[CUT SCENE: The parking lot of the Bell Centre in Montreal, Quebec,
home to the Montreal Canadians and formerly known as the Molson
Centre.

It's a chilly spring day in Montreal, and although it's late
afternoon, the wind is rather strong and as such people are wearing
light jackets.

Of course, if you're a native Arizonan who considers fifty-five
degrees to be an unreasonable cold snap, you might wear something
heavier.  Doc Holliday is exiting the driver's seat of his rental car,
and he's wearing a white fur coat.  A rather nice white fur coat,
obviously quite expensive, over his frock coat and 1880's ensemble.
He has to hold his hat on to keep it from blowing off, and he sighs at
the weather.]

Doc Holliday: Oh, Canadia.  Their col' an' snow-tread land.

Jason Keening: Pfft!  It's not that cold, Doc.  You're just too used
to the desert you grew up in.

[That would be Holliday's erstwhile manager, Jason Keening, who is
exiting the passenger side of the rental.  He's wearing a much more
modest brown leather jacket with a brilliant white cowboy hat perched
on top of his head.]

DH: Ah remind ya, this here's _Phoenix_ Valley Wrasslin', not _Lays
Province Days Quee-Beck_ Valley Wrasslin'.

JK: True.  But... Montreal isn't in a valley.

[Keening grins.]

DH: Ah slam Martinez one time, an' ah'll make a dang valley.

Voice: _BETABRO_!

[A large man storms in from the side!  Keening reflexively steps
forward in a defensive stance, while Holliday just quirks a surprised
eyebrow.

This man's dressed... oddly. He's got on white jeans, a white graphic
T-shirt with some random design, an unzipped white hoodie, white
sunglasses, white boots lined with fur and a large top hit lined in
white fur. In addition, he has a white goatee and white hair. The
man's build is impressive, dwarfing both Holliday and Keening.

If you follow several federations, you may well recognize him as the
Polar Bear Stud.

Behind the Stud stands a smaller man - about 5'9" or 5'10" ish -
wearing a polo shirt and khakis.]

DH: Yer tellin' me it ain't dagnab col' out heah?!  It's so col' ah'm
hallucinatin'!  Ah'm seein' nekkid polar bears!

Polar Bear Stud: SOOOOOOO not on the cool, runtbro. Crackin' the lame
jokes while wearing THE Coat?

[The Stud very dramatically points to the white fur coat Holliday's
wearing.]

PBS: That's MINE, mini-bro! My wingbrah here, Woorack Kels -

[The Stud points to the smaller man beside him.]

WK: That's, uh, Warwick Kelly.

PBS: Yeah, that too. My brah here FINALLY saw you still had MY The
Coat!

DH: Oh!  Ah kept tryin' ta git yer address from them G-Pro folk, but
ah couldn't nevah git nobody onna line.  Ah called an' got th' dang
computer.  Ya know how they is: "If yer callin' fer customer service,
say 'One'.  If yer callin fer a new account, say 'Two'.  If yer tryin'
ta talk ta a real live person, say 'Sucker!'."  Ah cain't nevah git
them thangs ta work even in English...

[Keening rolls his eyes theatrically.]

JK: I wonder why...

DH: ...an th' G-Pro one is all Jap-nese!  "Bloog kyomo no-de-dah,
bloog zho-go kyah burble bloog, kyo bloog gur beckbreaker blah do-se-
zah" an' so on.

[The Stud nods.]

PBS: Yah, man, it was IMPOSSIBLE dealin' out the lines to those lotus
flowerin' honeys! Shoot, I never even got to plant my flag th-

[Stud's "wingbrah" Warwick Kelly budges the big man back to his
senses.]

PBS: Wha- oh, yeah! Get The Coat off, BRO! What you doin' even
TOUCHIN' it, huh? Wearin' too?!?

DH: So ah couldn't figger out whar ta send th' fool thang.  Aftah all,
ah only took it on account of ya slapped me in public.  Tried ta cast
asper-shins on mah good name.  Tried ta humily-ate me in front o'
fifty thousand people.  Tried ta make it out lak you was better'n Doc
Holliday.  Ah really oughta've split open yer skull with mah cane...



[Holliday's statement is punctuated by a sharp THWACK as he brings his
mahogany walking stick up to the Stud's face, smashing it into the NO
PARKING ZONE sign next to his head (and denting it).  The Stud jumps
back a little by the unsubtle demonstration that Holliday is not
unarmed.]

DH: ...but ah let it go with jes' takin' yer fur.  Since ya seem ta
lak it so dang much, mebbe ya'd realize whut happens when ya try ta
take whut's important ta Doc Holliday.

[Keening snickers as he continues offering uninvited commentary.]

JK: His pride.  Lord knows it's his favorite thing in life.

[The Stud looks over at Keening with a confused look.]

PBS: Man, who's this joker anyway, huh? Another oldbro, huh?

JK: I -

PBS: And pride, man? Are you kiddin' me? You come down to MY match,
right when I'm about to win some sweat peacockin' bling to help me in
the Tokyo club scene... and SIT on THE Coat?! Man, that slap was
BOUGHT by that, violating the number one rule...

[The Stud turns around, pointing his thumb as he receits what the back
of his hoodie says underneath the picture of a polar bear.]

PBS: DON'T TOUCH THE COAT!

[As the Stud turns and nods, his "wingbrah"/manager Warwick Kelly
shakes his head in shame.]

PBS: And you touched it, betaman! And you stole it! You took away my
hook, BRO! Night after night after night, NOTHING! Nights of bein'
alone... Cause I got no The Coat... Every day, worryin' about it,
sittin' by the phone... Waitin' for return calls to my "Have You Seen
Me" ads on them milk cartoons.

[The Stud sheds a tear and quickly turns back to hide his sadness.]

PBS: This past year, BRO? It's been full of sadness... The Coat not
there, two more FRESH jackets destroyed, bad scenes in the LV, havin'
to rely on The Hat...

[The Stud drops his head as he taps his white fur lined hat.]

PBS: A lost year of honey-smackin' and all of worryin', bro...

[The Stud then quickly points in the face of Holliday.]

PBS: And it's all cause of you! That's WAY more important than gettin'
slapped up like the little bitch that you are!

DH: ...thet's a sad story, young man.  Yer self-worth is a coat.
Really?

JK: Doc?  Why not just give him the coat?  He's suffered enough.

PBS: Oldbro, I didn't even get all pleas on the Youtube and the
TORTURE this betaman responded with. Like terrorism or somethin' over
the videos.

[This causes Keening's eyebrows to shoot skyward.]

JK: You.  Tube.  Videos?!

DH: Heh heh heh.

JK: Oh, hell, I don't want to know!  Just give it back to him...

DH: Ah'm inclined ta agree; he's suffered enough.  In fact, he's
sufferin' in ways thet make psychiatrists rich.  When it was tol' thet
G-Pro's hiatus turned permanent, ah tried ta git this thang back to
ya.  May as well do it now...

[Doc starts taking the Coat off.  As Warwick Kelly shoots his arms in
the air, thanking God that this debacle is over, the Polar Bear Stud
almost does a skip jump in pure elation at getting his precious coat
back.]

PBS: AWWW, YAHHHH, BRAHS! The Stud and The Coat are hittin' up the ol'
MOnty-Monty club scene like nothin' else tonight!

[The Stud quickly turns on his serious face as he narrows his eyes
towards Holliday.]

PBS: But before I get out on the scene tonight, I'm make sure that
your face is so bashed up in the ring tonight for all you've done to
me and The Coat that I -

[Warwick Kelly shakes his head as nudges his elbow to the side of the
Stud.]

WK: Shut up about that...

PBS: Wha- oh, yeah, uh... nothin' bro. Uh, just gimme The Coat and
I'll be on the next plane to Vegas, a-ight?

[That stops Holliday in mid-divestment.  He slowly pulls the Coat back
on.]

DH: Izzat so?  Tanight, ya say?  Yer th' mystery man?  An' ya reckon
yer gonna 'punish' me?

[The Stud snaps his fingers and curses to himself, finally realizing
that he stepped in it big time.]

WK: Oh great...

PBS: I didn't mean nothin', I said! I was thinkin' of, uh... Of uh...
Yeah, one of those dudes in Vegas I'm, uh...

[The Stud, out of options, just stretches out his arm instead.]

PBS: Ah, screw it - just give The Coat back. NOW!

DH: Well now... ah woulda gave it back, but then ya ran yer mouth
ag'in 'bout beatin' up Doc Holliday.  Ran yer mouth about Alphas an'
Betas when y'all don't even rate as an Omicron.

JK: What?  What does all that mean?  It's all just Greek to me.

[The Stud and Holliday stop bickering for a moment to give Keening
that 'bad pun' glare.  Then they get back in each other's face.]

DH: So th' way ah see it, ya ain't learnt nothin'!  Ah took this heah
coat ta teach ya yer place, Stud.  Reckon yer a real slow learner.  So
we gonna git ya onna Accelerated Learnin' Plan.  It's gonna be a crash
course, an' by thet ah mean yer gonna crash, of course.  An' when ah
git done whippin' ya so bad thet ya git on yer knees an' BEG me fer
yer Coat, an' tell th' whole worl' how great Doc Holliday is, then
ah'll give ya yer Coat back.  It'll learn ya some proper humidi...
er... humani... er... thet thang othah people thet ain't me needs ta
have!

JK: Wait a second... YOU are going to teach HIM a lesson about
humility?!  Shouldn't you have some experience with the subject
yourself first?!

PBS: Bro, if you don't hand over MY Coat by the three count, I'm goin'
to have to rip you out of it, limb from limb! One... Two...

[The Stud looks over at Holliday, who doesn't move.]

PBS: Two and a half...

[Again, another look. Meanwhile, Kelly's leaning against a car,
uninterested.]

PBS: Two and three-quarters... Alright, it's maulin' time!

[At these words, the Stud advances, and Holliday's hand eases into his
frock coat's pocket.  Keening panics, and grabs Holliday's arm.]

JK: No, no, no!  Don't shoot him!  I... huh?

[It's not clear what confuses Keening more... the fact that Holliday
pulled out a bottle of ink, or the fact that this horrifies the Stud
about as much as pulling a gun would have.]

JK: ...ink?

DH: Mah revolver's in mah othah pocket, Jason.  Leggo mah arm.

PBS: NO! NO, BRO! ANYTHING BUT THAT! YOU'RE RUIN THE FUR!

DH: Ah was plannin' ta bring this inna ring in case somebody needed ta
be blinded...

JK: That's... that's despicable!

DH: But now ah think ah'll jus' spill it all over mahself.

PBS: OH MAN, THAT'S DESPICABLE!

DH: Then back away slowly, Stud.  Ya wanna prove yer some Greek letter
higher'n Upsilon, ya bettah do it inna ring!  An' give Jessica mah
regards.  Tell her she sticks her nose in tanight an' raises mah ire,
she might nevah see it comin'...

JK: Hold on!  You brought that ink to blind Jessica Marshall?!

DH: Well, ya tol' me ah wasn't allowed ta HIT her.

[Cue facepalm.]

JK: I... I...

PBS: I'll get you tonight, betabro! I'll get you and The Coat! You'll
see!

[With that, the Polar Bear Stud storms off, tapping his wingbrah Kelly
awake from his nap to follow along out. Doc grins and puts the bottle
of ink back in his pocket.  Keening just continues to stare
incredulously at him.]

JK: Please... just tell me that you bring these things to draw a
reaction from me...

DH: Best eighty cents ah spent all week, too.

[And with that, Doc ambles off.  Keening stands there, staring after
him.]

JK: YOU DIDN'T ANSWER THE QUESTION!

[And we cut.]







                          ____ _    ___       __
                         / __ \ |  / / |     / /
                        / /_/ / | / /| | /| / /
                       / ____/| |/ / | |/ |/ /
                      /_/     |___/  |__/|__/



[It sounds like someone just slammed their foot on the gas pedal of a
1969 Mustang fastback... The tires spin and it takes off.  The SSN
logo comes crashing into the PVW and sits right at it's side.]


    ____ _    ___       __            __________ _   __
   / __ \ |  / / |     / /           / ___/ ___// | / /
  / /_/ / | / /| | /| / /  ______    \__ \\__ \/  |/ /
 / ____/| |/ / | |/ |/ /  /_____/   ___/ /__/ / /|  /
/_/     |___/  |__/|__/            /____/____/_/ |_/



[It's replaced with ...]



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 #     # #       #  #    #   #    #  #  #  #    # #
 ####### #####  #    #   #   #    # #    # #    # #####
 #     # #      ######   #   # ## # ###### #    # #
 #     # #      #    #   #   ##  ## #    #  #  #  #
 #     # ###### #    #   #   #    # #    #   ##   ######



[We fade right outside theBell Centre in Montreal, Quebec. This time
no argument's over fur ... It's nearly show time and what's left of
the late arriving fans are attempting to rush through before bell
time.

We change directions and cut inside the arena.  The camera fires
through panning on the rabid wrestling fans.  Signs are being shoved
in-front of the camera.

Pan to center of the arena ...  We zoom in on PVW's new majestic
wrestling ring.  The modern day Colosseum.  Down the sides of the ring
we see the PVW logo sitting next to the SSN logo.  Underneath it
surrounded by flames says - "The new revolution".  The old school
black turnbuckles have been replaced with gold.

The red and black ropes have been replaced with a black, gold, black
design.  Witch just happens to be the colors of the SSN logo. Are we
getting the picture yet?  In the center of the ring where the giant
Phoenix used to consume most of the center has been replaced with a
globe that has PVW - SSN circling the world.

The bright colors of gold, silver, and red fountain fireworks begin to
shoot from the turnbuckles...]





"__FAAASSSHHHOOOOM~!__"




"__KAAAABBBOOOOOOM~!__"




"__FAAASSSHHHOOOOM~!__"




"__KAAAABBBOOOOOOM~!__"




"__KAAAABBBOOOOOOM~!__"




"__FAAASSSHHHOOOOM~!__"



[Before Chip Lester can cut right into his opening Heatwave welcoming
speech he is interrupted by his partner in crime - Fred Hoyle.]

FH: I'd like to apologize to "overweight men and women" for the
offensive nature of my words on out last broadcast. _Obesity_ is a
pandemic in North America, and it's a serious issue that _weighs_
_heavily_ on all our minds.

[A bit taken back.]

CL:  Hhmm.  I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't think this is what
the nature of the complaint was about, Fred.

FH:  What, why not?  It is an extremely serious issue, and we can't
take it _lightly_!

CL:  No, I agree, but...

FH:  Overweight men and women are people too, and they're just as
valuable to society as thinner people.  That's what equality means,
Chip.

CL:  Quite so, Fred, but...

FH:  It also means they're worth a lot less per pound, but still...
they're important, too, for without them the food industry would
collapse.

CL:  I think we'll need another talk, Fred.

[Fred Hoyle sit's puzzled, but before Chip can _again_ cut into his
Heatwave introduction ... The doleful sound of "Rooster" by Alice In
Chains begins to play through the arena, as the lights drop down.
Pale blue spotlights illuminate the aisle from underneath, playing off
of a thin mist rising from the floor... creating an ethereal-looking
effect as the powerful frame of Marcus Manson slowly walks through the
curtain.]

CL: Well, this is interesting. Marcus Manson is here, but we know he's
not scheduled for a match tonight.

FH: Manson goes where he wants when he wants, and you know that WMI
won't be far behind!


CL: Are you diluted? WMI has been anything but cohesive lately, did
you see what happened at Tradition?

[Backlighting Manson's entry is the big screen, which shows only the
words "CAN YOU HANDLE THE MISERY?" in bright pale blue lettering...
along with the aisle lighting, this is the only source of light in the
arena.  Manson takes his sweet time walking down the aisle, his brow
furrowed in a look of concentration; a look made more ominous by the
scar running from above his right eye all the way to his chin. Marcus
is wearing a battered old trench coat over blue jeans, a black shirt
and heavy black boots. Manson climbs the steps, and looks over the
crowd with a scowl before stepping over the top rope into the ring and
grabbing a microphone.]

Manson: Well, a lot can change in a few short weeks, can't it?  I have
quite a bit to talk about, so let's start with a little history, shall
we? Some of you might remember a little wrestling organization called
UEW.

[Nostalgic pop for the mention of the old New York based wrestling
league.]

And some of you may remember that a number of years ago I laced up my
boots in the Ultimate Arena. I was in a team that was known as The
Circle of Death - my partner was my brother-in-law, Jonathan Regnigh.

[Some boos from those who remember the CoD and their tactics.]

Some of you might also remember that along with a man named Magnus
Colby...

[Manson barely gets the name out of his mouth before another nostalgic
pop begins, at least from those who even remember Colby.]

Along with Colby, Iron Spike, The Mercenary and Regnigh, I founded
what would go on to be the most dominant stable in wrestling history -
Widowmakers Incorporated

[Boos, mostly because of the current incarnation of said group.]

WMI - The ORIGINAL WMI - ran roughshod over everyone who got in our
way.  Regnigh and myself, in particular, were behind some of the more
violent and underhanded tactics that the group came up with.

[Manson pauses.]

Fast forward to 17 months ago, and once again I find myself involved
with the another group of Widowmakers. I ousted Merc, and helped bring
some credibility to WMI. But you know what they say -- "Often
imitated, never duplicated" -- and that's exactly what PVW's
Widowmakers are - a pale imitation of a once great organization.

[The crowd's reaction is mixed.]

FH: Uhm... I don't like where this is going...

Manson: And now - a few weeks ago, WMI added another member... William
Craven.

[BOOOOOOOO!]

And one thing people have wanted to know ever since I joined WMI was
who was truly WMIs enforcer? Was it me or was it Xavier? And now
people are asking if maybe it's Craven. Well, tonight I have an answer
for you.

[Manson pauses for a moment, scanning the arena before turning back to
the camera.]

It's me.

I am the ORIGINAL Widowmaker - if anyone personifies the sadistic,
violent nature of what WMI _should be_, it's ME.

I have been in PVW for a year and a half and I am STILL undefeated.
Nobody has pinned me, and nobody has made me submit. NO ONE ELSE in
PVW -- hell, no one else in the whole damn _WORLD_ can say the same.

CL: Manson's not undefeated - his team lost at Blood Bowl!

FH: Were you listening? They lost by count out, and Manson wasn't even
the legal man at the time, it's not his fault! He is undefeated in the
truest sense of the word!

CL: So you're saying Feyr's a loser?

FH: Uhhhh....

Manson: I am The Misery Machine - a one man wrecking crew, the
Widowmakers Enforcer, and THE TOUGHEST SON OF A BITCH IN PHOENIX
VALLEY WRESTLING!

[After shouting, Manson become eerily calm, and stares straight into
the
camera, speaking quietly into the microphone.]

The rest of you? You don't measure up.

[The crowd EXPLODES!]

FH: Wait...WHAT!?

CL: WOW!

Manson: Made Men - more like dumb and dumber. Just a pale imitation of
the glory days of the Circle of Death... another feeble attempt to
wrap yourself in some of the grandeur of the original WMI!

Feyr... come on, do I even have to say it? Aside from the fact that
you cost me the Blood Bowl Cup since you couldn't be bothered to get
back in the damn ring, everyone knows that you're nothing but a low-
rent Marcus Manson wannabe!

[The crowd cheers!]

Survival of the Fittest? Feyr, you survive because I bail you out -
just like I always have to bail out all of WMI time and time again! If
it weren't for me, you jack asses would have been overcome by the rest
of PVW months ago!

Craven.

[BOOOOOOO!]

Big Billy Craven... do you realize the only reason Marley accepted you
into his fold? He invited you to be his lackey because he was already
worried that I was gone! He needed a backup plan! How does that feel,
Bill?

You all make me sick. I watched the rest of you piss away War Games.
I watched as Marley played patty-cake with Craven for a year. What did
it do for me? I'll tell you what it did, it cost me the World
Heavyweight Championship!

I had Rob Cole BEATEN -- and since Marley knew that if that belt was
around my waist, his called shot wouldn't be good for much more than
wiping his own ass. So, he purposely cost me the heavyweight
championship.

[BOOO! The crowd seems to be in agreement with Manson!]

FH: That's not true! It was an accident!

CL: Spare me Fred! Marley hit Cole with a chair in plain sight of the
referee! Manson's right!

Manson: And speaking of Marley, I saved you for last, Dick. You may
fancy yourself the leader of this little group, but I've got news for
you. You're NOTHING. You're a pipsqueak acrobat who has gotten as far
as he has out of sheer luck and using anyone he could to his
advantage.  So, guess what? I CALLED Magnus Colby. The godfather of
Widowmakers Inc, and since he's retired, he said the decision is mine.

I have seniority, and here's the deal.

You're done. You're all fired. I'm kicking each and every one of you
out of Widowmakers INC!

[MASSIVE cheers from the crowd! A few even start chanting Manson's
name. Marcus tosses the mic down and steps over the top rope, exiting
the ring.]

CL: We haven't even gotten Heatwave started yet and Marcus Manson just
FIRED the rest of Widowmakers Inc!

FH: He... he can't do that!

CL: Are YOU gonna argue with him!? You heard him, he's got seniority
in WMI!

FH: If you're gonna argue that Colby's word is law I call BS - Colby's
retired and hasn't been involved with WMI for more than 10 years!

CL: Regardless this night can only get more interesting from here! A
blockbuster announcement from Manson! Rick Marley _is_ here tonight
and he's slated to address the WMI situation, but Manson beat him to
the punch!

FH: Everything is okay Chip.  There is just a little misunderstanding.
When Rick Marley get's here him and Marcus are going to sit down and
hash it all out!

CL: The rest of the Widowmakers aren't even in the building tonight.
It could get messy when Marley shows up.

FH: Manson is a smart guy.  He understands where his meal ticket is.

CL: What a way to start Heatwave off!  Coming right off the heals of
Blood Bowl at Tradition IV.  We have a big night scheduled for you all
tonight.  We found out earlier that the international star, the Polar
Bear Stud will be stepping inside a PVW ring with one goal in mind and
that's to punish Doc Holliday for holding his fur coat captive for all
these months!

FH: It's going to be great seeing a man with such class and a fellow
playa like myself smack shorty around.  It's going to cost the Stud a
fortune to get the stench of Holliday out of that beautiful coat!

CL: That answers who Holliday will be facing later tonight, but who
will Alex Martinez face?

FH: The list of men wanting to get some revenge on Martinez goes back
a _long_ way Chip.  It could be _ANYBODY_!

CL: And with Doc Holliday's connections the guessing game could go on
for a long time.

FH: No big deal. It'll probably be Brent Maverick.

CL: Brent Maverick has already wrestled in PVW once already.  Perhaps
we could see the return of the other Outlaw.

FH: Hopefully so Holliday can see first hand what Alex Martinez will
do to him!

CL: The tag titles will be also on the line when Jokers Wild will
finally have their shot!

FH: Their first and _only_ shot.

CL: Also in our Main Event.  Gibson Hayes will take on the new PVW
Network Champion, Masked Maniac!

FH: I still can't believe how Fontana was robbed.

CL: What about poor Johnny Detson?

FH: Are we allowed to even say his name anymore?

CL: I don't see why not.

FH: Well his name is as dead as his career.

CL: Thanks to the war that spiraled completely out of control between
Hersher von Donkerhardt and Gibson Hayes.

FH: Is there any word on the condition of poor Todd Johnstone?

CL: I am sure he is fine.  I don't think we are all that lucky.

FH: Hey!  You shouldn't talk about a man in pain.  I'd like to
apologize to all the Todd Johnstone fans for what Chip just said.

CL: What fans?  It's almost time for our first match, but before we go
to Herk Douglas.  We have camera's standing by.

[Cut to backstage. And what we see is something that cannot be good
for the PVW... The Mercenary seen leaning up against a stack of wooden
pallets, deep in conversation with who can only be described as the
personification of trouble... 'Fatality' herself, Jessica Marshall. In
fact, they are so distracted, that neither of them notices the camera
getting closer, and soon it is close enough to pick up enough for an
audio feed.]

JFM: ...and why should I trust you in this matter? I know you don't
just go around offering your services from the goodness of your heart.
Just what are you up to?

Merc: Look, I know you're a smart lady, and yeah, normally you
shouldn't trust me. But, I'm not doing this for you, per se. I've been
feeling a little nostalgic lately, what with the rumors of UEW trying
to make a comeback, and I got to thinking about other places that I've
been. And that includes the UWF, where at one time I teamed up with
your ... well, I'm not sure what to call him without getting myself
powerbombed...but at one time I was part of a pretty dominant stable
with the American BadAss... and I figured, well, you too haven't been
made to feel very welcome here in the PVW, so for old times sake, I
thought I'd help old Alex out.

JFM: Do you really expect me to believe that? You've turned your back
on so many of your other 'friends'....

Merc: Again... you'll just have to take my at my word and trust me. As
I said before, I've got contacts here in PVW that you don't have, and
one of them can get me a copy of the signed contract for the mystery
person that Martinez is going to face. All I need is a small amount of
money to pay him off...

JFM: Sorry... I can't afford even a little bit right not. After having
my credit card maxed out to pay for all that pizza at the last show...
which I didn't even order or get a piece of... I'm a little strapped
for cash at the moment.

Merc: That was bought by you... nice gesture... but next time, could
you order real pizza? The Domino's stuff is just plain crap...

JFM: For the last time, I didn't-

Merc: But since you did a nice gesture like that, I guess I can do the
same. Consider this one on the house...S***

[The camera which was sneaking around the back, has now caught the
attention of the Merc and the next thing we see is a big hand covering
the lens and then a shot of the overhead lights at the camera is
pushed to the ground.]

FH: I wouldn't want to be that camera man.

CL: You aren't kidding.

FH: I bet Dean Hayes is some how behind this.  He is always trying to
get the scoops back there.  One of these days the scoop is going to
get him.

CL: Mercenary and Jessica Marshall in the back making deals ... What
is next?  Perry Fontana and Tom Landis celebrating their performances
together from Tradition?  That will have to wait however ...  The
Voice is climbing inside the ring.

[Herk Douglas stands in the center of the ring and the Montreal fans
are on their feet as we get ready for some PVW wrestling action to
start the night off!]

HD: Ladies and gentlemen ... This is a four on four tag team
spectacular!  When one member of the tag team is eliminated his
partner must also leave the match.

CL: Interesting way to showcase some of the greatest tag teams in
wrestling.

FH: It's not rocket science.  In tag team wrestling you rely on your
partner.

HD: Introducing first ...  Weighing at a combined weight of 573
pounds.  They are a former PVW tag team champions ...

Shadoe

and

Derek

Rage ...

THE PROPHETS OF RAGE !!!

[A mixed reaction by the Canada fans.  With wrestling deep in
tradition in the great white north it appears they respect the veteran
hard nosed brothers as they emerge from the back.  The two men nod
their head to the beat as they storm forward being the first of the
four teams to enter the square-circle.]

CL: The Rage brothers resume is as good as any in the tag team ranks.
They have stepped inside the ring with the best teams this industry
has ever seen.  They are stepping inside the ring with three pretty
good ones in their own right here tonight.

FH: Prophets were destined to wear gold.  It's only a matter of time
until they wear PVW gold again.

HD: ... and their partners.

[LET'S GET WILD POP!!!]

... at a combined weight of 540 lbs. They are "The Gambler" Judd
Marley and Black Jack Baldwin...

THE WILD CARDS!

