yet again. The two
men stand not three feet apart, eyes fixed on one another, chests
heaving, the crowd applauding for that brilliant exchange...]

CL: Good LORD! What an incredible match we have right here!

PW: It's exhausting me just WATCHING these guys!

CL: What a tremendous exchange of maneuvers we just witnessed, and
that confirmed it... this is going to be as close a match to call as
we've ever had here in Phoenix Valley Wrestling...

PW: Oh... without a doubt.

[After a short stand-off, the two men lock up once more. Michaelson
quickly emerges with the advantage, twisting Outlaw into an arm-
wringer. Outlaw, however, snags him in a side headlock, only for
Michaelson to back him into the ropes, and launch him across...]

CL: Outlaw into the ropes...

[Michaelson leapfrogs Outlaw as he rebounds, and spins around. Outlaw
slips out of the slam attempt over his opponent's shoulder, and
dropkicks Michaelson and before we can blink Outlaw follows the
dropkick up with a standing moonsault and then points to the ropes...]

CL: I think Outlaw is gonna try and end it...

PW: If I was OUtlaw I stay on The Golden One and make sure he doesn't
get back up. The so called first ever PVW World Champion is making a
BIG mistake here...

[Outlaw is climbing the turnbuckle as The Golden One is starting to
make his way back up to his feet. Outlaw has reached the top ropes and
Michaelson lungs at the ropes and Outlaw is now singing an extremely
high note...]

CL: I guess there won't be any little Outlaw's running around anytime
soon.

PW: Your say that like it is a BAD thing...

[Back to the action Michaelson now is driving closed right fist into
the skull of Outlaw as Outlaw seems to be out of it. Michaelson is
climbing the ropes and Outlaw connect with a wild haymaker which sends
Michaelson back down onto the mat and Outlaw is trying to shake the
cobwebs out while Michaleson hops back onto his feet and charges at
Outlaw but Outlaw sticks a boot out and it connects right into the
face of The Golden One. Michaelson lunges a second time but this time
Outlaw leaps off the top ropes and connect with a spinning DDT and
follows it up with a cover...]












ONE ...












TWO ...











THRE-

[No The Golden One places his foot on the bottom rope. Outlaw thinks
he has won the match and is raising his hands as Michaelson rolls up
Outlaw with a school boy...]












ONE ...











CL: THE GOLDEN ONE HAS HIS FEET PERCHED ON THE ROPES...


TWO ...











PW: HE IS LOOKING FOR SOME BALANCE


THREE !!!!!!



<<< DING DING DING >>>



HD: The winner of this match by results of a pinfall...



' T H E    G O L D E N   O N E '

C H R I S T O P H E R    M I C H E A L S O N! ! ! !



[Michaelson takes his feet off the ropes and slides to the outside of
the ring and raises his arms in victory. Outlaw is looking at the
referee and trying to figure out what has just happened...]

CL: I CAN'T BELIEVE IT THE GOLDEN ONE JUST CHEATED TO WIN...

PW: ITS NOT HOW YOU WIN BUT THAT YOU WIN BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY...

[Michaelson is walking back up the aisle way and realizes he pulled
one over Outlaw. You then see Outlaw slides out of the ring and is
chasing The Golden One to the back. Michaelson turns around and is
meet by a vicious clothesline. Outlaw then starts to stomp away at The
Golden One before security comes out and breaks them up...]

PW: Sore loser!



CL: Thankfully the boys in the back are on their feet back there.
Outlaw isn't happy and his language is showing it.

PW: Then he must be miserable all the time.

CL: Michaelson picks up a cheap win, but it's a win.

PW: Outlaw can now really fit in with the Ed Green's of the world.

CL: That wasn't nice!

PW: But true.

HD: Introducing first wrestling out of Oakland, California... Standing
at six foot four and weighing in at two hundred and forty pounds...
Led to the ring by The Mega Agent, Paul Sandler....




' B A D     K A R M A '     R J     S O U Z A ! ! ! !




["Cheap Sunglasses" by ZZ Top plays. Out comes PVW's Man In Black. RJ
walks down to the ring, baseball bat in hand. "Bad Karma" gets into
the ring and goes to one of the turnbuckles and holds his hands high,
absorbing the jeers from the PVW fans. Paul Sandler stands behind his
client full of smiles.]

CL: RJ Souza is in the zone tonight.  Earlier in the Chris Hartt and
Paul Styles match we saw his former manager and wife make it to the
ring.

PW: She shouldn't show up where she isn't wanted.

CL: You can see the worry in her eyes.  Souza has snapped!  Chris
Hartt and RJ Souza are long time friends.

PW: Perhaps Hartt see's an opening now with Destiny.

CL: I think not!

[RJ Souza stands looking towards the entrance way ready for his
opponent when on the big screen TV hanging above the entrance area
flickers and shows someone walking with a camera it slowly walks
around the corner, but stops quite a distance away.  There we see
Chris Hartt and Destiny Souza talking... The words can't be made, but
there is concern and friendship across one anothers faces. RJ Souza
stares at the screen and his manager, Paul Sandler can be heard trying
to calm 'Bad Karma' down.]

CL: Souza looks on the verge of losing it.    This isn't going to be
good!

PW: I wonder who put that on the television.  Somebody is playing
games with RJ Souza showing this on the screen!

[Souza finally snaps in a fit of rage slamming his Louisville slugger
baseball bat into the turnbuckle.  Paul Sandler quickly backs up as
Souza turns with his eyes in another place.  PVW referee Jay O'Riley
holds his hands up attempting to calm down the PVW superstand.  Souza
out of nowhere with a KARMA KICK!!!!!  The official is down for the
count!!!]

CL: Yep Souza has totally lost it.

PW: He has snapped...

