What is Tradition?

Honoring those who have become before us ...

The leagues that paved the way and built a foundation that our
standard is accepted today.

The wrestlers who have laid it all on the line ...

Entertaining.
Forging Legacies.
Winning.

For four years now ... PVW has honored those who has come before us.
Warriors ... Stars ... Legends have all joined in, in bringing the
Phoenix world wide.  Men like:

Rick Marley.
Doc Holliday.
Chase Williams.
The Spectre.
Rob Cole.
Gibson Hayes.
Max and Sal.
William Craven.

And many ... many more.

Tonight, we celebrate four years of excellence.  We remind those who
said "we couldn't"  ... that, yes we could ... and we _DID_!

From Phoenix, Arizona to holding shows around the world.

From the Armory to the Scotiabank Saddledome.

We are the Phoenix.

And we bring to you ...




	 _______ ___ ___ _______ _______
	|_     _|   |   |_     _|_     _|
	  |   | |   |   |_|   |_ _|   |_
	  |___|  \_____/|_______|_______|


	**********************************
	    Phoenix Valley Wrestling
	        Tradition VII

	  Live at Scotiabank Saddledome,
	     Calgary, Alberta, Canada
	**********************************


[The opening graphics engulf into flames as we cut into a jam-packed
Scotiabank Saddledome, a jam packed arena of nearly nineteen thousand
fans decked out in their favorite superstars merchandise and shoving
their signs in front of the camera as it pans across the filled arena.

"Canada is PVW's _new_ home!"

"Amputate me, Perry!"

"Gibson Hayes is what is wrong with America!"

"Count Spectre down, Dos!"

... and many, many more.

The TVII logo finds is hung all over the arena ...  In the center of
the arena sits the PVW ring decorated with the PVW logo in between the
TVII logo.  Fireworks explode from the four turnbuckles!

FOOOOOOOSH~!

FOOOOOOOSH~!

BOOOOOOOOM~!

BOOOOOOOOM~!

The Calgary fans roar as that signals the start of the show.
Highlights of the PVW superstars are shown on the Phoenix-tron hanging
above the entrance way.  We hear the voice of Heatwave's Play by play
man, Chip Lester.]

CL: PVW is in Calgary!  Welcome everybody to the storied Scotiabank
Saddledome.  Home of the Calgary Roughnecks, Calgary Hitmen, Calgary
Flames, and now Tradition VII!

[We cut to the broadcast table that is far away from the action to be
considered safe, but close enough to see everything in the best seat
in the house to call the action packed night that is head of us.
Sitting ready to bring flavor to television sets at home are, Chip
Lester and Fred Hoyle.]

CL: Good evening, folks, and thank you as always for joining us in
another historic night in PVW.  Calgary is tradition deep in
professional wrestling, and tonight looks to be another unforgettable
evening of wrestling action.  I am Chip Lester, and the man beside me
needs no introduction, but if I didn't I wouldn't stop hearing about
it the whole flight home, Fred Hoyle.

FH: Don't go out of your way there, Chip.  Is that how to treat the
best announcer in the biz today?

CL: I don't know how I could have forgotten.  It must have been due to
the excitement of the night we have planned ahead.  PVW is now airing
global wide from Japan, Europe, North America ...

FH: What can I say?  Fred Hoyle equals ratings!

CL: We have an amazing night planned for you all.  Tonight in _one_
match we will witness TWO titles on the line in a match where SEVEN of
PVW's best will compete.

FH: You can stick the whole locker room in the ring, Chip.  It's not
going to matter when Todd Johnstone leads out HOPE.  This is his world
and we all just live in it.

CL: HOPE seems to hold nearly _all_ the cards in the PVW.  However,
change is in the air and I can feel it here tonight.

FH: That's just the stench of Canada, Chip.  I can't wait until we
leave this god awful country.

CL: Canada has shown us nothing but hospitality on our tour in the
Great White North.  We also will find out WHO will be the first man to
enter the Shattered Dreams Rumble in just a few short months when the
loser of the Rebirth Rules Match between Sinister and Spectre will
receive that challenge.

FH: Even Senor Cloak Dos isn't going to be able to save Sinister here
tonight.  Not many men survive Rebirth Rules when they step inside the
ring with Spectre.

CL: We also will have our share of great tag team battles, and we
can't forget Canada's own, Perry Fontana will step inside the ring to
avenge AsH against the ever so deadly, Derek Weaver.

FH: Derek Weaver is a walking weapon.  The guy can hurt you in so many
ways.  It's going to be a great night when Derek Weaver sends Canada a
message from HOPE through Perry Fontana.

CL: There will be many more great match up's as we march towards the
big lights of Sin City and Shattered Dreams II.   However, tonight we
celebrate FOUR years since the Phoenix was born.

FH: A celebration of yours truly, and I do appreciate it.  It has been
an honor to represent the PVW globally.  My voice has inspired
millions.

CL: Don't forget that we will make the Shattered Dreams mega-MAIN
EVENT, official tonight when the challenger, Johnny Detson and the PVW
World Champion ...

FH: Mr. Tradition!

CL: Gibson Hayes will sign on the dotted line.

FH: Johnny Detson still has time to come to his senses and stand side
by side with HOPE instead of against them.

CL: Also I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't that tonight right here
in the Scotiabank Saddledome, we could be watching the man who PVW was
built on, Rob Cole's final match.

FH: I ... think I may cry.

CL: Yes, it's hard to imagine a PVW without the Outcast running around
doing unpredictable things.

FH: They are tears ... tears of joy!

CL: Tonight, we have a _THREE_ hour show scheduled for you.  However,
we will be hard pressed to fit everything in that time frame.  The
best wrestlers in the WORLD are right here ... and competition will be
on a whole new level here tonight.

FH: It takes the best to call the best ... this is true!

CL: Let's leap head first into the night as Herk Douglas is headed
into the ring and let's kick off the first match of the night!

[The Voice heads into the ring as the Calgary fans chant - P V W !!]

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

[Big cheer from the crowd.]

HD:  Introducing first,  from Venice Beach, California... weighing in
tonight at 278 pounds...

[The quick opening drumbeat and the driving guitars of the fairly
infamous "Man In the Box" by the extremely famous Alice In Chains
riles the crowd to a roar, because it means the arrival of Heath
Dawson.]

HD: ...HEEEEAAAAAAAAAATH DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWSOOOOOOOOON!!

#I'm the maaaaaaaan in the box!
Buuuuuried iiiiiiin my shit!
Wooooon't yoooouuuu come aaaand - save me?#

#Save me!#

[Heath Dawson strides out from behind the curtain and stops at the top
of the aisle, bouncing on his toes and loosening up his arms, then
throws a few phantom uppercuts and walks to the ring. Heath is a cut
and defined individual, with light brown hair short and spiked. He
wears red and silver tights that go to mid-thigh, black kneepads and
black boots, with three silver buckles down the front. His right arm
has an elbow pad, and both fists are wrapped in black athletic tape.]

#Feeeee-e-e-e-e-d me my eyes
Can you sew them shut?#
#Jaaaaay-ay-ay-ay-sus Christ

Deny your maker#

#The-e-e-e-e-ey who try
Will be wasted#

#Fe-e-e-e-ar in my eyes
Now you've sewn them shut#

[Dawson walks to the ring, not paying attention to the hands of the
people but not avoiding them either. Once he gets to the ring, Dawson
deadleaps onto the apron and then ducks in, rushing past Herk Douglas
and climbing onto the neareast turnbuckle, throwing his hands in the
air and busting out the Double Bicep Flex~!, growling to complete the
moment. Heath hops down off the ringropes and stays in the corner,
stretching on the ropes as the referee pats him down.]
[Cheers from the crowd.]

CL:  We saw how brutal the first meeting between Heath Dawson and the
Mercenary got, Fred.

FH:  Dawson isn't smart.  He's coming back for more to let Merc finish
the job.

CL:  Merc has made it clear he's targeting a lot of the newcomers to
Phoenix Valley.

[The sounds of approaching helicopters comes over the PA system.]

HD:  His opponent!  Weighing in at two-hundred and sixty-five pounds.
Hailing from the Bunker.  Here is... THE MERCENARRRRRRRRRRRY!

[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 gunbursts 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 thesmoke reaches its
maximum density, "Die Hard the Hunter" by Def Leppard comes blasting
out through the sound system.]

CL:  Here comes the Mercenary.

FH:  Let's go ahead and chalk up Dawson as the next one on the list
Merc gets rid of.  Alex Epstein was first.  Heath Dawson is next.

[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, focussed totally on the task at hand. He slowly climbs the
ring steps, and gets into the ring.]

CL:  We've seen these two go back and forth the past little bit, Fred.
Heath Dawson is new to PVW and the Mercenary has made it known he's
going to target all the new talent.

FH:  There's no better way to establish yourself, Chip.  Take out the
competition.  Take them out permanently.

[Jeremy Mayhem calls both men to the center of the ring.  He goes over
the rules and then checks Dawson for any hidden objects.]

CL:  New Phoenix Valley official, Jeremy Mayhem, has been given the
tough task of trying to keep order during this match.

FH:  Who hired this dip?

[Mayhem then moves over and checks the Mercenary.  After checking him,
Merc demands to check Mayhem and pats him down.  Merc reaches down and
grabs at Mayhem's belt.]

CL:  Mercenary is going for Mayhem's belt.

FH:  He wants to whip Dawson again like he did with a belt on
Heatwave.

CL:  I don't think Mayhem will let that one fly.

[Mayhem pushes Merc back and gets in his face.  Merc throws up his
hands and pleads innocence.  Mayhem calls for the bell.]




*****************************************
P        ONE ON ONE MATCH               T
V          HEATH DAWSON     vs.         V
W          THE MERCENARY               II
*****************************************



*DING DING*

CL:  This one is official underway, Fred.  There's a lot on the line
in this one as we stated earlier.  If the Mercenary loses, Jessica
Marshall will be gone from Phoenix Valley.  If Dawson loses, he will
go to work for Jessica Marshall.

FH:  I hope Dawson can take orders from a Marshall.

[Dawson immediately charges at Merc, who simply ducks between the top
and middle rope.  Merc calls to Mayhem to back Dawson off.  Mayhem
does so at Dawson's protest.  Dawson points and complains to Mayhem.
Merc takes the opportunity to climb out of the ring and to the
ringside area.  He walks around the ring as Dawson pushes past Mayhem
and tells Merc to get back into the ring.]

FH:  This is Merc's experience coming into play, Chip.

CL:  He's stalling, Fred.

FH:  He's frustrating Dawson, Chip.  These are the tactics used by a
wily veteran.

CL:  Really?

FH:  You ever been in that ring as an athlete?

CL:  Well... no.

FH:  I have.  You play mind games with your opponent.  Cause him to
make mistakes.

[Dawson gets by the ropes and gestures for Merc to come back into the
ring.  Merc continues to walk around the ringside area, causing Dawson
to follow him in the ring.  Dawson gets to another side and reaches
over the top rope, trying to grab Merc.  Merc easily steps out of the
way.  Jessica Marshall cackles wildly.  Dawson exits the ring and
immediately makes his way towards Merc.]

CL:  Dawson has finally had enough!  He's giving chase to Merc!

FH:  This is exactly what he wants, Chip.  He's playing Cat and Mouse
with Dawson right now.  Dawson's too emotional and too hot-headed to
even figure it out.

[Merc beats a hasty retreat into the ring and gets to his feet.
Dawson is in the ring right behind him, but Merc hits the opposite
side and slides right back out of the ring.  Dawson is to his feet and
yells at Merc who walks around the ringside area again.  Marshall
claps approvingly and laughs.]

FH:  Merc is continuing to play this game.

[Dawson kicks the bottom rope in frustration.]

CL:  This tactic may backfire, Fred.

FH:  Not with a hot-headed rookie, Chip.  This is the best tactic to
use.

[Dawson slides out of the ring and gives chase to Merc again.  Merc
slides back into the ring and gets to his feet.  He waits for Dawson
to slide in and then stomps on Dawon's stomach.  Merc continues
stomping Dawson, not letting the Venice Beach native get to his feet.]

CL:  Merc FINALLY starts the offense by taking a cheap shot at Dawson
as he was sliding back into the ring.

FH:  Cheap shot?  Chip, you don't know anything, which is why you
weren't Announcer of the Year for twenty-eleven.  Merc created an
opportunity.  He took it.

[Merc places his foot squarely on Dawson's throat to choke him.
Mayhem immediately moves in and starts his five count.]

CL:  I agree, Merc is opportunistic, Fred.

[Merc breaks the hold at four.  Mayhem warns Merc about the blatant
choke.  To show he understands, Merc places his foot back on Dawson's
throat and stands on the bottom rope for leverage.  Mayhem starts his
count again.]

FH:  While the Pessimist, Optimist, and Realist argued over the glass
of water, the Opportunist said, "Thanks, guys.  That glass of water
was refreshing and quenched my thirst."

[Mayhem gets to four and Merc breaks the choke again.  Mayhem points a
finger in Merc's face and warns him to not continue with the blatant
cheating.]

FH:  Like that's going to do any good.

CL:  Merc could find himself disqualified.

FH:  Not likely.  He's been around too long to make a dumb mistake and
get himself disqualified.  Besides, Jessica Marshall pays too well to
let that happen.  Merc will not lose a payday like her.

[Merc pushes past Mayhem and grabs a handful of Dawon's hair, pulling
him to a vertical base.  Merc wraps his arms around Dawson's waist and
pivots on one foot.  He drops Dawson throat-first across the top
rope.]

CL:  There's a hotshot from the veteran.  He's really focusing on
Dawson not being able to breathe, Fred.

FH:  Being in wrestling as long as Merc has, he knows what he's doing.
He's cutting off the air flow.  He's keeping Dawson from being able to
get enough air to mount any offense.

[Merc looks down at Dawson, who is grabbing at his throat as he lays
on the mat.  Merc measures Dawson up and then drives a knee into
Dawson's stomach.  Merc gets to his feet and measures again, driving a
knee into Dawson's stomach.  Merc covers with a lateral press, hooking
the far leg.  Mayhem drops into position.]





*1*





*2*





*kickout*

CL:  Merc with a cover after two kneedrops, but Dawson kicks out.

FH:  [sighs] Chip, I hate having to explain things to you.  Merc knew
he wasn't going to win after two kneedrops.  He wanted Dawson to waste
energy by kicking out.

[Merc grabs Dawson's hair and pulls him up to his feet.  He whips
Dawson into the ropes and follows a few steps behind.  As Dawson
rebounds, he takes Merc's knee to his stomach.  Dawson flips over and
lands on the mat on his back.  Merc reaches down and grabs Dawson's
hair again, eliciting a warning from Mayhem.  Merc pulls Dawson up and
doubles him over with a kick to the stomach.  Merc grabs Dawson's hair
and drives him down towards the mat.  Merc drops to one knee and
brings Dawson's stomach down on his out-stretched knee.]

CL:  Merc continues to focus on Dawson's stomach.  He's really working
it over, testing the intestinal fortitude of the rookie.

FH:  Just like I test your wife's intestinal fortitude.  ZING!

CL:  I was waiting for it.

[Merc rolls Dawson onto his back and makes the cover.  Mayhem gets
into position.]





*1*





*2*





*kickout*

FH:  Dawson is using what strength he has, so he won't have any for
offense.

CL:  Dawson kicksout after a modified gutbuster.

[Merc pulls Dawson up to his feet with two handfulls of hair.  Merc
pushes Dawson back to the ropes and fires him across.  Merc rebounds
off the opposite side and collides shoulder-first with Dawson, finding
himself face-up on the mat looking at Dawson.  The crowd cheers.]

CL:  Merc went for a shoulder tackle, thinking he had worn Dawson down
enough.  He finds himself back-down on the mat!

[Dawson charges into the ropes.  Merc rolls to his stomach and stays
flat as Dawson rebounds and steps over him.  Merc quickly gets to his
feet as Dawson rebounds.  Merc swings with a clothesline, but Dawson
ducks under and stops suddenly.  He pivoits on one foot, spinning a
full three-hundred and sixty degrees before sending Merc to the mat
with a lariat.  The crowd lets loose with a big cheer.]

CL:  Dawson just snapped Merc down with a discus lariat, Fred.

FH:  Even the unfortunate get lucky once in awhile, Chip.

[Merc gets his bearings and rolls towards the edge of the ring.
Dawson goes to press the attack, but Merc is able to roll out of the
ring under the bottom rope before Dawson gets to him.  The crowd
boos.]

FH:  Merc goes right out of the ring.  He knew his position in the
ring and was able to take advantage of it.

CL:  Looks like Merc needs to rethink his strategy.

FH:  He's buying himself some time and stopping Dawson's momentum.

[Marshall and Merc have a quick strategy session on the outside as
Dawson yells at Merc.  Dawson then points to Mayhem and demands he get
Merc back in the ring.]

CL:  Dawson not happy with Merc taking a breather.

FH:  Keep him frustrated, that's the name of the game, Chip.

[Dawson moves over to the side of the ring and reaches out and grabs
Merc by his mask.  The crowd cheers.]

CL:  Looks like Dawson is going to take care of this himself!

FH:  Mayhem needs to put a stop to this!  Merc is outside of the ring
discussing strategy!  Dawson can't put his hands on him in that
situation!

CL:  There aren't timeouts or strategy sessions during a match, Fred.

[Dawson turns Merc around and pulls him up onto the ring apron.  Merc
grabs Dawson's head and steps off the ring apron, pulling Dawson's
throat-first across the top rope.  Dawson falls onto his back, gasping
for air.  Merc gets to his feet and looks at Dawson inside the ring.
He quickly climbs up onto the ring apron and scales to the top
turnbuckle.]

FH:  Dawson is in prime position here.  Merc's experience is really
playing a factor in this match, Chip.

CL:  Along with some questionable tactics early on, such as those
chokes.

FH:  He's got to the count of five.

[Merc measures Dawson up and leaps off the top buckle.  Merc moves a
bit in the air, so his back is facing the mat.  He tucks his arms and
legs in as he reaches the apex of the leap.]

FH:  Here comes that Cannonball Splash!





***TTTHHHUUUDDD***





[The crowd erupts into cheers, as Dawson rolls towards the turnbuckle
at the last second, and Merc lands back-first on the mat.  Merc arches
his back.  Mayhem surveys both men and starts his ten count.]

CL:  Merc went for a high risk move and came up empty!  This is the
break that Dawson needed!

FH:  Mayhem needs to give Merc a timeout.

[On the outside of the ring, Jessica Marshall is screaming and
pounding the ring apron, telling Merc to get to his feet.  Mayhem
reaches three as Dawson starts to stir a bit.]

CL:  Mayhem up to three.  Dawson stirs a bit first.

FH:  Merc is also starting to get back to his feet!

[Not exactly the case, as Merc has rolled over onto his stomach.
Mayhem is at six now, and Dawson is on his stomach, pushing himself to
all fours.  Mayhem hits seven, and Dawson is on his knees as Merc is
now on all fours.]

CL:  Both men are trying to get their feet, but it's just a matter of
who can do it first.

[Dawson gets to his knees and then rises to his feet, getting a cheer
from the crowd.  Merc, on all fours, crawls towards the edge of the
ring, looking for an escape.]

FH:  All Merc needs to do is get to the outside and take a breather,
Chip.  Look at that.  He's stopping any momentum that Dawson may be
able to mount.

CL:  Fred, I think Heath Dawson has other ideas.

[He sure does!  Dawson is quickly to his feet and rushes over to the
Mercenary and grabs his foot, preventing Merc from sliding out of the
ring.  Using Merc's foot, Dawson pulls Merc back into the ring.
Dawson releases Merc's foot and reaches down, grabbing him in a rear
waistlock with Merc still stomach-first on the mat.  The crowd erupts
into cheers at Dawson's display of strength as he almost dead-lifts
Merc up and takes him over with a German suplex.]

CL:  Dawson just dead-lifts Merc up off the mat and takes him over
with a German suplex!

[Dawson doesn't release the waistlock, but executes the move so that
Merc hits first.  Dawson hits the mat a split-second later and then
puts his feet down and bridges up to get his shoulders off the mat.
Mayhem slides into position.]





*1*





*2*





*shoulder up*

FH:  Merc able to get his shoulder up, Chip.  Notice how he just
rolled his feet over his head and got one shoulder off the mat.  No
kicking out on his part.  He's got a big gas tank, but he's not taking
any chances!

CL:  Good observation, Fred...

FH:  Which is why I'm the Announcer of the Year... "daddy".

CL:  ... And you kill the follow up I had.

FH:  Your wife asked me to do that.  Said something about some
payback.

[Dawson releases his waistlock.  He rolls to his stomach and is to his
knees.  He looks at Merc for a moment as Merc finishes his reverse
somersault and lands on his stomach.  Dawson is to his feet and grabs
Merc, bringing him up to his feet.  He sinches in a gutwrench and
lifts Merc up and brings him down with a power bomb, holding Merc
down.  Mayhem gets into position again.]

CL:  Dawson is looking for the win here!

[Jessica Marshall slams her fists onto the ring apron and screams at
Merc.]





*1*





*2*





*3... kickout!*

FH:  It's going to take more than that to hold Merc down, Chip.  And
less than that to hold your wife down!

[Dawson wastes no time in getting to his feet, but he shoots Mayhem a
look to convey he's not happy.  Dawson grabs Merc and pulls him up to
his feet.  Dawson lunges forward driving his forearm into the side of
Merc's skull.  Merc staggers back.  Dawson lunges forward again,
driving his forearm into Merc's skull.  Merc staggers back-first into
the ropes.  Dawson captializes and whips Merc to the far side.  Merc
rebounds and gets picked up with a waistlock by Dawson.  Dawson pivots
on one foot and slams Merc down back-first onto the mat.]

CL:  Great spinebuster from Dawson!  Merc's in a world of trouble
here, Fred.

FH:  If Jessica Marshall would do her job, he'd be on offense right
now!

[Dawson peels Merc off the mat and brings him up to a vertical base.
He peppers Merc's skull with two right hands and pushes Merc back into
the corner.  Dawson climbs up to the middle turnbuckle and raises his
right arm in the air.]

CL:  Dawson has bad intentions written all over that right hand!

FH:  Mayhem needs to get in there!

[As Dawson brings his right first down across Merc's skull, the crowd
counts along.]


*1*


*2*


*3*


*4*


*5*


*6*


*7*


*8*


*9*


*10*


*11*

CL:  Jessica Marshall is beside herself, Fred.

FH:  Maybe she needs someone to console her right now.

[Marshall pounds the ring apron.  Dawson hops off the middle
turnbuckle and grabs Merc, flinging him across to the other
turnbuckle.  Merc hits the opposite corner back-first with a thud.
Dawson gets down into a three-point stance and looks at Merc.]

CL:  Uh oh.  This isn't going to be good.

FH:  Too much stalling on Dawson's part, Chip!

[Dawson charges out of the stance and crushes Merc in the corner with
a brutal clothesline getting the crowd to cheer.]

CL:  Dawson has come alive with offense, and this crowd is loving it.

[Merc staggers out of the corner and gets lifted up and pressed over
Dawson's head.  Dawson presses Merc twice as he takes a few steps in
the ring.]

FH:  This showing off will cost him, Chip.  Just watch.

[Dawson drops Merc, who lands stomach-first on the mat.]

CL:  Dawson using his strength advantage.  This is what Merc was
trying to avoid earlier.

FH:  That and wear the big man down.

[Dawson lifts Merc to his feet and steps to his side.  He lifts Merc
across his shoulders and places an arm on Merc's chin and the other on
his leg.]

CL:  Now a torture rack from Dawson!  Merc can't slither his way to
the ropes to break this!

FH:  I'll give Dawson credit here, Chip.  He's using a submission move
where he controls the ring positioning!

[Having seen enough, Jessica Marshall is up on the ring apron.  Jeremy
Mayhem stops from asking Merc if he gives and moves over to Marshall.
Mayhem demands Marshall to get off the ring apron.]

FH:  There's the great equalizer, Chip.

CL:  A manager doing something illegal?

FH:  Nope.  That's Merc's strategy.  He doesn't have to fight to the
ropes.  Marshall will keep Mayhem distracted!

[The crowd buzzes as Dawson continues to put the hurt on with the
torture-rack.  The crowd starts to buzz and eruputs into cheers as a
figure comes walking down the aisle, unseen by Mayhem, Marshall, Merc,
and Dawson.]

CL:  What's this?  Someone's coming down the aisle.

FH:  Merc likes to call this, "Plan B."

[The buzz erupts into HUGE cheers.]

FH:  WHAT THE!?  WHAT'S _HE_ DOING HERE!?

.

.

CL:  ALEX EPSTEIN!  ALEx EPSTEIN IS HERE!

[Sure enough, Alex Epstein is now ringside.  Jessica Marshall looks
over and double takes, her eyes going as wide as the moon and her jaw
hitting the ring apron.]

CL:  And Jessica Marshall just saw a ghost, Fred!

FH:  Who let him in the building!?  Wait!  SOMEONE FIRE DANNY DANIELS!
HIS INSANITY HAS GONE TOO FAR!

[With Mayhem distracted by Marshall and Marshall distracted by
Epstein, Merc is able to break the torture-rack with a well-placed
face rake.  Dawson drops Merc out of the move.  Merc falls to his
knees and winces a bit.  Dawson moves to side of the ring, using the
top rope for support as he tries to get his vision back.  Merc gets to
his feet.  His vision starting to come back, Dawson turns and faces
Merc, who kicks him square in the groin.]

CL:  Blatant cheating from Merc!  He just kicked Dawson right in the
groin, and did nothing to hide it!

FH:  He doesn't need to hide it!  Marshall and Epstein are providing
the distraction!

[Marshall screams at Mayhem to get Epstein removed from ringside.
Merc grabs Dawson, who is on his knees, and applies a side-headlock.
He cranks away on the headlock, paying a bit of attention to the
confusion on the outside of the ring.]

CL:  Merc now with a side-headlock.  Dawson is up to his feet as Merc
grinds away on it.

FH:  Merc with a smart move here.  He's got a side-headlock on so he
can see what Alex Epstein wants.  These two had a brutal war.  I
thought Merc had done the world of a favor by getting rid of this guy.

[Epstein looks at Merc and raises his right hand in the air, thumb
parallel with the ground.  Merc looks at Epstein.  Dawson quickly
reverses the headlock into a hammerlock.]

CL:  Dawson goes straight into a hammerlock to counter that headlock!

[Epstein gives a thumbs down signal.  He grabs Marshall and pulls her
off the ring apron.  Jessica Marshall kicks and screams as Epstein
tells Mayhem to pay attention to the match.  Mayhem turns around.]

FH:  Merc needs to get out there and help his manager!

CL:  Dawson cranks away on that hammerlock, looking for a better
position.

[Mayhem gets in close to the two...



.


.


*DING DING DING*

FH:  WHAT THE!?

[Mayhem goes to the ring ropes and talks with Herk Douglas.]


.

.

.

.

.

HD:  The winner of the match... HEAAAAAAAAAAAATH
DAAAAAAWWWWWWSSSSSSSOOOOOOOOOOOOON!

[Dawson looks over at Mayhem in confusion and starts yelling at him.
Jessica Marshall's eyes go wide.]

FH:  Did they just!?

CL:  THEY DID!  MERC JUST THREW THIS MATCH!  HE SUBMITTED TO A
HAMMERLOCK!

[Jessica Marshall continues to kick and scream as Epstein carries her
up the aisle.  Sure enough the crowd breaks into the "Na na na
naaaaaaaaaa, na na na naaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, hey hey hey... GOODBYE!"  They
continue to sing as Merc exits the ring.]

FH:  Why in the world would he do that?  Unless Epstein has more
money, which...

CL:  That entire war between these two.  Alex Epstein went through all
of that just to get even with Jessica Marshall?  Was that the plan
from the getgo?

[On the outside of the ring, Merc doesn't have any ill effects from
the hammerlock.  Dawson berates Mayhem about the decision.]

FH:  What's Heath complaining about? He got the win!

CL:  Not like this.  He was set up as a stooge in this whole thing,
Fred.  Dawson wanted that win on his own.

FH:  A win is a win, Chip.

[Dawson continues to argue with Mayhem.  Merc looks in the ring and
then turns and looks at the Haliburton.  He grabs the briefcase and
quickly slides into the ring behind Dawson.]

FH:  I think Merc is looking for more than a win here tonight, Chip!

CL:  Merc has that briefcase!  Dawson is arguing with Mayhem!

[The ringside crowd stops singing and scream at Dawson to turn around.
Merc gets the briefcase into position and charges Dawson...









... who ducks the briefcase shot to cheer from the crowd.  Merc's
momentum carries him forward.  Merc stops and pivots around, only to
have Dawson waiting on him.]











***TTTHHHUUUDDD***

FH:  NO NO NO!

CL:  WAVE RUNNER!  DAWSON JUST HIT MERC WITH THE WAVE RUNNER!

[The crowd ERPUTS into cheers!  Dawson makes a cover and hooks the
leg.  Mayhem admonishes Dawson.  Dawson demands Mayhem make the
count.]

FH:  What's he doing!?

CL:  He wants Mayhem to make the count!

FH:  He's already won the match!

CL:  It wasn't the win he wanted, Fred!

FH:  It's a win!  What's it matter how he got it!?

[Mayhem drops and counts.]





*1*





*2*





*3!!*

[The cheers get louder as "Man in the Box" starts up.  Dawson gets to
his feet and raises his arms in victory.  Mayhem yells at Dawson to
stop.  With his arms raised in victory, the look on Dawson's face
conveys he's not happy with how he won the match.]

FH:  Does he think he's gonna get two wins out of this?

CL:  I think he wants the satisfaction of a real victory, Fred.

FH:  He got a real victory!

[Dawson looks down at Merc and then exits the ring, still looking
pissed off.]

CL:  Dawson was given a victory on a silver platter thanks to a plan
from Alex Epstein and the Mercenary, but maybe he'll get some
satisfaction out of getting a three count after the fact.

FH:  You know what that is, Chip?  That's an entitlement issue right
there.  Dawson feels he's entitled to a win over Merc and had to
attack him after the match.  What an ingrate.  He had the win.

CL:  It was Merc who attempted to assault Dawson with the Haliburton,
Fred.

FH:  I'll be assaulting your wife with my Haliburton later, Chip.

CL:  *sigh*

[Dawson gets partway up the aisle and stops.  He glares back at the
ring and at Merc who is getting to his knees.]

CL:  I don't think this one is over, Fred.

[We cut to the backstage area, where we see Tracy Hudson WALKING! The
camera follows him from behind as he steps out into the hallway.
Hudson has clearly changed into his wrestling gear, with the addition
of a well-worn leather jacket and faded blue t-shirt. Also highly
noticeable on Hudson is a set of hot pink headphones. As he walks, we
can hear him sing. Badly. Very Badly...]

HUDSON: ... Meanwhile I'll report back to my colleagues who are
chewing on the doors. Guess we'll table this for now...

[Hudson turns to his right and steps into a main hallway, still
singing...]

HUDSON: ... I'm glad to see you take constructive criti..WHOA!

[Hudson jumps up in shock! He then settles down and peers to his
left.]

HUDSON: Oh... it's -you-.

[The camera now catches up to Hudson as he stands right before...
Dragon Kid? Yep. Sure enough, Hudson and the alter ego of Mike
Bisignano are face to face for the first time since Heatwave!]

DK: Oh so sorry, Mister Hudson. I really should watch where I go.

HUDSON: Really, Biz? That's what you're going with?

DK: Biz? Why do everyone think I am Biz?

HUDSON: [Pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting his eyes shut.]
Okay, you know what? Fine... We'll play it your way. But let me just
point out one... [Poking DK's chest with his right index finger.]
minor... [One more poke.] thing.

[DK blinks at Hudson, taken aback by the manner Hudson is treating
him.]

HUDSON: Biz... Dragon Kid... Dragon Chan... Whatever. I want you to
pay close attention now. This is -very- important.

[Hudson takes one of Dragon Kid's shoulders with his left hand, and
looks on the masked one with a look of exaggerated pleading.]

HUDSON: If you do what you did last time we fought... you take any
liberties... showboat your silly ass over at my expense... you -screw
me-... Then you can hide behind that mask and forties Captain America
villain accent all you like. You can -win- this match for all I care.
Because if you screw me on this then believe me, kiddo... I am going
to hurt you. A -lot-.

HUDSON: So... deal?

[DK pauses for what seems an eternity before finally nodding his head
in the affirmative. Hudson *beams* at DK.]

HUDSON: GREAT! Glad we could get that sorted out! In that case, I'm
just gonna... I'm gonna scoot.

[Hudson is getting ready to turn and leave, when Dragon Kid sucker
punches Hudson in the back of the head! Hudson crumples to the ground
as though shot, his legs flailing wildly as he holds his head in his
hands. Dragon Kid stomps down on Hudson's ribcage in a fury! When
Hudson stops floundering about, Dragon Kid takes off his mask,
revealing none other than The Biz!]

BIZ: I WARNED YOU, HUDSON! I TOLD YOU WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF YOU PLAYED
GAMES WITH ME!

[He calms down]

BIZ: I don't know who you're working with or how you're gaining access
to my belongings but messing with my head is NEVER a good idea. This
is the last time I'll tell you this... stay out of my business.

[He waves the Dragon Kid mask in Hudson's face]

BIZ: AND LEAVE THIS MASK ALONE!

[The Biz walks off, leaving Hudson on the floor. Hudson finally rolls
over to his back and sits up, staring off bemusedly in the direction
Biz walked off in, an absent smile on his face.]

HUDSON: Well... alright then! Heh.

[Cut back to the announcers.]

CL: I am not even sure how to explain what is going on with the Biz
... or Dragon Kid ... or whatever he is going by these days?

FH: Whomever he is ... He is twice the wrestler when he is the Biz.  I
can't stand Dragon Kid ... He is soft and makes me sick to my stomach.
Biz on the other hand ... Confident and a future champion in this
league.  And he just proved my point right there.

CL: The Biz could be pulling a fast one on us all ... mainly Tracy
Hudson.

FH: Tracy Hudson is a little off in the head himself, Chip.

CL: The two will collide here tonight, but first let's go backstage
where Marcus Manson and the Gold Rush are preparing for a big six man
tag team match scheduled NEXT!

["Swingin" Dean Hayes is standing backstage at the interview area in
front of the PVW banner with three of the men involved in tonight's 6-
man tag match.

To Dean's left, Marcus Manson stands taller than everyone else at his
full six feet nine inches. His shoulder length black hair is slicked
and pulled back into the usual ponytail. The Misery Machine is clad in
the decades old beaten leather trench coat that he always wears to the
ring. His stoney face is marred only by the scar that runs from above
the center of his right eye to his chin.

Jonathan Regnigh stands to Dean's left. The High Roller is shirtless
and wears black snap pants over his wrestling gear. His hair is
blonde, and in a flat top. His tag team partner stands next to him.
"The Last Cowboy" Beau Wilson sports a white cowboy hat over shoulder-
length dirty blonde hair. The high flyer is in prime physical
condition, and looks to have been hitting the beach or the tanning bed
as well as the gym.]

DH: Thanks, Chip. Jonathan Regnigh, what're your thoughts tonight as
you and your tag team partner team up with your former tag team
partner to face off against the team of Uncle Frank and Lineage?

[Manson scowls and tiltas his head to the side slightly as Dean turns
the mic towards Regnigh.]

JR: Let me tell ya somethin', Dean-O. There's a big difference between
Gold Rush and Lineage, and that's passion. We are passionate about
wrestling. We're fans, and we're athletes, and we will be champions.
Kruger and Vermeer already had a shot at the PVW Tag Team
Championships, and they couldn't get it done.

[Regnigh motions towards himself and Wilson.]

JR: It just goes to show how successful you are when your team is made
up of a full of himself rookie -- who is actually greener than the
grass at Pebble Beach. And his partner is a veteran who has just plain
given up, and admitted as much.

[Regnigh pauses and beams a smile at Dean.]

The Last Cowboy and The High Roller will get it done. And we will get
it done tonight. We are one match into our PVW careers and we are
undefeated. Lineage hasn't done anything in PVW yet but lose. I'm not
trying to be mean or vindictive, I'm just being real. Look at our
performance between those ropes, and you tell me who you think the
better team is.

[Dean turns away from Regnigh towards Manson.]

DH: Marcus, how does it feel to be back in the ring with your old
Circle of Death partner?And to be going up against Lineage and a man
you've gotten to know very well the last few weeks; PVW's Television
Champion, Uncle Frank?

[Dean holds the microphone up for The Misery Machine.]

MM: Frank Knight says there's a conspiracy. That lots of people are
working for me to take away his TV title. Know this, Dean. Frank
Knight is scared. He is afraid that I am going to get that title from
him, and he's right. Unfortunately that won't be tonight, but it'll be
soon, mark my words.

[Manson grabs the mic and pulls it closer, looking directly into the
camera.]

MM: Frankie, don't worry about not getting enough playtime tonight. My
pals Vermeer and Kruger are gonna make sure that you and I have plenty
of "fun".

[Manson smiles a wicked smile before shoving the mic away and walking
off. Regnigh nods at Dean and pats Beau on the shoulder, heading off
as well. Wilson stands there with his arms spread wide, mouth agape.]

BW: What? I don't get to talk?

DH: We're outta time. Chip, Fred, back to you!

BW: Hang on, I know you think I'm joking but I'm being serious! You
mean I don't get to say any--

[Wilson is cut off as the camera crossfades back to ringside.]

FH: I KNEW IT! This is a travesty! Manson just admitted that he's got
a conspiracy going against Uncle Frank! And if Lineage really is
involved, I will be sorely disappointed in those two!

CL: Manson seemingly playing some mind games with Uncle Frank, it'll
be interesting to see if it pays off and if it causes Frank and
Lineage to work less cohesively than they would have otherwise!

FH: There is no way Lineage is involved ... Just no way!

CL: The Marcus Manson and Uncle Frank situation has spilt over into
the tag team division and dragged Lineage and Gold Rush into the
heated situation.

FH: Uncle Frank has the upper hand here tonight.  He has the honor of
teaming with such amazing talent, Lineage.   Marcus Manson on the
other hand ...

CL: I disagree, Fred.  Marcus Manson and Jonathan Regnigh go back a
long time.  There is a sense of comfort and experience with Manson and
Gold Rush.

FH: There is never comfort around when you take on Uncle Frank, Chip.

CL: Let's go to the ring where the Voice is standing by.

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

[The lights in the arena shift to gold just as "Ladies and Gentlemen"
by Saliva begins playing over the Arena's sound system. The crowd
roars its approval.]

HD: Introducing first, wrestling out of Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, here
are "The High Roller" Jonathan Regnigh and "The Last Cowboy" Beau
Wilson... they are the team of....

GOLD RUUUUUUUSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!!!

[Regnigh is first through the curtain, his rookie tag partner not far
behind. Regnigh wears Black trunks with "High Roller" written on the
back in gold script. His fists are taped from knuckles to forearm with
white athletic tape. He wears gold knee pads and his black boots have
two gold dice on the sides, showing a lucky 7.

Beau Wilson stands beside his partner, wearing much the same attire.
He wears low-rise black trunks with "Last Cowboy" on the back in gold
script. He also has the obligatory mudflap girl embroidered in gold on
his right hip. He also wears gold kneepads and elbowpads with black
boots that have a setting sun silhouette on the side.]

CL: Tonight is the night! Gold Rush finally gets to get in the ring
with the team who embarrassed them on the night of their PVW debut,
Lineage.

FH: You say that like it was Lineage's fault! It's that horn-ball
Wilson who's to blame! He got himself locked in a broom closet and
Regnigh couldn't find him. He probably ended up in there cause he
thought the arena Janitors would have stashed some nudie magazines in
there!

CL: Are you insane!? Gold Rush accused Lineage and they haven't denied
it! Regnigh in particular had some pretty harsh words for Kruger on
Showcase this week as well.

FH: Right, and if Jon-boy knows what's good for him he'll mind his own
damn business and keep to himself if he doesn't want Alexander Kruger
to give him an early retirement.

[Regnigh and Wilson slap hands on their way down to the ring. Wilson
stops when he catches sight of a particularly attractive female fan
who just so happens to have a Sharpie. Wilson proceeds to start
signing the young woman's chest. He also writes his phone number on
the back of her hand just before Regnigh comes back to haul him off
towards the ring. Wilson shouts back to her "Call me!" as Regnigh
drags him to the ring.]

FH: See? Look at this goof! He's more worried about getting a piece of
ass than he is about winning matches!

[The doleful sound of "Rooster" by Alice In Chains begins to play
through the arena, as the lights drop down.  Pale blue spotlights
illuminate the aisle from underneath, playing off of a thin mist
rising from the floor... creating an ethereal-looking effect as the
powerful frame of Marcus Manson slowly walks through the curtain. ]

CL: And there's the big man! Marcus Manson should have been wrestling
Uncle Frank for the TV Title tonight, but Uncle Frank antagonized
Manson until he caused Manson to cost himself his title opportunity.

FH: The big dumb oaf threw it away, you mean! it proves how easily
manipulated Marcus Manson is by someone of superior intellect like
Uncle Frank!

[Backlighting Manson's entry is the big screen, which shows only the
words "CAN YOU HANDLE THE MISERY?" in bright pale blue lettering...
along with the aisle lighting, this is the only source of light in the
arena.

Manson takes his sweet time walking down the aisle, his brow furrowed
in a look of concentration; a look made more ominous by the scar
running from above his right eye all the way to his chin.

Marcus is wearing a decades old beaten leather trench coat over his
full-length black tights, red kneepads and elbowpads, and black
striking gloves and boots. Manson climbs the steps, and looks over the
crowd with a scowl before stepping over the top rope into the ring.]

CL: And for the first time in nearly a decade, Marcus Manson and his
bother-in-law Jonathan Regnigh are in the same ring, on the same team.
it will be interesting to see if these two will perform as well as
they used to!

FH: It's not going to matter ...  Uncle Frank + Lineage = Perfection!

HD: And ... their opponents!

[The Crowd is already booing!]

... At a combined weight of 430 pounds.  "Brother Grimm" Alexander
Kruger and "Royal" Randall Vermeer ...  LINEAGE!


Michael Douglas' immortal movie quote from Wall Street rings though
the arena, over and over again.

"Greed is good."

"Greed is good."

"Greed is good."

[Then, a crashing guitar riff breaks the monotony and "Gold Cobra" by
Limp Bizkit starts up. As Fred Durst's voice is mixed with the jeers
and boos of the fans "Royal" Randall Vermeer steps through the
curtain. A gold colored cotton robe with peacock feather linings and
covered in Austrian Rhinestones is draped across his shoulders.

He is followed by "Brother Grimm", Alexander Kruger. The German's eyes
are fixed on the ring as he carefully adjusts his wrist tape. His face
betrays no emotion but focus.

Randall cackles with laughter and Lineage make their way down to
ringside. While Vermeer's head swivels left and right, taunting the
fans standing behind the guardrail, Kruger has a hand on his
employer's shoulder, pushing him forward down the aisle at a modest
pace.

At ringside, just in time with the chorus of the song, Randall rushes
up the steps and ascends to the top turnbuckle where he drops the robe
to reveal his golden in-ring attire.]

#Holdin' the gold it's so gold it's so golden y'all-Golden Cobra#

[Vermeer kisses the MMA-style glove that covers his right hand and
raises it over his head and only now Kruger steps through, the ropes
and positions himself in the corner beneath his partner, rolling his
shoulders with very understated movements. Vermeer slaps him on the
shoulder reassuringly, though it is not obvious who really needs the
reassurance.]

CL: Referee, Duke Martin is already hard at work keeping Gold Rush at
starting things off premature with Lineage.

FH: That's a battle Gold Rush can't win!

CL: Well Lineage is out numbered right now, three against two.

PA: "It's Uncle Frank's Family Fun Time"

[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!  The current PVW
TELEVISION CHAMPION ... 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: Look at Uncle Frank he is ready to go at it with Marcus Manson ...
And Manson looks ready to oblige.

FH: Gold Rush is doing Manson a favor by blocking him from going at
Uncle Frank.

[Gold Rush stands blocking Marcus Manson as PVW's head referee, Duke
Martin stands in the middle of the ring where he appears to be
explaining the rules of the match.   Lineage and Uncle Frank begin to
talk "strategy"]

FH: Look at Randall Vermeer what a leader!  He is rallying his team up
and preparing for the match while Gold Rush has to control that wild
animal, Marcus Manson.

CL: It appears that Vermeer is working on convincing Frank and Kruger
to let him start the match.

FH: A true fighting warrior.

CL:  Uncle Frank is wearing some medical tape and bandaging on that
nose which was broken by Manson's headbutt on Heatwave.

FH: It will take more then a broken nose to stop Uncle Frank here
tonight.

CL: Keep in mind he will have to wrestle _TWICE_.

FH: If anyone can do it ... It's Uncle Frank, Chip.





*****************************************
P        SIX MAN MATCH                  T
V          MANSON & GOLD RUSH     vs.   V
W          UNCLE FRANK & LINEAGE       II
*****************************************



*DING*DING*DING*



CL: There is the bell and Uncle Frank and Kruger has stepped to the
outside allowing Randall Vermeer to get his wish and begin things for
his team.

FH: Marcus Manson looks to be starting things off, but Vermeer is
asking for that coward Regnigh!

[Manson looks at his former partner who shakes his head in
encouragement and makes the tag granting Randall Vermeer his wish.]

[POP!]

CL: Jonathan Regnigh eagerly steps through the ropes and points
towards Vermeer telling the England native to bring it.

FH: Be careful what you ask for Jonathan Regnigh.

[Jonathan Regnigh and Randall Vermeer begin to circle the ring.
Jonathan Regnigh appears ready to mix it up, but Vermeer looks to be
picking and choosing his moment of attack.]

CL: It appears that Vermeer is stalling.

FH: Not stalling, just waiting for the right moment.

[... and finally the two tag team specialists mix it up and Vermeer is
the first to attack tossing who appears to be a rather weak punch and
then evades the bigger man with a sidestep into a lock-up, ducks under
a clothesline, leapfrogs over a shoulder block and finally baseball
slide through Regnigh's legs to end up in his corner again and,
grinning arrogantly, tags in Uncle Frank.]

[COWARD CHANTS!]

CL: It appears Vermeer didn't want anything to do with Jonathan
Regnigh after all!

FH: Vermeer isn't one to hog all the spotlight, Chip.  After all Uncle
Frank is the PVW Television Champion and he deserves his moments too!

CL: Since when did Randall Vermeer _not_ want to hog all the
spotlight?

FH: What match have you been watching!?!

[Jonathan Regnigh glares towards Randall Vermeer and then slowly turns
around and tags in his former tag team partner, Marcus Manson.  Uncle
Frank actually applauds the move as the Misery Machine steps into the
match.]

CL: Marcus Manson is in the ring and it looks like Uncle Frank is
HAPPY!?!

FH: Of course he is, Chip ... Uncle Frank is a fighting warrior.  He
is out here willing to wrestle with a broken nose not once, but
_twice_ tonight.  He owes the Misery Machine and he isn't going to
back down.

[Marcus Manson and Uncle Frank begin to slowly circle one another ...
their eyes never leave each other.]

CL: There is no love loss between these two.  It all started at End
Game Preshow when Marcus Manson had a shot at that PVW TV
Championship.

FH: Manson lucked into that shot and in the end he ticked off one of
the most dangerous men in professional wrestling.

[Finally the two competitors lock up. Manson backs Uncle Frank towards
the corner then shoves him into it. The Misery Machine challenges the
PVW TV Champion to come on which leads to another lock up that
surprisingly Uncle Frank overpowers Manson in, backing the Misery
Machine towards the opposing corner. Manson switches places with Frank
at the last second and throws him against the turnbuckles, then starts
dishing out rapid fire palm thrusts to the head of the TV Champion.]

CL: Whoa ... Becareful what you ask for Frank!  Marcus Manson is here
to fight and Uncle Frank is covering up trying to protect that nose!

FH: Come on ref do something ... this ... this isn't right!

[Manson switches targets and starts firing off body punch after body
punch. Gold Rush cheer their partner on as he whips Frank Knight into
the opposing corner and comes charging after. Uncle Frank goes for a
boot to the face as he hits the turnbuckles but the charging Manson
stops short and catches the foot.]

CL: Uncle Frank may be a crafty veteran in this sport, but so is
Marcus Manson and he saw that coming a mile away!  Uncle Fran is
improvising and ...

TWAAAAAP!


FH: That was a veteran move!

CL: He just drilled Manson upside the head with an Enziguri, landing
on the other side of the ropes on the ring apron.

FH: Not an usual move by Frank Knight, but sometimes you have to use
what your opponent deals you.  Uncle Frank is about as good as they
come between these ropes, Chip.

[Uncle Frank grabs the stunned Marcus Manson and nails him with a
neckbreaker over the top rope. Uncle Frank slips into the ring and
whips Manson off the ropes, then connects with a low dropkick right
into that big exposed right knee and shin area of the Misery Machine
taking him down.]

CL: Frank going right after that knee and shin area of Marcus Manson.

FH: Text book wrestling right there, Chip.

CL: Uncle Frank is now dropping down for our first pinfall of the
match.




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




... Manson with a strong kick out.  He is now pulling Manson right
back up to his feet and softens him up with a few punches and goes to
send him into the ropes.

[... "The Misery Machine" reverses, Manson charges towards the
charging Uncle Frank once he hits the ropes and crashes him into the
mat with a snap powerslam!]

THUUUUUUUUD!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: Uncle Frank this time is able to kick out ... And right before
Vermeer snuck in the ropes to break up the cover.

FH: Vermeer always thinking ahead.

[Marcus Manson fighting smart pulls the PVW TV Champion over to his
corner and tags in Jonathan Regnigh.]

CL: Manson and Regnigh used to go by the team name, Circle of Death.
They were a dominate tag team at one time.  Manson holds up an exposed
limb and Regnigh with a kick in the midsection.

FH: That just pisses Uncle Frank off more!

[Regnigh now locks on a side headlock on the PVW TV Champion and he
works him over as Randall Vermeer chirps and taunts at the Gold Rush
veteran.]

FH: It's obvious that Regnigh wants no part of Randall Vermeer ... I
can't same I blame him.

CL: Vermeer backed out rather quickly after demanding he started the
match off.

FH: Again ... WHAT match are you watching?

[Uncle Frank begins to stir again .. Regnigh squeezes, and he sends
the Gold Rush member off the ropes ... Uncle Frank drops down and
Regnigh hops over.  Uncle Frank back on his feet and goes for an
hiptoss, but the veteran blocks it.  He spins around but runs into
Vermeer who clotheslines him from the ring apron.]

FH: That's what you get for talking trash to the man!

CL: Vermeer with a clothesline from the outside and Uncle Frank tags
in Kruger.

[The Brother's Grimm steps between the ropes and stalks the Gold Rush
member who is pushing his way up, but eats a big punt into the rib
section.  Kruger pulls Regnigh to his feet and scoops him up and takes
him down with a body slam ... he follows up with a knee down to the
sternum.  Kruger backs up and tags in his partner, Randall Vermeer.]

CL: Kruger and Vermeer working together and Kruger whips Regnigh into
a spinning leg lariat by Vermeer!

FH: Lineage has DOMINATED Gold Rush every time these two teams get
together.  Gold Rush isn't even in their league .. Vermeer hooks the
leg this baby is already over!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




[KICK OUT POP!]


CL: Think again, Fred.  Regnigh with a strong kick out and Vermeer
begins putting the boots on him.  Vicious stomps by Vermeer and now
Lineage has really come into their own here after Regnigh tagged in.

FH: Lineage came very close to winning the PVW Tag Team Titles in only
their second match in the PVW.  These guys are going to be great ...
You are watching greatness unfold right in front of your eyes, Chip!

[Regnigh fights through the stomps and makes it to his feet only to be
taken right back down with eye gouge followed by a springboard
bulldog.]

THUUUD!

CL: Duke Martin waits a second before starting the count telling
Vermeer that eye gouges are unacceptable ... not that he didn't
already know that, but he drops down and begins the count.

FH: Just do your job Duke!




!!! ONE !!!




CL: Regnigh able to kick out just after one.

FH: Yeah thanks to Duke NOT doing his job.

CL: PVW referee's are on high alert tonight.  They have been ordered
to make sure there are decisive winners on such a big event.

FH: It doesn't get much more "decisive" then Lineage.

[Vermeer back on his feet and doing a bit trash talking to Wilson and
Manson ... The cocky England superstar struts around the ring as the
Calgary crowd roar in boo's.  Regnigh makes his way back to his feet
only to get completely disrespected with a vicious ... bitchslap!]


TWAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!


[ROARING BOO'S!]


CL: _Complete_ disrespect by Vermeer ... but wait that looks like it
just pissed off Jonathan Regnigh.

FH: Of course it did ... He just got _bitchslapped_.

CL: Gold Rush hasn't gotten even one bit of revenge on either Vermeer
or Kruger, but look at Jonathan Regnigh ... His eyes are wide and
Vermeer is trying to decide HOW to get around the Gold Rush member to
make a tag to either Kruger or Uncle Frank.

FH: Watch out, Randall!

[Vermeer tries to burst past Jonathan Regnigh, but he is caught ...
The fans go completely nuts and Jonathan Regnigh holds up a finger and
shakes his head no ... as he does so he unleashes with a furry of
right hands drilling Randall Vermeer!]

CL: Jonathan Regnigh FINALLY getting some licks in and look at Randall
Vermeer being driven back into the corner!  He sends him across with a
big Irish Whip ... and TAKES HIM DOWN WITH A SHOULDER BLOCK!  Kruger
begins to step in the ropes, but Jonathan Regnigh already ontop of
things with a dropkick on the German!

FH: What the ...

[Jonathan Regnigh back on his feet as Randall Vermeer makes it to his
feet and is caught with a legsweep face slam ...]

THUUUUD!

CL: Royal Flush!  And Regnigh hooks a leg!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THR !!!




FH: So close, but Randall Vermeer shows his true fighting spirit
getting a shoulder up just in the nick of time!

CL: That was very close.  You could see the worry on Uncle Frank's
face on that one.

FH: Nobody was worried, Chip.

CL: Why are you sweating?

[Kruger now cheering his partner on extending his hand through the
ropes.  Uncle Frank stands patiently waiting ... for now.  Jonathan
Regnigh drags Vermeer to his corner and slaps the palm of his partner,
"Last Cowboy" Beau Wilson.]

CL: Beau Wilson now the legal man ... Everyone has been tagged into
the match at this point.

FH: Vermeer has been the MVP.

CL: I would wager to say Jonathan Regnigh has gotten the better of the
exchange.

FH: _WHAT_ match are you watching?

CL: I heard you the first TWO times ... THIS ONE!

[Jonathan Regnigh twists the arm of Vermeer and Beau Wilson up and
over with a leg drop over that exposed arm.  Vermeer stumbles a few
steps away holding that sore arm, and Beau Wilson charges and hits a
step up Enziguri!]

SMAAACK!

CL: VERMEER JUST CRUMBLED DOWN!  And it appears Randall Vermeer is now
in some serious trouble.

FH: Overstatement of the year, Chip.

CL: Beau Wilson SPRINGBOARDS ... ASAI MOONSAULT!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




[Kruger drags Wilson off, but Duke Martin is right there to break up
the interference.]

CL: Kruger is usually the work horse, but he is in an unusual
situation playing the opposite role and Uncle Frank stands right
beside him.

FH: Vermeer has this.

[Both Beau Wilson and Randall Vermeer make it to their feet.  Wilson
first to charge, but Vermeer catches him with a tilt-a-whirl ...
Wilson lands on his feet.  He blocks a shot by Vermeer ... Wilson goes
for his signature Blackjack Superkick, but just misses Vermeer.
Vermeer springboards off the ropes, and does a flip landing right
behind Wilson.  Wilson turns around and charges, but Vermeer out of
instincts takes him down with a dragon screw leg whip.]

CL: Huge exchange by two of PVW's young and highly skilled superstars.
Vermeer turns and dives ... Tags in, Uncle Frank!   Still the work
horse, Kruger stands on the outside.

FH: Uncle Frank is rushing in ... Swinging neckbreaker and Frank takes
Beau Wilson down and the PVW TV Champion has given HOPE to the world.

[Uncle Frank grabs a hold of Beau Wilson and turns him towards Marcus
Manson and drives crossface ... after cross face glaring right at
Manson.]

CL: Uncle Frank is now sending Marcus Manson a message.  You can bet
he is trying to intimidate the Misery Machine.

FH: He is intimidating me!

[Beau Wilson is the one now in trouble as Uncle Frank sets the
youngster up for a picture perfect old school piledriver ... then
drops down.]

THUD!

CL: Piledriver and Uncle Frank isn't going for the cover.  He is
yelling at Beau Wilson to get up and tag in Manson.

FH: Uncle Frank has something to prove here tonight.

