[The masked Dean Hayes stands by, dressed in a suit and tie.]

DH: Ladies and gentlemen... Tradition has come and gone. And the war
between Rob Cole and William Craven hit fever pitch as the two men
went back and forth through one of the most intense matches this
company has ever seen. The two monsters battled and... in the end...
Rob Cole forced the green giant to submit in the Camel Clutch. Within
only a few minutes, the green monster once again threatened the family
of Rob Cole and challenged him to a rematch...

[Dean blinks and does a double take as he looks off camera. Rob Cole
comes creeping into the picture frame, on his tip toes with
exaggerated stealth movements and a hunter's cap pulled down low on
his features. He pauses and turns to face the camera, bringing one
finger to his lips.]

RC: Shhhhh.... I'm hunting wabbits!

DH: Uhm... okay, well, right. Rob Cole... at Tradition you faced off
against...

[Cole suddenly stands and pulls the cap off his head, grabs the
microphone, and turns to face the camera. His eyes are angry and he
seems far too serious for the words he's actually chosen.]

RC: I said... I'm hunting wabbits, Dean! Those rascally varmints have
been chewin' up my carrot patch! Masked bandito, Dean... secret
admirer, stalker, man in the shadows, man of mystery, and I'm hunting
him down.

One step at a time, my nose is twitching and I know he's around the
next corner... or maybe the next one after that, or after that, or
after that! Oh, I don't know what's going on, Dean... but before you
ask me about William Craven, before we talk about him tip-tap-tapping
his way to submission, I thought we might want to talk about the
mystery man.

DH: Alright... any thoughts on whom this man is?

RC: A thousand and one, but not a single one of them counts... but
that's not the thing that gets me. It's not what I want to talk about.
That's not the thing crawling around beneath my skin... the not
knowing?

I could live with that... without ever knowing who or what is stalking
me, hunting me, playing games and trying to tease me to the point of
madness.

The last time this happened... I was in the mask. Do you think it's me
this time? That would be a lot easier to take.

NO!!!

No, you see, what really digs down under my skin is the revelation...
the big reveal, the moment when he has all the cards and he decides to
show his hand and whip that mask off his own face. I'll be helpless,
I'll be in his cross-hairs, and that's when he'll pull the strings
loose and whip the cloth from his features. The audience will be
shocked... I'll be stunned... and he'll have gotten precisely what he
wanted out of attacking me! He'll stand in the center... he'll hold
that mask, maybe drop it at his feet, and that the defining moment of
his run.

His coup de grace... like that phrase? He'll have what he wants... and
that brings us back to William Craven.

DH: It does?

RC: Yeah... because William Craven becomes another footnote in my
career. He becomes a past moment, an obstacle that I eventually
overcame, and then he was sacrificed to the altar of horror.

Tradition 6 marks the end of a mythology... the end of Craven as a
monster beneath MY bed, the end of his intimidation, and the beginning
of my own redemption. And even though it is bathed in blood, even
though it comes with suffering and horror; this is my redemption.

DH: Redemption?

RC:  The slide that started with Spectre... the fall that led me to
take a man in a wheelchair and prolong his injury, the fall that put a
rail spike in my hand, the fall that sent Justin Cruise packing, the
fall that wrapped my face and put me at war with myself, the fall that
ended when I lost the World Championship... my sins, my
destruction, my collapse!!!

I look at the world around me and I see it collapsing, turning on
itself and tearing bits and pieces and it makes me sick... and I wish
there was someone who could make a difference, someone who could
stand, and I realized there was one man who had chosen to do just that
thing. Amidst the chaos, the horror, and the absolute filth you see
crawling down to that ring there was Senor Cloak Dos!

And I saw my sons eyes light up when he saw Cloak Dos walk down that
aisle... I saw him look at me with pride when I decided to stand by
the luchador... and I realized something very clearly; He didn't have
to do it alone. He didn't have to be the only one standing, he didn't
have to be the only one fighting, and that the only way I could stop
the sick twisting sensation in my own gut... the only way I could stop
the guilt and the self-hatred was to take a stand beside men like
Cloak Dos.

And that, Dean... that's my redemption!

DH: And what about Cravens threats?

RC: Craven tapped out on live television. He was put in the camel
clutch, his body bent backward, and his understanding of real pain
became a little more intimate. And as he tried to drag himself to his
feet, as he cried out to me, the fans watched as I held my back and
let the green man speak.

He yapped... and he threatened my family again, a desperate bid to
grab my attention, to recover some sort of lost pride through the only
people he could threaten.

A boy.

A wife.

People who can't fight back? I've pulled back the mask, Dean... I've
exposed William Craven for the coward and the bully that he is. He
didn't elevate me... he's creating some sort of comfortable lie to
tell himself when he remembers the fear before he tapped out. He says
it's not over... he wants me in that ring again, he wants me to walk
down that aisle, he wants an impossible war and he wants something
he's already lost.

He's right... it's not over.

There's still one more person who believes in the toy construct that
is William Craven. And once Craven is forced to stare at the arena
lights, once he's forced to realize that a former World Champion has
beaten him again... then he'll know the truth.

Face to face with the reality of his dwindling career, William Craven
will never threaten my family again... he'll realize he has no one
else to blame for his pathetic life. He will be forced to face himself
in the mirror... he'll be forced to look at the scars, the tattoos,
the piercings, and the body modification and he will finally
understand that none of it ever meant anything.

Just like him.

[Cole turns to face Dean, whose eyes are wide with shock. He snorts in
disgust and leans down to pick up his discarded hat, pops it on his
head and starts off on his hunt again. Dean watches him walk away
before turning to face the camera again... he furrows his brows and
opens his mouth to speak, and then he just gestures for the camera to
cut the feed. There's just nothing left to say.

Cut to the sounds of a soft ticking clock ... It grows louder and
louder and louder ...





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







Fade into the PVW logo ...]






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




        ----------------------------------
               Live in @ Selland Arena
               Fresno, California


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




[The logo on your television set explodes!  And we are inside the
Selland Arena in Fresno, California.  PVW Heatwave marches through the
west Coast in California and the rabid, Cali-fans are letting the
folks at home know it!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


PVW !!!


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

P-V-W covers the center of the mat.  We cut to ringside where the men
who bring flavor to our broadcast sit.]

CL: We are fresh off the heel of Tradition VI ... And we are live in
Fresno, California!  I am your host Chip Lester, and as always my
partner in crime is the famous ... or infamous depending on who you
ask, Fred Hoyle.

FH: My fans adore me ... and my critics love to hate me.  What can I
say, Chip ... I bring it every PVW show.  My voice is like a fine
wine... it only gets better with age.

CL: That's what you tell us.  Tonight we have a stacked show for you
as usual.  However, before we get into that it appears we have some
company.

[Boo's form through out the arena.]

FH:  Our Supreme leader has finally arrived!  At Tradition many
political pundits said that he won the debate decidedly over Danny
Daniels.

CL:  Actually many of the fans said that they thought Daniels won...

FH:  Well they are idiots and, therefore, ineligible to have an
opinion.

[Detson grabs a mic and then reaches inside his jacket pocket.  He
produces a cell phone which he holds up to show the crowd.]

Detson:  If I could have your attention please I have an important
announcement that affects the PVW as a whole.

[Detson smirks and then continues.]

Detson:  I hold in my hand a cell phone.  Not just any cell phone, but
the Presidential cell phone for this the PVW, where I, Johnny Detson,
President and CEO reign.  I have received many important phone calls
on this phone because as you know my quest to better the PVW is never
ending.  Which is why I won the Called Shot, which is why you now have
a Supreme Champion to be proud of and which is why I serve as you
President and CEO.

[Detson gets a negative reaction but smiles nevertheless, his smile
soon changes to a scowl.]

Detson:  But one phone call I haven't received is probably the most
important of them all.  No, after my decisive victory in the ring and
on the debate scene,  Mr. Daniels has yet to concede who the better
man is as of yet.  No, He continues to waste your time and mine, which
is precious.  He continues to waste the great PVW resources which I
have provided to continue this charade.  It is obvious to you, the
little people, and to Mr. Daniels that I am the better man.  It is
obvious that I have proven this countless times.  I have built this
PVW utopian society and I have psychologically, mentally, and
physically destroyed my so-called opponent.

[Detson shakes his head in disgust.]

Detson:  But still nothing.  No, phone call, no concession, and no end
to this facade.  So for one last time I will prove who the better man
is tonight!

[Detson walks over to the corner of the ring.]

Detson:  You may have already noticed, but we have a very special
guest in attendance tonight...

[Detson points down... to an empty chair.]

Detson:  Yes, tonight we have JACK GRIFFIN in attendance!  Give a
round of applause for Mr. Jack Griffin.

[Detson mockingly claps as the crowd starts to jeer.]

Detson:  As it turns out, Jack here wasn't dead after all.  He was in
hiding!  Hiding because he was embarrassed at what the Supreme
Championship had become.  Embarrassed by the laughing stock who held
the title.  Embarrassed because he lost to such a fool.  He only
recently came out of hiding when he learned of your Commander and
Chief's dominating victory over the FORMER champion.  And now Jack can
hold his head up high!

[Detson nods in agreement.]

Detson:  Now Jack I know you're not dressed to wrestle and neither am
I, but I say that we have a match right here and now and we show
everybody what fighting for this now distinguished title means, what
do you say?

CL:  Oh give me a break?

FH:  What?  This is a noble thing that our champion is doing, and just
because old Jack isn't in the same league as our President doesn't
mean he shouldn't get a match!

Detson:  Jack Griffin has accepted my challenge folks what a truly
honorable man.  More than I can say for Mr. Daniels, but maybe once
and for all he can see what honor and doing the right thing is all
about!

[Detson takes off his coat and throws it over the ropes.]

Detson:  Let's get a ref down here and start this match.

[As Detson holds the ropes open for his invisible opponent, referee
Pete Hernandez comes trotting down to the ring, presumably because
none of the other officials wanted to bother.]

*DING DING DING*

FH:  And what a show of sportsmanship as Detson and Jack shake hands
in the middle of the ring.  Remember folks this is for the Supreme
Title so expect both competitors "A" game.

CL:  This is a joke.  Detson is making a mockery of every Daniels did
and believed in and I refuse to call this farce!

FH:  You should do your job Chip or Detson will let you have it during
your yearly review!

CL:  ...

FH:  Fine, I always said I could do your job, and I'll just prove it.
Hi, folks this is the scrawny, overpaid announcer Chip Lester here
next to Announcer of the Year Fred Hoyle.  Fred looking extremely
handsome as always.

FH:  Thanks Chip.  We have a very important title defense here tonight
as Johnny Detson, our lifetime President takes on perennial challenger
Jack Griffin.

FH(CL):  Right you are Fred, you are so smart and well-versed, and you
should take a portion of my salary as you do most of the work!
There's a collar and elbow tie up and Detson immediately pushes
Griffin down to the ground.

FH:   Right you are Chip.  Detson is most definitely the stronger of
the two, he's also the better technical wrestler, and smarter.  This
does not bode well for Griffin.

FH(CL):  Couldn't agree more with our Announcer of the Year!  Detson
picks up Griffin now and throws him into the corner and now he is
telling the ref to ask Griffin if he wants to submit.  What a classy
guy our President is making sure if Griffin doesn't want to continue.

CL:  You realize there is no one there Fred and the referee has no
clue what Detson is asking.

FH:  Quiet you, you made your bed now watch how award winners get the
job done.  That's right Chip however this incompetent official must be
is awe of our President because he is shaking his head no.

FH(CL):  No matter though Mr. Announcer of the Year as Detson simply
throws Griffin to the center of the ring with a text book hip toss.
Detson strides triumphantly over to his fallen foe and drops down for
the cover.

ONE!


TWO


THREE!


No?  Wait?  Kickout?

[Hernandez stands up holding two fingers as everyone, including
Detson, looks on confused.  Detson stands up and starts to argue and
Hernandez defiantly states that Griffin "got his shoulder up."  Detson
shakes his head.]

FH:  What the hell is this Detson had him down!

CL:  Now Fred, the official clearly saw Griffin's shoulder up.

FH:  There's no one there!

CL:  Well if you didn't see it, you can't really argue it, now can
you?

[Detson stands in the middle of the ring with his hand on his hips
just staring at the ref.  Finally he shrugs and drops back down to the
mat.]

FH:  HA HA!  Detson applying his world famous reverse chin lock.  No
one has survived this move ever.

Detson:  ASK HIM!

[The ref asks Griffin if he wants to submit and then shakes his head
no as the crowd starts to cheer.]

Detson:  Ask him again, I'm really sure his submitting.  In fact, I'm
telling you he's submitting.

[The ref asks again and shakes his head no.]

Hernandez:  He's not saying anything.

FH:  What is this fool doing, he's making a mockery of this match!

CL:  More so than Detson?

FH:  That is your boss and if he says this match is over, it's over!

CL:  Well Hernandez has refused to stop this match and now Detson is
in Hernandez face, folks well be right back after this commercial
break!


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----------------END COMMERCIAL------------------------



CL:  Welcome back folks.

FH:  This is a travesty.

CL:  Well the fact that this "match" started is a travesty!  Detson
still arguing with the ref who has refused to call this match.

[Detson is indeed still in the ref's face, threatening termination,
sanctions, and everything else he can to intimidate the ref to no
avail.  Finally Detson stops and smirks.]

FH:  Our chief has had enough now and he's going to finish Griffin
off!

[Detson "picks up" Griffin and again whips him towards the corner.
However it is also in the direction of the official.  Who dives out of
the way of the oncoming "action" and falls to the canvas.]

FH:  No big loss.

CL:  Folks referee Hernandez is down again in a match and he hasn't
gotten up yet.

[Detson now visibly frustrated, rolls his eyes and walks over to the
ref.  He nudges him several times with his foot and then leans over
and slaps him a couple of times in the face.  However the ref is still
out.]

FH:  Look at our Commander he cares about everyone even his
incompetent employees!

[Finally Detson has had enough and looks to be leaving when the
positive crowd reaction gets his attention towards the entrance ramp.]

CL:  And here comes Danny Daniels, he's had enough of this mockery...

FH:  The mockery that he created and our President is trying to fix.

[Detson turns in time to see Daniels sliding into the ring with a
steel chair in his hand.  As Daniels rises to his feet Detson moves to
strike.]

FH:  JohnnyKick!!!

CL:  Daniels ducks!!  Daniels ducks and Detson off balance... he
turns...


CRACK!!!


FH:  ASSASSIN!! ASSASSIN!!

CL:  Detson absolutely leveled with that chair!  Daniels already to
the outside and Hernandez starting to come to.  He's looking around to
see what happened.

[Daniels is frantically pounding on the mat on the outside getting
Hernandez' attention.  When the ref turns to him he starts pointing to
Detson and jumping up and down.]

Daniels:  HE'S PINNING HIM!!  HE'S PINNING HIM!!

FH:  What is he... NO WAIT STOP HE CAN'T DO THIS!

CL:  Daniels is claiming that Griffin is pinning Detson Hernandez with
the count!



ONE!!

















TWO!!

























THREE!!



CL:  He got him!

FH:  NO NO NO!




















(YES YES YES)






*DING DING DING*











CL:  He did it!  Jack Griffin has beaten Johnny Detson!

FH:  This is a farce, this is a conspiracy, this is ridiculous!

[Daniels grabs the mic and the Supreme Title and rolls into the ring.]

Daniels:  Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honor and privilege to
announce... THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH...

[Daniels smiles.]

Daniels:  ...AND NEW SUPREME CHAMPION... JACK
GRIFFFFFFIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNN!

[Daniels holds the title up in the air supposedly with Griffin's arm
as well.]

Daniels:  ALSO VOTE FOR DANIELS!

[Daniels drops the mic near the still down Detson and rolls out the
ring with the Supreme Title in hand.  As he walks down the ramp Detson
slowly comes too rolling to his knees and holding his head.  He looks
around the ring and then up the ramp at Daniels.  The hatred slowly
building in his face as he realizes what just happened.]

CL:  Detson played the game trying to humiliate Daniels and it just
backfired on him big time!

FH:  Back fired?  He was bamboozled by incompetency and treason and
Daniels is going to pay.

CL: Hahaha ... Wow that ended up being too fun.  I have to say I am
glad that, "Jack Griffin" decided to show up here tonight.

FH: Shut up, Chip!

CL: What a way to start the night off.  Folks it can only go down hill
from here, but we will try to keep up this excitement.

FH: Johnny Detson will have the last laugh tonight, Chip ... Mark my
words he will.

CL: Oh I am sure he will.  Maybe he will take it out on Jack Griffin!
hahaha.

FH: Maybe he will!

CL: I am counting on it.  Folks, we are about to have our first
_official_ match ... but first Dean Hayes is catching up with the
advisor or Christopher Black.  We all have been waiting to find out
what happened to that stolen mask.

FH: It was probably JACK GRIFFIN!

[Cut to backstage, where we see one Jacob Rose.  To say the well-
dressed Englishman looks stressed would be an understatement.  Rose's
suit jacket is unbuttoned, the knot of his tie is crooked and, if he
got any sleep previously, it certainly wasn't restful.  He is
currently checking his cell phone and a faint monotone of "You have no
new messages" is heard.]

VO:  Jacob!  Jacob Rose!

[Jacob rubs his forehead, but dutifully straightens up to attention.
He turns to face who is addressing him, but then does a double-take.]

JR:  Good lord, Mister Hayes, are you still wearing that ridiculous
thing?!

[Yes, intrepid PVW reporter and current masked bro-in-training
"Swinging" Dean Hayes IS still wearing that ridiculous thing.  To
Hayes' credit, he's not letting Jacob's question sway him from his
goal in the slightest.]

SDH:  Jacob, a word!  Regarding the heinous theft of Senor Cloak Dos'
mask by Christopher Black at Tradition--

JR:  I've already been questioned by Mr. Willingham's representatives,
Mister Hayes.  An unfortunate incident, yes, but from what I was told
that poor cameraman did not see who ambushed him, so whether my client
was involved or not remains undetermined.

SDH:  "Undetermined"?!  You set Senor Cloak Dos up and distracted him!

JR:  [vehement]  I did no such thing!  Whatever happened, happened
without my knowledge or approval!

SDH:  You honestly expect us to believe that you and the Bad Wolf had
nothing to do with Dos' mask getting stolen?!  We all saw how Dos
triumphed over your client -- and how it looked like Black was still
willing to go after him after the match!

[Jacob sighs, trying to remain in control of his composure.]

JR:  [quieter]  I admit that Mister Black is a very unpopular man.
That being said, anyone could have taken advantage of a chaotic
situation to set him up.  Mister Cain, for an example.  Or Mister
Bisignano, who has a match with our Television Champion tonight.

SDH:  That's a pretty far-fetched tale to swallow!

JR:  Believe whatever you like, Mister Hayes -- since your mind is
already made up.  But we don't have all the facts in yet.

SDH:  And just what does your client have to say?

[That causes Jacob to stiffen.  With a frown, he shakes his head.]

JR:  I don't know.  [His frown deepens.]  I've not heard any word from
Mister Black since the Television match at Tradition.  And he's yet to
arrive to the arena here tonight for his match with Mister Roberts.

SDH:  Pretty convenient, don't you think, Mister Rose?  You should do
a better job of managing your client!

[Uh-oh, sore point there, Dean!  It's clear Jacob is now biting down
on a rising temper.]

JR:  I am _not_ Mister Black's manager.  Nor, despite everyone's
insistence to the contrary, am I his nursemaid!  People like Mister
Johnstone or Mister Lafayette or Miss Marshall?  I'm nothing like
them!

SDH:  Well at least they're honest about being scumbags and not
pretending to be nice guys...

[Jacob again shakes his head, looking absolutely sick at such
accusations.  Now it's Dean's turn to sigh.]

SDH:  OK, maybe that was unfair.  But you have to see where the rest
of us are coming from, Mister Rose.  Say you're telling the truth
about not being involved in any way about the theft of the mask.  Say
your condolences to Senor Cloak Dos and Mrs. Barrett were genuine--

JR:   They were.  They _are_!

SDH:  --but let's also say that Christopher Black IS involved.  Behind
your back.  You work for a man who's on record of seeing everyone as
either predator or prey.  You're not a predator, Mister Rose...just
what the hell does that make you?

[A heartbeat, then two.  Jacob finally speaks.]

JR: [voice tight]   ...useful, Mister Hayes.  Now if you'll excuse me,
I have a missing client I need to track down -- and paperwork to get a
jump on if he continues to be absent tonight.

[He quickly turns away and exits, leaving Dean standing alone in the
corridor, as we cut back to ring side.]

FH: I told you the Bad Wolf was innocent, Chip.

CL: Yeah ... I'm still not buying it. In our "next" match, we have two
men very familiar to the fans here in PVW Fred: Former World Champion
"The Outcast" Rob Cole and The PVW Warrior himself, Larry Gionet.

FH: Yeah yeah yeah.

CL: Don't tell me you're not impressed.

FH: Oh, don't get me wrong, Chip.  I love some Rob Cole ultra-violence
as much as the next guy.  His matches against Chase Williams and The
Spectre are the stuff that legends are made of...I mean, that strap
match that Spectre and Cole had a while back was so brutal that the
PVW ownership banned the strap match stipulation immediately
afterwards!

Cole is capable of bringing levels of violence that most other people
only see in their worst nightmares...it's just that he's looked
depressingly...human lately.

CL: Depressingly human?

FH: Yeah.  The Rob Cole that's climbing into the ring tonight is a
shadow of his former self.  This is a guy that calls himself the
Monster Under the Bed...but William Craven has moved into Cole's head
and taken up residence in a way that no one ever has been able to
before.  Cole is feeling the effects of the battles he's been in and
realizing that he may just be human after all, Chip.

CL: That's...actually some impressive analysis, Fred.

FH: Announcer of the year, Baby!  Gotta get my next acceptance speech
ready.  I want to thank all of the little people that I stepped on to
get here.  It takes a lot of work on my part to make me look this
good.  Lester's been dragging me down for years...

CL: I'm touched.  But with Cole already dinged up, having Larry Gionet
in the ring opposite him will do him no favors.

FH: You ain't kidding.

Gionent is one of the stiffest competitors in the sport, and you won't
find a more technically proficient wrestler out there.  Gionet is an
old school guy...the sort of man you'd see back in the early days of
the sport who get sent out with one mission: hurt somebody.

Tonight, that somebody is Rob Cole.

CL: It should be a great matchup.  Rob Cole is headed in the back and
we have some camera's following him.

FH: What does cameras follow Rob Cole everywhere he goes now?

[Backstage, Chris Hartt wraps his wrists with sport tape. His face is
a stern reflection of the deep thoughts inside his head. He barely
registers the voice speaking to him off camera.]

Voice: Chris!  Hey, Chris!  Yoo-hoo! Paaaaladiiin!

Hartt:  Hm?  What?  Oh...What do *you* want?

[The camera pans over to Rob Cole, dressed in his gear as he heads
towards the entrance way, with a smile on his face that tells the
world he got away with it.]

Cole: Did you see the way Craven tapped out to the camel clutch? It's
been forever and a day since we've even seen each other, even with the
both of us in the same company. Look, I wanted to ask you about your
old buddy... Larry Gionet? I'm supposed to wrestle him tonight.

Hartt: I have problems of my own, Cole!

Cole: What's wrong?

Hartt: Nevermind!

Cole: I'm sorry... if you don't feel like talking that's fine, but you
don't need to be rude about it. Did I do something to offend you?

Hartt: What? No, I'm trying to tell you what's bothering me! Sorry,
this whole thing has really eaten at me lately. I'm just in a bad way
at the moment.

Cole: Okay, fine... so I caught you at a bad moment. I heard you've
been having problems with some... guy... or something. What was his
name?

Hartt: Nevermind.

Cole: Yeah, you see, it's not even that important an issue. Just act
like he doesn't even exist!

Hartt: Who?

Cole: What does Jim Neidhart have to do with this?

Hartt: Do you see a pointy goatee on my chin?  Jim Neidhart isn't
bothering me! I don't have any vicodin to steal.

Cole: Look, I'm talking about the guy you've been having problems
with. I don't even know why we're talking about that when I have to
face Larry Gionet in a few moments, but you seem pretty troubled by
this jerk and I was just curious on who you were having problems with.
I can't find his name on the roster anywhere.

Hartt: Nevermind!  That's what I'm telling you!

Cole: Look! If it's not that big of a deal to know his name then why
are you making such a big deal about getting him in the ring?!

[Hartt looks serious, his mouth opening to respond... he lifts a
finger and then furrows his brows. Cole finally folds his arms,
furrows his brows and steps forward.]

RC: I know I'm not exactly watching your back or anything, but we've
never been enemies Hartt. There's no reason to give me this sort of an
attitude... so if you want to be the Dark Paladin, that's your
business.

[Cole walks away and Hartt watches him leave with a mix of anger and
frustration.]

Hartt: THIRD BASE!!

[We cut back to the Voice standing in the center of the ring ready to
announce the next match.]

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall ...

[Cue the drums, cue the guitars, and "Ratamahatta" begins to blare
over the loudspeakers! The audience roars to their feet throughout the
introduction as the strobes begin to go off... and an explosion at the
entrance marks the arrival of Rob Cole! Framed in the smoke, his body
stands in the mock crucifixion pose before he begins to stalk down to
the ring. He slaps hands with the fans and rushes the last few steps
in order to slide beneath the bottom rope.]

HD:  Introducing first, from Hudson Valley, New York,  Weighing in at
268 pounds, ROB COLE!

CL: Rob Cole looks motivated to wrestle here tonight.

[Cole climbs to the second turnbuckle, spreading his arms for the
crowd as "Ratamahatta" continues to blare over the loudspeakers. He
drops down and heads toward another turnbuckle, turning at the last
second to have a seat on the mat... his arms spread to hold on to the
second ropes as he awaits his opponent with a determined smile on his
face.]

HD: And his opponent .. THE PVW WARRIOR ... LARRY GIONET!

The crowd begins to boo as soon as the booming intro of "Grind" by
Alice in Chains can be heard through the PA system.]

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

[Larry Gionet slowly walks to the ring as the boos become louder. Heis
sporting a new look wearing a hooded a MMA style robe in red with
black lining.With a menacing look on his face, he stops at ringside
and raises ahead to stare at the crowd with a deep stare taking in a
very deep breath.]

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

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

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

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

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

[The lights begin to rise as Gionet drops the hood from his robe
exposing his new black hair spiked on the top. He throws off his robe
to the side.]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Rob Cole v. Larry Gionet

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


*DING*DING*DING*



CL: And here's the bell.  Gionet is glaring at Cole like he's got
something to prove in there.

