Heatwave - June 2nd 2009
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[More terrible footage, a video run through the wringer. Now we know
it is on purpose, and the camera pans through the ruins of a church
before settling on the Masked Outlaw. Dressed in a black leather
coat, face obscured behind a mask, he stands before the alter and
claps his hands together once as though calling for silence.]
MO: Ladies and gentlemen... we are gathered here today before the eyes
of God and the community to bear witness to a holy sacrament and the
exchange of vows and promises. To love, to honor, to cherish... what?
What do you love, Rob? What do you cherish, Rob? What do you honor,
Rob? Sixteen years ago you stood on this spot and you exchanged a
youthful promise to love, honor, and cherish... and that woman
betrayed her vows, betrayed her promise, and dismissed your honor.
So you fought the world, 'kiddo'... you fought the Underground, you
fought Alex Wallace, Suicide, and everybody knows you fought
Retribution. That war with Jason lasted how long? HOW LONG?!?!!!
Years, Rob... years of pain and heart ache to get a measure of
retribution for broken vows. What did you accept as payment for that
hurt? A tin plate on a leather strap... that's how cheap you are,
Cole.
[The man steps forward, his chuckle distorted through the echo chamber
of modern technology. He approaches the camera, lifting a gloved hand
with a photograph of Cole in his youth... holding the AWMC title.]
MO: Did it feel as good as seeing your wife walk down this aisle? Do
you even remember that day? You choked up and felt a lump in your
chest, your breath trapped inside for the briefest of moments as she
walked down that aisle and laid her eyes on you. Surrounded by
friends and family, they didn't even matter because she was the only
thing you wanted in your life at that moment. You felt the presence
of God within you, Robert... you felt glory and joy.
DID THIS EVEN MATTER?!?!!!
You threw away that memory, Rob... you threw it away and replaced it
with a tin plate and a cheap pop. Do you even know who you are
anymore?
[The image clicks off.]
____ _ ___ __
/ __ \ | / / | / /
/ /_/ / | / /| | /| / /
/ ____/| |/ / | |/ |/ /
/_/ |___/ |__/|__/
[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 the Scottrade Center, St. Louis, Missouri.
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. "MARSHALL WELCOME TO THE BIG LEAGUES" /
"WELCOME BACK MASKED OUTLAW YOU HAVE STYLE" / "WE WANT A DANCE OFF!" /
"PVWRESTLING.ORG" / "VOTE IN THE JTF MID YEARS!/
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~!__"
[The fireworks get a huge pop from the fans as we cut to ringside
where the broadcasting table is set up. There are two familiar faces
behind the table. On the left is hip, Chip Lester. Chip has on a
PVW Polo design shirt. To the right is former wrestling veteran and
broadcasting legend, "Fabulous" Fred Hoyle. Hoyle has on a black
button up SSN shirt.]
CL: Once again, thank you for being with us tonight on SSN! We're in
St. Louis, live and in color. Coming off a hot ending to Damage
Control tonight looks to be _no_ different. I am Chip Lester and as
usual my partner in crime the man who claims to have the million
dollar
voice - Fred Hoyle.
FH: "Fabulous" Fred Hoyle to the people at home ...
CL: My apologies Fred.
FH: You aren't the brightest bulb in the box so you are forgiven
Lester.
CL: We already had chilling words from the returning Masked Outlaw.
He laid it out for our champion Rob Cole who is teaming up with SSN's
latest acquisition Alex Martinez.
FH: Can you find a tougher team in all of wrestling Lester?
CL: Their opponents Justin Cruise and Chase Williams isn't anything to
lift your nose at Fred.
FH: I guess ... Chase Williams isn't himself anymore and he signed a
death wish last Heatwave when he called out big Alex himself. I don't
know what to say about the former champion anymore.
CL: Perhaps he has finally found himself. And the number one
contender in Justin Cruise isn't anything to laugh at.
FH: Number one contender? HA! Rick Marley has the Called Shot and in
my eyes he could cash that in at any time up until End Game so that
makes him the number one contender.
CL: That may be true, but at Shattered Dreams no matter what Justin
Cruise will go head to head with Rob Cole. His win at Boiling Point
inked that, but before we make it there we have a jammed pack lineup
to get to tonight.
FH: How about that War of the four ... Or Tradition III tag team
title shot ..
CL: Then there is Tommy Ryder and Mark Masterson ... Will Geddings and
Rock Marley ...
FH: Oh! Don't forget Demon Shadow v. Doc Holliday! The only thing
this card is missing is Gibson Hayes.
CL: Well, right now, we have a major debut. A double debut, of sorts.
Last week, Dr. Mal Practice MD decided to take matters into his own
hands in procuring a PVW contract for himself as well as his longtime
tag team partner, Dr. Ohno Ow. The young men he violently cheated for
that have been granted an opportunity to regain that roster spot by
wrestling Mal and Ohno, collectively known as Physicians Advo... that
team name is too darn long... PAIN, here for it this week.
FH: Which is a glorified execution, since Mark Workman has a fractured
patella and PAIN has a collective three decade experience edge over
Mark II. Plus, with Todd Johnstone as their manager now? Can you say
'unstoppable'? This match will take four minutes tops. And that's
assuming the doctors take their time getting to the ring.
CL: I don't know about that. As we saw on Burning Effect, Ohno Ow
is... not the man he was two years ago. He seems to have his head in
the stars, with his mildly successful Hong Kong film career...
FH: MILDLY?! Are you joking? Hollywood is begging Ohno to come in
and run that derelict fossil Jackie Chan out of town! He's the
hottest property in film since Bruce Campbell!
CL: I have actually learned that Ohno, while he really HAS gotten some
good exposure in Hong Kong cinema, is not a major star by any stretch
of the imagnation. Except his own imagination, obviously.
FH: Well, Gibson Hayes personally told me that Ohno Ow is the greatest
movie star of all time. And that makes it true. PVW is unbelievably
lucky to have PAIN grace our lineup. Mal and Ohno are like the Albert
Einstein and John Wayne of our times, Chip. The entire human race is
better off for these great humanitarians.
CL: Einstein and John Wayne, indeed. Right now, Dean Hayes is
standing by with Todd "The Rod" Johnstone along with PAIN!
[Backstage, "Swingin'" Dean Hayes is indeed at the interview area
with... two of the aforementioned individuals. Todd is dressed to the
nines in a car accident gray suit with eye poke secretion green dress
pants accenting his roadkill ruby dress shirt and rotten salad brown
tie along with his brown belt from Sears. Nearby him is Dr. Mal
Practice MD, one of the most unique-looking individuals in wrestling.
He is a full six-nine and three-fourty-seven pounds of muscle, fat,
and bone. He has a bizarre salt-and-pepper flattop that noone has
seen outside of a comic book since 1956, a pencil-thin mustache, big
bushy eyebrows, and a wide face. Mal wears white full-length tights
with a large red cross on the right leg and a blue caudecus on the
left leg, and white laceless boots; these are visible through his open
white labcoat. He's sporting a headmirror, and his black leather
doctor's bag. He's also sporting a very nervous and upset
expression.]
"Swingin'" Dean Hayes: Thank you, Chip. With me at this time: the
manager, Todd "The Rod" Johnstone alongside Dr. Mal Practice MD. But
I've got to ask, Todd, where is Dr. Ohno Ow?
Todd "The Rod" Johnstone: Listen merkin breath, you just shut your yap
and listen. Ow will be here, mark my words. He is ready to take his
career to the next level and take the United States by storm.
Meanwhile you're hosting a two-bit, light in the loafers Loveline for
the chronicly chaffed. Mal, get on the horn to your old partner.
[Mal pulls a Motorola cellphone out of his bag (PRODUCT PLACEMENT
FTW!) and starts dialing.]
Dr. Mal Practice MD: He doesn't return my calls, he hasn't been by the
Institute... oh, here we go... Violet! Where's Ohno? ... ...
You're kidding. ... ... WE HAVE A MATCH IN TWO MINUTES! ... I
KNOW! ... ... ... Give him the phone. ... TELL HIM TO TAKE THE
PHONE. ... ... TELL HIM TO TAKE THE PHONE OR I WILL HIT HIM UNTIL
HE THINKS HE'S JAPANESE. ... ... ... Ohno! We have a match! ...
NOW! RIGHT NOW! ... ... I DON'T CARE WHO WAS AT THE PARTY! GET
HERE NOW! ... ... ... Yes, they have coffee, what the... ... Fine.
HURRY! ... ... NO, YOU CAN GET YOUR PEDICURE AFTER THE MATCH! ...
... Okay, good. I'll stall them. Hurry!
[Mal hangs up, and looks over at Dean.]
Dr. Mal: Alright, Dan, we can start the interview now.
DH: That's Dean, and we've been rolling for a minute now.
Dr. Mal: Oh! Well, then.
[Abruptly, Mal switches from his anxious expression to his big fake
smile. He oozes insincerity as he begins his spiel.]
Dr. Mal: Greetings once again to all of my devoted Practisites! Yes,
tonight is the long awaited world redebut of everyone's favorite tag
team of all time, the Physicians Advocating Innovative Neoprocedures.
Myself and Dr. Ohno Ow have re-emerged from our long hiatus, but trust
me when I say that we have not been idle. We have cured many diseases,
healed countless suffering souls, and slaved night and day to make the
world a better place to live in. And now we've come back by popular
demand, to the industry where we perfected many of our revolutionary
theraputic techniques!
TJ: Dr. Practice once removed an infestation of Romani from the pits
of Canton, Ohio and adjusted my spine after a "suspicious" accident
that occurred while working in Biloxi, the result of years of helping
to carry lesser worms to greater heights.
Dr. Mal: That's right, Todd. The world would be a lesser place
without a man of your character, and that is why Dr. Ow and myself are
here tonight. We are going to heal a young man who, as I understand
it, slipped on a banana peel last week and hurt his knee!
DH: Wait a minute! You've done nothing but lie for the past sixty
seconds! You're not back by popular demand, you came back to pursue a
vendetta against the Wild Cards! Mark Workman didn't slip on a banana
peel, you hit him in the knee with a ball pein hammer! And Ohno Ow
isn't even in the arena!
[Johnstone gets right in Dean's face, phlegm flying fast and furious.]
TJ: Shut your flaps you dung chugging beetle. You ask questions I let
you ask unless you want to end up like that one stain who hosts Damage
Control. *Johnstone takes a puff of his cigar and blows it in Dean's
face* You think this little prohibition will protect your over stuffed
ass? You still have to go to your car, you still have to fill up for
gas or what ever trucker that is going to fill the void your daddy
left after he went after younger, more nubile children. Choke on a
severed yak [TV EDIT] and think before you open that crusted over trap
of yours.
Dr. Mal: Now, now, Todd. I realize that Don...
DH: DEAN!
Dr. Mal: ...I know what your name is, Dennis. Danny Daniels told me a
half-hour ago. Anyway, I realize that Dirk here is easily confused by
the truth. After all, there IS a conspiracy.
[Suddenly, Gibson Hayes walks on screen, ten feet in front of Dean,
Todd, and Mal, and begins talking.]
GH: See? There's the "other Hayes". He's the one who was supposed to
be pinned but I was onto their conspiracy! PVW, SSN, the United
Nations, Dick Cheney, they're all in on it! I won't stand for this
sort of chicanery, AMERICA won't stand for this sort of tangled web of
vile intentions! Rise up and shout to the heavens that Gibson
Hayes shall not be marginalized! Gibson Hayes will not be pushed
aside! Gibson Hayes will not be hoodwinked! Gibson Hayes will not be
bamboozled! Gibson Hayes /WILL/ prevail! PVW's foreign masters will
not get the best of America's best face, me, Gibson Hayes!
[Gibson flashes the double victory Nixon deuce and just as abruptly as
he arrived, Gibson leaves.]
Dr. Mal: ...and don't think for a moment that they're not all in
cahoots with the unAmerican weasels in Washington who are trying to
use the national debt to sell our nation to the Japanese.
Fortunately, your good close personal friend Dr. Mal is
unmoved by the constant threats made on my life and livelihood, such
as the ridiculous theory that PAIN's roster spot is actually on the
line tonight. In fact, for the next twenty minutes, I will happily
explain how...
FH: You don't have twenty minutes! Your interview time ran out thirty
seconds ago! Let's go back to ringside with Chip and Fred for the
introductions to the next match.
Dr. Mal: ...wait, you can't cut now! We have to stall for...
[And we cut to the arena, where "Rocket" by Def Leppard is playing
over the PA. The fans cheer as two young men are heading down the
aisle to the ring. Mark Carney is a well-built young man with knee-
length shiny sapphire-blue trunks with a marble pattern, and blue
wrestling boots. He has short black hair in a Caesar haircut, is
clean-shaven, and wears athletic tape around his wrists. Mark Workman
sports full-length royal blue trunks, with a dark blue kneepad on his
right knee, and a kneebrace on his right knee... the same knee that
Dr. Mal Practice smacked with a ball pein hammer on the last show. He
has blue wrestling boots, taped wrists, and a black short hair.
The youngsters are slapping hands with the fans all the way down the
aisle.]
CL: Do you believe that? Ohno Ow isn't even HERE! Mal may have to
wrestle this match alone!
FH: No! We have to postpone the match for later!
CL: Not bloody likely! And after that cheap shot last week, you know
these two young men will relish the chance to get back at that no-good
Practice.
[Workman and Carney are now circling the ring, slapping hands the
entire way. They are clearly savoring the spotlight in this, their
first big break.]
FH: Well these two young men showed on the last Heatwave that they're
ot-nay oo-tay right-bay. And they're showing it again. They're
taking their sweet time pandering to the fans, when they should have
jumped in the ring and got started as soon as possible. Who knows
when Ohno Ow may get here? If he arrives in time, these kids
have zero chance.
[The two young men enter the ring in unison, and have only a moment to
soak in the spotlight before "Rocket fades out... replaced by one of
the most familiar themes in wrestling.
"Humanitarian", Mal's altered-lyrics copy of "Real American" by Rick
Derringer, kicks up over the PA to the boos of the capacity crowd.
The big screen starts playing PAIN's classic entrance video, an
American flag flying, followed by scenes of Mal and Ohno at a ticker
tape parade (seemingly oblivious to the fact that the onlookers are
throwing garbage at them) and match clips. The lyrics start:
MUSIC: #When it comes crashing down and it hurts inside..
#Just give Mal a call and you'll be alright...
#If you hurt your head and you hurt your spine...
#Mal will fix it up and it'll all be fine...
[And... nobody coming out yet. The announcers are speaking during
this time.]
CL: Well, no sign of Mal. He's obviously stalling for as much time as
he can get.
FH: I don't know why. He can probably win this match by himself.
CL: Don't take Mark II lightly. They are hungry, in shape, and have
to be motivated after last week... here we go! Here comes... PAIN?
[Out from behind the curtain come Todd "The Rod" Johnstone, Dr. Mal
Practice MD, and a man wearing a lab coat and an eye patch.
Unfortunately, that's Gibson Hayes.
The fans boo the obvious attempt at deception, and more so when Mal
informs Gibson that he's got the patch on the wrong eye. It also
doesn't help that Gibson has his hair in an afro. Gibson, who is
already struggling with the fact that this is one of Mal's coats and
is thus WAY too big for him, fumbles with the eyepatch a bit before
getting it on the correct eye. The threesome then head down the aisle
as the chorus to "Humanitarian" starts.]
(chorus)
#MAL IS A HU-MAN-I-TARIAN!!
#Ending the pain of every man!
#MAL IS A HU-MAN-I-TARIAN!!
#Doing what's right, to save your life!
CL: THAT IS _NOT_ OHNO OW!
FH: Prove it.
CL: WHAT?! That's Gibson Hayes! He looks NOTHING like Ohno Ow!
FH: Ohno's in movies, remember? He could easily be in training for
the lead in the inevitable Gibson Hayes Story, which would be the
greatest docudrama in...
CL: THEY'RE NOT EVEN REMOTELY THE SAME COLOR!
FH: Trick photography.
CL: ...
[As they make their way down the aisle, Dr. Mal Practice is smiling,
waving, and trying to shake hands with many of the fans, who are
blowing him off and throwing things. Gibson, for his part, is making
a series of extraoridnarily bad fake martial arts poses that manage to
emphasize that he has no idea what he is doing. Todd is being Todd,
which means he's berating everything that moves.
Dr. Mal and Dr. GibsOw finally reach the ring, as the crowd continues
to jeer vehemently. Workman and Carney are petitioning referee Duke
Martin as Mal and Gibson keep showboating. Johnstone approaches
Martin, and argues with him and the opposing tag team.]
#Don't let the AMA tell you that he's wrong...
#Cuz you won't be in pain for very long...
#Mal knows what is good for you, you see...
#He'll put you right out of your misery...
[The music cuts right before the second chorus.]
CL: There's no way that Duke Martin can let this stand. PVW has to
approve of a surrogate in cases like this... and YES! MARTIN IS
EJECTING HAYES!
[The fans burst into loud cheers as Duke Martin makes the well-known
ejection signal to Hayes, who starts going bananas! Mal rushes in and
shoves Martin, who shoves him back and puts the warning finger in his
face. Todd Johnson spins Martin around and screams every invective in
the English language directly into Duke's eardrum, but the referee
will have none of it. Carney and Workman lead the cheers as the fans
start chanting the famous chorus to "Goodbye" by Cream.]
Crowd: "NA-NA NA NA... NA-NA NA NA... HEY HEY HEY... GOOD-BYE!
NA-NA NA NA... NA-NA NA NA... HEY HEY HEY... GOOD-BYE!
NA-NA NA NA... NA-NA NA NA... HEY HEY HEY... GOOD-BYE!"
FH: THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! THERE IS NO REASON NOT TO LET GIBSON SUB FOR
OW!
CL: Ohno Ow signed the contract, and this is a roster spot challenge!
No substitution allowed, and Todd Johnstone is about to have an
anurism! Duke Martin putting the foot down, and Gibson Hayes is on
his way back to the dressing room! Herk Douglas with the
introductions!
Herk Douglas: OUR OPENING CONTEST IS SET FOR ONE FALL AND A FIFTEEN
MINUTE TIME LIMIT! IT IS A ROSTER SPOT CHALLENGE MATCH! THE WINNING
TEAM WILL HAVE A TAG TEAM CONTRACT WITH PHOENIX VALLEY WRESTLING, AND
THE LOSING TEAM WILL BE RELEASED!
INTRODUCING FIRST, THE MANAGER... TODD "THE ROD" JOHNSTONE!
[BOO!]
HE REPRESENTS... FROM THE KEVORKIAN INSTITUTE OF PAINLESS MEDICINE...
AT A TOTAL COMBINED WEIGHT OF FIVE HUNDRED SIXTY-EIGHT POUNDS...
THE TEAM OF DR. MAL PRACTICE MD AND DR. OHNO OW... THE
PHYSICIANS ADVOCATING INNOVATIVE NEOPROCEDURES... OTHERWISE
KNOWN AS... __P. A. I. N.__!
[The fans give a loud mixed response. Many are cheering because Mal
and Todd are extremely frustrated and angry right now, being as
they're missing Ohno at the
moment.]
HD: THEIR OPPONENTS... FROM MANCHESTER, NEW HAMPSHIRE AND MUSCATINE,
IOWA RESPECTIVELY... AT A TOTAL COMBINED WEIGHT OF FOUR HUNDRED AND
NINETY-FOUR POUNDS...
THE TEAM OF MARK WORKMAN AND MARK CARNEY...
THEY ARE __M A R K II__!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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06.02.09 Heatwave
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Tag Team Action:
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Pain v. Mark II
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*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: We're underway, and I wonder who's starting the match for PAIN?
FH: Very funny. Workman attacking Mal, and gets his eyes raked. It's
not like Mal wasn't expecting that.
[Indeed, Mal hasn't even shed his labcoat yet... but now he does, and
starts choking Workman with it! The fans boo as Martin lays on a
count.]
CL: HEY! Isn't there a foriegn objects rule in effect?
FH: Todd's men wear only Made In The USA materials! Also, that's a
piece of clothing. Technically a rules violation to choke with it,
not technically a foriegn object. That's stated in the rules.
CL: I figured there'd be some loophole. Practice ditches the coat,
and locks on a headlock. Beautiful takedown, and Practice leaning all
three-fourty seven down on the youngster out of Manchester, New
Hampshire. Out of the headlock, and into a half-nelson... Mal
grinding Workman's face into the mat, putting his weight on his
back, hooking the other arm, and just immobilizing him. No mystery
what he's doing here, Fred. He's stalling for time.
FH: That's right, and there is no way in hell Mark Workman is going to
do a thing about it. Before he went to medical school, Malus Herbert
was a three year starter at the University of Iowa during the
eighties. That means he was trained by Dan Gable. The list of guys
with better amateur credentials than Mal in the entire sport is fairly
small. Workman can't even move him, look at that.
CL: True. Todd Johnstone is on the cell phone, and Mal's looking over
to him anxiously. Workman finally getting off of his back... you
probably didn't know this, Fred, but he's a state high school
wrestling champion in his own right, and wrestled at Hobart
University.
FH: You're comparing Hobart to IOWA? Do you know anything about
college wrestling?
CL: I know that Workman just escaped! Quick move there, getting Mal's
weight off of him! Workman up to his feet, and a big chop hits a
rising Practice! And another! And... Practice counters the third.
FH: Fireman's carry. Grounded front facelock. Nope, Iowa's gonna
school Hobart all night.
[The fans are getting restless. While Mal's certainly showing good
technique, he's stalling and they know it. They boo the tactics.]