CL: Beau Wilson doesn't appear to be moving fast enough and Uncle
Frank picks up Wilson and slaps him across the face.

TWAP!

FH: He learned that move from Randall Vermeer!

[The nose bandage PV TV Champion snarls and slaps Beau Wilson again
demanding that he tags in Marcus Manson.  Wilson swings back not
backing down and that irate's Uncle Frank and he levels him with a
short-arm clothesline.]

CL: Beau Wilson was standing up to Uncle Frank!

FH: How did that work out for him?

CL: Not so well.

FH: Now you are finally paying attention, Chip.

[Frank has Wilson down and in trouble, he lifts him up, but the
youngster reaches over, grabs the nose and _SQUEEZES_.]


AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!


[HUGE POP!]


FH: DQ HIM!

CL: Wilson has a hold of that broken nose and Uncle Frank is in some
massive pain!

[Roaring laughter from the Calgary crowd as the howl from Frank is one
of pure pain.]

CL: Uncle Frank finally gets loose and bends over holding his nose in
pure pain .... WILSON TAGS IN MANSON!

FH: Oh _NOW_ he does it!

[Uncle Frank leaps to his feet to turn towards Beau Wilson, but is
shocked to see Marcus Manson charging at him ... Uncle Frank ducks
under just in time and hits the ropes himself ... the two fire off and
crash into one another with massive shoulderblocks.]

CL: Two freight trains COLLIDED!  Frank kicks Manson who grabs Uncle
Frank by the head and smashes his into him with a brutal headbutt ...
JUST missing that broken nose.

FH: They are trying to kill Frank!

[Frank stumbles backwards, Manson sends him off the ropes and then
presses him up like a flapjack, but catches him in mid fall and snaps
him into a ring shaking spinebuster.]

THUUUUUUUUUD!

CL: Manson with a huge flapjack Spinebuster!  He isn't going for the
cover ... He is waiting as Uncle Frank pushes himself up and goes for
his Widow Maker  ...

[The veteran blocks it and pushes Manson off and as he spins around,
applies a Hammerlock to one of Manson's arms, then performs a Russian
Legsweep, basically smashing Manson's arm between his own body and the
mat in addition to the regular effects of a Russian Legsweep.]

THUUUUD!

FH: Take that!

CL: NEITHER man want to pin the other ...  Look at these two go!  The
fans are enjoying it as we have a repeat of the Boiling Point II
preshow Main Event right here.

FH: Frank has that crazy look in his eyes.

CL: Don't forget that Manson has broken the Funhouse before ...

FH: Not this time.

[Frank looks like he's setting up Manson for the Funhouse, setting him
up on his knees, getting his own knee in back at Manson's spine, and
then instead of locking on the full Nelson he applies a Cobra Clutch
instead, snarling "NAP TIME FOR MARCUS!" loud enough for the ringside
microphones to pick up.]

CL: A VARIATION OF THE FUNHOUSE!?!?!

FH: Apparently he calls this, NAP TIME!

[Manson swings around wildly not willing to quit ... He drops down and
begins to fade ...]

CL: There is no quit in Marcus Manson ... None at all!

FH: Uncle Frank has that move locked in.  He has no chance.

[Manson seems to be in trouble, and Wilson springboards off with a
missile dropkick drilling Frank and breaking the submission.]


[BREAKING SUB SPOT POP!]


CL: BEAU WILSON WITH THE SAVE!

FH: COME ON!

[Wilson rolls out and Frank quickly back up and grabs a hold of the
half aware Marcus Manson, but instincts kick in and Have Manson fade,
but Manson swings that big gauntlet into his HEART PUNCH THAT
COLLIDES!]


THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!!!!!


[OMG POP!]



CL: HEART PUNCH!!!! FRANK COLLAPSES!!! MANSON COLLAPSES!!!

FH: How ... the ... hell ...

[The fans roar as both men just went through their finishing move on
each other!  Uncle Frank is laid out ... Manson has dropped down to
all fours trying to shake his head and come to his senses after that
new submission move that Uncle Frank pulled out.]

CL: The fans are on their feet ... Vermeer and Kruger are stomping
trying to get Frank to just roll over he is so close!

FH: This is insane!

[Manson turns and tags in Jonathan Regnigh.]

[HOT TAG POP!]

CL: Frank reaches backwards ... TAGS KRUGER!!!!!!

[HOT TAG JEERS!]

... Things have gotten out of hand.  Kruger and Regnigh are
_UNLOADING_ on one another.

FH: Kruger has been waiting for his shot.  He isn't used to standing
on the side watching.

[Kruger backs him up with close range forearms and looks to send
Regnigh across ... but Regnigh reverses it into the corner ... He
charges and leaps into a splash .... Kruger gets out of the way!
Kruger then hits a Olympic looking slam from behind and drilling
Regnigh to the mat!]

CL: Kruger gets the upper hand and backs up and waits as Regnigh
pushes himself up and CHARGES ...

SMAAAAAAAAAAACK!

FH: HUGE powerful LARIAT ... Black Mass Effect!  This puppy could be
over!

[Kruger glares down for a second before dropping down for the cover.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: NO!  Regnigh with a strong kick out and you can't dismiss the
heart of Gold Rush, Fred!

FH: No, but I can dismiss the fact they just aren't as good as
Lineage.

[Kruger wastes no time and rips Regnigh up and drives him with a
massive patented European Uppercut with _AUTHORITY_.  This time Kruger
grabs the dazed Regnigh and sends him into the corner ...  Regnigh
bounces out but then slides into a Blackjack Superkick as Kruger came
charging for a second Black Mass Effect, Lariat and runs smack right
into it!]

THWWWWWWAAAAAAACK!!!!

[POPPAGE!]

CL: HOLY COW!  KRUGER JUST RAN INTO THAT SUPERKICK!  Regnigh now drops
down for the cover!




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




FH: Kruger fires out!

[DISSAPOINTED POP!]

CL: It's been so close many of times to being over in this fast and
high impact six man tag match.  Regnigh now making the tag to Beau
Wilson.  The two men line up ... They leap in DOUBLE BLACKJACK
SUPERKICKS!!!!

THWAAAAAACK!!!!!

[SHOCKED POP!]

... KRUGER IS LAID OUT FLAT!  This doesn't look good for the big
German.

FH: NEVER count Alexander Kruger out.  He is as tough as they come.

[This time ... Beau Wilson drops down for the cover.]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




CL: NO!!!!!!!  VERMEER JUST PULLED WILSON OFF!

FH: That's what Randall Vermeer can do for ya, Chip.

[Beau Wilson now heading up top ... He leaps off with a standing
moonsault, but notices Kruger moving and lands on his feet!]

THUD!

CL: Smart move by Wilson!  Kruger makes the tag to Vermeer!

FH: Now he is in trouble!

THUUUUUD!

[LAUGHING POP!]

[Vermeer rushed right in with aggression and right into a standing
dropkick by Beau Wilson.  Vermeer eats the quick move, then tags in
Uncle Frank.]

CL: Uncle Frank is in and Marcus Manson is tired of waiting as he
rushes in and drops the PVW Television champion with a lariat of his
own!

FH: Hey!  Manson wasn't tagged he can't be in the ring.

[The impatience has caused Kruger to leap in to be caught by Wilson
who leaps into a headscissors take down.  Vermeer springboards off the
ropes and Manson catches him!]

CL: Vermeer is now in Manson's arms and in some trouble!  Regnigh is
now in the corner. Regnigh and Manson nod at each other.

FH: What is going on?

[Manson hoists Vermeer up on his shoulders, and Regnigh climbs the
top, hitting a diving clothesline. The crowd Erupts at seeing the
Circle of Death pull off their old tag team finisher!]

CL: SHADES OF CIRCLE OF DEATH!

FH: Kruger grabs a hold of Manson from behind German suplex!

[... however he holds on and brings him up and hits a _SECOND_ German
Suplex.  He brings him up to complete the Kruger Train, but Regnigh
breaks it up and clothesline the big German sending BOTH men up and
over the top ropes!]

CL: Regnigh and Kruger to the outside!  Wilson with his Springboard
Shooting Star Press ... AND HITS THE EXPOSED VERMEER!!!!

FH: This is flat out unfair!

CL: Wilson hooks Vermeer leg ...

FH: Duke isn't counting!  Vermeer isn't the legal man!

[... Uncle Frank is and he is on his feet and as Wilson leaps up to
question the referee .. The PVW Television Champion spins Wilson
around and goes for a suplex ... Beau Wilson floats out of it ends up
behind the Champion and runs him to the ropes and rolls him up!]




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




CL: NO!  Frank kicks out!  Wilson almost had him! Frank back up and
ducks under a charging Wilson who almost runs into Duke Martin but
puts his hands up to stop himself ... He turns and is hit with a
Fishermanbuster!]

THUUUUUD!

FH: SAY UNCLE!





!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




!!! THREE !!!




CL: Uncle Frank picks up the pinfall.  Things got close, but Frank
rolls out to grab his locked up PVW TV Championship.

FH: And that is only the first win for Uncle Frank tonight.

HD: The winners of the match ... Lineage and Uncle Frank!

[BOOOOO!]

[Lineage is now on the outside and they have their hands raised in
victory.

The camera cuts back to the ring, where Manson stands center ring
staring down at Wilson in disgust. Regnigh helps his partner up and
Manson steps over to the two, scowling.]

CL: This doesn't look good.

FH: Looks pretty good to where I am sitting, Chip.

[Manson starts pointing at Beau and Regnigh and back to the center of
the ring, seemingly signifying irritation with the fact that Beau just
cost the team the match. Regnigh waves him off, telling him to take it
easy, and Manson pokes Wilson in the chest. Wilson swats Manson's arm
away and Manson cocks his arm back to throw a punch, but Regnigh
shoves Manson back a few steps. Manson's eyes go wide and the crowd
gives a very mixed reaction.]

CL: Woah! Regnigh not gonna let Manson bully his tag team partner, and
he's ready to fight!

FH: Regnigh and Manson are about to go at it!  This night can't get
any better can it?

[Regnigh has his hands up, and waves Manson forward, the camera
finally catches some of what's being said.]

Regnigh: You got a problem with him, you got a problem with me. Come
on. Let's go.

[Manson hesitates, then moves towards the ropes. He steps halfway out,
looking at his former partner in bewilderment before stepping out to
the floor and heading towards the back. Regnigh heads back to check on
his partner.]

CL: Manson is apparently pissed that Wilson took the pinfall.

FH: He should be!  Get that rookie out of the ring with professionals.

CL: Beau Wilson held his own with some of the best PVW has to offer.
With a little guidance from Regnigh they could be a great team in the
PVW.

[Camera catches Lineage and Uncle Frank pleased with the situation.]

FH: Apparently whatever Marcus Manson's "plan" was ... Well it
backfired!

CL: There is no way this is the last of Marcus Manson and Uncle
Frank's problems ... nor Gold Rush and Lineage's.

FH: Nor, Marcus Manson's and Beau Wilson's for that matter!

CL: These Calgary fans are some of the best we have ever seen.

[The camera pans to a sweeping view of the capacity crowd.  Aware that
they're being filmed, they cheer and hold up their signs.  We see "THE
GUY NEXT TO ME IS GOING TO STEAL UNCLE FRANK'S BELT", "FREE DANNY
JANSSEN", "CHRISTOPHER BLACK: ROLE MODEL", "I SAW JACK GRIFFIN AT WAL-
MART", "I WANTS TO DOES PODCAST!!!!!!", "______OUAIS______!",
"TALION'S TRUE IDENTITY: GIGANTOR", "CHRIS HARTT BROKE HIS ALIGNMENT
AND HAS TO ATONE TO REGAIN HIS CLASS ABILITIES", and many more.]

CL: We've had a tremendous night of action thus far, and we still have
more to come, including that big main event, Fred.

FH: Sometimes, the matches are about personal vendettas, but one thing
to always remember... this is a sport, and the objective in a sport is
to be a champion.  At the end of the day, those titles are what it's
all about in professional wrestling.  And five guys are getting a
golden opportunity.

CL: These great fans, as always, the lifeblood of Phoenix Valley
Wrestling, and they're excited for that main event, as well as the big
contract signing yet to come.

FH: If we even have a signing.  You know that Todd Johnstone wouldn't
agree to a public contract signing if he didn't have a plan.

CL: True, but Johnny Detson's no easy mark.  These matches and more
still to come.

[The camera pans all these signs as the announcers speak.  It comes to
rest on a small group of well-dressed Japanese men in the third row.
Their business attire is standoutish enough, but what is truly unusual
is that one of them is wearing a black hood with red kanji adorning
it.]

FH: Whoa, is that...

[The camera quickly cuts away.]

CL: That was one of the hot free agents in wrestling right now,
obviously scouting out Phoenix Valley wrestling.  This is where
everyone wants to be!

FH: What can I say ... Being around Fred Hoyle is the "cool" thing
these days.  You should count your blessings, Chip.

CL: Oh trust me ... I do.

[Sarcasm ... pure sarcasm.]

FH: Darn right you do.

CL: Well we already know Preston Winfield is in the house to meet with
former PVW World Champion Chase Williams ... and to oversee the
Contract signing.  It's plausible he could meeting with other hot free
agents.  Let's continue through the night as we go backstage where one
of the new hot tag teams in the hottest tag team division in the world
is standing by.

FH: I wonder what my man, Arvelle has to say tonight!

CL: Sorry Fred ... Not The Heat.

FH: Who?

[We cut backstage, where El Pollo Loco and "Da Cow God"...]

DCGM:  Moo.

[... sit on benches, preparing for their match.  Moo finishes lacing
up his boots, his face masked by his black-and-white-spotted hair.
Loco adjusts his mask, before turning to Moo.]

EPL:  OK, so tell me again... who are we fighting tonight?

[Moo shakes his head, chuckling.]

DCGM:  Legacy.

EPL:  Those guys we beat before?

DCGM:  No.  Different team.  The guys who fired their manager.

[Loco frowns, thinking.]

EPL:  That's confusing.

DCGM:  Yes, yes it is.

EPL:  Who else?

DCGM:  Sons of Anarchy.

EPL:  The big biker guys?

DCGM:  Again, little one... they are not bikers.

EPL:  So, um... what are they?

DCGM:  Hooligans.

EPL:  What are hooligans?

DCGM:  They are.

[Loco stares at him.]

EPL:  I don't get it.

DCGM:  And we cannot forget about The Heat.

EPL:  Who?

DCGM:  They still have their manager.  Short guy.  Really loud.

EPL:  He manages wrestlers?

DCGM:  That is the rumor.  The Heat are one of the teams in the HIT
tournament.

[Loco pauses, thinking.]

EPL:  Hey... why aren't _we_ in that tournament?

DCGM:  We did not sign up for it, little one.

EPL:  Maybe I should ask the loud guy about it?

DCGM:  After the match, young chicken.

[The duo finish their preparations, before heading off-screen
together.

As we cut back from backstage ... "The Emperor's Song" blasts over
the PA System and suddenly the lights flash green and gold as from out
of the back runs the popular Japanese sensation, The Dragon Kid!
Wearing a dragon mask over his yelling face, the man in the white
wrestling tights with green fringes running down the side bullets his
way towards the ring.]

CL:  It looks like Bisignano is the Dragon kid tonight!  This is great
news!

FH:  Hardly. Don't we have enough masked idiots pandering to fans in
PVW?

[The Dragon Kid throws up an arm to the sky as his international fan
base clap their hands enthusiastically. Dragon Kid runs up the stairs
and moves along the ring apron, locking the top rope and leaps over to
enter inside.]

HD:  IN THE RING AT THIS TIME...

FROM SAPPORO, JAPAN...

FH:  (speaking over the ring announcer) by way of New York City...

HD:  WEIGHING IN AT TWO HUNDRED POUNDS...

THIS IS THE DRAGONNNNNN KIIIIIID!!!!

[Dragon Kid throws up his arms and jumps as DK's fans cheer!!]

CL:  Can't you let guys have their moment, Fred?

FH:  There is no such thing as a moment not owned by Fred Hoyle. It
simply doesn't exist and for you to think otherwise shows how little
you pay attention to this broadcast!

CL:  This is big moment for the Dragon Kid. Why would you mess with
it?

FH:  It is a moment for someone who is losing their mind? Bisigano had
something going until he decided that this mask had some power. I hope
he rips it off in the middle of this match and goes back to being the
man he is supposed to be!

["Deep Six" by Big Black begins to play on the arena speakers and
Tracy Hudson appears on the entrance ramp to a LOUD MIXED POP!]

HD: Hailing from Portland, Oregon, standing six feet, one inch and
weighing in at two-hundred and twenty-seven pounds...here is...

TRAAAAAAAAAAAAACEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY HUUUUUUUUUUDSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!

[Tracy Hudson is wearing blue wrestling tights with a stylized
rendering of Mt. Hood on the rear. He also wears white boots and black
knee and elbow pads. Hudson walks to the ring, giving the occasional
high five to a fan here and there, but his gaze is fixed. He is not
timid at all as he walks down the aisle, looking like he has found a
goal that suits him. He reaches the ring and steps between the ropes
as the crowd continues to give him that mixed reaction.]

CL:  Hudson looks more confident than I have seen him yet in PVW,
Fred.

FH:  Well I'd be confident too if I had an opponent with a crisis of
personality.

[Once in the ring, Hudson asks for the microphone. He receives it and
lifts it to his mouth, his gaze intent on Dragon Kid.]

HUDSON:  So, I was telling the fans on my way out here, and wait...
let me bounce this off you too. But I was thinking about 2001 when I
briefly wrestled in a Captain America type persona... And you being
who you are and all, it got me to thinking- If, upon my most righteous
kicking of your ass, were to go back to dressing in that old getup and
calling myself "The Ugly American" and sign on with Sinister's Ego
Legion... Do you REALLY think these guys here [motioning to the fans]
are gonna buy it?

[No response from Biz/Dragon Kid, but Hudson doesn't really wait for
one either. He REARS back his right hand in a fist around the
microphone and throws the punch at Dragon Biz's head! But... No.
Hudson stops the fist just as he was about to unfurl it... And hands
the microphone back to the referee. Hudson smiles sheepishly at Biz as
he hands over the mic...]

CL:  Cooler head prevailing there Fr...

[Hudson, as he handed the mic over, Hudson reaches out with his left
hand and rakes Dragon Biz over the eyes!]


*****************************************
P        ONE ON ONE MATCH               T
V          TRACY HUDSON     vs.         V
W          THE BIZ                     II
*****************************************



FH:  You were saying Lester?

CL:  An eye rake by Tracy Hudson before the bell sounds!

FH:  Sounds perfectly legal to me and let's be honest, that mask
protects him so it was more an annoyance than a danger.

CL:  I'd say it still hurts.

FH:  How would you know? I know what it was to receive and give eye
rakes the right way. You tried to take out the eyeball if you could!
That was a love tap by comparison.

[Dragon Kid shakes off the effects of the eye rake, but gets a fist to
the nose for his efforts. As the Kid staggers back a bit, the referee
warns Hudson for the closed fist. Hudson arrogantly grins at the
referee as he goes back after the Kid.]

CL:  It looks like Hudson is taking the battle right to Dragon Kid
with stiff, illegal fists!

FH:  I've never understood that rule. You get in a fight, adrenaline
is pumping, and you say "hold on a second, I can't hit you with a
closed fist." That is stupid. Just hit the guy with whatever you got!

CL:  You are a paragon of virtue.

FH:  And I'm a good person too!

[Hudson kicks Dragon Kid in the groin and then lands another stiff jab
to the face, sending the flying sensation back into the corner. Hudson
grabs Dragon Kid by the head and pushes his neck over the middle rope.
Tracy pushes down hard as the referee begins yelling at him to break
the hold.]

CL:  Hudson is almost being sadistic right now! He is trying to choke
the life out of Dragon Kid!

FH:  Well, Dragon Mikey did take a cheap shot at him and that just
can't be tolerated. You can't let people get over on you or they will
own you for life.

CL:  It is a good thing you aren't part of any anti-bullying
campaigns.

FH:  It is sad really because I feel like they are missing an
important voice.

[Hudson finally lets go of the hold and snaps back on the rope,
sending Dragon Kid flipping backward into the canvas.]

CL:  Hudson sends the Kid back to the canvas with authority!

FH:  Well he did break the hold as requested.

[The camera is close to Hudson in the corner as he stalks over to
Dragon Kid, his voice is heard with ease.]

HUDSON:  AND YO GABBA GABBA IS AWESOME!

[Hudson stomps his heel directly onto Dragon Kid's forehead as the
crowd boos loudly, but a smattering of cheers can still be heard.]

HUDSON:  GLAD YOU ASKED!

[Hudson turns to the crowd and holds out his arms, welcoming their
reaction as the referee bends down to the mat and checks on Dragon
Kid.]

FH:  What's a "Yo Gabba Gabba?"

CL:  It is some television program geared for kids.

FH:  Whew!  For a minute there I thought Hudson was advocating a form
of oral sensation, if you get my drift.

CL:  Fred!

FH:  Just sharing my thoughts. It is why I am the best on commentary
today, Chip!

[Tracy Hudson moves over and places his heel on Dragon Kid's forehead
and stomps down hard, scraping the heel over the mask.]

CL:  He's just adding insult to injury!

FH:  What he is really adding is a nice scuff mark on that mask. I
think it works well with the overall ensemble.

CL:  Are you kidding me?

FH:  Hudson is making sure that Biz never brings the Kid persona back
into the limelight, ruining the mask is a good way to do that. It
makes sense to me.

[Hudson pulls Kid to his feet and whips him across the ropes. On the
rebound, Hudson plants a knee right in the midsection, sending Dragon
Kid spinning to the canvas. Tracy Hudson points to his head for a
moment, bragging of his intellect inside the ring.]

CL:  Hudson is just so cocky right now. What happened to the more
humble Hudson?

FH:  He got pissed off. You can try to be something different or
seemingly better, but when you get angry is when the true self shows
through.

CL:  And that means?

FH:  Dragon Kid is not going to enjoy this match at all.

[Hudson moves over and pulls Kid up again. He puts him in piledriver
position and the fans give him yet another loud, mixed reaction.
Hudson goes for the powerbomb lift, but Dragon Kid shakes out of it in
the apex of the lift and uses his legs on Tracy's head to turn it into
a head scissors takedown.]

CL:  What a reversal by Dragon Kid!

FH:  Hudson is sent head-over-heels and has to rebound quickly. You do
not want the flying style to dominate this match.

CL:  I thought Hudson could take to the air too?

FH:  Year ago definitely, but now he knows going to the air against a
younger flyer is stupid.

CL:  What does age have to do with it?

FH:  Spring in the legs, Chip. The older you get, the less you can
jump around. But, according to your wife, you already knew that.

[Dragon Kid gets back to his feet, but is met with another boot to the
gut by Hudson. Hudson looks even angrier now as he whips Kid toward
the corner. However, Dragon Kid jumps up to the second rope with his
right foot, to the top rope with his left foot and propels himself
spinning backward with a massive kick to Hudson's face.]

CL:  BIG TIME SPIN KICK FROM DRAGON KID!!!

FH:  Easy there big fellah! You wouldn't want to prematurely
celebrate, would you?

CL:  What are you insinuating?

FH:  Oh, nothing.

[Hudson is down and Kid wastes no time in running to the ropes and
leaping to the second rope, springboarding backward with a perfect
moonsault!]

CL:  MOONSAULT BY THE KID!  This could be it!

FH:  The pin attempt by the masked jumper!


ONE!!!!



TWO!!!



THR -- SHOULDER UP!!!!


CL:  Hudson got that shoulder up and stays in the match.

FH:  Of course he did. Tracy Hudson is an old-time ring general. No
masked flying acrobat will take him down that easily. Tracy is just
lulling him into a false sense of security.

CL:  We'll see about that.

FH:  Don't cry when Kid gets taken down a notch, Chip.

[Hudson escaped the pin, but is definitely reeling and trying to find
his bearings. Kid gets up and rushes into the ropes, rebounding with a
dropkick to Hudson's face.]

CL:  What a dropkick from Dragon Kid. He is really taking the battle
to the veteran, Fred.

FH:  That kind of shot will ring your bell. In this case, it may just
wake Tracy up!

CL:  He may not get the chance to wake up if Kid keeps rolling like
this!

FH:  Never underestimate a veteran like Hudson. There is a mind at
work there that is as devious as it is intelligent.

[Dragon pulls Hudson to his feet and sets him up for an Irish whip.
Tracy reverses it and Dragon Kid is sent toward the corner, but leaps
up and propels himself back toward Hudson in a high cross body. The
veteran catches Dragon and uses his momentum against him, sending him
flying backward with a fall-away slam.]

CL:  HUDSON CATCHES KID AND HITS A FALL AWAY SLAM!

FH:  See what I mean?

CL:  Tracy Hudson is back in control and Dragon Kid better be careful
not to allow himself to be placed in positions like the choke earlier.

FH:  The thing you don't understand Chip, is that Dragon Kid has no
choice. Hudson will put him in whatever position he desires, period.
There is nothing the masked idiot can do to stop it.

[Hudson gets over to the Kid and pulls him to his feet, drilling him
with multiple closed fist punches and sending him into the corner.
Hudson grabs his head and sets him up for a monkey flip. Hudson flips
back and releases Kid's head at the height of the throw, but Kid lands
on his feet!]

CL:  KID LANDED ON HIS FEET!

FH:  That was impressive.

[Dragon kid drills a standing side kick to the face of Hudson the
moment he turned around.]

CL:  Hudson gets a face full of boot with that superkick!

FH:  I can't believe what I just saw!

CL:  Dragon Kid refuses to let Hudson stay in control and defied the
veteran's will.

FH:  He defied the laws of physics too!  I hate admitting when someone
like Kid impresses me, but he certainly did there.

[Dragon Kid climbs the corner and sets up for flight. Hudson is still
shaking off the superkick to the face as he lays on the mat. Kid sets
up and goes for the 450 splash, but find only Hudson's raises knees
for his trouble.]

CL:  Dragon Kid with a HUGE mistake!

FH:  Talk about crashing back to reality. I think Dragon Kid just
found himself back in junior high again!  Prepare to get swirlied by
the senior!

CL:  You were a bully in high school, weren't you?

FH:  I was loved by all!  Much like I am today.

[Hudson moves over to where Kid is writhing in agony, grabbing him by
the left leg. He stretches Kid's leg straight and then kicks the knee
join with full force toe kicks.]

CL:  Those kicks have a lot of force behind them.

FH:  And they are well placed. Kid can't fly if he can't stand.

CL:  If Kid is grounded...

FH:  Then it is sayonara!

[Hudson takes that left leg and throws it hard against the canvas with
a loud thud. He quickly lands a standing legdrop on top of the exposed
joint.]

CL:  Tracy Hudson is past the point of trying to win a match with thos
attack!

FH:  That is where you are wrong. Just because he is trying to take
out a joint, does not mean he is not wanting to win.

CL:  You don't have to injure somebody to win, Fred.

FH:  No, but it is damn fun to do it anyway.

[Hudson grabs bot of Dragon Kid's legs by the ankles and spread them
wide, stretching the hamstrings and causing more pain for the flyer.
After several seconds, Hudson stomps down on Dragon Kid's reproductive
area and releases the legs. The referee gives Tracy another warning,
but he doesn't care.]

CL:  Now THAT is just uncalled for!  Tracy Hudson attacking an area no
man deserves to have stomped.

FH:  I'm not sure about that, Chip. I would say that pedophiles and
rapists deserve it.

CL:  Are you trying to say that Dragon Kid is a pedophile?

FH:  Not at all. I'm just sharing my thoughts on why someone would
deserve to have his nuts stomped like little beans. Anything else
would be speculative and possibly slanderous.

[Tracy Hudson continues the assault by pulling Dragon Kid to his feet
and then lifting him into a Tombstone Piledriver position. He shows
the hold for a few moments before dropping it in center ring.]

CL:  Tombstone Piledriver by Hudson!

FH:  This one is over!  Tracy covers for the count!



ONE!!!!




TWO!!!




THR -- SHOULDER UP!!!!


CL:  Dragon Kid escapes at the last second!  What a close call!

FH:  That wasn't as close as it should have been. Hudson didn't hook
the leg and that was his first real mistake in this match. You have to
always hook the leg when going for a pin.

CL:  Always?

FH:  Hell yes always! Make them fight harder to escape the pin. Am I
the only one with a clue when it comes to what goes on up there?

[Hudson pulls Dragon Kid up and whips him hard into the corner. Kid
hits the corner with a thud and happens to notice a charging Tracy
Hudson in time to raise his foot and plant it in Hudson's jaw! As
Hudson staggers, Dragon Kid hops to the second rope and leaps, nailing
Hudson with a rocker dropper than floors him.]

CL:  Dragon Kid going to town from the air!  Hudson is in serious
trouble!

FH:  We'll see. Hudson made the mistake of rushing in too quickly and
he paid for it.  veterans learn from their mistakes.

CL:  Yes, nothing says education like smacking your forehead into the
canvas.

FH:  Now you are getting it, Chip.

CL:  Oh, brother.

[Dragon Kid sets up for a teeter-totter flip, he grabs Hudson's legs
and falls backward, sending Hudson flying toward the corner. Tracy's
head misses the top turnbuckle and nails the steel ring post instead.
Hudson staggers back into a spinning elbow from Dragon Kid. Tracy is
floored, but gets back to his feet, wags his finger at Dragon kid and
then falls back to the canvas suddenly. Crowd erupts for the "Tracy
Tumble" reaction.]

CL:  What an impact by Dragon Kid!  The masked superstar is in control
right now and the fans are eating it  up with a spoon!

FH:  Because they are idiots. At their core, neither one of these men
desires the crowd's support, yet here they are acting like morons to
get the sheep to "Baaaa!" their way. It is disappointing, really.

[Dragon Kid grabs Hudson and pulls him into a double underhook
position. He flips over Hudson's body, spiking his head into the
canvas.]

CL:  GO TO HELL!!!

FH:  That is a little harsh, even for you, Chip.

CL:  No that is what Dragon Kid just landed. Shades of his alter-ego
shining through.

FH:  But that damn mask is still on, so he is playing it straight.
Dragon Kid isn't going for a cover, which means he is dumber than I
thought!

CL:  Be nice, Fred.

FH:  Again, that isn't what I get paid to do.

[Dragon Kid climbs the corner and perches on the top turnbuckle. He
waits for a second and  then leaps into the air, flipping frontward a
full 360 degrees and landing a dropkick to the neck of Tracy Hudson.]

CL:  Dragon Kid takes to the air again and this time hits an amazing
full flip dropkick form the top!

FH:  Hudson is in trouble now, I must admit.

CL:  Dragon Kid hooks the leg and covers!



ONE!



TWO!




THR -- HUDSON GRABS THE BOTTOM ROPE!!!



FH:  The ring savvy of a veteran never ceases to amaze me! Tracy
Hudson is about to turn this match around for the final time, Chip.
Just watch greatness unfold!

CL:  He needs to do something because Dragon Kid's flying attack is
having a great effect.

FH:  He needs to get the advantage back and return to punishing the
legs of the flying reject.

[Dragon Kid goes to pull Tracy to his feet, but the veteran grabs the
tights and yanks the Kid into the corner, where he threads between the
second and third turnbuckles and his shoulder on the steel ring post.]

CL:  Hudson again taking every opportunity to stay alive in this match
by sending Dragon kid into the ring post.

FH:  It may be opportunistic, but it is also a veteran knowing where
he is at in the ring and how to take advantage of it.

CL:  That is the definition of being an opportunist, Fred.

FH:  I call it being a winner.

[Tracy Hudson pulls Dragon Kid out of the turnbuckles and picks up
Dragon Kid, performing a death valley driver. Hudson spikes the masked
flyer in the center of the ring and smiles through his heavy
breathing.]

CL:  What a move by Hudson!  The power he is showing!

FH:  This is where the extra twenty or so pounds that he has on him
shows through. Hudson has more power in his game than Dragon Boy and
now it is going to lead to a victory when it matters most!

CL:  Well he hasn't followed it up yet, but it does look like he is
going to use his power for certain.

FH:  He has grounded him a lot in this match and now he is rubbing it
in.

[Hudson grabs Dragon Kid and puts him in a side control position,
setting up for a vertical suplex lift. The crowd is really not happy
with how Hudson has acted thus far, but he doesn't care. He lifts Kid
up into a vertical suplex lift and holds him there for a few seconds
to show off.]

CL:  Hudson in complete control now. If he spikes that into a brain
buster or something, Dragon kid might be finished.

FH:  He'd be Dragon Splat after something like that.

[Dragon kid shifts the hold and changes it on the way down. He manages
to land in a sitting position, dropping Hudson in a reverse stunner
finish. Hudson lays flat on his face in the center of the ring.]

CL:  DRAGON STUNNER!!!  What a reversal from Dragon Kid and Hudson is
down!

FH:  What?  No!

CL:  Dragon Kid rolls Hudson over and hooks a leg for the count.



ONE!




TWO!!



THREE!!!



HE DID IT!  DRAGON KID WINS!

FH:  This is just utterly wrong!  I think he had his feet on the
ropes!

CL: Haven't you heard, in the PVW nobody places their feet on the
ropes.

FH: Very funny, Chip!

CL:  I have to think that if Hudson had not been so intent on showing
off and hurting Dragon Kid, he might have gotten the victory.

FH:  I'm wondering what Kid did to get that reversal. I bet the tape
shows a cheating move somewhere.

CL:  I doubt it!  Dragon Kid puts his hand out to help Hudson to his
feet.

FH:  Take him out now Tracy!

[Hudson is up to his feet by the hand of Dragon Kid. They nod to each
other and the camera over hears Hudson saying, "I still hurt you... I
told you I would..." They nod to each other again and Tracy Hudson
steps through the ropes and leave the ring.]

FH:  WHAT?!?!  NO!!!

CL:  Sportsmanship got your tongue, Fred?

FH:  How can you beat up somebody like that and show the old Hudson
mentality only to punk out and shake his hand?

CL:  I thought it was great.

FH:  You also think watching paint dry is a great activity. There is
no way this rivalry is over. No way in hell!

CL: Tracy Hudson has to be asking himself the same question we are all
asking ... What the heck is going on inside the head of the Dragon
Kid?

FH: Biz ...

CL: Dragon Biz?

[As the announcers continue to discuss the events that just unfolded
... The arena lights begin to dim down and flicker out and a large red
letter "N" written gothic style and dripping blood appears on the
Phoenix-tron with spotlights drawing attention pointing towards it.

Accompanying the letter N is the following phrases, whispered over the
loud speakers:

"It is almost time..."

Finally, the eerie voice dies out and the lights stabilize as the
effects disappear leaving Chip and Fred full of questions.]

CL: We have had our share of lights and plagues, but that doesn't seem
to be the same M O as our past occurrences.

FH: What does, It is almost time mean?

CL: It could mean a lot of things, but since we are just a few months
away from Shattered Dreams we can only assume all signs point to then.

FH: And what does the letter N mean?  What is this Sesame Street?

CL: Somebody wants to send a message ... The question is what?  And to
who?

[Interrupting the announcers is a voice we have all learned to know
... The Golden Voice of wrestling, PVW exec and the Tag Team Czar,
Christopher Michaelson as he steps out from the back with a wireless
microphone in hand.

The former PVW Wrestler and SSN Executive walks down in a tailor-made
suit and continues talking.]

CM: Ladies and gentlemen, I returned to Phoenix Valley Wrestling's
front office with one task ...

[He slowly makes his way up the steps and turns to the camera holding
his right index finger up.]

CM: And one task only. To make sure that this tag team division would
become the talk of the wrestling world.

[Michaelson smiles broadly.]

CM:  And I have taken great strides to take this once floundering
division and bring it to GREATNESS!

[A chuckle from Michaelson.]

CM: If anyone knows about Greatness, it is me. A man who early last
year was a Tag Team Champion, a team that didn't suffer a defeat in
SIX months ... but this isn't about me it's about what I have brought
to Phoenix Valley Wrestling and what I will continue to bring to this
division. Which brings us to my order of business here tonight.
Shattered Dreams ...

[The crowd cheers for the mention of the Pay Per View.]

CM: Max Weinrib and Salih Mubarak, the current PVW Tag Team Champions
will be defending their titles! Now with the influx of talent, that I
signed mind you, there are many options ... many worthy opponents ...

[The crowd continues to cheer, hoping their favorite team is chosen.]

CM: After a lot of thought and contemplation I have come to a
decision. Last Heatwave one half of the former champions, Livestock
Zappa and Heath Dawson looked impressive against the current ASLL Tag
Team champions, Doom and Wolf ... The Berserkers in a match everyone
said would crown the new number one contenders to the tag team titles.
Which I do find surprising since I never actually said it would.

[The crowd boos and Michaelson begins to pace.]

CM: Now, now don't get all hostile. All I said was it wasn't
technically a number one contender match. Now when the bell sounded at
the end of that match the Berserkers had their hands raised in
victory, which does need to be taken into consideration ...

[The crowd boos again, not liking the direction of Michaelson's
speech. Michaelson though begins to chuckle.]

CM: Again with the hostility. Ladies and gentlemen, if you will allow
me to continue ... Shattered Dreams could see Max and Sal face off
with Lineage, Gold Rush, Legacy or even the HEAT!

[The crowd boos the mention of the HEAT.]

CM: It could even be Livestock Zappa and The Gutch ... no no it can't
as Gutch is taking some ... we'll say time away from the ring. So
while there are a number of choices, and some of those choices would
bring in a huge profit there is only one match that can take place at
Shattered Dreams. Max Weinrib and Sal Mubarak will be facing ....

WOLF AND DOOM ... THE BERSERKERS!

[The crowd cheers madly for the painted faced men from Chicago as they
appear on the Phoenix-tron.]

Wolf: Hello, PVW ...  It's good to be able to address a growing
situation even though we are fulfilling obligations here for the ASLL
and Mexico.

[Wolf pats the ASLL tag team golden title belt sitting on his
shoulder.]

Wolf: Everyone knows we have been upset at the outcome of the last
time we had the opportunity of a life time ... to become the ASLL tag
team Champions _AND_ the PVW tag team champions.

We had Max and Sal right where we wanted them ... seconds away from
being sent through the Gates of Hell.

We have fought and waited biding our time for that chance.  WE
_EARNED_ it ...  And we brought the Boom ...

Doom: Max and Sal ... up until this point it has been about respect.
It's been about two set of champions doing what they do best ... And
the first match up was that.

You want to make it personal?  You want to question our ethics?

[Doom glares into camera sending a direct message to the PVW Tag Team
Champions.]

Doom: Then bring those title belts to Heatwave and let's do this right
away!

[Wolf holds his hand up trying to calm his hot headed partner.]

Wolf: Max and Sal, we've never questioned your ethnics.  Even after we
had you two where we wanted you and ready to be crowned the PVW Tag
Team Champions.

Then all of a sudden a few teams from right here in Mexico _just_
happened to show up.

[Wolf tilts his head as if he is questions the actions of the two
teams.]

Wolf: All it would have taken was a few phone calls on your part to
cover yourself.  A draw would have ensured you kept the PVW Tag Team
titles and avoided a loss against the best tag team in the world
today, The Berserkers.

Doom: There seems to be a lot of shady things going on around the
Berserkers.  We don't play games ...  We don't hide our agendas.

Those PVW Tag Team Titles?

We want them.

[Doom snarls.]

Doom: Come Shattered Dreams toss the respect out the window.  Throw
the handshakes away.  We are done patting you on the back.  You have
something we want ... and Wolf and I, we are coming to collect.

[At this point, "Rock the Casbah" starts playing over the PA system.
The audience cheers as Max Weinrib and Salih Mubarak walk out in their
street clothes.  Both men slap hands with the fans as they walk by,
but both are focused at the Berserkers on the Phoenix-Tron.  They
quickly climb up the stairs as the music dies down and borrow the
house microphone from Christopher Michaelson.  Max Weinrib holds the
microphone in one hand and his PVW Tag title in the other]

Max:  Guys... take it easy.  We heard you were upset, and we had been
talking about saying "Hey, we're just joking."  But then you said two
things that well... kind of rubbed us the wrong way.  First, right
after you start saying that you've never questioned our ethics- you
turn around and accuse us of asking some of the ASLL teams to help us
out.

Sal:  And second... you guys are saying you're the best tag team in
the world.  And... you're not.  We are.  That's why we're holding the
PVW tag titles.

Max:  And in addition to those two things that you did say, we also
noticed the one thing that you _didn't_ say- which is that you have
yet to deny attacking Gutch.

Sal:  So maybe it's not as much us joking around- as hitting too close
to home.

[Sal raises a hand]

Sal:  Now sure, maybe we're wrong.  On the other hand, Doom there
looks like he's ready to eat raw meat off the bone.  So him attacking
Gutch in the locker room?  Not out of the question.

Max:  Wolf, Doom- at Shattered Dreams- you can make this as personal
as you want.  You can try to collect all you want.  But in the end,
you're walking in as the challengers...

Sal:  ... and you're walking out as challengers.

[Max and Sal raise the PVW Tag Team Titles and hold them up towards
the Phoenix-Tron.  The Berserkers and Max and Sal engage in a
staredown with the crowd noise building as the camera fades to
backstage.

Where Dean Hayes is standing by alone.]

DH: Chip and Fred ... I have been trying to get a word with HOPE
tonight.  It's a big night for the stable who has had everything go
their way since Boiling Point.

[Dean Hayes stands outside a locker room we can only assume is
HOPE's.]

DH: Todd Johnstone has kept this room well guarded and nobody has been
allowed to speak.  The only time I have seen the room even open was
earlier when Uncle Frank emerged to take part of the six man tag team
match.

[Dean Hayes shakes his head.]

DH: I will keep trying, but with Derek Weaver set to square off with
Perry Fontana and BOTH, Uncle Frank and Herscher von Donkerhardt set
to defend their titles in the Double Jeopardy match ... I am getting
the feeling tonight we won't be hearing from anyone until the Todd
Johnstone comes out for the contract signing with Gibson Hayes.

[Dean Hayes shrugs.]

DH: So, I guess tonight ... for now we are HOPE free.  Back to you
Chip and Fred.

[Back to the announcers ...]

CL: It's a little unusual for Todd Johnstone to keep this quiet.
However, it is a big night for HOPE.

FH: Of course it is!  Uncle Frank has already started things right.
When Derek Weaver comes out and stabs the Canadian fans right in the
heart ... we will be well on our way to another night of HOPE.

CL: There is still a lot to happen, but Todd Johnstone is the most
powerful man in professional wrestling right now.  THREE champions and
possibly the most dangerous man in the PVW under his guidance.

FH: What can I say ... It has to be nice to be Todd Johnstone.

CL: And before we cut back to Dean Hayes.  We just received a HUGE
announcement.  It appears that Max and Sal will be defending the PVW
Tag Team Titles against the number one contenders and ASLL Tag Team
Champions, The Berserkers.

FH: Number one contenders my rear!   How can they receive a title shot
before The Heat?  I mean The Heat has _BEATEN_ Max and Sal.  They are
the top tag team in PVW as far as I am concerned.

CL: The Heat has found themselves a little preoccupied wrestling in
HIT II ... However, I would have to assume they are right up there in
the tag team rankings.

FH: I usually agree with Christopher Michaelson, but not this time.
It's a mistake not giving The Heat that title shot at Shattered
Dreams.

CL: One thing is for sure.  There is finally a long line of tag teams
in the PVW who are worthy of such a huge opportunity.  If you want to
witness old school tag team wrestling at it's best then tune in right
here.  PVW has rebuilt it's division and invested quite a bit of
resources towards it.  Speaking of tag team wrestling, the table to
the right of me has been filled by our fellow broadcasters from
Shockwave, Joshua Morgan and Matthew Anderson.

FH: I thought I smelled something.

CL: We are going to go to them for our next special showcase match.

FH: Bathroom break time!

JM: Hello fans I'm Joshua Morgan and ...

MA: This is the Personification of Perfection Matthew Anderson. I
don't know what you did Joshua but it must have been horrible to make
so we are only calling one match here tonight on Tradition seven.

JM: I didn't do anything, Matt!

MA: Matthew! It was all the calls to Chip's wife wasn't it?

JM: Do I look like Fred to you?

MA: Well now that you mention it ...

[The string of punk chords filling the air can lead to only one
thing...]

* ARE YOU READY... *

* ... TO OBEY ... *

* ... THE COW GOD? *

[The crowd answers with a "Yes We Are!" round of cheers, as the
instrumental version of Green Jelly's "Obey the Cow God" continues.Out
from the back bounces PVW's resident masked white guy, El Pollo
Loco!He wears no shirt tonight, dressed only in his white ringpants
(adorned with pictures of feathers) and his horrid white mask that
resembles a chicken's skin wrapped around his head.He shoots his arms
to his hips, jutting his chest out and thrusting his chin up and to
the side in a heroic Superman-style pose as the cheers continue.]

MA: Seriously what did I do to deserve this hell?

JM: The fans love these two men ...

MA: I'm not a fan of them so I don't love them. Can't we just put the
two of them out to pasture and bring in a real team like Greatness?

JM: Not even two minutes on camera and already kissing up.

MA: With you by my side I need to do everything I can to earn the
right to call Shattered Dreams main event.

JM: {sighs}

[Just behind him, the black-and-white-spot haired "Da Cow God" Moo
follows the masked luchador, wearing tights that match his black-with-
white-spot hair and a grey t-shirt that reads "Moo." across the front
in black.Loco spins and jumps into Moo's arms for a big manly hug,
before the duo head down to the ring side by side, offering hand slaps
to the fans who reach out to them along the aisle. Moo heads over to
the ringsteps, as Loco hops up onto the apron and slings himself over
the top rope into the ring, striking his best superhero pose as Moo
enters the ring and stands behind him, arms crossed with a big grin on
his jaw.]

HD: Introducing first, they weigh in tonight at a combined five
hundred and one pounds they hail from Da Sacred Pastures and Parts
Unknown respectively this is "Da Cow God" Moo and El Pollo Loco ...


!!! COW AND CHICKEN !!!


JM: Cow and Chicken are looking to rebound from a tough loss against
Gold Rush on Shockwave two weeks ago.

[The opening guitar to Van Halen's "Top of the World" cuts through the
arena.  The crowd cheers.]

MA: Speaking of teams who lost on Shockwave.

HD:  Weighing in at a total combined weight of five-hundred and
fifteen pounds and hailing from Huntsville, Alabama and Rapid City,
South Dakota respectively.  Here are Tommy Von Braun and Sterling Von
Braun...


!!! LEGACY !!!


[Tommy Von Braun and Sterling Von Braun emerge into the aisleway.  The
cheers from the crowd become louder.  Sterling Von Braun walks forward
a few steps and raises both arms in the air, turning around to look at
the crowd closest to him.  Tommy Von Braun simply stands, placing his
hands on his hips.  He cracks a big smile and soaks in the cheers.

The two men make their way to the ring, Sterling Von Braun taking the
lead.  Both Von Brauns reach out and slap hands with fans who have
their arms stretched out.  The two men get to the ring, and Sterling
quickly slides in underneath the bottom rope and into the ring.  Tommy
hops up onto the ring apron and stands there, listening to the cheers.

Tommy finally climbs into the ring and the Von Brauns take opposite
turnbuckles.  They climb to the middle turnbuckle and raise their arms
in the air.  Legacy's entrance music stops playing and they make their
way to their corner.]

JM: Legacy is without Alex Wallace and you have to wonder if Wallace
is the glue that held this team together.

MA: Of course he is. You saw it on Shockwave when he left them high
and dry they fell apart and were taken to the woodshed by the Sons of
Anarchy.

JM: You said it he left them high and dry and they lost their focus.
But tonight could be a different story as they are prepared to not
have Wallace in their corner.

MA: Then they're ready to lose again.

[A cavalcade of rainbow lights begin to swirl and the dance tune of
dance tunes tips off the audience about just who is showing up to do a
jig.]

Oh woman you make me feel
Like I'm on fire
Oh woman you make it real
It's the only way for me

[Ferry Corsten's "Fire" blares over the public address system at full
volume and out from the backstage is none other than Arvelle "MAGIC"
Lafayette. Arvie is dressed in a sequined red suit with white hot
flames (only a size too big) with an air horn in his left hand and a
microphone in his right. Arvelle is wearing a spinning light up
bowtie.]

AML: HELLLLLLLLLLLLLO gentlefolk in attendance! Tonight, for one
night, the HEAT take a break from the world famous Heat Invitational
Tournament II - HIT BACK! For your entertainment and the amazement of
the chimps in the ring we have the man without fear and the love
muscle in the dream gym of your ladies.

[Behind Arvelle we see PACO show up (he's ,in a red vest and speedos
with a bull's head painted on the crotch of said speedos.]

AML: This is the PRIDE of Oaxaca ME-HI-CO. Wives and daughters here is
*deep breath*: Francisco Gabriel Maximillien Isadore Osorio Magnon...
aka PACO Magnon!

[white pyro technics go off as PACO presents himself to the crowd.]


AML: With him is The Miami Pound Machine and the Bad Boy of Little
Haiti. He's the man with the moves that'll make your dear lady love
lump you in the trash and kneel in worship at the Adonis of Miami-
Dade. Folks, I present to you, from Port-au-Prince, Haiti; this is
Maxime Jean-Baptiste!

[And red pyro goes off as Maxime shows up. He's in his red bicycle
shorts with white flames painted on and a neon green headband with
dreadlocks.]

AML: ...but wait, there's more! She's the Belle of the South and the
Beauty of the Brawl! A saucy minx with a mean right hook and sweet
disposition. Your sunshine and mine; folks, give it up for Miss
Floooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

[And daintly coming out dressed in bright yellow with a lacy umbrella
and small hat on her head is Florine.]

AML: We still ain't done, buckos! Tarnation, we got a little man with
a camera and no qualms about filming the greatest feats in HEAT
history. This is the creepy little guy in the belly shirt but we call
him Poncho!

[Poncho stumbles out and burps. He has a belly shirt and red bandana
around his neck.]

AML: But wait, there's the best for last! Leading the charge and
giving y'all what'cha crave; he's the man that's in like Flint and the
toast of the town. The golden voiced son of the squared circle who has
an eye for beauty and a nose for talent. The captain of TEAM HEAT - he
is... me! Arvelle "MAGIC" Lafeyette! So you'd best watch out because
if the sun don't get'cha - The HEAT will!

MA: Why doesn't Arvelle do the entrances for every PVW superstar? I
mean he is so much more entertaining that the Voice ... wait isn't
that the name of a signing competition somewhere?

JM: They stole it from Herk Douglas.

MA: See he's not even smart enough to make royalties. Time to replace
him with Arvelle!

#Voice: Right!

#NOW!

#HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

[The lights dim and smoke begins to pour out of the entryway as
"Anarchy in the UK" begins to blare of the PA System. After a brief
pause, two massive men, both standing well over six feet tall make
their way out of the smoke. The larger of the two has a shaved head
and wears a black biker jacket with a union jack painted on the back.
The slightly smaller man has spiked blond hair and wears a black biker
jacket with an anarchy symbol on the back.]

HD: And their opponents ... weigh in at a combined five hundred and
eighty pounds and hail from London, England and Liverpool, England
respectively ... they are Beast and Violence ...


!!! THE SONS OF ANARCHY !!!

MA: And here come the Brit's!

[Sons of Anarchy break into a full sprint towards the ring.]

JM: And they are wasting a minute making their way to the ring.

[Beast and Violence slide under the bottom ropes as the bell sounds.]


*****************************************
P        FATAL FOUR TAG MATCH           T
V       LEGACY vs. COW & CHICKEN vs.    V
W       SONS OF ANARCHY vs. HEAT       II
*****************************************


!!! DING DING DING !!!


JM: There's the bell ...

MA: Once again Captain Obvious rears his head.

JM: Arvelle appears to have made sure that The HEAT aren't starting
this match so it looks like it will be Violence or Beast starting out
with Chicken ...

[Violence and Beast waste no time charging towards the much smaller
Chicken but Chicken ducks under a the two Brits as they try a double
clothesline. Chicken rushes forward toward the far side and rebounds
off of them as Violence and Beast turn around.]

JM: Chicken ducks under another a clothesline from the charging
Violence and Beast lowers his head.

MA: And El Pollo Loco ... oh that's worse to say than Chicken ...
catches
Beast in the jaw with a quick kick.

[The impact forces Beast back up and Chicken leaps for a dropkick but
Beast swats Chicken's legs and sends him crashing him to the mat.
Violence grabs Chicken by the back of his mask and pulls him up to his
feet. The crowd buzzes as a tall, slim woman, with toned arms and
long, toned legs. She has lightly-tanned skin and wavy black hair that
reaches past her shoulder blades. She is attired in a black blouse,
the top few buttons unbuttoned to show a bit of cleavage  and a tight
black miniskirt, accessorized with a thick black belt, with a chunky
metal buckle and a pair of black six-inch heels and she has a
clipboard in her hands.]

MA: Who is that on the entrance ramp?

JM: I'm not sure.

MA: She looks familiar to me ... I just can't place her.

JM: We'll have to get Dean Hayes on it.

MA: Oh right cause he does his job so well.

[Both Violence and Beast drill Chicken with stereo right hands.]

JM: Why hasn't Lou Crowe forced one of the Sons of Anarchy from the
ring.

MA: He's been trying but those two men seem too dense to realize he's
talking to them. Violence has Chicken up and drives his knee into the
mid-section doubling the goofy Chicken over ... double sledge to the
back.

[Violence grabs Chicken in a front chancery and quickly snaps Chicken
up and over with a snap suplex. As Violence rolls back to his feet
Beast drops his knee to the side of Chicken's head. The crowd cheers
as Da Moo God has finally seen enough and charges into the ring and
shoulder blocks Violence to the mat.]

JM: Cow is now in the ring and there's a beefy right hand rocking
Violence back ... as Beast drives his massive head into the head of
Chicken.

MA: The headbutt has to worst move in this sport. It does as much
damage to you as it does to your opponent.

[Lou Crowe tries to step in between Violence and Cow but he has to
duck as Violence fires off a right hand. Cow staggers back a step but
the big man is able to fire off another right hand and another one
from Violence. As the two men continue to exchange rights Beast nails
another headbutt on Chicken. Chicken grabs his head for a split second
but Beast grabs his arm and whips him to the far side ropes.]

MA: Arvelle keeping control over his team making sure that Baptise and
PACO stay on the outside away from the carnage. And Legacy showing
restraint as well without Alex Wallace by their side.

JM: Chicken off of the ropes ... big boot from Beast nearly takes
Chicken's masked head off.

[Beast doesn't go for the cover as he pulls Chicken back to his feet.
The woman scrabbles a notes on her clipboard as she continues to watch
the match.]

MA: I can't believe this fatal four way match is basically a two team
Texas tornado match. The PVW needs to get better referees, that's all
I have to say.

JM: The first time Sons of Anarchy and Cow and Chicken were in the PVW
that triple threat match had similar results. And we saw on Shockwave
how the Sons of Anarchy like chaos.

[Beast hoists Chicken into the air and presses him into the air.]

JM: Beast showing off his strength ... and here comes Sterling! Chop
block takes Beast's knee out from under and Chicken hits the mat.


"___SSSMMMAAACCCKKK___"


[Sterling catches Beast with a stiff kick to the chest. Beast snarls
and begins to stand back to his feet. Chicken and Sterling grab the
arms of Beast and send him across the ring to the far side ropes. As
they do Violence grabs the back of Cow's head and slams him head first
into the top turnbuckle once, twice and a third time. Cow though seems
to shake it off and drives an elbow back into the ribs of Violence.
Lou Crowe throws his hands up into the air as Chicken and Sterling
catch Beast with a double dropkick. The over three hundred pound Beast
staggers backwards a few steps but does not fall. Chicken rushes
towards the near side ropes and Sterling drops to his hands and knees.
The woman smiles and nods her head.]

JM: Chicken-rana! Chicken used Sterling as a springboard and was able
to whip Beast to the mat with that hurricanarana.

[Chicken is to his feet and does a quick little dance and striking a
superhero pose. As he does Sterling "Tebows" next to him. Flash bulbs
pop throughout the arena.]

MA: If Alex Wallace was on the outside right now he would be making
sure Sterling wouldn't be pulling acts like that.

JM: Cow has Violence back up against the ropes ...


"___SSSMMMAAACCCKKK___"


MOOOOO!!!


"___SSSMMMAAACCCKKK___"


MOOOOO!!!


MA: Two beefy right handed chops  to the chest of Violence and
Violence fires back with a right hand and another but Cow cuts him off
with a right hand of his own.

[Chicken spins around glares at Beast as Sterling heads back to the
apron. Beast though also begins to push himself back to his feet and
the crowd cheers as Da Moo God takes Violence and himself up and over
the top rope to the floor.]

MA: Lou Crowe is signaling for a tag ... it appears Paco made blind
tagged Violence before he went up and over the top rope.

JM: Was Violence even the legal man?