FH: Of course he does.  Gionet's been in a foul mood since that
business with him and Foley went down, and if he can take down Rob
Cole...even this shadow of the REAL Rob Cole, it'll be a feather in
his cap.

CL: This is still the real Rob Cole, Fred.  He's just hurt...Cole's
just a man, after all.

FH: I know.  It's so disappointing.

[Cole and Gionet with a collar and elbow tie up.  Gionet immediately
slaps on a side headlock, wrenching down on Cole... The Monster Under
the Bed sends Gionet off into the ropes, ducking his head and catching
a punt to his left shoulder for his trouble.]

CL: Oh!  Cole ducked his head too early and Gionet tested that arm
that's been giving him trouble all week.

FH: I think the test failed, Chip.  Gionet's staring at Cole shaking
out the arm and nodding to himself.  I think that The PVW Warrior
smells blood in the water.

[Gionet walks over to Cole and the two lock up again, but this time
Gionet quickly goes behind, locking his arms around Cole's waist.
Cole leans forward to avoid a German suplex, only to have his left leg
kicked out from under him by Gionet, who then falls on him.  The
former champ tries to break his fall by catching himself this his
arms, which only further stresses that left arm.]

CL: Blood in the water is right!  Quick thinking on the part of Larry
Gionet as he goes to work on Cole's left arm...

FH: You never want to be in the ring when at less than 100%, but there
are guys you REALLY don't want to be in there with, and Larry Gionet
is one of them.  His normal strategy is to focus on one body part and
work it over till you can barely move it...Cole showed up hurt.

That's like doing half of Gionet's work for him!

[Gionet immediately goes to work, punching away at the injured arm as
Cole attempts to shield it...Larry comes to his feet, leaving Cole to
struggle to his own, severely favoring his left arm now.]

CL: We're only a couple of minutes into this match, and already Rob
Cole is worse for wear.

FH: He should just lay down now...save himself for another night,
Chip.  No shame in knowing when you're beat.

[Gionet moves in for another collar and elbow tie up, but this time is
met by a knee lift from Rob Cole on the way in. Gionet staggers back,
but is right back in...]

CL: Here comes the PVW Warrior... but Cole lashes out with a kick to
the
midsection! A forearm to the side of the head! Another right! And
another! And he hooks under the arm... and takes Gionet down with a
hip
toss! AND HE DRIVES AN ELBOW DOWN!!!

FH: Right in the crook of Gionet's neck! Cole is keeping that left arm
tucked against his body... that same arm that underwent some brutal
punishment at Tradition from the hands of William Craven.

[Cole finally uses the left arm, yanking back on a left arm chicken
wing as he grins his right elbow into the base of the shoulder...
Cole's
face contorts in pain and he quickly releases the hold and snaps a
forearm down across the shoulder as he rises and suddenly wraps a head
scissor with legs before dropping back to the mat!]

CL: Observant point, Fred... Cole is hurt and that arms has a target
painted in red! In the meantime, Cole is trying to control the match
with his working limbs... wrapping those legs around the neck of Larry
Gionet to wear the PVW warrior down!

[Gionet twists out of the head scissors, proving to be more than a
match for Cole on the mat (especially for a one-armed Cole).  He's
quickly to his feet as Cole struggles to find his vertical base.
Gionet kicks Cole hard in the side, dropping him back down before
taking Cole's arm, placing it on the ground and driving a knee
repeatedly into the muscle as Cole howls in pain.]

CL: Oh no!  Gionet REALLY going to work on that injured arm, Fred!

FH: Feels like that's all we're talking about...how 'bout that local
sports team.  That was quite a contest.

CL: Do you even know what city we're in tonight?

FH: ...No.

CL: A dedicated professional, folks!

[Gionet comes to his feet, then hauls Cole back up, backing him into
the ropes with a series of stiff forearm shots that staggers the
bigger man.  Gionet grabs him and fires a headbutt.  Cole rocks back,
then offers one of his own in return!]

CL: Gionet and Cole exchanging headbutts!  Gionet with one...Cole
returns fire...Gionet with a return shot...

FH: Not a one of those guys needed to get dumber, Chip...

CL: Five headbutts have been answered by five in return and now both
men are a bit wobbly...and Cole thunders off the ropes and drops
Gionet with a stuff clothesline!

[As soon as Gionet hits the canvas, Cole steps over to him, going for
the Cobra clutch, but finds the half nelson easily broken when Gionet
takes control of the left arm... and whips Cole over with an armdrag!]

FH: A nice reversal from Gionet, controlling that wounded left arm
again ... barring it easily as Cole ... what the?!?!?!

[Rob Cole suddenly steps into the armbar and flat out PUNCHES Gionet
in the face! The crowd gasps at the sudden violence!]

FH: Blatant closed fist from Cole! He should be disqualified...

CL: And he follows it up with a fish-hook to the eye... forcing Gionet
back against the ropes! A knee to the gut... another... and another!
Cole shoves him in and whips him off! Rob Cole with the whirling
backbreaker!!! HUGE impact across the knee!

FH: But he's back to clutching that left arm above the elbow... laying
in stomps on the downed Gionet, but not really able to capitalize with
any sort of wear down hold.

[Cole finally reaches down and snaps a front chancery and immediately
tries to snap Gionet over... but suddenly drops him back down midway
up
as his left arm spasms! Cole struggles to hold on to the front
chancery as Gionet tries to struggle loose!]

FH: This is why you can't afford to work hurt in this business,
Chip... Rob Cole is suffering the effects from that submission attempt
by Craven, his arm is hurt, and this bout with Gionet is wearing it
down even further!

CL: Cole struggles to keep that front chancery hooked, but Gionet
knows all the strength Cole has is locked in that right arm for the
moment... He tries grabbing a front waistlock, but Cole jerks Larry to
the side, keeping him off balance! Cole with a weak left to the
ribs... AND HE SNAPS BACK!!!!! DDT!!!!

THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

[Cole rolls over and tosses an arm over Gionet...]




!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!




CL: NO!  Strong kickout from the PVW Warrior!

FH: You don't normally see Cole try to end a match that quickly, Chip.
He's got to be in a lot of pain.

CL: His arm's had a bullseye on it, and I don't see that getting any
better as this match continues, Fred.

[Cole tries to climb to his feet, severely favoring his left arm,
which gives Gionet a chance to climb his way up on the ropes nearest
him.  Cole steps up next to him, attempting a Russian leg sweep, but
Gionet counters with a series of back elbows to Cole's face...Gionet
follows up, grabbing the left arm and into an arm wringer and
wrenching down, dropping Cole to his knees.]

FH: Gionet is relentless on that arm, Chip!  The second Cole gets
anything going, he just goes straight back to that soft spot and it
takes all the steam out of the Monster Under the Bed.

CL: Cole is in trouble here as Gionet puts his left arm behind his
back...then lifts Cole up...AND BODYSLAMS HIM DOWN ONTO THAT INJURED
LEFT ARM!

FH: That's gonna sting.

[Cole rolls around on the ground in pain as Gionet stalks towards him,
his face an emotionless mask.  He talks up to Cole, then hoists him up
into a firemans carry as he clings to that left arm...looks around,
then lifts, dropping Cole into a modified gutbuster, driving all of
the former champion's weight down onto Gionet's knee with Cole's left
arm trapped under him.  Gionet quickly goes for the cover...]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




CL: SO CLOSE!

FH: Cole JUST managed to squirm at 2 7/8ths, Lester!  I think
Gionet is ready to end Cole's career if that's what it takes to put
him down.  Foley's really inside of this guy's head!

CL: Rob Cole is the type of man that won't ever quit, no matter what.

FH: I hope he remembers that when he can't use his left arm later on
tonight...

CL: Gionet whips Cole up for a tiltawhirl... and Rob Cole rolls
thorough, and he drops back down out of it and delivers a right below
the jaw! He hooks the neck and sidesteps... into a NICE Russian leg
sweep on Gionet!

FH: But the damage is done, Chip!

[Wiping the sweat from his brow, Cole whips his head back and
struggles to his feet as he clutches his arm. He suddenly
charges and DRILLS a knee across the face of Larry Gionet! He drops a
knee across the back of the head and reaches down to grab an arm,
yanking it up with a chicken wing as he continues to press that knee
into the back of Gionet's neck.]



CL: Modified submission attempt from the former champion, applying
pressure to the shoulder joint and pressing down on
that neck...



FH: Gionet isn't even close to tapping, though... he's struggling to
work through the hold!



[Cole leans back, applying pressure on that chickenwing as he leans...
his knee pressing down on the neck as Gionet struggles to twist his
body beneath the pressure. He finally frees his other arm and tries to
hook it around Cole's leg...]

CL: Cole takes the knee off the back of the neck and drags Gionet up
with the chickenwing... spins him around and takes him over with a
snap mare! BRUTAL CROSSFACE forearm! Another!!! And he drops that
elbow down in the pit of the neck once again!

FH: Deja vu all over again! Cole back to that leg scissor necklock!
Seems like he remembered how to do one move, so he'll just beat it to
death.

[But once again, Cole is unable to maintain the hold as Gionet twists
out of it and floats over, reversing into a modified knee lock on Cole
that he breaks after the bigger man grabs the ropes with both
hands...]

CL: Good presence of mind from...OH MY LORD!

[As the official counts, Gionet simply stood, holding both of Cole's
legs while the former champ lay on his stomach. Gionet yanked back
hard, pulling Cole into the air and punting him down low  on his way
back down!]

CL: The official is giving Gionet a warning for that blatant piece of
rule breaking, but Gionet's uninterested, shoving past to grab the
writhing champion.

FH: Well...at least Cole won't have to worry bout one thing.

CL: What's that?

FH: Well, since he now can no longer have kids, he can just hold the
one in his right arm when they amputate his left.

CL: Will you stop?

FH: No way...now I'll do your job.  Gionet with a hard shot to the
gut, and he scoops Cole up off his feet... going for the Darkness
Falls!

CL:  The Monster Under the Bed's not done yet!  Cole spins his body up
and over Gionet... shoving him away from him! Larry turns with a kick,
but Cole catches the ankle... shoves it down and delivers the short-
arm clothesline! Gionet clutching his chest as quickly tries to get to
his feet...

[Cole delivers a kick to the midsection and chickenwings both arms!
The crowd gets to their feet as he whips Gionet up... and drives him
down with the Cast Out powerbomb!!! The back of Gionet's head bounces
off the mat and Cole drapes his body over Gionet for the cover...]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




*DING*DING*DING*



HD: The winner of this match ... THE OUTCAST ... ROB COLE!

CL: Rob Cole pulled it out!  But what a showing by Larry Gionet.  He
took it to the former champion ...

FH: Caleb Foley is too much in this guy's head.  Thankfully they are
set to collide next week.  Finally it will be the end of the Irish
Crybaby!

CL: Gionet and Cole stand inside the ring staring across ... Gionet
looks like he wants to continue ... but he nods?

FH: It appeared Gionet has a little respect for Rob Cole.

CL: Both men stood toe-to-toe in a classic wrestling match.  Neither
man has anything to be disappointed in.

FH: You can bet that Gionet wants another crack at Cole.

CL: And Rob Cole would oblige.

FH: Rob Cole and Jack Griffin wins to start the night off ... This is
turning out to be one of the worst nights in PVW history!

[As both men head out of the ring, we cut backstage where ... Masked
Maniac is standing by on a *gasp* HEATWAVE!  He stands dressed in his
usual black singlet, flat black mask, and this time a costume afro
ontop.]

MM: Good afternoon my good friends ...  I have learned a lot from my
trip in the great country of MEH-HE-CO!

[The fro'd mask man nods.]

MM: I have learned that size _indeed_ matters.

[A reference ... to the tag match with his partner Mini-Maniac.]

MM: I have also learned that ... like our great PVW World Champion, I
have a lot soul.  I am truly a masked bro ... with a fro!

[Oh no!]

MM: And I just got off the phone with my good masked bro, The Blue
Diamond ... And he gave me some good advice.  He said, "Masked Bro ...
You want to strike when the iron is hot.  If there is one thing the
hoes like more then a masked bro ... It's gold."

[Masked Maniac nods ... and that forces his fro to fall to the side.
He quickly adjusts it back onto his head.]

MM: And I started to think ... I am getting all the hoes ... I am
traveling around the globe putting on a show for the PVW ... A song
was made by the amazing band, DRONER because of _ME_!   T-shirts are
selling like hot cakes.  Why shouldn't I have my chance at winning the
PVW World Championship title!

[Masked Maniac points down to his waist.]

MM: Unlike the former Masked Maniac ... I am going to win the PVW
World Heavyweight Champion.  And become the second man with a _fro_ to
hold it ... But, this time it will be a Masked Bro with a Fro!

[Masked Maniac pumps his fist.]

MM: I have sent a notarized request to Todd Johnstone, Preston
Winfield, and Gibson Hayes himself.  If Gibson Hayes had any soul ...
like this Masked Bro he will accept my challenge ... NEXT WEEK!

[The Masked Superstar then begins to moonwalk backwards off the screen
as we cut back to ring side.]

FH: They will let anyone challenge for a World Title these days!
Masked Maniac has no ground to stand on asking for a title shot!

CL: Well he does have a point.  He has become one of the most popular
wrestlers in the PVW as of late.  The Masked Bros t-shirt is selling
out every arena we go to.  Perhaps it would make financial sense to
give Masked Maniac a title shot.

FH: Fine ... Give it to him.  Gibson Hayes will knock that silly fro
right off his masked head!

[The familiar opening guitar riff of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" blasts
through the Selland Arena, setting off  an eruption of boos and a
smattering of cheers from the ever-present minority who feels the need
to go against the majority of the other fans.  The words, "The King of
Nothing" appear across the oversized video screen over the entryway
into the arena and out onto the stage steps the man known as
Nevermind.  He is dressed in his usual faded black t-shirt and greying
kilt with a tattered and washed out flannel shirt tied around his
waist.  On his feet are the nearly destroyed black combat boots
wrapped in silver duct tape he always wears.

He is flanked on either side by a woman.  On his right is a tall, thin
women with long dirty blonde hair.  She is wearing a grey faded
oversized hooded sweatshirt, with loose-fitting dirty pink sweat
pants.  On his left side stands a short pudgy girl with a tangled
rat's nest of black hair atop her head, dressed in a tight black shirt
and turquoise leggings that reveal her numerous contours.  Nevermind
stands there for several moments, his greasy black hair hanging
forward over his face, obscuring almost all but the long, tangled
black beard that covers his chin.  In his right hand, Nevermind grasps
what appears to be a crown made of old cans and discarded metal with
broken pieces of glass in place of jewels upon it.  The odd trio begin
to walk slowly down the walkway to the ring.]

CL:  I don't recall Nevermind being scheduled to appear on the show
tonight, Fred.

FH:  Hey, when you're a king, you don't really care about anyone's
schedule.

CL:  King or not, I don't think Nevermind would really care, anyway.
The man is seemingly devoid of any sort of passion or feeling.

FH:  Yeah, well, I'm feeling some passion for those two hotties he's
got with him, right now!

CL:  Really, Fred?  You're telling me you are attracted to those two
poor, pathetic girls he drags around with him?

FH:  Hey, homeless chicks are hot!  And very grateful if you know what
I mean...

CL:  Grateful?

FH:  You'd be surprised what a baloney sandwich can get you in the
right places.

CL:  Once again, Fred Hoyle managing to sink to even greater lows.
Simply amazing.

FH:  No, _amazing_ is what a cheeseburger will get you.

[As Chip Lester shakes his head in disgust, the two women hop onto the
ring apron and hold the ropes open for their consort.  Nevermind
enters the ring and pays absolutely no attention to either of the
women as they enter the ring and stand beside him.  Nevermind produces
a microphone in his left hand and begins to address the jeering
crowd.]

Nevermind:  Several months ago, I made a comment in passing about
being the "King of Nothing."  I really didn't think about it much at
the time, but the people around here seemed to latch onto it, and
since then, that's what I've been known as.  That's fine.  I really
don't care what any of the hypocrites and scumbags in PVW call me.  It
was as good as name as any.

I was actually starting to kind of like it, well, as much as I like
anything, anyway.  But then I realized, that it really didn't fit.
You see, most people believe that just because I don't care about
anything, I don't stand for anything.  But that's wrong.  I do believe
in something.  I do have a purpose.  To show everyone here in PVW, and
the world, that everything you think matters, doesn't.   So you see, I
can't be the King of Nothing, because I stand for something.  It's
really too bad, because I had this crown here made.

[Nevermind holds the crown of trash over his head for all to see.]

Nevermind:  It seems a shame to have something this nice go to waste,
but I couldn't wear it in good conscience.  That is, if I had a
conscience.  But then it occurred to me, that there is someone who
could wear this crown.  There is someone here in PVW who truly
deserves the title "The King of Nothing."   I'm sure you don't really
need me to tell you who that is, though, do you?

[ Nevermind pauses for a moment, giving the crowd a chance to heckle
him mercilessly.]

Nevermind:  That's right, Chris Hartt.  The Paladin himself.  Do you
people know what a paladin is?  It's not some guy in a suit of armor,
killing monsters with a sword.  A paladin is someone who fights for
something.  It doesn't matter what it is.  It just has to be something
you believe in deeply enough to fight for it.  Chris Hartt claimed to
be a paladin, but all it took for him to forsake everything he claimed
to believe in, was for me to cause him to lose a couple of matches.
Just a few meaningless losses, and he's ready to chuck everything that
supposedly meant so much to him and turn into some emo crybaby.

That's not something a true paladin does.    Hartt, I know I said a
few weeks ago that I had already given you everything I was going to,
but I changed my mind.  I have one more gift for you.  My title.  I'm
not the King of Nothing anymore, Chris.  From now on, _you_ are.

[Another chorus of boos swells from the capacity crowd.]

Nevermind:  Oh, and you don't have to worry about coming out here to
get your crown, Hartt, since I know you're busy preparing for your
big match tonight.  I'll make sure you get it later on.  I wouldn't
worry about where or when, though.   I'll get it to you, just never
mind when...

[ Nevermind turns to the women in the ring with him who immediately go
and hold open the ring ropes for him as the crowd's boos and cat calls
wash over them.  Nevermind exits the ring and heads back out up the
aisle, without so much as a look back at the two women lagging behind
him.]

CL: Strong words for Chris Hartt!

FH: Kids ... The message for today is, becareful what you ask for.
Nevermind has left Chris Hartt off the hook ... time after time, but
no that wasn't good enough for him.  Now, he has pissed off the King
of Nothing. And in the end, Chris Hartt will end up with nothing!

CL: That may be true, but finally we can see Nevermind and Chris Hartt
stand toe-to-toe.

[Backstage, again, with Arvelle "MAGIC" Lafayette (dressed in a red
Adidas track suit), PACO (dressed in a pair of speedos (lime green)
and mirrored shades), some short guy (dressed in a white half shirt
that doesn't cover his beer gut, straw cowboy hat, red neckerchief,
and short short denim shorts), Maxime (in yoga pants and no shirt) and
Miss Florine (with her hair done up, in a gray business suit with
stylish no rim glasses). Someone gave Arvelle a microphone!]

AML: Y'all saw what happens when you question the wrestling prowess of
the greatest sin-sation in the tag team nation this side of Tex-
Arkana! The HEAT went in, took names and showed the world that the
Prophylactics of the Range were not up to facing not only the greatest
tag team in the world today, the men who had their victory in the HIT
stolen, the sizzling sons of the ring but also the greatest
wrestler/manager in the business! I'm talking about me, ARVELLE! I
done took that mouthy French broad and...

[Arvelle slaps his open left palm with his right hand.]

AML: KA-POW! It was shown on international tee-vee! Y'all done saw
what happens when you mess with the MAGIC! Tonight, me and the HEAT
gotta'nother show down with them P-o-R snakes! Well, they best hope
they don't have to face the MAGIC one because I'll walk outta that
ring 2 and 0! Ain't that right folks?

Short Guy Who Doesn't Have a Name: *sniff* Hey, PACO, when does this
puto shut up?

[PACO elbows that little guy in the ribs and Florine puts her hand
over the camera lens.]

CL: Arvelle? Wrestle? All he did was get...

FH: All Arvelle did was show the world just how unready the Prophets
were for his untapped wrestling skill, that's what! Arvelle isn't only
charismatic, intelligent and giving, he's also a wrestling prodigy!
Did you see the amazing manuevers he pulled off in that match? A
classic clinic in how to handle yourself in the middle of that ring. I
should know, I taught him everything he knows!

CL: HE KNOWS NOTHING!

FH: ...don't be jealous, Chip. It's unbecoming of a man of your
status.

[The lights go down and the voice of Arvelle "MAGIC" Lafayette annoys
folks over the public address system as Eliot Lipp's "PLW3D" kicks
up.]

AML: INTRODUCING FIRST... the reason you came to the show!

[Arvelle and crue (still in their outfits from their last interview)
stride down the aisle.]

AML: Facing the Prophets of Rage's sacrifical lamb and fighting out of
Memphis, Tennessee! He weights in at 200 fit and fantastic pounds!

CL: Oh god...

FH: WOW! Arvelle is going to wrestle, again! I'm shocked! He's giving
away his wrestling technique for free!

[PACO is holding a giant trophy. Think of it as the VOLTRON of
trophies. It's about the size of really big guy. The rest of the HEAT
goes towards Fred Hoyle as Arvelle continues to run his yap.]

AML: Ladies, gentleman, interested single ladies; tonight you get a
treat for your eyes and to increase the swelling in your teats!
ARVELLE LAFAYETTE is out of retirement to fight! Bring on the
Prophets!

[And... no one shows up as Arvelle points to the back. The camera
waits for about a couple of minutes before going back to Arvelle.]

AML: ...and it looks like the Pathetic Rages are too afraid of the
beating Arvelle gave them to show up again! The winner of the match,
and ending his career at 2-0... ARVELLE "MAGIC" LAFAYETTE!

[Arvelle raises his arms and struts around the ring. Meanwhile,
Florine has a microphone... and is talking?!]

FWD: Hello. Fred, Arvelle, me and the HEAT would like to present you
this trophy for Commentator of the Year. It's a small token of our
appreciation for your support and unbiased appraisal of our wrestling
talent and accumen.

[Zoom in on the name plate and it has a loose bit of tape on it that
says Fred Hoyle but that tape falls off and underneath is engraved the
letters SLU and the rest is scratched out. Florine quickly reapplies
the tape... after giving Fred a kiss on the forehead.]

CL: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS CRAP?!

FH: *swoons*

CL: This award belongs to Slu***

FH: IT'S MINE! BACK OFF!

CL: You have to be kidding me.

[Fred Hoyle looks at the trophy and scoots it over sitting only a few
inches away.]

FH: Question that I won announcer of the year will ya??

CL: Folks, this is going to be a long night. Thankfully I am getting
the que to cut backstage again.

FH: That gives me just enough time to use your water to see if I
polish this bad boy up!

CL: *sigh*

[The camera cuts backstage into the hallway outside of AsH's dressing
room, as spartan and bare as would be expected of the unassuming
former title challenger.  AsH looks as though he hasn't prepped for
his match yet, wearing his red "iCON" longsleeve t-shirt and jeans. As
he walks down the hall, he notices the door standing open and steps
cautiously inside.

As the fan favorite enters the room, a dark figure behind the door
slams it shut, stepping in front and effectively trapping them in the
room together.  AsH wheels around, coming fact to dreadlocked face
with PVW's goth madman: The Spectre.

The dreadlocked wrestler is wearing a tattered black trench coat,
black doc martens, black cutoff jean shorts and a black sleeveless t
shirt as he silently regards the smaller man for a moment, his head
tilted slightly to the left.]

Spectre: Greetings, little AsH.  We have a need to speak to you...it
is not inconceivable that you may have insight that we crave...

[He motions to the folding chair sitting in the middle of the room.]

Spectre: Sit...we would parlay with you.

[AsH pulls his jaw to the side and looks at the chair, raising an
eyebrow]

AsH: Parlay? Are we in Pirates of the Carribean?

[AsH begrudgingly sits down, but leans forward onto his knees and
looks ready to hop up at a moments notice]

AsH: Ok, me first. Who do I contact about getting better locks on my
door. First Uncle Frank, now you... I swear, if I go to the vending
machine one more time Jason Voorhees is going to be staring me in the
face when I get back.

...but at least he won't have dreadlocks.

[Spectre's face remains an emotionless mask as he looks at
AsH...taking a bit too long between blinks, maintaining eye contact a
hair longer than is strictly comfortable...generally showing that he's
just a tad off.]

Spectre: Likely not...it has come to our attention, little AsH, that
you have faced little Samuel in the ring in your previous
playground...now...we've heard his bluster.  We've witnessed his
actions...now we seek to understand the motivation beneath it.  We
seek to understand what truly makes him strive against the odds.  We
seek to grasp why he continues to persevere when it would be so much
easier to give up.

...in short, we look for the key to his soul...and we think you have
it.

Give it to us.

AsH: Ba-huh?

[AsH does a quick snapping double take and looks again at the madman
who he, rightfully, is less than trusting of. He is doing his best to
look unafraid, but frankly, anyone would be nervous this close to a
madman]

AsH: One, why am I little? Is it because I'm a Cruiserweight? Because
I'll have you know, I've been taking weight gainer 4000 and even
though it gives me REALLY smell gas, I ---

[Spectre cuts him off.]

Spectre: Physical size is immaterial.  You remain little because you
do not grasp your potential...you remain less than what you could
become: Small.

AsH: Well, ...aren't you just my high school guidance counselor all
over again...

[AsH clears his throat at the joke which went over like a lead
balloon]

AsH: And as far as Sammy Knight and I go? Yeah, we worked in the same
company and held the same title. We've got that same stink on us, just
different ages... but as far as crossing paths? Not really. Don't
really remember ever stepping in the ring with the man, save to
incidentally help him win said title.

So if you want the key to his soul, I can't help you.

Now if you want to talk about the key to my ROOM, yeah, I'd LOVE to
know if you have that one.

[Spectre just offered the same flat stare, watching AsH in much the
same way that a cat might watch a bird...unblinking and overly
intense.]

Spectre: When we request it, doors open, little AsH.

But you say that little Samuel's cherished title was in fact obtained
with your assistance?  This interests us.  Tell us more.

[AsH looks increasingly uncomfortable at this, but makes a legitimate
effort to lean back and look relaxed. He does seem to have some sort
of Iron Claw going on with the excess fabric in his jeans]

AsH: Some toolbag had basically called me out for a year, demanding I
come back to face him, even going so far as to overlook Mr. Knight in
the process. Well, he got what he asked for... tried to screw Sammy
over, I came out, showed my face, and he lost because of it.

But to say it's cherished... that's a bit of a stretch, my pale
friend. It's a dark and desolate place these days. Nothing to be proud
of anymore, really. In my view, anyway.