FH: Classy crowd. The man uses the cleanest, purest wrestling
possible and they boo. What is the excuse gonna be if he whacks
someone with the doctor's bag?
CL: For now, Practice is wrestling smart. The fans may think it is
boring, but this is what he has to do. And... oh! So much for clean
wrestling! Practice with a thumb to the throat as Workman was
fighting his way up to his feet! And now he's going for the knee...
Mal with a single-leg takedown, and applying a kneebar on the
injured leg of Workman... who grabs the ropes immediately! Duke
Martin laying on the count to break the hold.
[Martin gives Mal a count of five. Practice refuses to break the
hold! The crowd boos as Martin tries to pull Practice off of
Workman!]
CL: COME ON! That was a five count! Break it!
FH: He's trying to break it! He tried to break it last week, too!
CL: THE HOLD! Finally, Practice letting go. Duke Martin being
lenient considering the stakes, but that was abusive on Mal's part!
FH: Two-on-one? He's gonna do everything he can.
CL: Practice measuring Workman, and a big kick to that injured left
knee, laying his nearly three-hundred fifty pounds into him. And
another impressive amateur takedown... beautiful duckunder half-suplex
by Practice, you don't see that in the pros often. Some big men
display amazing speed and agility for their size, but Practice isn't
one of them. He's not athletic, but what amazes you is the technical
prowess.
FH: Again I remind you, this is a Gable protege. He's got a heel
hook, trying to twist that knee of Workman until that fractured
kneecap gets jammed in someplace. If that happens, the kid'll submit
immediately, I guarantee that.
CL: Workman rolls underneath! And uses his other leg to kick Practice
off! Nice counter, and the young man from New Hampshire up... runs
and clotheslines the doctor!
FH: Who barely moves. Size difference is going to make that approach
useless.
CL: Workman keeps running... and a blind tag! Carney slapped Workman
on the back, and Mal didn't see it because Workman had just run behind
him! High cross body by Workman... CAUGHT BY PRACTICE!
FH: LOOK UP, MAL!
[There is a big cheer as Mark Carney enters the ring by climbing over
the ropes onto the second turnbuckle, and launching himself into a
shoulderblock! He hits Workman in the back, and since Mal had Workman
in the slam position, this drives Workman into Mal, who falls flat on
his back with a satisfying THUD.]
CL: CARNEY OFF THE SECOND ROPE SMASHES HIS PARTNER IN THE BACK,
DRIVING PRACTICE TO THE CANVAS!
FH: What a cheap shot! It's two-on-one! You shouldn't be allowed to
doubleteam if it's two-on-one!
CL: This isn't a handicap match, Fred. If Ohno Ow had shown up, it
wouldn't BE two on one!
FH: If the conspiracy hadn't blocked Gibson from being a surrogate, it
wouldn't be either!
CL: Carney whipping Practice to the ropes, and a big dropkick rocks
the doc! This is what Mal cannot afford! He doesn't have the stamina
to be running around in a match where he can't tag out! A second
dropkick and Practice is reeling! Carney up again, and a hiptoss...
FH: No chance! Mal put the brakes on and blocked the hiptoss by
hooking his arms!
CL: AND A BRUTAL STANDING LARIAT ABOUT TAKES CARNEY'S HEAD OFF!
FH: That was stiffer than a month-old corpse, and again the experience
advantage comes in.
CL: Mal lifting up Carney, and picks him up for a back suplex...
Carney flips over him and lands on his feet! What a maneuver! And
another blind tag as Mal is turning around! Practice focusing on
Carney, grabs him, and a big punch to the gut... but Workman
sideswipes him with a running forearm! He took him offguard...
AND A DOUBLE DROPKICK BY MARK II DROPS MAL FLAT!
[Now solidly behind the youngsters, the crowd cheers the classic
double-team maneuver!]
FH: Come on! Zero Tolerance! DQ them!
CL: Workman hopping up to the second rope, and down with an
elbowsmash! The youngsters are using their speed edge now, and
Practice is going to wear out if he doesn't put an end to that in a
hurry.
FH: The onus is still on them to put him away, and I don't know how
they think they're gonna do that.
CL: Workman with the front facelock, quick tag to Carney. Mal backed
up into the corner, and now both members of Mark II on the facelock...
CAN THEY GET HIM UP?!
FH: NO WAY!
[The two rookies need two attempts, but they get the massive form of
Dr. Mal up and vertical, coming down with a THUNDEROUS double vertical
suplex! The crowd cheers the accomplishment!]
CL: Mal not standing up to the double-team real well, and... what the
heck is this?!
[The crowd stands on their feet as a white stretch limosuine appears
at the top of the aisle, heading slowly down to ringside.]
FH: I dunno, but that's a Rolls Royce limosuine. That ain't a cheapo
rental from Junior Proms R' Us. Whoever is in that thing is a big-
shot.
CL: Or thinks they are. Mark II not being distracted, as Workman
elevates Carney down onto Practice with an assisted high-elevation
splash! COVER!
ONE!
TWO!
CL: Mal kicks out just in time... he's in trouble now for sure! Quick
tag back to Workman, and Mark II is firing on all cylinders. The two-
on-one advantage is too much!
FH: Not a problem! It's two-on-one no longer! Look who's in the
limo!
[The door to the limo opens, and out jumps a perky Chinese girl with
dreadlocks, camouflage pants, and a red flannel shirt of all things.
It's the girl that was identified on Burning Effect as Meili. Meili
comes skipping out of the limo, and stares up at the fans in
attendance, starry eyed for a moment, claps with glee, and then runs
back over to the limo, as Ohno casually, and far too slowly under the
circumstances, exits the limo. Ohno is dressed in black silk pants
and a T-buttoned jacket, with distinct green jade cufflinks, and on
his face he is wearing what looks to be a very expensive pair of
sunglasses, though we can still see the strap of his eye patch running
around his head to his eye, which makes them look a little out of
place on him. Ohno gets out of the limo and raises his hands as if to
say "I'm here!", to which the crowd gives a mixture of boos and
laughs. Ohno seems oblivious to this, however, as he begins waving
and blowing kisses to the crowd. As Ohno showboats to the crowd,
doing several rather impressive looking martial arts moves, that
actually do get a bit of applause from some of the nearby fans, his
other female companion exits the limo in a huff. Wearing a women's
business suit and sunglasses... almost as if she's afraid of being
recognized at the moment, Violet shakes her head and sighs as she
looks at the ring, then at Ohno who is paying no attention to what is
actually going on.]
CL: OHNO OW IS HERE! But... he's got to get to the ring! Mal's in
bad shape!
FH: C'mon, Ohno! Hustle!
CL: Mal gets up, and Carney hooks him... RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP AS WORKMAN
SUNSET FLIPS PRACTICE! WHAT A COMBO AND A PIN!
FH: HURRY, OHNO!
ONE!
TWO!
THR...
[The crowd jumps, as the three-count comes down...]
CL: WAS THAT THREE?!
FH: NO, SHOULDER UP AT THE LAST INSTANT! And Ohno Ow is signing
autographs?! What the HELL?
[Yes, in fact, a few of the ringside fans are getting autographs from
Ohno Ow, and Ohno seems to be quite fan friendly, as he signs
autographs in poses for some pictures with the fans. As he does this
Violet storms over to Ohno and taps him on the shouler, without
looking he absent mindedly signs Violet's shirt, apparently
mistakening her for one of the fans, much to her annoyance.]
CL: Violet Yang is the name of the lady in the suit, and she's
apparently the only one in Ow's entourage with her head in the game as
Mal is double- teamed off of another tag! Mark Workman off the
ropes... ENZUIGIRI ON PRACTICE DRIVES HIM INTO A SMALL PACKAGE BY
CARNEY!
FH: OH NO!
ONE!
CL: He's still not paying attention!
FH: AUGH!
TWO!
THR...
[Again, the crowd is ready to explode... until the ref put up two
fingers as Mal does escape at the last moment.]
CL: ANOTHER NEAR FALL!
FH: This would be the biggest travesty in the history of travesties!
Ohno Ow's movie career has gone directly to his head! He's more
interested in...
[Ohno is now talking with a pair of female fans in baby-Ts, one of
whom is holding a sign that says "Ohno, I'm ready for my close-up".
Currently, one of them one of them has turned around, and appears to
be asking Ohno to sign her, uh.... lower back. ;p The other is
giggling as she does some flirtacious versions of martial arts
poses with Ohno. Violet is standing motionless, though her face is
beginning to turn a previously undiscovered shade of red, as Johnston
storms over to Ohno, yelling at him to get to forget the women and get
to the ring... but in a much less pleasant way than that.]
FH: ...okay, I can understand being interested in THAT, but after the
match! C'mon!
CL: This looks bad for Practice, as another tag by Mark II! They're
signaling something... this could be their finisher!
FH: NO! NOT THE...
[Carney and Workman pick Mal up as if for a double slam, and drive him
down... his back lands on Carney's knee, and his neck on Workman's
knee. The combination neckbreaker-backbreaker that is known the world
over as:]
CL: ...__BECKBREAKER__!
FH: I'm gonna be ill. For so many reasons.
CL: THERE'S THE COVER! THIS HAS TO BE IT... BUT TODD JOHNSTONE IS
DISTRACTING THE REFEREE!
FH: THANK YOU, TODD!
CL: BUT WORKMAN WITH A HIGH CROSS BODY KNOCKS TODD OFF THE APRON!
WORKMAN OVER THE TOP AS JOHNSTONE FALLS OFF THE APRON... AND HE
CRASHES INTO OHNO OW!
[Indeed, young Mark Workman launches himself too fast. Todd just sort
of plops onto the apron and slowly slides off to the floor, but
Workman's momentum takes him right past the mouthy manager and into
Ow, who staggers forward a bit. Ohno's sunglasses pop off, hit the
barricade, and break in two.
Without the sunglasses we can now clearly see an eyepatch over one of
Ohno's eyes. Ohno stands for a moment as if in shock, and Violet,
seeing an opportunity, simply points at the ring and says "HE did it."
Ohno cracks his knuckles for a moment as his hands slowly make fists,
and his previously happy fun loving expression darkens, he then whips
his head around giving Workman a thousand yard stare.
As referee Duke Martin goes to count the pin, Mark Workman hops to his
feet...]
*CRAAACK!*
[...and is drilled in the face with a front roundhouse kick by Ow, who
is incensed!]
ONE!
CL: OW HAS SNAPPED!
FH: But he's after Workman! He still doesn't see Mal being pinned!
TWO!
FH: OH NO! NOONE SURVIVES THE BECKBREAKER!
THR...!
[The crowd again cheers... prematurely! Mal kicks out!]
CL: PRACTICE KICKS OUT! Carney can't believe it!
FH: That just proves that he is a medical genius! He must have healed
his broken beck!
CL: Okay, now you're just being silly.
FH: No, now Mark Workman is being silly, because Ohno Ow just knocked
him silly! He just bashes his face in with his knee, and did some
crazy martial- arts-throwy-thing into the crowd!
CL: Carney picking up Mal, and locks on the headlock... twirling the
finger! Runs across the ring... BULLDOG... NO!
[HEAD-DROPPING HEEL POP!]
FH: SEE YA, JUNIOR!
CL: BACKDROP DRIVER! Practice with the belly-to-back suplex counter,
right on Carney's HEAD! Mal isn't moving... he's been worn out by the
two-on- one with his much, much, MUCH younger opponents. Practice is
north of 45 years of age, Fred. He doesn't have the stamina to be on
the wrong end of a handicap match!
FH: True, but experience trumps beauty. After getting spiked straight
on his bean, Mark Carney might not be so handsome anymore.
CL: GOOD NIGHT! Ohno Ow ran and dropkicked the ring barricade... and
Mark Workman's FACE was right on the other side of it!
FH: Neither one of these kids are going to be pretty.
CL: Ow up on the apron... and angrily demanding to be tagged in. As
if he has any right to be angry! He shows up six minutes into the
match, takes forever to get to the ring while his partner suffered
three near-falls...
FH: They broke his sunglasses, Chip. You do NOT break a movie star's
sunglasses. They're worth more than Workman and Carney combined!
CL: Practice and Carney both staggering up... Carney shoots in, but
Mal blatantly thumbs him in the eye, falls backwards, and makes the
tag! Ohno Ow is the legal man!
FH: The very-pissed-off and fresh-as-a-daisy legal man.
CL: Ow with a punch... combination of punches, kicks... it's hard to
call with this rapid-fire striking style! He finishes the combo off
with a jumping spin kick that takes Carney off his feet!
FH: You can forget trying to stand up and throw punches with Ohno Ow.
He'll kick you eighty-seven times in the face before you ball your
fist.
CL: Mark Carney getting up... BIG AXE KICK CRASHES DOWN ACROSS HIS
SHOULDERS! Ow wasting no time going to the heavy artillery. Ohno
picking up Carney, and a shoulderthrow... WHAT WAS THAT?!
[The crowd gives another big-move reaction as Ohno sits out in the
middle of his shoulderthrow... driving Carney straight down head-first
to the canvas instead of flipping all the way over onto his back!]
FH: That? That was Mark Carney landing straight on his melon for the
second time in the past minute. If he didn't have a concussion
before, he might now. But not to worry, watch... PAIN'll cure him.
For good.
CL: Ohno lifting Carney, twists the arm... OH NO!
FH: That's his name.
CL: HE KICKED HIM IN THE THROAT! WHAT WAS THAT?
[As the crowd howls in protest, Ow uses the armwringer to short-arm
Carney into a quick thrust kick into the throat, with Ohno's toes
pointing straight in. Carney rolls on the mat desperately clutching
his neck, as Ow directly follows up with some big exaggerated "martial
arts" posing.]
FH: Ha ha... Ohno must have wanted it to be "Quiet On The Set".
Carney won't be talking for weeks!
CL: That should be a disqualification! Mal calling for Ohno... tag
made! Carney is helpless after that vile shot to the throat!
FH: Hey, Mark II thought it was cool to mercilessly double-team Mal
when HIS partner was gone! Well, Workman is still out of it on the
floor. So this is only fair.
CL: Practice hooks up Carney by the head and shoulder... this is their
move!
[Mal lifts for a T-Bone Chokeslam/Rock Bottom/Uranage-without-the-
pivot, and as Carney is up in the air, Ohno jumps in and grabs his
head, spiking it down with a jumping neckbreaker as Mal plants him!
The fans boo the extraneous maneuver on the already-beaten man.]
FH: __BILL 'EM__!
CL: They probably will.
FH: That's the move's name... but yeah. Mal with the very classy
cover.
[And by "classy", he mans "put one foot on the guy's chest and flex
his musc... uh, arms".]
ONE!
TWO!
THREE!
*DING*DING*DING*
["Humanitarian" starts up again, as the crowd expresses displeasure.
Mal turns to Ohno to confront him about his lateness, but Ow is
already back outside signing autographs and posing for pictures (real
and imaginary). Todd Johnstone is busily whipping Mark Workman with
his Brown Belt From Sears(tm) for daring to knock him down.]
CL: PAIN wins it, and keeps the contract. But can this team even
function now that Ohno Ow is... well, he's not the same man. Does he
even consider himself a doctor anymore?
FH: Good point. They might have to change the team name to Physicians
And Thespians Collectively Advocating Lusterous Notoriety And
Neoprocedures!
CL: ...let's not.
[Mal sighs, then turns to the aisleway. And suddenly, he stops and
points. The fans start cheering as the white limosuine is no longer
unattended.
"The Gambler" Judd Marley is standing through the open moon roof, as
"Black" Jack Baldwin is helpfully escorting the chauffeur out of the
driver's seat and over the railing. Ohno turns the corner, still
absorbed in the fans... and looks up just in time to see Baldwin enter
his limo, and pull away!]
FH: HEY! THE WILD CARDS ARE STEALING THE LIMO!
CL: Ohno Ow looks like he's just seen a ghost!
FH: No, he looks like Jack Baldwin, the worst driver in the history of
the wheel, just got behind the wheel of his Rolls Royce limosuine!
[And is Fred exaggerating? Maybe not, as Jack manages to crash the
limo into the back wall as he misses the big, wide entranceway
entirely. Ohno screams in protest, as Marley makes a variety of
exasperated comments down through the moon roof to Baldwin. The limo
jerks backwards, and Marley ducks down as the limo shoots through
the entrance... then stops halfway through as Jack hits something
ELSE. Ohno runs down the aisle after the limo, but Baldwin manages to
pull it backstage. Mal and Todd chase after Ohno, who chases after
the limo.]
CL: That was nuts.
FH: With PAIN in town, and after the Wild Cards? Get used to things
being nuts. It'll be wild, but not for long. We'll never hear that
catchphrase again once Mal and Ohno give those two nimrods a
trachectomy.
CL: Fans, we're going to go to the back. Apparently there's a
disturbance.
[Cut abruptly to the backstage area, where William Craven is exiting a
locker room. The door swings squeakily all the way over, the knob
hitting the concrete on the inside of the room and staying there.
Bill holds a small bundle of cloth, mostly hidden, underneath his left
arm.]
WC: Everything's fine. I'm okay. Gonna go get a burger. Fine.
[Turning to depart, Craven lets the world see into the room. Inside,
benches are smashed, lockers toppled, and some of them are caved in.
It looks like a mad bull went on a rampage.]
CL: What does he have? Craven looking ... really disturbed.
FH: That's normal, if you ask me, but why would he destroy an entire
locker room? You don't suppose someone's under all that wreckage, do
you?
CL: God, I hope not.
FH: Something has upset Bill and your guess is as good as mine. He is
set to be involved in that war of the four match later on tonight and
when you add a pissed off William Craven things can get a little out
of hand.
CL: Marcus Manson has to be licking his chops. Maybe the Widowmakers
were behind this?
FH: I have no doubt. This has Marley written all over it.
CL: Folks Tradition III is right around the corner and one match that
is set on the cards is Tommy Ryder and Nick Wright once and for all.
These two have been at each others throats for a year now. Blood has
been spilt and they are past the boiling point.
FH: It's time for the Phenom Killer to put an end to this Tommy Ryder.
CL: Next we have The Phenom and the other Made Man, Mark Masterson.
FH: Masterson is all business. He doesn't let things get personal
like Nick Wright. Tonight he has a job to do and you can bet he will.
HD: Introducing first ... From Norfolk, Virginia! Standing at five
foot nine and weighing in at one hundred and ninety five pounds ...
Accompanied to the ring by "Lady" Laurel Levinger ...
"THE PHENOM" TOMMY RYDER !!!
["Obsession" by Animotion hits the PA system ...]
CL: Here comes PVW's self proclaimed woman's champion, "Lady" Laurel
Levinger! And that can only mean one thing?
FH: There are dozens of teenager boys locking their doors for alone
time?
[She walks down to ringside to present Tommy, posing with one arm
pointing to the entrance and the other in the air ...]
CL: It's time for THE PHENOM!
FH: Is that what they are calling it these days? In my youth we
called it the old tube sock and go ...
CL: Oh Jesus Fred.
[A slight pause and then ... "Headstrong" by Trapt rocks the Scottrade
Center as "The Phenom" Tommy Ryder hops out from the back. The fans
erupt in a massive pop for the youngster Trotting to the ring, he
pumps his arms and shakes hands with as many of the fans as he can
reach.]
CL: Tommy Ryder has been a thorn into the Widowmakers side for over a
year now. At Tradition III he finally has a chance to end it with
Nick Wright one on one in their final blow out.
FH: Poor Tommy Ryder. I hope he got a good look at the Tucson Kid.
Because he will have a bed right next to his old friend.
HD: His opponent ... Representing the Widowmakers Inc. Wrestling out
of Reno, Nevada... Standing at six feet four inches and weighing in
at two-hundred and forty pounds ... He is one half of the Made Men.
"POKERFACE" MARK MASTERSON!!!
["Lakini's Juice" by Live hits the PA system. Shortly after the music
starts, 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 flash bang-style pyrotechnics. He then makes
his way to the ring, focusing on the ring alone. Masterson holds out
his hands to be high-fived by the crowd, but his eyes don't leave the
ring.]
FH: This guy is all business Lester. Watch and learn how the
Widowmakers take out the trash. Ryder may not even make it to
Tradition III when the Pokerface is done with him.
CL: Ironically Nick Wright hasn't accompanied his partner tonight.
FH: That's because tonight it isn't personal. Masterson has a job and
he is going to do it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
One on One Action:
<><><><><><><><><>
Tommy Ryder v. Mark Masterson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: There is the sound of the bell!
FH: Break the chump and steal the girl. Nick Wright is waiting for
you in the back with a twelve back. Make it quick!
[Moments after the bell rings, "Party Hard" by Andrew W.K. hits the
speakers, and the other half of Made Men - Nick Wright appears in
street clothes at the top of the entryway. As Wright speaks,
Masterson takes a seat in a corner of the ring, and is completely non-
threatening.]
FH: I guess Nick Wright didn't want to wait the two minutes for this
to be over.
CL: Look at that smug smile across Nick Wright's face. You'd think
War Games would have taught this guy a lesson.
NW: Tommy... Laurel... good to see you guys again!
[The crowd boos and hisses at the appearance of the other half of the
Made Men.]
NW: As you may well know, I've not yet been cleared to wrestle.
That's a shame, because I really wanted to be down there in the ring,
or at least at ringside, tonight. But I got to thinking that it's not
fair to you guys that I get to sit here and recuperate while my
partner dismantles all that you are and care about in this world. So
Mark -- with a great personal sacrifice, showing his friendship -- has
decided to give you the match tonight.
