[The camera fades in to see two men walking down a highway.  The
chyrons at the bottom of the screen show their names- Salih Mubarak
and Max Weinrib, respectively.

Sal is dressed up as a sheik, complete with robes and a headdress.
He's wearing his glasses, and jeans underneath the robes.  Max is
dressed up in a black rabbi's outfit complete with a wide black hat
and wig.  Both men are carrying duffel bags.  Neither looks
particularly happy.  Finally Max speaks.]

Max:  We should become lawyers.

Sal:  We should have become car mechanics.  I can't believe the car
made it from New York to Boston, and breaks down two miles from the
arena!

Max:  I did warn you we needed more duct tape.

[A car comes down the highway.  Both Max and Sal stop and hold out
their thumbs for hitchhiking, but are rebuffed as the car flies by.
Sighing, they continue walking.]

Sal:  We shouldn't have worn out gear.

Max:  Neither one of us wanted to carry it to the ring.

Sal: Hey...we sure those tapes of PVW we watched for research were
recent?

Max:  I think so.  Why?

Sal:  'Cause the Prophets of Rage were on them.  Haven't those guys
been dead for a while?

Max:  Dunno.  They had Jason Keening on a few of them too, but he at
least wasn't a wrestler.  Maybe it's their grandsons?

Sal:  That's gotta be it.

[A tractor trailer comes down the highway.  Again, Max and Sal stop
and hold out their thumbs, but in true Masshole fashion, the driver
just honks and flips them both off as he continues on his way.  They
sigh, pick up their duffel bags, and continue.]

Sal:  We're what- about a mile away?

Max:  Something like that.  At least we'll be warmed up for our match
against the lawyers.

Sal:  Lawyers _and_ tag team champs.

Max:  It's a non-title match... but not bad for a debuting team who
can't even think up a tag team name!

Sal:  I have a tag team name for us.

Max:  "Better than Bacon"  is not a good name for a tag team.

Sal:  "Better than Bacon"  is an AWESOME tag team name.  Short,
creative... and think of the marketing possibilities.

Max:  Besides the fact that nothing is better than bacon, the name has
nothing to do with us as wrestlers!

Sal:  What do you want... "The Middle East Connection"?

Max:  Bah- we'll figure out a team name eventually.  [Pause]  Hey, I
see the arena up ahead.  We'll still have time for our match!

Sal:  Provided we can actually get off the highway and get down over
there.  What sick bastard designed Boston's roads anyway?!

Max:  Less griping, more hurrying.  Our exit's that way!

[Fade out as the two men lift up their duffle bags and start to hustle
as we cut to underground parking to the TD Garden in Boston,
Massachusetts.  A long white limo is parked and the door opens as PVW
owner, Dex Willingham is seen stepping out.  Out of nowhere like a
heads up reporter that he is - "Swingin" Dean Hayes is on the scene.]

DH: Mr. Willingham ... Can I get a quick word with you sir?

[The PVW founder stops with a gentle smile.]

DW: Dean you are always right on top of things around here.  I realize
the fans want answers on the future of the PVW.  I don't know if I
have all the answers, but I have some information to share.

[Dean Hayes nods eagerly as he awaits the PVW founder to continue.]

DW: However I have a quick meeting to get to inside.  There is a few
loose ends to work out.  I _will_ address all the questions on the
fans mind a-bit later.

[Dex turns and continues to hurry towards the door.]

DH: but ...

[The automatic underground door opens and he disappears as Dean Hayes
is left looking at the camera.]








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



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


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



[It's replaced with ...]



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



[We fade right outside the TD Garden in Boston, Massachusetts. It's
nearly show time and what's left of the late arriving fans are
attempting to rush through before bell time.

We change directions and cut inside the arena.  The camera fires
through panning on the rabid wrestling fans.  Signs are being shoved
in-front of the camera.  "DEX HIRE ME!" / "BECAREFUL WHAT YOU ASK FOR
MARLEY!" / "GIBSON HATES AMERICA" / "FONTANA IS MASKED MANIAC!"

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

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

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





"__FAAASSSHHHOOOOM~!__"




"__KAAAABBBOOOOOOM~!__"




"__FAAASSSHHHOOOOM~!__"




"__KAAAABBBOOOOOOM~!__"




"__KAAAABBBOOOOOOM~!__"




"__FAAASSSHHHOOOOM~!__"





[A pounding bass drum begins thundering over the loudspeakers in a
house-style beat as David Guetta's "Sexy Bitch" (featuring Akon)
begins playing over the P.A. system.  A confused murmuring rises from
the crowd as no one recognizes who the theme music is for as all eyes
turn toward the entrance curtains.]

# She's nothin' like a girl you've ever seen before #
# Nothin' you can compare to your neighbourhood ho' #
# I'm tryin' to find the words to describe this girl #
# Without being disrespectful #

[A svelte female figure dressed in a body-hugging microskirt steps
through the curtains and at first, is greeted with wolf whistles and
cat calls.  But when the crowd recognizes who the woman is as she
begins strutting down the aisle, this quickly changes to loud booing
and derisory insults.]

CL: Ladies and gentlemen thank you for tuning into Heatwave ...
Tonight is going to be a _huge_ night and we are starting things off
right off the back as Jessica Marshall is in the house and the fans
don't sound too happy to see her!

[BOOOOOO!!!]

FH: I'm very happy to see her!  Which is why I'll stay seated for a
while, seein' as this is a family show and all.

CL: FRED!

# The way that booty movin', I can't take no more #
# Have to stop what I'm doin so I can pull up close #
# I'm tryin' to find the words to describe this girl #
# Without being disrespectful #

[Fatality reaches ringside and climbs up the steps, flashing a lot of
thigh as she does.  When she bends over to step between the ropes, the
booing noticably dies down in volume as all eyes seem to be glued to
her shapely posterior.]

FH: Glglglglglglghhhhhhh!

CL: Fred... you're drooling, Fred... FRED!

# Damn girl, damn you'se a sexy bitch! #
# A sexy bitch! #
# Damn, you'se a sexy bitch #
# Damn girl, damn you'se a sexy bitch! #
# A sexy bitch! #
# Damn, you'se a sexy bitch! #
# Damn, girl! #

[The music begins to die down and the booing regains its volume as
Jessica Marshall accepts a wireless microphone before strutting around
the center of the ring for a moment.]

JFM: Well, well, well... if the gene pool hasn't gotten a lot
shallower these days!

[The crowd boos loudly at this insult to which Fatality responds with
a smug smirk.]

JFM: But as much as baiting the intellectually deficient can be
amusing even for a short time, I'm actually out here to conduct a
little business.  So who I would like to see come out here, right now,
is our very own Head of Security!

[The PVW regular fans cheer at this for they know who's coming next
despite the fact that no music plays over the loudspeakers.  And the
cheering grows even louder as a familiary squat yet powerful figure
walks out through the entrance curtains.  Jason Keening's broad
shoulders strain the seams of a PVW "Security Staff" T-shirt as he
marches down toward the ring with a serious expression on his face.]

FH: Oh, now this is gonna be beautiful!  Jason Keening is finally
gonna get put in his place!!

CL: Really?  Or is Jessica Marshall going to have to pay a heavy fine
for her attacking Keening at the pay-per-view?  And don't forget the
PVW founder - Dex Willingham is backstage.

FH: Apparently his meeting wasn't with either one of these two.

[Keening climbs up into the ring and smiles briefly in acknowledgement
at the fan's cheering.  But the smile fades quickly as he steps
forward to face Jessica Marshall who smirks at him in triumph.]

JFM: Jason, Jason, Jason... long time no see.  I notice that you seem
to have suffered a bit of a mishap during your visit to London?

[Marshall points to the white bandage on Keening's forehead beneath
which the ends of stitches can be seen.]

FH: Ha!  That was beautiful when Martinez dropped Keening like a sack
of potatoes and busted him wide open!!

[The PVW Head of Security remains impassive as he stares back at the
beautiful but vicious woman who is monopolizing the microphone.]

JFM: Now... if I remember correctly, my interfering in Alex's match
constitutes a pretty serious breach of the Zero Tolerance Policy,
doesn't it?

[Keening nods, continuing to stare holes through Fatality.]

JFM: And... Alex's use of a chain during that match... and
afterward...

[She giggles as she stares at the bandage on Keening's head.]

JFM: ...should also result in some pretty hefty fines and maybe a
lengthy suspension or two, right?

[Again, her question goes unanswered as she doesn't even offer the
microphone for a response.]

JFM: But... here's the deal, Jason.  Much like your wrestling career,
the Zero Tolerance Policy is a complete and utter FAILURE!

[The fans boo loudly at this.]

JFM: And so... it gives me great pleasure to announce that effective
immediately, the Zero Tolerance Policy is hereby rescinded!

FH: WOO HOO!  We've been saved, I tell you!!  Saved!!!

CL: Hush, Fred!

FH: You go girl!

CL: Can she do this?

[Pointing a very delicately manicured fingernail towards Keening,
Jessica smiles in the same way that a hyena smiles upon sighting a
wounded prey.]

JFM: Which means that with Zero Tolerance dead and buried, your
services... are no longer required.  I have been authorized to inform
you, and I say this with all the satisfaction in the world...

THAT YOU'RE FIRED!!

FH: YESSSSSSSSSSS!!!

CL: WHAT!?!

[The booing is deafening now as Keening merely looks back at
Marshall... and smiles?]

FH: Ummm... Chip?

CL: Yes, Fred?

FH: Why is he smiling?

CL: I... don't know, Fred.  I can't imagine I'd be smiling if I'd just
been fired.

*THUMP!*

[Keening surprises Fatality who gasps in surprise as he suddenly
lunges forward and snatches the microphone from her hands.  She backs
away, suddenly realizing that she is alone in the ring with a very
muscular man whom she has just antagonized but Keening merely chuckles
as he looks back at her.]

JK: Don't worry, Jessica.  I have no intention of harming you.

[Regaining her composure, Fatality remembers who she is in the ring
with and immediately demands that he return the microphone.]

JK: Just a moment... now that you've had your say, I feel it's
appropriate that I respond.  And the first thing I'll say is that as
regrettable as it is, the decisions to end the Zero Tolerance Policy
and terminate my employment are not the complete surprise that you
thought they were going to be.

[Jessica Marshall looks frustrated that Keening isn't more upset which
only makes her demands for the return of the microphone even more
strident.  Demands that Keening ignores as he turns around to face out
toward the audience.]

JK: As much as I wanted the Zero Tolerance Policy to work... even I
have to admit that from the very beginning, it's lifespan was going to
be quite limited.

FH: What?

CL: Hmmm, he's saying that he knew this day was coming.

[Confused murmuring fills the air as Keening raises a restraining
hand.]

JK: The Zero Tolerance Policy was brought in as a result of a fan
being injured and a lawsuit being filed against this company.  It was
not a proactive step taken by the company so much as a reaction made
by a bunch of lawyers trying to make themselves look as if they cared
about anything but the bottom line.

[Unnoticed by Fatality who continues to glare daggers at Keening, a
group of people begin emerging through the curtains, filing down the
aisle and walking towards the ring.]

FH: Hey!  What are these people doing here?

CL: It's... it's the backstage crew!  And the medics!  And the
referees!

FH: Why are they coming down to ringside?

CL: I don't know but they're being followed by the security staff.
All of our PVW employees are coming down here to the ring!

[In the ring, Keening continues to speak.]

JK: I was hired to make the Zero Tolerance Policy work.  And as much I
really wanted it to work... even I knew that it was going to be a
temporary measure at best.  But while the policy may not have been as
workable as I may have liked... I was able to accomplish one thing.
Something that you should keep very much in mind, Jessica Marshall!

[Marshall looks confused as she now notices the employees who are
surrounding the ring.]

JK: I couldn't change the way this company did business... not while I
had people like you working behind the scenes to handcuff me and keep
me from doing my job.  But the one thing I _WAS_ able to do... was to
keep these people safe.

[Keening indicates the crowd of employees.]

JK: Remember this, Jessica.  While I was in charge of the Zero
Tolerance Policy... none of the referees were injured.  None of the
cameramen were assaulted.  Injuries amongst the off-camera personnel
dropped down to almost nothing!  And most importantly... while I tried
to enforce Zero Tolerance... not a single solitary fan was injured.

[The crowd cheers at this.]

JK: So... you can fire me.  You can end the policy.  But you're going
to have to explain to all of THESE people...

[Again, he indicates the employees that are now glaring angrily up at
Marshall who is starting to look a little uncomfortable.]

JK: ...why it is that you've decided to make their workplace a lot
less safe than it was when I was in charge.

CL: Oh ho!  Keening turning the tables on Jessica Marshall!  Forcing
her to recognize that this decision is NOT going to go down well with
the PVW staff members!!

FH: Pfft!  One bribe to the union heads and...

[Before Hoyle can complete that thought, Keening finishes his speech.]

JK: Before I go... there's one last thing, Jessica.  You can fire me
as the Head of Security... but... PVW is still in need of a little
"house-cleaning".  So I think I'll stick around for a while, perhaps
in a different capacity.  As a certain famous Austrian once said...
"I'll be back!"

[Suddenly, "Indestructible" by Disturbed begins playing over the
loudspeakers at a deafening volume while the crowd cheers loudly.
Keening drops the microphone with a *THUMP* and turns to leave as the
angry-looking employees beging entering the ring, pointing fingers and
yelling angry questions at Jessica Marshall.  Fatality begins to look
panicked as she backs into a corner while Keening exits the ring.]

FH: OH MY GOD, NO!

CL: What, Fred?

FH: KEENING IS COMING OUT OF RETIREMENT!  WE'RE DOOMED, I TELL YOU!!

CL: Ummm, Fred?  Keening said no such thing.  He just said that he's
going to stick around for a while, that's all.

FH: DOOOMED!!!

[The fans continue to cheer while Disturbed's crunching guitar echoes
throughout the building and Keening walks back up the aisle.  In the
ring, Jessica Marshall looks very flustered as she turns her head to
and fro, surrounded by angry staff members who bombard her with a
series of shouted questions.]

CL: Zero Tolerance is officially over, folks, but Jessica Marshall may
not have realized how unhappy her firing Jason Keening was going to
make our employees!

FH: They're unhappy?  If Jason Keening comes out of retirement, I'm
going to be terminally depressed!!

CL: Calm down, Fred.  I don't think Keening has any intention of
wrestling or he would have said so.  But we might see him back in some
other capacity.

FH: What?  President??  OHMYGOD, WE'RE DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMEEDDD!!!

CL: Calm down, Fred!

FH: And why didn't Dex come out here and protect Jessica Marshall and
set that bully Jason Keening straight!

CL: I am getting word that Dex Willingham is behind closed doors and
involved in a meeting.  However if it wasn't with Jason Keening or
Jessica Marshall than who?

FH: Maybe Mr. Strickland himself?  There is too many names around the
PVW these days.

CL: Either way coming off a industry breaking two night ... two
countries PPV this announcement has just shaken the foundation of PVW.

FH: Wait does this mean Spectre can now hurt anyone and everyone?

CL: It does.

FH: Oh crap ... Ummm ... Jessica ... Mrs. Marshall ....

CL: She is on her way to the back and she is getting an ear full from
behind.  If looks could kill I think everyone of us would be six feet
under right about now.

FH: Not me ... Did you see the look she gave me?

CL: Folks what a way to start the night off.   However that is only a
taste of what we have in store.  A jammed pack lineup that has Perry
Fontana defending his Network title later on tonight.

FH: Finally a Network Champion we can be proud of!

CL: Also the new tag team champions will be in action in a non title
match.  And in our main event SSN's global superstar - Alex Martinez
continues his path of destruction as he faces who was called Mr. PVW
for quite some time ... The returning Caleb Foley!

FH: Well that was a short return.  Third time's a charm little Caleb.

CL: Plus we are all reeling from that huge announcement ... Zero
Tolerance no more?  Jason Keening fired?  And PVW founder Dex
Willingham is in some sort of closed meeting.  The Voice is inside the
ring and that means it's time to get the action rolling for the night.

[Poppage from the rabid, Boston fans as Herk Douglas stands in the
center of the ring to announce the next match.]

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall ... Introducing first from
Grand Rapids, Michigan ...  Weighing in at 232 pounds.

[Heavy guitars and drums cue up, ushering in the opening riffs of
DevilDriver's "Before the Hangman's Noose".  A small man is barely
seen behind the glass doors, his head bowed low.  Then, as Dez begins
the opening lines, the doors slide open.  And "Ravager" Ronan Benedict
steps out and down the steps to the stage.]

# IT'S A GOOD DAY TO FUCKING DAY!
  A GOOD DAY, A FUCKING GOOD DAY!
  A GOOD DAY, A FUCKING GOOD DAY TO DIE! #

[The song kicks into high gear from there, as Dez continues on with
his growling.  Ronan raizes his eyes toward the ring and starts making
his way down the walkway, ignoring the fans' outstretched hands as he
passes.  A silent intensity smoulders in his blue eyes as he prepares
himself to kick somebody's teeth in.  Upon arriving at the ring, he
steps through the ropes and heads for his corner - still paying no
attention to the fans.  The music slowly fades, and Ronan's demeanor
visibly changes, ready for the approaching battle.]

CL: Is this the man who can slay the monster known as Spectre?

FH: Are you kidding me? Benedict may be a solidly built guy, but it
will take more than a powerful background to defeat a phenom like
Spectre.

CL: Many are saying Benedict plans on stopping Spectre dead in his
tracks tonight an dtake a bigs tep towards PVW greatness!

FH: We'll just see about that Lester! Obviously you drank some of the
Benedict kool-aid this afternoon.

CL: A fighter like "The Ravager" always has a puncher's chance.

FH: Good God, Lester! Just admit Spectre is one of the best PVW has
had since day one and realize this match is over the moment he walks
in here!

[The in-ring announcer continues the intros.]

HD:  And introducing his opponent...weighing in at
two-hundred-seventy-five pounds and hailing from New York City, New
York....he is

               T H E

                         S P E C T R E    ! ! !

[The arena lights suddenly cut to pitch black without warning.  Over
the PA system, the faint sound of a heartbeat begins after ten
seconds of complete silence.

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

Thump-thump

"Do you fear the Dark?" a gravelly voice asks in a whisper.

[A single red spotlight cuts through the blackness, illuminating the
solitary form of The Spectre as "Beautiful People" by Marilyn Manson
cuts in over the PA System.  Spectre, clad in a pair of cutoff jeans,
a black t shirt and combat boots stands with his taped forearms held
up at angles away from his pale, scarred body as the combination of
his dark dreadlocks and the red lighting paints a ghastly picture
over the ghoulish wrestler.]

CL: Speaking of walking in...here is Spectre now and he looks extra
motivated.

FH: He wants to beat Benedict down fast. He has the advantages of
five inches in height and forty pounds in weight to achieve it too!

[As the music picks up, the lights start flashing in time with the
beat, creating almost a stobe-effect as The Spectre makes his way
towards the ring, ignoring the fans lining the aisles.  As he reaches
the apron, the pale skinned grappler speeds up to a run and slides
smoothly under the bottom rope, standing and stalking towards the
ropes in front of the announce table.  Climbing to the second rope,
he stares coldly at the announce team for a moment before stepping
down and moving to his corner to await the start of the match.]

[Spectre barely gets into the ring and faces Benedict before
exploding toward Ronan with a furious right jab. The quick strike
begins a fury of punch trading between the two men as the referee
tries to signal for the bell to get the match started.]

CL: THEY AREN'T WAITING FOR THE BELL!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                    One on One Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
              Ronan Benedict v. The Spectre
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: SPECTRE AND BENEDICT TRADING SHOTS BACK AND FORTH!

FH: This isn't wrestling, it's a damn street fight! If Zero
Tolerance was around ... Oh wait it's not!

CL: Not just that, but they are throwing bombs!

FH:  This isn't the Ultimate Fighter 11 boys!

CL:  Look at Benedict hang tough with the toughest man in PVW! Shot
for shot!

FH:  I can't believe it!

CL: Benedict clobbers Spectre with a hard right and Spectre plows
into Ronan with a haymaker of his own!  Neither guy seems to be able
to knock the other senseless with these big blows.

FH: This match is going to be over in seconds if they keep this up!

CL: Benedict and Spectre each land another set of big right hands and
then just stare at each other.  They run back into the ropes and
DOUBLE LARIAT!

FH: THEY DIDN'T MOVE AN INCH!

CL: Spectre and Benedict run off the ropes again and each hit a
lariat AND NEITHER IS MOVED AGAIN!

FH: This is the classic paradox of a rock and a hard place, Lester.

CL: The two warriors staring at each other and the run back into the
ropes, rebounding for another do.....NO! BENEDICT DROPS TO THE MAT
AND USES A SINGLE-LEG TAKEDOWN TO GET SPECTRE AT A DISADVANTAGE!

FH: Interesting move by the "Ravager"

CL: Benedict plants a hard kick to the lower back of Spectre and that
takes a little wind out of his sails!

FH: Neither of these guys can afford to give the other an advantage
on the ground. It'd be like setting Will Geddings loose in a Milwaukee
Brewery.

CL: Ronan Benedict pulls Spectre to his feet and grabs the left
arm....BOSTON LEG SWEEP!  He drove Spectre's face right into the
canvas!

FH: Benedict is still taking this match like he's in an octagon
instead of a wrestling ring. That may not be smart against a monster
like Spectre.

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre to his feet and whips him into the ropes,
catching him....GUTBUSTER!

FH: Benedict wasting no time in this one!

CL: Spectre struggling not just to find the ropes to pull himself up,
but some air to breath after that!

FH: He'll be fine Lester, he has lungs made of iron! That took as
much out of Benedict because of the size difference between them!

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre up and grabs him for a huge belly-to-belly
suplex!  They bounced off the mat with the impact!

FH: Benedict going for the fast pin attempt!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL: NO!  Spectre kicks out just before two and this one is far from
over!

FH: Benedict better come with a little more before trying to end this
one. Spectre isn't a PVW legend because of his size alone! The guy
will make you dish all your energy out and then destroy what is left
when you get gassed!

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre to his feet and whip him into the
ropes....Spectre ducks a clothesline attempt and grabs Benedict FOR A
GERMAN SUPLEX!

FH: Great reversal because the impact on Benedict's head seems to
have him a little fuzzy now...not that it is an unusual state for
him...he is a Benedict afterall!

CL: Spectre rises and goes over to Benedict, taking the his left arm
and jerking it down with authority.

FH: Look at Spectre play to the crowd!  He's showing them whet it
means to have control!  You have just got to love that Lester!

CL: Spectre locks on a half-nelson hold and SLAMS BENEDICT'S FACE ALL
THE WAY DOWN TO THE CANVAS!

FH: The brutality! It is awesome!

CL: Spectre raises him up a little and DOES IT AGAIN! Spectre is
taking this to a street fighting level and Benedict might have met his
match.

FH: I bet he wishes was in there against the Masked Maniac or someone
now, huh Lester?

CL: Spectre pulls Benedict to his feet and keeps hold of the
neck.  Jumping knee to the ribs!  Another knee to the ribs! He is
taking this attack to the same level as Benedict and its working!

FH: Sure is!  Spectre knows how to hurt people. There is substance to
that man's fearful look, you know. He backs it up.

CL: Spectre pulls Benedict's head lower and plants a knee to the
forehead....and another!  Spectre lands another vicious knee lift to
the nose and then pulls Benedict down further....PILEDRIVER!

FH: Benedict is bleeding!

CL: Spectre's knee strikes have apparently caused blood to come from
Ronan Benedict's nose!

FH: NOW it gets interesting because Benedict is pouring like a faucet
in there and Spectre is unrelenting! This is what PVW is all about!

CL: Spectre grabs the ankles of Benedict and plants a stomp on the
left thigh!  Then the right thigh!

FH: He's going for it I think!

CL: Yes he is!  Spectre twists around and clamps on a sharpshooter
submission hold!  Benedict has blood dripping from his nose to his
mouth and it spurts every time he yells out that he isn't giving up.

FH: That's it, wrench it in Spectre!  Make him walk funny!

CL: The referee is checking Benedict, but Spectre uses that chance to
grab the top rope and add some real torque to the hold! Spectre
blatantly cheating!

FH: He isn't cheating Lester, he's being opportunistic.  You would be
too if you were in there against Ronan Benedict.

CL: I'd get the hell out of the ring if I got stuck facing either of
these men.

FH: Figures....you're such a pussy.  This is how you start things off!

CL: Spectre keeps wrenching that sharpshooter hold and Benedict is
straining to reach the ropes. The referee isn't fast enough to catch
the top rope holding by Spectre!

FH: Spectre is really wearing down Ronan's legs now. This may not get
a win, but it sure will slow Benedict down a step and that might be
enough.

CL: Benedict strains hard, yelling out......HE GOT THE BOTTOM
ROPE!  The referee tells Spectre to break, but Spectre isn't budging!
The referee starts the five count and Spectre finally lets go just
before he gets to the magic number for disqualification!

FH: Why not use every second you got Lester?  He'd be stupid not to.

CL: It just isn't sporting.

FH: Who cares?  Advantage is advantage. The three-count is all that
matters. It's like you and your sex life.

CL: What?!?!

FH: Sure, you try to put up a good show and dress nice, but in the
end...all you care about is the three seconds it takes you to finish!

CL: Give it a rest already. Spectre is arguing with the referee about
a fast break count on that submission hold.

FH: Spectre back over to a bloody Benedict. Boy does he look good
with that blood flowing! Spectre probably could hit the "Rebirth" any
moment now and end the match, but he likes inflicting pain too much.

CL: Spectre whipes Ronan Benedict into the ropes and Benedict ducks a
lariat attempt, rebounding back THESZ PRESS!!!  Benedict with new
life and he starts wailing on Spectre with elbows and stomps!  It's
the ground and pound!

[The fans erupt in cheers as Spectre gets pounded!]

FH: Get him off of Spectre referee!  Those are illegal strikes!

CL: They are not!

FH: Closed fists aren't illegal?

CL: It just being opportunistic.

FH: You douchebag.

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre to his feet and wraps his arms
around....HOLY MACKERAL!  BENEDICT JUST SENT SPECTRE IN A
BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX TO THE CORNER!

FH: That is not good for Spectre at all.

CL: Spectre landed in the corner upside down and his legs are tied
around the top turnbuckle in the proverbial "tree of woe". Benedict
is trying to recover after expending so much energy in that suplex.

FH:  Spectre is larger, but Benedict has a powerful and lower center
of gravity. Even so, it takes its toll to pull something like that
off on a beast like Spectre!

CL:  Benedict up form his resting knee as Spectre still seems stuck
in that corner by his feet!

FH: Help him referee!  He's a sitting duck right there!

CL: Benedict rushes in and LANDS A BIG STOMP RIGHT ON SPECTRE'S FACE!

[The crowd erupts as Spectre gets a taste of the boot!]

FH: This is just wrong! I'll tell you something else, if Spectre gets
out of this, Benedict is a dead man!

CL: Benedict rushes in again and lands another big boot to Spectre's
face! Benedict stomping away at Spectre's stomach area as he is tied
upside down in that corner! Benedict steps back and LANDS A STRAIGHT
FOOTBALL KICK TO SPECTRE'S FACE!

FH: Finally, Spectre's legs come untangled and he falls to the mat.

CL: Benedict rushes over and Spectre rolls out quickly to avoid the
onslaught!

FH: Smart move!

CL: SPECTRE IS BLEEDING!  That last kick must have caught his nose
just right because now Spectre is bleeding as he stands on the
ringside area.

FH: Take your breather, big guy.  Take the chance you have here.

CL: Benedict not letting the referee conduct the normal ten count and
goading Spectre to get back in the ring.

FH: Push him back ref!  Spectre can't re-enter safely if he is
hovering the ropes like that!

CL: Spectre just smiles as he moves closer to the ring apron.

FH: SPECTRE IS SMILING WITH BLOOD POURING OUT HIS NOSE!  Bad news for
Benedict! I think he just awoke the monster inside Spectre!

CL: The referee is trying to give space for Spectre to return.
Spectre gets his hands on the middle rope and begins pulling himself
up when Benedict rushes over to grab for hi.....SPECTRE WITH A QUICK
HOT SHOT!

FH: How smart!  He suckered Benedict in and then grabbed his head to
jerk it down on the top rope!

CL: Benedict lying on the mat holding his throat as Spectre just
smiles and plays to the boos of the ringside fans.

FH: I love that about him! He doesn't care about what others think,
he just kicks ass!

CL: Spectre reaches under the bottom rope and grabs the right leg of
Ronan Benedict, pulling him half out of the rin.....Spectre SLAMS THE
RIGHT KNEE OF BENEDICT INTO THE EDGE OF THE RING APRON!!!

FH: Now you see the strategy coming into play here Lester!

CL: Spectre grabs that right leg again and looks to the crowd who boo
him unmercifully.

FH: Like he cares!

CL: SPECTRE DRIVES THAT KNEE INTO THE APRON AGAIN! What a brutal
contest between these two men!

FH: Spectre is taking down Benedict one appendage at a time!

CL: Spectre seems happy with himself as he jerks Benedict out of the
ring and throws him into the guard rail at ringside!

FH: Those fans are getting their money's worth right now!

CL: Every fan does in the PVW! That is why tickets are always a hot
item and people need to get them far in advance when we come to town.

FH: Yeah well, while you do your corporate whoring, I'm watching
Ronan Benedict get torn apart!

CL: Spectre cockily pulls Benedict to his feet and sets up for an
Irish Wh.....REVERSED BY BENEDICT! SPECTRE HITS THE RING POST WITH
AUTHORITY!!!

FH: The referee is counting on both guys out there, something I'm not
sure either man is actual aware of once this fight went to the
outside.

CL: Benedict couldn't care less about anything else but proving he
belongs. This is all about respect!

FH: Well salute him for being an idiot, then! He signed his own
deathw arrant when he got this match!

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre up and takes his arm for a big whip RIGHT
INTO THE RING STEPS!  Spectre hit the steps so hard they separated!

FH: Not only that but Spectre flipped like it nearly tore him in half.

CL: That is what happens when two-hundred-seventy-plus pounds of beef
gets rolled into the steps with force!

FH: Now what is he doing?

CL: Benedict slides into the ring and starts talking to the referee.
He is breaking up the count inside the ring!

FH: Why wouldn't he just let him get the last two counts out and
finish it?  That is the dumbest move I've seen out of
Benedict....ever! And he is a freaking Benedict!!!

CL: This is Ronan showing that he can be as tough as any of the tough
guys PVW boasts: Manson, Gionet, or even Spectre!

FH: Benedict is an idiot for not grabbing the win when he could! You
don't get a second chance to defeat the devil himself!

CL: Ronan Benedict goes back outside the ring and grabs Spectre. He
positions Spectre for a pumphandle lift and SLAMS HIM DOWN WITH A
POWERSLAM ON THE ARENA FLOOR!!!

FH: He should be disqualified immediately!

CL: The fans are going nuts as Benedict knocks every breath Spectre
had in him right out of those lungs with that shot!

FH: Just note he didn't do it inside the ring, Barry.

CL:  It took its toll on Benedict as well as the "Ravager" again
summoned all his strength to power lift Spectre up for that move!

FH:  Serves him right for being stupid and doing this outside the
ring!

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre up and looks at the referee, whose more
recent count is up to six.

FH: This is a travesty and the referee is in on it.  We need a new
policy that extends to referees screwing the best PVW has to offer?

CL: The referee has nothing to do with it, it is the will of an
underrated warrior at work tonight! Benedict rolls Spectre under the
bottom rope and into the ring. Ronan slides in and the count is
history.

FH: The referee ought to end the match for all of the outside stuff
that Benedict did.

CL: Why is that?  Spectre is the one who started taking it outside in
the first place.

FH: Arguments like that are why nobody likes you Lester.

CL: Ronan Benedict walks around for a second and then pulls Spectre
up to his feet. He grabs the neck of Spectre and sets up for a
vertical suplex. If Benedict starts going to suplexes, this match
could get ugly for Spectre!

FH: Does he have the strength left for such things, though?  Both of
these guys have really expended a lot of energy in there tonight.

CL: Benedict lifts Spectre for a vertical supl.....HOLY
MACKERAL!!!  Benedict dropps Spectre straight down into a shoulder
breaker from that suplex lift!

FH: How in the hell did he pull that off?!?!?!

CL: Benedict grabs the arm and locked on a fujiwara armbar on that
left arm. He is wrenching way back on it.

FH: I'm not sure if Spectre knows just how close he is to the ropes
right now. He seems both disoriented and in a lot of pain.

CL: Benedict is just leaning back on that armbar and the referee is
checking Spectre every little bit to see if he is ready to give in.

FH: That would be a cold day in Hell for Spectre to submit. The man
never submits....NEVER!

CL: Benedict and Spectre, both bleeding from the nose, are very close
to the corner and Spectre is still unable to reach. Benedict is just
wrenching back on that arm like it is a twig!

FH: Finally Spectre starts realizing his surroundings and reaches for
the ropes.

CL: It is just out of his reach!  He's trying to reach as Benedict
tries to wrench the armbar even more!

FH: He got it!  Spectre got the the ropes with his right foot of all
things!  What ring awareness by Spectre!

CL: Benedict releases the hold on the referee's order and Spectre is
left lying there holding his left shoulder as Benedict stands to his
feet. It may not have gained a victory, but that armbar may have
served its purpose.

FH: It definitely is something most men don't recover from quickly.
However, the Spectre is NOT most men.

CL: Benedict not wasting time as he grabs Spectre up by that left arm
and then locks his waist....ATOMIC DROP!

FH: Spectre drops to one knee after that near low blow!

CL: Benedict rushes over and grabs Spectre from the
front.....lift...INVERTED ATOMIC DROP!  Spectre stumbles back and
Benedict charges WITH A RUNNING FOREARM SHIVER TO THE HEAD!

[Fans erupt in a massive pop as Spectre hits the canvas hard!]

FH: C'mon ref!  He's using low blows and stuff in there!

CL: Benedict with a full head of steam right now!  He is not going to
slow down his offense here against Spectre! Benedict grabs Spectre's
left arm and wrenches it between his legs for a pumphandle
lift.....POWERBOMB!!!

FH: I can't believe Benedict had enough in the tank to pull that
pumphandle lift into the spike powerbomb like that!