[The fans erupt into applause as the three men make their way down to
the ring slapping hands with the fans as they go.  As they reach
ringside, Baldwin steps over the top rope while Marley climbs the
turnbuckle in the 'Cards' corner points out to the fans, stands on the
second turnbuckle looking out into the crowd for a moment before
hopping down and facing the Rage brothers.]

CL: Some early tension right there.  The Cards and the Prophets have
had their share of battles inside this PVW ring.

FH: It was the Prophets who took the Wild Cards titles.

CL: If you add the two resumes of these two teams.  I don't know if
you could ask for a better four-some.

FH: Yeah if they _liked_ one another.

[and Fred couldn't be more right.  The Cards and the Prophets have
become nose-to-nose.  Baldwin to Derek and Marley to Shadoe.]

HD: Their opponents!

[And the mention of _opponents_ forces the two sides to back away
before a brawl broke out.]

HD: Introducing first at a combined weight of 455 lbs ...  They
represent the Widowmakers Inc.

Mark Masterson and Nick Wright ...

The Made Men !!!

[Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Johnny Kick A Hole In The Sky" hits the PA
system as the fans begin to boo.  Masterson exits backstage and takes
a position in the center of the entrance platform.  He looks down, and
raises his fists into the air, accompanied by flashbang-style
pyrotechnics.  Behind him, Nick comes bursting onto the entrance
stage.  Visibly pumped, he solicit reactions from the crowd.  The two
make their way to the ring side by side focused on the task ahead.
Masterson rolls inside the ring rolling his neck as Nick Wright
perches on the nearest turnbuckle, beating his chest.]

CL: The go-to tag force of the Widowmakers.  They have been on a
little slump as of late, but knowing these two it can't last forever.

FH: They are Widowmakers ...  When their backs are against the wall
they come out fighting like ravage dogs.

HD: Their partners ...

[The lights go out in the arena as the sound of a gong is heard as a
yin-yang symbol appears on the screen, quickly changing to the Hong
Kong cityscape, and the opening notes of "Superstar" by S.H.E. begins
playing.]

FH: The cream of the tag division right here Chip.

CL: I thought that was Livestock and The Gutch who will we be watching
in action later tonight defend their titles.

FH: While that may hold some truth.  PAIN has the task of ridding the
PVW of the Wild Cards.  Removal of the most juvenile and annoying tag
team since Donnie and Marie makes me very happy.

[The Hong Kong cityscape fades, as the image changes to that of Mal
and Ohno waving to masses of people, blowing kisses to the crowd, most
of whom are carrying signs protesting "quack doctors" and throwing
garbage at them.  This is oddly interspliced with footage of Ohno
signing autographs with fans, and performing martial arts moves.
Stranger still, however, is the footage of Mal and Ohno blatantly
edited in to famous action movie sequences, such as Dr. Mal dodging
bullets Matrix-style, and Ohno punching a whole in man ala "Kung Pao:
Enter the Fist".]

[A spotlight appears on the curtain, but no one comes out... the light
begins searching, the arena for a few moments, before finding the
white clad duo making their way down through the stands.  Mal and Ohno
are dressed a bit differently this time, with each sporting a pair of
expensive looking sunglasses.  Mal is wearing a more stylize version
of his labcoat, that makes his outfit looks somewhat like a white
version of Keanu Reeves outfit from the Matrix.  Other than that, he
looks as normal, with his salt and pepper flat top and mustache, he
strides down through the stands carrying a doctors bag, and waving to
the fans as he goes.  Ohno is dressed similarly to Mal this time,
wearing a white coat just like Mal's, and under it seems to be wearing
a white version of his usually black T-buttoned shirt and white pants.
Ohno is taking his time, singing the odd autograph, posing for
pictures in martial arts poses, as the music continues to play.]

FH: Is there a more amazing duo then these two?  I mean really?  They
can cure cancer, when Oscars, and rid of us of the Wild Cards all in a
days work.

CL: I think you give them a _little_ too much credit Fred.

FH: I should ask Mal to do my Vasectomy.

CL: Are you insane?  I ... I got nothing!

[Following not far behind Ohno is a pair of lovely ladies, one, an
Asian woman with long dark hair in an orchid colored dress, who looks
slightly perturbed.  The other, is a girl with pink hair and those
ridiculously oversized sunglasses that look like protective goggles in
a factory.  She is wearing a denim jacket, and camouflage cargo pants
that sag down, giving a bit of exposure to a g-string she's wearing
underneath whenever she bends in the right way.  A little further back
from them, barking obscenities best not heard by human ears... EVER...
is a man wearing a puke green shirts and khaki colored sports coat,
with an ugly Sears brown belt, and brandishing a cane.  It is, of
course, the portly, and foul-mouthed Todd Johnston.]

CL: Todd Johnstone seems to be recovering just fine from his
"assault".

FH: It takes a real man to come back to work after the unforgiving
beating Hersher von Donkerhardt did.

[Mal is starting to look a bit nervous, as the music continues
playing, and Ohno is STILL signing autographs.  A few male fans seem
to be chatting up Meili who signs HER autograph, only to get confused
looks as the young men clearly intended to ask for her phone number.]

HD: *AHEM* APPROACHING RINGSIDE...

[Mal and Ohno are STARTING to get close to ringside, when Ohno decides
to start circling around through the ringside fans instead of jumping
the security railing... the ring announcer stands tapping his foot and
looking at his watch as Mal and Violet try to direct Ohno to the
ring...]

HD: [Starting to sound impatient] _NOW_ APPORACHING RINGSIDE...

[Finally Mal manages to get Ohno to head towards the ring, although
the announcer still looks more than a little unhappy...]

HD: ...DR. MAL PRACTICE AND OOOOOOOOOOHNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... THEY ARE
THE  PHYSICIANS ADVOCATING INNOVATIVE NEO-PROCEDURES... BUT MORE
COMMONLY  KNOWN AS... P.A.I.N.!

CL: It appears Herk was getting a little impatient out there.

FH: Well you did get the memo didn't you?

CL: What one?

FH: About wasting precious television minutes ... The one we jokingly
dubbed "The Hopper Rule".


  ______  _    _ _  _  _ _____________________________________________
 (_____ \| |  | | || || |
  _____) ) |  | | || || |   HEATWAVE - FOUR ON FOUR TAG TEAM ACTION:
 |  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |        WILD CARDS & PROPHETS OF RAGE v.
 | |       \  / | |___| |               MADE MEN & PAIN
 |_|        \/   \______|_____________________________________________


CL: Here we go folks, four on four tag team match… and the team who
stands last, and stands strong in the ring once this match finishes,
are the victors.

[As Mark Masterson enters the ring for his team Nick Wright turns
towards Meili and winks at her. Mal Practice shakes his head slowly as
Nick turns around and sees Dr. Ohno Ow glaring at him. Nick Wright
shrugs his shoulders.]

CL: Looks like Nick Wright has found a new interest here tonight.

FH: As well he should. I mean I'm sure you remember the way Lady
Laurel Levinger tried to use Nick Wright ..

CL: What??

[The match has started, and in the ring are "Black" Jack Baldwin and
"Pokerface" Mark Masterson ... they should kick the match off nicely.]

FH: She was desperate to become a the manager of an important team in
the PVW ...

CL: Are you drunk Fred?

FH: I only report the facts Lester!

["Black" Jack Baldwin now with a lock-up on "Pokerface" Mark Masterson
... both men struggling to get the control of their opponent… and now…
"Pokerface" Mark Masterson applies a headlock! Dr. Ohno Ow has stepped
alongside Nick Wright and the two of them are jaw jacking on the ring
apron.]

FH: This is great. He got two maniacs, two nut-shells, and pair of
pranksters wrestling for in this match ... jeez, I'm really looking
forward on seeing the Made Men winning this shindig since they're the
only sane team here.

CL: I never thought I'd say this but… you're right, Fred.

FH: Now if the good actor would stop complaining about Nick's innocent
wink ...

[As "Black" Jack Baldwin attempts a belly-to-back suplex Ohno Ow
stares at Nick Wright who smirks and casually nods at Meili. In the
ring the ever-able "Pokerface" Mark Masterson catches the massive Jack
Baldwin with an earclap. Jack Baldwin quickly releases the hold and
Mark Masterson spins behind Jack Baldwin applying a waistlock on
"Black" Jack Baldwin ...]

CL: Pokerface" Mark Masterson now with a German suplex! Wait, now
"Black" Jack Baldwin is able to hook his leg around Mark
Masterson's...

[The crowd pops as Jack Baldwin catches the side of Mark Masterson’s
head with an elbow followed up with a second on that causes Mark
Masterson to release the waistlock.]

CL: The former PVW tag team champion is in control now as he applies a
Side Headlock ... wait Mark Masterson pushes Jack Baldwin off of him
into the ropes.

[The two men collide and neither moves and inch. Mark Masterson dares
Jack Baldwin to charge at him again and Jack willing does so.]

CL: Mark Masterson side steps the charging Jack Baldwin who rebounds
off of the far side ropes and ducks the Clothesline from Mark
Masterson!

[The crowd pops as Jack Baldwin slams on the brakes and begins to
pepper Mark Masterson with a series of right jabs. As Mark Masterson
staggers back "Black" Jack Baldwin steps to the side of Mark Masterson
and drives "Pokerface" Mark Masterson down with a Russian-leg-sweep
...]

FH: And the little piggy just tagged in the brother of our next World
Heavyweight Champion, "The Gambler" Judd Marley! The rest of the guys
are aching to get in this
thing.

CL: I believe our World Champion Rob Cole would disagree with you on
that!

FH: If Rob Cole disagrees with me about the other seven men wanting to
get into this match he’s crazier than I give him credit for.

CH: Not that! Rick Marley being the next World Champion.

FH: Again he would be crazier than I give him credit for.

["The Gambler" Judd Marley picks up "Pokerface" Mark Masterson by the
hair, and whips him to the ropes... "Pokerface" Mark Masterson comes
back off, and "The Gambler" Judd Marley attempts a decapitating
clothesline! And "Pokerface" Mark Masterson showing off amazing speeds
ducks the move and comes off the ropes with a flying elbow to the head
of "The Gambler" Judd Marley...]

FH: Way to go Mark!

["Pokerface" Mark Masterson picking up "The Gambler" Judd Marley, and
begins driving his fists to the head of "The Gambler" Judd Marley ...
"Pokerface" Mark Masterson has "The Gambler" Judd Marley cornered
now... and Dr. Ohno Ow getting his shots in seeing as this is the
corner of PAIN ...]

FH: That's a warm welcome to PVW civilization for those pranksters!

CL: Shut up.

["Pokerface" Mark Masterson tags in his partner Dr. Ohno Ow and both
men whip "The Gambler" Judd Marley to the other corner, which is The
Prophets of Rage's domain...]

FH: And Dr. Ohno Ow, with a big avalanche!!!

CL: No way Jose pal!

["The Gambler" Judd Marley caught him in a bear hug that time, and
Derek Rage of The Prophets of Rage makes a blind tag to "The Gambler"
Judd Marley! Who still has Dr. Ohno Ow in that Bear hug. Nick Wright
looks at Meili and begins motioning that he is better than Dr. Ohno
Ow.]

CL: Mal Practice MD appears to be urging  Meili to take Nick Wright up
on his offer.

FH: Well you know how much Mal Practice cares for Meili Lester ... And
Derek Rage meanwhile has climbed over the top rope!!

CL: Derek Rage with a big boot to the back of the head of Dr. Ohno Ow,
forcing Dr. Ohno Ow to release the bear hug and land right atop "The
Gambler" Judd Marley!!!

FH: Ouch! That's gotta hurt for "The Gambler" Judd Marley...

[The referee now, trying to get "The Gambler" Judd Marley out of the
ring and "Black" Jack Baldwin is yelling at the ref saying he has
until a five count to leave the ring. Derek Rage in the meantime, has
set up Dr. Ohno Ow in a snap suplex but wait! Dr. Ohno Ow blocks the
attempt...and Derek Rage tries again, only for the move to be stopped
dead in its tracks by a low blow. And Dr. Ohno Ow picks Derek Rage
up...]

CL: He's setting him up for a powerbomb!!! The referee's finally got
"Black" Jack Baldwin to go back to his corner!

FH: Derek Rage, being much bigger in size to Dr. Ohno Ow has a huge
advantage!!!

[Dr. Ohno Ow is driving repeated palm strike into the chest of Derek
Rage. Dr. Ohno Ow going for a snap suplex ...]

CL: And Dr. Ohno Ow having difficultly lifting the big man up as Derek
Rage trying to fight it ...

[Dr. Ohno Ow is dazed by those shots that Derek Rage has delivered to
his head!! And without even noticing, Dr. Ohno Ow has walked backward
straight into the corner of The  Made Men!!! "Pokerface" Mark
Masterson makes a blind tag to Dr. Ohno Ow, and then performs a
slingshot flying clothesline which knocks Derek Rage right off Dr.
Ohno Ow! ... ]

CL: Pokerface" Mark Masterson  going to attempt  gut-wrench suplex,
but Derek Rage manages to deliver a knee to the midsection of
"Pokerface" Mark Masterson.

[Nick Wright continues to flirt a bit with Meili as Dr. Ohno Ow gets
back to his feet. He grabs Nick Wright by the shoulder and begins to
scream at him. Wright shrugs his shoulders as he tries to tell Ohno Ow
that it's just innocent fun. The crowd moans as Ohno Ow fires off a
kick catching Nick Wright below the belt.]

CL: And Ohno Ow just kicked his own partner with a low blow!

FH: He was trying to catch the bottom rope to scare Nick Wright. I'm
sure of it Lester!

CL: And how can you be sure!

FH: Dr. Ohno Ow has depth perception problems. He just misjudged! That
has to be it.

[Derek Rage grabbing "Pokerface" Mark Masterson in a Pump-handle
position. Derek Rage lifts "Pokerface" Mark Masterson  up, and slams
him down to the mat with a Pump-Handle drop! He throws Dr. Ohno Ow out
of the ring, and goes for the first cover of the match!!! The referee
drops down for the count...]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




NO!!!! Pokerface" Mark Masterson kicks out!!


CL: One count away from our first elimination!!!

[Derek Rage with a snap mare takeover on "Pokerface" Mark Masterson,
followed by a kick to the spine!!! He goes back to his corner to tag
in his partner. Nick Wright slowly is getting back to his feet and
glares at Dr. Ohno Ow, who seems to be lecturing Meili.]

CL: Now Shadoe Rage is in the ring!

[Shadoe Rage picks up "Pokerface" Mark Masterson, lifts him up high in
the air and drops him in gut first right onto his knees. Shadoe Rage
picks him "Pokerface" Mark Masterson and whips him off one corner, he
whips him off the other, and lifts him up into a devastating front
powerslam!!! Shadoe Rage lifts "Pokerface" Mark Masterson up once
again, but "Pokerface" Mark Masterson lands a low blow!!! The smaller
Rage brother goes down...]

CL: Hey wait ...

FH: Pokerface" Mark Masterson  seems to have been caught in word-fight
with one of The Wild Cards!!! "The Gambler" Judd Marley bad-mouthing
"Pokerface" Mark Masterson!!!

["Pokerface" Mark Masterson  attempts a right hand, but "The Gambler"
Judd Marley blocks it, and decks One half of The Made Men with his
closed fist. The blow just sent "Pokerface" Mark Masterson  right into
Shadoe Rage, who delivers a lungblower and covers ...]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




FH: Nick "Always" Wright in the ring!


[Nick "Always" Wright attempts to break up the count but "Black" Jack
Baldwin rushes into the ring and catches Wright square in the jaw with
a Running Mafia Kick.]




THREE !!!


!!! DING DING DING !!!


CL: The Made Men have just been eliminated! And this puts PAIN at a
huge disadvantage ...

FH: Don't you worry about the good ol' doctors I am sure they have
something planned!

CL: They better have something up their-sleeves.

[Dr. Ohno Ow leaps into the ring! Dr. Ohno Ow comes of the ropes with
a back elbow right onto the face of Shadoe Rage!!!]

CL: Dr. Ohno Ow now swings Shadoe Rage across the ropes, WAIT!!!

FH: Shadoe Rage reverses it and sends Dr. Ohno Ow into the ropes...

[Dr. Mal Practice MD makes a blind tag to the back of Dr. Ohno Ow,
while Dr. Ohno Ow falls victim to a bicycle kick to the jaw by Shadoe
Rage. The legal man, Dr. Mal Practice MD now, charges at one half of
the Prophets of Rage, but Shadoe Rage saw that coming, and lands a
Japanese arm-drag onto Dr. Mal Practice MD!]

FH: And the doctor refuses to stay down!!!

CL: You are a master of the obvious my friend.

FH: Don't be jealous of my announcing skills Chip.

CL: You are a master of words no doubt.  A real Todd Johnstone.

FH: Well I wouldn't go that far.  Todd Johnstone is a poet!

CL: Even Andrew Dice Clay thinks Todd Johnstone has a dirty mouth.

[Dr. Mal Practice MD charges right back at Shadoe Rage, and Shadoe
Rage attempts a clothesline ... Dr. Mal Practice MD ducks, and comes
back with a huge Spinning Backfist!! Dr. Mal Practice MD covers ...]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!


CL: Kickout by Shadoe Rage!!! There is still fight left in the smaller
Rage brother!

[Mal Practice pulls Shadoe Rage to his feet and snaps him back to the
mat with a vertical suplex. Mal Practice ---]

FH: And Dr. Mal Practice MD now tags in Dr. Ohno Ow and he is going to
the top ropes now!

[Dr. Ohno Ow uses the ropes as a springboard, and leaps into the
air...]

CL: AND OHNO OW MISSES THE ELBOW DROP!

[Dr. Ohno Ow grabs his elbow in pain as he rolls around on the mat for
a few minutes. Frustration is in the eyes of mal Practice MD as he
watches Dr. Ohno Ow starts crawling towards him to make a tag;
meanwhile Shadoe Rage is also making his way to his corner. Dr. Ohno
Ow tags in Dr. Mal Practice MD as Shadoe Rage leaps and tags in his
big brother Derek Rage...]

[POPPAGE!!!]

CL: THE TWO BIG MEN ARE FACING OFF!!!

[Both men lock up... one trying to out power the other... And Dr. Mal
Practice MD's successful... driving a knee to the midsection, and
executing a HUGE pendulum side walk slam!!!!! Dr. Mal Practice MD
covers ...]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!


FH : NO!!!!!!!!  Derek Rage kicks out!

CL: Hey wait, Fred.  "The Gambler" Judd Marley wants a piece of the
action!! Even though he's not the legal man here as he steps into the
ring and rushes forward catching Mal Practice MD with a Chop Block!

["The Gambler" Judd Marley goes back into his corner… and it seems
Todd "The Rod" Johnstone has gotten into an argument with the
referee... perhaps over the actions of "The Gambler" Judd Marley,
Shadoe Rage climbs into the ring, but he's not the legal man! He leaps
past the distracted referee, as he decks Dr. Ohno Ow with an elbow to
the side of the head. Shadoe Rage quickly grabs Ohno Ow with a side
head lock and drives him into the mat with a huge bulldog!!! Derek
Rage now to his feet...]

CL: THIS MATCH HAS BEEN TOTAL MADNESS!!!!

[Shadoe Rage is getting yelled at by the referee for being the illegal
man in the ring ... as Todd "The Rod" Johnstone slides a steel chair
into the ring ...

CL: HEY WAIT!!!! REF TURN AROUND A STEEL CHAIR IS ABOUT TO BE USED ...

FH: Hey it's okay they are doctors.  They know what they are doing!

[DR. OHNO OW RUSHES TO HIS FEET!!!! HE GRABS THE CHAIR OFF THE MAT!!!
DEREK RAGE CHARGES AT HIM, AND DR. OHNO OW HAS JUST CLOCKED DEREK RAGE
RIGHT UPSIDE THE HEAD WITH THAT CHAIR!]


!!! CCCRRRAAACCCKKK !!!




[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! BULLLLLLLLLLLL SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!]


CL: DID YOU HEAR THE SOUND OF THAT CHAIR SHOT WHEN IT BOUNCED OFF THE
SKULL OF DEREK RAGE!

FH: JESUS!!!! HE GOES BACK INTO HIS CORNER, WHILE DR. MAL PRACTICE MD
COVERS!!!!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!


!!! DING DING DING !!!


CL: And the Prophets of Rage have been eliminated ... Thanks to some
steel.

FH: They have a licence to use those.  It was a much needed
procedure.

[Dr. Mal Practice tags out to Dr. Ohno Ow as "Black" Jack Baldwin gets
into the ring. Dr. Ohno Ow with his huge fists, hammering away at
"Black" Jack Baldwin, while The Prophets of Rage are seen walk back up
the aisle way...]

FH: Aw hell, this means those pranksters could win this thing!!

CL: Maybe.

[Dr. Ohno Ow has "Black" Jack Baldwin set up for an implant DDT ...]

CL: NO!! "BLACK" JACK BALDWIN, SOMEHOW, SOMEWAY MANAGES TO FIND ENOUGH
STRENGTH, TO EXECUTE A NOTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX ON DR. OHNO OW!!

["Black" Jack Baldwin goes to the second rope now ...]

CL: Diving Headbutt from the second rope!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!


FH: NO!!!!!!! NO!!!!! THANK GOD!!!

CL: ALMOST!!!! ALMOST!!! A SPLIT SECOND AWAY FROM VICTORY!!!!!!!

["Black" Jack Baldwin now tags in "The Gambler" Judd Marley ... and
"The Gambler" Judd Marley cleaning house on Dr. Ohno Ow... right
hands... left hands... and he follows it up with a clothesline...]

CL: NO WAIT!!!! DR. OHNO OW DUCKS, AND GRABS "THE GAMBLER" JUDD
MARLEY'S ARM IN MID MOVE, RIGHT INTO A FULL NELSON HOLD!!! HE LIFTS
HIM UP!!!

FH: FULL NELSON TAIL-BREAKER, FULL NELSON TAIL-BREAKER!!!

CL: WOW, WHAT A MATCH!!!

FH: Did you see Ohno's Matrix like skills?  Neo who!?!  Ow is the
chosen one!

[Dr. Mal Practice MD's is yelling at Dr. Ohno Ow to throw "The
Gambler" Judd Marley against the ring post. Ohno Ow though does a
quick pose for the camera before he catches Judd Marley in the gut
with a knee lift. He grabs Judd Marley and ...]

CL: Dr. Ohno Ow throws "The Gambler" Judd Marley shoulder-first into
the ringpost!!!

FH: These two teams hate one another and PAIN is now beginning to take
about the members of the Wild Cards!”

[Dr. Ohno Ow tags in Dr. Mal Practice MD. Dr. Mal Practice MD steps
over
the tops ropes and grabs "The Gambler" Judd Marley in a double choke,
lifts him up, and spikes him down on his head!]

FH: REFLEX CHECK!!!!! REFLEX CHECK!!!!!!!!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THRE ---


CL: NO!!! I CAN'T BLIEVE IT!!! THERE'S STILL FIGHT LEFT IN THIS
MAN!!!!!!

[Dr. Mal Practice MD lifting up "The Gambler" Judd Marley, and "The
Gambler" Judd Marley, reverses Dr. Mal Practice MD's attempts right
into a HUGE spinebuster!!]

CL: AND HE'S NOT DONE YET!!! NOT BY A LONGSHOT!!!

FH: You can scream all you want Lester but that's not going to change
the fact that Judd Marley is down on the mat ... in fact I wouldn't be
surprised if that was the last of the old man's gas!

[Dr. Mal Practice MD is back to his feet and he begins to pull Judd
Marley to his feet, who catches Mal Practice MD in the eye with a
thumb and quickly springs up and spikes Mal Practice to the match with
DDT!]

CL: A COVER, IT COULD BE OVER, IT COULD BE OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THRE –


FH: NO!!!! NO!!!!! Dr. Ohno Ow makes the save!!!!  Like I said Chip,
"chosen one!"

[Dr Ohno Ow picks "The Gambler" Judd Marley up ... PULLING PILE
DRIVER!!!]

CL: HE HAS JUST SPIKED "THE GAMBLER" JUDD MARLEY WITH A PULLING
PILEDRIVER!!!! THE REFEREE TRYING TO FIGHT DR OHNO OW OFF, BUT DR.
OHNO OW SHOVES HIM DOWN!!! THAT COULD GET HIM DISQUALIFIED!!!

FH: He was saving his life!

[DR OHNO OW PICKS "THE GAMBLER" JUDD MARLEY UP ONCE MORE …QUIET ON THE
SET! The crowd pops huge as Dr. Ohno Ow poses for the camera as Meili
applauds his effort on the outside.]

CL: And Dr. Ohn Ow just leveled Judd Marley with his Reverse Thrust
Kick!

FH: Not too many men have ever gotten up from Quiet on the Set and I
think the Gambler has played his last hand tonight!

[Both Dr. Mal Practice MD and "The Gambler" Judd Marley are down...
The referee is back up, and he manages to get Dr. Ohno Ow back into
his corner... the ref now starts the knockout ten count on both
men...]

ONE !!!!

TWO !!!

THREE !!!

FOUR !!!

FIVE !!!

CL: Dr. Mal Practice MD rolls over!!!  HE PUTS AN ARM ON TOP "THE
GAMBLER"!!! THIS COULD BE IT!!! THIS COULD BE IT FOLKS!!





ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE ???


CL: NO!!!!!!NO!!!!!! "JUDD MARLEY JUST GOT A SHOULDER UP!!!!
AMAZING!!!!

[HUGE FACE POP]

[Dr. Mal Practice MD now asking his partner for that assistance. Dr.
Mal Practice tags in his Dr. Ohno Ow ...]

CL: DR. OHNO OW HAS A CHAIR !!! HE COULD GET DISQUALIFIED FOR THIS!!!!

[Dr. Mal Practice MD holding "The Gambler" Judd Marley in position
...]

CL: WAIT!!! WAIT ONCE SECOND!!

["BLACK" JACK BALDWIN IS IN THE RING!!! ]

CL: BALDWIN'S IN THE RING!!!!!!!!

FH: HEY REFEREE WHY DON'T YOU DISQUALIFY THE WILD CARDS. BALDWIN WAS
NEVER TAGGED IN!!!

[Dr. Ohno Ow SWINGS THE CHAIR ...]

CL: WAIT!!!

["BLACK" JACK BALDWIN SPEARS HIS OWN PARTNER, "THE GAMBLER" JUDD
MARLEY OUT OF THE WAY! DR. OHNO OW NAILED HIS OWN PARTNER WITH THE
CHAIR!!! DR. MAL PRACTICE MD IS DOWN!!!!]

CL: WHAT INTELLIGENCE BY JACK!!!! HE SPEARED HIS PARTNER OUT OF HARM'S
WAY WHICH CAUSED DR. OHNO OW TO NAIL HIS OWN PARTNER!!!!!

[HUGE CROWD FACE POP!!!]

FH: The dumb fans here are loving this match! Hell, I'm loving this
match!

CL: ALL FOUR MEN ARE IN THE RING NOW!!! ALL HELL HAS BROKEN LOOSE!!!

[Dr. Mal Practice MD's back up as "The Gambler" Judd Marley
recuperates, Dr. Ohno Ow has the chair once again. Dr. Mal Practice MD
clotheslines "Black" Jack Baldwin out of the ring!!!]

CL: Both men over the top rope and outside of the ring!!

[The referee is trying to calm bring them back into the ring but he
doesn't see Dr. Ohno Ow setting up that chair!!! Judd Marley back up,
but Dr. Ohno Ow SWINGS ...]

CL: "The Gambler" Judd Marley DUCKS!!!