[With that, Masterson stands up, moves to the center of the ring, and
lays down.]
CL: What are these two doing!?!?
FH: Looks like they are offering Tommy Ryder a free win. He should be
thanking his lucky stars and leaping on top of Masterson and stealing
this victory.
CL: Look at Tommy Ryder he doesn't trust the Made Men and rightfully
so!
[The fans boo loudly screaming "DON'T FALL FOR IT!"]
NW: All yours, Ryder. Go ahead. [His tone lowers, along with he
eyes.] We want you fresh for Tradition III, Ryder. You too, Laurel.
Anything less that perfect won't do.
[The microphone drops from his lips and he holds it down by his side
as he stares at the ring. Ryder's head turns from Wright to Masterson
and back again, and he kneels down next two Masterson, putting a
single hand on his chest. The referee, still mildly confused and
shocked, hesitates before dropping down and counting out a three
count. Once it's done, Masterson rolls out of the rings and moves up
the entryway to join his partner.]
NW: Just remember, Ryder, this wasn't a gift. It was down payment for
Tradition III. And we Widowmakers... ALWAYS... pay our debts.
[He drops the microphone as the Made Men's music starts to play.
Wright and Masterson turn around and exit, leaving Ryder and Levinger
dumbstruck in the middle of the ring.]
CL: I don't get it. Mark Masterson just let Tommy Ryder pin him in
the middle of the ring. This isn't like Masterson at all. The guy is
a wrecking machine.
FH: Oh how wrong you are Lester. The Widowmakers plan everything out
step by step. Masterson is all business and he goes along with the
plan. Trust me there is a plan.
[Ryder stands in the ring shaking his head no. It's obvious he didn't
want to win like this. However "Lady" Laurel Levinger raises Ryder's
arm and points to him shaking her head giving him the same reaction as
if he just won a twenty minute slug fest.]
CL: The fans reaction is telling it all. They wanted to see Ryder
dismantle Masterson and he had a good chance in doing so!
FH: Don't worry Lester on Tradition III the score will be settled and
the Widowmakers pay their debts.
[The camera cuts back to a darkened locker room...into which steps PVW
Champion Rob Cole. The Monster Under the Bed has his title slung over
his shoulder as he hits the lights and shuts the door behind
him...then starts as he hears the slow, steady clapping that starts.
Whirling on his heel, Cole sees his old nemesis...PVW's former
resident goth madman The Spectre sitting on the couch against the far
wall. The pale skinned grappler wears a tattered black trenchcoat, a
pair of black cutoff jeans, Doc Marten combat boots and a black
sleeveless t shirt.
Smiling coldly at the champion, the dreadlocked horror nods in
greeting.]
Spectre: Friend Cole...it's been too long.
RC: I thought I buried you with the filth and rot. Another name in a
long list, Spectre... did you miss the taste of your own blood?
Spectre: You wound us to the quick, Friend Cole. We're not here for
another confrontation...merely to sit and speak with you...a meeting
of the deranged minds if you will.
[Shaking his head, Spectre's smile remains fixed in place.]
Spectre: No no...we have far too much respect for what we share...for
the baptism in pain with which we annointed one another to sully it
with simple backstage assaults and idiotic shenanigans. We both
deserve better, Friend Cole...
YOU deserve better.
RC: Right... is there any point to this, then?
Spectre: Simply put, you're the world champion. You've seized the
moment...you've achieved your goal...now what?
RC: What?
Spectre: Now what? You've shown the mindless sheep that you don't
care a whit for their feelings. You've shown the ownership that their
words mean less than nothing to you. You've shown the other wrestlers
that you'll do whatever it takes to accomplish your goals.
You're a marked man. Cast adrift and alone in a sea of enemies.
So: Now what? Are you prepared for the push back...for the legal
manuevers...for all of those little worms that will come at you
sideways instead of offering you the confrontation at which you excel?
[Cole holds his belt tight, his eyes cast downward as Spectre speaks.
He finally looks up after a pause and angles his head a bit. He looks
a little confused before shaking his head a little.]
RC: Maybe... maybe not... but I have this title right now. Maybe
they'll rip it off my waist, maybe I'll lose it fair and square, or
maybe the company will strip me, cheat me, or send their brand new
monster American Bad whatever you want to call him after me for this
piece of metal. I'm not in the tank for this company or SSN... I
didn't pay off the ref, no matter what you or anyone else in this
company wants to imply. This is my belt, Spectre... _MINE_!!!
Spectre: Oh, we never said anything to the contrary, friend Cole...we
witnessed your victory, and we approve.
No matter your feelings for our methods, you must admit our honesty.
Unlike anyone else in this organization, you know where you stand with
us, friend Cole...we've always been honest with you...never lied to
you...
[Cole chuckles... shaking his head as he steps up to the dreadlocked
maniac. He looks the other man in the eye, licking his own lips
before he speaks.]
RC: My friend? Never lied to me? Look at what everyone says you
turned me into... I'm afraid of this belt, Spectre. I'm afraid that
I'm not up to wearing this belt and I've got a man in a mask on my
tail, I've got Justin Cruise chopping at the bit, and I've got a man
with a called shot and an army of goons standing in the wings, and you
say you're my friend?!?!! MY FRIEND?!?!!! What do you want from me?
[Cole spins before Spectre can answer... staring back at something.
He steps forward, confused as Spectre watches him. He stares for a
moment, giving Spectre time to answer. The smile on the ghoulish
goth's face spreads, his eyes hardening.]
Spectre: We want to see you out for blood once again, friend Cole.
You speak of fear...you speak of worry...
Neither of things has a chance if you simply approach your opponents
as you did your matches with us. Think of each match as your own
personal war against those that would take away what's yours...at
those who would take money away from your family...
So long as you have that belt, they can't be rid of you...but don't
think for one moment that the moment you lose it that they won't find
a way to send you out on the street to join us in limbo.
You must show them what happens...
[Cole continues to stare off camera... when he replies, his voice is
deep and guttural. His jaw clenched in fury... ]
RC: Maybe you have a point. Obvious, now that I look... now that I
see... you're a friend. That makes perfect sense.
[Cole spins around, walking out of the locker room as Spectre turns to
glance off camera in the same direction as Cole. Spectre turns,
looking off camera at what had attracted Cole's attention before an
evil chuckle escapes his lips.
Fade to the announcers. Fred who usually has something witty to stay
is quiet and Chip Lester has a near look of horror on his face.]
CL: Spectre is no longer with the PVW and the last time he came on
camera he broke a fellow colleges' arm and was arrested afterwards.
FH: There are rumors ... That he is a certain shadow.
CL: If Rob Cole our champion starts to listen to this lunatic ... If
he turns from the hardcore hero to the hardcore horror then things
with Zero Tollerance in effect could get messy. Will PVW have the
stones to do anything?
FH: They never have before ...
CL: Well they have kept Spectre out.
FH: Maybe they have ... Then again there are whispers Lester.
CL: Herk Douglas is back inside the ring and we all know what that
means.
[Herk Douglas waits for the cheers to die down.]
HD: This match is scheduled for one fall ... Introducing first ...
Standing at six foot three and weighing in at two-hundred and thirty
five pounds. From Newark, New Jersey ...
Badboy ... Randy Acorn !!!
[The guitar riff for "Cult of Personality" by Living Colour hits the
speakers. Stepping through the curtains is PVW's newest resident, "Bad
Boy" Randy Acorn. Dressed in a black t-shirt that simply reads "SSN"
across the front of it and a pair of pearl-white wrestling trunks with
matching boots, Acorn steps through the curtains and is greeted with
disdain by the fans in the crowd. Flanking Acorn on each side are a
male and female dressed in suits, looking very "corporate".]
## Look into my eyes, what do you see? ##
## Cult of Personality ##
## I've been everything you want to be ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Like Mussolini and Kennedy ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##
[The three of them make their way down the aisle, Acorn making
sporadic comments to ringside fans that are heckling him as he passes,
while the other two just keep their straight faces while looking
directly to the ring.]
## Neon lights, A Nobel Prize ##
## The mirror speaks, the reflection lies ##
## You don't have to follow me ##
## Only you can set me free ##
## I sell the things you need to be ##
## I'm the smiling face on your T.V. ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## I exploit you, still you love me ##
## I tell you one and one makes three ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Like Joseph Stalin and Gandhi ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##
## Cult of Personality ##
[Acorn and his two associates accompanying him reach ringside, as
Acorn climbs onto the ring apron and turns to the crowd, extending his
arms out drawing in their boos as if they empower him even more]
## Neon lights, A Nobel Prize ##
## A leader speaks, that leader dies ##
## You don't have to follow me ##
## Only you can set me free ##
## You gave me fortune ##
## You gave me fame ##
## You gave me power in your God's name ##
## I'm every person you need to be ##
## I'm the Cult of Personality ##
[After drawing in the boos, Acorn leans down with some instruction for
his associates that came with him, and then enters the ring]
CL: It will be interesting to find out how Acorn will react after
being removed from the powers that be.
FH: Acorn doesn't have any friends now. He is on his own. He spurned
PVW fans and supportive wrestlers. He was eliminated from SSN favored
wrestlers. Jessica Marshall who you assumed was going to enter
supportive of Acorn due to their past is in shambles. However with
all that said he has one final chance tonight to turn what started out
a promising career completely around.
HD: His opponent... from Alameda County, California... weighing in
tonight at 239 pounds, accompanied by Katrina Cruz!
GAVIIIIIIIIIIINNNN CAAAASSSSSEEELLLLLLLLLLL!
[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.#
[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 pop, 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.]
#And you take your time,
And you do your crime.
Well you made your bed,
I'm in mine#
[Gavin saunters to the ring, not used to the cheers from the fans. At
ringside, he slides into the ring on his belly, pops to his feet and
then climbs onto the second rope, the fans cheer for the youngster.
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.]
CL: Cassel was scouted by all three factions of Todd Johnstone, the
Widowmakers, and the Powers that be. However in a shocking turn of
events he decided to be his _own_ man and join Will Geddings in his
crusade against the SSN supportive stable.
FH: And to think he had such a promising career.
[Referee Jay O'Riley explaining the rules to both Acorn and Cassel and
Katrina Cruz steps to the outside and makes her way to the marked area
designed for managers.]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
One on One Action:
<><><><><><><><><>
Gavin Cassel v. Randy Acorn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: That's the sound of the bell and we are off.
FH: The badboy has his sights set on making a statement at the expense
of Gavin Cassel. It's his chance to rebound.
[An elbow-collar-tie up leads to the veteran scoring an early arm-
wrench. Acorn turns the arm putting pressure on Cassel.
Cassel eats a stiff elbow and Acorn backs him into the corner. Cassel
holds his hands up and - ]
"___THWAAAAP___"
CL: Sucker punch by Randy Acorn! Acorn whips him out ... And Acorn
follows with a big clothesline!
FH: Look at the new added determination by Acorn. Maybe Alex Martinez
woke the badboy up!
[Acorn takes
Cassel down with a snapmare takedown and locks on a reverse
chinlock.]
CL: Acorn studied Cassel and knows that keeping Cassel grounded is his
best chance to win this match.
FH: That will help and the fact that Cassel is a soft Geddings butt
kisser.
[Cassel works his way to his feet. Elbows break the chin lock ...
Cassel hit's the ropes but runs right into a running knee lift by
Acorn!]
FH: Look at the fire in Acorn's eyes. SSN may be done with the crafty
veteran, but he can still wrestle.
CL: Acorn now mounting him from behind and just paintbrushing the side
of Cassel's head.
"___THWAAAAP___"
"___THWAAAAP___"
"___THWAAAAP___"
[Acorn prances off the youngster and poses for the booing crowd. He
waves them off and turns to continue the damage on Gavin Cassel, but
the youngster ducks under a big right hand and springboards with a
cross-body!]
ONE ...
TWO ...
CL: No the veteran kicks out! Acorn up and charges, but SPINNING HEEL
KICK AND DOWN GOES ACORN AND OUTSIDE THE RING!
FH: Take a few to regain the composure Randy.
[The fans erupt as Cassel hits the ropes and leaps using the ropes to
springboard hitting Acorn square in the chops who turns around at the
exact right time to taste the boots of Gavin Cassel's dropkick!]
P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!!
P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!!
P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!!
P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!! P - V - DUB !!!
CL: Gavin has quickly won these fans over! He yanks Acorn up and -
[A sharp left handed jab ....]
"___WHAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!___"
FH: Get out of there Randy!
[Acorn trying to do as Hoyle requests stumbles around and is grabbed
into a Floatover DDT right down into the cement floor!]
"___THUNDEROUS THUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
CL: Acorn is out of it! The once SSN chosen one appears to be all but
out of this one. Cassel rolls the veteran into the ropes and climbs
the ropes.
FH: Acorn is getting up! You can't keep this veteran down for long!!!
Unless you are Alex Martinez that is.
[Cassel leaps off the ropes ... SUNSET FLIP!!!!!]
ONE ...
TWO ...
THR ---
[HEEL POP!!!]
CL: SO CLOSE!!! Acorn just kicked out! Gavin Cassel is known to hit
those sunset flips from just about anywhere! He proved it again
tonight!
FH: He is a little pest isn't he!
[Both men quickly back up, but Acorn is the first to toss a thumb into
Cassel's eye lid blinding him. Acorn locks Cassel and a quick snap
suplex bringing him to the mat. Acorn stumbles to his feet knocking
the cob-webs loose and he grabs the right leg of Cassel and drives an
elbow down into it.]
FH: Acorn setting Cassel up for that Newark Knife submission hold.
Weakening the leg of Cassel.
CL: He grabs the leg again and DRIVES an knee this time into the leg.
[Acorn scowls at the youngster and he grabs him slowing the pace of
the match down and into a reverse chinlock.]
CL: Acorn is a smart and crafty veteran. He knows how to ground an
opponent and Cassel has been on an offensive onslaught.
FH: Damn right he does Lester. He wasn't dubbed the first SSN chosen
one for nothing.
[Acorn continues to put pressure on and drops the hold and drops down
with a low dropkick to the mid back of Gavin Cassel. The veteran
hooks the leg!]
ONE ...
TWO ...
[HUGE KICK OUT POP!!!!]
CL: Not this time Randy!
FH: Acorn knew that. He is just playing with the fans emotions
Lester.
[Acorn quickly grabs Cassel by the arm and twists, but Cassel quick on
his feet flips out and fires off a series of stiff kicks! He hits the
ropes and flying forearm! Acorn pushes himself up, but a running,
jumping, kneelift to the mouth of the bent over Randy Acorn! Acorn
hits the deck like they were shot grabbing his lip as blood seeps
through his fingers.]
CL: What a move by the youngster! He calls that the Exfoliator!
FH: He can't do that to the Bad Boy!
CL: Fred I think he just did!
[Cassel raises his arms as the fans eat it up. Acorn pushes himself
up ... Blood dripping from that lip. He stumbles into a waiting Gavin
Cassel! Double underhook ... sitout face driver!!!!]
"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
[FINNNNISHA POP!!!!]
ONE ...
TWO ...
THREE !!!
CL: Gavin Cassel's version of his mentor, Luke Kinsey's move called
the Cherry Pop Drop seals the victory! Another impressive outing and
can anybody slow Gavin Cassel down?
FH: Feed him to Alex Martinez he is hungry. I can't believe he turned
down SSN's offer. Where is Zeke!?!
[Katrina Cruz joins Gavin Cassel inside the ring as he is announced
the winner. The fans are on their feet showing respect for the hot
newcomer!]
CL: Well done! What a showing!
FH: So what you are a Gavin Cassel fan now?
CL: I have to admit I like the kids style lately.
FH: He had the golden ticket at his hand ... At Boiling Point it was
rumored he was hooking up with Zeke Craven and SSN. He won the
opportunity at both the PVW Network Championship and the PVW American
Championship.
CL: Your point?
FH: He traded it all for the friendship of Will Geddings and the
cheers of a handful of drunks!
CL: Well I don't know about --
[Eliot Lipp's "Rap Tight" plays over the loudspeakers, signalling the
entry of one Gibson Hayes. PVW's American champion is dressed to the
nines in a blue suit with white shirt and black tie. To his right is
his head of security, "Big Bubba" Hayes, who is in his Gibson for
Commissioner t-shirt. Todd Johnstone is AWOL for now but that doesn't
seem to bother Gibson.
Gavin Cassel and Katrina Cruz have left the ring and the two parties
pass each other as Cassel heads to the back and Hayes is making his
way to the ring. Gibson Hayes points to his PVW American Championship
title as Cassel only smiles ... The man makes his way to the ring and
grabs a house microphone.]
Gibson Hayes: America, I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.
[Boos rain down.]
GH: I know, I know; you are booing PVW. I would too if I were in your
shoes. PVW has done nothing but try to keep your ever loving American
champion from its airwaves. PVW is trying to silence my message,
trying to keep you in the dark about the vile goings on backstage. PVW
is in league with evil forces from beyond our borders. Instead of
thanking Jesus and Uncle Sam for the wonder that is America's last
honest person, me, Gibson Hayes, PVW has seen to it to try and stymie
my message. They failed to defeat me at that last big card. Instead
they had to use chicanry and sleight of hand to steal my Network title
belt from me. I should still have my second championship belt but PVW
is giving me the run around. Meanwhile la nino de una puta runs around
pretending to be champion. I will not have this America and neither
should you.
[Yeah, the audience doesn't like it.]
GH: I understand your outrage and your astonishment. I, too, am
dumbfounded by PVW's machinations. I was giving them the benefit of
the doubt, thinking that maybe somewhere in their heart of hearts they
would think of our great nation and her sobbing pleas to hoist me in
the spotlight. Instead... instead they stuck me with a giant turd
known as Doc Holliday.
[Cheers for Doc.]
GH: Like a good American I am keeping a stiff upper lip. Tonight,
however, I would like to try and make peace with my advesary. So,
without further adeiu, let me bring out Doc Holliday.
[An eerie harmonica version of the National Anthem of the Soviet Union
comes over the PA system. From out back comes a man dressed in a long
winter coat topped off with an ushanka bearing the hammer and sickle
on a star medal of the Soviet Union. This man is maybe 5' tall at most
and has a long beard and looks to be cross eyed. He trips as he walks
to the ring and crawls to the ring steps, making his way into the ring
and is seemingly winded.]
FH: Oh man, Holliday has really let himself go!
GH: Well, well, Comrade Holliday, how are you today!
Doc "Comrade" Holliday: *unintelligble Russian*
[Gibson raises his eyebrows at hearing these words.]
GH: Doc, no. Here in America animals are for eating!
DH: *he is a tad better at enunciation than the real Doc Holliday*
GH: No, no I must insist that we talk out our differences. I know
you'd just as soon give up and declare me the winner of our match.
DH: *takes sock out of mouth* I am to, how you say, hate America and
am Rick Marley's eunuch errand boy.
GH: Wow Doc! Where did you learn to speak english?
DH: I am learning English when I am hearing that I, miserable cur and
son of a flea bitten mongrel, Doc Holliday is to being in fight with
great American Gibson Hayes. I say to my wife in Smolensk, I say:
Mama, I am not to fight Gibson Hayes for he will break me like Ronald
Reagan's fiscal irresponsibilty and overspend is to break USSR and
American future and only idiots are to believing that Reagan is doing
good job and those idiots should probably to be shooting selves.
[How'd that anti-Reagan and neo-con sentiment get into an in-ring?!]
GH: Um... uh... yeah?
DH: Any to way, I am here to offer my surrender and am on knees to ask
Gibson Hayes not to destroy me like deregulation is to destroying
markets!
[Gibson looks left and right and whispers: stick to the script, and
then takes a deep breath. Meanwhile this new Doc Holliday is really on
his knees.]
GH: I accept your heartfelt and oddly misplaced political
statement/apology Doc. As a show of good faith we should just have me
pin you so our match at Shattered Dreams is moot and unnecessary.
DH: Da! That is being good ideas!
[Gibson and "Doc" size each other up and Gibson finger gun pantomines
and Doc acts as if he was just shot by a cannon. Gibson puts a finger
on Doc's chest and Bubba counts to three. Doc gets up and hugs
Gibson.]
DH: Gibson! I am to be thanking you for not listening to my stupid
braggard words and forgiving me for being dumb Soviet with no hope of
beating you and sparing me a whipping! Thanking you I am!
GH: Think nothing of it! PVW, you had your match and so I am taking my
champion's perogative and not defending for another 60 days. Thank
you!
[Gibson and company bow and take off.]
CL: What in the world did I just witness?
FH: Doc Holliday bowing down to Gibson Hayes. I guess that match at
Tradition III is off. I wonder if that commie will even show his face
to fight Demon Shadow later tonight?
CL: Oh Doc will be there ... And even though Gibson's "games" are
amusing I don't expect they will help him defeat Doc Holliday.
FH: Hey there won't be a match you saw it with your own eyes Lester!
CL: I did ... Holliday never backs down from a gun fight. He _will_
be there Fred.
FH: You are in on the conspiracy Lester!
CL: Up next folks is a tripe threat tag team match to crown the new
number one
contenders to Urban Legends at Tradition 3!
FH: This match is a waste! The Prophets of Rage should have had a
rematch clause in their contracts!
CL: Rumor has it that the Prophets were so over confident that they
didn't even read the contract just signed it.
FH: They that whole match should be thrown out! Prophets of Rage are
still the tag team champ ...
CL: No they aren't Fred! Let's head to Herk Douglas!
[The Offspring's 'Hammerhead' starts to play over the house speakers.]