Now, my Gamerscore. Yeah. I'm proud of that. What's your gamertag?
Stabyouforlooking? Deaddreads4life? BiteandGnaw---

[Spectre raised a single finger to his lips.]

Spectre: Shhhhhhhhh.  We have no desire to provide a Baptism in Pain
for the moment, Little AsH.  We have much to do first...

AsH: Aaaaaalright.

Spectre: Little Samuel was an afterthought in his own title victory?
This is useful.  Even his moments of triumph revolve around others not
giving him the praise he so richly craves.

AsH: Speaking of craving praise, did I TELL you my gamerscore?!

[Spectre lunges forward, grabbing the sides of AsH's head and fires a
headbutt into he middle of his skull.  The goth grappler maintains his
grip, leaning in and whispering.]

Spectre: To be clear, little AsH: We are not amused...

[AsH's eyes glaze and then immediately flash as he narrows them and
looks Spectre dead in the eye. His smile is still there, but an edge
has formed]

AsH: Sir, I have to ask you... how far are you willing to take this?

[For the first time since they began to speak, Spectre's face showed
emotion as a sinister smile crept onto his features.]

Spectre: Are you prepared to discover that, little AsH?

AsH: Yes, I am. You headbutt me for a simple statement? Guess what,
you picked on the wrong little dog. If you've watched ANYTHING about
me, you know one thing. You're gonna have to kill me to get me to stop
coming at you.

And frankly, I know you don't have the time or firepower to do so.

[AsH tosses an arm over Spectre's and pulls himself free, scrambling
to his feet before jamming a finger at a man who may very well TRY to
put him down for good]

AsH: And you want to know about Knight? Why not go ask him about those
gunshot wounds, or the countless scars in that glorified weekly snuff
film? Why not ask him about the time he came to me and asked how I can
keep getting back up when psychopaths like you keep knocking me down.

Ask him what I said and why you've got a real handful on your hands,
these days.

Ask him, Spectre, why he said I was the one man he never wanted to
face.

[Spectre smiled broader as AsH began to show fire, his eyes
calculating as he watched the cruiserweight.]

Spectre: Kill you?  Your proposition has merit, little AsH...but that
game is for another night...and you misunderstand us:

We have no interest in little Samuel's background.  Instead we seek to
understand the real man...the Chinese philosopher Shan Yu once said
that the only way to truly know a man was through torture...and we
intend to know little Knight very well indeed.

[AsH shakes his head]

AsH: You'll have to forgive me if I don't wish you luck in your future
endeavors, friend. I like Sammy, and would prefer the majority of his
blood stays IN his body.

[Spectre shrugs.]

Spectre: He awoke the Beast...now he must show that he is a worthy
feast for it, lest it consume him...his only hope is to accept the
Beast within himself as an ally...it is the way to his salvation and
his damnation all at once.

A beautiful trap if we've ever seen one...you see, the only way that
little Knight can win is if he becomes us, but in doing so...he loses.

AsH: To be honest, you're only the 4th most disturbing thing I've had
to deal with this week. I've still got to find a way to get another
crack at Gibson Hayes. Figure out how to beat the tricky little
bastard. And to top it all off, I heard they're redoing the Warriors.
So I've got THAT to deal with...

Now, if you're done giving me possible brain damage and enough heebies
to match my jeebies...

[AsH motions towards the door and Spectre shrugs in reply as he turns
to leave, the pauses, looking over his shoulder, the slightest of
smiles playing about his features.]

Spectre: We suppose quid pro quo is in order.  The answer to your
Hayes problem is simple: Hayes despises a fair fight.  Remove his
ability to use regulations as his shield and you've removed his
greatest weapon.  Make his strength a weakness, little AsH.

[Without another word, the goth madman stalks out into the hallway.]

# We built this city #

HD: Hailing from Sheffield, England and weighing in at 244 pounds...

["We Built This City" by Starship blares]

HD: ... JAIME ROBERTS!!!

[The fit, if not totally toned, Roberts explodes out of the curtain.
The scar down his back is noticeable, as is his long dark hair,
flowing with each step. He slaps the fans hands as the cheer wildly.]

# We built this city #
# We built this city on rock and roll #

CL: Roberts has had a bit of an up and down past few months in the
PVW.  At times he looked like that next break out star and at other
times he has seemed lost in the shuffle.  He is coming off a no
contest against Larry Gionet and hoping to return back to winning
ways, but tonight it's not going to be easy.

FH: That's an understatement, Chip.  By the way don't get too close to
my trophy.

CL: Trust me I wont.

FH: As long as we are clear.

["Painkiller" by the Freestylers with Pendulum cues up over the
loudspeakers, eliciting boos from the Fresno faithful.  Those boos
turn into jeers at the sight of Jacob Rose, who is sans "Bad Wolf"
Christopher Black.  Rose shoots a worried look behind him, but there's
no sign of his missing client.]

CL:  Not that I'd be happy to see Christopher Black, but if he's
decided to no-show tonight, that's highly unprofessional.  I'd say
it's a sure sign of guilt, but I don't think the man is capable of
ever feeling that!

FH:  _Alleged_ guilt, Chip.  The Bad Wolf's a cold-hearted SOB, but it
still hasn't been proven that he stole Dos' mask!  Hell, we've got all
sorts of crazy fans in PVW.  One of them could have easily stolen it
for a sick memento!  Or maybe one of them is stupid enough to go
assault Black and prevent him from showing up tonight!

CL:  We couldn't be that lucky.

FH:  Of course, we could be overthinking things here.  I mean, we're
stuck in _Fresno_.  God knows, I'd want to be elsewhere!  Especially
if my opponent is some doofus calling himself "Sex Pistol"!

CL:  Jaime Roberts is a former champion!

FH:  Yeah, and he couldn't get out of the way of getting smacked by
Caleb Foley.  Caleb Foley, for chrissakes!  That makes him a doofus!

[With the crowd continuing to jeer, Rose pleads with the official for
"just a little more time", but the referee is having none of it and
begins to dutifully count out the former Television champion...

ONE...


TWO...


THREE...


FOUR...


FI--


The  PVW crowd explodes back into boos as the Bad Wolf finally steps
out.  Gone is the sick grin and the arrogant swagger from when he
still held the gold.  But in their place remains the cold, silent fury
etched in his angular face and pale blue eyes as he stalks down the
aisle.  The mics pick up a "Sir, where have you been?" from Jacob, but
Black doesn't even look at his financial advisor.  Not even when he
tosses him his battered black leather jacket.]

FH:  So much for being unprofessional, eh Chip?

CL:  I do not envy Jacob Rose's position right now, but I can't bring
myself to feel sorry for the man either.  I mean, you heard him flat-
out deny to Dean Hayes about being involved in the theft--

FH:  _Alleged_ theft!

CL:  [glaring at Fred] Theft of Senor Cloak Dos' mask!  And even if --
IF! -- he's speaking the truth about that, he's still willing to be
involved with a vile excuse of a human being in Christopher Black.

FH:  Hey, if this was a perfect world, we wouldn't have defense
attorneys and divorce lawyers, but like it or not, someone's gotta
suck it up and do the ugly jobs we disagree with.  Besides, Black must
have seen Rose play nicey-nice with Dos at Tradition and that wouldn't
make me too happy either especially if I just lost my title!  It's a
dangerous economy right now...Jacob better watch out!

CL: I've sat back and watched a lot of speechless things go by since
the PVW open it's doors, but I can't sit back and be quiet about this
one, Fred.

FH: Then talk all you want, but we are in the United States of America
... And in this great country you are innocent until proven guilty.
Can you prove that it was indeed Christopher Black?

CL: Well ... no, but -

FH: [cutting him off.] That's what I thought!


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Jaime Roberts v. Christopher Black

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: Thankfully the bell has just rang and we can all hope that Jaime
Roberts teaches his fellow country man a thing or two about being
respectful.

FH: Black is going to send Jaime Roberts back to England in a body bag
if he isn't careful.  The Bad Wolf isn't in a good mind frame here
tonight.

[With the sound of the bell the two United Kingdom born wrestlers
begin to circle around the ring, leading to the two going for a test
of strength which Roberts immediately wins via pulling both Black and
his own hands downwards and twisting upwards.]

CL: Roberts is a bit bigger then Black and the veteran is rubbing it
in as the fans love it!

FH: Jacob Rose is trying to tell Black to relax and catch his
composure.

[Roberts puts his head under Blacks arm and hits him with a northern
lights suplex.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Black fires out with a kick out!  And Black and Roberts get up
with Roberts still holding onto Blacks hand,

FH: Roberts just wants to hold the Bad Wolf's hand.  Black is going to
smash him just watch, Chip.

[Roberts releases them and shoves Black into the corner. Roberts
starts firing off a series of stiff kicks to the rib cage and legs to
Black until he's slumped down a little, then the onslaught of
fists is targeted to Black's face.  The crowd _LOVES_ it as they
really poor on the cheers as Black is in trouble.]

CL: Roberts has came out on fire and he is feeding off the energy the
crowd has here tonight!

FH: Give Black time ... He is the ultimate opportunist, Chip.

[The former Sex Pistol stands Black up and whips him into the opposing
corner but the Bad Wolf grabs the top rope and does a handstand
against the top turnbuckle. Roberts runs over to the ropes and shakes
the top rope, causing Black to lose his balance and flip back over
onto his feet.]

FH: Did you see that?

CL: I did, but Roberts is right there to spoil the Bad Wolf's plans!
Roberts runs over, grabs Black with a a Rear Waistlock, pulls him away
from the corner a little ways and then hits a big German Suplex ...
AND BRIDGES!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




FH: Black fires out with another kick out.  You can't keep the Bad
Wolf down ... Not tonight!

[Jaime Roberts quickly pulls himself up and hits Christopher Black
with some close range kicks and knees to the back as he tries to get
up, keeping his momentum flowing. Roberts whips Black into the corner
and charges at him, only for the Bad Wolf to lift his feet up ...]

CL: Roberts stops just in time avoiding running into Christopher
Black's boots!  Listen to these fans, Fred!  They are in full support
for Roberts tonight.

FH: I don't think the fans really care about Roberts ... They would
support the devil himself if he was in the ring with Christopher
Black.

CL: That is a true, Fred.

FH: Stupid fans.

[Roberts pulls Black out of the corner then bounces the back of his
head off of the top turnbuckle. Roberts backs up a few feet then dives
at his victim, hurling him across the ring with a monkey flip. The
fans are in full support as Roberts drops down for a _third_ pinfall
attempt!]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: NO!  BLACK GETS A SHOULDER UP!  And the fans thought that Roberts
had it right there.

FH: Things are getting even a little dicey for me.  You can tell Black
came out off his game.

[Roberts pulls Black up and backs him into the ropes, then unloads on
him with some chops to the chest. The referee tells Roberts to get
Black off the ropes ... Roberts hits Black with another chop to the
chest, followed by a shot to the head and whip off the ropes. Black
falls back early as he goes to bounce off the set of ropes, causing
his upper body to fall out of the ring, but his legs ricochet off the
top rope, throwing Black back into the ring and giving him extra
momentum as he levels Roberts with a running Clothesline.]

CL: What a heads up move by Black.  He knew where he was and he just
took Roberts off his game and down to the mat.

FH: And silenced these California fans!

CL: Black ignoring Rose on the outside begins stomping away on those
legs of Jaime Roberts.

FH: Smart move by the Bad Wolf.  Those legs have been dangerous in the
early going and he is eliminating the threat.

[Roberts fights through the frenzy stomps and as he slowly pushes
himself up onto all fours ...  Black boots him right in the
midsection.  Christopher Black hovers over the fallen Roberts and
locks him in a cobra clutch.]

CL: And the Bad Wolf goes to doing what he does best ...  Taking full
opportunity of the situation and how fast the tides can turn.

FH: With Christopher Black you can never feel too comfortable.  He is
sitting and waiting for the right opportunity to strike and take
control of any situation.

CL: Like stealing a mask.

FH: Allegedly.

[Black wrenches back growling as the fans are in full support for
Jaime Roberts ... Like it's their home town hero ... Or their last
great hope ...  They roar as Roberts fights with every remaining
breath left in him to make it to his feet. Once Roberts makes it to
his feet, Black removes his own arm from inside the opening made by
Robert's arm and clotheslines Roberts in the back of the head.]

THUUUUUD!

CL: Brutal clothesline by Black and he makes the cover!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... No Roberts with a strong kick out.

FH: I'm shocked he had enough senses left to even kick out.

[The Bad Wolf hits Jaime Roberts with a European Uppercut which sends
him staggering into the ropes. Black follows up with two more European
Uppercuts,  Black whips him off the ropes and nails him with
an arm drag.]

CL: Black takes Roberts right back down with a perfect looking arm
drag ...  Both men get up and Black charges!

FH: BIG DUCK under a big Roberts right jab ...

[... and sliding behind him where he locks in a Rear Waistlock. The
Bad Wolf releases the waistlock once Roberts thinks something
waistlock-related is going to happen, and the Brit instead nails his
fellow country man with a few clubbing blows to the back. Black then
locks Roberts in a hammerlock, turns him around and nails him
with Wolf's Bane (Hammerlock Body Slam).]

CL: Wolf's Bane!  And this one could be over.

FH: More like _SHOULD_, Chip!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




[Crowd pops as Jaime Roberts lifted his leg up on the bottom ropes and
the referee leaps up waving the three count off.]

CL: ROBERTS GOT HIS FOOT ON THE BOTTOM ROPES!

FH: Yeah ... a second too late!

[Christopher Black glares down at his opponent... Jacob Rose tries to
calm the Bad Wolf down inside the ring, but his voice goes unheard.
Black brings Roberts over to the rope, wraps his arm upward around
the top rope and falls down delivering a stunner of sorts to Roberts
hand, jerking his shoulder on the top rope.]

CL: Black is just punishing the veteran ... Worked over his legs ...
back ... and now his hand.

FH: Black makes sure his opponents feel pain everywhere.  He is like
cancer.

CL: ...  And there is the Fred Hoyle we have all come to know.  I
wondered how long it would take for you to return.

[Christopher Black challenges Jaime Roberts to get up and then bounces
off the ropes for a running attack, only to run into a big back body
drop. The Black hate filled cheers return as he gets back up and
up and walks into a a spinning kick to the face.]

SMAAAAAACK!

CL: ROBERTS JUST FLOORED BLACK!

FH: Wait ... that can't be happening!  Do something Rose!

[Rose is trying to talk to the official, but he is blown off.  Jaime
Roberts grabs the Bad Wolf with his good arm, runs up the turnbuckles
and hits him with a tornado DDT, then dives on him to make a desperate
cover.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR !!!




CL: No Black kicks out at the very last moment.

FH: Listen to these fans ... They groaned like someone just stole
their lunch money.  HAH ... I love it!

[Jaime Roberts with the fans behind him ...  pulls Christopher Black
up, signals to the crowd for his former finisher. Spinning
neckbreaker. Black slips away, locks in an arm wrench and pulls
Roberts into a knee to the gut, flowing right into an elbow to the top
of the skull. The referee gets on Black's case about the elbow but the
Bad Wolf shoves the referee away.]

[ASSHOLE CHANT TIME!]

CL: And the fans are letting the Bad Wolf have it.  And so is referee
Lou Crowd.  Jacob Rose is trying to calm down the referee.  Black will
get DQ'd if he doesn't watch it.

FH: If I was Lou I would just set back and call the match.  Black
isn't in any mood to deal with him.

CL: He is the official referee for the match.

FH: And?

[Black challenges Roberts to pull himself up but takes a few body
shots for his trouble. Black regains his momentum in the match
with a rake to the eyes. Black locks Roberts in another hammerlock
while the referee warns Black about his eye-rake, but this time
Black pie-faces the referee down onto the mat.]

[DQ HIM POP!]

CL: Christopher Black is pushing his luck!

FH: Lou Crowe is pushing his luck.

[Black turns Roberts around, going for another Wolf's Bane ... Roberts
counters this time with a single-leg takedown, grabs both of the Bad
Wolf's feet and drops down with a big swift kick to the midsection as
the fans roar!]

CL: ROBERTS IS HEADING TO THE TOP ROPES!!!!

FH: This isn't good!

[He begins to call for, Glory Daze, Senton Bomb ... He leaps ...]

THUUUUUUUD!

[BOOOO!  Black played a bit Possum and moved at the last second ...
Black drops down and with a few swift moves locks on a
Gogoplata/Kagato-Jime ...]

CL: We haven't had a chance to see this nasty move yet in the PVW, but
he calls it, Lamb to the Slaughter ... And Roberts taps out!

FH: I don't blame him at all.  That thing looked like it could even
cause cancer!

CL: ...  Fred I may punch you.

FH: What for Chip?

*DING*DING*DING*

CL: And Black isn't letting go.

*DING*DING*DING*

[Jacob Rose is in and advises Black to let go before the match is over
turned ... And finally the Bad Wolf drops the hold.]

HD: The winner of the match by submission ... THE BAD WOLF ...
CHRISTOPHER BLACK!

[BOOOOOOOOO!]

[Cut to the back where Todd Johnstone walks, angrily gesticulating,
turning red in the face as two oversized men wearing tights, suit-
patterned T shirts and carrying briefcases follow.  Those two big guys
are, naturally, Livestock and the Gutch.]

Johnstone: You two stupid sons of bitches just need to shut the
*BLEEP* up!  Enough with the comedy bull*BLEEP* you've been coasting
on for years--

[The pretty blond boy, Livestock (and shame on you if you didn't know
that after 3+ years) is the first to object to this harsh treatment.]

Livestock: Hey, I'm contractually obligated to do at least two more
Red Bull segments.  Energy drinks are money, man!

Johnstone: Shut it!  Just shut it you idiot bastard!

Livestock: Idiot?  I graduated law school Magna Cum Laude!

Johnstone: More like magnum cum bucket!  You will do as you're told
and give me no guff!  I am the brains and you are the meat that gives
the brains what it wants!  Nothing more.

Gutch: Like ... books or something?

[Whipping around, Johnstone pokes Gutch in the nose.  Gutch's nose
squishes off to the side but is otherwise unaffected.]

Johnstone: Off switch!  Tonight you need to stomp and generally
*BLEEP* those two dumbasses who think they're bad enough to take on
the biggest team in PVW, the baddest, the most established team
fighting in this damned industry today!  You two have held those
titles longer than anyone else and longer than anyone has a right to!
Y'know why you have?  Because you can!

Gutch: So we're unbeatable?

[Glare from Johnstone who almost pokes Gutch again but instead just
curses and flails his fists in the air.]

Johnstone: *BLEEP* no!  How stupid are you!?

Livestock: He mostly just plays stupid.

Gutch: People like it.

Johnstone: Who gives a *BLEEP* what the people think!?  These people
think that science is fiction, storks deliver babies and God talks
back if you just ask nice enough!  I did the math, worked it out
because I'm willing to bet that you two meatheads don't give a
*BLEEP*.  Adding in that little subplot with PAIN you jokers have had
those titles for a combined 20 months...  Basically two years.  More
than half the existence of PVW.

Only Everlasting Hell ever even stood a chance and I think we all know
those two bastards fell off opposite sides of the map and are on
speaking terms about as much as Anne Frank and Hitler nowadays.

Gutch: Dude, too soon.

Johnstone: Good Lord!  Does he always talk this damned much!?

Livestock: It's generally discouraged.

Gutch: Hey, we live in a democra--

Johnstone: NO!  *BLEEP* no, not this again!  I don't give a flying
*BLEEP* what Gibson told you about the USA being a democracy.  That's
for the plebeians, not you two.  You two are under my banner now!

Gutch: I miss Zeke!

Johnstone: And you're gonna miss him more before I'm done.  This here?
This is nothing.  You two need to get MEAN!  You've skated on through
this division on your size and on being sneaky.  You're both bad
enough to not need to be sneaky, you don't need tactics you just need
to BEAT THE FLYING *BLEEP* OUT OF EVERYONE!
    You!
*SMACK!*

[An open-handed smack to Livestock's chest.]

Livestock: The hell?

Johnstone: You can military press fatty here, tumble like Mary Lou
Retton and take it to the mat with some degree of skill.  If we were
scoring you on points you'd get a ten of ten and one word for your
abilities would be "Awesome".  Now the only problem with that is
YOU'RE NOT USING WHAT GOD GAVE YOU!

Livestock: Uh...

Johnstone: You!

*SMACK!*

Gutch: Saw that comin'!

Johnstone: Your cardio is *BLEEP* and you spend too much time trainin'
on the football field pushin' *BLEEP* around.  I need you to work the
heavy bag.  I need you go maul some sparring partners!  I'm going to
set you up in a gym with a dozen boxers and they're gonna work you
over until they're all unconscious or you're DEAD!

Gutch: Wha'?  Uh, what we talkin' here?  Welterweights?

Johnstone: Oh, you really don't know me do you?  Son we're getting
some of the hungriest prizefighters in the world to take you to task
and if you don't measure up I told them the man that knocks you out
gets your spot on the PVW roster.

Gutch: GAH!

Livestock: You can't do that!

Gutch: But I'm a champ!

Livestock: I mean, they're boxers not wrestlers.

Gutch: 'Stock, that ain't the damned point!

Johnstone: You think it matters?  I'd throw Uncle Frank in with
Livestock and the new guy would probably flunk out in a few months.
But y'know what?  I'm pretty sure that, in that case ... Livestock
here would live up to his potential out of fear that he'd get dumped
too.

Livestock: You really are insideous.

Johnstone: You don't know the half of it.  I wanna see you two do what
you did to Whitecross and your little girlfriend AsH every damned
week.  I wanna see blood in that ring, people!

Livestock: Girlfriend?  Again, it's a contractual thing for Red Bull-
br--

[Cut back to ringside.]

CL: Todd Johnstone is looking to get the PVW tag team Champions ready
for Boiling Point.  He knows how much of a challenge, Max and Sal are
going to be.

FH: Not if Uncle Frank doesn't take care of them here tonight.

CL: Uncle Frank is set to take on Max here shortly later on tonight.
But, before we get too far ahead of ourselves ... The Voice is
standing by ready to keep the night rolling.

['Unbreakable' by Fireflight plays over the speakers along with the
video footage of Chris Hartt battling many opponents in different
matches.  Hartt walks out in a sleeveless hoodie, reminiscent of
something seen in Assassin's Creed, decorated in a medieval red cross
up the front and over the front of the hood.  Hartt walks to the ring,
not giving anyone in the crowd any notice, but keeping his gaze toward
the ring.]

HD:...from Minneapolis, Minnesota, weighing in at 245 lbs., The
'Paladin' Chris Hartt!!

CL: Check out the focus on Hartt!  He's got a lot going on with him
right now and I only hope he can manage to handle it all so we can get
back to the hero we know and love.

FH: If ya ask me, and I know ya won't, he's better off this way. Let
him get pounded down for a while. Not everything in life is always so
up.

[The sound of reverbed sirens is heard as a voice sings...]

VOICE:  It's Automatic, don't mind the static.

[As the word "static" echoes, purple and gold laser lights begin to
fill the arena as the voice of Toby Mac is heard again, as the music
ramps up in speed and beat, singing his hit song "Showstopper"]

#So turn up the lights#
#Pass me the mic#
#Bring on the lights#
#They've been waiting all night for the...#

***BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!!!!!!*******

[A MASSIVE explosion hits as the big screen lights up and shows the
following words switching back and forth between purple background and
gold letters and gold background with purple letters...


                "S H O W S T O P P E R"

                       T Y S O N

                        C A I N


[The song's chorus kicks in...]

#The showstopper#
#The chart dropper#
#The big papa#
#We gonna get it, get it, what?#
#We gonna get it good#

[The second verse of "Showstopper" begins to be heard as Cain walks
out from behind the curtain. Tyson is wearing his purple tights that
now have gold crosses on the legs. The word "Showstopper" in gold
cursive on his rear end. Tyson's hair is  slicked back as he smirks a
cocky grin. Tyson shakes a little in anticipation and starts walking
down the aisle. Cain yells and taunts a few hands of fans as he makes
his way down.]

#Hope just broke right through the door#
#So why you gotta ask what I came here for#
#Man, we 'bout to light the night with that flare#
#Drop from the gun and the hand need to spare#

[Cain reaches the entrance area and walks around the ring, continuing
to taunt fans and stare toward his opponent. Tyson slides under the
bottom rope and leaps to his feet, spinning in a circle with his arms
out wide to celebrate his awesomeness.]

#With the kick so hard that you gotta be strong#
#So hot-ta, you can barely hold on#
#So rock me, drop me but you will never stop me#
#From taking this show to the full on monopoly#

[Cain stops spinning in the middle of the ring and drops into a
squatting position and flexes as the pyro explodes behind him on the
word "Showstopper."]

#The showstopper#
#The chart dropper#
#The big papa#
#We gonna get it what, what?#
#We gonna get it, we gonna get it good#

[As the music dies down, Cain removes his entrance wear and readies
himself in the corner for the start of the match.]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Chris Hartt v. Tyson Cain

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


*DING*DING*DING*


[Tyson Cain charges forward like a maniac ... and right into a drop
toe hold.  The fans roar in support of the Paladin as he quickly
positions himself behind Tyson Cain and into a single arm chickenwing.
Cain swings back an elbow that just barely misses as Hartt trips the
timebomb back down to the mat and mounts the back of Tyson Cain.]

CL: Chris Hartt going back to controlling the fight and doing what he
does best.  He now locks on a chinlock and Tyson Cain growls ...

FH: I'm not sure that is growling ... What is he saying?

[... As the camera zooms in.  Tyson Cain is reciting the pledge of
allegiance ...

I pledge allegiance to the flag ...

To the United States of America ...

The Referee continues to ask if he submits.

And to the republic ...

For witch it stands ...]

FH: Gibson Hayes would be proud!

CL: Tyson Cain isn't all right.  Some where along the lines last End
Game a few screws were knocked loose.

[And Hartt lets go of the chinlock and drills him across the face with
a vicious crossface ... and another ... a third!  Spit flies out of
the mouth of Tyson Cain with each impact from the stiff crossfaces.]

CL: And Chris Hartt is knocking what screws are left right out of the
mouth of Tyson Cain!  And he has Cain on his feet ... AND A STIFF
BRUTAL KNIFE EDGE CHOP ...

TWAAAAAP!!!

TWAAAAAP!!!

TWAAAAAP!!!

[... And the Paladin continues to light up the chest area of Tyson
Cain.  He backs the young gun against the ropes and sends him across
...]

THUD!!!

CL: Shoulder block and neither man budges!  Chris Hartt takes off
hitting the ropes and looking to teach the youngster a lesson.

[... And Cain with a brutal mafia kick.]

FH: And apparently, Chris Hartt is the pupil today.