MA: I don't think Crowe cares. Saying there was a legal tag gains him
a bit of order back to the match. As now it's Paco and Chicken as the
legal men and Chicken doesn't know it yet ...

JM: Spinning heel kick!

[Beast does not look happy as Paco stands to his feet. Lou points to
the apron ordering Beast to the apron as Cow whips Violence into the
guardrail. As the guardrail clangs from the impact Beast glares and
rolls to the apron and drops to the floor.]

MA: Now he does as Paco just dropped him with that kick. Paco staying
in control of the action now as he pulls Chicken back to his feet and
scoops him up ... bodyslam.

JM: Beast charges Cow and catches him with a clothesline to the back
of the head. Paco stomps on the chest of the Chicken and there's a
knee to the chest.

[Paco pulls Chicken back to his feet and whips him hard into the
corner. Paco charges forward and drives his shoulder into the mid-
section of Chicken. Paco grabs the middle ropes and rams his shoulder
into the mid-section again and a second time. Paco follows up with a
knife edge chop, a second, and a third.]

JM: Paco grabbing the arm of Chicken and he whips him across the ring
once again.

[Chicken slams hard into the corner and slumps down. As he does so
Paco charges across the ring and catches Chicken in face with a
dropkick. The crowd ohhs from the impact and they moan in pain as
Violence and Beast hoist Cow up into the air and drops the big throat
first across the guardrail.]

MA: Chicken is being taken apart in the ring as Cow is being taken to
the woodshed on the outside by Sons of Anarchy.

JM: Sons of Anarchy already have one win over Cow and Chicken in both
teams debut ...

MA: And right now they are reminding Cow of that.

[Cow grabs his throat in pain as Beast begins to stomp away on the
chest of the big man. Inside the ring Paco pulls Chicken back to his
feet and applies a side headlock.]

MA: And Paco drags the masked Chicken across the top rope towards his
corner and Jean-Baptiste is tagged into the match.

JM: But Paco isn't releasing the side head headlock as he turns around
and rushes forward five steps, Chicken bulldogged into the mat!

MA: The big man of HEAT is now in the ring and pulls Chicken up to his
feet ... shoulderbreaker. Jean-Baptiste working over the shoulder Paco
started to take apart with stomps a few moments ago.

[Jean-Baptiste pulls Chicken off of the mat and wastes no time
whipping him hard into the corner. The impact from the whip causes
Chicken to stagger out from the corner ...]

MA: STEP OFF! Jean-Baptiste nails Chicken in the jaw with that Yakuza
Kick and he crumples to the mat.

JM: Beast and Violence are both rolling back into the ring, this isn't
going to be good.

[Jean-Baptiste drops for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!


[And Violence drops a knee across the back of Jean-Baptiste's neck to
break up the cover. Beast pulls Jean-Baptiste to his feet and catches
the big man from Miami with European uppercut. And a second uppercut
from Beast to Jean-Baptiste, who shakes it off and first a right hand
into the jaw of Beast. Beast's head snaps to the side but he quickly
pulls it back and smirks at Jean-Baptiste.]

JM: Beast is shrugging off the onslaught from Jean-Baptiste; these
Sons of Anarchy seem to be able to take as much punishment as the
Berserkers can.

[Violence pulls Chicken up to his feet and whips him towards the
ropes, Tommy Von Braun slaps Chicken across the back and enters the
ring as he rebounds off of the ropes he ducks under a clothesline from
Violence and Tommy charges forward and catches Violence with a leaping
clothesline. Violence staggers back as a step and Von Braun quickly
grabs him around the waist and takes him over with a belly to belly
suplex.]

MA: I know Von Braun is legal but who's the other legal man?

JM: I believe it's Jean-Baptiste. I don't know what Sons of Anarchy
are trying to do but they are making this match a cluster ...

MA: Watch the language, Joshua!

[Da Moo God reaches up and grabs the guardrail pulling slowly pulling
himself to his feet as Arvelle barks for Paco to get into the ring and
aid Jean-Baptiste, who has been forced back to the ropes by Beast.]

JM: Beast has Jean-Baptiste's head and he's now biting him!


"___TTTHHHUUUDDD___"


MA: Puta Maker! Paco with the superkick to the back of Beast's head.
Talk about an effective way to stop a man from biting.
[Beast drops to his knees and as he does Jean-Baptiste just throws the
classic mean old elbow to the side of the Brit's head. The crowd
buzzes as the woman who has been at the top of the ramp way slowly
makes her way towards the ring.]

JM: It looks like the mystery woman has finally decided to get a
closer look at the action as Tommy Von Braun grabs Violence and drives
him to the mat with a side Russian legsweep.

[Tommy quickly drops for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!


JM: Violence with a kickout!

MA: He's not even the legal man, why did Crowe make the count?

JM: Probably cause he can't keep this chaos straight. Can you Matt?

MA: Matthew. And yes I can. Why else would I have pointed out that
Violence wasn't the legal man?

[Da Moo Cow has returned to the apron and Chicken rolls out onto the
apron near his partner. Sterling comes into the ring and the members
of Legacy with Violence into the ropes. The Von Braun's charge forward
and catch Violence with a double clothesline that sends the Brit up
and over the top rope to the floor. The crowd cheers and the woman
applauds with a smile upon her face.]

MA: Now that's a smile that will light up a room.

JM: No longer interested in Chip's wife.

MA: Who's wife?

[Jean-Baptiste grabs Beast and pulls him back to his feet.]

JM: And Beast is tossed over the top rope to the floor by HEAT.

[The crowd cheers as Sterling Von Braun motions Tommy out of the ring
and he charges forward catching Jean-Baptiste with a running knee lift
that sends the bigger man into the ropes. Arvelle glares at the woman
for a moment as Sterling catches Jean-Baptiste in the jaw with a
closed fist and a second one and a third one.]

JM: Sterling grabbing the arm of Jean-Baptiste and whips him into the
ropes ... drop toe hold takes him to the mat.

[Sterling is quickly back to his feet and quickly makes his way to the
top turnbuckle. Jan-Baptiste pushes himself to his feet and Sterling
leaps.]

MA: Double axe-handle to the head of Jean-Baptiste and he is back to
the mat.

JM: Sterling grabbing his arm and there's an armwringer.

[Von Braun reaches and makes a tag to Tommy.]

JM: She seems a bit enamored with Sterling. But Tommy is in the
ring and there's an elbow to the arm of Jean-Baptiste.

[Sterling exits the ring as Tommy hooks Jean-Baptiste with a front
chancery and hoists him into the air.]

MA: Von Braun with a vertical suplex and he quickly goes for the
cover.


!!! ONE !!!


!!! TW - !!!


MA: Only a one count as Jean-Baptiste kicks out. And the mystery woman
once again writing some notes. It's obvious she's out here scouting
...

[Arvelle makes his way towards the woman and begins to scream at her
to stay away from his team. The woman looks at him for a second before
jotting down another note as Tommy pulls Jean-Baptiste back up and
scoops him into the air.]

JM: Bodyslam on Jean-Baptiste ... and Sons of Anarchy are back into
the
ring.

MA: They really don't understand the rules of this match at all!

[Violence grabs Von Braun and whips him into a nasty clothesline from
Beast. The crowd cheers loudly as both Cow and Chicken come storming
into the ring.]

MA: The cluster is beginning anew!

[Chicken leaps catches Violence with a dropkick that barley moves the
bigger man, but Chicken is quickly back to his feet and a second
dropkick catches Violence on the chin and again the bigger man is
barely moved. Da Moo Cow charges into Beast and the big man is rock by
the beefy shoulder of Cow into the ropes. Cow follows up by grabbing
Beast's arm and leveling him with a short arm clothesline. Chicken is
on the ring apron and grabs the top rope ...]

JM: Springboard dropkick! Violence is sent crashing to the mat .. .and
Sterling pulls Jean-Baptiste back to his feet.

[Sterling underhooks both of Jean-Baptiste's arm.]

MA: Legacy Plunge! He just drilled Jean-Baptiste with a version of
Andrew Sterling's Corinthian Plunge!

[The mystery woman smiles broadly and nods her head as Jean-Baptiste's
head into the canvas.]


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



!!! THR -- !!!


MA: Paco drops his leg across the back of Sterling's neck to break up
the pin.

[Paco wastes no time as he pulls Sterling back to his feet.]

JM: Northern Lights Suplex!


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



!!! THRE - !!!


JM: Sterling just edges his shoulder up!

[The woman writes another note and Arvelle is once again in her face.
This time though before he utters a word she whispers something in his
ear. He stares at her with a puzzled look upon her face but turns his
attention back to the match. Where Chicken has Violence in a side head
lock and is looking for a bulldog take down but Violence lifts him
into the air and drops him upon the top rope crotching him. The crowd
moans as Violence begins to shake the top rope. On the other side of
the ring Cow drives the skull of Beast into the mat with a DDT.]

JM: Cow hooking the leg of Beast ... neither one of them are legal!



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!


MA: And Beast kicks out! It's obvious Crowe isn't even trying to keep
order any more and honestly I can't blame him.

[Tommy Von Braun back to his and catches Violence with a chop block
that sends him down to one knee. Tommy grabs the head of Violence
pulling him up and nails a swinging neckbreaker. Cow back to his feet
and he pulls Beast up sending him into the ropes.]

JM: Beast whipped to the far side ropes ... side walk slam by Cow
drives
Beast into mat. Chicken-sault on Violence!

MA: And on the other side of the ring Jean-Baptiste pulls Sterling up
and drives him into the mat with a powerbomb! Paco on the top rope ...
Elbow drop to the heart!

[Arvelle screams now that's a tag team as Paco hooks the leg for the
cover.]


!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!


!!! THR -- !!!


JM: And Tommy with the save! Chicken with a cover on Violence!



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!


!!! T --- !!!


MA: And Violence presses Chicken off of him.

[Chicken is back to his feet quickly and grabs Violence by the head.]


"___SSSSMMMAAACCCKKK___"


MA: Violence drills a stiff uppercut to Chicken's jaw! Chicken is
staggered and Violence grabs him by the head ... jawbreaker.

JM: The action is everywhere as Tommy Von Braun powers Paco over with
a Gutwrench suplex. And there's Jean-Baptiste!

MA: What a vicious elbow to the side of Von Braun's head that sends
him into the ropes. Cow has pulled Beast up and whips him into the
corner.

[Beast slams into the corner back first as Violence presses Chicken
into the air.]

MA: Violence has Chicken up ...



"___TTTHHHUUUDDD___"


[The crowd moans in shock as Chicken is pressed slammed over the top
rope to the floor.]

MA: That was sickening to hear!

JM: And Beast moves out of the way as Cow charges in!

[Cow slams into the corner chest first. Jean-Baptiste grabs Tommy Von
Braun and pulls him to his feet, but Tommy with a quick left hand to
the jaw.]

MA: Jean-Baptiste was blindsided by that quick left and Tommy hooks
him ... belly to belly suplex!

JM: Violence and Beast toss Cow through the ropes to the floor and
they are following the big man to the floor. Tommy hooks the leg!



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



[Paco leaps into the air and Tommy rolls off of Jean-Baptiste.]

JM: Paco with a leg drop on his own partner. I have to say the young
rookies are doing a lot better out here tonight than I would have
imagined.

MA: After the beating they took on Shockwave I didn't think they would
survive without Wallace either but they are full of surprises.


"___CCCLLLAAANNNGGG___"


JM: Cow whipped into the steel guardrail! Tommy grabs Paco and drives
him head first into the mat with a DDT.

[Sterling sees Violence and Beast driving rights and lefts into the
forehead of Cow on the outside and ascends to the top rope. Tommy
looks at his partner who nods at him and then leaps nailing Violence
with a double axe handle.]

JM: Jean-Baptiste is back up and Tommy doesn't see him ...

[Tommy turns around and is drilled with a big boot that sends him
crashing to the mat and he rolls to the apron. Sterling grabs Beast by
the arm and whips him hard into the ring steps as Jean-Baptiste rolls
to the outside and pulls Chicken to his feet.]

MA: Jean-Baptiste rolling the dead weight of Chicken into the ring.

[Tommy shakes his head as he gets to his knees. Paco drops a knee into
the side of Chicken's head as Cow has sends Violence into the ring
apron back first.]

MA: HEAT is in control in the ring at the moment as Sterling slams the
head of Beast into the ring steps.

JM: Cow whips Violence into the guardrail and nails him with a
charging clothesline!

[The crowd is going nuts as Cow screams MOOOO and nails Violence with
a nasty right hand. Beast's head is slammed into the ring steps once
again by Sterling. Jean-Baptiste pulls Chicken back to his feet and
places his head between his legs, as he does so Paco climbs to the
middle turn buckle. Jean-Baptiste pulls Chicken into the air.]

MA: Jean-Baptiste looking for a piledriver and Paco leaps from the
middle turnbuckle ... Sit Down, Shut Up! The HEAT's spiked piledriver!

[Arvelle screams for Paco to go for the cover and end the match.]

MA: Paco smartly going for the cover!


!!! ONE !!!


[Sterling slides back into the ring and charges towards Paco ...]


!!! TWO !!!


[Sterling leaps and drives his elbow into the side of Paco's head
knocking him off of Chicken.]


JM: And Sterling with the save!

[Tommy Von Braun slides back into the ring now as Paco stands to his
feet and catches Sterling across the jaw with a stiff slap.]


"___SSSMMMAAACCCKKK___"


[The crowd gasps at the disrespect shown to Sterling who shoves Paco
back into the arms of Tommy Von Braun who wraps his arms around the
waist of Paco and pops at the hips driving Paco into the mat with a
nasty German suplex.]

JM: Tommy bridges!



!!! ONE !!!


[Sterling charges towards Jean-Baptiste, who is charging at Tommy.]


!!! TWO !!!


[Sterling leaps ... spinning heel kick to the jaw of Jean-Baptiste
...]


!!! THREE !!!


JM: Tommy got him! Legacy just picked up the biggest win of their PVW
career as they have just pinned the only active team in the PVW with a
victory over the PVW tag team champions!

MA: I don't believe it. This is a travesty of justice! This match was
a farce from the get go. Lou Crowe had no control over this match from
the opening bell!


!!! DING DING DING !!!


HD: Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners ... Tommy and Sterling
Von Braun ...


!!! LEGACY !!!


[The woman applauds as Tommy and Sterling's arms are raised in the
air.]

MA: I got it! She's Sonova! She wrestled on Angels and Amazons and if
I recall she was giving Heath Dawson and Supreme Wright a hard time in
Las Vegas.

JM: Are you sure?

MA: Of course I am Joshua. I'm not Chip or Fred I make sure I know
what's going on in this great industry of ours.

JM: Sons of Anarchy aren't finished yet!

[The two Brits have grabbed chairs and slide into the ring and charge
towards Legacy ... Sterling ducks dodges the wild swing from Violence
...]


"___CCCLLLAAANNNGGG___"


JM: Chicken with a springboard dropkick that sends the chair into the
head of Beast! What a save on Tommy by Chicken. And Sterling with a
boot to the mid-section of Violence ... DDT!

[Sonova smiles and nods approvingly as Sterling spikes Violence into
the mat. Beast shakes his head and lets out a loud scream as he pushes
himself back to his feet. He grabs the chair and tosses it at Chicken
who barely dodges it. The chair bounces violently off of the ropes and
Cow grabs Chicken pulling him to the outside. da Moo God points at
Beast, as he snarls back at him. Arvelle is in the face of Lou Crowe
on the outside arguing that Paco had his shoulder up and Paco is
moving his shoulder, showing that he kicked out. As Lou Crowe turns to
walk away Jean-Baptiste grabs him by the shirt but Arvelle quickly
forces him to release his grip as security begins to flock to the ring
in an effort to gain control over the Sons of Anarchy who once again
both back to their feet.]

JM: PVW's finest ... The good men who make up our security force is
headed down and they are going to earn their money on this one, Matt.

MA: I think there is even a female in there ...  She is in trouble ...
unless she is a Rage "lady".

JM: I don't see an Adam's apple.

MA: Joshua ... You just made a funny.  Bravo!

JM: Folks, it was an honor to be apart of Tradition VII ... While
security looks to get control let's go back stage to the hardest
working man in the biz ... Dean Hayes!

[Again we cut backstage where Dean Hayes stands by, microphone in hand
as Rob Cole stands with his hands on his hips and his wet hair pulled
back from his features. The psycho seems to be in ... oddly good
spirits considering the events around him, an odd smile playing on his
lips and a strange gleam in his eyes. He stares out into the distance
as Dean speaks to him, listening to the reporter speak but not
really... not really all together there.]

DH: We are moments away from the match between Rob Cole and Brian
Young, two former champions and two men with a number of scores to
settle. We've all seen the footage... we saw what happened three years
ago, we saw what happened a few days back, and we've seen the build up
between these two men. And now... Rob Cole, I don't understand why
this is your last match here in PVW? The doctors said you were fine?

RC: The doctors said I was healthy and that I could compete, Dean...
but when my contract runs out, when that bell rings for the last time
it WILL ring for the last time on Rob Cole and I will walk out of this
arena for the last time.

[Cole turns his head to gaze into the camera, eyes wide as he smiles a
bit brighter... fanatically... ]

RC: You look at me... you look at me and you see a man who has so much
wrong and has broken so many people and ruined so many lives that the
guilt is driving me down a dark dark pit. You see a man who is sick
with himself, a man who woke up thinking his career was over, a man
who has been hurt before and would probably get hurt again.

WHY?!?!!

I've already done everything I set out to do in this sport, Dean...
I've beaten everyone from my generation EXCEPT...

*chuckle*

Except Brian Young! My dream match, Dean... my personal dream match,
the one that I've wanted since 2001, the one I've wanted since the day
I saw a tape of him wrestling that Japanese guy in Knoxville, I have
wanted to face Brian Young and I have wanted to shine in a five star
match with him...

[His eyes have grown distant, his smile a strange mix of adoration and
... well... salvation?]

DH: You nearly ended his career three years ago... you did end it!
He's here for revenge, Cole... he's not here to have a five star
match, he's here to humiliate you... are you hearing me?

RC: Brian Young is here... to save me, Dean. He's here to grant me
absolution... he's here to end my career. I'm going out there tonight
a changed man... the lunatic monster is gone, the beast is buried, and
the wrestler is going to shine for one last moment here in PVW! I'm
glad it's him, Dean... I'm so very very glad it's him... he's the last
man I need to beat, and I will win this match! Make no mistake... I'm
not going out there to lie down for a hero, I'm going out there to
find salvation... to prove that I'm a better man than I was, than I
ever was!!! No outside dives... no crazy weapons... no choking,
biting, or pulling hair...

I'm just going out there to wrestle a good match. Can you imagine it,
Dean?!?!! Wrestling a good match with a good man?!?!!  I've... I've
wanted this for so long.

[Tears are in his eyes, and he turns to look at Dean... and he
suddenly hugs the man tight. There's an odd choking sound from Cole as
he gasps for breath. He looks into the camera... smiling again.]

RC: I'm coming, Brian. I'm coming.

[He steps out of frame and Dean Hayes watches with a concerned
expression... he looks back at the camera and shrugs his shoulders, as
bewildered as the audience must be.]

DH: Back to you...?

[Cut to a concerned looking Chip Lester.]

CL: In just a few short minutes we are going to witness from what Rob
Cole has said his last match in the PVW ring.

FH: You know I am really starting to like this new Brian Young.  I
wasn't too sure when he stabbed Rob Cole in the back.  However, if he
really chases the Monster Underneath the Bed out of the PVW?  Well
then how can you argue with that?

CL: It would be a shame if this ends up being the last time.  It's
been an honor to call his matches the past four years.  From the
battles with the Masked Outlaw's ... From his war's with Spectre,
Chase Williams, William Craven, and so many others.  Rob Cole it truly
has been MY honor.

FH: Don't get choked up Chip.

CL: It's tough ... but before we reach that point, I am being told we
have some cameras backstage.

[Cut backstage where camera's have found the one time SSN executive
and employer of the Mercenary, Jessica Marshall.  She has managed to
escape security, and is hiding out behind a pile of crates, tables,
and garbage cans.

When she sees The Mercenary and Alex Epstein laughing about what has
happened ...  Mentions of getting  even with Heath Dawson in due time
is mentioned ... A high five later, Alex Epstein exits to the parking
lot, and Merc continues down the hall.

He doesn't get far before JFM comes running up from behind, screaming
like a banshee, and jumps on Merc's back trying to claw his eyes out.


YOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUU~!!!


Wrestling's hired gun flips her over his shoulder, planting her on the
cold, hard concrete. And since the PVW isn't big on violence against
women, the scene quickly cuts to a test pattern for about 30 seconds.


TSKSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~!


... and when it comes back, The Mercenary is gone, and JFM is upside
down in a trash can, not moving, with one dangling from her foot, the
other laying on the ground nearby ...  We fade back to laughter from
the Calgary fans and a concerned Fred Hoyle.]

FH: What is going on around here!?!  I thought we had gotten rid of
that has been bum, Alex Epstein!  And now Jessica Marshall is upside
down in a trash can, Chip!

CL: Well she is no longer employed by the PVW, Fred ... As you can say
the Mercenary and Alex Epstein has taken out the trash.

FH: This is not how you treat a real lady!

CL: Well you had no issues with the way Heath Dawson has been treated
by Jessica Marshall and now the Mercenary and Epstein.

FH: That's because Dawson deserved it ... but, Jessica Marshall is
ROYALTY!

CL: She can now stay in Canada where she belongs!

FH: Jessica ... Call me?

CL: I am sure Jessica Marshall will want to forget her experience here
in the PVW where things have fallen apart.  However, don't worry Fred
... You aren't going to be sad for long.

FH: What could possibly cheer me up?

CL: I am getting word ... Rob Cole is hitting the curtains ... In what
appears to be his final match.

FH: And like that I am in a good mood!

[Traditional drums echo through the arena, followed by the familiar
guitar riff as pyro ignites at the stage entrance!!! Explosions rock
through the arena as Rob Cole starts to stalk toward the ring and then
pauses as the theme song plays throughout the arena.

"Rattamahatta" blares throughout the arena and Rob turns to face
people on his right... and then his left. He points and suddenly
rushes to clap hands with several of the fans. He grabs a sign, "DON'T
GO!!!" and holds it up... he gives the young fan a quick hug around
the neck as he stalks the rest of the way to the ring.]

CL: The last hurrah of the PVW's "hardcore icon"... the former World
Champion, the Monster Beneath the Bed... Rob Cole has been with us
since the doors opened and he's had plenty of wars. But probably no
war, no match as important as the one he's set to enter tonight!

FH: Brian Young... The One... another former champion, a legend in
this sport, and a hero to just about every wrestler in that locker
room and every fan in attendance is set to get his revenge on Rob Cole
tonight for everything the Outcast did to him three years back!

CL: You're painting a different picture than the one I see, Fred... I
see Brian Young returning for revenge, but I see him trying to get
revenge on a man who has already sought forgiveness, a man who was
humbled by his own actions, and then Brian Young ingratiated himself
with Cole and poisoned the man!

FH: You say potato...

CL: NO!!! Fred, it's not just a difference of opinion... I could have
respected it if Young had come back and challenged Cole, if he'd come
up to Cole like a man... instead he spent months just toying with the
Outcast. Mysterious messages, sending Craven after him, and then
poisoning him after the match... This isn't just 'revenge', Fred!

[The lights in the arena fade to black as the eerie opening beat
begins and a woman's voice says

#Save me now!

Hero by Skillet (Legion of Doom Remix) continues to play throughout
the arena a single pale blue spotlight illuminates the entrance way;
from which emerges the figure of Brian Young.  As Brian emerges we can
see that he is attired in a black robe with pale blue trim. He pauses,
soaking in the reaction from the crowd and as he does so he pulls the
robe open revealing a pair of black full length tights, with blue trim
around the waist band and black boots with blue laces.]

#Save me just in time
#Just in time

[Brian begins a slow methodical walk down the entrance ramp to the
ring. Some fans reach over the railing and try to touch the former
champion, but Brian shrugs his shoulders pulling them away from their
reach.]

CL: Here comes the former PVW Heavyweight Champion, Brian Young.

FH: And look at the face of Rob Cole ... You would think that someone
poisoned him or something!

[As Brian approaches the ring steps he motions the referee to keep Rob
Cole away from him.]

CL: Of course Brian wants Rob Cole away from him ... he might say that
he wants this match and he deserved what he got at the hands of Young
but let's face it Rob Cole is not stable and he could snap at any
second. And quite frankly if he snapped on Young ... well he deserves
it!

[Brian slowly walks up the ring steps and barks for the referee to
hold open the ropes for him.]

CL: You have to be kidding me!

FH: He's a former world champion, he deserves to have the ropes opened
for him.

CL: And he's doing it? Come on!

[The referee reluctantly holds the ropes open for Young as Cole just
stares at the man he took out of the PVW for nearly three years.]

CL: Give me a break.

FH: Former champions demand respect around here!

CL: What about Rob Cole he is a former Champion.

FH: Except him.

[Rob Cole stands in the center of the ring, watching as Brian Young
ignores the referee and continues to try and soak in that crowd
reaction. The crowd continues to give a mixed response as Young climbs
to the second turnbuckle and spreads his arms, flexing his waist and
showing off his physique... The One drops down and smirks as he
regards Cole. He feigns some dizziness, laughing as Cole continues to
watch... as Young ascends another turnbuckle, looking for a bigger
reaction from the audience.]

CL: Rob Cole is eyeing The One, watching him strut around the ring at
the moment... you would think that there wasn't a match scheduled!
Much less, that this may just be the last opportunity Rob Cole has to
wrestle Brian Young...

FH: No, Chip... you would think that Brian Young is finally back after
a long hiatus... that Brian Young is showing these fans precisely what
they paid to see! Rob Cole was humiliated by Young... tricked into
making that prissy little speech a few nights back and basically
weeping in front of everyone here. He was tricked and it was
pathetic... and now Rob Cole has to face the guilt and the shame,
knowing that Brian Young has always had his number!


*****************************************
P        ONE ON ONE MATCH               T
V          ROB COLE     vs.             V
W          BRIAN YOUNG                 II
*****************************************


[Young continues to lift his arms, trying to get the crowd into his
appearance as Rob Cole stands in his own corner. The Outcast licks his
lips and rolls his neck and trembles a little as he watches Young. The
One leans down, pointing at one of the female fans in the audience and
offering her a quick pose as the heat begins to grow throughout the
arena.]

CL: Young is ignoring Coles' presence right now, and you can see the
Outcasts' shoulders stiffen as Brian heads up yet another
turnbuckle... calling out to the fans on that side of the arena as
well. This is ridiculous... the referee has already called for the
bell, and Rob Cole would be perfectly in his rights to just charge in
there and...

FH: ... and WHAT?!?!?!  Attack Brian Young ... again? Young is waiting
on Cole to do just that... and Cole knows it! Plus... you get that
whole crap-fest about Cole wanting to be a good role-model for his own
kid, about how he regrets all the stuff he did to Young, well it's
easy to say it and act like you mean it... but to live it?!?!!! I
think this is going to be harder than Rob Cole thinks!

[Cole shakes his head in disgust and walks toward a neutral corner...
and Brian Young turns around, walking to the center of the ring and
rolling his neck in preparation! "Come on, Cole!" He hops to the balls
of his feet and hops a little like Bruce Lee. He gets into position as
Cole begins to walk back to the center... only to be cut short when
Young suddenly spins and sprints up to the second turnbuckle one last
time!]



*BIG TIME HEEL HEAT!!!*



[Young gives the audience a pose on that second turnbuckle.]

CL: This is ridiculous!!!!

FH: This is brilliant! Look at Coles' face... it's utterly red and his
shoulders are trembling. He came for a fight and Brian Young is giving
him an absolute spectacle! Cole is going crazy in that ring... but he
can't show it or he's no better than he used to be! That is a man in
pain, Chip... that is a man whose head is just getting toyed with!

[Young drops down, smirking as he circles the trembling Cole. He
motions for Cole to 'bring it', and gets back into position as Cole
swallows... and moves in for the tie up! Both men lock up... and Cole
immediately begins to power Young backward, up against the ropes!]

CL: And Cole is just manhandling Young now, shoving him against the
ropes... Young lifting both arms as the referee demands a break, and
Rob Cole complying... Oh lord! Young with a slap in the face, and he
ducks between the ropes as the referee stops Cole from striking back!

FH: Hah... look at that pathetic moron!

[Cole runs his hands through his hair, backing up and taking a deep
breath as Young watches him from the other side of ropes with a
twisted grin. Cole's fury causes him to tremble as Young flicks his
fingers as if brushing him further back. He slowly... very slowly...
begins to duck back into the ring... and hops up to the balls of his
feet, bouncing a bit as he floats like a butterfly and pumps his arms
back and forth in preparation for the big fight... taunting the
already furious Cole.]

CL: And Cole moves in again... but Young with a drop toe hold counter,
slamming the Outcast to his face as Young floats over and....
Paintbrushes the back of Coles' neck! Just humiliating slaps to the
back of the head as Cole covers up and tries to roll to his feet! And
Young ... drops back to the outside!

[The crowd really starts to get on Youngs case, but the One just
smirks and walks over to that same woman and gives her another pose.
Cole is on one knee, staring after the arrogant Young and he quickly
gets to his feet and takes another deep breath as he runs a hand
through his hair.]

FH: The crowd hates it but Young is wrestling smart... he's blinding
Cole with anger, controlling the pace of the match, and he's keeping a
handle on things in that ring! Young is a brilliant strategist... a
former champion who has manipulated events behind the scenes for weeks
now. You don't dismiss a guy like that and you don't just expect him
to come at you solid... he's going to come at you sideways, from a
direction that you don't expect. And, unlike Cole, Young can be
absolutely ruthless when he wants to be...

[Cole steps back from the ropes, trying hard not to give in to his
rage as Young continues to stretch his muscles outside of the ring.
Brian Young even does a jumping jack, taunting Cole as the referee
turns and starts a count. Young easily breaks it at "five" as he hops
back to the apron and quickly ducks between the ropes. He points at
Cole... "You ready?" Cole's body stiffens as he stares a dagger
through The One.]

CL: And Cole moves in for the lock up again... but Young with a quick
kick to the gut! And he rushes the former champion to the corner...
and just DRIVES his head into the top buckle! Another kick to the gut!
And another! Young presses into Cole... Irish whip... and Cole hits
the turnbuckles hard!

FH: Cole wanted Young, and now he's got 'im! The One is finally
getting his opportunity for revenge as Cole slumps in the corner...
and Young rushes in with a HUGE leaping knee to the kisser! Coles'
head whips back from the impact and it's no better than he deserves!
This is your big farewell, Cole... the big last match you wanted!

[Young hooks the head and turns... he calls out to the crowd and runs
Cole out into the center of the ring and PLANTS him with a running
bulldog! The Outcast hits hard and clutches at his head as Young turns
and immediately pushes Cole to his back... ]

CL: And young hooks the leg as the referee drops in position....





!!! ONE !!!
















!!! TWO !!!














... Kickout!



FH: A close one there for Cole! I think the count was right on the
money, but Young is complaining about the speed with the ref... he
shouldn't waste time like this. Okay, you don't have to agree with the
count but keep on the offense; don't let Cole take a breather!

CL: Great observation, Fred... Cole able to roll to one knee, shaking
the cobwebs loose as Young gets to his feet... and blocks the single
leg takedown from Cole! Front chancery headlock, and the One with
pressure from above as he drops to a single knee and forces Cole to
carry the weight!

FH: And he's slowing things down again, keeping Cole's engines revving
but forcing the Outcast to spin his tires right here... not enough
pressure to cause a submission, but terrific wear down on the brawler.
Young is just keeping Cole in the tool shed right now, giving him
lessons in mat work 101!

[Cole reaches to grab the waist, attempting to shove Young back a few
inches and relieve the pressure on his back... Young twists his arm,
tightening his grip as Cole pushes up... and then drops back down!
Cole goes up again... and Young increases the pressure to force him
down again! The crowd stomping in their support... and Cole suddenly
twists from beneath Young!]

CL: And Rob Cole counters with a fireman takeover! Young rolling to
his feet and gets it scooped from beneath him.... Side vertical press!








!!! ONE !!!


... Kickout!





FH: Is he serious?!?!!

CL: Young immediately rolls to his feet again and Cole stays down on
one knee... DRIVING his head into the gut! Young staggers back as Cole
gets up.... Front chan.... SNAP SUPLEX!!!

[The crowd roars to their feet as Cole immediately twists around...
and catches the rising Young with a hard clothesline!]

CL: And Young seems to be losing control of this match.... As Rob Cole
helps him up with a scoop... and SLAMS him down! Cole to the ropes....
And he drops an elbow! Up.... And elbow down again! Cover and hooks
the leg....







!!! ONE !!!














!!! TWO !!!










KICKOUT!



[Cole pulls Young to his feet... and DRIVES a forearm down across the
back! He drops another forearm in and then scoops The One up and drops
him chest first across the top rope!]

CL: Hotshot on the one!

FH: Rob Cole is a disgrace... he's ruining the biggest come back of
the year! Brian Young has successfully rehabbed that destroyed knee...
and now the man who tried to build his career on the destruction of
Young is attempting to catch lightning in a bottle once again! He's a
dirty, rotten, cowardly piece of trash!

CL: Brian Youngs' return is an incredible story, Fred... no doubt
about it. But the other story is Rob Cole's contract... or lack of
contract. Bryan Young manipulated Craven into chasing the Outcast, he
snaked his way into the life of Rob Cole, and he slowly poisoned the
man and made him think his career was coming to an end! And he put
obstacles between the office and Cole... made both parties walk away
from negotiations resulting on Rob Coles' last official match here on
Tradition!

FH: Cry me a freakin' river, Chip!

[And Cole is maintaining a trapezium  lock on the crook of the neck,
pressing his fingers into the flesh of Young and forcing the smaller
man to carry nearly 290 lbs. of mass in that center area! Youngs' face
contorts in pain, and he reaches up with his opposite hand to try and
relieve the pressure... pushing up on that driving hand!]

CL: Cole in control... and he drives that free elbow into the back of
the head! Pulling Young to his feet from behind... he hooks the side
waistlock and pops his hips... Belly to back suplex!

FH: And I can't believe these people are cheering this psychopath?!?!!
Does anyone remember what he actually DID to Brian Young? What he did
to Justin Cruise? Paul Styles? The list just goes on and on and on....
I almost fell for his little pity act a few weeks back but now? NO!!!
Now he's just going to climb up those turnbuckles and ... oh, Poor
Brian Young! ... OH MY GOD!!!!



*MIXED HEEL POP!!!*



[As Cole climbs the turnbuckles from the outside, Young suddenly kips
up... and rushes the ropes, leaping to the second turnbuckle and
catching Cole with a running forearm to the head! Cole drops back to
the seated position and Young rains a few more shots down across the
side of his head!]

CL: Young is raining down blows... one after another.... Dazing the
Outcast and catching him unaware!

FH: The Ring General strikes!!! Cole is in big trouble up on that top
turnbuckle.... STORM EFFECT!!!!







*<<<>>>>>*







CL: Good lord! Storm Effect sends Cole flying from the top
turnbuckle... and PLANTS him dead in the ring as Young somehow manages
to land on both feet... head bowed?!?!!!!!

FH: He's the ONE!!!!





*HUGE FAN REACTION!!!!*







[Brian Young straightens from his perfect landing, keeping his arms
spread and a smile on his face as Cole lies in the center of the
ring... completely dazed by the maneuver. The Outcasts tries to suck
in breath, his features pale from the impact on his spine. Young takes
a few steps around the ring, turning to regard the fallen Cole with a
smirk as the bigger man blinks the stars from his eyes.]

FH: Brian Young is just flat out showing off JUST how much better he
is than Rob Cole... leaving the former "champion" in the center of the
ring and soaking in this crowd reaction. I think he's winning over at
least half this crowd with the stuff he can do in that ring, Chip...
he's one of the best there is and proving that here and now!

CL: You may have a point there, Fred... Rob Cole has been on the steep
slide down in this company since losing the title and he hasn't been
able to catch any traction since. Brian Young may have chosen just the
right moment to get revenge on the Outcast...

FH: May have?!?!?!! It IS the perfect moment! It's the ONLY moment!

CL: Young stalking the Cole as the big man starts to get up... and
there's a quick punt kick to the side of the head! A kick with the
opposite leg! And another kick dazes Cole... and Young pulls the
Outcast to his feet and whips him to the ropes... cradle neckbreaker
on the way back!!





Cover and ...





!!! ONE !!!















!!! TWO !!!










... Kickout!





FH: He's on automatic pilot at this point!

[Young slams the mat, demanding a faster count from the referee as
Cole tries to roll to his side. Young quickly rises, pushes Cole onto
his back and twists his heel across the top of the cranium!]

FH: It's only a matter of time! Rob Cole is completely outclassed in
that ring... it's time for him to head back to Detroit and the garbage
promotions they have up there! He's done here in the big leagues!

CL: Young with a suplex... and he nearly floats to his feet and
snatches the arm rolling into la magistral cradle pin attempt!













!!! ONE !!!














!!! TWO !!!
















... KICKOUT!!!!



FH: Oh come on!!!!

[Cole rolls to his side, clenching his fist as Brian Young complains
about another slow count to the referee.... The fans are becoming
increasingly mixed during the exchange, the lines between heroism and
villainy blurring as Cole seems to just be unable to mount an offense.
Young turns just as Cole gets to one knee... and CHOPS a hard slap
down across his face!]





*SLAAAPPPP!!!!*







CL: GOOD LORD!!!!

FH: HAH!!! I love it! You can hear the echo in the rafters... and
Coles' face is just beet red!







*SLAP!!!!*









*SLAP!!!!!*







*SLAP!!!!*





[The crowd is gasping as Cole just kneels in the ring, taking one
chopping slap down across his face after another. His face isn't just
red, it's looks like raw hamburger and Brian Young opens looks at his
own hand... and spits in it before... ]







SLAP!!!!*









CL: Rob Cole drops to one hand, kneeling in the center of the ring...
his eyes dazed from that dizzying series of chopping slaps to the
face!!! The hatred from Young... the disgust... the pure disrespect in
each dizzying blow driving Cole to the mat!

FH: And The One is executing Rob Cole!!! This is pure humiliation
right in the center of this ring! It's beautiful!

[Young leans down and lifts Coles' chin up, staring at him in the eyes
as he mockingly forces Cole to stare at him... "You're done, Rob! It's
over!" And with that he just grabs either side of the Outcasts head
and DRIVES it down into the mat!]



*heel pop!*







CL: Another cover on Rob Cole....











!!! ONE !!!














!!! TWO !!!
















...  and another kickout.



FH: Someone needs to tell Rob that he's finished... I mean, seriously?
He's just getting embarrassed at this point. Just lie down and ride
off into the sunset... say goodbye to the fans on your way back the
locker room and pack your things and just GO!

CL: Fred... I... Rob Cole is struggling back to his feet, using the
ropes as support as Brian Young moves in with a knee to the gut!
Pressing Cole to the ropes... and another Irish whip sends Cole across
the ring!

[Young ducks at the right moment... and sends Cole up and DOWN with a
back body drop! The Outcast clutches at the small of his back as he
rises to one knee... and The One turns as Cole gets up and yanked off
his feet by an armdrag!]

FH: Young with a standing armbar on the downed Cole... and drives a
knee into the exposed side! Transitions that armbar into a wristlock,
bracing the elbow against his own shoulder and pulling down on Coles
fingers.

CL: The referee is looking for a submission and Cole is refusing...
but Young wrenching pressure on that wrist lock, staring down into the
beat red side of Coles' face!

[Close up of the two men, Young kneeling a little behind the bigger
man with that wrist lock applied... arm extended, elbow braced against
his shoulder as he keeps the wrist twisted and the fingers bent back.
The referee leans in close, "Come on, Rob... you want to call it a
night?" Cole shakes his head in response... sucking in breath through
his teeth as Young slowly applies more pressure, muscles tensing as he
leans into the hold!]

FH: Rob Cole is making a mistake here... he gives it in and we can
move on to the next match, get rid of the old luggage he represents.
It's a pity, really... a pity he's so selfish.

CL: Selfish?!?!! Rob Cole may never walk into a PVW ring again...
everything Young has done to him these past few weeks, maybe months,
maybe even the past year?!?!!  Rob Cole has only one thing left... his
dignity! And Brian Young is trying to take that away from him tonight!
Young releases the hold and DRIVES a stomp down across the side of
Coles head!

[Cole clutches that stretched out arm close to his body as he tries to
curl and cover... but Brian Young grabs that arm out and pulls Cole
up, twisting beneath the arm and driving an elbow down across the
triceps!]

FH: Systematic dismantling of the garbage man!

CL: Cole stagers in to that corner! And the referee warning Young...
but Young ignores and delivers a kick to the gut! Another kick!
Presses into Cole for another Irish whip...

[Cole suddenly snaps his head to the side and connects... Young steps
back, clutching his head in mild confusion as Cole suddenly reaches up
and grabs the neck and yanks him back in for a VICIOUS looking
headbutt! He underhooks an arm and DRIVES a headbutt in once more....
And again!]

FH: He's fighting back?!?!!

CL: Cole twists under the hooked arm... and takes Young over with
another fireman carry out of that corner! Young rolls to his feet as
Cole... REDEMPTION COUNTER!!!!



*HEEL POP!!!!*



FH: HAH!!! Coles' offense is cut short by that quick shining wizard
from The One! Brilliant display and now Young has a chance to shake
those cobwebs loose... rubbing at his skull after those disgusting
head butts from Rob Cole, leaving the Outcast crumpled near that
corner!

[Young yanks Cole out of the corner, pulls him up into the air... ]

CL: And more offense from Young... White Lightning Driver!!!

FH: Tis the end.... Coles' only friend, the end!

CL: It might all be a moot point now, Fred... Cover....









!!! ONE !!!












!!! TWO !!!










!!! THREE !!!








Kickout?!?!!!



FH: Barely!!! BARELY!!!! Cole just barely managed to get that shoulder
up with a kick out, the referee's hand SO very close to counting him
down...

CL: And now Young is rolling Cole face down....  deathlocking those
legs, looking for the Capture Clutch?!?!!

FH: He doesn't just want to JUST beat the man... he wants him to tap
out! To give in! To surrender!

[The crowd is still torn, but Rob Cole suddenly turns over onto his
side and prevents Young from stepping in.... he quickly snatches the
kneeling Youngs' head and DRIVES a fist upside the head! He swings
again, desperately trying to keep Young from applying his submission
finish!]

FH: Pack it in, Cole... once he gets that hold applied its over!

CL: Young backing away before Cole can land another one of those
shots... and Rob rolls to one knee! Redemption again... NO!!!! Cole
ducks the redemption and just YANKS the leg from under Young!

[The crowd pops as Young lands face first, clutching at his chin as
Cole rises behind him... and DRIVES a crossface forearm shot down on
the kneeling Young! Another crossface forearm!]

FH: Come on, Ref! Get in there and stop him!

CL: Cole going back to what he knows best... just delivering those
hard forearms across the jaw, nailing the One over and over again! And
now he just yanks Young from the mat... and DRIVES him back with the
Russian leg sweep!

FH: Sloppy and he can't capitalize... look at him trying to get back
to one knee, shaking the cobwebs loose after that brutal technical
assault from The One! His face is still beet red, his eyes
unfocused... and now the big man is on his unsteady feet, trying to
breathe some life back into himself!

[The crowd is behind him, though! Cole sucks in breath and staggers
back to the ropes... lifting both arms as the crowd roars their
approval! Young rolls to his own feet and turns... as Cole delivers a
left jab! Another left! Another! Each shot right in the face of Young,
whose head snaps back with every shot. And then Cole drops him to the
mat with a HUGE haymaker!!! The fans go crazy as Cole lifts his taped
right fist in the air!]

CL: Series of shots from Cole drops The One on the mat, his eyes dazed
and glazed right now! Young rolling to his feet as well as Cole takes
his measure... and drops a forearm down across the back! Another one!
Gutwrench up... into a whirl and Cole just DRIVES Young down across
the knee with that signature backbreaker of his!

FH: Oh, get over it! Half the roster does a tilt-whirl backbreaker...
there's nothing special about Coles' beyond his ability to make it
look sloppy!

[Cole rises, breathing in the reaction from the audience as Young
clutches at his back and struggles to get back up... Cole immediately
grabs him and forces him down to a sitting position! Knee between the
shoulder blades! And Cole follows that up with a stunning cross-face
forearm again! He hauls Young up, locks him in the front chancery and
HAULS him into the air!]

CL: Rob Cole going for the vertical suplex... and listen to this
audience get to their feet! Young held up... he's trying to wiggle
free but Cole is still standing there... just standing there, waiting,
letting Young think about it, letting the blood flow to the skull!

FH: He's showing off! Plain and simple, Rob Cole is showing off for
these glad-handing mental midgets... I can't believe these people are
cheering for that scarred freak!

[And down he comes... Cole slowly rocks back on his heels and brings
Young CRASHING to the mat below with a resounding echo throughout the
arena as the crowd finally sees the older brawler coming through.
Young is immediately clutching the back of his neck as Cole rolls to
one knee... a sick smile peeling his lips from grinding teeth.]

CL: And The One is in serious trouble as Rob Cole continues to mount
an offense... dropping a few stomps across the chest and forcing Young
to his back! Cole to the outside apron... measuring Young on the mat,
and there's the slingshot... SENTON drop across the chest!  A cover,
hooking the leg...













!!! ONE !!!
















!!! TWO !!!














And Young grabs the ropes!



FH: Young always knows where he is! That may be nearly 280 pounds
across the chest, but Cole has to keep him close to the ropes for that
slingshot to land... and Young took every second of that cover to
catch some wind, Chip!

[The referee demands that Cole step back and Young yanks himself out
beneath the bottom rope and drops to the arena floor, gasping for
breath. He leans down and wipes the back of his neck, blinking as he
sucks air in and the referee begins a count. Cole itching to get back
to the action, urges Young to get back in the ring.]







... ONE!









... TWO!



CL: Rob Cole waiting in the ring... normally we'd see him out there
stalking Young, but Cole has absolutely sworn to a clean cut match for
Tradition, sworn to keep all the action in that ring and prove that he
is better than his opponent!

FH: Better than The One?!?!!! Get real.









... THREE!













... FOUR!




[Young walks over to the ringsteps and takes a step up, eyeing Cole
with absolute loathing and hatred. He motions for Cole to step back,
and the Outcast complies... waving Young to enter the ring.]











... FIVE!










... SIX!






CL: Brian Young is taking full advantage of this ten count; catching
his wind, and stretching those muscles.

FH: And keeping Cole just chomping at the bit....







... SEVEN!










... EIGHT!




CL: And here he comes... on the apron, about to step in the ri....
WHAT?!?!?!!

[The crowd absolutely ERUPTS into boos as Young suddenly drops off the
mat and begins to back pedal up the ramp... Coles' eyes go wide,
confusion, he stammers a bit and points down at the ring as the
referee counts to "nine..... "!  The crowd is deafening in their
hatred as Young continues to rub at his neck, smiling as he feigns
being completely winded.]



... TEN!





CL: I don't believe it!!!!!







*DING DING DING*





The Voice: The winner of this match.... As a result of a count out....
ROB COLE!!!!!





*<<<< HEEL POP >>>>>>*





CL: I can't believe what I'm seeing.... Rob Cole is absolutely
stunned... devastated...

FH: And Brian Young... Brian Young just yanked any satisfaction Cole
could have had right from between his fingers!

[Cole stands in the ring, his face ashen as he slumps forward against
the top rope. He shakes his head, staring down as Young continues to
stand on the ramp as the crowd continues to jeer. A few bits of trash
get thrown on the ramp as Young calls for a microphone. Young doubles
over a second and the microphone catches his heavy breathing before he
begins to speak.]

BY: What's wrong Rob? Is that not what you wanted? Not what you were
hoping for here in your LAST match in the PVW?

[Cole's eyes darken in fury, his hands clutching the top rope as the
words sink in. Brian slowly raises his head and stands looking at the
Outcast as he just stares at Brian.]

BY: Did you really think I would give you what you wanted? Did you
really believe in your heart of hearts of that I would give you want
you wanted more than anything in the world ... that I would let you
come out here and achieve the one thing in your career you have never
had ... the five star classic?

[Brian smirks as a small look of shock crosses the face of Cole.]

BY: Come on Rob, don't look so surprised. After all the years in this
business, after all the promotions we've been in together you honestly
don't think I over heard you telling Junior that one day you will show
the world that you just aren't a brawler ... not just a garbage
wrestler?

[Brian shakes his head side to side in mocked disappointment.]

BY: But why ...why ... WHY WOULD I LET YOU HAVE THAT MOMENT TONIGHT?!
You didn't let me have my moments! You stole the PVW World Heavyweight
Championship belt from me ... you stole three years of my career from
me! So why Rob, why would I let you have the moment you had dreamed of
your entire career! The moment that you knew would light up Junior's
eyes ... the moment that Junior could finally be proud of his daddy.

[Brian smirks as the shock disappears from the face of Rob and anger
can been seen in his eyes. Brian turns around and begins to head to
the curtain but as he reaches it he stops and turns around and raises
the microphone one more time.]

BY: Oh and Rob in case you're wondering what to do with your life now,
why don't you look up Caleb. I'm sure with the fact that both your
careers are as dead as his daddy will give you something to bound
over.

[The smirk appears once again as Young tosses the microphone to the
ramp. Cole licks his lips... and suddenly lashes out, kicking the
bottom rope as the referee tries to get him to calm down. Cole stares
through the referee... backing he smaller man up quickly as Cole turns
to face Young and the security guards pouring in from behind the
curtain. Some are carrying batons, one holds up a tazer, and Rob Cole
finally dips between the ropes and catches his gym bag as one of the
guards tosses it to him. The crowd boos louder and the former champion
turns and leaps the guardrail... pushing through the crowd as he makes
his way to the exit. He screams, "WHY!??!!! " Running a worried hand
through his tangled mess of hair, the Outcast licks his lips with wild
eyes as the audience gives him room. Several audience members pat the
icon on his shoulder, and the camera stays on the brawler right up
until he pushes through the door beneath the "EXIT" sign.]

CL: What a sad display from Brian Young.  I am ashamed to have called
this guy once ... a friend.

FH: Not me!  Brian Young and Fred Hoyle ... Friends to the end!

CL: All Rob Cole wanted was one final match.  To go out the "right"
way.

FH: He should have thought about that two years ago.  He didn't
deserve a second chance.

CL: The fans deserved it ... They deserved to see _two_ former PVW
World Champions wrestle here tonight.  Instead, Brian Young spat out
PVW and it's Tradition.

FH: From where I was sitting, he did us all a favor.  Saved us from
watching Rob Cole for longer then we should have to.  Kudos Brian!

CL: I am not even going to debate it.  Rob Cole has been PVW for four
years.  He deserved that match ... _WE_ deserved that match.  However,
speaking about former World Champions.  Let's go backstage where
another one stands by.

FH: Rick Marley!?!?!

[The crowd pops as Chase Williams is shown walking backstage. Huffing
and puffing , wrestling's only talented Hayes, Dean, runs up to him,
thrusting a mic in his face.]

Hayes: Catching you here like this Chase, I have to ask, what are you
doing here, and don't you dare try and tell me visiting friends.

[Williams half smirks as he mulls over his answer.]

Williams: Well to be perfectly honest Dean-O, you kinda answered your
own question. I am here to see a friend... Of sorts. At least I hope
we can at least be cordial enough to see the mutual interest in what I
plan to propose. I made life rather difficult for Dexter so I'm not
exactly convinced this is going to be easy, but I trust between the
dollar signs, and the change in my... Shall we say... Demeanor? That
he'll find it in his heart to overlook my transgressions.

[Hayes raises an eyebrow.]

Hayes:  Dexter? You no doubt mean Mr. Willingham. What do you want
with him?

Williams: Tut tut Dean-O. I can't just lay out my entire plan for ya',
you're going to have to wait like just like everybody...

[Williams is interrupted by a gruff voice from off camera as a shadow
looms over the pair. The voice is recognizable as the PVW's Warrior
Larry Gionet.]

Larry Gionet:  Well if it isn't Chase Williams our former PVW World
Champion and one conceited bastard!  I spent years watching guys like
you and Rob Cole dominate this place.  It would have been an honor to
face either of you because guys like you were the measuring stick in
PVW.

[Dean Hayes looks on as he can feel the tension building keeps his
distance.  Larry doesn't keep his ice cold eyes off the former PVW
World Champion.]

Larry Gionet:  Now that you are not at the top of the mountain anymore
it is up to someone like me to remove you.  It started with Rob Cole.
I beat him from pillar to post and broke him down even further with
the Darkness Falls to finally get a victory that was rightfully mine
after all these years.  How did I do that Chase?  By showing no mercy
to my opponent.  Something you failed to do against Foley.  I
destroyed him and sent him riding off into the sunset.  It was you
that let him get up.  It was you that looked into those vulnerable
puppy dog eyes of his and showed mercy for his soul. Unfortunately for
him, I didn't show such compassion.  It was like grabbing Old Yeller
dragging him into the back and putting a proverbial bullet into the
eyes of what Foley had left for a career!  I had no remorse I had no
regret Chase. Look at what I did with ease to Foley. Look at what I
did to that dead carcass Rob Cole.  Now it is your turn to meet your
inevitable fate!

[Williams and Hayes turn towards Larry, who is no longer off camera,
and Chase takes a threatening step forward.]

Williams: I know all about your story Larry. I know you used to be a
tough son of a bitch. I also know just like I backhanded Foley when he
tried to get too big for his underoos, I remember ripping your arm out
of its socket with the very move you've chosen to plagiarize and
embarrass. As tough as you've always believed you are, you've always
found yourself beneath someone like me. You might be good. I'm just
better. I didn't need to end a career like Foley's because I know that
I can. You wear what you did to Foley like some kind of validation,
when in reality, you've got no one to blame but yourself for your
feelings of inadequacy and your failures. I understand. I've been
there. Now you've got my attention. This is your chance Lar. You beat
a broken Rob Cole like that means anything anymore. Nobody really
cares, but you shout about it likes its the greatest thing you've ever
done.Kinda sad really... But  I can be your brass ring Larry. Beat me,
the returning hero, and maybe you can finally get someone to notice
you...

[A snarl comes across the face of Larry Gionet.  He gets right in the
face of Chase Williams as he grabs the shirt of Williams.]

Gionet: Notice me, NOTICE ME?!  You are just as ignorant and just as
blind as all those sheep out there.  You may have backhanded PVW's
golden boy but I put that son of a bitch out of his misery.  You are
so predictable Williams. You see I knew taking people out with the End
Game would snapped your dazed self back to reality.  I knew in the
back of my mind you would not be able to take it. Your ego is too big
to let go of what was once yours Chase.  The fame, the glory, the
respect you once had around here.  It eats at you that you are no
longer what people fear anymore.  While you were on the unemployment
line, I was earning my pay every week kicking ass and taking names.
You will be my stepping stone.  I will break those ribs like I did to
Shayne Grissom.  I will scatter your brains like I did to Cole and I
will stomp whatever heart you have left.  You will be my brass ring
all right that I will strangle and suck the life out of on my way to
glory.

[Larry Gionet violently pushes him against the wall as Chase brushes
himself off and straightens his shirts. The intensity in his stare is
palpable as he closes the last of the distance between himself and
Gionet, smirking all the while. His tone is matter of fact as
speaks..]

Williams: Lets be real here Lar. If I had thought crippling Foley was
important, I would've, and _could've_ sent the kid up the river  long
before anyone in Phoenix had ever heard of you. You defeated an
already beaten and _broken_ Rob Cole. I beat him at his best. _twice_
before he finally resorted to some questionable means to beat me the
third time. And who in the blue hell is Shayne Grissom? They say
imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but Christ, you want to
be me so bad, it must haunt even your nightmares. Hell, I even ripped
your arm out of socket with the very move you blatantly stole from me,
or have you selectively forgotten that incident? You're getting a pass
today because I still have to convince Dexey that he needs to give me
the opportunity to smash your face, because its what the people want.
But god willing, you're getting a receipt for all the s you've
pulled, and you'll finally be given the opportunity you've been
praying for your whole career. I'll be all that is standing between
you and the next level. Time to s or get off the pot.

[With that Williams turns and heads in the opposite direction, leaving
a seething Gionet and a stunned Dean Hayes in his wake.

[Cross-fade to the backstage area. Derek Weaver, supine on the cement
floor of his locker room, has the lights turned off and no sounds
other than his deep breathing. The shreds of light coming in from
under the door show his body tensing and his head turning, ever so
slightly. Derek is clearly somewhere else right now... seemingly
fighting against his thoughts. A rapping sound on the door is heard.
Suddenly, knees and knuckles pop as The Pariah stands off of the
floor, walks to the door and opens it. Without a word he walks out
next to Todd Johnstone into the luminous corridor. Pulling his hoodie
over his head and attempting to bring with him some of the darkness he
leaves behind, Weaver steps out of frame, Johnstone waddling after
him.