CL: Believe it!  Benedict rushes over and covers Spectre for the pin
attempt!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




FH: Spectre KICKS OUT!!!  Spectre shows why it is very difficult to
take him down in ANY circumstance!

CL: Benedict makes it up to his feet quick enough and rushes back
over to Spectre and pulls him up.....LOW BLOW BY SPECTRE!

FH: The great equalizer!

CL: Benedict gets bent over by the low blow and Spectre quickly grabs
him for A JUMPING DDT!!!  BENEDICT IS DOWN!!!

FH: Now you see why I said he should have taken that countout when he
had the chance!

CL: Spectre isn't going right back after Benedict, instead he is
walking over to the corner and doing something to the turnbuckle.  Is
he getting an object?

FH: Nope!  He seems to be loosening the turnbuckle pad!

CL: Almost the same thing!  That steel ring holds the ropes together
and if it gets exposed it is like having an anvil to plow your
opponent's head into!  The referee should stop this act immediately.

FH: Why stop it?  It hasn't been used that way just yet.

[In the corner of the screen, we see that Spectre finally removes the
pad off the turnbuckle and throws it away.]

CL: Benedict is finally starting to stir after that DDT a moment ago
and Spectre grabs him by the legs....he MONKEY FLIPS BENEDICT INTO
THE CORNER AND HE HITS HIS HEAD ON THE EXPOSED TURNBUCKLE!

FH: Benedict doesn't know what hit him!

CL: Benedict stumbles back as Spectre rushes again...SPEAR!!!

FH: Spectre knocked him way off the ground with that spear!  Spectre
is showing me he has a lot left in the tank here.

CL: The referee is checking that turnbuckle and yelling for one of
the camera guys down here to help out and give him back the turnbuckle
pad.

FH: The referee is not paying attention to the dismantling that is
occurring! What a perfect ploy by Spectre!

CL: Spectre uses the bottom rope to strangle Ronan Benedict!  The
referee doesn't see the cheating because he is tryign to fix the
exposed turnbuckle!

FH: Then that means it isn't happening! Brilliant!

CL: The referee finally sees what is happening and pulls Spectre off
of Benedict.  He is reading him the riot act about using that rope to
choke.

FH: Just giving him back what he was giving referee...leave the man
alone!

CL: Spectre, with a sly smile, reaches down and grabs Benedict,
pulling him to his feet...LARIAT!  He nailed him wiyth the lariat
from hell and it sent Benedict nearly full circle!!!

FH: This one could be over!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




CL: NO!!!  Benedict reaches the bottom rope with his foot and stopped
the count!

FH: That referee counted slow!

CL: He did not!

FH: Yes he did and Spectre is up and in his face to tell him just
that.

CL: Benedict begins to move and try and get to his feet as Spectre is
yelling at the referee. Spectre over and grabs Ronan by the head and
begins running toward that exposed turnbuckle again.....BLOCKED BY
BENEDICT!

FH: Try again!

CL: Benedict blocks another try to slam his head in there...Benedict
REVERSES IT AND SLAMS SPECTRE'S HEAD INTO THE TURNBUCKLE!

FH: Ring the bell!

CL: Benedict grabs Spectre and whips him across the ring and hard
into the opposite corner!  Spectre rebounds out of the corner and
Benedict grabs him up in an airplane lift....RUNNING DEATH FORGE!!!

FH: Benedict is taking a moment to recoup after that big
finish.  That probably isn't very smart because Spectre isn't your
average wrestler.

CL: You may be right because he isn't following up his big move
there.  Spectre is still lying and seemingly out from Benedict's
finisher, but Ronan just doesn't h ave enough in the tank to quickly
get over for the cover.

FH: That isn't happening!

CL: Benedict finally grabs Spectre's leg and makes a cover!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




FH: SPECTRE KICKS OUT!  WHAT A WARRIOR!!!

CL: Benedict took far too long to get over and make the cover! It
really cost him.

FH: No doubt about it, lifting Spectre for that big death valley
driver finisher he uses cost  him the pinfall!

CL: Ronan Benedict must find a way to land another big move on
Spectre if he is to finish the big man!

FH: That's not going to happen. That was his one chance.

CL: Benedict finally gets up enough to pull Spectre off the canvas.
Benedict goes for an Irish whi..REVERSED BY SPECTRE!!!

FH: Here we go!

CL: Benedict rebounds off the ropes, but ducks the lariat attempt
from Spectre! Benedict off the opposite ropes...LARIAT SENDS SPECTRE
BACK TO THE CANVAS!

FH: What a surprise from Benedict!  I didn't think he had anything
else in him!

CL: Benedict pulls Spectre back up, and both men are near empty in
the tank....they are moving very slowly!

FH: Benedict looks like a sloth or something out there! Just moving
like a knob on a tree.

CL: Benedict whips Spectre into the ropes and catches him with a
fireman's lift!

FH: This isn't happening!  Not another Death Forge!

CL: Benedict is looking to go for it, but SPECTRE WIGGLES FREE AND
GETS BACK DOWN TO HIS FEET!!  REBIRTH!!!

FH: HOLY CRAP!!!

CL: Spectre reversed out of the Death Forge and landed in prime
position to shove that head down and nail Ronan with the Rebirth!

FH: This one is over baby!  Nobody comes back from that!

CL: Here's the cover!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




FH: HE DID IT!!!

CL: Spectre takes the victory after the Rebirth yet again! Is anyone
as tough as Spectre in PVW right now?!?!

FH: There isn't anyone in this _world_ as tough as Spectre.  I'll give
Ronan his due ... The guy took down the Pit Monster and stood toe-to-
toe with Spectre for twenty minutes and at times he looked like he
could win the match.  However in the end the point was proved.

CL: And what is that?

FH: You _just_ can't stand toe-to-toe with Spectre.  Now that Zero
Tolerance is done away with.  You can bet he is foaming at
the mouth and ready to unleash on the PVW once again.

CL: That's not a very good thought.

FH: Imagine the horror going through Joshua Morgan's mind right about
now.

CL: One unstable wrestler to another.  I am getting word the Motorcity
Madman himself William Craven is standing by backstage.

FH: It'll be interesting to hear what Craven has to say now that his
time chasing Marley is done.

[Cut to the back where a brown-haired man in a brown suit chases a
larger man in a long, black coat.]

Jack: Hey fans, Jack Keening here, about to get the scoop of a
lifetime.  You thought he was dead, and maybe he's decomposing, who
knows.  I mean, he is green. William Craven!  Bill!  Bill!

[Stopping cold, the hobbling, stooped hulk of a man half turns,
dropping a black duffel bag and toying absently with a white linen
glove, he removes a black fedora from his green head and turns.
William has one eye swollen almost shut, and what part of it shows has
a solid red cornea.  There are black splotches on his green neck, and
it can be assumed that the rest of him, under that coat, looks just as
bad.]

WC: Can I help you, civvie?

Jack: Civvie?  Slipping back into the old Major Damage persona, Bill?

[Jamming a microphone in Bill's face, Jack gets an irritated sneer in
reply.]

WC: I'm a veteran, boy.  I've been to war.  You haven't.  You're a
civvie.  Period.

Jack: Can I just ask you, Bill, Mister Craven, sir, why are you here?

WC: I'm here to work.  Why are you here?

Jack: I'm here to work too.  Although I really enjoy my work, so you
could say--

WC: Why are you darkening my proverbial doorstep ... again ... this
week, oh cousin of the Drillbit?

Jack: Well, the thing is, I could _swear_ you had the night off, or
the month, or something like that.  Y'know, seeing as Rick Marley
mangled you in a cage at Shattered Dreams.

WC: He mangled me?

Jack: Mangled, mauled, mortified.  Y'know, M words.

WC: We danced a deadly dance and tore down the walls of what people
believed was violence.  We redefined what they should expect.

Jack: I'm just saying.  Y'know, he won, and you're half crippled.

[The predictable aggression constantly evinced by Craven rears its
ugly head again as Bill grips Jack by his lapels and draws him near.
Perhaps sensing that the interviewer is trying to get his goat, Bill
stops short of a full-on rage.]

WC: I am not crippled.  I am the Madness.  My tool is the Violence.
My fuel is all the Rage...

[Okay, that cool, calculated reply is actually shaking the normally
unflappable Keening up a little bit.]

Jack: Y-y'don't say?

WC: What I bring to bear upon the world now is an unfettered brutality
that cannot be bound by rules and statutes.  I am the embodiment of
feral rage made flesh.  The true king, pre-ordained to sit on the
throne of Madness and look down on all the pale pretenders to his
throne, sitting in judgment...

Jack: That's all very pretty-sounding, but what does it mean?

WC: It means what I said.  I'm doing what I want from now on.  I'm
doing what makes me happy.  No one has anything that they can take
away from me.  There are no carrots to offer, no sticks with which to
beat save those I bring with me. And you, my petty little irritant...

Jack: Me?

WC: You...  What to do with you...

[Keeping a grip on Jack, Bill looks around.  Jack looks around too,
perhaps hoping to spot whatever Bill's looking for first.  In spite of
the fact that he has one more eye than Bill right now, Jack loses the
competition.]

WC: Ah.  Good-bye.

Jack: Hrm!?  Uh-OH!!!

[End over end goes Jack Keening, and he's stuck upside down inside of
a large plastic, wheeled blue trash can.  Slapping the hinged lid
down, Bill gives it a mighty kick, sending it a good 25 foot feet down
the smooth hallway floor.  Bill turns, smirking, picks up his duffel
and moves down the hall on his original path. The cameraman moves to
Jack's position, and Jack cannot be seen, still in the can which is
now on its side, he can be heard to dial a number on a cellphone.]

Jack: Uh, boss?  Hey, it's Jack.  Mission accomplished, I think.  No,
not hurt too badly...  I'm, uh, gonna go get some Percoset or
something, take the night off now, okay?  Thanks.  You're the best...

[Just as the sound of the cellphone being disconnected can be heard, a
hand reaches in from out of view and lightly taps on the lid of the
bin.]

Jason: Jack?  You OK in there?

Jack: Uh, Jack?  Who's Jack?  If a green scaly SCARY man is looking
for a Jack, I understand there's a Jack in the Box restaurant just
across town.

Jason: Relax, cousin.  Bill's gone... although I do recommend staying
out of the way in the near future.

[The camera draws back to reveal the... former PVW Head of Security
standing next to the bin.  Despite having just been fired on
television in front of a large audience, Jason Keening seems quite
relaxed as he talks to the closed bin.]

Jason: I'm sorry we haven't had a chance to talk before but... ummm...
can you get out of there, please?

[Wobbling at first, the large trash bin finally topples, and Jack pops
up to his feet.  Looking around, he smooths out his suit, cranes his
neck to see down the hall, and finally turns to face his cousin.]

Jason: Ah... there you are... Uncle Ken told me you were here but...
I've been kinda... busy

[Jason smiles.]

Jack: Look at that, I bounced back.  Y'know, he could've killed me,
instead he just kicked the can.  I think we might be buddies now. Yup,
I'm here.  Been working undercover for awhile now, mostly in the back,
stuff like that.  Nice to show the old mug on camera just a little.
I'm told that I'm very photogenic.

[Jason chuckles.]

Jason: I see you haven't changed one bit.  How's your mom and dad
been?  I haven't seen Uncle Arnold and Aunt Jackie in a while.

Jack: Oh, you know them.  Drunk.  They're not nearly so maudlin as
they used to be. Dad doesn't get the gout so much, and mom's more into
baking pie than brewing whiskey now.

[Jason sighs.]

Jason: Damn... I was hoping that intervention all those years ago
would have stuck. Still... you seem to be doing well.

Jack: Oh yeah, you bet.  Got good cashflow, been dating some.  Nothing
too serious, but it's better than playing video games all day.  How's
Banshee-- er, rather, Michael?  Still wearing a green mask and beating
up Japanese guys?

[This causes another chuckle from Jason.]

Jason: Nah, he's still retired... he and Natsumi are raising a pack of
kids...

Jack: Yeah, I need to get around to making a brood of my own.  Not
getting any younger, only more handsome.  No, seriously, what's
happening with you?  I, uh, heard a rumor, that is to say I was on the
can when the show opened.  I mean, uh ... don't make me ask, cuz'.

[Jason's smile only broadens.]

Jason: Oh?  You didn't hear?  The Zero Tolerance Policy is toast and
I'm fired.

[Surprisingly, the former head of PVW security breaks out in a laugh
which he has a hard time controlling.  Jack stares at him as if he's
grown a second head.]

Jack: Aw, man...

[Looking at his semi-hysterical cousin with an increasing pity, Jack
seems at a loss.]

Jack: You, uh, gonna make it?  Cuz'?  I...

[Portraying an emotional clumsiness, Jack puts a hand on Jason's
shoulder.]

Jack: I mean, I understand the rule being abolished, but the company
still needs a head of security.  Maybe, I dunno, you could take it up
with the board of directors?  I mean, you don't have to be the big
enforcer guy to boss around a bunch of muscleheads in black shirts
that say "SECURITY" in big yellow letters, right?

[Jason wipes a tear from his eye as he regains his self-control.]

Jason: No... no... it's OK, Jack.  It's actually more than OK.  I...
ummm... I can't explain right now but... things will make more sense
in a little while.  But look, I've gotta run.  It was great seeing
you!

[And with that, Jason steps toward his cousin, his arms open for an
embrace.  Jack looks uncomfortable, but steps in, stiffly, and the two
share a very solid bear hug.  Pulling back, trying to keep a stiff
upper lip, Jason pats Jack on the shoulder and departs.  For a moment,
Jack stands, befuddled, then runs his fingers through his hair, deep
in thought.]

Jack: Damn, I'm the only Keening who's still employed.  If that isn't
a sad commentary on the economy I don't know what is.

[Cut back to ringside.]

FH: And that's still _one_ too many Keening employed if you ask me.

CL: Witch nobody did.  Jason seems more than alright with the
announcement.  Almost like he expected it.

FH: Well he had to know his time was going to be short here with
Jessica Marshall holding the power of SSN in her palm.

CL: Either way the answers have lead to _more_ questions.  Nothing is
easy around here these days!

FH: Well look at the bright side.  Herk Douglas is headed back inside
the ring so you don't have to strain that little brain of yours any
longer.

CL: Wait I don't mean to interrupt Herk Douglas but I am getting word
we have camera's backstage and we need to go to them now!

FH: Oh man ... Never interrupt The Voice.  Now you've done it Chip.

[We cut to the halls of the TD Garden.  And across the screen Judd
Marley of the Wild Cards is seen falling backwards and slamming into
the sheet rock walls

...]


"___THUUUUUD___"


CL: What's this ...  It appears the Made Men and the Wild Cards are
going at it backstage.  They are both set to compete in the six man
action here tonight.

FH: Those dastardly Wild Cards always starting something.  Now that
Zero Tolerance has been nixed they are breaking the rules as usual.

[Baldwin is tossing stiff bombs and getting the better of Nick Wright
not backing down at all, but the iceman of the Widowmakers - Mark
Masterson breaks a

wooden stool right over the mid-back of the Wild Card.]


"___THWWAAAAACK___"


CL: GOOD GRIEF!  Masterson from out of the corner just broke that
stool over Baldwin's back!  I am now getting word that it was indeed
the Made Men who

attacked the Wild Cards backstage.

FH: Says who?  Jason Keening is probably spreading lies backstage!

[Judd Marley recovering from planting into the sheet rock is now
leaping towards both members of the Made Men to stop the two-on-one
onslaught on his partner.

A big Rocky Balboa like hook shot backs the Pokerface up ...  A
leaping forearm shakes Nick Wright.  Judd Marley gets the crowd in the
arena behind him as he

unloads punch after punch trading between both Made Men.]

CL: Judd Marley is unloading on both Made Men making them regret their
attack.  And Jack Baldwin is back up and dives forward pushing the
pile ....

FH: Wait that looks a-bit familiar.

[And we are now in the back-entrance area as the curtains can be seen
as the two men continue to brawl.  A kick to the stomach slows Marley
down by Nick

Wright.  Masterson with an European uppercut.  Baldwin stumbles back
but then grabs Masterson and drives his head forward with a head butt.
Marley grabs

a-hold of Wright and whips him towards the curtains ...]


*** POPPAGE ***


CL: And here is Nick Wright!

FH: I told you the Wild Cards are low!  They are lower then low ...
They are flat out despicable.

CL: I don't --

FH: They are KEENING level!

[And Nick Wright is joined by Judd Marley ... Then Baldwin ... And
finally Mark Masterson.  The four men continue to brawl towards the
upper entrance area as

the fans are getting behind the battle.  When the odds just began to
favor the Widowmakers as Xavier Feyr flew out from the curtains and
Judd Marley turned

just in time to eat a spear  ....]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


CL: Feyr is here and he is _unloading_ with a series of punches to
Judd Marley.

FH: Now they did it.  They have riled up Xavier Feyr.  God help us
all!

CL: This was obviously planned Fred.  As soon as Zero Tolerance was
nixed in the show the shackles were taken off the Widowmakers and this
is a calculated

message.

[With Feyr now unloading on Judd Marley.  Baldwin is quickly
overwhelmed by both Made Men.  Masterson locks him in a full nelson
and Wright drives a high knee

into the rib-section.  The fans begin to boo the three-on-two attack
as Feyr grabs Judd's head driving his own down and leaping off as
blood drips from in-

between Xavier Feyr's eyes from his own doing.]

CL: The impact of that head butt just opened up Feyr and I don't even
think he cares.  He charges into the two-on-one and _shoves_ wright
out of the way and

tackles Masterson and Baldwin into the side of the guardrail as the
men push their way closer to the ring.

FH: Hey might as well get this six-man match going on.  All we need to
do is get that pain in the ass Outlaw down here.

CL: Yeah sure after the Wild Cards have been bushwhacked.

FH: Hey they asked for it!

[Wright now helps Judd Marley to his feet and rolls him under the
ropes.  He turns posing for the crowd as they roar into a series of
boo's.  Wright then

dives under the ropes and approaches Marley who catches him ... BELLY-
TO-BELLY ....]


"___THUUUUUUUUD___"


*** COUNTER POP!!! ***


CL: The Wild Cards aren't done!  Both men back up and Marley ducks a
clothesline and DDT!!!  Masterson now in the ring ... Marley catches
him --


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


*** SPINEBUSTER POP!!! ***


[Judd Marley notices Feyr going ballistic on Baldwin on the outside
and drops to his stomach and rolls to the outside to aid his partner
in crime.  A double

axe-handle to the mid-back hits Feyr in the back, but it doesn't slow
him down.  Xavier Feyr turns around eats a few quick jabs ... However
with the mind

frame Feyr is in they were ignored and an inverted atomic drop and a
charging tackle slamming Judd Marley back first into the side of the
ring stops the come

back by the tag veteran.]

CL: Xavier Feyr is in a zone.  He battled Doc Holliday tooth and nail
at Shattered Dreams ... And Zero Tolerance is gone and outside Spectre
this is the

meanest and most feared man inside the PVW.

FH: Imagine if those two tagged up ...

CL: I don't even want to think about it.

[Baldwin pushing himself up but -- katahajime .... Lifting ---]


"___KAAAATHUUUUUUUUUUD___"


*** GOOD GOD POP!!! ***


CL: HOLY CRAP!  Feyr just bent Baldwin in half with that Katahajime
suplex on the outside concrete.

FH: That should put an end to Mighty Man ...

CL: Who?

[The roaring boo's turn into cheers as a flash from the back is seen
and the sixth man in the supposed six man match comes charging down
the aisle way.

Wright now back to the outside shaking the cob-webs and Outlaw
springboards off the guard rail ... TORNADO DDT!  Outlaw is up and
dives into the ring putting

all six men down here for the match.]



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                      Six Man Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
          Feyr & Made Men v. Outlaw & Wildcards
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: Apparently the referee is calling for the match to "start" now
that all six men are ring side.

FH: Oh sure they do once Outlaw is down ... What about earlier we
could of had a pinfall already.

[Masterson with a knife-edge chop ... Stuns Outlaw and jabs a thumb
into the fan favorites right eye.  He grabs Outlaw and yanks him
towards him and sets him

up for a big powebomb ... The Made man lifts him up.]


*** MASSIVE COUNTER POP!!! ***


CL: YOU CAN'T POWERBOMB OUTLAW!!!!!

[... Face plant!  Outlaw turns and notices Feyr choking Judd Marley on
the outside and rushes ... Spring boarding DIVE ONTOP OF XAVIER
FEYR!!!]

FH: ACK!

CL: Outlaw is down here and he means business!

FH: Who asked him to come down here?  Things were going just fine ...
Actually _better_ then fine.  Then this moron came out and ruined
everything.  Why

didn't Perry Fontana break his arm when he had the chance!

CL: Who _asked_ him to come down here?  Outlaw was scheduled to be the
Wild Cards partner in the six man match.  Now with Outlaw down here
things are even

and starting to turn the tide.

[Marley and Baldwin have made their way up and launched in taking care
of Made Men.  The referee is trying to get control telling both teams
who are inside

the ring they need to break it down to one-on-one.  Outlaw has turned
and grabs a beer from one of the fans in the front row and takes a big
swig and as Feyr

makes it to his feet he turns around and Outlaw spit's it right in
Feyrs face temporarily blinding him as Outlaw picks Feyr up on his
shoulder ...]


"___KAAATHUUUUUUUD___"


CL: Deathvalley driver right on the cement!  Outlaw is down here and
making a statement and not letting the Widowmakers ruin this match!

FH: Instead he ruins the match?

[Judd Marley drills a rocker dropper inside the ring on Nick Wright.
While Masterson with a jab to Baldwin's throat stuns him ...  Then he
grabs his

throat/jaw area and drops down with a jawbreaker type move.  While on
the Outside Outlaw begins to pull up Feyr who grabs Outlaw with
instinct into a Muay

Thai clinch and drives close knee shots that rock the unexpecting
Outlaw.  Outlaw shoves himself loose and swings his leg up with a kick
...]

CL: Feyr catches Outlaw's foot!

FH: Outlaw just made Feyr very angry.

[Outlaw brings his other foot up with an enziguri ...  However Feyr
was expecting it and ducks under it ... With Outlaw now lying on the
outside face up,
Xavier drops to one knee and delivers a downward striking heart punch
....]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUNK___"


*** ROOOOARING BOO'S ***


FH: KILLER INSTINCT OUT OF NOWHERE!  TAKE THAT OUTLAW!

CL: You _really_ don't like Outlaw do you?

FH: Not even a little-bit.

[The cheers for the turnaround quickly turns into boo's as both
members of PAIN (Dr. Mal Practice MD and Dr. Ohno Ow) rushes out
wearing their lab
coats flashing a clip-on badges that identify them as official SSN
ring doctors.]

CL: Oh lovely the chaos down here has just gotten more chaotic.

FH: What?  They are licence medical doctors Chip.

[Feyr dives under the ropes and into the ring.  Judd Marley on the
upper hand still turns _just_ in time to get lifted high in the air by
a mad-charging Feyr

who spears Judd hard into the corner, then only a quick second pasting
he is grabbed and spun around into a quick spinebuster.]


"___THUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


CL: GOODNESS!  FEYR IS JUST UNLOADING DOWN HERE TONIGHT!

FH: Just like Spectre the shackles have come off.  Finally Feyr is
allowed to do what he does best.

[PAIN has finally made their way down to ringside and checking on
hover over Outlaw.  They immediately call for a stretcher and declare
him unfit to continue in the match...  yelling something about Outlaw
having "a dislocated tongue!  We must operate immediately!" A rag is
placed over Outlaw's badly dislocated lounge as he began to push the
doctors off him and Outlaw quickly falls in the waiting arms of PAIN
and they quickly begin rushing him back up the

aisle way yelling - "Make way ... Prepare the ER for surgery!"]

CL: ...  You have to be ... Kidding me ... PAIN has just kidnapped
Outlaw.

FH: You heard them.  They are saving Outlaw from that dislocated
tongue.  Heck perhaps we will never hear Outlaw _speak_ again!

[Baldwin firing out of the corner with a short-arm lariat that rocks
Masterson.  He grabs a-hold of both Masterson's arms trapping them
while facing him, then fires off a series of fast, hard head butts
into the unguarded face of the Pokerface!  He drops Masterson as he
notices Wright charging towards him.

Baldwin catches Wright in a suplex, but lands him crotch first over
the top rope, Wright straddles it... as Baldwin then grabs the rope
and bounces it up and down as the fans break out into massive cheers
...]

CL: DOUBLE DOWN FOLLOWED BY HOLD 'EM'S REVENGE!  BALDWIN IS CRANKING
UP ...

FH: This is going to be good!

[Feyr now inside the ring with a folded steel chair ...  Baldwin turns
...]


"___KKKKAAAAATHHHWWWAAAAAAACKKKK___"


*** ROOOOOARING BOOOOOO'S ***


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


"___KKKKAAAAATHHHWWWAAAAAAACKKKK___"


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


[Judd Marley now up ... not for long.]


"___KKKKAAAAATHHHWWWAAAAAAACKKKK___"


CL: XAVIER FEYR JUST MANGLED THAT CHAIR ON BOTH WILD CARDS AND THE REF
HAS HAD ENOUGH AND CALLED FOR THE BELL.

FH: Someone tell Feyr that ...

[Feyr grabs Judd Marley as the Made Men now look on ...  He puts him
in an elevated spot from the top ropes and locks his arm around his
head ...]


"___THUUUUUUUUUD___"


*** BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ***


CL: The Purge ... And Judd Marley is out of it.  Masterson now lifting
an unconscious Baldwin and into a fireman's carry.

[... then tosses Baldwin's legs toward his back and takes a seat,
driving Baldwin's chin into his shoulder as the body falls to the
mat.]

FH: Dead Man's Hand ... Fitting name for ol' Black Jack right now.

CL: This thing is out of hand ...  PAIN came down and kidnapped Outlaw
setting up the Wild Cards in a no-win three-on-two situation.  There
never was a match

as the Widowmakers bushwhacked the Wild Cards in the back trying to
send some sort of message.

FH: Oh I think the message was sent loud and clear.

CL: The official word I am getting as the referee has thrown this
match out all-together.  As it never really was started.

[Feyr isn't done apparently as he dropped down mounting Marley and
drives his fist over-and-over into the face of Judd Marley.  PVW
officials are now in and

trying to get him off.  Feyr leaps up and shoves one official and
begins kicking the unprotected Marley.]

CL: Xavier Feyr assaulting an official!

FH: What's going to happen now?  No Keening ... No Zero Tolerance ...
NOTHING!

[Masterson and Wright look at each other and realize the message has
been sent and they grab their partner who turns around almost striking
them, but stops. A few words later he just drops to his back and rolls
out walking off. The fans boo and toss trash at the Widowmaker.]

CL: Folks while the officials check over the Wild Cards and we try to
sort things out and regain order at ring side let's go back to Dean
Hayes.

FH: Isn't this no Zero Tolerance just great Chip?

[We're backstage, and the bleak decor contrasts with the bright orange
red and gold boxer's robe of the man turning his back to the screen.
Across the back of his colorful, satiny robe is the distinct golden
emblem of a stylized phoenix, rising from the ashes once again. Over
it, black letters spell out "Le Phénix." And above that, the
blindingly shiny PVW Network Title rests on the shoulder of the
Everlasting One, the self-proclaimed immortal, "Deathless" Perry
Fontana.]

Fontana: Masked Maniac, my friend... my _dear_ FRIEND! Aaaww... WAY!
It ain't too late, cousin! You were moments away from making the
_biggest_ MISTAKE of your a breve e patetica _vita_! But, in the NICK
OF TIME, I managed to _save_ your from YOURSELF!

[Fontana slowly turns around so he now faces the camera. It's of
little help, though. Because of the hood of his robe, we can only see
his thin lips, dimpled chin and prodigious sideburns.]

Fontana: But I'm your _friend_, cousin. We've _bonded_. And sure, sure
I lied to your face this week. I may have regaled you with a few
_big_, FAT, _entertaining_ FABRICATIONS, but it was for your own
_good_!

[With his left hand, he slowly rakes his fingers through his enormous
muttonchops, pursing his lips and he deeply inhales.]

Fontana: Maybe I hadn't gone around to talking to the committee yet,
cousin, but I WAS GOING TO! You know I'm a man of my word, I'M
ITALIAN! You can _always_ TRUST an Italian, cugino!

[A cloud of spittle mushrooms in the air, then slowly floats down.]

Fontana: Here's the truth, mon petit Maniaque Masqué! The _WHOLE_
truth. I got busy with stuff. I have been celebrating, getting
massages, having a real good time with la famiglia, and restoring this
utterly _worthless_ PVW Network Championship has taken all of my time
this week.

[He tenderly caresses the shiny new PVW Network belt resting on his
shoulder, but doesn't actually touch it. His hand hovers an inch over
the gold patina, over the plating that says "Perry Fontana."]

Fontana: I was so sure they'd give Outlaw the green light first that I
didn't even bother asking on your behalf, I admit it. Then, I figured
I could tell you that... well you know how it goes, cousin. The former
champ always has right of passage!

[A beat.]

Fontana: Except he doesn't. The Sinister curve ball SCREWED EVERYTHING
UP! But don't worry, Maniaco Mascherato, DON'T!!! WORRY!!! Just keep
your spensierata bocca chiusa... I said just _keep_ your mouth SHUT!
Do that, and I'll take to the Championship Committee tonight, after I
cripple Sinister. Keep secrets secret, and you'll get your promised
title shot. I promise.

[Suddenly, Fontana removes the hood of his robe, revealing his
luxuriant black hair. And his eyes. They look... almost sincere.]

You put me on the _spot_, cousin... and I spilled out a harmless
little white lie. But I'll make it right, cugino, I will. Trust me.
Keep your blabbering mouth zipped, and you'll be rewarded. Count on
it. La loi du silence le dit. Yes, Omerta says so.  Otherwise... well.
Take a good long look at Sinister's fate, tonight. He'll be seven
feet tall when he walks out to the ring. But minus a knee, he'll be
FOUR FEET TALL when he leaves on a gurney! AAAHHHH WWAAAAYYY!!

[A dark look in his eye, he wipes the spittle that has accumulated on
his dimpled chin, toweling off the droplets that had been hanging on
to his stubble with the sleeve of his satiny orange, red and gold
robe.]

Sure, with all the _damage_ I'll do to that knee, it won't EVER be
good as new, cousin. It won't matter how many times the boy goes under
the knife, that joint will be forever _lost_! Forevermore the GIANT'S
_Achilles'_ HEEL! And since everything has a silver lining, everything
has some positive... Sinister will only have to stick a parrot on his
shoulder and get an eye patch and he'll be all set for Halloween. Just
take a good hard look at what the Everlasting One does to old Peg
Leg, tonight, Masked Maniac.

Trust Perry, "le Phénix," the friend you can count on. _Your_ friend.
Friendship is a lot less painful than Amputation.

[Fontana flips the hood of his boxer's robe back over his head,
concealing most of his face, and walks back towards the locker room.]

CL: Perry Fontana set to defend his PVW Network Championship against
Big Daddy Sin later tonight.

FH: It's going to be rough on Sinister when he can't walk or lift his
arm.

CL: Folks we are nearly just an hour into the show and so much has
already happen to shake up the foundation here at the TD Garden in
Boston.

FH: Yes, but a much needed change.  The fans were getting a little
bored at all this Zero Tolerance play by the rules stuff.

CL: Well I can't deny a little unexpecting chaos can excite things ...
I am not sure what we just saw is what we needed.

FH: Less Outlaw and Wild Cards is always good.

CL: Well we can only hope the Wild Cards are okay.  And whatever
PAIN's plan with Outlaw is ...

FH: Oh I think we can say Outlaw was just a pawn ... PAIN acomplished
what they wanted.  The Wild Cards were out numbered and suffered at
the hands of the Widowmakers.

CL: That they did.  Now that the ring has been cleared and order has
been restored.

FH: For now.

CL: Let's go back to the ring.

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall...  Introducing first
wrestling out of San Francisco, California.  Weighing in at 265
pounds.


DANNY "YOUR HERO" 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 entranceway.  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.]

FH: Our Supreme Champion!

CL: At Shattered Dreams Danny Daniels unloaded on Sinister ...
Tonight he is set to have a battle with Justin Cruise.

[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.]

HD: His opponent ... Wrestling out of Montreal, Quebec.  Weighing at
225 pounds ...


THE BLADE ... JUSTIN CRUISE !!!


## I can't believe the news today.. ##
## I can't close my eyes and make it go away.. ##

## How long.. How long must we sing this song.. ##
## How long? How loooooooong? ##

["Sunday, Bloody, Sunday" by Pillar blasts through the arena as the
fans raise to their feet for the man who put it all on the line at
Shattered Dreams ...]

## Sunday Bloody Sunday... ##
## Sunday Bloody Sunday... ##

[The entrance way continues to stay empty ...]

## When the battles just begun.. ##
## There's many lost but tell me who has won.. ##

[The music dies down ...]

FH: Where is Justin Cruise?

CL: Nobody has heard from the Blade since his lost at Shattered
Dreams.  It was every bodies hope that once his match was scheduled
there would be some sign from the veteran.

FH: Just like a Canadian ...  Tuck your tail and bow down to the likes
of Danny Daniels.

CL: Fans and the referee isn't sure what do to here.

[Danny Daniels is holding his arms up as if he just won the match as
the fans begin to boo.]

HD: Ladies and Gentlemen...  We are going to ring the bell and give
Justin Cruise a count to ten to make it to the ring.  Otherwise Danny
Daniels will be awarded the victory due to forfeit.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                    One on One Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
               Danny Daniels v. Justin Cruise
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



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


FH: Justin Cruise better get his French Canadian cowardly ass out
here.  Although if I was set to face a superstar of the caliber of
Danny Daniels I wouldn't even arrive in the same state!

CL: From what I have heard _nobody_ even his family has heard from
him.

FH: That's what happens when you find out you have a match with Danny
Daniels, Chip.


ONE ...


TWO ...


CL: The countdown has begun.


THREE ...


FOUR ...


FH: Look at Danny Daniels.  What a fighting champion!

[Daniels breaks out in a celebrating fargo strut as the referee
continues to count.]


FIVE ...


SIX ...


CL: Daniels is acting like he actually won the match.

FH: Well he IS!


SEVEN ...


EIGHT ...