[Tyson Cain runs his wrist over his upper lip wiping the blood off
from the brutal cross faces earlier.  He looks down and then yanks the
Paladin back up.  He sends him across into the corner with a ring
shaking, brute force Irish whip.  Hartt stumbles out and right into a
gutwrench and Cain spins around gaining momentum and force and just
drops down landing ontop of the Paladin with a side slam.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Chris Hartt with a strong kick out.  And Tyson Cain isn't done
yet.  He flops around and ontop of him sitting on his chest and he
begins drilling, Chris Hartt in the side of the head with rapid close
right hands.

[Tom Landis shouts as he lands the close range closed fists, "Tom
Landis put you up to this didn't he!?!?!"]

FH: I knew it!  Tom Landis is behind the transformation of Chris
Hartt.

CL: Huh?

FH: It makes sense to me ... Have Tyson Cain explain it to you.

CL: Oookay ...

[Tyson Cain leaps off and the fans begin to play with the head of the
timebomb ... "YOU FEAR LANDIS !!!   YOU FEAR LANDIS !!!   YOU FEAR
LANDIS !!!"  He then turns and takes it out on Chris Hartt with a low
dropkick connecting in the side of the face of the Paladin.]

CL: The fans are getting into the head of Tyson Cain early.

FH: What do you expect?  Any time you hear a Tom Landis chant it ruins
your day!  The only thing worse would be a Caleb Foley chant!

[Tyson Cain rolls to the outside and gets into a face-to-face with a
cocky teenage fan with a "Cain has crazy eyes for Landis."  He rips
the sign out of the fans hand as the fans roar in disapproval.  He
then dives under the ropes with sign in hand and drives the poster
board into Chris Hartt ... The the noise it made sounded worse then
the actual impact and the referee kicked it to the outside.]

"___TWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP___"

CL: Tyson Cain using that young fans sign as a weapon now.  It appears
the damage was all sound.  Cain now in the face of the referee ...
Cain turns around and right into a belly to belly ... SUPLEX!

THUUUD!

FH: Tyson Cain right back up ... Can't keep the man down!

[... But right into a step-up enziguri by the Paladin!]

TWAAAP!

CL: Not anymore, Fred!

[Hartt is up and as Tyson Cain pushes himself up he is taken right
back down by a Spinning Heel Kick.  The fans are feeling it as Chris
Hartt leaps up with a Jumping Spin Kick and connects with a third kick
into Tyson Cain who rolls back to the outside holding his chest area.]

CL: Chris Hartt with a fury of moves.  And he isn't waiting he takes
off and leaps with a Senton Splash ...

FH: Some one get Nevermind on the phone!

[... And Hartt connects as the fans roar in approval!  The Paladin
pushes himself up and goes to pull Tyson Cain up.  He goes to send him
into the guard rail, but Cain reverses it ... Hartt aware of his
surroundings leaps up on the guard rail and springboards with a flying
crossbody ...]

CL: Cain ducks out of the way and the Paladin crashes onto the cold
unforgiving cement floor.

FH: That's what happens when you count your chickens before they hatch
... Tyson Cain may be a little off in the head, but the guy has more
talent in his pinky finger then Chris Hartt has in his whole body.
And now Cain is going right to work kicking the life out of Chris
Hartt!

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

[Chris Hartt determined to fight through the onslaught of kicks and
stomps pushes himself up ... Tyson Cain throws a haymaker that is
blocked!  Hartt then drives forward slamming Cain back first into the
ring apron.  Hartt then grabs Cain's head and slams his forward with a
headbutt.]

CL: This isn't like the Chris Hartt we are used to seeing.  At times
there are flashes, but a much more aggressive and almost more sadistic
Chris Hartt!

FH: It's like Nevermind has been training him!

CL: I doubt that ... Chris Hartt sends Cain back into the ring.  And
Hartt is going up top.  Tyson Cain is up on his feet and Chris Hartt
leaps off with a missile dropkick that connects!  Hartt makes the
cover!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Cain with a strong kick out!

FH: Cain is a new man.  He has the will to fight and the will to
sucueed.  And most importantly the will to destroy anything and
everything, Tom Landis!

[Chris Hartt pulls Tyson Cain to his feet and lifts him up and over
with a quick snap suplex.  The Paladin goes to grab that arm and lock
it around, but the agile Tyson Cain with a roll through and the two
men are on their feet, but not for long as Cain tosses a thumb into
the eye socket of the Paladin.  Chris Hartt stumbles blinded for a
second and into an impact DDT!]

THUUUUUD!

CL: Huge DDT by Tyson Cain.  He is turning Chris Hartt over and he has
him in a Boston Crab submission hold.

FH: Tyson Cain is ripping those legs backwards.  Chris Hartt may not
be able to walk for a week ... Like somebodys wife I know when she
leaves my hotel room.

CL: [clearly ignoring his partner.]  Tyson Cain has the Paladin in a
tight spot.

[Camera picks up the unpredictable superstar ...  And he drops the
legs out of frustration and shouts out - WHY WONT YOU TAP!  Cain then
yanks the Paladin up and sends him into the ropes ... TILT-A-WHIRL
backbreaker!]

CRAAAACK!

CL: Cain just sent that knee into the back of Hartt following up on
that backbreaker.

[Cain jumps from that chair and walks over to the announce table.]

CL:  I don't like where this is headed Freddie!  He's coming over
here!

FH:  Maybe he just wants to say hi or thinks the announce table can be
his back-up against that sign over there.

CL:  That isn't funny!

[Tyson stands in front of the announce table and starts talking, his
voice is picked up by the headset microphones Lester and Hoyle are
wearing.]

Cain:  I'm getting my ass kicked guys.

FH:  What do you want us to do about it?

CL:  I have to agree with Freddie on this one. Why are you even over
here, Tyson?

Cain:  I don't know. I just feel like I need some inspiration.

CL:  Inspiration?

Cain:  Yes. Motivating words from people in order to inspire a greater
chance of success and effort.

FH:  I got what you need.

CL:  You do?

[In the ring, Chris Hartt, who has pushed himself back to his feet
begins yelling at Cain to get back in the ring. Tyson looks at him for
a sec and just lifts a finger as if to tell him to hold on and he'd be
with him in a sec. Both the referee and Hartt shrug their shoulders
and the referee finally begins counting against Cain.]

Cain:  I'd love to hear it. I'm getting housed in there.

CL:  Hardly. You have been making a mockery of Chris Hartt and this
match!

FH:  Shut up, Chip! I have saved this up for just this kind of
situation. It is a special kind of advice that is reserved only for
those of a higher intelligence.

Cain:  YES!  Please share it with me. I can't seem to do anything
right against this guy!

FH:  Here it is.... "Float like a butterfly, Sting like a mosquito!
Get your subscription to Nintendo Power today! Now get back in there
Little Mac!"

Cain:  Hmmmmmm

CL:  What?!?!  That isn't profound at all!  That is just the little...

FH:  Wait for it...

[Cain's eyes light up for a second.]

Cain:  I GET IT!!!  I needed that!  Thanks Freddie!

[Tyson grabs Freddie's cup and tags a swig of whatever is in
there...nobody really knows what Fred drinks during a show. However,
the moment he turns around to face the ring and the match, Tyson's
smile and crazy looks have disappeared and his stone-cold facade is
almost frightening considering his mental instability.]

CL: What did you just do?

FH: Who the hell knows ...

[Cain dives back under the ropes and Hartt begins pounding on the
youngster as he gets to his feet.  Hartt drives another knife-edge
chop ... He kicks Cain in the Midsection and he goes to set him up for
another snap suplex, but Cain blocks it ... And the youngster lifts
him up and high in the air for a vertical suplex.  He holds them there
for a few seconds longer then expected and then falls backwards with a
big crashing sound.  Tyson Cain then leaps back up wasting no time and
charges across and springboards off the ropes and lands with a big
moonsault.]




!!! ONE !!!




CL: Cain pulled Hartt up before the referee could even drop his hand
down for a two count.

FH: If you haven't noticed, Chip ... Tyson Cain isn't really _all_
there.

CL: Oh that is pretty obvious.

[Tyson Cain with the Paladin back up ... Double-arm facebuster!]


THUUUUUD!!!


CL: HUGE IMPACT AND CAIN HOOKS ANOTHER LEG!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Hartt this time shoots a shoulder up!

FH: Chris Hartt must really want to pay for his actions in the past.
He should just lay there and let Tyson Cain put him out of his misery.
It's not that hard, Chris ... Just do your job and lose!

[Tyson Cain turns the Paladin over and into an ankle lock!]

CL: Chris Hartt is in some severe trouble now as Tyson Cain has that
achillies tendon lock sinked in!

FH: If Hartt doesn't tap out he is going to have a broken ankle.  He
won't be able to chase after Nevermind anymore if that happens!

CL: Hartt refusing to give up and the fans are cheering him on!

FH: It's not going to work.  Sorry Paladin it's too late for
retribution.

[Hartt continues to tug and pull and claw his way towards the ropes.
Cain shakes his head no ... He puts even more pressure on that ankle,
but it's not enough as the Paladin finally makes his way diving into
the bottom ropes for refuge as the fans roar.]

CL: CHRIS HARTT MADE IT!

FH: But Tyson Cain doesn't care.

[The referee tries to pull Tyson Cain off the ankle and after failing
he begins to count the youngster down.]

1... 2... 3... 4... 4 1/2...

CL: Cain throws his hands up ... He was very close to being
disqualified right there, Fred.

FH: Cain knows the game he was just getting that extra four and a half
seconds in there.

CL: And he is kicking the Paladin like a rabid dog ...

[Hartt still in the ropes forces the referee to get between the two
men pushing the focused Tyson Cain backwards.  And as Hartt pulls
himself to his feet, Cain is right there and whips him in the ropes
... Hartt ducks under a clothesline and leaps in the air with a flying
crossbody!]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: NO!  Cain was able to kick out.  And he grabs Hartt who is slow to
get back up on that ankle and sends him across again, but this time
bends over for a back body drop ... SUNSET FLIP BY HARTT AND ANOTHER
COVER!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR !!!




FH: Cain powers up at the last second, Chip!  Cain isn't willing to
call it quits yet.

[And Both men are back up and Cain rakes the eyes then hits a
jawbreaker.  He begins to pick him up into the "Shock and Awe" ... But
Hartt slides out and is behind the youngster and drops him down with a
counter inverted DDT as both men lay on the ground looking at the
ceiling.]

CL: BIG COUNTER BY CHRIS HARTT AND BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!

FH: Referee is starting the count to ten ...

[The referee hits the _FOOOOOUR_ ... And Hartt begins to use the ropes
to get to his feet.   As the referee reaches _SEEVEN_  Both men are on
their feet and Cain with a t-bone suplex!]

THUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!

CL: Cain right back on the attack like a hungry wolf.  He has been on
a roll the past few months and a win here over Chris Hartt would be

[Cain still shaking the cobwebs .... Hears the fans react and he
notices someone heading out from the entrance way ...]

CL: That's ... Tom Landis ... He is in action later tonight taking on
the Mercenary.

FH: Now the show is ruined ... I can take one match with Tom Landis on
it ... but _not_ two!

[Cain is pointing and mounting towards Tom Landis.  Landis with a sign
in hand ...  "Tom Landis was here" ... and his signature on it brings
it down to ring side and hands it to the teenage fan who lost his sign
earlier in the match.]

CL: Landis doing the respectful thing and Tyson Cain is besides
himself yelling and pointing at the referee to do something.

FH: This is a distraction and uncalled for.

[... Fans go wild as Hartt is up and Crossed-Arm Suplex from behind
and he holds the shoulders down for the cover!]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




[The fans roar as the referee is up and calls for the bell.]

CL: WHOA ... Tom Landis finally gets a bit of revenge after weeks and
weeks of Tyson Cain dragging his name through mud.

FH: What a travesty!  A complete travesty, Chip!

[Herk Douglas' booming voice is heard over the PA system.]

HD: And the winner of the match by pinfall ... THE PALADIN ... CHRIS
HARTT!

[The fans roar as Tyson Cain is up and he is going nuts.  Chris Hartt
has rolled outside the ring and glares towards the ring backing away
...  Hartt is only a few feet away from Tom Landis and he passes by.
Hartt stops and trades a look with the fellow veteran.  And turns and
heads up the aisle way.]

CL: An odd moment there between Tom Landis and Chris Hartt.

FH: And Tyson Cain is still pissed ...

[He has now rolled out and grabbed a chair and begins slamming it into
the side of the ring over and over ...]


CRAAAACK!!!


CRAAAACK!!!


CRAAAACK!!!


CRAAAACK!!!


CL: Tyson Cain is losing it!  And Tom Landis is getting a kick out of
the show.

FH: He better becareful ... Next time it could be that shoulder that
still isn't 100%.

CL: Wait .. What?  Folks I am hearing that Chris Hartt has been
attacked backstage!

[We cut to the back where Chris Hartt has just returned up the aisle
way and through the curtains ... and Hartt was apparently attacked
from behind.

The 6'5 /270 pounder, King of Nothing ... Nevermind pulls the Paladin
up and into a forward Gorilla Press Slam into a Gutbuster across the
right knee ...]

THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: GOOD LORD, SEATTLE SLAM!  Nevermind has came out of nowhere in the
back like he was sitting and waiting to send Chris Hartt that message.

FH: Chris Hartt wanted the King of Nothing's attention ... Well he has
it now!

[The Fans in the arena boo as the attack is displayed on the big
screen.  Nevermind isn't down however ... after laying him out, he
places the crown made of garbage from the earlier upon Hartt's head
and leaves him lying there.]

CL: Has Nevermind just accepted Chris Hartt's challenge?

FH: Look that crown has cut the head of Chris Hartt!

[Close up shot, Nevermind's crown cut Hartt's head a bit causing a
small trickle of blood to run down his face.]

FH: Like I said ... Chris Hartt is going to end up with nothing.

CL: Nevermind just made a statement ... and he used that crown as a
clear message to the Paladin.

[In front of the backstage PVW logo banner, the ugly lucha mask
covered Dean Hayes is next to a callous man cloaked in a red, orange
and gold boxer's robe...]

SDH: "El Muy Varonil" Dean Hayes, here, backstage with none other than
"The Everlasting" Perry Fontana, who is scheduled to join forces with
Herscher von Donkerhardt to face the unlikely team of Spectre and
Sammy Knight.

Fontana: Cousin... that mask...

SDH: Just a masked bro doing his job, just a masked bro.

[The King of Armbars shakes his hood-covered head.]

Fontana: Ouais, mais...

[Dean coughs loudly, and re-orients the interviewer.]

SDH: And this tag team match, it was your idea, Perry Fontana:
changing a non-title match between the American Champion and Spectre
into the tag team match we'll see tonight, it made quite a few
discontents.

Fontana: Ouais, but that's alright. First, I have to give props to
Sammy Knight. The man's willing to show up to the _fight_, OUAIS, no
matter how _lopsided_ the odds are against him!  I don't expect him to
_like_ me, but you have to respect the fact he'll still show up
regardless. If he had any other attitude, he probably wouldn't survive
the night, cousin!

SDH: Wouldn't survive the night? He's not the one who actually angered
Spectre! You are!

[Before Dean's palpable panic, "Le Phenix" smirks.]

Fontana: Ain't it a thing of beauty? No longer is Spectre just albino
Gollum as a Rastafarian goth, he's _finally_ an _actual_ HUMAN BEING!
Aaaaah OUAIS~! The funniest part is that he thinks he had a title
match! There's no way they would have let me change a title match
twice, cousin. I'm not _that_ influential!

SDH: We know it was a non title match, but HE doesn't! And that's not
even the issue, don't you understand? He's angry! Angry! ...You should
be signing up for the witness relocation program or something!

Fontana: The matador doesn't fear the bull, cousin, and real surfers
look for the biggest waves they can ride. You get it, Dean?

SDH: Legs don't fail me now?

Fontana: Not even close, cousin.

I'm a fighter.

The _best_ one there is. And I seek out the toughest, _hardest_, most
CHALLENGING fights, so a _man_ like myself LIVES for nights like this
one, OUAIS~!

You see, Sammy? That's how it's done. What you did at Tradition VI, I
did at Tradition IV... but even back then I _knew_ I'd been short-
changed. Spectre wasn't trying nearly hard enough, he wasn't
emotionally invested enough...  so unsurprisingly, he didn't have what
it takes to take me down, even after I'd already competed in a match
earlier that same night. But this is not the same Spectre that will be
showing up in the ring, later on. Tonight? He's properly invested, and
now THAT's a fun _challenge_!

SDH: If by "fun challenge" you mean "suicide pact," sure!

Fontana: Cousin, I've drowned. I've been mangled and crushed to death,
I've been shot... ALL of which were less _painful_ than a hard kick to
the valseuses. After _beating_ DEATH six times, and after these ten
years of my wrestling career, aaaah OUAIS, there's flat out _NOTHING_
left in the wrestling world that I can't _take_ and THEN some!

SDH: You're not hearing me. You're quite possibly the best technical
wrestler of all time, and beyond that, you're certainly one of the
fiercest and toughest men to ever compete in the PVW... I'm not
disputing that, but I'd be telling anyone - ANYONE - to start running
if they were about to face an angry Spectre!

Fontana: St. George didn't slay the dragon by running away, and I'm
not called the Deathless One for nothing, cousin!

[A more sombre nod, while the King of Armbars caresses the dimple of
his chin with two fingers.]

Fontana: Ouais, this match is going to hurt, and it's going to hurt
bad. It's going to hurt Spectre, it's going to hurt Knight, and it's
gonna hurt me. That part will suck, and there'll be no way to avoid
it. But that's what I'm there for, and that's how _awesome_ it could
turn out to be, OUAIS! Facing an angry Spectre could be the most
_epic_ challenge I'll have until Boiling Point, where I hope to
finally face my reluctant partner, tonight, Herscher von Donkerhardt.

... He's not happy either, Dean.

SDH: No, I guess he isn't.

["Il Eterno" peels off the hood of his satiny, flame-colored robe.]

Fontana: In his boots, I wouldn't be either. Nobody wants to watch the
game from the sidelines, yet watching from the safety of the apron is
the _only_ thing HvD will do tonight.

SDH: That's not what he intends...

Fontana: Of course not. If the roles would reversed, I'd want to
_fight_ just as badly. Because that's what we do, cousin, it's in our
blood, runs in our veins. But the fact of the matter is, he's not
fully healthy quite yet. And while a Submission Machine that runs at
90% is still a damn dangerous machine, it's not the same as 100%. The
man I want to face is HvD at his absolute best, and if I have to make
him _angry_ at me to have that happen, then _so_ BE it.

seems to work with Spectre...

[That elicits a quick grin.]

Fontana: Wrestling's the _only_ good thing I've got left, cousin.
Everything else was taken away. It's not about glory, it's not about
honour, fame or titles. I fight the _best_ at _their_ BEST, because
_beating_ them's the last "petit plaisir" I've got left, and _trust_
me when I say it's worth SUFFERING for.

If Spectre FINALLY wants to bring the _havoc_ he usually promises,
I'll be RIGHT _there_ to weather the storm, aaah OUAIS... ALL OF IT!
If Sammy Knight wants to show he can compete with the world's BEST
_fighter_, I'll be _right_ THERE!

... And if Herscher von Donkerhardt wants put himself in harm's way...
I'll be _right_ there to STOP HIM!

AAaahhh OUAIS~!

[The Everlasting One flips the hood of his robe back over his
luxuriant black hair and muttonchops, and steps out of frame while
Dean turns to the camera.]

SDH: Back to you, Chip!

CL: Perry Fontana is ready for Boiling Point ... And his tag team
match tonight!

FH: You are looking at the next PVW American Champion right there,
Chip.

CL: He very well could be.  However, nobody has defeated HvD in a very
long time.  He has become one of the most consistant PVW wrestlers in
the locker room.

FH: Sounds just like a task for Perry Fontana.  You saw what he did to
Tom Landis ... The man still hasn't been the same.

CL: It's a match I will be watching closely later tonight, but let's
head to the ring for our next match.

HD: This match is scheduled for one fall.

["Rock the Casbah" by the Clash blast over the PA system as the fans
leap to their feet.]

... Introducing first ...  Wrestling out of New York City.
Accompanied to the ring by Salih Mubarak ...  Max Weinrib!

[The fan favorite duo emerge from the back dressed in their usual
Arabian / Russian garb.  Can't you just see the face of Gibson Hayes
right now?  They slap the hands of the California fans as they work
their way down the ring aisle.]

CL: Max Weinrib nearly beat Gibson Hayes in singles action awhile
back.  And Todd Johnstone has placed the hit on him here tonight.

FH: Uncle Frank is the man you send to finish the job.

HD: And his opponent.

[Before, The Voice can even introduce their opponents boo's fill the
arena from the California crowd.  This disturbingly cheerful
announcement from the PA system is followed by an unpleasant chuckle
and then...]

# Noone knows what it's like #
# To be the bad man #
# To be the sad man #
# Behind blue eyes #


HD: Making his way to the ring at this time and hailing from Chicago,
Illinois, he weighs in at a cheerful 250 lbs.  He is your friend and
mine!  The happiest man in all of wrestling!  This is the man known as
Uncle Frank! This is...

...FRANK...

...KNIGHT!!!

[At this point a solidly muscular Caucasian man steps out from behind
the curtains, his medium length dirty-blonde hair messy and unkempt
and several days of stubble on his face. He stops, looks around at the
fans and then slowly a wide, disturbing grin spreads across his face.

Stalking down towards the ring that psychotic grin never wavers from
Frank's face as he looks from side to side at the fans. Sliding into
the ring under the bottom rope he then takes a seat on the second
turnbuckle in his corner, still grinning from ear to ear and staring
unblinkingly right ahead with a manic look in his eyes.]

CL: Uncle Frank is like a rabid dog ... He is ready to go!

FH: Todd Johnstone probably had a towel Max used and held it under
Uncle Frank's nose and told him to kill.


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Uncle Frank v. Max Weinrib

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


*DING*DING*DING*

CL: And there is the sound of the bell ... And Uncle Frank is marching
right into the center of the ring.  Almost like he is doing some sort
of military march.

FH: It's the Gibson march!

[Uncle Frank reaches the center of the ring and offers up a test of
strength.  The fans roar into, "Nooooo!" ... Sal joins in with the
double thumbs down.  Max is wary, but goes for it.]

CL: Max has accepted the test of strength and both men are jockeying
for position.

FH: What is Uncle Frank saying?

"God Bless America ... Land of the Free!"

[Max gains the upperhand ...  Uncle Frank slows things down and hits
the sudden headbutt ... and thinks he now has the upperhand and Max
then shows him just what a real headbutt is like instead.]

THUNK!

CL: And Uncle Frank stumbles backwards holding his forehead in pain
and he is taken down by a charging clothesline!  Uncle Frank pushes
himself back up and Max is right there and locks on a headlock.

FH: What is Sal now a cheerleader?

[On the outside ... Sal mocks Uncle Frank holding his head like he was
just headbutted.  Max continues to wrench the side headlock.  Uncle
Frank though begins using his body as a battering ram and charges the
tag team specialist into the corner.]

CL: Max now holds his arms up as he puts a knee on the ropes.

FH: The "rules" wont save Max from Uncle Frank.

[The referee tries to pull Uncle Frank away but he gets shoved out of
the way. Frank drives a cheap shot ... then drags Weinrib out of the
corner by the hair and charging towards the opposing corner, Uncle
Frank slams Max's face into the top turnbuckle. Frank then begins to
stomp a mudhole in Max and walks it dry.]

CL: Uncle Frank seems to be on a direct mission and he isn't going to
let anything get in the way of accomplishing his goal here tonight!

FH: The mission of god ... PVW's god, Gibson Hayes!

[Frank then whips Max back into the original corner and charges at him
but receives a boot to the face, sending him staggering backwards. Max
charges out of the corner and plows down Uncle Frank with a
clothesline, followed by another, followed by throwing Frank over the
top rope to the ground below.]

CL: And Max has just sent Uncle Frank up and over the top ropes and
near his tag team partner!

FH: This isn't a tag team match moron ... There is no double team's in
a one on one match!

CL: Sal hasn't even touched Uncle Frank yet ... Settle down, Fred.

[Max now exit's the ring and unloads on Frank a few chops as the crowd
screams WOO in support each time. Max grabs Uncle Frank by the head
and throws him face-first into the steel ring post.]

THUNK!

CL: Max isn't wasting any time he is giving it right back to Uncle
Frank.

FH: You don't want to give Frank Knight any time o build momentum.
He is quickly becoming one of the most dangerous men in the PVW.

[Frank shakes it off and as Max takes him by the head, Uncle Frank
grabs Weinrib and locks him in a Bearhug. Frank then slams Max's back
directly into the steel ring post as he releases the submission.]

THUUUUUNK!

CL: And Uncle Frank gets back to doing things ... well the Uncle Frank
way.

FH: Look at Frank now glaring at Sal.  Maybe he had orders to destroy
_both_ Max and Sal!

[Sal tells Uncle Frank to "come on" ... but, the Gibson Hayes enforcer
enters the ring to a lot of heat.  He stalks Max as he pushes himself
up, and gets kicked right in the ribcage area.  Uncle Frank then
begins to stomp on the fan favorite viciously ... but, Max fights his
way back to his feet to receive an arm wrench then is flattened by a
short arm clothesline!]

CL: Uncle Frank drops down and is making an early cover.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Max fires out with a kick out!

FH: It's only a matter of time.

[On the outside ... Upon Sal's signal, the fans unfurl posters of
Gibson Hayes.  But not just any posters of the PVW Heavyweight Champ!
No, these posters are marked with a red circle with a slash across
Gibby and underneath is the simple message of "NOPE".]

CL: Sal is leading a protest and Uncle Frank doesn't like it one bit!

FH: What the heck is this ... This is just down right unfair use and
copyright infringement.

[Sal continues to lead the protest that leads to distracting Uncle
Frank is points towards Sal threatening him.  He then turns his focus
back to Max and bounces off the ropes while Max tries to get to his
feet and out of nowhere Max nails Frank with a spinebuster.]

THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: And the protest has worked ... Max just planted Uncle Frank into
that mat.

FH: This is a shame .. Uncle Frank is out here for all these fans.  He
is out here for _AMERICA_.  And this is the disrespect they show a
veteran and hero of America?  He is apart of our last great HOPE!

CL: Apparently it's now, _nope_.

[Max now has Uncle Frank back on his feet ... and Max shows off his
strength with a delayed vertical suplex.]

THUUUUD!

CL: Max hooks a leg and could we have a winner!?!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




FH: Frank fires out!  Not this time ... There is still hope!