That image cross-fades to that of his scheduled opponent. Cloaked
under the hood of his red boxer's robe, the Everlasting One stomps
down the corridors leading to the Gorilla position, stretching his
shoulders, frenetically shaking his wrist to loosen the muscles. But
the King of Armbars has to stop dead in his tracks when he sees his
path blocked by an imposing obstacle; the nearly seven feet of
strength and wisdom called Big Daddy Sin.]

Fontana: What do you want, cousin? Here to _lead_ me out of the locker
room?

[Sinister dons his standard wrestling attire and the look on his face
indicates he is rather bemused by Fontana's comment.]

Sin: I'm in no mood to trade verbal jabs or whimsical insults,
Fontana. [Sinister's voice is quieter than usual and definitely filled
with intensity as the baritone of his voice echoes in the corridor]
Trust me when I say you should watch it or I'll lead you into the back
of an ambulance.

[Fontana's eyes tighten and he takes one step closer to Sinister,
pulling down the hood of his robe to lock eyes with the Chicago
native, inviting him to try with a smirk.]

Sin: It's no secret that I don't like you Fontana, but that's neither
here nor there right now.

Fontana: No, it isn't.

Sin: What HOPE did to Ash him sickened me in a way I've not felt in a
very long time. I've been torn between trying to help Ash and Cloak
Dos, but right now my attention is needed to help Cloak. You're in
position to help Ash, and though I'm very wary, I'm also a bit envious
because I can't do the same, at least not now.

Fontana: Not with a rebirth match on the horizon, no...

Sin: This battle I have against Spectre is a direct result of HOPE's
formation and now Cloak is thrust into the middle of this battle and
he never asked for it. [Sinister inhales and exhales loudly while
slowly shaking his head] Cloak believes in me, and I him, but too many
people around here are trying to destroy what I'm trying to build.
Spectre believes he is doing right in his own mind. In my mind, this
battle is a necessity for me to take another step in making things
right because lord knows I've done plenty of wrong in my life.

[Sinister falls silent and stares off at nothing in particular as
there is no doubt various images and memories circulate in his mind,
caused by his last statement. His bruised left eye now a purplish
shade of green, Fontana watches Sinister curiously, biting his lip in
silence, unsure of what to expect from the big man. Sinister refocuses
after a few moments.]

Sin: That doesn't matter now. What does matter is I see you helping
Ash, and that carries weight with me because I like him and respect
him.

Fontana: All these noble sentiments won't _help_ AsH, cousin, and
neither will I. I'm not helping, I'm _avenging_. An eye for an eye.
[He cranks his neck] RIPPING Weaver's arm off, yeah, it won't change a
_single_ thing that was done to AsH.

[The Deathless One's body tenses up, his voice a sombre whisper, only
punctuated by the odd shout here and there.]

Fontana: What I _can_ do, aaah ouais, is set AsH's mind at ease.
Ensure that the man who took him out will _remember_ the consequences
of his actions far longer than AsH remembers the pain.

Sin: [Nodding slowly] Yes, sometimes vengeance is a necessity. In
terms of battling Weaver, I wish you the best of luck.

[Sinister folds his arms across his thick chest and peers directly
into Fontana's dark eyes.]

Sin: You have a very long path to travel to have any opportunity of
absolving yourself of all your wrongdoings. You have hurt a lot of
good people here Fontana, and I don't speak on a strictly physical
level. I'm definitely no patron saint, not by any means, but I am a
man of my word. I will protect those I care for until there is no more
breath in this body. Once you truly encounter this epiphany, you must
continue to travel that long, difficult path before you.

[The King of Armbars purses his lips, and cocks his head.]

Fontana: One step at a time, then.

[They maintain eye contact as Sinister turns his body to the right,
allowing Fontana to pass. Le Phenix is nearly off camera before Sin
speaks.]

Sin: One last thing. [Sinister turns only his head to his right as the
Deathless One looks back at him.] The same message to you that I gave
Dragon Kid. Do anything to cross Ash and there will be hell to pay.

[With that, Sinister turns away from Fontana and strides in the
opposite direction. When the King of Armbars pulls the hood of his
robe back over his head, Mass Hysteria's "Failles" resounds in the
Saddledome, and we cross-fade to the cheering fans that encircle the
PVW ring.]

CL: This is it, folks!

FH: Fontana will get his ass kicked all over his home town!

CL: Calgary is nowhere close to Montreal.

FH: Whatever.

CL: And before we saw Perry Fontana and Sinister ... Chase Williams is
backstage looking for PVW management in his ongoing quest to get
resigned by the PVW.

FH: Chase Williams was once an Icon ... Now he is just a name that
means, has been.  Larry Gionet looks good next to him.

[The Canadians fans cheers grow louder as soon as they see the King of
Armbars emerges out of the curtains.]

HD: Introducing first, from Montreal, Quebec, Canada, and weighing in
at 258lbs...

"The EVERLASTING"... PERRY FOOOOONTANAAAAAA!!!

[The Deathless One stomps down to the ring through a corridor of
outstretched arms, head tucked into his boxer's robe. He stamps up the
ring steps and steps inside the ring. But the boos quickly change to
jeers, because even before his entrance music even hits, the Pariah,
Derek Weaver bursts from the curtains wearing his Vale Tudo black
shorts, a black zip up hoodie and wrestling shoes and his fists taped
up. Todd Johnstone walks slowly behind his highly motivated weapon,
smiling all the way down to the ring. The sound crew scrambles to get
"The Outsider" by A Perfect Circle playing quickly. The opening chorus
hasn't even started as Derek has already made his way to the ring,
stomping on the steps as he makes his way to the apron. In a fluid
motion, Derek steps between the top and middle ropes and unzips his
hoodie. He tosses it over his shoulder and towards Johnstone, who
catches it and tosses it onto his shoulder. Johnstone hooks his thumbs
in his brown belt from Sears and smirks as he views the Pariah
cracking his knuckles and working out his wrists.]

DS: His opponent, from Shreveport, Louisiana, and weighing in a
219lbs...

"The PARIAH"... DEREEEEEEK WEEEEAAAAVEEEER!!!

[On the other side, Fontana finally removes his robe, exposing his
slicked black hair, trimmed friendly mutton chops and dimpled chin to
the PVW spotlights. The most noticeable thing, however, remains the
greenish, purplish bruise around his left eye. Wrists and numerous
fingers wrapped in white tape, he wears red, orange and gold trunks
patterns with flames and phoenixes, black boots, shin pads that match
the dark, piercing gaze he levels Weaver with. The referee signs for
the bell.]


*****************************************
P        ONE ON ONE MATCH               T
V          PERRY FONTANA     vs.        V
W          DEREK WEAVER                II
*****************************************


[Anticipation mounts as the two fighters begin circling each other,
Weaver in a fighting stance, light on his feet, the heavy-footed
Fontana, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. The Everlasting One
stomps forth, and the Pariah stings him with a quick kick to the leg.
Fontana throws a punch, but the fleet footed Weaver ducks back,
responding with two quick jabs of his own.]

CL: This has barely begun, and it looks like Weaver is already trying
to use his greater speed to his advantage.

FH: Being forty pounds lighter can have its advantages, Chip.

[As the punches connect, Fontana tries to shield himself as best he
can, until he catches Weaver off guard by lunging at him, taking the
Pariah down with a charging double leg takedown! The Deathless One
grabs Derek's leg and attempts a heel hook, but Weaver kicks him out
and scrambles under the bottom rope and out of the ring.]

FH: Fontana took him by surprise, but Weaver's doing the right thing.

CL: He looks pretty upset that Fontana one-upped him.

FH: Might sting the ego a little, but it gives Todd Johnstone an
opportunity to give some advice, some encouragements...

[But it doesn't look like Weaver wants either of those things. He hops
onto the apron and slips back into the ring... and the two men
cautiously circle each other once again. When Fontana stomps towards
him, Weaver kicks his legs, forcing him to retreat. Sensing a
weakness, the Pariah comes at Fontana with a flurry of quick strikes,
but out of nowhere, Perry hooks Derek's arm and flips him over!]


*THHHHUUUUUUD!*


[POP!]

CL: Arm drag! And Fontana keeps control of Weaver's arm... going for a
Kimura lock.

FH: But look at Weaver escape. He's an elusive one, and I mean that in
the best way possible.

[Try as he might, Weaver struggles and shifts his shoulders and hips
so much that Perry can't apply the hold properly, and before you know
it, the hold has to be broken when Derek reaches the ropes and slips
back to the outside. Todd Johnstone waddles over to give the Pariah
some additional advice, but Weaver just holds a hand up to him without
even making eye contact, before sliding back into the ring, ready to
turn the tide.]

CL: So far, no man can gain control of this match, but here we go
again!

[Weaver advances on Fontana, puts him off balance with a kick, then
unleashes the hooks. Fontana manages to deflect or block a few, but
it's only a matter of time until a right hook solidly connects. This
time, it's Weaver who throws Fontana halfway across the ring with an
arm drag!]

FH: HA! What Fontana can do, Weaver can do better!

[Weaver steps towards Fontana who gets back to his feet and counters
with a Seoi Otoshi that takes the Pariah down to the mat! Keeping hold
of Weaver's arm, Perry drops a knee to his foe's shoulder joint, then
applies a grounded crucifix keylock, and the fans cheer! But there's a
lot of fight in Weaver, and he struggles and jostles until he worms
his way to the ropes, forcing the referee to intervene in his favor.
Once Perry relents, Weaver pulls himself out of the ring under the
bottom rope.]

CL: Weaver looks positively furious!

FH: Fontana's trying to humiliate him or something. That's gonna cost
him, mark my words.

[The Pariah barely has time to regroup, because Fontana steps between
the ropes and leaps off the apron with a double ax handle to the
skull!]



*THOOOOCK!*



[The Everlasting One punctuates with a boot to the abdomen followed by
a stiff European Uppercut, and he shoves Weaver back into the ring.
Derek scrambles to his feet, but Fontana's waiting for him. The
Deathless One take Derek down with a drop toehold, then glides over to
switch into a side headlock. As Weaver gets back to his feet, the King
of Armbars transitions into a hammerlock.]

CL: Old habits die hard. Looks like Fontana's already getting to work
on that left arm.

[Weaver slaps at his shoulder, then ducks back under Fontana's arm and
reverses the hammerlock! But Il Eterno ducks to one knee and Snap
Mares the Pariah down to the mat, balls one hand, takes a fist full of
hair with the other... and repeatedly punches Weaver! The crowd cheers
loudly for those stiff shots to the forehead, one after the other...]


*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*


[...Until Weaver headscissors Fontana to the mat to escape! Both men
scramble to their feet, but Derek is fastest, and he drives a knee
into Perry's flank, then waistlocks him from the rear. Weaver tries to
lift, but Fontana blocks! The Everlasting One shimmies left and right,
breaks free of the waistlock, drops down to one knee and takes the
Pariah down to the mat with a fireman's carry, then grapevines around
Weaver's arm, applying a cross arm breaker!]

CL: Fontana clearly targeting the arm. And this time, Weaver can't
find a quick escape!

FH: If he truly hopes to "rip Weaver's arm off", he'll have a whole
lot of work to do. Remember, everyone who got trapped in the
Amputation got shelved for weeks, months, and even years. Everyone
except one man: Derek Weaver. That should tell you something!

CL: It tells me Weaver's not giving up this quickly!

[Unrelenting, fighting through the pain, Derek Weaver maneuvered
himself close enough to the ropes to force another break. But this
time, Fontana doesn't let his opponent escape out of the ring. He
pulls him back to the center of the ring by the arm and applies
another hammerlock. Maintaining the hold, he scoops up Weaver and...]



*___THUUUUUUD!___*



CL: Hammerlock Scoop Slam!

[Fontana tramples across the ring and bounces off the ropes and knocks
a rising Weaver down a big lariat! He grabs Weaver's arm again, twists
it in a wristlock, transitions into a standing arm scissor... then
drills Weaver's skull into the canvas!]





"___THUUUUUUUUUUDDD!!___"





CL: CAUTERIZER!

[The King of Armbars never breaks his Short Arm Scissors, and now on
the mat, he tightens the hold. Weaver's not out for long, for the
jolts of pain bring him back to life, and fighting to reach the
ropes.]

CL: Fontana's aggressively working the arm... and you have to wonder
if Weaver's arm wasn't already damaged coming into this match.

FH: In case I wasn't clear enough, Chip, Weaver isn't just the first
man to go into a fight after getting trapped in the Amputation. He
went straight after Detson, and dominated him so completely that
Detson had to DQ himself to escape!

CL: That's beginning to sound like revisionist history.

FH: History is written by the winner, so it's revisionism at it's very
core.

[Weaver can't reach the ropes, but he's lean enough to headscissor his
way out of the punishing hold. Unfortunately for him, he can't make it
very far before Fontana grabs his arm again before leaping out of the
ring, eliciting raucous cheers from the fans, and viciously snapping
Derek's arm across the top rope!]

FH: WOAH! I never get used to that!

CL: You rarely see Fontana take to the air, but when he does, arms get
mangled!

[Weavers snaps down to the ring, writing in pain and clutching his
arm. Meanwhile, the King of Armbars pulls himself up to the apron,
tries to slip in the ring through the ropes, but...]

CL: JOHNSTONE!

[HEEL POP!]

[... Todd Johnstone pulls on Fontana's boot with all of his
considerable weight, preventing him from getting back into the ring!]

FH: I believe that's a Greco-Roman, uh... Dragon Screw?

CL: Whatever it is, Johnstone has no right to get involved in this!

FH: Are you kidding? This is HOPE business, it's Johnstone's duty to
get involved!

[The Deathless One shakes his leg loose, kicks off the obese manager
and stumbles into the ring and right into Weaver's waiting arms! He
gets spun into the air, and dropped throat first across the top rope!]




*THLAAAAACK!*




CL: STUN GUN!

FH: And just like that, the wind turns.

[Fontana drops to the mat, clutching at his throat. Derek swoops him
behind him, attempts to apply a choke hold, but Perry's too close to
the ropes, and referee Duke Martin has to shove Weaver off as soon as
Il Eterno finds sanctuary. The Pariah remains on the prowl, and he
assaults Fontana with a flurry of stiff kicks!]


*THWACK!*

*THWACK!*

*THWACK!*

*THWACK!*

*THWACK!*


[The King of Armbars tries to block as many kicks as he can, but the
majority connect, leaving welts behind on flanks and thighs... and
that opens up Perry's upper body.]


*THHWAAAACK!*


CL: HAYMAKER!

FH: TIIIIIMMMMBERRR!

CL: My God what a shot... Fontana's legs just completely gave out
there and Weaver could easily go for the pin--- but doesn't look like
he wants to do so.

[Weaver hauls his opponent to his feet and applies a front chancery.
And with a quick motion, Weaver hoists Fontana up, and drops him down
to the mat!]



"___THUUUUUD!___"


[Grabbing Perry by the arm, Derek Weaver Irish whips him across the
ring, back first into the turnbuckles. When Fontana stumbles out, the
Pariah grabs him in a waistlock and hoists him up and over...]


*THUUUUUD!*


CL: Belly to back suplex!

FH: Weaver's taking control of this thing, Chip!

[The Pariah grabs Fontana's leg and pulls on it to straighten it, then
torques it into an ankle lock! Jolts of pain dart through the
Everlasting One's body... and he screams out as he powers his way
closer to the ropes. He reaches out with an out-stretched hand and...]

CL: Oh, but Weaver pulls him back in!

FH: As I said, Weaver's in complete control!

[Weaver twists his own body, really adding torque to his ankle lock...
but it also puts him slightly out of balance. That lets Fontana twist
around enough to kick Derek off with the heel of his boot and escape
the hold.]

FH: What a cowards way to escape.

CL: But look at this, even shaking out that sore ankle, Fontana is
back to his feet and Weaver's coming forward after recovering from
that heel kick to the jaw!

FH: If at first you don't succeed, twist like a bag of chips and pop
that sucker off!

CL: And Fontana fires back with a series of knife-edged chops!



*THWACK!*


*THWACK!*


*THWACK!*



[The King of Armbars takes Weaver back a step with every blow, until
the Pariah counters with a stiff back elbow! Weaver spears into the
Italian-French-Canadian with a charging double-leg takedown, and now
in a mount position, the vicious fists start to rain!]


*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*


CL: This is exactly the type of ground and pound that gave Fontana a
heck of a shiner on Heatwave!

FH: He's about to get a matching one in the other eye, count on it!

[Referee Duke Martin steps in to break it off, but Weaver shoves him
away, and the Calgary fans are in an uproar!]


*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*


CL: Weaver's playing with fire!

FH: Fontana's the only one feeling the burn, though!

[More forcefully, Martin pries Weaver off his victim, but those extra
few shots were worth it. The bruise around Fontana's left eye seems to
swell again, Il Eterno no longer as lively as he was earlier. Stalking
around Fontana, Derek seizes an unprotected leg and locks in a
kneebar.]

FH: Speed and smarts are paying off for Weaver!

CL: Well, I hate to say it, but Perry Fontana was practically raised
in his sadistic uncle's training pit. To get an idea of what Jack
Fontana's like...

FH: Kinda like Uncle Frank, but with an Italian accent, I know.

CL: No matter how proficient, I can't picture Derek Weaver making
Fontana submit... he's much too conditioned to that type of
punishment.

FH: What doesn't make you tap makes you weaker, and slowly the body
begins to break down. Not giving up doesn't make the damage disappear,
quite the opposite!

CL: You may be right. No one is less likely to tap than Fontana...
even if it means getting horrible injured!

FH: Which is exactly what may happen here!

[More jolts of pain startle the King of Armbars out of his stupor, and
amidst the agony, he begins to fight against Weaver's expertly applied
hold. He can't shake off Weaver, but Fontana can use his strength
advantage to pull himself closer to the ropes.]


*LET'S GO PERRY!        LET'S GO PERRY!        LET'S GO PERRY!

*LET'S GO PERRY!        LET'S GO PERRY!        LET'S GO PERRY!


CL: Fontana reaching out and...

[The Calgary fans explode in cheers!]

CL: HE MAKES IT!

[He reaches the ropes, but not freedom, Weaver making the referee
count up to four and a half until he relinquishes his hold. Slowly,
the Deathless One pulls himself up with the ropes, and Derek launches
a side kick into Perry's gut. Weaver drops to one knee while hooking
Fontana's neck, and he flips him back towards the center of the ring
with a snap mare. Stretching out the Everlasting One's arm, Weaver
leaps into an axe kick right over Perry's tricep!]


*___THWAAAAACK!___*


CL: WOAH! That's the kind of move that can pop a shoulder out of it's
socket!

FH: Unfortunately... no such luck this time. Would be poetic justice
for Fontana, wouldn't it?

[Head tucked under Weaver's pit, near arm trapped under the opposite,
Fontana's solidly locked in. When the Pariah maneuvers to kneel onto
Perry's calves, that's when the real pain comes.]

CL: Another devastating move, an enhanced Dragon Sleeper, this time...
but it doesn't look like Weaver is focusing on any singular body part,
tonight.

FH: I can guess what part of the plan is. Fontana's not going to die,
but when he wakes up tomorrow with every single inch of his body
throbbing in pain, he's gonna wish he could!

CL: That could be, but meanwhile... how can Fontana get out of this
predicament?

FH: He can tap.

CL: I don't think that's an option.

FH: It's the only alternative to suffering.

[Weaver pulls back on his "Burned at the stake", the loud crowd
rallying behind the Canadian-native, encouraging him to be resilient.
With his free arm, the King of armbars reaches back tentatively,
looking for Weaver's head... and when he finds it, he jams a thumb
into the Pariah's eye!]

FH: He can't do THAT!

[The pain loosens Weaver's grip, and Perry frees his second arm, which
he uses to pull Derek's arm over his far shoulder, twisting the
Pariah's limb so the elbow joint faces downwards. Then, using both
arm, the King of Armbars applies...]

CL: ARMBAR!

FH: But... But... he thumbed Weaver in the eye!

CL: And I'm sure Duke Martin will reprimand Fontana for that, but
right now, it seems that we're at an impasse!

[Weaver's working half a Dragon Sleeper while Fontana counters with an
armbar. Being the only man with the possibility to escape, Weaver
stands to relieve the pressure off his arm... but shift in weights
frees Fontana, and enables him to pull Weaver down with an awkward but
serviceable Armbar Drag!]


*THUD!*


CL: No denying it, Fontana's a resourceful fighter.

FH: He's almost as resourceful as he is tough... but that's not enough
to trump Derek Weaver. The Pariah is in a category of his own in this
sport.

[Fontana scrambles back to his feet, but Weaver's speed proves greater
once more. Derek swoops a leg into Perry's black boots and trips him
back to the mat, then floats over him to apply a waistlock. He hauls
Fontana up and...]



"___THUUUD!___"



CL: Belly to back suplex!

FH: And here's a bridging pin!

[For the first time of the night, Duke Martin slides into position and
begins slamming the canvas...]



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



CL: NO! Fontana with a shoulder up!

FH: I don't think Weaver was expecting to succeed here, but he wanted
to force his opponent to expend some additional energy.

CL: What strength Fontana uses to kick out, he can't use to kick
heads.

FH: Exactly.

[Both men get to their feet, but Weaver's on the offensive again,
quickly lashing out with a vicious kick that fold Perry over. Derek
grabs his head, then drops him down with a hair trigger DDT!]



"____THUUUUUUUUD!____"



CL: Weaver with a lateral press...



!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



CL: KICK OUT!

FH: More energy expended.

[Fontana slowly tries to get back to his feet, but Weaver pelts him
with a mean looking axe kick, his heel digging deep into the
Everlasting One's ribs! Derek follows with another kick to Fontana's
thorax. He then steps back, takes aim, and springs into a devastating
punt to Fontana's temple!]




"___THOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!!!___"




CL: OH MY GOODNESS!

FH: Give our regard to AsH when you get to Concussionland, Perry!

[The Everlasting One crumples to the mat like deadweight, and Weaver
hooks the leg...]




!!! ONE !!!



!!! TWO !!!



!!! THREE ???




CL: No! Fontana with a shoulder up... barely!

[Weaver pounds the mat in anger and stands up, wasting no time picking
Fontana up with him. Breathing heavily as he does so, Weaver locks a
Thai clinch around Fontana's head and the fans begin to boo loudly.]

FH: OOOOOH boy, people know what's coming.

CL: The world does, and Fontana, though clearly battered, knows too!
He's shielding his face with his forearms and trying to bridge back up
and away from this clinch.

[Weaver's smile grows, feeling Fontana struggle. He fires a stiff knee
forward and into the stomach and uses the momentum to force Fontana
back into the corner.]

CL: This does not bode well for Fontana. The fact that the man is even
STANDING after that punt is a testament to his heart, but being
trapped in the corner with Weaver holding your head?

FH: Say it. The death of a phoenix. It's gonna happen!


*THOCK!*

*THOCK!*

*THACK!*

*THOCK!*


CL: Weaver already peppering away with those brutal, measured knees to
the body, the ribs, the stomach! Now he switches it up with driving
knees into the thighs... Each one registering a sick thud!

FH: Fontana is going to get a simple, easy going pinfall loss, or even
a submission. Derek Weaver wants to break this man down, piece by
piece, inch by inch. He wants to leave nothing left and like he said,
make of Fontana a Martyr!


*THOOOCK!*


CL: And now Weaver STOMPS to the top of the feet!

[Derek is really driving in those heels and while Fontana is trying to
struggle out of the corner,  Weaver keeps muscling him back in every
time thanks to that lock around his neck!]


*CRACK! CRACK!*


CL: Fontana dropped his guard for half a second and Weaver drives that
elbow into his temple with FRIGHTENING speed!

FH: And followed it with a knee to the chin! Fontana is crumpled to
the mat again in a real mess, here.

[Fontana's eyes are glazed over, but no doubt there's still a lot of
fight still in him. He grips tight to Weaver's ankle and begins
driving his legs forward, fueled on instinct alone, trying to take his
man down to the mat.]

CL: The fans are getting behind the heart of Fontana. My goodness! To
take this kind of abuse and still keep coming forward, the kind of
never quit attitude Canadians pride themselves in.

FH: Such a love for absorbing punishment explains why Canada is the
world's Butt Monkey!

[The Everlasting One keeps pushing until Weaver responds with a series
of hammer like strikes to the side of Fontana's head. The Pariah pulls
his leg back out and steps back, holding Fontana on all fours... and
DRIVES a stiff knee into his ribs!]


*THOOOOCK!*

*THOOOOCK!*

*THOOOOCK!*

*THOOOOCK!*


CL: And Another! AND ANOTHER! FOUR STIFF KNEES TO THE RIBS OF PERRY
FONTANA AND HE FINALLY ROLLS OVER! My GOD, what punishment!

[Weaver drops quickly down onto his hurt foe and hooks a leg, bridging
backwards for the pinfall...]

CL: WEAVER HOOKS THE LEG!





!!! ONE !!!








!!! TWO !!!





[POP!]

CL: KICKOUT AT TWO! WHAT WILL IT TAKE?!

FH: Darn! The problem with Fontana's so-called immortality is that it
really makes it difficult to put the bastard away. Last time Fontana
was pinned in Canada was at Tradition IV, and Craven had to bash his
head through a plexiglass pane to do it.

CL: It was one of those thick bulletproof ones, too. They wanted to
make sure no wrestler escaped his Blood Bowl cell early...

[His patience wearing thin, the frustration building up, Weaver bends
down to pull his opponent off the mat, but Fontana kicks him in the
face! Perry strenuously gets up to one knee, then to both feet, but by
then the effects of his startling kick have worn off, and Weaver comes
back firing punches. This time, however, Fontana's blocking is
effective, and he responds with a big European Uppercut of his own,
followed by stiff forearm shots!]


*THACK!*

*THACK!*

*THACK!*


[Fontana tackles Weaver into the turnbuckles, bruising Derek with knee
and elbow combos, every stiff blow taking a punishing toll on its
victim. Finally, the King of Armbars takes Weaver by the hair, hops up
behind him to the second turnbuckle... then pushes out of the corner
driving his bent knee into Derek's nape, smashing his face on the hard
canvas to raucous cheers!]

CL: Knee Drop Bulldog!

FH: Fontana hooks the leg, hoping he gets lucky...





!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!





CL: Weaver kicks out!

FH: Better luck next time.

CL: Or maybe he's also making Weaver expend additional energy.

FH: Yeah... I don't think Fontana's that clever.

CL: You used to call him a genius!

FH: That was before he became an idiot!

[The King of Armbars takes his foe back to his feet with a wristlock,
then forces Weaver to flip forth and fall on his back with an Arm
Wringer! Maintaining the wristlock, Fontana pulls Derek up again, then
transitions into a hammerlock. With the hold in place, the Deathless
One tucks his head under Weaver's pit and performs a Back Suplex lift,
dropping Weaver backfirst on his bent knee... crushing the arm bent in
a hammerlock in the process!]

CL: He never runs out of ways to dismantle an arm, does he?

[When Weaver rolls off of Fontana's knee, the hammerlock unfolds, and
keeping his opponent's arm extended, the King of Armbars can easily
maneuver into...]

FH: Another damned Armbar!

[The damage piles up for Weaver, and the pain is evident. The Pariah
tries to jostle for position, seeking an escape or counter. He rolls
forward, loosening Fontana's grip and breaks free!]

FH: You just can't keep this kind of man in an armbar, Chip!

CL: But here comes Fontana...


*THACK-THUUUD!*


CL: ...And a big lariat drops Weaver!

[When he finds his way back to his feet, Fontana Irish Whips Weaver
into the ropes lifts him up on the rebound and...]


"_______THHUUUUUUUUUUUD!________"


CL: SPINEBUSTER! Here's a pin...




!!! ONE !!!




!!! TWO !!!




FH: No dice, Fontana!

CL: Weaver kicks out!

[The King of Armbars shakes his head, brushes a hand on his hairy
chest and pulls Weaver up. He applies a front-facelock and hoists
Derek up in a Gordbuster... but to perch the Pariah up on the top
turnbuckle. With Weaver sitting on the ring corner, Fontana keeps the
front facelock applied as he climbs up to the second rope. He then
launches himself backwards...]







*THUUUUUUUUUUUUD!*







CL: FRONT FACELOCK DROP!

FH: From the second rope? That's just reckless! Weaver struck the ring
at such an odd angle...

CL: Fontana hooks the leg, and here comes the pin...







!!! ONE !!!









!!! TWO !!!








CL: Only two!

FH: Weaver got a foot on the ropes! He should have dragged Weaver to
the middle of the ring before making his pin attempt.

[As he rises to his feet, Derek steps towards Fontana who takes hold
of an arm, leaps to jam both feet into Weaver's gut and throws him
across the ring!]


*THUD!*


CL: Tomanage!

[The Everlasting One elbows Derek in the jaw, then grabs him by the
arm and thrusts him down to the mat! Recognizing the maneuver, the
greater Calgary area cheers!]

CL: Fujiwara Armbar!

[The Pariah's as slippery as they come, though. He barely even lets
Fontana apply the hold for a few seconds before twisting around on
himself, pushing off the mat to break the hold! Both men get to their
feet, frustration clear on Fontana's face.  Again, he grabs Derek's
arm and twists around!]

CL: Wakigatame Armbar!

[But almost as soon as the torque threatens his arm, Weaver drops to
the canvas and rolls out and free of the hold.]

FH: HA! Look at Fontana's face! What's wrong? All wrestle and no
armbar make Perry a dull boy? Huh?

CL: Yeah. I'd say he's pissed off, alright? Have you ever seen anyone
evade a Fontana armbar with such ease, let alone two in a row?

FH: Never, but I'll cherish this moment forever, believe me!

CL: Fontana charges and...


*SMACK!*


FH: Weaver caught him off guard with a jab!


*THWACK!*


CL: And another!

[The Pariah hauls Fontana up by the arm, driving a knee into his
shoulder in the process. With the Deathless One basically out on his
feet, Weaver takes hold of his arm then bolts towards the nearby
turnbuckles and dives through to the outside, right between the top
and top ropes!]



"_______CLAAAAAAAAANG!_______"



*THUD!*




[EGADS POP!]


CL: YOWZA!

FH: He drove Fontana's shoulder right into that ring post like cattle
off a cliff!

CL: Weaver had a hard landing at ringside, though.

FH: Perhaps, but Fontana's shoulder must be a mess! Finally, some
poetic justice!

[Johnstone helps Weaver get to his feet, not a service the Pariah is
one to appreciate... Once up, Derek shoves off HOPE's manager and
sluggishly slides back into the ring. Every movement a laborious one,
Weaver pulls Fontana out of the turnbuckles, applies a facelock and
rolls him into a school boy!]




!!! ONE !!!




CL: This could be it!




!!! TWO !!!




FH: This IS it!




!!! THREE !!!




CL: NO! FONTANA BROKE OUT!

FH: WHAT? That SHOULD have been it!

[Referee Duke Martin lifts two fingers, and Weaver's frustration keeps
piling up!]

CL: It seems no amount of physical suffering is enough to keep the
Deathless One down.

FH: I think you'll find the same is true of Derek Weaver, Chip.

[Weaver kicks Fontana in the ribs, and the Canuck stumbles back into
the ropes. The two men are considerably fatigued, so when Il Eterno
steps towards the Pariah, hoping to grapple him down, Weaver spins on
himself to strike with a wicked spinning back elbow!]



"___SMAAAAACK!___"



[The Everlasting One crumples into the ropes, arm slung over the
topmost cable, and Weaver moves in to strike his abdomen with a heavy
loaded knee! He maneuvers Perry around, hooks his arms from the rear
and lifts...]




*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!*





CL: TIGER SUPLEX!

FH: With a bridge...





!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!





!!! THREE ???




CL: NO!

[POP!]

CL: FONTANA LIFTS A SHOULDER!

FH: How the hell is this even possible? How did that head-dropping
suplex not knock him out?

[The Pariah's astounded, he shakes his head in disbelief... which
gives the Everlasting One enough time to get to his feet, a feat that
doesn't go unnoticed. Weaver launches a right, but Fontana dodges.
Derek swings again and connects with a left!]


*THACK!*


CL: WOAH! That strike appears to have hurt Weaver's left arm more than
Fontana's face!

FH: Might be all those damned armbars...

[Derek shakes his arm to loosen it up, but Fontana has his opening,
and he launches a forearm strike of his own!]


CL: And another!


*THOCK!*


CL: And an uppercut sends Weaver flying into the corner!

[Fontana backs away, then tramples across the ring to crush his
opponent in the turnbuckles with a big charging back elbow!]


"___THOOOCK!___"


[The Everlasting One takes a breath, massages his jaw and cranks his
neck before dropping to a knee and picking Derek up over on his
shoulders in a fireman's carry, then he climbs backwards up to the
second turnbuckle. Fontana swivels and throws Derek's legs out towards
the center of the ring while pushing himself out of the corner,
leaping through the air while grabbing Weaver's arm...]




"_____THUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!_____"




[WOAH POP!]

CL: FIREMAN'S CARRY ARMBUSTER! If Weaver's arm was giving him trouble,
this won't help at all!

FH: This kind of punishment could end up costing him an entire arm!

CL: Looks like Johnstone's really getting worried, here.

FH: Johnstone's not worried.

CL: He's sweating so much lard is oozing out of his pores!

FH: All part of the strategy to, uh... give Fontana a false sense of
security!

[The King of Armbars pulls Weaver up by the arm and wrings it into a
standing armbar. He drapes a leg over Weaver's nape and drives it down
into the canvas!]



*THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!*



CL: ARMBAR DRIVER!

FH: Oh, crap! Maybe Johnstone should get worried!

[Johnstone scrambles to the apron, trying to get head referee Duke
Martin's attention, but too late. As Fontana rolls Weaver over and
hooks the leg, Martin's already sliding in to check on the shoulders
and count...]





!!! ONE !!!


...



CL: Weaver's out!



...



!!! TWO !!!



...



CL: Leg's hooked tight...



...



!!! THREE !!!



[Deflated pop!]


CL: Oh, so close!

FH: Yet so far away... Weaver got a shoulder up, Chip, like I always
knew he would!

[The Deathless One glares at Duke Martin, arguing that this was a
definite three count, but the referee holds his ground, stubbornly
showing two fingers. Fontana shakes his head in disgust, bends down to
pull his opponent off the mat... but Weaver reaches up, applies and
quick facelock and rolls "le Phenix" up in a lightning fast inside
cradle!]

CL: From out of nowhere!




!!! ONE !!!



...




!!! TWO !!!




...




!!! THREE-


CL: No! Fontana slips out!

FH: It was this close, though. This close!

[Fontana gets to his feet, furious to have been caught off guard, but
also frustrated at Weaver's inordinate resilience. Il Eterno hauls
Derek up with a wristlock, into a standing armbar which he then
transitions into a swift single arm DDT!]


*THUUD!*


CL: ARMBAR TAKE DOWN!

FH: Dammit! Weaver landed on his head again!

[The King of Armbars may be slow to rise to his feet, but Weaver is
motionless. Fontana slicks back his hair, knowing that, this time,
he'll need to pull out all of the stops. He stomps to the corner,
steps through the ropes and climbs up to the top turnbuckle. He looks
right and left to the cheering Canadian fans... he bites his lip,
raises a taped pinky to the rafters... and leaps!]



*OOOH YEAH!*



CL: DIVING ELBOW DROP!




"______THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!______"




FH: NO ONE HOME!

CL: MY GOD, WEAVER BARELY ROLLED OUT OF THE WAY!

FH: I love it so much when high risks backfire!

[Using the ropes, Weaver pulls himself up and stalks Fontana, waiting
for him to do the same. When the King of Armbars finally does, groggy
and wobbly, the Pariah charges, storming in with a violent right
handed punch!]





*______*THRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!*______"





CL: OVERHAND RIGHT!

FH: OVERHAND RIGHT!

CL: Shades of the octagon!

[The blow rocks Il Fontana's head backwards and he lifelessly crumples
to the mat as if someone cut the strings of a puppet. A deathly
silence falls on the Saddledome.]

FH: Every single Knock Out victory Weaver got in MMA came from this
exact punch! Fontana's light are out, this one's over and done!

CL: Fans who've watched Weaver's MMA career are very familiar with
it... but they know Weaver rarely brings it to the wrestling ring. He
views it as an unfair advantage over his opponents!

FH: I think he made an exception, here, because of Fontana's own
background with mixed martial arts. He is not an uninitiated, and it
just cost him the match.

[Weaver falls on top of Fontana, hooking a leg for the pin...]






!!! ONE !!!





...





!!! TWO !!!






...






!!! THREE !!!






[Todd Johnstone raises his arms in euphoria, and the fans react
accordingly, erupting in thunderous boos. But when Duke Martin raises
his arm...]

CL: IT'S A TWO COUNT!

FH: WHAT??

CL: FONTANA GOT A SHOULDER UP IN TIME, I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!

[Duke Martin holds out his hand, waving two fingers, and Derek Weaver
is simply beside himself with surprise and outrage! He looks down at
Fontana who's still lying there, motionless, blood now seeping from a
swollen left eye.]

FH: Fontana can't have got a shoulder up, that's impossible! Look at
him! He'd look the same at his wake!

CL: I'm as baffled as you are, as mystified as Weaver is. Fontana was
squarely struck on the left orbital bone, and I'd swear I heard the
sound of breaking bone!

[Weaver shakes his head in denial, hooks both of Fontana's legs and
rolls him in as tight as he can, pushing the Everlasting One's
shoulders onto the canvas. Still on his knees, the referee counts
again...]









!!! ONE !!!









!!! TWO !!!










!!! THREE - NO!!!

[The Scotiabank Saddledome erupts in cheers!]

CL: FONTANA KICKS OUT!

FH: You'll have to pardon my French, here, but... What the [BLEEP]???


*BAM!*BAM!*BAM!*

[Weaver slams his palms on the mat in frustrated rage! Once more, Duke
Martin waves but two fingers at him... This can't be! Fontana's still
lying there like a cadaver!]

CL: Hate to say it, but Weaver might have better luck with a quick
roll-up or something!

FH: Weaver's not here to roll people up, you idiot! He's here to make
Martyrs! Majistrol cradles don't get people canonized, Overhand Rights
do!

[Seething with fury, Weaver rolls out of the ring, grabs the time
keeper by the lapels and shoves him to the ground to grab and fold the
steel chair he was sitting on. As Derek holds this cold, unforgiving
steel in his hands, the fans boo their hearts out.]

CL: Uh-oh, shades of Boiling Point II!

FH: Yes, that's right! Steel chairs to the head keep Fontana down!

CL: But Weaver doesn't normally use weapons! It's one thing to use
them to protect Herscher von Donkerhardt's reign... quite another to
use them for himself!

[Johnstone got his cue, alright. He's on the apron, monopolizing Duke
Martin's attention by denouncing his inability to count to three fast
enough!  Weaver has the means, he has the opportunity, but when he
slides back into the ring armed with the chair, looking down at the
motionless Fontana, he hesitates...]

CL: Weaver drops the chair!

FH: Why? Why? You had this match won, Derek!

CL: I think he wants do to it HIS way, true to a Pariah...

[Weaver steps up to Fontana, and strains to haul his dead weight off
the canvas. From limp lifelessness, Fontana suddenly springs to life,
pulling the Pariah down by the arm to apply an Omoplata!]

CL: HOLY... !!

[Left arm twisted and firmly locked between Fontana's thighs, Weaver
struggles, desperately tries to twist or crawl... but it's no use! The
Everlasting One reaches forth with his arms and applies the crossface
that fully completes...]

CL: THE AMPUTATION!

FH: DAMMIT! You should have used the chair, Derek! You should have
used the chair!

CL: The first man to escape the Amputation relatively unharmed - and I
use that term very loosely because we're talking the Amputation, here
- is trapped in the Amputation again! And this time, Weaver's arm and
shoulder have been softened up for an entire match!

[Weaver struggles, grimacing, eyes shut tightly with the effort, he
fights with every thing he has... but the grueling, devastating
submission hold appears unbreakable!]

CL: There's nothing left for Weaver to do but tap, Fred.

FH: You know when you said Fontana was the least likely person to ever
tap out? Well... There's no way in hell Derek Weaver would ever tap,
either. You're not gonna see him tap. As much as I hate to actually
say it at this point... HOPE is going to lose a key member to injury.

CL: Like PVW lost AsH?

[HEEL POP!]

FH: Or... Todd Johnstone will work his magic!

CL: What the heck is Johnstone doing!

[The portly manager just stormed into the ring, screaming at referee
Duke Martin and pointing at the steel chair! The bulbous man in a
brown belt from Sears even picks up the chair, brandishing it at Duke
Martin as evidence, but the head referee isn't buying it, threatening
to disqualify Weaver if Johnstone doesn't vacate the premises.]

CL: He's... accusing Fontana of using the chair on Weaver? Martin's
never going to believe that!

FH: Why? What's so unbelievable about that?

CL: Are you kidding?

FH: Fine, even I wouldn't believe it! But Johnstone's still doing his
job perfectly!

[To see what all the commotion behind him is all about, Fontana has to
drop his crossface... and when he spies Johnstone waving the chair, he
breaks the hold and stomps across the ring towards the manager!]

CL: And NOW Johnstone bails!

FH: He did his job! He just saved Weaver's arm!

CL: You may be right!

[When Fontana turns around, Weaver stamps his boot in his gut,
doubling him over. The Pariah applies a standing leg scissors, wraps
his arms around Perry's waist and lifts... spins to face the middle of
the ring...]

FH: JOY! The POWERBOMB LUNGBLOWER HE WEAVER CALLS JOY!

[Relieved pop!]

CL: Weaver can't do it!

[The left arm gave out due to the cumulative damage done suffered over
the match, and it prevented Weaver from succeeding in his first
attempt... but he tries again!]





"_____THUUUUUUUUUUUD!_____"






[Huge pop!]

CL: FONTANA COUNTERED WITH A BACK BODY DROP!!

FH: CRAP!

[The Everlasting One practically stumbles across the ring, lumbering
towards Weaver in order to nail him with a knee drop! Breathing
heavily, Fontana pulls Weaver up by the hair, jams his head between
his thighs, hooks his arms in and turns around so both men face the
same direction. Still holding on to Weaver's arms, Perry ducks to tuck
his head between Derek's legs...]

FH: Uh-Oh...

[... In a swift, unforgiving motion, Fontana lifts Weaver up and...]






"___*THUUUUUUUUUUUD!*___"






[... drops Weaver on his head behind him!]

CL: EVERLASTING BOMB!!

FH: NOOOooo!

[HEAD DROPPAGE POP!]

CL: Fontana bridges, and here comes the pin...








!!! ONE !!!




...





CL: This could be it...






!!! TWO !!!






...






FH: Dammit I can't look!






...







!!! THRE- NOO!!!

[Big time deflated pop!]

CL: MY GOODNESS! WEAVER GOT A SHOULDER UP!!

FH: HE DID?

CL: Yes!

FH: HE DID!! Weaver got a shoulder! Just like I always knew he would!

CL: These men can't be human! How could Weaver break out of that?

FH: Easy. By being Derek Weaver.

[Fontana can't believe it! Never before has he crossed paths with a
man capable of feats similar to his own. Dumbfounded, he massages his
neatly trimmed friendly muttonchops, and slicks back strands of his
black hair.]

FH: Weaver has such a high tolerance that pain thresholds are measured
on the Weaver scale!

CL: They are not.

FH: They are now!

[Fontana leans on the top rope, shaking his head in complete disbelief
while Weaver painstakingly staggers to his feet, groggily shuffling
towards him. Il Eterno kicks Derek's flank with his shin, and applies
another standing armbar to the Pariah's damaged left arm, making him
fall to one knee, yelping out in pain! Referee Duke Martin leans in,
checking on Weaver and whether he quits or not. Fontana lifts a leg
and places it over Derek's nape...]

CL: Another Armbar Driver??



"____KLAAAAAAANNNNNNNG!____"



[MASSIVE HEEL POP!]



CL: JOHNSTONE JUST HIT FONTANA WITH THAT STEEL CHAIR!

FH: Whacked it right over his skull! Look at that dent!

CL: And look at that rat bastard scurry off the apron!

[Johnstone bolts to hide and shove the evidence under the apron. In
the ring, sensing Fontana's hold suddenly weaken, Weaver deftly
counters out of the armbar by Judo tossing him over like a rag doll.
Derek floats over to front headlock position in order to apply an
anaconda choke around Fontana's throat.]

FH: Here's FAITH!! There's no possibility of escape now! Fontana's
getting choked out, and that's the end of it!

[With Perry offering no resistance, the Pariah shifts the weight and
pressure over in a gator roll! The boos these Calgary fans scream are
deafening! Weaver grunts with extreme effort as he contracts his
shoulders, his chest, his abdomen, every muscle in his body in an
attempt to end this match]

CL: Fontana can't tap... and even if he could, he wouldn't! But he
can't even defend, here!

FH: One Martyr coming right up!

CL: What happens when an already unconscious man gets choked out?

FH: You know, I'm not sure. But I can't imagine it's good.

[As Weaver keeps choking out his opponent, the complete lack of
movement starts to clue head referee Duke Martin as to the state of
the Everlasting One, and he rings for the bell! Yet... Weaver still
firmly maintains his hold!]


*DING!*DING!*DING!*


CL: This could be lethal!

FH: Even on a deathless man?

CL: Do you really want to test out how true these claims of
immortality are?

FH: Wouldn't hurt to debunk them once and for all.

[Now more than fearing for Fontana's life, Duke Martin throws himself
to pry Weaver off his victim with every thing he can! It takes a great
deal of effort, but Weaver finally relents. Weaver rolls onto his
back, breathing in and out heavily and just staring up at the lights.
The arena showers boos down on the Pariah as he grunts and rolls
towards the edge of the ring]

FH: That! THAT IS WHAT HEART LOOKS LIKE!

CL: Black as coal?

[Weaver drops out of the ring and barely lands on his feet, taking the
time to get back to a standing position. As he finally stands upright,
he raises a single arm under a deluge of jeers, nodding with the
satisfaction of having made a Martyr of yet another would be hero.]

DS: Here is your winner, by virtue of referee stoppage...

... DEREEEK WEEEAAAAAVVVVVEEEERRRR!!!

[The downpour of boos that befalls the Pariah is staggering. His task
completed, he leaves the ring, joined in the aisle by Johnstone.]

CL: Derek Weaver has an evil streak in him.

FH: Which is exactly what makes him so dangerous.

CL: And look at Johnstone singing his praise, like he didn't play a
role in any of this!

FH: Hey, what Derek Weaver doesn't know can't hurt his ego. It's
better this way.

[In the ring, an anxious Duke Martin checks on Perry Fontana's life-
signs... and by the deep creases in his brow, things aren't looking
good. He places his head over the Everlasting One's chest, puts his
fingers under his nostrils to feel for circulating air. An eerie
silence befalls the Saddledome when, struck with panic, Martin screams
for some EMTs.]

FH: Alright... I regret what I said. Maybe it's not time to debunk
anything.

CL: I just pray he's alright. Fontana may have done a lot of bad
things in his time in PVW, you just couldn't help but have the feeling
that... maybe redemption wasn't completely out of reach for him.

[A group of EMTs rush past the callous Derek Weaver in the aisle to
run to the ring. But in Duke Martin's hands, Fontana starts to cough
out blood! As ugly as sight as it is, it's still a relief to everyone
in attendance. Everyone except perhaps Derek Weaver. With Johnstone
positively beaming next to him, the Pariah disappears in the back like
a rapacious predator whose ravenous appetite has barely been sated...
for now.]

CL: Oh, thank heavens Fontana will be OK! ... I think...

FH: He won't be singing in Carnegie Hall next week, that's for sure.

CL: We got a bit of a scare I guess, but you have to keep in mind that
Duke Martin is no trained physician.

[The EMTs slide the stretcher next to the supine King of Armbars, but
Fontana pushes them off as soon as they try to immobilize and move
him. Instead, the Deathless One tries to roll away, barely able to get
to his knees, clutching at his throat. He tries to stand, but his leg
buckles and he falls to his knees, overcome with sadness and
disappointment.]

FH: He wanted to avenge AsH, and he came up short on his own turf!
I'll forever remember this as one of my feel good moments of the year!

CL: Did you even see what it took to put him down?

FH: As far as he knows, he got choked out and failed. He knows by the
blood he keeps spitting out. That's the beauty of it!

["Le Phenix" rolls out of the ring and, helped by Duke Martin and one
of the EMTs, Fontana feebly gets back to his feet, still massaging his
throat and spitting out blood. Slowly, it builds up. One calp, then
another, and another... One by one, the fans get to their feet, and
before you know it, the Scotiabank Saddledome unites in a standing
ovation for their countryman.]

CL: He gave it all he had for his Canadian fans, Fred.

FH: And he still came up short!

[One weak foot at a time, the King of Armbars retreat to the back
under his own power, stubbornly pushing away any assistance, until he
too disappears in the back.]

CL: Perry trying to walk on his own accord, but even Perry Fontana
needs help sometimes.

FH: What a pansy!

CL: Derek Weaver is as dangerous as they come ... Fontana finally has
met his match when it comes to intensity and willing to do whatever it
takes to win.

FH: HOPE - 2 ... PVW - 0!

CL: Todd Johnstone is off to a great start here tonight.  It's looking
like more of the same for HOPE.  Later tonight, we still have REBIRTH
rules ... Spectre and Sinister have been batling it out with Senor
Cloak Dos stuck in the middle.  Let's go backstage with the fan
favorite as he prepares to ref

[We cut backstage where "Swingin'" Dean Hayes is standing in front of
a PVW banner with Senor Cloak Dos, dressed in a striped referee shirt
and black pants and of course his mask.]

SDH: Later tonight this man with me now, Senor Cloak Dos, will be the
special guest referee in the Rebirth Rules match between Spectre,
*shivers*, and Sinister. If Sinister wins then Spectre must leave Dos
alone. If Spectre wins though.. Spectre gets no obstructions to his
plans. The loser of the match will also be the number one entrant to
the Shattered Dreams Rumble! Dos, what are your thoughts about this
match, the implications of the result and your role in it as the
special guest referee!

SCD: First, Senor Dean, I am so happy that you are feeling better. Did
you receive my get well cards?

SDH: Yes, I did receive the nearly two dozen cards you sent me when I
was laid up. I appreciated them but that is not what we are here to
talk about!

SCD: Lo siento, Senor Dean. I see, you want to cut to the chase,
right?

SDH: Yes.

SCD: Very well.. I am not happy about this match, the stipulations
they set for it or for having to be the referee for this battle. It
will be an ugly war where horrible means to an end will no doubt be
employed. The worst part of it all, Senor Dean, is it is completely
pointless.

SDH: It is?

SCD: Si! I have told both Padre Sin and Spectre that no matter what
happens, I will do things MY way! Neither one listened to me and they
made this match but they overlook that I am a man, my own man who
follows a code I believe in with all of my heart! The outcome of this
mortal combat will not make me change my path. I will follow the
honorable way of fighting! I will do what is right even if it is the
longer, harder road! I will not let all mi amigos out there down by
following a way that is wrong just because others think it will
accomplish a goal, overlooking that goals are only worth reaching if
you reach them in the right way!

SDH: But, Dos, you are airing your displeasure with the stipulations
yet you still have to referee this match! How will you remain unbiased
in this match, especially with your strong ties to Sinister?

SCD: My sincerest hope is that no one will get injured in this match
tonight, Senor Dean, but I realize that it is an unrealistic hope.
This will be a horrible fight with horrible rules but no matter my
feelings on what is at stake.. I will do my job as the referee
tonight. I will call the match right down the line and render the just
result no matter who it is against. Of course, I hope that Padre Sin
will win this match but whomever wins.. I will do my job and make that
call when it comes.

SDH: Good luck out there tonight, Dos!

SCD: Gracis, Senor Dean.

SDH: Looks like Senor Cloak Dos is ready to call the match down the
line.

[We cut away from Dean Hayes to another part of the arena, where
rivals, Adrian Freeman and Supreme Wright, are meeting in one of the
PVW's many locker rooms. Freeman is wearing a blue tracksuit and is
pacing with a tense grimace on his face.  Wright is dressed in his
pre-match attire consisting of an ankle-length, black coat. Wright
leans against one of the lockers, stone-faced, with his arms crossed
over his chest as Freeman speaks. Neither seem too pleased to be in
each other's company.]

AF: All right, I'd have thought this would be obvious, but I figured
it'd be better to be safe and spell it out for you.  For the past
little while, you've been trying to prove to me why you deserve a
rematch when I obviously have so many bigger and better things on my
plate.  And the assistance in the ring, the errands, the driving...
it's all good, but it hasn't really convinced me.

A title?  Now that's convincing.

[Wright lowers his head and lets out a frustrated sigh, before looking
back up at Freeman.]

SW: Are you telling me, what I think you're telling me?

AF: I'll be blunt: Your purpose in the match?  Is to get me one of
those titles.  I don't care what you have to do.  Keeping that big
German oaf and those psychopaths in HOPE away from me would be a good
start.  But if you have to carry my unconscious body piggyback up the
ladder and drape my arm over the American belt... you'll do it.  You
aren't competing for yourself tonight.  You're competing for Team
Freeman.

And if you decide to get selfish in there?  You can kiss your rematch
goodbye.

Understand?

[Supreme is silent for a moment, briefly closing his eyes as he
visibly swallows his words and replies with a strained, barely held
rage in his voice.]

SW: Perfectly. Team Freeman, it is.

[Freeman grins.]

AF: Good. Now lets go out there and make me a champion.

[Camera fades back to ring side and ... Our first theme music opens
with a measured drumbeat, a mixture of structure and swagger.  And
then the guitars of "When The Levee Breaks" by Led Zepplin kick in,
producing a defiant, soulful beat that a man could march to.]

[And a man is doing just that.  Kevin Quartermann emerges from behind
the curtain, clad simply in *COLOR* trunks, boots, knee pads, and
wristbands.  The fans offer a mixed reaction, leaning towards
positive.  The brown-haired rabblerouser is taking his time walking to
the ring, an unmistakable air of confidence in his step.  His eyes are
locked on the ring as the announcer does his piece:]

HD:  Introducing first... Weighing in at two-hundred and sixty-three
pounts, hailing from Athens, Georgia...

   KEVIN QUARTERMANN!!!

[As the big screen displays highlights of his matches, Quartermann
reaches ringside.  Taking a few quick steps, the Athens native jumps
onto the apron, and hops into the ring.]

CL: We are back to ring side and the action of the night continues to
move along.

FH: I want to hear more about Adrian Freeman and Supreme Wright's
plan!?!

CL: There is no doubt we will find out later tonight.

HD:  And his partner...

[The lights go out in the arena.]

FEMALE VOICE:  Naaaaaaaaa-aaahhhhhhhh...

[Fans begin clamoring as the white lights under the entrance area
shine upward.]

FEMALE VOICE:  Naaaaaaaaa-aaahhhhhhhh...

[The opening guitar riffs of "Whatever" by Our Lady Peace begin to
blare out over the PA system. Through the curtain steps a massive,
masked man. He is chiseled and muscular as the lights shine around
him. The lights in the arena come back up as Talion steps down the
ramp in his black singlet, boots and black mask with white outlines
around the eyes, nose and mouth, and begins greeting fans near the
entrance aisle.]

HD:  Weighing in at two-hundred seventy-seven pounds, hailing from
parts unknown...

   TALION!!!

[He slaps a few hands and nods to the fans as he makes his way to the
ring. He reaches the ring and steps inside. He clasped his hands
together as the crowd cheers for him and he says thank you to the
ringside crazies. Then he walks back to the corner to be where his
team should be before the match.]

HD:  And their final partner...

"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.]

HD:  Weighing in at two-hundred sixty-five pounds and hailing from San
Francisco, California... he is the President of PVW...

   "YOUR HERO" DANNY DANIELS!!!

[Daniels sweeps down to the ring, shaking hands with fans on both
sides of the aisle. 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 their opponents...

["Learn to Craw" by Black Lab begins to fill the airwaves.]

HD:  Weighing in at two-hundred twenty pounds, and also hailing from
parts unknown...

   WHISPER!!!

#You can laugh
you can feel fine
You can dance with a little twist
Tell your pretty red haired babe to forget that I exist
Can you see yourself in my bed at night?
Would you leave me at the side of the road?
Would you walk right up to me?
Would you talk to me?#

[With a sweep of his arm, Whisper swiped the curtains away from in
front of him! The crowd cheering as the masked superstar stepped out
to the top of the rampway, taking a knee and smacking his fists
straight down into the platform next to him. Crossing his arms across
his chest and throwing them out to his sides. Fireworks exploding
around him and raining down with a shower of red and white sparks.]