HD: Coming to the ring at a combined weight of 425 pounds, they are
HARLEY QUINN O'CONNOR and 'EL SALVAJE' JOSEPH RIZAL ESTRADA . . .
JOKERS . . . WILD!!!
# 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 lack facepaint over a white base, and
dressed in a pair of black tights, with an image of a grinning clown's
face, in red on a white base, on the outside of the left leg and a
Joker playing card on the outside of the right, and black wrestling
boots. He is followed close behind by 'El Salvaje' Joseph Rizal
Estrada emerges from the backstage area dressed in a pair of black
trunks, with the word "SAVAGE" in stylized dark red lettering across
the seat, black knee pads and black wrestling boots. Harley Quinn
O'Connor emerges behind him, wearing his black-and-white clown
facepaint, in ring attire and a T-shirt. Estrada takes a moment to
regard the crowd, while O'Connor raises his arms, circling and pumping
his fist in the air, before they head down to the ring. As they walk
down the aisle, only once or twice does O'Connor reach out to slap the
hand of a fan. Behind him, Estrada is lagging slightly since he is
high-fiving and slapping hands with the fans.]
# I'LL TAKE A LIFE #
# THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE #
# OH, THAT'S JUST THE WAY IT GOES #
# I'LL SHUT MY EYES #
# IT HAMMERS IN MY HEAD #
# WHERE IT'LL END, NOBODY KNOWS #
[Reaching the ringside area, O'Connor climbs onto the ring apron and
steps through the ropes, into the ring. Estrada, meanwhile, takes a
running start and slides under the bottom rope. Popping up next to his
tag team partner, both men pose in the middle of the ring, Estrada
with his left arm raised, O'Connor with his right. As the music starts
to fade, they go to their corner, where Estrada does some final
stretches while O'Connor paces.]
CL: As of late Jokers Wild has been on a tear here in the PVW fighting
their way up the ranks ...
FH: And tonight they will be completely outclassed! Why would anyone
give these two men a chance at greatness.
CL: A bit cranky tonight Fred?
FH: What? Why do you say that?
["Deepest Bluest" by LL Cool J starts to play over the PA system. The
crowd voices a mixture of cheers for a name wrestler and boos because
of who the wrestler is. The curtains part and out sweeps the Great
Black Shark, Marissa Monet. She steps out, all 6'6 of her decked out
in a clingy black half-sleeved tunic top and slim-fitting black pants.
She wears high-heeled knee high boots that push her near 7 feet tall
and her undone hair, styled in a heavy afro pushes her over the
mystical number. She strides coolly to the ring, her predatory gold
eyes surveying the scene. She takes a microphone from a ring attendant
and begins to speak.]
MM: Dex Willingham, I am calling you out! I heard everything you said
on the last Damage Control about the Zero Tolerance policy. Isn't it
convenient that the last match where zero tolerance doesn't apply is
the Prophets of Rage match. Why is it that nobody else is allowed to
blatantly cheat except for Urban Legend and El Outlaw Loco? Hmmm,
isn't it convenient that the Prophets of Rage are continuously stuck
in no disqualification matches when the titles are on the line? It is
not the Prophets fault that they are better than their competition.
Well, I am here to tell you that your plan to separate the Prophets
from the titles will not work. We are officially declaring war on the
PVW. And now that I'm free of my other commitments I can be here
right by my man's side to remind everybody that he is exactly what he
says he is ... the greatest wrestler of this or any other generation.
So ladies and gentlemen, tonight you're going to see the Prophets
become the number one contenders to the titles. Livestock, Gutch,
Jokers, you simply cannot win tonight. Urban Legend, we will prove to
you once and for all that you are not in our league. So you people of
St. Louis, put your hands together and welcome the once and future
kings ... the Prophets of Rage!
[Marissa throws her fist into the air in an act of defiance as she
throws down the microphone.]
[The houselights go down to be replaced by purple spotlights. Smoke
fills the arena and the broad, slow, deep, gloomy notes of Chopin's
"Death March" suck the joy out of the arena. The curtains part and out
sweeps the Angel of Death, Shadoe Rage and Derek Rage strides out a
few feet behind him. The camera quickly focuses on Derek who wears a
boxer's robe with the hood up over his head. He looks like a giant
Grim Reaper. With slow deliberate steps he marches towards the ring.
His face betrays no expression. ]
HD: And their first opponents hail from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
and weigh in at a combined 573 pounds they are SHADOE AND DEREK RAGE …
THE PROPHETS OF RAGE!!!
[The camera switches to Shadoe Rage, who is in sharp contrast to the
dirge, Rage is animated. He is wearing his sparkling sequined cloak.
He throws out his arms, flourishing to the dirge's heavy beat. Shadoe
Rage comes to the ring. He pulls of his sunglasses and hands them to a
child at ringside. His eyes burn with an almost inhuman fever. From
the floor he springs up the ring steps and leaps over the top rope. He
spins and flourishes in the ring to the time of the music before he
whips off the cape. He leans over the ropes, pointing at the child he
gave his glasses. "The violence tonight is all because of you!" he
screams.]
FH: THERE THEY ARE! The two men who will be walking to Tradition 3 and
will regain their tag team championship that was stolen from them!
#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 business suits 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 Gutch stops just outside the portal and begins doing what can
only be called a "Stupid white man dance". He calls it "The Gootch
Bartilootch." Livestock just looks the other way, pretending that he
doesn't have an idiot for a partner.]
#so I might as well begin to put some action in my life#
#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#
HD: Accompanied to the ring by Broderick Ezekiel Craven...
[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: And their opponents... They weigh in tonight at a combined weight
of 685 pounds, this is the team of LIVESTOCK and THE GUTCH!
[Aaand they stop short of the ring. What's this? Zeke moves over to
Herk Douglas and steals his microphone.]
Zeke: Sorry Herk, but you got that wrong. See, this match isn't a
three-way-dance, it's a GAUNTLET MATCH!
[Heel pop! What's going on, you ask? Well, so do the announcers.]
CL: What the hell is going on?
FH: It's a masterstroke! Those two guys will beat the hell out of
each other, leaving the pieces to be picked apart by Livestock and
Gutch! They'll be fresher, and any way you slice it, they're bigger!
They're the biggest team in PVW!
Zeke: Y'know, it's been a long damned time coming. My boys were
finalists in the tournament for the first PVW tag titles, and frankly,
they got screwed. We made sure there was a clause in there stating
that the loser got a return match, in the same way a champion who lost
his title would, and if my boys had won, the Royal Family would've
gotten their match, but dammit, Livestock and the Gutch didn't.
So the Wildcards took the straps. Oh, and then the Rage boys took the
straps. And NOW Urban Legend has 'em. It's ridiculous. The only loss
these boys have really had since was to that drain-circling butt-
nugget Geddings and his buddy that LITTLE *BLEEPING* TURNCOAT CASSEL!
*Ahem*...
[Snatching up the microphone, Livestock pats Zeke on the back.]
Livestock: I know, Zeke. Cassel going against us, well, it sucks.
We're all real mad at him. Lemme take over here. Rages, Jokers ...
and Legends for that matter, honestly ... this was all my idea.
[Glare from Zeke.]
Livestock: That's right, I put the clause in there. Now, the smarter
team in there will be the one that lies down, y'know, for the record.
'Cause it's now officially a goal for our team that Gutch should fart
on one of your backs. I don't know if sulfurous nastiness reaches
your locker rooms, but lemme tell you, up close and personal? It's
like being sprayed by a skunk.
So y'know, you can either do your best and be tired when you face us,
or let the other team win, and maybe, MAYBE avoid the Eggfart. Gutch
ate extra eggs this morning. Hell, the guy's already sprung a gas
leak a few times today.
[Sheepishly, Gutch steps forward and takes the microphone from his
partner.]
Gutch: Ah, 'Stock, all this fawnin' over my talents is gettin'
embarrassin'. Anywho, you know the new rule. We gotta stay behind
the red line, so hey, here's the ring crew with our chairs. Nice,
vibrating office chairs with heated backs. Aw, man, that's sweet. Oh,
and if these expensive pieces of unnecessary awesomeness don't hammer
the point home, let us remind you--
Livestock/Gutch/Zeke: You don't get paid unless we get paid!
[Taking a seat just behind the line, Livestock, Gutch, and their
manager Zeke commence to chatting, all smiles and laughter.]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
Tag Team Action:
<><><><><><><><><>
Jokers Wild v. Prophets of Rage v. Livestock and The Gutch
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
FH: Wow. Just wow.
CL: What? Still amazed at the trick your favorite team has pulled?
FH: No, another gas leak... Good lord, I think the heated massage
chair is helping push it out of him!
CL: Oh no, I smell it now too!
[The Prophets of Rage stare at Jokers Wild for a split second and then
without warning all four rush from the ring and charge directly at the
lawyers.]
FH: What?!? Prophets of Rage and Jokers Wild rushing outside the ring
to assault Livestock and Gutch! What the hell is going on here!?!
CL: Prophets of Rage are driving rights and lefts into the side of the
human gas bag ... I mean Gutch!
[O'Connor and Estrada grab the arms of the stunned Livestock and whip
him hard into the guardrail!]
!!!SSSMMMAAACCCKKK!!!
CL: And O'Connor now Irish whips his partner towards the Livestock …
Flying Hip Attack!
FH: ASS ATTACK! ASS ATTACK! BY GOD, IT'S THE ASS ATTACK!
[Livestock stumbles forward and O'Connor rushes forward leaping and
nearly decapitates him with a crisp Leg Lariat. Zeke is screaming at
Jim Pearson to get these four men and under control as Derek Rage has
locked on a Double Chickenwing Arm Lock on Gutch. Gutch struggles for
a few moments as Shadoe Rage balances himself on the guardrail ...]
CL: DEATH FROM ABOVE! Shadoe drives his Double Axe handle into the
skull of Gutch but Gutch stays on his feet!
FH: Not for long! Derek Rage with a Side Russian Leg Sweep driving
Gutch to the concrete floor! And Zeke is besides himself as he screams
for order!
CL: O'Connor and Estrada have Livestock back to his feet and it looks
like they are looking for a Double Side Russian Leg Sweep …
FH: NO! Zeke swings that briefcase wildly in their direction! He
wasn't trying to hit anyone but it did its job as they have let go of
the hold!
CL: Derek Rage has Gutch in a nerve hold and Shadoe Rage rushing
forward ...
!!!SSSMMMAAACCCKKK!!!
CL: A BIG BOOT TO THE SIDE OF GUTCH'S HEAD!
FH: Livestock fighting back as he catches O'Connor with a right and a
second right staggering him back ... Discuss Punch to the charging
Estrada! Estrada stumbles back and O'Connor catches Livestock with a
Low Drop Kick! This is insane!
CL: Livestock and Gutch tried to pull a fast one on everyone tonight
and POR and Jokers Wild have taken an exception to it!
FH: But there is Zero Tolerance here in the PVW! How is this Zero
Tolerance!
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
[In the ring Jim Pearson has called for the bell.]
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
[Finally the six men begin to stop brawling and apparently not a
moment too soon as security has begun to make their way to the
ringside area. All six men put their hands in the air as Zeke is
screaming for suspensions to be filed. A few Security guards place
their hands over their faces the near Gutch. A goofy smile crosses his
face.]
HD: Ladies and Gentlemen due to the method of which Livestock and
Gutch have tried to change the rules of this match and the inability
of Prophets of Rage and Jokers Wild to keep their anger under control
the referee has declared this match a NO CONTEST!
[BOOOOOOOO!]
FH: WHAT!?!? How can he do that!
CL: You said it yourself Fred! It's Zero Tolerance and the referees
are showing the power they possess!
FH: THIS IS BS! With this type of control how will anything ever get
determined here in the PVW!
CL: Maybe if the likes of Gomez and a few others had not injured fans
Fred this wouldn't be the case!
FH: I agree that at times issues have gotten out of hand but you can
punish an entire federation for a few mistakes made!
CL: It looks like the referees can Fred!
FH: Things are getting pretty boring around here I tell ya!
CL: It's about times employees paid by the PVW can do their jobs
around here with out worrying about their well being!
FH: I never had to worry!
CL: You kissed up to the right people.
FH: How dare you! You are lucky Zero Tolerance is in effect Lester.
CL: I'm sure I am Fred.
[Talking on the phone, one Rick Marley walks down a hall in the
backstage area.]
RM: ...no no...if that happens, you RUN. You wouldn't stand a chance
against him.
[Rounding a corner, silently, is the massive green form of William
Craven. He quickly and easily catches up with the sauntering leader
of WMI.]
RM: Fine...full medical coverage if he does, but I'll give you a bonus
if he DOESN'T...that's the point, after --
[Bill gets right up behind Rick (refusing to wear shoes most of the
time makes you quieter than average, so Marley doesn't hear a thing),
sticks out his tongue(s), and blows a fart noise right next to Rick's
ear.]
WC: *Pbbt!*
RM: Jesus!
[Diving, Marley rolls forward, seeming to fear for his life. When he
spins back to his feet, however, he finds a smiling, Jovial, even,
shall we say "Jolly" green giant waiting for him.]
WC: Heh. Hehe. Hey, buddy. Feeling a little tense?
RM: (flatly into the phone) I'll call you back ...
[Hanging up his cell phone, Marley watches Craven warily...like a bird
would watch an approaching snake.]
RM: Yeah ... it's been sort of an odd few days, Bill ... how're you?
WC: Heh, oh, better than advertised. I got a little news that perked
me up a little. So, we're finally doing this, are we?
[Marley's face stiffens up a bit and he gives a terse, tense nod.]
RM: So I'm told.
WC: Hrm? Not your decision then? How disappointing... I was hoping
for a change of heart. Perhaps even the fury of a warrior wishing to
prove himself on the battlefield...
RM: More like a man ready to move on with his life, Bill. We've been
'round this bend for over a year now. I've got other things I need to
deal with, but that can't happen till we get this settled...
[Marley's response starts off strong, but as it ends, his voice shakes
slightly, betraying his nervousness.]
WC: Oh, Richard. Richard; so nervous. Come, come, let's sit down.
Don't worry ... I won't bite. You'll recall, there's a new rule
against that.
[Marley moves and sits next to Bill, obviously not trusting the new
rules to dissuade the crazy green man.]
RM: Fine ... what's on that cracked mind of yours, Bill?
WC: What I want to know is ... what is it exactly that you think will
happen when we step into the ring together?
[Turning his chair somewhat towards Rick, Bill leans forward, leaning
his forearms onto his knees, and trying to look Rick in the eye.
Marley noticeably has difficulty maintaining eye contact, but clearly
is trying as best he can.]
WC: After all ... it's only a match.
[Edging closer to Rick, Bill's getting very near indeed.]
RM: Only a match? After hanging me like a damned pinata and banging
on me with a chair? After gassing me? After trying to break my back
across the ring steps?
This stopped being just a match a long time ago, Bill.
WC: Hanging? Oh, oh that's five years gone now! And you... You ...
really didn't answer the question. I'll clarify: What is it you're
afraid I'll do to you if we have a match that it's taken you this long
to agree to one?
[Waiting, patiently, Bill lifts a hand to his chin, striking a pose
not unlike Rodin's "The Thinker".]
RM: What am I worried about?
[Rick frowns, looking at Craven ... obviously trying to figure out if
the green lunatic was for real.]
RM: Fine ... I'll bite: I'm worried about permanent injury ... I'm
worried about mutilation. I'm worried that something awful will
happen and I'll lose my chance to show everyone that MY name belongs
in the conversation with the best of the best...That the critics were
wrong. That I AM good enough ... that I'll lose my chance to be
called a World Champion...I'm worried that you'll take it all away
from me, Bill ... everything. And I'm not going to let that happen.
[Chuckling, sardonically, Craven turns his palms up, stares at and
first clenches, then flexes them. Flicking his twin tongues out
between his sharpened teeth, he shakes his head, searching for the
words to reply.]
WC: Oh, Richard. Did I fool you so completely?
[His eyes going shifty again, Rick is losing track of the
conversation.]
WC: You said it yourself, "mountains of muscle and accoutrement" or
some such.
RM: What? What are you getting at?
WC: Oh Rick. Rick, it's all an act. A game!
[What's this? Craven breaking character? Could this be?]
WC: The tattoos? I always liked them. Lots of people do. They're an
addiction. The teeth? Hell, half of them were gone, so why not
sharpen them? My ... "unholy" pain tolerance? Heh, pills. But don't
tell the suits up front. Hehe...
RM: How 'bout the fact that you're bat[BLEEP] crazy?
WC: Oh Rick, see? Rick? Not Richard... I can call you Ricky, and
Ricky when you call me you can call me Bill. Heh, get it?
RM: No. What does...
WC: It's a song.
RM: What's a song.
WC: "You Can Call Me Al"? By Paul Simon. It was a huge hit in the
1980's.
[Okay, now Bill's really showing his age. Rick, being much younger,
is clearly clueless as to what Bill's referring to.]
WC: It ... it doesn't matter. What we'll have is just a match. One
for the ages, Rick. When it's all said and done, we can look back and
say that in those days, when we were warriors, after building the
house up for over a year, we tore it down in one night, brought
everyone to their feet, and stole the show. How's that sound,
"Showtime"?
[Marley looks confused, but a bit more at ease.]
RM: That sounds...that sounds fine, oddly enough. A match I can deal
with...its' the death and dismemberment part that gets a bit
troubling.
WC: Yeah, that's more like it. You go preach to the choir, kid, and
tell 'em we won't need the angels to sing when we set the heavens on
fire. You'll be world champ yet, and when the hall of fame calls, you
can tell 'em how big your statue should be at the end of the hall.
Heh.
[Clapping a heavy, calloused green hand down on Rick's knee, Bill
doesn't bat an eye when his cruiserweight foil leaps up from his seat,
and backs away.]
RM: I, uh, really got to be going, Bill. It was nice to be able to
talk to you like this, but I have to, uh, finish the phonecall I was
having when you caught me.
[Rick begins to depart, walking briskly and pulling his phone back
out. Bill, strangely, or perhaps not so strangely, remains seated,
smiling after Marley.]
WC: Caught you. Heh. Yes...Rick...one more thing what do you know
about these trunks?
[Bill holds up a pair of trunks...trunks that appear to match the ones
formerly worn by The Tucson Kid. Marley looks up from his phone and
shrugs.]
RM: (shrugs) They look like Tucson's...why?
[Marley looks at Craven for a moment, but Bill doesn't respond.
Shaking his head, Marley holds the phone back up to his face and
rounds the corner. As Rick disappears into the distance, Craven's
smile slips, and becomes a creepy leer, then a snarl.
Cut back to ringside.]
CL: So that is why Craven was upset earlier!
FH: What would Marley know about those?
CL: You even said that had Marley written all over it and I guess
Craven agrees!
FH: You heard Marley he had no clue. If you can't believe a
Widowmaker then what is this world coming too?
CL: Well one thing is for sure ... _When_ Marley and Craven finally
step in that ring it will be one for the ages.
FH: And then Marley can _finally_ move on ... World Champion ... Hall
of Famer ... Life time achievements ... It's endless for him!
[Almost as if it was on que ... Interupting Fred in his deep thoughts
... 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 erupts to their feet!!!]
CL: Fresh off the dusty trails, here comes the last John Wayne left in
this town...
FH: John Wayne is dead, Chip. And Doc is no John Wayne. I thought he
was done with Gibson Hayes. We saw him earlier and --
[As the foreboding music echoes in the background, the fans buzz... no
one is emerging from the entranceway.]
FH: Well, maybe I spoke too soon...
CL: What do you mean? Where's Doc???
FH: Dead like John Wayne, a victim of the reaper... or maybe a Demon
Shadow!
[Slowly, the buzz picks up, and then the camera catches movement in
the crowd. A spotlight sweeps over and eventually finds the area in
question. Doc Holliday is here, making his entrance through the
crowd.
As always, 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. Doc moves with a mild limp, and uses a mahogany hand-
carved walking stick to assist him on the way towards the ring. He
seems to be carrying a grim expression on his angular, clean-shaven
face. The fans in the different parts of the arena slowly come to
realize where Doc is, and so the cheers steadily gain steam before
reaching their loud climax as Doc is nearly to the barricade. He is
mobbed a bit by the fans, who want to get a close look at the star.
Holliday loses his hat as a fan snatches it from him, but Doc doesn't
pay that any mind. His attention is on the ring, and the people
therein.]
FH: What the heck is going on with him?
CL: Like you intimated, Demon Shadow is out for blood tonight... and I
think that Doc Holiday is making certain that he isn't caught
unawares!
[As the fans continue to go wild, Holliday arrives at ringside,
stepping over the barricade. Holliday slowly heads around the ring,
pointing threateningly at Todd Johnstone when the portly manager draws
near. 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 ring announcer 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 POP. 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.]
CL: Here for business, the Sheriff is about to lay down the law on a
masked bandit...
FH: Did you work on this cliche bit of announcing last night in the
hotel? That's bad, man... really really bad.
[The arena lights suddenly cut to pitch black without warning. Over
the PA system, the faint sound of a heartbeat begins after ten seconds
of complete silence.
Thump-thump
Thump-thump
Thump-thump
When the lights come back on, Demon Shadow stands in the opposite
corner from his opponent. The two men stare at one another as the
fans rise to their feet again!]
FH: The mysterious Demon Shadow that was "signed" from Japan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
One on One Action:
<><><><><><><><><>
Doc Holliday v. Demon Shadow
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: We are set to kick off this match tonight, and I'm thinking we're
about to see an all out brawl between two dangerous men... one a
virtual legend in this sport, and the other a masked monster who
everyone says is reminiscent of the brutal and sadistic Spectre.