[RJ Souza stares down at the downed referee.  Another PVW official,
Max Kelly has made his way inside the ring to check on his fallen
comrade..   Souza towers over the second official and points his bat
towards him.]

CL: He is threatening _another_ PVW official!  This has gotten out of
hand!

PW: Let this be a lesson to Chris Hartt... You don't mess with a mans
wife.

[Max Kelly holds his arms up shaking his head, but it appears to be
falling on deaf ears.  As Souza holds his baseball bat up ready to
wreck more havoc there is a massive pop as 'The Shark' Johnny Oakes
comes charging down the isle way, Souza's scheduled opponent for the
night.  He rolls into the ring and fires off a handful of right
hands...  He whips Souza into the ropes and CLOTHESLINE!]

CL: Johnny Oakes is out and acting as the law!

PW: Who invited him!?!

CL: Well he is scheduled to be Souza's opponent right about now...

[Paul Sandler is back in and hits Oakes from behind, Oakes turns with
a big smile and he lifts Sandler up with one quick motion and BENCH
PRESS SLAM!!!! The fans are tearing the roof down as The Shark stands
tall and the law inside the PVW ring.  RJ Souza reaches for his bat
and as Oakes turns is drilled right into the midsection with the blunt
in of the baseball bat.  Oakes doubles over and Souza drives the
powerful end down of the bat down over the mid back section of The
Shark.]

CL: GOOD LORD!!!

PW: I fought the law and the baseball bat won.

[Johnny Oakes drops to his knees at the sound of the crack over his
back.  RJ Souza stands in the ring with the chaos around him.  He then
turns towards the back and storms out headed up the isle way obviously
looking for Chris Hartt.]

CL: WOW!!!!  I'd say there won't be a match here tonight.  RJ Souza
took out the scheduled PVW referee and his opponent with that
Louisville Slugger.  He apparently is headed to the back...

PW: Serves Johnny Oakes right!

CL: Oakes had every right to be inside that ring.  You can bet those
two will have their match. Oakes won't leave that unanswered.

PW: How would you like to be Chris Hartt right about now?  RJ Souza
thinks that he is hitting on his wife and he is now in a lost mind
frame walking around with a baseball bat.

CL: Things have gotten way out of hand that is for sure.

[Paul Sandler as began making his way back up the isle way as Johnny
Oakes finally reaches his feet.  Max Kelly and Oakes looks over PVW
referee, Jay O'Riley as Oakes looks up towards Paul Sandler just
nodding.]

CL: There is rumor of a possible big return.

PW: Who?

CL: Let's go to the tape.

[Casa Grande, Arizona.  The sun's just come up, giving just enough
light for the occasional cars on the Interstate to ignore headlight
laws.   Just off the main freeway, an onramp splits in two directions,
courtesy road signs -- due west to San Diego via I-8, or Phoenix via
the I-10.]

Voice (chuckling) : I feel... I'm at a crossroads.

[The camera pans down from the signs, following the voice.  A lone,
somewhat worn green Saturn is parked; the license plate reads
"OWO2004."  More interestingly, a man leans against the hood of the
car, staring up at the signs.

[Long, dark brown hair is tied into a loose ponytail and capped with a
camouflage bandana.  A matching T-shirt is tucked into faded black
jeans, which are in turn tucked into calf-length, steel-toed boots.
Urban Legend's "Stalker," Johnny Styles, drops his gaze to the
facemask in his hand, a black mask with red streams running from the
eye holes.  The smirk never leaves his face, though there's an oddness
to it.]

Stalker : It's been a long time since I even thought 'bout headin'
back to a wrestlin' ring.  I've kept'n shape well enough, but there's
a lotta memories all but forgotten, good'n bad -- and a part of me
wanted t'keep it that way.  Relationships gained n'lost, friends
becomin' enemies becomin' friends, a lotta bruises, and a lotta pride.
I can't say life's been nearly's interestin' since, but at least for a
while that was a good thing.

[He tosses the mask on the hood and stands up, pacing slowly.]

Stalker : So I was visitin' an old friend at Yaqui, and he mentions
another shop opened up'n Phoenix.  And gave me an old momento.  [He
motions at the mask.] And it got me thinkin' 'bout the old days 'gain.
And really, that's when I was at th'crossroads.  [Pause.]  Nope,
decision was made already.   Now I'm
just tryin' t'figure out when that happened.

[Styles stops, stands straight, and starts tickin' at his fingers.]

Stalker : It could've been when Semi n'Nightfire called 'bout how
things were goin'.  It could've been when 'law was cursin' up a storm
in a the background.  'could've been when I heard more old names
droppin': Styles, Williams, Cole.

[The smirk becomes a bit more genuine as he begins walking again, this
times towards the driver's side.]

Stalker : But I think it was the cheerin' I heard.  There're fans t'be
entertained, and there're people t'get in the ring with.  And there's
the rush'f just bein' out there I remember clear's yesterday.

Stalker : 'sides, bad things should come in threes.  There was a force
t'be recokened with then, and it's about time t'get things goin'
proper again.  [The smirk fades as he opens the door.]  I'd say start
checkin' you're back seat again... but I think it's time y'started
praying.

[Styles slides in and closes the door.   As the car makes its way onto
the road and exits north, the camera pans down to the Tears of Blood
mask left behind, then slowly fades out.]

CL: The legendary tag team in Detroit... The Royal Family killers...
Outlaw's buddies, Urban Legend.  Could they be PVW bound?

PW: Did you say Outlaw's buddies?

CL: Yes?

PW: Oh please god no.  We can't stand anymore "Outlaws".

CL: These guys actually seem normal around Outlaw.

PW: Oh like that is hard.

[There are no fancy pyrotechnics, no turning off and on of the arena
lights, simply electric guitar, a fiddle and that distinctive voice as
Charlie Daniels’ Band anthem to ass kicking individuality "Renegade"
kicks in]

##‘Cuz I’m a proud walkin’, slow talkin’##
##Hard headed, high steppin’##
##Genuine renegade...##


HD: Introducing first at a combined weight of five hundred and fifty
four pounds... From the great states of Texas and Missouri....