[Danny Daniels raises his arms and begins to twirl with a giant smile
on his face and then begins pumping his fists.]

CL: Give me a break.


NINE ...


TEN !!!


*** ROOOOARING BOO'S ***


CL: And it appears we _still_ don't know where Justin Cruise is.

FH: Does that really shock anybody?

HD: And the winner of this match ...

[Danny Daniels stops Herk Douglas.]

CL: What's this?  Is Danny Daniels doing the honorary thing?  This
can't be.

FH: ...

HD: I have been informed that this match was for the Supreme
Championship ...  AND STILL ...

CL: Oh give me a damn break!

*** BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ***

HD: Supreme Champion ... Danny "Your Hero" Daniels!

FH: I told you Chip.  You can't take this title off Danny Daniels!

[Danny Daniels grabs his Supreme Championship from the referee and
raises it high and grabs it into a full hug as if he was just in a
hour long war defending it.]

CL: This is a disgrace to _actual_ champions.  Guys like Rob Cole ...
Gibson Hayes ...

FH: You did it Danny.  Go back and celebrate the victory.  You earned
it!

[Daniels drops to his back and rolls to the outside.  One arm goes to
his back as if he just survived hell.  The other hand raises the
Supreme championship high in the air.]

CL: Well this just raises a huge question.  Where is Justin Cruise?

FH: Oh that's an easy one Chip.  When the fax arrived at the Cruise
house-hold and he saw his name across from Danny Daniels he became the
new Monster under the bed...  The Coward monster!

[Cut to the back where "Swingin'" Dean Hayes is standing by with
Jokers Wild.  Judging by their attire, they do not look like they are
dressed to wrestle, but who knows for sure? "El Savaje" Joseph Rizal
Estrada is wearing a black T-shirt, with the image of a court jester
in red and the words "JOKERS" and "WILD" in semicircles above and
below it respectively, over a pair of camouflage pants, while Harley
Quinn O'Connor is dressed in full-on military fatigues, a pair of
sunglasses and a big, goofy grin on his as-yet unpainted face.]

DH: Gentlemen, as far as I know, you are not scheduled to compete
tonight. Why are you here?

ES: Why, to make our presence felt, Dean.

DH: Meaning...?

ES: Meaning, Dean, some people have made a bit of a deal about Jokers
Wild's performance at Shattered Dreams. How they eliminated two teams,
one of them being the former champs, Urban Legend. How Jokers Wild
have made a statement that night and that statement is, we are that
much closer to claiming the tag team titles. And, yet, the suits see
fit not to schedule Jokers Wild for a match tonight. No, not even
on Damage Control.

HQ: You see, Dean-o, we are in Boston tonight, a city where all those
years ago, our forefathers decided they had had enough. Enough with
the taxes, we'd sooner chuck your tea into the Boston Harbor than
drink it. A few good men making a stand against a great power, against
the very Empire. See, the tag team champs are a bit like that; they
have the favor of a great power, of the network, of SSN, and they are
guided by a sinister, scheming manipulator ... Yes, the other Craven.
Just like how he orchestrated the final entrance for his men in Unholy
War.

ES: So, I am pretty sure they are confident of a long, secure reign,
just like the  British thought the colonists would not be overturning
the British administration, would not be tearing down their legal
system; that they did not stand a chance against the British army. All
it takes, though, is a couple of good men to stand up to the greater
power, men who don't need no freakin' briefcases or staves or weapons
of any kind to wage Unholy War. We proved that at Shattered Dreams.
So, you rat bastard lawyers, we can do this the easy way, or we can do
this the hard way, but either way, we WILL have our time in the sun.

[Walking by in the background just as the final statement is made by
Estrada, a pair of familiar men, huge men, men with big gold belts
stop short, and turn towards the Jokers Wild. One's fat and bald,
one's blond and built like a Greek god.  It's Livestock and the
Gutch.]

Livestock: Speak of the Devil and he appears, I suppose.  Hello,
little people, and I mean that both physically and in terms of your
status in PVW.  You want a title shot, is that what I heard?

Gutch: Yeah, try eatin' a sandwich once in awhile, chumps.  You ain't
in our class, hell, you ain't even in our weight division.

Livesetock: Although size isn't everything, I'm inclined to agree with
my partner, gentlemen.  Even if I knew who you were, and I don't, your
stature as, I believe, the smallest tag team in the promotion doesn't
exactly make me want to take you seriously.

Gutch: Although it's been awhile since I got to sit on some midget and
light him up with a heavy methane-laden sulfurous ass-blasting
EGGFART!  Awesome.  Just awesome.

Livestock: Anyway, we just have to get ready for our match.  Got,
like, two minutes I think.

Gutch: See ya at the Lollipop Guild, ya Oompa-Loompa-lookin' bastards!
Bwa-haha!

[Both Jokers turn red in the face, stunned by the ambush trash talk,
and simmer as we cut back to ringside.]

CL: Livestock and The Gutch set to wrestle next against a new signed
tag team.

FH: Jokers Wild was just in the way as they were headed to the
entrance ramp.  Heck most people probably think they are janitors back
there.

CL: Now come on Fred. And now as promised, we've got Tom Landis
standing by in the locker room area. Hi Tom, can you hear me?

[We go to a quick split screen, showing the dutiful PVW announce team
on one side. On the other is "Hellraiser" Tom Landis, wearing street
clothes and with a few days growth of beard on his face.  In the
background we can see Tom's wife, Tara Marshall, standing behind him.]

TL: Hey Chip, I can hear you just fine.

CL: First of all, congratulations on your victory at Damage Control.
The Masked Maniac has had a fire lit under him as of late, and that
was no small feat to take him down.

TL: Thanks.  After Hayes got away with another one in London, the last
thing I wanted to do was extend that losing streak.  And people might
look at the Maniac and roll their eyes, but he's got a lot of untapped
potential underneath the crazy.  Not to mention like you said,
something's bugging him lately.  Sure looks like the days of playful
Maniac are over.

CL: What have you got planned in the near future here in PVW?

TL: Well truthfully I'd still love to get my hands on Gibson one last
time, but I know I've gotta get to the back of the pack now.  I've
been in this business long enough to know how these things work.
Other than that, I'm just here to have fun and hopefully entertain.
Remember, I was practically retired not that long ago.  If there's one
good thing I can say about Hayes, it's that he's a great motivator one
way or another.

CL: So you'll be sticking around Phoenix Valley Wrestling a little
longer?

TL: As long as you'll have me, Chip.

FH: Got anymore softballs, Lester?  Hey Landis, you ever find out who
it was that knocked up your little sister?

[Tom's expression darkens almost immediately.]

TL: Hoyle, now's not the time or place to-

FH: C'mon, the whole world's abuzz with the question.  Just who's
brave enough to marry into that freakshow of a family you have going
on?

TL: Alright, interview's over.

CL: Wait Tom, excuse my colleague for his-

[Landis stands up and rips his mic off, turning away as we lose the
split-screen.]

FH: Well, someone's touchy.  Guess he's still in the dark.

CL: Fred, that was awful!  His sister's marriage is obviously a touchy
subject for Tom, and you just tried to ambush him on the air!

FH: That's what makes me such an intrepid reporter, I ask the
questions people wanna hear.

["Rock the Casbah" by the Clash begins to play throughout the arena.
After a few long moments the figures of Max Weinrib and Salih Mubarak
walk out from the entrance way. The two men look exhausted as they
drag their duffle bags across the floor as they make their way to the
ring.]

CL: And we were saved ... I was just informed Max Weinrib and Sal
Mubarak literally walked into the arena as their entrance music
starting playing Fred.

FH: How two men cannot have proper transportation I will never know!
Wait what are their last names?

CL: Weinrib and Mubarak.

FH: Yeah like I'm ever going to get those right.

CL: These two youngsters are both second generation wrestlers and
tonight they hope to get their PVW career off on the right foot, but
with the distance they had to walk to the arena I'm not sure the two
of them will have much gas in this match.

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

["Breaking the Law" by Judas Priest plays, and with no lighting
effects, no fanfare, just the words "Livestock and the Gutch" on the
PVW video screen, a pair of big men in black shirts printed to look
like suit jackets and ties carrying briefcases emerge from the
entrance portal.  Also notable are the golden belts they have slung
over their shoulders.]

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

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

[The fat one, Gutch, does a silly little dance for the crowd as
Livestock points out to the crowd, then slaps his free hand on his
briefcase.  Bringing it up the rear comes what looks like a second,
black, Gutch.  This is “Big” Bubba Hayes, the team's new manager.]

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

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

HD: Accompanied to the ring by "Big" Bubba Hayes ...

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

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

[Still walking.]

#Breaking the law, breaking the law!#

HD: They weigh in tonight at a combined weight of 685 pounds, this is
the team of LIVESTOCK and THE GUTCH!

[Climbing into the ring, Livestock and Gutch each climb a turnbuckle
and raise their briefcases in mock victory.  Standing on the outside,
Bubba crosses his arms, grimacing out at the crowd.]

FH: I really hope the arena can support of that mass of humanity!

CL: As we all heard on Burning Effect Zeke Craven has gone on to
greener pastures for himself here in the PVW and has passed the reigns
of managerial duty over to 'Big' Bubba Hayes ...

FH: I hope we get another poem from him soon ...

CL: I believe that poem resulted in a fifty thousand dollar fine for
the PVW, so I don't think we'll be hearing one soon.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                     Tag Team Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
         Mubarak and Weinrib v. Livestock and The Gutch
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: Looks like Livestock is going to start out for the champs ...

FH: Are the other two playing rock, paper, scissors ...

CL: They have names ...

FH: So ...

CL: Looks like Sal is going to start out for the challengers ...

[Referee Jim Pearson motrions for the two men to get the match
underway and Livestock gives Jim a glare.]

FH: Livestock glaring at the referee for telling him what to do.

CL: That's strange considering on Burning Effect how he keep saying he
needed Zeke as a mastermind to guide the team. You would figure he
would like being ordered around.

FH: You know nothing Lester. Zeke guided them to greatness, Jim just
wants to collect his paycheck.

CL: Sal locking up with the bigger Livestock, who has nothing but
momentum behind him and his partner The Gutch after winning Unholy War
at Shattered Dreams.

[Livestock begins to push Mubarakl towards the corner, Mubarak though
catches Livestock in the gut with a quick knee lift, causing a break
in the collar and elbow tie-up. Sal squares up and connects with a
quick jab to the jaw of Livestock, Sal unwinds and fires off a second
quick jab but the face of Livestock suddenly becomes enraged. He palms
the face of Sal forcing him into the corner and drives his knee into
the gut of Sal doubling him over. Livestock follows up with a stiff
European Uppercut sending Sal back first into the corner.]

FH: Someone failed to tell the new kid on the block that hitting
Livestock in the face is like a death sentence.

CL: Livestock has to be the vainest champion in the history of the
PVW.

[Livestock grabs Sla by the head and spins him around and slams Sal
head first into the turnbuckle.]

CL: Good Lord the face of Sal is being rearanged on that top
turnbuckle!

[Sla staggers to a knee and Livestock continues to slam the head of
Sal into the the second turnbuckle.]

FH: Even with Sal on a knee begging for mercy Livestock continues to
abuse Sal. I almost feel bad for the new kids tonight. Livestock and
The Gutch are looking to make a statement here tonight in their first
match since winning the titles and right now Livestock is making a
statement!

['Big' Bubba Hayes claps in satisfaction as Livestock grabs Mubarak
and hoists him into the air palcing him on the top rope. Livestock
drives his elbow into the small of Mubarak's back and after a second
shot he climbs to the second rope hooking Mubarak's arm around his
neck and then he ascends to the top rope pulling Mubarak to his feet.]

CL: Both men standing on the top rope ...

FH: And in my history in the sport I know this is not a good thing.
The ring ropes are only so wide!

[Livestock hooks the near leg of Mubarak and lifts him into the air
falling backwards as he does so.]


!!! CCCRRRAAASSSHHH !!!


CL: Top Rope Belly to Back Suplex!

FH: Livestock drilling Mubarak hard into the canvas!

CL: And he might have even knocked the wind out of himself as he is so
to his feet.

[On the ring apron Weinrib covers his eyes for a brief moment before
screaming for his partner to get to his feet. Livestock though is the
first men to his feet and he pulls Mubarak up and catches him with a
knife edge chop. A second knife edge and a third. Mubarak grabs his
chest in pain as Livestock pushes him into the ropes and slaps him one
ore time across the chest. He grabs the right arm of Mubarak and whips
him into the far side ropes.]

CL: Livestock dropping his head a split second early and Mubarak leap
frogs over him and spins around as Livestock turns around ..

FH: Sal catches him with a swift kick to the gut and he locks on a
Front Chancery ...

CL: But Livestock is able to shove him off and into the ropes.

FH: And Livestock drops Sal with a quick Clothesline!

CL: It's obvious that Mubarak is exhusted here ...

FH: Oh like it's Livestock and The Gutch's fault that their
transportation broke down.

CL: Wouldn't surprise me if it was their fault.

FH: Actually that wouldn't surprise me either Lester. But who cares I
like Livestock and The Gutch.

CL: Really I couldn't tell Fred. I mean it's not like you don't play
favorites or anything.

[Livestock grabs Mubarak's arm and locks in a wrist lock. He pulls
Mubarak towards his corner where he reaches and tags in the bigger big
man Gutch, after the tag Livestock takes the wrist lock and turns it
into a Hammer Lock.]

CL: And The Gutch is now in the ring ...

FH: And Sal is felling is feeling the wrath of both men as Livestock
continues to hold onto that Hammer Lock as The Gutch just drives
rights into the ribs of Sal.

CL: Finally Pearson forces Livestock out of the ring as The Gutch
whips Mubarak into the corner.

[Livestock drives an elbow into the side of Mubarak.]

CL: What a cheap shot!

FH: What cheap shot?

CL: You're not so old that your vision is going Fred! I know you saw
it!

[The Gutch rushes forward ...]

[The crowd pops as Mubarak just rolls out of the way of the charging
Gutch.]

CL: And The Gutch Missed the Avalanche Splash!

FH: I think the ring just moved five or six inches from that impact!

[Mubarak tries to crawl across the ring but The Gutch is able to
recover and stop Mubarak from making the tag. The Gutch pulls Mubarak
to his feet and lifts him into the air ...]

CL: Gorilla Press! The Gutch was able to lift Mubarak into the air
with ease and just stepped out from under him allowing Mubarak to meet
the mat!

FH: It's amazing what a few years at the gym will do. I remember when
The Gutch could barely lift you up Lester.

[Mubarak grabs his midsection is pain as The Gutch grabs Mubarak
pulling him back to his feet and dragging him towards his corner where
he tags back in Livestock.]

CL: Livestock taking over as he pulls Mubarak into a Front Chancery
and hoists him into the air ...

FH: Vertical Suplex and The Gutch conencts with a Splash!

[The crowd moans as Mubarak is crushed under the massive frame of the
The Gutch.]




ONE ...




TWO ...



[Weinrib dives into the ring catching The Gutch in the back of the
head breaking the cover.]

CL: Weinrib saving his partner there.

FH: But why? These two are just being killed right now. Why on Earth
would you want to continue this beating?

[Jim Pearson orders Weinrib out of the ring as The Gutch stands up and
drags the limp form of Mubarak towards the corner]

FH: What on Earth is The Gutch doing?

CL: It looks like he wants to put an explaination point on this match
as he has ascended to the second rope ...

[The crowd gasps as The Gutch leaps ..]

FH: HE MISSES!

CL: Mubarak rolled out of the way and The Gutch ...

[Weinrib begins to stomp the apron urging Mubarak to move, as
Livestock screams at The Gutch.]

CL: Both Weinrib and Livestock are urging their partners to get up ...

FH: I swear The Gutch sunk into the ring a few inches so it might be
more difficult for him to make a tag.

[Weinrib leans over the top rope pleading for Mubarak to move towards
him to make the tag as 'Big' Bubba Hayes slams his hands upon the ring
apron trying to get The Gutch to his feet.]

CL: Mubarak is stirring but so is The Gutch!

[Both men are down but Mubarak is slowly getting to his feet first.
The Gutch slowly tries to push himself up as Livestock yells for the
big man to get up. The crowd cheers as Mubarak makes the tag to
Weinrib.]

CL: And we're going to get out first look at Weinrib now as he comes
into the ring!

[Weinrib keeps The Gutch grounded by driving a knee to the back of The
Gutch. He then suddenly walks across The Gutch's back. Livestock
screams on the outside of the complete lack of respect for his tag
team partner. Weinrib drops to his knees and charges with a Headbutt
onto the The Gutch. He grabs The Gutch and slowly pulls the big man to
his feet where he drives a right hand to the tough skull of The
Gutch.]

FH: I'm not sure The Gutch even felt the Headbutt or that right hand
from Max. Doesn't he realize how dense that skull of The Gutch is?

[Weinrib follows up with two more right hands and finishes the series
of jabs with a forearm to the side of head.  The Gutch though shrugs
it off and fires a right of his own and a second and a third, and
Weinrib seems to have a tough skull as he takes the abuse in stride
and drives his right hand once again into the head of The Gutch. He
quickly slams his knee into the massive gut of The Gutch.]

FH: And there goes Max getting eaten by the blob!

CL: The Gutch is not eating him!

FH: Are you sure? He seems to be having a problem getting his knee
back.

[Weinrib slaps on a side head lock and pulls The Gutch towards his
corner where he quickly tags in Mubarak. Mubarak ascends to the top
rope and drives a Double Axe Handle across the back of The Gutch
forcing him to his knees. Weinrib releases the the side head lock and
slides to the outside where he grabs The Gutch's leg forcing him to
hit the mat. Mubarak quickly leaps to the top rope.]

FH: Max is holding the leg of The Gutch!

[Flashbulbs erupt as Mubarak leaps fro mteh top rope.]

CL: Top Rope Elbow Drop finds it's mark!

[The crowd is getting behind the young team as Mubarak goes for the
cover.]




ONE ...




TWO ...


FH: And The Gutch just powers Sal off of him .. that was Sal right.

CL: {sighs} Yes. You really need to start learning hte roster.

FH: The PVW debuts a guy a show it seems. It's tough to keep up with
the roster here.

[Both The Gutch and Sal are too there feet but Sal quickly tags out to
Max.]

CL: Smart move by Mubarak as he has been taking the brunt of the
attack from the tag team champs.

[Weinrib quickly grabs The Gutch by the arm and attempts to Irish Whip
him but the The Gutch stands his ground and is able to pull Weinrib
towards him and flattens him with a Short Arm Clothesline.]

CL: The Gutch pulls Weinrib to his feet and Irish Whips him hard into
the corner.

FH: And there goes The Gutch!

[The crowd moans as The Gutch drills Weinrib in the corner with Corner
Avalache.]

FH: Max not nearly as fortunate as his partner was earlier in the mat!

CL: The Gutch steps back and grabs Weinrib by the head and tosses him
to the mat face first.

FH: The Gutch reaching out and making the tag to his partner Livestock
who comes back into the ring with a swagger to his step.

[Livestock reaches down pulling Weinrib to his feet but Weinrib out of
desperation reaches up grabbing Livestock by the head and drops down.]

CL: Jawbreaker! Livestock is down and Weinrib is shaking out the
cobwebs as he stands over Livestock.

[Without warning Livestock kipps up grabbing Weinrib by the head and
drops back to the mat driving Weinrib down with a DDT.]

CL: Kipp-up DDT by Livestock!

[Livestock kipps up again and drops an elbow into the chest of
Weinrib.]

CL: Cover by Livestock!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THR ...

CL: And only a two count as Weinrib edges his right should up.

FH: Livestock doesn't look happy as he pulls Weinrib up and takes him
down quickly with a Fisherman's Buster Suplex!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THRE ...

CL: And again Weinrib with a shoulder up.

[Without warning an air raid siren is heard. This is followed by the
sound of machine gun fire, alternating with a deep, low boom and the
sound of planes flying overhead. Finally, there is a long, whistling
sound that grows higher in pitch, followed by a loud explosion as pyro
goes off in front of the entranceway. The crowd cheers as The
Offspring's "Hammerhead" starts to play.]

CL: That's the entrance music of Joker's Wild!

FH: What are they doing here!

[The camera quickly pans to entranceway where no movement can be seen.
'Big' Bubba Hayes stares at the entrance as a body guard would waiting
for Joker's Wild to appear. Livestock is also to his feet staring at
the entrance but still no movement.]

CL: No sign of Joker's Wild!

FH: Damn it someone in the production crew is going to be losing their
job tonight!

[Livestock pulls Weinrib up again and whips him hard into the corner.
He reaches over tagging in The Gutch he steps into the ring and drives
an elbow into the head of Weinrib. The Gutch pulls Weinrib out of the
corner with a fluid motion ducks in behind him locking on a waistlock.
He walks closer to the corner where he tagsin in Livestock who ascends
to the top rope and leaps!]

FH: FINAL STATEMENT! They used this at Unholy War to win the tag
titles!

[The crowd erupts as the members of Joker's Wild Joseph Estrada and
Harley Quinn O'Connor leap the ringside barrier by the time keepers
table.]

CL: Livestock and The Gutch nail their combination bulldog and
facebuster like move and wait there's Joker's Wild!

FH: They have their greedy, and grimmy hands on the tag team titles!

[Livestock screams at 'Big' Bubba hayes to deal with Joker's Wild as
The Gutch rolls under the bottom rope also heading for Joker's Wild.
Livestock rolls Weinrib over for the cover.]




ONE ...




TWO ...




[Mubarak dives across the ring breaking up the cover. Livestock is
quickly to his feet and swings wildly at Mubarak who ducks the wild
swing catching Livestock by the waist and lifting him into the air.]

CL: The Sandstorm! Mubarak catches Livestock with the Stun Gun!

FH: And hayes and The Gutch have driving Joker's Wild back over the
ring side barricade.

CL: Mubarak running towards the ropes and he dives through middle rope
crashing into Hayes and The Gutch!

[Weinrib barely is able to roll over and get his arm across the chest
of Livestock.]




ONE ...



[The Gutch is up fisrst from the pileup on the outside and pulls
Mubarak up and slams him down hard onto the concrete. He looks into
the ring and begins to pull himself onto the ring apron.]



TWO ...



[The Gutch is finally on the apron.]




THREE !!!



FH: NO!

CL: Max einrib and Sal Mubarak with a huge upset!

FH: They owe this one to joker's Wild! If those two clowns hadn't come
to the ringside area and tried to steal the title belts The Gutch
would have been in the right position to stop Sal from interfering!
And damn the ref allowing Sal to hit that Stun Gun on Livestock! It
was an illegal double team move! They should be disqualified!

CL: It doesn't matter anymore Fred.  Weinrib and Mubarak earn a huge
victory in their debut!

FH: I refuse to call it a "victory".  Who do these Joker Wild schmucks
think they are?

CL: They wanted the attention of the tag team champions ... And it
appears they have it now!

[Weinrib and Mubarak are seen quickly trotting up the aisle way with
their arms raised high as The Gutch and Livestock are livid on the
outside of the ring.]

CL: Livestock and The Gutch are not happy and I have to say this
ammuses me a little-bit.

FH: It would ...

CL: Livestock and The Gutch talked down on Jokers Wild right before
they come out and cost them a victory.

FH: Horrible ... Just horrible.

[The tag team champions have grabbed their titles and started to high
tail it up the aisle way.  As they disappear to the back out steps the
PVW founder - Dex Willingham.]

CL: It appears Mr. Willingham's meeting has all, but ended!

FH: Maybe now we will start to get a little answers around here.

[The fans applaud Dex Willingham as he takes the wireless microphone
and enters the ring.]

DW: Please excuse me Boston.  I don't deserve to be inside this ring.
I don't come out here and put my body on the line.  I don't bleed
pints of blood ... Survive moments of destruction like so many of the
PVW superstars.

[The whole building is silent as they listen to every word the PVW
founder has to say.]

DW: I've always promised myself I wouldn't be one of those owners who
love to gain the mainstream attention just because a few of his
investment dollars built the doors of this promotion.   We all know it
doesn't matter how many dollars you spend ... It takes the right
superstars to build something like we have here.

[Tear down the roof POP and support for the PVW superstars.]

CL: What honorary words from our PVW founder!

FH: So when is he going to get down to the good stuff.  Come on Dex!

[Dex paces the ring for a moment as he lets the thoughts set in his
mind.]

DW: I know there is so many questions you all would like answered.
Believe me I would love to stand here and tell you everything _I_ am
trying to do behind the scenes in delivering to you the best promotion
out there today.  However it's just not as easy as that.

[Back to silence as the PVW founder continues to speak.]

DW: Soon ... VERY soon all these questions will have answers.  However
for me it's more difficult then to tell you what _I_ want or where I
want things to head.

CL: What does that mean?

FH: It means SSN also has a say in things Chip.

DW: With all that said. There is one issue I _have_ to address.  At
Shattered Dreams, the World Heavyweight Title was discarded and left
in the center of this ring.  I have a problem with that. I have a
problem with the lack of respect for that belt, the behavior and
recent psychological problems of our champion, and I'm going to ask
him to come down to this ring.

["Rumatahatta" begins to play over the loudspeakers and the audience
erupts to their feet as the World Champion appears on the stage.  Rob
Cole is battered, bruised, and wrapped with a fresh bandage around his
skull as he gimps his way down the aisle with the title belt hung
carelessly over one shoulder.  He scowls a bit at the surprisingly
warm reaction, turning to stare at one of his supporters with
confusion before shaking his head and continuing down to the ring.]

CL: The man who managed to hold on to his title after one hellacious
battle, Rob Cole makes his way to the ring to address the PVW.
Surprisingly, however, he's one of the few stars who actually didn't
violate Zero Tolerance at the Pay Per View. careful study of the tapes
revealed that he never once actually used a weapon!

FH: He broke our table, cracked open Cruises' skull, gave him a gash
along his arm, and spent the match attempting to rip it from the
socket. but nope! Not one violation of the ZTP in his match. unless
you count Cruises' attempt to bring in a chair!

[Cole retrieves a microphone, turning to regard Willingham for a
moment before he pulls the title off his shoulder and raises it. to a
huge ovation!!!  Cole pauses for a moment, regarding the audience
before he turns to regard Willingham in the center of the ring.  The
owner of the company stands and watches the Outcast in silence,
waiting for Cole to say his bit.]

RC: Alright, Dex. Mr. Willingham. I'm here.  You wanted me down in
this ring, and here I am.  Now don't be bashful. don't stare at me
like I'm supposed to be a chastened child, just say what you called me
down here to say.

DW: Rob. beyond a shadow of a doubt, you are one of the toughest men
I've ever met in my life.  You're a talented wrestler, a grizzled
veteran, and I have nothing but respect for the things you do in this
ring.  I thought your match with Justin Cruise would degenerate into
something sick and twisted. but the two of you fought a hard and
brutal match and you should be commended.  The thing is. while I'm
actually rather proud to have a competitor like you as my champion, I
get the feeling you're not all that proud to BE the champion.

[Cole shifts the title on his shoulder, brows furrowed.]

DW: This belt is a commitment, Rob. it isn't just a decoration for you
to drop on the mat when the match is done, it isn't something a couple
of ring technicians are supposed to haul backstage with the lighting
and the pyro. This is the World title!  It is a symbol of excellence
in this sport. I can overlook the kooky masks, the violent outbursts,
and all the other crap you pull.  Frankly, I don't care if it's real
or a mind game or something between ... but the truth is that none of
that matters, not when you're dropping your belt in the center of the
ring!

[Cole listens, and nods his head. he pulls the belt off his shoulder
and stares down at the gold.  A moment of silence passes between the
two men before Cole lifts his eyes. and drops the title once more!
The audience is stunned into silence, and Willingham steps back in
shock as Cole lifts the microphone.]

RC: Zero. Tolerance. Policy. I've been a caged animal for the past few
months, living under one suspension after another. forced to swallow
the crap thrown down by your Head of Security, forced to sit out on a
few months of work, and forced to rest on my laurels with the World
Title gaining nothing but dust.  You expect me to respect this belt?
It hasn't had a chance to earn the respect it deserves!  You and your
little cronies have been scrambling to protect yourselves from the big
bad men that you work with, you forgot what business you were in.
I'll drop that belt. I'll spit on that belt. and what are you going to
do?  Write a new rule up, protect your company, and do all the usual
crap?  People are already talking about me and Marley. they're
predicting a big blow out for your next Pay Per View, and maybe it
comes or maybe it doesn't.  Are you going to use a new policy like ZTP
to keep me out of action for the next two months? Are you going to
shut me down again? If so. well, then you tell me who is dropping the
belt in the center of the ring.  You tell me who just spits on it,
disregards it, and dismisses it! You spit on me, on Cruise, on every
performer in this company and on every fan who slaps down their
paycheck to see men fight for THIS glory!!!

[Cole suddenly ducks to pick up the belt, walking past Willingham.
The owner of the company has a thoughtful look in his eyes as he
regards the champion, Cole holding the title out to the fans on one
side of the ring. The roar is deafening, and this time the Outcast
shows no confusion. he simply turns to approach the other side of the
arena and get the same response from there.  He turns back to face Dex
Willingham, lifting the microphone with his other hand.]

RC: It's been a wretched summer, Dex.  I've had to face things about
myself that I didn't like all that much, sit out on a lot of shows,
and I only barely managed to hold on to this cheap piece of tin.  You
don't like the way I treat this belt?  You think someone else will
show it more prestige? Then you take off the shackles, you sign the
matches, and you get this belt OFF of me!

[And the PVW World Champion turns and heads right back up the aisle
way.  The PVW owner ... The founder of this promotion stands in the
center of the stage a proud smile sits across his face.  Whatever the
reason Dex came to Boston ... Whatever the reason Dex came into this
ring doesn't matter because the response he got from Rob Cole was
exactly what he and the PVW needed.]

CL: WHOA ... Rob Cole the World Champion just gave a challenge to the
owner of the company.

FH: And it appears Dex Willingham is happy with what the champion has
said.

CL: Rob Cole has been an enigma his whole career.  While most
superstars need the fame ... the glory ... the money ... the
spotlight.  Rob Cole only wanted one thing.  To be able to step inside
this ring and be Rob Cole.

FH: Zero Tolerance shackled a lot of men ... The Widowmakers ...
Spectre ... Hell the list goes on and on.  However we may of turned
our head, but it shackled Rob Cole the most.

CL: Dex Willingham didn't touch a lot of the questions we all want
answers too, but apparently we have one answer ... Rob Cole is the PVW
World Heavyweight Champion and he wants to fight!

[The PVW owner has removed himself from the ring.  The camera catches
him patting a young fan up the aisle way as he continues to work his
way back to the backstage.]

CL:  What a night it has been and we are only half way done.  Zero
Tolerance looks all but over.  And we have already had plenty of tests
to make sure.  Jason Keening and the PVW security team appears to be
in disarray.

FH: The Widowmakers are running wild!

[The doleful sound of "Rooster" by Alice In Chains begins to play
through the arena, as the lights drop down.  Pale blue spotlights
illuminate the aisle from underneath, playing off of a thin mist
rising from the floor... creating an ethereal-looking effect as the
powerful frame of Marcus Manson slowly walks through the curtain.
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: Marcus Manson hasn't lost a match since... I don't even know when!

CL: He is very proud, perhaps inordinately proud, of his long winning
streak in singles matches...

FH: INORDINATELY?  Are you kidding?  I think we should mention that at
least once a segment.  Marcus Manson hasn't lost in eleven months.  At
least.

CL: That fact might not last past this segment... and from Manson's
demeanor, you can see that he knows it.

[Manson takes his sweet time walking down the aisle, his brow furrowed
in a look of concentration; a look made more ominous by the scar
running from above his right eye all the way to his chin.  Marcus is
wearing a dark longcoat over his full-length black tights, red
kneepads, red MMA gloves and black boots.  He stops about three-
quarters of the way down the aisle to glare at a group of fans
sporting Mercenary merchandise, before moving on.  The tall, long-
haired Widowmaker arrives at ringside, and stalks around the ring
towards the ringsteps.]

FH: That's focus.  Manson and the Mercenary know each other.  Very,
very, very well.  They were both original Widowmakers, a dozen years
ago.  But Manson was pretty much a rookie then.  And Merc?  He was old
THEN!  How old IS the guy?

CL: Why don't you ask him?

FH: Because I dislike bleeding.  But the point is... Manson is in his
prime.  The peak of his powers.  He has seen Merc at his best, but
even a guy as tough as the Mercenary can't stay at his prime forever.

[Manson climbs the steps, and looks over the crowd with a scowl before
stepping over the top rope into the ring.  As he does, "Rooster" is
replaced by the sound of an approaching helicopter.  It starts out low
in volume, but increases steadily, until it sounds like it is right
above the arena.  The pale blue track lighting is replaced by amber
air-raid alert lighting, flashing all over the arena.  The helicopter
sound then abruptly drops low, as if it had passed overhead.  But soon
the sounds of machine gun fire are heard over the PA, with
accompanying small pyrotechnic explosions running down the aisle.  The
fans, knowing what all of this means, begin to cheer.

Four large explosions echo throughout the building, as the pyro fills
the entranceway with smoke... and then we cut straight into "Die Hard
The Hunter" by Def Leppard.  The Mercenary stomps through the smoke
screen at the top of the aisle, and he's loaded for bear.  Toting his
trademark Haliburton briefcase, the grizzled veteran with the dark
brushcut and almost olive-toned skin pauses at the entranceway, to
soak in the reaction of the capacity crowd... and they're giving him
quite an ovation.]

FH: These fans are cheering him, Chip, but that doesn't make sense to
me.  He'd turn on anyone for a buck, and he'll tell you so if you ask
him.

CL: That's part of the reason they DO like him, Fred.  The Mercenary
is very up-front about his motives; he's not a schemer, a manipulator,
an arrogant jerk, or a coward.  He's exactly what his name says he is,
he behaves exactly how he says he's going to, and over his goodness-
knows-how-many-year career he has gained the respect and appreciation
of most wrestling fans.  And while he may or may not admit it, Marcus
Manson also respects him.

FH: That is true, Manson does respect him.  Which means he'll do
anything and everything to take him out.  Sometimes it's dangerous to
have a man's respect, Chip.