FH: Specter is gone, Chip... gone and banned from the PVW ring, no
matter who he talks with or attacks back stage... the guy is gone!
CL: There's the lock up, and Doc twisting into a hammerlock on the
masked monster... but a back elbow breaks the hold! Solid right,
another, and another from the masked brawler as he shoves Doc back
against the ropes and whips him hard! There's the shoulder block, but
Doc Holiday holds his ground!
FH: But the Shadow with a quick kick to the gut, and he drives a
forearm across the back of the neck! Another! And there's a hard
elbow... looking to crack the base of the skull with that blow.
CL: And there's another Irish whip... but Doc ducks the clothesline!
GOOD LORD!!!
FACE POP!!!!
[Holliday leaps to the second rope and springboards up, spinning back
to catch the Shadow upside the skull with a HUGE Flying forearm! The
momentum carries Holiday rolling out to the other side of the ring
where the gets to their feet... ]
CL: Quick as a hiccup, Holiday turns the tables on his opponent... and
makes a huge statement with a springboard back in the ring, catching
the Shadow with a leg drop to the back of the neck!!!!
FH: Excellent example of the potential and agility that Doc Holiday
possesses... but he's not able to capitalize, as the Shadow slides out
to the apron to prevent a cover. Neither man here is a beginner...
CL: Demon comes to his feet and Holliday flies, up for the
Hurricanrana... but he gets caught! Oh no.... NO NO NO!!!!
FH: YES!!!!
[Huge heel pop as the Demon charges, reaching the ropes and releasing
Holliday over to top and powerbombing him hard down onto the mat
below!!!]
FH: And that might just be it for Doc Holliday... the end of the line
as the OK Corral comes to a close!
CL: Referee trying to keep the maniac in the ring, but the Shadow just
shoves the official out of his way... risking disqualification as he
steps through the ropes.
[Holiday manages to get to his knees and grabs hold of the Demon's
ankle as he steps through and drops back, forcing the masked monster
to crotch himself on the middle rope! There's no sympathy behind the
pop this earns!]
FH: Both men cutting it close tonight.... But Holiday bought himself
some valuable time with that desperation move!
CL: And he uses it to pull himself back into the ring.... And Demon
catches him with a sudden running knee strike before he can get back
to his feet!
FH: I've seen that move before... not that I'm drawing a comparison,
mind you.
CL: Oh, get off it... you know who that is!
FH: Sure do... it's the Shadow Demon... or Demon Shadow... or whatever
he wants to call himself, so long as he doesn't call me!
[The crowd gives the Shadow a piece of their minds, but he uses his
momentum to pull the smaller man to his feet and shove him up against
the ropes!]
CL: head butt and there's the Irish whip again... powerslam... NO!!!
Holiday twisting in midair, catches the leg scissor... and TAKES the
Demon to the mat with a takedown!
FH: Where'd that come from?!?!!!
CL: Demon to his feet... and Holiday is right on top of him, up and
taking him back over with a hurricanrana to the mat again!!! He
catches him with a straddle... and starts raining down left hands on
the masked features of the Demon!!!
FH: I don't believe it!!!!
[The Demon rolls and shoves Holiday off him, staggering back as he
tries to catch his balance but only manages to catch the ropes before
Holiday gets to his feet and feeds on the energy from the arena!!!!]
CL: Demon trying to put some space between him and Holiday, but here
comes the Sheriff.... A quick shot to the side of the head! Another
shot!
FH: Not a smart move from the Sheriff, because even he's not above
the law here!
CL: Another shot... another... and another... and the crowd is solidly
behind Doc tonight as he winds up and swings... GOOD LORD!!!!
[Holiday takes a wild roundhouse swing, which the Demon ducks and
steps in... hauling Doc up off his feet with a fireman's carry!
Before the crowd can react, the monster spins around and launches
Holiday up and over the guardrail... just barely holding on for a
moment to drive the mans' throat down across the steel!]
FH: What the hell??!!!! The referee is shocked and has every right to
call this match right here.... Right now.... But then, it may not have
been on purpose! This is going to be a major judgement call and is a
major test of the Zero Tolerance Policy we have going on here in
Phoenix Valley right now!
CL: But while the referee tries to decide... it's the Demon with a
forearm across the back! Another forearm!
[The fans begin to boo even more loudly, which drives the Demon to
YANK Holiday back to his side of the rail... but then glances up and
notices the approach of Xavier Feyr! Accompanied by Lillith, Feyr
only glances at the two men before making his way around the ring.]
CL: And we're now being joined by Xavier Feyr...
FH: The Demon Shadow isn't going to let this break up his momentum,
however... throwing Doc Holiday back in the ring! The Demon ascends
the turnbuckles behind him.... Maybe some high risk from the Shadow?
CL: Off the top rope... and he catches Doc with a stiff looking elbow!
FH: And there's proof positive that this ISN'T the Spectre.... No way
that clutz would've ever hit a move that beautiful!
CL: Cover....
ONE!!!!
TWO!!!!
NO!!!!!!
FH: Doc Holiday able to launch one shoulder off the mat... barely
escaping that pin attempt!
CL: And the Shadow stars biting Holiday?!?!!! What the hell... this
is ridiculous... there's zero tolerance, or at least there's supposed
to be! And Holiday screaming as those teeth gash into his skin.... He
tries to pull the Shadow off with a fishhook to nostril!
FH: And the masked monster doesn't give a damn!!! Holiday hooking the
mouth with his other hand... oh, this is sick... just sick!!!
[The referee demands the two men break it up... .and he starts
counting, only to have the Demon pull back and shove him away!
"FOUR.... FIVE.... WHAT?!??!!! WHAT?!?!!" The Demon spins again and
delivers a kick to the ribs as Holiday struggles to his feet.]
CL: Whip into the corner again from the beast... who rushes in with a
follow through and DRIVES a clothesline home! And .... Shot, shot,
shot... quick flurry of body blows, just like the Fata Morgana... HERE
COMES THE BACK FIST!!!!
FACE POP!!!!
FH: Holiday saw it coming! He caught the Shadow with a palm slap to
the ear and the masked man staggers back, off balance...
DOC!!! DOC!!! DOC!!!
DOC!!! DOC!!! DOC!!!
DOC!!! DOC!!! DOC!!!
CL: Listen to the fans get behind their hero!
[Kick to the gut, front chancery, and the crowd roars as Doc Holiday
just DROPS the larger man gut first across the top rope!]
CL: And back to the attack he goes, Holiday knowing how tough his
opponent is, and he doesn't want to give him a chance to recover.
Mares the masked man off the ropes and to the mat below....
FH: He needs to catch some wind himself, and he just snatches a
chinlock from behind... wrenching back with that knee behind the
skull! Solid and smart, say what you will about Holiday he does keep
it basic when he needs to and is now forcing the Shadow to fight for
every breath!
CL: Referee asking for a submission, but the Demon is laughing... just
laughing!
FH: That's just disturbing, Chip... the sound of his voice, the way he
fights, the total lack of worry with regards to this new policy...
it's chilling.
[Holiday suddenly transitions, yanking Demon Shadow to his feet and
forcing him in the corner! He drives a stomp the gut... and he just
YANKS the brawler out of the corner and hauls him up.... ]
CL: And there's the Arizona Sod Buster!!!!! It could be all over
here!!!
ONE....
Two....
kick out!!!!
FH: And Holiday just snatches a rear chinlock, yanking the Demon back
to the mat once again! But the Demon is close to the ropes and the
referee is demanding a break already... One.... Two... three... and
the Sheriff releases the hold!
CL: And the masked monster rolls to the outside of the apron again,
struggling to his feet... gets caught by Holiday with a left shot to
the side of the head!
[The one shot brings Shadow Demon to one knee... but he immediately
uses the ropes to drive a shoulder into the abdomen as Holiday reaches
out for him! The Sheriff staggers back, but then suddenly leaps up
off his feet... and delivers a solid dropkick, sending the masked man
off the apron!!!]
FH: Back to the outside... a danger zone here tonight as Zero
Tolerance should be in effect.
CL: Should be is the operative word... the referee has had several
chances to stop this fight already, but he's been letting these two
men go at it despite word from up top that things not go this far!
And speaking of going far.... Diving Pescado to the floor, and Doc
Holiday is bringing the fight to the Demon Shadow now!
*HUGE FACE POP!!!!*
FH: Both men are pulling out all the stops in this match.... Driving
impact to knock breath out of Holiday!
*DING DING DING!!!!!*
CL: What... what? Was that finally a disqualification?!?!?!!
[The fans begin to boo loudly... some even throwing trash in the ring
as the bell sounds again... and again.... Holiday rising to his feet
with a look of confusion, turning to look at the referee who shakes
his head! The official begins to wave his arms, turning to look at
the time keeper's table... where Xavier Feyr is standing with the bell
and a smile, ringing away.]
FH: It's Feyr!!! Feyr is ringing the bell... Holiday is livid as the
referee informs him the match is still going on! Meantime, Feyr gives
the bell one last ring and steps back as Holiday approaches... this is
genius!
CL: What are you talking about?!?!!
FH: With zero tolerance, Feyr can't attack Holiday... but Holiday
can't attack Feyr right now or he risks suspension! And so he's got
to swallow this mockery right here and right now....
[Camera comes in close as Holiday gets up close to Feyr, who dares him
to swing... dares him.... Lillith laughs and points, with Holiday
visibly shaking as he tries to hold himself back. He rears back, and
spins just as Demon Shadow comes charging from behind! ]
CL: Holliday swings at Shadow but the masked man ducks but leaves his
left arm up in the air, catching Holliday and quickly applying a Gory
Lock! Out of nowhere... Holiday hauled up and off his feet as the
Demon cradles him across the back!
FH: He's not going to get a submission here on the outside...Adjusting
his grip
HEEL POP!!!!!
"___CCCCRRRRRAAASSSHHHHHH!!!!!!!___"
[The audience gives a face pop as the Demon launches himself backwards
and SMASHES Doc Holiday with a modified facebuster....THROUGH THE
TABLE!!!]
CL: AND NOW THE REFEREE IS CALLING FOR THE BELL!!!!
FH: This is absolutely a disqualification... but I don't think that
the Shadow gives a holy hell about it right now. Doc Holiday is lying
motionless in the remains of that table, prone at the feet of Xavier
Feyr and Lillith.
CL: This is crossing the lines. I can't wait to see what management
has to say about this.
FH: Give it a rest Lester.
CL: Wait there is a stare down between Demon Shadow and Xavier Feyr
now.
[DOOOOOOO IT POP!!!!!]
CL: It sounds like the fans want to see these two madmen go at it.
Especially if we all are correct in the Demon Shadow being Spectre.
FH: I told you it isn't Spectre. Last I heard he was arrested for
breaking Joshua Morgan's arm.
DOC!!! DOC!!! DOC!!!
DOC!!! DOC!!! DOC!!!
DOC!!! DOC!!! DOC!!!
CL: The fans chanting for Holliday again and the veteran is making his
way up! You can't keep the sheriff down for long!
FH: If he is smart he won't do anything stupid and ruin his chance at
the PVW American Championship.
CL: I think that was the plan all along. However PVW is one step
ahead officials are rushing down to make sure order is had and their
Tradition III title match isn't called off.
FH: Look at Feyr he is enjoying all of this.
CL: How many mad men can you fit at ring side at one time Fred?
FH: War Games we saw quite a few ...
[Without warning, we cut to the backstage area, and it's the black,
white and blue form of the Masked Maniac, hurtling on towards ...
well, something, to be sure.]
MM: Okay, gotta find him. Got like ... a minute to find him!
[Rounding a corner, Maniac slaps shoulder-first into a wall, and hits
the microphone he's holding too, making a horrid feedback noise.]
MM: Gack! Oh, man, brutal! BILL! Bill Craven!
[Already wrapped in gauze, vinyl, and a gas mask, Bill doesn't notice
Maniac at first. As a matter of fact, he only reacts by grabbing
Maniac by the throat when he gets within arms reach.]
WC: May I help you, civvie?
[Oop, weird, he slipped into Major Damage mode again. Funny how that
happens.]
MM: Kk, yes ... by letting go of my neck! *GASP!*
[Bill lets go, chuckling sardonically in that Darth-Vaderish manner
his mask gives him.]
MM: Look, I know this seems weird, but I gotta interview you real
quick.
WC: Hm? You? Where is Dean?
MM: Well, apparently he thinks you're a, what'd he say?
"Cannibalistic, possibly non-human monster who has no soul", or
something like that.
WC: Nonsense. I have a soul. Politicians, they have no souls. He
must be thinking of them.
MM: ANYWAY, I'm rushing, out of breath before you freakin' choked me,
'cause ... a certain someone who's flexing some political muscles but
must remain nameless is pulling you from your match. GACK!
[Yeah, Bill has his neck again.]
WC: WHAT!? I've nothing to prove. I hold victories in one fashion or
another over both Manson and Mercenary, and the man with the
unpronounceable name I don't care to meet, but keeping me from the
only thing I have in LIFE!? This is unforgivable...
MM: Y-you have ... another ... match!
[Releasing Maniac, Bill cocks his masked head to one side,
quizzically.]
WC: What? What match? What game is this?
MM: No game, I swear. And I can't say here ... the walls have ears,
as it were. C'mon,THIS WAY!
*THUNK!*
[Hurling his microphone, hard, at the camera, Maniac clearly beans the
cameraman as he and his camera come crashing down to the concrete
floor. The lens cracks, and Maniac's legs are seen, scrambling
comically as he tries to lead the lumbering Craven down the hall, but
has to stop every few steps. Cut back to ringside.]
CL: What is this?
FH: You are the one with the notes Lester.
CL: It says here the war of the four is next ...
FH: Apparently Craven won't be involved.
CL: Folks we aren't really sure the status of William Craven for the
war of the four. He was set to compete, but from all indications that
has been scraped.
FH: There are a lot of things that don't make sense around here these
days. Add this to that list.
CL: For now.
[Herk Douglas stands in the ring as he gets ready to announce the next
match.]
HD: Ladies and gentlemen this match has been dubbed the War of the
four, but a late scratch has turned it into a triple threat no count
out or DQ's match. However the action must stay at ringside!
[Blood Thirsty POP!!!]
CL: Well there is are answer!
FH: The War of the Four was much more catchy.
HD: And for our competitors ... Introducing first ... Standing at six
foot five and weighing in at two-hundred and twenty three pounds ...
From Utrecht, The Netherlands!
Herscher von Donkerhardt !!!
[Over the speakers begins to play Victim by Nicole Blackman. On the
screen is a computer animated flag of the Netherlands. Superimposed
over the flag in black text reads the following. Herscher von
Donkerhardt]
#I feel the motion of the car before I open my eyes. The air is blue-
black, brown-black, black-black. Smell of gas, oil, animals. I'm in
the trunk.#
#My wrists and ankles tied. Tape over my mouth it almost covers my
nose but I can breathe barely. I must have been here for hours,
everything's stiff and my head throbs like someone's drumming on
china.#
#The car stops. He turns off the motor -- but there are no traffic
sounds. No people sounds.No wind. What place has no wind? I turn my
head towards the sounds like people watch radios when something
terrible happens.#
[The crowd is instantly hostile as they hear the lyrics of this song.
Their displeasure is eclipsed only by the man this music has become
synonymous with, Herscher von Donkerhardt. Herscher is clad in black
wrestling boots that reach just short of his knees. Herscher is
wearing tight brown pants offset by a black leather lining on the
inner thighs. Hersher's ring gear is completed with a plain white
towel draped over his left shoulder, covering that side of his torso.
The man sports a physique that is not freakishly massive but is
chiseled and has next to no body fat or blemishes, save for the large
slashing scar across his abdomen. As the crowd jeers him, Herscher's
piercing blue eyes look towards the ring zoning them out. Herscher
runs his hands through his short but curled blonde hair before making
his way to the ring ]
#My palms are sweating. Where am I? The trunk squeaks as he lifts it
up and the sun blinds me. He almost looks like a faceless Jesus
surrounded by light. He pulls me out of the trunk
#and bangs my head against the door. I try to cry out, but it comes
like a hum.#
#He drags me, half-standing, along a dirt road into a house. I can't
see any other houses and it looks like a farm. The screen door bangs
behind me and I feel a deep, deep pressure inside. All the rules have
changed here.#
#I'm dragged down a hall like a bag and I look for a phone, other
doors. Nothing but bare floors and brown boxes in small rooms. He
pulls me into the bathroom and I almost crack my head as he pushes me
onto the floor. Tilts his head to the side and gazes at me as if I was
a pet then walks out.#
#I'm lying there for a long time, trying to get the tape off of me. My
eyes are tearing. I don't make a sound. I can't get up and I keep
rolling from side to side, trying not to make noise.#
[Herscher slowly makes his way down to the ring. As he approaches the
squared circle he is met with a shower of popcorn, half filled plastic
beer cups along with a myriad of taunts, threats, insults and physical
gestures by those close to the security railing and at ringside. All
of this the Netherlander blocks out with a tunnel vision focused on
what's ahead of him.]
#I've got to get him to talk to me. If I can get this thing off my
face I can talk to him. I'll tell him my name. Have you killed other
women in here? I'm thinking you've got hundreds of them nailed down,
hung on walls, hanging from ceiling fans swinging dead in summer
wind.#
#Why did you pick me? If I had stayed to finish at the library I would
have been there twenty minutes longer maybe I'd have been OK. Would
have rushed into the house, books pile up in my arms like a baby, and
blurted explanations why I was sorry. So sorry I'm late everyone.#
#Would you have waited for me anyway? Would you have picked another
woman? Would I have read about her in the paper and said oh my god, I
was there that night... and called all my friends in a panic. Telling
them then how much I loved them as if I'd never have the chance
again.#
[Herscher climbs the ring steps and through the ropes. he crowd
reacts
negatively Herscher reacts negatively to Herscher's entrance ]
#I wonder what everyone is doing now. Putting up signs. Showing my
picture on the evening news. Calling old friends. Maybe I'm not even
considered missing yet.#
#The family will fall apart and my parents will go crazy. Slowly. My
brother will be so quiet at # # the funeral and insist the casket be
closed. (I never even told anyone what kind of funeral I wanted when I
died.)#
#Maybe years from now they'll find my skeleton on the floor here and
they'll have to use dental records to identify me. My family will say
"At least we know now. We always hoped she was alive somewhere. We
just hope she's in peace."#
[Herscher then goes to his respective corner and places his towel on
the mat underneath the ring post. Herscher waits for opponents to
arrive, most notably ...The Mercenary ]
#When I sleep my dreams are crazy -- I'm flying over fields. I don't
think I sleep for more than twenty minutes and when I wake up, it
feels like I'm under a heavy blanket. I'm still there.#
#As I wake up I hear a dog barking in the distance and I think I'm in
my parents' house in South Carolina. When I open my eyes, there's a
shotgun pressed between them. I'll never get married. I'll never have
kids. I'll never go to Europe. I'll never learn to play piano. I'll
never write a book.#
#The last thing I hear is a click.#
[Herscher stands in the ring, holds his arms up high as the fans boo,
jeer and continue to throw debris into the ring.]
CL: Herscher von Donkerhardt made his debut at Boiling Point apart of
the global expansion and he made quite an impact last Heatwave coming
very close to capturing a PVW American Championship in just a few
months of his career.
FH: It was all, but won if it wasn't for the Mercenary. Doc Holliday
that commie must have paid him off.
[The lights dim, with crimson light begins bath the audience. As
"Rooster" by Alice In Chains plays over the PA, the camera focuses on
the large, imposing figure of Marcus Manson, heading to the ring.]
HD: Introducing next ... Standing in at six feet nine and two-hundred
and ninety five pounds ... From Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania ...
Representing Widowmakers Inc ...
"The Misery Machine" ...
Marcus Manson !!!
[Clad in full length black tights, red kneepads, and black boots,
Manson is the picture of focus. He's not really interested in the
fans, who are greeting him with a heel response. He adjusts the black
leather glove on his right hand, and idly stretches his right arm to
limber up as he arrives at ringside. His long black hair is pulled
back into a ponytail, and his expression is cold. He stops just short
of the ring and stares at HvD. He looks back as if he dares the third
and final participant to enter the match.]
CL: Manson and The Mercenary have their share of long drawn history.
At Boiling Point these two were dubbed the toughest two in the cage.
The Mercenary started the match off and he kept getting up no matter
what was thrown at him.
FH: Let's see how he handles both Manson and Donkerhardt gunning for
him.
CL: If anyone is ready for the challenge it's the Mercenary Fred.
HD: And the final participant ... Standing at six foot three and
weighing in at two-hundred and sixty five pounds ... Wrestling out of
the bunker ...
The Mercenary !!!
[HUGE POP as the sounds of approaching helicopters comes over the PA
system. They get louder and louder getting almost deafening, and then
get quieter, as if they were passing overhead. Just as they fade away
to nothing, machine gun bursts take their place. A few seconds later,
a whistling sound is heard, and then 4 large explosions rock the
arena, one right after the other. A large smoke screen engulfs the
entranceway, blocking it off from view. Just as the smoke reaches its
maximum density, "Die Hard the Hunter" by Def Leppard comes blasting
out through the sound system.
A figure can then be seen making his way through the smoke. He comes
to the edge of the entrance way, where he can be plainly seen, and
stops to look over the crowd, soaking in their reaction. Getting his
fill, he makes his way down to the ring ... Manson who is blocking his
way to the ring stands as if he is daring the Mercenary to pass
through him. A smile forms across the hired gun's mouth as he charges
forward and FIST FLY!!!!]