M O N T A N A   B I S H O P ! ! !


AND


' L O N G   H A U L '   G R E G   E M B R E Y ! ! !



[After a moment, "Long Haul" Greg Embrey and Montana Bishop steps
through the curtain and into the aisle.  Embrey, all six foot nine,
three hundred pounds of him, is ready and dressed for action; a pair
of black wrestling boots, black knee pads and black trunks.  Bishop is
dressed in a pair of dark blue denim jeans, black elbow pads, black
fingerless truck driver's gloves, and black boots on his feet.  He's
also wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up
and a cowboy hat on his head. The crowd reacts with a moderate face
pop, as the two starts his long, measured walk to the squared.  Hidden
amid the cheer is a small smattering of boos]

CL: Embrey made an impressive stand in the Blood Bowl last week
hanging in there to the end.  However people in the back have been
questioning what kind of condition that shoulder is in.  It's been
said there is a slight tear in it.

PW: It's difficult to take the Prophets head on with two good
shoulders.

HD: Their opponents, Accompanied to the ring by Pizzazz Elysee...
Weighing at a combined weight of five hundred and seventy three
pounds...




S H A D O E   R A G E   &    D E R E K   R A G E . . . . .




T H E     P R O P H E T S     O F     R A G E ! ! ! !



[The houselights go down to be replaced by purple spotlights. Smoke
fills the arena and the broad, slow, deep, gloomy notes of Chopin's
"Death March" suck the joy out of the arena. The curtains part and out
sweeps the Angel of Death, Shadoe Rage. In sharp contrast to the
dirge, Rage is animated. He wears his sparkling sequined cloak. He
throws out his arms, flourishing to the dirge's heavy beat. His
partner, Derek Rage strides out from behind the curtains.  He wears a
boxer's robe with the hood up over his head.  He looks like a giant
Grim Reaper. The two are joined by Pizzazz Elysee as they head down
the ring.


Shadoe Rage pulls of his sunglasses and hands them to a child at
ringside. His eyes burn with an almost inhuman fever.  From the floor
he springs up the ring steps and leaps over the top rope. He spins and
flourishes in the ring to the time of the music before he whips off
the cape. He leans over the ropes, pointing at the child he gave his
glasses. "The violence tonight is all because of you!" he screams.
Derek Rage joins him inside the ring.]

PW: Not everyday do you get to watch two legends in the ring Chip.
These no good fans should be thankful the Prophets have even accepted
a tour in Phoenix.

CL: They are a very decorated tag team that's for sure.  Their past
accomplishments rank right up there with the Wild Cards and possibly
just behind Sexual Energy.

PW: The way they are wrestling right now they could dismantle both of
them in no time at all.




[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Tag Team Action, 20 Minute Time Limit:
	Highway 44
	v. Prophets of Rage

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]


<< DING DING >>



CL: There is the bell and the Prophets of Rage attack Highway 44!

PW: Who in their right mind would want to take on the Prophets?

[Brawl breaks out between Highway 44 and the Prophets of Rage which
sees Greg Embrey back Shadoe Rage into one corner while Derek Rage
backs Montana Bishop into the opposing corner. Greg Embrey throws
Shadoe out of the ring through the middle rope, then dashes across the
ring jumping on Derek Rage’s back and hitting him with clubbing blows
to the back of the head. Derek Rage walks into the middle of the ring,
staggering around before he’s able to grab Embrey and flip him off of
his back onto the mat.]

CL: This wasn't the way the Prophets wanted to start off and Montana
Bishop charges at the bigger brother of the Prophets... FLAP JACK
RIGHT ONTO HIS PARTNER, EMBREY!!!

PW: Look at the raw strength and size of Derek Rage.  Who would want
to step into the ring with that guy?

CL: I have no clue. Shadoe Rage is now on the ring apron while Greg
Embrey rolls out of the ring.  Derek Rage grabs Montana and sends him
staggering back into the corner with a big Headbutt.

[Derek Rage backs up and charges at Montana Bishop for a running Elbow
to the face but Bishop dodges it and Derek Rage collides with the
turnbuckles. Montana Bishop bounces off the ropes and with all of his
might takes Derek Rage down with a Clothesline. Bishop tags in the
big, 'Long Haul' Greg Embrey.]

CL: Embrey isn't small himself, but Derek Rage still towers over the
big Missourian.  Embrey in with a series of Elbow Drops on Derek Rage
to keep the momentum in the favor of Highway 44.  Embrey now putting
the boots to Derek Rage.

PW: Shadoe is itching to get in the ring as Pizzazz Elysee is howling
for Derek to get up and smash him.

[Embrey really stomping on the leg of Derek Rage trying to keep the
big man down.  Derek trying to get to his feet and Embrey with a
series of hamstring kicks... He continues to slow the big man down, He
grabs Derek Rages head and goes for a DDT but gets shoved away.]

CL: Derek Rage on his feet now and Embrey charges, but Derek Rage with
a BIG SIDEWALK SLAM!!!!!

PW: Look at the raw power.  The biggest asset the Prophets have is how
they compliment one another so perfectly.

[Shadoe Rage tags in, quickly enters the ring and starts putting the
boots to 'Long Haul' on the mat. Shadoe Rage pulls Greg Embrey up and
whips him into the corner. Shadoe charges, but takes a boot to the
face.]

CL: BIG heads up move by Greg Embrey and he explodes out of the corner
and plows down Shadoe Rage with a Clothesline. Embrey still favoring
that injured shoulder picks up Shadoe Rage and a scoop slam. Greg
Embrey bounces off the ropes, and Bishop makes the tag....

