[An engraved sign on the door reads "Office of PVW President & CEO
Johnny Detson," and right in front of it stands someone that doesn't
look like Johnny Detson at all. He's a bucktoothed young man in a PVW
polo shirt, wearing a bluetooth earpiece. When a hooded man in an
orange, red, and gold boxer's robe steps in front of him, he raises a
hand to stop him from opening the door.]

Staffer: Thcuse me, thir... there's a waiting line to thee the PVW
Prethident and Thee-E-O Johnny Det-thun.

[The man in the robe labeled "Le Phoenix" stops. While we can only his
back, it's easy to guess that he's boring holes through the profusely
sweating staffer. To the kid's credit, he holds his ground and
nervously points to the waiting line that parallels the corridor
wall.]

Staffer: Thank you, mithter Fontana.

["The Everlasting" Perry Fontana turns left, confronting the first
person in line. He wears a blue and gray mask, and is otherwise known
as...

...the new Masked Maniac!

Noticing the invasion of his personal space, Masked Maniac looks up
into the hooded face of "Il Eterno." The two men lock eyes for a tense
and awkward moment. Then Masked Maniac's shoulders slump. He pivots
and shuffles his way out of the frame stage right.

Fontana steps towards the second person in the waiting line.  He's a
salt and pepper-haired old man that, like an old horse, seems to be
able to sleep on his feet, leaning on his cane, and the wall.  It's
Perry Fontana's uncle, Jack Fontana.]

Fontana: What are you doing here?

[The startled old man abruptly wakes up, almost losing his balance in
the process.]

Uncle Jack: CHI? _Cosa_? Hizzit my turn, yet?

[Finally realizing who accosted him, Uncle Jack reverts to French to
address his nephew, dialog that PVW conveniently subtitles.  For the
dolts that could be in the audience, subtitled text is the one that
appears in parentheses. Got that?  Those are subtitles. It's a well
known convention.]

Uncle Jack: Perry! (What are you doing here?)

Fontana: (I'm just here to ask Detson to take the night off and book
me in a handicap match.)

Uncle Jack: [Sputters!] (_HANDICAP MATCH_? Against... those kids? Are
you _nuts_?)

Fontana: (Better than another tag team match, aaaah _yeah_!)

[Do you see how subtitles work? Someone can say something in French,
like "ouais," and through the magic of parentheses, it becomes an
intelligible English word like "yeah!" Take notes if you must, Brian.]

Uncle Jack: (That's crazy talk!)

Fontana: I don't care if Heart and Flowers can form a Valentine's Day
_gift_ BASKET, _two_ men aren't ENOUGH to _STOP_ me, COUSIN~! No...
Not tonight!

[The bucktoothed staffer suddenly butts in.]

Staffer: Thcuse me, thir.

Fontana: WHAT?

Staffer: Mithter Det-thun thtill ithn't here.

[The Everlasting One pull down the hood of his robe to glare at the
staffer.]

Fontana: Then _why_ are you bothering us?

Staffer: Jutht keeping you informed, thir. ...Alrighty then...

[He backs out of the frame, and Perry turns back to his uncle.]

Fontana: (Anyways... the last thing I want is to participate in
another tag match,) mio zio.

Uncle Jack: (But you don't understand, Perry! That's what I'm here
for!  When you... punched your _brother_... you became the legal man!)

Fontana: (So?)

Uncle Jack: (They pinned the wrong man, Perry. Don't you realize what
this means? You should have been counted out... and Everlasting Hell
should still be the _champions_! At the very least, you should have a
title shot. Don't you see?)

Fontana: No. (No more of that.  I couldn't even bear the sight of his
face. _No_!)

Uncle Jack: (But the dream is still alive! You can still be tag team
greats, Perry!)

Fontana: NO!

Uncle Jack: (You don't have to repeat what your fa-...)

[The bucktoothed staffer interrupts the old man to butt in once
more.]

Staffer: Thcuse me, thirs.

Fontana: _WHAT_?

Staffer: PVW Prethident and Thee-E-O Johnny Det-thun ithn't ready to
thee you, yet.

Fontana: Then _what_ are you DOING in my _FACE_??

[Spittle coats the bucktoothed youth's face, frenetically batting his
eyelashes his only recourse.]

Staffer: Umm... I'll... I'll... give word when he'th ready...

Fontana: You _do_ that.

Uncle Jack: (...don't _betray_ your team...)

Fontana: I can't _withstand_ his presence anymore. Every time I _look_
at his FACE I have to FIGHT the _urge_ to punch again and _again_ and
AGAIN! Aaaah OUAIS!  (...Emily is the only reason I fought the urge
for so long...)

[Uncle Jack shakes his head.]

Uncle Jack: (Because of a woman...  Just like your father...)

Fontana: (I'm _nothing_ like what that man was...)

Uncle Jack: (...He betrayed me, the way you _betray_ me now... Stole
her away from me when she was mine...

Fontana: (Your brain goes soft, old man.)

Uncle Jack: (...Anne-Marie... To think she gave birth to y-)


"___THWOCK!___"


[The flying fist came out of nowhere! Jacques Fontana's head slams
into the wall before he crumples to the floor, inert, his cane landing
next to him with a clap!

As he looks down at his fallen uncle, Fontana pulls the hood of his
robe back up and onto his face.]

Fontana: My mother was a _saint_.

[Behind Perry, the staffer reappears.]

Staffer: Um... Thir... Mithter Det-thun is...

Fontana: Good.

[The Deathless One steps around the bucktoothed staffer to meet up
with PVW President and CEO Johnny Detson, standing next to his open
door.]

Detson: Ah! Perry Fontana!  Perfect timing, I apologize about the wait
I was not informed of your presence here...

[Detson glares at his staffer.]

Detson:  As President and CEO, high level board meeting and
conferences keep me very busy.  Although I always have time for my
employees; ESPECIALLY those who support my administration.  We need to
discuss tonight's match.

Fontana: That's right, cousin.

Detson:  Come in!  I have a feeling that we can collaborate together
and develop a strategy that's mutually beneficial to both our
plights.

["Il Eterno" steps inside the office... And before Detson closes the
door behind them, he hails the bucktoothed staffer.]

Detson: And you!  Remove this thing from my office.  As President and
CEO, I care about the homeless; just not enough to have them camping
out and sleeping in my office!  Put it out in the street where it
belongs!  It looks unprofessional...

[Detson sniffs the air and immediately recoils with a look of
disgust.]

Detson:  And I think its beginning to fester.

Staffer: Right away, mithter Prethident and Thee-E-O!

[Johnny Detson closes the door of his office, and the staffer
approaches the unconscious body of old Jack Fontana.  He crouches next
to the former wrestler and takes his pulse as the image cross-fades
to the sounds of a soft ticking clock ... It grows louder and louder
and louder ...





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







Fade into the PVW logo ...]






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




        ----------------------------------
          Live at the Tucson Arena

                 Tucson, Arizona


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




[The logo on your television set explodes!  And we are inside the
Tucson Arena.  The rabid Tucson fans show their PVW pride as
merchandise floods the arena. It appears the Phoenix crowd aren't the
only clever ones with the signs.  "I SAW NEVERMIND UNDER OUR BRIDGE!"
/ "DETSON FEARS THE IRISH!" / "TUCSON KID LIVES IN ALL OUR HEARTS!" /
"SENIOR CLOAK DOS STOLE MY NERF GUN!" / "THERE ARE TOO MANY ILLEGALS
WORKING IN PVW!" / "FRED HOYLE IS MY SUGAR DADDY!"  The chants are
loud and clear -


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


Camera leaves the fans and focuses in on the squared circle.  With out
SSN's money the same ring as before sits in-front of you.  However
there is a decoration change.  The SSN has been removed from
everywhere.  Standing alone ... proudly ... are three letters that
have made it through it all.  They've seen the highest of the highs.
And it's made it through the lowest of the lows.  In black-red-and a
little orange -

P-V-W covers the center of the mat.  We find our way to a set of
familiar faces.  On the left in a PVW polo shirt; Chip Lester.  On the
right in a Hawaiian shirt that only Charlie Sheen wears better then
him - "Fabulous" Fred Hoyle.]

CL: Welcome folks to PVW Heatwave.  As PVW makes it's tour through
Arizona we are live in Tucson and what a show we have planned for you
all tonight.

FH: Tucson ...  Something seems important about Tucson but I can't
quite put a finger on it.

CL: Well there are a lot of important things in regards to PVW that
are planned here tonight.  The man that has been tormenting Rob Cole,
William Craven will have his shot at the PVW American Championship.

FH: Craven is the last guy I would want to face right about now.  If
he isn't shooting snot shots of doom at you he is chowing down on
whatever body part gets near his teeth.

CL: The third and final installment of the Johnny Detson challenge
takes place here shortly.

FH: The list of opponents who are chomping at the bit at ending Caleb
Foley's career is a mile long.  For all we know Chase Williams has
returned to finish the job.

CL: Caleb Foley is about as focused as I have ever seen.  We also have
two more Called Shot Qualifiers and all of that is just the tip of the
ice berg.  If you have been following PVW for the last few years then
you know that what is listed on the paper release is far from the only
excitement on Heatwave.

FH: This is true.  You get to listen to my voice.

CL: Well there is that.  We also hope to figure out what has become of
the brother in law pairing of Perry Fontana and Tom Landis.  Landis
hasn't spoken to anyone about the situation since Fontana dissolved
Everlasting Hell and cost them the PVW tag team championship.

FH: The smartest thing that Perry Fontana has done in his PVW career.

CL: Folks before we get started Dean Hayes is standing by with a very
special interview.

[We cut over to ringside, where the hardest-working man in PVW,
"Swingin'" Dean Hayes, is standing amidst a group of fans. One of
those fans is seated in a wheelchair... a young man with brown hair,
who seems vaguely familiar.]

SDH: Thank you, Chip. Phoenix Valley Wrestling is proud to announce
our membership in the "Arizona Dream" charity organization,
benefiting the orphans and widows of our state. And with me at this
time, a young man who has given a lot of time and energy to that
organization... let's hear it for Peter Howell... the man once known
as the Tucson Kid!

[The crowd cheers once they hear the ring name.  Howell... or the Kid,
whichever you prefer, waves from his seat.  He's wearing a light blue
button-up shirt and black jogging pants; not that he's going to be
doing any jogging.  His face betrays that this is very difficult for
him, emotionally-speaking.]

SDH: Mr. Howell, I understand you have a message for our great fans.

PH: Thank you, Dean.  Yes, the "Arizona Dream" is alive, helping our
young kids find families, and taking care of our elder citizens who
have no one left to turn to.  I'm proud to announce that PVW will be
donating 5% of the gate of each event in Spring 2011 to the "Arizona
Dream" foundation, as well as holding a special house show in April,
right here in Tucson, where 100% of the profit goes straight in.
That's a big bite out of the pocket for the ownership group, and we
really ought to give them a hand for that.

[There is applause for the positive charity work that PVW is doing.]

SDH: We have gotten a great deal of letters from our fans, Peter, who
want to know what happened to the Tucson Kid.  Would you give us an
update?

[Awkward pause.]

PH: Well, I have been in rehabilitation, trying to walk again.  And I
have been able to do that, take a few steps.  Working on being able to
go further and longer, so I can ditch the chair for good.  So I can't
complain too much, because there's a lot of people in worse shape than
I am.  Veterans, especially, who come back from the war in chairs
they'll never leave.  I want everyone, no matter what you think about
policy, to show your vets love and respect.  No matter what the reason
the brass had to send them, the troops do it for YOU.

[Cheer for the troops!]

PH: In the end, Dean, we gotta let hate go.  We already saw in this
state this year, what happens when hate gets out of control.  We need
to show some love for the people who don't even know what that feels
like, and that's what the "Arizona Dream" organization is all about.
Stop focusing on what we hate, and work towards...

RM: Boooo hooo hooo...

[A chorus of raucous boos cascade down as PVW Champion "Widowmaker"
Rick Marley makes his way down from the back.  The dark haired high
flier has the title belt draped over his left shoulder and a wireless
mic in his right hand.  He's wearing workout pants and a black "We pay
our debts" t shirt and has an annoying smirk on his face.]

RM: Tucson Kid, back from the dead and here to kiss some babies to get
a feel for the spotlight again.  Cry me a river.  I put you down like
a dog because you stepped over the line.  And if you think that you
and Holliday are gonna do anything about it, you're out of your damned
mind... I ended you--

PH: So what?

[Marley looks shocked at the interruption...and its content.]

RM: Kid, I get the bitterness...the envy...you could have been
something...maybe even something special.  You got caught under the
wheels of the Widowmakers Express and it took that away from you...I
get how you could hate me for it--

[Interrupting again.]

PH: Hate you?  Please.  I got hurt, it happens.  Anybody that steps in
the ring knows the risks.  You do, too.  You always know any match
could be your last, don't you?

[Marley frowns, staring at him for a moment before responding.]

RM: No.  I come out here and put on a show every night...and every
night I stand tall with my hand raised in victory.  It'll take more
than what anyone in this building has to offer to make me think for a
split second about being put on the shelf that way...

PH: Well, in the real world, where most people aren't driven by
delusions, we acknowledge risks.  I took risks.  They didn't work out.
The sun still came up the next day.  Marley, I don't care about you
any more than I care about the chewing gum I spat out on the way
inside.  There's no hate.  There's no love.  There's nothing.  You
inspire nothing in me now.

[Marley stares, completely shocked.]

RM: I clearly inspire SOMETHING...you came back to have a thrill...to
get a rub and soak up the cheers again.  You know deep down it KILLS
you what you lost....and I'm the one that took it from you.  ME!

PH: That's funny.  A minute ago, you were standing tall, crowing about
victory and conquest, blah blah.  But in the end, you're just another
face in the crowd.  Do you have any concept of how little professional
wrestling means in the big picture?  How irrelevant your glory is?
There are people out there suffering.  True suffering.  Starving kids,
old folks who have noone left and literally die unnoticed in their own
homes, women who live hellish lives battered by some self-absorbed
jerk who gets off on delusions of power... I hope that doesn't sound
familiar, Marley, because it does sound like something you'd do.  No
offense.  Or, hell, take offense.  I don't care.  You're beneath my
notice now.  I have REAL issues to concern myself with.

[The comments clearly incense Marley as his face contorts...he's gone
from offense to defense.]

RM: YOU'RE gonna come out here and judge ME?!?  Where the HELL do you
get off, you crippled freak?  I'm gonna shove that mic down your
damned crippled throat for what--

DH: Take one mo' step, Rick, an' you gonna git fit fer a chair jus'
lak his tanight.

[The camera pans behind Marley to show that Doc Holliday has come out.
He stands right behind Marley, his mahogany walking stick already
clutched in a weapon-wielding position.  Holliday is only half-garbed
in his normal 1880's getup, as he apparently rushed out in the midst
of assembling his to-ring attire.  Holliday, who is a lean man with
wavy light-brown hair, an angular clean-shaven face, and (right now) a
mean look in his eye, has body language that makes it clear that he is
well-prepared to enact that threat right now.  The fans cheer, hoping
that it will happen.]

PH: That's enough, Doc.  Two wrongs don't make a right.

[Both men turn toward Peter Howell.  Sitting forward in his
wheelchair, the brown-haired young man shakes his head.  Both Marley
and Holliday seem incredulous to hear that.]

PH: I know you're upset.  But ya gotta let go.  Worry about your own
career.  You've done enough for me... I don't need revenge.  I don't
want revenge.  An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind in the end.
Focus on something productive.

[Marley smirks broadly.]

RM: Like I said the whole DAMNED time...just an excuse for Doc
Holliday to chase more gold.  Even the Kid doesn't buy into the whole
revenge slash justice for the fallen warrior schtick, Doc...even he
thinks your more of a liar tha

[Filled with rage, Holliday cuts Marley off in mid-sentence by
slapping him across the face.  HARD.  Marley comes back with a glare,
but he's easily the second-angriest person there.  Holliday is
practically shaking with rage, his upper lip curled in a hateful
snarl.]

DH: Thought ya was th' one who knowed whut it was like ta have fam'ly,
Rick.  Ah thought ya allus tol' me, even back inna day when we was
runnin' aroun' bustin' heads an' puttin' th' screws ta folk, how ya
allus worried somebody'd go too far on Judd.  Worried how yer dad was
doin'.  Ah nevah had a fam'ly, so ah didn't care.  But thet boy had it
even worse'n ah did.  An' ah told mahself ah wouldn't let it happen no
more, how he got every rotten break an' it allus turned out worse inna
end.  An' jus' when ah thought he'd gotten out of it, ya pushed him
back in it!  You got no idea, no clue whut ya did!  LOOK AT HIM, RICK!
LOOK HIM INNA EYE!  Th' kid works charity on account of he got no job!

PH: Doc... don't...

DH: He needs ta hear it, Peter.  He needs ta know whut he done!  This
boy cain't git no job on account of he cain't walk, an' in this
economy ain't nobody hirin'!  He cain't pay medical bills, an' SSN
couldn't write him off th' books fast enough!  Why ya think ah was so
keen on' such a big contract?  Ah ain't got no need fer money!  But
SOMEBODY ruint a life... RUINT A LIFE.  An... an...

[Almost in spite of himself, Marley does what Doc says.  He looks at
Peter...sitting in the wheelchair that Marley put him in...and stares
him dead in the eye.  There's no hatred...no anger...

Marley shakes his head and closes his eyes for a moment before looking
back at Holliday.]

RM: And tell me you didn't do the same thing to someone else, Doc.
Look me...hell...no...Look PETER in the eye and tell HIM.

[Holliday stops.  He's no less enraged, but he has nothing to say to
this.]

PH: I told you: EVERYONE ends up blind.  Let it go!  Let it go.

[Doc slowly shakes his head.]

DH: No.  No.  This is... if an example don't git made, he'll keep
doin' it.  Lak ah did.  He's got thet look in his eye, Peter.  Thet
look ah had.  He's got th' world in his hands an' he'll damn anyone
who gits in his way.

Marley, ah gotta put ya down.  Fer Peter, fer mahself... an' fer
whoever'd be next.  Then... ah'm gone.  An' won't none of ya evah see
me ag'in.

[With those words, Holliday turns on his heel and leaves abruptly.
Howell puts his head in his hands in frustration.  Marley stares at
Holliday walking away, head quirked slightly to one side, a frown on
his face as he watches the man move to the back.]

RM: You see?  You see how full of sh[BLEEP] he is?  No matter what the
answer was, he's looking for an excuse.  He SAYS he'll leave, but he
may be the ONLY one in this building that believes that line...

PH: I don't have my head in my hands because I feel faint, Marley.  He
doesn't realize it.  And neither do you.  Neither one of you can see
it.  Neither one of you have any idea how petty you are.  I hope you
grow up some day, I really do.  There's a reason I don't call myself
'Kid' anymore.

[With that, Howell wheels himself away from ringside.  Apparently,
he's leaving.  Marley stands, his face now an unreadable mask as the
former Tucson Kid leaves.

After a moment he nods briefly, takes a deep breath and moves to the
back...]

CL: Wow ... I just don't know what to say.

FH: It appears that the young Tucson Kid ...  No wait Peter said some
things that was hard for both men to swallow.

CL: As great as it was to see Mr. Howell back at ring side.  It did
remind us all of that night when his career was ended inside a match
with Rick Marley.  But Mr. Howell is a bigger man then most of us and
I hope we all can take something from what he said.

FH: Yeah I hope Doc Holliday thinks long and hard.

CL: For some reason I don't think you get it.

FH: Of course I do!  He forgave Rick Marley and Doc Holliday has been
carrying that grudge long enough.  He needs to just bail out and let
Gibson Hayes and Rick Marley have their match.

CL: Doc Holliday is human like the rest of us.  The truth is there
aren't that many of us as mature and smart as that young man.  If
anyone wants to donate to the Arizona Dream.  You can get the website
and information of PVW's website.

FH: I do have to admit that it was nice to see the Tucson Kid in good
spirits, Chip.

CL: Tucson Kid ... Peter Howell will always be apart of the PVW
family.  I am getting word that we have an old segment from 2008 with
the Tucson Kid.

*** AUGUST 2008 FOOTAGE ... ***

[We cut to the Arizona desert... the Mojave, to be specific.  Light
brush, cacti, Joshua trees, and rocky outcroppings fill our view, as
the camera takes a quick pan of the horizon to establish the setting
before focusing on the subject of this segment, the Tucson Kid.

Tucson is clad in jeans, and his tan leather poncho.  He's wearing a
pair of dark sunglasses, because on a bright desert afternoon, he
needs them.  The lanky young man with the dark brown mullet and thin
beard and mustache waves the camera in close, and the camera operator
obliges with a close up.]

Tucson Kid: Today, I'm gonna tell ya the difference between a dragon
and a snake.

Look right there.

[The Kid points down, and the camera view pans over about thirty feet
to show us a bull snake.  The huge snake is yellowish with some brown
and black blotching over its scaly surface.  It's slithering slowly
across the rocky ground, finally reaching a dark crevasse in the rock
and lounging there.]

TK: Now that there is a snake.  It's lowdown, it goes around on its
belly, and it likes to hide out while the sun is up.  I don't really
remember what the Latin name for that snake is, but lets call it the
Rickus Marleyus.  It has a lot in common with Marley... he probably
doesn't much feel like showing his face these days either.

Last Heatwave, I showed everyone what a snake Marley was.  I got in
his head, and he proceeded to get as lowdown as he could.  But one
thing about a snake... they don't match up well against a man.  He
found that out when I pinned him in the middle of the ring last week.

But that was LAST week.  I'm done with Rick Marley, and now hopefully
we've all seen he's nothing to fear.  Now I got to talk about this
week... and a dragon.

Zoom that camera over there.

[We go from the snake, over about fifty feet away where a Gila Monster
is walking across the way.  The Gila Monster is a bulky, sausage-
shaped lizard with a long fatty tail.  It's scales have the appearance
of black, pink, orange, and yellow beads, laid down in intricate
patterns.  It is presently hunting for food.]

TK: That Gila Monster is one of the few species of dragon in the
world*.  Unlike a snake, it can stand on it's own feet.  Unlike a
snake, it don't have to hide from nobody or nothin'.  Unlike a snake,
it deserves respect.  The wise keep their distance from a dragon.

[* - Tucson's not much of a biologist.  Sue him.  :-)

The camera pans back over to where he is, and his wild eyes focus on
the lens.]

TK: Some fool told me, "Kid, you got a break this week, the Dragon
Kid's an easier match than Rick Marley."  I guess if by 'easier', you
mean I might have a one-on-one fight instead of havin' to dodge a
bunch of thugs and goons, that might be so.  But a dragon don't need
no damn help.  He don't need to cheat.  He ain't a snake.  I tell you
what, you go wrestle that bull snake, then go wrestle that Gila
Monster, and when they let you out of County General, you tell me
which was easier.

Some other fool told me, "Oh, how boring, two guys that fight by the
rules, there's no story."  I guess when some jerk tries to rob people
of their livelihood, that's interesting and a story, but when two guys
fight to get in line for title shots, it's boring.  You want a story?
The winner of this match gets paid and gets in line to get paid more.
The loser of this match has to set back and wait for another chance to
jump in that title scene.  Last I checked, this was a sport, not a
novella.  We're young, we're hungry, and we got our eyes on gold.  If
that bores you, you probably need medication.

So I hear these things, and I get tired of talk real quick.  Tucson
Kid, Dragon Kid, on Heatwave.  We are the ones who will take this
sport into the next decade... and we ain't lookin' to wait two years
to get started.  Believe that.

[Tucson points at the camera to punctuate his last point, and we cut
back to the Tucson Arena.  "Loyal to No-One" by The Dropkick Murphy's
plays over the PA as the arena goes completely silent. So silent in
fact you could probably hear a pin drop...]

HD: Introducing first...  weighing in at two hundred twenty five
pounds and hails from Dublin, Ireland ... this is  ...THE CELTIC
CRIPPLER....


!!! CALEB FOLEY !!!


[A hooded man stands at the entrance just bouncing to the beat of the
music. His head is down so his face is completely covered. The man
lifts up his head to reveal that it is none other Caleb Foley and the
crowd has absolutely exploded now with cheers. Caleb pulls the hood
off his head and reveals a new hairstyle his reddish hair completely
slicked back and a full red beard with a black goatee. Caleb begins to
walk down the entrance when he stops, he bends down and pounds his
knuckles to the ground and his points up to the sky!!]

CL:  Finally Caleb Foley steps inside the ring in the final
installment of the Johnny Detson challenge.  We're ready to see who in
fact Johnny Detson has selected to face Caleb Foley here tonight.

FH:  Knowing the pull our President and CEO has, it's probably someone
good!

[Suddenly "Hail to the Chief" begins to play to an immediate negative
reaction.  The big screen above the entrance lamp lights up and there
sits our President and CEO smiling with a huge politician grin.]

CL: Wait what now?

FH: Shhh ...  The boss is getting ready to speak.

Detson:  My fellow PVW-icans, greeting and welcome to another
Heatwave, as President and CEO, I can promise you an action packed
show full of twists and surprises.  And one of those surprises
involves the very person standing in the ring right now, Caleb Foley.

[Huge pop as Detson shakes his head disapprovingly.]

Detson:  Now Mr. Foley, I know you're ready to continue in the Johnny
Detson challenge presented by Johnny Detson, President and CEO.  As
you may know, your opponent is yet to be determined, and as of right
now it is still yet to be determined.  The interview process is long
and difficult and still on-going.  In fact I have a prospective client
in here right now, but being the compassionate man that I am I thought
I would tell you that by the power invested in me, as President and
CEO, I am suspending your match up here tonight until a suitable
opponent can be found.

[Huge jeers from the crowd as Foley now has a microphone. Caleb starts
to walk towards the corner and leans up against the ropes as he begins
to speak ...]

Caleb Foley: I should of known. Detson you love to play mind games.
You want to get inside my head and try to get me all fired up. Johnny,
you come out here week in and week out claiming to be the President
and CEO of this great organization. I seem to think you are nothing
but full of bologna. But I'll give you an opportunity to prove me
wrong ...

[Caleb waits about ten second before continuing ...]

Caleb Foley: I want you, Johnny Detson, to be my opponent tonight.
Since you are the President and CEO you should have no problem booking
this match. Come on come out from behind that nice mahogany desk you
are sitting behind and face "The Celtic Crippler" tonight ...

[Detson holds up a finger shaking it back and forth as he smiles.]

Detson:  You would like that wouldn't you?  If I just got up out of
this corner office and took off this expensive designer suit and
marched down there to fight you, wouldn't you?

[Detson shakes his head.]

Detson:  But no, I, not you, make the matches.  I am the President and
CEO of this company.  And I have already defeated you using my
superior technical skill.  I would like the crowd to have some
suspense about who's going to win.  If I fight you again, it's just an
absolute certainly that I would be victorious.  So no, Caleb, I'm not
playing your game, you will play mine and learn the lessons that you
need to before you face me again!

Caleb Foley: You beat me by grabbing my tights with not one but TWO of
your hands. You are nothing but a cheater and a coward. You haven't
had to work for anything in your life as everything was given to
handed to you. You wouldn't know the meaning of words like hard-work
and determination if you didn't have that fancy Webster dictionary on
your desk. So you could look them up.

[Detson rolls his eyes clearly annoyed with the conversation.  He
turns his head to his left to the other side of the table.]

Detson:  Oh my God, is he always this whiney and annoying?

[The camera pans to show the other side of the desk where sitting
across from the President and CEO is none other than Logan Foley.
Logan flashes a smile and waves to his younger brother, Caleb before
he speaks...]

Logan Foley: Not only was he that but he was also a spoiled brat. And
since he was the youngest he was always babied and pampered by our
folks. So like I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted. Pick
me to face my brother Caleb tonight. I used to make him cry when he
was younger and I'll do the same exact thing tonight.

[Detson laughs and smirks back towards Caleb.]

Detson:  As you can see Caleb, I am very busy with the interview
process.  You will be notified when you are to appear again!

[Caleb is standing in the ring looking a bit shocked that his own
brother Logan is trying to campaign to be the mystery opponent
tonight. Foley exits the ring and begins to walk to the back as the
camera goes back to the announcers Chip Lester and Fred Hoyle...]

FH: See I _told_ you, Chip.  The list to finish what's left of Caleb
Foley's pathetic career runs deeper then you know.  Even his brother
wants to take that spot.

CL: Logan Foley is a less successful journeyman wrestler.  What is he
doing in Johnny Detson's office trying to take that spot to fight his
_brother_.  Johnny Detson is despicable for turning family against
each other.

FH: It's genius.

CL: So I guess the Johnny Detson's challenge will happen later on
tonight as it appears nobody knows who Caleb Foley's opponent will be.

FH: For all we know it could be Spectre, Chase Williams, Logan Foley,
or Jack Griffin!

CL: Well whatever Detson's plan is.  Caleb Foley looks annoyed so it's
working.  For now Dean Hayes is standing by.

[We cut to the backstage area where "Swingin" Dean Hayes is standing
next to "The Biz" Mike Bisignano who is dressed in a black dress shirt
and a pair of well-pressed dress slacks. His sunglasses well perched
upon his face.]

Hayes: "Swingin" Dean Hayes here backstage with "The Biz" Mike
Bisignano, who later tonight will be competing in a four-way dance
contested under Rush Hour Rules. So Biz, what do you have planned for
this "interesting" match?

Biz: Well I sure as hell didn't sit through four hours of Jackie Chan
& Chris Tucker like I'm sure AsH told you he did. And I didn't play in
traffic like Christian Copeland probably did nor did I turn on the SAP
function on my TV like Senor Cloak Dos.

Hayes: Ok so then what DID you do to prepare for this match?

Biz: Nothing.

Hayes: Nothing?

Biz: Did I stutter? Yes, I did absolutely nothing to prepare for this
match because this match is an utter joke just like the three other
men that will be in the ring with me. What incentive do I have to even
compete in this match other than to showcase MY talents over the
measly collective that is AsH, Dos, and Copeland.

Hayes: So let me get this straight. You don't care about this match.

Biz: Correct.

Hayes: Then let me get your thoughts on something that you DO care
about -- namely Tommy Ryder and his new alliance with Sinister. What
are your thoughts on that?

[The Biz chuckles to himself]

Biz: Perfect.

Hayes: Perfect?

Biz: Jesus Christ, do you repeat every one word answer someone gives
you?

Hayes: Um...