CL: AND WE ARE OFF BEFORE THE BELL!
FH: You didn't expect this match to start any other way did you?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
Triple Threat Action:
<><><><><><><><><>
The Mercenary v. Herscher Von Donkerhardt v. Marcus Manson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: Fist are flying!!! There is no love loss between these two.
Mercenary takes the upper hand with a kick to the gut and backs Manson
against the guard rail.
FH: Donkerhardt is waiting for the right moment to strike.
[Split screen: On the right we see the PVW warrior standing in front
of a monitor with a glare. Still cleared to wrestle Larry Gionet has
a look for complete anger.]
CL: Larry Gionet still hasn't been cleared to wrestle and this match
has been dubbed the toughest SOB in the PVW.
FH: Well I guess it won't be Larry Gionet. If he was so damn tough he
wouldn't of gotten his shoulder nearly ripped from his arm.
CL: Gionet as wrestled injured nearly his whole stay inside the PVW.
He hasn't complained or used them as an excuse once. PVW has clamped
down on doctor clearances for the health of their employee's, but you
can bet Gionet would sign a waiver tomorrow if it allowed him to get
back in that ring.
[Meanwhile Mercenary continues to work Manson against the guard rail,
but from behind Herscher unloads on the Mercenary with a barrage of
closed fits. After so many punches, Herscher begins to head butt the
dazed Mercenary in the nose several times. Herscher then thrusts his
knee into
his face that sends Mercenary down onto the cement. Herscher looks
down at the fallen hired gun and spits in his direction.
HEEL POP ]
CL: Total lack of respect for a wrestling icon. The Mercenary has
fought many of legends in the wrestling ring. He even beat Fred's
favorite wrestler, Rick Marley before!
FH: That was a long time ago Lester. And von Donkerhardt doesn't have
to offer the Mercenary any respect. After all it's the green dollar
that drives Mercenary and not respect.
[The jeers from the fans turn to a pop when Manson fires off with a
kick and bends over Donkerhardt. The big man lifts Donkerhardt from
the side and drives him down right over his own knee with a stiff
backbreaker!]
CL: OUCH! Manson basically bent him in half! Mercenary from behind
and lifts him up... SUPLEXES HIM LANDING MANSON'S UPPER BACK ON THAT
GUARD RAIL!!!
FH: Mercenary and Manson are veterans at using the props around ring
side to their full advantage.
CL: Look at Mercenary look down at Herscher von Donkerhardt.
[Mercenary yanks the Netherlands born superstar up and sends him under
the ropes and follows him.]
CL: Looks like the Mercenary is bringing the action inside the ring.
Or at least putting some distance from them and the Misery Machine.
FH: Not a bad idea, but don't look now ... Manson is pushing himself
up!
[Mercenary finishes helping Donkerhardt to his feet and drives a few
blunt fists to keep the upper hand. The Mercenary whips Donkerhardt
off the ropes but Donkerhardt reverses. HvD drops down and The
Mercenary jumps over him right into a Spinning Clothesline by Manson
who just returned to the ring.]
FH: Wasted too much time there bub!
CL: Donkerhardt is back up and is firing off rights and lefts into
Manson and backs the Widowmaker into the ropes... He whips him off ...
[Mercenary pushes himself up as Manson takes a double back body drop
from his opponents, but as Mercenary approaches Manson after that,
Donkerhardt grabs him by the hair and slams the back of his head into
the mat.]
CL: You can't ignore the Netherlands born Donkerhardt. He may not
have the history that Manson and Mercenary have, but he is tough and
he proved that in the first few matches he has had in the PVW.
FH: Donkerhardt is now stomping away at Mercenary. You can tell he
doesn't like him one bit. He cost him a chance at that PVW American
Championship.
[HvD pulls him up, throwing him out of the ring ... However HvD turns
around into a scoop slam by Manson, flowing into a knee drop onto his
face, and then an elbow drop to the chest!]
CL: Manson now with the upper hand ... It's just back and forth ...
Back and forth action with these three!
FH: Just imagine if William Craven was still involved.
CL: Or Larry Gionet for that matter if they really wanted to find out
who the toughest SOB in the PVW was.
[Mercenary gets back in the ring and spins Manson around, laying in
some right hands. Mercenary whips Manson off the ropes and nails him
with a hip toss. The Mercenary sets up and Greco-Roman boot to the
nads leading to him rolling out of the ring!!! The Mercenary then
looks down at HvD who is pulling himself to his feet and then
approaches the ropes only for Donkerhardt to grab him by the foot and
trip him. HvD rolls Mercenary onto his back and begins to position
himself into an arm submission, but Manson quickly back on the attack
and breaks the move ...]
CL: Donkerhardt is a master at submissions, and even though Manson
doesn't like Mercenary he saw his opportunity ... HvD is up and ducks
a right hand attempt and --
"___THUUUUUUUUD___"
FH: Sleeper slam by H-V-D!!! This guy shows no fear.
[HvD lifts Manson up with his arms around his waist and lifts him
backwards planting him right on his neck with a belly-to-back suplex.]
FH: Since that is usually called a German suplex I wonder if
Donkerhardt calls it a Netherlands suplex.
CL: I don't think so Fred.
[Donkerhardt turns around and gets attacked by the Mercenary, driven
into the corner with right hands! The fans begin to rally behind
their chosen favorite. Mercenary whips HvD into the opposing corner
and then grabs Manson, driving his head into the top turnbuckle of
that corner. Mercenary unloads on Manson with a few chops and then
charges at HvD, hitting him with a charging spear right into the
midsection ramming the Netherlands superstar into the corner ...
Mercenary turns and charges at Manson going for another spear, but
Manson pulls himself up onto the second rope and leaps off taking
Mercenary down with a sort of crossbody block ...]
FH: Well that works I guess ...
CL: What was that a Manson desperation dive?
FH: Hey it worked!
[Manson not wasting any time yanks Mercenary up and goes to set him up
for a piledriver, but he slips out and locks on an arm wrench and
whips Manson towards the corner, but he gets hit with a big running
bulldog by von Donkerhardt. Mercenary not shockingly shoots back up
and goes for a clothesline on HvD but the Netherlands born superstar
ducks it and lays him out with a falling reverse DDT.]
"___THUUUUUUUUUUD___"
CL: Look at Donkerhardt ... Clothesline on Manson and SENDS HIM OVER
THE TOP ROPES!!!!
FH: You can't do that to Manson ... Well unless you are a bad ass from
the Netherlands I guess.
[The Mercenary with a double axe from behind and Herscher is whipped
into the ropes, Herscher comes back and is met with a large boot to
the face. Herscher is stunned, and hit with a series of foot stomps
to the head. Hersher is then picked up for a tilt a whirl suplex!!!]
CL: The Mercenary pumps his fist and listen to the fans they are in
full support for the hired gun!
FH: Who cares what they think!
[Manson is now up and he is giving Mercenary the bird!!! The hired
gun is through the ropes and dives down ... FIST FLY!!!!!!!!!]
CL: BONE CRUNCHING PUNCHES BY THESE TWO MEN!
FH: Mercenary is a moron for letting Manson get in his head.
[Manson grabs the midsection of Mercenary and charges with all his
strength forward and smashes him against the guard rail ...]
"___CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG___"
CL: That will slow ya down. Manson now has Mercenary's head and he
drives his forward ... BRUTAL HEADBUTT!
FH: GAH! Only true bad asses use your own head as a weapon!
[We cut back to a split screen again where Larry Gionet is now pacing
... He is muttering words to himself and his fist are clinched. It's
obvious he wants out there bad and it's killing him that these three
men seem to be fighting for what he has _earned_ thus far in the PVW.]
CL: Gionet hardly seems able to contain himself.
FH: He better find away ... Remember Lester, Zero Tolerance!
CL: That is true.
[HvD is out and he grabs the nearest steel chair witch has been deemed
legal in this match ... He sets aim to an exposed mid-back of the
Misery Machine ...]
"___CRRRRAAAAAAAACCCCKKK___"
CL: MANSON DROPPED TO ONE KNEE, BUT EVEN A CHAIR SHOT DIDN'T SEND THE
BIG MAN DOWN!
FH: I told you a _true_ bad ass. Not some wanna be like Larry Gionet.
[HvD begins to bring Manson up the ramp and sets him up giving him a
vertical suplex onto the steel ramp ...]
"___THUUUUUUUUUD___"
CL: As long as they stay on the aisle way and ring side they will be
okay.
FH: HvD knows Manson is the real threat so he is trying to take him
out first. People from the Netherlands are geniuses.
[The Mercenary follows suit and attacks von Donkerhardt, bringing him
over to the announcer's table ... Mercenary bounces HvD's head off of
the announcer's table right in front of Lester and Hoyle ...]
CL: The action is getting a little too close.
FH: What were you saying about the Mercenary now Lester?
CL: Me wasn't that you Fred?
FH: Uhhh ...
[... but as the Mercenary turns around, Manson gives him a rake to the
eyes. Manson delivers a Russian legsweep, back-first into the
announcer’s table ...]
"___CRUUUUUUUUUUNCH___"
CL: Things are getting awful close around here. Should we bail out or
what.
FH: We are getting the sign from our producer to stay ... Is he some
kind of masochist?
[Manson grabs HvD by his head, but unaware to him, he has a mouth full
of Fred Hoyle's water. The Netherlands star turns towards Manson and
spits the water right in his face ... Manson is somewhat blinded is
put up onto the announcer's table.]
CL: Umm ...
[Mercenary now climbs up announcer's table with Manson and HvD and the
duo look at each other and give Manson a double vertical suplex
through the table!!!]
"___CRAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSH___"
"___FZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ___"
[Mercenary and Donkerhardt both get up at the same time and begin
brawling around ring side.]
FH: Can you hear me Lester?
....
...
...
FH: Lester's headset doesn't work so we all get a break. Finally I
can let loose and not have to carry him. Mercenary is now throwing
Donkerhardt back into the ring and following him in ... Manson is
still laid through the rubble of mess in front of me. The Misery
Machine has already taken a chair to the back ... A suplex onto the
ramp ... and now a double suplex through our table. I guess we know
who the toughest SOB in the PVW is!
[The Mercenary begins unloading several right hands to him till HvD is
backed up in the ropes. Mercenary whips HvD off the ropes and goes for
a back body drop, but Donkerhardt stops short and crushes the
Mercenary with a spike DDT ...]
"___THUUUUUUUUUUD___"
FH: [In his best Chip Lester voice ...] Hell of a move by Donkerhardt!
The Netherlands superstar is all over him! It's only a matter of time
until he pins this schmuck the Mercenary.
FH: [Now back in his normal voice ...] You are right Lester. Finally
you have said something worth a darn I am impressed.
[HvD drops down and makes our first cover ...]
ONE ...
TWO ...
[KICK OUT POP!!!]
FH: [In his best Chip Lester voice ...] That was a three count, but
the referee is a Mercenary fan!
FH: [Now back in his normal voice ...] That's okay Lester. It just
allows Donkerhardt to punish that poor sap a little-bit more.
[Herscher lifts up the now prone Mercenary and slams him into the ring
post. ... With his opponent tied up in the tree of woe position,
Herscher hits his big Merc with a series of stomps to the face.
Mercenary's head fires back with head stomp ... Herscher then follows
up the stomps with a series of knee lifts to the abdominal area. After
Herscher finishes with the knee lifts, He steps back, measures the
Mercenary and runs toward him with a running knee lift that lands with
all its force into the groin area of his upside down Mercenary.
The Crowd responds with a collective groan and wince.]
FH: HAHAHAHA! Too bad we can't get Lester's opinion on this one.
CL: Okay I am back Fred ...
FH: Ahh man there went the broadcast.
CL: What?
FH: Oh nothing.
[Donkerhardt seems to be calling for this thing to start to wrap up
... He starts to set up for his Birth of Tragedy Suplex ... A belly to
back Crossface Chickenwing ... However Mercenary fires elbows
backwards ... The stiff weapons at the end of Mercenary's arms does
the job as he hits the ropes and leaps with a big diving clothesline
sending both men to the mat!]
CL: BIG COME BACK BY THE MERCENARY!
FH: We enjoyed it much better when your feed was lost.
[The Mercenary hooks a leg ...]
ONE ...
TWO ...
[BOOOO! Manson breaks the pin up dropping a big stomp into the rib
area of the Mercenary.]
FH: HA! The Misery Machine is back baby and he is putting the boots
to the Mercenary. Take that!
CL: He now has the Mercenary to his feet and throws him into the
corner and drives big right hands and his knee into the rib area of
the Mercenary ...
[Manson notices HvD pulling himself up and turns and Flapjack
Spinebuster that shakes the ring with impact ...]
"___KAAAAAA THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
FH: Jesus he almost put HvD _through_ the ring with that.
CL: It doesn't appear all that damage on the outside of the ring has
slowed down Marcus Manson.
FH: I told you Lester ... Pure bad ass!
[Manson mounts the second rope and begins punching away at the face of
the Mercenary. HvD has himself back up and Manson turns around
telling him to bring it bitch ... The distraction allows Mercenary to
slip out from in-front of Manson, getting behind him and walking out
of the corner with Manson on his shoulders in an electric chair drop
position. Mercenary steadies all 295 pounds and falls back with an
electric chair drop!]
"___THUUUUUUD___"
CL: WHAT CONCENTRATION ... WHAT STRENGTH!
FH: Don't look now but ...
"___SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK___"
[A leaping knee from HvD is right on the money and crashes into an
unexpecting Mercenary. He quickly drops down and locks on his
Crossface Inverted Indian Deathlock ...]
CL: This one could be over! He calls this deadly submission move -
The Will to Power!
FH: No man can survive it!
CL: The Mercenary is telling the referee "no!"
[The Mercenary is trapped and nowhere to go however ... Marcus Manson
is up and BIG BOOT TO THE HEAD OF HvD breaks the hold!]
FH: It's the Mercenary's lucky day!
CL: HvD is pushing himself up ... LEAPING ACE CRUSHER!!!! THE WIDOW
MAKER!!!!!!
FH: Right on the money too!
CL: It looks like Manson is lining up for the heart punch as the
Mercenary is trying to push himself up, but the damage to his legs is
slowing him down ...
[HUGE POP!!!!]
FH: WHAT THE ...
[Larry Gionet has had enough in his street clothes he has dived under
the ring and unloaded with powerful right hands on Marcus Manson.
With each closed fist it drives the side of the Misery Machines head
side ways. The stunned Manson is reeling and Gionet sends him off the
ropes ... TILT-A-WHIRL ....]
"___ECHOOOOOOOING CRAAAAAAAAAAACK___"
CL: RIB CRACKER!!!! THIS MOVE MADE GIONET FAMOUS IN THE PVW!!!! HE
JUST LIFTED 295 POUNDS OF MANSON WITH EASE AND DROVE HIS RIBS INTO HIS
KNEE!!! LISTEN TO THESE FANS ROAR!!!!!
FH: Who invited him down!!! Welcome to suspension land ... Zero
Tolerance!
CL: I don't think Gionet cares! He has been kept out of action and he
is inside a PVW ring and unloading!
[Gionet is pumping his fist as he drags Marcus Manson out of the ring
and DRIVES him head first into the side of the ring apron. He turns
and grabs the ring steps and lifts it high above his head and TOSSES
IT DOWN AT MANSON ....]
"___CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH___"
FH: Somebody stop this mad man!
CL: The Mercenary is up and he is stumbling on that leg.
[Herscher is down and trying to use the ropes to bring himself back
up. The Mercenary grabs his head, turns him around and peppers him
with shots to the face. Herscher is then hit with a series of kicks to
the gut, before being lifted up and slammed to the mat with a choke
slam!]
FH: This isn't good. Manson is being jumped by Larry Gionet who
shouldn't even be down here and HvD has just been sent down with a
choke slam.
CL: The Mercenary has rolled to the outside he is grabbing his
Hailburton ... He turns and Gionet KICKS IT RIGHT INTO an unexpecting
MERCENARIES FACE!!!!
[MIXED REACTION!!!!]
FH: HA!!! NOW WHO IS COMPLAINING!!!
CL: I don't think Gionet cares who he is hitting. This is called the
toughest man in PVW and he is down here to prove it!
[Manson is up however and he doesn't look happy! Gionet snarls back
and he charges and tackles Manson back, but Manson twists and with the
momentum tosses him half way up the aisle way ... He begins to storm
forward as Mercenary stumbles back and under the ropes ... He pushes
himself up - HvD grabs the dazed Mercenary ... Belly to Back Crossface
Chickenwing!!!]
"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
CL: Birth of Tragedy!!!!
FH: YES!
ONE ...
TWO ...
THREE !!!
[BOOOOOOOOOO!]
CL: Herscher von Donkerhardt was able to capitalize on Larry Gionet's
interference. The Mercenary looked to have the match wrapped up ...
FH: First Marcus Manson looked to have the match wrapped up!
CL: Manson and Gionet are still going at it! This is eventually going
to have to be settled INSIDE that ring!
FH: Only if Gionet can get cleared to wrestle ... Now after he serves
a suspension.
CL: Officials are finally down here to stop Gionet and Manson.
FH: Where were they when they were needed?
CL: I am getting word camera's are set to roll outside the parking
lot?
FH: Maybe Spectre is biting the face off of somebody else!
[Cut out to a dimmer area of the parking structure in the Scottrade
Center. After a few seconds, Tom Landis enters the camera frame
dressed in bluejeans and a black t-shirt. He's also wearing a frown
on his face as he surveys the scene.]
HTL: This has bad idea written all over it. Who am I, Princess Leia?
[mocking voice] Help me wise stranger, you're my only hope.
???: Well seeing how you're in a pretty hopeless predicament; I'd say
bad idea is better than no idea.
[Landis turns around as a man's voice emerges behind the shadows. A
dark sillohette appears near the corner of the parking structure, his
appearance still well hidden by the shadows.]
HTL: So just what the hell are we doing here?
???: Trying to solve your Gibson Hayes problem. Unless by here you
mean, cheaply done cliché of a parking structure with a man hidden in
the shadows, shrouded with mystery, and to that I say who hasn't
wanted to be a part of this tired cliché, shrouded in mystery?
[The shadow waits for a response, however none is forthcoming.]
???: Fine, we're here to solve your Gibson Hayes problem.
HTL: Problem? There's no problem, just a bit of a wait until I get my
hands wrapped around his throat. Once I take care of that, no more
problem. No more Gibson, either.
???: Look, everyone in the world knows that fair fight, one-on-one in
the ring you can beat Gibson Hayes. Its just the problem of right
now, you are never going to get a one-on-one opportunity to face
Gibson Hayes.
HTL: Are you talking about Johnstone? He may talk tough, but I think
when push comes to shove he's going to be about as harmless as the
Gutch after an all-night buffet run.
???: You have to know the entire situation, and in this case the
entire situation is the entire entourage. You need to find a way to
get past everything that surrounds Hayes until the only thing left is
Hayes. That's where I come in.
HTL: Alright, I'm not booked tonight, so I've got time to kill. I'll
listen to what you've got to say at least.
???: By the time you hear everything I have to say, trust me, Gibson
won't know what hit him. HTL: Maybe not, but he'll damn sure know
_who_ hit him.
[A few laughes then cut back to ring side.]
CL: Who is talking with Landis? Apparently he knows quite a bit about
Gibson Hayes.
FH: It's probably Mr. Willingham himself ... It's been a conspiracy
from the start. Russian spies all over the place.
CL: Either way Tom Landis an American born superstar has been battling
Gibson Hayes for quite a few months now. Coming so close at Boiling
Point in wearing that American Championship.
FH: Oh that would of been just great. Our own Benedict Arnold wearing
the American Championship. Thank god Gibson Hayes wouldn't let that
happen!
CL: Either way maybe things will be on a more level playing field.
FH: What Gibson Hayes doesn't have to take on the whole PVW now?
CL: I am getting word Will Geddings is standing by to enter the ring
...
#Here it is again#
#Yet it stings like the first time#
#Seasons never end#
#Double nickels on your dime#
#I thought we were friends#
#I guess it just depends who you ask#
#These feelings tend to leave me with a hole in my chest#
[Pyros go off on either side of the ramp as "Calling All Skeletons" by
Alkaline Trio hits it's full instrumental part. Will Geddings emerges
from the backstage area to a huge face pop. Geddings has on his normal
black pants with "Eagle" down one leg and "Claw" down the other. He
continues to feature the Victory Lane mask to cover his injured face.
Geddings hops from side to side in the aisle way, slapping hands with
several willing fans. New to this event, Geddings has on a "CL
Memorial Cup" shirt on.]
[Geddings makes it to the ring and runs over to the turnbuckle,
running up it and standing on the top rope. Once there, he motions to
the crowd to increase their already deafening support. Satisfied with
the decibel level, Geddings slowly walks across the top rope and turns
to face the audience, moonsaulting back into the middle of the ring.
Upon his landing...]
#POP# #POP# #POP# #POP# #POP#
[The pyros shoot out of the turnbuckles, leaving a haze of smoke.
Geddings claps his hands and runs over to a corner and sits on top,
waiting.]
CL: William Geddings has been on a path to the Main Event scene in PVW
as of late, taking a strong stand against Strickland Sports Network
and looking to make an impact in the company!
FH: A path that led to permanent scarring and a target etched on his
back!
# Please allow me to introduce myself,
# I'm a man of wealth and taste...
[The arena lights dim as "Sympathy for the Devil" by The Rolling
Stones begins to play over the PA system. After a moment, "Showtime"
Rick Marley emerges from the back to a chorus of boos. The dark
haired wrestler is wearing dark long legged trunks with the word
"Showtime" stenciled across the butt and with blue-ish white spotlight
streaks up the legs, along with a black WMI t shirt.