#I'm already asking
Down on my knees
I'm already begging
Begging you please#

[Standing up, Whisper walks down the aisle, his hands extending out to
the fans. Touching hands as he walks by to the ring, climbing up onto
the apron, Whisper runs down the apron and runs up the buckles
perching with one foot on the top and looking out over the crowd.
Placing his fist over his chest, he raises his fist in the air showing
his love to the crowd.]

#Can you teach me how to fly? (c'mon)
See I'm scared to die (c'mon)
We've only just begun to learn to crawl
Can you teach me how to fight? (c'mon)
Will you keep me up all night? (c'mon)
Will you be there on the ground if I should fall?
Fall for you#

[Whisper grips the top turnbuckle, one hand standing on it for a
moment as he enters into the ring. Bouncing up and down on the balls
of his feet, he turns around and offers a slight bow of his head to
the official and again to the opposition.]

HD:  And his partner...

[Marilyn Manson's "Cake and Sodomy" blares over the loudspeakers.]

HD:  Accompanied by Arachne and Belladonna, the Black Circle Girls...

#Virgins sold in quantity#
#Herded by heredity#

HD: Weighing in at two-hundred and forty-five pounds, hailing from the
streets of San Francisco, California...

   "SHADOW STALKER" CHANCE HOLIDAY!!!

[As the music continues, the lights dim, as two women step out from
behind the curtain. Both are dressed identically, in skin tight black
dresses, the skirts slit high on their thighs, their bodies barely
contained by the low cut front of their dresses. Their hair is dyed
jet black, and their nails are painted the same color. Bright red lips
contrast vividly against their pale skin. These are Arachne and
Belladonna, the Black Circle girls. As the fans let loose with obscene
catcalls, they walk to the ring with an unnatural calmness and
serenity. And behind them, his head bowed, is their messiah, Chance
Holiday.]

#White trash get down on your knees#

[With his head bowed, his long black hair obscures Holiday's face.
Holiday's body is covered in a black duster that touches the ground.
Holiday walks at a slow, deliberate pace, ignoring the crowd around
him.]

#It's time for cake and sodomy#

[The Black Circle Girls open the ring ropes, and Holiday slowly
ascends the stairs. Before entering, he throws his head back,
revealing his dark eyes. They have a hollow, inhuman look to them and
are sunken in, surrounded by heavy circles of black. Together, the
Black Circle Girls remove his duster, revealing that his ring gear
consists of black wrestling trunks that go to his knees, black boots
trimmed in red and rubberized black tape on both fists. Holiday moves
to the corner, his followers kneeling in supplication in front of him.
Expressionless, the Shadow Stalker waits for the bell to ring.]

HD:  And finally...

[An electric guitar whines loudly.  The crowd buzzes in anticipation
for several long seconds before a driving bass kicks in.  As more
guitars begin to screech out a rhythm and drums begin to pound loudly,
the strains of Metallica's "King Nothing" echo through the arena.
Finally, a loud mixture of cheers, boos, and catcalls begins to echo
throughout the space as the words "King of Nothing" appear in white
over a black background across the large screen over the entryway.]

HD:  Hailing from Seattle, Washington and weighing in at two-hundred
seventy pounds...

   NEVERMIND!!!

[Several moments pass, and just when it seems that perhaps no one is
going to come through the entrance way into the arena, a large, dark
figure steps out onto the platform. The large, disheveled figure is
clad in a faded black t-shirt with the words "King of Nothing" written
in white block letters. He wears what appears to be a home-made kilt
of black and grey cloth with a faded flannel shirt tied around his
waist and on his feet are a pair of very worn black combat boots which
are seemingly held together by the thick strips of silver duct tape
wrapped around them. Long, stringy unwashed black hair falls forward
over his face, which is covered by an unruly dark beard which hangs
down to his chest. On his brow, is a crown made of discarded scraps of
metal and rusty tin cans with what appears to be chunks of colored
glass glued to it.]

FH:  No Occupiers at ringside tonight, thankfully.

CL:  All you're worried about is Pudges anyway.

FH:  What are you talking about?

[He is flanked on either side by a woman. To his right is a tall, thin
woman with long, stringy dishwater blonde hair dressed in baggy
sweatpants and an oversized pink hooded sweat shirt. To his left is a
pudgy young woman with a rat's nest of black hair atop her head. She
is dressed in black leggings and a turquoise top both of which are at
least one size too small for her.  Across the skin-tight turquoise top
is written the name, "PUDGES" in black sharpie.
The odd entourage at the top of the walkway pauses for a few moments,
Nevermind's mostly obscured face devoid of emotion before walking
casually down the aisle to the ring accompanied by his consorts. He
ignores the yelling fans on either side of him and upon reaching the
ring, rolls lazily under the bottom rope leaving the two women at
ringside. He slowly rises to his feet and awaits the ring bell with a
look of boredom upon his face.]

*****************************************
P        SIX MAN MATCH                  T
V   DANIELS, TALION, & QUATERMANN vs.   V
W   HOLIDAY, WHISPER, & NEVERMIND      II
*****************************************

*DING*DING*DING*


CL:  We're ready to get underway.  Looks like we're going to start out
with Chance Holiday... and I think Talion wants to go first against
him.

FH:  This kid is not very smart.

CL:  You can't blame him for wanting another shot at Holiday with how
their last match ended due to Referee Danny Daniels.

[Talion and Holiday lock up, Talion into a side headlock but Holiday
counters with a back suplex.  Talion is back up quickly, but walks
right into a clothesline.  A third time Talion climbs up quickly, but
Holiday sends him back down with a kneelift.]

FH:  Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll tear the mask off and expose
whoever's hiding under there.

CL:  I wouldn't get my hopes up.

[Holiday pulls Talion up and sends him into the ropes, but Talion
reverses, catching Holiday in a Thesz Press on the way back before
pounding him with right hands.]

FH:  Come on ref, get in there!

[Indeed the referee begins his five count, and Talion quickly releases
the position at four.  He pulls Holiday to his feet, sends him into
the ropes and drills him in the gut with a knee, then hooks and hits a
t-bone suplex.]

CL:  Talion floats over for a cover!


!!! ONE !!!





FH:  Way too early for that.

[Talion pulls Holiday up, but Holiday grabs the back of Talion's head
and drives it into the turnbuckle.  As Talion stumbles out of the
corner, Holiday bulldogs him to the mat.]

CL:  Holiday up, stomping away at Talion now, then drops an elbow on
the back of his head.

FH:  This is what he asked for, isn't it?

[Holiday smiles at Talion, then tags in Whisper.  Whisper climbs to
the top rope, waits for Talion to rise then puts him back on the mat
with a missile dropkick.]

FH:  I guess I need to get myself a mask.  They're apparently in style
at the moment.

[As Talion gets back up, Whisper peppers him with kicks to the gut.]

CL:  You might look better in a mask.

FH:  ... Hey!

[Whisper whips Talion across the ring into the opposite corner, but
Talion reverses and follows him in.  Whisper climbs the second then
third rope, and flips back over Talion's head.  Talion stops short of
the turnbuckle, but turns around into a standing 540 kick.]

CL:  Talion through the ropes and to the outside after that kick!

FH:  Which masked guy is Talion again?

CL:  Will you stop?

[Whisper climbs the ropes, turning his back to Talion as he starts to
rise...]

CL:  Moonsault to the outside!

FH:  Embrace the hate, Whisper.

CL:  Don't think that's happening, Fred... Whisper is a noble guy.

FH:  Yeah, but spending an evening working with Nevermind and Chance
Holiday can mess a guy up.

[Outside the ring, Whisper makes it back to his feet as the referee's
count hits 6.  He pulls Talion up, rolls him into the ring, then jumps
up on the apron.]

CL:  Slingshot legdrop by Whisper, and a cover!


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!








!!! THR


CL:  Talion just gets a shoulder up, quite an exchange from Whisper.

FH:  Do all masks give special powers?  Maybe this is something we've
missed all these years.

[Whisper pulls Talion to his feet and sends him into the ropes.
Talion hooks the top rope to catch himself, Whisper charges and Talion
back drops him over the top rope.  But Whisper catches himself on the
top rope, lands on the apron and catches Talion as he turns around
with a high kick to the face that sends Talion stumbling away.]

CL:  Whisper waits for Talion to turn... springboard... powerbomb!

FH:  That'll leave a mark.

[Whisper springboards for a hurancanrana, but Talion catches him and
drops him in a kneeling powerbomb before rolling away to recover.]

CL:  Both men down, and this could be a big turning point for Talion
and his team.  Talion moving towards his corner, and he's got the tag
to Quartermann!

FH:  Let's see what he does with the flippy floppy masked guy.

[Quartermann pulls Whisper the rest of the way to his feet and sends
him into the ropes.  Whisper ducks a clothesline, stops on a dime and
pegs Quartermann with a superkick just as he turns around.]

CL:  Cover by Whisper!


!!! ONE !!!





!!! T


FH:  Quartermann just came into the match, one superkick ain't putting
that crazy ess-oh-bee out.

[Whisper pulls Quartermann to his feet and sends him into the
turnbuckle.  Whisper pauses to let him hit, then follows him in... but
Quartermann steps out of the corner, lifts Whisper up and hotshots him
off the top turnbuckle.]

CL:  Big moment changer there.

FH:  Where's the mask magic now?

[Quartermann pulls Whisper up, lifts him across his shoulders and
drops him in a Samoan Drop.  He glares across the ring at Nevermind,
before planting a kick to Whisper's head.]

CL:  Quartermann's mind is clearly on Nevermind right now.

FH:  He doesn't seem to be in a rush to let him tag in.

[As Whisper gets to his feet, Quartermann catches him in an overhead
belly-to-belly suplex.  He climbs over for the cover.]


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!




CL:  Only a two count for Quartermann.

FH:  Must need to kick some more magic out of the mask.

[Quartermann grabs Whisper's arm and applies a step-over armbar,
yanking back on the arm as Referee Corolla begins to check on
Whisper's status.]

FH:  That'll work.

CL:  Quartermann with the submission hold now, and Whisper is
stretching to try to reach the ropes for the break.

[Whisper finally does get his toe wrapped around the bottom rope.
Quartermann releases at Referee Corolla's five count, stepping back to
allow Whisper to his feet.]

FH:  I'm almost disappointed in this Kevin Quartermann.

CL:  What do you mean?

FH:  Well, he was in a six-man tag match a few Heatwave's ago that
ended with him just knocking everyone out.  Now, he's using submission
moves, and even worse, letting them go when the referee tells him to.

CL:  He's done a good job of holding in his anger, for the most part,
under some pretty stressful conditions lately.

FH:  Maybe he's just getting ready to pop off.

[Quartermann grabs Whisper's arm and sends him into the ropes, Whisper
ducks a clothesline then jumps to the second rope and springboards
into a spinning leg lariat that catches Quartermann square in the
nose.]

CL:  And both men are down!

FH:  Come on Whisper, get one of those real wrestlers in the ring!

CL:  Whisper seemed to be a bit of an unusual choice for this match,
not having any real connection to the other five men involved.  But
he's held his own just fine Fred.

FH:  I guess, if you count taking most of the damage for your
teammates.

[Both men make moves for their corner.  Whisper is the first to make
the tag to Nevermind, who comes in and grabs Quartermann's foot...
just as he tags to Danny Daniels!]

FH:  We almost finally got Nevermind and Quartermann in the ring.

CL:  Well Nevermind will instead get to deal with Danny Daniels... two
of the more, interesting wrestlers in PVW.

FH:  You can say that again.

CL:  Two of the more...

FH:  Really, Chip?

[Daniels and Nevermind, both fresh, circle each other for a minute
measuring one another up.  They lock up, and Daniels pulls Nevermind
down into a side headlock and starts rambling at the crowd in pride.]

FH:  What a fool.  How did we end up with this guy as President again?

CL:  He beat Johnny Detson.

FH:  Shut up Chip.

[Nevermind backs into the ropes, pushing Daniels off into the opposite
ropes before drilling him with a shoulderblock.  Daniels is back up
quickly, but walks right into a second shoulderblock.]

FH:  I would even settle for him not proving me totally right, just
one time.

CL:  No, you wouldn't.

FH:  No, I wouldn't.

[Daniels rolls away towards the ropes, pulling himself up.  Nevermind
moves in, and meets a boot to the gut.  Daniels lifts him up in a
gutwrench, before dropping Nevermind in a shoulderbreaker.  He grabs
holds of Nevermind's arm, pulling him up into a front facelock...]

CL:  Vertical suplex by Daniels, and he's going for a cover!


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!





FH:  Not even close.

CL:  I can imagine Daniels is completely focused on making an good
impression on his new quote-unquote "student" Chance Holiday.

FH:  That moron can't focus on anything.  Find me something shiny and
I'll prove it...

[As we hear rustling coming from Hoyle's broadcast seat, Daniels pulls
Nevermind up into a gutwrench suplex.  The PVW President makes his way
to a corner, climbing to the second rope and delivering an elbow
drop.]

CL:  Second rope elbowdrop from Daniels, and the President is in firm
control now.

[Daniels stands, raising his arms to the crowd as they answer with
cheers.]

CL:  Fred, what are you doing?

[The rustling from Fred Hoyle's seat ceases.]

FH:  Got it!

CL:  Why do you have the ringbell?

[Daniels pulls Nevermind up, sends him into the ropes, and catches him
in a powerslam.]

FH:  HEY DANNY!!!

[Daniels looks out at Hoyle, and fixates briefly on the ringbell he's
holding over his head.  Nevermind rolls away, as Hoyle laughs.]

CL:  Fred!

FH:  See, I told you!

[Daniels turns his attention back to the ring, just in time to walk
into a Nevermind spinebuster.]

CL:  Fred, you just interfered in this match!

FH:  But I was right, wasn't I?

[Both men rise to their feet simultaneously.  Nevermind fires a right
hand that's blocked by Daniels, who connects with his own.  Another
exchange happens with similar results, and Daniels sends Nevermind
into the opposite ropes before laying him out with a clothesline.]

FH:  DANNY!!!

CL:  Put that bell down Fred!

[Daniels ignores the second interruption, opting instead for a
kneedrop before making the tag to Talion.]

CL:  Talion is the legal man now... he pulls Nevermind up, Nevermind
fires a right but it's ducked... Mae Aculpa by Talion!

[Talion lifts Nevermind in a uranage, before dropping him in a
backbreaker.  The masked man drops for a cover.]


!!! ONE !!!






!!! TWO !!!








!!! T


CL:  Only two for Talion.

[Pudges cheers the kickout and tries to rally Nevermind, as Talion
pulls him to his feet, then pulls him back down into front facelock.
He glares at Chance Holiday for a moment.]

FH:  Talion's gotta get Holiday out of his head, Nevermind is a tough
enough opponent as is.

[Indeed, the moment of distraction allows Nevermind to hook his arms
around Talion's waist and lift him up and over in a release Northern
Lights Suplex.]

CL:  Nevermind the first to his knees, as Talion up slowly... and
Talion walks right into a Death Valley Driver!

[Nevermind plants Talion to the mat, then goes for the cover himself.]


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!




CL:  Barely a two for Nevermind.

FH:  Time to tear off the mask yet?

CL:  No Fred.

[Nevermind pulls Talion to his feet... and shoves him into the face's
corner, glaring at Quartermann.]

CL:  Speaking of distracted by people other than your opponent...

FH:  Yeah but this is justified.  Nevermind wants Kevin Quartermann...
and it looks like he's going to get him!

[Quartermann returns the glare, before accepting a tag from Talion and
entering the ring.  Quartermann raises his arms in a "you want me?"
motion... before jumping at Nevermind with right hands.]

CL:  Quartermann laying into Nevermind now...

[The ringside camera picks up Quartermann's screams.]

Quartermann:  I THOUGHT YOU DIDN'T CARE!

[Quartermann connects with another hard right hand.]

Quartermann:  YOU'RE A LIAR LIKE THE REST OF THEM!

[Quartermann continues pounding on Nevermind before the referee
finally manages to force a break and give the uncaring one some
space.]

FH:  Quartermann's got Nevermind all wrong...

CL:  How is that, Fred?

FH:  Nevermind doesn't care.  He just has a point to make.

CL:  Doesn't that make him care about the point though?

[Quartermann pulls Nevermind up and backs him into a corner, before
sending him across the ring.  He follows Nevermind into the corner,
but Nevermind connects with a back elbow to slow his aggressor.]

FH:  Sometimes the delivery of the point is more important than the
point itself.

CL:  How poetic.

FH:  There's a reason I'm the Announcer of the Year, Chip.

[Nevermind lays into Quartermann with a right hand of his own, then
fires a knife-edge chop to Quartermann's chest.  Another chop rocks
Quartermann back into the ropes, and Nevermind sends him across the
ring.  Quartermann ducks a clothesline, stops on a dime, hooks
Nevermind's arm, swings it around his neck...]

CL:  Cobra Neckbreaker!  One of Quartermann's signature moves...!


!!! ONE !!!






!!! TWO !!!






CL:  And only a two, as Nevermind kicks out emphatically.

FH:  Much to Pudges' delight.

[Outside the ring, as she applauds the kickout while her blond
compatriot continues to stand emotionless in the corner.]

CL:  Quartermann wasting no time pulling Nevermind back up, shoving
him hard into the corner.

[Quartermann climbs to the second rope, pinning Nevermind in the
corner before pounding him with a right hand.]

Quartermann:  HYPOCRITE!

Crowd:  ONE!

Quartermann:  HYPOCRITE!

Crowd:  TWO!

FH:  The fans are loving this, those sick sick people.

CL:  Quartermann clearly feels Nevermind isn't quite the person he
makes himself out to be, and wants to prove that...

Crowd:  NINE!

Quartermann:  HYPOCRITE!

Crowd:  TEN...

[But the tenth punch doesn't connect, as Nevermind blocks the punch,
shoving Quartermann off him and to the mat.  Nevermind mouths
something not quite picked up by the camera in response before shaking
his head to clear the cobwebs.]

FH:  I think Nevermind just told Quartermann to look in the mirror.

CL:  Quartermann back up, charges back into Nevermind... but he's
caught in the Squatter Slam!

[The spinning sidewalk slam plants Quartermann into the mat, and
Nevermind rises to his knees and glares at Quartermann for a moment,
before grabbing a handful of Quartermann's hair and pulling him to his
knees.]

CL:  Good time for a pin, but Nevermind isn't choosing that option...
he pulls Quartermann over to his corner, and tags in Chance Holiday.

[Nevermind releases the handful of Quartermann's hair, dropping him to
the mat.  Quartermann rises to his hands and knees, just in time to
meet a vicious kick right to the face from Holiday.]

CL:  Stiff kick lays out Quartermann, and things seem to be in favor
of the team of Holiday, Whisper and Nevermind.

FH:  Didn't you see the other three on Showcase?  Did you really
expect any different?

[Holiday pulls Quartermann up into a front facelock, before drilling
him to the mat with a DDT.  Holiday rises quickly, waiting for
Quartermann to climb to his hands and knees... before quickly hooking
on and connecting with a second DDT.]

CL:  Holiday pulls Quartermann up... and a third DDT!  Is this
necessary?

FH:  Do you imagine Holiday cares?  You really seem to be missing the
point of this team, Chip.


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!





!!!TH


CL:  Kickout by Quartermann!

[Holiday glares down at Quartermann, pulls him up... and DDT's him a
fourth time for good measure.  Holiday stomps at Quartermann as he
tries to rise yet again, before planting a kick to his gut that puts
Kevin right back on his back.]

FH:  A prone victim... this is exactly what Holiday enjoys.

CL:  We haven't yet seen Holiday and Daniels as the legal men, after
that cryptic agreement on Showcase how do you think that ends up Fred?

FH:  You can't possibly think that arrangement is going to work out.

[Holiday pulls Quartermann to his feet, but Quartermann fires a hard
right hand.  Another hard right backs up Holiday a bit, but Holiday
drives a knee into Quartermann's gut to slow the assault before
bulldogging him down to the mat.]

CL:  Holiday pulls Quartermann to his feet, sends him into the
ropes... blind tag by Talion!

[Talion, eager to get back in the ring with Holiday, comes into the
ring just as Holiday drills Quartermann with a clothesline.  Holiday
turns into a boot to the gut, followed by a crisp gutwrench seated
powerbomb.]


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!






!!! THRE


CL:  Nearly a three for Talion, who caught Holiday off guard with that
vicious powerbomb.

FH:  I'm not entirely sure that tag was legal.

CL:  There was nothing wrong with that tag, Fred.

FH:  Yeah, well I don't think I'm the only one who believes
Quartermann deserves more punishment than he got...

[Quartermann is pulled outside the ring by Nevermind, who during the
blind tag and the pinfall made his way around the floor to where
Quartermann was pulling himself to his feet.]

CL:  Nevermind pulls Quartermann outside the ring, and they're trading
punches on the floor!

[Back in the ring, Talion hits Holiday with a swinging neckbreaker.
Talion looks outside the ring, where Nevermind and Quartermann
continue to brawl, taking their fight out of the ring and towards the
locker room.]

CL:  I guess this is regular tag rules now?

FH:  Well, it doesn't look like anyone's tagging either of those guys
in anytime soon.

[Talion looks at Danny Daniels, who apparently missed the entire
exchange and appears to be singing to himself, before shaking his head
and turning back to Holiday.]


* THWACK *


CL:  Superkick by Holiday!

FH:  Did that knock the mask loose?

[Talion hits the mat in a clump, as Holiday drops to a knee to
recover, before rushing into a kneedrop to Talion's head.  Holiday
pulls Talion up, sends him into the ropes and drops him neck-first
across the bottom rope with a drop toe hold.]

CL:  Holiday with a cover!


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!





CL:  Kickout by Talion!  Holiday pulls Talion to his feet... inside
cradle by Talion!


!!! ONE !!!





!!! TWO !!!







!!! TH


[Holiday kicks out, and both men move quickly back to their feet.
Holiday grabs for Talion, but Talion slips behind, hooks the waist and
delivers a release German Suplex.]

CL:  Back and forth, and now both men are down!

FH:  Come on Chance, he's just some loser in a mask!  What are you
struggling with...

CL:  I'm being told we've got a camera backstage, where Kevin
Quartermann and Nevermind are still going at it.

FH:  Seriously?

[We go to a split screen, and on the other half of the screen
Quartermann and Nevermind indeed continue to brawl.  Their fight has
brought them to the front of the closed EXIT door leading out to the
loading dock.]

CL:  Talion pulls Holiday to his feet... but Holiday hooks him by the
neck and delivers a jawbreaker!  Followed by a stiff running lariat
that takes both men right up and over the top rope!

[As Talion and Holiday hit the ground hard outside, we go backstage.
Quartermann nails the King of Nothing with a stiff shot to the jaw,
and then grabs him by the collar and waistband of his pants and throws
him into the door, which flies open causing Nevermind to fly outside
and sprawl on the ground.  Kevin Quartermann rushes outside but stops
short as he looks up to see he is surrounded by dozens of disheveled
men and women dressed in cast off clothes.]

CL:  What in the world?

FH:  It's Nevermind's world now.

[The mob of homeless occupiers begins to close in, and Quartermann
prepares himself to fight, but instead he collapses to the ground as
he is nailed from behind with a double axe handle blow to the back of
the neck by Nevermind.  The King of Nothing lifts up the limp
Quartermann, and delivers a Squatter Slam to the concrete!  Nevermind
gets to his feet and kicks Quartermann up side his head.]

CL:  This is uncalled for!  Someone needs to get back there now!

FH:  Well what did you think would happen?  Eventually, someone was
gonna get the advantage and beat the heck out of the other guy.

[Nevermind then gestures towards the unconscious Quartermann, and
several of the bigger Occupiers step forward and lift him up.  They
carry him over to a dumpster and Nevermind lifts the black plastic lid
so that the Occupiers can dump the motionless body of Kevin
Quartermann into the open trash container.  The King of Nothing slams
the lid on the dumpster loudly, and then bows down in front of the
metal dumpster.  The camera focuses in on Nevermind's face as he
flips the greasy black hair out of his eyes and speaks to the man in
the trash receptacle.]

Nevermind:  Welcome home, Kevin.

[We go back to the ring, where Holiday has started to rise to his feet
outside.]

CL:  Nevermind has just disposed of Quartermann in a dumpster!

FH:  Now he'll know what it feels like to be one of the Occupiers!
Maybe he won't sick Spectre on them next time!

CL:  We're back to full-screen outside the ring, where Chance Holiday
is the first to his feet...

FH:  Is Danny Daniels cheering on Talion or Holiday?

CL:  I'm not sure, actually.  Either way, outside the ring is not
where Talion wants to be with Chance Holiday.

FH:  But it's exactly where Holiday wants him to be.

[Holiday pulls Talion to his feet, before whipping him hard into the
ringsteps.]


* CRASH *


FH:  See?  Told you so.

CL:  Talion down outside the ring... and Holiday's smiling?

[Indeed, the Shadow Stalker has cracked a mild grin... as he picks up
one piece of the dislodged ringsteps and holds it over Talion's
body...]

FH:  Hey, what is that masked freak doing?!

CL:  Whisper just pulled those ringsteps away from Holiday!

FH:  That's his own teammate!

[Whisper shakes his head, tossing the ringsteps away as Holiday glares
a hole straight through his partner.  Whisper attempts to convey his
intents to Holiday, but he's talking to a brick wall at this point.
An angry brick wall.]

CL:  I think it's been lost here that Whisper isn't at all like
Nevermind or Holiday... he DOES care, and he wants to do things the
right way!

FH:  And you saw where that got Quartermann, didn't you?  Tossed in a
dumpster out in the parking lot.

[And it's not turning out much better for Whisper, as he gets drilled
in the face by a baseball slide from Danny Daniels, knocking him into
the guardrail.]

CL:  I guess President Daniels was feeling left out of this exchange?

FH:  At least he targeted a guy on the opposite team.

CL:  Did you just defend Danny Daniels?

FH:  ...

[Daniels looks down at Whisper's body, then up at Holiday.  The PVW
President smiles, nodding his head as he backs away from the Shadow
Stalker.  Holiday stares curiously at Daniels as he walks away, not
noticing Talion finally making his way to his feet and back into the
ring behind him.]

CL:  Talion is back in the ring, and I'm not sure he has any idea what
just happened...

FH:  I'm not sure any of us do, actually.

[Outside the ring, Holiday glares down at Whisper in anger as the
masked man starts to rise... then reaches over and grabs a chair from
nearby.]

CL:  This isn't good...

FH:  He's your partner, Chance!  Even if he is a horrible partner!


* CLANG *


CL:  Holiday just laid out Whisper with that chair!

FH:  Someone was gonna get hurt by Holiday tonight, Whisper just
offered himself in Talion's place.

[Holiday tosses the chair to the floor in disgust, then pulls Whisper
up and rolls him into the ring.]

CL:  Well, Talion and Holiday are supposed the legal men here, but I
think Referee Corolla has lost track in the chaos...

[Talion is on his feet, and looks at Whisper struggling to his feet...
before catching him in a quick snap overhand cutter.]

CL:  Talion hits The Redemption!  Cover, leg hooked!


!!! ONE !!!






!!! TWO !!!








!!! THREE !!!



*DING*DING*DING*



FH:  Wait a minute, Whisper wasn't even the legal man!

CL:  Referee Corolla's decision is final Fred.

HD:  Here are your winners... TALION, DANNY DANIELS AND KEVIN
QUARTERMANN!!!

FH:  Yeah, Quartermann really looks like a winner right now.

CL:  He and Nevermind certainly went off on their own tangent, but
what do we make of Daniels and Holiday?  Two weeks ago we thought they
were gonna go to battle, but they never even stepped into the ring
with each other.

FH:  Unless you count when Daniels saved Holiday from Chance's own
partner.

CL:  Whisper was just trying to help his team win the right way Fred.
Holiday didn't need to go to that extent.

FH:  You need to lighten up and enjoy things more, Chip.

[Camera fades to the back and for the first time we see, Sir Tyler
Holbridge is dressed to the nines, as usual, and is poised just
outside of a locker room door.]

Holbridge: Welcome, my fellow PVW fans. Sir Tyler Holbridge, here, and
it is my most distinct pleasure to be able to speak to one of the
seven men partaking in tonight's Double Title Double Jeopardy match.
Please welcome PVW's Avenging Angel, 'The Paladin' Chris Hartt.

[Hartt steps out from the locker room, fully dressed in his ring gear.
He smiles at the sight of Sir Tyler.]

Holbridge: My dear boy, it's literally a buzz amongst everyone here
over this match. You and six other wrestlers all competing tonight for
the American Title with the remaining competitors fighting for the
Television Title. Please, if you would, share with us any last minute
thoughts you may have.

Hartt:  Sir, this is a match of extreme possibilities, but only two
possible outcomes. This match is all about taking each other to our
limits.  2 titles, but the measure of our individual intensities is
what's really on the line, here.

Only the most devoted, the most committed, the most willing to go to
their own end will have what it takes to grab that title and walk away
triumphant.  Make no mistake, each and every one of us are going to
make sure nobody walks away from this match the same.  This is a match
that will test the mettle of the strongest man and not all of us will
hold up.

Holbridge:  Do you think you're going to falter, Mr. Hartt?

Hartt:  I'm going to go out there and make sure I walk away with the
PVW American Title. To withstand the fury and onslaught of six other
men and I'm going out there to prove it to them. They're going to
crumble from MY intensity! MY passion!  MY belief in myself! Nothing
else is as important.

Holbridge:  Thank you, dear boy.

Hartt:  Thank you, sir. And may the best man... survive.

[Cut back to the announcers.]

CL: Chris Hartt seems motivated in recapturing some PVW gold.  And you
would have to think he is one of the favorites tonight.  A former PVW
Rising Phoenix Champion.

FH: Not if Christopher Black has anything to say about it.

CL: All seven men in that match are threats, but next we have
Spectre's world ... Rebirth Rules!

FH: Any match with Spectre in it has the possibility to turn out bot
be
brutal.  Remember the banned Strap match?

CL: Who could forget it.   Let's go to the Voice is ready to
introduce the next match.

HD: The following match is scheduled for one fall, with no time limit!
And it will be conducted under...

[Wait for it.]

HD: REBIRTH RULES!

[BIG POP for the impending carnage.]

HD: Introducing first...

["Schism" by Tool blasts over the PA as the fans go crazy and from the
back steps the Chi-Town Beast, Sinister.]

HD: Wrestling out of Chicago, Illinois ... He is known as the Chi-Town
Beast ... Big Daddy Sin ... SINISTER!!!

[Adorn in his usual wrestling gear, the big man from Chicago raises
the soul pole as the crowd welcomes the PVW locker room leader.  The
6'11, 300 pound veteran makes his way down the aisle way, stopping
midway to give back to the fans, who buzz as a dreadlocked blur
sprints out from the back.]

CL: Spectre! Sin- watch out!

[The crowd reaction is enough to alert the Chi-Town Beast, who turns
around just as Spectre pulls up and swings a sweet right hand stroke,
breaking a LIGHT TUBE over the locker room leader's head as the crowd
goes berserk!]

CL Light tube! A damn light tube gets shattered over Sinister's head!



*****************************************
P        REBIRTH RULES MATCH            T
V          SINISTER         vs.         V
W          THE SPECTRE                 II
*****************************************


*DING*DING*DING*


CL And this match is officially underway... with a light tube!

FH: It's Rebirth rules, Lester, anything goes! A light tube is as
legal as a shot to the nuts!

CL: Which is _illegal_!

FH: Ha ha, not in this match!

[Ten seconds in, and Sinister's already bleeding, pieces of light tube
piercing his forehead. Referee Cloak Dos is close to the action and
watches as Spectre holds a duffel bag, formerly on his shoulder, into
the air and then reaches in to bring out...]

CL: What in the world does he...

[The crowd screams in disgust as the Spectre brings out a baseball
bat... wrapped in barbed wire.]

CL Oh God, ohhhhh my gosh, a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire. This
damn psychopath brought a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire to the
match-


"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


CL: AND JUST SENT IT CRASHING INTO THE STERNUM OF SINISTER!

FH: Yeah, baby, the Fred Hoyle speciality match! Keep your wristlocks
and arm-BARs, I'll take a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire any day
of the week.

[The barbed wire sticks to the sleeveless black PVW shirt Sinister is
wearing, and Spectre has to step on Sin's back to get the baseball bat
dislodged from the shirt. THe dreadlocked maniac lifts the bat up over
his head, and points the fat part of the bat at the fat part of
Sinister's chest and DRIVES it down!]

CL: No! Sinister! Sin rolled out of the way, he dodged that barbed
wire bat that was going right for the heart!

FH: This match is too much for Sinister, Chip, you heard it here
first. He doesn't have it in him to go through with something like
this!

[Sinister keeps rolling but a boot from the Spectre stops that.
Spectre brings Sin up to his feet and jams the handle of the boot into
his stomach, then rears back and drills him behind the ear with a
right hand.]

CL: Rabbit punch by Spectre brings Sin to a knee, and he's got that
bat- no, Sinister fires back with a headbutt to the breadbasket!

[The crowd cheers as Big Daddy Sin fights back, but quickly dies down
as Spectre returns fire with a right hand, which gets returned from an
uphill fighting Sinister!]

CL: Sinister isn't backing down, he's returning every right hand! But
Spectre, he's got the higher ground-


"WHAAAAAAACK!"


CL: -just _drills_ Sin with a right hand, and that knocks the locker
room leader back onto his heels!

[Sin's eyes momentarily roll around like Cookie Monster, but he comes
to his senses just in time to dodge an oncoming left hook from
Spectre... and then drive his forearm right up into the nether regions
of Spectre! BIG POP!]

FH: HEY! THAT'S-

CL: Legal as a wristlock! A _fantastic_ low blow by Sinister, and even
Spectre is affected by that! Nicely done by the locker room leader!

[Spectre drops the bat, because even a gothed out, dreadlocked
purveyor of inner demons doesn't like a shot to the junk, and Sinister
takes the opportunity to grab the dreads and throw Sprectre into the
ring by way of them!]

CL: Spectre goes into the ring the hard way, and now Sinister-


"WHAAAAAAAAAAP!"


CL: -punts that duffel bag around the ring. Sinister now, takes a deep
breath-

[BIG POP!]

FH: AND HERE WE GO!

CL: Sin slid into the ring and Spectre was waiting for him! Both guys,
trading right hands and the crowd has erupted!

[The Locker Room Leader and the Gothic Freak Brawler go punch for
punch, battering each other with right hands to the jaw and side of
the face. Sinister uses his height advantage and drills Spectre right
above the eyebrow, then grabs Spectre with both hands and drives his
forehead into the bridge of Spectre's nose, making Senor Cloak Dos
wince.]

CL: Big headbutt from Sinister, and that staggered both men! Spectre
staggers away, uses the ropes for some momentum... and plasters
Sinister with a right hand of his own!

[A left hook that usually hits someone behind the ear hits the very
tall Sinister in the throat, which Spectre doesn't mind, and the
following kneelift has Sin doubled over coughing. Spectre moves
laterally and out of the way as Sin goes to the ropes for support,
then runs at the Chi-Town Beast and lashes out with a clothesline that
carries both men over the ropes!]

FH: Back on the outside, Lester, where Spectre has the advantage!

CL: Pins have to be in the ring, but anything and everything is legal
in this kind of match! Spectre drags Big Daddy Sin to his feet-


"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSHHH!"


CL: And fires him into the guardrail!

[Sinister goes headfirst and recoils instinctively, but Spectre grabs
him again...]

FH: One more time into the guardrail! There's not even any padding
around those things, it's just the old school blue metal guardrails!

CL: That cut on Sin's head just keeps growing bigger and bigger, and
Spectre is relentless in attacking it! A boot to the ribs by Spectre,
and Sin is in a bad way!

FH: Ironic that such a goody two shoes, passive person's nickname is
Sin. That's like a lady being nicknamed Dick. It don't make no sense!

[Sinister struggles to his feet, using the guardrail for balance, as a
small commotion takes place in the corner, where the timekeeper is
seated. The commotion, it seems, is that Spectre wants to use the
timekeeper as a human battering ram, and is receiving resistance from
the timekeeper, who does not agree!]

CL: Come on Spectre, have some decency, have one shred of human
dignity!

FH: When has that EVER been the case?!

CL: Senor Cloak Dos is right in Spectre's face, telling him to leave
the timekeeper alone, but it's not doing any good!

FH: It's like he's a magnet! Cloak is just drawn to these little weak
things who need to be loved, dude is like a Hallmark commercial all by
himself!

CL: Spectre just smiles at Senor Cloak Dos and-

[SHOCKED POP!]

CL: HE JUST PICKED UP THE TIMEKEEPER AND THREW HIM LIKE A LAWN DART AT
SINISTER! THANK GOD SINSTER HAD HIS WITS ABOUT HIM AND CAUGHT THE POOR
GUY! HE'S NOT A PROFESSIONAL, MAN, C'MON!

[Sinister, ever the good man, puts the timekeeper down on the ground
with nary a scratch on him, which was kind of Spectre's point, because
Sin is in no way ready for the chairshot aimed at his skull!]





"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"




[BIG HEEL HEAT!]



CL: OH! OH MY!

FH: There it is, Lester! Spelled out right in front of you! Sinister's
not the guy to teach Senor Cloak Dos, he's not the guy to fight HOPE!
He's too soft, he's too worried about the little people, he doesn't
have the backbone to do what's got to be done!

CL: Spectre, playing a human game of-

FH: Horseshoes!

CL: Well he just scored a ringer right there. Spectre, still with that
chair- OH, right across the legs. And again! He is just _merciless_
with the weaponry, a master of chaos and destruction.

FH: Maybe he forgot to feed The Beast.

[Spectre brings Sinister to his knees and just hurls him into the
steps, not getting a lot of momentum on the throw but still making a
resounding "CLANG-K!". Sin crumbles to the ground as Spectre stalks
around ringside, walking towards the aisle to retrieve his favorite
toy.]

CL: Sinister is fighting up, using those steps to perhaps regain his
feet, as Spectre just measures him. This match is maybe five or six
minutes old, but there is absolutely no form or structure to what's
taking place, this is just a massacre.

FH: To the contrary, Lester, this is a masterpiece. I've got it scored
10-7 Spectre after two rounds.

[Just as Sinister gets to his feet, still behind the steps, Spectre
goes off on a dead sprint and plants both of his feet squarely into
the metal stairs...]


"OOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!"


CL: Dropkick to the stairs, and Sin gets clipped because of it!

[Still holding the bat, Spectre climbs up the stairs as the locker
room leader scrambles to his feet, working off of adrenaline more than
anything...







"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"







...and drives the point of his boot into Sin's face at point blank
range!]

CL: My God that's rough! That's a soccer kick from like eight inches
away, Fred, and look at the blood pour out of Sinister's head!

FH: Well then this ain't gonna help things much!

CL: Spectre, he's got his foot on Sinister's throat, what's he-

[The crowd collectively gags a little bit as Spectre grinds the barbed
wire up and down the already split forehead of Sinister, turning a
slightly below average bloodflow into the kind of blood stream they
write poems about.]

CL: Sinister is busted wide, wide open, the blood is just pouring out
of the man, and Spectre finally rolls him into the ring. Maybe we'll
actually get a pinfall attempt, Fred!

FH: Yeah, it'll be nice to see Senor Cloak have to count out Big Daddy
Teddy Ruxpin!

[Chip gets his wish...]

CL: ONE!











TWO!!!!!!















Sin gets the shoulder up!

FH: That's a slow count, Lester, come one! I could have counted until
seven during that time!

[Senor Cloak checks with Sinister to make sure he's still surviving,
and Spectre breaks that up with a perfectly legal knee to Sin's back,
sending Cloak scattering.]

CL: Cloak gets out of the way as Spectre throws Sinister into the
corner, and jams him headfirst into the turnbuckle.

FH: And the blood, lookit that, the blood is all over the turnbuckle
pad!

CL: The big man is losing blood at a tremendous rate, and that's got
to be weighing on him at this point-

FH: Along with the intense pain, I would think.

CL: Sin, now, turns around to face Spectre... and gets kicked right in
the knee, falling into a sitting position.

[Spectre lays in one more kick and turns away, grabbing the chair
laying in the far corner. Spectre slowly approaches Sinisiter, and
raises the chair to strike... but gets caught with a kick from
Sinister, who grabs both of the top ropes with his hands and hurls
himself out of the corner!]

CL: Spectre still has that chair, here's Sin-





"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANK!'




CL: YAKUZA KICK BLASTS THE CHAIR INTO SPECTRE'S FACE! TREY LAWRENZE
SPECIAL AND NOW SPECTRE IS BUSTED OPEN!

[Spectre still has the chair and still chairs, but Sin sees it coming
and backdrops the Spectre, his Beast _and_ the chair over the top to
the floor. Spectre lands with a splat as Sinister drops to a knee,
putting a hand to his head to gauge the wound.]

FH: Sinister is just now realizing how badly he's been cut open,
Lester. He's realizing just what he got himself into.

CL: He hasn't had time to breath since Spectre interrupted his
entrance with that light tube, Fred, I think you're right on that
account.

[Sin seems to understand what needs to be done, and goes back to the
corner he was just in and tears off the turnbuckle pad! He holds it up
and then throws it outside, ducking between the ropes to follow and
targeting Spectre.]

CL: Spectre might be in trouble for the first time this match-

[POP!]

CL: And now I _know_ he's in trouble! Sin sprinted down the apron and
drove a boot to Spectre's head, a little payback from earlier tonight!

FH: It didn't drop him though, Spectre is still on his feet.

[Not for long. Sinister backs up, takes a two step approach and SOARS
off the apron, using his 6'11'' frame to full extension and drilling
Spectre with a clothesline. The crowd ERUPTS at the sight of the
usually ground based Sinister taking to the air, and responds in kind
when he gets up off the floor and waves a fist.]

CL: SINISTER IS BACK IN THIS MATCH, AND THE CROWD IS RIGHT BACK WITH
HIM!

[Sinister pounces on Spectre, throttling him with a flurry of right
hands to the noggin, as even Senor Cloak Dos nods approvingly on the
ring apron.]

CL: Sinister- soccer kick right to the ribs! He's got Spectre on all
fours, crawling away for mercy, but Sinister has none of it!

FH: He's not crawling away, Spectre is no coward! He's got a plan in
mind, trust me.




"THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"

[Another pointed kick to the ribs makes even Spectre wince in pain,
and one final field goal makes the Dreadlocked One tumble over, into
where Herk Douglas sits and where he previously abused the timekeeper.
This time, everyone is smart enough to get out of the way as Spectre
gets to his feet, as Sin rumbles behind him...]

CL: SIN!





"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHH!"






FH: ANOTHER YAKUZA KICK! TREY LAWRENZE UP IN THIS PIECE!

CL: He got him right in the back of the head, and Spectre flipped up
and over that timekeeper's table and landed badly on all those metal
folding chairs.

[Spectre, ever the strategist, keeps himself busy looking for
something, as Sinister lays in a right hand. A second right snaps
Spectre's head back, and a forearm drops him flat onto his back, into
the corner where ringside attendants threw the discarded clothes both
guys wore to the ring.]

CL: Spectre is just laid out in the midst of the clothes and other
items these guys bring with them to the ring. I'm surprised the Soul
Pole  hasn't made an appearance yet.

FH: Dazed and Confused references don't play well in Rebirth Rules
matches, I think. Perhaps something from MallRats or Empire Records.

[Spectre is grabbing, sifting, looking for something...]

CL: Spectre's trying to find something, God only knows what it is, as
Sinister's stomps right on the small of the back.

[The Chi-Town Beast reaches down and flips Spectre unto his back --
hey now -- and moves into strike, only to get a handful of small
metallic objects thrown in his face!]


"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"


CL: THUMBTACKS! SPECTRE THREW THUMBTACKS RIGHT INTO SINISTER'S FACE!
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

FH: Sinister got his hands up, he was able to protect his eyes at
least!

CL: But they still sent a shock through the locker room leader!

[And provided enough for a distraction for Spectre to lunge forward
for a clothesline that takes both men down.]

CL: Oh my, oh my goodness Fred, this crowd is buzzing as these men
struggle on the ground, and who can blame them?

FH: Thumbtacks are like bees, Chip. They don't travel in packs of
five, they travel in hundreds.

[And sure enough, out of the trench coat of Spectre comes a bloated
green bag that looks like something Scrooge McDuck would carry around,
but the contents of which is far different...]

CL: Oh my God, is that a bag of-?

FH: You know _exactly_ what it is, Lester, don't play coy.

[Spectre digs his hand into the bag and brings it out, cupping dozens
of thumbtacks... and throws them around, covering the ringside area
mats with a layer of the sharp metallic objects, and then tossing the
bag behind him.]

CL: And there's still more in the bag! Jesus God, man, how many
goddamned thumbtacks do you need? Where do you get them all?!

FH: Home Depot, Lowe's, this bondage place in Tucson.

CL: How do you-?!

FH: (low chuckle) Don't ask questions you don't want answers to.

[As Chip, and the viewing audience, shudder from that answer, the
crowd begins to buzz and get restless as Spectre pulls Sinister to his
feet, and deposits a forearm to the lower back. A second one, and the
Dreadlocked One grabs a rear waistlock as the crowd beings to shout
horrifically, and a third forearm to the lower back makes Sinister's
knees buckle, giving Spectre enough space to cinch the waistlock...
and put the Chi-Town Beast into a world of pain.]






"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDD!!"







"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"




[HORRIFIED HEEL POP!]




CL: OH MY GOD! THUMBTACKS! GERMAN SUPLEX! GERMAN SUPLEX INTO THE
THUMBTACKS BY SPECTRE, OH MY GOD IN HEAVEN! SINISTER IS IN AGONY!

[The locker room leader rolls around in pain, cupping the back of his
neck and shrieking from the ridiculous amount of thumbtacks that are
now stuck into the plain black shirt he was wearing, not to mention
stuck into the back of his arms and neck. And of course, as he rolls
in pain, he becomes more of a pin cushion.]

CL: HUNDREDS OF THOSE THUMBTACKS STUCK ALL OVER SINISTER'S BODY, INTO
HIS HEAD FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! SPECTRE IS AN ANIMAL!

FH: But he's not in mint condition either, Lester, look at all the
pain he put himself in just to put Sinister through _more_!

[Cut to Spectre, who's back is covered in tacks and little puncture
wounds, small lines of blood dripping all down his back. The crowd
catches a glimpse of Spectre's back on the big screen and sees
Sinister writhing in pain, and serenades the two men with an oldie,
but a goodie:



"HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"




"HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"




"HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"    "HO-LY SHIT!"]

CL: But now Spectre's got to get the pin _inside_ the ring. Sinister
might be down for the rest of the night, but he's got to lug all 303
pounds of him off the floor and into the ring!

FH: That's a good point, Lester. Sinister might as well be a big sand
bag at this point, Spectre will essentially have to dead lift him into
the ring.

[The Goth freak from NYC calmly removes a few thumbtacks from his
tricep and shoulder area, and then takes out the five that found their
way into his hand. That done, Spectre gingerly bends down and then not
so gingerly yanks Sinister up by the hair, carelessly running him into
the ring apron until Sinister helps out and lifts himself onto the
edge
of the ring.]

CL: It's hard to tell if Sinister knows where he is or what he's
doing-

FH: And that's before this match even started!

CL: But he's found himself being rolled like a barrel into the ring by
Spectre, who now bounces off the ropes- OH, and jumps with a double
stomp right into the stomach of Sinister. Here's the cover!

[Spectre looks over at Senor Cloak Dos and almost smiles, as the
luchadore bends down to count out Sinister...]

CL: ONE!



























TWO!!!!!!!!!




















THR- NO SIR, SINISTER GETS A SHOULDER OUT!

[The rest of his body didn't move, but the shoulder did, and the crowd
cheers because of it.]

CL: There is no quit in the locker room leader, I can assure you of
that, and most men would have thrown the towel in after that assault.

FH: There may not be much blood left in him either.

CL: That could be true as well. And Spectre now, slowly back to his
feet, and just rolls out of the ring.

FH: Could be to give himself a breather but also to formulate a
strategy. By now it's obvious that Spectre is never at a loss for
ideas.

[Rather than do something really cool though, Spectre just grabs a
folded up metal chair and sails it into the ring, and then follows it
back into the squared circle.]

CL: Spectre back in the ring as Sinister gets to a knee, and Spectre
stuns him with a right hand. One more, and he's got Sin now, literally
on the ropes...

[And the crowd groans in agony as Spectre pulls the middle rope over
the top, trapping Sin's arms...]

CL: Oh boy, oh Jesus-

FH: Jesus is right, Spectre has him crucified against the ropes!

[THe crowd buzzes again as Spectre goes for the folding chair he threw
in the ring, raises it up gingerly over his head as the crowd gets
ready to burst... and then drops the chair. A collective sigh of
relief goes up, but not for long, as Spectre rolls out of the ring
again to dig into his trench coat.]

CL: What in God's name is he looking for- Oh no. No no no no no, this
can't be good. This can't be legal.

FH: Oh come off of it, Chip, it's all legal. Legal as a wristlock!

[The Spectre holds his newest finding up to the crowd, a cheese
grater, as the vampires in the audience cheer but everyone else boos
and/or gags a little. Spectre slides in and walks up to Big Daddy Sin,
who is now back into the flow of the universe and knows exactly what
is happening as the Spectre GRINDS the cheese grater back and forth
over Sinister's already ribbon like forehead!]

CL: Oh my, oh my God, that's disgusting! I might be sick!

FH: THis might even be too much for me, Chip, Spectre is taking it to
the next level right now!

[The crowd groans in agony, making the sound that thousands of people
make when they throw up a little bit in their mouths, and it gets
even worse when Spectre slaps Sin across the face with the cheese
grater... and then takes a healthy bite out of the cut! The crowd is
horrified as Spectre backs away, wipes the blood off of his mouth and
decks Sinister once more!]

CL: Dear God, it just goes from bad to worse! This maniac got the
strap match banned from PVW, and the Rebirth Match _should_ be next on
the list!

FH: And Senor Cloak Dos can do nothing but clap! He's like tits on a
warthog right now! More useless than usual!

[Senor Referee Dos looks like he might vomit through his mask as
Spectre unties his victim, and Sinister just slumps to the mat.
Spectre backs up a few steps and wings the cheese grater into the
crowd, blood dripping off as it goes, then takes a few steps forward
and hits one ugly ass seated dropkick that does it's job of driving
Sin out of the ring. The leader of the locker room lands with a damp
thud, and Spectre follows him out.]

CL: Spectre's right out here, right in front of us, oh stay the hell
away-


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


CL: Headfirst into our announce desk!

FH: Dammit, stop bleeding on me! Shoo, shoo!

CL Spectre slams Sin's head into our desk one more time, and a right
hook from behind hits right in the ribs. Another one, oh man, that's
gotta make it hard for Sinister to breath!

[One more fist to the ribs and Spectre just leaves Sinister where he
is, leaning against the announce table. The goth grappler leaves the
picture for a moment, then comes back with his next weapon of choice:
cable wires.]

FH: Get him off the desk, get him out of here Spectre!

[Spectre wraps the thick chords around Sinister's neck and pulls back,
planting a knee in the Chi-Town Beast's back for leverage! The crowd
SCREAMS in horror, as the lack of oxygen and the constant onslaught
causes the blood to seep from Sinister at a fast pace, right in Fred
Hoyle's grill!]

FH: AHHHH! GOOD GOD, GET HIM OUT OF HERE!

CL: SINISTER IS BEING STRANGLED RIGHT IN FRONT OF US, AND THERE'S
NOTHING CLOAK DOS CAN DO ABOUT IT! SINISTER IS LABORING, HE'S
GRUNTING, TRYING TO JAM HIS FINGERS IN BETWEEN THE WIRES AND HIS
THROAT!

FH: HE DRIPPED BLOOD ON MY TIE! GET HIM AWAY, GET HIM AWAY!

[The Chi-Town Beast lurches across the desk, further ruining Fred
Hoyle's day by damn near knocking him over. His arms ad legs go
spastic, trying to create SOME kind of momentum to get him out of the
predicament he's in. Just as his hand closes around something, Spectre
pulls Sinister back off the table, looking to finish his prey...]

CL: Spectre's looking for something big here, he's looking to finish
off Big Daddy Sin... he turns Sinister over and tries to stand him up-

[In a blur, Sin's hand tomahawks forward and hits Spectre's head and
suddenly Spectre is off Sinister, hands at his head. Sinister frees
himself of the wires and turns back to the announce table as the
camera zooms in on Spectre...]

CL: Sinister just did _something_ and Spectre is reacting in partial
shock. What in the world-

FH: Hey, where's my pencil, what the hell did I-?

[Cut to Spectre's head, with Hoyle's very favorite lead pencil
STICKING out of it! The shot goes up on the big screen and the crowd
EXPLODES!]

CL: JESUS GOD, SINISTER STABBED HIM WITH FRED'S PENCIL! THERE'S A
NUMBER TWO PENCIL STICKING OUT OF SPECTRE'S HEAD!

FH: That was my *favorite* pencil!

[The Chi-Town Beast isn't done borrowing from Fred, as he lifts the
small TV monitor out of his announce desk and turns just as Spectre
gets the pencil out..]







"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"





[HARDCORE FACE POP!]




CL: TWELVE INCH PORTABLE TV UPSIDE SPECTRE'S HEAD, BUT THE MADMAN
WON'T GO DOWN!

FH: Two will have to do!

[A second swing for the fences knocks the Gothyc Grapplyr to the
Ground, and Sin throws the TV on top of him at a high rate of speed.
Spectre just won't stay down, and a renewed Sinister obliges him,
repeatedly kicking him in the mouth and then pouncing on top of him,
jamming right hand after right hand after right hand into the face and
throat area of Senor Cloak Dos' supposed mentor, screaming in rage!]

CL: Sinister can't take it anymore, he's letting loose! All these
weeks and months of people questioning his tactics and questioning the
way he does things, not giving him the respect he deserves! And
Spectre, more than anyone, not giving him any respect whatsoever!

[Fueled by anger or rage, or blood loss and a lack of sense, Sinister
rams one more fist into Spectre's face and gets back to his feet,
scanning the area and settling on one person who has definitely been a
vocal critic.]

FH: No no. Nonono. I'm just an announcer, Sin, leave me out of this.
Stay away, Sin, I know people!

CL: Who, the AARP?

[Hoyle stands up and puts his hands up, trying to talk some sense into
the enraged Chi-Town Beast... when all he really wanted was his chair.
Sin snatches the folding chair off the ground and closes it, then
looks over at a rising Spectre, then back at Fred...]

Sin: This is for you, Hoyle.






"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"






[ONE MORE TIME POP!]






"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"

[The crowd is on the verge of losing it as Sinister backs up and eyes
up Spectre, who is somehow on one knee. Sin looks at the chair, and
then hurls it into the ring, and then scoops up a rising Spectre over
his shoulder. The crowd buzzes as Sinister takes a few steps back and
then charges forward, stopping his feet and DRIVING Spectre into the
mats!]

CL: RUNNING POWERSLAM! ON THE OUTSIDE! SINISTER HAS WEATHERED THE
STORM AND SPECTRE IS IN A WORLD OF HURT!

[The Chi-Town Beast rolls off of Spectre and stays down, rolling to
the far side of the ring and laying flat on the ground. He tries to
steady his breathing, and his bleeding, as Senor Cloak Dos looks down
on him from the ring. Spectre is face down, buried in a sea of nasty
dreadlocks, not moving a muscle.]

CL: There's thumbtacks on that side of the ring, a broken light tube
in the aisle, and enough blood splattered around the ring to for a
blood transfusion! All to prove a point, all to show Senor Cloak Dos
who the right man is!

FH: It's like a twisted fairy tale, with a Mexican in a mask playing
the part of Sleeping Beauty.

CL: There is nothing Senor Cloak Dos can do right now, he can't count
them out, he can't force these men into the ring, all he can do is
look down on them to make sure no one is fatally wounded!

FH: And even that wouldn't end the match, it would just be postponed
until after an ER visit!

[Cloak Dos looks from side to side, really WANTING to do something,
but knowing he's got no jurisdiction. The crowd gets antsy too, as
Sinister rolls onto his side, Spectre still dead to the world. With no
change in site, the crowd gets antsy and starts to buzz, then murmur
and rally, until a full fledged chant is swirling around the audience:





"LET'S GO SIN!"      "LET'S GO SIN!"      "LET'S GO SIN!"





"LET'S GO SIN!"      "LET'S GO SIN!"      "LET'S GO SIN!"





"LET'S GO SIN!"      "LET'S GO SIN!"      "LET'S GO SIN!"]

CL: The crowd is WILLING Sinister to his feet, trying to give him a
lift!

FH: He's gonna need more than a lift after the amount of blood he's
lost. Maybe like a five hour energy or something.

[Feeding off the crowd, Sinister rolls to his stomach and places both
hands in pushup position, and verrryyyy slowly forces himself to his
knees, then to one... and with a pained grunt, he stands up and raises
one hand into the air! BIG POP!]