Biz: It was a rhetorical question. But to answer you once again, I say
what better way for Sinister to make himself look semi-decent than to
stand next to a loser like Tommy Ryder. And of course Tommy is going
to go along with it because we all know that's the CLOSEST he'll EVER
get to the Television title. So savor it while you can, Tommy because
when *I* win the PVW Television title from Sinister, I'm gonna melt it
down and turn it into a fifteen pound tin cup. And then I'm gonna hand
that cup to you so you can beg for change on the side of the road like
the hopeless  that you have always been.

Hayes: Ah I see now. You've got your sights on the Television title
here in PVW.

Biz: Absolutely. It's about time that belt was around the waist of a
REAL champion instead of the latest scrap from the refuse pile that
Sinister and Larry Gionet call home.

Hayes: Ok then. Unless you have anything else to say, I'll send it
back to Chip and Fred.

Biz: Yeah, why don't you go ahead and do that.

[And cut to Herk Douglas standing inside the ring ready to announce
the next match.]

HD:  Introducing, from Lancaster, Lancashire, England... weighing in
at two hundred and three pounds and accompanied by Jacob Rose, he is
"The Bad Wolf"...

...CHRISTOPHER BLACK!!!

["Painkiller" by the Freestylers with Pendulum cues up over the
loudspeakers.  With a malicious glint in his eyes and a cold smirk
spread wide across his face, "Bad Wolf" Christopher Black begins his
stride down the aisle.  Wearing his faded black leather jacket, black
t-shirt, jeans and black Doc Martens, the Englishman takes his time,
savoring the jeers and displeasure of the PVW crowd all the while.
Following stoically behind him is Black's financial advisor Jacob
Rose.  As the two men reach the ring, Black takes off his leather
jacket and haphazardly tosses it over to Rose before vaulting himself
over the ropes.  The giant financial advisor bites back a sigh as he
folds it neatly over one arm and steps off to the corner.]

HD: And his opponent ... being lead to the ring by Lady Laurel
Levinger and Sinister... this is ...


[POPPAGE!!]


... THE PHENOM ... TOMMY RYDER!!!

["Headstrong" by Trapt blares across the PA system as the fans raise
to their feet. Lady Laurel Levinger is the first to emerge from the
backstage area.  She stops towards the entrance way as she glares down
at the half-clad ladies.  She turns as if she is calling out Ryder ...
He leaps out trotting to the ring, pumping his arms and shakes hands
with as many of the fans as he can reach. The Sinister right by his
side trying to give him some last minute instructions before his match
against The Bad Wolf. The positions are obvious as Ryder makes his
entrance. As he passes each pair on his way to the ring, they begin to
open their robes to flash him ... Laurel Levinger grabs a hold of one
of the robes and the crowd begins to boo even louder!]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE ACTION
Tommy Ryder v. Christopher Black

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: There's the bell and look at The Phenom!

[They go for the collar and elbow tie up to start things off. Tommy
kicks the inside of Black's knee and rolls backwards landing in a
kneeling position on top of Black at the end of the move.  Before
getting up Tommy pops Black in the face. Black not happy with that
last punch and he goes charging at Ryder but The Phenom with vicious
rights and lefts to the temples of Black!  He just caught Black off
guard again and Black is struggling to get to his feet at this point.
Ryder pulls up Black and Irish whips him into the ropes.  Christopher
Black ducks under a clothesline but on the rebound doesn't avoid that
dropkick by Tommy Ryder.]

CL: Listen to these fans, Fred!  The fans are going crazy for "The
Phenom" Tommy Ryder!

FH: Don't they know who's in the ring?!  Christopher Black ...
Christopher Black is in the wrestling ring!

CL: I'm not sure the fans really like the Bad Wolf after all the
disrespect he has shown his peers over the past few months.

[Tommy attempts to pull Christopher Black back to his feet but is met
with a blow a little south of the border.  As Tommy  doubles over in
pain, Black is beginning to lay those boots into him.  Christopher
Black locks on a chin lock and is pulling back on neck of Ryder.  Mark
Barnett is checking Ryder for a submission.]

FH: Ring the bell!  Man this is going to be quick match.

CL: This is PVW action, nothing is ever quick!

[Christopher Black released the hold and picks up Tommy  Ryder.
Christopher Black is now laying in those lefts and rights to the gut
of Ryder. He finishes it off with a clubbing forearm to the back of
the head.  Ryder's sprawled out on the mat and Black's looking for the
pin. On the outside, Laurel begins to verbally bash the Bad Wolf.
Despite Jacob's protests (not going for the pin as much as going after
a woman), Black rolls out of the ring to assault her. However,
Sinister moves to intervene, Black sees this, grabs Laurel and chucks
her over to the Chi-Town Beast.  Sin catches her in time.  However, by
this point Tommy has also recovered enough to hit Black with his Photo
Op plancha on the outside.]

CL: Beautiful move by "The Phenom" Tommy Ryder!!  The fans are going
nuts as Ryder begins to pound Black with rights and lefts!!!!

FH: "NO! NO! NOT HIS FACE!!!  OH NO!!!

[Ryder pulls Black up and bounces his head off the ring apron before
throwing Black back into the ring and sliding in behind him going for
the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


FH: Thank GOD!  Christopher Black managed to kick out at the two
count.

[Tommy Ryder back on the offensive now.  Front face-lock on
Christopher Black and Ryder takes him down with a vertical suplex.
Ryder pulls him up again and drills him with a beautiful backbreaker.
]

CL: It appears that he is focusing on Black's back.

[Christopher Black's weight is working against him as Ryder is using
it to continue to apply pressure on that backbreaker.  Ryder pushes
Black off. Ryder lets off as Christopher Black is using the ring ropes
to pull himself up. "The Phenom" with a head of steam....and
Christopher Black BACKBODY DROPPED THE PHENOM OVER THE TOP ROPES!]


"___THUUUUUD___"


FH: Got a headache? I got some Advil in the back! This is great!!!

CL: That had to hurt The Phenom took a very bad spill on the outside
of the ring.

[Christopher Black looks down on his handy work proudly and makes his
way to the outside.  Meanwhile on the outside Lady Laurel starts to
yell at Tommy about his tactics. Black has picked up Ryder and blasts
Tommy in the back of the head with an elbow.  A smirk comes across the
face of The Bad Wolf as Laurel taps Black on the shoulder and begins
to yell at Black.  As Black is telling her about how she should be
with a real man, she slaps him.  He staggers and turns to find Ryder
already there to land a stepping stone on the outside.]

FH: You know I am getting real tired of Laurel's antics tonight she
needs to keep her nose out of this match and be there for just moral
support for her man.

CL: Lady is just trying to help her man stop this losing streak he is
on. It is what any good manager would do.

[Both men beginning to stir on the outside of the ring as Sinister is
trying to give Ryder some advice before he gets back inside the ring.
The Bad Wolf has slide back inside the ring and Ryder hops onto the
apron and then runs towards the turnbuckle.]

CL: It looks like The Phenom is about to fly.

FH: You know Tommy might be going to the well once too often tonight
as The Bad Wolf.

[As Tommy is perched on the top rope waiting for Black to get back to
his feet. Laurel is shouting more instructions on the outside which
takes The Phenom's attention away from Black and now Ryder is meet by
a quick right to the side of the head. Black is on the second rope and
suplexes Ryder from the top rope. Black and Ryder bodies both hit the
mat hard as Black places an arm over Ryder's chest.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


FH: Let's all go home..this one's O-V-E-R!!!


!!! THREE !!!


CL: NO!  He managed to pull that shoulder up just as Mark Barnett's
hand struck two!  Amazing! The fans are cheering on Tommy Ryder in
this encounter.

FH: I can't believe it and neither can Black. The Bad Wolf can't
believe it himself.  He's yelling at Mark Barnett right now!!

CL: Ryder with a schoolboy out of nowhere!!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[But Christopher Black just gets back up and is pounding on Ryder.
Black picks up Ryder and Irish whips him to the ropes, Ryder off the
rebound and is caught by a beautiful power slam by Black. Black stands
up and is assessing the damage. He goes to Ryder left leg and cramps
on a spinning toehold.]

FH: Smart move!  Without his legs, it's impossible for Ryder to
wrestle the way he loves to wrestle.

[Black releases the hold and drags him over to the rope. He drapes
that leg over the rope and lands on it full weight with a smirk on his
face! Black pulls Ryder up by the hair and whips him into the
turnbuckle. Black with a full head of steam and Ryder GETS A FOOT UP
and just knocked him one in the chops.  Ryder with a clothesline that
just took Black out of his boots! ]

CL: Both men are down!  The fans are standing for this one folks.
Ryder clears the cobwebs and shakes his left leg trying to regain more
feeling in it.  Black is dazed and is standing groggy.

FH: WOLF BEHIND YOU!!!!!

[Tommy Ryder with a side Russian Leg Sweep that takes down Black! His
head thudded against that mat!  Ryder trying to get the fans behind
him starts to run towards Black and hits Black with a dropkick to the
side of the head as The Bad Wolf was getting up. Ryder picks up Black
and goes to Irish with The Bad Wolf but Black nails Ryder with a
flapjack from out of no where. Black then grabs him by the hair and
delivers a vicious bitch-slap.]

CL: What a sign of disrespect right there. There was no need to slap
Ryder across the face like that.  Look Sinister didn't like that one
bit.

FH: Yeah he had plenty of reason he was trying to knock some common
sense into him. By the way that was a nice counter by Black.

CL: Sinister now giving the Bad Wolf an earful and Christopher Black
just shrugs it off.

FH: What does Sinister know?  Why don't he return back to losing to
rookies like, Tyson Cain!

[Black begins to choke Tommy as the Referee Mark Barnett attempts to
break the hold. Ryder is released from Black's clutches and gasps for
air. But not for to long as Black applies the Frenzy. Sinister and
Lady Laurel on the outside cheering Tommy on to grab the ropes.  Black
drags him back once...twice...third time until Ryder finally makes it!
Bennett is insisting Black releases the hold.  Only when it looks like
Sinister himself is going to step in does the Bad Wolf let go, with a
sick smirk plastered look wide across his face. Black pick up The
Phenom and drives him back down to the mat with a standing
clothesline. Christopher Black grinds his boot against the forehead of
Tommy  Ryder.]

FH: This is great!  Now he's just rubbing salt on the wounds of Tommy
Ryder!  Ryder is kicking the mat in pain!!

CL: You are SICK!

[Christopher Black picks up Ryder with a military press...power slam!]

FH: He turned the Military Press into a power slam!


"___THUUUUUUD___"


[Black stands Ryder up and pushes him into the turnbuckle. He drapes
that left leg over the middle rope and begins to pound on it with
stiff kicks to the leg. Mark Barnett finally has had enough and steps
inbetween Black and Ryder.]

CL: Tommy  Ryder just took a swing at Black!  Even through all the
pain that he's been put through in the past few minutes, he's still
fighting! This man is resilient!

FH: It's not doing him much good though. Black nonchalantly kicked him
in the knee one last time for good measure and that put Ryder on his
back again!

CL: That knee really is bothering him at this point. Black has picked
a point on the body and is attacking it. Great strategy by any
wrestler.

[Black pulls him back up....SMALL PACKAGE BY THE PHENOM ...]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!!THR!!!


FH: Black kicks out!

[Black is quickly back to his feet and grabs Tommy Ryder to his. Irish
whip by Black...sunset flip by Ryder!!]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Two count again!!  The fans are starting to stomp their feet
trying to get Ryder pumped up.  Look at Sinister he is cheering Ryder
on.

[Ryder is back to his feet and takes a look at the crowd. He begins to
take in the energy of the fans.  Black back to his feet and so is
Ryder.  Ryder with knife-edge chops into the corner.  He mounts the
second turnbuckle and the fans begin to chant along.  Black pulls
grabs him as if to power bomb him but Ryder slides back down into a
sunset flip pin.  Black drops to his knees only to have it reversed
into the Sunset flip.]


!!! ONE !!!


CL: The fans sense this one could be over...


!!! TWO !!!


FH: YES! He kicked out!!

CL: Running knee lift by Ryder! And another! And another! The crowd is
electric at this point!  Black swings but Ryder blocks into a crucifix
pin!!


!!! ONE !!!


!!!TWO!!!


FH: Another kick out!

CL: Black slides to the outside.

FH: Good move..slow the momentum.

[Tommy Ryder with a baseball slide and Christopher Black collides with
the ring barricade yet again. Black seems to be seriously hurt on the
outside of the ring as Ryder slides outside the ring and tosses him
back in the ring. The Phenom picks him up and hits a double under hook
DDT while simultaneously kicking The Bad Wolf in both knees.]

CL: STAY DOWN THE PHENOM HIT IT!!! Black seems to be out cold.

FH: WOULDN'T YOU BE OUT COLD ALSO?!?!?

[The Biz walks out from the backstage area with a microphone in hand.
The crowd immediately sees him and boo him to holy hell. He smacks the
microphone to make some noise in an effort to a) shut them up and b)
get Tommy Ryder's attention.]

Biz: Hey Tommy...sorry to interrupt your match but then again you
should be thanking me for making this spectacle entertaining for the
next few minutes.

[Tommy looks down at Black in the ring knocked out from Stay Down.
Ryder has on eye on Black and the other one on The Biz as The Sinister
is on the outside of the ring trying to get Ryder's attention to pin
Black. Ryder thou pays no mind to the Television Champion and slides
underneath the bottom rope. The Sinister is trying to talk some sense
into The Phenom...]

Biz: Woah now, Tommy...no need to get antsy; just hear me out.

[Pause]

I think you're soft. You may not notice it but these fans do and I
KNOW your pretty little lady sure does. Maybe she'd be better off with
a rock solid man such as myself; a man who knows a little bit about
success - both in AND out of the squared circle. What do you think,
Laurel? Time to drop the zero and get with the hero?

[Lady Laurel can not believe the comments The Biz just made about her
and is throwing a fit on the outside as The Sinister is also trying to
calm her down also.]

Biz: Oh maybe you need a CLOSER look. Don't go anywhere, sweetheart.
Daddy's coming.

[The Biz starts to walk down the aisle taunting his prey. Ryder has
had enough his mind and focus is clearly on The Biz.  He has now
climbed the turnbuckles and shouting towards the Biz.  Sinister is
trying to talk some sense into Ryder but his eyes are locked on The
Biz.]

CL: I guess Ryder couldn't stand The Biz talking to his Lady like
that...

FH: The Biz plan is working then.  Black is on his feet and he sees
the opening.

[Races up the ropes and turns the distracted Ryder and hooks a leg and
leaps backwards with a super fisherman ...]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


CL: Delta Wave!

[And Biz does the whole "OOOOH" reaction as Ryder crumbles to the
mat.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THREE !!!


CL: And this match is over.  Ryder looked to be breaking out of his
slump and The Biz was right there again to stop it.

FH: The Bad Wolf's win streak continues!

[The Bad Wolf and Biz trade a look as The Biz stands in the aisle way
quite happy with the turn of events.  Sinister stands on the outside
shaking his head.  When Ryder rolls slowly to the outside on the
opposite side of the ring where the Biz and the aisle way sits.]


*DING*DING*DING*


HD: Winner of the match,  "The Bad Wolf" Christopher Black!!!


CL: Ryder is up and stumbling hold his rib cage area and he takes off
right after The Biz!


[KICK HIS ASS POP!!!]


FH: There goes Ryder.

CL: Sinister is trying to shout towards Ryder to don't allow the Biz
to get in his head but I think it's way too late.

[Ryder has meet The Biz and begins to level him with rights and lefts
in the middle of the aisle way.]

CL: Listen to these fans love what Ryder is doing The Biz...

[Black quite enjoys the show as he stands inside the ring. Ryder is
pounding away at The Biz in the aisle way.]

CL: Tommy Ryder is taking out all the months of frustration as he
drills the Biz with hard rights.

[The Sinister and Lady Laurel are trying to Tommy's attention but
Ryder has The Biz stirring and all of a sudden Ryder leaps on the ring
barricade and goes for a moonsault but The Biz side steps in and Ryder
lands face first on the floor.]


"___SPPPLLLAAAT___"


[OOOOUCH POP!]

FH: Well Ryder just proved to me he isn't the brightest crayon in the
box.

[Black leans over the top rope watching what just occurred outside the
ring and is laughing at it. The Biz is putting the boots to the back
on the head and The Sinister has had enough and finally chases The Biz
away.]

FH: Sinister should of gotten involved quicker than that.

CL: Well Sinister probably thought Tommy knew what he was doing.

[The Biz is at the top of the entrance ramp and raises his arms in
victory as The Bad Wolf is in the ring and is telling the referee,
Mark Barnett, to raise his hand. Black is still laughing in the ring
as The Sinister and now Lady laurel are checking on The Phenom.]

[BOOOOOOOOOO!]

CL: The Bad Wolf escapes with a victory.  And look at Sinister who is
now standing in the aisle way trading glares with Christopher Wolf.

FH: And the Bad Wolf is inviting him inside the ring.

[Black holds the ropes inviting Sinister inside the ring.  The veteran
just shakes his head telling Christopher Black this isn't the time.]

FH: Look at Sinister ... He is scared of the Bad Wolf.  I can't say I
blame him.

CL: Sinister has been through this game before.  He knows when the
time is right.  Right now he has to give Tommy Ryder some much needed
advice.  The Biz is TOTALLY inside the head of Tommy Ryder.

FH: The Biz is a master at playing the game.

[We cut to the President and CEO in the process of starting another
interview.]

JD:  As President and CEO, I would like to thank you for coming down
here to interview for the position.  Obviously my clout as a highly
paid executive and the threat of Caleb Foley's presence spreading is
one that cannot be ignored.

[The camera pans left, and stops at an oddly-patterned wall.

The wall is black and shines like silk.  A crisscrossing floral
pattern, with tropical flowers growing from thin dark green vines,
covers the surface of the wall.  The wall seems to have a mass of wild
black hair near the top, as well as two massive trunk-like legs and
similarly-huge arms.

...

Oh, wait.  That's not a wall; that's Tumaffi.

...

...wait, WHAT?

Tumaffi, the massive Samoan wrestler famous in other federations (or
so the rumor goes; whether these other federations actually exist is
open to debate) is, for some reason, backstage at a PVW show.  OMG
RUMORS EXPLODE BREAKING THE INTARNETZ!  He stands with hands on hips,
glaring at our CEO.  This is not a kind, happy glare.  This is not
even a dour, disapproving glare.  This is the kind of glare that not
only kills you, but does so with fire.  Johnny starts a slow wilt as
the four-hundred-plus pound monster remains stoic.]

JD: Aheh, so let's begin the...

[And boom... there goes Tumaffi in full rant, with a huge bass voice
that sounds like a cross between a bassoon and an explosion.]

Tumaffi: INSOLENT WORM!  TUMAFFI CAME TO THIS PLACE UNDER THE
IMPRESSION THAT THE
UNI*bleeeepoutthecompetitionsnameforcomedyeffect*ERATION HAD
DISPATCHED ME FOR A TALENT EXCHANGE!  AND NOW YOU CLAIM THAT THIS WAS
A RUSE TO LURE THE GREAT TUMAFFI TO A COMPETING PROGRAM IN ORDER TO DO
YOUR PITHY GRUNTWORK?!

JD: Well I think of this situation not as a ruse, but rather an
opportunity.  An opportunity to impress me by destroying Caleb Foley,
and then think of the opportunities that would open up for you as a
friend of the President and CEO of...

Tumaffi: TUMAFFI DOES NOT KNOW WHAT IS MORE PITIFUL; THE FACT THAT YOU
REQUIRE ASSISTANCE TO DESTROY YOUR ENEMIES, OR THE UNMITIGATED
STUPIDITY OF STANDING NEXT TO THE MIGHTY TUMAFFI AND INFORMING ME THAT
YOU HAVE WASTED MY TIME AND MONEY!  THINK YOU THAT TUMAFFI SUFFERS
FOOLS LIGHTLY?!  WHEN TUMAFFI FINISHES ANNIHILATING YOUR TINY BODY,
YOU WILL TRULY BE A 'CEO': A 'CASUALTY, EASILY OBLITERATED'!

JD: You know I think I have all...

[Detson quickly looks at his wrist.]

JD:  Oh wow look at the time, I have a board meeting to get to but if
you just leave your info-aaaaaaaaa!!!!!!

[Detson hustles out of the room, with security attempting to get in
the way as Tumaffi lunges for him.  Sadly, he misses.  It's hard to
destroy people in a cameo, you know.]

CL: Folks I am getting word that due to the interview process for
Caleb Foley's opponent the match again has been post poned until later
tonight.

FH: That was one big dude.  I'm not sure if he would wrestle or eat,
Caleb Foley.

CL: It appears that list you were talking about earlier includes
superstars from other companies.

FH: I told you the hate for Caleb Foley runs deep in this industry.
Nobody likes the Irish.  Not to go Political but that's what happens
when you piss off a whole Middle Eastern race surrounding you.

CL: Uhhh...  That's Israel.

FH: Same difference.

CL: ...

FH: Irish Stew for Tumaffi!

CL: Well moving on I am getting word we will be holding our first
Called Shot Qualifier.  Standing by is Dean Hayes ...

[Dean Hayes lays in wait for "Hellraiser" Tom Landis to come through,
and soon enough he does.  Tom clearly doesn't appreciate being
interrupted before the match, judging by the look on his face.]

DH: Tom, you've got a tough match ahead of you against Larry Gionet to
qualify for the Called Shot.  But I have to ask you, after last week's
championship loss, what are you thinking right now?

TL: I'm thinking you have bigger balls than what most people give you
credit for Dean, to get in my way like this.

DH: But Perry stabbed you in the back and basically handed the tag
titles to Livestock and Dr. Ohno Ow.  You have to be feeling something
about that!

TL: I am, Dean.  Make no mistake about it, Perry Fontana hasn't seen
the last of me.  He knows this, just like he knows that I won.

DH: You won?  Won what?

TL: That insufferable son of a bitch and I had a contest of sorts that
neither one of us talked about to anyone else.  All through this thing
we've basically hated each other's guts, but for the sake of the
family and for our wives, we managed to keep the peace.  That bastard
wants to win everything, all the time.  But the agreement was the
first one to throw a punch loses.  Which means victory, such as it is,
is mine.

DH: That seems like a a bit of an empty victory.

TL: For any sane person, maybe.  But the french bastard's ego will
never go of the fact that my will is that much stronger.  That he
cracked first.  And in fact, I'm going to let you in on a big scoop,
Dean.  After I take care of the former Network Champion and add my
name to the Called Shot, I'm going to find Matthew Willingham and ask
for a match at Tradition.

[The opening sounds of "You Know My Name" come over the PA system as
we cut just behind the curtains.]

DH: A match?

TL: A match against my brother-in-law, so I can shut his arrogant
mouth once and for all.  Now if you don't mind Dean, I've got some
business to take care of.

DH: Good luck, Tom.

[The lights in the arena dim as the abrupt beginning to "You Know My
Name" by Chris Cornell hits, and the crowd cheers strongly as a subtle
cast of red light is shone over them.  The entrance is similarly
bathed in the red hue as the voice of Chris Cornell comes in.]

# If you take a life, do you know what you'll give
# Odds are, you won't like what it is
# When the storm arrives, would you be seen with me
# By the merciless eyes I've deceived

[A figure emerges through the portal to stand in the midst of the red
light.  He stands, frozen there as the spotlights begin to pulse
around him.]

# I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
# But you yourself are nothing so divine
# Just next in line

[And as the chorus hits, the lights come on in blindingly full force
to reveal "Hellraiser" Tom Landis standing there.  He's dressed for
combat, wearing full length black tights with a silver and red design
running up the legs, and "Hellraiser" written on the seat of the
pants.  He's also wearing a black sleeveless t-shirt with the "ACW"
logo on it.  Tom begins to walk down the aisle towards the ring.]

# Arm yourself because no-one else here will save you
# The odds will betray you
# And I will replace you

HD: Introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at two
hundred and forty-one pounds...

"HELLRAIIIIIIIISERRRRRRRRRRRRR"

TOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSS!

# You can't deny the prize; it may never fulfill you
# It longs to kill you
# Are you willing to die

# The coldest blood runs through my veins
# You know my name

[Landis tags some of the fans' outstretched hands running along the
aisle as he approaches the ring slowly.  As he gets to the ring Tom
wipes his feet on the mat before climbing into the ring as the cheers
crescendo, and after standing on the middle of the ropes and raising
his arms to the crowd he removes the t-shirt and proceeds to his
corner.]

HD: And his opponent... from Stoughton, Massachusetts, and weighing in
at 235lbs...

[The Crowd chants the PVW Warriors name as the lights dim to black as
the booming intro of "Grind" by Alice in Chains can be heard through
the PA system.]

# In the darkest hole, you'd be well advised #
# Not to plan my funeral before the body dies, yeah #
# Come the morning light, it's a see through show #
# What you may have heard and what you think you know, yeah #

HD: The PVW Warrior...

LAAAARRRRYYYYYYYY  GIONEEEEEEEEEEEET!

[Larry Gionet slowly walks to the ring as the chants become louder. He
is sporting a new look wearing a hooded a MMA style robe in red with
black lining.

With a menacing look on his face, he stops at ringside and raises a
head to stare at the crowd with a deep stare taking in a very deep
breath.]

# Let the sun never blind your eyes #
# Let me sleep so my teeth don't grind #
# Hear a sound from a voice inside #

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

# Sure to play a part, so you love the game #
# And in truth your lies become one and same, yeah #
# I could set you free, rather hear the sound #
# Of your body breaking as I take you down, yeah #

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

# Let the sun never blind your eyes #
# Let me sleep so my teeth don't grind #
# Hear a sound from a voice inside #

[The lights begin to rise as Gionet drops the hood from his robe
exposing his new black hair spiked on the top.  He throws off his robe
to the side as he grates a thumb across his neck signaling for his
music to be cut. The two men size each other up... and it just doesn't
look like either man will take the match lightly.]

CL: Finally, we've heard from Tom Landis, Fred!

FH: Yeah, and Fontana clearly scrambled Landis' brains because Tom
actually thinks he won one on Perry!

CL: And he's looking to win another, throwing the gauntlet,
challenging Perry Fontana to a one on one match at Tradition 5.

FH: He's got a more pressing challenge to deal with right now...


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - CALLED SHOT QUALIFIER
Larry Gionet v. Tom Landis

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


*DING*DING*DING*



[Landis and Gionet circle each other appraising each other's game,
then meet in the center of the ring in a collar and elbow tie up.  The
men jostle for supremacy, and the fight brings them both into the
ropes, forcing the referee to order the break.

CL: Looks like this one is pretty evenly matched! Both Landis and
Gionet are experienced, skilled technicians who aren't afraid to take
a few risks.

FH: You're right. I'd be hard pressed to tell you which of these two I
hate the most. This isn't going to be a match for me...

CL: Why not? This promises to be a high flying match!

[Once again, the two men circle each other, and when it looks like
they'll moved in for another tie up, Landis launches a right cross
instead!  Gionet absorbs the blow, and answers with a stiff jab!
...And another! ...And a third!  He swings a fourth, but Landis
blocks, and answers with a massive European uppercut that knocks
Gionet a few steps back and into the ropes!]

FH: Ah! This is my kind of high flying! High flying FISTS!

[Gionet shakes off the blow, then walks to Landis and nails him with a
textbook European uppercut of his own! Tom absorbs the blow, and
responds with another European uppercut! But this time, Gionet was
prepared, and he barely budges. Instead, he launches a massive
uppercut that hits Landis full force!]


[STIFF SHOT POP!]


[Landis stumbles backwards and into the ropes... from there, he looks
back at Gionet, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his
fist... and charges back!]

CL: Gionet ducks! ...Hip toss!

FH: Landis landed right on his butt!

[When Landis gets back to his feet, Gionet greets him with a fierce
knife-edge chop! Larry winds up for another European uppercut, but
this time it's Landis who ducks!  He grabs Gionet's wrist in a clutch,
falls back, planting his feet in the PVW Warrior's abdomen and monkey
flips him across the ring, where...]


[GIONET AMAZING POP!]


CL: Gionet lands on his feet! And... SPINNING BACK FIST!

FH: Landis got it right in the mouth!  That wasn't just amazing, that
was Gionet amazing!

CL: Gionet amazing? I agree, but... I thought you hated him!

FH: That one was for the wrestling critics, Chip. ...You wouldn't
understand.

[Gionet attempts an elbow drop, but Landis rolls out of the way.
Before Gionet can fully get back to his feet, Landis flips him over
with an arm drag, and, seconds later, knocks him back down with a
dropkick!  Giving Gionet no respite, Landis gets on top of him with a
shower of stomps.]

CL: Tom Landis with a more aggressive edge than usual, Fred!

FH: Good to see him fight like a real man!

[Landis drops a knee on the back of Gionet's head, and hoists him up,
applying a front-face lock... but Gionet is resisting the Implant DDT.
Gionet fights back with some elbow shots, loosening the front
chancery, and he manages to clutch Landis' waist and lift him up and
over with a Northern Lights Suplex!]


"___THUUUUUD!___"


CL: Gionet maintains the bridge...



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



CL: Landis kicks out!

FH: With surprising authority, too... I'm confused, Chip.

CL: How so?

FH: These two guys both lost titles only two weeks ago. I assumed
they'd stay in their beds, curled up in the foetal position, sucking
on blueberry cake and crying like menopausal women while watching
"Gone with the Wind."

CL: So many details... You're letting people know too much about your
sordid private life, Fred.

FH: Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.

[Gionet hits Landis with a series of punches and elbow shots before
picking him up on his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Gionet drops Tom
onto his bent knee with a gutbuster... and while Landis is still
prone...]


"___THWAAAACK!___"


CL: YAKUZA KICK! Right on the chin! That had to hurt!

FH: Not as much as a British Yakuza Kick would have.

CL: Gionet hooks the leg and...



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO!!!




!!! THR !!!



CL: Landis kicks out!

FH: I thought that'd be it for him. Taking a kick to the head like
that with all those concussion rumors floating about...

CL: You have to be cleared by a doctor to wrestle in PVW, Fred.

FH: Theoretically.

[Gionet, again, in control of the match, softening Landis with kicks,
palm and forearm strikes. Then, Gionet pulls Landis' arm and twists it
into a standing armbar, forcing Tom to double over with the pain...
but Landis picks up Gionet with his free arm, and thrusts  himself
backwards...]