["THE GAMBLER" JUDD MARLEY DUCK AND HE LANDS A SPINNING LEG LARIAT
ONTO DR. OHNO OW!!! ]

CL: "The Gambler" Judd Marley has the CHAIR!!!

[JUDD MARLEY ARMED WITH THE CHAIR AS DR. OHNO OW ON HIS KNEES BEGGING
AND "THE GAMBLER" JUDD MARLEY TAKES THE BIGGEST SWING I'VE EVER SEEN
IN MY ENTIRE LIFE ........... ]


!!! CCCRRRAAACCCKKK !!!



[ENOURMOUS CROWD POP!!!]


FH: What the heck is going on here?

CL: Hey PAIN brought those Chairs into the ring on multiple occasions
tonight!

FH: I _TOLD_ you ... They are doctors they have a licence to do that.

CL: "The Gambler" Judd Marley's covering but the referee is following
Jack Baldwin and Dr. Mal Practice MD on the outside!

[The referee gives up chasing them around the ring as they aren't
listening to him and slides back in the ring. "The Gambler" Judd
Marley gets up and goes to the outside to help his tag team partner.
Dr. Mal Practice MD Irish whips "Black" Jack Baldwin sternum first
into guardrail and then comes charging in with a big boot that sends
"Black" Jack Baldwin up and over into the fans.]

FH: TURN AROUND MAL!!

[As soon as those words come out of Hoyle's mouth "The Gambler" Judd
Marley is seen in the picture and he dropkicks Dr. Mal Practice MD
face first into the guard rail and then begins to drive his closed
fist into the skull of Dr. Mal Practice...]

CL: Dr. Ohno Ow is starting to come to in the ring and he slides
outside the ring and is sneaking up behind "The Gambler" Judd Marley.

["The Gambler" Judd Marley turns around and sees Dr. Ohno Ow but
before he can react "The Gambler" Judd Marley is met with a Bicycle
Kick. The referee is starting his count back inside the ring as he has
seemed to have lost all control of this match...]

CL: The referee has begun his count...

FH: Now who is Mr.Obvious?


ONE !!!


TWO !!!


THREE !!!


[ "Black" Jack Baldwin has reached over the guardrail and pulled Dr.
Mal Practice into the fans with him as Dr. Ohno Ow and "The Gambler"
Judd Marley are exchanging punches with one another ...]


FOUR !!!


FIVE !!!


SIX !!!


[Dr. Ohno Ow and "The Gambler" Judd Marley have also began fighting in
the crowd as "Black" Jack Baldwin and Dr. Mal Practice MD are
exchanging chops with one another ... ]


SEVEN !!!


CL: The Wild Cards and PAIN better hurry up soon and break this count
or this match will end in a Count Out...


EIGHT !!!


FH: I don't think that matters to either of them right now ...


NINE !!!


[Dr. Mal Practice MD grabs Jack Baldwin and whips him hard into the
guardrail as Judd Marley and Dr. Ohno Ow continue to brawl in the
crowd. The crowd moans as Ohno Ow connects with a swift kick to the
nether region of Judd Marley dropping him to his knees. Ohno Ow grabs
Judd Marley by the head and drives hi knee into the face of Judd
Marley busting him open.]


TEN !!!


FH: Judd Marley busted open in the crowd! God lord Lester could we be
facing another lawsuit from the fans here?


!!! DING DING DING !!!


CL: I don't know but there is the bell! This match has been thrown
out! And neither team cares as their hatred for one another is just
completely boiled over here tonight!

FH: The PVW just isn't big enough for _both_ of these teams.  This
isn't the first time the PVW booking team has tried to get these two
teams to settle their score.

CL: Security and officials are down there and they can't even pull
them apart!


L E T   T H E M   F I G H T ! ! !


L E T   T H E M   F I G H T ! ! !


L E T   T H E M   F I G H T ! ! !


L E T   T H E M   F I G H T ! ! !


FH: It appears the fans even want to see these two teams bring some
closure.  I have to admit I'd love to see PAIN finish the Wild Clowns
off for once and for all!

CL: Or the Cards finishing PAIN off. I've got word that Dean Hayes is
catching up with Marcus Manson backstage!

FH: But ... But ... Todd Johnstone is just starting to say nice and
mean things can't the camera catch that.

[The camera cuts backstage where Dean Hayes and the camera man are
hustling to catch Marcus Manson. Manson is still wearing his battered
old trench coat and has a gym bag slung over his shoulder.]

DH: Marcus! Marcus! Can we ask a few questions?

[Manson keeps walking, out to the parking lot. Hayes catches up to him
just as Manson tosses his bag in the back seat.]

DH: Marcus! That was a huge announcement tonight! How do you think
Marley and the rest of WMI are going to respond?

[Manson shakes his head, and gets into the driver's seat of his car,
turning back to look at Dean as he fires up the engine.]

Manson: Dean, didn't you hear? I'm the only member of Widowmakers Inc
now. But do me a favor and send Marley my best regards... he is going
to need it.

[With that Manson shifts gears and pulls out of the parking lot,
leaving the arena.]

DH: Well... you heard it, Manson claims to be the only standing member
of Widowmakers INC, and he's just left the arena! Back to you at
ringside!

FH: Who died and left him in charge?

CL: Well I don't know about "died", but from the sound of it ... Well
Magnus Colby.

FH: And he matters how?  He hung his boots up and gave up on this
industry.  He gave up on the fans ... He gave up on everything in
wrestling.  Rick Marley stayed around and put together the broken
pieces of what was one of the most legendary stables in history.  Then
he took it to _NEW_ heights.  The Widowmakers don't even mention
Colby's name in the history books anymore.  It's now _Marley_.

CL: Marley may have put new life into the band of thugs, but under
Colby they weren't just a fear factor set of thugs running around.
They were a respected group of individuals.  And more importantly they
held Championship gold.

FH: You didn't go there did you Lester?

CL: I did.

FH: Hopefully Rick wasn't listening.

CL: I am done being intimidated by the band of criminals.  I saw what
Craven did to Dean Hayes.  Rick Marley has made threat's to a lot of
people around here.  The fact is he knows what Manson says is true and
that's why he has gotten so upset.

FH: Rick has held gold as a Widowmaker ... Just not yet as _the
Widowmaker_.  Let me do you a favor.  Camera's are still a rolling and
we _NEED_ to go backstage.

[Cut to the back where PVW Tag Team Champions Livestock and the Gutch
walk down a long concrete hallway.  That's right, after causing havoc
in Montreal, the boys were not sent packing back to Phoenix.  Dressed
in their (now fairly standard) ring gear plus suit-patterned T-shirts
and championship belts, they carry their signature briefcases and walk
with the swagger of confident champions.]

Gutch: Man, this has been a great time we been havin' in
Canuckleville, ain't it 'Stock?

Livestock: That's the worst mangling of "Canada" I've ever heard,
Gutch, but yes.  It feels to me as if we've been on vacation for
months.  Makes me wonder if maybe we shouldn't move to Canada.

Gutch: Oh, I can mangle it worse.  I was thinking, y'know, adding
syllables is funny, right?  So if you call Canada Canadia, then
y'know, maybe more syllables'd be even better!  So yeah, I came up
with "NewMountCantanadiaGuaysiavilletontownburgcity".  How you think
that sounds?

Livestock: Like a verbal abortion.

Gutch: That good, huh?

Livestock: Never say it again.  It burns my soul.

Gutch: Aw...

Zeke: So this is how you two have been passing the time in my absence.

[Stopping short, both fat Gutch and pretty Livestock turn to face the
newcomer in their ranks.  Around 6' tall and slim he's topped off by a
mostly red (with white streaks) poofy beard and hair just wild enough
to need some gel.]

Livestock/Gutch: ZEKE!

[That's right, it's Broderick Ezekiel Craven, the once and former
manager of the tag champs.  Dressed in his best charcoal gray suit,
Zeke gives a smile to his team that is unsettling in spite of it's
genuine nature.]

Zeke: That's right, it's me.  In light of recent developments I felt
it was best to touch base with you boys personally.  Since I am in the
building during these shows, why not?

Gutch: Wait, you're in the building during the shows?

Zeke: Yes, again, I'm a member of the championship committee now.  At
any rate, to recap; poor Miss Marshall has been given the boot, the
PTB is without corporate sponsorship and my hand-picked replacement
has been hospitalized.

Livestock: Yeah, that was, heh, tragic.

Gutch: Be nice 'Stock.  He backs you up too, man.

Zeke: Yes yes, Bubba was unable to commit to being here tonight,
although he may show up anyway.  He was unable to give a solid answer
last we spoke.  Anyway, I digress.  I have a contract that I'd like
you two to look over and get back to me on in the near future.

Livestock: You want our feedback on a contract?

Gutch: Aw Zeke, I'm touched!

Zeke: Oh, I wouldn't be quite so touched.  It's your renewal contract
for PVW.  It's 2 years officially you've been signed to PVW as of
today.  Until it's signed, you two are no longer official PVW
employees, but rather, independent contractors.

Gutch: Whoa, I don't like the sound of that!

Zeke: Indeed, you shouldn't.  With no corporate backing and no
contract, the people we (shall we say) SCREWED in the past probably
won't be too happy with us.  So what I want you to do is read through
these papers very very carefully and get back to me by ... let's say
noon tomorrow.

Livestock: Uh, okay, Zeke, is this good news or bad news?

Zeke: Hm?  Oh, I'd call it "neutral" news honestly.  I mean, you two
were signed for two years, this is one year for more money, but
there's an exclusivity clause and a non-compete clause in there.

Gutch: Wuzza-huh?

Livestock: He means that we wouldn't be able to work with another
wrestling league even if we left here first for one year from the day
we signed.

Gutch: There are other wrestling leagues?

Zeke: Ha-ha, ZING~!  Oh, Gutch I forgot how entertaining your feigned
stupidity was...

Gutch: Aw Zeke, y'know, I try...

Zeke: But seriously guys, sign those papers.  Depending on how
tonight's match goes your stock could soar or plummet.  The title is
your very last piece of leverage in PVW.

Livestock: But you do want us to read the contract, right?

Zeke: Of course!

Gutch: But ... but what?  It might not be valid after the match with
Joker's Wild?

Zeke: Who's to say?

Livestock: Wait, you're steering us towards just signing without
reading!  I've seen you do this to other guys!

[Livestock slaps Gutch on the chest to get his attention.]

Livestock: Remember?  When he was going over a contract with that
pirate-themed guy who stole his name from the Goonies?  The guy signed
for minimum wage before complaining to the Willinghams!  If Dex hadn't
given him more after the fact the guy'd be eating dog food in the back
of a van between matches!

Gutch: Oooo...

Zeke: Livestock Zappa, that was a completely different situation.  I
was attempting to save the company money by drawing our lesser talents
from a lower-cost pool.  I would never turn my back on you two.

Gutch: Oh yeah?  Well, uh, well you're working for PVW now!  Not SSN.
So, like, how do we know you're not just out for revenge for all the
stuff ... we did ... with ... you...?

Zeke: Do you ever plan out what you're going to say in advance?

Gutch: I'm better when reading from a teleprompter.

Livestock: Okay, you're not plotting against us, but why the rush?

Zeke: Well, if it weren't for that power play removing our lovely Miss
Marshall it wouldn't matter, but now...  Honestly, I should have given
you this contract weeks ago, but it wasn't a rush _then_.

Gutch: So you dropped the ball?

Zeke: In a manner of speaking.

[Pause.  Livestock and Gutch look to each other, concerned.]

Livestock: So we should just sign the papers now?

Zeke: I should think that would be for the best.

Gutch: Give 'em.

[Walking over to a folding table in the hall, Zeke opens his briefcase
and removes a manilla folder.  Pens are handed out with the twin
contracts, and both Livestock and Gutch set about signing their lives
away.  Cut!]

FH: ZEKE!  I miss me some ZEKE!

CL: Ladies and gentlemen we're hot off the heels of Tradition Four!

FH: And what a night it was Lester, we have a new Network Champion,
GibsonHayes retained his title and thanks to interference by HvD
Johnny Detson lost his career!

CL: HvD was arrested after his assualt on Gibson Hayes at Tradition
Four and later in the program we're going to be telling you the serve
pentaly laid down by the PVW Championship Committee. But right now
let's cut to the ring to for a special try-out match for two young men
...

FH: Try-out? With the talent in the PVW right now these two have a
better shot of getting a contract with the UWF than here.

CL: That could be the case but tonight Vic Parker will be squaring off
...

FH: Vic Parker? Why does that name sound familiar?

CL: Vic Parker is the cousin of Brian Young ...

FH: Ah CRAP! I thought we were finished with that family Lester!

CL: Vic Parker is one half of the tag team The Dreams with Brian's
younger brother Brandon Young ...

FH: He's not here is he?

CL: Not tonight Fred.

FH: Thank god ...

CL: Vic and his opponent are already in the ring.

FH: So who's his opponent.

CL: According to the bio sheet he is Scott Williams. He's a former
NCAA Wrestling Champion from Iowa.

FH: Iowa ... nothing but corn comes from Iowa.


  ______  _    _ _  _  _ _____________________________________________
 (_____ \| |  | | || || |
  _____) ) |  | | || || |   HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE TRY OUT MATCH:
 |  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |             SCOTT WILLIAMS v.
 | |       \  / | |___| |               VIC PARKER
 |_|        \/   \______|_____________________________________________




[As the bell rings the two rookies circled one another cautiously for
a moment or two before shooting in and locking up in  the center of
the ring, the bigger Williams quickly locks on an armbar; continuing
to twist and work the arm of Parker.  Parker though reaches for the
ropes and uses the top rope to flip himself out of the armbar and he
connects with  a forearm creating some space between the men. Williams
looks to lock up again but Parker ducks and slips behind Williams
applying a waistlock]

CL: Williams showing his armature background as he quickly hits a
standing switch and powers Parker to the mat with a rear waist lock
takedown.

FH: haha look at Parker getting smack around on the back of head. The
good old paint brushing you have to love it.

[The stockier Williams steps back a step and dares Parker to get his
feet.]

FH: Yep you can tell he is a member of the Young family ... he doesn't
realize when he is overmatched.

CL: A rear waist lock take down and you think he's overmatched?

FH: Well he's related to a quitter so yeah ...

[Once again the two men lock up and again Williams gains the upper
hand by forcing Parker into the ropes. He lights the smaller Parker up
with a Knife Edge Chop and a second and a third. Parker grasps his
chest in pain as Williams grabs the right arm of Parker and whips him
across the ring.]

CL: Williams lowering his head ... and Parker with a Leap Frog over
Williams.

[Williams spins around and is caught with a Flying Forearm from Parker
who kips up to his feet. Suddenly a figure can be seen jumping the
guardrail and sliding under the ring.  The assailant has a hat down
below his eyes and can't be made out as he clotheslines Parker from
the ring.  Williams who has gotten back to his feet turns the
assailant around but is quickly met with a kick to the groin doubling
him over.  The assailant grabs Williams and throws him through the
turnbuckle all the way to the steel post.]

CL:  Folks I don't know what’s going on but some fan jump the rail and
is now assaulting these newcomers in the ring!  I think we need to get
security down here!

[The assailant now slides out of the ring and stalks over to The Voice
ripping the microphone from his hand.  He heads back to the ring as
Parker slumps down in the corner.  The assailant rips off his hat and
spikes it on the downed form of Parker and looks up to the crowd to
reveal...]

CL:  That's Johnny Detson!!  What's he doing here, I heard that the
PVW people offered him a chance to say goodbye to the fans tonight and
he turned them down.

FH:  And for good reason, he lost, no one wants to here him speak.

[The crowd doesn't really know how to react as Detson paces back and
forth in the ring, running his hand through his hair as he looks down
at the canvas.  He finally stops his pacing and without looking up
begins to talk.]

Detson:  You know, the people from PVW and SSN told me I could come
out here tonight and thank all of you... people... and say my goodbyes
and tell all of you how truly grateful I am and how I appreciate you
all.

[Not picking up on the tone of his voice, some of the crowd begins to
applaud.]

Detson:  And you know, I can honestly say, that I can tell you...
people... the same thing I told everyone one of those executives in
the back.  You...

[Detson pauses as he runs his hand across his forehead.]

Detson:  You people can all GO TO HELL!!!

[Detson finally lifts his head as the jeers start to rain down upon
him.  A cold, dead stare of hatred as he looks out towards the crowd.]

Detson:  The fact that you and those jack-o's in the back would
actually think that I would want to come out here and thank you...
THANK YOU?  After the way you people have treated me here, well... you
people are dumber than even I gave you credit for.  And believe me it
wasn't much to start.

[Detson starts pacing around the ring now making sure he can look at
every single fan.]

Detson:  You are all inferior people watching your stupid little
inferior product.  And let's not kid ourselves people, PVW is the
biggest piece of inferior crap out there!


[BOOOOOO!!!! DETSON YOU BLEEPIN SUCK!!!!]


CL:  This is getting ridiculous!

Detson:  You people starting begging for a hero, someone that can stop
the injustice.  Oh no!  Gibson Hayes is deplorable!  The Widowmakers
are unstoppable!  Just stop, you people are a bunch of self-loathing
hypocrite jack-o's.  I come here to stop Gibson Hayes, I put my career
on the line and I lose my career not because that talentless hack
pinned me, not because he made me quit.  No, I have to give up my
career because some Swedish Chef wannabe can't keep his stupid useless
ass out of my ring when I'm wrestling a match.

[Detson gives a small, almost maniacally chuckle.]

Detson:  I don't think so people.  That's not happening, that's not
the final chapter of the story.  But did you people care?  Where were
the petitions?  Where was the outrage?  It must have been lost
somewhere when you were busy voting Gibson Hayes Wrestler of the Year.
Or maybe it got misplaced somewhere when people like Rick Marley and
Rob Cole got voted into the top ten.  All wrestlers, by the way, who
can't hold a candle to me!

FH: Hey what did Gibson do?

[The crowd continues to boo and a small piece of trash comes in the
ring. Detson stops and looks at the debris.]

Detson:  This is just so appropriate.  Because this place and all of
you are garbage watching garbage wrestling, on a garbage channel.  You
wouldn't know real talent if it was staring you in the face!  I know
this because you're staring at the only real talent this place has and
you're throwing trash at it!  What Doc Holliday sets your world on
fire?

[Small pop for the Holliday reference as Detson looks on it disgust.]

Detson:  SHUT UP!  Doc Holliday, the only person ever to be granted a
number one contender’s spot without actually, you know, ever win a
match here!  You see that's the problem with this place; they'll honor
and cherish Doc Holliday, a guy who hasn't done anything in ten years
but still manages to coast by on reputation.  But a guy like me who,
you know, actually has WON A MATCH here will get treated like this!

[A small "DETSON SUCKS" chant breaks out as Detson scowls out at the
crowd. Detson seems to react to this with a small smile.  He calmly
walks over to Vic Parker who is still trying to recover and starts
leveling him with kicks which seems to get the crowd's ire up and also
increases Detson's smile.]

Detson:  Go ahead with your little chants you jack-o's, whatever makes
you feel better about yourself.  I really don't care what you think.
I am out of here so fast it isn't funny.  That's right, I'm gonna go
to places that actually know how to treat stars like me.  I can go
down to Dallas and they'd sign me in a second, and you morons are here
when the real place to witness actual wrestling in Canada is over in
the *pffsst*

CL:  Finally someone turned off his microphone, folks no one here
condones these actions and especially the statements of Johnny Det---
HEY!!!

[Chip Lester is cut off as Detson who realized his mic was turned off
rolled out of the ring and came over to the announcer's table where he
ripped the headset off of Lester and shoved him down to the ground.]

Detson:  Shut up, no one care what you have to say!

[The fans continue to jeer Detson.]

Detson:  And that goes double for you jack-o's out there!  What's a
matter PVW?  Think I'm exposing too much of the truth about your small
company? Bring that camera in closer!

[The camera hesitantly moves closer as Detson points a finger right at
it.]

Detson:  Well here's a little truth about your small insignificant
little company.  You started a small time place with a bunch of small
time wrestler, but then you got some financial backing and decided to
go big but still all you had was small time wrestlers.  Little fish in
an even smaller pond.  Which leaves you in the state your in now, in
the red.  It doesn't take a genius to figure out you jack-o's can't
run a company and are bleeding money.  So you want to screw around
with the career of Johnny Detson?  You want to take my career?  Fine
I'll take yours!  I'll see... oh what's this?

[Detson turns and looks as the crowd pops for the police presence
finally making their way down to the ring.  Detson almost laughs as
they approach.]

Detson:  Oh what's this you want to arrest me?  You taking me to jail?
Okay, but first...

[Detson rips off the head set and throws it to the ground as the
police approach.  Before they can get there he slides back into the
ring where Parker is starting to get to his feet with the help from
the official. Detson waits there as Vic Parker finally gets to his
feet before springing on top of him and uncorking a vicious Johnny
Kick to his unsuspecting chin.]

[Smiling as he looks around at the crowd still booing him he strolls
over to the mic he left on the canvas as the police get to the ring.
He pats down on the top of it to make sure it was turned back on and
nonchalantly raises it back up to speak.]

Detson:  Fine arrest me.  This isn't the end of it.  I'll see your ass
in court because I'm gonna get every last penny this company has to
offer! Officers?

[Detson flips the mic to the ground and gives a bow to the officers.
He then slides out of the ring where the officers detain him and cuff
him behind his back.  They lead him to the back to the boos of the
crowd with Detson's cocky smirk plastered on his face.]

FH: Holy cow ...  I really don't know what to even say.  Talk about a
try out match gone bad!

[Some thunking around ... and Finally Chip's voice again.]

CL: It's a shame when ego's explode.  There is no doubt the outcome at
Tradition IV was misfortunate.  And knowing PVW ... Detson probably
could have worked something out.  However he took the bitter and angry
approach and this is what happened.  Hersher von Donkerhardt the man
responsible for interrupting his match was taken to a Canadian jail as
T4 winded down.  And tonight Detson has been lead out for his actions
too.  Remember folks at this time Detson is NOT apart of a PVW roster
and he assaulted men on the PVW payroll.

FH: Too bad Detson didn't show this fire when he was ya know ...
_under_ PVW contract.

CL: As we try to get things back on track here at ring side.  Dean
Hayes has caught up with the Widowmakers captain.

FH: Poor Dean.

[Cut back to the locker room area, where Dean Hayes stands with
"Showtime" Rick Marley.  The Widowmaker's captain (fired Widowmaker's
captain?) calmly, a slight smirk on his face as Dean looks nervously
around him.]

DH: I'm back with "Showtime" Rick Marley...Rick, I'm sure you've
heard-

[Marley starts laughing...lowly at first, then doubling over, hands on
his knees...Dean looks more and more uncomfortable as Rick continues
to laugh...]

DH: Uhhh...Rick?  Hey Rick...did you want to...oh, I don't
know...respond?

[Marley abruptly stands up, looking Dean in the eye...all trace of
good humor gone.]

RM: Do I want to reply?  Do I want to respond to Marcus "I was
unemployed and considering working as a bouncer before Rick Marley
brought my sorry ass to PVW" Manson?  Is that what you're asking,
Dean?  If I have a retort?

DH: ...ummmm...Yeah, that's basically it...

RM: Sure...I've got a retort.

Marcus, you and Jonathan used to be part of the original WMI...and
Colby was indeed the founder...but you're both forgetting one
important aspect of the Widowmakers: Colby founded it as a
corporation, Marcus...a company.

And ever since he lost control of that company to me, Colby's gone
from a has been to a never-will-be.  If Magnus Colby had a spine left
in that crippled carcass of his, he'd have come back years ago and
tried to win back what I took from him...but he doesn't.  He's either
too scared, too out of shape...or just doesn't have it in him.

You called and asked his permission?  The man that couldn't even hold
onto the company he founded?

That's rich...but really, you might as well have asked Santa Claus.

Manson, you've seen what we do when people get in our way...ask
Merc...ask Tucson Kid...ask anybody else that can still talk that
crossed the Widowmakers here in PVW.  You're just another name that'll
get added on to the list.

DH: But if I may, Rick Marley...Chip Lester was offering the opinion
that you've been holding Marcus Manson down...that if it weren't for
his place in the Widowmakers that Manson would already have held at
LEAST one title here in PVW...

RM: He is, is he?  Well, I'll have a chat with Chip soon enough...but
the only thing that's holding Marcus Manson back is Marcus
Manson....he wants to be in charge of WMI...he wants to be the sole
Widowmaker?

Come and take it...

Once he works his way through WMI and takes out each and every one of
us, then we'll talk.

Till then, he can get his sorry ass back in line or he'll end up in a
wheelchair sitting next to his boyfriend Colby.

And you can take that to the bank.

[Marley stalks off without another word as Dean Hayes stands
uncomfortably, looking into the camera and shrugging...]

FH: I told you Chip.  Manson ... Colby ... his claims mean nothing to
Marley.  He has his site's set on the PVW World Championship.  Heck we
haven't heard from our broken down champion in awhile.  Might as well
gift wrap that championship belt up real nice stick a bow on it and
hand it over.  You may not like him, but he is the hottest thing going
in wrestling world-wide today!

CL: He hasn't proven anything yet.  If he beats Rob Cole ...  Then we
will talk.

FH: _When_ you mean.

[Out of the blue cut to another part of the arena, where the Mercenary
is now seen talking to a figure standing in the shadows. The camera
zooms in just in time to see an envelope change hands.]

Merc: So, you're absolutely sure this is the real thing?

ManInTheShadows: C'mon... You've gotta be kidding me? Have I ever let
you down before?

Merc: Shall I start in alphabetical order?

MITS: Very funny.

Merc: So, did you happen to see who's on this contract?

MITS: Yeah... buts its no one I recognize...Some Jewish high
flyer...Eckstein, Hackenberg... I'm not sure but it was something like
...

[Before the conversation goes any further, the cameraman accidentally
kicks over a bucket, alerting the Merc to his presence once again...
and it ends with the same result as last time... darkness followed by
a burst of light. But this time a face appears over the lens, and it
looks a lot like the face of the Domino's pizza delivery guy.]

DPDG: You'd think you'd learn by now not to mess with the Merc.. Gaakk

[Pizza guy's face suddenly disappears as it is yanked away from the
downed lens.]

Merc: Get your goddamned face out of there, you imbecile...

[Return to the announcers.]

CL: Umm.. We didn't get the call to cut backstage.  Somebody in the
trucks did that.

FH: Apparently the secret camera man made the call.

CL: We don't know what is going on with Mercenary, but do we _ever_?
The guy could be working for President Obama for all we know?

FH: Mercenary the hired gun to fight for government ceased health
care.

CL: Let's not get Political... We are a wrestling show.

FH: Hey you brought it up!

CL:  Fans this night is just getting started as we get ready for a tag
challenge match up next!

FH:  I'm not sure how bearable this match will be because these guys
are....well they are strange.

CL:  Strange?

FH:  Yeah...I mean not the "keep your head in the freezer" kind of
strange, but more like the..."Are you sure they belong in THIS decade"
kind of strange.

CL:  Is that your way of saying Mubarak and Weinrib are ahead of their
time?

FH:  No.  It is my way of saying they remind me of the ding dongs from
Atlanta in the late 80s

CL:  Oh.  That isn't a glowing comparison.

FH:  Indeed it is not.

CL:  Well, let's head to the ring for our introductions.

[The view changes to show our ring announcer ready to make
introductions, as one team stands off to the side of the ring in the
far corner.]