[Merc, who tonight is wearing black trunks with a skull-and-dollar-
sign insignia on the back along with combat boots and an "I BROKE A
GUY'S LEG AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT AND A HUGE PAYCHECK" T-
Shirt, marches to the ring.  The battle-scarred warrior quickly heads
to the steps, and climbs up onto the apron... warily watching Manson,
who hasn't removed his longcoat yet and is in a ready position very
close to the ropes.]

CL: Manson is indeed wary, and you can bet that Merc is always
prepared.  Let's go up to Herk Douglas for the introductions.

[The music fades as the PVW ring announcer takes center ring.  Manson
slowly steps back to his corner, as the Mercenary finally steps
through the ropes.]

HD: THE FOLLOWING CONTEST IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL, WITH A FIFTEEN
MINUTE TIME LIMIT! INTRODUCING FIRST, TO MY LEFT!  FROM PITTSBURGH,
PENNSYLVANIA... WEIGHING TWO-HUNDRED NINETY-FOUR POUNDS...

        M A R C U S    M A N S O N  !  !


[The crowd boos, though there are a few sparse cheers for the man once
known as the Misery Machine.  He doesn't react much either way.]


HD: AND HIS OPPONENT, HAILING FROM "THE BUNKER"... WEIGHING IN AT TWO-
HUNDRED SIXTY-THREE POUNDS...

        T H E   M E R C E N A R Y  !  !


[Cheers for the professional paramilitary man, who acknowledges them
with a slight nod.  His eyes, however, do not leave Manson.]


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                    One on One Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
             The Mercenary v. Marcus Manson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: We're underway.  Manson yet to take off his jacket, and the
Mercenary wants him checked.  Referee Duke Martin acceeding to the
request, he wants Manson to ditch the coat or submit to a search!

[Manson gives the referee a "no and what are you going to do about it"
glare.  But Duke does not give in, and start applying a count.  At
that, Manson puts his hands out placatingly, steps towards the center
of the ring, and reaches inside his coat for something.  Merc responds
by picking his Haliburton back up, until he sees what it is that
Manson has produced from his coat.]

FH: Ha ha!  I wonder if these fans will still be cheering the
Mercenary in two minutes.

CL: Manson has a wad of cash, and is offering it to the Mercenary...
to leave!

[To the boos of the fans, Manson makes the "take the money and walk"
pantomime. Merc seems to be considering it.  He looks out to the
crowd, and they shout their disapproval of that option.]

FH: As if these dimwits are going to influence Merc NOT to take a
payoff.

CL: I don't know about that.  I see quite a few people wearing his
merchandise.

FH: Well... he's got a great T-Shirt, but what does THAT have to do
with anything?

CL: Is Manson's offer really going to offset the lost income if people
stop buying his merchandise?

FH: ...I didn't think of that.  MARCUS!  DOUBLE THE PAYOUT!

[After a moment of consulting with the crowd (or maybe counting heads
who had bought something that he gets a license fee for; it's really
hard to say), the Mercenary steps up to Manson, smiles, and holds out
his hand.]

FH: Ha!  Bunch of cheapskates in this town, I knew it.  Now watch how
these hypocrites react.

[Manson nods and hands him the money.  Merc takes it, walks to his
corner, puts the money in his Haliburton, and tosses it to the floor.
Then he turns around and flattens Manson from behind with a running
forearm shot to the head.  The fans cheer as Merc starts stomping away
on Manson!]

FH: HEY!  HE'S A MERCENARY, HE CAN'T RENIGE ON A DEAL!

CL: I guess he can, because he took the money and is kicking Manson's
hindquarters across the ring!

FH: See if anyone ever does business with him again!  And of course
the fans are cheering someone who takes money and doesn't keep
promises, they probably all belong to one of the major political
parties.  Are we in Washington or something?

CL: Mercenary picking up Manson... big atomic drop, and a clothesline
to the back of the head follows up immediately!  The Mercenary pouring
it on!

[Merc boots Manson, who is on his hands and knees, in the ribcage.
The near-three hundred pounder rolls to the corner, and sticks his
head and one arm through the ropes to force the referee to break it
up.  WHich he does... Martin gets in and blocks Merc from advancing on
Manson.  Marcus again gets on hands-and-knees, facing in towards the
corner; seeing this opening, Merc shoves past Martin.  But Manson
swings backwards, and the bottom of his coat sweeps up into Merc's
leg.  And he drops as if he were hit with a lead pipe!  The fans are
up in arms over this.]

FH: Nice elbow to the knee by Manson.

CL: THAT WASN'T AN ELBOW!  HE WAS HIDING A LEAD PIPE IN HIS LONGCOAT!

FH: Prove it!

[The camera gets a shot as Manson finally ditches his longcoat.  It
hits the concrete floor, and a lead pipe rolls out of it.  The crowd
howls in protest!]

FH: ...yeah, well, prove he actually HIT him with it!

CL: Manson up, and kicking away at the leg of the Mercenary!  He does
not often resort to measures that drastic, but he knows what his
opponent can and will do.

FH: Can and _will_ is a great way to put it.  Merc would have done the
same thing.  Plus he just stole about two grand.  He deserved that.

CL: Manson picking up the Mercenary... kneebreaker!  I don't think
Manson knows any leg submissions that would be a threat to make the
Merc tap out, but reducing his opponent's mobility can leave a man
wide open for the Heart Punch!

FH: It's real smart to work a leg, or even an arm when you use that
Heart Punch.  Anything to reduce the chance of a block or a dodge.
Manson wrenching on a kneebar right now.  He's not a great technician,
but he's not a bad technician either.  And his strength will help a
lot with simple holds.  Besides, those complex gimmicky holds and such
are pointless anyway.  Actually, he should just forget the holds,
chuck the man to the outside, and hit him with the pipe again.  That's
great chain wrestling.

CL: That is NOT chain wrestling!

FH: You're right.  He should have brought a chain, and hit him with
THAT after he used the pipe.

CL: Will you stop?

FH: No.

CL: Manson scooping up the Mercenary, and a punch right to the face!
Headbutt!  And scoops him and slams him!  It looks like Manson going
back to his more traditional power game, or possibly even going to
switch styles and tactics to keep Merc off-balance.  Marcus Manson off
the ropes... BIG ELBOWDROP!

FH: A lot of times, when guys try that big high jump elbowdrop, they
miss because the other guy has all day to move.  But Merc was stunned
by Manson's power.

CL: And the pipe to the leg.

FH: Duh.

CL: Manson back to the leg, he's applying an achilles tendon hold now.
It looks like an anklelock, but he's not torquing the ankle, he's
trying to distend the achilles tendon.  And this is where you can see
that he's out of his comfort zone, Fred.  That hold does not attack
the same part of the leg that he might have injured with the lead
pipe!

FH: It doesn't matter.  You know Mercenary wasn't expecting this
approach!

CL: Merc kicking Manson off of him, and rolling out of the ring.
Manson stepping out over the ropes after him!  And dropping off the
apron with a big clubbing forearm!

FH: He hammered the Mercenary with that one.  And... okay, here's your
attack on the knee area!  Is THIS hitting the same place he allegedly
hit with the lead pipe?

[Marcus has dragged the Mercenary to the ring steps, pulled the steps
on top of Merc's wounded left knee, and is stomping the steps down
into his knee!  The fans boo this tactic.]

CL: COME ON!

FH: Yeah, is that the best you can do?  You should slam his knee into
the steps!

[Manson turns and points at Fred with a "hey, good idea" sort of smile
on his face. He then scoops up Merc as for a kneebreaker, and drops
him knee-first onto the steps!]

FH: I'd be a great manager, huh Chip?

CL: I thought you didn't like bleeding.

FH: Nah, if anyone listened to me, their opponents wouldn't even have
a chance to lay a finger on me.

CL: Manson breaking the count, and rolling back outside.  Irish-whip
to the ringpost... REVERSED!  MANSON HITS THE POST FACEFIRST!

[The crowd cheers as it is Manson that goes face-first into the
ringpost!  He slumps against the ringpost, as Mercenary builds up a
head of steam... and hits a jumping shoulderblock to Manson's head
that sandwiches his cranium between the post and Merc's body weight!]

CL: Dangerous charging attack, but it paid off!

FH: Yeah, normally when someone charges at the ringpost they... HEY!
*thump*

[Merc, remembering Fred's advice to Manson from a moment ago, limps
over and pops him one in the ear.  He points at Hoyle and says "You
keep your hole shut next time, or I'll nail it shut!"  He then turns
and catches an onrushing Manson coming at him with a big haymaker to
the midsection, and then rams his good knee right into the bridge of
the Widowmaker's nose, laying him out on the concrete!  The fans cheer
all of this wholeheartedly.]

CL: THE MERCENARY IS UP, AND HE IS DISHING IT OUT NOW!

FH: HE HIT ME!  HE _HIT_ _ME_!

CL: So much for that managing idea.

FH: I OUGHTA...

CL: Do something that will REALLY make him angry, and ensure that
he'll beat you to a pulp?

FH: ...okay, fine, we're even.  *grumble*grumble*

CL: Merc throwing Manson back in the ring.  He is hobbling on that
leg...

FH: *grumble*...if I was ten years younger, boy...*grumble*

CL: Manson up, and swinging wildly!  But the attack is blocked and met
with three counter punches!  Mercenary scooping up Manson... maybe the
side backbreaker?  No, side suplex!  Crushing maneuver, though
normally you'd have seen the backbreaker there; Merc trying to avoid
impacting his knee any more.

FH: *grumble*...I would shove that stupid breifcase up his ass and
open it...*grumble*grumble*

CL: Get over it, Fred!  Mercenary up on the second rope... AND
CANNONBALLS DOWN ON TOP OF MANSON!  HE'S GOT THE COVER!




ONE !!!




FH: Kickout at one!  You're not going to beat Marcus Manson with just
three moves. Four if you count attacks on commentators...*grumble*

CL: He didn't even hit you with his full strength!  No offense, Fred,
but if he punched you like he's punching Manson, you wouldn't even
know your own name right now.  Merc hammering away, and now grinding
his forearm into the face of his former ally.

FH: He's groundfighting because he doesn't want to put any weight on
his knee, Chip.

CL: I don't think his knee is injured yet, but no doubt that smart
tactics dictate that you don't use the bad leg if you don't have to.
And Mercenary is a superior groundfighter in comparison to Manson,
whose most effective offense is vertical.  Mercenary stands up...
ELBOW DROP TO THE THROAT!

FH: Duke Martin showing why he's the least incompetent ref on the
roster by actually not ignoring that blatant rulebreaking like most of
the zebras do.

CL: Martin giving the warning, and Manson getting to his feet with the
respite given to him!  Merc follows in... MANSON WENT FOR A MULE KICK
TO THE GROIN, BUT MERCENARY BLOCKED IT!

[Merc holds up Manson's leg, and asks the crowd what they want him to
do.  Manson sees the opening and tries to kick Merc with his other
leg, but the perceived opening wasn't there: Merc simply lets go and
steps backwards, and Manson ends up looking foolish as he no longer
has a leg to stand on, and falls to his back!]

FH: Pretending to be distracted by fan pandering... now that's low!

CL: But the lead pipe was okay?

FH: The lead pipe was great, and I hope we see more of that.

CL: Mercenary with a swinging neckbreaker on Manson!  He snapped him
down, and now headlocking him on the canvas.  The Mercenary has the
headlock on, and there's no mystery as to why he's gone for that: he's
pounding away on Manson's forehead with his free hand, and there's not
much Marcus can do about it!

FH: There's plenty he can do about it.  He's rolled Merc over...
hooking the trunks for a pin!




ONE !!!




CL: Merc shifts back off of his shoulders, but that was all the
opening Manson needed to push himself out of the headlock.  Both men
up... Mercenary rushes him...





FH: ...LIGHTS OUT!

CL: MANSON WITH THE SLEEPER DROP, CAUGHT THE MERCENARY COMING IN!
Fred, that left leg pain hampered Merc's movement, and it allowed
Manson to get up and set in time!

FH: And after the Lights Out, Manson has time to shake off the
cobwebs.  He's taken some damage, and the Mercenary has come to fight.
As shown by his willingness to hit commentators.

CL: Get over it!  He just popped you in the ear; even I'd have been
okay after that.  It was barely a punch!

FH: Yeah?  I'm gonna test that theory if you're not careful.

CL: I doubt that.  Marcus Manson picking up the Mercenary... SHORTARM
CLOTHESLINE!  Devastating!  Manson flattening the Mercenary, and very
quick to pick him back up...

FH: And there's your power.  Gorilla Press!

[The fans buzz as Manson presses his opponent overhead, and circles
the ring with him, before heaving him across the ring with a loud
thud!]

CL: He threw him halfway across the ring, and Merc skidded most of the
other half!  A tremendous display of power indeed, and the Mercenary
tries to get up... CHOP BLOCK PUTS HIM BACK DOWN!

FH: More damage to the knee.  We already saw that leg damage come into
play a moment ago.

CL: Manson trying to give himself an edge, and he has done just that.
He picks up the Mercenary, and whips him to the ropes.  Merc
rebounds...





FH: Ha ha!  We just saw the first mercenary in orbit, Chip!

CL: MANSON SENT HIM SKYWARD, AND CRUSHED HIM WITH THE SPINEBUSTER AS
MERC CAME DOWN!

[The crowd gives an impressed mixed reaction to that move as Manson
drops down for the cover, and hooks a leg.]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




[Cheers!]




CL: The Mercenary kicks out, and even an impressive maneuver like that
won't be enough.  Manson is going to need a protracted offense to get
the three count.

FH: Or one Heart Punch.

CL: Manson gets up, and a heavy elbow prevents Merc from doing the
same.  Brutal kick to the midsection, and Manson again going for the
leg.  What's this?

FH: INDIAN DEATHLOCK!  I didn't know Manson knew this hold!

CL: Manson showing that he does have a technical game, as he has
applied the Indian Deathlock to the Mercenary.  I don't think it is
executed well enough to get a submission, but it is definitely
executed well enough to serve its purpose.

FH: I think it's a mistake, Chip.  He doesn't need to damage the leg
more.  He can't win that way.  He can win by doing what he does best:
overwhelming force.  The leg is already hurt enough to give him the
edge he needs to take the Mercenary down; he's just wasting time with
the overly convoluted technical garbage.

CL: Overly convoluted?  It's an Indian deathlock!

FH: Bah.  Meat and potatoes wrestling, bashing a guy's head in... you
know the style I like, Chip.  There is no need for a man like Marcus
Manson to get fancy.

CL: The Mercenary rolling over, or trying to.  He's reached down and
grabbed one of Manson's legs... trying to counter the hold!  And... he
does!

[The fans cheer for the unexpected technical counter, as The Mercenary
slips his leg out of the Indian Deathlock and transitions into a heel
hook.  Manson kicks him with his free leg several times before
escaping the counter-hold.]

FH: See?  And... since when could the Merc counter that way?

CL: The Mercenary has been in the ring with some of the greatest
technicians of all time, and you do not survive against them if you do
not learn a few things.

FH: You don't learn technical wrestling just by wrestling technical
wrestlers!

CL: Well, maybe _you_ didn't.

FH: ...

CL: Both men up, but Manson again quickler on the draw with a
haymaker, and a kick to the midsection.  The Mercenary doubled up, and
Manson hooks him... FISHERMAN SUPLEX, AND A BEAUTY!

FH: AND THAT BAD LEG IS THE TRAPPED ONE!  MERC IS STUCK!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




[The fans cheer, as the Mercenary still manages to kick out, despite
the leg damage.]

FH: Damn!

CL: That legendary toughness is again on display.  The pain in his leg
isn't going to be an obstacle between the Mercenary and a kickout.
And to actually physically injure him is going to take a while.  He's
only got about seven or eight more minutes before the time limit.

FH: That's plenty of time for Manson to take him out the old fashioned
way.

CL: Manson seems a little frustrated, though.  It's been all his way
for some time, but it's like hitting an anvil with a hammer.  Manson
picks up the Mercenary... TWISTS HIS ARM, AND THROWS THE __HEART
PUNCH__!

[The fans get very loud very fast, but cheer as Merc twists to the
side.  Manson's punch glances off the wrong side of his chest.
Immediately, the Pittsburgh native grows angry and starts punching at
the face.]

FH: Good evasive action, but Manson's still got his wrist hooked back,
he's wide open, and he's getting pummeled.

CL: Manson stuns Merc with several blows to the face!  He steps back
again for the finishing blow...


[HUGE POP!]


FH: THAT WAS CHEAP!


CL: MERCENARY POKED HIM IN THE EYES WITH TWO FINGERS, AND MANSON IS
BLINDED!

FH: Who does he think he is, one of the Three Stooges?  Maybe Moe?
Hell, he might BE Moe, he's old enough!

CL: Manson is vulnerable, and Mercenary shoots in behind...

[Merc does a go-behind, grappling Manson's waist.  Manson swings an
elbow back, but misses... Merc lifts him, and spins out into a
collegiate-style waistlock takedown.  Except he's angled this right
into the turnbuckles, and Manson's face connects with the second
turnbuckle rather hard, with Merc's strength and weight behind it.]

CL: DOWN PAYMENT!  He hasn't used that move in a long time, I don't
think, and Manson was not expecting that one!  He is stunned!

FH: No, he's playing possum... come on, Mark, be playing possum!

CL: Mercenary runs off the far ropes... he's hobbling but trying to
fight through the pain... OH MY GOODNESS!

[The fans erupt as Merc spears a rising Manson... right through the
ropes!  Both men go through the ropes and out to the floor!]

FH: More cheap tactics!  Mercenary is desperate!

CL: Desperate?!  This is his normal style!  And... this is the sort of
thing you always approve of!

FH: I disapprove of unwarranted cowardly attacks on commentators, and
any follow-up to that is automatically also disapproved of.

CL: You won't let that go, will you?  Mercenary picking up Manson...
BODY SLAMS HIM ON THE FLOOR!  And when concrete is involved, even the
basic maneuvers can become hospital visits!

FH: Ugh!  Why won't this guy just die?  Maybe of old age?

CL: He might be too tough to die!  Merc kicking Manson's head into the
ringpost, and now choking him with a camera cable!  This is where he's
at his most dangerous!

FH: Yeah, when he's thrown the rules out the window, and isn't even
trying to win anymore.  Come on, Mark!  Remember the streak!

CL: Manson's unbeaten streak in serious jeopardy, as the Mercenary
picks him up, with that cable still around his neck!  Manson fires
away with some right hands!  Merc uses the cord to whip him into the
railing!

FH: The count is up to five!  Hey... a double-countout doesn't end the
streak!  GRAB HIM AND HOLD ON, MANSON!

Merc (heard over camera mic): I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

FH: Eep!

CL: Mercenary kicking away on Manson, who hammers him with a clubbing
forearm as he pushes himself off the railing.  Fred Hoyle risking his
life as well...

FH: I thought old guys had bad hearing!

CL: The count is up to seven!  Duke Martin counting slowly in an
effort to get this match back in the ring!  Manson shoves Merc into
the apron of the ring, back first!  And now Manson with a nasty elbow
shot; he just measured him with that one, and Merc was trapped next to
the apron!

FH: The count is up to eight!

CL: Manson picks up Merc to slam him on the floor, but the Mercenary
drops behind, and a beautiful Russian legsweep!  Right on the floor!

FH: No!  The count is up to nine!  And Mercenary is getting back in
the ring!  NOT LIKE THIS!

CL: Duke Martin keeping his cadence regular, and here comes the count
of ten... MANSON GETS UP AND DIVES IN WITH ONLY AN INSTANT TO SPARE!

FH: That was too close!  I almost had a heart attack.  And it would be
an injustice if I had one before Mercenary did!

CL: Manson with a double axehandle, swinging like a baseball bat as he
stands up!  Mercenary staggers back to the far ropes, and Manson
charges him... BACK BODY DROP OVER THE TOP ROPE BY THE MERCENARY!

[The fans roar as the huge body of Marcus Manson soars through the
air, landing at ringside!]

FH: THAT IS AN AUTOMATIC DISQUALIFICATION!

CL: Twenty years ago, maybe.

FH: Disgusting!

CL: Mercenary gets out onto the apron, as Manson stands up... runs
down the apron, and stomps Manson right in the head!  Brutal, just
brutal!  That dropped the Misery Machine again, and Merc still on the
apron... AND AN ELBOW DROP OFF THE APRON!

[A loud roar of approval for the risky move echoes across the arena,
as Merc connects with the elbow drop.]

FH: Mark tucked his chin down so that Merc couldn't hit the throat in
his typical cheap fashion.

CL: Mercenary pounding away... he's trying to open Manson's large scar
back up, I think!  Manson jams his fingers into Merc's windpipe, and
that gives him a chance to stand!

FH: Good.  Do what you have to to win, Marcus!

CL: These two are totally intense now!  Right hand by Mercenary, right
hand by Manson, left by Mercenary, right by Manson, and they are
exchanging blows here at ringside!

FH: Martin's not even counting now; he's gone down there to try and
get them in.

CL: He doesn't want to cheat these fans!

FH: Probably more like trying to cheat Manson!  Count them both out
and keep the streak alive!

CL: Headbutt by Merc, and Manson retaliates with his own!  Another
left by Merc, Manson fires back with a right.  And... OH NO!  OH NO!


[HUGE HEEL POP!]


FH: That idiot Martin stepped in between them!  And Merc punched him!

CL: THEY BOTH PUNCHED HIM!  MANSON AND MERC SWUNG AT EACH OTHER AND
PUNCHED MARTIN... BECAUSE MARK MASTERSON JUST PUSHED HIM IN BETWEEN
THEM!

FH: What?  I didn't see that, he just stepped in there.  Oh, hey,
look, the Made Men are here to lend moral support!

CL: THEY'RE ATTACKING!  MARK MASTERSON AND NICK WRIGHT ARE ATTACKING
THE MERCENARY!  COME ON!

FH: Duke Martin should do something!  Oh, wait, he's laid out in a
heap.

[The fans boo rabidly as Masterson and Wright hammer the Mercenary
with a brutal double clothesline!  The Made Men put the boots to Merc,
who is quickly overwhelmed by the tag team.  And slowly making his way
down the aisle is the captain himself... Rick Marley.]

CL: Oh no! WMI is here!

[With Manson standing back and watching, The Made Men slide Merc into
the ring and follow in.  Fans start throwing trash at them, but they
are focused on doing the damage.]

FH: Punch a commentator now, Merc!  Huh?  Huh?  Yeah, that's what I
thought!

CL: DOUBLE SIDEWALK SLAM BY THE MADE MEN!  Masterson choking, Wright
is dropping knees on his forehead, and Rick Marley is climbing the
steps.

FH: Time to collect, Chip!

CL: This is ridiculous! Merc not only fought tooth and nail with HvD
at Shattered Dreams, but he and Manson just fought a war, and now WMI
is picking up the scraps!

[Wright and Masterson begin to put the boots to Merc as Marley directs
traffic.  Rick heads to where Manson is... Marcus has not budged an
inch since the initial attack.  In fact, the look on his face is best
described as "incredulous".]

CL: LOOK AT MANSON!  HE DID NOT CALL FOR THIS, AND I DON'T THINK HE
WANTED IT!

FH: You're just trying to start trouble.  Look at Marley, he's
reaching out to his boy.

[Marley holds the ropes open, inviting Manson to come in and get his
pound of flesh. Manson does not budge... he just stares at Marley as
if he were an idiot.  Masterson and Wright pull Merc to his feet, and
Marley gestures for Manson to take a shot. Manson puts his hands on
his hips and glares at Marley for a moment before turning on his heel
and walking away.]

CL: What the..? Marcus Manson with a disgusted look on his face just
walked out on his WMI bretheren!

FH: Marley and the Made Men exchanging confused looks... I think
Manson wanted to do the job himself as far as Merc is concerned!

[Marley shrugs and turns, surging forward and hitting Mercenary with
the Casting Call superkick. The WMI members all raise their arms in
the air as the crowd boos vehemently.]

CL: This is despicable!

FH: No, this is awesome.

CL: *sigh* But what's up with Marcus Manson, just walking out on his
WMI brothers?

FH: Family members have arguments and disagreements, Chip.  It
happens.

CL: The Made Men send Merc over the top rope and to the floor!  Duke
Martin is up and calling for the bell!


*DING*DING*DING*


FH: Another victory for Marcus Manson.

CL: WHAT?!

FH: Merc is the one who punched Duke Martin!

CL: Mark Masterson is the one who shoved him!

FH: Even if, as you allege, that happened?  It was from behind!  He
has no way to know who shoved him!

HD: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN... IN TEN MINUTES AND FOUR SECONDS... REFEREE
DUKE MARTIN HAS DECLARED THIS CONTEST A DOUBLE DISQUALIFICATION!

[The fans boo the decision, clearly believing that Manson should have
been the only one disqualified.]

CL: Duke had no choice; both Mercenary and Manson hit him, and that is
all he knows.

[Manson turns back and glares at the ring and then disappears in the
back.]

CL: Another Widowmaker message.  With Keening out of power - Marley
has unleashed the Widowmakers.  However Marcus Manson doesn't look too
happy.  He wanted to end this match in Marcus Manson style.

FH: Hey when you are a widowmaker you have to put away your own goals
for the greater good.

CL: Like Rick Marley?

FH: Rick Marley has sat waiting for two years for a shot at the big
belt.  He has had the called shot for nearly a year.

[We cut to a corridor backstage.  Making their way down the hall,
battered, bruised and exhausted- but both bearing big grins, are
newcomers Max Weinrib and Salih Mubarak, fresh off their improbable
first victory in PVW.]

Max:  Oh man, oh man...we beat the champs!  We should go celebrate!
Like, _now_!

Sal:  I can get behind this idea.  Where to?

Max:  Fortunately, I took the liberty of googling some places ahead of
time just in case this actually came up.  [Max holds up a hand to
start listing options.]  We've got Boston Beer Works.

Sal:  [nodding]  Beer is good.

Max:  There's Jillian's.  Sort of a nightclub-slash-"entertainment
complex".  But they also have bowling AND billiards too!

Sal:  And beer?

Max:  And beer.  And then there's the Glass Slipper.

Sal:  Glass Slipper?

Max:  Strip club in Chinatown.

Sal:  A lot of options there... [Sal frowns thoughtfully for a
moment.] Let's go to all of them!

Max:  [slapping his partner on the back]  I like the way you think, my
friend!

Sal:  First, let's drop these bags off and...

[Sal and Max are interrupted as they turn the corner and run right
into the Prophets of Rage.  The Joint Kings of Rage Country seem less
than pleased.  They are dressed in street clothes, but the most
significant thing they wear are scowls.  Derek Rage looks down in
distaste as Sal bounces off his chest.  Shadoe's eyes begin to glow
with a fever that hints of the depths of his madness.]

[Sal and Max look at each other, then...]

Max:  Are you guys here to see your kids wrestle?

Sal:  We saw them on youtube- they look just like you!  You guys
oughta be proud of them!

[Derek's sour expression quirks into a smile.  He looks over at his
brother who simply nods.  Derek turns to Sal and Max.]

Derek: Thank you.

Sal:  [rubbing his nose from running into Derek]  Not a problem.  Not
a problem at all.  [Pause]  Thank us for what?

Shadoe: For this!

[Shadoe suddenly lunges forward and catches Sal in the face with a
forearm shot!  Sal falls back, landing on his ass as Shadoe starts to
stomp on him.  Max charges forward, shoving Shadoe away- and getting
caught from the side by a Derek Rage boot to the face!  The newcomers,
already exhausted, are helpless as the Prophets of Rage kick at the
for a few seconds, then walk away, stomping on their duffel bags as
they do so.  Max and Sal groan in pain as they start to sit up and the
camera fades to the announcers.]

CL: It appears the Prophets of Rage aren't impressed at all.

FH: Why should they be?

CL: Maybe because it _was_ pretty big.

FH: The Prophets are former PVW tag team champions and have pretty
much beaten everybody and everyone inside the PVW.

CL: Not to interupt you Fred ... However I am getting word Dean Hayes
is backstage standing by yet again.

FH: Dang Dean Hayes always messing up my groove.

[The camera switches to show "Singing" Dean Hayes standing in a
hallway backstage. He raises the microphone as he sees his cue to
start talking.]

Dean Hayes:  Thanks guys. I'm standing here ready to talk with Chris
Hopper. The self-professed "King of Cool" and a man with some serious
momentum after debuting as the special referee for the Marcus
Manson/Larry Gionet match at Shattered Dreams.

[Dean takes a few steps to his left and we see a door with Hopper's
name on it.]

Dean Hayes:  Normally the wrestlers have a couple of large locker
rooms and what not, but Hopper actually demanded his own dressing
room and also demands that everyone must knock on the door to gain
his, as he put it, "audience".

[The ringside announcers voices are heard over the scene as Hayes
knocks on the door.]

FH:  The guy is a total asshole!

CL:  It definitely is something different.

[Nothing is heard and Hayes must knock again...a little louder this
time.]

FH:  He may be more fun in many ways, but the attitude gets really
old.

[The door suddenly opens and Hopper stands in the entrance wearing
his black Armani suit with a purple tie and black sunglasses. He
stares down Hayes before finally speaking.]

Hopper:  What do you want?

Dean Hayes:  Chris! May I have a word with you?

[Chris opens the door a little wider and steps out.]

Hopper:  Make it quick.

Dean Hayes:  Well you had a major impact at Shattered Dreams after
refereeing the match between Manson and Gionet. I guess we are all
sitting here and wondering exactly why you attacked Larry Gionet
after the match? Was it a nod to your past ties with UEW and how you
will side with men from that lineage?

[Hopper just shakes his head in disbelief, then stops to speak.]

Hopper:  Why is it always like that Dean?

Dean Hayes:  Like what?

Hopper:  Conspiracy theories and stuff like that? Why does it have to
be some big conspiracy for the things I have done?

Dean Hayes:  I....uh...

Hopper:  Can't I just decide to do something on my own and have it
NOT be tied to UEW, WWO, UWF or any other place that I have wrestled
in during my career? The truth is UEW, or any of the others, had
NOTHING to do with it.

Absolutely nothing.

This was a one-time personal score I had to settle.

[Hayes looks confused.]

Dean Hayes:  Personal Score?  Chris, you've never wrestled here
before.

Hopper:  Do you do any prep aside from a disc jockey gig to get ready
for this interviewing position?  Gimme that!

[Hopper snatches the microphone out of Hayes' hand and continues.]

Hopper:  There was once a wrestler who decided to train those who
desired to become wrestlers. After years of training guys to be solid
talents, he came across a natural. A kid who could arguably by the
greatest of the next generation of wrestling superstars. That kid
was...

Dean Hayes:  You, right?  I figure you'd probably talk about yourself
anyway.

Hopper:  No you moron, I'm NOT talking about myself and if you
interrupt me again I'll give up my contract to end your streak of
being able to walk on your legs ever again.

[Chris composes himself and stops staring down Hayes to continue.]

Hopper:  This kid had it all! Dynamite looks, great move set,
charisma to spare and the best mentor ever! He got here and had
success until one guy took exception to him and decided to make it a
personal vendetta....attacking him and eventually injuring him.

[slight pause.]

Hopper:  "Sugar" Shayne Grissom was my best student and Gionet
arrogantly attacked him and brutally injured his ribs to the point
where he is just now recovering from the pain. You want my reason for
taking down Larry at Shattered Dreams, it is payback. My get well
gift to Shayne. Aside from that, I don't even care about Larry
Gionet. He isn't a blip on my radar.

Dean Hayes:  But what about Marcus Manson?

[Hopper takes his hand and puts it on Hayes' forehead, pushing him
away and out of the screen]

Hopper:  I'm done with you...

...follow me crew because it is time you got a proper backstage tour
of a PVW event and learn some things along the way.

[Chris takes off walking and the camera crew feverishly tries to stay
a step ahead of him to film the scene as he keeps talking.]

Hopper:  They are always asking about other people...its never "It's
great to have you here on Heatwave?"....no only the looks that say
"what kind of way are you going to try and be an asshole now."

You'd think after thirteen years people would realize that the moment
I signed with PVW, I literally jumped this league's roster a full
letter grade within the smarks out there?

[Hopper stops walking as he reaches a central area backstage in full
view of the two locker rooms and even the "gorilla position" just on
this side of the entrance curtain.]

Hopper:  Look around you and tell me what you see?

[Chris points to his right and the camera sees Doc Holliday. Then he
points to his left and we see a glimpse of Alex Martinez.]

Hopper:  Overrated pieces of garbage. I have spent the past several
years listening to all the internet smarties out there tell the world
how great these guys are. I have sat back and been force-fed all the
revisionist history that tries to make their rise to the top of UEW
something of legend. In truth, they succeed because they make the
right connections. Look at Martinez now? The guy is the Strickland
Sports puppet! He will tell you himself!

[Chris chuckles a bit.]

Hopper:  None of these guys bring it like me. None of these guys know
how to carry a promotion on their backs and take it to the top. I may
just be arriving, but PVW is cashing in on guys that I helped make
famous in my days gone by. This is a house I helped build, whether
you like it or not.

And I'll be damned if I'm going to allow these guys to keep walking
out here and claiming greatness that doesn't belong to them.

[Hopper takes off walking and barges through the entrance curtain to
a massive mixed pop from the crowd. The ringside announcers react as
Hopper keeps yelling at fans with the mic at his side.]

CL:  What is he doing out here Freddie?

FH:  I'm not sure, but he definitely is one something if he is going
to sit there and denounce the greatness of Alex Martinez. Hopper is
like the little dog always begging for respect, but yet not feared
enough to earn it.

CL:  I think he heard you.

[Hopper reaches the ringside area and walks over to the announcer's
table. He stands next to Freddie Hoyle and leans down close to his
face. Hoyle's headset mic catches Hopper's words.]

Hopper:  Fred. I have heard every negative thing you have ever said
about me. I don't care if you like me or hate me. It makes no
difference to me...but if you ever say derogatory things about me
again...I'll rip your little head off and that is a promise.

FH:  Now Chris....

Hopper:  Never again, understood?

FH:  ..........

CL:  Freddie Hoyle speechless everybody!

[Hopper slides into the ring and greets the fans.]

Hopper:  That's right....the "King of Cool" is here to grace you with
his presence and allow you the chance to bask in the glory of the
greatest and most underrated wrestler in the history of our sport!