"___THUUUUUD!___"


CL: BACK DROP DRIVER INTO THE TURBUCKLES! Landis has been scouting
armbars, no doubt about that! And it took a toll on Gionet...

FH: That'll anger our Japanese fans!

CL: It will?

FH: The Japanese love Larry Gionet, don't you know?

CL: Well, he is a world renowned athlete...

FH: The Japanese love robots so much!

CL: Gionet's not a robot and you know it!

FH: Just wait till some porn site infects him with a Trojan...

[No glitz, no flash, Landis is only turning brutally efficient with
punches and knee shots, all carefully aimed, all soundly connecting
with impact. Landis takes Gionet in a standing headscissors, hoists
him up and...]


"___KATHUUUUUD!___"


CL: PILEDRIVER!

FH: That may have damaged Gionet's processor!

CL: You're an idiot, and Landis hooks the leg...



!!! ONE !!!






!!! TWO !!!





!!! THR !!!



CL: NO, Gionet kicks out!

FH: I've seen the future, Chip. The machines win, and Gionet will lead
the robot uprising.

[Landis cracks Gionet with a forearm shot to the jaw, pulls Gionet up
by his blond locks and hops up to the second turnbuckle. Sitting on
the top rope, Landis pulls Gionet to him, but the PVW Warrior, out of
nowhere, catches him off guard with a stiff uppercut! He twists
Landis, picks him up over head and brings him crashing down into the
mat head first with an Omega Driver!]


"___KATHUUUUUD!___"


[HOW THE HELL DID HE _DO_ THAT POP!!]


FH: GIONET AMAZING! Did you know, Chip, that Larry Gionet was sent
ba-...

CL: Fred, if you say he's been sent back from the future to kill Sarah
Connor, I'll hit you.

FH: How did you know...?

CL: Gionet with a lateral press...



!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!







!!! THREE !!!





CL: The ref says it's a two count! Landis got the shoulder up in time!

[The fans giving their support to both men.  Gionet pulls Landis up
and lights up his chest with a series of knife edge chops.]


"___TWAAAAP___"


"___TWAAAAP___"


"___TWAAAAP___"


CL: Gionet just lighting up Landis' chest!

[POP!]

...Not for long! Landis just turned Gionet around and tossed him in
the corner and returns those knife edge chops!


"___TWAAAAP___"


"___TWAAAAP___"


"___TWAAAAP___"


[Landis sends Gionet across with an Irish Whip and Gionet bounces out
to be beheaded by a charging clothesline.  Landis swings his arms in
the air feeling the comeback.  He pulls Gionet up and wraps his arms
around his waist and lifts him back with a forceful belly-to-belly
suplex.]


"___THUUUUUUD!___"


CL: Landis hops right back up and quickly drops a knee to the chest of
Gionet.

FH: I think Landis hit Gionet's circus board with that knee.

[Gionet rolls over, holding his chest, as Landis pulls Gionet right
back to his feet, and he locks on a front chancery and drops Gionet
right back down with a swinging neckbreaker!]


"___THUUUUUUD___"


CL: Landis has a burst of offense, and he isn't letting up.  He just
pulls Gionet up with authority.  Almost like he is having flashbacks
to Fontana, Fred.

FH: Perry Fontana won't be as easy to manhandle.

[Landis sets Gionet up in a vertical suplex lift and he drops Gionet
in a front layout suplex...]


"___THUUUUUUUUUD!___"


CL: Chicago Thunderbomb I!  Tom Landis rolls over and hooks a leg.
This one could be over!



!!! ONE !!!






!!! TWO !!!








!!! THRRR !!!


...NO!  Gionet _just_ kicked out!  That was so close!

FH: You can't pin Arnold's... I mean Gionet's shoulders to the mat
without some sort of explosion.  Or Christian Bale.

[Landis shakes his head.  He thought he had Gionet right there.  He
pulls Gionet up and drives him backwards with an European uppercut.
He swings for the fences again...  He grabs the right arm of the PVW
Warrior, but Gionet reverses it!  Landis hits the ropes and like
clockwork TILT-A-WHIRL...]


"___CRAAAAAACK!___"


[RIB MUTHA F' N CRACKER POP!!!]


CL: The fans love the Rib Cracker!

FH: I love when it's done on Tom Landis!

CL: That's going to slow Landis down.  Remember, folks, Landis has
been wrestling with a series of injuries.  For all we know, he could
be wrestling while still carrying the effects of a concussion!

FH: That doesn't make him tougher.  It makes him stupid.

CL: Tom Landis is like a honey badger, Fred.

FH: Oh, wow. Honey badger. Sounds real impressive.

CL: The honey badger doesn't kid around, Fred! It sounds lame to
people who don't know anything, like you, but it's the most fearless,
badass animal on the face of the planet!

[Landis pushes himself up holding those exposed ribs .. Immediately,
Gionet charges back with an elbow to Landis' neck right before he
applies a sleeper hold. Landis fights, though, he fights and fights!]

FH: I don't understand why he doesn't just give up...

CL: There's a spot in the Called Shot match at End Game at stake,
Fred!

FH: Oh yeah...

[Finally, Landis starts to dim, his resolve and strength weakening...
And a hush falls over the crowd. Not because of the goings on in the
ring, but because of the hooded man that stepped out into the aisle;
Tom Landis' brother-in-law, "the Everlasting" Perry Fontana.]

FH: Ah! Business is picking up!

CL: Fontana has no business here, no business at all!

FH: Landis challenged him to a one on one grudge match at Tradition! I
assume Perry's only here to answer.

[As the fan's boos and jeers grows louder, it seems Tom Landis'
resistance to Gionet's sleeper hold grows stronger. And so the PVW
Warrior reacts accordingly...]


"___KRAAAAAK!___"


CL: LUNGBLOWER!!

FH: And Gionet's right back on top of him with a rear naked choke,
just like a real robot would do!

CL: Stop that!

[This, of course, only delights Fontana as he stomps to ringside.
Gionet applies the choke, wedging his knees in Tom's back!  But...]


[POP!]


CL: Landis wrenched one of Gionet's arms off!

[Amazingly, he did!  Landis brings Gionet's arm over his head and
twists it onto the otherside, bending it in... an armbar!]

FH: WHat is this?  Countering with an armbar, right in Perry Fontana's
face?

CL: I can see Fontana doesn't like it.

FH: How DARE he!?!

CL: Tom's fighting for survival, and a Called Shot spot, so he'll do
what it takes! I don't think he even knows Fontana's there!

[Gionet has to break his own hold as he attempts to twist out of the
armbar himself, but as he gets back up, Landis grabs his head and
smashes it back onto the mat with a surprise cutter!]


"___THUUUUUUD!___"


[Slowly, Landis gets to his feet... seemingly still unaware that
Fontana's mocking him at ringside.  Tom assesses the situation and,
seeing Gionet getting back to his feet, Landis launches himself into
the ropes, charging back at the PVW Warrior with all of his speed...
He leaps into the air, aiming for a spear tackle...]


[POP!]


CL: GIONET DUCKS!!

[Larry ducks, and Landis flies straight through the ropes, out of the
ring and right into Fontana!]


[HOLY MUTHAFRAKKIN' CRAP POP!!!]


FH: HE'S INSANE!

CL: HE TACKLED FONTANA!!!

[As soon Landis gets back to his feet, he grabs Fontana by the
muttonchops and unloads a series of stiff, heartfelt, cathartic right
hands to the Everlasting One's forehead! ...And the crowd goes wild
with every blow!!!]

FH: This shouldn't be happening, Chip!  This isn't right!

[Landis gets up, and, paying no mind to the referee's count, grabs a
nearby chair, walking back to Fontana and stalking him with the
brandished weapon... Fontana rises...the fans cheering with
anticipation.]

CL: LANDIS SWINGS!

FH: FONTANA DUCKS!

[Clearly, Landis turned the tables on his brother-in-law, and Fontana
wasn't prepared to tackle such a welcoming committee!  Fontana slinks
up the aisle, and Landis throws the chair at his brother-in-law,
hitting Perry's back and sending jolts of pain through his back. And
as Tom chases after the Everlasting One, the cheers grow louder and
louder!]

FH: Landis can't do this!

CL: He can, and Fontana deserves it!

FH: Well... He's about to get himself counted out!

CL: He just might...

[Up the aisle, Landis finally catches up to Fontana, only to receive a
sneaky elbow to the gut. Perry grabs Landis' wrist, twists it in a
hammerlock and pushes Landis into a vertical metal truss framing the
entranceway!]


"___CLAAAAANG!___"


[HEEL POP!]


[With Landis hooked into the truss, Fontana charges with a running
knee...]


"___CLOOOONG!___"


[EAT STEEL, PERRY POP!!]


CL: LANDIS MOVED OUT OF THE WAY!! Perry just kneed a metal column!!
Wait! And now, security is swarming in!

FH: They're separating these two men!

[From the ring, Larry Gionet, getting his breath back from the ordeals
of the match, gets his hand raised by the referee as Landis and
Fontana are dragged away, still trying to break free from the security
team, vainly attempt to get back at each other's throats.]

HD: ...The winner of this match, and moving on to the Called Shot
match at PVW End Game...  LARRRYYY GIONEEEEEET!!

FH: First, Watson powns Ken Jennings on Jeopardy! And now... Gionet
wins? The Machines have already won, Chip!  Dun-dun! Dun! Dun-dun!

CL: Landis and Fontana finally settle their scores at Tradition...

FH: Dun-dun! Dun! Dun-dun!

CL: ...And Larry Gionet moves on to the Called Shot match!

FH: Dun-dun! Dun! Dun-dun!

CL: What an opportunity for him...

FH: Dun-dun! Dun! Dun-dun!

CL: Damn it, Fred! Stop singing the Terminator music!

FH: Fine.  But it doesn't change the fact that the machines have won!

CL: I can make it through tonight ... I can make it through tonight
... I can make it through tonight ...

FH: What are you doing, Chip?

CL: It's a calming technique.

FH: That's a calming technique?  Man you should try Asian massage
parlors.

CL: [Trying to get back on track.] Larry Gionet joins Johnny Detson
and Dan Flores in the Called Shot match.

FH: Johnny Detson has set himself up nicely to get himself that Called
Shot.  You have to admit he is a brilliant boss.

CL: [Ignoring Fred.] We have an earlier taped segment with the
Cruiserweight Icon ... AsH.

[Camera opens on AsH leaning back in a red leather lazy boy. His eyes
flutter slightly and he fights to keep them open, but eventually
succumbs to the thought of sleep and dozes off. His neck relaxes and
his head slumps slightly to his right]

[The camera quickly zooms into his eye and a quick flash brings AsH to
standing in an all white area, with no visible walls or even horizon
and as far as anyone can tell, you're probably now viewing inside
AsH's subconscious. I tell ya, High Def camera are getting REALLY good
now]

AsH: Hmm... normally I'd be flocked by a dozen women right now,
clothed
in nothing more than melted chocolate.

Voice: This isn't that kind of dream. I'm taking a few moments of your
sleepo to talk to you, mano a mano.

AsH: Uh... who are you? And why do we need to talk?

Voice: I'm ...well, I guess I'm you. Or rather, you're me. Or a
projection of me, as fits into the little hobby we both have.

AsH: Hobby?

Voice: Wrestling, as you know it.

AsH: So what do I call you?

Voice: Anything, really. But around here, and as far as you're
concerned, people call me JC.

AsH: What people?

JC: The other ethereal voices that talk to your fellow athletes
without them knowing.

AsH: I don't get it.

JC: Really, you shouldn't. We're badly breaking the forth wall and I'm
not entirely sure just how long we can keep this up before people just
start skimming down the page.

AsH: Ok, now I'm confused. There are no walls, let alone pages. What
the hell are you talking about?

JC: Jesus, I don't remember writing myself as so damn dense.

[AsH shrugs and crosses his arms. Through this vast plane of white
nothingness, a supposed mirror image of him pops up in front of him
with his hands inside the pockets of red plaid pajama pants. His hair
is messy, his topcoat is simply a Dallas Cowboys warm up jacket and he
basically looks like he just woke up. AsH squints and looks hard at
the image]

AsH: I've got to stop... doing whatever it is that I'm doing to cause
this. I don't really drink and I've stopped the painkillers, but I'm
pretty sure the Red Bull can be found as a root for this.

JC: Relax, we're just here to mull some things over.

AsH: What needs mulling over.

JC: Well, you and I. You see, I created you a long time ago. I was
young and stupidly gave you my name, my looks, my personality and
basically just inflated you a little further to make you fit into the
pro-wrestling scene.

AsH: Created me?

JC: Well, yeah... though really I think you're just a creative outlet
of
my own so you probably always existed. Wrestling was just a natural
outlet for you.

AsH: Um... ok.

JC: Don't believe me, huh? Well, let's see. We're both about Six One,
you only outweigh me by 30 pounds, we're both married to stunning
red-heads, have our first kid, a boy, with a second on the way. The
wife that used to work now stays at home watching them.

You are me. I am you. We just happen to live in different places.

[AsH shakes his head]

AsH: What's the point of all this?

JC: Well, I wanted to talk to you about where we are at. Joining the
PVW was a step I'd wanted to take for a while and it's odd that you're
the one doing it.

AsH: Odd how?

JC: Odd in that you're so established elsewhere that I never really
had to TRY with you for the last few years. Things just came to you.
Your history was so deep and so etched into the bedrock of that old
company that I think it back just as much a part of you as you did of
it.

AsH: That would explain a few things.

JC: Like?

AsH: I just don't feel as vibrant as I used to... I mean, I used to
really put on a great promo but lately I feel like my head's clogged
with cotton candy and caramel. That and I just don't seem to get
getting the most out of my offense that I used to.

[JC nods]

JC: That's all my fault. By not pushing myself with you a while ago,
I've got to go back and write and figure out why I enjoyed you so much
before. I've had to figure out what truly made you unique and
different.

AsH: And that was?

JC: I guess it was the fact that you could take a heck of a beating.
And keep getting back up. It's one of your, well, OUR points of pride.
We're not the biggest, or the strongest, or even the most technical.
But there's no doubt that we've got heart for miles.

AsH: So where do we go from here?

JC: I think this was a big step, just getting it all out in the open.
But really we've gotta decide where we wanna go with you in the
future.

AsH: Right now, I just wanna go back to being awake and maybe going to
get a sammich.

JC: As far as the company, though. I think that you, we, could
eventually make our way back up to main event. Maybe. It's gonna take
a helluva lot of effort out of both of us. Mostly me.

AsH: Well, I guess I can do my part too. Try to go out there and get
back to the old form. You know, just talking about it makes me feel
younger already. More spring in my step. More led in my pencil.

JC: More cliches to spout...

AsH: Hey, when you mentioned before that it was odd that _I_ was the
one going to PVW, what did that mean.

JC: You're not the only one. There are others in here.

AsH: Like who?

JC: Don't worry about it, it'll only mess with you more.

AsH: Why?

JC: Well, you know two of them. The third is like a new you.

AsH: Um... you're right, I don't want to know.

[The mirror image begins to evaporate but AsH reaches out and grabs
onto a sleeve before it can]

AsH: One more thing. If we're gonna be comedic, let's be comedic. If
we're gonna be serious, let's be serious. No more flip flopping.

[JC smiles and reaches a hand out to his shoulder]

JC: It depends on the day, man. But I agree. We'll find a good balance
soon.

[The entire scene fades out resting with just AsH back in the lazy
boy. He shakes his head abruptly and stands up, walking off screen]

AsH: HONEY! THROW OUT THE DAMN DELI MEAT!

[Fade ...

CUT - Backstage. The locker room is dark.]

"I can't even bring myself to show my face. I'm an embarrassment.
People call me king of the Death match. I never called myself that.
But after my performance against that ginger fruit Foley, all I'm the
king of..... is underachieving."

[Dark but evidently not empty. Copeland is in the room, just seemingly
too ashamed to show his face.]

"Against [beeping] Foley of all people. I saw the joke where he went
to see the Spectre and now he thinks his balls dropped. Laughable at
best. But I really don't have room to say [beep] because the red-
headed stepchild pulled one out of his ass, and I dropped the
[beeping] ball."

[Sigh.]

"No matter how you slice it though, it all comes out the same. I lost
to a guy that is about as hardcore as Taylor [beeping] Swift. You
where the luckier man Caleb. I'll never let someone like you beat me
at my own game like that, ever again."

[The camera is momentarily blinded by the light that is switched on.
Copeland is seated backwards on a steel chair, a baleful expression
framed on his face.]

"I've made a pretty good name for myself by being the guy that lays it
all on the table, each and every time I step between the ropes. Go big
or go home, that's how I've made my living, and I realize now that
I've been looking at this PVW thing the wrong way. I thought I'd have
to change the way I go about things because PVW isn't a Jiatsu fed.
But the truth of the matter, is that I never made my name off
following rules, winning matches, or amassing titles, so why start
caring now?? The one thing no one will ever say is that Christian
Copeland did not give the people their moneys worth."

[A smile?]

So Christian is just gonna be Christian, and if anyone has a problem
with how I do things, you knew what you where signing up for when I
was brought in here. and I hate to be the bearer of bad news for the
Biz, Ash, and that [beeping] idiot Cloak Dos, but things are going to
end up pretty ugly for you guys in this rush hour thing. The win is
not the treasure. the fact that I remain unshackled by your standard
match rules. _that_ is the real reward for yours truly."

[He chuckles.]

"Cause it means I get to bring a good friend with me, and he really,
_REALLY_ wants to get to know Cloak Dos a little better."

[We're left with a sick grin, as he lovingly caresses Smacky who is
hanging around his neck.]

[Fade back to the arena.]

V/O: THERE'S NO PROMISE OF SAFETY!!!!!

[Smoke begins to fill the entrance of the PVW walkway as "The Melting
Point of Wax" by Thrice blasts through the arena at the maximum
possible volume]

"I've waited for this moment
All my life and more
And now I see so clearly
What I could not see before.
The time is now or never
This chance won't come again
Throw caution and myself into the wind"

[The tron begins to flash 'C R U I S E R W E I G H T I C O N' over and
over as the smoke coming up from the entrance ramp becomes heavier and
heavier, making it unable to see any sort of figure at all.]

*FLASH FLASH FLASH FLASH*

[The strobe lights go off on the stage until AsH stands in the smoke,
hands to the air with a MASSIVE smile on his face]

HD: Introducing first ... he hails from Las Vegas Nevada and weighs in
at an even two hundred pounds ... this is ...


!!! ASH !!!


[AsH walks to the ring slapping hands of fans as he smiles and mugs to
the crowd. AsH laughs as he steps up the ringsteps and leaps to the
top turnbuckle in a single bound. He sails off in a fully spread
backflip, landing gently in the ring. AsH raises his hand to the sky
screaming "PVW!" along with the fans]

CL: We are back and it's time for the Rush Hour four way battle.

FH: What was AsH smoking in that "taped segment"?

CL: I think it was a dream.

FH: Hey Fred what are you doing?  Oh nothing just day dreaming about
Chip's wife.

CL: HEY!

FH: Wait AsH is setting a new trend!

CL: AsH is Icon in the cruiserweight division in this industry.

FH: I've heard he is only an Icon in his own mind ... and we've seen
how
screwed up his mind is. So I wouldn't take anything he says seriously.

CL: Even you have too know that was just a nicely played voiceover.

FH: Yeah sure it was. Hopefully Tyson Cain will finish him off soon
and we won't have to worry about mister AsH.

CL: As we saw on On The Road Tyson Cain has a television title shot
against Sinister on the next Heatwave.

FH: Finally a worthy champion ...

CL: But that means when AsH finally gets his hands on Cain once again
... we could be looking at the next television champion.

FH: Not if the Biz has anything to say to about it.

[And as if on cue. [Spotlights begin to shine on the top of the stage
as "For The Love of Money" by The Bulletboys begins to play over the
PA system.]

"WOOOOOOO!"

[As the guitar part kicks, the fans get antsy over the arrival of one
of the most hated men in professional wrestling.]

"For the love of money
People would lie to their mother
For the love of money
People would steal from their own brother
For the love of money
People can't even walk the streets
They never know who in the world they're gonna meet
For that mean, mean, mean...
Mean green"

[The backstage curtains part once more and out walks The Biz, wearing
a pair of grey dress pants, a dark button up dress shirt to match and
shiny black shoes. Behind his right ear, we can see the Bluetooth
headset he's always talking into.]

CL: And the Biz doesn't even look like he is dressed to wrestle!

FH: That's cause he's not, Chip. He thinks he is better than his four
opponents tonight and honestly I agree with him.

['The Biz' begins to walk down the aisle to the ring and refuses to
even acknowledge the fans as he heads to the ring.]

[Once he reaches the ringside area, 'The Biz' climbs the steps and
enters the ring, the fans booing out on all sides around him as the
music fades out.]

HD: And his first opponent ... he hails from New York City, New York
and
weighs in at an even two pounds ... this is ...

!!! MIKE  "THE BIZ" BISIGNANO !!!

[MASSIVE HEEL HEAT!!!]

FH: I mean how many other posthumous world champions do we have in the
PVW?

CL: Considering no one in the PVW has _faked_ their death before ...
none!

FH: It was genius move. His stock flew up the charts after taht.

CL: Really ... really?

[The pounding guitar riff signifies the opening of My Dying Brides
"And I Walk With Them" and the crowd rises in anticipation. The
opening verse begins and "Chemical Imbalance" Christian Copeland
crawls through the curtain and onto the stage.]

##A Serpent it came to me##
##Right before my eyes##
##I looked to God way above me##
##He looked down at my lies##

[He finally rises to his feet and his cold glare works its way from
one side of the rave to the other. Smacky hangs ominously in his right
hand. He drops to his knees and smirks skyward as the next verse
begins. As this verse ends he rises to his feet once more and begins a
careful ascent to the ring, slapping randomly at the hands of the fans
that try to grab him.]

CL: Copeland hasn't made the impact he has wanted to yet in the PVW
...

FH: Of course not he failed to kill Caleb Foley! And really was that
too much for me ... I mean anyone to ask?

[He finally reaches ringside and slides into the ring, slumping into
the nearest corner to await his opponent.]

HD: And their opponent he hails from Seattle, Washington and weighs in
at one hundred and eighty five pounds ... this is "Chemical Imbalance"
...


!!! CHRISTIAN COPELAND !!!


CL: But he is a man to keep your eye on here. He has a unique style
that sets him apart from everyone else in the PVW ...

FH: And he carries around a hammer!

CL: Umm yeah that too.

["La Camisa Negra" by Juanes begins to play over the PA and the
curtains part and out leaps a masked figure in a hooded cape who flies
out of the darkness and onto the entrance ramp in a crouched pose. He
jumps to his feet and strikes a superhero pose with an inflatable
hammer in one hand. The black mask that covers his face completely,
cherry colored eye coverings and cherry colored "SCII" on the forehead
with black tights and cherry colored boots and cherry colored hooded
cape makes it undeniably clear who this is!]

HD: And the final competitor in tonight's Rush Hour Battle Royal ...
he
weighs in  at one hundred ninety five pounds and hails from Parts
Unknown ... this is ...

!!! SENOR CLOAK DOS !!!

CL: He's been an instant fan favorite since he showed up here in the
PVW ...

FH: And a merchandising god send. People are buying those replica
masks left and right.

[Senor Cloak Dos begins lightly bopping kids over the head with
"Smacky Dos" as he makes his way to the ring. When Cloak Dos makes his
way to the ring he leaps onto the ring apron, grabs the top rope and
somersault leaps into the ring and gives a tumble roll and pops up on
his feet and then climbs to the second turnbuckle and strikes a
superhero pose, with "Smacky Dos", as the music fades out. Then Cloak
Dos motions for a microphone, which he is handed and he points at
Christian Copeland with "Smacky Dos"]

SCD: Hola, Senor Copeland! I have been looking for you because, amigo,
I have a present for you! I know you have spent many years with your
little friend there, Senor Smacky, but Cristiano..

[Copeland's eye seems to twitch from being called "Cristiano".]

SCD: Senor Smacky is a very dangerous friend. He is no good for you or
for anyone. He is a bad influence. But, Cristiano, I have a friend who
will lift you ABOVE the influence! I present to you, for your angry
expressions and companionship.. SMACKY DOS!

[Cloak Dos walks up to Copeland and presents the inflatable hammer.]

SCD: Smacky Dos is all yours! He's been a good friend to me, so please
take care of him!

[Copeland glares at the luchadore, then yanks the inflatable hammer
out of the tecnico's hand, and lifts up Smacky and..]

*POP*

[GASP!]

SCD: SMACKY DOS!

[Copeland pops "Smacky Dos" with Smacky. Cloak Dos drops to his knees
over the now mostly deflated corpse of his inflatable hammer friend.
The masked man begins to shake, then he gets to his feet and points at
Copeland.]

SCD: You killed mi amigo!

*THUNK*

[Cloak throws down the microphone and leaps up hitting a dropkick on
Copeland!]

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

PVW - HEATWAVE - RUSH HOUR RULES
Mike Bisignano v. Senor Cloak Dos v.
AsH v. Christian Copeland

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


*DING*DING*DING*

CL: This match is quickly underway as Cloak has taken exception to
Copeland popping Smacky Dos!

FH: And AsH is glaring at the Biz ...

CL: Those two men have a long storied history in another federation
...

FH: You mean S ...

CL: I was told the higher ups don't want to give that federation
anymore free advertisement on Heatwave.

FH: Well that makes sense. The Biz and AsH lock up in the center of
the ring ... and in all honestly I'm not sure how the Biz will last in
this match wearing street clothes. It's not like it's a bunkhouse
brawl.

[AsH transitions to a side head lock as Cloak stomps on the back of
Copeland. AsH takes the Biz over with side head lock takeover and
begins to wrench the side head lock as he floats his weight over the
chest of Biz. Cloak pulls Copeland up to his feet and catches him with
a stiff knife edge chop. Copeland fires back with a chop of his own.]


"___TTTHHHWWWAAAPPP___"


"___TTTHHHWWWAAAPPP___"


"___TTTHHHWWWAAAPPP___"


"___TTTHHHWWWAAAPPP___"


"___TTTHHHWWWAAAPPP___"


[The crowd woos after each chop from Copeland and Cloak.]

CL: And Copeland and Cloak exchanging chops in the ring!


"___TTTHHHUUUDDD___"


FH: Well they were till Copeland just drove his right hand into the
head of Cloak. And Copeland levels Cloak with a clothesline!

CL: Copeland in control as Biz has gotten his feet back under him and
he shoves AsH off of him into the ropes.

[Biz rushes in after AsH and drives a knee into his mid-section as he
rebounds off of the ropes. AsH falls back into the ropes and Biz
drives a right hand to the head of AsH and a second one! Copeland
scoops Cloak up and drops him throat first across the top rope.]

CL: Copeland looking for an early elimination as he pulls Cloak up and
tries to dump him over the top rope. But Cloak is fighting it as he
places a hand on the middle rope and begins to drive elbows into the
side of Copeland's head.

FH: Biz pulls AsH up and slips behind him, grabbing a waist lock ...

CL: German suplex and AsH rolls under the bottom rope to the apron.
And in this match that is not a safe place!

[Biz is quickly back to his feet and begins to kick at AsH, who has
grabbed the bottom rope and locks a foot around it so that Biz cannot
kick him off the apron.]

FH: AsH maybe keeping himself in the match right now but he is taking
a massive amount of damage to the chest as Biz just keeps kicking away
at him.

[Cloak has battled his way back into the ring and applies a side head
lock on Copeland.]

FH: Biz kicks the bottom rope in frustration!

CL: AsH is holding on like his life depends on it and I think the Biz
is tired of laying stomps into his chest as he turns around and
charges at Cloak ...

[Cloak leaps up and props his feet against Biz's chest and pushes Biz
back towards the ropes. AsH is back in the ring and locks in a waist
lock around the Biz. AsH drives Biz into the mat with a German suplex
as Cloak leaps forward driving Copeland into the mat with a bulldog.]

CL: Cloak Dos and AsH back in control! Cloak to his feet and so is
AsH. AsH rushes forward and Cloak ducks the clothesline.

FH: The Biz and Copeland are back to their feet.

CL: And AsH rebounding off of the ropes and Cloak with a leapfrog over
him and again AsH into the ropes.

[AsH off of the ropes and catches Cloak with a dropkick. Cloak Dos
stumbles into The Biz's grasp who scoops him up and plants Cloak down
with a shoulder breaker and Copeland charges in and hits his Double
Knees Smash to the back of Cloak's head!]

FH: They might have been working well together in previous matches but
AsH used a simple dropkick have Cloak take a beating at the hands of
biz and Copeland! Copeland underhooking both arms of Cloak ...

[And the Biz catches Copeland with a savate kick to the jaw that
causes him to release double under. The Biz grabs Cloak and whips him
into the corner. AsH grabs the Biz and whips him into the corner after
Cloak but Cloak side steps and the Biz rams the corner chest first. As
the Biz staggers out AsH rushes forward and catches him in the back of
the head with flying forearm.]

FH: It's hard to keep up with the quick style these four men are using
in the match tonight. I really thought we would see more attempts to
win this match by now.

CL: You know how hard it is to eliminate a man from a battle royal,
Fred.

FH: That I do and I know how to win them, Chip.

CL: AsH charges towards Cloak ... Mexican Arm Drag and AsH is tossed
to
the mat. And here comes Copeland!

[Copeland tries to stomp on Cloak as he's on the ground but Cloak
quickly rolls out of the way and kip ups to his feet as the Biz
charges at him with a clothesline but Cloak ducks that and escapes
into a corner.]

CL: Cloak ducking the clothesline ...

FH: And like a member of the Foley family he runs to the corner for
cover!

[The Biz and Copeland charge at Cloak in the corner but he ducks and
runs past them and AsH charges at him with a leaping cross body but
Cloak sidesteps and AsH lands on the canvas.]

FH: AsH eats the canvas as he misses the cross body and Biz and
Copeland ran hard into the corner. They are glaring at one another but
turn around looking for Cloak ...

[As AsH gets to his hands and knees Cloak charges and handsprings off
of AsH's back and hits a CLOAK ELBOW on both Biz and Copeland in the
corner!]

CL: Good lord! Cloak with a cartwheel handspring off of the back of
AsH and catches both Copeland and Biz with that back elbow!

[Copeland crashes to the mat and rolls under the bottom rope to the
apron. Biz grabs the second rope and begins to pull himself to his
feet. Copeland grabs the top rope and springboards at AsH and drives
him to the mat with a flying clothesline. Cloak charges Biz but Biz
ducks and goes for a backbody drop sending Cloak into the air.]