[Embrey then drops a big fist right to the forehead of Shadoe Rage.
Both Highway 44 members pull Shadoe Rage up and give him Press Drop
gut-first onto Embrey’s knee. Highway 44 turn around into a Double
Clothesline by the illegal-man Derek Rage.]

CL: BOO!  Come on ref keep them honest.

PW: Hey there is a strong brother bond.  How can Derek stand by and
watch his brother get beaten down like that?  Don't you have a
brother?

CL: Well yes..

PW: Then you should understand.

[Derek Rage exits the ring with Shadoe now not looking so bad
momentum-wise. Both men back up at about the same time, but Shadoe
scores with a rake to the eyes. The smaller Rage brother whips Bishop
off the ropes and nails him with a Dropkick to the face. Shadoe Rage
eggs Bishop on, urging him to pull himself up but as soon as Montana
makes it up to one knee, Shadoe Rage grabs him by the head and nails
him with a Mat Slam.]

CL: Shadoe Rage has now dropped to his knees and is BLATANTLY choking
Montana Bishop!!  He seems to be ignoring the count...




Two ...




Three ...




Four ...





PW: See he is playing by the rules.

CL: Yeah only because he didn't want to be disqualified right there.

[Shadoe retags his brother back in.  Derek Rage steps over the ropes
as Shadoe locks Montana Bishop in a Double Chicken Wing. Rage begins
nailing the vulnerable Bishop with a series of open handed slaps to
the chest that echo through the arena. Derek Rage whips Bishop off the
ropes and blasts him with a Big Boot to the face, then a big knee
drop!]




ONE ...




TWO ...



No! Greg Embrey breaks it up with a diving shot to the back of Derek
Rage at the last second.


CL: Greg Embrey gets in as many shots on Derek Rage as he can but he
just keeps pulling himself up. The size of Derek Rage is just too
much!

PW: Highway 44 aren't small guys either.

[Derek Rage stops Embrey's assault with a implant DDT, then grabs that
hurt right shoulder and locks on a Wakigatami armbar. Montana Bishop
bounces off the ropes as Derek Rage pulls himself up and nails the big
opponent with a Chop Block to the back of the knee. Derek Rage barely
on his feet and Montana Bishop with a big bone crushing SPINEBUSTER!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




CL: No! Shadoe Rage breaks up the pin at the last second. Bishop  gets
up and as Shadoe Rage out onto the apron, Bishop hits him with a
lariat to the back, sending him flying off the apron.

PW: DQ HIM!!!

[Greg Embrey has rolled to the outside now and pulled Shadoe Rage up
and sends him hard into the guardrail as Shadoe's back slams right
into the unforgiving steel.  Pizzazz Elysee leaps on the back of Greg
Embrey and unknowing who it is he twists her over and slams her right
onto the back of the cement.]

CL: GOOD LORD!!!!!  Greg Embrey just slammed Pizzazz Elysee right onto
the back of the cement.  You can see the sorrow in Embrey's eyes for
doing that to a woman.  He bends down to check on her and Shadoe Rage
with a leaping knee right into the temple of the big man!

PW: Serves him right!

[Shadoe Rage grabs the shoulder of Embrey and SLAMS it right into the
guard rail.  He lifts it up again and another SLAM right into the
guard rail.  With each slam you can hear the scream from Greg Embrey.
That already slight tear in the shoulder slams forward into the
unforgiving steel.  Shadoe finally wraps it around the guard rail's
bar and just yanks back!]

CL: Greg Embrey is screaming in pain now that shoulder is in dire
pain!  Montana Bishop continues to work on the much larger Derek Rage
in the center of the ring.  He drops the big man with a DDT and makes
another cover!




ONE ...




TWO ...




PW: SHOULDER UP!!!



[Bishop is now on his feet and he is setting up to end it right
here...  Shadoe Rage is on the top ropes behind Bishop and leaps - top
rope flying double axe handle!!!]

CL: Death from above a signature move by Shadoe Rage!!!  Bishop
crumbles to the ground as the referee is now trying to get Shadoe to
leave the ring.

PW: Poor Embrey he is still on the outside screaming in pain.  I'd say
it's possible that partial tear is now a full tear.

CL: Let's hope not.  Both brothers are up now... Derek holds Bishop
down slamming a few crossfaces for good measures.  Shadoe is on the
top ropes and he leaps into a moonsault - Death from Above!!!!!

PW: That usually ends things right there, but Derek is the legal man
inside the ring.

[Embrey has crawled to the ring apron to help him partner and Shadoe
turns and baseball slide dropkick sending Embrey back down to the
cement.  The fans let out a roar of boo's as Shadoe rolls out and
begins just merciless stomping on that shoulder.  Inside the ring
Derek Rage lifts up Montana Bishop into a lifting claw hold slam ....]




}




[HEEL FINSHER POP!!!]



CL: Hand of God!!!!!  Derek Rage just stands over the now lifeless
Montana Bishop.  The message has been sent just pin him damnit.

PW: I think they are sending a message to the rest of the PVW tag team
roster.

[Derek Rage drops down and locks on a rear naked choke with a forearm
across the Bishop's eyes...]

CL: Now he has on the Apocalypse.  Bishop is already out of it as
Shadoe and Derek have landed their finishing moves on him.  Referee,
Duke Martin is bent over checking on him and he waves his arms as
Bishop is OUT!

PW: I'm not sure the Prophet's were done having fun.

CL: Derek Rage doesn't seem to want to let go as Duke Martin continues
to plead with him.  Pizzazz Elysee has finally gotten back up and
rolled in and Derek Rage lets go.

PW: What an impressive performance by the Prophets of Rage.  Highway
44 was considered one of the toughest combinations inside the PVW.
The Prophets came in here and sent a message.

CL: That they did.  Outside officials are looking over Embrey's
shoulder and Shadoe rolls in the ring and raises his hand with his
brother.