[Max yanks Frank right back up and goes to send him across again ...
but Frank counters sending Max across and then takes him down with an
armdrag and instead of letting go at the end of it ... he transitions
into keeping the grip on the arm and switch to a hammerlock.]

FH: Most wouldn't know this, but Frank is actually a really good
technician.  He can wrestle with just about anybody inside the PVW.


CL: Frank now transitioning and into a chickenwing!

[Max grits his teeth as Frank continues to put pressure on that arm
and upper shoulder.  Max works his way back to his feet ... And he
uses his bull-like strength to work himself into the ropes.  However,
Frank does what Uncle Frank does best and ignores the referee's words
and continues to hold the chickenwing for four 3/4 seconds longer as
the referee counts to nearly five.]

CL: Frank now explaining to the referee that he is on Gibson Hayes
orders.  I don't think referee, Jay O'Riley cares.

FH: He should ... Unless he is a Communist ... or a Democrat.

[Max and Frank now both free ... and they begin to circle one another
and they go to lock up, but Frank seemed to reel the big man in as he
slides behind him with a waist lock.  He drives a close range punch
right in the mid-back that bends over Weinrib ...  Frank grabs a hold
of that loose arm again and while Max is bent forward. Frank then
places one leg over the back of Max's shoulder/arm and jumps up, using
his weight to drive the Max's shoulder into the mat.]

CL: Legdrop Shoulderbreaker!  And Frank isn't done as he spins back to
his feet and follows up with a close range kneedrop right onto that
shoulder!

FH: Frank has direct message from the general himself ... He will tear
that arm right out of it's socket if he has to.

[And Frank stands up placing all his weight on that upper shoulder
that he has been working on.  Max let's out a scream as Frank then
hops off.   He then turns and charges and leaps low with a dropkick
planting both boots into that shoulder as Max began to roll and push
himself right back up.]

FH: DIRECT HIT!  And now Frank pushes down on that shoulder and chest
for the pin attempt.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Max fires out ... And Sal raises the crowd to their feet in full
support.

FH: Blind sheep ... Why would you support Sal over the message of
Gibson Hayes!?!

[Both men are back up ... and Uncle Frank is off the ropes, Max bends
down for a quick thinking back body drop, but Frank leaps over with a
sunset flip.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR !!!




CL: Max just breaks out!  That was close right there.  Frank almost
caught him with that sunset flip.

FH: I can guarantee you that he didn't really want to win with a
sunset
flip.  Uncle Frank is out here to send a message first and foremost.
I'm not sure if the message has been "sent" yet.

[Both men are back up ... and Frank is quick to toss a thumb into Max
eye blinding him before he can begin any offense.  The fans boo as
Frank grabs a hold of him and drops him down hard with a Russian leg
sweep.]

CL: Stiff Russian leg sweep.

FH: Wrong!  Hope uses an American leg sweep!  They don't use those
Communist moves, Chip.

CL: Frank is back to measuring up that weak spot now on max ... And he
begins stomping away relentlessly targeting and punishing that
shoulder.

[The stomps turn into kneedrops ... then they turn into an elbow.
Frank then hooks the leg again.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR !!!



[WOW HE KICKED OUT AGAIN POP!]


CL: Max isn't ready to quit!

[Sal begins to fire the crowd up trying to rally support to fire up
his partner.  Frank yanks Max up ... He begins to set him up for
another Russian leg sweep, but Max blocks it ... and hits a Russian
leg sweep of his own!]

FH: Now that's a Russian leg sweep, Chip.  That's what an ugly version
looks like.

CL: Both men are down now!  Max holding that shoulder that Uncle Frank
has been attempting to rip out of socket.

[Frank is back up ... but so is Max!  Frank runs right into Max
basically using one arm scooping him up and slams him back down to the
mat!  The fans roar as Max shouts in part of pain mixed in with
adrenaline.  Max hits the ropes and hits Frank with a running knee
lift
as the good ol' Uncle reached his feet again.]

CL: Max is fired up and he is returning the punishment on Frank!

FH: I'd like to see him pick up the Gutch one arm like that!

CL: He'd have trouble using _two_ good arms, Fred.

FH: Figures ...

[Max uses that good arm and pulls Frank right back up and sends him
into the ropes ... He catches him and goes for a  tilt-a-whirl
backbreaker, but Frank counters in mid spin with a DDT.]

THUUUUUUUUD!

CL: Well that was short lived ...

FH: HOPE!

[Both men are back down laying on the mat look at the ceiling.
Finally Frank rolls over for the cover.]



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



CL: Max kicks out with authority!  And the fans are in full support.
Frank pushes himself up and Max is right behind him.  Frank nails him
with a hard right ... MAX FIRES BACK!

[Fist fly ... Max seems to be eating about twice as many since he is
down an arm mostly.  Frank grabs Max's head and nails him with a
headbutt ... but Max doesn't budge and grabs Frank's head and returns
it with a headbutt that sends the veteran stumbling backwards ... Max
charges and takes him off his feet with a clothesline ... that stops
him bending him over holding that shoulder that he just dropped Frank
with.]

CL: Uncle Frank really worked that shoulder up and it has seemed to
work.  But Max is digging deep, Fred!

FH: He better dig even deeper.  Frank has HOPE behind him!

[Max goes back and helps Frank up and scoops him up ... He begins to
then lift him higher with the gorilla press ... but that shoulder just
can't finish the job ... Frank slides off and locks off a double
chickenwing!]

CL: Max in dire trouble ... And he drives him face first into the mat
with a bulldog ... SAY UNCLE!

THUUUUUUUD!

FH: Max is wishing he was awake to talk right now.

[Max was just driven down ... Sal, on the outside, cues up the fans to
break into a rendition of "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood"]

CL: Sal has part of the crowd singing ... Mister Rogers.

FH: Another well known communist like Max and Sal.

[Frank seems to be annoyed by the rendition ... He slides out and now
is face to face with Sal ... He shoves Sal ... Sal holds his hands up
as referee Jay O'Riley has joined them warning both men.  Frank turns
to the crowd and yells - SHUT UP!]

CL: I think Uncle Frank has just busted a vein in his forehead.

FH: These fans have no respect.  This is the right hand man of Gibson
Hayes ...

[Uncle Frank has returned back inside the ring and points to Sal ...
And Max is right there with a schoolboy roll-up!]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR !!!




[Referee Jay O'Riley leaps up calling for the bell.]

CL: MAX DID IT!  HE JUST DEFEATED GIBSON HAYES RIGHT HAND MAN!


*DING*DING*DING*

HD: The winner of the match ... MAX WEINRIB!

[HAHAHA POP!]


FH: What?  That was a communist type count!  I saw Uncle Frank kick
out before the three with my own eyes!

CL: Nope ... The referee is raising Max Weinrib's arm!

[Sal continues on the outside with the fans as more kick in .... It's
a beeeuuutttiiiffuulll day in the neighborhood ...]

FH: This is a travesty, Chip ...  Todd Johnstone isn't going to stand
fo this injustice!

CL: Uncle Frank is on his knees and he he leaps back up ... AND LOW
BLOW FROM BEHIND!

[In a flash ...  Max is placed in an upright kneeling position on the
mat, then Frank kneels down on one knee behind him and locks on a Full
Nelson. He then places his other knee up against the spine of the
prone, Max Weinrib in the lower back. Frank then pulls back on the
upper body which is locked in the Nelson, while pushing forwards with
the knee which is digging into Max's spine, arching the his back and
putting pressure both on the neck/shoulders and the lower back.]

THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

[MEGA HEEL HEAT!]

FH: Uncle Frank's Funhouse!  And now Uncle Frank has fulfilled his
orders!

CL: Sal has rolled in, but Frank has rolled to the outside laughing.

[He begins to sing the Mister Rogers song looking at the fans and then
back to Sal.]

CL: Now he is just rubbing it in!  This guy is just plain crazy!

FH: That's not crazy, Chip.  That's called mind games!

CL:  No I'm pretty sure that Frank has a few screws loose up there.

[Sal kneels down checking over his partner as he looks up glaring at
Frank who stops and looks towards the waving, United States flag and
gives it a salute.]

FH: See he is a proud American, Chip.  How can you _not_ root for a
guy like this?

CL: I can think of a few reasons ...

FH: You just have no hope.

CL: Let's go backstage where a man is standing by who gives us _all_
hope.

[We cut backstage where "Swingin" Dean Hayes, still in his mask with
unfortunately placed microphone, is standing in front of a PVW banner
with the PVW Television Champion, Senor Cloak Dos!]

SDH: With me right now is the NEW Television Champion, Senor Cloak
Dos! Dos, you won that championship in an incredibly emotional match
at Tradition VI but you did not get to celebrate your victory long!
Shortly after your match, when you went to answer a phone call, the
mask that you wore to the ring that night, the mask which had the
sticker that little Josie had placed upon it, was stolen! I have my
own ideas about who took the mask but the world needs to know, Dos..
Who do YOU think stole it?!

SCD: Hola, Senor Dean. Before I answer your question please let me
once again express my thanks and my gratitude to all the fans out
there who have cheered for me and supported me. Thanks to all of you
we were able to win this championship in our little amiga's memory!
Mucho gracias everyone!

[The masked man gives a deep bow towards the camera then straightens
himself up.]

SCD: Now, Senor Dean, as to who I think stole the mask... It is not
right to point fingers and accuse anyone of anything.

[Dean is taken aback by this response.]

SDH: You.. You don't have any idea of who may have stolen the mask?

SCD: It does not matter what I think happened, Senor Dean.  If I stood
here with all of the little fans out there supporting me, believing in
this mask, and I pointed a finger and threw a stone at someone based
on nothing but emotion and my gut.. That would be wrong. I would be
setting a bad example for all of them and could be turning innocent
supporters against someone for false reasons. No, instead of making
accusations I want to just make this appeal.

[Cloak turns his masked face to the camera.]

SCD: Whomever took the mask, I beg of you to please return it. You can
do so anonymously, I do not care to out you to the world or anything
of the sort. All I want is for the mask to be returned so I can give
it to the Phoenix Children's Hospital for their display and complete
the memorial in her honor. Por favor, return the mask. It is the right
thing to do.

[The PVW Television Champion turns back towards Dean who nods his
head.]

SDH: Well, with all of that out of the way another question comes up,
Dos. Tonight you defend your newly won championship against "The Biz"
Mike Bisignano! He is a former multi-time title holder all around the
world and in the past he has tried to destroy your mask in previous
altercations in PVW rings. With everything going on in regards to the
stolen mask are you prepared to defend the championship against such a
prestigious and dangerous opponent?

SCD: Senor Dean, Senor Biz is indeed a very dangerous opponent under
any and all circumstances! While I do feel a burden on mi alma about
the stolen mask, I also feel the responsibility that comes with being
a champion! Just as I have a duty to all mi amigos out there who
support me and create our special bond, I also must live up to the
prestige of this championship. Senor Gibson Hayes, EL CAMPEON DEL
MUNDO, he held this championship! El Outlaw LOCO, the first masked
sensation of PVW.. The ORIGINAL Masked Bro! He also proudly held this
belt! Senor Perry Fontana, the man with the most dangerous submission
hold in all the land who has the nickname of this very company, he
held this! Senor Masked Maniac, the maestro de Masked Mania, he wore
this! Senor Gionet, a man who has held World Championships, he was
once the Television Champion! And.. Por su puesto, Padre Sin! Our
lockerroom father, Sinister! The legend, the multi-time World
champion, he put his deep soul and integrity into this belt!

[Cloak nods his head while looking down at the belt wrapped around his
waist.]

SCD: This is not a belt to hold up trousers, Senor Dean! This has
history! This has prestige, honor to be in it's presence! To fight for
this is an honor and a privilege and it demands the very best of not
just those who challenge for it, but of those who hold it and defend
it! There may be many things going on but defending this championship
does not play second to any of it. Senor Biz is an amazing fighter who
deserves every respect and effort one has to do battle against him! He
is also a man who has done many awful and terrible things to Padre
Sin, mi amigo! Fighting him over this championship and seeking justice
for what he has done to mi amigo, Sinister,  makes it that much more
important! I can not just give my all. I must give above and beyond my
all! For this championship, for Padre Sin, for all the friends who
cheered me on to win it and for our little amiga, Josie, who all of us
poured from our soul to claim this in her honor! Tonight, Senor Dean,
we go out together into that ring!

[Dean is definitely taken aback.]

SDH: Ah.. I'm going out to the ring with you?

[Cloak nods his head.]

SCD: Si! You and all my friends will join me with your support and
your cheers and together we shall rise to the ocassion and fight for
all the banners we carry in our hearts with everything we have and
beyond! We shall show Senor Biz that tearing at this mask can not tear
out our fighting spirit! Ripping off the laces behind this mask will
not rip out our voices as we shout in one voice together...

[The luchadore looks into the camera.]

SCD: VIVA! VAMANOS! ARRRRRRRIBA!

[Yes! He does an extended rolling R! And he pumps his fist and then he
shakes Dean's hand and walks offscreen.]

SDH: OUR Television Champion is FIRED up for this match despite
everything that is going on with the theft of the special mask he wore
for the little angel who left us too soon! Guys, we have a Television
Title Defense to watch, back to you!

[And with that DEAN takes off in the direction that Cloak did as we
cut to..]

CL: Senor Cloak Dos looks ready for his title defense here tonight.

FH: It's business time for the Biz.  While his mind is on who took
that crappy mask ... pin his shoulders to the mat and take that PVW TV
Championship.

CL: Senor Cloak Dos will be wrestling with the hearts of thousands
with him.  You can bet he will come out and bring everything he has!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"HEEELLLLLLLLLLLRAIIIIIIIISERRRRRRRRRRRRR"

TOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNDIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSS!

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

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

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

HD: And his opponent ... Wrestling out of the Bunker.  The Mercenary!

[The sounds of approaching helicopters comes over the PA system. They
get louder and louder getting almost deafening, and then get quieter,
as if they were passing overhead. Just as they fade away to nothing,
machine gun bursts take their place. A few seconds later, a whistling
sound is heard, and then 4 large explosions rock the arena, one right
after the other. A large smoke screen engulfs the entranceway,
blocking it off from view. Just as the smoke reaches its maximum
density, "Die Hard the Hunter" by Def Leppard comes blasting out
through the sound system.

 A figure can then be seen making his way through the smoke. He comes
 to the edge of the entrance way, where he can be plainly seen, and
 stops to look over the crowd, soaking in their reaction. Getting his
 fill, he makes his way down to the ring, ignoring the fans that reach
 out to him, focused totally on the task at hand. He slowly climbs
 the ring steps, and gets into the ring.]

 CL: These two are no strangers.

[Jessica Marshall lets Tom Landis hear it in the center of the ring
... And The Mercenary comes roaring out of his corner as Landis is
distracted and unloads with a fury of big punches.  The hired gun
backs Tom Landis up as the opening bell rings.]

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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Tom Landis v. The Mercenary

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: Jessica Marshall distracts Tom Landis and The Mercenary takes
advantage ... Big right hands and Tom Landis leans up against the
turnbuckles in trouble.  The hired gun sends him across with a big
Irish whip ...

CLANNNG!

[And Landis bounces out of the corner and lifted right up and into an
inverted atomic drop.  Landis is then taken down with a clothesline as
the fans boo the hired gun.  Jessica Marshall crosses her arms pleased
at the onslaught her client is dishing out.]

FH: The Mercenary now steps right on the right hand of Tom Landis ...
Listen to those screams!  It's like music to my ears, Chip.

CL: The Mercenary is obviously sending a message to his former friend
and now rival, Alex Epstein's.

FH: Epstein's would be wise to get away ... Get away as far as you
simply can!

CL: Alex Epstein's knew what the Mercenary was about.  He played with
fire and you can bet he is ready to face him and take care of things
like a man.

[The Mercenary takes off again and this time drops his knee ontop of
the midsection of the Hellraiser.  Big Merc pulls Landis up and scoops
him high in the air and slams him back down to the mat.  The Mercenary
hits the ropes again and this time leaps up and drops both legs
down with a legdrop and makes a quick cover.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Landis breaks out.  This match is far from over and I think the
Mercenary was just playing with Tom's mind.

FH: No playing about that, Chip.  The Mercenary can pin the Hellraiser
any time ... any place ... any where.

[The Mercenary pulls Landis up to his feet and drives him backwards
with a big European uppercut.  And goes for another clothesline, but
this time Landis ducks under it just in time and hits the opposing
ropes ... As Landis bounces off he is taken down with a big boot from
Mercenary.]

CL: Mercenary drops down with another cocky cover.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Landis fires out!  And Jessica Marshall laughs as the hired gun
begins to pull him back up to his feet.

FH: Marshall knows that Landis is washed up.

[The hired gun pulls Landis back to his feet and drives him backwards
with a brutal headbutt.  He grabs the back of the Hellraiser's skull
and goes to slam it forward, but Landis blocks it!  The fans cheer as
Landis turns the tides and begins slamming the Mercenary's head into
the turnbuckles as the fans count him on!

ONE ... TWO ... THREE ... FOUR ... FIVE ... SIX ...

SEVEN ... EIGHT ... NINE ...

TEN !!!]

CL: TOM LANDIS ROARING BACK!  HE HITS THE ROPES AND FLYING FOREARM!

FH: There had to be some cheating involved there ... Somewhere!

[Landis still shaking the cobwebs makes his way over and pulls the
hired gun back to his feet and fights through the quick mid-section
jabs by the Mercenary. Landis turns the tides and drops the hired gun
with a swinging neckbreaker.]

CL: Landis is now getting the fans to get behind him as he start to
mount his come back.

FH: And Jessica Marshall is right there in his ear ... She is
reminding him that he is nothing ...  But that is old news!

CL: Landis has Mercenary up and turns him towards the ropes and
CLOTHESLINES HIM UP AND OVER THE TOP ROPES AND RIGHT OUTSIDE INFRONT
OF MARSHALL!  You have to think that was a message directed straight
for Jessica Marshall, Fred.

FH: I'm sure it was.  Jessica Marshall has a message for Tom Landis
and he isn't going to like it.

[The crowd boo's and it's not because of Jessica Marshall this time.
The man who has had his sights set on Tom Landis for months now, Tyson
Cain has emerged from the back and started to head down the aisle
way.]

CL: Oh this isn't good.  Tyson Cain who you can only assume will want
some revenge from earlier is heading towards the ring.

FH: Tyson is a honorable warrior unlike Tom Landis.

[Tom Landis has now placed one eye on the Mercenary and one on Tyson
Cain who gives a mock, "Hello Friend" wave.  Landis notices the
Mercenary sliding back in and he is right there driving big right
hands and a double axe handle.]

CL: Tom Landis a smart veteran.  He isn't allowing Tyson Cain to take
his concentration off the Mercenary.

FH: The Mercenary is already dangerous enough ... Add, Tyson Cain in
the mix and this is an impossible situation.

CL: You seem really tore up about it too, Fred.

FH: Devastated.

[Landis backs away and waits as the hired gun pushes himself up and he
eats a running knee to the face ...  The Hellraiser then grabs the
left leg of the Mercenary and begins to turn it and locks on a figure
four leg lock.]

CL: Landis has that figure four leg lock locked in and Jessica
Marshall isn't happy what-so-ever!

FH: I wasn't even sure that Tom Landis knew what a figure four leg
lock was!

[On the outside ... Tyson Cain begins to walk around the ring yelling
taunts at Landis and calling him Canadian Bacon ...]

CL: What is Tyson Cain doing?  Tom Landis is from Texas ...

FH: Nobody ever said that Tyson Cain was the most sane guy around
here.

CL: I am surprise after his match earlier he hasn't totally snapped
yet.

FH: He is so unstable he probably has already forgotten that match
from earlier.

[Landis continues to apply the pressure ... Cain continues to walk
around, but stops and gets in the face of one of the pro-Landis fans.
He then begins to attempt to start a - MERC !!! MERC !!! MERC!!! chant
...  Starting a Merc chant is dang near impossible... so he decides to
go to each side to try and strike one up.]

CL: It doesn't sound like the fans agree with the youngster.

FH: MERC !!!  MERC !!!

[Besides Fred ... Cain ends up the only one chanting audibly.  He then
slides into the ring and immediately rolls through that corner and
slides out on the other side of the ring corner. Landis drops the hold
and begins to question what the heck is going on to the referee.]

CL: If Tyson Cain was attempting to get into the head of Tom Landis
then it appears he has finally succeeded.

FH: Keep the cheese out long enough ... The mouse will come and play.

[The Mercenary has pushed himself to his feet and as Landis turned
back around he receives a stooge eye gouge.  Landis backs up blinded
only to eat a big swinging, bitch-slap.]

TWAAAAAAAAAAAP!

CL: And the Mercenary slaps, Tom Landis right across the face.

FH: What a perfect move to use on Tom Landis ... The Bitch Slap for a
...

CL: [Cutting Fred off.]  And Tyson Cain seems to be amused.

FH: That makes two of us.

[The Mercenary then goes low with a drop kick to the knee that takes
the Hellraiser down to one knee.  Forward roll neck snap and down goes
the Hellraiser.]

CL: The Mercenary is taking full advantage of that distraction that
Tyson Cain caused.

FH: Fair turn-abouts, Chip.  Tom Landis should have kept his nose
clean earlier.

[The fans try to get behind the veteran as the Mercenary leaps up with
a stomp right on the nad-section ... Then he drops an elbow drop
across the throat of the Hellraiser.  Tyson Cain and Jessica Marshall
both clap on the outside.]

CL: Cain and Marshall enjoying the destruction inside the ring.  The
Mercenary now trapping Landis down by sitting on his chest and
drilling Landis in the head with closed fists.

FH: Look at the impact with those.  You can bet he is sending Alex
Epstein's a message with each and every one of those shots.

[Landis uses his back and legs to arch enough to push the Mercenary up
and off of the Hellraiser.  Both men are up and Landis ducks under a
big right hand and hits the ropes, but Cain is there and grabs his
ankle tripping him down to the mat.  The fans boo, but the jeers are
changed to cheers when the referee is right there and telling Tyson
Cain to get out of here and return to the backstage area!]

CL: Referee, Jay O'Riley has had enough and he is sending Tyson Cain
back to the locker room!

FH: He can't do that!

CL: But, he can!

[... And Tyson Cain isn't happy what-so-ever.  He is shaking his head
and refusing to return to the back.  And PVW officials and road agents
are headed down the aisle way and they are headed Tyson Cain's way!]

CL: Looks like PVW isn't allowing Tyson Cain to continue to disrupt
things and do whatever he pleases anymore.

FH: This distraction isn't working well for Tom Landis though.

[Inside the ring, The Mercenary has Landis set up for a piledriver and
drives him down to the mat with a brutal spike.]

THUUUUD!

CL: Huge Piledriver by the Mercenary!

FH: Tyson Cain isn't happy and he just DRILLED one of the officials
... AND ANOTHER!

[Fans are booing Tyson Cain who has unloaded and went nuts on the PVW
officials.  He is quickly swarmed as security join in.  Tyson Cain
shouts out, I WAS FRAMED!  I WAS FRAMED!]

CL: Tyson Cain is going to be in some big time trouble this time.  If
it's one thing the PVW doesn't tolerate that is putting your hands on
non-PVW wrestlers.

FH: You heard him, Chip ... He was framed!

[Meanwhile, inside the ring the Mercenary just nailed Tom Landis with
a hot shot on the top rope.  He hooks a leg and Jay O'Riley slides
down for the cover.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Landis KICKS OUT!

FH: Slow count by the referee!

CL: Jessica Marshall sure seems to agree.

[The Mercenary begins to climb the top ropes ... He then leaps into
his top rope cannonball splash ...]

THUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: AND LANDIS ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY!  Listen to these fans roar!

FH: How did he move out of the way?

[Both men lay on the ground as the fans begin chanting, LANDIS!  And
the Hellraiser responds ... He makes his way to the ropes and begins
to pull himself up.  The Mercenary is back on his feet and he charges
forward with a big boot, but Landis gets out of the way and turns the
Mercenary over with a neckbreaker.  Landis pulls himself right back up
and catches the Mercenary with a northern lights suplex and bridges
back!]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR -- !!!




CL: THE MERCENARY KICKS OUT!

FH: Jessica Marshall was about to get inside that ring.  Landis is
lucky there.

[Landis is back up and as the Mercenary begins to push himself back up
he eats a running knee right to the chops.  He pulls the hired gun up
and sets him up ... CROSSED-ARMS ... POWERBOMB!]

THUUUUUUUD!

CL: LANDIS JUST HIT A HUGE MOVE AND HE COVERS!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




[Huge roaring boo's as Jessica Marshall assisted the hired gun by
placing his boot on the bottom ropes.]

FH: NO so close!  The Mercenary just got his boots on the bottom
ropes.

CL: Yeah ... Thanks to the help of Jessica Marshall.

[Landis has some words with Jessica Marshall.]

CL: These two are no strangers.

FH: He better watch out.  You don't treat your sister-in-law like
that.

[Landis turns and begins to pull the Mercenary up, but a low blow
stops his momentum.  Jay O'Riley totally missed it thanks to Jessica
Marshall.  He then pulls Landis back in and lifts him up high in the
air with a delayed brainbuster ...]

THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!


FH: THE PAYOFF!

CL: And the Mercenary hooks a leg!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




... And the Mercenary picks up the win.

FH: Jessica Marshall joins the Mercenary inside the ring and raises
his hand.

HD: The winner of the match ... THE MERCENARY!

CL: A solid statement by the Mercenary ... You can bet that, Alex
Epstein's was watching that match closely.

FH: And perhaps ... Marcus Manson.

CL: Good call, Fred.  Marcus Manson involved himself on Shockwave.
It's unknown how he fits into this quite yet.

FH: Knowing Marcus Manson ... He is going to stick out like a sore
thumb.

CL: More questions that go unanswered for now.

[Cut to the back where "Swingin'" (wait, does he still swing?) Dean
Hayes stands, adjusting his mask. Yes, he's still wearing that mask.
It might just be a regular thing now. Finally lining his mouth up with
the mouth hole, Dean speaks in a slightly muffled manner.]

DH: Hello fans, Dean Hayes here with a man I haven't interviewed in
quite a while. They call him the Green Man, the Devil's Hand, the
Bald, Scarred Freak and, most recently, "Hell on Earth". This is
William Craven...

[His voice turning down at the last, Dean steps to the side, giving
the green titan ample room to stand. Rubbing his face, clearly
stressed, Craven steps into frame, dwarfing the masked interviewer.]

DH: Bill, uh, William, that is to say "Mister Craven" ...at Tradition
Six the unthinkable happened. In a unique showing of vulnerability you
actually tapped out to an improvised submission hold by Rob Cole.

[Craven stiffens although he must have expected this line of
questioning.]