CL: Cloak grabs the top rope as he goes and saves himself from
crashing onto the floor!

FH: He might have saved himself but that was a hard hit to the apron.

[Copeland pulls AsH to his feet and shoves him shoulder first into the
ring post. As AsH hangs over the ropes he drives his boot into the
mid-section of AsH and shoves him off of the rope. The crowd gasps as
AsH's leg dangles off of the apron ...]

CL: AsH hanging on to the bottom rope as Copeland holds onto the top
rope and tries to use his feet to kick AsH to the floor! And on the
other side Cloak drives his shoulder into the mid-section of the Biz
...

FH: The Biz's heart is just not in this match tonight as he didn't
really try to eliminate Cloak there.

[Cloak sunset flips himself over the back of the Biz back into the
ring. Cloak rushes to the far side ropes as AsH drives a right hand
into the side of Copeland's head. AsH rolls back under the bottom rope
into the ring.]

CL: AsH has rolled back in the ring and the Biz flapjacks Cloak to the
mat! And now the Biz grabs the legs of Cloak ...

[The Biz slingshots Cloak Dos into a corner where Copeland nails Cloak
with a hard elbow smash sending Cloak into the ropes.]

CL: The impact of that elbow has sent cloak into the ropes and barely
avoids falling through the ropes!

FH: And Copeland leaps on him and unleashes clubbing blows down onto
Cloak's head and neck.

[As Copeland pounds away on the neck and head of Cloak, the Biz begins
to slam his dress shoes into the back of AsH. Copeland pulls Cloak to
his feet, who reaches up and grabs the head of Copeland and drops down
with a jawbreaker. AsH rolls to his stomach and catches the leg of the
Biz and stands to his feet.]

CL: AsH with a back trip and he drives his elbow into the side of
Biz's leg!

FH: That was a low blow! Look at the pain the Biz is in! Come on!

CL: You're dreaming, Fred. AsH caught the Biz solidly in the thigh.
Cloak pulls Copeland up as AsH drops his leg across the throat of the
Biz.

[Cloak grabs the arm of Copeland and goes for an Irish whip but
Copeland slams on the breaks and reverses the whip. Cloak sent hard
into the ropes ...]

CL: Copeland back body drops Cloak up and over the top rope!

[The crowd roars as Cloak lands hard onto the apron but has the
awareness to roll back under the ropes into the ring. Copeland grabs
Cloak and pulls him to his feet ...]

FH: And there goes Cloak up and over the top rope!

CL: No! Cloak grabs the top rope and he begins to skin the cat!

[As Cloak pulls himself back up and over the rope he hooks his legs
around the neck of Copeland and pulls him over the top rope! The crowd
cheers wildly as Cloak tries to pull Copeland out of the ring. But
Copeland fights and ends up on the apron.]

CL: Both men on the apron! And Cloak is back to his feet!

FH: And the fists begin to fly. Right by Copeland ... right by Cloak
...
right by Copeland .... right by Cloak ...

CL: And Copeland drives his foot into the mid-section of Cloak and he
begins to rain rights into the head of Cloak!

[Cloak begins to stumble on the apron and grabs the middle rope with
his right hand so he doesn't fall off. Copeland smells blood and
continues to drive right after right into the head cloak.]

CL: Senor Cloak Dos is staggering on the edge.

FH: Copeland is going to eliminate the masked freak!

[The Biz reverses an Irish whip from AsH and AsH lowers his head as he
approaches the ropes ...]

CL: Spear by AsH into Copeland!


!!! CCCLLLAAANNNGGG !!!!


FH: I don't believe it! COPELAND IS THE FIRST MAN ELIMINATED!

CL: AsH pushes himself back into the ring as Biz rushes behind him ...

[Cloak has grabbed the top rope and AsH pulls the rope towards himself
as Cloak leaps ...]

CL: And AsH slingshots Cloak into the Biz! What a shoulder block!

FH: This isn't fair! It's supposed to be every man for themselves not
let's see how we can screw the Biz!

[As Cloak pushes himself to his feet Copeland slams his hands onto the
ring apron in frustration and then grabs the bottom rope.]

FH: Looks like Copeland still wants a piece of AsH and Cloak!

[The referees swarm towards Copeland preventing him from reentering
the ring and begin shoving him towards the aisle way. The Biz is
quickly back to his feet as is Cloak. AsH and Cloak stare at the Biz
and AsH begins to motion for Biz to bring it.]

FH: And the Biz is looking at both men ... wait he's shaking his head
no!

[The crowd boos as the Biz steps between the ropes and steps onto the
apron.]

CL: What is the Biz doing?

[The Biz drops to the floor and smirks as AsH and Senor Cloak Dos
stare at him in disbelief.]

FH: THE BIZ ELIMINATED HIMSELF!

CL: I don't get it! Why would he do that?

FH: Don't you listen when the superstars of the PVW speak. He wants
the PVW Television Championship. To him this scramble was time filler
and he just had enough of it.

[Senor Cloak Dos turns to face AsH who nods at the masked man. The two
men quickly slap hands and circle one another.]

FH: I would have loved to see the Biz win as he is far and away better
than these two circus freaks but I understand his reasoning.

[Cloak and AsH lock up in the center of the ring and the two men try
to gain the upper hand. The veteran pushes Cloak to the ropes and
catches him with a knife edge chop. Cloak lights the chest of AsH up
with one of his own and AsH fires back with another of his own. AsH
quickly grabs a hold of Cloak's arm and sends him into the ropes. As
he rebounds off AsH catches him and hoists him into the air for a
pancake flop.]

FH: AsH looking for the pancake ...

CL: And AsH leaps catching Cloak in the stomach with a dropkick! He
calls that Straight to the Top!

FH: And number two ...

CL: Number two?

FH: Getting bored with calling him Cloak, Chip.

[Cloak rolls on the mat grabbing his stomach for a few seconds before
AsH pulls him to his feet and tries to toss him through the middle
rope. Cloak though grabs the ropes and quickly swings himself back
into the ring and catches AsH with a charging elbow. AsH stumbles
backwards and Cloak grabs him by the head and leaps shoving his feet
into the chest of AsH.]

CL: And Cloak monkey flips AsH ...

[The crowd gasps as AsH flips through the ropes but the cruiserweight
icon somehow stays on the ring apron. Cloak grabs his mask in
frustration and charges at AsH who is now upon his feet ...]

CL: AsH springboards himself up and over the charging Cloak back into
the ring.

[Cloak spins around and charges at AsH as he rebounds off of the ropes
and takes him down with a flying forearm. Both men kip back up and
throw dropkicks that connect with air.]

CL: And both men on the same page there and neither one hits!

[Cloak rolls to his feet as AsH does the same. The crowd applauds the
two men as they once again lock up in the center of the ring. Cloak
gains the advantage and pushes AsH back towards the corner. He drives
his knee into the mid-section of AsH and whips him across the ring.
AsH though reverses the whip and as Cloak nears the corner he leaps to
the second rope and springboards backwards catching AsH with a high
cross body.]

CL: And Cloak is in charge as he pulls AsH to his feet and drives him
skull first into the mat with a DDT!

[The crowd is split in their support as they root for Cloak to
eliminate AsH and AsH to get to his feet. Cloak pulls AsH to his feet
and hoists him onto his shoulder ...]

CL: Cloak looking for the elimination here!

FH: But shoves himself off of the shoulder of Cloak and leaps drilling
him with a dropkick that takes Cloak into the ropes.

[AsH rushes forward and drives his shoulder into the mid-section of
Cloak sending him onto the apron. AsH's momentum leaves him hanging
over the rope looking down at the floor as Cloak's foot is wrapped
around the middle rope keeping him from hitting the floor.]

CL: Both men hanging dangerously on the ropes!

[The crowd is going wild as Cloak reaches up grabbing the rope and
slowly pulling himself onto the apron. AsH catches his own balance and
pushes himself back into the ring. He pushes at the leg of Cloak
removing it from middle rope but Cloak has successfully pulled himself
up onto the apron.]

CL: Cloak is back on the apron.

FH: But he's on his back which is never good.

[AsH grabs the top rope and slingshots himself over and tries to
double stomp the chest of Cloak who rolls back into the ring to avoid
it. Cloak quickly gets to his feet and is met with a right hand from
AsH. AsH reaches over the top rope and grabs the head of Cloak.]

FH: AsH is trying to suplex Cloak out of the ring!

[The crowd buzzes wildly as AsH tries to lift Cloak into the air. But
Cloak grabs the bottom rope with his foot. AsH drives his right hand
between the ropes catching Cloak in the mid-section.]

FH: If Cloak shoves AsH this match is over!

CL: But AsH is keeping Cloak from doing that by controlling his head
with the front chancery!

[AsH again tries to lift Cloak into the air and he does. the crowd
goes nuts as AsH has Cloak in the air. With his free hand Cloak hooks
the top rope and begins to wildly kick his legs.]

CL: Cloak is fighting!

FH: And AsH is forced to place Cloak on the apron so he doesn't lose
his own footing!

CL: They begin to trade right hands!

FH: This is shades of how Copeland was eliminated!

[Cloak swings a wild haymaker that AsH ducks. AsH reaches up and locks
on the three quarter nelson but Cloak quickly shoves him off. AsH
takes a dangerous three steps on the apron and grabs the top rope for
support.]

CL: AsH was looking for the Icon Cutter but Cloak countered it the
easiest way you can.

FH: The basic shove.

CL: AsH turns around and Cloak drives his knee into the mid-section.
Cloak grabbing the head of AsH.

[Cloak leaps up and places his feet into the chest of AsH ...]

CL: Cloak is looking to monkey flip AsH!

FH: But AsH shoves Cloak!

CL: And Cloak slams to the concrete floor!

[AsH grabs the top rope as he looks down at Senor Cloak Dos who is
wincing in pain. The referees flock to Senor Cloak dos to make sure he
is okay.]


*DING*DING*DING*


HD: Ladies and gentlemen your winner of the Rush Hour Battle Royal ...
this is ...

!!! ASH !!!

[Senor Cloak dos is helped to his feet and looks up at AsH who nods at
him. Senor Cloak Dos nods back as he is handed the remains of Smacky
Dos. As Senor Cloak Dos looks at Smacky Dos he lowers his head as AsH
thrusts his arms into the air.]

FH: What is Senor Cloak Dos going to do now that his inflatable toy
was popped.  From what I hear he has a collection of inflatable toys.

CL: That sounds like something _you_ made up.

FH: I hear he even puts masks on them.

CL: Senor Cloak Dos is a respectful human being.  There is no way -

FH: What that he enjoys inflatable things?  Were you not watching?

CL: That was different ...

FH: How so?

CL: AsH picked up a huge win.   What about the disrespect of The Biz.
Earlier he came down to get back in Ryder's head and he is stuck right
in the middle of the PVW TV title scene.  And he disrespected his
fellow contenders.

FH: Biz was making a statement.  He is above the likes of; "I like to
talk to myself, AsH" and "I play with inflatable toys, Senor Cloak
Dos".

CL: And Copeland?

FH: At this point he is known as the man who lost to Caleb Foley in a
hardcore match.  That is a title you _never_ want!

CL: As much as I would like to sit here and listen to your opinions on
PVW's roster.  We have cameras rolling backstage.

FH: We have more time don't worry.

[We cut backstage, into a makeshift locker room that somewhat
resembles a boiler room... check that, it _is_ a boiler room.]

VO - "...so I guess what I'm asking, Ashleigh, is for your
forgiveness."

[Once again we find "Highlight" Chance McKenzie pacing back and forth
frantically, on his cell phone pleading. Although not what would be
considered his usual spot for pre-match musings, he's there
nonetheless. He's taken great care to ensure that nothing he owns is
touching the floor, walls, or any other fixture inside with a simple
rolling wardrobe hanger. One could ask why McKenzie would even be in a
place like this, but for right now let's eavesdrop on some more of his
groveling, eh?]

CMcK - "I know that things haven't been all that great, and that I've
been lacking in the boyfriend-slash-future husband department. I just
want - no, _need_ - you in my corner... and not just in terms of the
ring. I've given the flight info to your personal assistant. Just
think about it. Please? We've got to talk sometime... let's make it
sooner rather than later."

[He flips the phone closed, staring at the inanimate object for quite
a while and sighing every few seconds.]

CMcK - "I suppose you're happier than a pig in its own excrement,
aren't you Merc?"

[McKenzie changes his focus from the cell phone to the camera.]

CMcK - "You've managed to screw up my chance at the Called Shot Match,
caused my fiancee to give me the cold shoulder, and have now got me
hiding in this disgusting boiler room since I don't know where you
might pop out from next. I don't know _where_ you're getting your info
on me, but I hope you're paying them _handsomely_. How _anyone_ aside
from Ashleigh knew..."

[Lightbulb!]

CMcK - "No. That can't be. There's no way."

[A mixture of fear, confusion, and anger crosses McKenzie's face. Not
a good look for him.]

CMcK - "If she... If you... _Enough_!"

[McKenzie runs a fist into a nearby door, not even denting the
unforgiving metal.]

CMcK - "I've had enough games, Merc. As I see it, we've got two
choices here. Number one; we can keep going back and forth trying to
'one up' one another. We can keep on with these attacks, dog maulings,
briefcase shots to the head, et cetera and let that decide our
collective fates. Or number two; I can go out there tonight, march
down to the ring, and _end_ it all.

End the ridiculous stunts.

End the mental games.

End the unrelenting attacks on Jessica Marshall.

End _you_, Merc."

[McKenzie's face is all anger now, as he looks into the camera one
final time.]

CMcK - "And to be honest, Merc? I think that option number two is
looking _mighty_ good."

[With that, McKenzie storms out of the boiler room. Cut to ringside.]

CL: It appears even though Chance McKenzie has the Mercenary's
property.  The Mercenary has been coming out on top.

FH: For now ...  The Mercenary has made one great mistake.  He has
made things personal.  He should know that as long as you keep things
under a business relationship you can control the emotions put inside
the conflict.  When it gets personal then that becomes the x-factor.

CL: Things have gotten personal and that is for sure.  Speaking of
Mercenary and Jessica Marshall.  Dean Hayes has been out conducting
research on behalf of the PVW fans on who is the mystery man paying
the Mercenary.  Apparently later tonight we will have his first
interview.

FH: Finally we can get to the bottom of this.  Good work Dean!  Wait
did I say that out loud?

[Just as Chip and Fred are about to move on to their next topic, Simon
LeBon's voice interrupts them.]

OH WOMAN YOU MAKE ME FEEL
LIKE I'M FIRE
OH WOMAN YOU MAKE IT REAL
IT'S THE ONLY WAY FOR ME

[Brightly colored lights of all colors kick up in a darkened arena.
They spin faster and faster as Ferry Cortsen's "Fire" starts up. This
can only mean that The HEAT are in the house. This is confirmed when
the up, up, up tempo voice of Arvelle "MAGIC" LaFayette rocks over the
PA.]

MAGIC: Learing ladies and lavacious lasses; soaking sisters and sexed
up sirens, let me welcome you to the greatest single event in the
history of greatest single events. TO-NIGH-T, in Tuck-son, Air-I-Zona,
the semi-finals of the HEAT invitation tournament take place... and it
is gonna be a HIT, whoa daddy, you'd best believe it! First, lemme
introduce the odds on fav-or-ite, the DYNO-MITE dynamos and sexual
heroes. First, from those fantasies that stir the loins of your wimmin
folk like a mammoth straw, giving the lasses a lil' big summin-summin
where they normally do their hummin-hummin; at a panty pleasing, loin
loving, chest-a-heavin' 240 pounds; from WA-HA-KA, ME-SI-CO, the latin
lover that has your woman screaming his name and no other... *deep
breath* FranciscoGabrielMaximillienIsadoreOsorioMagnon... better known
as "EL MACHISMO MAGNIFICO Y GUAPO" PACO MAGNON!!

[Arvelle points to the man on his right. Black hair slicked into a
pompador with 5 o'clock scruff around his MACHO mustache and soul
patch, PACO Magnon aka "EL MACHISMO MAGNIFICO Y GUAPO" flexes his
muscles. Hairy front and back, Paco is cut, ripped, chiseled and
JAAAAAAAAAACKED. Magnon is sporting neon peach trunks that are almost
like speedos, with white wrestling boots that have spangles on them
(silver). The trunks have turqouise piping and a Mexican flag on the
right cheek. Over his crotch is a bull's head huffing out steam.
PACO's love of gold chains shines through as he is sporting big and
thick gold chain that has a heavy duty lock dangling "appendange"
around his neck. Finishing PACO's ensemble are black chaps with gold
spangles. PACO removes the chaps with a flourish and tosses them to
Miss Florine, showing off hiss silver colored knee pads. PACO rings
his hands, showing off the white tape around his finger joints and
wrists.]

MAGIC: And, of course, we cannot forget his long time running buddy.
The second half of the sensational sandwich of looks, lust, and
legendary wrestling prowess. From Miami, Florida via Port-au-Prince,
Haiti. This is the man who's biceps are considered sovreign nations.
The big black jacked and action packed brother from another mutha'.
Our very own black steel in the hour of KAY-OSS, running down wannabes
and smashing ladies in the bathroom like some crazy maniac at
Applebees; the Miami Menace, the King of Flor-ree-dah, your wife's
favorite wrestler from the waist down and weighing in at a smashing
265 pounds, here is... MAXIME-JEAN BAPTISTE!

[Maxime stands tall, muscled and imposing. Hair in corn row braids
with those little plastic beads on the end of said braids, in red,
blue and white. Maxime's body is that of a gym rat and his skin deep,
shiny black, with a pair of red sunglasses. Maxime keeps those glasses
on and points down to his wrestling attire, white bicycle trunks with
the flags of Miami and Haiti on the legs. His boots are black and he
wears elbow and knee pads that are red.]


MAGIC: And, of course, I am MAGIC on the mic and the ring. I make your
ears sing with delight and know how to get my boys through a fight.
MAGIC!

[Arvelle is wearing a fire engine red suit with bright white piping
and silver tie. He has a white and red air horn he occasionally
blows.]

MAGIC: Though we'd be remiss if we forgot the reason for the season.
The miss who don't hiss. A deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-light and de-lovely.
Here she is, boys, but don't get your hopes up. You can look but will
never touch. Say a good ole HOW-DEE DOO to Miss
FLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORINE!

[Miss Florine is dressed in an old fashioned 1940s bathing suit, with
her hair done up like Bettie Page, with non wet looking red lipstick
and red heart sunglasses complimenting her red heart shaped umbrella
with white frill. Florine coyly hids behind the umbrella as the lights
kick up a few more notches.]

MAGIC: Folks, this is the HEAT y'all been warned about!

[The HEAT and Florine buzz down to the ring while Arvelle joins Chip
and Fred.]

MAGIC: Hello boys, now, for'en you start up, lemme introduce the
surprise team for the HIT semi-finals, here in TUCK-SON Arizona! From
The Capitol, weighing at a total combined weight of a lard ass and a
skinny man, here are the WWO's THE MAN and Uncle Tom... THE STATUS
QUO!

You get up in the morning to join the common herd
Your lot is a hard one, or so I have heard
I know how hard it is to bust one's ass
'Cause I'm a Friend of a Friend of the Working Class
I'm a Friend of a Friend yeah,
I'm a Friend of a Friend of your class

[The Upper Crust's "Friend of a Friend of the Working Class" starts to
rock out as a very tall, dark, handsome and lanky man in a cheap
looking blue suit with skinny black tie steps out from behind the
curtain... and shoving him aside is a fat, bald man who is chomping on
a stogie. THE MAN is dressed in a fat sized tuxedo with top hat and
monocle, a change from his normal old fashioned business suit. Boos
come down on The Status Quo, though Tom seems happy to be there. As
per usual, Tom climbs into the ring while THE MAN takes a chair from a
ring attendant and begins reading the Wall Street Journal.]

CL: You actually went to the trouble of digging up these rejects?
Couldn't you have found Army Man Doug and Glen Peeps? Made in America?
Fruits and Nuts? The World Leaders?

FH: All fantastic tag teams, except that last one. They were awful.

MAGIC: Now, now fellas, we got us a match right here. The Status Quo
are one of the finest wrestling duos in history. They steamrolled the
competition, showing how a good, fundamental game plan can take a team
that knows their roles and places in the pecking order to the upper
echelon of wrasslin'!

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

PVW - HEATWAVE - HIT SEMIFINALS
The Heat v. The Status Quo

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: And this travesty begins!

FH: Travesty? You mean miracle! We are all witness! The MAN has
returned!

[The MAN chomps down on his cigar and the bell rings. Tom and PACO
start out. A few rope exchanges happen, with Tom ducking under a
clothesline. Tom counters with a drop toe hold into an ankle hold but
PACO manages to get out of that. A few more rope passes, with Uncle
Tom landing a Lou Thesz press and then landing a few punches on PACO
before Maxime comes in and delivers a mafia kick that spins Tom,
landing the Uncle on his face.]

The MAN: BOOTSTRAP IT BOY!

MAGIC: See? What game planning!

FH: Have you asked the Status Quo if they plan on staying in PVW?

MAGIC: Sadly, Steady Freddy, the Status Quo are only competing in the
HIT because it is such a big name event. They don't just come around
for anything!

[Tom gets up and is met with a flying forearm by Magnon. Paco picks
him up and delivers an enzugiri to the face.]

The MAN: *slobbering while eating something* BOOTSTRAP IT BOY!

[Sadly, Tom does see some boot straps as he slowly gets up and quickly
felled by a superkick to the back of the head, Paco's PUTA Maker kick.
Maxime is tagged in and delivers a leaping pile driver, covering Tom!]

MAGIC: ONE! TWO! No! NO! Tom will not let this end! What a show of
resilience!

CL: Maxime picked him up off the canvas.

MAGIC: You are a dirty, lying Yankee Carpetbagger!

FH: Yeah, Chip! Why do you have to be a carpetbagger!

[Meanwhile, on the outside, the MAN steals someone's popcorn.]

The MAN: TAX CUT!

[Maxime tags in Paco, who gets up to the top rope. Max holds Tom in
piledriver position and has his front facing the turnbuckles. Paco
grabs Tom's legs and pushes them down, a sick spiked piledriver! This
time, a 3 count happens and the HEAT celebrate!]

MAGIC: WHOO! Another win in the HEAT Invitation Tournament; it's beena
HIT so far. Your winners, and moving on to the HIT finals, the HEAT! I
got word from management that we are showcasin' the finals of the HIT
on Tradition! Y'all best be ready, cuz the HEAT don't ever let up!

[The HEAT slap hands with one another and the quartet takes off.]

CL: Okay ... I have to admit I will be happy when this HIT tournament
finishes.  I am glad the "finals" will be at Tradition so we can see
these two take on a legit PVW tag team.

FH: They just took down the legendary Status Quo!  Show some respect,
Chip.

CL: Oh I know it's pretty shocking.

FH: Exactly.

CL: If you say so.  Tradition V in Mesa, Arizona is right around the
corner and tonight we will have the announcement of some of the
classic bouts. Keep in mind folks that Tradition was designed as a
throw back to the glory days of professional wrestling.  While it's
not one of our corner stone four PPV's.  These events are still part
of the foundation that PVW was built on.

FH: Let's talk about our favorite Tradtion moments ... Remember when
Gibson Hayes defended the PVW American Championship and _pinned_ Doc
Holliday?

CL: I think that was Tradition III but it was thanks to Xavier Feyr.

FH: Or how about when the Prophets won the PVW tag team titles by
putting the Wild Cards through a table.   Or William Craven winning
Blood Bowl.

CL: How about the first Tradition when Chris Hartt won the PVW Rising
Phoenix title in a one night tournament.

FH: No that isn't one of my favorites.

CL: There are so many great moments within Tradition one through four.
There is no doubt that Tradition V in Mesa will have plenty of it's
own.  Well we will have more for you later tonight.  Now that the ring
is clear it's time to go back to Herk Douglas who is standing inside
the ring.

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall and will be under tag team
rules.  Introducing first ...

#I AAAAAAM SMELLIN' LIKE A ROSE THAT SOMEBODY GAVE ME ON MY BIRTHDAY
DEATH BED!#

["Dead and Bloated" by Stone Temple Pilots fires up as the fans react
with a huge cheer. As the drums kick in and the song unfurls it's slow
paced goodness, the curtain is swept back and Dan Flores saunters out
to the crowd, raising both hands. Flores wears glossy midnight blue
wrestling tights with a cursive "D" and "F" interlocking on the back
in silver, white 3/4 boots that go just below the knee, with black
kneepads. His wrists are heavily wrapped in white athletic tape, and
he wears a black elbow pad on his right arm.]

HD: From Robbinsdale, Minnesota... weighing 233 pounds...


DAN FLOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRREEEEEEEEEESSSSS!


[Flores wears a loose jet black warmup jacket left open, hood down,
that has the same "DF" design on the back. He walks slowly to the
ring, extending a hand to slap hands without looking at the crowd or
otherwise letting the fans slap him on the back. As he enters the
ringside area he picks up the pace and dead leaps onto the apron,
wipes his feet on the apron and then enters, taking off his warmup
jacket to reveal a body that's naturally thick and solid. He bounces
from foot to foot with nervous energy, and then pulls on the ropes to
test them.]

CL: Flores has already made a huge step in his early PVW career by
qualifying for the Called Shot.

FH: He has also made a very wise decision by joining forces with Danny
Daniels.

HD: His partner ...

['Unbreakable' by Fireflight plays over the speakers, as video footage
of Chris Hartt's past matches play in a sequence of his best spots and
punishing moves. Hartt walks out from the back and down the aisle,
holding hands out to a few fans, but keeping his hard eyes and steady
gaze on his opponents in the ring.]

CL: Check out the eyes of Chris Hartt. He's in a serious mood tonight.
He looks to be  a man determined.

FH: Hartt's angry and he's got a lot of people gunning for him, and
he's aiming at a few people as well. It's all on him to make them pay.
But I thought he was a good religious kid. Turn the other cheek and
all that.

CL: Sometimes, you turn the other cheek only to get hit there, too.

[Hartt climbs in the ring and stares towards the entrance way calling
for Detson.  He then turns and looks towards his partner Flores and
with a sign of respect pats his partner on the shoulder.]

CL: Hartt is ready to unleash all kinds of hell in Detson tonight.
This is gonna be dangerous.

FH: Detson has Fontana in his corner.  Between the two of them there
isn't going to be anything Flores or Hartt can do to win this thing.

CL: I guess we will soon find out.

["Hail to the Chief" begins to play to an immediate negative reaction.
However, instead of our President and CEO making his way down to the
ring he instead appears on the big screen sitting at his desk.]

Detson:  My fellow PVWites, as you may know, I have received a
proposal from Mr. Perry Fontana to make this match a handicap match
here tonight.

[Detson frowns.]

Detson:  After careful consideration of Mr. Fontana's proposal, I
cannot, in good conscious, make this match a handicap match here
tonight.

[BIG POP!]

Detson:  However, I, Johnny Detson, President and CEO, cannot possibly
compete here tonight.

[BIG BOO!]

Detson:  You see, as President and CEO, I have many responsibilities
during the show.  Also as a highly paid entertainer I am depended on
to perform on the big stage.  Tradition... End Game...  So in order to
prevent injury to myself and therefore hurting all of you, the little
people...

[Big politician smile, and big boos from the crowd.]

Detson:  I have decided to withdraw from this matchup.

[Detson holds up a finger.]

Detson:  However, in the interest of fairness to Mr. Fontana, who is
not a tag team wrestler but a singles superstar, I cannot punish him
by naming a replacement for this match.  Therefore, as President and
CEO, and in my infinite wisdom, I have decided to cancel the scheduled
tag team match and in its place make a match.  Perry Fontana versus
Chris Hartt VERSUS Dan Flores!

[Big pop for the match announcement.]

FH:  That seems fair.

CL:  What seems fair?  Detson running out of the match or him making a
match that he has no authority to make.

[Detson smiles as if the crowd is cheering him.]

Detson:  And Mr. Fontana I appreciate your support and if anything
tragic should happen to Mr. Flores' arm rendering him unable to
compete in the Called Shot match at End Game...

[Detson laughs and shrugs.]

Detson:  Well accidents DO happen.  Mr. Official, by the power
invested in me, as President and CEO, I declare that this three way
match begin right NOW!

[Suddenly the screen fades out leaving a confused official in the ring
conferring with Flores and Hartt.]

FH:  What is he waiting for?  You heard the Chief!

CL:  He's waiting because Johnny Detson doesn't have any power to make
the match!

["Failles" by Mass Hysteria booms in the arena as a man, fists
clenched, steps onto the stage. Eyes concealed by the hood of his
orange, red and gold boxer's robe, he stomps down to the ring, aloof
to the fans' jeers.]

HD: ...And their opponent... From Montreal, Quebec, Canada and
weighing in at two
hundred and fifty three pounds...

[The brawny wrestler ascends the ring stairs, steps between the ropes,
and
disrespectfully walks past "Paladin" Chris Hartt to stretch by the
opposite side
turnbuckles.]

HD:  ..."The Everlasting" ...

PERRRRYYYYY

FONTAAAAAAANAAAAAAA!

[Fontana walks back to the center of the ring, practically bumping
into Dan Flores and,
_finally_, he removes his silky robe. The spotlights are drawn by the
shine in the Deathless One's lush, black hair, and caress wrestling's
biggest pair of muttonchops.  Fontana smirks, his dark, encircled,
piercing gaze defying his opponents to step up to the challenge
presented to them; clearly he's not here to take any names, only to
kick a pair of butts and mangle a couple of arms.]

CL: Fontana seems like he got what he wanted.   However the referee
still seems a little unsure if this match is actually going to happen.


LET THEM FIGHT!!!


LET THEM FIGHT!!!


LET THEM FIGHT!!!



FH: Listen to the fans for once PVW.  Let them fight!

[Flores and Hartt look at one another and then Fontana and they tell
the referee let's do this.]

CL: It looks like Flores and Hartt are accepting the change.

FH: Of course they are ...  They would never want to upset the fans.
Then their meal ticket would go away.