[The lights in the arena go out. A faint glow comes over the big
screen, static heard...but not seen.]

[Suddenly, the word "OMNI" fills the screen. It begins to pump like a
heart, a distinct pulsing sound matching each "beat" of the word. The
static sound starts to fade out as a low chuckle is heard.]

[The pumping word speeds up as the laughter increases in both volume
and speed. The letters "KGB" flash over the screen, starting and
stopping in a manner that would send epileptics to the floor.]

[The "OMNI" fades out as the laughing stops. The letters "KGB" remain
on the screen. A voice cuts into the sudden silence.]

VO: Everything...it's all...coming together now.

[The "KGB" abruptly disappears and is replaced with a graphic:]

"Next time...

...


...


...

?"

CL: What the heck was that?

PW: KGB?  Russian?

CL: What the heck is going on here? The ring crew and officials are
clearing the ringside area of any tables, ladders and chairs... HEY
WAIT A MINUTE!

[He's cut off during his protest as two referees gather even the
announcers table and chairs, leaving them dumbfounded.]

PW: I guess they don't want these four maniacs to get out of hand.
Like these guys aren't creative enough to get around a lack of tables
and chairs. Sheesh.

CL: Can't blame them.

PW: Where am I going to sit?

CL: I guess we stand.

PW: Now that's just wrong.

[Camera picks out a line of PVW ring crew employees carrying folded up
chairs, tables, and ladders up the isle way and to the backstage area.
The fans let out a chorus of boo's, but they fall upon deaf ears.]

CL: Not a very popular move by the PVW upper management.  If this is
suppose to be a Fans Choice you would think they would allow it to
happen the way it naturally would.

PW: Perhaps the PVW has suffered enough injuries tonight.

CL: That is a good point.

HD: Introducing first...  Standing at six foot nine and weighing in at
three hundred and twenty pounds..




M A J O R     D A M A G E ! ! ! !




[A heavy beat starts up heavy as the lights drop. A few scattered
strobes create a circus funhouse atmosphere but do little to
illuminate the arena. The shrieking sound of “Soldiers” by Drowning
Pool hits the PA.]

#On your feet, WHO'S WITH ME!?#

[A flickering light appears in the entrance portal.]

#On your feet, WHO'S WITH ME!?#

[The light grows as it becomes clear that it's a burning flame.]

#One world, made better, in slight, hard bitter.#
#There is no compromise, YOU'RE BRINGING FORTH YOUR SACRIFICE!#

[Out from the backstage area bursts a huge man dressed from head to
toe in camouflage and wearing a gas mask. He waves what looks to be a
burning American flag at a crowd that shouts him down violently.]

#On your feet, who’s with me?#
#On your feet, let’s go!#

[Walking to the ring, he raises the flag high, illuminating himself
and many of the fans around him. More heel heat strikes at him as he
marches in military rhythm to his theme music.]

#Every time I see inside you I see myself within you.#
#Let’s go!#

[Major Damage walks a lap around the ring, making sure that all the
fans in the arena get a chance to see his “Scorched Spangled Banner”.]

#(Whoah, yeaheah) This is for the soldiers!#
#(Whoah, yeaheah) This is for the soldiers!#
#(Whoah, yeaheah) This is for the soldiers!#
#One for all, WE'RE COMING!!!#

[Stopping before the ring and facing back towards the entrance portal,
Damage smashes the burning flag upon the floor, dousing its flame. All
is dark again.]

CL: Major Damage thus far has wrecked havoc upon the PVW.  You can
only assume he is just foaming at the mouth to get this one going.

HD: Introducing next, From New York City, New York.   Weighing in at
275 pounds and standing at 6 foot 4.




T H E    S P E C T R E ! ! ! !





[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.]

HD: Introducing from Hudson Valley, New York... weighing in at two
hundred and eighty six pounds and Standing at six foot three.




R O B    C O L E ! ! !





[“Rumatahatta” by Sepultura hits the PA system as the crowd cheers.
Out steps the Outcast.  The long dark hair hangs in wet tangles around
his face and head, he is dressed in a pair of loose fitting black
pants with a silver barbed wire trim design up along the sides.  Red
and black boots, taped fists, and a sleeveless teeshirt finishes out
Cole's attire. The camera zooms in on the face of the legend and it's
covered in scars from past battles. He walks slowly down to the ring
and rolls under the bottom ropes.]

CL: There is three of the opponents... Referee Duke Martin is having a
hard time keeping the three from starting.

PW: These are three blood crazed maniacs.

#When you're talkin to yourself#
#And nobody's home#
#You can fool yourself#
#You came in this world alone#

#[whispered] Alone#

HD: Making his way to the ring at this time, from right here in
Phoenix Arizona...

[HUGE HOMETOWN POP!!!!!!!!!!]

HD: Weighing in at 301 pounds and standing at 6 foot 3.




C H A R L E S    L A S S I T E R ! ! ! !



[Just as the weeping guitar solo in Guns 'n' Roses "Estranged" chimes
in, the entrance curtain is swiped aside by the massive paw-like hand
of Charles
Lassiter.  He is built like an offensive lineman - overweight, but not
grossly fat.  Lassiter has a round face and looks like a big friendly
teddy bear...
with a slightly dangerous glint in his eye.  Soft, thinning blond
hair.  Fair skin. He throws his arms into the air and because of his
commanding presence,
hears some love from the crowd.  He slaps has many hands as possible
atop the ramp.]

# So nobody ever told you baby#
How it was gonna be#
So what'll happen to you baby#
Guess we'll have to wait and see#
ONE, TWO

#Old at heart but I'm only 28#
#And I'm much too young#
#To let love break my heart#
#Young at heart but it's getting much too late#
#To find ourselves so far apart#

[Dressed plainly in blue jeans, a white t-shirt and carpenter boots
Lassiter finally ducks between the ropes and enters the ring with
boundless energy.  One
more time he turns to the fans, pumps a fist into the air and manages
to crack a small smile as he's showered with applause.]