DH: After more than seventeen years of terrorizing the entire world of
wrestling, never showing a crack, William Craven gives in to Rob Cole.
Wh--

WC: So this is why you've broken your silence with me, Dean? To salt
the wound? To remind me of my failing?

DH: No, no, not at all. It's a humanizing trait, Bill. People, PVW
fans and faculty alike, were shocked by the outcome of your second
match with Rob Cole.

WC: Second? Second ...and so all my past victories are discounted.
Fine. The war is not over and, as you will see, the worst is yet to
come.

DH: But my question. What lead up to you surrendering?

WC: Surrender? Surrender...

DH: I don't mean to offend--

[Turning somber, Craven's brow knits as he leers down at Dean.]

WC: Dean ...at that moment, for the first time in many a year, I felt
fear. Fear that the one thing I love, the reason for my continued
existence, would be ripped away from me. Do you know why William
Craven has been continuously active in professional wrestling since
1996?

DH: I'm ...not sure I understand the question.

WC: Of course you don't. I've never stepped away, not a day, if I
could help it because, Dean, I've nothing else. No reason to live. At
that moment, when I foolishly gave up the ghost to an inferior
opponent, I sincerely believed that my career was at an end.

DH: But ...why?

[That mask makes it impossible to read his expression, but Dean sounds
legitimately concerned. At first reluctant to answer, Craven finally
finds the words, his lip curling in disgust at his own weakness.]

WC: You know that pain is a stranger to me, Dean ... but, as dull as
the
sensations that define this world have been to me I have always felt
them. However, at that moment ... it felt as if I had no legs.

DH: Numbness?

WC: Complete. Half of me was gone ... or so it seemed.

[Suddenly the camera angle changes to show the left side of the
interview area. Advancing rapidly, viewed from behind, a very loud and
boisterous Danny "YOUR HERO" Daniels shows up. Danny's got a grin from
ear to ear, and is holding a champagne glass.]

DH: Dann-

D"YH"D: GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS, DEANO! I just got back from the
Jack Griffin celebration. He is throwing a bash like you would not
believe. There's music, there's dancing- I think Jack got so emotional
that I may have seen a tear or two. Good for him. [Danny holds up the
glass] There was an open bar, but I had to drink in moderation. I'm
running for office and need to set a good example, you know.

[Craven's green face darkens with rage. He looks around himself,
barely restrained, finally turning away from this nonsense and again
rubbing his face.]

DH: But wh-

D"YH"D: But now it's time to get back to the campaign!

[For the first time since invading Danny sees the large man with his
back turned, and walks up to him, tapping him on the shoulder.]

D"YH"D: Excuse me, good sir. I'm Danny "YOUR HERO" Daniels, I'm
running for PVW President, and I'm hoping to earn your vote.

[The man turns, and Dean audibly gulps as the green skin reveals what
everyone but Danny already knew to be William Craven.]

WC: This is why you have appeared to sabotage me again? This is why
you've chosen to interrupt me, steal my spotlight?

D"YH"D: Steal? No, my good friend. Danny "YOUR HERO" Daniels never
steals a spotlight. I merely wish to borrow a moment of your time
about an issue crucial to all of us- this upcoming election. The
future of PVW- indeed, the entire universe- is at stake, my friend.

DH: Um, Danny? William Craven isn't in a real good place.

D"YH"D: [Interrupting] Of course not! He's in PVW, which is a
fantastic league run by a corrupt, cheating, lying weasel of a
President in Johnny Detson!

WC: Detson? Johnny Detson? I've known Johnny Detson for 15 years. You,
a man so clownish as to embarrass a jester, expect me to go against a
man I've known and respected for most of my professional career?

[Danny tilts his head, seemingly puzzled- then, breaking out with a
large grin, he wraps his arm around William Craven's shoulder, drawing
an audibly gasp from Dean Hayes. Bill's eyes not only bug out of his
head but the left one abstracts, going way out to the side. His partly
missing but all sharpened teeth bare as his face contorts in obvious
(except to Danny) rage.]

D"YH"D: I get it! Billy, I see the problem here! We're obviously
talking about two DIFFERENT Johnny Detsons! The one I know is a proven
liar and cheat who would throw his own great aunt under the bus in
order to get ahead. Billy, I'm sure a well-educated man like yourself
would know better than to respect such a lying... [Danny struggles to
find the right noun] ... liar. You see what I mean, don't you, Billy?

[Standing abruptly, Craven hefts Daniels without effort and, because
he's so unflappable, Danny drops to his feet without missing a beat.
Grinning up at the enraged Craven, Danny is either counting on his
charisma to protect him from harm or he really is that clueless.]

WC: What _I_ see is a silly little man who's never been given a proper
lesson in respect! Johnny Detson is a former world champion and a
legend in some circles. And who the hell are you!?

D"YH"D: Your Hero!

[Blink blink. Craven's neck flexes, going ropy, his eyes squeeze shut
and he sputters in utter disbelief at what he's witnessing. Taking a
step back, Dean nevertheless speaks in an attempt to bring this
segment back from the brink.]

DH: This was ... actually the other thing I thought we should discuss
Bill. Your match with Danny Daniels tonight.

[Danny suddenly snaps his fingers.]

D"YH"D: That's RIGHT! Billy and I are in a match tonight. I'm sure
it'll be a fantastic athletic competition, and for once we won't have
to worry about the rulebreaking that is tragically typically in a
match under the Detson regime.

[A pause.]

D"YH"D: Dean! How about taking a picture of Billy and me? We can
autograph it and give it to a lucky fan after the match!

[Danny swings his left arm around William Craven and gives a giant
"thumbs up" with his right hand, smiling from ear to ear.
Unexpectedly, Bill gives a sinister grin, throwing his own arm around
his opponent for the night and going so far as to tilt his scarred,
green head to touch Danny's.]

WC: You _really_ have no idea the danger you're in, do you...?

[Confused for a moment, Dean finally whips out his smartphone and
snaps a picture of the pair.]

WC: In all these years there have been men who deny their fear, flee
from fear but to be so ignorant...

[Turning and grasping Danny by the shoulders, Craven maintains his
grin, matching it to Danny's. It is, to say the least, disingenuous.]

WC: By the time this night is done you'll understand the mistake
you've made.

[With a slight jerk, Craven both jostles Danny and rips the shoulder
of his jacket.]

WC: Heh. Just before I swallow you whole and make the Fresno sewer
system your eternal grave.

[Craven touches foreheads and then noses with Daniels. It's officially
unsettling ... though, strangely, not to Danny.]

WC: See you in the ring, Daniel.

[Striding rapidly, Craven exits the scene. Danny nods, apparently
happy with the outcome of his confrontation.]

DH: Danny ... maybe you should take this a little more seriously?

D"YH"D: Deano... I take my obligations as a contender for the PVW
Presidency VERY seriously! I'm here to make sure that people like you
... like me ... like Billy there ... get there fair shake in PVW. I
can tell that Billy's ready for our match ... and I am, too!

[Danny suddenly has a concerned look on his face.]

D"YH"D: That is ... if Billy can make the match. After all, for all of
his talk about sewer systems, I'm wondering if Billy is having
intestinal problems. He should take some milk of magnesia, and then
he'll be fine for our match!

[Danny gives a finger wave to the camera]

D"YH"D: TOODLES~!

[Danny walks off in the other direction, and Dean shakes his masked
head as the camera fades to black.]

[Mass Hysteria's "Failles" thunders in the arena as Perry "le Phoenix"
Fontana stomps through the curtains and down to the ring, in his black
boots and red tights, orned with the same flaming Phoenix that graces
his favorite boxer's robe. Too intensely focused to notice the fans,
the King of Armbars performs some last minute stretches in his corner,
then disrobes... unveiling his luxuriant black hair, and the two
largest muttonchops seen this side of the 70's. But the look it his
dark, encircled eyes... that just says a lot of ass is about to get
kicked!]

CL: There is the man who has a shot at the PVW American Championship
title at Boiling Point.

FH: If HvD can stay healthy enough to make it to Boiling Point.

CL: From everything I have heard ... Hersher von Donkerhardt has been
cleared by multiple doctors to compete.  There should be no
questioning the heart of the PVW American Champion.

FH: He should be able to compete as long as Perry Fontana wills it.

["I Remember" by Low starts playing over the sound system of the
arena. The audience starts to cheer, although they have never heard
this entrance music before, they know who it must belong to. From the
entrance way emerges the man known as Herscher von Donkerhardt clad in
his trademark brown trunks with black leather lining on the inner
thigh, black boots, and newly won PVW American Championship belt,
around his waste. The audience starts to cheer louder as the Dutchman,
comes down the entrance way.]


#I remember every number #
Herscher eyes are icy blue, and he has a stone faced look of
determination on his face.
People along the aisle way reach for his hand, and Herscher slaps a
few of them on the way to the ring.
#I remember graduation #

[The Voice: And his opponent coming down the aisle. He is originally
from Utrecht in the The Netherlands, but now calls Phoenix, Arizona
home. He is the "The Netherlands Submission Machine", and reigning PVW
American Champion Herscher von Donkerhardt!

The fans roar showing the PVW American Champion his well earned
respect.  Herscher goes up to the ring steps ...]


#I remember painted faces#


[Herscher gets in the ring and begins to bend and stretch, not taking
his eyes off his opponent for Boiling Point, Perry Fontana.]


#No they couldn't believe #
# It was you I knew #


CL: Look at the exchange of glares between Perry Fontana and Hersher
von Donkerhardt.

FH: You can see the fear in the Netherlands superstars eyes!

CL: That looks like determination, Fred.

FH: Not from where I come from.

[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.

"Hiii Power" by Kendrick Lamar hits the PA system and the California
home town crowd goes nuts.  The muscular African-American is covered
in a variety of tattoos.  Dressed in red do-rag, wife-beater, jeans
and boots.  He takes the time to greet the hometown fans as he heads
down the ring.  Spectre stands watching with a smile feeding off the
energy that the crowd and Knight have in-between their bond.]

CL: Sammy Knight is coming off perhaps the biggest win of his career
last week at Tradition Six.  I realize that he has won titles
elsewhere in his career, but on one of the biggest stages in
professional wrestling today... Sammy Knight defeated both Marcus
Manson and Spectre.  Not many men can claim that!

FH: It had to be a fluke.  There is no way that he could repeat that
again.

CL: Maybe not ... But you can't take Tradition Six away from the
California native.

[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.]

FH: You or I may not be able to take that away from Sammy Knight ...
But, this man can!

CL: Spectre has haunted the PVW since it's birth.  And for the past
few months he has haunted Sammy Knight.

FH: Hollywood may have Freddy ... Jason ... We have Spectre!

[All four men stand in separate ring corners ...  Referee Mark Barnett
attempts to tell both teams the rules ...]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - TAG TEAM MATCH
Spectre & Knight vs. Fontana & Donkerhart

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


*DING*DING*DING*


[As the bell rings, Spectre steps out of the ring and simply hops down
off the mat and allows Knight to start the match off.]

CL: And Spectre has decided that Sammy Knight will start things off
for his team.

FH: And it appears Perry Fontana isn't giving Hersher von Donkerhardt
a choice ...

[Fontana charges lunges forward, but Knight moves out of the way.
Mark Barnett forces the PVW American Champion to step out of the
ring.]

CL: And it's official that Sammy Knight and Perry Fontana will start
things off for this tag team match.

FH: HvD should be thankful that he has a partner that is looking out
for his well being.

CL: Oh I am sure that is exactly what Perry Fontana is doing.

[Fontana regains himself ... The two lock up in a grapple which sees
the bigger, Sammy Knight lock Fontana in a side headlock. Knight turns
it into a headlock takedown and holds him in a front facelock but
Fontana takes it old school wrapping his legs around Sammy Knight and
grinning arrogantly until Knight jumps off the mat to break the hold.]

FH: That was a message loud and clear for HvD.

CL: The PVW American Champion doesn't seem amused.

FH: He better take notes ... Fontana is the best technical wrestler in
the PVW and he is going to prove it at Boiling Point.

[The two go to grapple again but this time, Perry Fontana floats
behind Sammy Knight and tries to run him into the ropes for a roll-up
but Knight holds onto the ropes and Fontana rolls backwards up onto
his feet. Knight charges ...  but receives a drop toe hold. Fontana
quickly moves around looking for that open limb and finds an opening
and in the snap of a finger he has an armbar locked on.]

CL: Perry Fontana finds an opening and like clock work he has an
armbar locked in.

FH: Does that impress you HvD?  No ... I bet it impressed Sammy
Knight.

[The camera catches both men on the outside.  Spectre looks on with a
look of contained anger for the time being.  While, Hersher von
Donkerhardt is almost expressionless.  He stands watching taking
mental notes waiting for his opportunity to get inside the ring.]

CL: These are four of PVW's top superstars right here ... At Boiling
Point both teams, teammates will be squared off against each other.
But, _tonight_ they are forced to stand together.

FH: Sammy and HvD are both pretty lucky if you think about it.  Could
you imagine a Perry Fontana and Spectre tag team?

[Knight tries to work his way around to find leverage ... and it just
ends up with Fontana in a pinning position.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Knight breaks out.  I don't think he was expecting to find himself
in that position.  But, when he broke out of the pinfall, Fontana
broke
the hold.

FH: For now.

[Fontana is up and he gives a big grin towards his partner and says -
"Watch and learn ..."  Sammy Knight begins to push himself up, but
receives a punt in the ribs for his troubles.  Fontana then drops a
knee to Sammy Knight's shoulder ... He goes to grab a hold of that arm
again, but this time Knight uses his strength to pull Fontana in and
locks his big legs around his neck with a leg scissors, the crowd
loves the tides being turned on Perry Fontana.]

FH: Did HvD just clap?

CL: I don't think he clapped ... but I can't deny that is a smile
across his face.

FH: Some partner he is!  I guess they don't teach comradery in the
Netherlands.

CL: Fontana is close to the ropes and he forces a rope break.

FH: You can't out wrestle Perry Fontana, Chip.  He knows where he is
at all times.

[Sammy Knight breaks the hold ... Both men are back up and Knight
unloads with some snap jabs, and then whips him off the ropes,
catching him with a gutwrench slam!]

THUUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: BIG SLAM ... Knight hooks a leg!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... NO!  Fontana shoots a shoulder up breaking the count.

FH: It's going to take a lot more then that to pin a warrior of the
caliber of Perry Fontana.

CL: And HvD has extended his arm asking for the tag.

[Sammy Knight throws Fontana into the corner and pounds away at him
with some more right hands, followed by some chops to the chest, then
backs up. Knight charges and dives at him for an Avalanche, but
Fontana dodges it... Knight collides with the turnbuckles chest-first
into the top turnbuckle. Knight backs up into Fontana who goes for a
Blue Thunder Powerbomb but instead drops Knight back-first across his
knee.]

THUUUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: Impressive move by Fontana and he pushes down with his hands to
make the cover looking right at his partner, HvD!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Knight fires out with a kick out.

FH: And Spectre was about ready to come inside the ring.  That could
of been trouble.

[Fontana doesn't waste any time and begins to drop a few standing knee
drops onto the back of Sammy Knight before he picks him up. Fontana
locks Knight in an elevated Boston Crab with a knee in the back.]

CL: Fontana has chosen to work on the back instead of the arm as he
usually does.  You can only assume that this is to show HvD that he is
a pure technical wizard.

FH: There is no question that Fontana can wrestle circles around just
about anyone in professional wrestling.

CL: And Sammy Knight begins to pull himself towards the ropes holding
on.

FH: This could be a quick match.

CL: Sammy Knight has a ton of heart and listen to these California
fans.

SAMMY !!!   SAMMY !!!   SAMMY !!!   SAMMY !!!

[The fans continue to fire up Sammy Knight as he pulls closer and
closer ...]

THWAP!

[POP!]

CL: Knight pulled himself close enough and within reach of HvD ... And
he just tagged himself in!

FH: What is he doing!?!?  Fontana had this!

[Fontana leaps off of Sammy Knight and he is asking the PVW American
Champion - "Just what do you think you are doing, cousin?"  And von
Donkerhardt grabs Knight from behind who was pushing himself up and
lifts him back with a belly-to-back suplex into a bridge right infront
of Perry Fontana.]

THUUUUD!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




[Crowd cheers as Knight fires out again.  Perry Fontana steps to the
outside as Hersher von Donkerhardt pulls the Californian native to his
feet.  He backs him up with a big European uppercut ... And that just
seems to wake up and fire up Sammy Knight!]

CL: HvD drilled Sammy with a big European Uppercut, but Sammy Knight
is wide awake and returns fire!

FH: Perry Fontana would of knocked his teeth out with that punch.

[Fist fly from both fan favorites as the fans raise to their feet.
Knight ducks under a big swing and rebounds off the ropes and drops
the PVW American champion with a running lariat.  The Netherlands born
superstar is right back on his feet and taken down with a second
running lariat.  Sammy Knight hits the ropes for a third time, but
Perry Fontana is right there with a knee to slow him down.]

CL: Sammy Knight was starting to wind up, but Perry Fontana was right
there to stop it.

FH: What a great partner.  He could of left his partner in trouble,
but he cared enough ...  Hopefully HvD takes more mental notes.

[HvD now back up has some words with Fontana and places Sammy Knight
in a headlock. HvD has the move locked on when he feels a tap on the
back of his shoulder. Perry Fontana has just re-tagged himself in to
the action. However, the referee did not see it and is telling Fontana
to go back to his corner.]

FH: Come on Barnett!  That was a legal tag.

CL: It looks like Fontana and Donkerhardt are now arguing with each
other ...

[The two men argue all the while HvD has Knight in the headlock. The
referee doesn't see Spectre rush into the ring and nearly decapitating
HvD with a running lariat of his own. The hold is broken and HvD is on
his back reeling from the unexpected shot.]

CL: GOOD LORD ... Spectre has finally decided to make his presence
felt in this match.

FH: Good going HVD ... Because, you decided to cheat and not recognize
the legal tag you woke up the demon.

[Spectre picks up HvD and executes a huge belly to belly suplex..]

THUUUUUUUD!

CL: And now the referee is even startled ... But still blocks Perry
Fontana not allowing him inside the ring.

FH: What is this!

[Fontana is trying to get the referee to move ... He obviously doesn't
want his partner to take damage.  Spectre picks him up again and
executes an inverted Russian legsweep.]

THUUUD!

CL: Fontana pushes past Mark Barnett, but Spectre has already rolled
outside the ring.   And Sammy Knight is now back up and lifts him up
in a Delayed Vertical Suplex!

THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

FH: Fontana is getting screwed as he is being forced back to the
outside by the referee.

[Sammy Knight who is now on a roll picks HvD up and executes a DDT ...
Before he can make a cover, Spectre decides he wants to play and tags
himself in.]

CL: And the referee calls that a legal tag and Spectre steps inside
the ring.

FH: Oh sure cherry pick what tags are legal.

[Spectre is now inside the ring and begins stomping away on the fallen
PVW American Champion.  Fontana reaches through the ropes determined
to tag himself in, but Spectre grabs his partner and yanks him back
glaring into Fontana's eyes ... Then he begins to gnaw on the forehead
of the PVW American Champion.  The crowd roars in boo's as HvD yells
out in pain as Spectre draws blood.]

CL: Spectre is biting HvD, what kind of wrestler is he?!?

FH: Obviously a hungry one, must have skimped t on his pre match meal.

CL: That is uncalled for, why is the ref not doing anything?

FH: I don't know, no rule against snacking during matches?

[Sammy Knight on the outside even gives the referee words of
encouragement to break up the feast.  Spectre leaps off ... blood
dripping down his chin.  He looks towards his partner with a grin that
shows the matching crimson red liquid on his teeth and then over to
Perry Fontana.]

CL: You want to talk about guys like Uncle Frank, Tyson Cain, or
William Craven being unstable ... Well Spectre is about as unstable as
they get.

FH: Hey as long as he keeps at least 10 yards of distance away from me
at all times ... I have no problems!

[HvD with full support behind the crowd begins to push himself up.
Spectre drops down to his knees and says something to the PVW American
Champion that fires him up ... HvD drives his head forward with a
brutal headbutt and the fans roar!]

CL: Spectre has now fired up Hersher von Donkerhardt!

FH: I wonder what he said!

[Spectre stumbles backwards, but he grabs a hold of the PVW American
Champion and whips him into the ropes ... Spectre goes for stiff
lariat. HvD ducks the lariat, goes behind Spectre and wraps his arms
around Spectre's waist. HvD lifts Spectre up and executes atomic drop.
HvD now on the attack follows up by picking up the stunned Spectre for
a knee breaker. Spectre goes down and HvD follows up by starting to
lock on a Texas Clover Leaf ...]

TWAP!

CL: Fontana takes a page out of Hersher von Donkerhardt's book and
tags himself in right when Donkerhardt was about to place Spectre in a
bad position.

FH: Hey, Fontana can do twice as much damage as HvD.

[Donkerhardt has dropped the legs of Spectre and he is now in
Fontana's face.  Fontana holds his arms up ... Then moves over quickly
and grabs the leg and begins to put a Texas Clover Leaf on of his
own!]

CL: Fontana is trying to show HvD up!

[von Donkerhardt hops to the outside and apparently he is still in
reaching distance of his partner ...]

TWAP!

FH: What is HvD doing!

CL: He is tagging himself back in.

[Mark Barnett calls it an official tag as HvD comes in and pushes
Perry Fontana and off of Spectre.  Fontana is beside himself holding
his arms up ... HvD see's the madman reaching his feet and goes for
a clothesline, and gets a crushing spinebuster tackling him and firing
off rapid fire punches while both men are on the ground...]

FH: SPECTRE IS AWAKE!

CL: Spectre leaps off and he is laughing at Fontana ... Fontana starts
to storm in the ring, but the referee is right there!

[The crowd boo's as Spectre begins to choke the PVW American Champion.
Sammy Knight shouts for his partner to stop.  And that just entices
Spectre to continue to do it.]

CL: This is sick.

FH: Hey it's all Sammy Knight's fault!

CL: Finally the referee is stopping this.

[Spectre turns the choking into massive brutal kicks ... HvD is nearly
doubled over on one knee after taking several kicks and punches from
Spectre. Spectre grabs HvD by the waist and tries to execute a
powerbomb, but Herscher wriggles out of the hold and goes up and over
Spectre. Herscher lands on his feet and puts Spectre in a full nelson,
Before Spectre can resist, Hershcher jumps up, puts his knee in
between Spectre's shoulderblades, and then falls back impaling
Spectre onto HvD's knee.]

THUUUUUD!

CL: HUGE COUNTER BY THE PVW AMERICAN CHAMPION!

FH: Now he has done it.  He has pissed on the devil.

[Herscher releases the hold and turns it into a cobra clutch, arching
back Spectre's neck as he pulls him backward and drives his knee
forward into the small of Spectre's back.  Finally the American
Champion releases the hold as the fans roar ... but those stop when
Spectre pushes himself to his feet.]

FH: I told you, Chip!

CL: HvD isn't waiting!

[The champ is fighting back, but gets a knee to the gut to slow him
down and double him over.  Spectre then steps up, locks his arms
around HvD's waist and flings him out of the ring with an overhead
release belly to belly suplex...then hops up and charges Fontana in
the corner, grabbing him by the hair and tossing him into the ring.
Spectre stays on top of Perry, knocking him over with a running lariat
as he comes to his feet, the immediately jumps on top of him, biting
and gnawing at the man's forehead ... The crowd is split down the
middle, as they enjoy seeing Perry become a steak, but at the same
time being gnawed on by Spectre isn't that popular.]

CL: Fontana now becomes a snack for Spectre!

FH: He probably tastes a bit better then HvD.

[The referee is about had enough and finally Spectre hops off, but is
slapped on the back shoulder by his partner Sammy Knight.  The fans
roar as the Californian native rushes in and takes down the PVW
American Champion.  Perry Fontana is getting back to his feet and
Sammy Knight whips him in the corner ... Then backs up and charges
forward splashing him in the corner!]

CL: Look at Sammy go!  He now moves back over to the legal man,
Hersher von Donkerhardt and locks him up and big gutwrench powerbomb!

FH: Perry Fontana from behind with an double axe-handle!

[Mark Barnett is trying to get some control ... Fontana jabs a thumb
in the eye socket of Sammy Knight and drives big fist in the mid-
section ...]

CL: Wait .. What's Spectre doing ... he has a chair!

FH: I guess, Spectre is done playing nice.

[Spectre has now rolled inside the ring and he lines the chair up to
the PVW American Champion ... SWINGS ---]

CRAAAAACKKKK!

CL: PERRY FONTANA JUST PUSHED HVD OUT OF THE WAY AND TOOK A CHAIR
SHOT!

[SHOCKING POP!]

*DING*DING*DING*

... And the referee is quickly calling for the bell.

FH: Fontana is a man of his word, Chip.

[Spectre looks down at Perry Fontana and shrugs.  He turns towards the
PVW American Champion again and lines up.]

CL: It may have been for nothing though.  Fontana is now laid out by
that nasty chair shot.  Von Donkerhardt is stumbling to his feet ...

FH: Say goodbye to HvD.

[Crowd roars as Sammy Knight _spears_ Spectre from the side and the
two men tumble out of the ring and in-between the ropes.]

CL: SAMMMMMY KNIGHT!!!!

FH: Sammy Knight sure does have a death wish.  Just when he is about
to get out of the bad graces of Spectre he finds a way to get right
back in.

CL: Hersher von Donkerhardt is now looking down at Perry Fontana who
is laid out in the ring by that massive chair shot.  He is trying to
figure out what is going on.

FH: Some one get out here who can speak neterlandish ... or whatever
people from the Netherlands speak!

CL: Umm.. Dutch?

FH: Yeah like I said ...

[Sammy Knight on the outside and Spectre have now broken away from the
tumble.  Both men are up ... Spectre now charges and tackles him
backwards slamming him into the guardrail.]

CLAAAAANG!

FH: See I told you!  I know you are still sort of new are around here,
but those of us who have been around the PVW for some time know to,
_NEVER_ piss off the Spectre!

CL: Sammy Knight brings down a big massive elbow in the mid-back of
Spectre.  And officials are now grabbing hold of both men!

[Inside the ring, Perry Fontana has began to use the ropes to pull
himself to his feet.  Hersher von Donkerhardt watches as his Boiling
Point opponent reaches his feet.  Fontana stumbles backwards and bumps
into the PVW American Champion ... He quickly turns with his fist up
ready to fight, but comes face to face with the man he just saved from
that chair shot.]

FH: Looks like we are about to have another brawl!

CL: Perry Fontana and Hersher von Donkerhardt are face to face ...
Officials are on the outside containing both Sammy Knight and Spectre.
Mark Barnett is trying to talk sense them.