[Hopper holds his arms out and the fans begin to jeer him a little.]

Hopper:  Nobody can claim to come back from the things I have come
back from!

League's hold me back and refuse to let my talent shine through, but
I walk out here and prove I'm the best in the game every match, every
night in every city!

Politics get played backstage and I just fight past it!

I get thrown in a freezer and I bust the hell out of there!

Past employers try to blackball me even to this day, but yet here I
am! How do you like that one, Clint? I see you have opened and closed
multiple times, but yet through it all...I'm still here!

[The crowd is jeering him even louder.]

Hopper:  I don't give a rat's ass about anything! All I care about is
me.

Shocking, I know....but very true.

I've made mediocre talents like Jason Keening, Doc Holliday, Creed
and Alex Extreme look good in the past. I did it at the expense of my
own career. I've dealt with all of the factions you can imagine from
the Widowmakers to being part of the Coalition. When you need a
star....when you need someone to carry the load of a
federation....that is when you call the "king"...

...That is when you call *ME*!!!

[Massive heel pop.]

Hopper:  And that is what PVW needed. Martinez isn't clicking for SSN
anymore....he doesn't have it. Keening is looking like the Indian
Chief with firewater in the corner while the inmates run the asylum
and Rick Marley is a viable contender because Bill Craven decided to
take a cycle off.

Face it folks....you NEED me.

You need someone who can bring the goods every night. You need
someone who can step inside this ring and excite you so much that
your goose bumps get aroused and start goose-bumping the hell out of
each other!

I bring that when others don't!

[Chris smiles as the fans react again.

Hopper:  Do I have an agenda? Most certainly, but that is none of
your business. You do not need to know my desires and my plans. All
you need to do is just enjoy the ride!

[Suddenly "As I Am" By Dream Theater begins to blare on the loud
speakers and Larry Gionet steps out from behind the entrance curtain.
Hopper yells at him to get out of here, but Larry stands there in his
blue jeans, sneakers and a Larry Gionet T-shirt. Gionet hears the
cheers and as the music ends, he speaks.]

Gionet:  Whoa there Hopper let me stop you right there!  I hear you
running your mouth about this and that.  About everything except at
what happened at Shattered Dreams!  I had a score to settle with
Marcus Manson and after that match you attack me?  You stuck your
nose in business that didn't concern you!  You busted my nose open
with your knee and for what? Some agenda? Some retribution for your
student? Why do you feel it was your place?

Hopper:  Be careful Larry.

Gionet:  Why?  Because you are so big and bad?

[Chris nods as he laughs at Larry's notion.]

Hopper:  You're damn right I'm big and bad, but that isn't why. I'm
telling you to be quiet because you have already fallen far enough. A
few months ago you were challenging for a top contendership and now
you are getting ass-punked by Marcus Manson?!?!

It won't be long until you are back in the SPW, pulling your
one-cycle belt pillow routines again if you keep that up.

Truth is Larry, you mean nothing to me. I'm done with you because you
aren't on my level. Just like the rest of the roster back there...I'm
on a higher plane!

CL:  I think he might be high after all!

FH:  That is the first funny thing you have ever said Lester!

Hopper:  I got the payback I wanted on you and you should be glad all
I did was a minor blitz because you don't have the ability to
withstand my "A-game". You don't know what it is like to be hit by a
Sherman tank while riding your little bicycle. But if you keep it
up...

[Hopper steps through the ropes and starts walking down the ring
steps toward Gionet.]

Hopper:  I'm going to give you a beating that will make your club
nights feel like a pleasure cruise.

[Larry holds up his hand for a bit mocking Hopper as a big talker by
making the motion with his fingers folding down to his thumb over and
over.]

Gionet:  You talk a lot of shit Hopper, always have, always
will.  But you see I am giving you a grand opportunity here.  I am
giving you the chance to walk the walk and meet me in the middle of
this ring next week at Heatwave!  For I will prove that my actions
speak far louder than any words can!

[Hopper stands at the front of the entrance aisle and laughs before
responding. PVW security already coming down to stand between the men
at the bottom of the entrance ramp to ensure nothing happens ...
That's a first for tonight.]

Hopper:  Alright Nancy, you might want to think about what you are
throwing out there because assisted suicide....and that is what you
are asking me to do when you challenge me to a match in this kind of
setting.....assisted suicide is illegal. I have no problem facing you
and beating you to a pulp and pinning you in the middle of the ring,
but you need to know that this beating will rank up there with some
of the great misfortunes of your life.

I won't take it easy and I don't give a damn about any "safe words"
you may scream out when I'm laying the pain. I will make you a
promise....I won't stand you up and piss you off. I will be here next
Heatwave where it will be the "King of Cool" beating your little
lucky charm, magically rainbow-colored marshmellow ass in the center
of this ring.

So go out and enjoy one more night in the dance clubs and get one
more verse of "it's raining men" in before I make sure you don't walk
again, missy!

[Gionet throws his mic down at yet another demeaning reference and
takes off in a sprint to attack Hopper, but the security guards keep
the men separate.]

CL: Whoa ... Chris Hopper _IS_ apparently in the PVW.

FH: What a shame.  I was just saying to Joshua a few months ago how
nice it was to not have that class A jack ass around here.

CL: Love him or hate him he brings attention.  It may be negative
attention, but people tune in and that's what SSN wants.

FH: So you are blaming SSN for this?

CL: I am not blaming anyone.  I am actually saying it was a smart
business move for PVW to bring in Too Cool.

FH: I'll never like that guy.

CL: And that makes me like him all the better.  Apparently Chris
Hopper and Larry Gionet will clash _NEXT_ Heatwave folks.  Gionet is
being held back and just look at the smile on Chris Hopper's face.

FH: He is lucky because I bet Gionet would smack the taste right out
of his mouth.  How dare he talk about Alex Martinez like that.  It's
just like Chris Hopper to come in and milk the heat off the biggest
... the baddest man in the league.  It's the Chris Hopper way.

CL: I just love watching you get worked up.

[Herk Douglas stands in the center of the ring.]

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall and it's tag team action.
Introducing first ...

Wrestling out of Portland, Oregon.  Weighing in at 213 pounds.

The Prodigy ...

Tracy Hudson!


[The arena goes dark as the opening scratchy sample at the beginning
of the song plays. The screen display begins to flicker and strobe
Hudson's name in between clips from past matches, mostly in WWO with
folks like Johnny Detson, Dark Soul, and Apex.]

#You're the only one I ever told#
#That I will rape this day#

[At this, red searchlights highlight the entryway, where Hudson can be
seen standing in a determined stance, his eyes cast not toward the
ring or to the crowd, but down to the floor in front of his feet. He
slowly strides toward the ring as the song continues:]

#Got a barking dog#
#And a smile to tell#
#And I will hate this day#

[As he makes his way ringside, one can see his hands and arms
violently trembling. His head begins to slowly turn upward, though his
gaze his still cast earthward.]

#Sporting the name brands#
#Clothes make the man#
#And I will rape this day#

[Suddenly, Hudson stops in his tracks. He finally lifts his head to
the ring where those watching notice a huge smirk creeping on his
face. Clearly this is a man who knows exactly what is going to happen
once the bell rings. And he most certainly looks forward to it.]

#Guess a heart won't break#
#That ain't pumping kool-aid...#

[And then, the guitars and instruments begin to crash in time with the
singer's voice and Hudson is OFF. He sprints toward the ring and does
a headfirst slide under the bottom rope, propelling him to the center
of the ring. As this happens, the ring is flooded with red strobes
that flash and pulse in time with the song's now frenetic beat. Hudson
begins to slow down his pace as he moves quickly about the ring,
sizing up the crowd, the referee and of course, his opponent.]

#I got a fighting chance#
#You know you promised me the last dance#
#A micro naught in time#
#This fat twenty-four is all mine#
#Nothin' but moans and blood#
#And so my blood counts my loss#
#You cannot eat just one#
#A diaphragm revelation#

[Hudson then focuses his attention on his opponent solely, nodding his
head in a cocksure greeting as his smirk grows ever wide.]

#Just want to get some disease#
#And get your stampin' heart the hell outta here#
#I'm gonna rape this day#

CL: Tracy Hudson made his PVW debut at Shattered Dreams when Johnny
Detson was his target of choice.  We are here tonight to find out just
what that was all about.

FH: Obviously a loyal subject to the American cause.

HD: His partner ... Wrestling out of Tuscaloosa, Alabama.  Weighing in
at 228 pounds and accompanied to the ring by Todd Johnstone.  He is
your PVW American Champion ...

Gibson "Red" Hayes !!!


Herk Douglas: Making his way to the ring, accompanied by his campaign
manager: Todd "The Rod" Johnstone and his head of security Warren "Big
Bubba" Hayes, from Tuscaloosa Alabama and weighting 228 pounds; he is
the Phoenix Valley Wrestling American champion. Here is Gibson "Red"
Hayes!

[A quick cut to Eliot Lipp's "Rap Tight". The juxtaposition and
meshing of heavy metal and then fine beats gets a rise out of the
audience (as well as knowing who's about to come out). Gibson Hayes
steps out from behind the curtains as a bright red spotlight focuses
on PVW's American champion. Hayes basks in the spotlight for a second
and then out come his campaign manager: Todd "The Rod Johnstone and
his head of security: Warren "Big Bubba" Hayes. The American champion
is wearing a t-shirt reading: Gibson Hayes - PVW Commissioner 2009;
vote early and vote often as he makes his way to the ring. The infant
terrible of PVW is wearing a variant on his trunks (as describe on
Damage Control) while Todd is wearing his same outfit (as seen often)
while Big Bubba is looking good in a brown suit.]

FH: Finally Todd Johnstone doesn't have to stand behind some red tape.
He can do his job!

CL: Hudson and Hayes only trading glances.  I am unsure just how tight
this alliance really

is.

FH: Oh consider it in stone.  Todd Johnstone knows what he is doing.

CL: We still don't know who Detson will be teaming with.

FH: Maybe another blast from the past...  Heck it could be Mark Stone
himself.

HD: their opponents.  Introducing first ... Wrestling out of
Hollywood, California.

Weighing in at 248 pounds.

Johnny Detson!!!


#Move aside,#
#and let the man go through.#
#Let the man go through.#

[The lights go out in the arena and then spotlights kick in to swim
throughout the crowd.  One star shaped light rest solely on the
entrance ramp not moving at all.  Suddenly the lights die down and cut
off as "Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing continues to play.]

#If I stole#
#Somebody else's wave#
#To fly up.#

#If I rose#
#Up with the avenue#
#Behind me.#

[Then there is a loud explosion as one by one golden pyros go off
around the complete surroundings of the entrance ramp and then back
again causing a great deal of smoke to cover the entire entrance way.
As the lights slowly come back to life the silhouette of a man can be
seen making his way out.  The man just stands there letting the smoke
clear from the area. As the smoke dies down the identity of the man is
soon shown to be Johnny Detson, complete in his long gold tights,
black boots and shades resting on the bridge of his nose.]

CL: Detson looks cool, calm and focused Fred.

FH: we'll see how long that lasts...

#Some kind of verb.#
#Some kind of moving thing.#
#Something unseen.#
#Some hand is motioning#
#to rise, to rise, to rise.#

[Detson has a smirk plastered on his face as he soaks in the reaction
of the crowd.  He walks over to some of the crowd to show off his
physical condition. He struts down to the ring as the song continues.]

#Too fat, fat you must cut lean.#
#You got to take the elevator to the mezzanine,#
#Chump, change, and it's on, super bon bon#
#Super bon bon, Super bon bon.#

[Detson slides into the ring, and raises his arms in triumph
inciting the crowd's reaction.  He stands there and flashes his
trademark cocky grin to the crowd.  The music dies out, and moves
over to the ropes stretching out his arms.]

CL: Hudson and Hayes both standing in their corner as Detson stands
with a smile.  I guess

he knows something we don't.

FH: Perhaps he is going to high tail it out of here knowing he is no
match for Gibson

Hayes.

*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.]

CL: What the devil?

FH: It's 2012!  The end is here!

CL: 2012 is more than two years away, and the world isn't ending.

FH: Tell me that in 2012!

*Thump-thump*

[Raising in volume, the din of the crowd can be heard as the beating
of a horrible heart sounds.  A single red line, stretching across the
otherwise darkened PVW video wall, reverberating in rhythm with the
heartbeat.]

CL: I honestly have no idea what this could be.

*Thump-thump*

#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.]

#You see I'm falling in the vast abyss...#
#Clouded by memories of the past...#
#At last ... I see#

[The camera angle switches, the heartbeat continues, the red line
reverberates, darkness pervades, save for in the area of the entrance
portal.  Tension builds as red spotlights brightly illuminate the
entrance portal and the crowd waits.]

#I hear it fading, I can't speak it,#
#or else you will dig my grave;#
#You fear them finding, always whining...#
#take my hand now be alive!#

[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.

He's wearing a shining black robe with serpentine blue eyes across the
back, black slacks and the backlighting effect of the sparks makes
makes his other features a silhouette.  Turning, he seems to, himself,
stop the flames from shooting.  Gnarled hands, the right one in a
cast, the left bound with red gauze clutch as he stares at them in
anticipation, brandishing a wooden sword.]

CL: Oh ... are you kidding me?

#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 hunches, then hobbles
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...]

HD: Hailing from Detroit, Michigan!  He weighs in tonight at 320
pounds!  Ladies and Gentlemen, this is William Craven!

[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, his robe falling heavily into a heap on the mat, and
revealing his serpent-tattooed, muscular torso.  He then hands his
bokken off to the timekeeper and stands, ready to compete.]

CL: This is the mystery partner?  William Craven is in a cast, a
kneebrace, and he's showing more wrapping than skin right now.

FH: Chip, say what you will about Craven, but he never wants to take a
week off. Sure, he can't stand up straight, or walk right, and he's
only got one hand right now, but I'm sure he'll ... I dunno, bite
someone?

CL: Even Johnny Detson looks taken aback.  Looks like Craven wants to
start the match!

FH of course he does.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                     Tag Team Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
            Hudson & Hayes v. Detson & Craven
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: Detson has a hat covering the bandages on his head from Shattered
Dreams.  It looks like both Craven and Detson are pretty banged up.

FH: They don't have a shot in hell at pulling this one out.

[Craven and Hudson set off to start the match off, which begins with a
collar-elbow tie-up where the bigger William Craven backs The Prodigy
into the corner. The referee pulls Craven off after Hudson shoot's his
arms up into the ropes, but Hudson takes advantage and kicks Craven in
the gut and switches positions with him.]

CL: Craven with a cast and was told clearly not to wrestle tonight ...
However we all know that you can't tell William Craven what to do and
there is no Zero Tolerance around to hold over his head.

FH: Hey let him end his career.  It's his wrestling career funeral.

CL: Hudson lays in a few more kicks to the gut ...  Then whips him
into the opposing corner.  The Prodigy charges  ...

[... but takes a boot to the face!  Craven shoots out and gives Hudson
a whip towards the opposing corner and chases after him but Hudson
grabs onto the top ropes and throws his legs into the air to leap over
the much taller William Craven. However the Motorcity Madman stops
short and turns away from Hudson, allowing Hudson's legs to land on
his shoulders. Craven then gives Young a stiff Electric chair and
drops down for a quick cover!]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL: NO ... Hudson gets a shoulder up!  Craven reaches back and
surprisingly tags in Johnny Detson. Craven holds down the Prodigy and
Detson reluctantly hops over with a legdrop and hooks the leg.




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




... Another shoulder up by the veteran.

FH: Tracy Hudson knocked loose the ring rust at Damage Control.

[Detson slowly pulls Hudson up and whips Tracy Hudson off the ropes
and gives him a massive Tilt-O-Whirl Powerslam. Johnny Detson gets up
on one knee and holds the bandages as if he is a-bit dizzy.  He turn
turns and re-tags in the big man - William Craven.]

CL: As injured as William Craven is you'd think Detson would be
pulling some of the load out here.

FH: I don't know.

[Camera shot of Gibson Hayes who has hopped off the ring apron and got
in an arguing match with a fan who has a sign that says "Gibson fears
Obama!"  Detson and Craven both whip Tracy Hudson off the ropes
leading to Craven hooking The Prodigy up for a side slam and Johnny
Detson giving him a jumping legdrop across the chest as Craven comes
down.]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL: Hudson is full of fight and kicks out yet again!  However Hudson
starting show to wear and tear in this match.

FH: And he is still in better condition then Craven.

[Craven is seen stumbling back coughing a-bit.  However still
regaining focus. He begins to pull Hudson up, but this time the
Prodigy is ready.  He scoops Craven up in a small package!]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL: An unexpecting cover by Hudson, but Craven kicks out.  Craven back
up ... Hudson dives low and takes the bad wheel of Craven out.

FH: Hudson stumbling up.  Looking to his corner, but Hayes is still
having it out with that fan with words.

[No matter ... Hudson is fired up and begins stomping on the fallen
William Craven. The Prodigy mounts the back of the Motorcity Madman
and grabs hold of Craven by the head, grinding his face back and forth
across the rough mat.]

CL: Tracy Hudson is now taking it to Craven.  It's been awhile since
these two have been inside a ring together, but there is no love loss
here.

FH: Hudson taking care of business inside the ring while Gibson Hayes
takes care of things on the outside.

[Gibson Hayes has now grabbed the sign and tears it right in half and
tosses it down saying - "Nobody is better then Gibson Hayes!"
Meanwhile Hudson gets up and drops a Knee across the spine of his
opponent.  Hudson gets up and circles the fallen Craven bandages and
all as he tries to get up, then drops to one knee screaming at Craven
- "I am back!"]

CL: A vein popping out of Hudson's forehead.  Hudson gives Craven a
knee to the face as he tries to get up, then whips him off the ropes.

[Hudson sets up for a back body drop, but Craven stops short and kicks
him in the face with a big boot that gets a big pop from the crowd.
The fans fired up and behind Craven as he goes for a wild right hand
as he staggers back, but "The Prodigy" ducks the shot and gives Craven
a big back drop.  He drops down and covers Craven.]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL: The big veteran kicks out!

FH: Close call for Hudson who is single handedly taking down _both_
Craven and Detson.

CL: Hudson hasn't even done a move against Detson yet.

[Tracy Hudson lays Craven across the second rope and lays his knee
across his back to choke him. The referee pulls Tracy Hudson away
giving William Craven a break but Todd Johnstone who is free runs over
and begins choking an exposed Craven anyways. Johnstone lets go of
Craven's head as Johnny Detson dropped down pointing to the manager.]

FH: Heads up by Todd Johnstone as usual.

CL: And Gibson Hayes is still having words with fans.

[Craven rolls backwards into the middle of the ring at the feet of
Tracy Hudson. Hudson covers Craven again ...]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL:  Craven with a big kickout! Hudson pulls Craven up and turns him
around by the head, dropping him with a neckbreaker!

FH: Look at the focus and fire in Hudson's eyes.  He is inside the PVW
now and he is taking full advantage of it.

[Hudson is up and bounces off the ropes, driving his knee into the
face of Craven. Hudson turns and looks to tag Gibson Hayes, but again
the American Champion is occupied. Hudson yanks the wounded Craven to
his feet ... Set's him up and drops him with a forceful Russian
legsweep.]

FH: Hudson is a known master of Russian legsweep.

CL:  Hudson is now heading to the top ropes.  It appears he is going
for the Hudson Special.

[... Springboard corkscrew moonsault ...]


*** NOBODY IS HOME POP ***


CL: Craven and Hudson are inside the ring and both are now motionless.
Detson is reaching through the ropes looking for the tag.  Can't
really say the same for Gibson Hayes.

FH: He is taking care of business.  A raging debate with a voting fan.
He cares about his country.

[Hudson has now rolled onto his stomach and crawling towards the ropes
and his corner.  Craven is now working his way to his knees.  Hudson
yells down at Gibson Hayes to get over here ... Craven is now to his
feet and looks at Hudson then Detson ... He smiles blood drips from
inside his mouth and he turns back towards Hudson who has now turned
back to Craven and looks a-bit like a deer in the headlights.]

CL: Hudson charges ... SCOOP AND SLAM BY CRAVEN!

[Hudson grabs his lower back. He gets back to his feet ... Not for
long as Craven charges with his signature mafia kick and sends Hudson
through the ropes and to the outside.  Craven turns and looks at
Detson who is lowering his head on the outside and then turns
taking off ...]

CL: SUICIDE DIVE!!!


"___KAAAATHUUUUUUUUUUUUUD___"


*** SHOCKING POP!!! ***


[Craven's Suicide dive misses as Hudson dived out of his way for his
life... The 6'5 / 320 pounds missile misses and crashes into the
guardrail.  The shake of the guardrail forces Gibson Hayes to leap
away.  He turns backing away then hops back on the ring apron and
reaches his arm through like he is calling for the tag.  He then pulls
his arm back out and shakes his head like his partner sucks.]

CL: Hudson is now up and begins kicking the bandage spots of Craven.
He grabs the cast arm and slams it against the guardrail.

FH: Listen to Craven howl!


[The referee hits the five on the count to ten.  Hudson rolls under
the ropes and back to the outside.  He stalks the injured Craven.  As
Craven begins to get to his knees and gets punted right into the
ribcage.  Hudson drops down besides Craven and shouts - "You aren't
so bad now are ya big man!"]

CL: Hudson is now taunting Craven.

FH: If you are going to taunt a guy like Craven ... Might as well do
it while he is wounded and in pain.

[Hudson grabs the back of Craven's bald skull and rolls him under the
ropes.  Craven crawls to the corner and begins to pull himself up.
Hudson on the outside climbs to the top ropes and grabs ahold of the
head of Craven and leaps with a twisting bulldog ...]


"___THUUUUUUUD___"


CL: The Final Solution!

FH: This was Hudson's old finisher.  He hooks the leg and this thing
is all but over!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE ???




*** HE KICKED OUT POP!!! ***




CL: Craven just kicked out!  Detson is on the outside cheering his
partner on!

FH: Hayes is calling for the tag!

[Hudson holds his hand up for the Mandible Claw ...]

CL: If Hudson hits this it could be end game for Craven.  You have to
give the guy credit he came down when he wasn't suppose to wrestle ...
He tried, but in the end you can't overcome these many injuries.

FH: Oh making excuses up for Craven now eh?

[Craven to his feet and Hudson sinks in the Mandible Claw ... However
Craven's sharpe teeth snap down and Hudson _screams_.]


"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"


*** EAT HIS FUCKIN FINGERS OFF POP!!! ***


CL: Hudson rips his fingers out and Craven somehow lifts him up and T-
BONE SUPLEX!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




FH: GIBSON IN TO BREAK UP THE COVER!  I told you he is the master!

[Todd Johnstone's phone call ringed on the outside ...  He shots to
Gibson that he must take this phone call.  Craven crawls over and
makes the tag to Detson who leaps over and hits the ropes and dives
down with a baseball slide dropkick hitting Hudson.  Detson then
grabs the right leg of Hudson and turns him over.  He locks his leg
and hooks it in with a figure four leglock.]

CL: Detson has it sinked in!  Hudson is waving his arm and in some
pain!

FH: This isn't good.  Take that phone call another time Gibson!

[Hayes seems to be on a very important conversation as he waves off
the action inside the ring.  Hudson's shoulders goes down to the mat
and the ref slides down to count.]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THRR ---




[Hudson shoots up ...]

CL: Close call but The Prodigy gets back up.  He has fought this match
alone pretty much the whole night.  Gibson Hayes seems to be pre-
occupied.

FH: Hey it's hard being important like Gibson Hayes.

CL: Finally Hudson is reaching towards the ropes ...


*** BOOOO ***


[Hudson makes the ropes.  And the referee calls for a break.  Detson
ignores it the first few times, but after a four count he lets go.
Hayes climbs back up to the ring apron with the phone still to his
ear.  Hudson reaches up to make the tag, but the American Champion
drops down off the apron and begins to back up ... As Gibson leaves he
says, out enough for everyone to hear him - ]

"Tyrone was right, you are an anchor."

CL: Where is Gibson Hayes going?

FH: Umm ... I think he has an important call with the UN. Maybe peace
treaties with Iran.  America calling in the big dogs!

CL: I don't know about you Fred.  Wait what is Detson doing!?!

[Detson turns and slaps the chest of Craven tagging him in.  He then
steps through the ropes and begins to run after Gibson Hayes.]


*** GET HIS COWARDLY ASS POP!!! ***


CL: Detson is after Hayes!

FH: Run Gibby!!! Detson is crazy.  Probably on roid rage!

[However inside the ring Hudson is standing looking at Johnstone who
is now leaving waving goodbye.  He turns and The Motorcity Madman is
inside the ring... He charges and hits a big short-arm that only makes
Craven back up a few steps. Hudson's eyes widen a bit and reaches back
with a right hand and swings.]

CL: Craven takes the big right hand and turns back looking at him.
Hudson reaches back again - but this time Craven _CATCHES_ it!

FH: Not good!


*** OOOOOH YEAH POP!!! ***


[He reaches out for the Double choke lift ... ]

CL: The cast is stopping Craven from using the thundermelter!

FH: HE CAN'T DO IT! HAHAHA!!!  GET HIM HUDSON!

[Hudson lets out a laugh and hits the rope and charges ... However
Craven reaches that casted arm back and swings it down with full force
...]


"___KAAAAAATHUUUUUUUUUNK___"


*** SHOOOOOCKING POP!!! ***


CL: CRAVEN JUST DROPPED HUDSON WITH HIS CAST!

FH: WHAT THE HELL ... THAT'S ILLEGAL!!!! WHERE IS KEENING???

CL: Ummm ... Fired remember?

FH: Oh yeah ... Well get somebody out here!

[Craven drops down for the cover on the unconscious and abandoned
Tracy Hudson.]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!



CL: William Craven picked up the victory. However Tracy Hudson fought
with every inch by himself and a cast shot finished him off.

FH: Yeah an illegal cast shot.

[Cut to the classic PVW phoenix backdrop ...]

Out of my ashes
will rise a new phoenix.

[Challengers who have a claim to the throne.  Images of Doc Holliday,
Alex Martinez, Gibson Hayes, and Rick Marley roll through.]

A soaring being
returning from death
proving once again
that life is eternal.

[Highlight clips of exciting superstars ... Tommy Ryder soaring
through the air.  Perry Fontana counters into yep you guessed it
armbar.  el Outlaw LOCO counters a powerbomb.  Scott Nielsen perched
at the top of the ropes.  Mike Cox diving through the ropes with
flash bulbs abound.]

I live forever
because the spirit
never dies.

[Warriors of the PVW fight every week.  Spectre smiling ... Caleb
Foley wiping away the blood from his eyes.  Chase Williams standing as
the hand of god.  The Rage brothers standing side by side.  Tom Landis
slapping hands with the fan.  Sinister standing menacing and snarling.
The Mercenary standing tall as he does each and every week.]

I will return
in another body
in another time,
but it is me.

[William Craven green skinned and alive.  Danny Daniels beating down
the legend known as Jack Griffin.  Xavier Feyr driving his fist down
into some poor schmucks chest.  Larry Gionet ignoring injuries
fighting on because it's what he does.]

The me who is me now
will always be.

[Justin Cruise countering a waistlock and driving his opponent down.
Marcus Manson lifting his opponent up with ease and launching him
across the ring.  Made Men walking with style.  Wild Cards standing
off with Pain.]

As long as I live,
I learn.
And I live
F o r e v e r

[Herscher von Donkerhardt making a cross pose with his arms. Dark Soul
looking towards the ring.  Will Geddings soars through the air. Rob
Cole on his knees broken from the fact he just found out he was the
Masked Outlaw and we fade to Rise From the Phoenix II logo ... There
is no grand entrance... when we come back in from commercial, we cut
to Dean Hayes in the ring, amidst a cheering capacity crowd. At his
side, the unmistakable figure of Doc Holliday, resplendent in his
1880's-era attire. Holliday is clad in his black frock coat, neatly
pressed along with his black slacks, white silk ruffled undershirt
(which is more Victorian than Old West, but he likes what he likes),
topaz-gold shiny undervest, and black hat. The veteran leans on his
mahogany hand-carved cane, flashes his typical cocky grin, and the
gleam of his gold tooth is a bright reflection of the arena lights.]

Dean Hayes: Alright, fans, ever since Shattered Dreams, the rumors
have flown about the physical well-being of Doc Holliday, so I am here
with the man himself to clear the air. Doc, did you suffer any injury
during your match with Xavier Feyr on pay per view?

[Holliday laughs to himself at the question, and shakes his head in
response.]

Doc Holliday: Dean, ain't nobody gittin' outta a fight with Xavier
unscathed. Just ain't possible. But they been sayin' ah got hurt up
real bad, an' thet jes' ain't so. Ah dunno why they done gave me th'
week off, but ah'm on salary so it don' break mah heart. Ah really
only feel bad fer these heah fans whut didn't git ta see Doc Holliday
wrassle. This heah is allus a great town ta fight in, a great crowd,
an' ah do have some regret fer thet.

[The fans cheer the panderi... I mean, comment. Yeah, yeah, if
you're gonna wrestle like Doc and still be a face, there is a minimum
pandering requirement. Doc acknowledges the cheers with a wave.]

Holliday: But they got some top guys ta see tanight. Wil' Cards,
Feyr, Foley, Martinez; it'll be a fine show. But lemme clear up heah
an' now thet ah ain't crippled or concussed. Xavier Feyr is a helluva
man, a legitimate threat, but Doc Holliday he ain't. Turns out, Dean,
ah'm still a badass mahself.

Dean: Well, in that event, what is next for Doc Holliday?

Holliday: Dean Hayes, ah come heah tanight not ta yap about fool
rumors, but ta lay it out real crystal clear. Ah came ta PVW ta git
shed o' Rick Marley. Ah acknowledged Bill Craven's prior claim an'
han'nled some othah biz-ness while he took his fair shot at Marley.
But Bill didn't git it done... now, Rick, now it's mah turn. Ah have
already put in fer a match ta git mah hands on Rick Marley...

[The fans cheer in excitement at the possibility of that match
finally happening! But Doc's grin is vanishing from his face as he
speaks, and he just shakes his head at the cheers.]

Holliday: ...but ta my distinct lack o' surprise, he declined ta
sign. He says he's focused onna World Title, an' apparently ah'm a
"distrack-shin".

Really, Rick. A "distrack-shin". Boy, ya fergot real quick who
Doc Holliday is if'n ya think ya say no ta me. If ah don' git ya inna
ring, ah'll git ya in an alley, a parkin' lot, or th' comfort an'
safety of yer own home. Ah suspect ya'd fin' it real distractin' if ah
decided ta sneak in yer hotel room some night with a splittin' maul
an'treat yer dang femur lak cordwood. Real distractin'.

Dean: Now wait just a minute!

Holliday: Ah don' reckon it's a-gonna come ta thet, Dean. Ya see,
they's one lil' flaw in Rick's line o' thinkin'. See, Rob Cole is th'
champeen. Way ah figger it, he ain't real keen on doin' thangs on th'
network's terms. So ah'm a-gonna put it out ta Rob Cole th' ol'
fashioned way. Th' way of th' Old West.

Dean: You mean...?

Holliday: Ah mean thet ah'm challengin' Rob Cole ta defend th' World
Heavyweight Champeenship ag'inst Doc Holliday!

[The capacity crowd erupts at this, and starts a "TO-NIGHT! TO-NIGHT!
TO-NIGHT!" chant.]

Holliday: He kin take it or leave it as he pleases, it don' hurt
mah feelin's either way. But it's only a mattah o' time afore ah'm
named numbah one contender, on account of ah'm gonna jes' go right
through anybody thet gits in front o' me until...

[Well, why waste time in testing that theory? Holliday's challenge
is answered, as very familiar theme music cuts him off, echoing
through the arena.

"Battle Without Honor Or Humanity", by Tomoyesu Hotei. And we know
what that means. Holliday turns his head to the ramp in a mixture
of mild surprise and bemusement. Alex Martinez, as expected, stands at
the entranceway. Just like Doc, the Last American Badass is in the
getup that's associated with him. He wears a simple white t-shirt
under a black leather jacket, a pair of blue jeans with holes in them,
black leather boots, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. Hardly the
image of a corporate icon, but then, who in their right mind would try
to put Martinez in a suit? Martinez walks slowly down the aisle,
taking his time, seeing no need to rush for the likes of Holliday.
Eventually, Martinez stands on the apron, and throws one leg and then
the other over the top rope. Motioning for a microphone, Martinez
moves to stand right in front of Holliday, staring down at him.]

AM: Now, its true that I've been hit in the head a lotta times in
my life, and more than once, that was in my ear, so maybe I heard ya
wrong. But did ya just call yourself a badass?

[Holliday acknowledges that with a cocky nod.]

AM: Now, far be it from me to be arrogant enough to claim a word
is mine. But you, and everyone else sittin' in their chair knows that
there is only one badass in PVW, and his name is Alex Martinez.

But that ain't why I'm here. You call yourself whatever ya want. Its
actions that make a badass. And you got nothin' where action is
concerned Holliday. The only "action" you ever get is when you're
hangin' out at the costume store and you're buddy the guy in the puffy
shirt comes around lookin' for ya. No, the reason I'm out here, and
the reason I'm pissed off is real damn simple.

There ain't no way in hell you're the number one contender.

'Cuz that would mean that I'm behind you. And there ain't no
world where that's even remotely possible. Maybe ya did somethin' at
Shattered Dreams, I can't really say. I don't waste my time thinkin'
'bout trash. But whatever happened, wasn't nothin' compared to what I
did. You may talk 'bout goin' right through anyone, but everyone with
a pair of eyes has seen that its me that goes through everyone. You
ain't nothin' but second rate. Next title shot is mine Holliday, not
yours.

But, as I'm a generous man, after I've won, I'll give you a
shot... eventually. Just as soon as I think you've done somethin' to
earn it.

[Doc listens patiently, his cocky grin not leaving his face. He
taps his cane on the mat idly as Martinez goes on, and when the big
man finishes, Doc retakes the microphone.]

Holliday: Ya know, as ya was goin' an' carryin' on lak ya allus
do, ah wuz thinkin'. Tryin' ta remembah back on times when we been in
th' ring. Ah kin really only think of two, aside from havin' ta team
up now an' ag'in.

Firs' time? Ah whipped yer ass, an' it took Nick Leshenn an' a riot
squad ta save yer ass from me.