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall and has a twenty minute time
limit.  And introducing first ... already in the ring, hailing from
Tokyo, Japan at a combined weight of four-hundred-ninety-four
pounds...here are "Big Bull" Tanaka and Ken Kitamura...

                 T H E    B U S H I    B O Y S  ! ! !

[Kitamura and Tanaka raise their arms to a moderate reaction of
dislike from PVW fans.]

FH:  Ahh yes, the Bushi Boys. Japan's answer to the atomic bomb.

CL:  You are full of barbs today Freddie.

FH:  I got a million of them!

[You can hear a rustling of microphones and movement, then a voice.]

MAN:  I'll just sit right here between you two.

[The screen switches from the ring to the announce table again and we
see "Too Cool" Chris Hopper sitting between our esteemed announcers.
Hopper's purple silk shirt and dark sunglasses make him stand out from
the men next to him on either side. Freddie especially looks unnerved
at Hopper's appearance.]

CL:  Chris Hopper!  Why are you out here?

Hopper:  Relax Chip. Just wanted to come out here and hang with my
buddy.

CL:  What buddies?  You have gone out of your way NOT to make friends
since arriving in PVW.

[Hopper puts his arm around Freddie and smiles.]

Hopper:  That's not true! I came out here to hang with Freddie
Fantastic and maybe watch some wrestling action.

FH:  Are you kidding me?

Hopper: Not at all!

CL:  Oh this will lead nowhere good...

Hopper:  Have a little faith Chipper! I may be the only thing that
makes this match worth watching!

[The screen switches back to the ring where introductions resume after
the surprise showing of Hopper for guest commentary.]

HD:  Introducing, from New York City, New York, weighing in at a total
of 512 lbs, here are MAX WEINRIB and SALIH MUBARAK!

["Rock the Casbah" by the Clash plays over the PA system as the duo
walk out.  Max is the larger gentleman, built like a bullet and
dressed like a Hassidic Orthodox Rabbi, while Salih is lighter,
taller, and dressed like a Sheik (though spotting a pair of
sunglasses).  The two half-walk, half-dance down the aisle, slapping
hands with the fans as they make their way into the ring.  Sal removes
his robes and headpiece to reveal long white trunks, while Max removes
his jacket and hat (revealing a bald head) to reveal a black singlet.]


 ______  _    _ _  _  _ ____________________________________________
(_____ \| |  | | || || |                                            |
 _____) ) |  | | || || |         HEATWAVE - TAG TEAM ACTION         |:
|  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |               BUSHI BOYS v.                |
| |       \  / | |___| |             WEINRIB & MUBARAK              |
|_|        \/   \______|____________________________________________|



CL:  This one ought to prove interesting as Max and Sal are really
climbing the ladder to tag success.

Hopper:  They really are. I haven't seen a meteoric rise this fast in
years.

FH:  I have.

CL:  Oh really?

FH:  Indeed!  They are rising faster than Hopper at a bakery shop!

Hopper:  That is why I love you Fred, your wit is sometimes so sad
that people actually laugh because they feel sorry for you.

FH:  What?

Hopper:  Seriously, Fred. You've been taking pot shots and wildly
theatrical jabs at me for more than a decade. But what I have never
truly understood is why.

[DING! DING!! DING!!!]

FH:  This match is finally ready to start!

CL:  It sure is Freddie, but you  usually don't jump right into match
calling.

FH:  Sure I do, it is my job.

Hopper:  I think you are avoiding the question. Why do you feel the
need to take such wild swings at me at every opportunity?

[Freddie is silent. While this exchange is happening, Max had locked
up with Tanaka and wrenched him into a standing arm bar.]

FH:  Tanaka in trouble early as Max has the arm bar applied.

Hopper:  Yes Fred, that is move number two-hundred-fifty-seven. Answer
the question.

CL:  He is deflecting Chris...very strange from Freddie.

Hopper:  Not if you got to know him, is it buddy?

[Tanaka manages to reverse the armbar hold and then slides his hold to
a standing headlock, which he quickly uses to flip Max over and to the
ground to apply more pressure. Tanaka is acting like this is no
problem at all and the fans give  him a little heat.]

CL:  Tanaka showing he isn't in much trouble with the reversal into
the headlock takedown!

Hopper:  Very impressive move there.  Best way to counter the armbar
and gain a better advantage.

CL:  The referee is asking Max if he is OK in that headlock hold
against the canvas...and he says he isn't giving up. It is a little
early, right Freddie?

FH:  ......*grumbles something we can't understand*

CL:  What is wrong with you?

Hopper:  I know what is wrong. It is tough to have the object of your
hate show up and call you out on why the hate exists. I'm sitting here
and he doesn't even remember why he hates me. Perhaps because that was
the "in" thing to do during certain regimes of UEW leadership, perhaps
he is upset about other things...

[Tanaka pulls Max up and tags out to Kitamura, who steps in and drills
a kick into the exposed ribs of Max. Kitamura wastes no time in
grabbing that arm again and wrenching it far behind Max's back.]

Hopper:  Great tag teaming there by the Bushi Boys...

CL:  They have been here awhile and Sal is just itching to get in
there! Ken Kitamura really working that elbow behind the back!

Hopper:  What are you upset about Fred?  Are you just compensating for
your lack of manliness?  You really think that sitting here and
calling names and funny barbs like some junior high outcast is going
to make you a bigger man?

FH:  There is no way I could be the bigger man against you.

CL:  That is true, in fairness Freddie isn't very tall.

[Kitamura whips Max into the ropes, but Max ducks the lariat attempt
and rebounds back into a Thesz Press and begins pounding his fist into
the forehead of Kitamura as the fans give him some cheers for it.]

Hopper:  Great reversal by Max!

CL:  Max has gotten the advantage and now we might see why this team
has picked up such momentum since coming to PVW!

Hopper:  Momentum can be dangerous. I had a lot of momentum when I got
here, but momentum only goes so far.

[Max has an arm bar and he tags out to Sal, who comes flying in with
an elbow smash to the exposed shoulder of Kitamura!]

FH:  You mean like choking at Blood Bowl?

Hopper:  I held up my end of the match and Merc and I were toe-to-toe
every step of the way all over the ring area. Nothing to be ashamed
at.

[Sal wraps the Kitamura's arm again and tags back out to Max. The
bigger man come sin and buries a boot in the exposed ribs of Kitamura
before resuming the arm bar and causing Kitamura to emit a yelp of
pain.]

FH:  Except you lost.

Hopper:  Technically my team lost....I didn't lose. Geddings took the
pinfall.

[Max tags in Sal again and Sal again  propels himself over the top
rope and lands a flying chop to the exposed elbow. Sal gets that left
arm yet again and tags Max before Max even gets fully set in the
outside of the corner. Max steps in and buries a boot to the
shoulder/neck area that floors Kitamura. Sal climbs up to the top
turnbuckle and waits as Max pulls Kitamura up and holds that arm up.
He tags out to Sal again and Sal flies onto Kitamura with a flying
legdrop on that shoulder!]

CL:  FLYING LEGDROP BY SALIHA!!!  Max and Sal working great tag team
wrestling right now.

Hopper:  These two are working well. Smart tags and rapid succession
that don't let the opponent ever get a chance to breath.  Great stuff!

CL:  This is why they are going up the ladder so quickly.

Hopper:  Some of those veteran teams better watch out because a team
with this kind of mixture of power and speed can be dangerous, but
even more so if their teamwork is meshing well.

FH:  You wouldn't know teamwork if it sat on your face! The only tag
match you have had in PVW was on Tradition IV and you LOST!

Hopper:  Geddings actually lost, in case you were too deaf to hear me
seconds ago.

FH:  I wasn't too deaf, I just like saying that you lost!

Hopper:  Well it happened and I can't deny it. Very disappointing
night because I really felt like I had a great shot at walking out as
Blood Bowl champion.

[Sal grabs Kitamura and whips him across the ring, nailing him with a
flying leg lariat that takes him down to the canvas yet again.]

FH:  There was no way you would have beaten Craven for the title.  No
way at all. You didn't even take out Geddings for losing. You walked
out like a scared little child instead of doing what a real man would
have done.

Hopper:  A real man would have done?  Are you kidding me?

FH:  Not at all. You had one chance to get revenge for that moron
losing a match...ONE.  And yet you refused to take it and get the kind
of payback that was owed there. To me, that makes you weak.

Hopper:  Weak?

FH:  Yes Weak!

CL:  Right now Sal looks nothing like a weakling as he pulls
Kitamura's legs and tags out to Max again!

Hopper:  Let me tell you something, Freddie...

[Max enters the ring and takes off toward the adjacent ropes as Sal
sets up and catapults Kitamura into the air towards a rebounding
Max....who smashes a flying forearm into the prone Bushi Boy!  The
crowd erupts as Max goes for the pinfall attempt.]

CL:  This might be it!



1!!!!!!
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TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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CL:  NOOO!!!!   Kickout by Kitamura!

Hopper:  That kickout took a lot of energy as well.  Max isn't small
and it takes a lot to escape a pin sometimes.

FH:  You could always be a punk coward and walk away.

Hopper:  OK, That is about enough out of you.

[Max whips Kitamura across the ring and somehow on the rebound, Ken
tags out to Tanaka. Max drills a powerslam on Kitamura and goes for a
pin attempt, but the referee doesn't count and Tanaka drills a boot to
his head.]

Hopper:  You sit out here night after night and trash me with no
explanation and without any cause. After awhile it just shows you to
be a small- minded, immature piece of garbage and I can ignore you for
the trash you are.  But now you sit there and tell me because I didn't
attack and send Geddings out on a stretcher, it makes me weak?

CL:  Reversal of fortune for Max! He pinned the wrong man!  I think he
missed the tag and didn't know he hit a powerslam on he wrong guy!

FH:  Just another dumb move, in my opinion.

Hopper:  Fred, what takes more strength? To destroy someone who has
diminished physical capacity and is already on the end of his career?
Or does it take more strength to walk away and let that person wallow
in their failure alone? I'm not the kind of guy that kicks dogs.
Geddings was nothing but a wounded soul with nothing left. His failure
in this match is the best final image of his career that I can
imagine.

[Tanaka begins stomping on Max and gaining an advantage, Tanaka pulls
Max up and goes for a vertical suplex, but Max blocks it and lifts
Tanaka easily for a suplex of his own as the crowd loves Max getting
the advantage again!]

Hopper:  To turn Geddings into some martyr by attacking him after the
match only makes people remember the attack...not the fact that he
failed to hold up his end of the match and failed. Will's final
chapter ends a career that everyone said had promise, but never lived
up to the hype. He never overcame and conquered like everyone figured
he would. He never followed through and Tradition IV showcased that in
disappointing detail. To me, that is the lowest point for a man and
I refuse to take advantage of that.I have more pride in myself than
that and it took more strength NOT to tear him apart than it would
have to do it.

CL:  Very good point Chris.

Hopper:  Thanks Chipper.

CL:  Tanaka has lost the advantage now as Max used his strength to
turn the tide with a big time suplex. and now he tags out to Salih yet
again.  These guys are machines.

Hopper:  They definitely have chemistry and the ability to play off
each other's strengths.

FH:  But you come in here with all your bad breath and hot air,
claiming everyone robbed you and that you are just a victim of this
and that...

Hopper:  (interrupting)  Freddie, the past needs to stay the past. I
have said and done things that I'm not proud of. Some of what has
happened in my past is my fault some of it isn't.  Either way, the
past needs to stay buried and it is time to start focusing on what
matters.

FH:  Getting revenge on UEW people like a spoiled brat?

Hopper:  No.  Achieving my desire to again be a World Champion. PVW is
my home now and the time for worrying about a decade ago is over. Is
there history to deal with?  yes...and I will deal with it when that
times comes, but it will be  in the backdrop of a PVW banner and not a
league that has been dead for years.

[Sal gets reversed into the corner, but dodges a Tanaka charge, which
has Tanaka drill his chest n the top turnbuckle and stagger back into
a superkick from Sal. Tanaka hits the deck hard and Sal tags out to
Max, as the crowd starts chanting for them in a dull tone.]

CL:  The crowd is starting to get behind Max and Sal!

Hopper:  They do have an effect when they want.

FH:  They are all idiots!

Hopper:  I believe YOU are the idiot Freddie. You sit there and do
your job or shut the hell up. I for one am sick of you overstepping
what you are supposed to be doing. I know you don't like me, the fans,
and obviously anybody with decent taste...but that doesn't mean you
need to ignore the product to run off at the mouth about it.

FH:  Well....I....

Hopper:  And I will tell you this, the next time you go too far...you
may not have someone as forgiving as I am to deal with.

CL:  Yeah I couldn't imagine Spectre of William Craven being this way.
I think they would have beaten you down for so many remarks.

Hopper:  Now you have anything else to say?

[Max pulls Tanaka up and nods that he has everything under control.
Max grabs Tanaka and sets him up for a running crucifix powerbomb! The
crowd erupts!]

FH:  Wow!

Hopper:  Max with a cover!


1!!!!!!
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THRE..............................................

CL:  KICKOUT BY TANAKA!!!

Hopper:  Tanaka isn't a favorite, but when a man shows heart like that
after taking such a shot, it means this match is far from over!

FH:  Like you are an expert or something...

Hopper:  Ever wrestled?

FH:  No.

Hopper:  Ok then....shut up.

FH: You can't talk to me that way!

Hopper:  Are you kidding me?

[Max drags Tanaka to the corner and tags in Sal, who propels himself
over the top rope and hits a dropkick on the exposed ribs of Tanaka.
Sal is in full control as he snap mares Tanaka back to the mat and
then snaps around a front kick to the chest that gets an OHHHH! from
the crowd.]

CL:  What tenacity by Salih!  He i really taking the fight to Tanaka!

FH:  It is easy to beat someone when they are down.

Hopper:  From what I hear, you have a hard time getting up for any
beating there Freddie.

FH:  What the  hell?!?!  Who said anything about that.

Hopper:  Wife....daughter....does it really matter who I give credit
to?

FH:  Good God Hopper!  Is nothing sacred to you?

CL:  Salih looking to work that back and shoulder area some more with
a snap leg drop on that extended arm!  Ouch!

Hopper:  As long as he keeps the moves crisp, Tanaka can't load up for
any return fire. Bad spot to be in there.

[Kitamura is acting like he is entering the ring to bail out his
partner.]

CL:  It sure is!  What is he doing?

Hopper:  Don't fall for it!

FH:  He's as stupid as you are Hopper.

Hopper:  Shut it, limpy.

[Max sees this and enters the ring to cut the attack off, but gets
caught by the referee!  The referee's back is turned and pushing Max
back to the corner. This is an opportune moment for Kitamura to enter
the ring and plant a boot in the back of Sal's knee.  Then another
well-placed kick to the face that floors him. The crowd is livid!]

FH:  I hate your ever breathing guts.

CL:  THE REFEREE IS MISSING IT ALL!!!

FH:  He usually does.

CL:  Both men are down, but it looks like Tanaka is moving toward his
corner.

Hopper:  Now we get to see what Sal is made of.

[Tanaka tags out to Kitamura and they double team a shot to the ribs
on Sal. Tanaka stands on the corner as the referee looks at him to
make sure a tag happened. Kitamura lands a pair of knife-edged chops
that get the crowd "whooing" like trained dogs.]

CL:  Those chops sound like they could cut down a tree!

Hopper:  He is powerful, but he is getting help!

FH:  From who?  God?  Satan?  Spooky D...

Hopper:  (cutting him off)  Don't even say that name.

CL:  I see it!  Tanaka has hold of the left arm out of the view of the
referee!  Sal can't fully defend himself!

Hopper:  Exactly!

CL:  This is unbelievable!

FH:  Well duh!  Cheat or die morons....cheat or die.

[Max is trying to yell at the referee to stop the blatant cheating,
but  when the ref turns to listen to him, Tanaka chokes Sal from
behind and adds more problems for the smaller man.]

Hopper:  This is classic tag team wrestling.

CL:  What the cheating?

Hopper:  I was going to say the using the opponents on the outside to
your advantage, but I wouldn't know about the cheating part.

FH:  Sure you would.  You cheat all the time!

Hopper:  WHAT?!?!  Name a dozen!

CL:  Here is a tag out to Tanaka and they double team Sal again!

Hopper:  If Max ever gets in that ring....I don't know if the Bushis
will survive.

CL:  You might be right about that Chris.

FH:  If Max gets in the ring, it will be to pick up his partner after
a loss.

[Tanaka hits a couple of uppercuts and then bodyslams Sal to the
canvas. He tags out to Kitamura and picks Sal up into bear hug
position. Kitamura whips himself off the ropes and hits a hooking
clothesline into the Bull Driver spinebuster.]

CL:  THEY GOT IT!!!   THE BUSHIS HIT THEIR FINISHER!!!

Hopper:  I'm shocked!

FH:  I'm ecstatic!

Hopper:  Well we all know you aren't erect!  (starts chuckling)

FH:  Asshole.

CL:  Kitamura looks to be going for his Texas Cloverleaf finisher and
if he locks that on, its over!

[Max doesn't let Kitamura get the hold locked in. He steps through the
ropes and rushes the grapplers, planting Kitamura with a boot to the
side of the head and breaking the hold. The referee can't stop him as
he lands a running clothesline on Tanaka that takes "Bull" off the
apron and to the arena floor. The crowd has erupted into cheers.]

Hopper:  THAT is how you back your partner up!

CL:  Max with a big time save and the streak is still in tact.

FH:  For now.

CL:  Yes Fred, for now.

Hopper:  Max is back in his corner and almost jumping to get the tag!

CL:  Sal is moving, but his body is pretty beat up.

FH:  He is still better off than the results on Tanaka after the
blatant cheating.

Hopper:  I call that evening the score Fred. They had been choking Sal
forever in that corner.

CL:  Well said.

Hopper:  Thanks.

CL:  Sal is close...THERE IT IS!

[Sal reaches and just barely makes the tag to Max....in comes the
bigger man and he scoops up Kitamura for a big body slam. He catches
Tanaka trying to rush in and grabs him by the arm and head, ushering
him over the top rope on the opposite side of the ring.  The fans are
erupting!]

CL:  MAX WEINRIB ON THE OFFENSIVE!!!

Hopper:  He is a Mack truck!

FH:  Cheaters do prosper.

[Sal takes a running leap and tackles Tanaka on the outside as Max
drops Kitamura with an over-the-shoulder backbreaker. Max looks to the
corner and climbs up.]

CL:  Sal takes out Tanaka again on the outside and that leaves Ken
Kitamura at the mercy of Max in the ring!

FH:  This is wrong!

Hopper:  This is how it is done, Fredward.

[Max leaps and nails his flying headbutt on Kitamura as the crowd
erupts!

CL:  MESHUGGANAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hopper:  That is a great name for a move!

FH:  Better than "Icepick" or whatever the hell you use.

Hopper:  That is the Icebreaker. At least I have a finish to
name...you haven't finished in a while!

FH:  Muther...

CL:  (cutting Fred off)....Here is the cover by Max!

1!!!!!!
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TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hopper:  THE STREAK CONTINUES!!!

CL:  Max and Sal pick up another victory!

Hopper:  They are another step close to tag gold and people better
start looking over their shoulders.

CL:  Thanks for joining us down here Chris.

Hopper:  It was my pleasure.  Well I'm out of here.  It was fun
Chip....later limpy.

[We hear Hopper leaving as Max and Sal celebrate inside the ring after
getting a solid victory.]

CL: How about Max and Sal!  These guys have been red hot since
entering the PVW will anyone be able to slow these two down?

FH: *grumbles* Max and who?

CL: Apparently Fred's mind is a little pre-occupied.  PVW continues to
plow through the International market.  We have seen a push to add
more flavor on the roster from various nations and backgrounds.  Let's
go to footage of a new man that joins the "Global Surge."

[The scene opens up to a pub in England. Outside of the pub, standing
with a disgusted look on his face is a man with reddish brown hair,
and a goatee. He's dressed in a polo with a vest over it, casual
slacks and a fedora hat. His glasses, rectangular, sit precariously on
his nose. He shakes his head.]

Man: My name is Leon Wellsley. I hail from the United Kingdom; England
to be exact. Many people hail it as the greatest country on earth,
sophisticated, aristocratic. The building behind me says otherwise.
The building behind me represents the moral filth that plagues all
nations. Sophistication is not dependant on where you're from, but
yourself.

[Leon starts to walk away from the pub.]

I was born in a middle class family, as well as my mates as a child.
But I was soon bored with the redundancies of middle class life. On
the television I saw the lives of Royalty and Parliament. They all
seemed so content with their lives. So I worked hard, learned as much
as I could, and before I knew it, I was on par with parliament in
terms of social grace. But I soon realized Parliament were corrupt,
and Royalty was a charade. So I decided to make it my mission to
purify this world, and teach it true social grace. But I have to start
from the bottom. And where better to start than the cesspool of
Professional Wrestling?

I take a look at this "Phoenix Valley Wrestling," at wrestlers such as
"Mike Cox," "El Outlaw Loco," "Sinister," "Livestock" and "The Gutch."
It sickens me. But at the same time it excites me, because I know that
if I can purify such a filthy place, that the world will take notice,
and that I can raise awareness for my cause, and there will be a
global outcry for change in the lives of everyone.

[A smirk graces the face of Leon.]

Consider yourselves lucky, "PVW," because you will be forever revered
as the place where true grace began.

[Leon takes a short bow, and the camera fades out.]

--- CUT TO ---

[Montreal has many faces. Depending on the borough you stand in, you
could think you're in the middle of an European port, a New Jersey
industrial sector, an opulent New England community, a bustling
financial metropolis and more. The area in which a taxi cab has
dropped off "Hellraiser" Tom Landis and his wife Tara "Sunburst"
Marshall, young Chelsea in her arms, looks like a modest but
coquettish little residential neighborhood. Rows of three story
apartments with spiraling exterior stairs fill up the tree lined
streets, a bike path divides a nearby park, sidewalks are decorated
with brick patterns... by the looks of the place, you'd never know
this is, in fact, a low income slum.

Tom takes a deep breath of fresh air and turns red, gags, dry heaves,
chokes as Tara pinches her nose.]

HTL: Oh! Oh, gawd! What's this stench?

TSM: I don't know! It's so awful!

HTL: [Gags] That's the door over there, quick!

[The couple barge through a thick wooden door and burst into the
bottom of a drab and dirty cement stairwell.]

TSM: Goodness! That smell!

HLT: What was it?

TSM: I'm not sure, but I think the Molson brewery is a few blocks west
of here, so the air is filled with the stench of fermenting malt.

HLT: It must keep the rent low.

TSM: Still, I'd inhale it again for the honour of training in Jack
Fontana's gym.

HTL: I heard some stories about that place...

TSM: Urban legends no doubt. Barely anyone ever gets invited in, so it
must lead to a lot of rumours. But just in case some are true, don't
shake Jack Fontana's hand. Whatever happens, don't shake it.

HTL: Sure, hun. Where's the gym?

TSM: ... She said it was downstairs.

[However, Tom looks around, and finds no stairs that lead down. Up is
the only available option.]

HTL: There is no downstairs. Maybe she meant the ground floor?

TSM: No, she insisted it was in the basement...

[The main door opens behind the couple, and enter the enormous mutton
chops that frame Perry Fontana's face. He sizes up his in-laws, then
turns to Tara.]

Fontana: Hi, Tara! You look... una _bellezza_ SPETTACOLARE!

TSM: I... um... Thank, you!

[The two men then stare at each other, and a clear lack of affection
can be sensed.]

Fontana: Tom.

[There's a lengthy, silent and repressed conversation taking place.]

HTL: Perry.

[If the unspoken conversation wasn't wordless, you just get the
feeling most words would probably be bleeped anyways.]

Fontana: I thought Emilie _clearly_ said the BASEMENT, brother.

HTL: Yeah, about that. There is no bas-

Fontana: Tara, you can take Kelsey up to-

HTL: Chelsea.

Fontana: Hmm?

HTL: It's Chelsea, not Kelsey.

Fontana: Isn't Chelsea usually a GIRL's _name_?

HTL: Which is why we thought it was perfect for our daughter.

Fontana: Anyways, you can take the little one to flat number _twelve_,
Tara, and keep Emilia company.

TSM: I thought maybe I'd take a look at the gym, maybe run the ropes,
stretch...

Fontana: I'm sorry, no _women_ in the gym. TRADITION is _important_ to
my uncle.

TSM: But...

Fontana: Emily is waiting for you. Come on, Tom, viens t'en. Come on.

[Without even the simplest of hand gestures, Fontana exits again.]

TSM: What! I suppose I'll have to fix you boys some sandwiches, too?

[Tom apologetically shrugs at his wife.]

HTL: Well... maybe you could get the chance to talk to Emily a bit.
She stopped answering my calls, and I heard she's not going to school
this semester...

TSM: It's just a sabbatical. It's not like she flunked or was kicked
out or something.

HTL: She only has one semester to complete to get her bachelor's,
Tara. Who quits while they only have one semester left?

TSM: Oh, fine, fine. Want to go see Auntie Emily, Chelsea?

HTL: Thanks, babe, I won't be long.

[Defeated, Tara carries her child up the stairs.]

HTL: Blood Bowl was one nightmare... this is going to be another, I
know it.

[Tom finally follows his brother in law outside, and walk around the
building to reach an inclined driveway leading to a wooden garage
door. Cut into that door is another, and the groups steps into the
basement of the apartment complex. The place has been misrepresented.
It's not a basement, it's a musty cellar.]

[There, they are immediately confronted with a pair of Japanese young
men in wrestling trunks, straining as they press grapes and collect
the effluvia.]

HTL: Um... Who are-

Fontana: Japanese trainees.

HTL: But they're pressing grapes...

Fontana: My uncle makes his own wine. It's cheaper.

[To add an exclamation point to the statement, the plaintive howls of
a dying coyote echo around the group, prompting them to take leave
from the Japanese boys. They keep walking on the compacted earthen
floor until they reach a wider area. The ceiling is a few inches shy
of seven feet. Rows of musty barrels and casks encircle a humongous
pit dug into the floor. At the bottom is a wrestling ring, raised no
higher than an inch from the bottom of the pit.

The deep pit serves as a funnel that amplifies the dying coyote's
screams of agony. Except it's not a coyote. It's a Mexican youth
trapped in an elder gentleman's front chancery.]

Mexican: OH, DIOS! AAAIIIIIIIIEEEEE!!!

Uncle Jack: HANH? What you says? HUH?

Mexican: AOOOOOOOOOORGL!!! - HUIRK!

Uncle Jack: Ah! PERRY BOY! Tu vois? HANH?

Fontana: I see, yes.

Mexican: [Gasp!] Santa Maria decirme lo que hice para merecer esto!!
Urk!

Uncle Jack: "Ellraiseur" Tom Landee! You sees? You sees, si?

HTL: See, uh, see what?

Uncle Jack: HUH! Front _facelock_, you sees?

HTL: Oh, that? Yes, I see the facelock, yes.

Mexican: Por que es este diablo torturar a mi?? AIIIIEEE!

Uncle Jack: You bambinos do hit not right, HANH! DO IT HALL SLOPPY,
not perfecta like dis. Needs no strentt, you sees? No need strentt.
Make sure arm go 'ere an' lock, HUH! You sees? You body controls.

Mexican: -gargle- WEEEEAAAAAHHHH!

Uncle Jack: 'E move, 'e pain. It pain for 'im. Dat be GOOD front
_facelock_. HANH? Bambinos, dey not know catch bases. HUH! All jump,
no wrestling!

HTL: Good point, sir. A lot of young wrestlers skip the fundamentals.