[Fontana takes a few steps backwards looking at the champion who holds
up the PVW American Championship title and the crowd pops!]

CL: HvD sending Perry Fontana a message ... As Fontana rolls under the
ropes.

FH: What are you doing Perry!?!  Finish him off!

[Fontana holds the back of his head where he was nailed by that chair
shot.  He stumbles a few steps still woozy.]

CL: Fontana has made it clear he wants HvD 100% at Boiling Point.  I
think he has just backed that up once again taking that chair shot by
the hands of Spectre.

FH: At this rate ... Perry Fontana won't be 100%!

CL: Let's go backstage.

[Preston Winfield is walking down the back passageways of the arena
when a man is walking alongside him with his arm around his shoulder,
as if they were long lost brothers out for a nice stroll. A man this
presumptuous, this confident, with that much hair product... that
could only be one man. AsH. In his nicest blue "iCON" t-shirt and
khaki cargo shorts, AsH looks ready as ever to hold a board meeting...
at the beach]

AsH: I know what you're thinking. "How lucky am I, to be seen walking
shoulder to shoulder with the greatest contender on the roster? Nay,
the world?" And then you're thinking, "Did I just say Nay? In my own
head?" And then you're thinking---

[Preston stops in place and politely removes himself from under the
Cruiserweight Icon's arm]

PW: AsH, pleasure to see you. What was it I can do for you today?

[AsH claps his hands together, smiling widely and raises his eyebrows]

AsH: It's not what you can do for me. Lord knows you've done enough
just putting me on the shows. It's what I can do for you. And that is
give you the best possible title challenger you're going to find.

PW: You can get me Tyrone Hayes?

AsH: Ouch.

[AsH shakes his head quickly and forgets that last line]

AsH: That's right, I can freely sign on to face Gibby again and prove
that last time wasn't a one time thing. Tell me what were the ratings
for our match.

PW: They were---

AsH: I knew it, all time high. And tell me Pooter, did you---

PW: Did you just call me Pooter?

AsH: Yeah, isn't that your nickname?

PW: It's Putter.

AsH: I'm pretty sure it's pronounced Pooter. Norwegian, right?

[Preston clutches at the sides of his head and looks down]

PW: Can we wrap this up? I feel an aneurysm coming on.

AsH: You know what's good for that? Redbull. I've got a can or two
here somewhere...

PW: While we're on THAT subject, you've GOT to stop hawking that
drink! We're getting sued left and right, people are drinking it by
the gallon in the stands. A twelve year old had a heart attack!

AsH: I'm sure he was a heavy smoker and drinker.

PW: And I'll have you know that three cars got flipped over after your
match with Hayes!

AsH: Well, I mean, just three. I'm sure they were Minis or something.
Flip onea them just be looking at it funny.

PW: Two Camrys and a Lincoln Continental! They got flipped over
LENGTH-WISE!

[AsH sucks air through his teeth and then just slowly nods]

AsH: Yeah, the 'bull will do that sometimes...

[Getting clearly frustrated, Winfield crosses his arms]

PW: Was there a point to this?

AsH: Of course, Pooter. You need ME in there at the big dance, facing
Gibson Hayes. World Title on the line, fans screaming and mainlining
our energy drink of choice. Gibby in his adorable powder blue headband
and me, also there. It's got all the makings of an instant classic,
and a monetary success! Admit it.

PW: You've had your shot, AsH. Sorry to say, we're looking other
directions.

[Preston turns to leave but AsH gingerly grabs his forearm]

AsH: Who do I have to beat? I'll beat Craven! Hell, gimme Spectre!
Detson's dance card has to be open? By the way, when does your Called
Shot winner ever actually wrestle? But seriously, throw all THREE into
a match and let me come out on top. You do that, you'll have your
ratings, you'll bring Shockwave up to the big boy underwear status,
and I'll prove that I'm the best to face Gibby.

And if I lose in that veritable shark tank, well, then you don't have
to worry about seeing me in these halls for a bit, right?

[Preston rubs at his chin for a moment, clearly thinking]

AsH: C'mon Pooter, do it for the fans! Do it for the kids! Do it for
the little Pooters around the world!

PW: ...you'll have our answer soon.

[With that Preston walks off as AsH is left wondering, hands on his
hips and shaking his head]

AsH: Shoulda opened with a Pooter joke, I know it...

[And the camera fades]

"Who do I have to beat?"

"Give me Craven ... Give me Spectre ... Detson's dance card has to be
 open!"

[Cut back to ring side.]

FH: First Masked Maniac ... now AsH!  What do these losers think?
Gibson Hayes is a world caliber athlete.  He should only be fighting
the best!

CL: AsH came very close to winning the PVW World Championship at T6.

FH: What was that you said?

CL: Came ... very ... close.

FH: That's right, but he didn't!

CL: It took Gibson Hayes entourage to BAIL him out!

FH: They were just trying to wake up the referee!

CL: Oh brother ...  Well we await to find out who will take on Gibson
Hayes at Boiling Point ... But, next up we have a PVW TV Championship
match.

[The lights go out and spotlights shine on the top of the stage as "I
Will Be Heard" by Hatebreed begins to play plays over the PA system.]

##
Now is the time for me to rise to my feet
Wipe your spit from my face
Wipe these tears from my eyes
##

[The fans begin to boo as they await the arrival of the most hated man
in professional wrestling.]

##
Now is the time for me to rise to my feet
Wipe your spit from my face
Wipe these tears from my eyes
##

[Out walks from behind the backstage curtains, "The Biz" Mike
Bisignano wearing a plain black hoodie, a pair of black fighter
shorts, black fighting gloves, black kickpads, and black wrestling
boots. The hood is pulled over his head hiding his face as he just
stands at the top of the entrance ramp. He is joined by JDM Superstar
who is dressed to the nine's as always and has a Bluetooth in his ear.
Also joining them is Devin Houlihan who is in his ring gear and
sporting spiked gloves on his fists. The dangerous trio raise their
arms and stand in a triangle, Biz in the front, JDM to the side and
Devin to the left flank snarling as fire flares up behind all three,
outlining their forms in the heat of the pyrotechnic flames.]

FH: Well it is better then his boxers, I do admit that!

CL: The Biz is coming off a huge win over Caleb Foley.

FH: He didn't just only win... he made him TAP OUT and CRY!

CL: I didn't see him crying.

FH: He was bawling like a baby ... and it was GREAT.

CL: Okay ... maybe there was a tear.

##
I've got to take my life back
One chance to make it right
I've gotta have my voice be heard
And bring meaning to this life
##

[Satisfied, 'The Biz' begins to walk down the aisle to the ring and
refuses to even acknowledge the fans as he heads to the ring. JDM jaw
jacks at the fans as they boo him and his client. With a smile on his
face, JDM Superstar points to The Biz and tells everyone who their
next Television Champion is.]

##
Cause I've trusted for nothing
I've been led astray
I've been tried and tested
But I won't accept defeat
Now I've done things I regret
And its time to reverse the rules
I just want to make good on
All the promises that I have made

I will be
##

NAKED BIZ !!!

NAKED BIZ !!!

NAKED BIZ !!!

CL: Fans are now chanting, Naked Biz ...

FH: Well we are in California.

CL: FRED!

[The Biz stops in mid aisle and stares at the ring. He pulls the hood
off his head and looks around at the crowd. A snarky smirk grows on
his face as he continues moving forward towards the ringside area. JDM
piefaces the camera aside as he tells everyone to back up and let The
Biz through. Devin lunges as the cameraman almost falls over himself
trying to get the hell out of their way, JDM smiling in jest.]

##
I will be...I will be heard
I will be...I will be heard

Now is the time for me to rise to my feet (I will be heard)
Wipe your spit from my face
Wipe these tears from my eyes (I will be heard)
##

[Once he reaches the ringside area, 'The Biz' proceeds to remove his
hoodie and hands it to JDM before climbing on the ring apron and into
the ring. JDM gives the hood to the ring attendant with severe threats
should anything happen to The Biz's personal ring garb.]

##
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be heard
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be heard
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be heard
Through the worst we prevail
So our voices will be
##

[The music fades out as The Biz walks into his respective corner and
just leans forward into it so his forehead is resting on it with his
back facing the ring announcer and referee.]

HD: Standing in the at this time ... he hails from New York City New
York ... he weighs in at two hundred pounds and he is accompanied by
Devin Houlihan and the Guru to the Stars, JDM Superstar ... this is ..


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


[The Biz lifts his head and just begins to pound on the turnbuckle pad
with his fists as he awaits the match to begin.]

["Solamente Una Vez" plays over the PA and suddenly the crowd leaps to
it's feet! From the back comes a small but muscular Mexican man
wearing black tights with cherry colored boots and a cherry colored
hooded cape on. He also has a black luchadore mask with cherry colored
eye visors and cherry colored "SCII" on the forehead. And around his
waist is the beautiful PVW Television Championship!]

HD: And his opponent ... hails from Parts Unknown and weighs in
tonight
at one hundred and ninety-five pounds ... he is the current PVW
TELEVISION CHAMPION ... this is ...


!!! SENOR CLOAK DOS !!!


"VIVA! VAMANOS! ARRIBA!"

[The luchadore turns around to see Dean Hayes, still wearing his mask,
standing behind him, microphone in hand, yelling out the Senor Cloak
catchphrase to the crowd! Cloak walks over to Dean and gives him an
earnest embrace then he begins making his way towards the ring, giving
fans high fives and stopping to put his masked head against the masked
heads of young fans wearing replica masks, all while Dean stays at the
top of the entrance ramp getting the crowd to chant along with him..]

Dean & Crowd: "VIVA! VAMANOS! ARRIBA!"

CL: And here comes Senor Cloak Dos!  You have to admire this man,
Fred.  He came out with a heavy heart and defeated Christopher Black
at T6 to win the championship.  And here tonight with that mask
missing ... He has came out again with a heavy heart to defend the PVW
TV title.

FH: He is just lucky that the Biz hasn't stripped down to his boxers.
The Biz becomes like the incredible hulk when that happens ... All men
fear the NAKED BIZ!

[Dos makes it to the ring, he hops onto the ring apron, grabs the top
rope and leaps over it with a somersault flip and rolls to his feet
and stares across the ring at his opponent, The Biz! Bisignano lays
the trashtalk on the luchadore but Cloak does not respond. Instead he
turns to a corner, leaps onto the second turnbuckle and strikes a
super hero pose!]

[BIG POP]

CL: Listen to these fans roar!

Dean & Crowd: "VIVA! VAMANOS! ARRIBA!"

FH: Is that Naked Biz in Spanish?

[Cloak gives Dean and the crowd a thumbs up for the chants and then he
hops off the turnbuckle as the music fades away. Dean claps his hands
then walks off to backstage while Dos takes off the Television
Championship Belt, looks at it for a few moments then hands it to the
referee.]


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

PVW - HEATWAVE - PVW TV CHAMPIONSHIP
Mike Bisignano v. Senor Cloak Dos

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


*DING*DING*DING*




[The television champion and the challenger slowly circle one another
for a few moments before the two men tie up in the center of the
ring.]

CL: Both men are roughly the same size so it's no surprise to me that
neither man has been able to gain an advantage just yet.

FH: Don't speak to quickly Chip as The Biz catches Dos with a stomp to
the foot and he shifts to a side head lock.

CL: A stomp to the foot?

FH: Whatever works and there is nothing in the rule books against it.

[Bisignano uses the side headlock to push Senor Cloak Dos towards the,
where he connects with a vicious reverse knife edge chop.]

TWHAP!
TWHAP!
TWHAP!
TWHAP!

FH: And The Biz is just lighting up the chest of Senor Cloak Dos with
those chops and he pulls him off of the ropes and stands to his side.

[Bisignano goes for a Side Russian Legsweep but he is too close to the
ropes and the Television Champion grabs the top rope and that cause
the challenger to crash into the mat back first.]

CL: That looked like a rookie mistake there as The Biz just didn't
seem to realize how close to the ropes he was.

FH: The Biz is far from a rookie, Chip. He's just overly confident
after the way he dismantles the quote heart of the PVW unquote on
Shockwave a few weeks back.

[Senor Cloak Dos quickly leaps onto the second rope and uses it to
springboard himself backwards and driving an elbow into the chest of
The Biz before he can get to his feet. JDM shakes his head to the side
as Devin motions for the crowd to stop cheering for their masked
hero.]

CL: Listen to the fans support Senor Cloak Dos as he pulls The Biz to
his feet. The way the crowd is backing Dos after the heinous theft of
his "Josie" mask by Christopher Black ..

FH: You don't know the Black is the man who stole the mask. Dos qith a
quick snap suplex on the challenger. Heck it could have been Devin
Houlihan who stole the mask. You've seen the way he has been acting as
of late.

CL: He has been different ... Dos is on the apron and he grabs the top
rope; slingshot leg drop!

[The crowd cheers as Dos hooks the leg.]



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



[As the referee holds two fingers into the air the crowd lets out a
collective moan of disappoint.]

FH: And Bisignano kicks out with authority.

[Senor Cloak Dos wastes no pulling his challenger to his feet and The
Biz catches Senor Cloak Dos under the jaw with a very stiff European
uppercut that snaps the head of Dos back. Before Dos has a moment to
recover Bisignano drves a knee lift into the mid-section of Dos and as
Dos doubles over he locks on a front chancery and executes a quick
swinging neckbreaker.]

CL: The Biz with a quick cover of his own!



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



CL: And this time Dos kicks out!

[The Biz though shoves Dos' shoulders to the mat once again and the
referee counts again.]



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



CL: Again Dos with a kickout.

FH: Veteran move there from Bisignano. Using the second cover to tire
the champion out a little bit.

[The Biz grabs Dos by the back of his mask and scoops him up and
drives him into the mat with a body slam. Bisignano is back to his
feet and steps over the prone figure of Dos before leaping backwards
and catching him with a beautiful standing moonsault. JDM on the
outside applauds and the camera catches him jaw jacking with a fan
wearing a Dos mask. JDM makes a face at the camera and tells him to
focus on The Biz who hooks the leg of Senor Cloak Dos.]



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



CL: And again the champion kicks out.

FH: Bisignano is completely focused on winning the television
championship here tonight as he lifts Dos to his feet and quickly
Irish whips him across the ring.

CL: And he catches Senor Cloak Dos in the jaw with a spinning leg
lariat. You have to wonder how much the theft of the mask is affecting
his mindset tonight.

FH: With the way he felt about Josie I wouldn't be surprised if he was
a bit off of his game, which isn't that great to begin with.

CL: That was Black's intentions ... The Biz pulls Dos to his feet.

FH: And plants him with a DDT! Again you don't know it was Black.
Maybe it was William Craven, we all saw him trying to get the mask of
Senor Cloak Dos on the debut Shockwave and quite frankly he's a bit
disturbed.

CL: But he hasn't nearly hated Dos as much as Black has. The Biz grabs
the head of Dos and just begins to fire a series of stiff elbows into
the side of Cloak's head.

FH: It's like he did to Foley and once again if there was an ounce of
brain in there it might make a difference to his future in this sport.

CL: And Bisignano ascends to the top rope ...

[Flash bulbs pop throughout the arena as The Biz leaps and connects
with a diving legdrop.]

FH: And that legdrop finds it's mark! Dos looks like a fish flopping
around on the mat, grabbing his throat from the impact.

[JDM and Devin clap as The Biz hooks the leg of the masked champion.]

CL: And again the challenger with a cover!



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



THR -- !!!


CL: And once again the champion kicks out!

[JDM pounds the mat in frustration as he screams to Dos to just lie
down. The Biz shakes his head in disgust at the referee and pulls Dos
back to his feet but Dos catches him with an inside cradle ...]



!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



THR -- !!!

CL: DARN! Bisignano with a kickout.

FH: Bisignano is back to his feet but the champion is right there with
him.

TWHAP!
TWHAP!
TWHAP!
TWHAP!


[And the two men just begin to exchange knife edge chops in the center
of the ring. The champion gains the upper hand and forces The Biz into
the corner.]


TWHAP!
TWHAP!
TWHAP!
TWHAP!


CL: And Dos just continuing to lay into the chest of Bisignano with
those chops. Dos grabs the right arom of Bisignano and there's an
Irish whip to the other corner!

[The Biz slams hard into the corner back first and Dos rushes forward
and executes a handspring cartwheel that finishes with a back elbows
mash that is driven into the jaw of Bisignano. The crowd cheers wildly
at the move as Dos spins around and grabs The Biz in a front chancery
and takes him up and over with a vertical suplex.]

CL: Cloak Dos onto the ring apron and he grbas the top rope ...

[As the champion lands on the top rope Devin leaps onto the apron and
reaches for Dos but he leaps into the ring over The Biz preventing
Devin from grabbing him. The referee quickly screams for Devin to get
off the apron and after a moment of jaw jacking he does so. Dos grabs
Biz, who thrusts his eyes into the eyes of Dos.]

FH: I'm not sure how much damage that actually did but it seemed to
buy Biz a second as he grabs the arm of Dos and whips him into the
ropes ... Drop toe hold!

[Dos slams to the mat stomach first and the Biz drops down on the back
of Dos, at a 90 degree angle, putting some of his weight on Dos. The
Biz reaches for the arm of Dos but before he can get it Dos forces
himself to his knees and rolls forward away from The Biz. Both men get
quickly back to the their feet and Dos leaps catching his legs around
the neck of The Biz.]

CL: Cloak Dos connects with the standing hurrica ...

FH: Don't speak to quickly, Chip. The Biz is powering Dos into the
air.

CL: Looks like he is going for a powerbomb ... but Dos spins around on
the shoulders of Bisignano ...

[Senor Cloak Dos begins to rotate around The Biz's body before arm
dragging Biz into the corner.]

FH: How does he not get dizzy with all those ridiculous rotations?

[Bisignano scrambles back to his feet using the ropes to help spring
up only for Senor Cloak Dos to hit a super quick Cloak Elbow on him in
the corner.]

CL: A second Cloak Elbow! And the fans love it!

FH: JDM and Devin are besides themselves as Dos shoves Bisginano to
the ropes and goes for another Irish whip ... but The Biz reverses it.

[Cloak ducks the charging clothesline from The Biz and as he hits the
Devin reaches up and grabs the leg of Dos sending him face first to
the mat. Devin smirks as he turns away from the ring and points to a
fan wearing a Berserkers shirt and begins to yell at him for a moment.
The champion though quickly rolls back to his feet and takes a few
running steps forward!]

CL: PLANCHA! AND DOWN GOES DEVIN!

[Devin is sent crashing to the concrete floor with the smaller
Television Champion landing on top of him. The crowd cheers wildly as
JDM looks exasperated at Devin on the floor. As Dos stands to his feet
JDM takes a step back raising his hands into the air showing he has no
intentions of doing anything.]

FH: And JDM the perfect Guru, showing the world he has no intentions
of interfering in this match.

CL: unlike Devin.

FH: What did Devin do? All I saw was a little masked man who thinks
he's underdog go flying through the air.

CL: Underdog?

FH: Alright fine, Mighty Mouse.

[The crowd buzzes as Jacob Rose begins to make his way down the aisle
way. As he does so Dos slides back into the ring but the BIz is there
to meet him with a series of stomps to the back of the head.]

THUMP
THUMP
THUMP
THUMP

CL: What is Rose doing out here?

FH: His job! He's out here scouting the current champion and what
could very well be the next champion.

[Rose walks to the ringside area where he glances back over his
shoulder for a brief moment before turning to watch the action in the
ring where The Biz is pulling Dos to his feet and lifts him into the
air.]

CL: Gut buster by The Biz. And there's your proof right there that
Black stole the mask.

FH: What? Why? Just because the man is doing his job doesn't mean
anything. Rose is right for all you know The Biz stole the mask or
Cain. He is a bit off goofy getting into fights with signs. Hell what
about The Mercenary? He'll do anything for a buck.

CL: ... The Biz slips behind the television champion and applies a
waisitlock..

[The crowd lets out a massive gasp as The Biz powers Dos over the top
rope to the floor!]


"___TTTHHHUUUDDD___"


CL: GERMAN SUPLEX! The champion just hit the floor with authority!

FH: That has to be it! There's no way he can get up from that.

[Devin who is leaning against the guardrail appaulds as JDM screams
into the camera that The Biz is the best the PVW has to offer and it's
a shame he isn't already a champion.]

FH: Dos looks out of it!

CL: And the referee is doing the only thing he can do and that's begin
the count.


ONE


TWO


THREE


[The Biz glares at Rose for a moment and looks down the aisleway.]

FH: The Biz appears to have a bad feeling as he looks down at the
entranceway.

CL: Yeah, that Black will soon be making his way to the ring.


FOUR


FIVE


[As the referee counts to five JDM looks at Devin and tells him to
roll Dos back into the ring.]

FH: And the Guru is a thinking man's man. He knows Bisignano will not
win the title if Dos is counted out here.

SIX


SEVEN


[As the referee begins to signal eight Dos is rolled under the bottom
rope and The Biz just lays on him for a cover.]


ONE !!!



TWO !!!



THRE -


[The crowd explodes into a huge ovation as Dos barely edges his right
shoulder up!]

FH: I don't believe this!

CL: Dos has the heart of the lion!

FH: And the brain's of Caleb Foley! The Biz looks upset and that's the
understatement of the year as he pulls Dos up ... beckbreacker!

CL: Beckbreaker?!?! What's a beckbreaker?

FH: I said backbreaker, Chip. Clean out your damn ears!

[And again The Biz goes for the cover.]


ONE !!!



TWO !!!


[The Biz places his feet on the bottom rope for additional leverage.]


THRE --


CL: And again Senor Cloak Dos kicks out! Even with The Biz being under
handed.

[On the outside Jacob Rose applauds for a moment; on the other side of
the ring Devin screams at Dos as JDM runs his hands over his head.]

CL: The Biz has to be wondering what it will take to keep Dos down.
Bisignano wasting no time as he pulls Dos to his knees and just slaps
him across the face. Showing absolutely no respect for the champion.

FH: Something that a man who stole a mask would do.

[The Biz gets behind Senor Cloak Dos and locks on an inverted
facelock.]

CL: The Biz is looking for the Dragon Hook ... but Dos has it scouted
well and slips his legs out from under him preventing The Biz from
stepping on his calves.

FH: But he's still caught in the inverted chancery ... inverted DDT!

[Again JDM screams his approval as The Biz again pulls Senor Cloak Dos
to his feet. The Biz stands face-to-face with Dos, but just slightly
to his side. Bisignano tucks their head under Dos' near arm, and
reaches across his chest and around his neck with his own near arm.]

FH: Bisignano appears to be setting up for The Bizness End ... if he
hits this the fifteen pounds of gold will be changing hands here
tonight.

[The Biz powers Senor Cloak Dos into the air but before he can execute
the move the masked luchador swings his legs behind The Biz and
somehow locks them around Biz's far arm. As he does that he slips from
the grasp of The Biz and swings around behind him and uses that
momentum to begin to spin around The Biz.]

FH: He's like Houdini!

CL: Senor Cloak Dos once again spinning around the body of The Biz and
he grabs the Biz's arm. Arm Drag takedown!

FH: The Biz though is quickly to his feet ...

CL: As is Cloak Dos, who leaps ... Hurricanrana!

[Senor Cloak Dos rolls through and reaches back hooking both of The
Biz's legs.]




ONE !!!



TWO !!!



[Devin reaches into the ring but Senor Cloak Dos is just out of his
reach!]



THREE !!!


CL: YES!


!!! DING DING DING !!!


CL: The champion retains!

[Dos rolls off of The Biz and thrusts his arms into the air to the
thrill of the crowd. The thrill quickly screams of warning as Devin
Houlihan and JDM roll into the ring.]

CL: And Senor Cloak Dos wisely rolls out of the ring ... right to the
feet of Jacob Rose!

[Dos looks up at Rose who just steps to the side allowing the
television champion to pass.]

HD: Ladies and gentlemen here is your winner and still PVW TELEVISION
CHAMPION ...


!!! SENOR CLOAK DOS !!!


CL: Senor Cloak Dos looking up the aisle and back into the ring where
The Biz is back to his feet and leaning over the top rope screaming
for the champion to get back into the ring.

FH: Of course he is he knows that Senor Cloak Dos had the tights and
that this match should continue.

CL: Really?

[JDM is fuming in the ring as he suddenly drops an elbow to the center
of the PVW logo.]

FH: He just stole Marcus Anderson's patent elbow drop to the logo!

CL: I thought he used the knee drop.

FH: He's been known to do both actually ... and JDM is ripping off his
jacket and he just heaves it half way up the aisle at the retreating
Senor Cloak Dos.]

[Senor Cloak Dos is walking up the aisleway the PVW championship belt
over his shoulder, and slaps the hands of a few young fans as he does
so. Jacob Rose begins to follow him.]

FH: The Biz is fuming in the ring still.

CL: He can fume all he wants Senor Cloak Dos retained his title.

FH: Barely. And I think you owe Jacob Rose an apology, Chip. The man
came out here to scout not mask an ambush from Christopher Black.

CL: I really thought Christopher Black would have used tonight to
taunt Senor Cloak Dos with the mask.

FH: I'm telling you Chip; Black didn't steal the mask.

CL: I hate to say it but you could be right.

FH: I am always right.

[Senor Cloak Dos is celebrating with the fans on the outside ... He
hugs a young fan wearing a SCD mask ... Yes it's a pretty touching
moment ... Biz and gang are arguing at ring side.]

CL: Senor Cloak Dos loves his fans ... and they love him in return.

FH: Wait look at that... Senor Cloak Dos trying to be a masked bro!

[A female fan grabbed the masked man and kissed him, but the young
superstar quickly pulled away.]

CL: I think that shocked Senor Cloak Dos.

FH: That kiss had to be meant for Naked Biz ... The problem is that
the Biz didn't strip down to his boxers.

DOS !!! DOS !!!  DOS !!!

DOS !!! DOS !!!  DOS !!!

DOS !!! DOS !!!  DOS !!!

[Senor Cloak Dos works his way to the entrance way and he turns and
fires his arms up raising the PVW TV Championship.  The fans roar in
full support of the masked superstar.]

CL: Senor Cloak Dos is tearing this arena down!  You can bet that
Christopher Black is fuming backstage.

FH: Christopher Black doesn't care what these sheep think.

CL: Folks, what a night it's been.  We saw Jack Griffin open the show
up by defeating Johnny Detson to regain the Supreme Championship.

FH: A farce I tell ya!

CL: We have seen battles after battles and we still have our Main
Event left tonight!

FH: We can still end the night off on a bright note.

CL: After tonight we are just two more Heatwaves left until Boiling
Point.  Last year we saw the Widowmakers take on Doc Holliday and
allies in a War Games Match.  While we wont be seeing War Games return
... We will have the chance to see Gibson Hayes defend his title
against an unannounced challenger at this time.  We also look to have
Perry Fontana taking on Hersher von Donkerhardt ...