#I don't know how you're s'posed#
#To find me lately#
#An what more could tou ask from me#
#How could you say that I never needed you#
#When you took everything#
#Said you took everything from me#

[Music fades as Lassiter shakes out his arms and legs and struggles to
clear all distractions from his mind.]

CL: And there is the fourth and final participant.

PW: This thing is about to tick off and I wish I had my seat.



[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

	Fans Choice, Four Corners Match:
	Rob Cole v. Major Damage
	v. The Spectre v. Charles Lassiter

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]



<<< DING  DING >>>



[HUGE pop as all four men charge the center of the square circle in a
mammoth explosion of flying fists!]

CL: All four monsters ignoring the referee and begin a pier six in the
center of the ring. Lassiter and Spectre pair off, as do Cole and
Damage!

[The roar continues as the four men stonewall each other with punch
after punch without anyone giving an _inch_]

PW: It looks like a bar brawl in the ring! There’s over a half ton of
fury in the ring right now!

[The ref finally separates Cole and Damage long enough to coax the two
bulls out of the ring but his momentary distraction is all Spectre
needs to take control, drilling poor Chuck in Square in the Banana and
the Grapes!]

[Sympathy pop!]

CL: Underhanded move by the Spectre. What a surprise.

PW: At least maybe Charlie won't have any more kids to forget about.

CL: Preston!

[Spectre sets into a full mount and begins unleashing shots to the
forehead. The ref finally steps in when Spectre begins _biting_ the
forehead of Lassiter. Spectre finally relents and turns a bloody smile
on the ref, who falls backward in shock!]

[Disgusted pop!]

CL: Digesting! You can see bits of Lassiter's flesh in Spectre's
bloody serial killer grin!

PW: The Spectre is a BEAST!

[Lassiter looks out of it as Spectre shoves him into a neutral corner,
driving him into a seated position with repeated boots to the
midsection. He backs up drives a vicious knee to the face of Lassiter,
further exacerbating the wound on his forehead.]

CL: Lassiter is getting mauled so far. He looks like he’s somewhere
else tonight! He must be thinking about the phone call he got a short
time ago.

PW: My mind probably wouldn't be here either.

[Spectre backs off to make another charge but unwisely gets too close
to Major Damage, who grabs him by his dreads and yanks him over the
top rope to the floor.]

CL: Pearl Harbor move by Damage and the ref is calling that a tag,
telling Damage to get into the ring.

PW: I wouldn't be telling Damage to do anything. I would ask him very
politely.

CL: What's this?  I'm being handed a piece of paper by a member of our
ring crew...

[Rustling paper can be heard as the action rages in the ring.]

PW: What is it?  Must be important for them to distract us during a
match.

CL: Fans, we've just received a gag order, notarized and everything,
preventing us from discussing the identity of a certain wrestler...

PW: Certain wrestler?  You mean M--

CL: Preston, before you decide to open your mouth, maybe you should
read this.  Looks like PVW's lawyers have really gone out on a limb to
keep this little secret under wraps.

[More rustling paper.]

PW: Holy crap.  Fine by me, certainly ain't worth getting fired over.

CL: I just wonder what brought it up.  We weren't even focusing on ...
it...

[Back to the action!]

CL: Damage stalking Lassiter, helps him up in the corner...

[The crowd pops for Lassiter as he explodes to life and clips Damage
with an uppercut that sends him backwards, then double leg takedowns
the Major to the canvas.]

PW: Chuck’s not dead yet baby! Woo!

[The Spectre charges into the ring but Lassiter takes him down with a
lariat! Pop!]

CL: Lassiter finally looks to be building some momentum. When he's
focused, he’s a machine!

[Cole charges into the ring as well but gets a boot to the face for
his trouble!]

PW: Look at Lassiter! He finally looks focused and he is cleaning
house! This man is a force!

[The crowd really gets behind Lassiter who seems to finally be
enjoying himself for the first time as he pumps his fists in the air.
The mood changes fast as Lassiter turns right into Major Damage, who
lifts him into a double choke!]

CL: THUNDER MELTER!





"_____TTTTTHHHHHUUUUUDDDDD!!!!!_____"






[FINISHAHHHH Pop!]





PW: Damage just spiked Lassiter with the Thunder Melter but before he
could make the cover Spectre lunges forward and catches Damage with a
chop block.

CL: And Rob Cole is back to his feet and unloads with a boot to the
side of Spectre’s head!

PW: The referee has lost total control of this match up!

[The referee pushes Rob Cole and the Spectre to the outside. Leaving a
recovering Major Damage and Charles Lassiter in the ring, Spectre
paces the apron crazed for a few moments before he grabs the top
turnbuckle and begins to rip the padding off of it.]

CL: Damage finally pulls Lassiter forcibly to his feet and drives him
to the mat with a vicious T-Bone Suplex!

PW: Lassiter is a rag doll in the ring at the moment. And Damage is
going for the cover.




ONE ...




TWO ...




[HUUUUUGGGGEEEEEEEEEE POP!!!!!!!!!]




CL: Amazingly Lassiter barely gets his right shoulder up. Damage
doesn't look happy as pulls Lassiter to his feet by his hair.

[Damage whips Lassiter to the far side rope and as Lassiter rebounds
Cole slaps his back making the blind tag.]

PW: MAFIA KICK BEHEADS LASSITER!

CL: AND COLE LEVELS DAMAGE WITH A LARIAT!

[Rob Cole pulls Damage up and looks across the ring towards Spectre.
Cole smirks when he notices the missing turnbuckle and begins to Irish
Whip him towards the exposed steel. ]

PW: Cole whips Damage hard into that exposed steel!