Fontana: PAIN _compliance_ holds, cousin! You lock it right, you can
make someone tap with a front chancery.

HTL: Or at least significantly wear them down.

Fontana: AAAAH!!!

Uncle Jack: Ouais!

Mexican: AIIIEEE!! Yo solo queria alimentar a mi familia!!

Uncle Jack: Ah! Si! Hit be a _good_ point, Ernesto!

[Finally, salt-and-pepper haired Jack Fontana releases his hold and,
hunched over and visibly limping, he hobbles out of the ring towards
the brothers-in-law.]

Ernesto: Si! Ah! Ahora entendio el sentido de la vida!

Uncle Jack: LA FAMIGLIA!!

[The elder struggles a little bit as he fumbles out of the ring, but,
in time, he manages to reach for Tom with a slightly trembling hand.]

Uncle Jack: Letta me shake da 'and of _mio_ NIPOTE! My _nephew!_

[But the man is extending his hand at Tom Landis... who now faces a
dilemma. He's in enemy territory, flanked by Fontanas. The elder is
offering a handshake... but his wife Tara did issue a warning... Did
Jack Fontana have a famous move? He wasn't the famous one... the
famous one was Luke... but that doesn't mean old Jacques Fontana
doesn't know any...]

Fontana: What's _wrong_, BROTHER? My uncle wants to SHOW YOU how much
he _loves_ you, because you're his NEPHEW, now!

HTL: Uh...

[Damn... what could it be? If you know what's coming, you can guard
against it. An armbar? Fontanas love armbars, don't they? Never heard
of Luke Fontana using them much, though... what if it's a hammerlock,
or a chickenwing?]

Uncle Jack: HANH!? La _famiglia_, ragazzino, LA FAMIGLIA!!

[He hesitates, then Landis steps forward and embraces Giacomo Fontana
in a warm bearhug!]

HLT: My... uncle!

[The hug lasts a few awkward moments, then Tom releases his grip.]

Uncle Jack: I sees Tradition quattro, I miei RAGAZZI! HUH! I sees it
_all_! La famiglia viene sempre prima! HANH!

Fontana: Family comes FIRST, Tom.

Uncle Jack: You was about to lose your championnat, Tom! Why you not
do nottin, HUH?

HTL: _My_ championship? No, it was Per-

Uncle Jack: HANH? LA FAMIGLIA, Tomas! What his your brudder's is also
_yours_! It be was your championnat because siete fratelli! You be
BRUDDERS! Dat be someting you 'as to learn!

HTL: I can't say I saw things that way...

Uncle Jack: AH! But me sees da blood bole. It was NO GOOD!

HTL: No good? We were so close!

Uncle Jack: You not be WINNER! And duh tag match? HA!

Fontana: Mio zio, the tag match went well enough! I could feel the
_love_, Tom. Couldn't you FEEL the _love_?

HTL: I could definitely feel something...

Uncle Jack: Dere be potentiel dat I sees, but you not dah real teams
yet! HUH! You honly be winners in tag because dee udder team it not
GEL!

Fontana: Well, you don't have to worry about us EVER _teaming_ up
AGAIN, mio zio!

HTL: That's right. Perry and I we... uh... we _love_ each other too
much to team up again.

Uncle Jack: HANH? Dat is no probleme, ragazzino! All it is that you
needs be more of LA FAMIGLIA! Wit more fameely, you be real tag team!

Fontana: Mon oncle, Tom and I, we...

Uncle Jack: HUH?

HTL: Yeah, we...

Uncle Jack: HANH!? Dat because you ragazzini don't know how to be REAL
BRUDDERS! Real brudders, dey WATCH EACH UDDERS BACK! Dey _share_! Dey
_share_ deir moneys, dey share deir _campionati_, but DEY NOT SHARE
DUH WOMANS!!

HTL: I hope not...

Uncle Jack: Dey not be stabbing in deir brudder's back!

Fontana: At this point, the _best_ way to do that is to STAY _out_ of-

Uncle Jack: HANH? Dat is be why I be use me _manager_ LICENSE to make
duh real teams wit _my_ NEPHEWS! I MIEI NIPOTI, _HUH!_

HTL: Wait... what?

Uncle Jack: I 'ave go sees Pay-Vay-Dooblah-vay, an' I 'ave
enregistered you be has REAL tag teams!

Fontana: What? You registered us as an _official_ TEAM?

Uncle Jack: Dis morning! An' now, I _show_ you how REAL tag team dey
be wrestle!

HTL: But...

Uncle Jack: So you be put _trunk_ an' BOOT an' pad an' get hin da
RING! I be _showing_ you!

[The elderly Giacomo Fontana extends a trembling hand to point at the
camera.]

Uncle Jack: An' dere be no SPY to be film no _secret_!

[Jacques Fontana, limping and hunched over, stalks towards the camera,
and despite the man's obvious age, it backs off regardless, and the
screen fades to black.]

CL: Whoa!  Landis and Fontana a tag team?  With the legendary Jack
Fontana set to manage them?

FH: AIIIIEEEEEEEEE!

CL: The famous last words. Speaking of tag teams ... We have a big tag
team match; a huge test for Jokers Wild as they take on PVW Tag Team
champions Livestock and the Gutch.

FH: Blah, blah, blah. Drunky Mick Irish Guy and The Rio Grande Jumping
Kid are about to meet immigration reform head on - fist to face sty...
oh, wait, I have a phone call!

[Fred takes out his mobile phone and begins yapping away.

CL: Be more pro...

FH: Shh! This is an important phone call!

CL: *sigh*

[The Offspring's 'Hammerhead' starts to play over the house speakers.]

# I AM THE ONE #
# CAMOUFLAGE AND GUNS #
# RISK MY LIFE #
# TO KEEP MY PEOPLE FROM HARM #

[Harley Quinn O'Connor emerges from the backstage area, with his face
painted like a clown's, with black facepaint over a white base, and
dressed in a pair of black tights, with a black-and-white harlequin
image on the left thigh, and black wrestling boots. He is followed
close behind by 'El Savaje' Joseph Rizal, who is dressed in a pair of
black trunks, black knee pads and black wrestling boots. O'Connor
raises his arms in the air. Estrada does the same but points with his
index fingers at the crowd. Both men start making their way to the
ring, occasionally slapping hands or high-fiving the fans sitting on
either side of the aisle.

HD: Introducing first, the challengers, coming to the ring at a
combined weight of 425 pounds, they are HARLEY QUINN O'CONNOR and 'EL
SAVAJE' JOSEPH RIZAL ESTRADA . . . JOKERS . . . WILD!!!

[Reaching the ringside area, both men pull themselves onto the ring
apron and climb a corner each. Again, O'Connor poses with both arms
raised, while Estrada points at the fans in appreciation. Both men
step off the middle rope and into the ring. As the music starts to
fade, they go to their corner, where Estrada does some final stretches
while O'Connor paces, waiting for the match to start.]

CL: And the challengers getting love from the fans. O'Connor and
Estrada seem very focused.

FH: Sam, Sam, Sam, I told you: Chip isn't a retard, he's just slow...
and drools a bit.

CL: I'm what!

HD: And their opponents...

#There I was completely wasting, out of work and down,#

[“Breaking the Law” by Judas Priest plays, and with no lighting
effects, no fanfare, just the words "Livestock and the Gutch" on the
PVW video screen, a pair of big men in black shirts printed to look
like suit jackets and ties carrying briefcases emerge from the
entrance portal.]

#all inside it's so frustrating as I drift from town to town.#

#Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die,#

[The fat one, Gutch, does a silly little dance for the crowd as
Livestock points out to the crowd, then slaps his free hand on his
briefcase.]

#so I might as well begin to put some action in my life#

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

[At this, they begin walking down the aisle.]

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

[Still walking.]

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

HD: They weigh in tonight at a combined weight of 685 pounds, they are
the PVW Tag Team Champions of the World ... LIVESTOCK and THE GUTCH!

[Climbing into the ring, Livestock and Gutch each climb a turnbuckle
and raise their briefcases in mock victory.  Livestock, however, hops
down prematurely, making a “cut-throat” gesture after landing.]

Livestock: Cut the music.  Cut it.  We're not Chris Hopper, it's not
necessary to play the whole song twice.

[Mixed pop from the Canadian crowd, and this looks to just make
Livestock more annoyed.]

Livestock: Before we begin this match, I just want everybody here in
the audience to whip out your bibles and read about David and Goliath.
Yes, it is possible for a small man to overcome a larger opponent.  In
the case of David, you had a wise future king facing down an evil
giant.  He had a sling, he had a stone, and he struck that *BLEEPER*
down! Hey, Jokers, bad news.  Slings are illegal in the wrestling
ring.

[Surging forward to snatch up the microphone, Gutch (now just in his
black, one-shouldered singlet and boots) is just bursting with
energy.]

Gutch: Yeah!  Hey, Estrada!  Hey, O'Connor!  Good news!  We know your
names now!  Bad news ... WE LEARNED THEM THIS MORNING!  Yo guys, you
can't just walk in off the street and be world champs!  I'm sorry to
break it to you this way, but dammit, I'm all coffee-ed up (which adds
a certain tang to the Eggfarts) and it makes me more, whattayacall,
blunt!

[Gutch does his stupid little "Gootch Bartilootch" dance while
Livestock, who's now bare to the waist, takes the microphone back.]

Livestock: What my partner's trying to say is that we worked for two
years to get these straps.  We were the best team the entire time, but
the fates conspired against us.  When it came down to every team on
the roster in the ring, on equal footing, we took the titles.  Now you
two, the bottom rung of the division, want to waltz in and pry them
out of our hands?  Good luck boys.  You'll need the jaws of life.

[Gutch-snatch~!]

Gutch: Yeah, y'know what guys, I think I'm hungry for a little
Mexican!

Livestock: That was terrible.

Gutch: I know it!  C'mon, Estrada, you little punk!  Let's do this!

CL: Oh yeah, looks like big fat Gutch is aiming to lock up with the
smaller of the Jokers!  There's the bell!

FH: No, I won't buy any Yugo memorabilia from you Sam...


  ______  _    _ _  _  _ _____________________________________________
 (_____ \| |  | | || || |
  _____) ) |  | | || || |           HEATWAVE - TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP:
 |  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |                    JOKERS WILD v.
 | |       \  / | |___| |               LIVESTOCK AND THE GUTCH [c]
 |_|        \/   \______|_____________________________________________




*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*

[Estrada deftly ducks the giant, grabby hands of The Gutch and
delivers a drop kick to the big man... which really does not seem to
do anything. Estrada gets up quickly and tries another one. This time
Gutch almost takes a step back. Progress~!]

CL: Gutch not really feeling the effects of those drop kicks.

FH: No, I can't get you a job. What do you mean you lost your shirt on
bad stock tips?

CL: Fred! Pay attention to the match.

FH: (puts hand over phone) Chip! Have some manners! This guy owes me 5
bucks and I am not going to let that slip away.

[Estrada tries yet another drop kick to the gut but the Gutch just
burps. Estrada seems to have a bright idea and runs off the ropes and
it looks like another drop kick is coming... right to the gonads. This
time, the Gutch stops laughing and rolls around clutching his Gutch-
tacles as the referee admonishes the El Savaje. Joseph... screw that,
Jose, shrugs his shoulders to the crowd as Gutch continues his agony
induced roll around the mat.]

CL: And Joseph...

FH: (hand over receiver again) Jose.

CL: _JOSEPH_  seems to have found a weakspot.

FH: I just want my five dollars Sam! ...what do you mean wait? I don't
have much time since Livestock and the Gutch are going to take my six,
seven minutes tops, to dump some illegal immigrants from our shores...
no, not Australians!

[The Gutch slowly rises and is quickly met by El Savaje's flying
forearm. A second forearm and a third stagger the much, um, huskier
(?), man (that's Gutch for those keeping score at home) into the
corner. A kick to the gut plants Gutch deeper into the corner as
Estrada sprints to the other side of the ring and dashes back towards
the fattest man in the match. Instead of merely jumping, Estrada does
a handspring into...]

CL: Handspring flying hip assault! I think, what do you call that
besides incredible?

FH: (hand over phone receiver yet again) Illegal. Someone get me the
papers for this we...

CL: FRED!

[As Gutch staggers out of the corner, Estrada is not done as he
delivers a mule kick to the chest of Gutchy, sending Gutch right back
into the corner. Jose is still not done as he climbs the ropes and
rides Gutch into the mat, face first, atop the bigger man's shoulders.
However, all this fast offense, and gut punches, have done one thing:
upset Gutch's stomach. A loud *BRAAAAP* eminates from the Gutch's
guttiworks and a god awful smell quickly forces Estrada into a
coughing fit.]

CL: *GAG* I... I can't breathe...

FH: *COUGH* I'm going to have to call you ba... back Sam... I think
I'm gonna barf.

[Estrada makes an anguished face but tries to work through the smell
as he goes over to the downed Gutch. However, Gutch trips up Estrada
and gets up. With a hardy laugh and a yell of "EGG FARTS RULE", the
Gutch picks up Estrada and delivers a side slam. Gutch then just sits
on Estrada, who is belly down on the mat.]

Gutch: Ask the midget if he gives up!

Referee: Um, do you give up?

Estrada: *air escaping lungs via being crushed*

[Estrada flails about underneath the girth of the Gutch but from out
of Jokers Wild corner shoots O'Connor, who just briskly forearm
shivers the back of Gutch's head. This gets the referee riled up and
he escorts O'Connor back to the Wild corner. Meanwhile, Livestock
takes this opportunity to come in and help Gutch stomp on Estrada. The
double team lasts up until the referee turns around, with Livestock
Zappa just barely making it back to his corner before catching the
attention of referee Blindy McBlinderson.]

FH: This referee is pretty good; he knows who the real cheaters are in
this match.

CL: Was that a compliment?

FH: Not really. I bet he's just too dumb to realize what he was doing
was the right thing.

[The Gutch lifts up Estrada by the waist and tosses him up, no fancy
term for this, and watches Jose land on his butt.]

The Gutch: HAH HAH HAH I see your ass has a crack in it! HAH HAH HAH

[Yes, the Gutch is amused by his own joke. Meanwhile, Estrada is
grimacing, having been treated like a factory working orphan these
past moments. The Gutch mistakes the audience's boos as cheers and
begins dancing. His jiggling flesh sprays sweat everywhere and a few
vomitting sounds can be heard.]

CL: I... I just don't know what to say.

FH: BUY MY VOMIT BUCKETS!

CL: ...o-kay... In the ring Gutch dancing like a fool and allowing
Estrada to get closer to his corner!

FH: Livestock telling Gutch not to dance because why give away fo...
ugh, I can't make this seem enjoyable no matter how much I try.

[El Savaje ever so slowly moves towards his partner until his fingers
are angonizelying close enough to... make the tag!]

FH: No he didn't! that referee, who's name escapes me, says he did not
see the tag because he was being taught by the ever so on the ball
Livestock Zappa.

CL: Livestock distracted the referee! O'Connor is being shuffled out
of the ring yet again and here comes Livestock, who shoots his partner
a fierce look while Gutch shrugs. Bartilucci lifting up Estrada and
Livestock grabbing the head... combined neckbreaker!

FH: Look at him twitch! I'm going to take a picture! (Fred takes out
his snazzy phone and snaps a photo of El Savaje's face, which is
twisted in an agonizing grimace.).

CL: Fred, stop it or I'm going to have to take away your phone.

FH: You should pay more attention to the ring; Gutch has Estrada in a
bear hug!

[Hoyle is right on the money as the bigger of the big men is trying to
squeeze the pulp out of Jose. Meanwhile, Livestock is being shown back
to his corner because he forgot where it was, giving O'Connor time to
rush in and clip Gutch's knee.]

CL: TIMBER!

FH: What? This is wrong! Two illegals, one from Drunk Island and the
other from Taco Cabana, are not only flaunting immigration rules but
also the rules of wrestling? PVW's foreign sympathies are so apparent
from this match. Gibson Hayes was right all along, but you people are
blind and stubborn; refusing to believe America's champion.

CL: ...

[O'Connor scurries back to his corner while Jose is up on all fours,
gulping down as much air as possible after being squashed and crushed
by Bartilucci. Slowly, surely and with a steadfast determination, El
Savaje forces his way towards his partner's outstreched hand.
Meanwhile, Gutch is limping towards his corner, looking gassed.
Livestock is pointing at Estrada, telling his partner to stop the
smallest competitor from tagging out but Gutch does not seem to be
paying attention. Despite being the bigger of the two men, Gutch has a
shorter distance to cover and he tags in Livestock. Zappa charges
towards Estrada and dives towards Jose (or Joseph if you're one of
those white people), managing to grab a hold of Estrada's right leg.
Estrada is just centimeters away from tagging his partner (since dirty
foreigners use the dirty metric system). One last surge from El
Savaje...]

CL: Estrada did it! His effort paid off as he just manages to get the
tag to O'Connor!

FH: What bullcrap! This referee is a giant pile of crap!

CL: O'Connor with a stomp to the head of Livestock as Estrada lays
down on the ring apron, sucking in air. Gutch realizes the tag and
comes charging towards the corner, but O'Connor with an ear ringer and
kick to the gut of Gutch to stop him. Livestock up and at'em... but
his charge is derailed by a backdrop! O'Connor with a kick to the face
of Gutch to stagger the biggest man backwards and falling fireman's
carry drop delivered to a dazed, upright but staggering Livestock!
Harley is en fuego!

FH: YOU DIRTY FOREIGN SYMPATHIZER!

[O'Connor whips Bartilucci into the nearside ropes and Estrada pulls
down the top rope, sending The Gutch falling out of the ring. Both
members of Jokers Wild stand back watching Livestock Zappa pull
himself up in the corner. They rush himfrom behind, throwing his arms
over their shoulder and takes him down with a double forward Russian
leg sweep.]

CL: Joker's Wild! They just hit the Joker's Wild on Livestock Zappa!

FH: Why is the official letting this happen? PVW hates America! I'm
calling the police!

[As Fred tries to remember the number for 9-1-1, Estrada has made his
way out and O'Connor has decided to punch Livestock in the face.
Livestock shoves O'Connor off but somehow Harley goes behind and
delivers a bulldog. Livestock gets up quickly and is vitcim of a
reverse atomic drop, which has him hopping up and down in the "I may
no longer be able to sire children" manner. O'Connor presses his luck
and... WHAMMY! Livestock, fighting through his own personal genital
hell, takes the rushing O'Connor down with a powerslam that creates a
large *BOOM* as it strikes the mat. As soon as he is finished,
Livestock goes back to clutching his testes.]

FH: Look at Zappa! He's a true champion; fighting through the pain!

CL: Impressive recovery, I must admit. Livestock back up to one knee
and he delivers a knee to the back of O'Connor's head. Livestock
picking up HQOC...

FH: Did you just sneeze?

CL: ...and delivering a beautfiully executed suplex. Again, 'stock
picking up O'Connor; throwing the larger of the Jokers into his
corner's turnbuckles and rushing in with an avalanche! O'Connor takes
a few steps and looks like he is about to fall forward but Zappa with
a big boot to the face, sending O'Connor back into the turnbuckles.
Tag to Gutch and Bartilucci putting O'Connor in rear waist lock.
Livestock climbing up top; bulldog from the top rope!

FH: That's a Final Statement if I've ever heard one.

CL: Estrada trying to come in to break up the pin attempt but
Livestock just decked him as Gutch covers... ONE



Hey, let's use white space~!














TWO...








Near fall? Pinfall? Wonderfalls? Falling Down with Micheal Douglas?









THREE~!

CL: And the champions show just why they have those belts!

FH: Never a doubt in my mind; foreign models suck!

[Estrada rolls back into the ring, using the ring ropes to pull
himself to his feet and kicking the bottom rope in frustration. He
stands over his recovering partner, his hands on his hips.]

FH: Estrada does not look pleased with his partner, Chip.

CL: He looks downright frustrated as he looks down on O'Connor,
shaking his head.

[O'Connor has pushed himself into a seating position, but has his face
buried in his hands. He looks up at Estrada, who continues staring
down his partner, and holds a hand out. Estrada shakes his head, turns
away and rolls out of the ring.]

CL: Estrada turning away from his partner... And listen to this crowd
boo.

FH: Former partner, Chip...

[Estrada walks over to the timekeeper's table, next to which a cooler
has been placed. He opens the cooler and pulls out two bottles of
beer. He pops the caps open and brings the bottles to O'Connor, who
has rolled out of the ring and is making his way towards the aisle.
Estrada taps O'Connor on his shoulder and holds out a bottle of beer
when O'Connor turns around. Both men smile as O'Connor takes the beer
and they toast each other, tossing back a beer for perhaps the last
time. O'Connor holds up the bottle of beer and turns to acknowledge
the fans. Behind him, Estrada looks at the back of O'Connor's head and
then at the bottle of beer in his hand...]

CL: No, Estrada, not like this!

[But, ultimately, just holds it up in his partner's direction and
drinks from it. O'Connor turns around and both men hug, giving each
other a couple of pats on the back. They toast the fans and empty
their bottles, then leave the empty bottles on the apron, side-by-
side. Jokers Wild applaud the fans as they make their way to the
back.]

CL: It appears Jokers Wild are no longer a team.

FH: Let's be honest Chip.  Were they ever?

CL: Say what you want about Jokers Wild Fred.  They came a long way
and became one of PVW's best tag teams.  They fell a little short, but
make no bones about it.  They were a very solid addition to the PVW
tag team ranks.

FH: *Yawn*

CL: Never-the-less big win for our tag team champions.  What a night
it's been thus far and we are still just really getting started with
over an hour left to go.  We still have yet to find out who Alex
Martinez will face.

FH: It doesn't matter if it's Chuck Norris himself.  Alex Martinez is
in the kill zone.  I wouldn't want to step inside the ring with that
monster.

[The Battle Hymn of the Republic plays over the public address system.
America's own Gibson Hayes is striding out, in a pressed white shirt,
navy blue slacks, that damned gold belt around his waist and replica
Union officer's jacket slung around his shoulders. Ole Gibby paces his
entrance, making sure to actually be at the ring steps as the song
states: "His truth is marching on,". It is at that point that Gibson
takes the center of the ring and graciously takes Herk Douglas's
microphone.]

I planned it all and everything went according to plan.

[Confused buzz from our audience.]

You wanted a hero, you wanted someone who could step up to the soul of
PVW, to the heart of America, to the will of the World. And Gibson
Hayes, in his infinite compassion, gave you fans exactly what you
wanted.

[Boos!]

In _MY_ PVW heroes are built through whim, through the strength of my
soul alone.

In _MY_ America, heroes are made to shine, to bring hope into your
hearts.

In _MY_ World, heroes are brought underneath my boot heel, bent to my
will and tossed aside when I am done with them.


[More boos!]

GIB-SON SUCKS! GIB-SON SUCKS! GIB-SON SUCKS!

[A smile and nod from the American champion.]

There is no one left. I took on the added burden of carrying some
wetback from Canada or Texas or something just to build up
"Blockbuster" Johnny Detson. Instead of crushing one "hero" I took to
building another. In this world, heroes are few and far between. I had
to make my own competition because there is no one who can hang with
America's steel buttress.

So I made it my business to make Johnny Detson.

And I made it my business to break Johnny Detson.

Now I made it my business to finish Herscher von Donkerhardt.

YOU'RE A COW-ARD! YOU'RE A COW-ARD! YOU'RE A COW-ARD!

[Hayes scowls.]

I'm a _WIN_NER_! I finished off Detson because Detson is too stupid,
too in love with his own reflection, too in love with himself to
realize he's never been top flight. He and HvD were too dumb to
realize they were played for suckers. Everyone of you, everyone I had
a match with, were played for suckers. Why? Because I am a winner.

[Buzzing "they were just put in their place" hatred from the crowd.]

You see, America loves a winner but America also begins to resent her
winners. So, in my considerate kindness, I make things harder on
myself. See this arm? It's broken, it has been broken for more than a
year. Do I complain and whine or go off for "medical leave"? No,
because I give, to all of you.

[Liar boos!]

I give through making you believe. I give you hope. I give you a
reason to get out of bed in hope, just one sliver of hope, that
America's true face will finally, mercifully, not escape every trap,
cornered alley or trick laid out by those who want nothing more than
an end to Gibson Hayes.

[Hopeful cheers at the prospect of Gibson getting his. Gibson stares
daggers at those in attendance.]

That won't happen, though. You can add Johnny Detson to the list of
people that PVW brought down, that you brought down, that brought
themselves down. And soon enough, you will push that to the back of
your mind and I will have to slap you back to reality by taking
another career, this one in its adolescence, this one belonging to
HvD,
out back and sending it to the Old Yeller farm upstate.

I do this because America drives me to do it, to sate her desires and
needs. I do this to satisfy all of you and those little whispers in
the back of your skulls that want the "bad guy" to win. I do this to
give you something to _HATE_, something that makes you _FEEL_,
something that, for just one brief moment in your mundane and
colorless life, brings you back to _LIFE_.

You believe in Gibson Hayes because that is all you have left _TO_
believe in.

[A torrent of boos, some from hate, others from doubt, all leveled at
Gibson as he leaves the ring.]

--- CUT ---

[And we're sent to the back once more, as Jessica Marshall is holding
another clandestine meeting with PVW's loveable troublemaker, the
Mercenary.]

Merc: Careful, any more meetings like this and people may start to
talk about us.

JFM: [grimacing] Remind me why any of this is necessary?

Merc: Because you want your big buddy to have a leg up on his match
tonight and have some clue who he's facing?  Here you go... [hands
Jessica a manilla envelope] On the house.  But remember, the next
time's gonna cost you.

[Jessica snatches the envelope away from the Merc and opens it up with
all the haste of a child on Christmas morning.  She pulls out a slip
of paper, and immediately her eyes go wide.  After a few seconds, a
smile begins to cross her face.]

JFM: A leg up, you say?  Interesting choice of words, Mr. Mercenary.

Merc: I'm nothing if not verbose.

JFM: I do appreciate this gesture, so I'll make this vow to you at
least.  If necessary, Alex can make the end of your career almost
pain-free.

Merc: Tell you what.  Just don't make me marry into your family and
we'll call it even.

[The Mercenary walks away, leaving Jessica still clutching the
envelope and looking like the cat that ate the canary.]

JFM: Surprising, Doc.  Surprising, but not smart.  Tonight's going to
get a little extreme for you.

[Fade.]

CL: It looks like tonight just got more interesting for Doc Holliday.

FH: And for us Doc-haters!

CL: The _one_ of you?

FH: At least two ... Rick Marley hates the midget too!

[The distinctive notes of "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" begin to
blare over the loud speakers]

HD:   And now, coming to the ring.  He stands an even seven feet
tall and weighs in at three hundred and fifty pounds.  A former World
Heavyweight Champion.  Hailing from Los Angeles, California.  Here is
the Last American
Badass....


        ALEX         MARTINEZ!!!!


[As the fans begin to go crazy, out steps the massive form of the Last
American Badass.  His expression calm but intense, Alex Martinez
pauses a moment, and then steps forward.  All around him, fans cheer
and scream, hands reaching out to touch his chest and shoulders,
though the stoic Martinez doesn't appear to be aware.  He wears a
black leather jacket, as well as his long black wrestling leggings and
his wrestling books, which look more like biker boots than "proper"
gear.  Both of Martinez' fists are covered in black fingerless gloves,
and his right elbow is covered in a black pad.  Martinez moves up the
stairs, throwing one long leg and then the other over the top rope.
Martinez moves into the center of the ring and stares ahead at his
opponent, waiting for the bell to ring, waiting for the violence to
begin.]