CL: Sinister's alive, he's still got some fight in him! And Spectre is
still laid out!

FH: He might be playing possum, or... whatever animal corresponds in
whatever sick dimension he resides.

CL: Sinister bends down and grabs a handful of dreadlock, and with a
wince he slides Spectre back into the ring.

[As fast as he can, the Chi-Town Beast follows into the ring and
stands up near the chair he threw in. Sin grabs the chair and opens it
up, setting it down in the center of the ring, and then kicks a rising
Spectre in the gut...]

CL: Spectre's up but doubled over, Sinister now walks into a standing
headscissors... does he have the strength? Has he lost too much blood
to take advantage?!

[Negative.]

CL: HE'S GOT HIM UP! POWERBOMB, HERE WE GO!





"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASHHHHH!!!"





[HUGE FACE POP!]





CL: DIVING POWERBOMB, _THROUGH_ THE CHAIR! ALL 275 POUNDS OF SPECTRE
HAS FLATTENED THAT CHAIR OUT! SIN FALLS INTO A COVER!











ONE!


















TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!



























THR- NO! SPECTRE WRIGGLES OUT! THE CROWD CAN'T BELIEVE IT, AND NEITHER
CAN SENOR CLOAK DOS!

[The referee puts his hands to his head in disbelief, as the crowd
cheers with appreciation. Sinister rolls off of Spectre and goes to
one side, and the camera zooms in on the half dozen thumbtacks still
stuck into Sinister's shirt and body.]

CL: Look at the wear and tear all over the body of Sinister, look at
the toll this has taken on his body! But the Chi-Town Beast is still
fighting on-

FH: As is Spectre, Chip. Let's be unbiased here. He's still got tacks
stuck in both of his arms!

CL: Why on Earth would you start being unbiased now, Fred? That's like
a donkey turning into a jet ski.

[Sinister rolls to his feet and then drops back down, rolling out of
the ring and walking around the ringside area... and stopping at the
ringsteps. The crowd cheers as Sin kicks the steps out of place, and
again, and with a great grunt of effort the Chi-Town Beast reaches
down and picks up the metal stairs, and chucks them OVER the ropes
into the ring!]

CL: If it's possible, Sinister has taken this match to another level!
Those metal stairs weigh a lot, Fred, and they sure as hell have no
give to them.

FH: And Sinister is still looking for something, Lester, he's finally
gotten into Spectre's frame of mind!

CL: That's a scary place to be, I'll tell you what.

[The locker room leader continues moving around ringside and picks up
the bag of tacks Spectre produced earlier. The bag is still half full
and still is bulging with tacks, and as Sinister slides in he
continues right to his feet and winds it back...






"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"





...and busts the bag over Spectre's head! HARDCORE POP!]

CL: That bag of tacks just sprung a leak, and the ring is COVERED in
them! And a right hand from Sin floors Spectre, right in the tacks!
Here's a cover!

[Sinister makes sure to get a little air on the pin cover, just to dig
the tacks in more, and hooks a leg as SCD finds a place in the ring to
count without slamming his hand in tacks...]

CL: ONE!!!!



























TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

































THR- FOOT ON THE ROPES!

FH: Does that count in a match like this?!

CL: I guess so, although I'm not sure why. Either way, Spectre pulls a
page out of Gibson Hayes' playbook and gets his foot on the ropes, and
this match continues!

[Sinister is strangely unperturbed by this development, and merely
rolls to his feet, not even paying attention to the tacks. A stomp to
Spectre keeps him where he is, and with one more grunt Sinister picks
the stairs up...



...and drop the steps on the dreadlocks of the NYC brawler, trapping
him by the hair! Spectre thrashes initially, trying to get away, but
obviously the steps have temporarily impeded his movement! The crowd
ERUPTS at this, and take it a decibel higher when Sinister picks up
the leg of the chair that broke previously.]

FH: He doesn't have it in him, he doesn't have the balls!

CL: Sinister has Spectre dead to rights, and he's got the leg of that
broken chair.

[Sinister holds the leg of the chair at his side and merely points a
finger at his trapped opponent... and then unleashes hell.]



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


[POP!]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


[POP!]


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


[Using the broken chair leg, Sinister assaults the stomach of Spectre,
driving it over and over and over again into the midsection of the
madman, drawing blood and removing skin. Etched on Spectre's face,
along with more than a few streaks of dried blood, is a creepy smile,
as in some weird way he's enjoying the proceedings.]

CL: This is sick, this doesn't make sense! Spectre's stomach is torn
to shreds, and the more he gets hit the more he smiles!

[The Chi-Town Beast drops the chair leg and drops to a knee, not
thinking twice about kneeling in the thumbtacks and ramming sharp
right hands into the side of Spectre's face. Spectre twists and turns
with each shot, trying in vain to free himself from the stairs, hands
all over the place, trying to grab onto something for help.]

FH: Spectre is wearing down, I don't know how much more he can take!

CL: I'm surprised either of these two are still conscious, but that
might be a thing of the past soon enough! Every movement is pained,
and quite frankly not as crisp as it was at the start of the match.

FH: You try getting suplexed into thumbtacks, Lester, see how well
you're doing YOUR job afterward!

[With Sinister at point blank range, Spectre draws on his baser
instincts and hawks a loogie of blood right into Sin's face! The crowd
collectively says "EWWWWWWWWWWW" as Sin falls back and gets the
disgusting spittle off his face, giving Spectre a chance to roll back
and forth, and beat the stairs with forearms, dislodging the steps
from his hair at the cost of a few strands of hair.]

CL: Spectre is free! Sinister is trying to scrape that glob of blood
off of his face and Spectre- bends backdown, what is he?!

[Spectre strides forward and scores with what can best be described as
a thumbtack assisted palm strike!]

CL: OH! OHMYGOD! SINISTER HAS TACKS STUCK INTO HIS FACE AND CHEEK! OH
MY GOD!

[The Chi-Town Beast lets out a very unbeastly cry as he claws at his
face and the crowd screams in shock, as the Spectre calmly climbs up
on the stairs. Sinister turns around, right into the goth grappler,
who grabs Sin by the head and pulls him up onto the stairs. The crowd
is in a frenzy as Spectre deposits a knee to the midsection...]

CL: NO! NO DON'T TELL ME!

FH: Spectre has him up!









"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDD!!!!"








[MASSIVE HEEL POP!]

CL: REBIRTH _INTO_ THE THUMBTACKS! COVER!

FH: Count it Cloak, do your job!

[Spectre slides into a cover and looks at Senor Cloak Dos, who slides
into good position and counts...]

CL: ONE!!!!!!!!!!!


































TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




[Cloak pauses at the top of his third count, making sure both
shoulders are down...]

































THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!


*DING*DING*DING*


[Senor Cloak Dos dejectedly points to the time keeper to ring the
bell, and then nods at Herk Douglas.]


CL: This was brutal! This was a damn bloody massacre!

FH: And Spectre comes out on top, like he said he would! And it was
_all_ legal!


[Cross to Herk Douglas.]


HD: Your winner of the match... THE
SPEEEEEEEEECTTRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!


[Still on his back, Spectre raises one finger in the air as Herk
continues...]


HD: And because of his victory, that means Sinister will be forced to
enter the Shattered Dreams Rumble at number one!

[BOOOOOOOOOOO!]

FH: HAHA!  I love it!  Look at Senor Cloak Dos.  You can tell he knows
that he didn't just put Sinister in a bad spot, but he put HIMSELF in
a bad spot.

CL: Senor Cloak Dos _HAD_ to call things down the line.  It's what a
true hero does.  Sinister will understand, but it's going to be a hard
road for both Big Daddy Sin and Senor Cloak Dos now.

[And...out go the lights.]

FH: I hate this. More than you know.

CL: Scared of the dark?

[The screen lights up with one word: Sinister]

Voice: Sinister...wow. There was a time that your name meant
something. A time when it was synonymous with a champion. A man to be
feared. And now look at you...beaten.

[The word Sinister fades out and is replaced by a variety of still
images of Sinister being jumped, attacked and the like.]

Voice: I would claim that I don't know what happened. And that would
make me a liar, Big Sin. I know exactly what happened to you. It's the
same thing that happened to this entire roster. Laziness. This place
is contaminated with complacency, a workforce that is no longer driven
to be great.

Voice: It sickens me. And it sickens me even more that it doesn't
sicken you, Beast from the East.

CL: Is this guy nuts?

FH: He's lost his mind. Calling out an entire lockerroom's work
ethic...I'd only do that drunk.

CL: Are you drunk now?

FH: Pass.

Voice: Maybe my message has been unclear. I am not the long lost hero
that will vanquish the likes of whatever two-bit, run of the mill
nogoodnik passes as feared here now. And I am not here to destroy the
epic, larger-than-life good guy who gives little Timmy and Diana hats
or glasses and blows kisses...I am here...to save...them...

[A spotlight immediately lights up and begins to circulate through the
crowd. A face pop begins to grow as the fans realize this voice is
talking about them.]

Voice: Save them...from the likes of you, Sinister.

[And that cuts the face pop in half.]

Voice: And it starts at Shattered Dreams. You are entering that match
first, Sinister. This much was made known seconds ago. And so, I've
decided to do you a favor...you will enter first. I will enter second.

[POP!!!!]

Voice: You will stand across from the Lord of the Ring and you will
bring your "A" game because you know you will need it. We will not
eliminate each other...no, we are far too talented to go out that
quickly. But something greater will happen in that short time we are
together, Big Sin. Something that hasn't happened in years. These
people, they will stand in awe during a match involving Sinister.

[The screen changes again]

At Shattered Dreams...he returns.

[Return of the lights]

CL: Whoa ... A message sent to not only Sinister but ALL of PVW.

FH: The guy can't be that bright.  He just openly placed himself as
the SECOND entrant to the Rumble.

CL: He has a point to prove and it appears Sinister is now his target.

[EMT's have already made their way out.  They along with Senor Cloak
Dos bend over tending to Sinister.]

CL: Spectre has already made his way to the back.  We can only assume
what wrestling's devil will have to say about this.

FH: He warned Sinister ... He warned Senor Cloak Dos.  Maybe next time
they will listen.

CL: While the ring area gets cleared ... We here at PVW would like to
thank you all for the loyalty and support over the past four years.
Tonight has been a historic night of celebration.  We have seen a
night of decisive and amazing wrestling.  While, we still have one
HUGE match still to come ... We just want to say ... Thank you.

FH: You are a softy, Chip.  These fans are lucky they have the PVW to
escape from their pathetic lives.  Men like Spectre, Christopher
Black, and Gibson Hayes give them entertainment each and every show.

CL: Shattered Dreams is starting to take shape.  Earlier tonight it
was announced that Max and Sal would be defending the PVW Tag Team
Titles against, The Berserkers.

FH: I still think Lineage or The Heat are more deserving.

CL: Moments ago we found out that Sinister will be the #1 entrant in
the Shattered Dreams 30 man Sin City Rumble.  The man who has been
bringing a series of plagues to the PVW will be the #2 entrant.

FH: If we are lucky, Senor Cloak Dos will draw #3.

CL: Anyone could get what is now the dreaded #3 drawing ... He could
also end up #30.  However, while the ring is being set up for the
anticipated contract signing between two of PVW's biggest stars ... We
have a special surprise for you all!

FH: I don't like surprises, Chip.

CL: You will like this one.

[Camera fades ... To PVW logo and it explodes to early highlights back
in 2008.  Superstars like Rob Cole, Chase Williams, Caleb Foley, Rick
Marley, William Craven, Outlaw, Chris Hartt, Wild Cards, and many more
...]

V/O: For Four Years ... The PVW has built it's foundation of fan
loyalty from the ground up.  Bringing in the best wrestlers ...
putting on the best matches.

[Cut to what is called the second generation of stars - Larry Gionet,
Doc Holiday, Gibson Hayes, Marcus Manson, Alex Martinez, Jason
Keening, Brian Young, Max and Sal, Perry Fontana, and many more ...]

V/O: Superstars have come and gone ...  Changes from corporate backing
to global expansion ...

[Fade to wrestlers of today - Berserkers, Supreme Wright, Kevin
Quartermann, Heath Dawson, Adrian Freeman, Senor Cloak Dos, Derek
Weaver, Lineage, Legacy, and so many more ...]

V/O: One thing has stayed the same ... The PVW superstars have given
four years of EPIC matches ... Matches that rate up there with some of
the best the wrestling world has ever seen.

We bring to you ...

PVW: 4 Years of the Phoenix

[Split screen: DVD Set case ... On the other side is a run down of
some of the matches on the DVD.  Spectre v. Cole: Strap Match, von
Donkerhardt v. Hayes: Cage Match, Cole v. Williams: World Title Match,
Senor Cloak Dos v. Christopher Black, Williams v. Foley, Title Match,
War Games, and many more!]

CL: Whoa ... PVW's latest DVD release and this might be the grand
daddy of them all!  Where can you find a DVD set with the best matches
of the last four years in professional wrestling?

FH: No doubt about it ... and it's just flooded with _ME_, Fred Hoyle!

CL: I can't wait for that to be released in stores world wide!  Okay,
folks it's the time a lot of us have been waiting for.  Preston
Winfield has been joined in the ring and we are ready to make the Main
Event at Shattered Dreams!

[Cut to the ring where a table and two chairs are set up.  Preston
Winfield, with a clipboard in one hand and a microphone in the other,
smiles towards the crowd. Standing in the ring already are Gibson
Hayes (dressed in his navy blue suit, red tie and white shirt. With
him is Bubba Hayes (in his mocha suit with the sleeves cut off) and
Todd Johnstone (in a asphalt black suit with roadkill red tie).]

PW:  Ladies and gentlemen, at Shattered Dreams, the 2011 Called Shot
winner Johnny Detson will battle for the World Championship currently
held by Gibson Hayes!

[Preston holds up the clipboard to the crowd.]

PW:  I have here the contract for the World Title match at Shattered
Dreams which will be signed here tonight!

[The crowd cheers the announce.]

PW:  Now if I could -

Todd:  Hold on there, kiddo. You know as well as I do that this whole
little finger bang is merely ceremonial. Detson already has his damned
shot guaranteed and Gibson has no choice so why are you salivating to
pander to these plebeians out in the audience!

PW:  ---

Todd:  Shut it, Putter and wipe that slop off your chin, you schlub.

CL: Hey now!  That's no way to talk to a PVW Executive ...

FH: Chill, Chip!  You have always been a little over protective of
Preston.  Let the man who holds ALL the power in the PVW speak!

["Fake it" by Seether cuts the duo off as Johnny Detson makes his way
out to the entrance ramp.  Detson is wearing blue jean and a black
hooded sweatshirt and has a microphone in hand.]

CL: You were saying?

Detson:  Nervous guys?  Having attorneys read over the fine print to
see if I'm right?  You know I am.  You know that if even with Gibson
signing, he could lose the match and not be in it at all.  Are you
that scared of losing your belt between now and then that you have to
grandstand over an essential done deal?

[Gibby nods his head and tugs at his wireless microphone.]

GH: You, talking about grandstanding - that's rich. Who came out with
little fanfare and wanting to get business done? Sure wasn't you, but
despite your little show for the wallets in attendance you can be
right sometimes and Johnny...

[Gibson nods his head.]

GH: Johnny, you're right - I may not be World Champion by Shattered
Dreams. I still have one defense left but you and I both know this
contract is already set - I just didn't want to give Canada the
satisfaction of having both a Gibson Hayes match and this news.

[Detson stares at Gibson for a moment and then simply shrugs his
shoulders.]

Detson:  Sorry I forgot, American hero.  Bright and better future,
it's morning again, read my lips kind of guy made up of iconic
American lore.  You're nervous Gibson, and its pathetic.  I mean it's
me, only me Gibson.  The failure, the choker, the never was... the
afterthought.

[Detson starts to walk down to the ramp.  Only a little, only a few
feet before stopping.]

Detson:  I'm all those things, you said so yourself.  Maybe I am.
Maybe I am.  Maybe not, but maybe so.  But why are you so nervous over
an afterthought?  Why, if I'm wasting my time because I'm doomed to
fail, are you concerned?  It stands to reason that --

[A shake of the head from Gibson.]

GH: What stands to reason, Johnny, is that every time you've been in
this situation you've crumbled. You sold your soul for victory, to the
man you most hated. And when you did reach the top you showed that you
easily crumble under boot and boot heel. Why put yourself through this
again? Why have people remember you for coming up short instead of
being the #2 man - the position you are so well suited?

[Detson wanders closer to the ring down the ramp.]

Detson:  You want a witty rebuttal right?  Go back and forth, until
we're both out of breath?  There was a time Gibson, there was, when I
would have been happy to.  Excuses, delays, reasons... I had plenty.

[Detson looks down at the floor and then back to the ring.]

Detson:  But you're right.  No, no you are, I am all of those things.
ALL OF THEM!  I am everything you've insulted me with, I am those
things that you say but have no knowledge of...  Which is why I can't
accept your offer, which is why I need to prove this... prove I
belong, here, NOW!  To show that I have let others, including YOU,

[Detson points up at Gibson.]

Detson:  Stand in my rightful place.  You may not understand, but you
will know.  Come Shattered Dreams, I will PROVE that like our first
match and our second you can't beat me!  Sure you can get disqualified
and you probably can run away.  But you haven't, and you won't, beat
me!

[Scowling, Gibson spits out the next few words.]

GH: Fine! You have something to prove? Let's prove it: you, me, 2 out
of 3.

[WHOA POP!]

CL: Did Gibson just say?

[Gibson turns his back away from Detson.]

GH: No flukes for you. I don't think you have it in you to beat me
twice. Once? You've shown you can do that but twice? No, Johnny, you
don't have it in you to do that -

[Gibson turns and comes face to face with Detson who is now in the
ring.  Nose to nose they stand just glaring at each other until slowly
Detson raises his mic.]

Detson: ...

[Detson lowers his mic and continues to stare at Gibson.  Finally
Detson just nods his head in agreement, drops his mic to the canvas
and Detson rolls out of the ring and begins to make his way back to
the backstage area.]

CL: JOHNNY DETSON JUST ACCEPTED!  TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS .. SHATTERED
DREAMS KEEPS GETTING BIGGER!

FH: Gibson Hayes is a master at the game.  He knows how bad Johnny
Detson _wants_ this.  Forcing Detson to beat him not just once, but
twice is genius.  Now, we know why things have been so quiet from Todd
Johnstone here tonight ... Brilliant!

[The fans roar in boo's as the PVW World Champion and the General of
HOPE roll to the outside and the PVW ring screw scurry back inside the
ring and begin to remove the contract signing set they just set up
moments ago.]

CL: We now know three matches scheduled for Las Vegas.  The 30 man
Rumble, Berserkers take on Max and Sal, and Johnny Detson challenges
Gibson Hayes for the PVW World Title in two out of three falls!

FH: A night that only Las Vegas can handle!

CL: We are down to our final match of the night.  _Two_ titles will be
up for grabs.  The PVW American Championship will be hung above the
ring.  It will take a ladder to reach it.  The man who unhooks it will
become the PVW American Champion!

FH: Or retain it!

CL: Below a normal seven man scramble will be going on with the same
seven men trying to work their way up that ladder ...  Pinfalls and
submissions will be going on and legal.  The man who has the final
pinfall and submission when the American title is unhooked will be
called the PVW TV Champion.

FH: Or retain it.

[The Saddledome is on edge, as the camera focuses on the ten pounds of
gold that is the Phoenix Valley Wrestling American title hanging
fifteen feet about the ring, attached at two points to a metal harness
that hangs from the ceiling of the arena!]

HD: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest...is our MAIN EVENT!
And...it will be contested under DOUBLE TITLE, DOUBLE JEOPARDY RULES!

["Impending Main Event" pop from the PVW faithful!]

HD: This match will be contested under Championship Scramble rules.
At any given point during the matchup, any participant in this matchup
who gains a pinfall or a submission over one of their opponents will
be considered the interim Television Champion, until such time as
another participant gains a pinfall or a submission.  At the
conclusion of this matchup, whoever is the interim champion at that
time will be crowned the PVW Television champion!  And this match WILL
conclude when someone obtains the PVW American title, currently
hanging above the ring!

["Thanks For The Rules" pop...that quick turns into a "hey, the lights
in the Saddledome are out" pop!]

# Step into a world #
# Where there's no one left #
# But the very best #
# No MC can test #

["Step into a World (Rapture's Delight)" by KRS-One, the backbeat
behind the haunting words of Debbie Harry, begins to play!  As the
song kicks into high gear, a figure steps through the entrance,
eliciting a "hey, we know you" reaction from Calgary!  Clad in a long-
sleeved, ankle-length black coat with red lining that is closed at his
chest, flaring out with ragged ends, Supreme Wright has a rather
intense look on his face, not so much as hinting at a smile. He
doesn't really acknowledge the crowd, but does blindly slap a few
outstretched hands on his way to the ring, as he bobs his head to the
music, hopping around and throwing shadow punches to loosen up.
However, through all this, his eyes remain completely focused on the
wrestling ring]

HD: Introducing first!  Hailing from Sherwood Forest, Baton Rouge,
Louisiana...weighing 225 pounds...SUPREME WRIIIIIIIIIIGHTTTT!!!!

[Wright enters the ring and proceeds to remove his coat, revealing a
lanky, but powerful build, with extremely well-defined musculature,
cutting an impressive figure. He wears MMA-style shorts, half-army
camouflage/half adorned with an airbrushed image of a dragon clawing
its way out from the fabric. Wright's hair is pulled back into
cornrows snaking into an intricate "S"-shape design and his arms and
chest are covered in various tattoos. Wearing MMA fight gloves on his
hands and amateur-style wrestling shoes. There's no doubt to his
demeanor...he's ready for battle]

CL: Earlier tonight, we saw an unlikely alliance made, as Supreme
Wright had ANOTHER obstacle put in his path in his quest for a match
with Adrian Freeman!  Now, Wright has to walk Freeman walk out of here
with one of the two PVW championships that are on the line!

[As the lights come back up, and Freeman warms up in one of the
corners, throwing some quick shadow punches, the moody Latin changing
of "Ebla" by E.S. Posthumus fills the Saddledome]

ESP: #Patermusa regen ergo mit entricto mi la fra trysil#

[The last word fades into for a few seconds, before the low-key
synthesizer and poundy drums kick in.   The crowd turns to face the
entranceway, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the mountain
that soon parts the curtains and steps into the aisleway.  A bit more
cheering than normal greets the large young German man who gazes
across the Canadian crowd with a stern, neutral stare.  This is "Der
Kreuzritter" Erich Seiger, wearing a one-piece red singlet and a pair
of black boots]

HD: Introducing next!  From Baden-Baden, Germany!  Weighing in tonight
at 325 pounds, and accompanied to the ring by Dallas Lawson..."DER
KREUZRITTER"...ERICH SEEEEEEEEEEEIGER!

[As opposed to the look of determination on the young man's face, that
of his manager, local Phoenix resident Dallas Lawson, is one of
excitement.  Leaning on her silver cane, she leads the way, limping
slightly as she heads towards the ring, her charge walking behind her.
Seiger's arms hang at his sides, moving slightly as he walks, ignoring
the crowd reaching out to touch the monument to humanity.  With the
lights on, the camera focuses on the black metal ladder that sits in
the middle of the aisle way, standing nearly twelve feet tall as it
stands, wide open.

At ringside, Seiger lifts Lawson up by her hips, depositing her on the
apron before climbing up himself.  He follows her into the ring after
holding the ropes, giving the referee...and Supreme Wright, who shows
no reaction...a firm nod before heading to a neutral corner.  There,
he stands, arms crossed, eyes forward, focused solely on the match at
hand, only responding quietly to Lawson's halting, passable German as
she gives some last minute instructions]

FH: Now, this guy has no place in this matchup.  Big, yeah, strong,
yeah, but a contender for two of the most prestigious belts in this
industry?

CL: You don't think Seiger has any chance in this match, Frank?

FH: Let me put it this way.  Compared to the talent the other six guys
has?  Erich Seiger is as unlikely to win this matchup as Tim Tebow is
to get a Super Bowl ring.

[As Seiger stands, motionless, the lights go down again, replaced by a
blue wash that settles over the red shirt wearing Calgary crowd.  A
thin silhouette stands at the entrance way, standing out against the
blue light]

HD: Hailing from Sydney, Australia!  Weighing 200 pounds...here
is...AAAAAAAAAAAAAADRIAN FREEEEEEEEEEEEEMAN!

Nothing happens for a moment, but the audience's noise, a loud series
of jeers, doesn't start to die down when the opening chords of "Try
Honesty" by Billy Talent begin to play. The bluewash changes to
regular lightning and as smoke billows behind him, Adrian Freeman runs
out, jogging down the aisle way towards the ring. As the fans boo and
jeer, Adrian takes a moment to return the sneer.  As he reaches the
ladder, Freeman steps around it, continuing his jog and sliding into
the ring.  He pays Seiger no mind, instead walking up to Supreme
Wright.  Wright ignores him as Freeman leans back against the ropes,
stretching out against them]

CL: A wild card in this matchup, thanks to this sudden and unlikely
partnership that Freeman has made with Wright...

[As "Painkiller" by the Freestylers with Pendulum cues up over the
loudspeakers, the PVW faithful erupts into vicious jeers and boos]

FH: And here comes the bad guy!

[The Bad Wolf himself, Christopher Black stalks out, predator's grin
plastered wide across his face as he savors the crowd's vehement
displeasure of him with each passing step.  In contrast, following
behind him is his financial advisor Jacob Rose, whose solemn
expression befits more for a funeral than a wrestling match.]

HD: From Lancaster, England!  Weighing 203 pounds, and being
accompanied by Jacob Rose...the BAD
WOLF...CHRISTOPHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR BLAAAAAAAAACK!

CL:  How can any man actually enjoy being hated this much?  I know
they call the Spectre "Wrestling's Devil", but Christopher Black is a
walking blasphemy as far as I'm concerned!

FH:  Black's the future of this sport, Chip.  And tonight, he's got
the best chance of walking out with both the Television AND American
belts!  He's already proven Seiger's no match for him, Wright's
hamstrung by that stupid vow and as for Chris Hartt?  He couldn't take
down the Bad Wolf even if he had Liam Neeson and a bunch of broken
bottles by his side!

CL:  So, you're already writing off Uncle Frank and Herscher von
Donkerhardt?  I'm sure Todd Johnstone will love to hear that from you,
Fred!  And I'm sure Adrian Freeman would be interested too...

FH:  I, uh, well...LOOK, CANADIANS!

CL:  You missed your calling as a politician, Fred.  You flip-flop so
often, I'm surprised you don't have permanent whiplash!

FH: Hey, do I LOOK like a governor of Massachusetts?  Sometimes, your
words hurt me.

CL: Oh, give me a break.

[Black pulls himself up onto the ring apron, stepping between the
ropes.  As he does so, Dallas Lawson gives Seiger some last minute
instructions before stepping out herself, walking down the ring steps.
Black pays her no mind, picking the third neutral corner and leaning
back against the turnbuckles, that grin plastered to his face as the
crowd boos him...

...boos that turn to cheers as "Unbreakable" by Firelight yells out
over the speakers!]

HD: Next!  From Minneapolis, Minnesota!  Weighing in at 245
pounds...he is "The Paladin"...CHRIS...HARRRRRRRRRT!

[As the video screen of past matches and victories play in time with
the music on the Phoenix-Tron, "The Paladin" Chris Hartt jogs down the
aisle way!  No one in the ring pays him any mind as he greets the fans
on his way to the ring.  The fourth neutral corner becomes occupied as
Hartt slides in, and immediately mounts the turnbuckle, holding his
arms out in a cross gesture for the Calgary crowd to applaud wildly!]

FH: Ugh.  THIS guy.  After Seiger, this goody two shoes is my second
'least likely' to bring home any gold.

CL: Who's your first pick?

FH: Frank and HVD are tied.

CL: Of course.

["Unbreakable" fades...but the atmosphere takes on a bit of an edge as
a happy, go lucky voice reminding some people of a big, plush,
huggable purple dinosaur and others of a pulsating Eldritch horror
comes from the PA system]

PA: "Hey Calgary...Alberta, Canada!  Do you know what time it is?"

[A chorus of bright, shiny, Children-of-the-Corn-esque kids gives the
response]

ACOBSCOTCEK:  IT'S UNCLE FRANK'S FAMILY FUN TIME!

[This disturbingly cheerful announcement from the PA system is
followed by an unpleasant chuckle, the kind that you hear right before
the guy at the bar punches your buddy's face in.  And from there, it
segues immediately into the familiar voice of Roger Daltry]

# No one 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!  From Chicago, Illinois, and weighing
tonight in at a cheerful 250 lbs...he is your friend AND mine!  The
happiest man in all of wrestling, and the Phoenix Valley Wrestling
Television champion!  This is the man known to children and adults
around the world as...UNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNCLE FRANK!

[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,
as if realizing where he is and what he's about to do, a wide,
disturbing grin slowly spreads across his face.  For once, the PVW
Television title is NOT around his waist, instead already resting at
ringside on the timekeeper's table .  The fans around him...some cheer
him.  Some boo him.  All of them get the wide smile from Frank, and it
makes them cringe a little bit, backing off their cheers and jeers]

CL: Frank with fresh medical tape on his nose...this is the second
time he's wrestled this evening, and he's been VERY lucky that there
hasn't been any permanent structural damage done to his nasal cavities
yet this evening!

[Stalking down towards the ring, that psychotic grin never wavers from
Frank's face as he looks from side to side at the fans easing back
from the ringside barrier.  Sliding into the ring under the bottom
rope he then takes a seat right in the middle of the ring, still
grinning from ear to ear and staring unblinkingly straight up with a
manic look in his eyes.  He seems to pay no attention to any of the
other competitors, just at the title belt, the shiny, shiny belt,
slowly swinging overhead.

Over the PA blares "I Remember."  The audience reaction immediately
turns negative, realizing who the music is for]

HD: And finally!  Hailing from Utrecht, in the Netherlands!  Weighing
in at 223 pounds, he is the self proclaimed "Best Technical Wrestler
in the World Today," and is also the current Phoenix Valley Wrestling
American champion...here
is...HERSCHERRRRRRR...VONNNNNNN....DONKERHARDT!

[Donkerhardt appears in the entrance way, with Todd Johnstone at his
side.  Without the title belt over his shoulder, HVD appears almost
naked as he stalks down the aisle, showered with boos and a few
unpleasant comments from the Canadian crowd as they boo this once fan-
favorite!]

FH: This match is a great injustice to both champions but in
particularly our American Champion, von Donkerhardt. He can lose his
title without really being involved in the match. The scales of
justice in PVW are tipped in favor of everyone but HOPE.

CL: Since when has HOPE ever cared about justice? Where was the
justice when Weaver interfered in Herscher's match and cost Fontana
the title?

[Donkerhardt slides into the ring, and takes up a spot on the ropes
between Hartt's corner and Black's corner.  He pays no man either
mind, instead listening to Todd Johnstone giving out some last minute
advice to the Dutchman]

CL: Max Kelly will be refereeing this matchup.

FH: Poor bastard.

[As Kelly makes the final checks before calling for the bell, the
seven men standing in the ring are all looking up at the PVW American
title.  The golden belt hangs fifteen feet above the canvas, turning
slightly on its hook.  The capacity crowd filling the
Saddledome...each of them is giving their full attention to the events
in the ring, waiting with baited breath for the bell to ring and the
seven PVW superstars inside to go at it!]



*****************************************
P     DOUBLE TIlE: DOUBLE JEPORDY       T
V            SEVEN MEN                  V
W       AMERICAN & TV TITLES           II
*****************************************


CL: This building has seen the Flames win a Stanley Cup and the
Roughnecks win two National Lacrosse League titles.  And tonight,
there's a good chance they could see TWO PVW titles change hands!

FH: Wait...lacrosse is a national sport up here?  Man, Canada is
WEIRD.

[Kelly takes one final look around the ring...on the outside, Todd
Johnstone shouts to Donkerhardt, telling him that belt is still
as good as his.  Jacob Rose stands at the feet of his charge, a
nervous look on his face as always.  Dallas Lawson stares up at her
rookie, determination on her features...

...Christopher Black, gripping the ropes in one corner even as he
leans forward...

...Adrian Freeman, bouncing on both feet...

...Uncle Frank rubbing his chin, a small smile on his face and gold on
his brain as he looks up...

...Chris Hartt shaking his hands at his sides...

...Supreme Wright pulling on the ropes as he flexes his knees...

...Erich Seiger simply staring, motionless...

...and Donkerhardt cracking his knuckles, thoughts of retention
dancing in his head]

CL: And...Kelly calls for the bell!  AND SEIGER GOES RIGHT FOR BLACK!

[Even as the echo of the bell is lost in the confines of the
Saddledome, the seven footer ROARS out of his corner, heading straight
for the Bad Wolf!  Black, however, does the same thing at the sound of
bell, and the two competitors meet head-on in the middle of the ring
to the approval of the Calgary faithful!]

CL: Seiger with a right hand, and Black responds with one of his own!
Seiger isn't fazed however, and fires one right back!  And Black just
takes it before rocking Seiger with an uppercut!

FH: Seiger lost to Black last time on Heatwave, and it looks like the
big oaf is angling for history to repeat itself!

[The other five men simply watch as the biggest man in the match and
one of the smallest wail on each other for a few seconds...until one
of them decides to get involved!]

CL: And here comes Chris Hartt...ROLL-UP FROM BEHIND BY ADRIAN
FREEMAN!



ONE!



TWO!



And Hartt rolls away!  And now we have Chris Hartt and Adrian Freeman
going at it as Freeman tries to pin Hartt against the ropes!

FH: Now that was brilliant by Freeman, and it almost paid off!

[As for the other three men, Supreme Wright looks over at the American
champion...and both men, after a small nod, head right for one
another!]

CL: Erich Seiger has forced Christopher Black into a corner, and that
leaves the middle of the ring free for Wright and Herscher von
Donkerhardt to go at it!

FH:  Hartt has wrestled Freeman to a corner as well, and proceeds to
work him over, starting with an elbow to the face!

[Wright goes for the lock-up with the technical wizard from
Holland...but Donkerhardt strikes first with a thumb to the eye!  As
Wright instinctively clutches at his face, Donkerhardt grabs him by
the wrist and sends him for a ride to the corner...]

CL: Uncle Frank with a massive lariat!  Herscher von Donkerhardt
whipped Supreme Wright directly into Uncle Frank, and the Television
champion sends him down to the canvas!

[As Wright lays on the canvas, the two members of HOPE begin to set
the boots to him.  In one corner, Christopher Black has managed to get
the advantage on Erich Seiger, and, holding onto the top rope, lays a
series of strikes across the upper torso of the big man!]

CL: Black now trying to pull Seiger out of the corner...but Seiger
holds on to the top rope, refusing to budge!  Black tries again...and
the German isn't moving!

FH: He better, because he has incoming!

[Chris Hartt, after softening up Adrian Freeman, sets up an Irish
Whip, and hurls Freeman out of the corner and across the ring towards
Seiger and Black!]

CL: Black dives out of the way at the last minute, and Freeman SLAMS
into Seiger...and Hartt with an Avalanche, pinning Freeman between
himself and Seiger!  Freeman to the canvas...and Hartt with a cover!



ONE!



TWO!



And Freeman kicks out at two!

[Black, having moved away from the ensuing collision, looks back over
his shoulder at the ensuing carnage...but when he looks away, focusing
on his next challenge...]

UF: Hi, Chris!

[...it's standing right in front of him, as Uncle Frank smashes Black
in the nose with a right hand!]

CL: Black is staggered, and Frank following up with a kick to the
thigh of Black!

[Black staggers, one hand holding onto the ropes, as Frank winds up
and kicks Black in the leg for a second time!]

CL: Uncle Frank going after the leg of Christopher Black as now he
sweeps it out from under Black...but Black rolls outside of the ring
before Frank can inflict anymore damage!

FH: And at the center of the ring, the American champion is taking a
different approach, as he puts Supreme Wright in a hammerlock!

[Donkerhardt wrenches up on Wright's arm, but Wright immediately
counters, going underneath Donkerhadt's arm and reversing the hold
into one of his own!  Donkerhardt grimaces in pain, but his counter
comes quickly as well, dropping to one knee, flipping Wright over, and
putting him in an armbar.  Wright counters again with a roll through,
kipping back to his feet, and putting Donkerhardt in an armbar of his
own!  Donkerhardt pushes Wright to the ropes, however...and an Irish
Whip to the ropes...]

CL: SEIGER WITH A DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!  As Wright and Donkerhardt were
about to collide, Erich Seiger out of the corner like a freight train
and levels both men!

FH: And here comes Hartt to help out!

[With the aid of the Paladin, it's Herscher von Donkerhardt who's
pulled to his feet.  Pushing him to the ropes, Seiger and Hartt send
Donkerhardt for a ride...]

CL: BIG back body drop by Seiger...AND HARTT DROP KICKS THE AMERICAN
CHAMPION ON THE WAY DOWN!  Incredible double team move by the pair,
and Hartt covers!



ONE!



TWO!



DONKERHARDT KICKS OUT!

FH: And Seiger just stood there!  Didn't try to break the cover or
anything!

[As Hartt pulls Donkerhardt back to his feet, he's suddenly grabbed
from behind!  Two hands squeeze the sides of Chris Hartt's head as
Uncle Frank pulls him away from his HOPE partner!]

CL: Seiger moving in to help Hartt...but Donkerhardt clips the knee of
Seiger!  Seiger grabs the ropes to stop himself from falling as Uncle
Frank THROWS Hartt down to the mat!

[Donkerhardt, on his feet, kicks Seiger in the back of his leg again,
causing the German to stumble forward.  Only the corner turnbuckle
prevents him from falling.  However, he's stunned enough for
Donkerhardt to take Seiger's arm and slam it, wrist first, against the
top turnbuckle!]

CL: Uncle Frank stomping away on the knee and ankle of Chris Hartt as
his stablemate is working over Seiger's wrist now, bending it
backwards!

FH: Much like a girl on the Red Mile, nature never meant for it to
bend that far back!

CL: And Supreme Wright and Adrian Freeman, this unlikely alliance, are
just sitting back, letting this happen!

FH: Now that's smart!  Why not let HOPE beat up these two idiots?  The
odds still favor HOPE, but it'll give them a decent shot at one of
those two belts as well!

[As the pair simply observes Uncle Frank grabbing Chris Hartt's leg
and grapevining it around his own, Seiger tries to counter the
wristlock, but Donkerhardt pushes back even further.  In response,
Seiger manages to get a hand between him and Donkerhardt and shoves
him backwards, almost all the way to the center of the ring!]

CL: The American champion showing incredible nimbleness as he rolls
back to his feet, and tries to charge Seiger before he can
recover...Seiger moves out of the way!  Donkerhardt hits the
turnbuckle
chest first!

[ *THUD  And the male members of the crowd all wince in unison]

CL: CHRISTOPHER BLACK!  Black reached inside the ring, tripped up
Donkerhardt, and then took both legs and just wishboned Donkherhardt
on the ring post!

[As Black, having taken advantage, walks away, Todd Johnstone, from a
safe distance, sends several very choice words towards the Bad Wolf.
Back in the ring, Chris Hartt currently has a hold of the bottom rope,
and uses the leverage to break the leg grapevine of Uncle Frank,
shoving him away using his free foot!]

CL: Hartt's favoring that leg as Uncle Frank comes back in...SPINNING
HEEL KICK!  Hartt catches Frank square in the jaw, and down goes the
Television champion!

FH: And Hartt's down on one knee, too!  He's keeping one eye on the
fallen Uncle Frank as he rubs his thigh, trying to get the blood
flowing again.

CL: Donkerhardt is still down in the corner...and Christopher Black is
in front of our broadcast table, watching the in-ring action intently.

FH: See how Lawson hobbled out of here once Black came around?  That
broad's a little smarter than I would have imagined.

[In the ring, Erich Seiger has approached Adrian Freeman and Supreme
Wright.  It's a stand-off between the pair and the rookie, all three
men sizing each other up...until Freeman motions towards Seiger, and
tells Wright to "go on, get him!"]

CL: Oh, you have got to be kidding me!  Adrian Freeman telling Supreme
Wright to go tangle with Erich Seiger!

[The look Wright gives Freeman tells the whole story.  At Freeman's
continued urging, Wright snaps his head around, and motions for Seiger
to come at him!]

CL: The brute strength of Erich Seiger is about to meet the grappling
skills of Supreme Wright as they lock up!  And...Seiger shoves Wright
away!

[Wright quickly shakes it off, and calls for another lockup!  Seiger
nods, and the pair lock up again...only for Seiger to shove Wright
down to the mat!  Wright bounces off the mat, quickly back up to a
sitting position, as Seiger simply stares, rubbing his hands together
and waiting for Wright to come back at him!]

CL: Wright moves in...a kick to Seiger's leg!  And that exposes
Seiger's side...Wright with an armbar!  And a kick to Seiger's ribs!
And another!  And another!

[Wright lays a flurry of kicks into the side of Erich Seiger, pulling
on his arm in an attempt to stretch out the muscles!  Seiger bends
over at the assault, exposing his head...]

FH: ADRIAN FREEMAN WITH A DDT!  And he covers!



ONE!



TWO!



And Seiger with a kickout!  Damn it, so close!

CL: Adrian Freeman has been very opportunistic in this match up so
far!  And he's calling for Wright to help pick Seiger back up!

FH: Wright sure as hell taking his time here!

[Freeman barks at Wright, who slowly reaches down to grab Seiger.
Together, they set Seiger against the ropes, and send him for the
ride...]

CL: Seiger ducks a double clothesline...and off the opposite
side...FLYING SHOULDERBLOCK TO ADRIAN FREEMAN!  Freeman goes flying!
Did you see the air Seiger got on that shoulberblock?

FH: Did you see the way Supreme Wright just let Adrian Freeman take
the brunt of that attack!  That's uncalled for!

CL: I believe that's called "dodging," Frank.

[Wright takes a step back at Seiger gets to his feet.  Freeman, down
on the mat from the impact, sees Seiger advance towards him, and rolls
away, ending up on the ring apron!]

CL: Seiger going for Freeman, but Supreme Wright with a forearm smash
to the back of Seiger's head, stopping him cold!

[Wright tries to drag Seiger back to the center of the ring, but
failing to do that, he settles for Irish whipping the German...only
for Seiger to reverse the whip and sending Wright across the ring...]

CL: Seiger goes for the big boot, but Wright grabs the leg...LEG DDT!
Wright reached under Seiger's leg and DDT'd his knee into the canvas!
The big man is finally down!

[On the outside ring apron, kneeling, one arm on the middle rope,
Adrian Freeman nods his approval as Wright grabs one of Seiger's
legs...and he's soon joined by one of his opponents, who grabs the
other leg of the rookie!]

CL: Uncle Frank and Supreme Wright with a pair of single leg
grapevines, and they both fall backwards!  Seiger is writhing in pain
on the mat!

[Seeing his partner begin get the clear upper hand on Seiger, Freeman
begins to get up to climb back into the ring...but a motion at the
very last second catches his attention, and he turns to see the knee
of Christopher Black right before it smashes him right in the face!]

CL: Running knee lift by Christopher Black!  And Freeman falls to the
floor!

[Black lands on the mat, leaving a stunned Adrian Freeman on the
ground behind him!  A few of the nearby fans at ringside send a chorus
of boos towards the Bad Wolf, even as Jacob Rose quietly mouths "nice
move, sir."]

FH: You said Freeman's the one being opportunistic?  Say hello to
Christopher Black!

[Black walks away from the scene of the crime, his job done.  Back in
the ring, Uncle Frank and Supreme Wright are celebrating their
unlikely alliance by trying to rip Erich Seiger's legs out of their
sockets!]

FH: You know, Seiger COULD just tap out here.  There is plenty of time
in this match for him to gain a pinfall of his own!

CL: Actually, Frank, since this match is no-disqualification, there's
no guarantee that either man would let go of that submission hold!

FH: Yeah...I wouldn't in their shoes.  Anything to keep Seiger off his
feet...and besides, there's a chance Max Kelly would give the
submission to Supreme Wright, and that wouldn't be fair to Uncle
Frank!

CL: I...ok, I have to hear this.  What's your logic behind that one?

FH: You're going to sit here and tell me Supreme Wright has ANY
knowledge whatsoever about submission wrestling?  Give me a break!

CL: It takes talent to be you sometimes, Frank...CHRIS HARTT!  Chris
Hart with a double fistdrop onto the foreheads of Supreme Wright and
Uncle Frank, and that breaks the hold on Seiger!

[Seiger rolls away, managing to sit up against the ropes, clutching at
his kneecaps, as Chris Hartt reaches down to pin Uncle Frank into
place...]

CL: Standing Leg Drop!  Chris Hartt catches some air and drops his leg
on Frank!  And a cover!



ONE!



TWO!



And Donkerhardt breaks up the pin!  What a move by the American
champion!

FH: Hey, what happens if no one gets a pinfall before HVD pulls down
that American title belt?  Does that mean Frank retains?

CL: I believe that would be the case!

FH: Well, one can only hope.

CL: Ugh.

FH: What...no, I swear, unintended pun!

[Uncle Frank grabs Chris Hartt, Donkerhardt grabs Supreme Wright, and
both men send their opponents to the ropes...and send them down with a
pair of dropkicks!  Todd Johnstone slaps the mat with approval,
cheering his charges on.  On the other side of the ring, Dallas Lawson
has given her man some advice, and using the ropes, Erich Seiger
climbs back into his feet.  Donkerhardt sends Wright into the ropes
again...]

CL: Hiptoss by the American champion...and now a scissor headlock!
HVD traps Wright's head in a deadly submission maneuver!  And he slaps
Wright in the back of the head for added humiliation!

[Wright's first action is to roll a bit to alleviate the pressure, but
the Dutch submission expert has him trapped!  Seiger, meanwhile, has
advanced to the corner, where Chris Hartt is being worked over by
Uncle Frank!]

FH: Seiger daring to put his hands on Uncle Frank...Frank with a right
hand, and that staggers the big German!  And now Frank with a right
hand to Hartt!  Right hand for Seiger...and Frank with a short-arm
Irish whip, sending Seiger into the corner and CRUSHING Hartt at the
same time!

[The air leaves Hartt's lungs at 300 pounds of Teutonic muscle crushes
into him!  Uncle Frank wastes no time in taking advantage!]

CL: Frank hangs Seiger's leg over the middle rope...and does the same
on the opposite rope for Hartt!

FH: Oh, this is gonna be...KICK TO THE BACK OF SEIGER'S KNEE!  THE
SAME FOR HARTT!  Kind of hard to be a Paladin or a Crusader with a
cracked kneecap, boys!

[Uncle Frank grins like...well, a madman!  He steps back, admiring his
handy work as Seiger hobbles out of the corner, Hartt following a
second later.  Frank takes a few more steps back, lining up his shot,
waiting for one of the two men to become vulnerable...]

CL: Frank's got his back on the ropes!  And here comes Black again!

[Before Frank can unleash his barrage, his face turns from one of
gleeful anticipation to sudden agony as Christopher Black locks up his
arms and legs up in a Tarantula!  Frank yells, trying to pull away
from Black, who cinches the hold in tight!]

CL: Black strikes!  And here comes Hartt and Seiger to take advantage!
Both men start laying punches into the midsection of the Television
champion!

[The crowd doesn't want to cheer the actions of Christopher Black, but
they are popping for the efforts of Chris Hartt and Erich Seiger as
the two men soften up the stomach of Uncle Frank!]

CL: Black finally lets go...and Seiger whips Uncle Frank to the ropes!
And a huge pendulum backbreaker by the German!  And he covers!



ONE!



TWO!



AND HERSCHER VON DONKERHARDT BREAKS UP THE PIN!  Donkerhardt releasing
his scissor lock on Supreme Wright to save his HOPE partner!

[Christopher Black slithers to the floor.  In the ring, Chris Hartt
locks eyes with the Englishman.  No words are exchanged between the
pair, but then again, no words need exchanged...

...until Herscher Von Donkerhardt slips behind a distracted Chris
Hartt and rolls him up!]

CL:  ONE!



TWO!



And Erich Seiger now breaks up the pinning combination!

FH: And Christopher Black is just watching it all again!  Now, I have
to admit, this is brilliant!

CL: How so?  I would imagine that Christopher Black would be going for
one of the ladders by now!

FH: Why?  Everyone else is beating the snot out of each other, but by
hanging around on the outside and picking his shots, he's not making
himself a target!  The second he grabs that ladder, everyone will go
right for him!

[Seiger picks up Donkerhardt, only for the Dutchman to slap Seiger's
hand away and rake his face!  As Chris Hartt moves into assist Seiger,
however, he stumbles, clutching at his thigh as Supreme Wright kicks
him in the leg!]

CL: Uncle Frank is on his feet, and he helps HVD whip Seiger to the
ropes...AND A DOUBLE STUN-GUN!  Seiger's neck draped across the top
rope...AND CHRISTOPHER BLACK WITH A GUILLOTINE!  Black leaps up, and
pulls Seiger, throat-first, almost down to the middle rope!

FH: Black again taking advantage...and it looks like Supreme Wright's
had enough of it!

[As Black sneers at a ringside fan wearing a "Senor Cloak Dos" t-
shirt, Supreme Wright slides out of the ring behind him.  The "Bad
Wolf" isn't aware of the danger behind him, and Supreme Wright sets
up, his hands on his thighs, waiting for Black to turn around!]

CL: Jacob Rose is trying to get his charge's attention, but Black
doesn't seem to notice...AND HE TURNS AROUND, RIGHT INTO A ROUNDHOUSE
KICK FROM WRIGHT!

[Wright's foot impacts directly with the jaw of Black.  Black spins on
one foot, his eyes pointed towards the roof of the Saddledome, before
falling onto the steel railing surrounding ringside, to the delight of
the fans sitting right behind the barricade!]

CL: Wright turns the table on Black...and he's not down, following up
with a series of elbows to the back of Christopher Black!

[Stunned by the initial assault, Black is helpless as Wright pulls him
away from the railing...and drives a knee into the back of Black!]

CL: Wright now with a kick to the shoulders blades!  Black stumbles
forward around the corner...WRIGHT WITH AN ELBOWDROP INVERTED BULLDOG!
Wright leapt up onto the ringside steps and caught Black with a
beautiful takedown!

[As Black lies face first on the mats, Wright, having landed beside
him, looks around at the cheering crowd, a determined smile on his
face as he soaks in the affection of the crowd!]

FH: Hey, morons, there IS a match going on inside the ring you know!

CL: Oh, you're only saying that because HOPE's in charge right now!

FH: So?

[Uncle Frank and Herscher von Donkerhardt repeatedly are putting the
legs of Erich Seiger into a spinning toe hold, only to drop an elbow
onto the rookie's knees, before releasing the toe hold and repeating
the entire process!]

FH: If you can't walk, you sure as hell can't climb!

CL: But here comes Chris Hartt...

FH: You mean here comes Adrian Freeman!

[Recovering from Black's attack, Adrian Freeman slides back in the
ring.  He quickly spins Chris Hartt around by one shoulder and kicks
the Paladin in the stomach before he can react!]

CL: Hartt's stunned, and Freeman picks him up on his shoulders...

[ *THUD!* ]

CL:  PEREGRINE DRIVER II BY FREEMAN!  And he covers Hartt!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!  We have our first interim champion!



HD: Adrian Freeman is currently the interim Television champion!


[Freeman gets to his feet, slapping his chest and raising his arms in
'victory.'  Donkerhardt and Uncle Frank cease their continued assault
on Seiger, turning their attention towards the celebrating Freeman!]

CL: Adrian Freeman is the Television champion, as soon as someone
pulls down the American title from the sky OR someone pins Freeman in
the meantime!

[Freeman nods to the jeering crowd, mouthing the words "that's right"
as they boo him.  Flush with victory, Freeman turns back to the rest
of his opponents...

...and freezes in his tracks, as standing right in front of him is
Uncle Frank.  Who has the BIGGEST grin on his face right now]

FH: Alas, poor Adrian Freeman, current Television champion and soon-
to-be skidmark on the canvas!

[Donkerhardt picks up Seiger by his shoulders, and Wright does the
same to Black on the outside.  Hartt is using the ropes to climb back
on his feet as Freeman puts up his hands, taking a step back from
Uncle Frank]

CL: Freeman trying to buy some time...and out of nowhere, a European
uppercut!

[Frank's head rocks backwards...but when he looks back at Freeman, the
smile is still there.  A little bit wider]

CL: Freeman with another European uppercut...and Frank doesn't seem to
feel that one!  Another European uppercut!  And another!  THAT one
seems to rock Frank...and Freeman wraps his arms around Frank!  Belly-
to-belly suplex!

FH: And watch Freeman back away!

CL: Smart move by Adrian Freeman!  Why put yourself in harm's way and
risk getting pinned and losing...well, your championship advantage!
Hang back and just break up pinfalls!

[As Freeman backs into a corner, and Donkerhardt causes Erich Seiger
to grimace by applying a punishing armbar wringer, Supreme Wright
calls out a heads up to his unlikely partner, giving him fair warning
as he tosses Christopher Black underneath the bottom rope!

CL: Christopher Black back in this matchup...and look who noticed!

[Recovering from the Peregrine Driver II, Chris Hartt sees the Bad
Wolf getting back to his feet.  A smile crosses the Paladin's face as
he crosses the ring, intent on locking up with Black...]

CL: Uncle Frank grabs Hartt from behind!  And he throws Hartt into the
corner...Hartt moves out of the way of Uncle Frank as he tries to come
in with a clothesline!  Uncle Frank turns around...

[ *THUD* ]

CL: PELE KICK!  Hartt caught Frank right in that broken nose with a
Pele kick, and Frank falls back against the turnbuckles!

FH: No!  Not the nose!

[As this is going on, HVD has been working over the arm and shoulder
of Erich Seiger.  Holland and Germany collide yet again as Seiger
tries to use his brute strength of break out of the hold, but the
crafty Donkerhardt keeps applying pressure, countering every one of
Seiger's attempts!

But the biggest news is on the outside, as, to the cheers of the
Calgary crowd, Supreme Wright is going up the aisle for the ladder!

CL: And here we go!  If you thought this match was chaotic before, you
haven't seen anything yet!

[Adrian Freeman sees his partner going for the ladder...and also sees
that the man who kneed him in the face earlier, Christopher Black, is
closing in!]

CL: Here comes Black...leaping knee...Freeman catches him in mid-air,
and throws him to the mat!  And now Freeman quickly off the
ropes...revenge for earlier, as he drops the knee right across the
face of Black! Black is down...and Freeman with a rear chinlock!

FH: Now why the hell would you do this?  Freeman showed some smarts
earlier by backing off from Uncle Frank, but he's doing the opposite
with Christopher Black!

CL: I'll answer that question with a question, Frank.  Do you think
Christopher Black is one to just back off?

FH: ...the point is conceded.

[In the center of the ring, Erich Seiger, trapped at the hand of HVD,
finally manages to get his arm under the bicep of Donkerhardt...and he
breaks the armbar by simply LIFTING Donkerhardt off of the mat with
one arm!]

FH: Holy!

CL: Erich Seiger showing INCREDIBLE strength as he lifts Donkerhardt
almost a foot-and-a-half from the canvas...and has enough leverage to
finally break that armbar!

[Donkerhardt lands on his feet as Seiger shakes the arm he had been
working over.  Donkerhardt doesn't waste any time, closing on the
rookie in an attempt to regain the advantage...but Seiger is ready for
him, stopping the American champion with a boot right to the
midsection!]

CL: Donkerhardt is stunned...and Seiger grabs him!  Throws his arm
over his shoulder, and lifts him into the air!  And holds him...

...and holds him...

...and holds him!

[Showing almost no effort, Erich Seiger holds Herscher von Donkerhardt
upside down in a suplex!  Donkerhardt's feet kick, but Seiger manages
to counteract the motions, arms bulging as he keeps Donkerhardt as
motionless as he can!  The blood begins to rush to HVD's head as the
Calgary crowd cheers wildly, the noise growing with each second that
Seiger keeps HVD upright!]

CL:  Erich Seiger is showing us why he was signed to PVW!

[After ten seconds, the attention of the other competitors is focused
on this stunning sight!  Even Supreme Wright, who has just closed the
ladder, stands, impressed, as Seiger holds HVD vertical for over
fifteen seconds...

...and then Chris Hartt points out to the crowd on the side of the
ring opposite the aisleway, who break out into a wild cheer!

And then he points to another side of the Saddledome, who erupt into
cheers of their own!]

FH: Oh, COME ON!  I haven't seen pandering this blatant since Newt
Gingrich was talking to the Wife Swingers Society of South Carolina!