[Cole quickly charges and connects with a charging splash on Major
Damage. Sympathy pop! Cole grabs the middle ropes and drives two
straight shoulder blocks into the gut of Damage. Rob Cole steps back
and drives a straight right into the gas mask of Damage.]

CL: Cole is in charge at the moment as he sets Damage onto the top
rope!

[Cole climbs to the top rope and locks on a front chancery. Spectre
slaps the right leg of Major Damage and the referee signals the tag
was made! But Cole pulls Damage to the top rope …. ANTICAPTION POP …
and crashes myself and Damage to the mat with a Superplex!]

CL: Cole with a massive superplex. Cole is getting to his feet …

PW: And is quickly met with a lariat from Spectre. Spectre turns
around and drives a knee into the skull of Damage.

CL: This thing has gotten out of hand and the fans love it!

[Spectre turns around and pulls Rob Cole to his feet and grabs him by
the waist. He pulls him back a few steps and lifts Cole into the air!]

CL: HOTSHOT ON THE EXPOSED STEEL!

[As Cole crashes to the mat Spectre smiles a sadistic smile to
Lassiter and begins to laugh. Cole leans back into the corner with his
eyes closed a small trickle of blood begins to flow. Spectre stands to
his feet and rushes forward crushing Cole’s head with running knee
strike. Spectre leans over the top rope and smiles once again.]

PW: GOOD LORD! COLE’S BELL WAS RUNG WITH THAT KNEE!

[Spectre reaches with his left hand grabs Rob Cole’s head and begins
to rain a series of rights into the forehead of Cole. After four right
hands Spectre bites Cole across his forehead.]

CL: That’s the second person that Spectre has bitten tonight!

PW: At this rate I would say he would take a bite out of Damage but
that gas mask might save him from doing that.  Spectre grabs Cole and
pulls him to his feet.

[Spectre stands to the side of Rob Cole before driving him to the mat
with a Side Russian Legsweep.  Lassiter now has Damage up and has him
backed up in the corner.  He is firing kicks off like a complete mad
man.  Spectre begins to unwind some of the tape on his left forearm
and stalks up behind Lassiter...  He wraps that loose unwinded tape
around the throat of Lassiter and, and uses the tape (still partially
attached to his arm) as a garrote, choking Lassiter.]

CL: The referee is in total confusion.  Does he begin counting?  Has
the rules been tossed out? Even if he tried to enforce them how much
actual power does he have in there with these four mad men?

[Cole rolls to the outside apron and pulls off his teeshirt as he
rises to his knees… he glances around maniacally, smiling as he finds
his target!  He charges to the corner and wraps his shirt around the
throat of Damage, yanking the big man out of the corner!]

PW: If Spectre can do it, so can Cole!!!!!

CL: Good lord!!!!! We are just about twelve minutes into the match and
we have two near hangings of sort going on.

PW: Who needs Chairs and Tables when you have wrist tape and shirts!




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 ! !



CL: You know you are doing something right when you get a chant like
that!!!   Cole and Spectre finally drop their downed opponents and
they look across at one another with a sadistic smile...



[MASSSSIVE POP!!!!!!!!!!]



[Cole and Spectre drop Lassiter and Major Damage and charge into one
another!!!!  Right... Left... Right... FACE GNAW.... CHOKE....
BLOCK...  You ask by who, by both!!!!!]

CL: These two have lost it.. They are into a total Blood frenzy.
Charles Lassiter is finally on his feet and he charges and takes both
men down with a _STIFF_ shoulder tackle. Major Damage is now back up
and he charges sending the big man over the top rope with a lariat.


[The crowd explodes!! Lassiter shoots both fists into the air and
loves it!  He turns just in time and lifts Spectre into a Human
Torture Rack!!!!!!!  He stands tall in the center of the ring and
squeezes his arch rival as the fans are on their feet loving every
single second of it.  Rob Cole stumbles back on his feet and flashes a
look and turns and runs DIVING through the middle ropes right onto
Major Damage!!!!]

CL: The excitement is unbelievable!!! You can't take your eyes off the
action for even a split section.  Who needs chairs... Who needs
tables!?!  These four men put their bodies on the line every second
and that's more then enough excitement!

[Rob Cole and Major Damage is back up on the outside, Cole goes to
whip Damage into the guard rail, but it's reversed by the big man and
Cole crashes right into the steel rail.   Major Damage charges forward
and Cole with a sunset flip sending the masked beast into the crowd!!!
Inside the ring Lassiter drops Spectre who refused to submit.
Lassiter pulls the deranged superstar up and Pump handle Slam!!!!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !?!





CL: NO!!! Spectre _JUST_ got a shoulder up!  He suffered through the
big Human Torture Rack and a stiff Pump handle Slam and he found just
enough life to get that shoulder up.

PW: Not for long...

[Charles Lassiter pulls Spectre to his feet and he lifts him high in
the air into a Gorilla Press, but Cole who slid back under the ropes
SPEARS the breathe away from the right side of Lassiter!!!!!  Cole
staggers to his feet and directly into the waiting clutches of the
Spectre who just made it to his feet! Before the crowd can react, Cole
drives a foot to the midsection and drives himself forward… smashing
skull against skull!  Another head butt!  And another!  The crowd
roars their approval as Cole forces Specter to his knees with
continued head butts… and then finally gouges the eye and starts
biting at the forehead!!!]

CL: JeSUS!!! A little payback for Spectre!!

PW: I told you that Rob Cole isn't right.  Now you have your answer
why Paul Styles isn't interested in responding to this guy.

[Major Damage back in and drives a double axe handle into the back of
Cole...  He pulls the Outcast up and launches him over the top ropes
sending him back to the outside.  He turns as Lassiter is returning to
his feet and  Damage applies a chickenwing, then reaches around,
clasping his hands together solidly behind Lassiters neck, then LIFTS
him up into the air by that grip.]