He walks unhurriedly down towards the ring, ignoring the boos, insults
and threats from those in attendance until he is about 15 feet
from the ring, at which point he sprints the distance, sliding under
the bottom rope, striding across the squared circle to climb to the
second rope in front of the announcer's table, where he raises both
hands to the crowd...]
CL: And here's the man to take advantage of that target...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
One on One Match:
<><><><><><><><><>
Will Geddings v. Rick Marley
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: And Marley with a kick to the midsection right off the bat!
Another boot, and he whips Geddings to the ropes and DRILLS him to the
mat with a running clothesline!
FH: The leader of the Widowmakers isn't happy to be taking a step down
by facing someone like Will Geddings! But since Geddings wants a
better class of wrestler, this is what he's going to get!
CL: Geddings up and Marley drills him with a forearm! Another
forearm... and he just shoves Geddings into the corner and drills him
with a back elbow! Another! He hooks him up with a front chancery...
[Marley makes certain to let the fans see it coming before he SNAPS
Geddings over with a suplex! Perfect execution and Marley quickly
rolls to his feet, turning to regard the fallen "Flygod" as he
struggles to catch his senses.]
CL: And Marley pulls Geddings up... and drives a quick forearm across
the face! Another! He whips him to the ropes... and charges with a
clothesline, DUCKS!!! Geddings to the ropes and he drills a flying
burrito!!!!
FH: That's a little insulting... not that I mind insulting, but egads!
CL: Geddings whips Marley into the ropes, reversed by Marley. Marley
telegraphs a back bodydrop. Geddings uses his back as a springboard!
FH: He's gonna fly out of the ring!
CL: Geddings lands on the top rope! Springing back elbow into the
turning Marley!
*HUGE POP!!!!*
CL: The Flyking taking to the air and drilling Rick Marley back to he
mat... he goes for a cover... one, but Marley already kicks out!
FH: This is where Geddings normally makes a huge mistake...
CL: He hauls Marley up... and drills him across the knee with a
backbreaker!
"-__THUUUUUD___"
FH: Will Geddings?
[The crowd roars their approval as Will Geddings immediately hooks one
leg and turns Marley over... arching his back with a single leg crab
that nearly bends him in half!]
CL: A quick power driven move across the knee into a submission hold,
and Marley is struggling to reach the ropes! And quick as a hiccup,
Geddings isn't letting that early offense break his concentration...
he wants to prove a point tonight!
FH: Marley doesn't want to be the proven point, though and so he
continues to struggle for the ropes... a man of such intestinal
fortitude can not be denied! HE MAKES IT!!!!
CL: Geddings releases the hold and STOMPS the lower back! Pulling
Rick Marley to his feet and he just picks him up and DRIVES him to the
mat with a simple body slam!
FH: There really isn't anything all that simple about getting your
spine driven to the mat, Chip. Show some compassion...
[Lifting one arm high for the crowd, Will Geddings takes the measure
as Marley tries to use the ropes to get to his feet... Geddings
charges!]
CL: Shove to the ropes, and Geddings sends Marley for a ride... and
gets spun for a HUGE powerslam! The Flyking immediately to his feet...
rushes the ropes and executes the moonsault!
FH: I don't believe it... Geddings is actually taking Marley for a
ride!
ONE!!!!
TWO!!!!
THR... Shoulder up!
*Heel Pop!*
CL: A close call for Rick Marley, and Will Geddings might have just
come that much closer to his goal of moving up to the main event!!! A
quick confirmation of the count, and the Flyking pulls the Showstopper
to his feet and hooks the head... Flatliner Leg Sweep!
FH: Come on, Rick! COME ON!!!
CL: And now Will Geddings going to the place that makes him the most
money, climbing the turnbuckles for flight! Marley hops up!
FH: Well, obviously playing possum and charges, running up the
turnbuckles and hitting an enzugiri to the side of Geddings's head!
*HEEL POP!!!*
CL: Geddings sent hard to the floor as Marley falls back to the mat.
[Rick Marley stands and twists his back a little, shaking out the
stiffness as Will Geddings starts to get to his feet. Suddenly, the
crowd erupts as Marley shoots forward... ]
FH: SUICIDE DIVE!!! YES!!! Did you see the back of Geddings head go
crashing against that steel guardrail?! That was awesome!
CL: An awesome move, but it took a lot out of the Showstopper to
execute it. Both men are a little slow to get up, but Marley gets up
first and throws a left! A right! Geddings answers with an elbow!
[Marley and Geddings are brawling outside of the ring. Geddings
leaning up against the guardrail as Marley charges. Geddings ducks
and back body drops Marley over the guardrail and into the crowd, but
Marley twists in mid air, landing on his feet! He exchanges punches,
then reaches over, hops up on a chair and hits a modified Limelight,
driving Geddings throat first across the guardrail!!!]
"___CRRRUUUUUUUUNCH___"
*GASPING HEEL POP!*
FH: THE LIMELIGHT!!! This match is over... this match is over!!!
CL: Referee telling both men to get inside... continuing his count and
Rick Marley rolls in to break it... and back out again!
FH: He's not done with Will Geddings... he's not done delivering the
pain for the Flygod's arrogance!
CL: Marley ducks a wild haymaker...
FH: Geddings is gonna get it now...
CL: Marley grabs Geddings and lifts him for a sidewalk slam...GEDDINGS
WITH A DROPKICK! MARLEY CAUGHT ONE IN THE CHOPS!
[HUGE FACE POP!!!!]
CL: And Geddings staggers to the ring... rolling beneath the bottom
rope as he watches the referee's hand raise for seven....
Eight....
Nine...
Te... NO!!!!!! Marley shoves himself under the bottom rope and Will
Geddings drives an elbow down! Another elbow!!!!
FH: Geddings pulling the Showstopper to his feet... I can't believe
this joke is going on for so long! But Will Geddings is really
taking it to Rick Marley? Can you imagine what could happen if Will
Geddings wins this match?
CL: He hauls him up... and drives him down with a power bomb! He
keeps Marley hooked and hauls him up again... Power bomb number two!
*HUGE FACE POP GROWING LOUDER!!!!*
[He's not done... he keeps it his hands hooked and the muscles cord in
Will Geddings shoulders as he straightens up his spine and hauls Rick
Marley up again! Marley is obviously out of it... but Geddings takes
a step forward and Marley's eyes shoot wide open for a moment before
his body is snapped back!!!!]
CL: AND THERE'S NUMBER THREE!!!!!! He holds him down for a
cover....
One....
Two...
KICKOUT!!!!
FH: Pure instincts from Rick Marley! Those are the instincts of a
natural champion!
CL: Geddings pulls Marley to his feet... he hooks both arms!!!
*crowd pop goes from face to heel!*
FH: No! Marley pulls free and grabs the waist... countering the
Eagle Claw and he pops his hips for a northern lights SUPLEX!!!!
One....
Two....
[Geddings snaps a fist into the side in order to break the cover!]
CL: Geddings not going out with that... both men get to their feet,
but Geddings a little quicker! Kneelift doubles over Rick Marley!
He hooks him for the vertical suplex!!!
FH: Big mistake... REWRITE!!!
[Huge heel pop as Rick Marley twists and drops Geddings back with him
for an inverted DDT!!! Both men are down... ]
CL: Double down here as both men are totally worn out... they're
giving it their all, and I think the world knows that Will Geddings
has proven everything he ever set out to!
FH: That doesn't make him a main eventer, Chip! Not just yet!
One....
Two.
Three.....
Four....
Five....
Six....
[Both men struggle to their feet... Geddings feels the rush of the
crowd! He poses for a moment, breathing in the adrenaline as he turns
his gaze on The Showstopper for a moment... and charges!]
CL: Right hand rocks Marley! Another right! Another! And another!
He goes for the Irish whip, and Marley rebounds... Backbody drop!
FH: No! Marley with holds on to the waist and Will Geddings gets
yanked back with a sunset flip!
[Marley stands and YANKS GEddings' tights as he leans in for leverage,
the referee in perfect position to see the shoulders down but not the
tights... ]
One....
TWO....
THREE!!!!!!
*DING DING DING!!!*
[Fans boo loudly as Marley rolls off holding his arms up. Geddings is
trying to talk to the official explaining that his tights were held,
but the official is apologizing that he didn't see it.]
CL: This can't end like this. It was a classic back and forth war
between two veterans at the top of their game.
FH: Will Geddings was just out smarted. He has been on both sides of
the fence and knows how it goes.
[Marley points and Geddings with a big smile as he rolls out of the
ring with his hand raised high. Geddings shakes his head and says -
"This time Marley."]
CL: Geddings fell short to the old pull the tights trick. However the
fans are still on their feet for the veteran.
FH: What a bunch of morons.
CL: They love this new found duo of Geddings and Cassel.
FH: They already are fighting the SSN pro stable. Geddings better not
ask for more with WMI. Accept that you were outsmarted and move on
Flyboy.
CL: Geddings is about as calm as they come. He knows he will live to
fight another day.
FH: Not if he puts all his eggs in the Gavin Cassel basket.
CL: What a show we have had thus far tonight ... It has started off
with an appearance from the Masked Outlaw. PAIN are now signed and on
the active roster and the Wild Cards gave them a welcome gift.
FH: Pathetic what do they think this is a circus?
CL: Tommy Ryder picked up the gift wrapped victory over Masterson.
The mood was turned upside down when Spectre was found lingering in
the back talking to our world champion. Gavin Cassel put the former
SSN chosen one's shoulders to the mat.
FH: I would like to see him try that with Alex Martinez.
CL: Gibson Hayes did what he does best and run his mouth.
FH: Don't forget Doc Holliday was begging his way out of his Tradition
III match!
CL: We had tag chaos and a face to face with William Craven and Rick
Marley.
FH: What a match that will be. I assume it's set for Shattered
Dreams?
CL: The announcement hasn't become official just yet, but finally we
saw two wars with Demon Shadow and Doc Holliday ... And we just saw
Rick Marley pull one out over Will Geddings ... And we have ONE final
match set next.
FH: Finally Main Event greatness ... Rob Cole and Alex Martinez on
the same team. History is about to happen Lester!
[The camera zooms in on the center of the ring. Herk Douglas stands
in the center waiting for his que.]
HD: It's time for our _MAIN EVENT_!
[HUGE MAIN EVENT POPPAGE!!!]
FH: I can hardly contain my excitement!
CL: This is a match up worth waiting for I will say that Fred.
HD: Introducing first ... From Beverly Hills, California ... Standing
at six feet seven and weighing in at two-hundred and ninety seven
pounds.
"CONCEITED BASTARD" CHASE WILLIAMS !!!
[The pounding bass of "Heavy Metal Kings" By Jedi Mind tricks rocks
the arena, and the ramp way begins to fill with smoke.]
##I murder you and laugh##
##I'm Barry Sanders slashing through the path##
##you a magician's assistant, I'm sawin' you in half##
[A figure appears atop the entryway, his shadow looming behind a
shroud of smoke. He emerges, standing smugly at the edge of the ramp,
arms crossed. Chase Williams still isn't used to the new love from the
fans.]
##you a heathan that rely on the beast##
##I'm a demon at the fire crucifyin' the priest##
##I shine over beats##
##a motherfuckin' beast on the mic##
##I'm a lion out the jungle, raw meat what I like##
[Chase shadows a few punches as he ascends the ramp way, focusing
solely on the ring. He reaches ringside and climbs the stairs,
stepping over the top rope. He circles the ring and finally turns
towards the entryway with a look that can only be described as utterly
hateful.]
CL: Chase Williams our first Heavyweight Champion has a huge task
ahead of him. Rob Cole was no slouch, but the destroyer of many men
in many of places is now under the SSN umbrella.
FH: It's quite simple Lester. You _don't_ mess with Alex Martinez.
HD: Their opponent standing at six foot two ... Weighing in at two
hundred and twenty five pounds. Hailing from Montreal, Quebec!!!
Here is ...
"The Blade" Justin Cruise !!!
## I can't believe the news today.. ##
## I can't close my eyes and make it go away.. ##
## How long.. How long must we sing this song.. ##
## How long? How loooooooong? ##
["Sunday, Bloody, Sunday" by Pillar blasts through the arena as
"The Blade" Justin Cruise steps out from the back to a huge pop from
the crowd.]
## Sunday Bloody Sunday... ##
## Sunday Bloody Sunday... ##
[He makes his way to the ring, slapping hands with the fans down the
aisle.]
## When the battles just begun.. ##
## There's many lost but tell me who has won.. ##
[Cruise climbs the steps onto the apron, and steps into the ring
between the ropes.]
CL: You have to wonder what kind of shape Cruise is in after the
beating he took from Rob Cole at the last Heatwave.
FH: How would you like to come out the following show and stand across
_both_ Rob Cole and Alex Martinez. Thanks, but NO thanks!
[Chase Williams and Justin Cruise two men that have no love loss stand
across from each other and just give one another a simple nod.]
CL: These two men have had their share of battles in the past. And
when Justin Cruise debuted it was Chase Williams who gunned for The
Blade with issues from the past. However both men have major tasks
ahead of themselves and right now isn't the time to settle old
grudges.
FH: Says who?
CL: Any sane man!
[Both Chase Williams and Justin Cruise stand inside the ring waiting
possibly the greatest challenge of their lives.]
FH: Becareful what you ask for ...
[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. Accompanied to the ring by Jessica Marshall
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: And out steps SSN's latest wild card, Jessica Marshall.
FH: One woman you should all fear.
CL: Why is that?
FH: Don't you remember what she did to that other place? And now she
has SSN behind her!
CL: Zero Tolerance sort of takes care of that happening.
FH: For now.
[The glare from Chase Williams says it all. He can't wait to extract
some revenge on SSN and their new "Chosen one" Alex Martinez. Justin
Cruise steps up beside his partner.]
FH: Oh look how nice.
CL: Justin Cruise making a statement that tonight him and Chase
Williams are on the same page!
FH: We will see about that.
HD: His partner ...
[CHORUS OF BOOO'S!!! A small "Traitor" chant begins through the
crowd.]
CL: The fans are still a little sore with Rob Cole it appears.
FH: Get over it. Rob Cole was never your golden boy.
HD: Wrestling out of Hudson Valley , New York ... Standing at six foot
three and weighing in at two-hundred and eighty six pounds ...
Here is your PVW _WORLD_ HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION ...
THE OUTCAST ...
ROB
COLE !!!
["Rumatahatta" by Sepultura hits the PA system. Out steps the Outcast.
The long dark hair hangs in wet tangles around his face and head, he
is dressed in a pair of loose fitting black pants with a silver barbed
wire trim design up along the sides. Red and black boots, taped
fists, and a sleeveless teeshirt finishes out Cole's attire. The
camera zooms in on the face of the legend and it's covered in scars
from past battles. He walks slowly down to the ring with the PVW World
Heavyweight Championship sits proudly on the warriors shoulder.]
FH: And there is our champion!
CL: Rob Cole fought in a complete war with Chase Williams at Boiling
Point. He has been through many of battles so far in the PVW, but none
will go down in the record books like that one.
[Rob Cole is stops at the yellow line as the senior official holds
up a hand and begins to speak in low tones. Cole seems confused for a
moment, shifting the weight of his title belt on his shoulder before
angrily taking a step back. "What? I don't have any weapons... why
would I have a weapon?" The referee continues to insist, and Cole
shakes his head!]
CL: The referee is looking to check Rob Cole for any weapons but the
World Champion looks like he's refusing to comply!
FH: And why should he comply? He's the World Champion... he's the
monster beneath the bed... why should he have to bow and scrape for a
chance to step in HIS ring?
[Cole finally pulls the title off his shoulder and holds his hands
out, the referee turns them over and checks his tape before moving on
to his pants... and immediately pulls a fountain pen from the waist
band! "What's this?!" Cole blinks, points up the aisle, "I was
signing autographs backstage... I forgot I had it! Can I get in the
ring now?" The referee angrily shakes his head and continues to check
Cole... and pulls a fork out of his waistband! The crowd cheers as the
referee shoves it up in front of Cole, who shakes his head, "No no
no... you don't understand... I was eating a salad when I heard my
theme music, I just forgot it was there... it wasn't intentional!"]
CL: The referee finding two weapons so far...
FH: I'm stunned. So few?
[A roll of quarters is yanked out next, and Coles' shoulders slump...
"That's where they went to... I guess it's too late to go back and get
a soda from the machine, huh?" The referee is livid... shaking... he
continues to pat down the leg and suddenly yanks the pants out of the
Outcasts boot in order to grab a small package. He breaks it open,
letting it drift through his fingers as he looks up. "Salt for my
salad."]
FH: Okay, not so stunned anymore.
CL: I'm starting to wonder if this match will ever start...
[Finally the official clears the champion and Rob Cole shoots a glare
towards Jessica Marshall who stands with her arms crossed watching
interested next to him at the yellow line. He then enters the ring
and fires the title in the air getting another roar of boo's.]
CL: Well finally all four men are inside the ring and referee Jim
Pearson is explaining the rules to the four men ...
FH: Like they are going to follow them anyways ...
[Suddenly, a voice blares over the P.A. system's loudspeaker.]
V: Wait! Wait just a moment!!
[All heads turn toward the entrance curtains where Matthew Willingham
can be seen marching out in a dark business suit while holding a
wireless microphone to his lips.]
FH: Willingham? What is HE doing out here?
CL: I have absolutely no idea. This hasn't happened in ... well
never!
[The commentators' confusion is matched throughout the arena as the
younger Willingham halts at the top of the aisle and holds up a
restraining hand.]
MW: This match cannot take place! Not as it stands right now!
[In the ring, Rob Cole is beginning to look a little angry as Alex
Martinez cocks one eyebrow upward and shoots an inquiring look over at
Jessica Marshall who is standing at ringside. She shrugs, as mystified
as everyone else, as the referee leans out between the ropes to confer
with the timekeeper.]
MW: Recently, we announced a new Zero Tolerance Policy as a means of
protecting our fans and our employees. But some of you...
[Willingham points an accusatory finger towards the ring.]
MW: ...have been ignoring that policy! And since you can't seem to
follow the rules on your own, we've had to bring in someone who CAN
force you to follow the rules.
[Justin Cruise places his hands on his hips, curious to see what
happens next, while Cole crosses his arms over his chest with an angry
scowl on his face.]
MW: Ladies and gentlemen... allow me to introduce to you PVW's new
Head Of Security...
...JASON KEENING!!!
[Alex Martinez's face pales in a combination of shock and anger as a
stocky, powerful figure walks out through the curtains wearing a
tight-fitting black T-shirt with a PVW logo on the chest. A small
smattering of cheers and applause can be heard from the audience as
some die-hard wrestling fans recognize the Native American man who
walks up beside Willingham. But the majority of the crowd isn't
familiar with Keening and they respond with confused muttering. At
ringside, Jessica Marshall's shriek of dismay indicates that she, at
least, recognizes the new Head of Security.]
FH: WHAT?!?!? JASON KEENING IS THE NEW HEAD OF SECURITY??? WHAT THE
HELL KIND OF BULL[bleep] IS THIS?!?!?!?
CL: FRED! Get a hold of yourself! Obviously the Willinghams have gone
out and recruited former wrestler Jason Keening as a way to get things
back under control!
FH: THIS IS A COMPLETE DISASTER! THAT OVERGROWN BOY SCOUT IS GONNA
KILL THIS COMPANY, MARK MY WORDS!! LESTER Do SOMETHING!
CL: Besides sit here and clap my hands?
[At the top of the aisle, Willingham hands off the microphone to the
powerfully-muscled figure that is the new Head of Security. Keening,
his long black hair tied back in a tight ponytail, smirks a little at
the reaction of Alex Martinez and Jessica Marshall before he speaks.]
JK: Good evening, everyone! It's good to be here in the PVW.
[Rob Cole looks angry and confused as he bellows questions at the
referee while Alex Martinez stares daggers at Keening.]
JK: But as Mr. Willingham just said... things have gotten a little out
of hand, lately. Certain individuals have decided that the new Zero
Tolerance Policy doesn't apply to them... and I've been hired to show
them that it does. First off...
[Keening holds up a single finger.]
JK: ...at last week's Heatwave, several individuals decided to
interfere in the main event tag team title match. They may have
believed, mistakenly I might add, that the No Disqualification rules
meant that anyone could intervene in the match. But they were wrong.
For the No DQ rules only applied to the PARTICIPANTS in that match.
Which means that El LOCO Outlaw and Marissa Monet both violated the
Zero Tolerance Policy's first rule. Because there was some potential
for confusion about that rule, it has been decided that neither El
LOCO Outlaw nor Ms. Monet will be suspended. They will, however, both
face substantial fines as a result of their actions.
FH: What? Fines??
CL: Quiet, Fred.
FH: Who does he think he is?
[This announcement is greeted with confused muttering as both the fans
and the wrestlers in the ring are wondering how this applies to the
match that was supposed to unfold.]
JK: Similarly, The Mercenary also violated the Z.T.P. at last week's
Heatwave during the Battle Royale. As the first rule states, anyone
who is not competing in a scheduled wrestling match is not allowed to
enter the ring. The Mercenary WAS competing in that match but as soon
as he was eliminated, he should have exited the red-painted three-foot
area around the ring immediately. He didn't. He stayed and he
interfered in the match. Again, due to the potential for confusion,
The Mercenary will not be suspended. But he will be punished in the
place that hurts him most... his pocketbook. The Mercenary will also
have to pay a substantial fine as a result of his actions.