[The Referee finally agrees and calls for the opening bell.]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - TRIPLE THREAT MATCH
Flores v. Hartt v. Fontana

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


*DING*DING*DING*


[Off the starting bell, Fontana, true to his in-your-face
aggressively, bolts out of the gates to rain successive punches on
both opponents. Elbow smashes Flores, kicks Hartt in the gut, takes
down Flores with an armwringer... still holding on to Flores' arm
tries to bionic elbow Hartt with his free arm... but the Paladin
dodges!  At the same time, from his sitting position, Flores wraps his
feet around Perry's legs, and Hartt charges in with a clothesline, to
take him down.]


[FONTANA IS A SOB POP!]

CL: Fontana came out with a message but two on one is going to be a
big hurdle to over come.

FH: If anyone can do it then it's Perry Fontana.

[Both men give one another a nod for now.  They begin stomping on
Fontana as he attempts to push himself up to his feet.]


THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

THUMP!

CL: Both men are just putting the boots on Fontana and you have to bet
that Tom Landis is backstage just enjoying this.

FH: What does Tom Landis know?

CL: Well he knows what kind of scumbag his brother in law is.

FH: Hey this isn't very fair journalism, Chip!

CL: Excuse me let me rephrase that ... What kind of back stabbing jack
ass.

FH: Alright I think we get the point!

[Flores and Hartt pull Fontana up and the Everlasting One tries to
fight the two off, but Flores locks a full nelson from behind and
Hartt hits the ropes and steps into a crescent kick.]


"___TWAAAAAP___"


CL: What a double team move ... And Flores covers!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[POP!]


FH: Hartt pulls Flores off.

CL: And Hartt drops for the cover.


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[POP!]


FH: And now Flores pulls Hartt off!

[The two fan favorites trade glares but they know the rules of a
triple threat.  They lift Fontana up and back the former PVW Network
and Tag Team champion back against the ropes and send him into the
ropes.  However, Fontana ducks under a double clothesline attempt and
rebounds with a back elbow into Chris Hartt.  He then turns just in
time and back body drops Flores up and over the top ropes and to the
outside!]

[BOOOO!]

CL: Fontana isn't going to be out done here tonight.  He has a
statement to make even if he is a bit under handed.

FH: Fontana wanted this opportunity.  Even if he loses tonight he
still wins.

[Hartt shakes that elbow off and wastes no time and immediately fires
off some right hands to the head of Fontana and ducks a swing then
ducks a left swing, firing off some more right hands of his own. Hartt
bounces off the ropes but Fontana catches him and throws him high into
the air with a flapjack.]


"___THUUUUUUD___"


CL: Look at Fontana as Hartt flies into the air, he is already
bouncing
off the ropes and just as Hartt lands on his face, Fontana drops a
jumping knee drop to his back.

FH: Fontana is like a wolf.  He smells blood and he attacks.

[Fontana whips Hartt off the ropes but Hartt ducks a back elbow,
bouncing off the ropes again. Hartt goes for a crossbody but Fontana
catches him and throws him up onto his shoulder. Fontana charges and
slams Hartt back-first into the turnbuckles, then hooks his feet in
the ropes, Tree of Woe position.]

CL: Hartt in some trouble now.  Fontana begins face washing the
Paladin!

FH: A sign of dominance by Fontana.

[He then bounces off the ropes and delivers a big boot to the face
that causes Hartt's feet to come untangled and to fall to the mat in
pain.  With Flores still on the outside ... Fontana drops Hartt with
his "Cauterizer" (Wristlock (standing) into Arm Scissor DDT) and turns
him over for the quick pin!]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[... but Perry sees Flores coming back in time. Fontana elbows Flores
in the gut, European uppercuts him, then Spinebusts him right on top
of Hartt!]


"___THUUUUUUD___"


CL: HOLY COW!

FH: You may need three ... four ... five guys to take on Perry
Fontana!

[... with the two guys perfectly stacked one on the other, Fontana
grabs both of their left arms and crucifix armbars them both... at the
same time!]

[YOU CAN'T DOUBLE ARM BAR BOOOOO!]

CL: Double armbar by Fontana.  No one can maintain an iron grip on a
double armbar, Hartt and Flores are able to get loose.

FH: You still have to admit it's an impressive feat, Chip.

[Fontana goes back to pull Chris Hartt up and drives him backwards but
the numbers finally come into play as Flores hits Fontana in the back
of the leg with a dropkick. Flores looking to get back into this match
hits Fontana with right hands, determined to take out his opponent.]

CL: Flores turning things around.  He positions Fontana hanging over
the second rope and then picks up Chris Hartt to his feet.

FH: I guess finally the handicap match turned into what it's suppose
to be a three way battle.

[Flores lifts Hartt up for an atomic drop but throws him out of the
ring, causing him to deliver a legdrop to the back of Fontana's head.]


[WHOA POP!]


"___THUUUUUUD___"


CL: Flores makes a cover on Fontana!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


... but Fontana kicks out with authority.

FH: Nice try by Flores.  He must be learning from his mentor and the
true Danny ... Danny Daniels!

[Flores goes to whip Fontana off the ropes but Fontana reverses,
throwing Flores off the ropes.  Fontana goes for another back body
drop and Flores leaps up and over with a sunset flip.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Fontana with another kick out!  Flores pulls Fontana up not
wasting anytime as Flores hits Perry with a haymaker ...

[... who stumbles into Hartt's spinning heel kick, and back into
Flores' high dropkick... turning into Hartt's own dropkick... which
lets Flores waistlock him from behind for a German Suplex with
bridging pin...]


"___THUUUUUUUUUD___"


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: And Hartt breaks up the pinfall again!

FH: Perry quickly rolls out of the ring to recuperate.

CL: With Fontana on the outside.  Chris Hartt now pulls Flores to his
feet and locks him in a side headlock.

FH: Color me shocked that Hartt and Flores have a big enough brain to
realize they can and should be weakening one another at the same time.

[Flores sends Hartt of the ropes.  Hartt ducks a big clothesline
attempt and rebounds with a headscissors take down!  He then is right
back on his feet and hits a springboard legdrop and makes a cover.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Only a two count.  Flores with a strong kick out.  Fontana still
on the outside biding his time.

FH: Fontana is like a ring general plotting his next strike.

CL: Hartt now with a camel clutch locked on Flores and he is working
Flores down.

[Fontana leans under the ropes and begins telling Flores don't quit
...
he is worthless.  Flores snarls as Hartt yanks back softening up
Flores.  Finally after about 50 seconds of the hold Fontana is right
back in and Hartt meets him head on with a few quick jabs.  He sends
Fontana into the ropes and Fontana ducks under a clothesline and
rebounds with one of his own.]

CL: Fontana drops down with a low dropkick right in Flores chops and
hooks the leg!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[Hartt rolls Fontana off of Flores and covers Flores but Fontana pulls
Hartt off of the cover. Fontana lifts Hartt up onto his shoulder but
Hartt slips out behind Fontana and shoves him into the ropes rolling
him up!]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Only a two count.

FH: I think I saw Hartt grab some tights!

CL: I highly doubt that.

[Fontana pulls himself up to his hands and knees while Hartt has
pulled himself up onto the second rope, then stepped up onto the top
rope, positioning himself for a high impact move. Flores, back up to
his feet, used Fontana like a springboard to leap up onto the top rope
and throw Hartt off with an arm drag, and landing on Fontana's back
with a splash.]

[HOLY MOLY POP!]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: NO KICK OUT!  Flores pushes himself up and into a DDT by Hartt.


"___THUUUUUUD___"


FH: That will teach ya.

[Hartt now drags Fontana into the corner and away from Flores.  He
begins positioning Fontana to the top rope where he has plans to do
some damage.]

FH: Fontana fighting back!  It appears Hartt waited too long!

[Fontana throws Hartt off the top with a Superplex, but on the way
down, Hartt's legs catch Flores around the shoulders and Hartt
delivers a hurricarana to break his fall.]

[WHOA HEADS UP POP!]

CL: Flores was in the right place at the right time!

FH: Yeah for Chris Hartt.

[Hartt goes for a right hand on Fontana but Perry ducks it, floating
beside Hartt and locking on an armbar!]

CL: Fontana going back to his comfort zone.  However, Hartt is looking
for a way to counter.  If there are anyone in the PVW who can match
Fontana up on the mat it's one of these two men.

FH: Flores and Hartt can't even lace up Fontana's boots!

[Hartt holding on ...  Fontana shouting something in french ...
Flores is up and over to hit Fontana in the side of the head with a
boot.  He helps Fontana make it to his feet and hits a jawbreaker
stunning Fontana and then hits a running necksnap ala Mr. Perfect!]

[POP!]

CL: Flores takes Fontana right back down!  Hartt back to his feet and
Flores with a deeeeeeep armdrag and Hartt back into some sort of
trouble with his arm.

FH: Both men keeping Hartt away from being able to use that Avenger.

CL: All three men have very deadly submission holds.  The Massey Pre-
Nup, The Avengers, and The Amputation.

FH: Let's be honest, Chip.  Nothing is as deadly as the Amputation.

CL: Flores notices that Fontana is starting to push himself up and he
drops the hold on Hartt returning and stomping away at Fontana until
he crawled into the corner.

FH: Can't get through that shell.

[Flores grabs Hartt now and goes to whip Chris Hartt into Fontana but
Hartt reversed and Flores leaped up onto Fontana's knees, going for a
monkey flip, but Fontana caught him and walked out of the corner.]

CL: Fontana has Flores now and this could be trouble.  He is turning
towards the corner he walked out of ...

[... but Hartt caught him in the back of the head with a dropkick
allowing Flores to deliver the monkey Flip into the corner
turnbuckles.]


[WHOA POP!!!]


CL: Wait Flores getting spun around and crushed with a northern lights
suplex by Hartt!


"___THUUUUUUUUUUD___"


FH: These two are spending so much energy on Perry Fontana they are
opening themselves up.  I guess Fontana poses that much of a threat.

CL: A cover by Hartt!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


... No Flores shoots a shoulder up.  And Hartt back up and right into
an armbar takedown by Fontana.]


"___THUUUUD___"


CL: Fontana now locking on the figure four armlock!  And he has it
on!!!

FH: This could all be but over.  Fontana has proven he is the master
of the arm locks once again.  Thanks for coming Flores and Hartt, but
you were obviously over matches.

[Camera catches Hartt hanging tough.  He is gritting his teeth knowing
he only has to hang on long enough until Flores is back on his feet.
And he locks on the Cobra Cluch on the distracted Fontana ...]

[RUT RO POP!]

CL: Flores looking for the Massey Pre-Nup! If he locks this in even
Fontana will be all but asleep!

FH: Wait don't catch your eggs before they hatch, Chip.

[Fontana begins to panic as soon as Flores tries to procure it and
immediately pushes him back into the corner, sandwiching him.]

[DEFLATING POP!]

CL: That was so close.  Flores had it all but locked in.  Heads up by
Fontana though I do give him that.

FH: You know it.

[As Fontana powers out from smashing Flores into the corner.  Hartt is
on his feet and Fontana wraps his arms around Hartt's arm and applies
a standing armbar that forces The Paladin to bend forwards, his head
just below Perry's hips.  Maintaining the armbar, Fontana places one
leg over the back of Hartt's neck and jumps up, using his weight to
drive Hartt face first into the mat.]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUD___"


FH: This is over!

[And Fred may be right, but Flores from out of the corner hits the
back cracker called, Spinal Crack ...]


"___CRAAAAAACK___"


[HUGE POP!]


CL: FLORES WITH THE SPINAL CRACK!!!  THE COVER!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THREE !!!




*DING*DING*DING*


CL: Dan Flores out lasted the other two men in a classic wrestling
fest!


HD: The winner of the match ... DAN FLORES


FH: What you have to be BLEEPING me!

CL: Hartt came so close.  Fontana appeared to have this thing won on a
few occasions.  However in the end Dan Flores outlasted both men and
on his way to the Called Shot he picked up possibly the biggest
victory of his young PVW career.

FH: What a freakin' joke.

[Chris Hartt has reached his feet now.  He looks at Fontana who has
rolled to the outside still recovering.  Then back at Dan Flores who
now stands with his arm raised.  The Paladin extends his hand and
Flores excepts the gesture after a hard fought match.]


[RESPECT POP!]


CL: Look at that sign of respect.  You have to love that, Fred.

FH: No it makes me sick.  Why is Hartt congratulating, Flores?

CL: Hartt is a veteran in the PVW and he knows that he came close but
just fell a little short.  It was a respectful gesture.

[Fontana isn't happy at the sign of respect either.  He stands on the
outside reminding the two it took _both_ of them to defeat him.]

FH: Listen to Fontana, Chip.  It took _both_ Flores and Hartt to
defeat, Perry Fontana.

CL: In a three way match everyone fights for themselves.

FH: Flores and Hartt could have fooled me.

CL: Well Fontana has finally received a little taste of his own
medicine.  This isn't the Perry Fontana show.  There are plenty of
hard working wrestlers on the PVW roster.

FH: Yeah but do they make sweet romantic love to a Landis?

CL: I don't know about that.   However that can be a topic for another
time ... Or rather never ...  I am getting word we have some footage
with our _real_ boss, Matthew Willingham and Nevermind.

FH: Well ... Matthew it was nice knowing you.  We are in good hands
with Johnny Detson though.

[The sun in the midday sky shines brightly, flaring in the lens of the
camera as it follows Matthew Willingham through what appears to be a
vacant, trash-strewn lot.  The well-dressed Willingham looks decidedly
out of place amongst the rubbish and desperate looking people wearing
ragged and filthy cast-off clothing.  He looks around nervously at the
homeless people who stare at him with a mixture of suspicion and
contempt.  Dirty children in hand-me-down clothes run back and forth,
some waving or mugging for the camera as Willingham walks slowly
across the lot, his dress shoes crunching in the gravel and dirt.  He
walks toward a discarded couch that has been dragged into the lot,
upon which is sitting a familiar figure to the PVW audience.
Nevermind sits upon the stained sofa, flanked on either side by a
young girl.  One is rail thin with stringy dirty blonde hair, the
other a chubby brunette.  Both are dressed in grubby rags.  Nevermind
looks up at the man in the suit approaching him and moves some of the
greasy black hair out of his face in order to make direct eye contact
with him.]

Nevermind:  I see you made it.  On time, too.  Nice to see someone
still thinks punctuality is important.

Willingham:  I told you on the phone I'd be here, and I'm as good as
my word.

Nevermind:    Oh, I'm sure you are, Willingham. I'm sure you are.  The
question is:  Just how good is that?  From my experience in the
wrestling business dealing with guys like you, I'd say not very good
at all.

[Willingham shuffles his feet uncomfortably]

Willingham:  I thought you wanted to talk business?

Nevermind:  I don't have any business with you, Willingham.  I never
said anything about "business."

Willingham:  If you're not interested in doing business with me, then
why are you trying so hard to get into PVW?

Nevermind:  Who said anything about wanting in to PVW?  I don't give a
damn about PVW.

Willingham:  Then I guess I just wasted my time coming down here.

[Willingham turns and starts to walk off with a frustrated expression
upon his face.]

Nevermind:  That doesn't mean I'm not going to keep showing up at your
little shows though.

[Willingham turns back towards Nevermind.]

Willingham:   I can make sure you don't interrupt any of my programs
again.

Nevermind:  Can you?  I don't think you can.  The only thing you can
hope for is that I get bored.  I don't care if you take your show on
the road, I'll still show up if I want to.  It doesn't matter where
you go.  If I want to, I'll be there, and there's not a damn thing
you'll ever be able to do about it.

Willingham:  I can have you arrested.

Nevermind:  For trespassing?  I'll just show back up when I get out in
a day or two.  And as long as I buy a ticket, I'm not trespassing
anywhere.

Willingham:  So then what the Hell do you want?  Money?

Nevermind:  Look around you, Willingham.  Do I look like I give a crap
about money?  I got a lot of money in some bank somewhere.  I could
just use that if I wanted.

Willingham:  You want a shot at a championship?  You think I'm going
to just let you bully your way into a title match?

Nevermind:  What the hell do I need a title for?  I already have a
title.  I'm the King of Nothing.  That's all the title I want.

Willingham:  There has to be something you want.  Everybody wants
something.

Nevermind:  And that's why this world sucks.  Face it Willingham, you
have absolutely nothing to offer me.  Whatever it is you think you
have to sell, I'm not buying.

[Matthew Willingham clenches his fists in frustration, but then a sly
grin crosses his face.]

Willingham:  I'm not so sure about that, Nevermind.  I just thought of
something you'll be very interested in.

[Nevermind looks up at Willingham and for a split second, and almost
looks as if he's going to smile himself.  The two women on either side
of him do smile, revealing crooked and yellowed teeth.]

Nevermind:  Do tell.

Willingham:  How about the opportunity to make whatever point it is
you're trying to make?  You obviously think that showing up at our
events is making some kind of statement, so why don't you sign a
contract and I'll let you make all the statements you want.

[Nevermind stares intensely at Willingham for several moments, sizing
him up.  Finally, he stands and walks over to him.  Willingham doesn't
so much as flinch as the man in tattered black clothing stands chest
to chest with him, towering over the suit-clad official.]

Nevermind:  I'm impressed Willingham.  All this time I thought you
were as stupid as you look.  Maybe you're just half as stupid.  You
got a deal, Willingham.  I'll sign your contract.  I just hope they
don't let you down...

Willingham:  Who doesn't let me down?

Nevermind:  Whoever it is that you think is going to teach me a
lesson.  I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you though, they'll just
disappoint you.  So I'll give you a little friendly and free advice on
how to deal with disappointment.

Willingham:  Oh really?  What's that exactly?

Nevermind:  Why, just never mind, of course.

[Nevermind turns around and plops back down on the ruined couch
between the two skanky girls.  Willingham merely shakes his head as he
turns and takes his leave of them as quickly as possible and the scene
fades to black ... And back to the announcers.]

CL: WOW ...  Matthew Willingham has finally cracked what most said
couldn't be cracked.  Nevermind inside the PVW?   At Tradition V?

FH: And as we were just speculating ...  The show gets better and
better.  I wonder who the poor sap will be?

CL: I know a few guys in the back who would love to get first crack at
him.

FH: Only if Spectre was here.

CL: Johnny Detson is continuing the interview process.  Caleb Foley's
match continues to get postponed.  Could we finally see it happen?

[Then we cut to the backstage area.  The camera picks up on a door
reading "JOHNNY DETSON, PRESIDENT AND CEO".  We cut in our esteemed
President and CEO in the process of another interview, this time in
the background are several security personnel.  In front of the desk
sits a nondescript man, over muscular, not too bright, you know the
thrown in type that bears no importance to the scene.  Detson stacks
some paperwork as he reads it over.]

Detson:  Yes, well it seems like everything is in order and I have to
give you credit for not trying to eat or maim me yet...

[Detson trails off as the nondescript man nods politely.  Detson
continues to look over the paperwork.]

Detson:  I have to say this is generally impressive, why don't you
hang around the backstage area and if I need you I'll be in touch.

[MEANWHILE in a location slightly off camera...]

#RRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTT
MMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNN!!!!! #

[Suddenly a man flies, jumps on camera.  He is wearing a crimson and
white striped body suit with a crimson mask with a white face.  A
crimson cape hangs from his shoulders and his hands rest on his hips.
Yes kids its international superhero Rocket Man.]

Rocket Man:  Citizens it is I, Rocket Man!

[See told you.  Only he does it more heroically.]

[Detson looks on with open mouth amazement.  He quickly shakes his
head and recovers.]

Detson:  I'm sorry but as you may have known this is a high level area
and I...

[Rocket Man holds out his hand interrupting our President and CEO, er
well heroically.]

RM:  Citizen Detson, Rocket Man knows who you are and the farce that
you perpetrate here today and normally Rocket Man would squash this
sham of a proceeding and your false rule down to a fine pulp.

[Rocket Man slams his fist into his open palm, heroically.]

RM:  Alas, I have an even greater plight that faces this great town,
nay state, nay country, nay world, nay GALAXY!

[Rocket Man stretch his arm out emphasizing the gravity of the
situation.]

RM:  And that evil that curses our very existence.  That evil that
threatens every man, women and child is Star Man!

[Detson again looks on bewildered.]

Detson:  Star?  Man?

RM:  Yes Citizen Detson, Star Man, intergalactic breeder of fear and
hate.  He has run afoul on this fair planet terrorizing everything
that is good and pure.  And I have reason to believe that he now holds
hostage one Citizen Barney Johnson as no one has seen or heard from
him in some time!

[Detson shrugs confused by the whole thing.]

RM:  It is Rocket Man's sole mission, as the intergalactic bringer of
justice to find Star Man so we can meet on a field of battle and end
this conflict once and for all!

[Rocket Man strikes a heroic pose as Detson suddenly smirks.]

Detson:  You know, now that you mention it I have heard of Star Man.
As President and CEO, I have many contacts throughout the world.  And
my sources tell me that you might want to question one Caleb Foley on
Star Man's whereabouts.  I warn you though you might have to get
physical, as Mr. Foley is a dastardly evil doer to be sure.

[Detson flashes a cocky smirk and nods in Rocket Man's direction.]

RM:  Rocket Man is the keeper of truth and justice and does not fear
physical confrontation.  However, Rocket Man knows not of this Citizen
Foley you speak of.  Surely this concentrated amount of nefarious
nature Rocket Man would have done battle with him and smote him but
good!  Tell me more of this never-do-well.

Detson:  Well you see he's this whiny little bratty ginger...

RM:  HOLY CALAMITY SCREAM INSANITY!!  Rocket Man has faced and
defeated many adversaries in his day.  Intergalactic criminals,
warrior's heirs, wizard's heirs, dragon heirs, wolves, slytherin,
hufflepuff, vampires, The Boo Goo Tribe of sector

Detson:  Get on with it!

[Rocket Man glares at Detson and waves his finger back and forth.]

RM:  Never interrupt a superhero while he's in monologue!  Where was
I... ah yes... and Star Man, intergalactic bringer of fear and hate,
but
NEVER and the Rock...

Detson:  This is just a blatant rip now...
[Rocket Man glares at Detson again.]

RM:  ...et Man means NEVER, has he faces an adversary quite like
gingivitis!

[Rocket Man gazes off into the distance, heroically.]

Detson:  No, no, not gingivitis...

RM:  Never fear Rocket Man will face and defeat this foe as well.
First Star Man, then to the ADA!

Detson:  I really don't think you have a grasp on the situation...

#RRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEETTTTTTTTTT
MMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNN!!!!! #

[With that Rocket Man jumps, flies off camera just as quickly as he
got here leaving our beleaguered executive massaging the bridge of his
nose.]

Detson:  I think I have a headache.

[Detson turns and glares at the man still sitting at his desk.]

Detson:  And you, you jack-o, you've said nothing that entire time.
Get out of my office; I have half a mind, as President and CEO, to
hire you just to have the pleasure of firing you.

[Detson dismissively waves the nondescript man away before storming
off camera himself.]

FH: So I guess Rocket Man will not be the man facing Caleb Foley
tonight.

CL: It appears not ...

FH: Not that he couldn't beat Foley though.

CL: I guess we will never find out.  Well the Voice is back inside the
ring and ready for our next match.

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall and will be a Called Shot
Qualifying match.

[POP!]

CL: Detson, Flores, and Gionet have already qualified for the
illustrious Called Shot.  Who will be the fourth?

HD: Introducing first.  Wrestling out of San Francisco, California.
He proclaims to be the Supreme Champion of the wrestling world.

Your Hero ...

Danny Daniels!

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

Following the fanfare, "Afternoon Delight" by Starland Vocal Band
starts up.  The fans give a loud heel pop for the obnoxious
introduction of the self-professed SUPREME Champion, "Your Hero" Danny
Daniels.  Daniels bursts from behind the welcome banner, arms spread
to soak in all of the imaginary glory of his imaginary legions of
fans.  The bulky young man with the straggly blond hair wears a red
sequined jacket with 'Your Hero' written on the back in black, red
trunks, and black boots.  Around his waist is a belt with the words
SUPREME CHAMPION and an embossed picture of Daniels on the faceplate.
A pair of wraparound shades inhabit his clean-shaven face, as does a
big goofy smile representing his joy at being so exulted by his
devotees. The actual crowd boos.]

CL: Danny Daniels now looking over his shoulder.

FH: He wants to make sure there are no ninjas around again.

CL: Come on, Fred.  You saw the same thing I did.

FH: Well as much as we _could_ see.  After all the lights went off and
at least one master ninja attacked our Supreme Champion.

[Daniels sweeps down to the ring, attempting to walk with the regal
bearing of a king.  It comes off more like someone's given him a
wedgie with a bicycle chain, but you have to give him credit
for trying.  He jumps onto the apron, and climbs the ropes on the
outside.  He gets to the top rope... and seems to grow a little
disoriented by the height, so he steps back down to the second
rope and THEN poses grandly for the crowd.  His music dies away
shortly.]

CL: Okay I am not going to spend a lot talking about these "ninjas".
Knowing Danny Daniels it will be a waste of breathe anyways.  I will
sit and watch anxiously like the rest of you.

FH: Eventually the Danny's will get to the bottom of this!

HD: His opponent ...  Wrestling out of the Bunker.

The Mercenary !!!

[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, ignoring the fans that reach
out to him, focused  totally on the task at hand. He slowly climbs the
ring steps, and gets into the ring.]

CL: The Mercenary is still without his Hailburton.  Last night when
Chance McKenzie was taking on Masked Maniac he made an appearance in
the middle of Masked Mania and continued his games with Jessica
Marshall and Chance McKenzie.

FH: The Mercenary is going soft.  In the glory days he wouldn't have
allowed anyone to take his property and walk.

[Daniels is pointing his finger at The Mercenary.  The camera picks up
- "Was it you Mercury Morris?"]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - CALLED SHOT QUALIFIER
Danny Daniels v. The Mercenary

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: And there was the bell ... Daniels jumped at the sound and looked
of
his shoulder.  It appears that Danny Daniels is expecting to be
"attacked".

FH: Of course he is.  The Supreme Champion is a walking bulls-eye.
There is a constant threat looking to take him down a peg.  First Jack
Griffin ... Then the evil Sinestro ... Now the band of mysterious
ninjas.
When will it stop?

CL: God I hope soon.

[Danny Daniels holds up a finger and then gets into some sort of yoga
meditation type sitting stance.  The Mercenary raises an eyebrow then
looks over at the referee, Max Kelly and asks him if this guy is for
real.]

CL: Unfortunately he is.

FH: Hey if Danny Daniels has to take on the Back Stab Ninja Clan then
he has to understand their ways.

[The Mercenary oddly waits ... Finally Danny Daniels hops up and is
ready for the match at hand.  The two men lock up and Mercenary
quickly backs Danny Daniels back up into the corner.  He drives a big
fist down and drives another one.  He grabs Daniels by the head and
just tosses him into the ring and Daniels does a roll to his feet and
stumbles back up against the ropes.  He bounces off and ducks under a
big charging clothesline by the hired gun.  Mercenary turns around
just in time to grab the back of Daniels head and drive it down onto
his knee.]

CL: Mercenary is coming out with a statement to make.  He wants to
qualify for that Called Shot and find his way back up towards the top.

FH: Wait who is that.

[Chance McKenzie's scorned fiance, Ashleigh Winters begins to walk
down the aisle way and makes her way into the corner of the Mercenary.
She begins clapping and cheering the hired gun on.]

CL: Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn.

FH: What is she doing down here?  She should be in the back making
Chance McKenzie a sandwich!

[The Mercenary just shakes his head and goes back to work on Daniels
pulling him up and backing him up with a big European uppercut.  He
goes to send Daniels off the ropes again but this time the Supreme
Champion reverses it ... Mercenary comes off and runs _through_
Daniels
with a shoulder block.]

CL: Daniels rolls to the outside now and he turns around and there is
Ashleigh Winters.

[Daniels leaps back with his fists ready to fight as if Winters was
this so called "ninja".]

FH: Maybe Winters is the ninja that Daniels is referring to.  Maybe
she is apart of the Man hating Ninja Clan!

[Daniels shakes his head and rolls back in the ring.  The Mercenary
stands letting Daniels raise to his feet.  The two men go into an
elbow-collar tie up.  Daniels is quick and spins around and holds
Mercenary with a waist lock.  He stands there for a second and then a
"disgusted" look forms across his face.]

CL: What's wrong with Danny Daniels.

FH: I'm not sure but he is has now let go of Mercenary and he is
pointing towards Ashleigh WInters saying something about her using
some Ninja stink gas.

CL: Mercenary was at a local Mexican joint in his Showcase interview
in some sort of "training".  I guess this is what he was doing ...  He
was arming up for the match at hand.

[Daniels now turns towards Mercenary - "Mercury Morris we must
continue this at another time when we have gas masks."  However
Mercury lifts him up in a gutwrench and just drops him down with a
side slam!]


"___THUUUUUUUD___"


CL: Mercenary using everything he can to get the upper hand.

FH:  That's an understatement.

[The Mercenary charges and leaps with a big Garvin stomp landing right
on the stomach of Daniels who rolls over holding it in pain.  As
Daniels rolls back onto his back, The Mercenary drops an elbow to the
throat of the Supreme Champion.  He leans backwards for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


FH: No Daniels valiantly shoots a shoulder up.

CL: Or he just lifted his shoulder.  Either way it counted as a kick
out.

FH: Give Our Hero his due, Chip.

CL: Oh I have no problem giving him his due.  He is about as clueless
as a pencil.

FH: Blastmasphy!

[The Mercenary pulls Daniels up who begins to fight back.  Mercenary
sets him up and lifts him into a delayed vertical suplex.  Daniels
sits in the air upside down as the blood comes rushing down.]

FH: This can't be good for Double Danny!

CL: Or maybe it can be.  He needs a little wake up call.


"___THUUUUUUUD___"


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


FH: Double Danny _shocks_ the world with another brave kick out!

CL: You are really singing Danny Daniels tune tonight, Fred.

FH: I am just tired of all this injustice inside the PVW.  We don't
need Zero Tolerance.  All we need is The Dan League of America!

CL: Oh brother.

[The Mercenary lifts the dazed Daniels to his feet and steps back and
nails him with his signature "bitch slap".]


"___TWAAAAAAAP___"


CL: And Daniels spins around and takes a few steps before face
planting right into the mat!


*** FACE PLANT POP! ***


[The Mercenary isn't done by any means.  He pulls Daniels right back
to his feet with a big grin.  He pulls him closer with a belly-to-
belly wrap.  Daniels counters with a leaping forward head butt!]


"___CRRRRAAACK___"


CL: Daniels just drilled the Mercenary right in the brim of his nose
with that head butt counter.