Second time? Ah punched yer wife out cold. An' whut did ya do about
it? Nothin'. Yer welcome, by th' way.

[Even Martinez can't help but turn up the corner of his mouth in a
petty sneer at that.]

AM: Judgin' by your getup, history is what's important to ya. And
what you're sayin'? It all happened, but it happened a long damn time
ago. And Tex? Ancient history might be important to you, but it don't
mean a damn thing to me.

Holliday: Ah dunno, Alex, history seems ta be a big deal to ya
when ya brag on ever' place ya been an' all them titles ya won. Such
as yer first world title, which came thanks to a riot squad. Jes'
sayin'.

AM: Let's talk history then. But not ancient history. Let's talk
'bout Shattered Dreams, since it meant so much to ya. And let's talk
'bout what happened to someone you never been able to handle. Namely,
Jason Keening. Now I know you've had nothin' but problems with him.
But he's history now, thanks to me.

And if you don't step outta the ring right now, you're gonna end up
just like the Drillbit, ancient, forgotten history.

[Suddenly, an air raid siren wails over the P.A. loudspeakers
which leads into the crunching guitar introduction to Disturbed's
"Indestructible". The crowd surges to its feet and cheers as a
familiar squat, powerful figure steps through the curtains wearing...
a cowboy hat? In the ring, Martinez scowls angrily while Holliday
looks confused as Jason Keening marches down the aisle wearing a
buckskin fringed jacket and a tan cowboy hat with colorful beading
around the band. Keening has his own wireless microphone in one hand
as he climbs into the ring and acknowledges the crowd with a friendly
wave. Holliday and Martinez form the other two corners of a triangle
as a nervous-looking Dean Hayes backs out of the middle of the three
men.]

Keening: Did somebody mention my name?

[This causes another cheer from the crowd followed by an
unrepeatable curse from Martinez that the censors manage to mask.
Holliday is staring at the cowboy hat perched on top of Keening's head
with some suspicion as the former head of PVW security returns
Martinez's glare with a furious scowl of his own. Pointing at "The
Last American Badass", Keening grits his teeth...]

Keening: I'll get to you in a minute, puke!

[The crowd cheers again at this insult and Martinez steps forward
as if to attack but he pauses when he spots Holliday tensing out of
the corner of his eye. Keening turns to face Doc and... smiles?]

Keening: And as for you, Doc... I have a letter for you.

[Keening reaches into his jacket and draws out a piece of paper
that he hands over to Holliday while Martinez balls his fists and
restrains his natural urge for unrelenting violence. Blissfully aware
of his effect on the much bigger man's blood pressure, Keening
deliberately turns his back on "The Last American Badass" as he
addresses the crowd.]

Keening: Now while Doc reads what I've just handed him, I thought
I'd explain to everyone just why I'm out here right now. For despite
some bogus claims to the contrary, I have *NOT* gone home to lick my
wounds. In fact...

[Keening is interrupted by an exasperated yell from Doc as he reads
the paper.]

Holliday: WHUT?!

[Holliday's eyes are wide open in disbelief as he continues to read
while Martinez eyes him warily. Keening chuckles.]

Keening: What Doc is reading right now is a letter from the PVW
Board of Directors. It's about the medical evaluation of a concussion
he suffered recently during his match with Xavier Feyr. The doctors
are saying that Doc Holliday may not be in complete control of his
faculties as a result of this injury... and so the Board has decided
that until he receives medical clearance, he must accept the guidance
and supervision of a PVW-appointed manager. Someone who will advise
him and make wrestling match decisions on his behalf. Someone who will
accompany him to the ring for all of his matches.

[Holliday looks up from the letter with an expression of disgust
on his face while Martinez's eyes widen in surprise as he realizes
where Keening is going with this.]

Keening: And that someone... is me!

[The crowd roars a deafening mixture of cheers and laughter as
Holliday swears and crumples the letter in his fists. Pulling the
cowboy hat tighter down onto his head, Keening saunters over to stand
beside Holliday and places a hand on one shoulder of his new protégé.
Holliday looks down at the hand as if it was a snake about to bite him
as Keening smiles over at the seething Alex Martinez.]

Holliday: NOT IN CONTROL O' MAH FACULTIES?! Ya got this heah big
turd runnin' free, an' he ain't got any faculties inna first place!
Not in control of mah faculties... ah'll show 'em control when ah
control a socket wrench right upside...

Keening (interrupting Holliday): Don't worry, Alex, I'll make sure
that Doc here plays nice. But instead of chasing me out of PVW, you've
actually convinced me to stay awhile. This is gonna be fun!

AM: There's nothin' I want to do more than make ya into a big red
smear Keenin'. Nothin' I want more than to hear ya scream. But...

[Martinez takes a deep breath, and a small bit of calm overtakes the
giant.]

AM: Instead, since ya plan on stickin' 'round, well, there's only one
thing to do. I'm gonna look ya right in the eyes...

And challenge ya to a match.

[A sadistic smirk crosses the face of Martinez.]

AM: So, what do ya say? Here's your chance to do somethin'. Here's
your shot at shuttin' me up. Or, here's where ya show that yellow
stripe that's been runnin' down your back for years. The world is
waitin' for your answer.

[Keening's smile doesn't alter a moment as he raises the wireless
microphone to his lips once more.]

Keening: Alex, Alex, Alex... I'm disappointed. Really. After all
these years, you think I'm gonna rise up to transparent bait like
that? C'mon, try a little harder, can't you? You've called me lots
worse things and... but I digress. `Cuz while as much as it would give
me great pleasure to knock you down a peg... again... I've got a job
to do here.

[Keening pats Holliday on the shoulder once more in a patently
false gesture of cameraderie. Doc's previous bad temperament, however,
seems to be melting away and his confident grin soon re-establishes
itself on his face as he looks over his shoulder at his new...
manager?]

Holliday: Now ah see.  Jason, ah done underestimated ya.  Ah'm
real proud of ya, ack-shally. All these years, an' ya finally learned
how ta lie an' cheat ta git yer way.

[Keening raises a quizzical eyebrow at Holliday, who continues.]

Holliday: After Martinez done broke ya off at Dreams, ya musta
wan'ned ta git shed of 'im real bad. But ya couldn't muster th' ass ta
do it, so ya lied ta some doctors an' cheated some phony test results,
mebbe switched yer own EKGs with mine, an' done th' only thang ya
could do ta hurt up Alex Martinez real real bad: make him fight Doc
Holliday.

It's lowdown, dirty, an' decietful.  Ah approve.

[Doc mockingly golf-claps as Keening is now the one who is visibly
growing irritated. Martinez just rolls his eyes.]

AM: I shoulda known that slappin' ya around a bit wouldn't cause a
growth spurt inside your nutsack.  Fine, ya want Roy Rogers here ta
fight your battles for ya.  Par for the course.  You girls make up
your mind which one of ya is gonna fight me.  Or both of ya, it don't
matter.  Either way, I get my title match...

...and you just get BURNED!!


[The big man heads up the aisle, leaving Holliday smirking after
him, and Keening in the background... annoyed at Holliday's last
comments but still seemingly pleased at how this has turned out.  We
cut back to the announcers.]

CL: A showdown between Doc Holliday and Alex Martinez, with Jason
Keening MANAGING Holliday?  Incredible!

FH: It'll be incredible if anyone survives.  Martinez will crush them
both and then Holliday will shoot him just before he dies.

CL: That would be a main event anywhere in the world!  Holliday
came out here hoping to issue a world title challenge in order to draw
out Rick Marley, but he drew out someone else entirely...

FH: And he continues to get sidetracked!  I love it!  That Called
Shot of Marley's lets him coast while everyone else is going to
eliminate each other... and Rob Cole has to be thrilled as well! He
can focus on his main challenger without worrying about the other top
threats nipping at his heels!

CL: Very true.  We still have Alex Martinez in action tonight!

FH: What else could possibly happen tonight?  This one night has
changed the foundation we all have been apart of.

CL: I don't know what else could happen, but from this night on things
are going to be very interesting that's for sure.

[Over the speakers begins to play Victim by Nicole Blackman. On the
screen is a computer animated  flag of the Netherlands. Over the Dutch
flag appears an  german iron cross. Blood begins to seeps from the
cross onto the flag. Over the flag and bloody cross is superimposed in
black lettering, Herscher von Donkerhardt.]

#I feel the motion of the car before I open my eyes. The air is blue-
black, brown-black, black-black. Smell of gas, oil, animals. I'm in
the trunk.#

#My wrists and ankles tied. Tape over my mouth it almost covers my
nose but I can breathe barely. I must have been here for hours,
everything's stiff and my head throbs like someone's drumming on
china.#

#The car stops. He turns off the motor -- but there are no traffic
sounds. No people sounds. No wind. What place has no wind? I turn my
head towards the sounds like people watch radios when something
terrible happens.#

[The crowd is instantly hostile as they hear the lyrics of this song.
They break into boos and jeers that echo throughout the arena. The
displeasure at hearing this song is eclipsed only by the man this
music has become synonymous with, Herscher von Donkerhardt. Herscher
is clad in black wrestling boots that reach just short of his knees.
Herscher is wearing tight brown pants offset by a black leather lining
on the inner thighs. Hersher's ring gear is completed with a plain
white towel draped over his left shoulder, covering that side of his
torso. The man sports a physique that is not freakishly massive but is
chiseled and has next to no body fat or blemishes, save for the large
slashing scar across his abdomen. The crowd's jeering becomes even
louder as Herscher and his  piercing blue eyes look towards the ring,
zoning it all out. Herscher  runs his hands through his short but
curled blonde hair before making his way to the ring ]

#My palms are sweating. Where am I? The trunk squeaks as he lifts it
up and the sun blinds me. He almost looks like a faceless Jesus
surrounded by light. He pulls me out of the trunk#

#and bangs my head against the door. I try to cry out, but it comes
like a hum.#

#He drags me, half-standing, along a dirt road into a house. I can't
see any other houses and it looks like a farm. The screen door bangs
behind me and I feel a deep, deep pressure inside. All the rules have
changed here.#

#I'm dragged down a hall like a bag and I look for a phone, other
doors. Nothing but bare floors and brown boxes in small rooms. He
pulls me into the bathroom and I almost crack my head as he pushes me
onto the floor. Tilts his head to the side and gazes at me as if I was
a pet then walks out.#

#I'm lying there for a long time, trying to get the tape off of me. My
eyes are tearing. I don't make a sound. I can't get up and I keep
rolling from side to side, trying not to make noise.#

[Herscher slowly makes his way down to the ring. As he approaches the
squared circle he is met with a shower of popcorn, half filled plastic
beer cups along with a myriad of taunts, threats, insults and physical
gestures by those close to the security railing and at ringside. All
of this the Netherlander blocks out with a tunnel vision focused on
what's ahead of him.]

#I've got to get him to talk to me. If I can get this thing off my
face I can talk to him. I'll tell him my name. Have you killed other
women in here? I'm thinking you've got hundreds of them nailed down,
hung on walls, hanging from ceiling fans swinging dead in summer
wind.#

#Why did you pick me? If I had stayed to finish at the library I would
have been there twenty minutes longer maybe I'd have been OK. Would
have rushed into the house, books pile up in my arms like a baby, and
blurted explanations why I was sorry. So sorry I'm late everyone.#

#Would you have waited for me anyway? Would you have picked another
woman? Would I have read about her in the paper and said oh my god, I
was there that night... and called all my friends in a panic. Telling
them then how much I loved them as if I'd never have the chance
again.#

[Herscher climbs the ring steps and  through the ropes ignoring it
all. The crowd reacts negatively  to Herscher's entrance ]

#I wonder what everyone is doing now. Putting up signs. Showing my
picture on the evening news. Calling old friends. Maybe I'm not even
considered missing yet.#

#The family will fall apart and my parents will go crazy. Slowly. My
brother will be so quiet at # # the funeral and insist the casket be
closed. (I never even told anyone what kind of funeral I wanted when I
died.)#

#Maybe years from now they'll find my skeleton on the floor here and
they'll have to use dental records to identify me. My family will say
"At least we know now. We always hoped she was alive somewhere. We
just hope she's in peace."#

[Herscher then goes to his respective corner and places his towel on
the mat underneath the ring post.  ]

#When I sleep my dreams are crazy -- I'm flying over fields. I don't
think I sleep for more than twenty minutes and when I wake up, it
feels like I'm under a heavy blanket. I'm still there.#

#As I wake up I hear a dog barking in the distance and I think I'm in
my parents' house in South Carolina. When I open my eyes, there's a
shotgun pressed between them. I'll never get married. I'll never have
kids. I'll never go to Europe. I'll never learn to play piano. I'll
never write a book.#

#The last thing I hear is a click.#

[Herscher stands in the ring, and makes a cross gesture with his arms,
the fans jeer and continue to throw debris into the ring.]

FH: The fans are showing a lot of hostility to the proud European, but
HVD shows no sign that they're getting to him.  He's got a job to do
and he's here to do it, putting the Flyking out of commission once and
for all!  I'll honestly be surprised if Will even manages to crawl
down to the ring.

CL: Will Geddings is coming off a brutal match with Alex Martinez and
SSN insisted on scheduling this match, despite warnings from the
trainers and Doctors on staff.  Geddings has a partial lung laceration
thanks to that chain-wrapped fist of Martinez, and yet... as much as I
admire his courage, I have to think he's making a mistake by accepting
this match.

[Huge respect pop!]

#Here it is again#
#Yet it stings like the first time#
#Seasons never end#
#Double nickels on your dime#
#I thought we were friends#
#I guess it just depends who you ask#
#These feelings tend to leave me with a hole in my chest#

[Pyros go off on either side of the ramp as "Calling All Skeletons" by
Alkaline Trio hits it's full instrumental part. A huge face pop erupts
as Will Geddings emerges from the backstage area, walking slowly,
cautiously, and with noticeable effort. His shoulders rise and fall
with great effort, the FlyKing straining for every breath. For the
first time in months, Geddings walks out to the ring without the cover
of his Victory Lane mask.]

CL: Will Geddings hasn't even started the match yet, and he already
looks beaten.

FH: Serves him right.

[Geddings ultimately gets to the ring and looks to the apron, sighs,
and takes a sharp right to the steel steps. He climbs up them, one by
one, before stepping through the ropes. The pants are the same - black
with "Eagle" and "Claw" written down the outside of the legs - but
everything else appears to be different. Geddings motions for a
microphone.]

Geds: I'll cut right to it, Herscher - I'm not quite up to par
tonight. I'm not at 100%. I am at the end of my rope, physically and
mentally.

[HVD stands in his neutral corner, no emotion on his cold features.
He simply stares at his opponent, rotating his wrists as he considers
his method for attack.]

Geds: Here's the thing, though, I could hop out here on a cane like
Scrooge McDuck in that old Nintendo DuckTales game...you remember the
one? It was pretty badass. Or have Nintendo games not yet made it over
to Utrecht?

[Good face pop as Geddings musters a smile]

Geds: I kid, I kid. It's just that...it sounds Third World, you know?
And if Herscher von Donkerhardt is it's leading export...well...

[Geddings smiles, still struggling to breathe. He slowly moves his
hand over his chest and lowers his head, his smile quickly fading. He
grabs the top rope for support. The top rope shakes with the force
Geddings is exerting on it. He slowly raises his head again.]

Geds: Oh, forget it. I don't have the energy to make fun of you. Do
what you have to do, Herscher. Enjoy it, don't enjoy it, I don't care.
You do what you feel is right and I'll respond in kind.

[Geddings drops the microphone and leans up against the ropes.]


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                    One on One Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
         Will Geddings v. Herscher von Donkerhardt
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: And this match is underway... Geddings pushing off from the ropes
to slowly approach the center of the ring, and Donkerhardt moves to
intercept.

[Herscher goes for a collar and elbow tie up with Geddings. They lock
up but Herscher quickly releases the hold, puts his head underneath
Geddings and executes an inverted jawbreaker! Geddings falls to the
mat and Herscher is quickly up and begins to land a series of
kneedrops onto the sternum of  Geddings!]

CL: Von Donkerhardt appears to have done his homework on Geddings by
going after the sternum area of his chest.

FH: He didn't have to do much everybody saw what Martinez did to
Geddings. How could Herscher not go after the sternum?

[Herscher stops dropping knees and turns over the vulnerable Geddings
onto this back. Herscher stands over Geddings before locking him up in
a camel clutch. Herscher cinches the move up tightly wrenching back on
Geddings The pain on Geddings face is more than obvious.]

CL: Well it didn't take too long for Herscher to go a submission
maneuver in his match. Wrenching back on the chin and stretching out
the torso to aggravate that deep wound!

FH: Why shouldn't he? They don't call him The Netherlands Submission
Machine due to some cheap marketing ploy... he's here to do a job,
Chip. It's not his fault that the Fly-punk doesn't want to take the
doctors' advice!

CL: Geddings struggling to breathe, refusing to surrender as HVD
angles his clutch and twists the Flyking a little off center.  Good
lord... he wrenches Will back!  And another wrench!

[Donkerhardt suddenly shoves Geddings face into the mat as he rises...
and quickly drops a stomp to the center of the mans' back!  As
Geddings curls up and rolls over, Donkerhardt drives another stomp to
the center of the chest!]

FH: Look at him crawl, Chip... he can barely even get his hands
beneath him, rolling into the ropes for even the slightest reprieve is
taking everything out of him!

CL: The referee checks on Geddings as he pulls himself up the ropes,
trying to get to his feet as Donkerhardt takes his measure... and
drills him with a knife edge chop across the chest!  And another!

[Donkerhardt pushes him against the ropes and sends him for a ride
with an irish whip... he catches him on the return trip and hauls him
up off his feet for a hip-toss... ]


FACE POP!!!!


CL: Geddings flips through it, able to land on his feet!

FH: And back down to one knee!  Look at him clutch his chest...

[Donkerhardt charges back into the ropes, charging Will but the
Flyking manages to launch himself to his feet and catches Herscher
with a sudden clothesline out of nowhere!  The audience gets to their
feet, but their excitement dies down as Will collapses against the
ropes and starts to cough up some blood.]

CL: A quick burst of energy from Geddings seems about all he can
muster right now, and Donkerhardt is already getting to his feet,
coming up on Geddings... but Will with a back elbow!  Another back
elbow!

FH: He's still holding on to that top rope to keep on his feet... but
Will Geddings is finally fighting back!  But HVD cuts him off with a
knee to the gut!

[Herscher whips Geddings into the ropes. The Flyking rebounds and is
met with a hip toss from Herscher.  Herscher picks Geddings up and
executes a german suplex.]

CL: Geddings still locked up, and it looks like Herscher is going for
a series!

FH: He's just tossing Will Geddings like a sack of potatoes!

[Herscher picks Geddings up and executes another german suplex this
time releasing Geddings, and Geddings lands on his head. Herscher
glares over Gedding now on his back. Herscher grabs both of Geddings
arms and pulls him up. Geddings is on his knees and his arms extended
forward as Herscher launches his left boot square into the chest of
Geddings with all of his force, stretching the arms, and trying to
jolt them from their sockets while trying to cave in the sternum of
Gedding at the same time. Herscher continues to hold Geddings by the
arms as he kicks him again and again.]

CL: This is uncalled for, is Herscher trying to beat Geddings or kill
him??!

FH: Both, dead men can't get their arms raised in victory!

[Herscher drops the arms and the referee suddenly steps in as Geddings
rolls to his side and a splash of blood is coughed from way down deep!
The Flyking's face contorts in agony as the referee examines him, and
Donkerhardt suddenly reaches down and hauls Will to his feet!]

CL: Oh come on!  NO!!!! NO MORE!!!!

FH: If Geddings doesn't want anymore, he knows how to end this
match... just call it quits and go home!  Let SSN have the win, let
them have their way, and just step out before he gets too hurt to make
a living anymore!

[Donkerhardt hauls Geddings up for a simple belly to back... and
Geddings twists his body and manages to nail a good shot down across
the bridge of the nose!  Donkerhardt staggers back and Will Geddings
delivers another shot... and another!]

CL: Donkerhardt staggering back into the corner, and Will Geddings is
able to grab the ropes and pull himself off the shoulder... he's on
the second turnbuckle, and Donkerhardt staggers back from another
shot!

FH: Geddings should just drop back and roll out of the ring while he
has the... OH NO!!!!

[The crowd roars to their feet as Geddings launches himself from the
second turnbuckle and connects with a flying Lariat!!!]


  FLY-KING!!! FLY- KING!!!    FLY-KING!!! FLY- KING!!!


  FLY-KING!!! FLY- KING!!!    FLY-KING!!! FLY- KING!!!


  FLY-KING!!! FLY- KING!!!    FLY-KING!!! FLY- KING!!!



CL: Will Geddings with the flying Lariat connects and Herscher Von
Donkerhardt is clutching his throat in the ring, rolling on the mat as
the veteran high flyer continues to clutch his chest and spit blood
from his mouth!

[Geddings picks Herscher up and whips him into the ropes. Herscher
rebounds and is met with a flying drop kick. Herscher tumbles out of
the ring. Herscher gets up and is met a flying somersault drop!



   P-V-DUB!!    P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!


   P-V-DUB!!    P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!


   P-V-DUB!!    P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!


   P-V-DUB!!    P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!


   P-V-DUB!!    P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!


   P-V-DUB!!    P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!   P-V-DUB!!



CL: Will Geddings feels a second wind coming on, clutching at his
chest as he struggles to pull himself up the apron... attempting to
get to his feet as Herscher Von Donkerhardt clutches at the back of
his neck!

FH: He's taking too many risks and it's gonna' backfire on him, Chip!

[Geddings gets up and climbs back into the ring. Herscher is using the
guardrail to climb back to his feet. Gedding measures Herscher for
another suicide dive. Gedding runs and leaps over the ropes and down
towards Herscher. Hersher sees this and moves out of the way, grabbing
Geddings on the back and pushes down adding to Geddings momentum as he
crashes into the guardrail.]



  Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!!


  Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!!


  Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!! Holy S[edit]!!



FH: I told you!!! I told you this would happen! But "Nooooo"... you
thought I was talking about some harmless little bunny!

CL: The Flyking is down, the flyking is down, and we need some medical
attention or something... anything!

[Geddings slumps back to the ringside floor clutching his chest and
rolling around in pain. Von Donkerhardt suddenly shoves past the ring
attendants and snatches his opponent by the back of his head, and
shoves him under the bottom rope into the ring!  He turns to the fans,
and points at Geddings!]

FH: And now you might as well call this the end of Will Geddings
career in the PVW... or in any wrestling ring at all!

CL: Oh good lord...

[Herscher has Geddings on his belly. Herscher has one knee on the back
of Geddings neck and reaches down to snatch the right arm of Geddings
pinned down and stretched out. Herscher lifts his other knee in the
air and drops it down upon the shoulder of Geddings several times,
jostling the neck of Geddings each time he does so!]



(HEEL POP)



CL: The fans don't seem to appreciate the tactics of von Donkerhardt
in this matchup!

FH: So what, von Donkerhardt doesn't need them to issue a 3 count or
call for the bell due to a submission victory!

CL: but von Donkerhart is just torturing Geddings now, what could
possibly be gained by trying break this mans arm and neck? He's
already got a lacerated lung and now Donkerhardt is looking to
compound injury with injury... it's just plain sick!

[Herscher then ends his knee stomps to the shoulder and then puts
Geddings into the painful STF submission hold. Huge heel pop as he
cranks back and Geddings is twisted back with a gurgling scream as
blood just splatters down his chin.]

FH: Setup, a setup for an even more painful hold is what's to be
gained Lester. If you were ever a wrestler you'd know that!

CL: I may not be a wrestler, but I'm a human being... and there are
limits to... I don't believe it!  Will Geddings is refusing to tap
out! The referee is begging him to do it, but he simply refuses...
reaching for the ropes...

[The crowd roars as Geddings finally manages to inch his arm closer...
and snatches the bottom rope! Donkerhardt suddenly releases the hold,
and gets to his feet quickly enough to drop a stomp on Geddings' neck!
He wipes his bloody hands on his chest in disgust, shaking his head.]

FH: Look at that... Geddings is getting blood all over The Netherlands
Submission   Machine! He should be ashamed of himself!

CL: Geddings dragging himself up, leaning hard against that second
rope as the referee stands between him and HVD.  Herscher frustrated
with the referee's diligence, and finally steps back so the referee
can check on Geddings.

[There's some obvious concern on the referee's face as he examines
Will, pressing gingerly against the chest and wincing as Geddings
cries out in agony.  He shakes his head and looks about to call for
the bell when Donkerhardt suddenly presses past him and delivers a
stinging chop to the chest!  Another chop!]

CL: Oh come on!  Let the referee call for the bell... he doesn't need
to do this, Fred!  What's wrong with him?!?!!

FH: Simple... Will Geddings will not stay down.

[Herscher executes a belly to belly suplex on Geddings. He sits
Geddings up and kicks him in the chest. Geddings goes down clutching
his chest.]

Herscher screams out at Gedding. "How does retirement look to you
now?"



(HEEL POP)



CL: And now Herscher whips Geddings into the ropes for what looks like
a back body drop. Geddings rebounds, stops and catches Herscher in a
swinging neck Breaker!!!



(FACE POP)



FH: The crowd is on their feet, but Will Geddings is not!  Both men
down and the referee is checking on the flyking again.  He needs to
take this breather to just call for the bell and get some medical help
for Will Geddings!

CL: I agree with you, Fred... Will has the heart of a lion, but enough
is just flat out enough.  There's nothing left to prove tonight...
just go to the back, ice up that chest, and pray that the lacerations
haven't been opened up further!

[Geddings finally rolls to his knees as Donkerhardt finishes shaking
the cobwebs loose and clutches his own neck.  He rises to his feet,
disgust on his features as he cuts off the Flyking with a rushing knee
to the sternum!

CL: Geddings has - let's face it, Fred - been beaten pretty much from
pillar to post here tonight. Look at this...the blood is really
pouring from his mouth now. I don't even know if he can breathe.

FH: I don't like him but this is too much.

CL: Donkerhardt can smell blood now. Perhaps literally. He's got
Geddings by the hair and just dragging him into the center of the
ring. Donkerhardt making the Grounded King stand on his own power...



[POP/GROAN!]



FH: What the...?!!!  That's just gross!

CL: GEDDINGS JUST SPLIT BLOOD INTO DONKERHARDT'S FACE!!! DONKERHARDT
CAN'T SEE!



[Finisher pop!]



FH: I can't believe it... Geddings just SNAPPED Donkerhardt to the mat
with an Eagle Claw DDT!!!

CL: The cover!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE !!!




*Ding Ding ding*



HD: Here is your winner... as a result of pinfall.



THE FLYKING... WILL.... GEDDINGS!!!!!



CL: Will Geddings wins! He overcame those massive injuries and beat
the Nordic Submission Machine with the Eagle Claw DDT...

FH: And by spitting blood in the mans' eyes! That's just sick!

[Geddings has one shoulder held high while the other clutches his
chest. He is smiling and enjoying the fans reaction to his victory.
From behind Herscher hits him clothesline to the back of the neck!]

FH: And I think Herscher agrees with me... look at him, wiping the
blood from his features as he shakes out the cobwebs!  He's furious
with Geddings!

CL: Someone get security... this match is over!  Where's security?!?!!

[Herscher begins to kick away at the ribs and chest of Geddings,
before dropping his knee into the sternum of Geddings. Herscher rises,
and measures the Flyking for a split moment... then puts Geddings into
The Will To Power! The Referee orders him to release the hold but von
Donkerhardt refuses to do so. The Referee tries to pull him off but is
unsuccessful.]



*DING DING DING*



[More people enter the ring, wrestlers and ring crew alike to try to
pry Von Donkerhart away from Geddings. Eventually von Donkerhardt
releases the hold and staggers back from his prone target.  He makes
his way out of the ring to a chorus of boo's and a shower of debris as
he heads back up the entrance ramp.]

CL: von Donkerhardt wasn't happy with how things ended at all.

FH: Do you blame him?  I mean do you want Geddings cooties on you?

CL: "Cooties"?

FH: Yeah ... I mean Geds cooties could turn you into a wrestler who
won't win a match for months!  It's the Geddings curse!

CL: Geddings came out here quite less than 100% against one of PVW's
hottest wrestlers inside the ring and picked up a victory.  Too bad
HvD is a poor sport.

FH: You haven't seen the last of this.  That was complete and total
disrespect by Will Geddings.  Where Donkerhardt comes from they kill
men for less!

CL: The Netherlands?

FH: Yeah that's like a fourth world country you know.

CL: They were a world power not too long ago Fred.

FH: Minor details.

CL: Geddings is back on his feet and walking on his own.  Listen to
the fans give the veteran an applause of respect.  Say whatever you
want Fred, but Geddings has had high's and low's here in the PVW and
the guy just keeps fighting.

[Cut to Swingin' Dean Hayes as he stands in the arena locker room,
microphone in hand. Standing next to him is none other than Tracy
Hudson, who had been in the ring just minutes before. Hudson is a
mess. His hair is tangled and matted with blood. Rivulets of the stuff
still flow down his face, though most of it has congealed in certain
areas, namely around his eyes and chin. His eyes dart wildly to and
fro.]

SDH: Greetings fans! Swingin' Dean Hayes here. Now, before we go I've
been instructed to get an interview with the man who was in the middle
of one of the strangest and most violent brawls that we here at PVW
have rarely seen...

HUDSON: [Interrupting] You mean you've hardly ever seen anything like
this before?

SDH: Well, I have seen it. But it's not that often, I admit.

HUDSON: Hmph. I used to do that once a week. Twice if needed.

SDH: So I've heard actually. But onto tonight's match. Having seen it,
I have to ask- What's going on here? Why did Gibson Hayes turn his
back on you like that? Weren't you two friends?

HUDSON: Heh...you could say that we are. Hell, his older brother and I
were best friends. I trained Gibby personally as a favour to Tyrone in
fact. But you know something? I knew it would happen like this.

SDH: Really?

HUDSON: Of course. Tyrone Hayes used to betray me at least once every
couple of months or so. Now, considering Gibson's relation to Tyrone
it begs the question- how could anyone NOT know? But you know
something? It's irrelevant. That doesn't matter to me one bit right
now.

SDH: You mean you don't care? You're not going to do anything about
it?

HUDSON: Oh...of course I care! Nobody likes to be betrayed like
that...to suddenly be alone out there...to finally understand that in
the end, you have no friends and your death is bearing down on you
like a bullet train...no. I care, Dean. And perhaps I WILL avenge this
wrong. But not right now. I came to PVW for one reason. And tonight, I
came within sight of that very thing...my purpose.

SDH: Your...you mean Craven?

HUDSON: Who?

SDH: William Craven. The man you focused the entire match on.

HUDSON: That wasn't William Craven. William Craven was a monster.
William Craven was the scariest, meanest, most sadistic son-of-a-bitch
I'd ever come in contact with.

SDH: But...

[Hudson puts his index finger to his lips in the universal "shush"
signal]

HUDSON: Hush, you. The man I fought tonight could not possibly have
been William Craven. A parody of William Craven perhaps. And if so, a
damn fine one in my estimation. But no...I didn't fight Craven. I went
toe to toe with a facsimile. A fake.

[Hudson stares right into the camera now, his eyes growing closer and
closer by the second.]

HUDSON: But...you know something? Under all that frippery and
falsehood...he's there. Craven. The man who almost killed me. The one
who put me in a wheel chair for a year. He's there...

And I'm going to find him...

And then, I'm going to send him a special message. A message just for
him.

[scene fades ... The camera cuts to the announce table where Fred
Hoyle and Chip Lester talking to one another. Chip seems stunned as
Fred begins to speak to the television audience.]

FH: Ladies and gentlemen we have just been informed of two blockbuster
announcements. First the month of November will be one to remember as
the PVW presents Tradition 4 live from Toronto Canada!

[Turn the Page by Metallica begins to play in the background as Fred
and Chip are replaced by a graphic Tradition IV: Blood Bowl II.

CL: The PVW continues it’s Global expansion by once again crossing
international borders this time to the Great White North with BLOOD
BOWL II!

[The graphic for Tradition 4 fades and is replaced by the image of the
first ever PVW Champion Chase Williams super imposed over the Blood
Bowl Trophy.]

FH: Will the defending Blood Bowl Champion successfully defend his
trophy or will new blood reign supreme?

CL: The 2009 Blood Bowl Trophy will be presented by a special guest.

[The graphic once again fades and is replaced by Fred and Chip as Turn
the Page fades to silence.]

CL: And we have also just received word that “The One” Brian Young
will be in attendance on the next edition of Heatwave!

FH: That’s right Lester; the cripple will be here with a special
announcement!

[Fred Hoyle face’s is lit up with joy as he smiles ear to ear. Chip
glares at him and slowly shakes his head before continuing to speak.]

CL: It appears there have been some complications with Brian Young’s
rehabilitation from his motorcycle accident and brutal assault at the
hands of current PVW World Heavyweight Champion Rob Cole.

FH: That’s right Lester; it appears the hero is finally hanging up the
boots!

CL: What a career Brian Young has had.  In PVW he never got to live up
to his potential after becoming the second PVW champion, but it was an
honor to watch him.

FH: It sure was ... An honor to watch his knee shatter!

CL: Damn it Fred! For once in your life show some class!  Ladies and
gentlemen it's time to look at the career of Brian Young.

[All is black as the opening guitar riffs of 'It's Been Awhile' by
Staind begin to play. As the song slowly builds to the moment the
first words are sung all begins to slowly transform into the image of
Brian Young standing before a mirror, staring deeply at his
reflection, his right shoulder still heavily taped and some bruising
still showing upon the part of his bicep.]

It's been a while
Since i could...
Hold my head up high
And it's been a while
Since i first saw you

[The image of Brian Young fades as various title belts begin to flash
across the screen. The AWMC Motor City Championship, The CSW
Heavyweight Championship, The CCW Heavyweight Championship, The AGW
National Championship … slowly these all fade to black as the image of
a Brian Young face first upon the mat takes their place. Brian lifts
his face as blood flows freely from it. The image begins to move in
slow-motion as the blood drips from his face to the mat below.]

And it's been a while
Since i could stand
On my own two feet again
And it's been a while
Since i could call you

[Image after image of Young bloodied flash across the screen. As the
final bloodied face slowly fades from the screen the image once again
changes this time to an old CSW Card.]