[Hartt keeps pointing to the various sides of the Saddledome, and each
one responds with a loud roar, trying to "win" the contest!  On one
side of the ring, Dallas Lawson watches with glee as her charge barely
sways, keeping Donkerhardt upright, and on the other side, Todd
Johnstone calls for the crowd to quiet down, his arms motioning
wildly!]

CL: And we have a winning side...

[ *BOUNCE*

*THUD* ]

CL: SLINGSHOT SUPLEX BY ERICH SEIGER!  Donkerhardt bounces off the
mat...Seiger with a cover, hooking the leg!


ONE!



FH: Here comes Freeman!

CL: TWO!

FH: CUT OFF BY HARTT?!?

CL: THREE!  New interim champion, and his name is Erich Seiger!


HD: Erich Seiger is currently the interim Television champion!


FH: COME ON!  Hartt just blocked Adrian Freeman from breaking up the
pinfall!  Why on Earth would he do that?

CL: Hartt and Seiger have worked together before...maybe we're seeing
an impromptu alliance here this evening.  Or, maybe on a personal
level, Hartt prefers Seiger is inter...UNCLE FRANK FROM BEHIND THROWS
CHRIS HARTT OVER THE TOP ROPE!

[Hartt flies to the floor, barely managing to land on his feet before
crumpling to a heap!  Seiger is barely upright from covering
Donkerhardt before Uncle Frank clotheslines the interim champion back
to the canvas!  Immediately, Frank begins to stomp on the legs of
Erich Seiger...

...and he's joined by Adrian Freeman, who also begins to kick away at
the rookie!]

CL: The former Television champion and the former interim Television
champion are laying the boots to Erich Seiger, and now Christopher
Black is joining in!

FH: And we have a recovered Donkerhardt adding his own two cents!

[Having pulled himself up, a still wobbly HVD begins to assist his
fellow opponents in simply stomping the hell out of Seiger!  Dallas
Lawson slaps her hands on the canvas, frustration on her face, as her
charge simply can't cover up from the flurry of feet being applied to
his body!]

CL: Seiger is defenseless...and here comes Wright, carrying that
ladder down to the ring!  Fifteen feet between the canvas and the
American title, and Wright apparently is going for that gold!

[As Wright approaches the ring, Black suddenly stops stomping away on
Seiger...choosing instead to take a step backwards...]

CL: RUNNING BULLDOG BY CHRISTOPHER BLACK ON HERSCHER VON DONKERHARDT!
Uncle Frank immediately turns to the Bad Wolf...FREEMAN DROPS DOWN!
COVER!



ONE!



TWO!



AND BLACK PULLS FREEMAN OFF SEIGER!  NOW A COVER BY BLACK!



ONE!



TWO!



UNCLE FRANK BREAKS UP THE PIN WITH A FALLING AXEHANDLE!  HE SHOVES
BLACK AWAY, AND COVERS SEIGER!



ONE!



TWO!



FREEMAN WITH THE SAVE!  And now, we have all three men fighting over
the body of Erich Seiger!

[As Black, Frank, and Freeman all trade a series of vicious right
hands, Erich Seiger, holding his stomach, slowly rolls out of the
ring!  He immediately goes to one knee, chest heaving.  Jacob Rose,
nearby, takes a few steps back, putting some distance between himself
and his charge's opponent, as Dallas Lawson limps around the corner to
check on her charge]

CL: The interim champion taking a break from the chaos as we have a
three way brawl going on right now!

FH: And here comes the ladder!

[Supreme Wright has put the ladder on the mat, and he begins to slide
it into the ring...and Herscher von Donkerhardt, on one knee on the
opposite side of the ring, quickly springs into action, running
forward before dropping into a baseball slide!]

CL: Donkerhardt with a sliding dropkick into the ladder!  WRIGHT DUCKS
JUST IN TIME!

[At the very last second, Wright sees the American champion coming,
and crouches down below the ring apron!  The ladder goes flying over
his head, clattering to the mats as Donkerhardt slams both feet into
it!]

CL: Wright just came with INCHES of getting decapitated there...and
he's about to make Donkerhardt pay as he pulls the Dutchman to the
floor of the Saddledome!  Donkerhardt throws a right hand...Wright
easily blocks! Elbow to Donkerhardt!  And another!  And Wright with an
Irish whip...DONKERHARDT REVERSES, AND SENDS WRIGHT INTO THE RINGPOST!

[Wright slams shoulder first into the ringpost, yelling in pain as he
grips his shoulder, teeth grinding together...]

FH: Herscher von Donkerhardt with a rear waistlock!

[ *THUD* ]

FH: OH, HELL YEAH!  GERMAN SUPLEX DUMPS SUPREME WRIGHT HEAD FIRST ON
THE LADDER!

CL: No remorse shown by the American champion as he suplexes Wright on
to that ladder!  That could crush a man's skull, Frank!

FH: I know!  Ain't life great!

[In the ring, the brawl has become a two-on-one situation...and it's
Uncle Frank with the advantage, with a fist to the face of Christopher
Black, and then one to the face of Adrian Freeman!]

CL: Frank is large and in charge with another right hand to
Black...and he whips Black to the ropes...OH MY!  Frank with an
inverted atomic drop off the rebound, and he drove Black down onto his
tailbone so hard, the Englishman just bounced out to the ring floor!

[Yep.  Black barely clears the top rope, but he lands in heap on the
floor, a concerned Jacob Rose immediately making his way in that
direction.  That leaves Freeman alone in the ring, along with Uncle
Frank!]

CL: Frank has Freeman...and he measures his shot...punch right to the
face of Freeman!  And another one, perfectly place!

FH: Frank's trading speed for accuracy, but the result is Freeman
being hit with the proverbial freight train!

[Freeman is a bit wobbly as Uncle Frank lines up his very last
shot...and the resulting roundhouse spins Freeman around on one
foot..]

CL: Frank throws Freeman's arm over his shoulder...and hooks the knee!

[ *THUD* ]

CL: FISHERMAN'S SUPLEX!  AND FRANK HOLDS THE BRIDGE!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!  The Television champion IS the interim champion!



HD: Uncle Frank is currently the interim Television champion!


[The crowd reacts as Frank gets to his feet.  That maniacal grin is on
his face as he leans against the ropes, taking a moment to breathe
over the prone form of Adrian Freeman...]

CL: CHRIS HARTT CHARGES ACROSS THE RING!  AND A CLOTHESLINE TAKES BOTH
MEN TO THE ARENA FLOOR!

FH: Where the hell did HE come from?!?

[Hartt and Frank land intertwined on the floor of the Saddledome, mere
feet from where Todd Johnstone is standing!  Johnstone immediately
begins to yell at Frank to get back on his feet, while on the other
side of the ring, Herscher von Donkerhardt is currently removing the
prone form of Supreme Wright from its position on top of the ladder!
As he tosses Wright to the side and grabs the ladder, he spits out a
few words of Dutch towards his fallen opponent]

HVD: Dank u voor de ladder, gek te houden.

[And with that, Donkerhardt, holding the ladder lengthwise, turns to
the ring.  He slides the ladder under the bottom rope...

*SMACK!* ]

CL: BASEBALL SLIDE DROPKICK BY ADRIAN FREEMAN, AND THAT ONE CONNECTS!

[Donkerhardt falls backwards, landing motionless on the ringside mats
as the ladder hits him directly in the face!  Adrian Freeman sits up,
a smirk on his face he climbs to his feet, looking over the ropes at
the fallen bodies of Supreme Wright and Herscher von Donkerhardt...

...and realization suddenly sets in on his face]

CL: Adrian Freeman is all alone in that ring!  And he's got the
ladder!

[The crowd begins to boo loudly as Freeman takes the ladder from under
the bottom rope, and pulls it to the middle of the ring!  With a
quickness, Freeman pulls the ladder's legs apart, looking up to make
sure the ladder is centered!]

CL: There's no one else around!  Freeman's got that ladder set up, and
he begins to climb!

FH: If he gets that belt, Uncle Frank reminds the Television champion!
But HVD won't be American champion anymore!  YOU'RE TEARING ME APART,
ADRIAN!

[Freeman is halfway up the ladder when the boos suddenly turn into
cheers, as Erich Seiger climbs under the bottom rope!  Freeman makes
it up one more step before Seiger reaches up to grab him!]

CL: Erich Seiger!  Seiger trying to make sure Adrian Freeman doesn't
grab that title belt!

[Freeman, looking down, kicks at Seiger's face, but the German manages
to climb two of the ladder's rungs and begins to lay clubbing blows
across the lower spine of Freeman!]

CL: Freeman refusing to say die!  He climbs one more rung...but Seiger
is right there with him, grabbing at his tights...OH MY!

[In desperation, Erich Seiger grabbed at the tights of Adrian Freeman,
trying to keep him from climbing any higher!  The good news is, he
manages to do so, pulling Freeman down a rung, the American title well
out of reach!  The bad news is...]

FH: Wow!  Freeman's having a wardrobe malfunction!

[Luckily, only the back of Freeman's blue-and-white trunks come down.
Freeman doesn't seem to notice, however, instead kicking Seiger square
in the face, and managing to knock the German back down to the
canavs!]

CL: And...Adrian Freeman with an elbow drop from halfway up the
ladder! Wow...for one moment, folks, there was a full moon over
Calgary!

FH: It was like someone brought the Red Mile inside the Saddledome!

[Freeman, after adjusting his trunks, shoots an evil glare at Seiger.
After a moment's deliberation, Freeman reaches for the ladder, and
snaps it shut!]

CL: Freeman has the ladder...and he slams it down on the ankle of
Erich Seiger!

[The German sits up, howling in pain as he clutches his ankle.
Freeman keeps his grip on the ladder, and drop it a second time!]

FH: Freeman's getting some payback here by annihilating the ankle of
Seiger!  Good luck climbing the ladder now, you Teutonic idiot!

[Freeman holds the ladder above his head...and sends a glance towards
Dallas Lawson on the outside, where she is pounding the mat, trying to
get Seiger back on his feet...]

AF: Once more for luck, Red?

[...but Freeman takes aim, and drives the ladder into the ankle one
last time!]

CL: Seiger rolls away, and he might really be hurt, Frank!

FH: Don't worry about him!  Worry about Freeman, he looks like...

[As Freeman, still holding the ladder, looks up at the American title
hanging above the ring, trying to reposition himself, Chris Hartt has
pulled himself onto the ring apron!  Freeman is unaware of his
presence as Hartt leaps onto the top rope!]

CL: CHRIS HARTT WITH A SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK INTO THE LADDER!  Down
goes Freeman!

[The crowd cheers as Hartt picks Freeman up from the mat, and whips
him to the ropes...and, after bending over, backbody drops Freeman
directly onto the ladder!]

CL: Freeman is down!  He's rolling away, holding his back, and now
Hartt's going for the...Herscher von Donkerhardt from behind!

[As Hartt reached for the ladder, the American champion clubs him in
the back of the head!  Hartt staggers forward, holding the back of his
head, but HVD doesn't let him go too far, pulling him backwards and
putting him in a front facelock!]

CL: HVD with a swinging neckbreaker on the ladder!  Chris Hartt
dropped right on the back of his neck!

FH: And look at Donkerhardt go!  He's got that ladder up!  Go
Herscher!

[The cheers for Hartt quickly switch to boos for Donkerhardt as he
picks the ladder up from the mat, and expertly positions it under the
hook!  Donkerhardt begins to climb, but his ascent doesn't remain a
solo one for long!]

CL: Supreme Wright's back in the ring, and he's climbing the other
side!  HVD doesn't see him!

[Donkerhardt's steps are quick, but he has to pause at the top of the
ladder to reach for the American title...and Wright says 'hello' by
virtue of an elbow to HVD's jaw!]

CL: HVD fires back with a right hand!  And Wright with another elbow!

[The crowd is now electric, watching with wild intent as the ladder
wobbles slightly as the technician and the striker go at it on top of
the ladder!  HVD hangs in there, but the repeated elbows and forearm
shots from Wright begin to take their toll!  Donkerhardt's arms begin
to windmill as he futilely tries to keep his balance...]

CL: PALM STRIKE BY WRIGHT!  And the American champion hits the mat!

[Even as HVD bounces off the canvas, Wright reaches for the
belt...only to be stopped, as Chris Hartt grabs his forearm and pulls
his arm away!]

CL: Chris Hartt RACING up the ladder, and he blocks an elbow from
Wright!  Right hand by Hartt!  Another block by Hartt, and another
right hand!

FH: That ladder's teetering, and Wright has to hold on with both
hands...EUROPEAN UPPERCUT BY HARTT!  Wright falls...right past Adrian
Freeman, as how HE climbs the ladder!

[Hartt's hand clutches the title belt, his fingers brushing against
the gold plating of the American title...but this leaves his side
exposed to a rabbit punch by Freeman...who simply THROWS Chris Hartt
down to the mat, the Paladin landing next to a prone Supreme Wright!]

CL: Freeman going for that belt again!

[Freeman manages to steady the swinging belt, and as his fingers reach
behind the hook to free the title...]

FH: He's gonna unhook...HEADBUTT BY CHRISTOPHER BLACK!

[...he's stopped cold, his head rocked backwards before Christopher
Black grabs him again to deliver another headbutt!  Freeman leans
back, one arm still holding onto the top rung of the ladder, and Black
just pulls his hand away, and Freeman tumbles down to the canvas!]

CL: This crowd is going insane as Christopher Black steadies the belt
with one hand, his eyes locked on the prize as he attempts to pull it
free!   We're going to have a new...look out!  Black slipped!

FH: He didn't slip!  Herscher von Donkerhardt pulled him through the
rungs!  Black's been hung up in the Tree of Woe!

[Black immediately tries to sit up, attempting to free himself...but
he suddenly snaps back, a howl of pain escaping his lips as
Donkerhardt grabs Black's ankle...and applies a hangman's
anklebreaker!]

CL: HVD using the metal rung for added assistance!  This could easily
break Black's ankle right here!

FH: And that MIGHT be the only thing that could stop Black in this
matchup!

[Black spits nails as he thrashes about on the ladder, while, between
the rungs, Donkerhardt holds the anklebreaker tight!  The fans in the
Saddledome, torn between booing HVD and cheering the agony of Black,
soon switch to nothing but cheers as the ladder begins to wobble!]

CL: The ladder is threatening to tip over...because Erich Seiger has a
hold of both sides...AND HE SNAPS IT SHUT ON THE AMERICAN CHAMPION!
Just like the story of Samson, but in reverse!

[Trapped between the two sides of the ladder, Donkerhardt is helpless
as Seiger pulls him free with one hand...and lets go of the ladder
with the other!]

FH: TIMBER!

[The almost-closed ladder falls, landing on the top rope, the top
rungs of the ladder hanging out over the ringside area!]

CL: Christopher Black has gone from the Tree of Woe to the hangman's
noose!  His ankles are trapped in that ladder, and he's too far from
the ropes or the ring apron to grab hold!

FH: No!  No, no, no!  Don't you do it, Seiger!

[In the ring, Seiger has lifted the American champion over his head!
Donkerhardt has come alive in his grasp, fighting to get loose!]

CL: HVD is at least TEN feet above that ring!  Seiger
now...BACKBREAKER! And a second!  Triple backbreakers by Erich Seiger
on Herscher von Donkerhardt, and now Seiger with a cover!



ONE!



TWO!



BROKEN UP BY SUPREME WRIGHT!


[Seiger quickly gets back up to one knee...but Wright is on his feet
faster, and takes advantage, winding up and planting his foot right
into the temple of Erich Seiger!  Seiger crumples down to the mat, and
now it's Wright who covers HVD!]

CL:  ONE!



TWO!



THRE...and Seiger pulls Wright off of HVD!  And now we have Supreme
Wright and Erich Seiger going at it in the middle of the ring...and
Christopher Black on the outside, still trying to get free!


[Black tries to lift himself up and grab onto the ladder, but he can't
get the height!]

CL: And here comes Jacob Rose to help!

[The financial advisor to Christopher Black comes around the corner,
ready to assist his charge in getting free...]

TJ: HEY HEY HEY!  What the hell do you think you're doing!

[...but he pauses in his tracks as the very loud Todd Johnstone blocks
his way!]

CL: Todd Johnstone is blocking Jacob Rose from helping Christopher
Black get free!

TJ: Where do you think YOU'RE going, Rosey?

[Jacob comes to a halt.  He towers over Todd Johnstone, but he still
maintains a wary distance from Johnstone...and the man standing behind
him]

TJ: Just relax, Jacob...you're gonna sit right there.  In fact, why
don't you go grab a seat?

[That comment isn't directed to Jacob Rose...but rather, to the
interim Television champion, who, standing behind Johnstone, sports a
childlike grin as he turns around and walks over to where the
timekeeper sits!]

UF: Uncle Frank wants your chair!  You want to share with Uncle Frank,
right?

CL: Oh, this CAN NOT be good for Christopher Black!  Uncle Frank has a
chair, and he's coming right for the Bad Wolf!

[Rose puts up his hands, backing away as Uncle Frank approaches!]

FR: Sir, you don't have to...

TJ: Cram it, limey!

UF: Hey!  Uncle Frank says to be nice to strangers!  You don't want
Uncle Frank to not be nice to you, Mr. Johnstone, right?

TJ: Uh...yeah, sure, Frank.  Whatever you say.

UF: Especially Mr. Rose.  Someday, Uncle Frank might desire sound
financial advice from someone who knows his way around Fleet Street!

[During this strange interlude, Seiger absorbs an elbow shot by
Supreme Wright, and counters by putting him into a hammerlock...and
lifting Wright off the ground for added leverage!  Outside the ring,
Black is snarling, reaching out in a futile attempt to grab the chair
away from Uncle Frank!]

FH: Uncle Frank stepping behind Christopher Black...and he's winding
up with that chair...wait...no, Frank pauses!  Maybe he's having a
change of heart...

UF: Uncle Frank won't get in trouble for this, Mr. Johnstone, right?

TJ: Nope.

UF: Alrighty!

[ *KER-ACK!* ]

FH: FRANK HITS A HOME RUN!

[Black's back arches from the impact, sending the Englishman swinging
forward.  With a look of pure glee on his face, Frank rears back, and
swings a second time!

*KER-ACK!]

CL: Christopher Black is helpless right now!  Jacob Rose wants to get
involved...but Johnstone is playing blocker, as Uncle Frank winds up a
third time!

[ *KER-ACK!]

CL: Uncle Frank is PUNISHING Black...and now he's pulling Black free!

FH: See? Deep down inside, Uncle Frank's a nice guy!

CL: Will you stop?

[Johnstone keeps stepping in front of Jacob Rose, preventing the
financial advisor from assisting his charge!  And, in the ring,
Supreme Wright bounces off the ropes...but Erich Seiger ducks
underneath the lariat attempt, and as Wright rebounds from the
opposite side, Seiger catches him...]

CL: OVERHEAD BELLY-TO-BELLY SUPLEX!  Seiger tosses Wright over his
head, and now Seiger with a cover!



ONE!



TWO!



TH...And Wright with the shoulder up at two-and-a-half!  We have
action inside AND outside the ring right now!


[Uncle Frank has put down the chair...and replaced it with Christopher
Black!  The Bad Wolf is helpless, his arms hanging loose as Uncle
Frank, using his foot, slides the chair underneath Black's head...or
rather, where Black's head will impact the ringside mats!]

CL: Jacob Rose looks conflicted, but Todd Johnstone won't let him
pass!  And Frank's got Black set up for what looks like a DDT!

[Johnstone encourages Frank, motioning for him to drive Black's head
into the steel chair!  Frank, with a huge grin of anticipation on his
face, looks around at the ringside crowd]

UF: Hey, kids!  What time is it?

[And the crowd responds in an almost Pavlovian manner...]

Crowd: #IT'S UNCLE FRANK'S FAMILOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!#

[Uncle Frank looks up at the very last moment...to see Chris Hartt,
having run the crowd barricade, fly through the air and wrap his arms
around Frank's head!]

CL: CHRIS HARTT WITH A RUNNING INVERTED BULLDOG!  That was simply
amazing, and listen to this crowd react!

[As Todd Johnstone freaks, and Jacob Rose breathes a sigh of relief,
Chris Hartt is back on his feet, fists clenched, roaring his approval
to the Calgary crowd!

And then he sees just who he saved.  And the look of elation turns
into one of shock]

CL: Chris Hartt just realized that it was Christopher Black that Uncle
Frank was about to seriously injure!  He just saved his heated rival!

[Hartt runs a hand through his hair as he shakes his head in
disbelief.  But the moment soon passes as he realizes that Black is
helpless, stirring slightly on the ringside mat!]

FH: Oh no...the boy scout has Black right where he wants him!

[A grin on his face, Hartt reaches for his rival...]

CL: UNCLE FRANK WITH A SIDE HEADLOCK!

[ *THUD* ]

CL: Side Russian Legsweep onto the steel steps!  The back of Hartt's
head was driven into the ring steps!  How did Uncle Frank recover so
quickly from Hartt's assault?

FH: Because you should never doubt the motivating power of Todd
Johnstone!

[Frank holds the back of his head as well.  While his eyes don't
appear glazed over, his motions are a bit unsteady.  Johnstone barks
directions to the interim TV champion, pointing to the inside of the
ring, where Erich Seiger is grabbing the end of the ladder that's
balanced on the top ring rope!]

CL: Seiger is pulling that ladder back inside the ring...UNCLE FRANK
GRABS THE OTHER END, AND PUSHES IT DOWN TO THE GROUND!  Erich Seiger
just got smacked in jaw with the end of that metal ladder, almost like
a run-a-way see-saw!

[Seiger stumbles to the center of the ring, holding his chin.  The
camera picks up a thin trickle of blood coming from his mouth as,
behind him, Uncle Frank climbs back into the ring!   Seiger turns
around as Frank charges towards him...]

CL: Seiger catches Frank by the throat!

[ *THUD* ]

CL: CHOKESLAM!  Massive chokeslam by Seiger shakes the ring!

[As Uncle Frank rolls to a corner, the smile not as prominent on his
face, Seiger pulls the ladder into the ring.  As Frank uses the
turnbuckles to pull himself up, Seiger picks up the ladder by two
rungs, holding it on his hip!]

FH: Turn around, Frank...wait,no, don't turn around!

CL: Seiger drives the end of that ladder into the stomach of Uncle
Frank like a battering ram!

[Frank slumps in the corner, his arms sliding off the ropes as he sits
down on the canvas, his eyes glassy!  After studying him for a moment,
Seiger turns around, and to some solid cheers from the Calgary crowd,
sets up the ladder underneath the American title!]

CL: Seiger's climbing!  Seiger's going for his first PVW title!

FH: No!  Not him, anybody but this guy!  Someone get up!  Frank!
Freeman!  Hell, even Chris Hartt!

CL: Seiger's favoring that leg, however!  It's been worked over during
this match, and it's hindering his climb!

[The crowd urges the rookie on, PVW history in the making, as Seiger,
grimacing with every step, pulls himself up the ladder!  Dallas Lawson
leads the cheer, urging her man to get the title belt!]

CL: Seiger had one advantage, with his height...and he might need it,
because Donkerhardt is making his move!

[Seeing his title in jeopardy, Herscher von Donkerhardt charges Erich
Seiger from behind!  Instead of trying to pull the young German down,
Donkerhardt grabs one of Seiger's legs and slams it into the side of
the ladder!  The attack causes the German to pause, wincing in pain as
Donkerhardt does it a second time!]

CL: Donkerhardt using the ladder to great effect as he grinds Seiger's
ankle and knee against the side!  Seiger trying to fight it off, but
Donkerhardt refuses to let go...

FH: And Frank's on his feet!

[Donkerhardt calls out to his colleague, who nods in return.
Donkerhardt quickly twists Seiger's ankle around the side of the
ladder, pulling it in between the open legs and trapping it inside!
With another yell to his colleague, Donkerhardt holds Seiger's leg in
place until the very last minute...as Uncle Frank comes off the ropes,
slamming himself chest first into the ladder, slamming it shut, and
trapping Seiger's ankle in between the legs!]

CL: Look out!

[Trapped in the ladder, Seiger can't stop the ladder from falling
backwards!  The crowd gasps as Seiger sails through the air, the
ladder bouncing off the top rope...

*THUD*

...and going end-over-end, spilling both itself AND Erich Seiger to
the ringside mats with a loud thump and the crash of metal!]

CL: Erich Seiger went for a ride!  And he's down on the outside!

[Seiger rolls around in pain as he manages to pull his leg out from
the legs of the ladder.  Dallas Lawson is immediately by his side as
he tries to sit up, gritting his teeth as he holds his lower ankle]

CL: It seems the plan for HOPE here tonight is to break ankles and
ruin knees!

FH: And baby, is it ever working!

[In the ring, Herscher von Donkerhardt tells Uncle Frank to keep an
eye on things, specifically the American title hanging high overhead.
Frank nods, allowing HVD to slide outside the ring on the opposite
side of Seiger's crash landing!  Todd Johnstone lifts up the ring
apron, allowing the American champion to look under the ring...and, to
the crowd's strong reaction, pull out a second ladder!]

CL: Donkerhardt getting a fresh ladder!

FH: Only the best for...

CL: LOOK OUT!

[ *KER-ACK!* ]

CL: CHRISTOPHER BLACK WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!

[Donkerhardt slumps against the ring apron, his eyes wide with shock
as Todd Johnstone quickly backs away.  Black ignores the manager,
however, choosing instead to slide into the ring!]

CL: Max Kelly is warning off Black, but I don't think it's going to do
any good!

[In the middle of the ring, Uncle Frank has been staring up at the
American title, a faraway look in his eyes.  The crowd is raring to go
as Black stands behind him, almost trembling with rage, calling
silently for the Television champion to turn around!]

CL: I don't think Frank has any idea what's going on!

[Perhaps finally wondering what's taking HVD so long, Frank starts to
turn around...and Black doesn't even wait for it, stepping forward and
teeing off!

*KER-ACK!*

*KER-ACK!*

*KER-ACK!* ]

CL: THREE RAPID CHAIR SHOTS TO THE SPINE OF UNCLE FRANK BY CHRISTOPHER
BLACK...AND UNCLE FRANK IS STILL STANDING!

FH:  If by "standing" you mean "wobbling back and forth."  Christopher
Black gave Frank no time to react, laying in a caress of steel to the
skull of the Television champion with that steel chair!  And he's
still standing, Black!  What are you going to do now!

[Black shakes his head, snarling as he takes two steps to the side of
Frank...and swings one more time!

*KER-ACK!* ]

CL: BLACK HITS FRANK IN HIS BROKEN NOSE!  AND FRANK IS DOWN!

[Black throws the chair away, and Max Kelly wisely kicks it out of the
ring as Black drops down besides Uncle Frank!  He pulls Frank's back
up, shoving his knees behind it, and the crowd explodes, knowing
what's about to come!]

CL: Black trying to cinch it in...and he does!  Lamb to the Slaughter!
Lamb to the Slaughter!  Four chair shots softened Uncle Frank up, and
Black has that Kagato-Jime hold locked tight!

[Kelly is right there, as Uncle Frank comes to life!  He doesn't
scream, but raises his arms, trying to find leverage to break the
hold!  But Black has it locked in tight in the middle of the ring, and
the four chair shorts have already taken their toll on the Television
champion!]

CL: Frank's keeping that arm up...but it's sinking!  Christopher Black
might make Uncle Frank tap out here!

FH: Never!  No way, Frank's too tough!

[The hand dips lower, and lower.  Frank's eyes glass over, and his
motions become sluggish, which is the cue for Black to push his shin
against Frank's throat even harder!]

CL: That hand's almost out!  Frank's almost...oh, what's he doing?!?

["He" is Todd Johnstone, who's hopped up onto the ring apron!
Immediately, Max Kelly confronts the manager, telling him to get the
hell done!]

CL: And Frank's hand hits the canvas!  Uncle Frank is out cold...but
the referee isn't seeing it, as he's too busy being distracted by Todd
Johnstone!

[Immediately, Jacob Rose is at Johnstone's feet, pointing at the scene
in the ring, where Christopher Black has caused Uncle Frank to go
unconscious!  The referee ignores him, however, focusing his
attentions on the much louder and gaudier Todd Johnstone!]

CL: I never thought I'd be saying something like this, but Christopher
Black is being robbed right now!

[Rose turns to the crowd, pleading his case, but the Calgary faithful
react with indifference, some even booing the beleaguered financial
advisor!]

CL: Frank's hand isn't moving!  He is completely unconscious, and
Black SHOULD be the interim champion!

[Johnstone keeps the referee's attention on him, not even letting the
ref look at the timid Jacob Rose...

...but Johnstone doesn't see that he's got someone else's
attention...that of the Bad Wolf!]

CL: Oh, no.  Black's head just snapped up, and he's realizing what's
happening...and whose fault it is!

[Black releases the hold, and leaps to his feet.  Each step he takes
is measured, stalking the HOPE manager as he continues to argue with
the ref.  On the outside, Jacob Rose sees Black going for
Johnstone...his response is to take a step back, removing himself from
the equation!]

FH: Get out of there, Todd!

[Johnstone looks up at the last second, a flicker of motion at the
corner of his eye...but, aside from his eyes going wide, he can't move
as the hand of Christopher Black reaches out and wraps around his
wrist!]

CL: Black has Johnstone!  Max Kelly is calling for Black to release
Johnstone, but Black isn't paying attention to ANYTHING else but Todd
Johnstone!

[Johnstone instantly goes from telling the referee "I'll have your
job" to screaming in pain as Black grips his wrist tightly!]

CL: I...oh, no, that's the hand with Johnstone's broken finger...and I
think Black knows that too!

[Black looks at Johnstone with malice in his eyes.  He slowly lifts up
the wrist, putting it between his face and Johnstone's]

TJ: Jacob!  Jacob!  Call him off!

[Jacob's response is to take the steel chair that Max Kelly kicked out
of the ring...and sets it up, sitting down and leaning forward with
keen interest]

JR: I think I'll sit right here, Mr. Johnstone.

TJ: Jacob, I...Chris, look I...

[Any attempts to plead with Black are cut off, as Black puts his other
hand around the splint surrounding Todd Johnstone's broken
finger...and squeezes!]

CL: I bet they can hear Todd Johnstone scream all the way in Edmonton!

[Johnstone slumps to one knee, holding on to the rope with one hand to
keep from falling to the ringside mats, screaming in pain as Black
simply squeezes the broken finger!]

FH: This is just sickening, someone needs to...thank God for
Donkerhardt!

CL: The American champion blindsides Christopher Black!  Todd
Johnstone is down at ringside as Donkerhardt and Black are going at it
now!

[As the pair trade punches, fighting all the way to one corner, Uncle
Frank still lies unconscious...and one competitor is taking
advantage!]

CL: Adrian Freeman...Deep Freeze!  He's got Uncle Frank in the Deep
Freeze, and Max Kelly is right there, checking the arm!


ONCE!


TWICE!


THREE TIMES!  We have a new interim champion!


FH: No!  That's completely unfair!  Brilliant, but unfair!


HD: Adrian Freeman is currently the interim Television champion!


[Freeman gets to his feet, a smile on his face!  Across the ring,
Christopher Black's head snaps up upon hearing the announcement.
Seeing Freeman standing over the prone Uncle Frank, the Bad Wolf
quickly puts two-and-two together, shoving Donkerhardt away and
charging across the ring!]

CL: SPEAR!  Spear by Christopher Black puts Adrian Freeman on the
canvas, and Black is just pounding away on the interim champion!

[It's tough to tell whether Black is trying to keep Freeman on the
canvas while punching him, or trying to pull him to his feet while
punching him!  Eventually, it's obvious that Black is trying to pull
Freeman to his feet while punching AND kneeing him!  As Black gets
Freeman to stand up, Freeman throws his hands up, knocking Black's
hands away, and rocks the Bad Wolf with a European uppercut!]

CL: Black comes back with a European uppercut of his own that staggers
Freeman! Freeman responds in kind, however!  Black!  Freeman!  Black!
Freeman!  Freeman!  Freeman!  Black with a kick...Freeman catches
Black's leg!  Dragonscrew legwhip...into an ankle lock!

[Immediately, Black goes for the ropes, but Freeman stands his ground!
As Black's injured, worked over by Donkerhardt's earlier, begins to
sing in pain, the aforementioned Donkerhardt makes a move to break
Freeman's hold...but he pauses.  On the outside, Todd Johnstone had
gotten back to his feet, and he's pointing at Donkerhardt, and then
motioning to the still unconscious Uncle Frank!]

CL: Donkerhardt...HE'S COVERING FRANK!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



And now he's rolling him out of the ring!


HD: Herscher von Donkerhardt is now interim Television champion!


[Uncle Frank hits the floor like a sack of potatoes.  Todd Johnstone
ducks by him, trying to wake his charge up, as Donkerhardt turns back
to the two men inside the ring, who have stop beaten on each to stare
him!]

FH: Brilliant!  See, this is why Todd Johnstone's a genius!  Now HOPE
is the interim champion and no one can go after a helpless Frank!

CL: Erich Seiger is finally back on his feet on the other side of the
ring, but he's using the railing for support, and we've got a standoff
in the middle of the ring!

[All three men stare at each other, none of them moving save for their
breathing.  Back and forth...back and forth...until, by some unspoken
signal, all three men make a break for the ladder that's resting on
the ringside apron where Donkerhardt left it!]

CL: WRIGHT HAS THE LADDER!  All three men in the ring were going for
the ladder, but Supreme Wright pulls the ladder out of the ring!

[Supreme Wright, a grin on his face, holds the ladder across his body,
looking up at the three men who are reaching in vain over the top
rope!  Black spits a few choice words towards Wright...and then a few
more towards Adrian Freeman, who slides outside the ring to join his
"partner" at ringside!]

CL: Wright and Freeman now, both holding onto that ladder, playing
keepaway from Herscher von Donkerhardt and Christopher Black!

[Both men in the ring take a step back after a moment, giving Wright
and Freeman a chance to step forward.  As they put the ladder on the
apron however, Black and Donkerhardt reach for it, only to have it
pulled out of their grasp at the last second!  Wright and Freeman
repeat the process, going a little further this time, only to step
back as soon as Black tries to grab the ladder!]

CL: We have a standoff here!  Wright and Freeman can't get in.  Black
and Donkerhardt can't get the ladder.  Uncle Frank is still
unconscious at ringside, and Seiger is trying to  get some feeling
back into his leg.  That leaves Chris Hartt...and the Paladin is
making his move!

[Without a glance towards Seiger or Lawson, Chris Hartt grabs the
fallen ladder at the German's feet.  Before Seiger can react, Hartt
has snapped the ladder closed, and is sliding it inside the ring!]

CL: Seiger is moving towards the ring now, but he can't catch Hartt!
Hartt's got that ladder open, and the other four men are distracted as
Hartt positions the ladder!

[The crowd explodes as the Paladin begins to climb the ladder,
unopposed!  Erich Seiger is reaching up for the top rope as the
Paladin reaches the middle rung!  Outside the ring, it's Supreme
Wright who notices, over the head of Herscher von Donkerhardt, Chris
Hartt almost at the top of the ladder!  The look on his face causes
Donkerhardt to turn around...and he explodes across the ring, charging
up the rungs of the ladder!]

CL: Wright and Freeman trip up Black!  Black was looking over his
shoulder, and they shove the ladder into his feet...and now both men
climb into the ring!

[Calgary urges the Paladin on, and at the top of the ladder, his
fingers grab a firm hold of the title belt!]

CL: Hartt is going for the gold...Donkerhardt, though...he's going for
it too!

FH: That's right, he's going for HIS title!  And if he pulls it down,
we're going to have a DUAL champion!

[Hartt tries to pull the title belt towards him, but Donkerhardt has a
death grip on his title!  It's a tug-of-war on top of the ladder,
flashbulbs popping around the Saddledome, as the pair fight over the
title!]

CL:  Freeman calling for Wright to run around to the other side of the
ladder!  Both men are climbing up!  We've got FOUR men on that ladder
now!  Seiger!  Seiger now getting into the mix, climbing on the ladder
behind Hartt...no, wait!  Dallas Lawson is yelling at Seiger in
German...and he pauses at the bottom of the ladder!  Hartt...now HE'S
got the title belt, ripping out of Herscher von Donkerhardt's
grasp...and Donkerhardt trying to pull it back!

FH: What's this idiot Seiger doing?  He's just standing there like an
idiot!  What the hell is Lawson saying?  Does anyone here speak
German?  Anyone?  Ce que quelqu'in ici parler l'allemand?!?

CL: That's French, Frank.

FH: It's Canada, Chip!  English, French, Newfie, what's the
difference?

CL: I think, and this my high school German, that Lawson's telling
Seiger not to climb the ladder because it'll break with his added
weight!  And I don't think his leg could take another fall!

[Freeman's grabbed Hartt, and Wright has Donkerhardt!  Both men begin
to try to pull them down, but Hartt and Donkerhardt begin to kick at
them!  But, with each still holding onto the belt, it's impossible for
them to get the proper leverage!]

CL: Neither man wants to let go of the PVW American title!  That's one
of the reasons they're all in this matchup, to claim OR retain that
title!

[Seiger watches, face turned upwards, as the four men fight!  Freeman
tries to climb over Hartt, but Hartt fires back with a few blind
elbows!  Wright twists and pulls on Donkerhardt's leg, trying to pull
him down, but Donkerhardt refuses to let go of the title belt!]

FH: Freeman's climbing over Hartt!  That's gotta break several caution
notices!

CL: This is how badly all these men want that title!  Wright now with
a rear waistlock on HVD, like he's trying to suplex him off of the
ladder...Seiger makes his move!  He grabs the legs of that ladder!  OH
MY!

[The four men fighting on top of the ladder realize what's happening
at the same time the crowd does, and in contrast to the wild pop,
their faces take on a collective look of "oh, crap," as Erich Seiger,
his muscles flexing, begins to shove the ladder over!]

CL: Seiger's about to send all four men for a major spill!

[Donkerhardt lets go of the title belt to grab hold of the ladder, and
Hartt's fingers slip away as he reaches in vain for it!  The ladder,
top heavy with four PVW superstars, quickly reaches its tipping
point...and as the Saddledome explodes with flashing cameras, Freeman,
Wright, Hartt, and Donkerhardt fall off the ladder, with three of the
four crashing into the ringside mats!]

CL: The Saddledome has erupted, as Erich Seiger makes his mark in this
matchup!  Donkerhardt, Wright, Freeman, and Uncle Frank are down on
the outside, while Chris Hartt manages to break his fall by grabbing
onto the top rope, landing on the ring apron!  But he's still
down...and all Seiger has to do is pick the ladder up and grab the
American title!

[Seiger, limping slightly, walks over to where the ladder rests
against the top rope, above the fallen forms of the four men he just
knocked over.  Todd Johnstone is still trying to revive Uncle Frank,
who has begun to move his arms and legs, but none of the five men are
in any shape to stop Seiger!]

CL: Seiger puts the ladder upright, and he starts to drag...SUPERKICK!
SUPERKICK!  AND CHRISTOPHER BLACK COVERS A DOWNED SEIGER!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Christopher Black is the current interim Television champion!


CL: Christopher Black from out of NOWHERE, planting his foot directly
into the skull of Erich Seiger!  And now, he has a chance to become a
dual champion, as he picks up Seiger!

[Black, his lips curled into a snarl, pulls Seiger to the ropes...and
dumps him onto the floor!  He lands between Supreme Wright, who groans
in pain, and Adrian Freeman, who's on his knees, one hand resting on
the ring barricade!  Black looks over at the ladder for a moment...but
then, his eyes fall upon a much juicier target!]

CL: Chris Hartt is still down on the ring apron!  He managed to break
his fall with the aid of the top rope, but that tumble STILL took a
lot out of him...and Christopher Black has noticed his fallen rival!

[The snarl on Black's face turns into a predatory grin as Hartt
manages to roll under the bottom rope, holding his chest, a look of
discomfort on his face.  Behind the Paladin, Black begins to step
forward, holding his arms out as he waits for Hartt to get to his
feet]

CL: Christopher Black is stalking Chris Hartt!  Hartt doesn't seem to
know...UNCLE FRANK!  Uncle Frank pulls Christopher Black out of the
ring!  He just saved the Paladin from an assault by Christopher Black!

[Frank still is wobbling on his feet, but adrenaline seems to be
keeping him up as he punches Black in the face!  Black responds with a
right hand of his own, and the two men begin to trade punches over the
fallen bodies of their competitors!]

CL: Chris Hartt is the only one in the ring right now as Uncle Frank
grabs Christopher Black's head...and slams it off the ring apron!
And...

[CANADIAN POP!]

CL: ...UNCLE FRANK JUST PULLED BLACK'S T-SHIRT OVER HIS HEAD!

[Uncle Frank smiles, channeling the goon deep down inside, as he ties
up Christopher Black's hands!  Black struggles to free his arms, but
Frank keeps a hold of the t-shirt, trapping his limbs!]

CL: UNCLE FRANK WITH A PISTON LIKE JAB!  Black's just had his bell
rung...and Uncle Frank with another shot!  And another!  It's like the
Battle of Alberta is being played out tonight!

FH: Yeah, except Frank's American and Black's English!

[After being peppered with several blows, Black manages to get his
hands free, and rocks Frank with a European uppercut!  But before he
can follow up, Black is spun around by the shoulder, and a recovered
Herscher von Donkerhardt rocks HIM with a European uppercut!]

CL: HOPE is double teaming the interim Television champion...but
Supreme Wright spins Uncle Frank around!  And now Wright with palm
strikes, and Uncle Frank responding in kind...]

["WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"]

CL: Erich Seiger laid Adrian Freeman across the ringside barrier and
laid in a MONSTER chop across his torso!  But Freeman blocks the next
chop!  Thumb to the eye of Seiger...and now Freeman with a right hand
to Donkerhardt!  Which frees up Black to lay a forearm shot across the
face of Supreme Wright!  And Uncle Frank charges Erich Seiger!  It's
breaking down on the outside folks!

FH: This is great!  It's a pier six donnybrook with six
participants...wait...six...we're missing one, Chip!

CL: We indeed are, Frank, and that would be Chris Hartt, who's managed
to pull himself to his feet!

[Hartt leans over the top rope, trying to catch his breath.  Out of
the corner of his eye, he sees his six opponents tearing into one
another, trading opponents like dance partners at a rodeo...and goes
right for the nearby, still-set-up ladder!]

CL: Hartt climbing that ladder!  Erich Seiger had started to drag it
into place, and Hartt's taking advantage!

[On the outside, no one notices Hartt climbing the ladder, just like
earlier in the matchup, as they're too busy trying to beat the hell
out of each other, Uncle Frank slamming Erich Seiger's head off the
ring apron, while Christopher Black tries to kick the leg out from
underneath Supreme Wright!]

CL: Hartt has a free ride to the top...but no!  The ladder's too far
over!  The title's just out of reach!

[Hartt climbs one more step, standing now on the very top of the
ladder!  He stands up, balancing himself with his arms...but the title
belt is motionless on its hook, too far for Hartt to grab!]

FH: Too far, you idiot!

[On the ground below, it's Uncle Frank who finally notices Chris Hartt
perched on top of the ladder!]

UF: Look!  It's a bird!  It's a plane!  It's a Paladin!

[The other five men follow Frank's pointing finger...and immediately,
each one of them moves to climb inside the ring, intent on stopping
the Paladin!  Before they can get onto the ring apron, however...Hartt
takes a deep breath...]

CL: THE PALADIN FLIES!  Chris Hartt from the top of the ladder!

[Hartt soars through the air for a brief, shining second, before
slamming into the mass of humanity and sending everyone sprawling to
the ground!  Bodies are thrown everywhere, limbs twisted!]

CL: Hartt with a splash from the top of the ladder!  That's almost
twenty feet off the ground, right onto his opponents!  And the
Saddledome has gone nuts!

[As all seven men lie unconscious, Todd Johnstone runs into the scene,
ducking down and checking on the two members of HOPE who lie next to
each other!  Dallas Lawson yells out for Seiger, trying to urge him
back on to his feet, while Jacob Rose watches keenly, his eyes locked
solely on Black!]

["P-V-W!


P-V-W!

P-V-W!"]

FH: I say god damn, Chip, that was something.

CL: Something indeed!  I don't know WHAT possessed Chris Hartt, but a
suicidal splash has changed the dynamic of this matchup!

FH: Yeah, because now, it's a question of who's going to get back on
their feet first!

[In the midst of their chanting and cheering, the PVW fans in the
Saddledome, and the millions watching around the world, keep a keen
eye on the pile at ringside, waiting to see who pulls themselves out
first!]

CL: These men have all sacrificed their bodies in an attempt to become
a PVW champion!  How much more can they put themselves through?

FH: They'll ALL put themselves through hell, Chip, for a chance to
wear PVW gold!

CL: And it look likes...someone's stirring...Hartt!  It's Chris Hartt
getting back to his feet!

[The man on top, Chris Hartt, is using the ring apron to pull himself
up!  Even as he holds his stomach with his free hand, the look of
determination on the face of the Paladin says it all!  The fans in
attendance now begin to stomp their feet, rocking the Saddledome, and
chanting "Hartt" over and over again...]

CL: ERICH SEIGER WITH A LARIAT!  Freeman didn't see the big German
coming, and Seiger bowls the Paladin over!

FH: FINALLY!  Seiger shows a sign of intelligence!

[Standing at one of the corner ringposts, Seiger catches his breath,
one hand on his quad as he shakes his head to clear the cobwebs!
Lawson cheers him on from the other corner as Seiger turns to the
ring, one arm reaching up to grab the ropes...]

CL: Look!  Christopher Black is getting back on his feet!

[A few feet from Dallas Lawson, the Bad Wolf, now shirtless, has his
head on the ring apron, his mind trying to get into working order.  He
looks up, showing the world the bruises that are beginning to form on
his back...and, down at the other end of the ring, Erich Seiger locks
eyes with Christopher Black!  Both men pause for a moment, then look
back at the still-standing ladder in the middle of the ring!]

CL: It's going to be a race for that ladder between Seiger and
Black...

[ *CLICK*

*CLICK* ]

CL: ...what in the world?!?

[Seiger reaches up with his other arm to grab the ropes in order to
climb into the ring...

...but his other arm won't rise up!

Standing a few feet away, Herscher von Donkerhardt, his body soaked in
swear, laughs at the big German, who now stands handcuffed to the
bottom of the ring post by his wrist!]

CL: HERSCHER VON DONKERHARDT JUST HANDCUFFED ERICH SEIGER!  Seiger was
distracted while looking at Christopher Black, and HVD broke out a
pair of handcuffs!

FH: And look at the other end of the ring!

[As Seiger pulls on his trapped arm, trying to slip free and process
what just happened, Christopher Black is reaching for a grinning Uncle
Frank, who's just out of reach thanks to the other wrist of Black
being handcuffed to THAT ringpost!]

CL: Johnstone!  Todd Johnstone had handcuffs hidden on his person, and
he handed them to HVD and Uncle Frank while they were down from
Hartt's dive!  That's disgusting!

FH: No, it's BRILLIANT!  HOPE just took out the toughest guy in the
match and the biggest guy in the match!

[Spittle flies from Black's lips as he alternates between trying to
pull his wrist free and taking a swing at Uncle Frank!  On the other
end, Seiger's full attention is on the chain, trying to find a weak
link and apparently ignoring the stream of Dutch that Donkerhardt is
sending his way!]

CL: Johnstone now directing traffic!  HOPE is up, everyone else is
down...this is HOPE's moment, their chance to retain the American
title!

[Johnstone manages to coax Uncle Frank into the ring!  Once HVD sees
his partner in between the ropes, he moves out of Seiger's reach and
slides inside the ring!  Uncle Frank, as Johnstone's urging, is moving
the open ladder, and with HVD's help, he sets it up underneath the
American title!]

CL: Seiger and Black are out of the equation, and Freeman, Hartt, and
Wright are down on the outside!  This is HOPE's moment!  Donkerhardt's
starting to climb...and Frank pulls him off?!?

[Uncle Frank grabs Donkerhardt as he reaches the second rung, and
brings him back down to the mat!  HVD, confused, looks at Uncle Frank
for a moment, before beginning to climb the ladder again...but Frank
pulls him back down a second time!  The initial confusion has turned
to anger as HVD yells "what" at Uncle Frank...who points to HVD, and
then at the American title...and them to himself, and makes the "belt"
motion around his own waist!]

CL: Frank realizing that he's not the interim champion!  If Herscher
von Donkerhardt grabs the American title, then it's Christopher Black
who becomes the Television champion for a second time!

[HVD turns back to the ladder a third time...but this time, he doesn't
even get to make it to the first rung, as Uncle Frank spins him back
around!  The sick, twisted glee that normally adorns Frank's face has
been replaced by cold anger, teeth bared.  HVD, on the other hand, is
red hot, barely restraining his fury at he stares at his HOPE
partner!]

CL: We might be seeing a HOPE split here!  Herscher von Donkerhardt
wants his American title back...but Uncle Frank wants his shiny gold
belt back as well!

FH: Why?  What the hell is this happening?  Donkerhardt helped Frank
when he was unconscious earlier by taking the interim title!

CL: Maybe Donkerhardt just wants all the gold he can get his hands on!
It's certainly in the man's nature!

[Frank makes the belt motion again, but HVD's response is to point at
the America title above the ring!  The crowd is buzzing, on the edge
of their seats as there's a good chance that the two HOPE members
might come to blows, their faces inches apart!]

FH: NO!  NO!  Not like this!

CL: Neither man is going to back down!  They both want their
gold...but
now, both men turn to look at Todd Johnstone, who's yelling something
from the outside!

[Johnstone, standing as close to the ring as he can, is pointing to
Donkerhardt...]

CL: I can't believe this!  Johnstone is calling for Herscher von
Donkerhardt to lie down and let Frank cover him!

FH: I mean...that DOES make sense!  Frank will be interim champion,
and everyone else is still down!

[Johnstone is pointing to the mat, slapping the canvas with his good
hand, trying to get HVD to let Frank get a pinfall...and Donkerhardt's
reaction is a look of pure disgust!]

CL: HVD's pride is too much!  He won't lie down and eat a pinfall for
Uncle Frank!  And I don't think Frank's going to like that very much!

[We catch a shot of Frank's lower lip quivering, and his fists
clenching tight, as he slowly realizes that his title might be taken
away from him due to the selfish actions of the PVW American champion!
HVD turns back to Frank, simply giving him a look of dismissal before
heading back for the bottom of the ladder...]

CL: Frank with a hand on HVD's shoulder!

[Donkerhardt slowly turns to look at the hand on his shoulder, the
Saddledome giving its best "oh, snap" sound as the American champion
stares at the hand...and then at Uncle Frank, who's wild eyes tell the
entire story...

TJ: WRIGHT!  COME OUT HERE AND GRAB WRIGHT!

CL: ...and Johnstone hits on a solution!

[Johnstone gestures wildly to the three men still down on the outside!
Supreme Wright is the outlier, closest to the ring, away from a
motionless Chris Hartt and a barely-on-his-feet Adrian Freeman!  After
a tense moment, Frank pulls his hand back from HVD's shoulder, and the
pair of HOPE members, HVD moving quickly, slide out of the ring and
grab the limp body of Supreme Wright!]

CL: Freeman stumbles away...I don't think he knows where he is right
now!  Seiger still pulling on that chain as Freeman leans against the
ring apron in front of our announce table!

[As Freeman holds his forehead, teeth gritted in pain, HVD and Uncle
Frank roll Wright into the ring!  As soon as Wright is on the canvas,
Donkerhardt makes a beeline for the ladder!  Uncle Frank, the grin on
his face small, lies down, back on top of Wright so he can see his
teammate climb the ladder!]

FH: HOPE retains, baby!

CL: Kelly counts for Frank!



ONE!



TWO!



THRE...CRUCIFIX ROLL-UP BY SUPREME WRIGHT!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Supreme Wright is currently the interim Television champion!



CL: Uncle Frank got sloppy, and Supreme Wright took advantage!  He's
the interim champion!

[Wright rolls to his feet, a bit unsteady...but aware enough to duck
the incoming clothesline from Uncle Frank!  The grin is gone, replaced
by pure rage, as Uncle Frank takes a roundhouse swing at Wright, which
the striker easily blocks!]

CL: Donkerhardt ignoring his partner!  He's climbing the ladder!
Frank's on his own...here comes Adrian Freeman!  And he's got the
other ladder!

[Donkerhardt is about halfway up the ladder as Freeman, seeing
Donkerhardt going for the title, charges into the ring, adrenaline
fueling him!  He grabs the ladder that he and Wright had tried to
introduce earlier, and holds it above his head, moving in behind
HVD...]

CL: FREEMAN SPEARS DONKERHARDT!  Freeman drives the top of the ladder
into the small of Donkerhardt's back!

[Donkerhardt howls above the ring, his hand going to the small of his
back!  Freeman rears back with the ladder, and repeats his attack!
Donkerhardt is motionless with pain...as Freeman now puts the ladder
on the mat!]

CL: Freeman...he pulls Donkerhardt onto his shoulders...

[ *THUD* ]

CL: ...ELECTRIC CHAIR SUPLEX ON THE LADDER!  Freeman drops Donkerhardt
back first across that ladder...and for added insult, he pulls the
other ladder on top of him!  HVD's trapped!

[Across the ring, Supreme Wright has gotten the better of Uncle Frank,
driving him into the corner!  Wright, taking advantage, lifts up
Frank, setting him up on the second turnbuckle!]

CL: Uncle Frank showing some signs of life, as he knocks Supreme
Wright back with a right hand!  And Frank...off the second turnbuckle!

[ *THUD* ]

CL: ROLLING KOPPOU KICK!  Wright showing off his training and
athleticism as he DRILLS Frank in that broken nose of his!  Frank is
down!

FH: Hey!  Where's Rose going?

[After trying, unsuccessfully, to assist Christopher Black in trying
to get loose from the handcuffs that have him trapped, Jacob Rose is
now heading up the aisle, to a chorus of slight boos!]

CL: Maybe he's going to get help, or to try to find a handcuff key!

FH: Well, he'll have better luck than that harpy Lawson!

[Indeed, Dallas Lawson, standing nearby, is giving Todd Johnstone a
piece of her mind as Jacob Rose disappears backstage.  Johnstone
ignores her, however, intent on the scene in the ring as Supreme
Wright is called over by Adrian Freeman!]

CL: Freeman directing traffic right now as he picks the ladder up that
was covering Donkerhardt and throws it to the side!  At Freeman's
urging, Wright picks Donkerhardt up...and takes him to a far corner of
the ring!

FH: And Freeman's putting one of those ladders in the opposite corner!
And he's calling for Wright, who whips Donkerhardt towards
Freeman...BIG BACK BODY DROP!

[ *THUD* ]

CL: Donkerhardt dropped back first across that steel ladder!  And
Wright and Freeman with the other one...and they drive it down,
lengthwise, across the body of HVD!

[And they're not done!  Black still thrashes against the handcuffs,
trying to slide his wrist out of the tight ring of metal, as Freeman
and Wright both of HVD in a front facelock!]

CL: Double DDT!  HVD gets planted by this unlikely pairing...and look
who's back in action!

[As the duo get back to their feet, Chris Hartt is on the ring apron!
In unintentional stereo, Freeman and Wright turn around as Hartt
springboards onto the top rope!]

CL: SPRINGBOARD CROSS BODY BY CHRIS HARTT TAKES OUT ADRIAN FREEMAN!
And Hartt with a roll-up!



ONE!



TWO!



BROKEN UP BY WRIGHT!  Wright saves the interim television champion!
Hartt on his feet...he charges Wright...Wright goes for a palm strike,
but Hartt with a baseball slide between Wright's legs!  Wright turns
around...DROPKICK BY HARTT!  Wright staggers back...CLOTHESLINE FROM
BEHIND BY UNCLE FRANK!  Frank clubs Wright in the back of the
head...and throws him out of the ring!

FH: Wow, take a breath there, Chip!

CL: I can't, Frank, this is some incredible action!

[Wright lands on the ground, climbing back to his feet...but Uncle
Frank catches him with a right hand, before slamming him face first
into the ring apron!  Christopher Black, trapped nearby, sends a
stream of very angry words towards Uncle Frank, who doesn't pay
attention as now he sets Wright up...]

CL: Frank whips Supreme Wright into the ring post!  Wright's shoulder
took the brunt of that impact, and he falls to the ground!

[As Wright clutches at his shoulder, Uncle Frank drops down to one
knee, and starts digging underneath the ring apron!  Inside the ring,
Chris Hartt has sent Adrian Freeman to the ropes...and drops him with
a massive spinebuster!]

CL: Cover by Hartt!



ONE!



TWO!



THR...KICKOUT BY ADRIAN FREEMAN!


[Hartt doesn't let up, picking Freeman up, and setting him up for
another ride!  But Freeman reverses...and Hartt ducks the ensuing
Freeman clothesline on the rebound!]

CL: HARTT OFF THE ROPES WITH A RUNNING SCISSORS KICK!  And with
Freeman down, Hartt hooks the leg!



ONE!