FH: Now that is using your head.

[Daniels points to Winters and says something about the affects of the
ninja gas has wore off!  He then ducked under a charging clothesline
by Mercenary and caught him on the rebound in a powerslam!]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Mercenary kicks out this time.

FH: Double Danny needs to quickly make haste of Mercenary before
Winters tries another evil plot.

[Winters looks on cheering on the Mercenary getting fully behind her
fiance's foe.  Daniels hits the ropes and drops a knee right onto of
the hired gun.  He then leaps up in a ninja stance and does some sort
of attempt of leaping leg strike down.]

CL: Daniels now trying to intimidate Winters I guess with some ninja
skills of his own.  If you want to call them that.

FH: Those were good.  You can tell that Daniels has had years of
intense training with Master Wang Touch u!

CL: Wang who?

FH: Only those trained in the arts of death know Master Wang Touch U.

[Daniels now climbs up to the second turnbuckle.  He then drops down
with an elbow and lays across the Mercenary for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: Mercenary shoots a shoulder up.  Daniels isn't letting up as he
returns to the second rope again.

FH: Double Danny's second rope onslaught!

[This time he drops down and slams his head into Mercenary's with a
head butt.]


"___THUUUUUUUD___"


CL: Second ropes head butt and Daniels covers again!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


*** ANOTHER KICK OUT POP! ***


CL: Daniels seems genuinely shocked that Mercenary kicked out.

FH: You can't kick out of TOODLES~!

CL: Especially one taught by Master Wang Touch U right?

FH: Now your getting it.

[Daniels now helps Mercenary to his feet and locks on the sleeper hold
from behind.  The Mercenary swings his arms wildly trying to get some
footing.  He then begins to attempt to hoist the Mercenary up and over
the top ropes to lock on his Hangman Sleeper.]

CL: Daniels trying to put Mercenary away.  Could he be the next
wrestler to join the End Game, Called Shot match?

FH: If Daniels makes it you might as well cough it up and hand the
Called Shot to the Supreme Champion.  Can you imagine if he held the
Wrestling World Supreme Championship and the PVW World Championship?
He'd be the greatest wrestler to ever walk on this earth!

CL: Yeah about that ...

[Daniels tries a second time but is unable to hoist Mercenary up.  The
Mercenary then pulls Daniels to the side and lifts him up into a side
suplex and drives him backwards and into the mat.]


"___THUUUUUD___"


*** COUNTER POP ***



[Both men stumble to their feet and Daniels is first with a right
hand.  Another ... A third ... However Mercenary with a stooge eye-
gouge
and Daniels screams out - OOOOWWW MY EYES ... He then receives a
greco-
roman boot to the nads and drops like a ton of bricks.]

CL: The referee is questioning the Mercenary who is demanding he hit
Daniels in the abdominal.

FH: What is Lou Crowe blind?

[Daniels pushes himself up just in time to be taken down by a brutal
_spear_!]


"___THUUUUUD___"


CL: Listen to the fans!  They are calling for Mercenary to finish him
off.

FH: Don't listen to them.

CL: And Winters is on the outside telling him to give him the Pay Off.

FH: What does she know?

[The Mercenary lifts Daniels up.  The Supreme Champion is in some
trouble and he lifts him right into the delayed brainbuster.]

CL: If Mercenary hits the Payoff he could be advancing into the Called
Shot.

FH: This is no good at all.


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


[FINISHER POP!]


CL: Mercenary makes the cover!  He will be advancing into the Called
Shot!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THREE !!!


*** WHOA ... HUH POP? ***


... DANIELS KICKED OUT AT THE VERY LAST SECOND!?!?  I Don't KNOW _HOW_
HE DID IT!

FH: You're trying to beat Danny Daniels by hurting his _brain_?

CL: Wait that is actually a very good point.

FH: Of course it is.  I said it.

CL: Still an impressive kick out never the less.  The Mercenary seems
a little suspicious of the count.  Well you knew it was only a matter
of time, Fred.

FH: Finally some justice for the Mercenary.

[Chance McKenzie and Jessica Marshall are headed down the aisle way.
Chance looks a bit shaken up that his fiance, Ashleigh Winters is
already down here and cheering his nemesis on.  Marshall has the
Mercenary's Haliburton in hand.]

CL: The Mercenary has stopped stomping on Daniels and turned towards
Chance McKenzie telling him to bring his ... rear to the ring.

FH: "Rear"?  Come on Chip!  _ASS_ is PG-13.

[McKenzie has stopped looking towards Ashleigh Winters and with a look
of rage he rolls right inside the ring now with the Haliburton in hand
as the referee cuts both men off.]

CL: Looks like McKenzie now wants a piece of the Mercenary and he
isn't going to wait.

FH: Don't do it Chance.  Don't cost Double Danny the match!

[On the outside Ashleigh Winters and Jessica Marshall are now in one
another's face.]

FH: If I was a chick the last female on this earth I would want to get
face to face with is, Jessica Marshall.

CL: Things are getting heated and Mercenary has just _moved_ the
referee aside and daring McKenzie to hit him.

FH: Mercenary knows if Chance hits him he moves right into the Called
Shot!

[And McKenzie doesn't care ... He swings the Haliburton ...]


"___CRRRRAAAACCCKK___"


*** SHOCKING POP!!! ***


CL: WHAT THE ...

FH: ...


*DING*DING*DING*


[As McKenzie swung the Haliburton ... Daniels made it to his feet and
shoulder rammed Merc out of the way getting hit by the Haliburton shot
right in the side of the head.]

CL: I think Daniels thought Chance McKenzie was the "Ninja" inside the
ring and inadvertently helped the Mercenary out, but in the same
breathe just won the match by DQ.

FH: The Mercenary is now having words with the referee.

[While the Mercenary is ticked off trying to point out the _obvious_.
A cat fight has broken out on the outside and the fans love it.
Chance McKenzie has stopped caring about the Mercenary long enough and
has returned to the outside where he is trying to break things up.]

CL: Chance McKenzie has now gotten in between Winters and Marshall.
He is pleading with the two ladies trying to get them on the same
page.

FH: You can't talk common sense to women, Chance.

CL: Winters doesn't appear to be hearing any of what Chance has to
say.  Wait the Mercenary has rolled out of the ring .. He charges ...


*** KICK HIS ASS POP!!! ***


[Mercenary collides into Chance McKenzie and the Haliburton goes
flying out of his hands.  Fist begin to fly as Mercenary looks to
exact some revenge for costing him his chance at the Called Shot.  As
the Haliburton hits the ground both Marshall and Winters look at one
another then make a mad dash towards the briefcase.]

CL: Mercenary is taking it to Chance McKenzie!

FH: And it looks like both Marshall and Winters want that briefcase.

[Marshall is the first to reach it, but is shoved backwards as she
falls off balance.  Winters ends up with the briefcase in hand.
McKenzie and Mercenary are now brawling up the aisle way.]

CL: Danny Daniels is back on his feet.  He is looking around asking
where the sneak attacking ninja went.

HD: The winner of this match and advancing into the Called Shot.

!!! DANNY DANIELS !!!

FH: Finally they announce it!

[While Mercenary doesn't care anymore.  Danny Daniels raises his hand
and pumps his fist saying - "I told you all!".    Marshall follows
Winters up the aisle way as she also disappears with briefcase in
hand!]

CL: Okay things are getting out of hand here!  Mercenary and Chance
McKenzie are at each others throats.  Now Winters who has the
Haliburton in hand is having issues with Jessica Marshall.   Dean
Hayes is still trying his best to track down who is paying the
Mercenary.

FH: And to top it all off ... We have Ninja's!

CL: ...

FH: I know tell me about it.

[Cut to a pre-recorded segment.  Scene: interior of the Health &
Fitness Gym in beautiful downtown Phoenix, Arizona.  Dressed,
bizarrely for him, in gym shorts and a red polo, Zeke looks like a
thinner, redder Zach Galifanakis who, maybe, forgot what a haircut or
beard trimmer was.]

Zeke: Okay people, I know we weren't planning on this, but there's no
other way to do it.  It's time to train, to get on the same page, and
move forward as if this were the norm ... because it may well be the
new
norm.

[From off-camera, another familiar voice sounds out.]

Livestock: Uh ... hold the phone.  I'm all for training and I
understand if our title win wasn't a one-off, but how do you mean it's
the new norm?

Ohno: For Ohno, norm WITH law-yer is TAKE he BRIEFCASE to HEAD... then
e-mer-gen-cy brain sur-ge-ry.

[Pan over to show Livestock Zappa and Dr. Ohno Ow.  Livestock wears
black compression shorts, compression shirt and compression shoes.
Not really, but if the man wore any more skin tight clothing his head
would probably fly off. Ohno... er... sorry... OOOOOHNOOOOOO, is
wearing black pants and a black t-buttoned shirt, and sporting a very
expensive looking pair of sunglasses worn over his eye patch.  He is
currently sitting while his valets, the Asian beauties, Violet and
Meili massage each shoulder... ahhhh, the rough life of a
rising Hong Kong movie star.  Violet is wearing an, appropriately
enough, violet cocktail dress, while Meili is sporting camouflage
hotpants and tanktop, and sporting a beret.  The more refined looking
Violet is, as usual, glaring daggers at the totally oblivious Meaili,
while Ohno, still appearing to enjoy his massage, is currently subtly
reaching for Livestock's briefcase.]

Livestock: As usual I don't understand his particular brand of
nonsense.  Ow was a standin for Gutch, right?  So we're just biding
our time, right?  60 days max time between title matches ... right?

[This sidelong view of all 3 men makes for the perfect vantage from
which to capture all their expressions.  Zeke's mouth becomes a tight,
straight line and he whips out a pair of reflective sunglasses so he
doesn't have to make eye contact.  Livestock's face goes from
questioning to expressionless to horror.]

Livestock: Jesus, Zeke, you broke up the team!?

[In the background Gutch starts to stand up, then falls back into his
chair with a girlish whimper.  Oh yeah, by the way, Gutch and Dr. Mal
are sitting against a wall at the far side of the gym.  The two very
massive men look as injured as you might expect with Gutch in a
wheelchair and Mal in a sling.]

Zeke: I did NOT break up any team, the championship committee did!
Unless something drastic happens, like you guys losing the titles for
example, neither Livestock and the Gutch nor PAIN will exist as a
unit.

Ohno: Be-cause USE 3rd rate, 1st world doc-tor.  But PVW insist their
me-dic WORK, [mumbles] Must be u-ni-on. [back to "normal" voice] , and
LOOK what DO! [points to Mal] Take us MONTH fix da-mage they DO!

[Livestock and Zeke look over at Mal and Gutch at this point, which
Ohno takes as an opportunity to raise the briefcase over Livestocks
head while he's distracted]

Livestock: How?  How the hell did this happen?  Did you finally sell
us out? People have been telling me for years--

Zeke: Look, it was this or forfeit the titles.  Is that what you want?

Violet: *ahem* Ohno-honey.  That means if you put him into surgery,
you lose the title.

[Ohno stops mid-swing, dropping the briefcase to the ground, the thud
causing Zeke and Livestock to turn around, with Zeke looking at the
case and Ohno suspiciously, while Livestock remains apparently
oblivious as he rights it back up.]

Ohno: WHAT YOU SAY!?

Meili: [Mouth agape in horror] Bu zhen!  BU ZHEN!

Ohno:  NO! [clutches the title belt] You NO take AWAY!  It MINE!  A-
ca-de-my give to ME!  I WON IT!  My Pre-ci-ousssssss*HACK*COUCH*

[Ohno has a coughing fit for a few seconds]

Livestock:  The... Academy?

Ohno: [finishing his coughing fit] *ahem* Yes!  A-ca-de-my GIVE
OOOOHNOOOOOO, for movie of LIFE sto-ry.

Zeke:  Your movie?  Is that even out yet?

Ohno:  NO, no BE sil-ly.  Still IN pre-pro-duc-tion.  But KNOW if have
OOOOOOHNOOOOO, MUST be pic-ture of YEAR, so GIVE a-ward I and Mal
EARLY.  But MAL in-jured, so OOOOOOHNOOOOO have to car-ry bur-den
ALONE for NOW.  But NO pro-blem for HONG KONG BEST ac-tion STAR!  Can
take ALL on with ONE hand be-hind back.

Livestock: Hold it.  I understood that... I... think...  Look, Ohno,
your little ploy to take our place and become champs imploded when
lefty over there [Gestures towards Mal] took the subluxation train to
cripple-town.  Gutch and my names were on that contract so when you
and I won the match, that made Livestock & the Gutch 2-time champions.

Zeke: Gentlemen ... I hate being the voice of reason, really I do,
it's
boring, but the fact is that both of your names are on the contract.
Livestock, Gutch's signature wasn't present so there's no loophole
there.  Ohno ... honestly, Mal was never a consideration here.  I'm
sure
he's a gentleman and a scholar, but for now, put him out of your mind.

You are both World Tag Team Champions and as for the teams of doctors
and lawyers, well, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it.  For now
... it's time to train.

[An obnoxious cliche unfolds before the viewer as "Eye of the Tiger"
by Survivor begins to play.  A wider view of the gymnasium is shown,
and a parkour circuit is revealed.]

Meili:  OOOOOOH!  Have cooool play-ground!

Zeke:  Um... it's a Parkour circuit.

Ohno:  NO, she right... for OOOOHNOOOO, this child PLAY. [to
Livestock] Try KEEP UP!

[Ohno Ow darts off with Livestock quickly chasing after, keeping pace
with the smaller Ow, which is quite impressive for such a big man.]

[The unlikely duo first comes to a large wall, which Livestock begins
a triple jump over, as Ohno does the same... with the slight change
that one of his jumps is off of Livestocks head, much to his
annoyance, slowing Livestock down only a step, but giving Ohno a boost
that puts him ahead.]

Livestock:  HEY!  Watch it!

[Ohno's foot reaches the top of the wall, and springs off without
missing a beat, landing on the ground and rolling... Livestock uses
his greater strength to propel himself further, and almost rolls into
Ohno, who nimbly leaps over him, Livestock regaining some of his lost
time, but Ohno still in the lead.]

Ohno:  No BAD, but STILL no catch OOOOOHNOOOOOO.

[The two rush to the next obstacle, a set of perpendicular walls,
which both leap and kick off of to propel themselves up to the top...
the more nimble Ohno grabbing hold of the zipline in midair and riding
down, as Livestock curses and grabs on, trailing close behind... until
they realize the windows their heading down towards are closed at
least.]

Livestock:  Oh shi-*CRASH*

[Live stock simply puts his feet up and crashes through, as Ohno
smashes through with a martial arts kick, his foot meeting the ground
on the other side to begin a sprint as Livestock chases after.]

Livestock:  Damn you and your Jackie Chan-sh**!

Ohno:  NO Com-pare OHNO to 4th rate CHAN!

[The two now reach a wall of ledges... looking somewhat like a
building being folded together like a giant accordion.   Ohno begins
swinging and up, in an almost monkey like fashion, as Livestock keeps
pace by muscling up through it, simply pulling himself up quickly, his
greater strength letting him keep up, and maybe even regain some
ground.  He reaches the top, to find Ohno already running
across a balance beam leading to a "rooftop" and quickly chases
after.]

[Reaching the edge, Ohno actually dives face first down the roof, then
tucks and rolls as he's about to hit the ground, taking him to the
finish line.  Livestock following after a very short time later.  The
music cuts ]

Zeke: Wow.  And Livestock with 2:12, only twelve seconds behind Ow's
time. Nobody would guess you were just one cheeseburger short of being
a superheavyweight.

[Breathing hard, Livestock leans forward on his knees, a scowl
crossing his sweating, yet handsome face.]

Livestock: Okay, it's *huff* not fair to compare me to this guy here.
He's like a monkey!

Zeke: Still, you have somewhat similar styles.  Certainly moreso than
with Gutch.  Ow, you take the trophy ... or you would if I had any to
give.  Kudos.

Dr. Ow: OOOOOHNOOOO have bet-ter AWARDS.  This trai-ning fun-ny joke.
KUNGFU trai-ning MUCH hard-er.  Sis-sy law-yer-man NO get figh-ting
SHAPE with-out REAL trai-ning.  SHOW how REAL men train FIGHT.

Livestock: I think ... wait.  I'm starting to get past the accent.
Are
you saying you want to pick how we train next?

Violet: [acting as translator] Yes.

Zeke: Ah.  That seems fair.  Maybe you can learn some real fighting
technique, Livestock.

Livestock: What do you care?  It's not like you ever shared your
martial arts knowledge with me.

Zeke: Oh Livestock, Livestock ... I'm a user, not a teacher.

[Beat.]

Zeke: ZING~!

[crickets chirp]

Violet:  Meili, where did you get that.

[Cuts over to Meili holding a Chinese crickets cage, complete with
cricket inside]

Meili:  For gooda lu-cka... al-so cute. [Meili "pets the cricket
through the cage with one finger]

[End Scene]

CL: It appears that Zeke is trying to get Ohno Ow and Livestock on the
same page and ready to defend those PVW tag team championship titles.

FH: Who would of thought the team of Livestock and Ohno Ow would be so
unbreakable.  Zeke is a master mind!

["Loyal to No-One" by The Dropkick Murphy's plays over the PA as the
arena goes completely silent. SO silent in fact you could probably
hear a pin drop...]

CL: Once again Caleb Foley is coming to the ring here tonight.  It's a
bit unnanounced, but I think he is ready to finally get this match
going.  I know I am!

FH: With any luck this will be the last time. I can't stand looking at
his ridiculous red hair anymore. Seriously if I wanted to see this
much red hair I'd turn on a Harry Potter movie ... you know he does
look
like a bit Ron ...

CL: No he doesn't!

[A hooded man stands at the entrance just bouncing to the beat of the
music. His head is down so his face is completely covered. The man
lifts up his head to reveal that it is none other Caleb Foley and the
crowd has absolutely exploded now with cheers. Caleb pulls the hood
off his head and reveals a new hairstyle his reddish hair completely
slicked back and a full red beard with a black goatee. Caleb begins to
walk down the entrance when he stops, he bends down and pounds his
knuckles to the ground and his points up to the sky as a huge pyro
display goes off!!]

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

FH: Are you sure, Chip? It's the only way to explain the crowd's love
affair with him.

[Foley continues to walk down to the ring as the fans are chanting his
name but seems not to really be interacting with them as much as his
once did. Foley is looking in the ring and he seems to mean business.
Foley slides underneath the bottom rope and begins to stretch against
the ropes.]

HD: FROM DUBLIN, IRELAND, STANDING 6 FOOT 1 AND WEIGHING IN AT TWO
HUNDRED AND TWENTY FIVE POUNDS, THIS IS ... THE CELTIC CRIPPLER ...


!!! CALEB FOLEY !!!

CL: I wonder how long Johnny Detson will keep us ....

["Hail to the Chief" begins to play to an immediate negative reaction
as out struts Johnny Detson with a huge politician smile. He waves to
the crowd ignoring their reaction and then signals his music cut as he
stands on the ramp.]

Detson: A high level executive's job is never is, I realize that. As
President and CEO I wanted to present to you, the little people, the
very best match possible. And the best possible match I have found! I
interviewed a lot of candidates but in the end there could only be
only person I could trust with an assignment like this. One person who
I know will easily dismantle young Mr. Foley there making it
impossible for him to show up at Tradition. One person who is one of
the very best in the sport today.

[Detson smirks.]

Detson: You people didn't think it could be done, but now I'll prove
you all wrong. Caleb
Foley your opponent in the final installment of the Johnny Detson
Challenge is the one... the only... my personal friend... Edwin
Lopez!!!!

[Huge pop.]

FH: This is amazing Johnny Detson got Edwin Lopez in the PVW, and you
said he had no
authority!!

CL: If he does then where is Edwin Lopez?

[Indeed, no music, no anything, including no Edwin Lopez. Detson
stands there for a moment as the murmurs slowly become laughter.]

Detson: Edwin Lopez....

[Detson extends his hand towards the curtain almost trying to will it
to open. More laughter as his face gets redder.]

Detson: Edwin Lopez?

[Still nothing. Detson looks from the curtain to the crowd to the ring
where a laughing Caleb Foley stands. Detson starts to shake
uncontrollably, his face beat red.]

Detson: You? You think this is funny? I'll show you what's funny!!

[Detson takes one step towards the ring to a huge pop of anticipation
from the crowd as Foley gets serious too, and ready for the fight but
before Detson can take another step he is interrupted by The doleful
sound of "Rooster" by Alice In Chains.]

FH: Who needs a two bit hack like Edwin Lopez when you have the Misery
Machine Marcus Manson!

CL: Haven't we gotten in enough trouble bashing people that are in
PVW.

[Pale blue spotlights illuminate the aisle from underneath, playing
off of a thin mist rising from the floor... creating an ethereal-
looking effect as the powerful frame of Marcus Manson slowly walks
through the curtain.

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

FH: Tell me he's not and I'll take it back.

CL: . . .

FH: That's what I thought.

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

FH: Detson is a genius.

CL: What? He was just embarrassed because he couldn't deliver what was
his name again?

FH: Come on, Chip. You have to see what he was doing. He was keeping
everyone off balance with this interview process and that lame duck
surprise. This was his plan all along!

[Marcus is wearing a dark longcoat over his full-length black tights,
red kneepads and elbowpads, and black striking gloves and boots.
Manson climbs the steps, and looks over the crowd with a scowl before
stepping over the top rope into the ring.]

HD: And his opponent hails from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania and weighs in
tonight at two hundred and ninety five pounds ... this is ... "The
Misery
Machine" ...


!!! MARCUS MANSON !!!


[Detson stands in the aisle way, he still looks upset from the
embarrassment he suffered only moments ago but he glares at Caleb
Foley who circles the much bigger Misery Machine.]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - DETSON'S CHALLENGE
Caleb Foley v. Marcus Manson

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


*DING*DING*DING*

CL: First Larry Gionet, then Christian Copeland and now Marcus Manson
...

FH: Caleb Foley finally dies tonight!

CL Fred!

FH: What? That was my parental advisory for the match.

[The two men quickly lock-up in the center of the ring and Marcus
Manson uses his size advantage to push Caleb Foley into the ring
ropes. As Mark Barnett orders for a clean break Manson shakes his head
no and drives the point of his elbow into the side of Foley's head. He
doesn't hesitate for a second and drives a second elbow into his
head.]


"___TTTHHHAAAWWWPPP___"


"___TTTHHHAAAWWWPPP___"


CL: Manson with two knife edge chops and now he whips Foley across the
ring ...

FH: And a huge back body drop sends Foley into the lights!

[Foley grabs his back from the impact and Manson follows up with a
swift and very stiff kick to Foley's back. Detson's gloomy demeanor
seems to fading slowly as he nods his head in approval. Manson grabs
Foley by his hair and  pulls him to his feet.]

CL: Manson hoists Foley onto his shoulder ...

FH: Shoulderbreaker! And now Manson stomping away on the shoulder of
Foley. I'm starting to see a return of the true Misery Machine!

CL: His attack on HvD on the last Heatwave was vicious and he doesn't
seem to have left that path now as he pulls Foley back up and drives
him down with another shoulderbreaker.

[Manson uses his near three hundred pound frame and drives his knee
into the shoulder of Foley. And a second knee and a third knee and a
fourth knee and he stops after he delivers the fifth knee and pulls
the youngster up to his feet drives his knee into the mid-section of
Foley.]

CL: Manson locks on a side head lock ...

FH: And drags his forehead across the top rope. Now Foley's forehead
matches the color of his hideous hair!

[Manson stands in the corner and takes three running steps out and
drives the head of Foley into the mat with a bulldog. Manson shoots a
half as he goes for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[The crowd roars in approval as Caleb Foley shots his right arm up.]

CL: And Foley with a strong kick out!

FH: Detson doesn't seem to happy with the fact that Foley kicked out
but I'm sure he wants to see Foley punished more ... I know I do.

[Manson pulls Foley to his feet but as he does so The Celtic Crippler
reaches up and executes a jawbreaker. The crowd claps in support of
Foley he grabs Manson by the head and drives his knee into the head of
Manson.]

CL: And listen to the crowd support Foley as he drives his knee into
the head of Manson.

FH: Barnett should do something about this! How many times is he going
to let Foley hit the defenseless Manson!

[Foley drives a sixth knee into Manson's head and then runs to the far
side ropes ...]

CL: Foley drives that knee into the side of the double overed Manson!
And Manson drops to the mat to the disapproval of Detson.

[Detson throws his arms into the air in frustration as Foley drops his
knee into the side of Manson's head. Foley grabs his shoulder for a
few seconds before he pulls him back to his feet.]

CL: And Foley drives his knee into the mid-section of Manson. Foley
with a front chancery ... DDT!

FH: Damn it! Foley going for the cover!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


FH: Thank god Manson kicks out!

[Foley glares at Detson for a split second before he pulls Manson to
his feet once again.]

CL: Foley going for an Irish Whip ...

FH: But Manson reverses it and sends the red headed freak into the
ropes.

[Caleb Foley rebounds off of the ropes and Marcus Manson slaps on a
sleeper hold.]

FH: And The Misery Machine is going to send Foley into la la land with
the sleeper.

[Foley flays his arms as Manson clinches in the sleeper hold.]

FH: Foley is turning purple ... it's almost a better color on him.
Wait
... do I see a tear forming in the corner of his eyes!

CL: Foley is not crying! But he does need to do something to get out
of this hold as he appears to be fading!

[Barnett raises the arm of Foley and it falls once ... Barnett lifts
the
arm again and again it falls.]

FH: That's two! One more and this match is in the books!

[As Mark Barnett raises Foley's arm into the air once again the crowd
begins to stomp their feet and scream. Foley's arm falls half way down
and suddenly a new life is in him as he clinches his fist and keeps
the arm from dropping!]

CL: And Foley is still fighting!

[The crowd continues to cheer as Foley waves his arms in the air. A
sneer crosses Manson's face as he suddenly kicks his own feet out from
under him and drives Foley into the mat back first.]

FH: He calls that the Lightsout!

CL: Manson going for the cover after that sleeperhold drop!


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!


!!! THR --


CL: And Barnett shows the arena it was just a two count!

[Johnny Detson tosses his arms in the air as the fans around him begin
to chant FOLEY!]

FH: And listen these morons back the wrong horse once again!

[Marcus Manson stands to his feet and just begins to stomp away on the
shoulder of Foley. The grin once again returns to the face of Johnny
Detson as the FOLEY chants begin to die down.]

CL: Once again Manson going back to work on the shoulder and arm.

FH: Does he think he's Fontana? I mean I have never once seen Manson
use a submission hold!

CL: That might be true ... but we know he loves to inflict pain and
that's what he is doing right now! Manson pulling Foley up and he
grabs Foley by the neck with his massive right hand!

[The crowd begins to scream as Foley once again flays his arms.]

FH: Manson looking for the chokeslam!

[As Manson attempts to lift Foley up, he drives his foot into the knee
of Manson preventing him from hoisting him into the air.]

CL: And Foley kicking at the knee of Manson!

FH: That's like kicking a red wood tree!

[After the fourth kick Manson releases the grip on Foley's throat and
Foley leaps dropkicking the knee Marcus Manson and sending him
crashing to the mat. Foley grabs the top rope ..]

CL: Springboard moonsault! And the Celtic Crippler is coming back!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


FH: And Manson kicks out once again!

[On the outside Detson begins to clap as he tries to get the fans to
rally around him and support Marcus Manson.]

CL: And the fans are basically laughing at Detson as he tries to gain
support for Marcus Manson.

FH: It's never a good idea to laugh at the CEO ...

CL: He's not the CEO! Foley drives a European uppercut into the jaw of
Manson and a second one! Manson staggers back to the ropes ... Hooking
clothesline by Foley!

FH: But you can see the effects of Manson's attack on the shoulder and
arm as Foley grimaces and grabs the arm in pain.

[Foley pulls Manson to his feet and slips behind him.]

CL: Belly to back suplex takes the bigger Manson to the mat!

[The crowd roars as Foley thrusts his arms into the air and begins to
ascend to the top rope. Foley pauses on the top rope and points at
Johnny Detson.]

CL: Foley signaling to Detson ...

FH: And it's giving Manson time to get to his feet! Manson is up and
he catches Foley under the chin with a stiff right hand!

CL: Marcus Manson tosses Foley off of the top rope to the mat!

[Detson nods his head with a giant smirk on his face as Manson drops
another knee into the shoulder of Foley. Manson grabs Foley and
violently pulls him to his feet once again.]

CL: And Manson just shoves Foley back first into the corner.


"___TTTHHHAAAWWWPPP___"


"___TTTHHHAAAWWWPPP___"


FH: And two knife edge chops. Foley is looking like a giant stop
light!

[Manson grabs Foley by the head with a three quarter nelson and points
to the sky as he drags Foley to the center of the ring.]

FH: Manson is about to end this with Widowmaker he learned from Magnus
Colby!

[Foley though shoves Manson forward into the corner.]

CL: Manson took too much time and paid for it as he hit the corner
chest first. Foley spins him around and grabs his arm ... Irish whip
into the corner! Foley used his full body weight there as he dropped
to the mat to gain extra power!

[Manson slams into the corner back first and staggers out. As he does
so Foley rushes forward and spears Marcus Manson!]

CL: There's the spear!

FH: Foley is grabbing his shoulder in pain!

[After a few seconds Foley stands to his feet ...]

CL: And there is the standing moonsault! Foley with An Irish Blessing
on Manson!

[After Foley connects with the moonsault he pushes himself to his
knees and once again grabs the shoulder in pain before hooking the leg
for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THRE - !!!


FH: And Manson again kicks out!

[Foley slaps the mat in frustration and pulls Manson to his feet once
again.]

CL: And Manson jams his thumb into the eye of Foley.

[Manson grabs Foley and tosses him through the middle rope to the
floor. Mark Barnett steps between the ropes and Manson.]

CL: And Barnett is ordering Manson to stay in the ring.

FH: And Detson is like a cheerleader screaming for Manson to get out
there!

[Manson shoves Barnett to the side and steps onto the ring apron.
Barnett warning Manson not to touch him again as Manson leaps and
drives a double axe handle across the back of Foley. Manson scoops
Foley up and slams him onto the concrete floor. Detson continues to
clap as Manson lays a few stomps into the chest of Foley. Manson
slides into the ring to break up the count and Barnett is once again
in his face warning him to keep it in the ring.]