CL:  Who could Martinez's opponent be?

FH:  Whoever it is, Doc Holliday just signed their death war-

[The opening riff to "Let It Rock" by Kevin Rudolf f. Lil' Wayne
screams to life over the PA system, and the fans unleash a heel pop as
they turn to the curtain. As the entrance way fills up with smoke, a
figure slices through it and strikes a pose at the top of the aisle.]

#I see your dir-ty face,
Hide behind your collar.
What is done in vain,
Truth is hard to
swallow.
So you pray to god,
To justify the way you live a lie --
live a lie -- live a lie.#

FH:  ...rant?

HD: His opponent... from Alameda County, California... weighing in
tonight at 239 pounds, accompanied by Katrina Cruz!



GAVIIIIIIIIIIINNNN CAAAASSSSSEEELLLLLLLLLLL!



[Dressed in full length, shiny black tights with a silver sun detailed
on the right thigh and black boots, Gavin Cassel raises one hand in
acknowledgement of the crowd's dislike, as Katrina Cruz follows him
out. Cassel has stringy blonde hair that goes just below his chin and
ever so stylish stubble. Around his neck is a tight choker necklace,
just because. Katrina is dressed in her business casual attire of
fitted jeans, mini-heels, and an American Eagle zip up hoodie, with a
black shirt underneath. Her auburn brown hair is let free and she
clutches a clipboard as she follows her charge to the ring.]

CL:  It's Gavin Cassel!  The man Alex Martinez put on the shelf is
back for revenge!

FH:  Yeah, and he'll put him right back on the shelf... at the county
morgue.

#And you take your time,
And you do your
crime.
Well you made your bed,
I'm in mine#

[Gavin saunters to the ring, eluding the hands of the fans as he
obnoxiously smacks on a piece of gum. At ringside, he slides into the
ring on his belly, pops to his feet and then climbs onto the second
rope, spitting his gum into the crowd and sticking his tongue out.
Gavin jumps off and lands in the center of the ring, giving a loud war
whoop as he backs into his corner, where Katrina waits to talk with
him.]

[Martinez glares down at his opponent... while we can't hear him from
here, one would imagine a slight growl, like a bear upon discovering
an intruder in its lair.]

CL:  Martinez does not look happy about this development.  He thought
Cassel was out for good.

FH:  Of course he's mad... it's like that fly that you thought you had
swatted turns out to still be alive and buzzing in your ear.  This
time he'll be extra sure to squish him.

CL:  I wouldn't go comparing Cassel to an insect, Fred.  He's far from
helpless.





  ______  _    _ _  _  _ _____________________________________________
 (_____ \| |  | | || || |
  _____) ) |  | | || || |             HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE ACTION:
 |  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |                      ALEX MARTINEZ v.
 | |       \  / | |___| |                       GAVIN CASSEL
 |_|        \/   \______|_____________________________________________






*DING*DING*DING*


[The instant the bell rings Cassel charges at Martinez, who sidesteps
an attempts to grab hold of Cassel who quickly drops down avoiding his
grasp an footsweeps Marinez down.]

CL:  These two didn't waste a second!

[Martinez gets back up quickly and lunges at Cassel with a telegraphed
punch that Cassel easily dodges around, and dropkicks the much larger
Martinez in the lower back sending him chest 1st into the turnbuckle.
Grimacing at the pain for a moment, Martinez almost seems to growl in
anger.]

FH:  With the history here did you expect anything else?

[Martinez snaps around suddenly and charges Cassel with a clothesline,
almost catching him off guard, but Cassel again evades him, ducking
under the clothesline and leaping up into the air to rasp the much
taller man's head from behind and coming down with a jumping reverse
neckbreaker.]

CROWD:  *FACE POP!*

CL:  One hell of a neckbreaker from Gavin Cassel!  Martinez seems to
be having some trouble keeping up with his much more agile opponent
here.

FH:  Maybe he hasn't gotten any offense in yet, but when you're
Martinez's size, it doesn't take more than a few moves to take out an
opponent, especially a little insect like Cassel.

CL:  There was a logical point in there with the insult somewhere that
time. [returning his attention to the match] Cassel jumping up to the
2nd turnbuckle...

CROWD:  *BIGTIME MALE SYMPATHY POP!*

FH:  OOOH!  That was horrible!  Come on ref, disqualify him!

CL:  Yeesh!  Cassel just jumped off that turnbuckle and landed both
feet first on Alex Martinez's crotch!  And the ref has some words for
Cassel on that, who is giving the ref a not too convincing apology for
the "accident" at the moment.

FH:  How can he even pretend after doing something like that!?

CL:  Me thinks Cassel is none too concerned with Martinez's long term
health and well being after what Martinez has did to him.

[As Martinez gingerly pulls himself up on the ropes, Cassel lines up
with and bounces off the ropes running right at Martinez and leaping
high into the air...]

CL:  Crossbod-No!

[And is met by a giant right hand to the diaphragm that stops his
momentum dead, dropping him right out of the air.]

CROWD:  OOOOH!

FH:  See, that's what I meant earlier about only a few moves.
Martinez just knocked him right of the air with a punch, and now he's
on the ground gasping for air like a nerdy kid who lost his inhaler.

[Martinez pauses for a moment, still nursing his "manhood", as his
opponent lies gasping for air.  It's then that Alex's face turns from
pain to one of pure malice as he storms over to Cassel, drops down and
begins pummeling him relentlessly with one heavy blow after another.]

CROWD:  *BIG HEEL POP!*

CL:  No finesse here, and as Fred observed, none needed.  Martinez is
just wailing away on Cassel with those fists.

FH:  And the ref's actually telling him to stop?  Who ever pays
attention to that silly "no closed fists" rule anymore?

[Martinez punches away on Cassel until the ref reaches the 4 count,
finally relenting then, at least for the moment.]

CL:  Martinez pushing the rules as far as he can.  I'm surprised he
listened to the ref at all.

FH:  Of course he listened to the ref.  If he gets disqualified before
he's finished with Cassel he won't have the pleasure of putting him
back in the hospital.

CL:  ...that makes a disturbing amount of sense.

[Martinez drags Cassel up by the hair over the referee's objections
and slings him into the ropes with an irish-whip.  As Cassel bounces
off, Martinez unleashes a stiff lariat, which finds only air as Cassel
ducks.]

CL:  Lariat dodged by Cassel...

[Bouncing back off the ropes, Martinez attempts to catch him off guard
with a back elbow, but Cassel slides and rolls past him, rebounds off
the ropes again and leaps connecting with a flying forearm shot that
drops Martinez to the mat.]

CL:  Gavin Cassel again using his speed and agility to get the drop on
Martinez.

CROWD:  *BIG FACE POP!*

[The crowd erupts into cheers as Gavin beings pummeling away on the
downed Martinez, much as Alex had done to him earlier.]

CL:  And Cassel getting a bit of revenge for the earlier beating from
Martinez.

FH:  And Martinez just threw him off!  He can't compete with Martinez
in br-HEY!

[Sure enough, Martinez was flung Cassel off him with a strong push
from one arm, but Cassel quickly leaps right back onto him and again
punching away.]

CL:  Cassel not letting up so easily!  He knows he's got to keep the
big man down.

[Martinez again throws Cassel off him, sending him back even farther
this time. Cassel again leaps right back up and dives at Martinez, but
this time Alex is waiting... catching him by the throat.]

FH:  BIG mistake!

CL:  Martinez hoists him up... hotshot into the turnbuckle!  An
impressive display of power by Alex Martinez.

FH:  You're telling me!  Any higher and the air force would have been
intercepting Cassel for invading US airspace!

CL:  And Martinez charges... BIG AVALANCHE in the corner on Cassel.
He about crushed him.

FH:  It's called an avalanche for a reason, Chip.  And now Alex
showing him how you throw a punch.  Too bad Cassel's memory will be
too hazy tomorrow to remember the lesson.

CL:  Alex pounding on Cassel with rights and lefts in the corner, and
Cassel has nowhere to go right now.

FH:  That's the idea, keep him in the corner where his movement's
limited.  Nowhere to run.  Nowhere to hide.

[As Cassel slumps lower and lower in the corner, Alex Martine shifts
to stomping away on Gavin, then pressing a boot into his throat over
the referee's objections.  The ref starts a count, and again Martinez
waits until 4 before releasing the illegal hold.]

FH:  Classic wrestling move there.

CL:  It's standing on a man's throat!

FH:  You just have no appreciation for old school technique.

[Martinez manages a smile as he slowly drags up Cassel, thrusting him
back to slam his head into the top turnbuckle once for good measure.]

CL:  That was VICIOUS!

FH:  Just making sure he's not regaining his senses... or what little
he had to pass for them anyway.

CL:  Martinez with a BIG Irish whip.

FH:  The ring shook form that one!

FH:  What!?

[As Martinez charges, Cassel slips aside so that Martinez slams chest
first into the turnbuckle, and Cassel jumps and connects with a
picture perfect dropkick to the back of Martinez's skull, that drops
him like a ton of bricks.]

CROWD:  *HUGE FACE POP!*

CL:  Did he just knock him out with a dropkick!?

FH:  NO WAY!

CL:  Cassel with a cover!






1!








2!






FH:  KICK OUT!  Thank God!

CL:  That was one of the most devastating dropkicks I've ever seen!

FH:  I still can't believe that!  How did he...

CL:  Just a combination of technique, timing, and luck, but it almost
ended right there.

[Martinez groggily starts getting up, clearly still dazed from the
dropkick. As he reaches his knees, Gavin runs at him and connects with
a jumping knee right to the face, Martinez going right back down like
he'd been shot.]

CL:  Exfoliator!  And Martinez is seeing stars AGAIN!

FH:  Oh, COME ON!

CL:  Cassel to the ropes...

[Cassel springboards off the ropes, going high into the air with a
moonsault...]

*FLAHS BULBS*

CROWD:  *DISAPPOINTED POP*

FH:  Yes!

CL:  Martinez got the knees up.  Cassel knocked the wind right out of
himself there.

FH:  And now it's payback time!  You can't embarrass Martinez like
that!

[Martinez reaches up to his face, and wipes away a trickle of blood
from the knee shot he took earlier.  Gritting his teeth in anger, he
begins stomping away on Cassels head.]

FH:  Now he's done it... he made Alex angry!

CL:  Is he EVER happy?

FH:  No, not really... he's like a bear... a big mean bear that hates
people.

[Martinez gets in a few more stomps for good measure before reaching
down and grabbing hold of Cassel... hoisting him up onto his shoulder,
and falls forwards snapping him to the front with a powerslam that
shakes the ring with the impact.]

CL:  An earthshaking powerslam from Martinez!

FH:  Cover!







1!








2!







CL:  Kick out!

FH:  Come on ref, that was a slow count!

CL:  Oh, it was not.

[Martinez complains about the count to the ref for a moment, before
reaching down and quickly lifting Cassel back up into position, this
time charging into the turnbuckle with Cassel in the powerslam
position, then bouncing off and spinning around into a hard powerslam,
placing both hands on top of Cassel for a rather nonchalant cover.]

CL:  Oklahoma Stampede!

FH:  He's got him this time!







1!







2!








3!?

CL:  No, two!  He got the shoulder up!

FH:  Impossible!

CL:  Look at the look on Martinez's face!  He can't believe it!

[Even more frustrated than before, Martinez beats the mat, then
realizes that beating Cassel would be more productive and begins doing
so.  And the ref once again takes exception to the closed fists to the
face...

FH:  Keep out of this ref!  This is a fight between men!

CL:  Martinez just trash talking the ref.  No respect whatsoever for
the official.

FH:  He should mind his own business, anyway.

[Martinez again picks up Cassel, this time carrying him over towards
the turnbuckle, but Gavin slips back and pushes him into corner, and
charges in with a bodysplash to his back...]

CL:  And Gavin Cassel turns the tables again!

FH:  Why won't this guy just die!?

[As Alex stumbles back from the corner, Cassel drops Martinez with a
footsweep, then goes for a spinning leg lariat, but Martinez catches
his foot.]

FH:  Oh no you do-HEY!

CL:  Eye gouge... enziguri to THE THROAT!

CROWD:  *HUGE FACE POP!*

FH:  Hey, ref, get in there!

CL:  Didn't you just tell him to mind his own business because it was
a fight between men?

FH: I... shutup, Chip!

CL:  Cassel with the cover...






1!







2!






3!?

FH:  No, kickout!

CL:  The ref says 2!  BARELY 2.  Cassel almost had him after that
devastating enziguri.

[Martinez slowly pulls himself up on the ropes, as Cassel checks with
the ref on the count... he then turns a glare towards Martinez who is
still coughing and struggling for air after the kick to the throat.
Charging right at him, Cassel connects with a picture perfect dropkick
that sends the much larger Martinez tumbling over the top rope and out
of the ring.]

FH:  Disqualify him!  He threw him over the top rope!

CL:  That's not illegal.  What kind of ridiculous federation would
have a rule like that? [back to the action] Cassel lining up on
Martinez...

REFEREE:  1!




2!



     [Cassel charges...]



3!



*FLASH BULBS*



CROWD:  *HUGE FACE POP!*

CL:  SUICIDE DIVE!  He may have just killed them both!

FH:  If only we were so fortunate as to have Cassel kill himself right
now... don't taunt me.




REFEEE:  4!






5!






6!




CL:  Cassel the first back up... and he rolls into the ring quickly to
breakup the count, and he's right back out.  He's wearing down though.
That suicide dive took a lot out of him.

FH:  That and the beating he took from Alex Martinez.

CL:  No argument there.  Martinez is just as worse for wear though, if
not more so... and he's slumped against the security railing, not the
best place to be in a PVW match.

FH:  Oh no.  Come on, this supposed to be the position guys like
Martinez get people in!

[Gavin Cassel charges and connects with a baseball slide dropkick
right to Martinez's head, smacking his head right into the railing.]

CROWD:  *MASSIVE FACE POP!*

CL:  Dear God!  He may have just knocked Martinez out cold with that
one!


REFEREE: 1!





2!




CL:  He's not letting up though... he's actually pulling Martinez up
to his feet... however slowly he can manage.

FH:  Big mistake, should have let him stay down and hope he doesn't
beat the count back into the ring... not that it was likely, but only
chance he would have had.

[Cassel singals for the G-Spot to the crowds cheers, as he turns and
hooks Martinez's head...]

CL:  If he hits this out here it's over!

[And Chip has uttered the word of doom... "if".  Snapping back to
awareness of what's going on, Martinez pushes Gavin as hard as he can
just as he's about to hit the move, sending him hurtling right into
the ring steps with a crash.]

*CLANG!*

CROWD: *BIGTIME HEEL POP!*

REFEREE:  3!





4!







5!




FH:  Attaboy, Alex!

[Following up, Alex Martinez runs and slams into Gavin Cassel with a
running knee, sending him right back into the steps with another
crash, do the crowds boos.]

FH:  Even better!  You got him now!

CL:  Are you finished cheerleading yet?

FH:  No!  You get him, Alex!  You the man!

CL:  *sigh* Shameless.

REFEREE:  6!







7!







8!



[Not content to let it end here, Martinez tosses Cassel back into the
ring, and rolls in after him, ending the referees count.  The ref
scold Martinez for his actions outside the ring, and Martinez actually
pushes the ref away nonchalantly with one hand, the ref promptly
threatening to disqualify if he touches him again.]

FH:  You can't disrespect Martinez like that.

CL:  Give it a rest, Fred.

[As the ref continues to admonish Martinez, he grabs Cassel by the
throat and lifts him high into the air.]

CL:  Firebomb chok-

CROWD:  *EARTHSHAKING FACE POP!*

[As Martinez lifted Cassel for the firebomb, Cassel managed shift
around and hit a floatover DDT, drilling Martinez into the mat.]

CL:  Floatover DDT!

FH:  What!?

CL:  Cassel with the cover!









1!








2!







3!?





FH:  Shoulder up!  Shoulder up!

CL:  Just barely!  He just barely got the shoulder up in time!

FH:  How is he... just... GRAH!

[Getting back up, Cassel jumps and double stomps... right on
Martinez's face!]

CL:  Ouch!

FH:  HEY!  You can't do that to Alex Martinez!

[Cassel then quickly bounces off the ropes and hits a baseball slide
dropkick into Martinez as he tries to get up, knocking him senseless.]

CL:  Cassel can feel it, now.  He's going upstairs.

FH:  Get up Alex!

[As Alex Martinez slowly pulls himself back up, Gavin Cassel ascends
to the top rope, perched, and waiting.]

FH:  Wait, don't get up Alex!  Stay down!

CROWD: *ANTICIPATION POP!*

[Just as Alex Martinez turns, Cassel leaps, diving right at Alex
Martinez with a high flying clothesline...]

FH:  LOOK OUT!

CROWD: *HOLY SH**!*

[...and is caught by the throat by Martinez and drilled down with...]

CL:  FIREBOMB CHOKESLAM!

FH:  YES!

[Martinez quickly goes for the cover, blood trickling down his face,
and look of rage as he presses down on Cassel for the cover and yells
"This time STAY DOWN"]




FH:   1!









2!








3!





*DING*DING*DING*



FH:  Got him!

CL:  A valiant effort on Gavin Cassel's part.  He certainly gave
Martinez a run for his money there, but one risk too many came back to
get him.

FH:  Yeah, and NO ONE gets up after a firebomb chokeslam.

CL: This possibly was the closest we have come to someone actually
_pinning_ Alex Martinez.

FH: But he didn't!

CL: No, but Gavin came very close.  It was great seeing Cassel back
inside the PVW ring.  Before his injury he was quickly climbing the
ranks and becoming a fan favorite.  His resume has already become
pretty decorated in his short career and being the protege of world
renown, Luke Kinsey doesn't hurt.

FH: You'd have thought Doc would have had a better ace up his sleeve
though.

CL: I think it was the perfect choice.  A man who know's the PVW well.
Young, hungry, and has a reason to return and take it to Alex
Martinez.  Watching that match unfold I think we saw _exactly_ why Doc
Holliday offered that shot to big Alex.

FH: So Cassel could be broken again?

CL: Listen to the fans roar as Cassel is on his feet now and heading
to the back.  Hopefully this isn't the last we will see of Gavin
inside the PVW.

*Squeeeeeee!!!!!*

[Sparks fly along the edge of a blade, a wheel of stone spinning
beneath it as a pair of grimy hands scrapes the metal into a fine
razor's edge. The wheel continues to spin as the blade is pulled away,
the light dimming with the absence of the sparking crackle of contact
between stone and metal. There's a turn and the opposite side is
pressed against the stone... the scraping begins again.  The arms are
scarred, fresh bruises visible around the wrists the hands manipulate
the weapon against the whetstone. A thumb tests the razors' edge,
drawing blood with a little nick of a cut.  Squeeze, the blood drop
gathers... squeeze, the blood drops to the blade... squeeze, more
drops gather, and the blood begins to run down the blade. The blood
drips, and the camera lowers... the World Title, the blood gathers in
the etched markings of "V"... and a pleased sigh can be heard.]

CL: I know it's almost become cliche to say that our champion isn't
all there, but Rick Marley and the rest of the Widowmaking thugs have
brought him to a place they may not be thrilled they have.

FH: What the looney-bin?  That's where Rob Cole needs to be!

[The lights dim as Guns n' Roses' cover of "Sympathy for the Devil"
begins to play over the PA system, which is almost drowned out by the
deluge of boos that cascades down from the audience.]

CL: Great...what the hell does HE want?

FH: Show some respect for your future champion, Chip!  If "Showtime"
Rick Marley wants to come down to the ring and impart some wisdom on
these idiotic French wannabe Canucks, then who're we to object?

CL: The guys that have to sit through it?

[The crowd boos an empty stage for a good thirty seconds before Marley
appears, dressed in a pair of black dress pants and an electric blue
silk button up shirt.  The Widowmaker captain's hair is pulled back
into a ponytail, allowing the cocky expression he wears full reign
over his features.

He takes in the now even louder booing before shrugging and walking
down to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and popping up to his
feet before walking to the ring ropes facing the announce table and
standing up on the middle rope, pointing threateningly at Lester.]

CL: What?  You can't keep doing this sorta nonsense...I don't care who
you are!

FH: Chip...ix-nay on the ighting-fey with arley-may...

[Marley glares at Chip for a moment, then hops down, sitting on the
2nd rope and holding the top rope open, inviting Lester into the
ring...Lester stands.]

CL: I'm not scared of you, Marley...you're nothing but a thug.

FH: Chip...don't go in there...I'm serious.  He'll hurt you...

CL: It's about damned time somebody stood up to him and his Widomaker
thugs, Fred...and if no one in the back is willing to, then I'll do
it.

[Marley continues to hold the ropes as Lester makes his way away from
the announce position and into the ring...eyeing Marley warily as an
enourmous "CHIP" chant begins in the crowd...Marley glares at the
announcer till he's through the ropes., then nods, smiling with mock
happiness as he moves to the center of the ring.]

FH: This...this is bad, ladies and gentlemen...I don't think Chip
really understands how much trouble he's in...could someone in the
back please send out some security?

[Lester stands in the middle of the ring, looking nervous, but
refusing to back down as he glares at Marley...for his part,
"Showtime" holds the wireless mic loosely in his hand, smirking at the
announcer standing in the ring as the crowd continues to chat Chip's
name.]

RM: Looks a bit different in here, doesn't it, Chip?  Looks a bit
different in MY world than it does from your nice, safe chair...not
quite as easy to run a guy down for doing what he has to...for doing
what's necessary, is it?

[The crowd starts to chant 'asshole' at the WMI captain, who pauses,
looking around and glaring out into the audience.]

FH: Oh folks...for the love of God, don't make him madder...

[Lester swallows, then nods.]

CL: The view's a bit different, I'll grant you that...but there's not
a thing that you've done in here lately that's been 'necessary',
Rick...and we both know it.

[HUGE POP from the crowd as Marley stares at Lester like he's gone
crazy.]

FH: Holy crap I have never heard Lester speak out against anyone once

RM: Wh...What did you just say to me?

CL: Rick, I have always respected what the PVW roster does inside this
ring, but some of the things you have done are border line
criminal...hell...I think last week you may have honestly crossed the
border.  Bringing a man's wife into an argument...dragging her into
the ring...that's not wrestling...that's soap opera nonsense.

[Marley blinks, looking around at the cheering, raucous crowd and
showing more and more signs of anger.]

RM: You...you of all people are going to stand here and pass judgment
on ME?  I MADE PVW!

CL: Rick, you didn't make PVW...PVW made YOU!  Without this company
you'd be nothing more than a bully lookin' for a school yard!  That's
how you've been acting...no better than a simple bully...a thug...you
know, the sort of thing that you accused Rob Cole of being before you
started this whole game of yours to get under his skin.

[The crowd roars in approval as Marley looks around again, his face
becoming calmer.]

FH: I don't like the looks of this...not one little bit.  Somebody
call the navy seals ... Hell get Chris Hopper down here...anybody!

RM: Is that right?  I'd hate to interrupt you, Chip...sounds like what
I thought was just you needing a chance to vent is actually you having
some sorta deep seeded issue with me...let's have it out now...you can
get it all off your chest.

CL: It'll take more than a phony show of contrition at this point
Rick.  You not only crossed a line, but you've dragged a whole lotta
people over with you...you might have started with good intentions in
wanting to show the world that Major Damage was really William Craven
under the mask...but what happened after that?  You re-formed
Widowmakers Inc...you walked away from your brother...

RM: YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME ABOUT HOW TO DEAL WITH MY FAMILY!

FH: Chip struck a nerve...

[Chip jumps back a bit as Marley erupts in rage...but then visibly
calms down.]

RM: Sorry...go on...tell me more about the ways that I've become a
worthless thug...it's fascinating, really.

FH: Chip, get out of there...

[Lester glares at Marley and actually steps TOWARDS him...and the
crowd goes nuts.]

CL: You want to hear it?  It's no less than you deserve!  You ended
the career of a promising young wrestler because he flat out BEAT you,
Rick...pinned your shoulders to the canvas for a three count.  You and
your games with Craven injured how many others?  And you have the gall
to say Rob Cole doesn't deserve the belt?  From the chats I've had
with your older brother and younger sister, I know your dad raised you
better than that.

[Marley's face remains expressionless as he crosses his arms across
his chest.]

CL: You're a great athlete, Rick...you don't need all the dirty
tricks. That's why I'm hard on you when I call matches...you can be so
much better than this...now if you've got something you want to say,
go ahead and tell the people...I'm going back to my chair...

FH: Holy crap...I think he might live!

[Marley nods.]

RM: Feel better now that you got that off your chest, Chip?

[Lester turns around and nods...and then gets LEVELED by a Casting
Call Superkick from Marley.]

FH: NO!

[Lester lays motionless on the ground as the crowd is stunned
absolutley silence. Fred Hoyle can be heard saying "no chip.. no as
Marley stands over the corpse of PVW's play by play man.]

RM: You think you get to run your mouth on me the way you have for all
this time and never have the check come due, Chip?  How the hell many
times have you heard me say it?  Widowmakers ALWAYS pay their debts.
Period.  I don't give a good God [BLEEP] what you think I can or can't
live up to.  When you cross the line, you get put down.

[Marley puts the mic into his right pocket, then picks Lester up by
his head and locks on the front chancery...and twists, nailing the
Limelight and knocking the man out.  Marley stands, using his foot to
roll Lester over and takes the mic back out...]

RM: I laid out the warning to Cole...I laid it out to everyone else:
The Widowmakers pay their debts...and for the past two damned years,
this man has been running his mouth and criticizing us...time's up and
the bill's come due.

Time to pay the piper, Chip.

[Marley drops the mic next to him, then grabs Chip's legs...and locks
on the Showstopper onto the obviously unconscious announcer as the
crowd chants COLE!!!  COLE!!!  COLE!!!]

FH: SOMEBODY NEEDS TO STOP THIS!  Oh crap...I sound like Chip!  I'm
gonna be sick!

[After what seems like an enternity with Lester in the Showstopper,
Marley throws his legs down in disgust and picks the mic back up.]

RM: Cole's a coward...he knows when he's been beaten, and he wants no
part of it any more.  Get used to disappointment, folks...because that
belt he's wearing is mine...and you can take that to the bank.

[Marley tosses the mic to the mat and struts back up the ramp as
paramedics rush to attend to Lester in the ring.]

FH: This isn't good.  Chip is hurt ...  I like and respect Marley as
much as the next guy, but he crossed the line.  I don't know what is
going to happen.  We still have matches scheduled.

[The PVW backdrop is seen.]

V/O: Phoenix, Arizona ...  The birth of what would become the hottest
wrestlng show in the world today.

[CLIPS of some of PVW's hottest superstar's rifle through as a slow
and steady beat of Home Sweet Home begins to play.]

V/O: From the ashes the Phoenix rose.

[The Clips continue to rifle through as the volume of Motley Crue
begin to get louder ...]

V/O: For years PVW has been touring the world ...  The United States
... Eurpope ... Canada ...

[Cut to clips of the old 52nd Street Armory building and the wild
hungry Phoenix fans!]

V/O: We return home ...

[Cut back to the PVW background this time the Phoenix sits proudly
behind it and underneath -

WE RETURN HOME ...
PHOENIX, ARIZONA ...
RISE FROM THE ASHES II ...]

FH: We are back ...  I've been joined by Joshua Morgan.  I tried to
beg the broadcast truck to let me just go at it alone, but they
decided to make my job even more difficult and send Morgy out here.