And everything I can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that are rendered
I've stretched myself beyond my means

[Jonathan Bagwell stands before Brian Young with a cat of nine tails
in his hand. Bagwell's devilish grin turns into a hating flare and he
lunges into a strike with the whip, Young shields his face with his
arms and immediately his forearms are torn open. Young rolls on the
ground, a trail of blood follows him as he writhes in pain. Young
stops, belly down, and Bagwell cracks the whip once again, tearing
into Young's bony back. Young's back arches and he rolls
uncontrollably around the ring, in absolute agony. Again the whip
comes painfully down, spreading Brian's blood and flesh around the
canvass. The blood covered mat slowly fades into an image of Brian
Young, motionless eyes closed as his blood surrounds him. This image
lingers for a long moment before slowly fading. ]

It's been a while
Since i could say
That i wasn't addicted and

[The image changes to happier times. Still images of Brian holding
Championship after Championship triumphantly in the air flash across
the screen. Once again these still images become old footage, this
time from CCW. Young hoists Q high into the air executing the
Wildfire, his version of the Rydeen Bomb. The footage moves further
into the match showing a bloodied Young executing a DDT from the top
rope and slowing draping his arm across Q's chest. Image changes again
to show the bloodied Young holding the CCW Championship in the air
with a smile upon his face as he makes his way back up the aisle.]

It's been a while
Since i could say
I love myself as well and...
It's been a while
Since i've gone and fucked things up
[Again the image changes to old CCW footage. Young leaps and camera's
go off around the arena... his right foot half pushes off the ladder
his challengers just fell from sending it crashing down on top of
them... more importantly Young snags the belt... the force of his jump
causes the cable to swing... Young just hangs on for dear life as he
swings... Bayushi pulls himself to his feet... he watches Young fly by
twice and then grabs hold of the feet of Young... Bayushi pulls and
pulls on the champ's feet as they both swing wildly on the
cable...Bayushi begins to climb up the champion!!! With the added
weight Young is unable to fiddle with the belt latch. Bayushi gets his
right arm up and grabs the cable... Young lets go with his left hand
and pushes his palm against Bayushi's chin...Bayushi plunges his thumb
into Young's eyes and Young loses his hold momentarily...But grabs
hold of Bayushi's feet as he falls. Q staggers to his feet... looks up
at Bayushi... down at Young! Q charges and leaps forward spearing
young out of mid air! The image ends with Bayushi holding the title
high in the air as Q and Young lay upon the mat in a heap.]

Just like i always do
And it's been a while
But all that shit seems to disappear when i'm with you

[Images flash across the screen, Young pinning Valtorro with a victory
roll, Young pinning Retribution with a cradle, Young forcing Tripp
Shade to tap out to the Dragon Sleeper, image flashes to the closing
moments of the CSW Young versus Shakur match. Young back into the ring
and is met by a knee to the midsection. On the outside of the ring,
Kannen grabs a steel chair. Shakur whips Young into the ropes, but
Young reverses the whip. Young then drops to the mat and Shakur leaps
over, but as Shakur hits the ropes, Kennen tosses the chair to Shakur!
Young leaps and kicks the chair right into the face of Shakur. Young
delivers a baseball slide to the face, slamming into Kennen's face,
knocking him down. Storm covers and here's the count. Young rolls to
his knees, pointing to the sky.]

And everything i can't remember
As fucked up as it all may seem
The consequences that i've rendered
I've gone and fucked things up again... again

[The image changes to show Ryan Violent and Brian Young battling upon
a steel ladder. Young has pushed Violent down a few steps now. Young
has made his way on the other side. Both men are climbing throwing
punches. Both men are now in reaching distance of the title hung high
above them and both men grab ahold of the title. Violent kicks the
ladder as both men hang from the title. The Ladder crashes down
forcing both men to hold onto the title! Young kicks Violent. Violent
nails Young. WITH OUT WARNING BOTH MEN FALL BUT THE TITLE IS IN EACH
HAND AS THEY FALL IN MID AIR! Both men hit the ring hard face first
and Alex Extreme is checking under both men now to see who has the
title. Violent rolls on his stomach as the world title is draped over
him as Young is helping himself up by the ropes. His head is laid
low.]

Why must i feel this way?
Just make this go away
Just one more peaceful day

[The image changes to the PVW ring where Young drills Chase Williams
with a steel chair; Young pinning Caleb Foley; Young thrusting his
arms into the air with the PVW in his hands. Young pinning Larry
Gionet to retain the PVW Championship; the image fades and is replaced
showing Rob Cole driving the PVW Championship into the skull of Young.
The music fades as the camera focuses upon Rob Cole.]

RC: I knew exactly what I was doing when I told him 'no'... I was
leaving him to the wolves! I was letting him down, and I was
abandoning him to violence and degredation. Brian Storm would face
beating after beating after beating, falling short of his heroic
intentions and wondering... wondering why I left him. You see... Brian
Storm asked me for my help, and when I could have come... I didn't. I
let him suffer... I let him fall... And I let him /bleed/... because
/I/ was weak!!!!

[Rob Cole swallows, seeming near tears as he starts to pace the
ring...]
RC: When Brian asked me for help, I was selfish... the only thing I
could think about were the scars on my own features. The only thing I
could think about were the doctors telling me to stop! My broken
marriage, my shattered psyche, and my battered body were left inside
this kind of a ring... in a place where you people could dissect it
and mutilate it!!! I ran away home, and I hid myself inside my box and
I cried for months and hours.... and I prayed to god that I would have
the strength to say 'no'!!! And for months, I watched Brian Storm take
his beating... I watched him fall and bleed and suffer... knowing all
the while, he asked me for help.

[The music kicks back in as the image once again shifts, this time to
Brian Young in a wheelchair with the PVW World Heavyweight
Championship resting over his knees as Rob Cole turns a hateful gaze
up to Young... there's only a
moment of recognition before Cole rises and YANKS Young out of the
chair, driving his head in the right position for the double
underhook... he hauls the former champion up, the title belt finally
getting tossed out of his lap as Cole cries out with exertion, roaring
with absolute rage before snapping his victim down; Brian tears
through the leather seat and metal rods of the wheel chair.  Cole
rises quickly, shoving Young's body through the debris and placing a
solid kick to the man's stomach.  The former champion lies motionless
as Cole stares down at him, smiling sickly... he stalks over to the
PVW title and picks it up. He snatches up the microphone, disgust
twisting his features as he walks to stand over Brian Young. The music
once again fades as Rob Cole grabs a microphone.]

RC: Filth.  The PVW is a pile of filth, a company represented by a
title that means absolutely nothing, by a tin strap champion who can't
even defend his title, by a roster of people who begged for scraps and
crawled for recognition.  When this company shut it's doors I tried to
ply my trade elsewhere... but they wouldn't let me go!  They said I
was under contract, that I signed a deal, that they were getting
'band' back together again, and that they wanted me to come in and
bring the game back to it's roots.  I had a chance somewhere else, I
decided that I couldn't be happy here no more, and this company
decided to whip out that contract and point out the small print...

[The image changes; Brian Young laying upon the PVW ring as the
medical crew begins to place him upon the stretcher. Brian writhes in
pain as the camera focuses upon his face; pain etched across it.]

I'M

SORRY,

BRIAN!!!!

[The music once again is audible as a close up image of Brian Young's
face is shown. Slowly the image begins to fade to black as the music
fades.]

CL: What a career Brian Young has had.  A former PVW Heavyweight
Champion.  It'll be sad to see him hang up his boots.  Possibly the
most popular superstar to ever wrestle in a PVW ring.

FH: Popular with who? The 12 year old girls?

HD: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall and is for the PVW Network Championship!

*POP!*

Introducing first...

["Schism" by Tool begins to a good face pop as Sinister appears and
heads down towards the ring from the backstage area.]

HD: From Chicago, IL...

...HE

.......IS

............SINISTER!


[Sinister reaches the ring. The crowd silences before the heavy metal
chords of Widescreen Mode's "Everlasting Bomb" thunder in the
arena, and the video screen above the entrance is engulfed in flames.
The image turns to ashes, out of which a statue emerges. The statue is
carved in the image of "the Everlasting" Perry Fontana, complete with
chest hair, gigantic muttonchops... even a shiny championship belt
sparkling on the figure's stone shoulder. In the skies above, clouds
move at warp speed, around the statue, forests are grown and raised in
moments, cities, built and destroyed in seconds, until a bomb of
cataclysmic proportions engulfs the screen in flames. Out of the
ashes, a new statue of "il Eterno" rises again, still bearing it's
title belt as landscapes and landmasses morph around it at warp
speed.]

Meanwhile, the living, breathing, and supposedly immortal Perry
Fontana steadily walks down to the ring, head covered by the hood of
his orange, red and gold boxer's robe. If the man's face is hidden,
his PVW Network title is not. In fact, it's golden patina is so shiny
many fans who made the mistake of staring at it directly are force to
reel back and scratch at their blinded eyes. Ignoring those fools, and
making sure none of them get the opportunity to contaminate his newly
restored Network Championship, Fontana calmly climbs the ring steps,
slips into the squared circle through the ropes as his likeness on the
video screen rises from the ashes yet again.]

HD: And from Montreal, Quebec, Canada...

[Feet firmly planted in the middle of the ring, the hooded Everlasting
One remains completely immobile. The fans jeer, but Fontana is aloof.]

HD: Weighing in at two hundred and fifty three pounds...

[Suddenly, four gigantic, towering flames explode out of the ring
posts!]


"____FWWWOOOOOOOOOSHHHH!!!___"


HD: He is the PVW Network Champion...

[The screen goes completely white from the excessive light and heat.
When the glare subsides, we can see Fontana's boxer's robe gently
floating back down to the ring like a twirling feather, and the
Italian French-Canadian is finally unveiled in all of his hairy glory,
from his luxuriant black, enormous muttonchops and dimpled chin down
to his boots. ]

HD: "The Everlasting" .... PEEERRRRRRYYYYY.... FOOOONNNNNTANAAAAA!!!

[When the referee approaches him, Perry Fontana refuses to let the
official touch the PVW Network Title. In fact, he rolls out of the
ring and gently places the title next to the time keeper, screaming
warnings at him. No doubt that, should he retain, the Everlasting One
plans on thoroughly inspecting his belt upon retrieval.]




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                   Network Championship:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
               Sinister v. Perry Fontana [c]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


CL: And here we go.

[Fontana and Sinister circle each other. Sinister's size advantage
becomes more evident as Fontana gives a fake lunge at Sinister,
pulling back quickly. Fontana moves his head in a circle as if to work
a kink out of his neck and begins to circle again.]

CL: Sinister has eight inches and about fifty pounds on the Network
champion.

FH: He also has a gimpy leg and is up against a true technical master.
Nevermind the fact that he has to beat Fontana here. No shot, no
chance.

[Fontana and Sinister move towards each other, Sinister going for the
tie up. Fontana quickly steps through the larger man and stomps down
on the back of Sinister's knee. Sinister falls forward and to the mat.
Fontana grabs the foot of the fallen Sinister and steps over and into
a half-crab. Sinister, wincing, pushes himself up to the point of
Fontana's legs straightening only to have Fontana jump to the air and
land back on the backside of Sinister, sending him once more to the
mat. Sinister attempts to push himself up once more only to be met
once again by the falling Fontana.]

CL: Perry Fontana keeping the big man down and focusing on a pre-
injured area. The champion appears prepared here tonight.

FH: Preparation. Technique. Champion. Fontana.

CL: I see you're not paid by the word.

FH: Never.

[Fontana gives two good wrenches on the leg and then releases the
hold. Standing, he stomps down twice on the leg of Sinister and then
grabs the bigger man by the foot and begins to pull. Not making it
far, Fontana gives the leg one good jerk before releasing it and
giving a quick smirk.]

FH: Complete control.

[Fontana grabs Sinister by the arm and pulls him to his feet. Sinister
can already be seen favoring his knee. Fontana quickly off the ropes
and comes back with a punt kick to the side of Sinister's leg, sending
him down to the mat once more. Sinister rolls onto his side, holding
his leg. Perry Fontana reaches down and grabs the leg of Sinister,
scissors it between his two legs, and falls forward. Sinister's face
reveals the agony as he rolls under the bottom rope and out to the
floor.]

CL: An inauspicious start for the challenger. Fontana simply is
standing in the ring, forcing Sinister to use valuable energy to get
back into the ring.


FH: There's absolutely no reason for the champion to go out to the
floor. Sinister has every opportunity to quit right here. All he has
to do is stay out there on the floor.

CL: We both know Sinister is more of a fighter than that.

FH: Unfortunately.

CL: Sinister grabs the apron and forces himself back into the ring.

[Before Sinister has an opportunity to get to his feet, Fontana is
over and stomps away at the knee of Sinister. Fontana quickly locks on
a knee-bar, but Sinister is still under the bottom rope as he has just
gotten into the ring. The referee begins to administer the five count
for the break.]



ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




FOUR !!!




CL: Fontana breaks right before the five count.

FH: The fighting champion. He could have easily taken the DQ there and
maintained his title. He has no fear of Sinister. Nor should he.

[The referee backs Fontana away from Sinister, allowing Sin to pull
himself to his feet using the ropes. Fontana brushes past the referee
and heads back towards the challenger.]

CL: SPINEBUSTER! Sinister catches the approaching champion and drops
him to the mat! Sinister pushes himself up again, holding one of
Fontana's legs and favoring one of his own, and drops an elbow to the
inside of Fontana's thigh.

FH: Adrenaline. It will pass.

[Sinister considers applying a submission to rest his own injury, but
appears to realize that may be a losing battle against Fontana.
Sinister pulls Fontana up and slowly turns him around, dropping him
with a falling neck breaker. Now it is Fontana's turn to roll out of
the ring to gather his bearings. Upon getting through the ropes,
Fontana lands on the floor on his feet, holding the back of his neck.]

CL: The champion taking his time here, regaining his composure.

FH: A thinking man's champion. A man that we can respect!

[Fontana pulls himself back to the ring apron. Sinister approaches
him...SHOULDERBLOCK TO THE KNEE! Fontana catches the approaching
Sinister, causing him to fall to one knee. Fontana quickly through the
ropes and catches the kneeling Sinister with a stiff kick to the leg.
Sinister falls back and Fontana locks on a quick heel hook.]

FH: He's methodically taking Sinister apart!

[Fontana considers grabbing the ropes to increase the leverage on the
hold, but sees the referee in position to order the break. Sinister
pulls both hands to his head, covering his face.]

CL: Sinister has nowhere to go here, he's essentially in the middle of
the ring.

FH: Tap you fool!

CL: Sinister is looking for a way out here. He looks to be attempting
to leverage his way out, but Fontana is showing incredible technical
proficiency here.

FH: More than just arm bars. A technical mastermind.

[Sinister refuses to give in to the hold. Big Sin can't out-technique
Fontana...but he can sneak a boot out and catch Fontana across the
jaw. Fontana momentarily releases the hold and Sinister quickly rolls
over toward the ropes. Fontana quickly recovers and attempts to
reapply the heel hook, but Sinister is in the ropes!]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




FOUR !!!




CL: Once more, Fontana waits until he's up against the five count to
release the hold.

FH: Sinister cannot match the intensity and focus of Perry Fontana
here tonight!

CL: Fontana now pulling again on Sinister's leg, getting him away from
the ropes. Fontana now pulling Sinister up by the arm...he's
relentless in the way he works over his opponents. It's truly a
testament to his skill.

FH: Finally, some unbiased commentary.

CL: Excuse me?

[Fontana whips Sinister hard into the corner and follows up with a
back elbow. The elbow connects mid sternum and sends Sinister slumping
into the corner. Fontana grabs the bigger man and whips him hard into
the opposing corner, following with a second elbow...]

[POP!]

CL: No one home!

FH: I think Sinister's knee gave out!

CL: You may not be entirely wrong, but Fontana connects with only the
corner and Sinister pulls himself to his feet. One elbow to the side
of the head! Another!

[And another. And another. Sinister unleashes rapid elbows onto the
momentarily stunned Champion. Sinister grabs the middle ropes and
rears back, lunging forward with a shoulder to the midsection of
Fontana. Sinister backs away as Fontana slowly moves out of the
corner.]

CL: Belly to Belly Suplex and Sinister goes for the first cover of the
match!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




FH: Not even close.

CL: Fontana out right after the two count, but Sinister is feeling it
now. Sinister waits for Fontana to get to his feet and nails him with
a running lariat.

[Sinister shakes out his injured knee and waits for Fontana to return
to his feet once more. The champion obliges and Sinister lines up a
second lariat.]

[Heel pop!]

FH: OVER!

CL: Fontana uses Sinister's momentum and rolls him into a fujiwara
armbar! Sinister is flailing...

[Sinister's size allows him to escape the hold before Fontana has it
completely locked it. Sinister quickly to his feet and charges
Fontana. Fontana catches Sinister with an arm drag takeover and
maintains the hold, applying another arm bar. Fontana quickly slides
down to the leg of Sinister and applies an ankle lock. Sinister slaps
the mat in frustration.]

FH: He's tapping!

[He's not. Sinister attempts to shift his weight to either side to
escape but Fontana maintains his center of gravity. Sinister slams the
mat one more time and then violently strikes his free leg back,
catching the leg of Fontana and causing him to fall forward but
release the hold.]

CL: Fontana may have gotten a little extra damage in there as he fell
forward.

FH: No doubt intentional.

CL: Regardless, Sinister has broken the hold. Fontana pulls Sinister
up by the arm again and delivers a stiff kick to the side of
Sinister's knee. Sinister back down to a knee and eats a dropkick from
Perry Fontana!

[Sinister falls backwards to the mat. Fontana quickly attempts to lock
a kneebar, but Sinister is close enough to the ropes to be able to
quickly lock himself in them. Instead of holding to the five count
this time, Fontana begins to stomp away at the knee of Sinister, which
earns the admonition of the referee.]

FH: This ref is working hard to provide Sinister the victory here
tonight.

CL: I seriously doubt that Sinister has paid off a referee.

[Sinister up to his feet, but is obviously struggling with the beating
his knee has taken. Fontana pushes past the referee and kicks the
front of Sinister's knee, sending the bigger man stumbling through the
ropes and out to the floor. Fontana quickly through the ropes and
drops an elbow from the apron onto the chest of Sinister. Fontana once
more locks on a kneebar.]

CL: And look at Fontana here! He's got Sinister locked on the outside
of the ring. There are no ropes here to break the hold!

FH: It's brilliant. He can hold the move as long as he wants. He can
break it at 9 and get back in the ring, or not break it at all and
walk out of here with his title!

CL: Fontana apparently has more of a competitive streak in him than,
say, Mr. Hayes here as he breaks at the 8 count and rolls back into
the ring.

[Fontana rolls back to the outside and pulls Sinister up by his arm.
Fontana drags Sinister closer to the corner step and whips...]

*CLANK!*

CL: Fontana just swung Sinister into the corner steps! He was close
enough to where Sinister's knee slammed right into the steps.

FH: A true technician.

CL: Sinister is laid out over the top step here.

[Fontana walks up the steps and looks around to the crowd, who
apparently are not thrilled with this turn of events. The champion
couldn't care less as he smiles and drops a leg across the back of
Sinister's head!]

CL: Good lord! Sinister falls hard backwards off the steps...I think
his nose is busted open!

[It is.]

FH: The ref should go ahead and call this match. It's not going to get
any prettier. Neither is Sinister, for that matter.

[He won't.]

CL: Sinister would never allow this match to be called...look at this!
He's actually pushing himself to his feet! It's like he's getting a
second wind here!

Let's Go Sin! *clap clap clap clap clap*

Let's Go Sin! *clap clap clap clap clap*

Let's Go Sin! *clap clap clap clap clap*

Let's Go Sin! *clap clap clap clap clap*

CL: This crowd is firmly behind the idea of a new champion here
tonight.

FH: Fickle, fickle fools.

[Fontana quickly comes across the steps as Sinister gets to his feet.
Sinister takes a wild swing, ducked by Fontana who kicks the off
balance Sinister in the side of the knee. Sinister goes down for a
second, but quickly gets back to his feet. Fontana looks a little
surprised by his opponent's resiliency. Fontana throws a right
hand...blocked by Sin! A huge headbutt sends Fontana staggering
backwards! Lariat!]

CL: Fontana almost turned a complete flip after that monstrous lariat!
It looks like the champion has a bit of Sin's blood on his own face
after that headbutt.

FH: This is a blatant mockery of the rules!

[Sinister waits until Fontana gets to his feet and then drops a his
elbow onto the top of Fontana's head. Sinister grabs the champion and
quickly rolls him into the ring, following him before Fontana can get
to his feet and attack him. Sinister steps to the side as Fontana gets
to his feet, looking thte other way..a double palm to the kidneys! A
double palm to the ribs!]

CL: And there's a heavy palm strike to the neck area! The 5 palms of
malice! Big Sin with the cover!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




CL: Fontana rolls the shoulder! Sinister almost snuck a victory out of
a match that he has been methodically worked over in up until this
point.

FH: Simple adrenaline here. It'll fade.

[Sinister presses his advantage. Pulling Fontana up, he whips him into
the ropes and drops the champion with a spinning spinebuster on the
return.]

CL: Sinister's feeling it now. The knee seems to not be bothering him
as much anymore and he's smelling blood.

FH: Yea...his own blood. Courtesy of one Perry Fontana.

CL: Sinister up and to the corner, setting himself up on the middle
rope. Fontana slowly pushes himself to his feet...a big double axe
handle by Sinister sends the champion to the mat once more! And now
sinister is attempting to apply an ankle lock!

[Sinister grabs the leg of Fontana and begins to turn him over to
apply the lock. Fontana, wary of the technique, quickly rolls himself
inwards and pulls Sinister over into a full package pinning
predicament!]




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




THREE !!!




FH: Yes!

CL: NO!

*Face pop!*

CL: The referee is signalling two here as Sinister just barely escaped
the quick pin. Fontana wastes no time in arguing the three count.

[Fontana up first but Sinister follows soon after. Sinister throws a
big boot at Fontana, caught by the champion who takes Sinister down
with a dragon screw legwhip. Fontana holds the leg and applies another
knee bar.]

FH: He's never far away from his game plan.

[Fontana applies more and more leverage, attempting to get as much
pressure on the injured leg as possible. Sinister is screaming in pain
this time, the adrenaline from before apparently wearing off as
Fontana grounds the bigger man. Sinister reaches at Fontana,
attempting to strike the champion but such actions only cause Fontana
to really crank up the pressure.]

FH: He's going to have to tap here. There's no escape.

CL: As much as I hate to agree with you...and I do hate to agree with
you, Fred...you may be right.

[But he's not right. He's never right. Sinister bit the bullet and
stomped with his good leg at the hands of Fontana, causing him to
break the hold but hitting his knee in the process. Sinister rolls
towards the ropes in an attempt to nullify Fontana's ability to lock
him into another submission, but the damage appears to be done.
Sinister begins to pull himself up by the ropes as Sinister attempts
to pull himself to his feet. Fontana circles around behind Sin and
kicks him in the back of the leg, sending him sprawling to the mat.]

CL: Sinister is down as quickly as he is up. Fontana reaches down and
drags the bigger man away from the ropes by his injured leg...but
Sinister throws a big boot up at Fontana!

[Fontana reels backwards and turns a full 360. Sinister pushes himself
up and grabs the turning Fontana and attempts to drop him with a
sitout powerbomb, but Fontana's 250 lbs is too much for his bum knee.
Sinister drops Fontana, who lands on his feet, and goes down to one
knee. Fontana winds up and catches Sinister in the side of the head
with a big roundhouse kick!]

CL: That one may have taken a tooth out!

[Fontana waits for Sinister to get to both feet. Sinister is visibly
fighting off cobwebs. Fontana grabs the bigger man and drops him with
a knee breaker! The champion grabs the other leg and turns Sinister
over with a Texas Cloverleaf.]

FH: This is a technical show by Perry Fontana. Sinister cannot compete
with the prowess of the Network Champion.

CL: That's certainly not true, but Fontana has really honed in on a
known weakness. Sinister is in obvious pain here, but he's trying to
push himself up...he's walking on his hands here!

[The crowd is trying to will Sinister towards the ropes. Fontana is
doing his best to keep the three hundred pounder in the middle of the
ring, but appears to be losing the battle. Noticing what is happening,
Fontana releases the hold and simply begins to stomp on the knee of
Sinister. Sinister attempts to roll out of the ring, but Fontana grabs
him by the leg and refuses to allow the challenger any respite.]

CL: Sinister looking to regroup, but Fontana will have none of it. The
aggression of the champion shining through here.

[Fontana quickly pulls Sinister up, struggling a little with the dead
weight of the one-legged, bigger man. Fontana whips Sinister towards
the rope, but his knee gives out before he even makes it to the ropes.
Sinister goes down to one knee, allowing Fontana to quickly approach
from the rear and hit Sinister in the back of the head with a textbook
dropkick.]

FH: It's all over but the crying. The cover!




ONE !!!




TWO !!!




*POP!*

CL: Sinister with a kick out, but it was a challenge. That knee is
really bothering him.

[Fontana is starting to sense imminent victory. He doesn't even allow
Sinister to get to his feet before stomping away a few more times at
the injured knee. Satisfied, Fontana drags Sinister up by the arm and
pushes him into the corner. Sinister collapses to a seating position
as Fontana rushes in, hitting Sinister in the face with a running
knee. Fontana holds his knee in place, not allowing Sinister to fall
out of the corner. The champion grabs the top rope and leverages his
foot into the throat of Sinister. The referee rushes over and
administers the five count.]

CL: And once more Fontana holds the move up until the five count.

FH: This is a man who understands wrestling. Hell, how many arm bars
have we seen here? 1? 2? Fontana has the greatest set of arm bars in
the history of all things and he has elected to hone in on his
opponent's weakness and has done so with absolute precision!

CL: Do you need to change your pants?

FH: What do you mean?

CL: Nothing.

[Fontana waits for Sinister to get to his feet before running at the
bigger man and hitting a fairly awkward looking dropkick to Sinister's
knee. Sinister collapses once more. Fontana measures the head of
Sinister and delivers a stiff right hand to the injured and bloody
nose of Sinister. A second right hand! And a third! Sinister is
struggling to find a way out of the corner, but is absolutely boxed.
Fontana backs away from Sinister and measures him once more for a
running knee.]

*HUGE POP!*

FH: What the...?

CL: Sinister out of the way and Fontana knees the corner! Sinister
sees an opening and wills himself to his feet with the assistance of
the ropes!

[Sinister is trying to mount some sort of offense here, using the
crowd's desire to see a new champion crowned as his fuel. A big right
hand by Sinister to the head of Fontana. Now a left to the midsection.
Fontana is backed into the corner, giving Sinister an opportunity to
level the rib area of Fontana with a shoulder to the midsection. A
second! Sinister grabs the head of Fontana and drops him with a
jawbreaker out of the corner!]

CL: Sinister a house of fire here! He's a big, powerful man who does
maximum damage with each strike and Fontana is learning that fact
firsthand here tonight!

[Sinister sits on the back of the grounded Fontana and begins to pound
away at the back of the head of Fontana. Fontana attempts to cover up
but is essentially at the mercy of the bigger Sinister.]

CL: Ironically, Sinister is essentially dead weight here on the back
of Fontana due to that knee, which is making it nearly impossible for
the champion to escape here! I don't know if he can get out of this!

FH: Closed fist ref, closed fist!

CL: Sinister is just pounding away with clubbing rights and lefts to
the back of Fontana's head! The referee is going to have to stop this
fight, Fontana is essentially defenseless!!

[The crowd is growing more and more excited as Sinister continues his
assault. The referee gets into position to see if Fontana wants to
quit...]

FH: Haha!

CL: Well, I knew Fontana was French...even without the obscenities.

[The referee maintains in position as Sinister's blows seem to be
coming down harder and harder. The crowd is growing more and more
anxious...]

...




...




...



*HEEL POP!*

CL: Danny Daniels! Danny Daniels is coming down the aisleway and draws
Sinister's attention!

[Sinister stops his assault as he sees Daniels coming down the
entryway. Sinister leans forward and pulls himself to his feet, daring
Daniels to enter the ring. Fontana slowly gets to his feet behind the
bigger man, obviously a bit groggy from the assault...]

CL: Sinister may have had this match won, but relinquished his upper
position once Daniels came running to the ring area.

FH: Lies. Fontana powered through the move.

[Sinister yells something out to Daniels and turns towards Fontana.
Both men are obviously beaten, Sinister limping. Sinister lands a
right. Fontana returns a right himself. The two men are exchanging
blows...Sinister begins to get the upper hand! A second right! A
third! The crowd is getting behind the bigger man once more with each
blow.]

CL: The big man using his advantage here...we're going to have a new
champion!

[A fourth! And a fif...no! Fontana catches the arm and rolls his off
arm behind Sinister's shoulder. The quick move catches Sinister off
guard, the sudden shift in weight causing his knee to give. Fontana
quickly places the caught arm under his knee joint and rolls it back
through to the top of his leg before reaching down to Sin's chin...]

CL: The Amputation! Fontana has Sinister in his finishing move in the
dead center of the ring!

FH: It's all over...*clap clap clap clap clap*

CL: Sinister fighting hard to get to the ropes, attempting to use his
massive legs to push himself to the ropes...but the knee is damaged!
Sinister is fighting...fighting...digging deep...

...


...



...


...


CL: And...he...he...





HE TAPS! SINISTER IS TAPPING OUT!

*Ding Ding Ding*

HD: The winner of this match and STILL PVW Network Champion...

"THE EVERLASTING" PERRRRRY FOOOOOONTANNAAAA!

CL: An exceptional match between to contrasting styles.

FH: One-sided. Dominated. Thankfully Zero Tolerance is over!

[The final bell having sounded, you'd think that we'd be moving on,
but no.  Suddenly the big screen above PVW's entrance ramp suddenly
lights up, and a familiar masked face appears.  Bearing a white SSN
logo on a blue field, the Masked Maniac grins through his mouth hole,
and his mirthless, angry scowling eyes glare out through the two holes
above that.]

MM: Hey, Perry.  Perry.  Perry, guess what?  G'wan, guess.  Give up?
I'm on the big screen!  That means you can't chase me, beat me, and in
general make a smelly greasy ugly mess of my good works.  Yes, I have
works, and they are good.  I built a house of cards from nothing but a
Hoyle deck and Krazy Glue one time.  It's true.

[Instantly enraged, the sweaty, swarthy Network champion leans on the
top rope, becoming frantic as he realizes he has no power to change
what's about to happen.  The view on the big screen wobbles somewhat,
but it looks like Maniac is filming himself in the locker room.]

PF: Que _fare_, BASTARDO?

MM: I tell you what, you almost had me.  I really believed we were on
the same side, but you failed to realize just how great my charisma
truly is. Y'know, force of personality?  It's what we popular people
have, and your greasy ass only reads about.  I called up home office,
and got in touch with a guy that knows, and he said you never went to
bat on my behalf. You decided I wasn't getting my title shot.  You.
And that will just never do, Perry.

[Shouting in multiple languages from Fontana as Maniac continues on,
undeterred.]

MM: Hey, hey, Perry, buddy.  It's cool.  I'm just sitting back here
with a mutual friend of ours.  Did you know you married his sister?
Boy, I bet he'll be surprised.

[Suddenly the camera in the locker room swings about, and we see
"Hellraiser" Tom Landis, zipping up a duffle bag.  Tom stops cold,
looking around for someone else, anyone else in the locker room who
might have a sister.  Looks around for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and
tell him he's Punk'd, but alas there's no masters of the Twitterverse
to be found. Just him, his wife and Maniac.]

MM: Yup, you Tom!  Your sister.  Emily.  Married.  Perry.  Fontana.
Tell all the people at home, how's that make you feel?

[Landis looks at the camera held by Maniac, unable to get any words
out. He turns to Tara, still not uttering a word.  She knows exactly
what he wants to say, what he's trying to get out...

...and Tara simply nods at her husband, before turning her head away
from him.  The crowd unleashes a massively mixed pop!]

CL: [slight uncomfortable tone in his voice] Wow... the Masked Maniac
was determined to gain a measure of revenge over Perry Fontana... but
he's just aired Fontana's dirty laundry in front of the whole world.

FH: Sweet jesus, the Landis family finally has a professional wrestler
they can be proud of!  Congratulations to the happy couple!

[Maniac's camera shot continues to linger on the face of the
Hellraiser, who even now can't muster the words to comment on the
situation.  Shock, anger, surprise, Tom's face is a cloudy mixture of
emotions as he sinks into a chair.]

CL: Whoa .. Masked Maniac brought the goods with him this time.  Tom
Landis has to be irrate!

FH: Oh man ... Poor Tom Landis.  First you have to deal with Gibson
Hayes for months then you find out your sister married Perry Fontana.
The Landis family is more mixed up then a can of nuts.

CL: What about Danny Daniels and Sinister.  This thing is getting too
heated.

FH: Nobody messes with Danny Daniels and gets away with it.  Now with
Zero Tolerance out of the picture Daniels can dish out the punishment
Sinister _rightfully_ deserves.

CL: Folks what a night it's been.  I can't even begin to run down what
we have seen.  Anything and everything has already happened and there
is still time left.

FH: Becareful what you ask for Chip.

[A loud chorus of boo's are heard throughout the arena as Mr. Called
Shot ... The Widowmaker captain himself - Rick Marley heads down the
aisleway with the Widowmakers behind him.

Xavier Feyr's eyes show a man ready to strike.  Made Men look all
business.  Marcus Manson seems to have gotten himself together from
earlier.]

CL: I don't believe it... The Widowmakers are making a statement
tonight in every oppertunity...  First with the Wild Cards then
Mercenary.  What in the world do they want now?!

FH: They've totally hijacked the show, Chip!  They're in charge and
neither Strickland Sports or Phoenix Valley are going to be able to
put an end to this carnage.... Rick Marley and WMI are the men in
charge tonight!

CL: Wait a minute... Marley signaling for the men to move in on the
crowd, moving in on... oh no....

FH: Like I warned you ... Becareful what you ask for Chip.