FH: Manson is not the man I would be trying to go nose to nose with if
I was Barnett.

[Foley pushes himself up to his feet and reaches under the bottom rope
and pulls Manson to the floor. The crowd cheers madly as Foley drives
a right hand into the head of Manson. Manson is quick to follow up
with one of his own.]

CL: And the two men are exchanging rights on the floor!

FH: And the seventy pound weight advantage puts Manson in control as
he drives right after right into the forehead of Foley sending him
towards the guardrail!

CL: Foley though still showing a mean streak as he jabs Manson in the
throat with the thumb!

[Foley shoves Manson backwards into the ring apron and follows up with
a European uppercut. Foley drives his shoulder into the mid-section of
Manson and steps back astep in pain and Manson takes advantage with an
elbow to the back of his head.]

FH: And Manson drives a knee into the head of Foley now!

CL: And look at the joy in Detson's eyes. He's loving every second
that this match stays on the outside.

FH: wouldn't you? If Manson finishes off Foley tonight, the match at
Tradition five will be academic.

[Manson scoops Foley up and drives him down across his knee with a
vicious backbreaker. Foley grimaces as Manson shoves him off of his
knee to the concrete floor.]

FH: Manson back to his feet and he just begins to stomp away on the
back of Foley.

[Foley tries to reach back with his arms to cover up but Manson grabs
Foley arm and pulls him to his feet viciously and begins to Irish Whip
him towards the ring steps. Foley though is able to reverse the whip.]


"___CCCLLLAAAANNNGGGG___"


CL: Marcus Manson hard into the ring steps!

[Foley sticks his upper body under the bottom rope to break the count
and then he heads back towards Manson and drives a right hand into the
forehead of him. The crowd roars in approval as Foley drives a second
and third into Manson's forehead.]

CL: Foley grabbing the head of Manson ...

FH: And Manson with an elbow to the ribs of Foley and a second one!
Now it's Manson who has the head of Foley ...


"___CCCLLLAAANNNGGG___"


"___CCCLLLAAANNNGGG___"


"___CCCLLLAAANNNGGG___"


FH: Foley's head is bounced off of the ring steps like a pinball!

[Johnny Detson smiles and applauds from the aisle way as Manson drives
his knee into the mid-section of Foley doubling him over. The Misery
Machine grabs Foley and hoists him into the air with a gutwrench.]


"___TTTHHHUUUDDD___"


FH: Gutwrench powerbomb onto the floor!

[The crowd gasps in shock as Foley lies on the concrete floor in pain.
Manson glares at the time keeper for a brief moment.]

CL: What is Manson doing?

[Marcus Manson has grabbed the time keeper and tossed him off of his
chair and the crowd begins to boo as Manson folds the chair up and
begins to stalk over towards Foley. referee Mark Barnett screams at
Manson to drop the chair.]

CL: Manson stalking Foley with the chair!

[Foley slowly pushes his way to his knees ....]


"___CCCRRRAAACCCKKK___"


[Mark Barnett signals to the time keeper to ring the bell.]

CL: Manson driving that steel chair into the back of Caleb Foley!

FH: And Johnny Detson is besides himself with joy!

"___CCCRRRAAACCCKKK___"


*DING*DING*DING*


"___CCCRRRAAACCCKKK___"


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: And Manson drives that chair into his back three times and I don't
think he's down as he tosses the chair aside and grabs Foley by the
arm pulling him to his feet!


"___TTTHHHUUUDDD___"


FH: The Misery Machine with a vicious Heartpunch that collapses Foley
into a heap!

[Detson nods his head in approval as he grins ear to ear.]

CL: And Manson is pulling Foley back to his feet.

FH: More like dragging his lifeless carcass to his feet! HEARTPUNCH!

[The crowd moans as Manson connects with a second heartpunch to the
chest of the prone Caleb Foley. Without warning a figure comes rushing
up the aisle way and shoves Johnny Detson to the side as he does so.]

CL: Here comes Chris Hartt!

[The crowd explodes as Hartt comes towards the ringside area. Manson
glares up at the first ever American Champion and just steps over the
lifeless form of Foley as he walks away from the ringside area.]

FH: The Misery Machine has finished his dirty work and he's just
smirking at his handing work.

CL: Hartt is staring daggers into the back of Marcus Manson.

FH: Like that means anything!

[Detson pats Manson on the back as he walks past him but Manson shoots
him a dirty glance and Detson quickly removes his hand from Marcus
Manson as the big man continues up the aisle as Herk Douglas finally
makes the announcement.]

HD: Ladies and gentlemen the winner of the match as a result of
disqualification ... The Celtic Crippler ....

!!! CALEB FOLEY !!!

FH: Foley does not look like a winner right now as Chris Hartt is
trying to pull him back to his feet.

CL: Marcus Manson has been on a _tear_ since losing that Meatgrinder
match.  I think we are finding out that the Misery Machine has a plan
and there are going to be a few people who don't like it.

FH: I for one am enjoying it.  It's nice to see Marcus Manson
motivated again and hushing his "critics".

CL: There is no doubt that he is doing that.

FH: And lets put our hands together for the brilliance of Johnny
Detson's plan.  He tore away Foley's mind ... He tore away Foley's
emotions ... And tonight he physically destroyed Foley.   Well done
sir!

CL: I will admit that it has appeared that Detson's "plan" has worked.

FH: I never had any doubts.

CL: Sometimes I wonder how you have time to sit here beside me long
enough to remove those lips from Detson's rear.

FH: HA!  Funny ... Funny man.

CL: I am getting word that finally Dean Hayes has tracked down Rob
Cole.  We have been waiting and waiting to hear from the former PVW
World Champion.

FH: I'll be honest.  I am shocked he even showed up tonight.

[He is wounded, battered, beaten, and bruised. His throat is wrapped
in a bandage, his features bearing a few new stitches, and one eye is
swollen shut. Dean Hayes stands nearby, microphone in hand as he turns
to regard the man who once held the most prestigious title in the
company. A man who has been reduced to the broken image, his head
bowed in frustration.]

DH: I'm standing backstage with Rob Cole... a man who can barely stand
himself. Over the past few weeks he has lost his title, he's been
beaten from pillar to post, buried alive, and he has been called out
by the only man who might just be as psychotic as him...

[Cole flinches slightly... wincing.]

DH: You came here last show to give Craven an answer... do you have
that answer tonight?

[Cole pauses before he answers... he opens his mouth to speak and
nothing comes out for a moment so he takes a deep breath, swallowing
hard before he finally begins to talk. When he does, it is with a low
voice... one wracked with pain, a sound struggling to be heard above
the bruised damage to his windpipes.]

RC: My... My body is a roadmap... of scar tissue, Dean. I... I faced
big men, psycho men, better men... I faced champions, legends... it's
hard f'r me to talk like this, Dean. My throat... William Craven?
Bring that camera in close and shine those studio lights on my face...
do you see these stitches? These bruises? You see this bit of dried
blood beneath my lip?

[Cole winces and grabs at his neck... we can see his fingers are
wrapped in bandages as well, and he turns to regard the camera again
with his eyes cast in shadow.]

RC: Back in '95, the Underground Alliance hit me with one move...
after another. After another. After another. The damage done that
night...the damage that has followed me very night f'r the rest of my
life... the damage took away two minutes and thirteen seconds of my
life. They had to inject me with a needle straight to the heart...
they had to keep my neck still for months, they had to give me time to
heal... but I remember that night, I remember it every night in a
sweat of nightmare fury. The feeling that night... the helplessness...
has haunted me. William Craven.... You brought that night back to me.

[Cole winces again, grabbing on to Dean in order to keep standing...
he looks dizzy and his features go pale with the effort. He tries to
breathe in... to steady and calm himself.]

RC: And so you want to destroy the legend of Rob Cole? To take away
all that I have... all that I am... ? All that...

[A distant look comes in his eyes and he shakes his head... he looks
at Dean and shakes his head once, turning his gaze away from the
camera. We can hear what he says, though it's not to the audience this
time.]

RC: ... I'm so full of it... do you hear me? Dean? Do you believe me
right now? I'm about to talk about the list of men who have tried this
same thing... have tried to bury me. But it's crap! Not one of them
ever tried to do this... not this bad... not this focused or
psychotically. *gasp* I can barely breathe... can barely talk... I can
barely stand. I'm about to talk about how I'm going to walk down that
aisle and do the same thing I always do... and for what? To sell a few
more tickets? To get some measure of "revenge".... William Craven beat
the hell out of me and what did I do to stop him? Nothing... not a
dang thing. You know what's worse?

DH: Rob... Rob, you need to sit down and collect your breath...

RC: No... no, I'm going to tell you...

[He turns his gaze to the camera... shakes his head in frustration and
maybe a bit of shame.]

RC: I'm not even angry... I don't /want/ revenge. I don't know what I
want, Craven... you see, that's the part that has me confused. I don't
know what I want out of this... what I'm going to do when we stare at
each other from across that ring. I don't know who I'm going to be. I
think I've said all I need to say... see you at Tradition.

[We cut back to the announcers table.]

CL: Some honesty by Rob Cole.  It's just hard to see such a warrior
... A man who has given his body to this industry.  We have watched
him come out show after show giving the PVW fans everything he has.
We may not have always agreed with his methods.  But if there was one
constant in the roller coaster that PVW had become.  It was Rob Cole.

FH: This is what happens when you piss off William Craven.  Many of
careers are broken when the green skinned freak comes a calling.  Rob
Cole will either break like so many have before.  Or rise above it and
cement his legacy.  In the end it's up to him.

CL: All I know it will be nice to see him back inside the ring at
Tradition.  Let's go back to the ring where Herk Douglas is standing
by.

HD: Introducing first ... Wrestling out of New York, City.

[Rock the Casbah by the Clash begins over the PA system as the fans go
crazy for the fan favorite tag team.]

... Weighing in at a combine weight of five hundred and twelve pounds.

!!! MAX WEINRIB and SAL MUBARAK !!!

[Max and Sal emerge from the back firing up the fans.  They continue
to head down the aisle way slapping the hands of the fans making their
way to ringside.  After entering the ring they turn and climb the
turnbuckles raising their arms once more.]

CL: Max and Sal have become staples in the PVW tag team division.  In
all reality there has become a heated debate about why they haven't
been handed a tag team title shot since Rise From the Ashes II.

FH: Because they don't deserve it.  They failed when Perry Fontana
single handily lead, Everlasting Hell to victory.

CL: It appeared that Max and Sal were close to winning the titles and
if anyone deserves a shot it would be them.

FH: We can agree to disagree, Chip.

CL: As usual.

HD: Their opponents ...  Introducing first wrestling out of
Tuscaloosa,
Alabama.  Weighing in at two hundred and twenty eight pounds.  Lead to
the ring by Todd "The Rod" Johnstone.

!!! GIBSON HAYES !!!

[BOOOOO!]

FH: And there is the sounds of a winner right there, Chip.

CL: Boos?

FH: Jealousy.

Crowd: "GIB-SON SUCKS!  GIB-SON SUCKS!  GIB-SON SUCKS!  GIB-SON
SUCKS!"

[...and then from the back comes Gibson & the Gang.  Todd "The Rod"
Johnstone and Bubba first, while Gibson (draped in a baby blue hooded
cloak) stands near the backstage curtain.  Hayes stands his ground,
arms at his sides and head down, as Bubba stands at Johnstone's side.]

CL: I hope PVW has the censor button ready again.

FH: You can't censor Todd Johnstone, Chip.  When he has a message to
say the world needs to hear it.  Was America able to censor Dr. Martin
Luther King?

CL: Wow ... Are you really trying to compare the two?

FH: Todd Johnstone is kind of important!

[Gibson Hayes begins to head down the ring like a boxing heavyweight
champion.  He tosses a few shadow punches as he makes his way down to
ring side.  Johnstone and Bubba Hayes have already entered the ring
where Max and Sal stand.  Thankfully between the music and the crowds
disapproval we can't understand what he is saying.]

CL: It's going to be interesting if Hayes and Holliday can work
together in hopes of getting a match between themselves.

FH: It doesn't really matter.  Hayes has already defeated Max and Sal
by himself.  He should be the crowned number one contender.

[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 goes wild for Arizona's own!]

CL: Doc Holliday has the hearts and minds of the Tucson crowd here
tonight.

FH: Only because he came down to defend the Tucson Kid's honor
earlier.

[As the foreboding music echoes in the background, Doc Holliday
emerges from the back.  He is wearing 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
down the aisle.  He seems to be carrying a grim expression on his
angular, clean-shaven face.

As the fans continue to cheer, Holliday arrives at ringside, and
slowly heads around the ring.  The music grows more intense, as Doc
heads up the steps, scanning the ring area for threats in a level,
unhurried manner.  He steps between the ropes, and calmly heads to the
middle of the ring.  The referee intercedes, as Doc is still
brandishing his walking stick.  He raises the stick in the air as the
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 pops.  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: Johnstone is already having words with Doc Holliday.  Now Gibson
Hayes is joining in.  It doesn't appear that Holliday is going to play
their game however.

FH: Outmatched by wits.


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - TAG TEAM ACTION
Max and Sal v. Holliday and Hayes

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: And what the hell do you think you're doing down here?

RM: I came down to offer insight on the match, Chip.  Nobody knows
Holliday or Hayes as well as I do...I've studied 'em...done my
homework...

FH: I for one welcome the arrival of our Widowmaker overlord.

CL: Don't be such a kiss ass, Fred.  You were nearly as pissed as I
was
when the so called champ here attacked me before our hiatus.

FH: True...but that's when he was conflicted.  He's clearly turned
over a new leaf.  He's a much calmer, more collected competitor than
he was back then.

RM: That and I'm sitting right here.

FH: You can say that again.

CL: Holliday and Hayes both look irritated as hell to be in this
match, while Max and Sal are a well-oiled machine.

FH: It worries me how much you enjoy the idea of oiling those two up,
Chip.

RM: Very nice.

FH: Thank you.

CL: MOVING ON...Max will start things off for his team, while the
wily veteran Doc Holliday will start things off for his.

RM: Little known fact about Doc Holliday: He's an expert Irish Clog
Dancer...his wife made him learn.

FH: I did not know that.

CL: Oh please...

RM: She's a former IRA operative.

FH: That makes a lot of sense.

CL: It's a complete and unadulterated lie...

[Holliday and Max lock up with a collar and elbow tie up...Holliday
with a quick knee lift to stun the youngster, and the multi-time tag
team champion locks on a side headlock, cranking down on Max, who
sends him in with an Irish Whip...and ducks his head a split second
too soon on the back body drop, leaving himself open for Holliday to
full
on punt him in the face.]

CL: OH MY!  Vicious move by Doc Holliday!

RM: Some people say that Doc's forgotten more about tag team wrestling
than most guys know.

FH: I've heard that.

RM: It's mostly because he's senile at this point...and really
incredibly short.

CL: He's two inches taller than you, Rick.

RM: Don't be ridiculous, everyone knows he's a midget.

[Max is down on one knee and takes a truly lethal left jab from
Holliday, rocking the big man back...Doc grabs his hair and picks him
up, sending him in for the ride and hitting a picture perfect
dropkick...but missing that Sal reached over for the blind tag as his
partner rebounded off the ropes.  As Doc is airborne, Sal steps into
the ring, and as Doc comes to his feet, he's met with a dropkick from
Sal to match his own, sending Holliday crashing to the mat.  Both men
are up quickly as Sal catches Holliday with a deep armdrag takedown
while Max clears the ring.  Sal attempts to go to the well one more
time, only to have Holliday block and reverse the move...then turn to
slap Gibson Hayes full in the face for a tag out!]

CL: Whoa!  Look at Hayes as he steps into the ring, glaring at
Holliday!

RM: Looks like Doc's not invested in winning this match, huh?  Seems
to have something else on his mind...

CL: After what Tucson Kid said to both of you earlier-

RM: We're finished talking about that now.

CL: It just seems that.

RM: Unless you want to get hurt again, you'll shut it now, Chip.

FH: ANYway...Gibson Hayes against the child molester...

CL: FRED!


FH: Well...that's what I heard! That's why our American Hero is
here...to protect the children of tomorrow from Salhib Mubarak.  Did
you hear that, Chip?  Mubarak!  Just like that Egyptian guy!  I TOLD
you he was a child molester!

CL: Mubarak was a dictator, not a child molester, Fred.

FH: You said 'dick' on the air...great, now we're gonna get fined.

RM: You two are like squirrels with ADHD sometimes...

[Hayes glares back at Holliday as Sal waits for him.  They go for a
collar and elbow tie up, but Sal ducks underneath, catching Hayes with
a go behind as he grabs him around the waist.  Hayes looks over his
shoulder and throws a back elbow, only to catch the referee square in
the face in his frustration!]

RM: DOWN GOES FRAZIER!  DOWN GOES FRAZIER!  BRILLIANT MOVE,
HAYES...NEXT TAKE OUT THE CONCESSION GUYS.  THE POPCORN IS WAY
OVERPRICED!

CL: The official is down and appears to be out as Hayes takes the
opportunity to kick his left leg straight back,
catching Sal in his...errr...

FH: Little Muslims.

RM: Very nice.

FH: Much obliged.

CL: Disgusting.  I'm not calling them that.

[Sal is rolling on the mat in pain as Hayes takes a moment to turn
around and jaw at Holliday, who jaws right back. The two would-be
number one contenders continue to argue back and forth, allowing Sal
to crawl painfully to his corner, and reach up to tag the big man.
Max walks calmly over to Hayes and taps him on the shoulder.  Hayes,
not looking, waves him away, irritated as he and Holliday continue to
exchange words.  Max taps again as Holliday begins to smirk...Hayes
waves him away a second time...]

FH: For the love of God, turn around!

RM: Oh, I don't know...I sorta like where this is going...

CL: Max taps Gibson Hayes on the shoulder a third time and Gibson
turns...

FH: LOOK OUT!

CL: Max just dropped Hayes with a _BIG_ right hand!

[Hayes now sitting on his rear looks at the referee shocked.  He
demands that was an illegal closed fist ... and in all reality it
might have been, but the referee is telling Hayes and I quote - "Be a
man and deal with it!"]

CL: Whoa someone standing up to Gibson Hayes and he doesn't like it
one bit.

FH: What the heck is going on here?

CL: Todd Johnstone is now on the apron giving the downed referee an
ear full.

[Your a jerk heel pop!]

FH: This is getting crazy!

[Hayes is back up and right into a headlock by Weinrib.  He squeezes
the side of Hayes head firmly as Hayes sends him off the ropes.  Max
rebounds and Hayes leaps into a dropkick but misses landing hard on
the mat with a THUD.  Hayes turns and begins crawling towards his
corner, but Max grabs his ankle and turns him around just in time to
receive an elbow drop to the midsection.]

CL: Doc Holliday seems a bit amused at Hayes turn of luck.

FH: Doc would be getting a chuckle out of this.  He wants no part of
Gibson Hayes inside the ring again.  Hey Rick remember what happened
the last time Hayes and Holliday wrestled at Tradition?

RM: Everyone watching lost?

[Weinrib yanks Hayes back up with force.  He locks and lifts a big
vertical suplex and drops him hard to the mat.  He retags in his
partner and both Max and Sal grab a leg of Gibson Hayes.  They look at
one another and get the crowd behind them.  They then each yank it
sideways with a wishbone as Hayes grabs his crotch area in pain...and
NOW the official comes back to his feet.]


[BUST HIS LITTLE 'RED' BALLS POP!]


RM: And now we're safe from any little Gibby's wandering around.  I
like these kids.

CL: Sal backs up and FIST drop right in the chops!

FH: That's _two_ illegal closed fists.  This referee is atrocious!

[Sal then pulls Gibson Hayes up and charges him forward and drives him
face first into the turnbuckles right infront of Doc Holliday.  He
pulls the head back and drives it down again.  He goes for a third
time, but Hayes blocks it with his boot.  He swings an elbow backwards
breaking loose and drops Sal with a clothesline.  Hayes then turns and
slaps his partner right across the chest making a "legal" tag.]

FH: Now that's how you make a tag.  What do you think Rick?

RM: He slaps like a girl.

[Holliday slowly steps inside the ring keeping his eyes on Hayes.  As
Sal begins pushing himself up ... Holliday charges forward and takes
him right back down with a swinging neckbreaker.  Holliday has Sal
back to his feet and locks on a classic style abdominal stretch.]

CL: Doc back to the basics.  He knows this could be a long match and
he doesn't have the most reliable partner in the PVW.  Actually the
only worse match for Holliday would probably be you, Rick.

RM:Are you implying that I'd be less than motivated in my efforts?
I'm shocked Chip...shocked!

FH: Don't mind him Champ.

[Holliday continues to apply the pressure and Mubarak grinds his
teeth.  Gibson Hayes stands on the ring apron now having words with
the referee about earlier.]

CL: It appears Gibson isn't going to let things go from earlier.  And
Sal turns Holliday and takes him down with a hip toss.

[Sal drops to one knee ...  Both men back up and before Sal can do
anything the veteran drops down and takes him off his game with a knee
clip.]

RM: Just like Holliday to go for the knees.  The only problem is I do
it better.  Then again _I_ am the PVW Champion.

CL: Holliday has always been sort of a ring general inside that ring.
Sal and Max may be hot up and coming rookies, but they are out matched
when it comes to experience.

[Holliday takes things right back to the basics this time locking on a
chin lock leaping Sal grounded and on the ground.  Hayes extends his
arm calling for the tag, but Holliday stands with his back turned away
from him.]

FH: Look at Holliday that show off.

CL: Sort of ironic timing by Gibson Hayes.

RM: Holliday has never played well with others.  It's one of many
reasons why I made a better Widowmakers captain then he did.

[Sal begins to shift and make it to his feet.  He drives an elbow
backwards ... a second ... a third and breaks the hold.  He hits the
ropes and comes back across towards Holliday and right into a stunning
yakuza kick.  Sal stumbles backwards and Holliday off the ropes ...
Sunset flip!]

!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: No!  Sal breaks out at the count of two.

FH: Holliday trying to grab all the glory for himself.

RM: It's the Doc Holliday way.  Look what he did when I came down for
my World Championship celebration.

[Hayes demands that Holliday tags him, but it falls on deaf ears.
Holliday pulls Sal to his feet and throws one of those signature left
jabs ...]


"___TWAAAP___"


"___TWAAAP___"


"___TWAAAP___"


CL: Sal seeing stars now as he is barely able to stand on his own two
feet.

RM: Yeah you sort of want to avoid those left hands if you can.

[He snatches Sal by the head and arm in an inverted half-nelson,
lifts, and drills him down to the canvas, falling backwards.]


"___THUUUUUUUUUD___"


[SIGNATURE MOVE POP!]


CL: ARIZONA SANDSTORM RIGHT HERE IN TUCSON!

FH: God Chip is a Holliday mark.

RM: The whole state of Arizona is.  It's why I am looking forward to
beating Doc infront of all of his idiotic fans.

[Hayes now full blown upset that Holliday hasn't made the tag.  Doc
drops down again hooking the leg.]


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


CL: No Max is in to break the cover.  Holliday back up and he points
towards Max warning him to watch it.

FH: Right here would be a perfect time to make that _tag_.

[Holliday backs up and waits as Sal begins pushing himself up.  He
charges with a shortarm, but Sal ducks under it and Doc turns as Sal
crawls between his legs and makes the hot tag to Max!]


[HOT TAG POP!]


CL: Here comes Max!  Big right hand ... Another big right hand ...  He
grabs the arm and whips him across the ropes and catches him in a big
bearhug!

RM: Where did the midget go?

[Arizona fans behind Doc Holliday.  Max continues to apply the
pressure as Holliday attempts to position himself.  Hayes calls for
Holliday to get his ass out and make the tag.  Holliday begins
positioning himself to lean backwards.  He drives down a big left hand
... Drives down another ... The third does the trick and Max's arms
open up.  Holliday drops down to one knee, but then does a backwards
roll and comes up in his corner ready to tag Gibson Hayes.  Only Hayes
has walked away who apparently is having words with fans in the front
row.]

CL: Classic Gibson Hayes.  He has been calling for the tag for the
whole time that Doc has been inside the match.  Now that Holliday is
looking to make the tag he is preoccupied.

FH: Hey it's not his fault that Doc has been a glory hog the whole
match!

RM: Holliday and Hayes are both a bit of a glory hog.  While I should
be wrestling through the PVW roster.  My legacy is tarnished by both
of these two wrestling in a tag team match just to step inside the
ring with _me_.

[Holliday turns to eat a charging big time clothesline that turns him
inside-out and he lays on the mat seeing stars.  Weinrib not slowing
down yanks Holliday up and locks on a front chancery.  He then drops
down with a brutal DDT!]


"___THUUUUUUUD___"


CL: Max rolls over on top of Holliday for the cover.


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


... No Doc shoots a shoulder up.

FH: And Gibson Hayes cheering his partner on.

CL: Cheering?  More like berating him.

RM: They should just kiss already.

[Weinrib tags Sal back in.  The two men lift Holliday up and drop him
down as both men hold out their needs with a double gut/chest buster.
Max steps to the outside as Sal locks on an armbar on Holliday.   He
reaches back and retags out to Max, who hops off the second rope with
a sledgehammer to the shoulder.  Tag back to Sal, who leaps off with
an elbowdrop.  Tag back to Max, and Sal Irish whips Doc into a corner,
the Irish whips Max into an Avalanche on Holliday!]

[DOUBLE TEAM POPS!]

CL: WHOA ... Look at Max and Sal go!

FH: Hey I am all for total destruction on Doc Holliday.  More of a
reason to tag Gibson Hayes!

RM: Just wait until I face him, Fred.

CL: Max drops down and hooks the leg.


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THRR !!!


[MIXED POP!]

[Fans unsure how to react with Gibson Hayes breaking up the cover.
The referee is right there to force Hayes to the outside.  Johnstone
right in the referee's ear again.]

FH: That referee has it out for Hayes.

CL: Weinrib now pulling Holliday back to his feet.  He is setting him
up ...

[He lifts Holliday up in a powerbomb position, but the crafty veteran
turn the tides and counters with a face plant.]


"___THUUUUUUUUD___"


CL: HOLLIDAY WITH A HUGE COUNTER!

[Holliday starting to move and begins heading towards his corner.
Hayes reaching his arm out urging Holliday on ... With not so nice of
words ...  Holliday reaches and as he reaches Hayes slowly pulls his
fingers back ... However Holliday dives and tags out to Hayes who has
a
shocked look on his face.]

CL: I'm not sure Hayes actually expected that Holliday was going to be
able to tag his hand.

FH: Well now he can go in there and take care of business.

RM: Gibson Hayes can't wrestle himself out of a wet paper sack.

[Gibson Hayes steps in the ring as Weinrib makes it to his feet. Hayes
ducks under a big right hand and rebounds off the ropes into a step up
enziguri.]


"___CRAAAAACK___"


FH: See told you, Chip.  This is how you take care of business.
Watch and learn Doc.

[Hayes pulls Max to his feet and sets him up ... And snap cradle
suplex!]

CL: Hayes former finisher .. The Red Line!  This could be over!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THREE !!!


[POP!]


CL: No Sal is in to break up the cover.  Heads up by his partner.

[Hayes is back up and he _spits_ at Sal ...  This irates Sal and the
referee is right there to stop him from further interfering.  He turns
and does a boot spin on Max's face.  He then drops down on top of Max
who has rolled onto his stomach and begins to unwrap the tape of his
wrist and begins to choke Max Weinrib with it.]

CL: This is an outrage.  Sal trying to get the referee to turn around
and do something about the match.

[As the referee turns around, Gibson Hayes raises his hand as if he
was doing nothing wrong.  Johnstone tells the official to worry about
the match and not the lies from the former Iraq's minister of
defense.]

CL: Hayes is proud of himself.  He has single handily gotten under
both Max and Sal's skin.  He looks to be setting Max up for the
Bounced check!

FH: I told you Gibson Hayes would win this all by himself.

RM: Hey if he can get the pin fall here ... Maybe we are taking the
first step to finally finding out who I will face at End Game.

[Hayes begins to set up the slingshot-suplex, but Sal back inside the
ring and sneaks up behind and grabs Max in mid-drop, sets him on the
mat and as Hayes turns around the two deliver stereo kicks.]

[POP!]

CL: Johnstone isn't happy.  Doc seems to be enjoying things a little
from the outside now that Hayes is on the opposite end instead of
himself.

FH: Of course Holliday is.  He is a snake of a partner!  How could you
mentor under a guy like that, Rick?

RM: I was young and looking for a big break.  It's going to be all
that much better when I beat him.

[Max tags Sal back in and the two send him into the ropes and take him
down with a double back body drop!  Max hits the ropes and drops an
elbow ...  Sal hits the ropes and drops an elbow!]

CL: The Cover!


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


!!! THREE !!!


... NO!  HAYES GETS A FOOT ON THE BOTTOM ROPES!

FH: Heads up move by Gibson right there.

[Sal pulls him back to his feet and backs up and charges, but Hayes
just gets out of the way and Sal plows over the referee.]


[REF BUMP POP!]


Crowd: GIBSON SUCKS!  GIBSON SUCKS!  GIBSON SUCKS!  GIBSON SUCKS!


CL: Sal tags Max right back in and he is going towards Gibson ...

[Big PUFF of smokeish substance like the last match ...]

CL: SALT IN THE EYES AGAIN!  THAT SNAKE!

[Hayes turns around quite proud of himself pointing to himself to
Holliday saying "I am the number one contender" ...]


"___TWAAAAAP___"


[HELL YEAH POP!]


CL: HOLLIDAY JUST PUNCHED HAYES IN THE FACE WITH THAT HUGE LEFT HAND!

FH: Sucker punch is more like it!

RM: It looked loaded to me.  Was there a roll of quarters in his hand?

[Hayes stumbles backwards ... And Sal now inside the ring is right
there behind Hayes who is stumbling back seeing a bit of stars ...
Small package!]

CL: And the ref has slid over ...

!!! ONE !!!


!!! TWO !!!


[Doc Holliday has now left the ring apron.]


!!! THREE !!!


[HUGE ROARING POP!!!]


*DING*DING*DING*


FH: That damn Doc Holliday.  Now where is he going?  He is leaving his
partner high and dry.

RM: Holliday wants no part of what I could do if I actually wanted
too.

CL: Max and Sal have picked up a huge victory.   The Salt in Max's
eyes backfired as Doc Holliday sent a message to Gibson Hayes.

[Johnstone is pissed off ... What else is new?]