FH: If HvD makes it to Boiling Point!

CL: There haven't been any other _announced_ matches ... but all signs
point to a third and final match between Rob Cole and William Craven.

FH: William Craven will finally finish Rob Cole off and put him behind
him.

[The camera returns to a zoomed out shot of the audience. The crowd
sounds happy and invigorated, if only a little bit anxious about what
is next on the menu. This all changes when red, white and blue lights
fade up as the house lights dim down. If that was not a clue as to who
has come to town, well the steady beat and electronic tones of Eliot
Lipp's "Rap Tight" is sure to tip you off as to who is starting this
ruckus.]

CL: And here comes the PVW World Champion - fresh off another tainted
"victory".

FH: Chip, you're so naive. Did Gibson win the match?

CL: In the strictest sense of the word, yes.

FH: Did Gibson keep his title?

CL: *annoyed* Yes, but...

FH: Ah, ah, ah! But nothing, Chip. Gibson secured complete and total
victory. You should respect his ability to defend his titles so often
against so many. He's truly America's Last, Best Hope for a Bright
Future and Better Tomorrow.

CL: Seriously, how much does Todd pay you?

FH: Nothing... that I'll ever report.

[the PVW world champion, Gibson Hayes confidently strides towards the
ring as the faithful in attendance boo, deride and insult him. With
Gibson is Todd "The Rod" Johnstone (dressed in a blood red business
suit with bile black tie and brown belt from Sears), "Big Bubba" Hayes
(in mocha suit with the arms ripped off) and Evelyn Prosser (in his
Saint Etienne kit). Hayes is wearing his blue suit, red tie and white
shirt with the PVW championship belt around his waist and his afro in
full effect. Bubba holds the ropes open for Johnstone and Hayes while
Prosser acquires a microphone.]

GIBSON SUCKS x some number

FH: Listen to these traitors! I believe they need to be waterboarded
for their treason!

CL: Fred, they have every right to voice thei...

FH: I knew you hated America, Chip!

[Gibson gets the microphone and surveys the throng of people.]

GH: Once again, at Tradition, Gibson Hayes gave the people what they
wanted all along.

[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS!]

GH: You needn't thank me, for I do this not for you. I do not do this
for the locker room. I do not do this even for myself. No, no, no - I
do this for old glory; I do this for America and I do this for the
Bright Future and Better Tomorrow.

[Folks don't like being told lies and this one is a whopper.]

GH: Ash, you gave it your all. You pushed yourself, and me, to your
limit. You came (holds his thumb and index finger very close together)
_THIS_ close to claiming this belt that accents my suit.

[AsH gets an ovation from the audience.]

GH: But you didn't and back to the end of the line you go. I heard
your comments, I listened to your remarks, I took in your words. I
already know I can beat you, but not the way you think. I can take
what you dish out, I can withstand your out of nowhere assaults and
your cockroach like resiliency. I can even see why you got yourself
married but... you - lost. End of line, Ash. The championship
committee threw you a chance and you weren't up to the task.

[Hayes looks at the crowd.]

GH: You don't get another chance. There are others, others just as
hungry and others more willing to drive themselves over the brink to
get this title. Those are the ones that feed me, sustain me, and help
temper the new HOPE of America. I am champion because our blessed
mother needs strong childer. And who better to test the mettle of the
weaklings than the greatest champion in PVW's history? I do this not
for my own glory, but for you, the PVW fan. So, Ash, no, you will not
be getting another chance. You are the failure of yesteryear and I am
looking for the disappointments of tomorrow.

[RAP TIGHT plays again and Gibson leaves the ring.]

FH: I guess Preston has his answer on AsH then!

CL: I don't think it's really up to Gibson Hayes, Fred.

FH: Johnny Detson will take it into strong consideration.

CL: I don't think it's up to Johnny Detson either.

FH: You really don't want to be working here do you?

CL: We all can't be announcer of the year.

FH: Nope, the rest of you have no chance!

CL: What a night it's been as we are one show closer to Boiling Point.
But, before we close this chapter there is still one match left...
Danny Daniels and William Craven.

FH: You can't forget that one.  There is noway Johnny Detson would let
the show go off the air before, William Craven served out the PVW
President's revenge.

CL: Earlier tonight we saw Johnny Detson drop the Supreme
Championship.

FH: What a travesty.

CL: Just goes to prove that a well thought out plan still needs
execution.

FH: Are you questioning our PVW President!?!

CL: I don't think I have too.  The results speak for themselves, Fred.
However, we could sit and argue about that all night ... The Voice is
headed to the ring and that means, MAIN EVENT TIME!

FH: Johnny Detson revenge time!

HD: Ladies and gentlemen ... It's time for our Main Event!

[The crowd roars as the Voice stands in the center of the PVW ring.]

HD: And introducing first ... Wrestling out of San Francisco ... "YOUR
HERO" DANNY DANIELS !!!

[The lights go down again, and someone steps from the back.  It is...
a trumpeter? The trumpeter blasts a bombastic little fanfare on his
trumpet, and a banner unfurls from the top  of the entranceway.  It
reads: WELCOME YOUR NEXT PVW PRESIDENT!!!  And yes, it does have three
exclamation points.

Following the fanfare, "Believe It Or Not", the theme song from the
Greatest American Hero, starts up.  The fans give a loud face pop for
the over-the-top 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 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.  A pair of wraparound shades
inhabit his clean-shaven face, as does a big goofy smile representing
his joy at being so exulted by the fans.]

CL: And here comes the man who threatens Johnny Detson's reign.

FH: Oh now you want to acknowledge that Johnny Detson is the boss.

CL: Well his [quote hand gestures] "reign".

[Daniels sweeps down to the ring, shaking hands with fans on both
sides of the aisle, and handing out 'DD for PRESIDENT!"  balloons.
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: And his opponent ...

*WHUMP-ump-ump*

[With the sound of a thunderclap, the lights go out, and the world is
plunged into darkness.  Wind can be heard, chimed in through the PA
system.]

*Thump-thump*

[Red letters knit into existence on PVW's video wall, reading "It Gets
Worse!" then unravel to form a single red line.  The sounding of a
horrible heart is heard, the line reverberating with every noise
played over the PA.]

#I'm over it!#

[Those words, screamed in a-capela by one David Draiman, precede only
briefly an explosion of sound as "Forsaken" bursts out of the PA
system and into the arena.  The camera angle switches as tension
builds; red spotlights brightly illuminating the entrance portal and
the crowd waits.

Abruptly, an intense shower of blood-red sparks sprays out from before
the entrance portal, threatening to set the whole arena on fire.
Rising on a platform from beneath this flaming masterpiece emerges a
cloaked figure amidst a billowing cloud of smoke.

Reptilian blue eyes highlight the shoulders of his black vinyl robe.
Turning, he seems to, himself, stop the flames from shooting.  His
hooded head stares down at his gnarled hands, bound as they are in red
gauze, clutching a wooden katana in them.]

#You see I cannot be forsaken,#
#because I'm not the only one,#
#We walk amongst you feeding, raping...#
#Must we hide from everyone?#

[As if in reply to the lyrics, the dark figure strides powerfully
towards the ring as the lights die.  Darkness closes back in, broken
only by strobing flashbulbs as fans try to get a picture of what can
only be one man...]

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, the robe falling heavily into a heap on the mat, and
revealing his serpent-tattooed, muscular torso.  He then hands his
bo'ken off to the timekeeper and stands, ready to compete.]

CL: This is a battle between two of PVW top contenders.  Both of these
men deserve a shot and in Daniels case another shot at Gibson Hayes.

FH: Craven is shackled with beating Rob Cole yet again ... And Danny
Daniels is shackling our great PVW President who holds the Called
Shot.

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

PVW - HEATWAVE - ONE ON ONE MATCH
Danny Daniels v. William Craven

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


*DING*DING*DING*


CL: There is the bell ... And Danny Daniels isn't waiting! A brawl
erupts between the two.

FH: I guess Jack Griffin has inspired Danny Daniels into thinking he
can actually stand toe-to-toe with William Craven!

[Daniels is unloading and the crowd loves it!   Craven swings back,
but Daniels ducks under and leaps up hitting a dropkick that sends the
Motor City Madman tumbling _over_ the top ropes and to the outside.]

CL: And DANNY DANIELS IS ROLLING OUT!

FH: What in the world is going on here!

CL: Craven is on his feet and Danny Daniels continues to unload.

[The crowd loves the fight in Danny Daniels but, Craven gets the upper
hand from having the size and power advantage, backing the former
Supreme Champion up towards the ring. Craven grabs Daniels by his
shoulders and hurls him backwards, spine-first into the steel ring
post.]

CLAAAAANG!

FH: That will slow ya down.

CL: And just like that Craven is able to turn the tides and get the
upper hand.

[Craven backs up and charges at the former Supreme Champion, but
Daniels dives out of the way, causing Craven to run himself face-first
into the steel post.]

CLAAAAAANG!

[CROWD _ROARS_!]

CL: Daniels quick on his feet and Craven pays for it!

FH: That may just piss William Craven off even more.  Daniels might as
well just lay down and take the pinfall loss now.

CL: Craven tries to pull himself up, but Daniels right there to
continue working him over with clubbing blows to the back.  And he
wraps his arm around the green skull of the Motor City Madman ... DDT
ONTO THAT UNFORGIVING PADDED CONCRETE FLOOR!

THUUUUUD!

[Crowd is going nuts in full support of Daniels, as Double Danny pulls
himself up and fires up the crowd, telling them to stand up.]

DOUBLE DANNY !!!  DOUBLE DANNY !!!   DOUBLE DANNY !!!

CL: The crowd loves Danny Daniels. He is now climbing up onto the ring
apron.

FH: Just give Craven time.  He is going to crush the plague known as
Danny Daniels.

[... then starts pulling himself up onto the outside of the second
rope, And in second ropes Danny Daniels style he waits as Craven pulls
himself up and Daniels shows his aerial skills, diving off and taking
The Motor City Madman down with a flying crossbody on the padded
concrete floor!]

P V DUB !!!   P V DUB !!!   P V DUB !!!   P V DUB !!!


CL: LOOK AT DANIELS TAKE IT TO CRAVEN!  Who expected this?

FH: I sure in the hell didn't!

[The PVW chant fades into a return of "DOUBLE DANNY! Daniels raises
back to his feet rather quickly.  Daniels continues to ignore the
referee who hasn't even been counting and pulls Craven up by his head
and rolls him into the ring, then enters himself.]

CL: Even though the bell was sounded ... I guess Duke Martin didn't
want the Main Event to go down like that.

FH: Duke should have tossed Daniels out of the match for acting like
this!

CL: Acting like what?

FH: So disrespectful to Johnny Detson's world!

[Daniels puts the boots to Craven as he tries to pull himself up,
trying to keep the bigger man down on the mat. Daniels grabs the large
leg of Craven, hoists it as high as he can into the air and drives it
down, knee-first into the mat.]

TWAAAP!

CL: Daniels working over Craven and chopping the big limb of Craven
down just like a lumberjack would to a tree.

FH: He better pull out the chainsaw then.

[Daniels puts his foot behind Craven's knee, lifts the leg up and then
drills his knee back into the mat again. Daniels pulls Craven up and
goes to whip him off the ropes but the big man reverses. Daniels ducks
an Craven Clothesline as he comes running, and bounces off the
opposing set of ropes. Craven is ready for the charging Double D and
catches him with a MASSIVE Flapjack that makes the crowd cringe.]

THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

FH: It's true ... Double Danny _CAN_ fly.  That wasn't the second
ropes there, Daniels.

CL: Daniels had no choice there.  Craven sent him high in the air like
he was a golf ball.

[... Craven bounces off the ropes and hits Daniels with a splash,
changing up his offense a little, then makes the cover.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



CL: Only a two count!  Daniels isn't ready to quit.

FH: He should!

[Craven pulls Daniels up and hits a press drop chest-first over the
top rope with Daniels legs just dangling outside of the ring. Craven
backs up and hits Daniels with a big boot to the side of the head,
sending him tumbling back inside of the squared-circle.]

FH: FOOOOOUR!

CL: You reminded me of Preston right there ...

FH: Oh god ...  What have I done!

[Craven reaches down and grabs Daniels by the throat with both of his
massive mitts, choking him on the mat right in front of the ref, but
then pulls Daniels to his feet by his neck.]

CL: What is Craven doing now?  Duke Martin is trying to get some
control of Craven, but isn't succeeding ... HE HURLS DANIELS BACKWARDS
...

THUUUUUD!

[... Into the corner with massive force, then hits a short-distance
running avalanche splash. Craven whips Danny Daniels into the opposing
corner and makes sure he hits the turnbuckles before charging after.]

FH: And here comes the freight train known as the Craven Eat Your Face
Express!

[The fans go nuts as, Craven takes too much time between whipping and
charging Daniels, and with Daniels recognizing his opponent's making a
dash towards him, Double Danny leaps over the top rope to the ring
apron, causing Craven to ram chest-first into the turnbuckles.]

CL: Daniels has come out here on fire!  He drills Craven with a few
right hands on the staggering Craven, then hooks him up for a Vertical
Suplex to the outside!

FH: Craven blocks it!

[Craven lifts Daniels up for a vertical suplex instead but shows his
strength by stalling in mid-air, then straddles Daniels over the top
turnbuckle in the corner.]

CL: What's Craven doing now?  Craven is climbing up to the top rope
and hooks up his opponent where he wants him.

FH: Whoa!

[Craven throws himself and Daniels to the mat with a tremendous
Superplex for a man of Craven's size and Daniels looks like his back
just imploded.]

KAAAATHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

FH: Daniels is broken!  Good luck becoming the PVW President with a
broken spine.

CL: Craven now making the cover.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!



[... The fans roar as Danny Daniels somehow kicks out, wanting to
prove what he's got to Johnny Detson, who is most certainly watching.]

CL: Danny Daniels is digging down deep.  He isn't going to just lay
down to Johnny Detson's assassin!

FH: Does he want to go flying for a third time?  Wellllll ooookkkaaay!

[Craven lays Daniels across the second rope and pushes down on the
back of his head, choking him until the referee's count of four.
Craven bounces off the ropes and comes charging at Daniels, hitting a
knee across his back which ricochets him back into the middle of the
ring.]

CL: Good lord ... If that was a watermelon sitting there it would
have exploded all over the front row of the PVW arena.

FH: Thankfully he didn't target Daniels head then.

[Craven pulls the Daniels to his feet and goes to whip him off the
ropes but Daniels reverses with an arm wrench and hits a short arm
clothesline that doesn't take The Motor City Madman off his feet.]

CL: Craven staying on his feet, but Daniels bounces off of the ropes
and hits a clothesline again!

FH: HA Craven still on his feet!

[Once more, Craven staggers but does not fall. Daniels bounces off the
ropes a third time, ducks a big boot from Craven, bounces off the
opposing set of ropes and takes Craven down with a jumping
clothesline, as the fans roar!]

CL: DOWN GOES CRAVEN!  What a show of heart by Danny Daniels.  And now
Daniels bounces off the ropes towards Craven!

[... as the green skinned freak tries to pull himself up. Craven
throws up a big boot to slow down Double Danny, but Daniels stops
short and catches Craven's boot. The crowd roars as Daniels fires
off a few right hands until Craven falls over.]

FH: This is nuts ... I bet Daniels dipped into Jack Griffins illegal
steroids.

CL: Huh?

FH: Yeah you heard me, Chip!

[Daniels stands waiting as Craven pushes himself up ... and Daniels
grabs him from behind with a sleeper hold... but Craven fights it and
shoves Daniels back.]

CL: Craven not looking to be put to sleep.

FH: Because he doesn't want to face the monster under the bed ...  BA
DA DUMP!  Yes folks I will be here all week.

CL: Oh brother.

[Craven growls and charges towards Daniels while he pulls himself up
in the corner but Daniels dodges it and Craven rams himself chest-
first into the turnbuckles. Craven turns around and receives a
charging headbutt, Danny Daniels style.]

FH: I think that may have hurt Danny Daniels as much as William
Craven!

CL: Craven staggers out of the corner into a gutwrench suplex!  And
Daniels makes the cover!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Craven with a strong kick out!

[Daniels is feeling it now ... He lifts up Craven and he locks ont he
sleeper hold _again_.  This time he pushes him towards the ropes and
he looks to be going for his hangman's sleeper!]

FH: Ummm ... This isn't going to work.

CL: Daniels trying to hoist him up.  He has Craven up in the air, but
not high enough!

[The fans get behind Daniels as he tries again ...  but Crave
counters with some clubbing blows and gets free.  Daniels tries to
fight forward through them, but runs right into THE CLAW!]

CL: Daniels is now in trouble as Craven's giant gauntlet engulfs the
former Supreme Champion's face.

FH: It's only a matter of time until Craven crushes every bone in
Danny Daniels face.

CL: Daniels is swinging his arms trying to break free.  And Duke
Martin is right there asking him if he gives up.

FH: Just call for the bell Duke ... Danny can't even think never the
less talk through that giant hand.

[The fans begin to chant DANNY!  DANNY!  attempting to fire up the fan
favorite.  Daniels drops down to one knee.  Craven smiles nodding as
he can feel the life being squeezed out of Daniels.  Duke Martin
raises his arm once ...

and it drops.

He raises it twice ...

and it drops.

He raises it a third time ...

and it _FIRES_ back up!]

[ROARING SUPPORTING POP!]

CL: DANIELS IS FIGHTING TO STAY IN THIS MATCH!  Craven shakes his head
in disbelief, Fred ... He can't believe that Danny Daniels is fighting
his way back to his feet.

FH: I don't think anyone can believe it.

[Daniels kicks the leg of Craven ... He kicks it again ... Craven then
yanks the former Supreme Champion towards him and pulls out an oldie,
but still effective Craven feast on the side of Daniels head!]

[ACK EATTING HIS BLEEPING FACE HEEL POP!]

CL: Craven pulling a page out of Spectre's book.

FH: We might as well become the cooking show with guys like Spectre
and Craven on the roster.  Next week we will have BBQ-Flavored Flesh!

[Craven then nails a Throatslam Suplex ...]

THUUUUD!

CL: Daniels is laid out flat and Craven drops down for another cover!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




... NO! DANIELS GETS A FOOT ON THE BOTTOM ROPES!

FH: Impossible!

[Duke Martin is up and waving off the count.  William Craven shakes
his head, but stands over the fallen Danny Daniels and puts one finger
on his left nostril and then blows a collected green mass from his
right.  The fans let a UGHHHH!]

FH: SNOT SHOT OF DOOOOOM!  This is one of my favorite moves, Chip!

CL: Oh god ... I hate that move.

FH: Now imagine if Craven began to chew on Daniels ... That would be
sort of gross eh?

CL: I'd rather not even think about it.

[The fans are pretty grossed out and their reactions back that up.
Craven full of smiles pull the Supreme one up and sends him hard into
the corner with an Irish whip.  He then turns and beings to charge
thrusting into his big mafia style kick looking to crush and probably
knock out, Daniels ... but, Daniels dives out of the way at the last
second and Craven's big right foot crashes into the top turnbuckle.]

CL: Daniels just got out of the way ...	Craven now limping on that
right leg ... DANIELS WITH A CHOP BLOCK AND TAKES THE BIG MAN DOWN!

[ROARS!]

FH: Daniels returning to that second ropes ...

CL: He is pointing to his head ... He is looking to hit TOODLES~!

DANNY!!!   DANNY!!!   DANNY!!!   DANNY!!!

[On the PVW-Screen ... Footage begins as Mr. Called Shot and the self
proclaimed PVW President, Johnny Detson appears to be beating down on
nothing ... just kicking away at the air in the back of the arena.]

CL: Ummm ... What the heck.

FH: DETSON IS GETTING REVENGE ON JACK GRIFFIN!

[... and that's exactly what is happening.  Danny Daniels attention
has now turned and he is shaking his head "no .. don't do it" as
Detson seems to be pulling somebody up and charges and rams them
forward into the side of the brick back stage area.  Detson shouts
out, "You think you can pull one over on me, Jack!?!"]

CL: Detson looks to be getting revenge on ...  Jack Griffin.  oh lord
I can't believe I said that.

FH: Take that you scoundrel!  You and Daniels had this planned from
the start didn't you!

[Daniels has a look of concern on his face for his former nemesis.
Detson then leaps into a Johnny Kick "crushing" his opponent between
the brick and his boot.]

FH: JOHNNY KICK INTO THE SIDE OF THE ARENA!

CL: Daniels has respect for his former nemesis, Jack Griffin.

[Craven is back up and he stands looking at Daniels and then at Detson
on the screen.  Detson holds his right hand up as if he has Jack
Griffin by the back of his head.  He looks into the screen and smiles
as he pulls him under his arm and drops down with a DDT smashing Jack
Griffin's head into the hard pavement like a melon.  Danny Daniels
screams out, "NOOOOO!" ... and Craven then grabs him from that second
ropes with his giant hands and THUNDER MELTER FROM THE SECOND ROPES!]

THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!

FH: THUNDERMELTER!

CL: And Craven pushes his hands down for the cover.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!








*DING*DING*DING*

CL: William Craven has pinned Danny Daniels, but give Johnny Detson an
assist.

FH: A well executed plan if I say so myself.

CL: Danny Daniels has such a huge heart that he cares for ... well
Jack Griffin.

HD: The winner of the match ... WILLIAM CRAVEN!

[Craven looks down at Daniels then smiles as he kicks the near limp
corpse for good measure.]

CL: Come on ... the match is over!  Daniels went toe-to-toe with
William Craven and looked like he could pull it out.  And this is how
Craven acts.

FH: Direct orders from the boss, Chip!

[The arena goes black... ]

CL: What?

FH: I knew it! I knew it! Rob Cole couldn't resist the opportunity to
interfere in Craven's business!

CL: The lights are out, Fred... it could be anyone! Anyone at all ...
Maybe even Jack Griffin!

FH: No .. Detson took care of him.

[But when the lights go up... Cravens' eyes widen in shock. Cole is in
the ring alright... but it isn't Rob?!?!?!! Armed with the monsters
bo'ken, dressed in jeans and a black leather vest, her red hair pulled
into a pony tail, and her face twisted in a vicious scowl... the wife
of Rob Cole lets Craven see her before she brings the bo'ken CRASHING
down across his skull!]

CL: YLLANA!!!! OH MY GOD!!!!

FH: WHAT??!?!!!

[Craven is dropped to one knee... and another shot from the bo'ken
slumps him over to the side as the blood begins to flow. The woman
brings another shot down before reaching into her vest and pulling out
a pair of handcuffs... she chickenwings Cravens' arms back with the
bo'ken and cuffs his wrists together as the big man struggles to his
knees!]

CL: I don't believe what I'm seeing... she's not even half his size!
Yllana hits the ropes... and delivers a NASTY dropkick to the face of
William Craven! Look at her, Fred... she's gone completely insane in
that ring, just stomping the hell out of the downed Craven!

FH: Where is Rob Cole?!?!!  He needs to get his wife away from
Craven... before she gets hurt! Oh my god... what the heck is going on
here?!?!! WHAT??!?!!

[And here he comes, to the roar of the crowd... he slides in and wraps
an arm around the waist of Yllana, pulling her away from Craven even
as she tries to get in a few more shots. Craven drops into the corner,
his arms bound behind him as Yllana finally turns on her husband and
slaps him across the face. She points at him, and Rob takes a step
back as his wife steps towards Craven and calls for a mic...]

YC: You!!! You listen to me, now! YOU LISTEN TO ME!!! I let my husband
fight his own battles... I let him deal with the business and I stay
out of it! We've had our problems, Billy-boy... you can't imagine what
we've had to overcome to get to this point! He fights his battles...
and I fight mine!

You want to threaten me?!?!?!!!

YOU THREATEN MY SON?!?!!!

OUR SON?!?!!!

[Craven tries to blink the blood from his eyes and Yllana suddenly
steps in, ramming her foot beneath his jaw so that he's forced to
stare up at her. Her eyes are furious and she grabs the top ropes for
leverage with one hand, still holding the mic with the other.]

YC: I'm not some poor little damsel in distress, William. I'm the
woman who married a monster beneath the bed... do you think some poor
defenseless waif could deal with this man on his worst days? How about
his best? I have been in this sport as long as he has... I have seen
violence and brutality! I don't need my husband to protect me from
that, William... but you tried to use me to get to him and you tried
to use our child?!

ARE YOU STUPID?!?!!!

[Cole steps forward as Yllana leans in... and then she finally lets
him pull her back, her head shaking.]

YC: I'm not some prize to be claimed by the victor and I'm not some
hostage... and I will not ALLOW you to use me as one. I will not ALLOW
you to use my son. Rob says he'll face you at "Boiling Point"... and
you know what? He's going to break you, Craven... he's going to push
you to a limit you've never seen before and you're going to find out
why he was a World Champion!

Oh... no no no!!! MORE... you're going to find out why everyone in
that locker room respects him, admires him, and why he is the big deal
that people make him out to be.

You're going to learn why he wears that freak crown that you covet so
dang much... painted body, filed teeth, and no sense of pain?!?!!
Please!

You're the pretender to the throne that Rob has always occupied and
always will... because even on his best days...

[The woman softens and turns to regard her husband. She lightly traces
her finger along the cheek she just recently slapped, tears in her
eyes... she turns those eyes back to Craven. And the sadistic, hungry,
and wolfish smile peels the lips back from her teeth... ]

YC: He is still... the monster... beneath your bed.

[Craven stares at Cole and his wife, his arms still bound behind
him...
and Yllana lifts the hand of her husband and offers the knuckle a soft
kiss before the couple turn their back on the green beast and begin to
leave the ring.]

CL: Oh my god ... I don't know to say.

FH: We now know who wears the pants in the Cole house.

[The camera catches the face of William Craven.  Blood dripping down
the side of his head from the shot from his bo'ken.  However, a smile
sits across his face as he raises his hand with the handcuff that
connects him.]

CL: We are just two Heatwaves away from Boiling Point ...  Rob Cole
and William Craven are headed towards a collision course for the
_third_ time.  While Danny Daniels and Johnny Detson have unsettled
business in their own mind.   There are so many questions, yet there
is so little tome to find the answers.

FH: Hey Chip ... What do you and Rob Cole have in common?

CL: Huh?

FH: Both of your wives wear the pants in your houses!

CL: Oh geez.  Thank god I am getting the wrap up sign.  Folks I we
will see you NEXT HEATWAVE!

[Camera catches Rob and Yllana Cole standing at the top of the
entrance way.  William Craven on his feet inside the ring ... Blood
down the side of his green skull ...  We fade.]