[Marley and several members of WMI close in on a woman, one who is
slowly standing to look around herself with a sudden look of alarm in
her eyes.  It takes a moment to recognize, but than Yllana Cole pulls
off her baseball cap and begins to look a little panicked as Marley
moves in closer... when the tribal drums begin to echo throughout the
arena!!!]

FH: Isn't that Yllana... Oh no.

CL: Here he comes.

[The World Champion suddenly bursts through the entrance ramp, hobble
running down the ramp with a beeline straight toward the circle
surrounding his wife!  With his head wrapped in a fresh bandage, the
Outcast leaps over the guardrail!]



*CCCLLLLAAAANNNNGGGG!!!!!!*



MONSTER HEEL POP!!!!!

[Cole goes down like a ton of bricks, clutching his skull as Marley
spins and NAILS the Outcast!!!

CL: NO! Dear God, no!  Marley just turned and DRILLED Rob Cole with a
pair of brass knuckles!

FH: It was a setup all along, Chip!  Marley and the Widomakers lured
Cole out here so that they could take him apart...and after that
brutal match with William Craven!  I'm telling you, he's a machine!

CL: He's a sick bastard is what he is, Fred.  This has been planned
from the start.  Every single thing the Widowmakers have done tonight
up to this point has lead to this!

[Marley leans down and fires off two more punches as Cole's bandage
comes loose and he's dragged to the ring, his wife staring in horror
as her husband is dumped into the ring!  The World Champion struggles
to his knees, only to have either arm yanked behind him by Mark
Masterson and Marcus Manson as he's forced back down to the mat.  He
lets out a scream as Marley gets on the mic again... ]

RM: Robby, Robby, Robby...you've had a rough night, huh?

[The crowd showers the ring in boos (and some other debris) as Feyr's
cat-like eyes scan the crowd for any interference...and Nick Wright
stares out at Yllana Cole, a smile spreading on his face.]

RM: You see, Rob...tonight is all about two things: The first is that
we needed to show SSN...we needed to show PVW, and we needed to show
the guys in the back that Zero Tolerance didn't mean a damned thing to
us.  We layed low for months...lulling everyone into a false sense of
security...biding our time, and waiting for the opportune moment to
strike.

Tonight's that moment.

[Marley leans and and grab's Cole's chin in his right hand, gingerly
holding the mic up to his face with his sore left]

RM: You see, Rob...the reason it's the opportune moment is because of
you...comin' off of your big win over Justin Cruise...standing on top
of the PVW heap and buying into your own hype...you didn't think you
could be touched.

Even after I warned you at Shattered Dreams.

[Marley turns towards Nick and nods.]

RM: Nick...Bring Mrs. Cole into the ring...let's finish our lesson.

[The crowd noise is deafening as Nick Wright...the man that took out
Laurel Levinger and tormented her for months nimbly hops the rail and
drags a struggling Yllana Cole back to the ring as Cole struggles like
a madman to get free, only to catch a knee to the face from Feyr.]

CL : Good god what in the hell does this prove?

RM: LOOK!  Take a close look, Cole!  I'm finished playing around with
you.  Do you have your attention now, Mr. Best in the Business?  Mr.
Monster Under the Bed?  YOU'RE the guy?  YOU'RE the man to beat around
here?

Don't make me laugh.  You can't even protect your own wife, Cole...and
people are afraid of you.

You're a shadow.

A fairy tale...

[Marley shrugs, then nods to Feyr, who slides out of the ring and then
grabs something from under the steps before sliding back in.]

RM: Truth to tell, Cole...all you are is a sad, sick, deranged
man...and it's time people saw that.  Do it.

[Cole is suddenly cut loose and spun around...straight into a Heart
Punch courtesy of Marcus Manson that levels the already weakened
champ...who is promptly wrestled into the straight jacket as Yllana
looks on, tears streaming down her face as Nick Wright holds her
back.]

RM: It's time for PVW to grow up, Cole.

[His muscles cord against the restraints, and Coles' bloodshot eyes
open wide in fury.  He tries to lash out with the only thing he can
move... his head, snapping it back and forth as he tries to get his
teeth around something!  Anything! Only to find a Casting Call
Superkick from Rick Marley that sends him back to the canvas once
more.]

RM: Time to deal with grownups, Cole.

We play for keeps...

Time to put away childish things...and Monsters Under the Bed are
about as childish as you can get...

[Marley stuffs the mic into the back of his pants as he and the rest
of WMI haul Cole bodily out of the ring and stuff him underneath,
kicking and stomping to force the champ to go where they want as the
boos continue to cascade down onto the five men.

After a seeming eternity, Cole rolls back out from beneath the ring as
Yllana is dragged up the entrance ramp.  Marley motions, and the woman
is finally released  as Cole struggles to his knees... she runs down
the ramp and immediately wraps her arms around her restrained husband
as Marley stands by at the top of the entrance ramp smirking.  Cole
stares up at him in absolute hatred, a rivulet of blood continues to
flow down his open wound, giving him half a crimson mask as Yllana
tries to keep him calm as she tries to work him loose from his bonds.]

RM: Playtime's over, Cole...take that to the bank.

CL: Chilling words from Rick Marley.  I ... I don't know what to say.

FH: I do.  Rob Cole said he wanted _all_ challengers.  Rick Marley
sent a message to remind him there isn't an _all_ challengers.  There
is only Rick Marley.

CL: And he just made it personal with Rob Cole.

FH: Well Cole always wanted to be the monster underneath the bed.
It's become a reality.

CL: I... I ... Let's just go to the footage.

[With the shocked and stunned words - we cut to what was announced
earlier.  Tradition IV.  The words in red font - BLOOD BOWL RETURNS
right underneath it.]

V/O: Thirty two men fought in a lethal lottery ...

[Shots of superstar highlights from Blood Bowl one is seen.  Men like
Chris Hartt, Christopher Michaelson, Chase Williams, Spectre, Paul
Styles, Rob Cole, Charles Lassiter, Caleb Foley, Outlaw ... The list
goes on.]

V/O: It was brought down to sixteen ...  The Sixteen who would enter
the Blood Bowl!

[Highlights from the grueling blood bowl match.]

V/O: It came down to two men ...

[As it came down to two men ... Rob Cole and Chase Williams.]

V/O: It crowned our first champion ...

[Cut to the ending moments of Heatwave 02.06.08 - Blood Bowl.]

CL: Williams now on his knees and begging Cole to not hit him.. Cole
walking towards him... Williams rakes the eyes of Rob Cole.  SNAP DDT
BY CHASE WILLIAMS!!!   He goes to cover Cole, but ROB COLE WITH JUST
ENOUGH LEFT IN HIM WITH ANOTHER SMALL PACKAGE TO EVERYONES SUPRISE!!!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THREE!?!




[HEEL POP!!!!!!!!!!]




PW: WILLIAMS JUST KICKED OUT!!!!!!!!   Both men are up and Cole with
short forearm shots and he is backing Williams up into the corner

[Out of desperation and maybe luck, Williams wraps his arms around the
waist of Cole and lifts him up and falls backwards and drops Cole
right into that exposed turnbuckle that has came into play through out
the match!!!!!!!!]

CL: CHASE WAS IN THE RIGHT PLACE AT THE RIGHT TIME!!!

PW: Give Williams a little bit of credit he did after all land that
move.

[Chase Williams pulls what appears to be a near knocked out Cole up
and Supernatural Driver!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

CL: Moment of Clarity!!

PW: CAN IT BE!?!









ONE ...









TWO ...









THREE !!!










[BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!   HEEL POP!!!]




CL: Chase Williams has won Blood Bowl and has become the PVW
Heavyweight Champion!  He has overcome a roster of experienced and
talented workers... He has overcome a life time of critics!!! He has
pinned the hardcore legend himself ROB COLE!!!

PW: YOU GO CHASE!!!!

[The fans jeers slowly turn into some mixed reactions out of respect
as Duke Martin hands Chase Williams the PVW Heavyweight Championship
title.  Williams quickly hugs the belt as all the years and injuries
he has put into the sport come out at once.]

CL: An emotional, but proud Chase Williams stands inside that ring as
the _FIRST_ PVW HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!

PW: What a fine Champion he makes too.

CL: He has spent years in this sport as a journeyman.  Tonight is the
biggest night of this veterans life.  A lot of us might not agree with
the way he gets the job done, but tonight is your night Chase.

[Williams slowly raises the PVW Heavyweight title high in the air.
Sweat, blood, and maybe some tears drip down from the warriors face.]

CL:  PVW has it's Champion!!

[Back to the T4 / Blood Bowl logo.]

V/O: It's returning ...  There can only be one man holding the Blood
Bowl trophy.  Who will rise up at Tradition IV?  Who will rise up and
become PVW's next generation superstar ...

[The Blood Bowl logo begins to run down like blood as the former image
of Chase Williams just winning the first Blood Bowl is smeared with
the liquid crimson color from the logo.  And we are back to the
announcers.]

CL: What a night Tradition IV will be.  Whomever wins Blood Bowl can
use that as a launching pad to anything and everything here in the
PVW.

FH: We have to survive tonight first.

CL: We are down to just one final match.  Alex Martinez and Caleb
Foley.  Who knows what kind of mind frame Martinez is in after the
events that transpired earlier.  Fred what's your thoughts about this
match?

FH: Caleb's win against Doctor X at Madison Square Garden was a fluke
and The Last American Badass is gonna show Caleb just what it takes to
be a legend in this sport.

CL: It might of been a fluke Fred but think about the weight off of
Foley's shoulder now. Many critics said he would never be able to win
the big match and he did just that at Shattered Dreams ...

# I first meet this man at the Cammen street Tracks #
# In no shape for success headed nowhere to fast #

# He may have been someone once by the sound of his call #
# Now he answers to no one #
# NO-ONE AT ALL! #

# We all die alone, he shouted as he passed #

#With no sense of regret, see he never looked back #

#Though his pride was wounded, his ego was strong #
# Yea that was his Trouble and this is his Song #

#You said we die alone, in this case you were right #

#No friends by your side or family in sight #

#There'll be no talking your way out this time #

#So don't count the cash cause you leave it behind #

[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!!]

FH: Umm Chip I hate to burst your bubble but Caleb still is nothing to
me until he can beat someone like Chase Williams, Rick Marley or Rob
Cole ...

CL: You wait and see it is only a matter of time before Caleb and
Chase clash again and I have this gut feeling that this time the
outcome will be different ...

FH: Hey is that the same gut feeling you had when you thought Caleb
Foley would win the Phoenix Valley Wrestling World Heavyweight Title.

# His friends come and go like the seasons and tide #

#He can't keep a women they all realize #
# He loves them, leaves them, takes what he needs #

#He's loyal to no one, no one at all #

#You were brought up well still in spite of it all #

#You're touched by nothing, watch a man fall #

#Put a foot on his back to get a better view #

#Cause your loyal to No-one. NO-ONE BUT YOU! #

[CROWD POPS!]

CL: Once again these fans are getting behind The Celtic Warrior.

FH: These same fans wouldn't know the difference between a wristlock
and a wristwatch.

#You said we die alone, in this case you were right #

#No friends by your side or family in sight #
# There'll be no talking your way out this time #

#So don't count the cash cause you leave it behind #

#He was broken and tired wouldn't take a hand #

#Their kindness was simple but he couldn't understand #

#See it's hard to have faith in something so new #
# When your loyal to no one, NO-ONE BUT YOU! #

#You said we die alone, in this case you were right #

#No friends by your side or family in sight #

#There'll be no talking your way out this time #

#So don't count the cash cause you leave it behind #

#You said we die alone, in this case you were right #
#No friends by your side or family in sight #

[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 as he awaits Alex Martinez.]

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 !!!

[FACE POP!]

FH: I want you to understand something Lester ... these fans don't
come to PVW to see losers like Caleb Foley here! No, they come to see
men like the one about to make his way down the aisle!

[The distinctive notes of "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" begin to
blare over the loud speakers]

HD: And now, coming to the ring.  He stands an even seven feet tall
and weighs in at three hundred and fifty pounds.  A former World
Heavyweight Champion.  Hailing from Los Angeles, California.  Here is
the Last American Badass....

!!! ALEX MARTINEZ !!!

[As the fans begin to go crazy, out steps the massive form of the Last
American Badass.  His expression calm but intense, Alex Martinez
pauses a moment, and then steps forward.  All around him, fans cheer
and scream, hands reaching out to touch his chest and shoulders,
though the stoic Martinez doesn't appear to be aware.  He wears a
black leather jacket, as well as his long black wrestling leggings and
his wrestling books, which look more like biker boots than "proper"
gear.  Both of Martinez' fists are covered in black fingerless gloves,
and his right elbow is covered in a black pad.  Martinez moves up the
stairs, throwing one long leg over the top. Caleb Foley watches as the
seven foot man begins to step over the top rope.]

CL: Foley rushing forward and dropkicks Martinez in the left knee!

FH: Foley showing the world why Putter claimed he had more balls than
brians! Cause honestly this kid has no brians!



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                    10.28.09 Heatwave
                    <><><><><><><><><>
                    One on One Action:
                    <><><><><><><><><>
               Caleb Foley v. Alex Martinez
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


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


FH: Kicking Martinez is only going to make him mad! And a mad Martinez
is not pretty!

[Martinez staggers from the impact a bit but is able to pull his right
leg into the ring and as Foley hops to his feet, Martinez drills him
with a right hand. Foely rocked back a step but he kicks at Martinez's
left leg once again.]

FH: Foley is looking  like a gnat here as he keeps trying to annoy the
Last American Badass with those kicks to the left leg.

CL: He's doing what he needs to do to win this match!

FH: The last time he annoyed a man this much bigger than him he ended
up cying in the center of the ring!

CL: Well we aren't sure if Alex Martinez mind is even in this match.
After Keening shocked us all becoming ..

FH: DON'T EVEN SAY IT!

[Foley rushes to the far side and attempts a Low Dropkick to the Knee
but Martinez sidesteps and quickly pulls Foley to his feet his head.
Martinez Headbutts Foely who raises his hands to cover his face but it
i to no avail as Martinze just tosses him into the ropes and as Foely
rebounds off of them Martinez drives his right hand into the chest of
Foley.]

FH: Martinez with a Heartpunch! And Foley collapses like Bambi's
mother!

CL: Fred!

FH: What? Martinez can easily punch a hole through through an armored
car and you expect Foley to survive that impact?

[Foley slowly reaches for the bottom rope and tries to pull himself to
his feet but Martinez stomps on his chest driving him to the mat once
again. Martinez doesn't look happy as he pulls Foley up once again to
his feet and quickly grips Foley around the waist with both arms ...]

CL: Belly to Belly Suplex!

FH: I wouldn't be surprised if Foley's sterum collapsed there!

CL: How can you say that Fred!

FH: After that massive heart punch and three hundred and fifty pounds
driving onto you like that Lester, anyone's sterum could collapse!

CL: Well for once you do have a point Fred. And Martinez is not
looking for the cover as he pulls Foley to his feet once again!

FH: Martinez Irish Whiping Foley across the ring ...

CL: And Foley ducks the Big Boot! He rebounds off of the near side
rope ...

[And Foley follows through with a dropkick to the left knee...]

CL: Foley continuing to work over that left knee he targeted earlier
in the match ... a knee that has been well documented to have given
Martinez issues in the past.

FH: What big man doesn't have bad knees, but unlike some who call
themselves The One a bad hasn't forced Martinez to retire!

CL: I want to see you make remarks about Brian Young like that next
week when he's in that ring  Fred. Caleb is continuing to work on the
leg --

[Martinez is still clutching at his left knee as Caleb continues
stomping it into the ground! ]

CL: Martinez looks like he's in a ton of pain, here!  And Caleb Foley
with a LEGLOCK SUBMISSION!

[The camera with a clsoe up of Alex Martinez as he grits his teeth in
pain. Caleb continues to pull back on the left leg as Alex Martinez is
trying to reach for the ropes ...]

CL: Caleb Foley breaks the hold early... guess he's giving Alex
Martinez a break!

FH: As he should.  The Last American Badass is a legend in this sport!

CL: It's been documented that Legends fail Fred ...

FH: Only legends in one's mind like Brian Young Lester! You see
Martinez is here continuing to fight as Foley continues to stomp on
the knee Martinez is reaching for the bottom rope ...

[Martinez uses his strength to pull himself close to the ropes and
grabs the second rope.]

CL: Martinez is beginning to pull himself to his feet as Foley fires
off a right hand and he follows up with a left!

[The crowd gasps as Martinez grabs the trunks of Foley and pulls him
partway through the middle rope ...]

FH: Foley was lucky Martinez didn't have a vertical base or else he
would be sprawled out upon the floor right now Lester. Martinez back
to his feet and he pulls Foley into the ring ...

CL: And drives that elbow squarely into the back of Foley's head.

FH: Foley collapses across the middle rope again and Martinez places
his right knee across the back of Foley and grabs the bottom rope.

CL: Martinez using the leverage from the bottom rope to apply a lot of
pressure across the chest and throat of Foley right now!

[The crowd boos as Martinez works the five count till the last
possible moment. As the referee begins to warn him about the count
Martinez once again places the right knee across Foley's back and once
again chokes the life out of him as the referee can only count to five
before forcing Martinez to break the hold.]

FH: The Badass using every single second to make the youngster suffer.
Really though why on earth would Foley agree to this match Scrapyer
nearly killed him a few months back and we saw how Chase Williams made
him cry like a little girl. He really should be wrestling with people
his own size; as the PVW will not be held responsible if he does end
up like Bambi's mother.

[Martinez pulls Foley off of the ropes and tosses him into the corner,
where he drives his right knee into the gut of Foley once, twice,
three times. Martinez backs off as Foley drops o one knee ...]


!!! CCCRRRAAACCCKKK !!!


FH: BIG BOOT! And Foley's head snaps back into the second turnbuckle!

CL: Foley looks out of it at the moment!

FH: This might be the only thing he learned from Brian Young ... how
to get your ass kicked one - oh -one!

CL: Martinez not wasting anytime as he pulls Foley out of the corner
and with  ease hoists him onto his massive shoulder ...

[Martinez looks across the ring at the far side turnbuckle and rushes
forward ...]


!!! CCCRRRUUUNNNCCCHHH !!!


CL: And Foley is driven back first into the turnbuckles!

FH: Martinez still has him hoisted in the air though and he spins
around ...

[Martinez takes four steps and then drive Caleb Foley into the mat.]

FH: Running Powerslam! Just what Ihop needed a new pancake!

CL: Martinez isn't even looking for the cover here as he pulls Foley
to his feet ..

FH: And scoops him up ... Backbreaker!

[Martinez holds Foley across his knee for a second before standing up
and dropping back down to his knee drving Foley into it a second
time.]

FH: Martinez enjoying himself here right now as he just drilled Foley
with a second Backbreaker!

CL: Foley was galant at the start of the match ...

FH: Foley is not a knight! He's overrated and right now he is once
again finding that out!

CL: Overrated? He took Chase Williams to the limit at Rise from the
Ashes!

FH: And what has he done since then! nothing but bleed! And look at
Martinez man handle him up onto his shoulders into a Fireman's Carry
...

CL: Death Valley Driver!

FH: And now the Celtic Crippler can join his one time mentor on the
injured reserve list!

[Martinez smirks as he lays across the body of Caleb Foley with a
cocky cover.]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THR ...


CL: And Foley kicks out!

FH: Don't make it sound spectular Lester! Foley just edged his
shoulder up and if the referee didn't feel bad for him and didn't use
that slow count this match would be over!

[Martinez glares at the referee for a moment but pulls Foley up and
whips him to the far side ropes. Foley rebounds off with authority
...]

FH: Welcome to orbit Foley!

CL: Martinez just catching the rebounding Foley and just tosses him
into the air ...


!!! TTTHHHUUUDDD !!!


FH: And Foley lands stomach first with a thud!

[Foley pushes himself to his knees and is caught with a swift kick to
the ribs that send him flipping onto his back. Martinez reaches down
and grabs Foley by his throat and begins to lift him into the air.]

FH: Could this be it!

CL: Martinez has Foley by the thraot and is lifting him into the air
...

FH: I feel a Firebomb coming up ...  Jason Keening better be watching
this.  If he wants to play around in Martinez business.  He will end
up broken like Caleb Foley.

[Foley though like an animal fighting for it's life begins to rain
right after right into the skull of Martinez. Martinez begins to
stagger backwards and as he does so he realizes the chokehold dropping
Foley to the mat. Foley quickly leaps and catches the upper thigh of
Martinez with a Dropkick.]

CL: Foley barely escapes the Firebomb Chokeslam and he is once again
working on the left leg of Martinez!

FH: Why won't the gnat learn!

CL: Foley is a fighter! And he catches Martinez with a Leaping Hooking
Clothesline taking the big man down!

[The crowd pops for Foley as he shoots to his feet and thrusts his
arms into the air. He motions for Martinez to get his feet.]

FH: He's a drunk and because of that he has dellusions of grandure! I
mean look at him taunting The Last American Badass to get to his feet!
It's a deathwish!

[As Martinez gets to his feet Foley rushes forward and lowers his
shoulder leaping into the air ...]

CL: Spear! And Martinez crumbles to the ground!

FH: That has to be cause Foley was showing some brians and working
over that knee. If he hadn't Foley would have hit a brick wall and
dislocated his shoulder!

[Caleb Foley quickly rolls to his feet and executes a Standing
Moonsault.]

CL: And there's the finish to the Irish Blessing!

[Foley quickly hooks the far leg and pulls back for a deep cover.]




ONE ...




TWO ...


TH ...


FH: And Martinez powers out! See Lester that's a real kick-out!

CL: Foley though is too his feet ...

[As Martinez lays on his back Caleb grabs both of Martinez's legs and
locks in a Boston Crab.]

CL: Good Lord... the knee!  Caleb is working Alex left knee again,
seriously flaunting the man's injury.

FH: You're an idiot Lester! The Boston Crab works the back more than
it does the knees! It's obvious both Foley and yourself went to the
same school since he is hoping this exploits the knees of Martinez as
well!

CL: Either way Fred, Martinez is in the center of the ring right now!
How's he getting out of this?

[Alex Martinez out of no where powers out and sends Caleb Foley face
first into the mat. Foley gets back up to his feet and charges at Alex
Martinez but is met by a big boot from The Last American Badass and
The Celtic Warrior goes down holding his jaw...]

CL: What a tremendous show of strength by Alex Martinez.

FH: I was more impressed that Martinez was able to rearrange the face
of that punk as he sent him into next week with the big boot!

[As Foley reaches towards the ropes to use as support Martinez grabs
him and spins him around locking on a Front Chancery and in a fluid
motion driving Foley skull first into the mat with a vicious DDT.]

FH: Foley's going to need a chiropractor after that!

[Martinez rubs his left knee before he gets back to his feet and just
slaps the back of Foley's head three times as he screams at him to get
up. Foley tries to push himself up but Martinez drills his right knee
into the temple of Foley sending him sprawling once again across the
ring.]

FH: Classic Martinez now as he is just embarrassing Foley here.

CL: Once again he just slaps Foley who is struggling to get to his
feet.

FH: I told you this kid was out of his league and while he has
survived this long it's just a matter of time before Martinez ends
him!

[Martinez grabs Foley by the back of his head and just pushes Foley's
face towards his right boot ...]

FH: And Martinez is scrapping Foley's face across his boot laces.
Martinez loves to give guys the Facewash!

CL: Facewash?

FH: Yes Lester, Facewash. I had been known to do it in my career as
well. If you ever see Marcus Anderson ask him about it.

[Martinez finishes ripping Foley's face across his boot and in a fluid
motion he pulls Foley to his feet. Martinez drives his forehead into
the nose of Foley.]

FH: Headbutt by Martinez and there's the blood!

CL: Foley busted open!

[Foley drops to the mat his hand covering his nose as he tries to stop
the bleeding. Martinez gives foley no rest as he pulls him up and
locks Foley in a Bearhug in the center of the ring. Foley begins to
scream in pain as Martinez crushes him with his massive one and twenty
five pound weight advantage! The camera focuses on Foley's bloodied
face as he screams in pain, blood running down from his nose into his
own mouth.]

FH: And here's where that Heart Punch from earlier really takes affect
Lester. Foley has been gasping for breath all match as a brusie formed
on his chest and no Martinez is just crushing all the air out of
Foley's tiny body and making him fight for each little gasp of air he
can get into his lungs.

[Martinez tightens his grip, causing Foley to scream louder.]

FH: It's only a matter of seconds before the tears start flowing from
Foley's eyes!

CL: Fred! Foley will not cry!

FH: It wouldn't be the first time if he did!

[Foley raises his arms and claps the ears of Alex Martinez. Martinez
whinces in pain as his ears now echo, Foley with another ear clap and
a third one. Finally Martinez has to drop Foley just to maintain his
own balance. Foley grabs Martinez by the right arm and Irish Whips him
across the ring.]

CL: Martinez rebounding and Foley catches him with a Dropkick!

FH: He's a one trick pony!

CL: Foley drops a knee across the leg of Martinez and a second and a
third. Foley gaining momentum here as he quickly goes to the ring
apron and Slingshot Somersault Leg Drop!

[The crowd begins to rally behind Foley as drops for the cover.]




ONE ...




TWO ...




THR ...

FH: And again Martinez kicks out! It's going to take more than a few
flips for Foley to take down this legend!

[Foley gets to his feet and grabs the left leg of Alex Martinez.]

CL: Foley looking for a Spinning Toe Hold ...


!!! CCCRRRAAACCCKKK !!!


FH: But Martinez drives his foot inmto the already bloodied face of
Foley!

[Foley staggers back as Martinez gets back to his feet.  Martinez
rushes forward but Foley is able to duck the charging Martinez and
Foley rushes towards the far side ropes and rebounds.]

CL: THESZ PRESS!

[The crowd explodes as Foley begins to rain right s and left into the
head of Martinez. The referee though is quick to able the five count
and pulls Foley off of Martinez. Foley shoves the referee away and
charges at Martinez again but Martinez catches Foley with a vicious
right hand that sends the young kid crashing to the mat.]

FH: I can't believe the referee is letting this match continue! Foley
should be disqualified for laying his hands on an offical!

CL: Martinez pulling Foley up ... Piledriver!

FH: And now Martinez is all business as he covers Foley!




ONE ...




TWO ...




THR ...


[Massive Face Pop!]

CL: And Foley kicks out!

FH: What? I don't believe it!

CL: Foley is a warrior!

FH: I thought Larry Gionet was the warrior of the PVW!

CL: Martinez doesn't look like he is done as he pulls Foley up ...

FH: He's looking for a Powerbomb ...

[At the apex of the powerbomb Foley is able to over the back of
Martinez and takes the American Badass over with a Sunset Flip.]




ONE ...




TWO ...


FH: And only a two count as Martinez powers out of the sunset flip.

CL: Foley is quickly back to his feet and Martinez side steps the
Dropkick!

FH: He went to the well once too often and it cost him as Martinez
pulls him up and whips him chest first into the corner!

CL: Martinez using so much force that Foley staggers out of the corner
right into an Elbow into the back of head.

FH: Martinez isn't letting up for an instant here now has he lifts
Foley up and places him on the top turnbuckle.

[Foley is looking out towards the crowd as Martinez stands on the
second rope and hooks Foley's arm around his neck.]

FH: I think Martinez is looking for a Belly to Back Suplex ...

CL: But Foley grabs the top rope with his free hand and Martinez can't
get him over. Foley with an Elbow to the face of Martinez a second and
third ...

FH: I don't believe it! Martinez falls to the mat and Foley stands on
the top rope ...

[Face pop as flashes fill the arena as Foley turns around to face
Martinez who is laying on his back in the ring, Foley leaps!]

CL: Irish Eyes Are Smiling!

[The crowd moans as Foley crashes stomach first into the raised knees
of Alex Martinez.]

CL: NO! Foley went for his 450 Splash ...

FH: But Martinez had it scouted as he raised his knees! And now the
self proclaimed Celtic Warrior is rolling on the mat like a fish out
of water!

[Alex Martinez gets back to his feet.]

CL: Look at the gingerly way he's putting his weight on that left
knee. The  450 Splash did some additional damage to it!

[Martinez grabs Foley and pulls him to his feet and quickly lifts the
smaller man into the air with a Front Chancery.]

FH: Yeah some damage Lester! I mean I can't see how Martinez is just
holding Foley up in that Verticla Suplex ... Brainbsuter!

CL: Foley was just spiked into the mat!

FH: And Martinez drives a knee into the temple of Foley.

[Martinez wipes a bit of Foley's blood from his knee as he pulls Foley
back to his feet ...]

CL: Inside Cradle!




ONE ...




TWO ...

FH: Martinez kicks out and he doesn't look happy!

[Martinez is to his feet.]


!!! CCCRRRAAACCCKKK !!!


FH: It's good!

CL: Martinez just punted Foley's head!

FH: I swear Martinez can probably nail a 55 yard attempt!

[Martinez reaches into his boots and pulls out a chain.]

CL: Oh God! He has a chain!

FH: We need to get the emts out here foley's going to need a blood
transfusion soon!

[The referee grabs Alex's arm just as he finishes wrapping the chain
around his right hand. Martinez shoves the referee clear across the
ring and begins to motion for Foley to get to his feet. Suddenly the
crowd explodes as Jason Keening begins to make his way down the
aisle.]

CL: And here comes Keening!

FH: Crap! Absolute Crap! We should get to witness the end of Foley's
comeback!

[Martinez looks down the aisle way and begins to motion for Jason
Keening to come get some.]

FH: Martinez daring Keening to be a man and come to the ring ...

CL: What the hell do you think Jason Keening is already doing Fred!
Keening glaring at Martinez as he conitnues to walk down the aisle ...

FH: Keening should of stayed fired ... Way to ruin a great night
Keening!

[The crowd explodes as Caleb Foley catches Martinez with a School Boy
Roll-up ...]




ONE ...




TWO ...


[Caleb Foley grabs a handful of tights.]


THREE !!!!


FH: WHAT!?!?!




* DING * DING * DING *



CL: FOLEY WINS!

FH: NO! HE HAD A HANDFUL OF TIGHTS! I can't believe it! He learned
that from Brian Young!

CL: Foley pulls out the biggest win of his career!

FH: Oh please! He needed a handful of tights and a Jason Keening
distraction to do it!

[Caleb Foley has rolled out to the floor as Martinez jumps to his feet
and stares at Jason Keening on the outside of the ring.]

CL: Jason Keening just sent Alex Martinez a message.  And where does
Doc Holliday fit into this?

FH: Wait what's going on?  Chip ...

CL: Folks are out of time ... But camera's are rolling in the back.

[The shot cuts back to the back as the camera crew moves through the
chaos left in the wake of the riot.  Dex Willingham is being escorted
to his office by three large, burly security guards.

CL: Good idea...get him out of there.  This place is a madhouse, Fred.

FH: I want to know when I get taken to a safe office.

The camera enters the darkened office followed closely by
Willingham...only to have the large security door slam shut without
warning.  The camera pans quickly over to reveal the grinning form of
The Spectre.]

Spectre: We've been waiting for you, little Dexter.

CL: Oh no!  I wondered where he'd gotten to...this could be bad,
Fred...

FH: I don't want to be in that office any more.

[Dex Willingham stares in horror at the goth madman in his office with
him, with his horror growing as the dreadlocked madman threw the
deadbolt on the door, locking them in.]

DW: Y-y-y-ou!

Spectre: Yesssss, Dexter.  We've been waiting for you...for oh so long
now.  You see, we already expressed our gratitude to old man
Strickland for banning us from our chosen grounds here in PVW...and
now we get to thank YOU for your horrid Zero Tolerance Policy.

[The camera pulls back as the man wielding it backpedals out of the
way as Spectre lunges forward, grabbing Willingham by his right ear
and tossing him violently over the desk, crashing into the wall
behind.]

CL: WE NEED HELP BACK THERE!

FH: I wouldn't try to get in there, Chip...Dex made his bed...now he
gets to lay in it!

Spectre: For how long have we suffered under this idiotic Zero
Tolerance ideal you espoused, Willingham?  For how long have you
forced us to work with our hands tied behind our backs?  For how long
as The Beast raged while you allowed this to occur to the company that
we helped you create?

NO MORE!

[Spectre roared as he moved around the desk and picked up the
wrestling executive by his tie.  Willingham opened his mouth
to reply, only to have Spectre slam him up against the wall and place
his right pointer finger on Dex's lips.]

Spectre: Shhhhh...we're uninterested in your explanations...and all
your words could do would be to irritate us further.

It would be ill advised to further anger us, little Dexter...very ill
advised indeed.

You see, little Dexter, we've decided that it's time to send a message
to the powers that be here in PVW, and we fear that your body
is the canvas upon which we shall inscribe our complaints.

DW: N-n-n-o!

[Without another word, Spectre quickly turns Willingham around and
locks on Destiny's Grip, choking the life out of the man as the camera
shakes.]

CL: This is disgusting!  They need cops back there!  Something!

FH: The National Guard, maybe?

Spectre: Oh no...we're not going anywhere yet...can you feel it,
little Dexter...can you feel the blood being cut of from your
brain...your vital processes slowing...your breath not coming as you
try to draw it, cut off in your throat as we squeeze the life from
your body.  All we need to do to end you once and for all is to
continue the pressure...but then your learning would be at an
end...and you have so very much to learn yet...

[Spectre arches his back and suplexes Willingham onto the desk, where
the man squirms in agony.  The ghoulish wrestler looks down at Dex,
then nods, grinning evilly to himself and pulling Dex off of the
desk.]

Spectre: And now...dear Mr. Willingham...it is time for you to have
your eyes opened...time for you to truly understand...

[And without another word, he locks on a front chancery and hooks the
leg, viciously driving him into the carpeted floor of Willingham's
office with a Rebirth.]

Spectre: And if you wake up, little Dexter...you reaped what you
sowed...and now you understand why you should fear the dark.

CL: ...I...I don't know...he needs medical help...the damage that
could have been done...

FH: This is bad, Chip...this is very bad...

[cut.]




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

           Credits:
Brian: Daniels v. Cruise, Six Man match, Hudson/Hayes v. Craven/Detson
Rob: Martinez v. Foley, Livestock and Gutch v. Mubarak and Weinrib
Geds: Sinister v. Fontana
Hops: Benedict v. Spectre
Mark: Geds v. HvD
Jer: Mercenary v. Manson

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

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