Johnstone: *CENSOR* ... *CENSOR* ... *CENSOR* ...

CL: Bubba Hayes and now stepped inside the ring as Gibson Hayes is
slowly using the ropes to get to his feet.

FH: That was a loaded left hand by Holliday!

CL: It doesn't matter now.  Max and Sal has left the ring and they are
raising their hands high.

FH: I hope that salt burns!

CL: Marley has now dropped the headset and he is standing there
looking at Hayes who is leaning over the top ropes trying to figure
out what just happen.

[Hayes looks up at the PVW-Screen and watches the replay of Holliday
drilling him with that left hand and his face turns red from rage.  He
then looks up the aisle way where Holliday is still standing.  He then
looks at Marley and the three men stand with a stare off.]

CL: Max and Sal pick up a huge win as they make a statement that they
deserve a tag team title shot.  They stood toe to toe with two of
wrestling's best.

FH: Gibson Hayes is about to explode.

CL: And with good reason.  Holliday just got the better of him.
Thinks are picking up and before Todd Johnstone gets us fined lets cut
backstage with Dean Hayes.

[Backstage, the camera spies upon Larry Gionet and Chris Hartt in a
locker room, speaking quietly near a corner of the room.  From the
right side Dean Hayes makes his way into the room and the camera
follows.]

Hayes:  Excuse me, guys.  I just wanted to get your opinions on the
frame of mind you guys might be in at this moment.

Hartt:  I've got some serious concerns about my associates. I just
managed to talk with Larry about some of my feelings. I'd really
appreciate if we could have a moment alone.

Gionet:  I'm glad you talked to me Chris, but everything is alright.
It's always important to be on the same page.I got everything under
control man.  Now that you have bothered our little business meeting,
what do you need Hayes?

[Dean Hayes nods as he continues.]

Hayes:  I understand guys.  I have just caught wind that Detson is
taking credit for orchestrating something that might mean something to
you.

[Hartt stops, silenced by the news. Turning back to Hayes, he levels a
quizzical look at Dean Hayes.]

Hartt:  What now, Dean?  What can Detson possibly have to say to me
that means a damn thing to me right now?  Did he quit the company?  Is
the surgery for gender reassignment approved?  Has he decided to
pursue a side career of shoveling monkey crap at the circus?  I can't
really imagine what he has to say at this moment that I would really
care to hear.

[Gionet's eyes widen as he stands next to his friend.]

Hayes:  Well, Chris, it...uh, at Tradition V, there'll be a tag team
match between the two of you versus Nevermind and his partner Marcus
Manson.

[Hartt's face hardens and his eyes widen a bit. Hartt looks to Gionet,
who slowly nods in a sign of approval.]

Hartt:  Well, that's good news, alright. Finally, this greasy loser
is going to get in the ring and show that he's got the stones to
actually back up his ridiculous act of being poor and homeless. And to
be in a match against me and Larry?  Oh-ho-ho....He has some serious
trouble ahead of him. Larry?  What do you think?

Gionet:  I could not agree with you more Hartt.  I TOLD you Nevermind
that if you stick your nose where it does not belong again there would
be consequences and at Tradition V you will pay dearly for your crime!
And as for you Marcus Manson I DARE you to come toe to toe with me.  I
am not a man to be messed with. Be ready for your penance boys!

Hartt:  Thank you, Dean.  I do apologize for slighting you, and I'm
glad the news was significant.  Now, please leave us to our
discussion.

[Hayes moves away, giving a look that says 'Oops.  Bad timing!'  Hartt
goes back to his quiet discussion with Larry, as the camera lingers on
them for a second or two longer.]

CL: WOW ... And there is our first official announced match for
Tradition V.   Larry Gionet and Chris Hartt finally have their chance
to step inside the ring for a little revenge against Nevermind and
Marcus Manson.

FH: I give Gionet and Hartt all the credit in the world.  They are
brave souls ...  But Nevermind _and_ Marcus Manson?

CL: A giant mountain to climb.  Looking at the sheet just handed to
me.  We also are pleased to announce that _finally_ we will have the
battle of brother in laws ...  Tom Landis and Perry Fontana will step
inside the ring one on one!

FH: Perry Fontana can finally remove that shackle around his ankle.
Once he rids himself of the stench of Tom Landis.  He can move on to
bigger and better things.

CL: Apparently I have sub notes that the PVW tag team titles will be
defended by Livestock and Ohno Ow ...  And Rob Cole will have a match
and be in action.

FH: I can't wait to find out how Ow and Livestock co-exist.  They
could be one of the most dominant PVW tag teams in history!

CL: Or the shortest title reign in history.

FH: Well there is always that.

CL: Also Caleb Foley has completed the Johnny Detson challenge and has
been awarded his rematch when he faces Johnny Detson in a two out of
three falls match!

FH: Speaking of shackles ...

CL: That is the start of a huge night in PVW history.  The HIT finals
have already been announced and you can expect a few other huge
announcements once Heatwave goes off the air.  I am getting excited!

FH: Curve your excitement, Chip.  Dean Hayes is in our ears.
Apparently he has tracked down the first installment of - "Who is
paying the Merc!?!"

[The the PVW fans cheer as the jumbotron reveals the former UWF
champion. Alex Epstein, wearing a nicer black mock t-shirt, blue
jeans, and Ray Ban wayfer shades, is still sporting a rather large
cast on one of his legs. Still he looks all smiles at the moment.]

DH: Before I get to my questions, I see the leg still not 100 percent?

AE: This thing?

[He knocks on it as if nothing is wrong but the grimace of pain is
evident.]

AE: Look Mo...

DH: I'm Dean.

AE: You could be Neal and Bob, Peter, Paul, Mary or Jonus brother--I
really don't give a damn except for Juan Vasquez and Edwin Lopez.

[Alex pauses for a moment.]

AE: Yo camera guy, zoom in tight--I want to make this clear.

[As the camera zooms in closer on his face, Epstein whips of the
trademark shades. He eyes look to have a determination not seen in a
while.]

Juan, much as you hated me, I can't say the same. What I did see was a
guy with talent-- talent far greater than mine who had the ability to
be not just a superstar but the best in the business. But now, now...

[He catches himself for a moment]

Thank you Juan. Thank you for helping me find a reason to hate.

DH: What about Jessica Marshall?

[The man formerly known as Alex Extreme looks at Hayes.]

AE: Did it look like I was done?

DH: Well I...

AE: Look Doug...

DH: That's Dean.

AE: I don't give a s*bleep*t who you are. I'm don't work in some small
time loser fed in the middle of a retirement village!

[The audience which was with Epstein suddenly starts to boo loudly.]

This ain't Rick Marley. I've actually beaten Jessie Muldoon.

I'm Alex Epstein damnit.

[He pauses and looks at Dean.]

AE: Now what the hell did you ask me about?

DH: Jessica Marshall.

[Alex suddenly has confused look on his face.]

AE: Yeah, she's a total bitch.

[The once booing fans cheer.]

What about her?

DH: Well someone hired the Mercenary to go after her.

AE: Where?

DH: In PVW.

AE: Both of them are in PVW?

DH: Yes, they are.

AE: Damn, why didn't I think of that?

DH: Well some believe you did.

[Epstein smirks and starts to laugh.]

DH: Something funny?

AE: If I hired Merc, you'd know. If I wanted Jessica Marshall knocked
off, you'd know. There would be no cloak and dagger stuff. I'd get
Merc some sort of explosive or rocket launcher and let him do his
worst.

[An awkward pause ... Then Dean Hayes clears his throat.]

DH: Well thanks Alex for taking the time to clear that up.

[A final smirk from the man formally known as "Mr. Excitement" Alex
Extreme as the footage goes to fuzz.]

CL: Well I guess that removes one name off the list.  Although that
was a great start in the speculation by, Dean Hayes.  Alex Epstien has
history with half the PVW roster.  He also has ties with the Mercenary
be it positive or negative that is the question.  There is no doubt he
has some history and distaste with both Alex Martinez and Jessica
Marshall.

FH: But it's not him.  So lets move on to _WHO_ this person is.  Who
is next on the list?

CL: Shoot ... The list could cover over _half_ of the wrestling world.
I am afraid to say that I think Dean Hayes is wasting his time.  He
could be waging a losing battle in trying to track down this mystery.

FH: Hopefully the information is in that Haliburton that Ashleigh
Winters has.

CL: The question still remains who will she give that briefcase too?
That debate is for another day however.  Tonight has been jammed full
of action.  However we still have _one_ match left.  A PVW American
Championship title match.

FH: Time for William Craven to finally get his due.

The Voice: This is a match scheduled for 1 fall for the PVW American
Heavyweight title with a time limit of TV time remaining! Introducing
first, the challenger...

Hailing from Detroit, Michigan.  He weighs in tonight at 320 pounds.
This is WILLIAM CRAVEN!

*WHUMP-ump-ump*

[With the sound of a thunderclap, the lights go out, and the world is
plunged into darkness.  Wind can be heard, chimed in through the PA
system.]

*Thump-thump*

[Red letters knit into existence on PVW's video wall, reading "It Gets
Worse!" then unravel to form a single red line.  The sounding of a
horrible heart is heard, the line reverberating with every noise
played over the PA.]

#I'm over it!#

[Those words, screamed in a-capela by one David Draiman, precede only
briefly an explosion of sound as "Forsaken" bursts out of the PA
system and into the arena.  The camera angle switches as tension
builds; red spotlights brightly illuminating the entrance portal and
the crowd waits.  Abruptly, an intense shower of blood-red sparks
sprays out from before the entrance portal, threatening to set the
whole arena on fire.  Rising on a platform from beneath this flaming
masterpiece emerges a cloaked figure amidst a billowing cloud of
smoke.

Reptillian blue eyes highlight the shoulders of his black vinyl robe.
Turning, he seems to, himself, stop the flames from shooting.  His
hooded head stares down at his gnarled hands, bound as they are in red
gauze, clutching a wooden katana in them.]

#You see I cannot be forsaken,#
#because I'm not the only one,#
#We walk amongst you feeding, raping...#
#Must we hide from everyone?#

[As if in reply to the lyrics, the dark figure strides powerfully
towards the ring as the lights die.  Darkness closes back in, broken
only by strobing flashbulbs as fans try to get a picture of what can
only be one man...]

CL: William Craven coming to the ring.  It's not quite time for the
main event.  I wonder what he's up to.

FH: Craven said last week that he was going to beat Rob Cole down
tonight, Chip.  He said that they were going to have a match that
would not end until he, Craven, said so.

[Climbing the ringsteps and coming to rest on the apron, Craven looks
out at the crowd one time before ducking between the ropes.  Thrusting
his arms out before him, William slowly parts them, reaching out to
his sides, the robe falling heavily into a heap on the mat, and
revealing his serpent-tattooed, muscular torso.  He then hands his
bo'ken off to the timekeeper and moves to the corner, hovering over a
turnbuckle, breathing deep rasping puffs into a microphone.]

WC: Cole...

[Cut to a close-up where we see the ugly, warped mug of William
Craven, tensed up, eyes squeezed shot, angled down.  Just as quickly,
Bill jerks his head upright, his ice blue eyes shooting open as he
looks towards the entrance portal.]

WC: It.  Is.  Time.

[Raising his weight from the turnbuckle, Craven begins to pace like a
caged animal.]

WC: I won't lie and say that my match tonight for the American
Championship means nothing.  I won't say all that matters is that I
finally get to rid this world of you. The world we share here and you
have done nothing to deserve.  I won't use my words to marginalize my
opponent tonight ... I'll use my hands...  All I'm saying now is ...
Cole... the time has come ... to take your medicine.

[Craven pauses, staring with a placid emptiness that belies the inner
turmoil he seems determined to restrain.  His upper lip twitches
slightly and he moves to the ropes nearest the entrance portal,
slumping against them as he did before in the corner.]

WC: Come, Cole.  What have you to lose?  Perhaps you have something
better to do? Perhaps your woman keeps you unduly, hm?  I have a
match, an official sanctioned match, the main event, Cole.  By issuing
my challenge now I run the risk of being unable to succeed in that
match, a _title_ match, Cole.  Do not be _selfish_, Cole!

[Becoming more agitated, Bill scratches at the base of his skull like
a junkie without his fix, and feints at a smile.  Gritting his
sharpened teeth, he flicks his split tongue between the gaps in his
smile where white teeth once lived.]

WC: COLE!!!

[At Craven's final howl of frustration "Rumatahatta" begins to blare
over the loudspeakers as Rob Cole suddenly limps into the aisle, his
features bruised and battered and set in fury. He stalks down to the
ringside area as the audience roars to their feet!]

CL: And here he comes! Like a bat out of hell, Rob Cole rises to meet
the challenge and makes his way to the ring...

[Cole stalks down to the ring... and suddenly stops, his eyes suddenly
falling on the old painted lines from several years earlier. The "do
not cross" line, preventing ring interference and attacks  from Zero
Tolerance period still stands despite the wear and tear and fading.
Rob Cole stares  down at that line as the music continues to blare...]

WC: Cole?  Why are you stopping?  You've come so far, why stop now?
All you need do is take another dozen steps!  Cole!

[He shakes his head, features softening... and Coles' eyes rise to
meet the Beast, his features going pale as he takes a step back. He
licks his lips... and the lower one trembles a moment before another
step backward. And then another as the music fades ... and the crowd
begins to look on in confusion. Backing up the aisle, eyes bugging
wide, Cole goes from brave and composed to visibly panicking.]

WC: No, don't go.  It's time, Cole!

[Rob Cole... shakes his head. And, to a loud chorus of jeers and boos
and confusion, the former World Champion turns his back on the ring.
He walks back to the locker room without a word.  All is silent for a
moment as Craven rubs his scalp with both hands, having dropped his
microphone.  He seems beside himself for a moment as we cut down to
the announce table.]

CL: Fans, I'm not sure what we've just seen here.  We have to go to
commercial break and, when we return, we'll be bringing you the main
event; William Craven against Herscher von Donkerhardt for the
American Championship!

[Cut to commercial; It's an ad for Harley Davidson where all the men
are hogs and all the women are cougars.  Any ugly hog can apparently
bed down with any hot cougar.  It ends without hyping any specific
product, but freezes the Harley logo on the screen for 2 full seconds
before fading.  Back to Heatwave, already in progress.]

CL: The fans do not take kindly to Craven much any more.

FH: The fans do not bathe or know how to eat without using their
hands, Chip.

["I Remember" by Low starts playing over the sound system of the
arena. From the entrance way emerges the man known as Herscher von
Donkerhardt clad in his trademark brown trunks with black leather
lining on the inner thigh, black boots, and newly won PVW American
Championship belt, around his waste. The audience starts to cheer
louder as the Dutchman, comes down the entrance way.]

#I remember every number#

[Herscher eyes are icy blue, and he has a stone faced look of
determination on his face. People along the aisle way reach for his
hand, and Herscher slaps a few of them on the way to the ring.]

#I remember graduation#

The Voice: And his opponent: originally from Utrecht in the The
Netherlands, but now calls Phoenix, Arizona home. He is the "The
Netherlands Submission Machine", and reigning PVW American Champion
Herscher von Donkerhardt!

!MEGA FACE POP!

CL: Listen to that crowd.

FH: Disgusting. They smell and are dumb. Except the cute babes. They
can call me, Fred Hoyle, at...

CL: Fred, don't make me call your wife.

FH: Hey, why are you player hating, Chip? Is it because your only
girlfriend came with 7 attachments and requires 10 d cell batteries?

CL: Sounds like you know more about that stuff than I do; care to
explain Fred?

FH: I'll explain all about the birds and the bees later Chip.

[Herscher goes up to the ring steps.]

#I remember painted faces#

[Herscher gets in the ring and goes face to face with Craven. Both men
say nothing just staring holes through one another, seeing who will
flinch first.]

#No they couldn't believe#
#It was you I knew#

[As the song dies down, Craven and HvD are toe to toe, eye to eye,
with mere centimeters separating the two. Craven smiles, licking his
sharpened teeth while darting out that forked tongue. The Netherlander
is not moved.]

CL: The intensity of those stairs could melt an iceberg. The two men
are literally about an inch apart, neither making a move.

FH: Centimeters, Chip. Herscher is a dirty Euro and must use their
dumb, nonsensical measuring system. Give me a hogshead or ask me how
many hands my horse is because that's how we do it in lands that love
freedom!


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - AMERICAN CHAMPIONSHIP
William Craven v. Hersher von Donkerhardt

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


*DING*DING*DING*


[The PVW faithful in attendance buzz. They are watching these two men
who have had to overcome much in their comparative times in wrestling
with rapt attention. Finally, savagely, Craven is struck in the nose
by a head butt from von Donkerhardt. Craven staggers back and a swift
fist to the side of the head follows. Craven responds with a kick to
the upper right thigh of Herscher. The fans hoot and holler as HvD
begins delivering elbow strikes to Craven and William responds with
open palm blows of his own. The two are not wrestling, nor are they
brawling, they are pummeling one another.]

CL: Another series of blows traded back and forth. I can see
Herscher's legs are beginning to buckle. Craven is more suited to this
sort of straight up fight than HvD. What could have possessed HvD to
start out this way.

FH: Easy: kid wants to show he isn't afraid of the booger man.

CL: Don't you mean boogey man?

FH: Craven's green, likes to blow snot; I rest my case. He has also
pretty much killed his competition in that whole monster under the bed
thing. Cole's dead. His battle axe is on the market Chip. Shine up
those shoes, take a shower and maybe you'll finally lose your V-Card!

CL: There's a good wrestling match going on here, Fred. Herscher
taking a nasty blow right to the bridge of his nose, it is bleeding
down the front of his face while Bill has taken several fists and
elbows to that right eye. Signs of swelling can be seen starting and
Bill has a trickle of blood coming from his right nostril.

FH: This reminds me of my youth, except I was watching hobos fight.
When I say hobos I mean strippers, and when I say fight I mean...

CL: Fred, don't finish that sentence.

[HvD is hitting Craven with several punches to the face, hitting
Craven on the right ear twice, causing Bill to stop his open palm
strikes to the head and shoulders. Seeing an opening HvD then goes for
a belly to belly suplex. Craven stops the first attempt. A more
determined HvD tries again, this time Craven blocks it via a back kick
to the testicles. HvD falls to the canvas in pain. Craven licks his
lips again before picking up HvD up over his head for what looks like
a gorilla slam...]


"___THUUUUUD___"


CL: Craven moving towards the ring ropes and...

[CRASH! Craven decides that he is going to get things going more
towards his chaotic style by throwing HvD out of the ring.]


"___CRRRAAAASSHH___"


CL: My God!

FH: I really don't think you should convert to Cravenism, Chip. You
don't have the physique for it. Rob Cole tried it and look at where it
got him? DEAD, DEAD, DEAD!

CL: My God, HvD has been thrown out of the ring by William Craven,
landing hard on that concrete floor and crashing into the ring railing
after bouncing up at least a good two inches from that impact!

FH: What's that in Euro-retarded measuring? .92 doofusmeters?

[Craven exits the ring, looking for his play-friend. Bill picks HvD up
by the head and throws him into the ringsteps, with a loud thud,
knocking the top portion over. Craven then sets the ringsteps upright
once more and drapes Herscher on those steps, face side up. Craven
walks onto the ring apron. Bill take a running start and hits HvD with
a running legdrop across the throat.]

[AIIIIIEEEEEE POP!]

CL: And HvD looks to be in major trouble here early!

FH: No, Chip, that's Major Damage over there. Don't you know your
history? I bet you think the French helped America free herself from
those Brit teabaggers.

CL: Actually, France played an enormous role in...

FH: LA-LA-LA! I can't hear you, you frog leg sucking wimp!

[The referee is has been counting slowly, more transfixed on the
battle going on outside the ring than on the current number he is up
to (somewhere between 3 and 7 from his mumbling). Herscher's nose has
stopped bleeding, leaving him with his chin and chest covered in some
blood. A gash on the side of his head shows he has not survived worse
for wear. Craven picks up HvD and holds him in a bear hug, but instead
just runs into the ring apron using Herscher as a cushion. von
Donkerhardt can only make a pained noise as spit and a bit more blood
fly out from his mouth. Another ring ram and another satisfy Bill, as
he rolls HvD into the ring and follows his victim post haste.]

CL: Herscher von Donkerhardt has been taken to task here but has
managed to get up to his hands and knees... and Craven just field goal
kicked Herscher in the ribs.

FH: Soccer kick, Chip. HvD is a dirty piece of can't beat the Krauts
Euro-weenie trash. I bet his family were all a part of the wrong side
of WWII. Don't make Detroit's best kick your ass again, you brown
shirt! See, he wears brown because he's evil.

CL: Fred, you're wandering into dangerous territory.

FH: Your mom is here? Crap, I need to finish my hoagie!

[William grabs HvD by the throat, lifts and tosses HvD into the near
corner. The Motor City Monster rushes in with a knee lift and then
Craven starts punching HvD. The former Hometown Hero grabs von
Donkerhardt by the throat, stares at Herscher's face, and starts
laughing. A defiant HvD looks up at Craven, Herscher's face red with
blood and anger. HvD spits into the not swollen left eye of Craven,
causing the big green freak to let go of the choke hold. Bill steps
back to clear out his left eye but HvD surges forward and spear
tackles Craven. A loud smack escapes from the ring as Craven bounces
off the canvas. HvD gets up and grabs Craven by the head and starts
hitting him with kneeshots to the face, directed at that right eye.

One ...

Two ...

Three ...

Four ...

Five ...

Six ...

Seven ...

Eight ...

Nine ...

all in rapid succession. Herscher roars, lifting a dazed and now
bloodied, Craven to a vertical base.]


"___THUUUUUD___"


CL: DDT! Herscher not letting go, as he keeps his arm wrapped around
Craven while getting up. A few knee shots to Craven and... suplex! The
Netherlands Submission Machine is a man who has had enough. von
Donkerhardt rushes to the downed Craven and has now begun throwing
kneedrop after kneedrop onto the ribs of Bill!

FH: What's he doing now? Why won't the referee stop this crap! It's
obvious Herscher is resorting to evil Netherlander tricks to get the
upper hand! Officials, stop being accessories to this night of the
long knives!

CL: Fred, stop going there!

[Herscher is definitely not done. His breathing is deep and rapid,
telling those who watch him he is at his boiling point. Herscher
stands up and casually stomps on Bill's right ankle. HvD keeps
stomping and when he is done stomping he grabs a hold of that ankle,
dragging Bill along the ring, towards the outside. Outside the ring,
Herscher hops down onto the floor, then he pulls Bill to the nearest
ring post. HvD measures the ring post with Bills ankle and casually
places it up against the steel post. Getting onto the apron, HvD gets
a running start and slides into that left ankle, letting the fans roar
with approval at the sick sound of bone and tendon being taken to its
limit. Craven pulls himself away, aware that something isn't right.]

CL: My God...

FH: Sorry HvD, this is the man that single handled buried what was
left of Rob Cole and put him out of my misery. You are no Rob Cole,
HvD. You are his cheap, Euro-trash knock off. And for the record: this
is not a wrestling match, this is just plain old viciousness. As if
Herscher has some sort of last bit of problem solving against people
like Bill Craven.

CL: FRED!

FH: He's a blond haired, blue eyed "Netherlander"; what am I supposed
to think?!

[Herscher's vengeance took more out of the European than he thought.
On the outside, Herscher is hunched over, catching his breath. As HvD
gets up the ring steps, Bill Craven is starting to rise up. Close ups
of both men show Herscher is still bleeding from the nose and that
gash on the side of his head while Craven's right eye has almost
swollen shut and he can barely put weight on that left ankle. Craven
limps over to HvD; still plenty of fight in those old bones. Bill
socks HvD in the throat with a open handed strike and starts trying to
pick HVD up when Hescher lets loose with a sick stomp to the side of
Craven's left ankle, a look of surprise as Craven is etched on Billy's
face as he topples over.]

CL: And Herscher has finally torn apart that armor and exposed the
soft underbelly of that ankle!

FH: He's using Swedish massage techniques for evil! He's worse than
H...

CL: ...I'll stop you right there Fred!

[Sitting up, Bill begins to check on his ankle. Herscher comes in from
behind and applies a headlock. The referee checks and starts to yell
at HvD to break the hold because it is pretty damned close to a choke
hold. While the two men argue, Craven has found room to maneuver his
neck. Craven moves enough to be able to get a heaping helping of HvD's
arm meat!]

FH: These two are not even trying for pinfalls.

CL: This has gone beyond pinfalls. Neither man wants there to be
anything left of the other one after this is all through.

FH: It's almost like they are, um... I'm out of material.

CL: Thank goodness!

FH: Jerk.

[Back in the ring HvD lets go of Craven and turns his back to him
holding his arm. Craven gets up and hits Herscher with an elbow.
Craven picks up HvD from behind and executes a crucifix powerbomb. HvD
stands up, doubled over but staring at Craven and urging Bill to "come
at him". The audience picks up but not because of this challenge, but
because of the rushing form of Marcus Manson bee lining to the ring.]

CL: Manson just lunged into the ring and cold cocked HvD!

FH: Time to pull this one out of the oven because it is done!



DING, DING, DING!



[ROARING BOO'S!!!!]



The Voice: The winner of the match, due to a disqualification:
HEEEEEEEEEEEEEERSCHER VON DONKERHARDT!


[As Chip just stares at Fred, we cut back into the ring where Manson
is clobbering HvD. Craven pulls Manson off HvD and the two stare at
one another.]

CL: This can't be good.  Craven and Manson just went through a battle
like no other.  Could Craven be looking to restart the
Meatgrinder!?!?!

FH: Well Manson did just cost him the PVW American Championship.

CL: Manson has made tonight his comeback tour after dismantling, Caleb
Foley earlier.


[ROOOOARING THESE SON OF A BITCHES BOOS!!!]


[Manson and Craven begin at the same time just stomping the hell at of
Hersher von Donkerhardt.  Both monsters pound away with no mercy.]

FH: Looks like the two men have found some common ground.  Pound away
at the PVW American Champion.

CL: And Rob Cole isn't in the building to stop Craven.

FH: From the sounds of it he has no intentions anyways.

[Craven and Manson not even looking or speaking to one another
continue the unmercy on Hersher von Donkerhardt.  Manson grabs the
right arm of the PVW American Champion tosses a short-arm lariat right
into the jugular driving him into the mat with full force.  He looks
up at Craven as if he is issuing a challenge on who can put the PVW
American Champion through more pain.]

CL: This can't be good.  Both of these monsters could put Hersher von
Donkerhardt out for many of months.  Somebody needs to come out here
and stop this.  Craven has had his fun with Rob Cole.  There is no
need for these two monsters to destroy Hersher von Donkerhardt too!

FH: Hush Chip you are ruining all the fun.

[Craven accepts the challenge as he pulls von Donkerhardt to his feet.
The PVW American Champion shows some fight as he tries to throw some
punches but at this time they aren't doing much damage.  Craven lifts
the PVW American Champion up as if he is going to nail a big time
throatslam ... and he turns it into a Throatslam Suplex!]


"___KAAATHUUUUUUD___"


CL: A former finisher of, William Craven.  And Donkerhardt is trying
to sit up but he falls back on his back.

FH: Pissing off Manson _or_ Craven is bad.  Having both of them inside
the ring and using your body as a _toy_ leads to very bad things.

[The two men both grab down at Donkerhardt this time at the same time.
HvD can barely stand but his pride and fight keeps him on his feet.
He raises his fists as much as he can, but it's not enough as Manson
drives his fist forward for a heartpunch as Craven does it on the
opposite side of his body as the two monsters crash those giant
gauntlets into Donkerhardt.]



"____THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


[GASPING HEEL MEGA HEAT!]


CL: GOOD GAWD DONKERHARDT HAS JUST CRUMBLED TO THE MAT.  THIS HAS GONE
ON TOO MUCH.

FH: Then you go inside there and stop it, Chip.

CL: If I was four inches taller I would, Fred.

FH: that'd make you what, six foot?

CL: Very funny.

[Manson and Craven glare at one another again, but the thrill of
breaking Donkerhardt's body continues to consume both men.  Then look
down for only a moment and those arena full of jeers turn into cheers
...]


[HELLLLLLLL YEAH POP!]


CL: FOLEY!!!!   HARTT!!!!  GIONET!!!

FH: Who the hell invited these clowns?

[The alliance has finally had enough.  They promised a change and they
come rushing towards the ring.  The two monsters stand now back to
back as they invite the three men inside.]

CL: With Cole gone ...  And Donkerhardt on the end of a beating.
Foley,
Hartt, and Gionet have taken it upon themselves to put a stop to this!

FH: I'll put my money on Manson and Craven.

[And the three men roll inside the ring and FIST FLY!  Gionet and
Hartt unload on Marcus Manson.  Foley ducks under a Craven thrusting
palm and hits the ropes and spinning heel kick!  The fans are on their
feet and in full support for the alliance.]

CL: FOLKS WE ARE OUT OF TIME!  I KNOW THINGS JUST PICKED UP!  WE WILL
KEEP THE CAMERAS ROLLING AND TRY TO GET THIS FOOTAGE OUT ...  FOLEY,
HARTT, AND GIONET HAVE FINALLY HAD ENOUGH!

FH: And I am glad this show is ending because I have had enough.

CL: Thank you for tuning in to PVW HEATWAVE ... WE WILL SEE YOU AT
TRADITION _FIVE_!!!

[Right before we go off the air Gionet and Hartt tip Manson up and
over the top ropes to the outside ...  Foley trades punches with the
green skinned freak ... We fade to black.


... Then


... PVW Backdrop.]


Tradition I ...

V/O: The Phoenix rose and found itself around the waist of Chris
Hartt.

Tradition II ...

V/O: The Prophets of Rage put the Wild Cards through a table to become
the PVW tag team champions.

Tradition III ...

V/O: Doc Holliday and Gibson Hayes, two of PVW's greatest to ever step
inside the ring wrestled in a wrestlefest classic for the PVW American
Championship.

Tradition IV ...

V/O: William Craven came back strong and answered the critics when he
became the second man in PVW history to win the Blood Bowl in the
elimination chamber.

Tradition V ....

V/O: What brother in law will come out on top?

Can Caleb Foley finally turn the games around on Johnny Detson?

Will Rob Cole finally step inside the ring?

Find out in Mesa, Arizona!

JOIN US as Tradition lives on in Professional Wrestling at -

_PVW Tradition V_ !!!!

[Black.]