FH: Oh, Merc is DEFINITELY not going to like this!
CL: I thought you didn't like The Mercenary?
FH: I don't, anymore. But still... he's gonna be pissed!
[Keening smiles at this dig against a former foe but the fans and the
wrestlers in the ring are starting to get impatient.]
JK: Which brings me to my last announcement tonight as the new Head of
Security for PVW... and it's about you, Rob Cole.
[Cole's head snaps up and he glares angrily up the aisle as some of
the fans cheer to hear that he's about to be punished. Through the
entrance curtains, a large number of burly men wearing black T-shirts
file out and start marching down the aisle in two columns, heading
directly for the ring.]
FH: Who are all these guys? This isn't the usual security crew!
CL: Definitely not! It looks like the PVW has hired a whole new batch
of security guards at the same time as Jason Keening... and these men
do not look like they can be trifled with!
[The new guards file past the commentators as Keening continues.]
JK: On last week's Heatwave, you violated Z.T.P. Rule #4 when you
committed an act of violence outside the confines of a wrestling ring
or an officially sanctioned match. It doesn't matter if you claim that
you were only defending yourself, it doesn't matter a single bit what
your motivation was. The point is... you broke the rule.
[Cole is now beginning to protest loudly, yelling threats and insults
at the crowd of security men who have now surrounded the ring. Behind
him, Alex Martinez looks on with a wary expression while Justin Cruise
applauds in satisfaction.]
JK: Ordinarily, this would mean that you would automatically be turned
over to local law enforcement authorities for prosecution, Mister
Cole. But seeing as we're just starting off tonight with my very first
day on the job, we're going to punish you with a suspension.
FH: A suspension! He can't do this!!
CL: I think he can. And he just did.
["The Monster From Under The Bed" erupts in an enraged string of
profanities and begins stomping about the ring.]
JK: Which is why this match cannot take place as originally
scheduled... Mister Cole is now suspended which means he is no longer
allowed to compete within the PVW.
[Cole looks as if he's about to charge up the aisle but he backs up
and clenches his fists as the crowd of security guards slide into the
ring from all four sides. Martinez and the others in the ring are
ignored as Cole is completely surrounded, turning about as he screams
at the guards to get closer. A large portion of the crowd cheers
loudly at the sight of the champion at bay.]
JK: Now, Mister Cole, before you begin violating Z.T.P. Rule #2 by
attacking security officials of the PVW, you might want to consider
your current reign as the World Heavyweight Champion. For as a result
of your actions, a review is currently under way to decide whether or
not you should be stripped of your title!
FH: WHAT?!?
CL: Whoah!
[This brings Cole up short as his head whips around to stare up the
aisle at Keening.]
JK: That's right, Mister Cole. Not only are you currently under
suspension but if you do not restrain yourself, you may find yourself
not only out on the streets but also no longer a PVW champion!
[Again the fans cheer as all of the blood drains from Cole's face. If
looks could kill, Jason Keening would be buried by now as "The Monster
From Under The Bed" stands still in shock while the security guards
move in to restrain him.]
JK: Gentlemen. Please escort Mister Cole from the building. He is no
longer permitted to be here.
CL: Jason Keening has just suspended the World Champion! And he's
threatening to take his title belt away as well!!
FH: WE'RE DOOMED! WE'RE [bleep]ING DOOMED!! JASON KEENING IS IN CHARGE
AND WE'RE ALL GONNA BE UNEMPLOYED!!!
CL: Please, Fred! Watch your language!!
[Cole's teeth are tightly clenched together and he continues to stare
intently at Keening as he shrugs off the security guards while
permitting himself to be escorted from the ring. Jessica Marshall can
be heard shrieking protests at the referee but all eyes are on Cole as
he walks up the aisle and past the new Head of Security. "The Monster
Under The Bed" stares murderously at Keening who ignores him as the
champion is led up the aisle and through the curtains.]
CL: This is a shocking development, ladies and gentlemen, as our new
Head of Security has just suspended our World Champion. And we still
don't know what's going to happen to tonight's main event!
FH: Doomed, I tell you! Doomed!!
[After Cole is led away, Keening turns his attention back to the
ring.]
JK: Now then. We still have a match to be wrestled but with Mister
Cole no longer available, we're missing a competitor. This is why I
asked one of the wrestlers to skip his originally scheduled match
earlier tonight. Allow me to introduce Rob Cole's replacement...
...WILLIAM CRAVEN!!!
[Black. Twin pinpoints of red spring to life as a rhythm guitar plays
the opening strains of "Space Lord" by Monster Magnet. A red line
reverberates between them and off the sides of the screen, keeping
time with the rhythm of the guitar.]
#Ive been stuffed in your pocket for the last hundred days.#
#When I don't get my bath I take it out on the slaves,#
[Cut to the arena, where a red spotlight shows on the entrance
portal.]
#So grease up your baby for the ball on the hill,#
#now, polish them rockets now, and swallow those pills,#
[The lights in the arena darken, and the crowd becomes hushed. On the
big screen over the entrance portal, the red light and reverberating
line become a pattern of cracks that form the word "Craven".]
#and sing... Whoaaaaa space lord mother, mother.#
[A short instrumental interlude, then an explosion of sound.]
#I LEFT MY THRONE A MILLION MILES AWAY!#
#I DRINK FROM YOUR TIT!#
#I SING YOUR BLUES EVERY DAY!#
[Bursting from the back comes a large figure, holding high what looks
to be a sword. Wearing nothing but a pair of camouflage pants and a
black gas mask, his hands and feet are wrapped in red gauze.]
#NOW GIVE ME STRENGTH,#
#TO SPLIT THE WORLD IN TWO, YEAH!#
#I ATE ALL THE REST, AND NOW I GOTTA EAT YOU!#
[Stopping before the entrance portal, he is bathed in a storm of
flaming sparks.]
#Well I sing,#
#WHOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!#
#SPACE LORD, MOTHER, MOTHER!#
HD: Ladies and gentlemen, hailing from Detroit Michigan.
#WHOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!#
#SPACE LORD, MOTHER, MOTHER!#
HD: Weighing in tonight at 320 pounds, this is WILLIAM CRAVEN!!!
#I lost my soul when I fell to earth.#
#My planet's called me to the void of my birth.#
[Sliding from the ring to intercept him, the referee seems to want to
check Bill before he enters the 'red zone' around the ring.]
CL: The referee actually stopping Craven before he hits the ringside
area.
#The time has come for me to kill this game.#
#NOW OPEN WIDE AND SAY MY NAAAAAAAAAME!#
FH: Wouldn't you? Anyone caught with a foreign object within the
ringside area gets suspended. If Craven gets suspended, much as I
hate to say it, there's a contingent of fans that watch something else
that night on TV. Only thing is ... how do you keep the guy clean?
He's got a weapon in his hands already!
[Acquiescing, albeit reluctantly, Bill holds his arms out to his
sides, and is shocked as his bokken is immediately ripped from his
hand. Bill rips off his gas mask, allowing everyone to see the rage
in his eyes immediately. "Space Lord" cuts abruptly, and a heated
argument goes on between the two as the other 3 participants
in the match act impatient, and the fans, already restless, get
increasingly animated.]
CL: Indeed. That wooden sword handed off to security, and you can
tell right away that William Craven is not fond of this "Zero
Tolerance Policy" handed down by the top brass of PVW.
FH: He wouldn't even be in this match if it wasn't for that horrible
rule!
[Continuing the inspection, the ref doesn't find anything in either of
Bill's pant legs, his belt line, or his left wrist's red wrappings,
but Bill jerks back as the ref tries to examine his right wrist.]
FH: What now? C'mon, you big green retard, just let the man take your
toys so we can get on with the evening!
[Snarling, warding off the ref with feinted kicks, Bill produces a
razor blade fragment from his gauzed wrist, shows it to the ref, who
holds his hand out to receive it, but only gets a raspberry blown at
him by Craven, who immediately starts slicing himself up. AND THE
ROOF COMES OFF THE ARENA, people go nuts.]
CL: Good God! William Craven bleeding himself! Why is he doing
this!?
FH: It's control, Chip! The man wants control of his own actions,
even if he has to follow some rules, he's gonna do something to exert
control. It's like a kid and his food, or an emo teen who ... uh,
cuts himself ... y'know, it's exactly that.
[Chucking the razor down, Bill brushes past the ref who bends to
retrieve it, and slides halfway across the ring, before diving after
Cruise and Williams, who leap out the other side, not wanting to get
immediately covered in the blood streaming down Bill's body.]
CL: He's already a bloody mess.
FH: Bill Craven loves to bleed, Chip. It gets him going, motivates
him, activates some sort of instinct in him. PVW may be opening a can
of worms they can't cram back in by trying to make him play clean.
CL: True. It looks like it might be getting a whole lot dirtier
around here really quick.
[Craven turns to his corner where Alex Martinez stands looking
unamused.]
CL: Now both teams are not completely all hugs and friends. Craven
and Martinez have never been on the same page.
FH: And if Craven doesn't watch it he will bleed a lot more then from
those razor blades.
CL: Referee Jim Pearson is finally ready to start this thing as he is
telling both sides to get under control.
[Alex Martinez steps over not really caring and Chase Williams follows
his foe's lead and steps out starting this match with a Justin Cruise
and an already crimson red William Craven.]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
06.02.09 Heatwave
<><><><><><><><><>
Tag Team Action:
<><><><><><><><><>
Justin Cruise & Chase Williams v. Alex Martinez & William Craven
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
CL: Justin Cruise has no beef with William Craven, but he has never
backed down from dark odds before.
FH: Craven is already gushing blood and the look across his face
doesn't shout out mentally stable.
[The camera picks up the look in Craven's eyes. We aren't sure if he
is seeing Marley or Justin Cruise, but the Motor City Madman charges
forward and Cruise just ducks under... Like a wild bull seeing blood
Craven turns around snarling and charges forward again. Cruise light
on his feet dives into a roll just getting out of the way. Craven
turns and Cruise fires off some right hands. They don't seem to be
effecting Craven all that much and Cruise backs Craven off the ropes
and sends him across ... The big man comes roaring off and Cruise
leaps up just in time to hit a picture perfect dropkick to the chops
of the Widowmaker conqueror.]
CL: Cruise is in there fighting for his life.
FH: Blood is in Craven's eyes. I don't usually make excuses for this
animal, but it can be the only answer to a gnat like Justin Cruise
getting the better of the beast.
CL: Cruise now going to work on the grounded monster. He locks the
arm in a armbar and reaches back and tags in Chase Williams.
[A mixed pop in support of the first PVW Heavyweight champion as he
steps in and drives a big boot under the open arm. The Chase and
Cruise connection pull Craven up and send him back into the corner
with an Irish whip ... Craven fires back out and clotheslines both
men to the ground! Chase Williams back to his feet, but Craven smells
blood even if it's own and is right on top of Williams. Martinez has
his arm reached out wanting to get in and settle the score with
Williams, but Craven continues to work him over.]
CL: Craven's face is full of his own crimson blood. He did it to
himself as he smiles with red teeth. He drives a big right into Chase
Williams ... CHASE ROARS BACK!!!!!
[HUGE BRAWLIN POP!!!]
FH: Watch out what you wish for Craven. Chase just went through hell
with Rob Cole.
[Chase Williams takes the brunt force of Craven and fires back. Chase
Williams lifts William Craven up with a big atomic drop that stumbles
the mad man and hits the ropes, but Alex Martinez drives his knee
forward from the ring apron and slows down the former champion. This
gives Craven the moment he needs and he charges driving Williams down
with a brutal mafia kick.]
CL: Look at Bill glare at Martinez.
FH: You can see that Craven dislikes Martinez.
CL: In 1999, Bill was the #4 wrestler in the world, and Martinez was
#1. I don't know if that has anything to do with it, but in Craven's
mind you can only imagine that it does.
[Martinez opens his palm for a tag, but instead he gets a glob of
blood mixed saliva from Craven spat in his direction. Craven holds up
Chase Williams and shouts - "Is this who you want!?!" and he drives a
full force blunt fist down into the face of Williams as Martinez
glares. Craven then pulls up the former Heavyweight Champion and
lifts him into a bearhugg squeezing and screaming.]
CL: Craven is a rabid beast in there. What has gotten into his head?
You can only assume Jason Keening didn't have this in mind when he
subbed out Rob Cole.
FH: Who knows what that boy scout has in mind. He has already ruined
this main event. I mean who didn't want to see the top two wrestlers
in the world tagging together?
[Chase Williams goes with a clap smashing his open palms into the
sides of Craven's face ... Craven holds on snarling as Chase Williams
continues to work his way free. Williams slams his head forward in a
head butt crashing skulls with the madman ... Williams slides out of
his arms and hits the ropes and takes down the dazed Craven with a
lariat. He turns with a discuss punch crashing it into the SSN
franchise player, Alex Martinez standing on the ring apron tearing the
roof down as Martinez hops of the ring apron not expecting the cheap
shot. Williams turns and running knee lift takes Craven back down to
his back.]
CL: Chase Williams raising the roof in here! He drags the crimson red
Craven to his corner and retags in Justin Cruise. Cruise up and on
the top ropes ... DRIVES AN ELBOW ON CRAVEN.
FH: Only because Chase Williams was holding him.
CL: Cruise climbs the ropes ... TORNADO DDT!
ONE ...
TWO ...
[KICK OUT POP!!!]
[Cruise knows the game well. He pulls Craven up and hits the ropes
and grabs the back of Craven's skull and drives it down with a
bulldog! He hooks another leg and the cover.]
ONE ...
TWO ...
CL: ANOTHER STRONG KICK OUT BY CRAVEN! Cruise springboards off the
ropes into a moonsault!
[POP!!!]
ONE ...
TWO ...
THRE ---
[MIXED POP!!!]
FH: Craven gets that shoulder up. Three times _ISN'T_ a charm tonight
Cruise.
CL: So close Craven just got his shoulder up to stop the count. Some
has to question him cutting himself before the match. He has been
bleeding from before the bell. The pounding and the blood loss can't
be good.
FH: This is just another day for William Craven.
CL: Alex Martinez doesn't look thrilled at all. The only action he
has tasted tonight is when Chase Williams hit him on the apron.
FH: You mean cheap shoted? If Craven was smart he'd stop this pissing
contest and tag in the SSN wrecking machine.
[Cruise hits the ropes as Craven begins to quickly push himself up ...
Baseball slide dropkick! Cruise feeling it now and Alex Martinez is
shaking his head on the outside. Cruise is setting up and calling for
Craven to get up! Craven pushes himself to his feet and he unleashes
a crescent kick --- ]
"___THWAAAAAAAAAAP___"
CL: CRAVEN STAYED ON HIs FEET!!!! Cruise is shocked .... The fans are
in shock ... Hell I am shocked!
FH: That isn't easy to do Lester. Craven just went through hell at
Boiling Point versus five Widowmakers. Do you honestly think The
Blade is going to take him down!?!
[Cruise hits the ropes looking to finish the motor city madman off and
... TILT-A-WHIRL BY CRAVEN ....]
"___CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK___"
CL: BACKBREAKER AND HE BENT CRUISe IN HALF!
FH: Man in the great words of Mike Tyson ... I think he broke his
spine!
[The fans are pretty split. Craven has built quite a following
battling WMI, but Cruise is wrestlings prodigal son. Craven wipes the
blood from his eyes. He sits on his knees for a second showing signs
of some early wear. He hops back up to his feet and hits a stiff
martial arts kick to the rib section of The Blade. He dares Cruise to
get to his feet and not looking to disappoint Cruise pushes himself up
and right to the madman .... Hooks and --- ]
"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
CL: CRAVEN'S BIG EXPLODER SUPLEX!
FH: The ring shaked with that impact!
CL: Craven is dropping down and Cross armbreaker\head scissors
combination submission. Craven has put men to sleep with this move.
FH: Look at big Alex. He doesn't look the slightest happy at all.
CL: Look at Jessica Marshall too. She hasn't moved from her spot and
glared into the ring the whole time.
FH: Hey if Keening, Craven, and the rest of the PVW want to get on her
bad side the more power to them.
[Cruise is locked and in the center of the ring. The official asks if
he is ready to submit and the reaction makes the fans go crazy with
support.]
BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!!
BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!!
BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!!
BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!!
BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!!
BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!! BLADE !!!
CL: The fans look to be giving Cruise some second wind! Chase
Williams reaching through the ropes trying to encourage his partner to
make the tag.
FH: Just accept it Cruise and move on.
[However the fans have fired up the PVW golden boy!!! He begins to
twist and move and Craven knows that submitting him right now is a
lost cause and he drives a fist into the midsection slowing the burst
down. Craven tosses Cruise aside and goes right back to work. He
turns to Martinez and shouts - "WELCOME TO PVW ... THIS IS MY WORLD!"
and he grabs a prone Cruise and lifts ... Wheelbarrow suplex --- "
"___THUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
CL: Cruise is now the one in trouble.
FH: How fast the tides turn here in the PVW eh Lester?
CL: Craven isn't pinning Cruise. He looks to be sending a message to
Alex Martinez through the number one contender.
FH: Maybe Craven should be the number one contender after this match.
[Craven drags Cruise over towards the ropes ... He begins to climb it
after placing Cruise ... He grabs him ... LEAPS ... Top Rope
Spinebuster!!!!!]
"___CRAAAAAAASSSSH___"
ONE ...
TWO ...
THREE !!!
[OH MY POP!!!]
CL: NO!!!! JIM PEARSON IS WAVING IT OFF! CRUISE JUST GOT A SHOULDER
UP! IT WAS ALL BUT OVER!
FH: That wasn't a shoulder I think Cruise shocked Pearson by
twitching. We thought he was dead.
[Craven shrugs it off and pulls Cruise up to finish him off. He
glares right at Alex Martinez as he begins to set up for the Thunder
Melter ...]
CL: If Craven hits the Thunder Melter that would be a direct message
to Alex Martinez. It was first used on Alex Martinez as an accidental
modification for Martinez's Firebomb.
FH: Martinez must know exactly what that message is ...
[SHOCKING POP!!!]
CL: SMALL PACKAGE CRUISE OUT OF NOWHERE!!!!
ONE ...
TWO ...
THREE ???
[THE MATCH GOES ON POP!!!]
CL: SO CLOSE! Cruise with a small package and Craven leaps up and
charges ...
"___THWAAAAAAACK___"
[WHOAAA POP!!!]
[Cruise leaped into a standing enziguri as Craven came charging and
connected right into the side of the temple. Both men lay down in the
center of the ring as the fans are on their feet. Chase Williams
reaches through the ropes calling for his partner to tag. Alex
Martinez reaches through half heartedly ...]
CL: Cruise is inching towards Chase Williams.. Craven is getting up
and he looks at Alex Martinez hand and then Justin Cruise.
FH: JUST TAG THE BIG MAN IN CRAVEN!
[The pause gave Cruise just enough time ... He dives and slaps the
hand of Chase Williams. Craven waves of Alex Martinez and Chase
Williams comes in on fire!!!!]
[HUGE HOT TAG POP!!!]
CL: BIG RIGHTS BY WILLIAMS!!! He whips Craven into the corner and out
bounces the mad man .. High Impact Legsweep STO ... PRICE OF FAME!!!!
FH: See you should of tagged Martinez in!
[Chase Williams turns and flips off Alex Martinez as he drops a brutal
stiff knee to the head of Craven. The fans go wild as Chase Williams
turns and lifts his arm hinting at his deadly armbar submission,
Endgame!]
CL: Wait Alex Martinez long body and with Craven's near seven foot
body he is able to reach his partner slapping himself in.
FH FINALLY!
[Chase Williams turns around unware into a running kick by Alex
Martinez. The cheers quickly drown out to jeers. Alex Martinez
doesn't waste any time and he lifts the prone and shocked Chase
Williams up and Martinez lifts Williams up by the neck, as if going
for a chokeslam. Martinez then slams him forward, dropping him onto
his back between Martinez' legs, as in a power bomb, putting him in
pinning position.]
"___THUUUUNDEROUS THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"
[FINNNNISHA JEEEERING POP!!!]
CL: Firebomb Chokeslam!!!! And Martinez is looking right at Craven who
as rolled to the outside as he covers Williams!
ONE ...
TWO ...
THREE !!!
[JEERING POP!!!]
FH: See we wasted how much time? All we had to do is let Alex
Martinez inside the match!
[Alex Martinez stands up and looks down at William Craven. Craven's
face still showing signs from that razor blade earlier. Officials
step between the two as Jessica Marshall joins Martinez inside the
ring. Cruise kneels over checking on his partner as Martinez's
attention turns from Craven to Williams. A smile forms across the
legends lips.]
CL: Folks ... This is far from over. Chase Williams was caught, but
that doesn't happen very often. Rob Cole our champion was forced out
of the arena ... And JASON KEENING IS PVW'S HEAD OF SECRUITY!!!!
FH: I have no words.
CL: We gotta go folks, but things have really heated up!
[The last shot we see is Alex Martinez's giant seven foot legs
stepping over the top ropes and leaving the ring as Jessica Marshall
leaves what now appears to be _her_ ring.]
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
Credits:
Brian: Masterson v. Ryder, Cassel v. Acorn, Merc v. HvD v. Manson,
Martinez/Craven v. Cruise/Chase Williams
Jer: Pain v. Mark II
Rob: L&G v. POR v. JW
Mark: Shadow v. Holliday, Geddings v. Marley
Feel like your missing out and interested in helping? Just email
pvwinc@gmail.com =)
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