CL: The Dead Zone!!!!  This could be it!!!!

PW: No man can with stand this move!

[Thankfully for Lassiter and the fans as they get to see more blood
shed, Spectre crawled over and drilled Major Damage with a low blow
forcing the hold to break.  Spectre locks on the Destiny's Grip on
Major Damage!!!!]

PW: Can any man withstand this move??

CL: Probably not...

[Crowd on their feet as Rob Cole has climbed to the top ropes...]





[FINNNNNNNNNNIIIIIIISHHHHHAAAAAAAAAA POPPPPPPPPPP!]








CL: WORLDS UGLIEST FROG SPLASH RIGHT ON DAMAGE AND SPECTRE BREAKING
THE MOVE!!!!

PW: Damn that was ugly.

[Cole rolls around the ring holding his rib cage as Spectre and Major
Damage lay out of it on the mat.  A nice pop as Charles Lassiter
raises back to his feet.  Inverted atomic drop on a slowly making it
to his feet, Rob Cole.  He lifts the Outcast up and BONECRUSHING
Sidewalk Slam!!!!!]

CL: I felt the impact over here.  Lassiter hooks a leg!




ONE ...




TWO ...




[MIXED REACTION POP!!!]




PW: The fans don't want this match to end!!!

CL: Who does!?!

[And we all get our wish for the time being.  Lassiter is up and turns
around right into Spectre he lifts him up -  FISHERMAN BUSTER!!!!! THE
REBIRTH!!!!!]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!!











[POPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]






CL: MAJOR DAMAGE JUST MADE THE SAVE!!!!!! Spectre had it...

[Major Damage whips Spectre into the ropes - SPIIINNNNEEEEE
BUSTTTTTERRRRRR!  He leaps to his feet he looks to be setting up for
another Thunder Melter, but Rob Cole is up and he leaps onto his back
into a sleeper hold!!!!!  Major Damage begins twirling around with a
airplane spin, but The Outcast is holding on for dear life!!!]

CL: Lassiter has rolled to the outside looking to regain focus... His
face is turning a weird shade of red....  Spectre is now using the
ropes to pull himself up... Lassiter grabs the ankle of Spectre and
YANKS HIM TO THE OUTSIDE!!!

[Just like in the Blood Bowl, Lassiter has gone into a blind rage. His
face has become beet red and his fists go flying into the side of
Spectre's head.  Spectre tries to cover up, but Lassiter is just
relentless. Spectre is reeling backwards and Lassiter charges tackling
him right up against the barrier half way up the isle way.]

CL: Lassiter has lost it again.  He is in a fit of rage and Spectre is
in total defense mode!

PW: What gets into this guy!?!

[Damage is making his way to his feet.... Cole appears to be setting
up blood drips down his forehead.  He has a look of total satisfaction
across his face - When from the crowd a man dressed in all black, with
white boots and a white mask rolls under the ropes and behind Cole.
He reaches back and full on slaps Cole in the back of the head with
total disrespect!]




____THHHWAAAAAAPPPPP__________




CL: Who the hell!?!

PW: I don't know, but he is actually dressed pretty nice for a Masked
Man.

[Cole turns and begins laying into the masked superstar with rights
and lefts.  He shouts out, "THE MORE THE MERRIER!!!!!"   Major Damage
grabs The Outcast and Double Chokelift Thunderfire Powerbomb!!!!]

CL: THUNDER MELTER!!!!!!!!!  Lassiter and Spectre have fought their
way to the back they have totally lost control!!!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!]




CL: MAJOR DAMAGE PICKS UP THE WIN, but an assist by a mystery masked
superstar.  Rob Cole looked to be in a position to land the Castout
Powerbomb with Lassiter and Spectre fighting their way to the
backstage area.

PW: Speaking of the backstage area...

[The camera cuts to the back and the two are still going at it.
Spectre has a hold of Lassiters head and charges it sending him
THROUGH the drywall!!!!!  Lassiter stumbles backwards with white dust
and particles in his hair... As Spectre charges he catches him and
falls backwards slamming Spectre face first onto the Water Cooler.
Lassiter stumbles to his feet and grabs the half full plastic part
full of water and slams it down on Spectre.  PVW officials and
wrestlers quickly grab a hold of Lassiter and Spectre pulling the two
apart!!!!]

CL: The match is over, but these two will  not stop tearing each other
apart until they have each other in the ring.

[Spectre rips loose and charges in taking down Lassiter and a few
officials in the mix.  PVW head of talent and the son of Dex, Mathew
Willingham is near the scene and leaps in-between the two as they are
ripped apart again.]

MW: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!!!  I don't care what I have to do.  Next week I
will get Spectre and Charles Lassiter BOOKED in a ONE on ONE
MATCH!!!!!!





[TEAR DOWN THE ROOF POP COMING FROM INSIDE THE ARENA!!!!!!!!!!!!!]






CL: HOLY COW!!!! LASSITER AND SPECTRE NEXT WEEK!?!  We are running out
of time folks.  What a night it has been.  Major Damage wins the first
ever Fans Choice award.  It appears Rob Cole has picked himself up a
secret admirer....  And next week Charles Lassiter takes on The
Spectre!!!!!!

[We see Major Damage inside the Ring as the camera fades to black.]




[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

           Credits:
Brian: Abdullah v. Travis, Foley v. Horse Thief, Oakes v. Souza,
Highway 44 v. Prophets, Last 1/2 4 Corners
Rob: UFO's v. Sexual Energy
Mark: Chris Hartt v. Paul Styles
Dan: First 1/2 4 Corners
Chris: Outlaw v. Michaelson

Feel like your missing out and interested in helping? Just email
pvw_inc@yahoo.com  =)

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]