JM: It's an honor to be out here Fred.  It's a shame what happened to
Chip.  He has sort of been the life-blood to the PVW.  The voice you
knew every single Heatwave.  I will try to do my best to add what I
can to the rest of the show.

FH: Just don't get in my way.  Remember as hard as you try you will
never be Chip.

JM: I am getting word that our next showcase match is up.  Doc
Holliday and Polar Bear Stud.

FH: Hey why are they giving you instructions.  I am the new Chip
Lester tonight ...

JM: I think they know your limitations Fred.

FH: If you don't watch it you may become the second announcer to leave
the building on a stretcher tonight.

JM: For folks who didn't catch some of the short lived G-Pro - PVW
relationship last year.  Doc, toured Japan on behalf of PVW.  He then
sat on Polar bear Stud's beloved white fur coat, which upset the Stud
greatly.

FH: Upset him?  More like pissed him off!

JM: The Stud spat on Holliday and slapped him across the face.

FH: Remember in Japan, that's a great offense.  I usually try to play
that clip every night before I go to sleep.

JM: Well this lead to Doc Holliday in order to teach the Stud a
lesson, taking his beloved Coat.

FH: That was low even for Midget Holliday.

JM: A distraught Stud was unable to regain his coat due to G-Pro
shutting it's doors before he could get it back.

FH: Distraught is putting it nicely.  Actually one night when I was
youtubing the slap that made Doc cry like a little girl.  I ran into a
video where the once proud Polar Bear Stud was begging for it back.

JM: There was a little bit of You Tube wars going on there.  Doc
Holliday posted responses implying that some unthinkable things
happened to the Coat.

FH: No wonder the Stud came all the way to Canada ... Hell on earth to
get his prized possession back.  He is going to stomp a mud-hole in
Doc.

JM: Well they never met until now.  Herk is headed inside that ring!

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall and has a twenty minute time
limit.

[The eerie harmonica opening to Enrico Morricone's "Man With A
Harmonica" from "Once Upon A Time In The West" strains from the PA, as
the lights dim.  The crowd Canadian fans are on their feet and giving
Doc the biggest pop of the night.]

FH: Since when did Doc become so popular in Canada?

JM: Doc Holliday is popular across the globe.  You would almost have
thought SSN would have put their support behind him!

[As the foreboding music echoes in the background, Doc Holliday
emerges from the back.  He is wearing a tailor-made old-style
suit of a cut and style popular in the late 1800's; a black jacket
with white silk ruffled undershirt, a gold undervest, and long black
pants.  He also wears a black hat, from which his long wavy light-
brown hair dips to just below shoulder level.  A gold chain can be
seen dangling from his suit jacket.

At his side his manager, Jason Keening holds a large canvas bag.
With his former rival now manager at his side, Doc moves with a mild
limp, and uses a mahogany hand-carved walking stick to assist him on
the way down the aisle.  He seems to be carrying a grim expression on
his angular, clean-shaven face.

As the fans continue to cheer the duo, Holliday arrives at ringside,
and slowly heads around the ring.  The music grows more intense, as
Doc heads up the steps, scanning the ring area for threats in a level,
unhurried manner.  He steps between the ropes, and calmly heads to the
middle of the ring.  The referee intercedes, as Doc is still
brandishing his walking stick.  He raises the stick in the air as the
Herk Douglas gives the introduction:]


HD: INTRODUCING, FROM TOMBSTONE, ARIZONA... WEIGHING IN AT TWO-HUNDRED
AND THIRTY-TWO POUNDS...

         ...D O C    H O L L I D A Y  !  !


[The crowd still on their feet goes wild for wrestling's most famous
Outlaw.  Holliday backs towards his corner, and begins the disrobing
process as the music dies down.  This reveals his full-length black-
and-gold trunks... black with gold outlines of various symbols of the
gambler's trade on it... dice, cards, roulette wheels, etc.  He wears
black-and-gold wrestling boots, and standard white wrist-tape as
well.]

FH: Where is the coat?  Isn't what this match is all about?  That
dirty no-good for nothing Doc Holliday!  He is holding the coat
hostage!

JM: Maybe it's in that bag Jason Keening his holding?

FH: Then they have folded up that beautiful coat.  They better not be
ruining it or the Stud will have both their hides!

HD: And his opponent ...  Accompanied to the ring by Warwick Kelly.
Wrestling out of the The North Pole.

[BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!]


... Weighing in at 270 pounds.  the POLAR BEAR STUD!

["Lazer Theme" by Major Lazer begins to play over the PA system ...
and out steps Warwick Kelly and the coatless, Polar Bear Stud.  As
they stand at the top of the entrance way.  PBS begins to shout,
"WHERE'S BY COAT BRAH!?!"]

JM: It appears the Stud is wondering the same thing you are.

FH: This has gotten a little too out of hand if you ask me.



B U R N   T H E   C O A T ! ! !


B U R N   T H E   C O A T ! ! !


B U R N   T H E   C O A T ! ! !


B U R N   T H E   C O A T ! ! !



[The fans chant upsets the Polar Bear Stud as the images of the
precious coat burning fares to be too much and he quickly heads
straight for the ring as Warwick Kelly tries to get his man to focus
on the task at hand.  As he rolls into the ring, referee Duke Martin
is right there to stand in-between the two men.  The Stud points
towards Keening and that bag and demands to know if the coat has been
put inside there!]

JM: The Stud better focus on Doc Holliday otherwise this may be a
quick and painless match for Holliday.

FH: How can one concentrate when that thief Doc Holliday is holding
his prized possession HOSTAGE!  I bet Jason Keening was behind this
form the start!

JM: Keening wasn't even in PVW at the time of Holliday's tour in
Japan.

FH: It just sounds like a Keening thing to do.

[Keening stands in front of Holliday and holds out the bag in front
of him with the top wide open.]

JM: It appears Keening has now looked inside the bag and an argument
has broke out.

FH: See even Keening now wants to give the Stud his coat back!

[As the argument goes back and forth, Holliday begins to sigh
resignedly and starts dropping brass knuckles, salt, and roll of
quarters ...]

JM: It appears that the coat wasn't in that bag, but Doc had other
ideas.

FH: Thank goodness for Jason Keening ... Wait did I just say that out
loud?

[but it doesn't end with just those three things ... Kenning pulls out
as his eyes grow wider and wider ...  pepper spray, a taser, a bit of
rope, contact lenses, fireball mixture, a gun which may or may not be
loaded and stops and just looks at Doc and says "Really!?!?"]

JM: Ummm ... Looks like an airsoft gun.

FH: That's no.

JM: Shhh ... We have enough problems in Canada these last few shows.

FH: Good point.

[Jason Keening quickly puts everything back in the bag trying to cover
up some of the "objects" that were in the bag.  He quickly hands it to
the nearest outside official and says "We won't be needing these".]

  ______  _    _ _  _  _ _____________________________________________
 (_____ \| |  | | || || |
  _____) ) |  | | || || |             HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE ACTION:
 |  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |                      DOC HOLLIDAY v.
 | |       \  / | |___| |                      POLAR BEAR STUD
 |_|        \/   \______|_____________________________________________



 *DING*DING*DING*


 JM: There's the bell and the Polar Bear Stud isn't wasting _any_ time
 as he charges right at the smaller Holliday!

 [The crafty veteran light on his feet ducks under the charging wild
 man screaming "GIVE ME MY COAT" and unloads a fast out of nowhere
 series of left jabs ...]


 "___THWACK___"

 "___THWACK___"

 "___THWACK___"



[The Stud a bit in a rage survives through the quick stunning left
jabs and grabs a hold of Holliday's head and drives his forward with a
_big_ smashing head butt.]

FH: That's using your head!

JM: The Polar Bear Stud is now stomping away with a fury as he is
taking out months of mental abuse on PVW's number one contender.

[PBS stops and rushes towards Holliday's corner where Jason Keening is
standing and demands his coat back.  This gives Holliday a moment and
he rolls side-ways and outside the ring.]

JM: Holliday grabbing a quick breather.  However the Polar Bear Stud
is right after him.  Holliday now leading Stud in a chase around the
ring.

FH: Holliday playing the coward role like usual!

[Doc Holliday turns a corner of the ring and slides in, only to roll
out onto the ring apron he just ran past.  Stud still in a rage slides
in but as Stud turns around Doc is waiting and hangs the Polar Bear
Stud out over the top rope. PBS staggers while Holliday quickly hops
up to the top rope ... diving off of the top rope for a crossbody but
Stud catches him in his arms like he weighed nothing!]

JM: This isn't a good position for Doc!

FH: Look at the smile across the Polar Bear Stud's face.  This may be
the first smile we have seen from him all night.

[After some encouraging instructions from Warwick Kelly, PBS went from
a fall away slam position to a gorilla press, then throws Holliday
forward, dropping him right on his face.]


"___THUUUUUUD___"


JM: Polar Bear Stud tossed Holliday like he was a bag of feathers.

FH: It's not _only_ the coat that gets the Stud all those phone
numbers from the ladies.

JM: Polar Bear Stud dropping to one knee now ... He begins delivering
clubbing blows to the back of Holliday's head as Jason Keening can't
do anything but look on!

FH: Doc should of just gave the coat back when he had the chance.  Now
Polar Bear Stud is going to beat it out of him!

[Stud pulls PVW's number one contender up by the sides of his head and
the neck, but as Holliday gets off of the mat, PBBS throws him back
down face-first with a modified standing bulldog.  Not wasting any
time he begins putting the boots on Holliday before pulling him back
up and whipping him off the ropes ... A dazed Holliday rebounds off of
the ropes and runs right into a running big boot to the face, leaving
him motionless on the canvas.]

JM: The Polar Bear Stud is just punishing Holliday!  Warwick Kelly
shouts for Stud to make the cover and he hooks the leg!




ONE ...




TWO ...




... No! Doc gets a shoulder up.  The Stud grabs the raised arm of
Holliday!

[... and shows some technical prowess by arching Holliday's arm over
his shoulder in a shoulder breaker set-up. PBS stands up, keeping
Doc's stretched over bent over his shoulder, even lifting Doc up off
of his feet.]

FH: PBS is just man-handling Doc.  Just think if PBS can do this with
such ease what is Alex Martinez going to do?

JM: Doc is trying to throw his weight in front of Stud ...

[... and manages to throw him with an arm drag. Both men to their
feet, and Doc Holliday strikes with a dropkick, sending PBS falling
through the ropes to the outside.]

JM: Doc is now shaking off the pain from the match thus far ... He is
waiting for Polar Bear Stud to get to his feet!

[Holliday charges and sends PBS flying into the guard rail with a
slingshot baseball slide through the ropes.  Holliday feeling the
crowd come alive hits the ropes and dives through the ropes but PBS
catches him on his shoulder and charges and smashes Holliday back-
first into the corner of the ring apron. Warwick Kelly curses Holliday
out from the side.]

JM: Just when it appeared Doc was getting some momentum back the size
and pure strength of Polar Bear Stud came in affect again.

FH: Look at the pure hatred in the eyes of Polar Bear Stud.  I'm
telling ya Joshua don't mess with a man's coat!

JM: I guess I have never had a coat that has meant that much to me
Fred.

FH: Hey man ... Chicks dig a fine-ass coat!

JM: Polar Bear Stud is now rolling Holliday back into the ring and
drops an elbow for good measure and hooks the leg!




ONE ...




TWO ...




... No another shoulder up by Doc!

[PBS isn't slowing down he pulls Holliday up sends him rocking into
the ropes with heavy haymaker's. PBS turns Doc toward the ropes, and
then presses his throat down across the top rope, choking the life out
of him, which Warwick Kelly applauds.  Keening calling for the referee
to break it as Duke begins the count ...]

JM: Polar Bear Stud letting go at the count of four and a half.  I
don't think he really cares about a DQ.

FH: Probably not, but when do ya get a chance to do a little Doc
bashing?

[PBS releases the choke and Holliday staggers into the nearby corner.
PBS approaches but takes a boot to the gut, only to no-sell it and
dish out a big right hand. Doc scores with a minimal effecting
chop to the chest, and then receives another right hand to the face.]

JM: Polar Bear Stud is just fighting through Doc's punches!

FH: Look at the size of Doc ... Now look at the Stud.  See what I
mean?

[PBS goes to whip Holliday into the opposing corner but PVW's number
one contender digs down deep and reverses. Holliday charges full-speed
as PBS hits the turnbuckles back-first, then force-feeds PBS a running
high knee to the face!]


[HUGE BEAT HIS ASS POP!!!!]


JM: Doc Holliday now on the assault mounts the second rope and dishes
out some punches as the crowd counts along.

[As Holliday punches away, Warwick Kelly hops up on the ring apron
beside Holliday and talks some trash to him about being a coat thief!
Holliday smiles and goes to grab him after dazing the Stud, leading to
Kelly jumping off the apron and PBS going to powerbomb the some-what
distracted Holliday, but the crafty veteran hops off of PBS shoulders,
landing behind him. Doc snatches PBS by the head and arm in an
inverted half-nelson, lifts, and drills them down to the canvas,
falling backwards.]


"___KAAAATHUUUUUUUUD___"


JM: Arizona Sandstorm!  The Stud is flat on his back and out!

FH: This isn't turning out like I expected all of a sudden.

JM: Holliday drops and makes a cover of his own!




ONE ...




TWO ...




... No! PBS kicks out!

[Warwick Kelly looked a bit worried as the fans give a disappointing
sigh.  Doc Holliday places his knee in the back of PBS as he lies on
his stomach, then rears back on a chinlock.]

JM: Doc going to the roots of wrestling now applying some pressure and
trying to take the brute strength of the Polar Bear Stud out of the
equation.

FH: You can't eliminate strength like that Joshua.  Man I miss Chip!

[PBS manages to pull himself up to his hands and knees, leading to Doc
having to switch over to a side headlock. PBS pulls himself to his
feet and throws Holliday off the ropes. Doc comes charging and ducks a
thrown clothesline, then bounces off the opposing set of ropes.
Holliday comes charging and takes flight, flooring PBS with a flying
leg lariat. PBS pulls himself up but takes a tornado DDT!]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


JM: DOC HOOKS THE LEG AGAIN!




ONE ...




TWO ...




... NO! This time PBS gets the shoulder up!

FH: That was too close right there.  However the power of the coat
near by was able to get PBS through it.

[Wasting no time and seeing an opening Holliday quickly locks him into
a triangle choke!]

JM: Holliday not really known for his submission wrestling has PBS
locked in!

FH: It shows the desperation Doc has tonight.

[PBS kicks his heels on the mat and flails around while Kelly yells at
him to get to the ropes.  PBS uses his size to slowly roll and finally
make his way and locks a leg on the bottom ropes.  Duke Martin calls
for Doc to let go, but it goes on deaf ears.]

FH: Look at Holliday _again_ resorting to illegal tactics.  Poor PBS
came all-the-way to Canada to get his Coat back and Doc tries to cheat
him out of this match now.

JM: I wouldn't try to make PBS sound like a victim.  After all he sort
of started this all.

[Finally Doc lets go of the hold and Keening stands on the outside
shaking his head.  Holliday shrugs with a smile and then turns as PBS
has pushed his way to his feet.  Holliday charges and leaps again
trying to finish the big man off, but the Stud catches him in a Polar
Bear Hug!]

JM: OH THIS CAN'T BE GOOD!

FH: Damn right it can't!  Look at those arms squeezing the life out of
Holliday!

[Doc swings is arms trying to get some momentum but he is trapped and
in a bad spot!  To make matters worse PBS begins to _bite_ Holliday to
try and stop the resistance!  Keening leaps on the ring apron and
begins questioning allowing that go on!]

JM: Holliday is becoming the Polar Bear Stud's lunch!  However it
appears Keening has gotten Duke's attention and he is calling for the
PBS to break the hold!

FH: What the heck!?!?  Is this a PVW-Conspiracy against PBS?  What you
can't bite on a man's skull anymore?

[PBS looks unhappy but just tosses Doc down to the mat ... As Doc
pulls himself to his feet.  PBS takes off charging and runs-through-
him with a running shoulderblock!]

FH: PBS Rush!  And he just ran through Doc like he was a fly in the
way!

JM: Polar Bear Stud is flexing now.  Think he is setting up to put
this one away.

FH: And march to the back and grab his coat!

[PBS slowly struts to where Doc is laying near motionless.  He pulls
the veteran up, but Holliday was playing a-bit possum and counters
with a jawbreaker ...  PBS stumbles backwards and Holliday charges
with a short-arm lariat sending _BOTH_ men up and over the top ropes
and to the outside!]


[HUGE POP!!!]


JM: And we are back to the outside again. This match has been raging
on with both men hitting some of their key moves.  Both men are
pushing themselves up.

FH: Watch Jason Keening out there Duke.  He is as dirty as Doc!

JM: Keening!?!?!

FH: You heard me!

JM: One big move on the outside here and we could have a winner with
the punishment these two have already endured.

FH: I don't think it's gonna end that easily, Joshua.

JM: The Stud hammers a forearm into Holliday's nose!  And clotheslines
him over the railing!

[Holliday flips head-over-heels over the ringside railing, near the
aisle entrance. He uses his agility to get his feet under him to
minimize the fall, though, and quickly bolts up.  He reaches over the
railing and thumbs the Stud in the eye... then grabs his hair!  He
runs the big man a few feet to the corner where the aisleway starts,
and whacks PBS' head into the corner of the railing!]

FH: Ouch!  Nasty!  Holliday's much smaller than the Stud, Joshua, but
he's much more vicious.

JM: The Polar Bear Stud may be angrier, though, as he wants his Coat
in the worst way!  WHAT A SHOT!

[The Stud swings his arm wildly, catching Doc across the neck with
another clothesline that flips him sideways over the railing into the
aisle! Jason Keening shouts at the Stud that the match is over, but
PBS turns and yells for him to mind his own business.]

JM: You can bet this is exactly what Jessica Marshall wanted; a big
man with more interest in hurting Holliday than beating him!  The Stud
lifts up Holliday, and a running start... SLAMS HIM IN THE AISLE!  ON
BARE CONCRETE!

FH: Oh, man!  A body slam on the floor is nasty!  You think of that
move as simple and basic, but it's a hospital trip waiting to happen
on a concrete surface! Especially from a guy that big and strong!

JM: No kidding!  Holliday is in a world of hurt, and the Stud showing
off his musculature to the fans in the aisleway.

FH: Uh, oh.  Some cute girls out there... he better not forget about
Holliday!

JM: Holliday getting to his feet as the Stud turns around...


"___WHAAAACK___"


JM: ...and The Stud eats the left jab!  That staggered him... and
Holliday shoving him back-first into the railing!  Doc Holliday now
hammering away at the Polar Bear Stud, and this match has been over
for some time!  The Stud is reeling, and Jason Keening is trying to
get Holliday to forget it and get out of here!

FH: That's not the way Doc thinks.  An enemy with a grudge has shown
himself; Doc's going to want to take him out before he gets taken out!

JM: Keening pulling Holliday back... AND THE STUD CLOTHESLINES BOTH
MEN!

FH: Keening underestimated the Stud's toughness!  The Boy Scout has
gotta learn... sometimes those mean bastards look like they're being
cruel, but really, they know what they're doing!  Holliday was staying
on him for a reason!

JM: The Polar Bear Stud with a handful of Holliday's hair... running
start... AND SMASHES HIM INTO THE BACK WALL!  Right next to the
entranceway, and Holliday staggers through the curtain!  The Bear
following, and this fight has now spilled backstage!

FH: Wow.  Well, remember this: this is the Stud's only shot.  He's not
a PVW wrestler, and in fact, his contract with another promotion won't
let him sign here. I understand Jessica Marshall had to broker a deal
just to get the one time appearance.

JM: That's right... after seeing him earlier in the show, Fred was
able to do some research on it during a break.

FH: See?  Broadcast journalism.  You could learn a lot from me.

JM: That's what scares me.  I almost caught myself Hoyling out of the
restaurant we ate at last night.

FH: Those waitresses don't need tips!  They get paid!

JM: Wait... we've got a roving cameraman in place to pick up the
action!

[And the fight has already spilled into a hallway, where Doc Holliday
and the Polar Bear Stud are locked in a clinch... a brutal combination
of collar-and-elbow tieup and faceripping.  Unfortunately for
Holliday, the stronger man tends to win that sort of thing.  The Stud
picks him up and tosses him back-first into a wall. Jason Keening
comes running behind with several members of security.]

JK: You two get in between, you take the Stud, and I'll grab Doc.

[Holliday fires back on the Stud, and the security team prepares to
swoop in... when a door bursts open right in front of them!  They're
cut off by a wall.

A seven foot tall, black-haired, Hispanic, _angry_ wall.]

AM: Gentlemen... yer excused.

[With that, Alex Martinez grabs Keening by the face and hurls him into
the room he just emerged from!]

JM: MARTINEZ!  MARTINEZ JUST ATTACKED KEENING!

[The Last American Badass moves quickly, grabbing an equipment bank,
and toppling it over to block the door.  He then looks up... slowly...
and grins.  He watches as Holliday hooks the Stud in a half-nelson and
uses his momentum to drive him hard into a stack of crates, sending
wood fragments in all directions!  He still hasn't noticed Martinez.]

DH: Dangnabbit, Stud, ah ain't got time fer this!  Ah know howta end
this fer good...

[Holliday's menacing words echo through the hall as he walks to a
nearby door and opens it.  He steps into the small locker room
inside...]




"___BLAAAAAM___"




[...and drops like a rock as a metal speaker-case bashes him in the
back of the head.  It's wielder, of course, is Alex Martinez.  He
takes a look back down the hall where the door he blocked off is
starting to be kicked out...]

AM: I'm savin' him for later.  Got time for one move... but that's all
I need, ain't it, Doc?

[Holliday is too groggy to respond, but his eyes go wide with
understanding as Martinez wraps two meaty hands around his neck.]

JM: NO!  A FIREBOMB BACK THERE COULD KILL HIM!

FH: He'd do the same thing if he could!  You can't show a guy like
that any mercy!

[Martinez lifts Holliday, releasing with his left hand to extend his
enemy in full chokeslam position...




...and down...




...?!]














PBS: __MY COOOAAAAT__!


[Martinez sits up, his eyes incredulous... as the Polar Bear Stud has
just run him over to get to the white fur coat laying on the bench
behind him. Holliday is dragging himself to his feet across the
room... having just been unwittingly saved from a concrete-floor
Firebomb by the man who was just trying to beat his head in!]

AM: ...yer gonna BE a coat in a minute.

[Martinez stands up and steps towards the Stud, but stops.  He then
turns and runs at Holliday, realizing that his time is about to run
out.  He grabs Doc again by the neck, lifts...

...and this time, the man who knocks him down was fully intending to
do so.]

JK: I'm GONNA CAVE YOUR UGLY FACE IN, PUKEWAD!

AM: With what?  Yer breath?

[Keening stands over Martinez, having knocked him down from behind
with a running forearm blast to the back of the head.  The seven-
footer recovers very quickly, and snarls as he lunges at keening!  The
two men lock in a clinch similar to the one seen moments ago from
Holliday and the Stud.  But this time, the full security contingent
runs in.  With tasers.]

PBS: DUDE!  IT'S MY COAT!  I DIDN'T STEAL IT!  DON'T TASE ME, BRO!

[The guards ignore the Stud, swarming atop Keening and Martinez.  This
room is simply too small for this; the mass of humanity effectively
breaks it up.  Martinez tries to throw people around, but there simply
isn't enough space for his long limbs to get any leeway.  So he uses
the one thing he still can... his voice.]

AM: After I cripple Holliday, you're a dead man, Keening!  I'll drag
your coward ass out of retirement and into the retirement home!

JK: Blah, blah, blah.  All talk, all the time.  What're you gonna
cripple me with, Alex?  Your breath?

AM: GET OUT OF MY WAY!  I'LL BURY THEM BOTH!





DH: Oh, look.  Found mah piece.

[Holliday stands up, his shiny silver revolver in hand.  Martinez'
snarl grows more pronounced... this development doesn't frighten him;
it just frustrates him.]

AM: GODDAMN COWARDS!  BOTH OF YA!  It'll be a cold day in hell before
either one of ya ever beat me!

DH: Tell ya what.  Ya git past them guards, an' I'll put mittens on
th' corpse.

[Furious, Martinez walks out of the room.  One of the security guards
tries to push him along, as if he still needed assistance, and gets an
elbow in the face for his presumption... Martinez is barely contained
rage at this point.  He spits on the Stud as he walks past, and leaves
the room.

Holliday and Keening are also hustled out, as the security head is
requesting them to leave the arena at once.  Doc is protesting that
this is HIS locker room, but the security guards are picking up his
bags and his clothes.  In very short order, the only one left in the
room is the Polar Bear Stud, seated on a bench hugging his precious
white Coat... and watching the proceedings with wide-eyed confusion.]

PBS: Dude... is it me, or is everyone in this place a psycho?!  I'm
outta here!

[And then the room is empty.  And we cut back to ringside.]

JM: We are so going to get banned from Canada.

FH: Hey that's not such a bad thing.  Maybe Doc is good for something
after all!

JM: It appears the Doc Holliday -  Alex Martinez hatred is starting to
become dangerous for everyone in the building.

FH: Hey ... Let's not ignore the most important out come here.

JM: What's that?

FH: The Stud got his coat back!  I wonder if he will let me be a wing-
man tonight.  The amount of tail he is going to pull in with that
thing is going to be _INSANE_.  I'll just take two-or-three I'm not
picky.

JM: Two-or-three?

[Cut to the back where the "Swingin'" Dean Hayes stands alongside the
Masked Maniac.  Maniac wears a new singlet and mask with sharp angles
throughout forming the letter "M".  His color scheme is now red, black
and white, and 4 white angular arcs form M's over his eyes, the center
of the M's pointing to his pupils.

Oh yeah, he also has a gold belt slung over one shoulder.  There's a
spoiler if you haven't yet experienced Tradition IV.]

Hayes: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the new Network
Titleholder; the Masked Maniac!  Maniac, welcome.

MM: Thanks for the introduction Drew.  And here, all this time, I
thought you hated me.

Hayes: Hated you?  What gave you that idea?

MM: Well, you're not always the friendliest guy.

Hayes: Well, you were trying to be a wrestling journalist and telling
me that you were better at it than me.  I didn't like that.

MM: Oh yeah!  Boy, it's been awhile since I've done a Maniac Minute.
I should do that again.  Hey Dean, you could be a guest again!

Hayes: Actually I think I have a funeral to go to whatever day you're
having a show, but Maniac, what a transformation.  One year ago you
were hopeless, losing match after match after match and now look at
you; a champion.  How does it feel?

MM: Oh, it feels great, Drew.  You have no idea.  The last time I held
a title I had to hand it straight over to the a guy I was seconding.
Brian Butcher, if you're watching today ... suck it, man.  You can't
take this one away from me you bastard!

Hayes: Uh, okay.  So tell me, why the ruse?  Why use a decoy to
distract Perry Fontana?  And where have you been this past month?

[Blink blink.  Maniac scratches his masked head, unsure for a moment
how to react.]

MM: Well, Dean, I'll answer the last one first; "I was re-habbing".
You see, I had a [speaking very slowly] rotator...  Cuff...  Injury...

[Pause.  Let that sink in.]

MM: It didn't only hurt, it was ... was infirming!  Yeah, that's a
good word.  Man, I'm not gonna do my usual routine when I'm re-
habbing.  And I'm certainly not going to be anywhere Perry Fontana can
find me!  Not so long as he considers me a target.

And the "decoy", just so you know, was my Protege'.  The Masked Maniac
2.

[Pan over across Dean where, behind him, is a second Masked Maniac,
still wearing the "SSN" design of costume, he's an inch or two shorter
and has his hurt arm in a sling.]

Hayes: Masked Maniac ... two?

MM: Sure, why not?

MM2: Sure, why not?

Hayes: Gah!  Where'd you come from?

MM: I told you to stop that.

MM2: Sneaking up on people?

MM: No, repeating what I say.

MM2: But how else will I learn how to be you?

MM: I told you before, you're not me, you're just my protege'.

MM2: Oh.  Right.  Sorry.

MM: You'll be me when I'm dead.  That's how it works.

[Someone, somewhere, with a very morbid sense of humor just blasted
Mountain Dew out of his nose.]

MM: Dean, Fontana didn't want to do double duty at Tradition, and I
guess, he didn't.  I only wish it wasn't at the expense of my poor
little protege'.

MM2: Hey, I'm not little!  I'm only a few inches shorter than you!

MM: Shut up stupid, yes you are.

Hayes: Okay, well, at least that's settled.  You showed at Tradition
that you're capable of putting an opponent away in short order.

MM: 8 seconds flat!  It would've been faster but the referee didn't
really know what was going on...

Hayes: Your transformation as a competitor has been remarkable,
Maniac, but tonight you face off against arguably the most devious,
dangerous man ever in PVW.  Gibson Hayes has steamrolled every
opponent put in his path.  What makes you think you'll be any
different?

[Maniac thinks, his mouth twisting up into a little moue, as he
considers the question.  His protege', however, blurts out a response
without thinking.]

MM2: I'm gonna go out there and put a hurt on him for the fans!  That
right-wing hypocrite's gonna regret the day he heard the name Masked
Maniac!

[Anger~!  The original Maniac points at finger at his younger, dumber
doppelganger.]

MM: Okay, there's a lot wrong with what you said.  First, YOU'RE NOT
ME!  Get it through your head!  You're still being trained!  Second,
"Masked Maniac" is more a title than a name.  And last but not least
... I would've called him a "hippo-cretin".  See, that way, you're
both saying he doesn't practice what he preaches and you're calling
him stupid.

MM2: Ohhh...  I have much yet to learn.

MM: That's what I keep saying.

Hayes: So what's your gameplan?

MM: Okay, Dean, I'll level with you.  I don't really think I'm gonna
win tonight...

[A look of surprise crosses Dean's face, and Maniac 2 starts moving,
annoyingly, in a way that mirrors his mentor.]

MM: See, (stop that), Hayes has some kind of wrestling pedigree thing
going on that lets him just run people over, and he's got all this
backup.  Heh, I'm basically screwed.  My only hope is that he
underestimates me big time and I can drop him before Spectre, or PAIN,
or that Bubba guy or ... some new guy interferes!

Hayes: But what of your protege'?  Shouldn't you be teaching him to be
confident as a competitor?

MM: Oh no, I prefer to teach realistic expectations.  Expect the best,
get screwed, get discouraged, retire early.  Expect the worst, win
anyway, party for three days straight!  If I do win, Dean, I'm going
off the wagon for like a week.  No joke.

Hayes: So you really think you'll lose?

MM: I have a better question.

[Maniac grabs the microphone from Dean.]

MM: Are you now or have you ever been affiliated with Gibson Hayes?

Hayes: Are you serious?

MM: Answer the question!  How do I know that you're not a plant, or
even a cousin, to Gibson Hayes?

Hayes: Okay.  Cut!  Guys, back to you!

MM: Hey, wait, don't--

[Cut!]

FH: What is this world coming to!?!  Not just one Masked Maniac but
_TWO_?  I bet Tom Landis is behind this some how.

JM: Hey let me just say from my time on Damage Control.  There can
never be too many Masked Maniac's.

FH: Masked Maniac must of did something wrong.  Just when he thought
he would finally get good old Chip calling his match he is stuck with
you yet again.

JM: Hey now!

[We cut to a backstage hallway.  It's a pretty narrow hall, in the
office area of the building.  The camera is facing an L-shaped corner
of the hallway as the scene opens; we soon see why as it slowly peeks
out from behind the corner.

Two men are speaking in the hallway here.  Both men are
unmistakable... the Mercenary is to the left, holding his Haliburton
briefcase and going through a small travel Rolodex.  On the right is
Doc Holliday, who is leaning against the wall sorting through
something on his cellphone.]

Merc: It's in here somewhere... there.  Here's the guy's number and
home address.

DH: Ah, good.  Lemme put thet in heah right quick.  Thank ya.

Merc: You don't have to thank me... you gave me enough contacts this
past week.  Which reminds me.  I've got a client in Manhattan who
needs some character assassination done.  Got time next week to do
some signing?  I can have a handwriting sample by Thursday.  Usual
rate... or I could knock that amount off a contract.  I've hurt that
big goof before, you know.

DH: Ah prefer ta face him even-up this time.  Wouldn't prove nothin'
ta git him crippled up firs'.  Besides, ah reckon mah manager would
cry 'bout somethin' so obvious.  Gotta do thangs behind his back.  His
lips run too much.  Ah mean, he talks a tenth o' whut ah do...

Merc: Only a tenth?

DH: Ah rounded down.  But when he does talk, he has a habit o'
spillin' thangs whut he jus' shouldn't spill.  Tol' a ref las' week ta
check mah wristbands fer piano wire!

Merc: You're welcome.

DH: Huh?  ...oh!  Right, ah learnt thet trick eleven years ago when ya
choked me with piano wire.  Fergot 'bout thet.

Merc: Too many shots to the head.

DH: Damn Haliburton!

Merc: Heh.  Alright, there's something else I wanted to talk to you
about.  About what's going on with Mar...

DH (interrupting him): HOL' ON THAR!

[Uh, oh!  Camera has been seen.  Doc points and shouts... his
expression remains fairly calm and level.  This is in stark contrast
to merc, who sees the cameraman and turns purple with rage!]

Merc: AGAIN?!  That's it!  Holliday, get out of here, you didn't see
anything.

DH(clutching his eyes): OH MAH EYES!  Ah sprained 'em at th' CL Cup...
damn Viper!

[Doc pretends to stumble into a nearby office, convieniently out of
sight as Merc heads towards the poor cameraman.  There's a pitiful
shriek as the camera turns back down the hall, the scene waving back
and forth as he's no longer attempting to film anything.  Not long
thereafter, it goes to the floor, and cuts to static.

Back to the arena.]

FH: We lose more cameramen that way.

JM: I get the feeling the Mercenary is up to something.

FH: Geez what gives you that idea?

JM: What a night it's been this far.  So much to recap I won't eve
try, but we still have one final match.  Champion versus Champion.

FH: So we are _really_ going to sit here and pretend Masked Maniac is
a "champion."

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall and has a thirty minute time
limit.  And is a special PVW Championship Showcase attraction!
Introducing first...

[The lights die in a melodramatic fashion as the instrumental
beginnings of "In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins play.  Red, green
and blue spotlights converge, creating a bright white light on the
entrance portal.]

#Well if you told me you were drowning,#
#I would not lend a hand.#

[The curtains part, then close again for no apparent reason.]

#I've seen your face before my friend,#
#but I dont know if you know who I am.#

FH: What the hell is this?

CL: Looks like Maniac is rockin' with some classic Collins!

#Well I was there and i saw what you did;#
#I saw it with my own two eyes.#

HD: From "Parts Unknown", Michigan; he weighs in tonight at 240
pounds...

#So you can wipe of the grin,#
#I know where youve been,#
#it's all been a pack of lies!#

*BADUM-BADUM-BADUM-BA-DUM-DUM-DUM!*

[And with a running start, the newly refurbished Masked Maniac with
his fancy new red, white and black color scheme and "M"s over his eyes
bursts forth.  The fans cheer their excitement.]

#I can feel it,#
#coming in the air tonight.#

HD: He is the NEWLY CROWNED PVW NETWORK CHAMPION!

#Oh Lord.#
#I've been waiting for this moment,#

HD: This is ... THE MASKED MANIAC!

#for all my life.#
#Oh Lord, oh Lord.#

[Hopping up onto the apron, Maniac ducks between the ropes and thrusts
the title up into the air, stepping up with one foot on the second
turnbuckle.]

FH: I think I am going to be sick.

JM: What a nice cinderlla story.

[Hey, let's start out with some weird, electronic noises, because
that's how Eliot Lipp's "Yeah" begins, before settling down into a
future present groove. The lights in the joint are going crazy,
spotlights going all over and whatnot.]

Y-Yeah!

[And out comes the annoyed looking Gibson Hayes. Hayes has his afro,
cast and black & red wrestling trunks with a red headband to set off
the outfit. With him are Evelyn Prosser, Orel & Pat of RAGE, Jubel
Paulmwell and Todd "The Rod" Johnstone. The group does not look like
it wants to be trifled with and Gibson stands in his corner, staring
at his opponent.]

FH: Now _here_ is a real champion.  One we can all be proud of.

JM: Gibson Hayes like him or not has defeated all challengers in some
fashion for the PVW American Championship.

  ______  _    _ _  _  _ _____________________________________________
 (_____ \| |  | | || || |
  _____) ) |  | | || || | HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE CHAMPIONSHIP SHOWCASE:
 |  ____/ \ \/ /| ||_|| |          NETWORK CHAMPION: MASKED MANIAC v.
 | |       \  / | |___| |          AMERICAN CHAMPION: GIBSON HAYES
 |_|        \/   \______|_____________________________________________



*DING*DING*DING*


JM: Here we go!  Heatwave's _huge_ blockbuster main event.  Not very
often do we get to see _two_ champions square off at the same time.

FH: If you can even really call Masked Maniac a "champion".  He is
more of a thief stealing Perry Fontana's title.  This would have been
an epic battle if it was Fontana versus Hayes!

[Hayes stands there across the ring from Masked Maniac.  He begins to
look the masked superstar up-and-down.  Gibson Hayes then leans
backwards and flips through-the-ropes and to the outside.  With his
manager at his side holding the PVW American Championship title he
just begins to head right up the aisle way.]

JM: What?  What is going on?

FH: Looks like Gibson Hayes has found a way around the Gibson
Gauntlet.  If he doesn't want to fight he will just head back to the
back!

JM: This is ... Pathetic!  Hayes needs to turn back around and
wrestle!

[Masked Maniac is now asking the referee what is going on.  The
referee calls for the bell and raises Masked Maniac's hand!]
JM: Looks like they are "awarding" Masked Maniac the victory by
forefeit!

FH: Whatever ... Masked Maniac couldn't even beat a fly.  He _never_
will have a victory over Gibson Hayes.  Keep dreaming.

[Masked Maniac begins pumping his fist as if he really pinned Gibson
Hayes.]

JM: It looks like it's the happiest day of poor Masked Maniac's life!

[As the crowd voices their mixed reactions to the on-goings in the
ring, a portion of the crowd begins to stir near the wrestlers
entrance portion of the ramp]

JM: The partisan crowd seems to be a bit distracted by something going
on near the entrance ladies and gentlemen. I'm not quite sure what's
happening but ...

[Joshua Morgan is cut short by the appearance of 'The Supreme
Champion' Danny Daniels.]

FH: Haha, now this is great!  Our hero, Danny Daniels, has decided to
grace us with his presence!

JM: He's certainly no hero of mine, I can tell you that!

FH: Recognize the skills and talent then accept him as your hero!

JM: You sound like a brainwashed idiot!

FH: Speak for yourself Mr. Masked Maniac #1 fan!

[Camera catches Danny Daniels full of grins ...]

FH: I don’t know who he’s motioning for, but either way it’s going to
be great because someone is going to pay!

JM: Well if that’s the case, then who is going to pay!?

FH: Good lord, do I have to tell you everything man!?

[A large portion of the crowd gives a HUGE FACE POP mixed with a
SURPRISE POP]

FH: That’s not exactly what I had in mind, but this could be VERY
interesting!

JM: I'm not sure what to think about this but ladies and gentlemen,
Sinister is coming down the ramp behind Daniel!

[Indeed the large man from Chicago trails Daniels though it is very
obvious by his facial expression that is neither pleased nor anxious
about this. Sinister dons his usual wrestling gear but is without the
black baseball bat known as the "Soul Pole". With obvious trepidation,
Sinister slowly strides behind the jubilant Daniels who wears a very
confident smirk upon his face. Sinister acknowledges the fans on
either side of the ramp with his usual fist-to-fist pound but he is
shaking his head sporadically and taking deep breaths, attempting to
keep himself calm.]

JM: Sinister is obviously bothered by this entire situation and it’s
written on his face! Even with Daniels waving him on furiously and
yelling at him, Sinister is attempting to keep a level head but it’s
apparent that it’s not working as well as he’d like!

FH: Sinister better remember that for 30 days, he has to do EVERYTHING
Daniels says! That’s a part of the stipulation that Sinister agreed to
and Sinister is a man of honor, or at least he claims he is!  If he’s
truly about honor and respect, then he has to follow Daniels
instructions to a t or he’ll never have a chance to TRY and defeat
Daniels for the Supreme Title!

JM: Sinister has always been a man about his word and no matter how
sick this makes him to his stomach, I know he'll honor the contract
because, if nothing else, he wants to get vengeance on Daniels in a
very bad way! I’m just trying to figure out who Daniels is going to
unleash Sinister upon!

[The answer to that question is handled by the nod between Gibson
Hayes and Danny Daniels as the two men pass. Meanwhile, Masked Maniac
has managed to makes his way to the far corner and notices the arrival
of Daniels and Sinister. Daniels shouts orders in Sinister's face to
get into the ring! The majority of the crowd boos incessantly although
there is a LOUD HEEL POP for Daniels as he stands proudly while
motioning Sinister into the ring.]

FH: Daniels obviously has things in hand! This is a thing of beauty!

JM: Your sense of beauty and mine is far different, I must say!

FH: Well hell, I knew that!  Look at the ladies you spend time with as
compared to mine! I hang out with super models and you hang out with
super scary chicks!

JM: I resent that statement! I have very attractive female friends
thank you!

FH: Sure, but none of them are interested in you beyond a simple hand
shake or a quick hug you pathetic scrub!

[Back in the ring, Sinister slowly pulls himself onto the mat using
the top rope and he stands there for a few moments, shaking his head
before reluctantly stepping over the top rope. Masked Maniac stands
curious and unsure, he is as ready for combat as he can be. Sinister
takes a few steps away from the ropes and stands still, both shooting
glares at Daniels while attempting to let Masked Maniac know this is
not his idea and he does not want to fight. The crowd gives a HUGE
MIXED POP as Daniels leaps onto the apron and begins to verbally abuse
Sinister.  Sinister’s expression changes from apprehension to sheer
rage almost immediately and the big man balls his thick hands into
fists and he takes one very deep breath, spinning to face Daniels!]

JM: Sinister has taken enough berating from Daniels and he's going to
drop him like 3rd period French!

FH: I know you didn’t just use a line from the movie 'Ocean's 11'!

JM: “What's wrong with that?  That’s a great movie!

FH: Yeah, that’s a great movie but that doesn’t mean you get to use
the lines from it! Now, if Sinister hits Daniels then he blows his
chance at the Pay Per View event and though Sinister is dumb, even I
don't think he’s that dumb!  Of course, the big oaf could prove me
wrong!

[Sinister clenches his fists so tightly that his arms begin to shake
and the urge to deck Daniels right in the jaw is very apparent.  Just
as Sinister's right hand raises, Sinister is spun around by Masked
Maniac!  Masked Maniac pushes Sinister away from Daniels and motions
to Sinister and Daniels before asking Sinister what the hell he’s
doing. Sinister and Masked Maniac begin to speak about the situation
and Masked Maniac motions to Daniels, asking Sinister why he's letting
him order him around. Just as Sinister takes a deep breath the calmly
answer, Masked Maniac slaps Sinister!]


"___THWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAP___"



[TREMENDOUS OOOHHHH $$$###***%%% POP!!]



JM: Maniac just slapped the taste out of Sinister’s mouth!

FH: I can’t believe how beautiful this is!  Not only have I witnessed
Hayes leaving Masked Maniac high and dry, like he deserves, but
Sinister, another man I despise, just got slapped into the middle of
next week!  This is awesome!

[Sinister raises his right hand to his left cheek and holds it there
while glaring at Masked Maniac. He lowers his hand and again, as
calmly as he can, tries to explain the situation Masked Maniac strikes
him, this time with a clenched fist!]



[MASSIVE OOOHHHH $$$###***%%% POP!!]



JM: I'm not sure why Masked Maniac just unloaded on Sinister but I do
know this.  Sinister is livid!

FH: I'm going to really enjoy this!

[Sinister twists his jaw side to side while rubbing it and is glaring
a hole through Masked Maniac! He shoves Masked Maniac with his right
hand, sending him back a few steps. Sinister turns slightly to his
right, still clenching his jaw and glares at Daniels. Daniels' smile
is a wide as a Cheshire cat. Masked Maniac lunges at Sinister again,
obviously upset that Sinister is even in the same vicinity as Daniels
and...]


[MEGA POP!!]


JM: MY GOD!

JM: I think he broke him!

[Sinister levels Masked Maniac with a right-arm clothesline from
nowhere and Masked Maniac is twisted inside out, landing on the mat
brutally! Sinister motions to Daniels and yells, "ARE YOU HAPPY
NOW!?"]

FH: YES! I AM!

JM: Why are you responding?  He asked Daniels.

FH: I don't care! I'm feeling so exhilarated that I just can't help
but yell!

JM: Wow, you need to relax! I think you're drooling!

[Daniels laughs and nods his head repeatedly, obviously enjoying this.
Masked Maniac begins to stir, clutching the back of his neck while
resting on his knees. As he clears the proverbial cobwebs, Sinister
rubs his bald head with his hands and looks towards the ceiling,
obviously still very much bothered by this entire scenario. While
glaring at Daniels, Sinister begins to step over the top rope, which
Daniels immediately disagrees with. With one leg over the top rope,
Sinister is NAILED in the back by a dropkick from Masked Maniac!
Sinister lands on his feet outside of the ring and immediately climbs
back inside. Masked Maniac launches at Sinister, who barely ducks out
of the way of a clothesline. Masked Maniac rebounds off the ropes and
is LAUNCHED into the air by Sinister. Sinister then turns a quick one-
hundred-and-eighty degrees and catches Masked Maniac in a Diamond
Cutter!]


[OH THAT WAS NASTY POP!]



JM: Sinister nails Masked Maniac with the Sadistic Ride!

FH: I think that dropkick set him off!  This is great!

[Daniels claps while smiling slightly wider than before. Without
thought, Sinister hoists Masked Maniac’s prone body up and positions
him for the Chi-Town Massacre!  Sinister turns towards Daniels, makes
a face of sheer disgust and DRIVES Masked Maniac into the mat with
vicious authority!]



[FINISHAAA POP!  But people are really booing Daniels now.]



JM: I think Sinister wanted Daniels to know that he wishes it were him
he were delivering that Massacre to!

FH: Sinister got lucky one time but it won't happen again!

[Sinister covers Masked Maniac’s limp body and Danny Daniels demands
that the referee counts ...]




ONE!!




TWO!!




THREE!! [Bell rings]



JM: This is mercifully brought to an end! Honestly Sinister didn't use
a lot of moves but what he did do was extremely effective!  Give
Masked Maniac a world of credit though, he did "beat" Gibson Hayes.

FH: If you call it that.

[Sinister has gotten off the PVW Network Champion as Danny Daniels
stands ecstatic inside the ring.]

JM: This wasn't an official match, but Sinister's statement was clear.
I think Danny Daniels wanted to make the statement that Sinister was
his and he will do whatever he says whenever he says.

FH: And perhaps they have set their sites on that PVW Network
Championship.  As long as Sinister hands it over to Danny Daniels I
can dig that.

JM: I don't know what their plan is, but they came down and --

FH: Saved the end of the show?

JM: Well I wasn't going to say that.

FH: That's because your on the "B Team" announcers.  You don't come up
with the gem's like Chip and I ... Well just myself can!

JM: Well as much as I would like to debate that with you _on air_.  We
are getting the wrap up sign.  Folks we appriciate you tuning in with
us.  We stay in Canada next Heatwave.

FH: Hell on earth ...

JM: Thank you again for tuning into PVW - Heatwave!

[Another feed cuts into the broadcast, first on the jumbo-tron and
then through the broadcast itself.  At some unknown intersection, the
number one contenders' car comes rolling to a stop as a revving can be
heard in the distance... and a tow truck suddenly comes PLOWING
through the intersection, turning at the last moment to come crashing
into the front end of Rick Marley's black Lexus!  The vehicle is sent
up to the sidewalk, spinning out as one of the wheels comes flying
off!]

JM: HOLY CHRIST!!!!  What the hell... ?!?!!!

FH: It's Rob Cole!  It has to be Rob Cole!

[The driver door opens, and the World champion does come stumbling
out... he reaches back to grab a shovel, quickly staggering toward the
vehicle of his intended victim where he lashes out to SMASH in the
remaining shards of glass on the passenger side window! Hauling back
the shovel, he smashes out the rear passenger window as well!]

RC: Get out of there!!! GET OUT!!!!

[Cole jumps up, planting his foot in the passenger side door before
climbing to the roof where he wields the shovel like a spike and jams
it DOWN through the sunroof! You can hear the glass break as Cole
raises the shovel again and brings it down... he tosses to shovel
aside and reaches in.]

RC: I said get out!!!!

[Cole wrenches back, hauling Rick Marley up through the sunroof... the
man is a bloodied mess from the wreck.  The World Champion shoves him
over the side of the car, to the sidewalk below and leaps down after
him.  He grabs him by the collar of his shirt, picks up his shovel,
and starts to drag him into the empty lot beyond... ]

RC: Come on!  You want to play?!?!!! YOU WANT TO PLAY?!?!!  Know how I
was getting under your skin?  Dismissing you... talking about all your
boys, acting like you didn't mean a thing, playing it up that you were
an easy target, getting under your skin and getting you mad.  That's
done!  No more!  You want to up your game, show the world that you can
take on Rob Cole, that you can beat the Monster... HAH!!!  Beating me
is easy... your buddy-pal, Craven, he can tell you how easy it is to
beat me, put me down for three, or whatever you want to do. Everyone
is so ready and willing to take the thrown, wear the crown, but do you
even have any idea who I am?!?!!!

[The camera continues to follow as Cole approaches a hole in the
ground, surrounded by a several lights shining down into the depths.
Marley is barely conscious of where he is, choking a little as Cole
drags him toward the edge of the hole.  There's no fanfare, no big
show, the World Champion just hauls off and dumps Marley into the hole
and he disappears for a moment.  That's when Cole kicks a set of
controls nearby and leaps in... ]

RC: Forget the catch phrase!

[Cole drops down above the prone body of Rick Marley... we can only
see the top of Marley's head, the camera set a little above and
pointed up where the Monster stands with one foot on either side of
the coffin.  He stares down at Marley for a moment, waiting for the
man to realize where he is before Cole suddenly jumps up to the coffin
lid and DRIVES it down! There's a glass partition allowing the camera,
and Marley, to continue seeing the lights and Cole above him.]

RM: Wha...what the hell?!?!?!?  This crap, Cole...it's over the
edge...no way you'd DARE do it...now stop playing around and let me
the hell out of here before I get the cops involved and have you--

[Cole listens for a moment and then suddenly bashes the lid with the
shovel, cutting Marley off! He smashes the lid again... and again...
forcing Marley to go silent.  He shakes his head in disgust, kneeling
down so that Marley can see his eyes.]

RC: What?!?!?!!  You don't like it?!?!! Do you have any idea how hard
I worked to set you up?  To do this to you... for you... ?  I had your
GPS tagged... I set up these lights... I bought that clunker tow
truck... had this coffin built special so we could show everyone in
the arena what was happening... and I dug this hole, six feet down,
JUST FOR YOU!!!!  I know... it's very elaborate, much less simple than
the beating you and Craven delivered to me, but I think it was worth
it. Heck, Marley... YOU are worth it.  You really mean something to
me, you're a special guy, and you deserve the very best I could come
up with... I'm honestly heart broken that you don't appreciate this
effort!


[Cole smiles, offering a thumbs up.]

RC: That's alright, kiddo!  For some reason, I don't feel like this is
a wasted effort... I think, deep down, underneath it all, you realize
just how hard I worked and a little part of you feels really really
special.

[Marley's eyes go wide as he begins looking around, licking his lips.
Cole's eyes suddenly go dead, the smile disappearing. Cole rises,
staring down... ]

RC: The Widowmakers might find you, they might track down your
vehicle, or maybe the PVW will send someone out to dig you up... but
I'm going to shovel the dirt on your box, I'm going to walk away, and
I'm going to let you spend some quality time with yourself and the
things you've done.  And you might get even with me, you might take
this belt off me, and you might knock me off my throne... those are
cruel realities of our business, Rick.  But right this moment, you're
going to be in the dark for a long long while.  You're going to feel
these walls close in on you, you're going to feel the air getting used
up with every breath you take, and you're going to have to wonder how
long it will take for someone to find you... you know, IF they find
you?

[Cole reaches up with one hand, grabbing a fistful of dirt that he
tosses across the window.  He climbs up the side of the wall, more
dirt following in his wake before the window is entirely covered.
Still, the audio continues to pick up Rob Cole as he continues to
speak, the sound of the dirt falling on top of the coffin cutting his
sentences short with exertion.]

RC: I know you can still hear me... but pretty soon, it'll all be too
muffled.  You won't hear a thing.  You won't even hear me leave, you
won't hear anyone come, and then you'll have nothing but your own
voice, your own heart-beat, for however long they both might last...
But at least as long as you hear me, you'll know I'm only a few scoops
away from pulling you out and revealing this is all just a way to get
in your head.  You'll know that I'm not being serious.  You'll know
that I'll have a limit, like when Craven gassed your boys and then
turned it off before anything fatal could happen... the way you always
felt he was in control, even at his most dangerous.  The way he
planned things, the way he helped you take me down... as long as you
hear me, you'll know that I'm only as dangerous as Craven.  But here's
the thing... I talk way too much.  I just jabber on and on and on
about nothing in particular, just like your pal says.  You want me to
shut up now?  You want me to stop talking?  I'm asking you a question,
Marley... Can you hear me?!?!!!

RM: This isn't funny any more Cole!  Let me the hell out of here!
This isn't a game anymore, dammit!  This isn't how this is supposed to
work!

[There's a moment of silence... followed by the revving of an engine.
There's a loud crashing sound from inside the coffin, hundreds of
pounds of dirt being poured atop the Number One Contender!]

RM: JESUS [BLEEP]ING CHRIST, SOMEBODY HELP!  GET ME THE HELL OUT OF
HERE!

[The feed cuts off Marley, and Cole appears from above the grave...
climbing down from a bulldozer.  He stands above the dirt pit,
listening for a moment before turning a sick smile toward the camera.
He chuckles once before talking.]

RC:  I'm such a kiddy-winky... playing in the sandbox like this,
burying a toy like this, pretending to be a big scary monster like
this. I guess I'm all done talking now.  Have a nice night.



*CLICK*



[Black.]



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           Credits:
Brian: Doc v. PBS, Hayes v. Maniac
Rob: PVW Tryout Match 
Picky: Livestock and The Gutch v. Jokers Wild
Nathan: Martinez v. Cassel
Hopper: Bushi v. Max & Sal
Chris O'D: Wild Cards & Prophets v. PAIN & Made Men

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

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