TWO!



AND A SHOULDER BY JUST BEFORE THE REFEREE CAN COUNT THREE!


[The crowd shares Hartt's frustration, disappointment on his face as
Hartt picks Freeman back up...but the skilled Freeman grabs Hartt by
the back of the neck, and rolls him up tight!]

CL: INSIDE CRADLE BY ADRIAN FREEMAN!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Adrian Freeman is the current...



CL: HARTT DOESN'T LET GO!  AND HE REVERSES THE CRADLE!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: ...er, Chris Hartt is now the interim Television champion!



[Hartt rolls away, leaving behind a stunned Freeman, who immediately
gets to his feet and starts to argue with Max Kelly!]

CL: Freeman pleading his case to referee Max Kelly, who isn't buying
any of it...uh oh!  Outside the ring, Uncle Frank has found what he
was looking for!

[As Hartt takes advantage of Freeman's tirade to rest, Uncle Frank has
gotten the crowd's full attention, as he pulls a wooden table out from
underneath the ring!  It's a look of determination, lacking mirth,
that adorns the face of the Television champion as he sets up the
table on the ringside mats!]

CL: Christopher Black still trying to reach for Uncle Frank, but he's
well out of reach!  Uncle Frank has that table set up...and he's
grabbing Supreme Wright!

FH: And inside the ring, Freeman's going for Hartt!

CL: Frank's pulling Wright to his feet!

FH: Hartt ducks a clothesline!  Comes back with a dropkick...Freeman
just shoves Hartt's feet away!

CL: Frank's pulling Wright to that table!

FH: Freeman with a front waistlock on Hartt!  Belly to belly
suplex...but Hartt rolls away before Freeman can cover!

CL: Frank...he's pressing Wright about his head!  I think he's going
to try to press slam Supreme Wright through the table!

FH: Freeman...Hartt sweeps the leg!  Freeman is done...and Hartt rolls
on top!  Right hands by Hartt to a prone Freeman!

CL: Frank...Wright slides behind Frank!  He slips out of Uncle Frank's
grasp...rear waistlock by Wright!  And he lifts!

FH: Freeman rolls over!  He's got Hartt pinned, and now HE'S wailing
on him!

CL: Frank rolls through!  He lands on his feet...and tries to charge
Wright...and slams Wright's back into the edge of that table!

FH: Hartt and Freeman manage to separate, and both men are on their
feet!

CL: Wright falls onto the table...and Frank walks around the...BLACK!
CHRISTOPHER BLACK KICKS UNCLE FRANK  RIGHT WHERE IT COUNTS!  FRANK GOT
TOO CLOSE TO BLACK, AND PAYS THE PRICE!  Frank is down!

FH: DONKERHARDT!  AS FREEMAN AND HARTT GOT TO THEIR FEET, DONKERHARDT
CHARGES THEM WITH THE LADDER! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN!

CL: Whew.  I need a cigarette.

FH: You don't smoke, Chip!

CL: I might have to start after this show, Frank!  This has just been
non-stop action!  Tradition is once again shaping up to be an
INCREDIBLE night, and we're still not done!

FH: That's why PVW is the place to be!  Donkerhardt is the only man
standing right now...and he's laying the ladder across the prone
bodies of Adrian Freeman and Chris Hartt!

[Donkerhardt positions the ladder just so...and, after taking a step
back, leaps up onto the ladder, stomping down with both feet and
pressing the weight of the ladder onto the sternums of the two men!
Their arms flail as Donkerhardt adds his mass to the pressure pushing
down on them...before leaping up, and doing it a second time!  And a
third!]

CL: Donkerhardt just STOMPING the ladder into the chest of Freeman and
Hartt!  We could be looking at broken ribs for both these men, Frank!

[Donkerhardt, anger on his face, finally steps off of the ladder.  As
the only man standing at the moment, the full attention and fury of
the Saddledome crowd is directed onto him.  Standing in place, looking
around at the PVW faithful, Donkerhardt returns the hatred, sneering
as he picks the ladder up and holds it over his head one more
time...straddling the fallen head of Chris Hartt]

CL: HVD DRILLS CHRIS HARTT IN THE SKULL WITH THE LADDER!  And now
Donkerhardt covers Hartt!


ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Herscher von Donkerhardt is the interim Television champion!



CL: For another time in this matchip, Donkerhardt will win the
Television title when someone pulls down the American title...and it
looks like it might BE Donkerhardt, as he steps up to the open ladder
underneath the belt!

FH: No Uncle Frank to distract him, HVD's going for the American
title!

CL: But Hartt and Freeman aren't out of it!  They're on their knees!

[Hartt holds his head, an angry red mark showing where Donkerhardt
drove that ladder into his skull, and Freeman's showing the
indentations of where one of the ladder's bolts dug into his pectoral
muscle.  Donkerhardt doesn't pay them any attention, instead putting
his full effort towards climbing the ladder towards the golden title
belt as quickly as he can!]

CL: HVD climbs!  Hartt's got one hand on the bottom run, and Freeman's
getting to his feet!  We have a race, ladies and gentlemen!

[Hartt begins to pull himself up the ladder, using his arms as the
primary source of propulsion, while Freeman, his chest hitching,
slowly begins his own ascent.  The presence of three men on the steel
ladder causes it to shake from side to side, but Donkerhardt keeps his
balance as he reaches the top!]

CL: Donkerhardt...he straddles the very top of the ladder!

FH: The best way to keep his balance as he tries to get that belt
down!

[The Calgary fans cheer on Chris Hartt, and to a lesser extend Adrian
Freeman, as they desperately climb the steel ladder!  Donkerhardt
holds the American title with one hand, and as Todd Johnstone urges
him on, he begins to unhook the belt!]

CL: Donkerhardt's doing it!  He's going to unhook the belt, he's got
one hook undone...ADRIAN FREEMAN WITH A RABBIT PUNCH TO THE KIDNEYS
OF! DONKERHARDT LETS GO OF THE BELT!

[The belt now hangs by only one end, brushing against the shoulder of
Herscher von Donkerhardt.  He tries to grab on to it, but Adrian
Freeman drives another punch into his side, causing him to let go in
pain!  On the other side of the ladder, Chris Hartt has reached the
same rung as Adrian Freeman...]

CL: Freeman and Hartt share some words...and they grab Donkerhardt by
the shoulder!  Donkerhardt...he's still trying to unhook the North
American title...

[With a simultaneous nod, Freeman and Hartt lift up...and dive off the
ladder, with Herscher von Donkerhardt coming along for the ride!

*THUD!* ]

CL: AN ASSISTED POWERBOMB FROM THE TOP OF THE LADDER!  Adrian Freeman
and Chris Hartt sacrifice themselves to make sure Herscher von
Donkerhardt didn't pull down the American title and walk out of here
with BOTH titles!

FH: And that move took a lot out of Hartt AND Freeman!  Both men are
down!

[The fans are on their feet, applauding the efforts of the two men to
save the second-most hated man in this matchup from walking out with
two belts!  And speaking of the most hated man, a chorus of boos
greets Jacob Rose, financial manager and advisor, as he comes out from
the backstage curtain...holding a pair of bolt cutters!]

CL: Jacob Rose coming back down to the ring with the means to free the
trapped Christopher Black!  Black, seeing the big man, begins to wave
his arms, calling for him to come help him get free!

FH: Nope!  Not going to happen, Jacob, as a REAL manager just stepped
up to the plate!

[Rose halts in his tracks as he reaches ringside...because Todd
Johnstone has stepped in front of him once again!]

TJ: Where do you think you're going, Jacob?

JR: To free my charge, Mr. Johnstone.  If you'll excuse me...

TJ: Like hell I will!  Your man's a damn menace, and I think he broke
my finger again!  Drop those bolt cutters right now, Jacob, before I
get Frank to...play with you.

JR: I...you wouldn't...no.  No, Mr. Johnstone, you're right.

[ *CLANK* ]

CL: Jacob Rose just threw those bolt cutters away!  They bounce off
the mat, landing behind Johnstone!

FH: Hah!  How about getting a manager who has some REAL stones, Black!

TJ: Yeah, yeah...just what I thought.  I guess you overestimated your
courage, Mr. Rose.

JR: Maybe...but I think _you_ underestimated one thing, Mr. Johnstone.

TJ: Really?  What's that?

JR: Just because someone is out of arm's length, it doesn't mean they
are out of foot's length.

[Johnstone cocks his head in confusion for a moment...and then
realization sets in.  Quickly, he spins around...and right in front of
him stands Christopher Black, bolt cutters in hand!]

CB: How're ya?

CL: CHRISTOPHER BLACK IS FREE!  Rose threw those bolt cutters down,
and Black used his foot to slide them over and free himself!

[Johnstone puts up his hands, backing away from the Bad Wolf.  Black
drops the bolt cutters, his eyes boring in on the HOPE manager.  He
takes one step forward, causing Johnstone to back all the way up to
the ring barricade!]

CL: Johnstone has nowhere to go...and Black pens him in!

FH: And I think Jacob Rose is secretly enjoying this!

CL: Secretly?

[Johnstone is talking a mile a minute, and in a rarity for the PVW
faithful, they actually strongly consider CHEERING for the Bad Wolf,
who stands motionless, simply staring at the manager, who raises his
arms in a futile attempt to cover up...]

CL: Uncle Frank from behind!  Frank spins Black around...RIGHT HAND BY
BLACK!  And another!  And another!  Black drives Frank back...THUMB TO
THE EYE BY BLACK!

[Frank, stunned by the thumb, is helpless as Black grabs his
head...and slams him, face first, into the ring apron!  And then, he
does it a second time!  And a third!  And each time, a high pitched
scream erupts from Uncle Frank as Black drives his broken nose into
the ring!]

Crowd: FOUR!   FIVE!   SIX!   SEVEN!   EIGHT!  NINE!

[Black, having beaten Frank to a pulp using the ring, holds the back
of Frank's skull, the Television champion slumping slightly, the white
bandages across his face turning a dark crimson.  The Englishman
ignores the crowd's reaction as he spins Frank around, hooking him
from the side...

[ *CLANG!* ]

Crowd: TEN!

CL:  Christopher Black with a Side Russian Legsweep into the steel
steps!  There is NO way Uncle Frank cannot have a concussion!

[Black still has a hold of Frank as he sits on the ring steps, looking
around for a new way to punish the man he has at his mercy.  It
doesn't take long for Black to realize his goal, as he pulls Frank
up!]

CL: Christopher Black is dragging Uncle Frank to the table!  Frank set
it up earlier in this match and tried to put Supreme Wright through
it, but now it looks like it's going to backfire on him!

FH: And it might backfire on Black!  No one is moving inside that
ring, but instead of going for the American title, Black is focusing
on making Uncle Frank's life a living hell!

[A right hand to the temple, just in case, and then Black lays Uncle
Frank out on that table!  Frank is motionless, head lolling to one
side, as Black pulls himself up onto the ring apron!  The crowd buzzes
with anticipation, holding their breath as Black backs himself up all
the way to the corner post!]

CL: Black is going to drive Frank through that table...

FH: Like hell he is!  Johnstone with the save!

[Todd Johnstone puts himself into harm's way, grabbing the ankle of
Uncle Frank and pulling him off of the table!  The anticipation turn
to boos as Black manages to stop short, holding on to the top rope as
he watches Johnstone help Frank back to his feet, the Television
champion leaning on his manager for support!]

CL: Uncle Frank is finally coming around, and he has his manager to
thank for that!  Frank...INCOMING!

[Johnstone looks up at the last second, and manages to dive out of the
way just as Christopher Black flies, nearly taking off Uncle Frank's
head!]

CL: FLYING CLOTHESLINE BY CHRISTOPHER BLACK!  Black clears the table
and almost decapitates Frank!  And did you see Frank's head bounce off
the floor!

[Uncle Frank is sprawled out, his arms and legs akimbo, eyes staring
up at the ceiling of the Saddledome!  Todd Johnstone, having landed
against the ringside barrier, has one hand in his hair, eyes wide at
the scene in front of him!  Black is sitting up, his hands between his
knees, breathing heavily, a predatory grin on his face as he takes a
second to enjoy the moment!]

CL: Jacob Rose applauding his charge!  It seemed like Uncle Frank had
Christopher Black's number throughout this matchup, but Black finally
turned the tables!

[Rose claps his hands, nodding with approval...but a motion out of the
corner of his eye catches his attention!  As he was focused on Black
and Frank, Dallas Lawson came around the corner of the ring, and she
stops as he turns to face her.  The redhead looks at Rose for a
moment...and down at the bolt cutters that lie at the feet of Jacob
Rose!]

CL: Dallas Lawson apparently was going to grab those bolt cutters in
an attempt to free Erich Seiger!

FH: But Rose caught her!  Maybe he ain't so bad after all!

[Lawson takes a step forward, her eyes going back to the bolt cutters,
before going back to Rose.  Rose returns her look for a moment,
confusion on his face...before, with a loud sigh, he bends down and
grabs the bolt cutters with his foot, walking towards Lawson and
handing them over to the cheers of the Saddledome crowd!]

CL: Jacob Rose just handed Dallas Lawson the bolt cutters!

[Lawson, after a moment, grabs the cutters, a grateful smile on her
face.  Rose, nodding in return, has his response picked up by the
camera's microphone...]

JR: Professional courtesy, Miss Lawson, nothing more.

[Lawson turns away, limping over to where Seiger is handcuffed to the
ring post!  Seiger leans back, pulling the chain tight as the
redheaded Texan slides the blades of the bolt cutter forward...]

CL: Seiger is free!  And he's immediately climbing the ring steps!

FH: Rose, you moron!  Seiger could have been out of this match for the
rest of the night, but instead Seiger's back inside the ring!

[As Seiger moves towards the ladder, hobbling slightly, Christopher
Black has gotten to his feet.  Thoughts of the American title on his
mind, Black turns to the ring to see Erich Seiger going for the ladder
that still sits underneath the American title!]

CL: BLACK IS ON THE MOVE!  He slides underneath the table and is
quickly climbing back into the ring!  Seiger is unaware of
Black...RUNNING KNEE LIFT STAGGERS THE GERMAN!  And a kick by Black to
the leg of Seiger, driving him back!  And another kick!  Seiger to the
ropes...Black with an Irish whip, but Seiger reverses!  CROSS BODY
BLOCK ON THE REBOUND!  Seiger is down and Black with the cover!



ONE!



TWO!



SEIGER POWERS OUT!


[Black gets right back to his feet, but his attempt to lay another
kick into Seiger's thigh is halted as Seiger grabs Black's leg!  With
his free hand, Seiger shoves Black to the mat...and grabs the other
leg!]

CL: Slingshot by Seiger, and Black hits the top turnbuckle!

[Dallas Lawson, having watched her charge be out of the match for a
long period of time, jumps up and down, the constant discomfort in her
leg forgotten as Seiger continues his assault on Black, the bolt
cutters on the ring apron in front of her!]

TJ: Hey!  Hey!  What the hell did you do, missy?!?

CL: Uh oh!  Todd Johnstone's coming for Lawson!

[As Seiger sets Black in the corner...]

Crowd: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

[...and lays a MASSIVE chop across his torso, the manager of HOPE has
made his way to where Lawson stands!  Hair messed from his adventures
this evening, Johnstone stands a few feet away from the Texan, yelling
wildly at her!]

TJ: Did you free that German oaf?!?

DL: Yeah, Todd, AFTER your man handcuffed him to the ring post!

TJ: Oh, come on!  I swear, you stupid redheaded bitch, I...

[As the "b" word escapes Johnstone's lips, a hand falls on Johnstone's
shoulder, and the HOPE manager is spun around...

...and then the crowd goes wild]

CL: JACOB ROSE JUST PUNCHED TODD JOHNSTONE!

[Rose lays a right cross across Johnstone's jaw.  While not a trained
fighter, being 6'8" and weighing 300 pounds makes up for a lack of
discipline as Johnstone stumbles backwards...]

Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF!

[...and Dallas Lawson finishes the job, driving the shaft of her cane
between Johnstone's legs and nailing him in the lower abdominal area!]

TJ: Oh...my groin...

CL: Jacob Rose apparently didn't approve of Todd Johnstone's words for
Dallas Lawson, and both the managers let Johnstone know how they feel!

[Johnstone slumps to the mat, holding his groin, curling up from the
pain!  Rose, looking slightly disturbed, shakes his hand, flexing the
fingers to make sure nothing was broken!]

FH: Now that is NOT fair!  Todd Johnstone is a helpless manager!  He's
incapable of defending himself from being attacked by one-and-a-half-
men!

CL: Hey!  Don't disparage Lawson by calling her half a man!

FH: I was referring to Rose!

MK: HEY!  HEY!  What the hell?

[As Black slides out of the corner, turning Seiger around and
peppering him with right hands, Max Kelly has seen the aftermath of
the managers' scuffle on the outside, and comes over to the ropes to
yell at Rose and Lawson!]

MK: What did the two of you do?

[Rose adjusts his tie, a chagrined look on his face as he responds the
best way he knows how]

JR: He started it, sir.

MK: For the love of...ok, you two?

[Kelly rears his arm back, and whips it forward, pointing towards the
locker room!

MK: YOU'RE GONE!

[Johnstone manages to smirk through the pain as the Saddledome erupts
in a chorus of boos.  Jacob Rose shakes his head as Dallas Lawson
explodes, pointing her finger at Max Kelly and at Todd Johnstone]

FH: Finally, some justice!  Those two have NO right to interfere in
this matchup, especially with Jacob Rose bringing bolt cutters to the
ring!  Those things could hurt someone!

CL: Bolt...what about Todd Johnstone?  Did you not SEE all the time
he's interfered in this matchup?

FH: I don't understand the question and refuse to answer it.

[Kelly keeps pointing towards the back!  Lawson keeps up her tirade,
but Jacob Rose gently puts his hand on her arm, and tries to lead her
towards the locker room!]

CL: HOPE handcuffs Black and Seiger to the ring posts, Rose and Lawson
free them...and Todd Johnstone is still at ringside!

FH: I know!  It's nice to see someone upholding the rules around here
for once!

[As Rose, still with his hand on Lawson's arm, manages to bring her to
the aisle leading back to the locker room.  As the pair, Lawson still
seething and Rose with something akin to relief on his face, walk
away, Christopher Black looks up from his assault on Erich Seiger to
see his manager leaving ringside and the referee calling for the ring
announcer!]

HD: Ladies and gentlemen, due to their assault on Todd
Johnstone...Dallas Lawson and Jacob Rose have been banned from
ringside for the duration of this matchup!

CL: Oh, Christopher Black does NOT like that!

[Black explodes out of the corner!  He doesn't shove Max Kelly, but he
gets uncomfortably close to the referee, spitting out several choice
words that would cause a sailor from the Royal Navy to blush!

FH: Suck it up and deal, Black!  You too, Seiger!

[Erich Seiger now has joined Black, Germany and England allied for
once as the pair protest the referee's decision to kick out the
managers!]

CL: In a match like this, with very loose rules, I'm intrigued as to
what the justification is for Max Kelly's decision!

[Seiger runs a hand through his buzzcut, frustration on his features,
while Black sticks with pure anger!  After realizing his attempts to
sway Kelly are useless, Black pulls off one of those full-body curses,
slamming his feet into the mat...before turning around and shoving an
unsuspecting Erich Seiger!]

CL: Black is still upset that his manager was tossed...and he's giving
Erich Seiger the riot act!

[Seiger, also looking frustrated, puts his hands on his hips, looking
out at the crowd as Black gets in his face as best he can, anger
pouring out of the Bad Wolf towards "Der Kreuzritter!"]

CL: Oh, Black is NOT happy...and I don't think his choice of words is
making Seiger happy, either!

[It's when Black jams a finger in the chest of Seiger that the German
reacts.  One hand slaps the finger away, and Seiger takes a step
forward, towering over Black...who doesn't back down!]

CB: ...bloody stupid, stupid, STUPID crippled ginger bint o' yours!  I
swear, both you AND that pathetic, dried-up cu...

[Black's words are suddenly cut off, along with his breath, as Erich
Seiger wraps a hand around his throat!  Black's eyes widen as Seiger
squeezes the Englishman, pushing him back towards the ropes!]

CL: Black just said the WRONG thing to Erich Seiger!

[Seiger's eyes bear down on Black as he shoves him down against the
top rope, his massive hand crushing the windpipe of Black!  Black
tries to break free, his hands beating down on the massive forearm of
Seiger, but to no avail!]

CL: Seiger's got Black...GOOZLE LIFT!  SEIGER TURNS AROUND...AND DROPS
BLACK INTO A CROSS BODY...


[ *KER-UNCH!*

The Saddledome goes wild as, from a chokeslam position, Erich Seiger
drops Christopher Black across his chest, and then throws Black
overhead with a fallaway slam OVER the top rope...onto the table at
ringside!]

FH: Well, that's it.  Christopher Black is dead.

CL: Erich Seiger with a fallaway slam, sending Black crashing through
the table!  Black is down, ladies and gentlemen!

[The camera focus on the wreckage of wood and metal, bent into a "V"
position from the impact of Black's body!  Black is motionless, one
arm resting against the floor, his body covered with wooden splinters
and strips of metal!]

CL: Erich Seiger has taken Christopher Black out of this match!

[Seiger rests against the top rope for a second, his gaze on the
fallen body of a man rapidly becoming one of his rivals, before
returning to the task at hand.  The crowd still cheers as Seiger walks
over to the ladder, putting one foot on the bottom rung...only to
realize that he's not alone, as another competitor has set his foot on
the bottom rung on the opposite side of the ladder!

For a moment, Supreme Wright stares at Erich Seiger...before a cocky
grin spreads across the young man's face!]

SW: Feel froggy, Erich?

[Seiger, after translating the idiom in his head, responds]

ES: Ja.

CL: Supreme Wright begins to climb that ladder, and Erich Seiger's
right there with him on the other side!

[Wright is faster, but Seiger is bigger, and both advantages cancel
out as the two competitors reach the top of the ladder at the same
time!  Wright reaches for the American title, but Seiger does as
well!]

CL: Both men have one hand on the gold...and use the other to pound
away on each other!

[Seiger uses his massive right hand, while Wright relies on his
elbows!  Only their legs are on the ladder as each man tries to knock
the other one to the mat!]

CL: Seiger is barely keeping his balance here, but he's hanging in
there against the more experienced Wright...but the big man is
spending more time trying not to fall than taking it to Wright, and
Wright begins to take advantage!  Elbow!  Elbow!

Crowd: Ooooooooooooooooooh!

CL: Wright with a kick to the head of Seiger!

Crowd: Ooooooooooooooooooh!

CL: And now another one with the opposite leg!

Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

CL: SPIN KICK BY SUPREME WRIGHT!  SEIGER GOES DOWN!  A high risk move
by Supreme Wright almost fifteen feet off the ground, but it pays off!

FH: And Seiger hit the mat head first!  If that kick didn't knock him
out, the impact sure as hell did!

[Wright manages to land with both feet on the top rung of the ladder,
grabbing onto the wire harness to steady himself!  As he balances,
Seiger, having been kicked in the temple by the expert feet of Supreme
Wright, slowly falls over, tilting to one side before falling off the
ladder and slamming into the mat below!]

CL: Wright's got his balance back!  He's gonna get the title belt and
become American champion!

[Wright shakes his head and catches his breath, before reaching out
for the American title...and pausing, his fingers brushing against the
gold, as he realizes that Adrian Freeman is climbing the opposite
side!]

CL: Here comes Freeman...and he's telling Wright to back off!

[Cue the boos from Calgary as Adrian Freeman, standing on the other
side of the ladder, points for Wright to climb back down the ladder!
Wright immediately shakes his head, grabbing for the American title,
but Freeman rips it from his grasp!]

FH: Oh, man!  In the heat of the moment, I think Wright forgot his
deal with Freeman!  If Wright wants his match with Freeman, he has to
let Freeman win a belt!

[Wright looks at the American title for a moment...]

AF: Get down, Supreme!  My belt, my moment!

[...before he shakes his head with disgust!  Freeman nods, pointing
for Wright to climb down and leave him alone at the top of the
ladder!]

CL: I can't believe this.  Wright giving up the American title solely
so he can get his match with Adrian Freeman!

[Wright hops off the ladder, hands on his hips, holding back a curse
as, above him, Adrian Freeman is bathed in the lights of flashbulbs as
he goes to remove the American title from its hook...]

CL: CHRIS HARTT FLIES PAST WRIGHT!  He leaps up the ladder...AND FLIES
OVER FREEMAN!

[Fingers on the metal of the hook, Freeman's reaction to Chris Hartt
is an initial one of stunned surprise as the Paladin flies up the
ladder, and leaps from the top rung...flopping over Freeman and
hooking his hands around Freeman's waist!

*THUD!* ]

CL: SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB FROM THE TOP OF THE LADDER!  Chris Hartt
drills Adrian Freeman into the mat from fifteen feet in the air!  He
ran past Wright before he could stop him, and this matchup...will
continue!

[Freeman lands and holds his position, nearly bent in half like an
accordion.  Chris Hartt takes a moment to climb to his feet, but
notices Supreme Wright moving in close behind him!]

CL: Elbow to the ribs of Supreme Wright doubles him over...HARTT WITH
A SUNSET FLIP!



ONE!



TWO!



WRIGHT KICKS OUT!


[Hartt is immediately back on his feet, along with Wright!  Wright
charges the Paladin, arm extended for a clothesline, but Hartt grabs
the arm and swings his legs up to Wright's shoulders!]

CL: CRUCIFIX PIN!



ONE!



TWO!



AND WRIGHT KICKS OUT AGAIN!  Both men on their...Wright with a leg
scissors takedown, and he reaches to pull Hartt's leg back!



ONE!



TWO!



HARTT ROLLS AWAY!   Wright follows, pressing him into the ropes and
whipping him across the ring...DROP TOE...

[ *THUD!* ]

CL: ...DROP TOE HOLD ONTO THAT SECOND LADDER!  HVD had used it earlier
in the match, and thanks to some lucky positioning, Supreme Wright
just performed a drop toe hold that sent Chris Hartt's head crashing
into the metal!

FH: Wright seems surprised.  I think this is just one of those happy
accidents!

CL: Happy accident?  Chris Hartt could have a broken skull!

FH: Happy, happy accident!

CL: Wright takes advantage, though, as he pulls the ladder further
into the ring!  That first ladder has taken a LOT of abuse in this
matchup, so Wright might be...

FH: HERSCHER VON DONKERHARDT KICKS WRIGHT IN THE STOMACH!  And he's
got the arms...

[ *THUD!* ]

FH: UNDERHOOK SUPLEX ONTO THE LADDER!  Supreme Wright was paying too
much attention to the ladder and HVD DRILLS him into!

[The crowd boos lustily as Donkerhardt grabs the bottom rope, and
rolls Supreme Wright out using his feet!  He turns and does the same
thing to Chris Hartt, and hits the trifecta by putting Adrian Freeman
down on the ringside mat as well!  He ignores Erich Seiger, who is
still face down from Wright's spin kick, moving towards the ladder!]

FH: This is it!  This is it!  Donkerhardt's all alone in the ring
except for an unconscious Seiger!  He's got the belt...and I think
he's STILL the interim Television champion!

CL: That's right, Frank!  For the second time in this matchup, there's
a VERY good chance that we might see Herscher von Donkerhardt walk out
of here with two title belts!

[Donkerhardt, his hands on the sides of the ladder, looks up, making
sure the American belt, HIS American belt, is within reach...]

PA: #ON YOUR FEET!  WHO'S WITH ME!#

[...and HVD turns immediately towards the aisleway, as "Soldiers" by
Drowning Pool begins to play, bringing the Calgary crowd back to their
feet!]

FH: No!  Not now!  Are you kidding me!

[Gas mask.  Glowing red eyes.  Green skin.  To the massive
appreciation of the Saddledome, quite possibly the most bizarre freak
in Phoenix Valley Wrestling has made his way through the curtain, and
is on his way to the ring!  Todd Johnstone immediately begins to point
at the figure coming to the ring, but HVD's full attention has already
been focused on him]

CL: Here comes Major Damage, and HVD has been stunned into inaction!

FH: Major Damage?  IT'S WILLIAM CRAVEN IN A MASK!

[Donkerhardt steps away from the ladder, his eyes locked on Damage.
No flag, no pyro, just Drowning Pool as Damage marches to the ring!]

CL: Major Damage DID say he wanted to, and I quote, end the Hessian's
occupation of American soil...

FH: No!  Damn it, there is no Major Damage, it's William Craven!  And
there's no way that idiot is going to take the American title from
Donkerhardt!

[Donkerhardt snap out of his state of shock, immediately preparing to
go to war, as he looks around the ring...before sliding out of the
ring!]

CL: It looks like Donkerhardt is going to meet Major Damage head
on...and he's got the steel chair, the one that Uncle Frank and
Christopher Black used on each other earlier in the match!  And he's
egging Damage...

FH: CRAVEN!

CL: ...to come at him!

[Donkerhardt slams the chair into the ringside mats, a stream of Dutch
escaping from his lips as Damage passes the still-limp body of
Christopher Black, engulfed in the wreckage of the former table, and
rounds the corner...where Donkerhardt is waiting for him!]

CL: Donkerhardt swings, but Craven ducks!  Donkerhardt spins
around...and misses with his second swing!  Third time...IS NOT THE
CHARM! Donkerhardt misses, and Major Damage sidesteps before popping
HVD with a right hand!  Donkerhardt drops the chair as Damage grabs
him...and slam him into the ring apron!  And now, headfirst into the
barrier! And the ring apron again!  And the barrier!

[Donkerhardt, his head rolling from his dazed state, offers no
resistance as Donkerhardt steps beside him...and lifts him into the
air...]

Crowd: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

FH: NO!  NO!  NO!  YOU MONSTER, CRAVEN!

CL: Major Damage drops Donkerhardt onto the ringside barricade!

FH: You DO NOT do that to your fellow man, no matter what!

[Donkerhardt's face immediately becomes a mask of pain, his eyes wide
and his mouth in an 'o' shape.  Major Damage shows no reaction as
agony races through Donkerhardt's body!]

CL: Major Damage...oh!  That's gotta hurt!

[Damage puts one hand on the small of Donkerhardt's back, and the
other just below his neck...and proceeds to PUSH Donkerhardt along the
barricade!]

CL: Major Damage doing...well, major damage to Donkerhardt!

[Damage stops, leaving Donkerhardt upright, but immobile.  He steps
behind the American champion...and hooks him around the neck!]

CL: Major Damage...T-BONE SUPLEX FROM THE RAILING!

[ *THUD!* ]

CL: RIGHT ONTO THE STEEL CHAIR!  Major Damage might have just broken
the neck of Herscher von Donkerhardt!

[Donkerhardt crumples upon landing, falling motionless to the ringside
mat!  Major Damage stands up, and, upon seeing the fallen form of his
foe, comes to attention...and gives the fallen Dutchman a salute!]

CL: And Damage now climbing over the barricade!  He's marching away
through this cheering crowd!

FH: Sickos!  Psychopaths!  High functioning sociopaths!  Major Damage
might have just ended the career of one of this federation's greatest
champions, and they're cheering?!?

[Todd Johnstone is immediately at the side of his champion, calling
out HVD's name, to no response!]

FH: We need medical personnel out here, right now!

CL: Right now?  How about after the match!  All seven men have gone
through physical torture here tonight, and we STILL don't have a
champion...but it looks like we're going to have another challenger!

[As Todd Johnstone stands up, waving his arms for someone to come from
the back to assist Donkerhardt, Adrian Freeman has gotten to his feet
on the other side of the ring.  He moves slowly, the various abuses
his body has taken during this matchup beginning to catch up with him.
Gingerly, he takes a few steps, turning around the corner of the ring,
where he sees Supreme Wright lying motionless next to Chris Hartt!]

CL: Adrian Freeman is picking up Supreme Wright...and tossing him into
the ring!  Freeman is slow to get back inside!  He's holding the back
of his head as he slides under the bottom rope.   Supreme Wright is
motionless as Adrian Freeman...COVERS HIM!



ONE!




TWO!




THRE...WRIGHT KICKS OUT!


[Adrian Freeman sits up on his knees, a look of exasperation on his
face, as Supreme Wright rolls away.  Using the ropes, Wright stands
up, a questioning glare being sent in the direction of Freeman...who
slaps the mat in front of him!]

AF: Get back here and let me cover you!

FH: Freeman wants Wright to lie down for him!  The interim Television
champion is down on the outside, so this is a perfect opportunity for
Freeman to...damn it, it's brilliant, but if Freeman goes for the
American title, HVD becomes Television champion!

CL: I guess Freeman wants the sure thing instead of being interrupted
for the American title!

[Wright stares down at Freeman, who slams the mat with both hands and
tells Wright in no uncertain terms that he's going to eat this
pinfall!  But, to the cheers of the Saddledome, Wright crosses his
arms, and shakes his head!]

CL: Wright promised to protect Freeman, but he NEVER said anything
about lying down for him!  Freeman miscalculated the pride of Supreme
Wright, and now he's livid!

[Freeman gets up, and gets in the face of Supreme Wright!  Wright's
face is neutral, almost uncaring, as Freeman demands Wright take the
fall!]

CL: Wright showing no emotion...and I think that's making Freeman
even...LUNGBLOWER!  LUNGBLOWER FROM BEHIND ON ADRIAN FREEMAN BY UNCLE
FRANK!  AND FRANK ROLLS HIM OVER FOR THE COVER!



ONE!



TWO!



THR...SHOULDER UP BY FREEMAN!  Uncle Frank slipped into the ring
during that heated exchange between Freeman and Wright and almost
became interim champion!


[Freeman sits up, holding his upper back as he screams in pain.
Wright simply takes a step back, letting Frank pull Freeman up to his
feet...and sends Freeman for the ride...]

CL: DOUBLE KNEEBREAKER BY UNCLE FRANK!  And another cover of Freeman!



ONE!



TWO!



AND A KICK OUT BY FREEMAN!


FH: Come on, Wright, get in there and save your teammate.

[Wright's response to the announcer's plea...is to roll to the
outside, abandoning his partner to the mercies of Uncle Frank!  Frank
has found his second wind, pulling Freeman up...and setting him across
his shoulders in a Fireman's Carry!]

CL: Frank...FIREMAN'S CARRY GUTBUSTER!  Frank throws Freeman in the
air and DROPS him right on his knees!   And cover by a grinning Uncle
Frank!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE...NO!  NO!  ADRIAN FREEMAN KICKS OUT AT 2.99 SECONDS!



FH: The grin on Frank's face gets bigger...which is bad news for
Adrian Freeman!]

[On the outside, two of Calgary's finest, wearing the familiar light
blue uniform of EMT's everywhere, are checking on the motionless
Herscher von Donkerhardt.  Todd Johnstone's attention is on the fallen
American champion...which is why he doesn't see Supreme Wright
grabbing the steel chair nearby!]

CL: Wright's got that steel chair!

FH: He's gonna use it to waffle Uncle Frank!

CL: Frank with another Fireman's Carry...Freeman manages to grab the
ropes with one hand!  And he fires off an elbow into the side of Uncle
Frank's head!  And another!  And Adrian Freeman manages to use the
ropes to slip out Frank's grasp!

[As Frank goes to grab Freeman, Wright has slipped back into the ring,
that steel chair in hand!  Freeman rakes the face of Uncle Frank,
causing the Television champion to stagger towards the middle of the
ring, holding his face!]

CL: Wright is winding up!  Frank is helpless...

[Uncle Frank pulls his hands away from his eyes, blinking rapidly...to
see Supreme Wright holding a steel chair, primed and ready to lay it
along side someone's head...]

SW: Duck, Frank.

[...and Wright swings!]

UF: NO MORE ALUMINUM SIDING!

CL: UNCLE FRANK DUCKS!

[ *KERRRRRRRR-ACK!*

HUUUUUUUUUGE POP!]

CL: SUPREME WRIGHT JUST SMASHED ADRIAN FREEMAN IN THE HEAD WITH A
STEEL CHAIR!  DOWN GOES FREEMAN!  DOWN GOES FREEMAN!

FH: WRIGHT TOUCHED FREEMAN!  He just threw away his shot at a rematch!
What was he thinking!

[Calgary is stomping their feet, cheering wildly!  Wright stands over
Freeman, dropping the steel chair to the mat!]

SW: Sorry, Adrian.  Frank ducked.  Oops.

FH: LIKE HELL!  Wright traded it all away when he drilled Freeman!

CL: Looks like it was an accident, Frank!  They happen all the time in
this business!  And besides, technically, it was the CHAIR that
touched him...

FH: Leave the weak rationalizations to me, Chip!

CL: Wright turns away from Freeman...and Uncle Frank takes advantage!
Frank covers the downed Freeman!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Uncle Frank is the current interim Television champion!



CL: Frank has his title back!  But Wright is ignoring him!  He's
grabbing that second ladder, and he's setting it up!

FH: Why?

CL: Probably because that first one can't be very sturdy, with the
abuse it's taken tonight!

[As Frank slumps in the corner, a relieved smile on his face, Wright
sets the ladder, which he had been slammed onto earlier, up right next
to the current one!  After making sure it's underneath the American
title, Wright becomes his ascent, and the cheers from his earlier
actions continue as he goes for the gold!]

FH: Wright's gonna pull it off!  No one's in any position to stop him!
Frank's gonna retain, and we're gonna have a new American champion!

[Standing on the second rung from the top, Wright pulls the American
title to him!  The crowd is in a frenzy, a new champion about to be
crowned...until the belt flies away from Wright's fingers, swinging
wildly through the air!

CL: The belt!  It slipped out of Wright's grasp!

FH: I...I think something HIT the belt, Chip!

CL: It couldn't be!  Wright's reaching for the belt, but it's swinging
out of his grasp!  He's stretching...Supreme Wright is DANGEROUSLY
off- balance her, but he'll do anything for that American title!

[The belt swings past Wright, just missing the tips of his fingers!
Wright leans the other way, one hand gripping the top of the ladder as
he reaches out for the title...]

CL: The belt is just out of reach...AND SOMETHING HITS WRIGHT IN THE
HEAD!  I think someone in the crowd threw something!  Wright is off-
balance!

[Wright was leaning out too far when the object hit him!  His free arm
windmills, trying to move him back toward stability...as the ladder
wobbles, tipping slightly...]

CL: SOMETHING ELSE HITS WRIGHT!  AND...HE FALLS!  THE LADDER'S COMING
WITH HIM!

[Wright goes for a ride!  He lets go of the ladder as he falls through
the air, pushing away...but, as the open ladder falls against the top
rope, so does Supreme Wright, who lands, stomach first, on the top
rope!]

CL: Wright HAD the American title in his grasp, but some demented fan
threw...what is that in the ring, Frank?

FH: Looks like...looks like a t-shirt!  The kind you fire from...well,
from that!

CL: From what?

FH: That t-shirt cannon that the Mercenary is currently reloading in
the middle of the aisle!

[Indeed, as the Calgary crowd begins to boo loudly, the PVW's gun-for-
hire is currently standing halfway down the aisle leading to the ring!
He has the PVW T-Shirt Cannon(tm) held upright, and like Frank said,
is currently in the process of reloading it!]

CL: What the hell is HE doing out here?

FH: Oh, yeah, it's FINE when William Craven goosesteps down here, but
a REAL soldier shows up, and you're indignant!  It's obvious why the
Mercenary blasted Wright off the ladder...he said on Showcase that
he's sick and tired of newcomers to the PVW like Adrian Freeman and
Erich Seiger getting title shots before a longtime veteran like
himself! Wright was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!

[Having reloaded the cannon, the Mercenary strikes a pose, throwing
the cannon over his shoulder like a  World War II recruiting poster,
and giving a stern glare to those fans who are giving him the thumbs
down!]

CL: The Mercenary just cost Supreme Wright the American title...BUT
HERE COMES HEATH DAWSON!

[The Mercenary, his eyes on the ring and the next person to feel the
wrath of his t-shirt cannon, doesn't appear to notice the sudden shift
from booing to cheering as Heath Dawson races out of the backstage
curtain!]

CL: SPEAR FROM BEHIND BY DAWSON!  The Mercenary drops that t-shirt
cannon, and now we have a brawl in the aisleway!  These two men,
picking up from where they left off to open this show!

[The Mercenary turns around as Heath Dawson begins to lay blow after
blow into him...but the Mercenary responds by wrapping his arms around
Dawson's waist and DRIVING him into the barricade lining the aisle!]

CL: These two men aren't even in this match, but the Mercenary drives
Dawson back-first into the barricade a second time...Dawson drives an
elbow into the back of the Mercenary to break the hold!

[As the Mercenary staggers away, Heath Dawson makes his move!  The
veteran soldier turns back to face Dawson...]

CL: Dawson has the t-shirt cannon!  AND THE MERCENARY GETS A DANNY
DANIELS T-SHIRT TO THE FACE!

FH: That's assault with a deadly weapon!  Dawson should be arrested!

[Dawson drops the cannon as the Mercenary stumbles away!  He
advances...only to find his path blocked by PVW Security, who quickly
flood between him and Heath Dawson, separating the two men!  Dawson
struggles to get at the Mercenary, who pushes back at the three
personnel holding him back!]

CL: PVW Security trying to restore some semblance of order to what has
already been a chaotic main event!  They're forcing Heath Dawson and
the Mercenary out of the arena and backstage!

FH: Oh, sure, where the hell were you guys when William Craven was out
here assault Herscher von Donkerhardt?!?

CL: Well, Major Damage is a commissioned officer...maybe he was
ordered out here.

FH: I...er...but...the Mercenary...I hate you so much, Chip.

[As Dawson and the Mercenary are forced backstage, the camera swoops
over the carnage inside and surrounding the ring.

EMT's are waving smelling salts under the nose of Herscher von
Donkerhardt, and much to the relief of Todd Johnstone, he's starting
to come around.

Uncle Frank sits in the corner, a smile on his face, content with the
knowledge that HE is the interim PVW Television champion.

Adrian Freeman, his eyes wide open, stares up at the lights of the
Saddledome, one arm idly thrown across the bottom rope.

Erich Seiger is finally beginning to stir, his eyes holding a faraway
look as he raises his head.

Chris Hartt is on his hands and knees, his head ringing from being
dropped face first onto a steel ladder.

Supreme Wright has fallen off of the top rope, landing on the outside
apron, his ebony stomach baring an angry bruise from where he fell.

And...like the slasher in a horror movie coming back for one last
scare, Christopher Black grabs onto the bottom rope, and slowly pulls
himself back in the ring!]

FH: What rough beast, its hour comes at last, slouches towards
Bethlehem to be born?  Christopher Black, apparently, who just refuses
to lie down and quit!

CL: Did...did you just quote W.B. Yeats, Frank?

FH: I'm the Announcer of the Year, Chip.  I have read a poem or two.

[Black manages to stand up, stumbling forward towards the middle of
the ring, where two ladders stand, side-by-side.  He rests against the
rungs of one ladder, collapsing against it for a second, his eyes
wide, sweat covering his chest...but one hand reaches up, and it's
with sheer determination that Black pulls himself up to the first
rung!]

CL: Christopher Black driving himself...Erich Seiger from behind!
Rear waistlock...BRIDGING GERMAN SUPLEX!



ONE!




TWO!




BLACK ROLLS OUT!  Seiger is spun around...Supreme Wright with a kick
to the stomach!  AND A DOUBLE-KNEE ASSISTED FACEBUSTER BY WRIGHT!
Seiger is down, and Wright covers!



ONE!



TWO!



CHRIS HARTT !  He pulls Wright to his feet...HARTT SPRINGBOARDS OFF
THE SECOND ROPE!  MOONSAULT INVERTED DDT!  Phenomenal move by Hartt
and he covers Wright!



ONE!



TWO!



UNCLE FRANK PULLS CHRIS HARTT OFF!   FISHERMAN'S BUSTER BY FRANK!
BRIDGES THE HOLD!



ONE!



TWO!



ADRIAN FREEMAN JUST MANAGES TO MAKE THE SAVE!  And Black pulls Freeman
to his feet, and flings him into the corner!  It's breaking down here
in Calgary!

FH: Uncle Frank is caught up in the moment, too!  He's the champion,
but he just tried to pin Hartt!

[Black charges into the corner, ramming his shoulder into the stomach
of Adrian Freeman and doubling him over!

Chris Hartt manages to duck the short-arm clothesline of Uncle Frank,
and sends him to the mat with a dropkick!

Supreme Wright drives Erich Seiger to the corner, and using the top
rope for leverage, begins to kick him in the stomach!]

CL: All six men have found their next gear!  And one of them will be
the next American champion!

FH: Don't count out HVD yet, Chip!  He's coming around!

[His eyes open, Herscher von Donkerhardt begins talking in Dutch,
answering the EMT's questions as Todd Johnstone breathes a sigh of
relief]

CL: I don't think HVD can recover in time to affect this matchup,
Frank!  It's chaos in there!

[Adrian Freeman tries to slip out of the corner...only for Black to
throw him back against the turnbuckles and jump up to the second rope,
driving a knee right into his chin!

Erich Seiger manages to sidestep Supreme Wright's charge, letting the
striker hit the turnbuckles...and the big German come roaring in with
a HUGE Avalanche that crushes Wright between Seiger and the corner!

Chris Hartt switches places with Uncle Frank, and after a forearm
shot, puts his hands on Frank's shoulders, and leaps up!]

CL: MONKEY FLIP BY CHRIS HARTT OUT OF THE CORNER!  And Hartt up to the
second rope...GUILLOTINE LEGDROP!  Hartt covers!


ONE!



TWO!



THR...AND FRANK KICKS OUT!  Max Kelly is all over the ring right now
trying to count every pinfall!


[Seiger grabs Wright in a side headlock...and drops down, driving
Wright's back onto his knee, before turning Wright over...and, as he
drives a massive elbow on his chest, drops Wright down to the mat!]

CL: SEIGER NOW COVERS WRIGHT!



ONE!



TWO!



WRIGHT POWERS OUT AT TWO AND A HALF!


[Adrian Freeman manages to grabs a hold of Christopher Black, and Max
Kelly is once again right there!]

CL: SMALL PACKAGE BY FREEMAN!



ONE!



TWO!



THRE...BLACK MANAGES TO SLIDE OUT!


[Chris Hartt pulls Uncle Frank to his feet, planning his next
move...but Uncle Frank manages to shove Hartt away, and boot him in
the stomach!]

CL: Hartt is doubled over, and Frank...waistlock!  HUGE BELLY TO BELLY
SUPLEX!

[As Frank pounds Hartt into the mat, Supreme Wright, running on pure
adrenaline, manages to beat Erich Seiger back to his feet.  The German
favors his leg, kneeling for a moment before standing up...]

CL: Wright bounces off the ropes!  HIGH CROSS BODY...CAUGHT BY SEIGER!
ERICH SEIGER CATCHES SUPREME WRIGHT!

[Seiger buckles slightly, but he holds Wright close!  Wright throws a
few elbows, trying to make the rookie drop him, but Seiger backs up to
the corner...and slowly starts to step up the ropes!]

FH: Seiger's going up top?!?  With his injured legs!

[Wright bucks in his grasp, trying to free himself from Seiger, but
Seiger manages to make it all the way to the top rope!  For one
moment, Seiger towers above everyone else, almost on the same level at
the American title...before, with a loud roar, Seiger leaps off the
top rope!

*THUD*!]

CL: DER BURGSTURZ!  Seiger hits that top rope slam, driving Supreme
Wright into the mat!  And Seiger hooks the legs!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Ladies and gentlemen, Erich Seiger is the current...



CL: UNCLE FRANK WITH A PUNT!  Uncle Frank just sailed across the ring
and punted Erich Seiger in the head!

[Adrian Freeman momentarily forgotten, Frank charges across the ring
to attack the man who's currently holding his title!  Seiger drops to
the mat like a sack of potatoes as Frank's boot catches him square in
the temple!]

CL: Freeman makes a move...but Chris Hartt cuts him off!  ROLL-UP BY
HARTT!



ONE!



TWO!



THRE...FREEMAN MANAGES TO ROLL OUT!  And he ducks a Hartt
clothesline...reaches back...REVERSE NECKBREAKER ON CHRIS HARTT!


[On the other side of the ring, the manic smile, brought about by the
chaos around him, becomes as bright as the lights of the Saddledome as
Uncle Frank brings Seiger back to his feet!

FH: Check it out!  Adrian Freeman's got that chair!

CL: Freeman reaching for that dented steel chair!  I think he's going
to hit Uncle Frank!

[Uncle Frank bends Seiger over...and sets him up!  It takes a bit of
effort, his muscles straining, but Uncle Frank manages to lift Erich
Seiger into a vertical position!]

CL: Uncle Frank looking to piledriver Erich Seiger...ADRIAN FREEMAN
SLIDES THE CHAIR BEHIND UNCLE FRANK!


[ *THUD!* ]


CL: UNCLE FRANK PILEDRIVES ERICH SEIGER ONTO A STEEL CHAIR!  I don't
think Frank knew Freeman put the chair where Seiger would land, but
the damage has been done!  Seiger's neck compressed like an
accordion...and Frank hooks the leg of Seiger!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Uncle Frank is the current interim Television champion!


FH: Frank's got the belt back!

[Frank rolls away, relief on his face as he lies on his back, thumping
his chest, thoughts of shiny gold in his brain...]

CL: ADRIAN FREEMAN COVERS SEIGER!



ONE!



TWO!



THREE!



HD: Adrian Freeman is the current interim Television champion!  He
helped knocked Seiger unconscious and

[...only for Frank to suddenly sit up.

Freeman gets to his feet, standing over the unconscious Seiger, arms
raised as he celebrates his interim championship for a moment...but
that moment comes to a sudden end as Uncle Frank charges Freeman!]

CL: A spear by Uncle Frank...and the pair go tumbling through the
ropes, down to the floor!

[As the pair hit the ringside mats, the eyes of the Saddledome go back
inside the ring!  As Erich Seiger and Supreme Wright lie motionless on
the mat inside the ring, and Uncle Frank pulls Freeman back to his
feet on the outside, one of the remaining competitors is beginning to
make his move!]

CL: Christopher Black is beginning his climb!  His interruption
moments ago caused this mad scramble, but the Bad Wolf's going for the
gold again!

[Herscher von Donkerhardt tries to get to his feet, but he stumbles,
dropping back to one knee as the EMT's shine a light into his eyes!
But the big story is inside the ring as Black slowly begins to pull
himself up one of the side-by-side ladders!]

CL: Uncle Frank SLAMS Freeman into the ringside barricade!

[Still smiling, Uncle Frank shouts as he pulls Freeman away from the
barrier, and goes to roll him back into the ring...but Freeman puts
both hands on the ring apron, and fires back with a roaring elbow!]

CL: Frank just takes it!  Frank slams Freeman's head into the ring
apron...and tries to roll Freeman back in, but Freeman goes limp!
He's dead weight, and Frank can't roll under the bottom rope!

FH: Damn it!  If Freeman doesn't get back in the ring, he can't be
pinned, and if he can't be pinned, he'll be Television champion!  Do
something, Frank!

[Black's eyes are locked on the American title, not wavering as the
crowd begins to boo loudly!  This isn't respect for a hard fought
competitor, this is pure hatred and disgust being poured out on the
most hated man in Phoenix Valley Wrestling...and he doesn't seem to
notice as he climbs the ladder!]

CL: Uncle Frank trying to lift Freeman back into the ring, but Freeman
slips out!

[Adrian Freeman doesn't get away, however, as Uncle Frank grabs the
back of his head...but, as he goes to slam Freeman face first into the
steel corner post, Freeman gets his hands up to block the attempt!][

CL: Black is almost at the top...and Freeman again slips away from
Uncle Frank...Frank charges!  ADRIAN FREEMAN WITH A WHIPSLAM!  A quick
scoop slam drives Frank into the mats!

FH: Freeman backing away!  He's staying well away from Frank, and
outside on the ring floor!

CL: And...Freeman sees Black climbing!

[The boos intensify as Adrian Freeman, all the while keeping an eye on
Uncle Frank, begins to urge Christopher Black on!]

CL: Freeman wants Black to get the belt!  HOPE might lose both titles!

[Black reaches the last rung on the ladder.  Slumped over and
exhausted, the Bad Wolf draws on whatever anger and rage drives him,
and pushes himself up, reaching for the title belt...]

CL: Black's got the American title in his hand!

[...and the Saddledome suddenly explodes with cheers as a hand wraps
around his wrist and pulls it away from the gold!]

CL: CHRIS HARTT!  The Paladin shot up that second ladder, and how he's
got a hold of the Bad Wolf!  These two men have been dancing around
each other this entire match, and now they're finally face to face!

[Hartt's look of determination as he holds Black's wrist tight is
countered by the barely disguised rage and anger on the face of the
Bad Wolf!  On the ringside mat, Adrian Freeman holds his head in
disbelief, his reign as interim Television champion growing longer as
the two rivals, each on top of a separate ladder, stare at each other
with growing hatred!]

CL: The Saddledome is going nuts!  Those two men are fifteen feet
above the ring, but you can feel the tension all the way down here,
Frank!

[Freeman pounds the mat, yelling for one of the two men to grab the
American title...but he sees Uncle Frank coming out of the corner of
his eye, and barely manages to avoid Frank's charge!]

CL: Uncle Frank comes to a halt...and blocks Freeman's right hand, and
hammers back with one of his own!  Freeman staggers away...and he's
trying to climb over the barricade into the crowd to get away from
Uncle Frank!

[As Frank grabs Freeman at the last minute, pulling him back ringside,
Black looks down at his wrist, and then back up at Hartt...]

CB: Come on 'en, holy warrior.

[...and fires with his free hand, punching Hartt!]

CL: Christopher Black decking Chris Hartt...who comes right back with
a right hand of his own!  This place is electric as Black and Hartt
brawl atop the pair of ladders!

[Flashbulbs are exploding as the ladders shake and shimmy, the two
heated rivals tearing into each other like there's no tomorrow!]

CL: Black tries to shove Hartt to the mat...Hartt holds on, and he
punches Black in the stomach!

[As Black winces from the body blow, Hartt reaches for the American
title...but Black recovers, and instead of punching Hartt, SHOVES the
top of his ladder!  The ladder tilts out, and Hartt grabs on to stop
himself from falling...for one moment, the ladder is perfectly
motionless, resting on its tipping point, before Hartt shifts his
weight, and moves it back to its original position!]

CL: Hartt with a roundhouse!  Black catches that one full on the chin
as he was reaching for the American title!  Black falls backwards!

[Black clutches to the top of the ladder with one arm, his free arm
trying to keep him balanced as he looks over his shoulder at the long
fall awaiting him!  He manages to regain his composure, and leans back
in, ripping the hand of Chris Hartt off of the title and punching
him!]

CL: Those ladders can NOT take much more!

[As the two men trade shots above the ring, Uncle Frank is trying
desperately to roll Adrian Freeman under the bottom ropes, but the
interim Television champion has a death grip on the bottom rope,
refusing to budge!]

CL: Adrian Freeman is holding his ground, even as Uncle Frank lays
clubbing blows down on Freeman...Freeman with a blind boot to Frank's
face!  And now Freeman lays into Uncle Frank!  I think Freeman
realized that his best bet might be to keep Frank occupied on the
outside!

[Todd Johnstone has moved away from where Herscher von Donkerhardt is
leaning against the barricade, now yelling for Uncle Frank to get
Freeman in the ring and retain the Television title for HOPE!  As
attention is split between the two men battling outside the ring and
the two men battling above the ring, the two men still IN the ring are
motionless...but one of them is beginning to stir!]

CL: Look!  Supreme Wright is moving!

[Barely, the striker tries to get on his feet, but he drops back down
to the mat!  A close up of the young man's face shows his exhaustion
and the pure abuse his body has taken during this matchup!]

FH: Seiger's still out, but Wright...oh, no!  Wright's dragging
himself towards Seiger!

[It's slow going, but Supreme Wright is pulling himself across the
mat, moving towards the unconscious body of Erich Seiger!

Adrian Freeman sets Frank up...

*THUD!*

...and whips him into the ring step!

Chris Hartt trades right hands for a chop, cutting across the chest of
Christopher Black!]

CL: Freeman doesn't see Wright!  And neither does Frank!

[Black holds his chest, wincing...and Chris Hartt makes his move!]

CL: Hartt has the belt!  Hartt has the belt!

[Fingers unhooking the last button, inches away from being the PVW
American champion...until Chris Hartt lets go, his hands going to his
throat as Christopher Black drives the edge of his hand into the
unprotected neck of the Paladin!]

CL: Knife-edge strike by Black!  And another!  Hartt can't breathe!

[As Hartt struggles for breath, the American title dangles above the
ring...]

CL: Wright has made it to Seiger!  Seiger's not moving!

[...and with an effort, Supreme Wright drives himself that extra inch,
and throws his arm across the wide chest of "Der Kreuzritter!"]

CL: MAX KELLY WITH THE COUNT!


ONE!



TWO!



THREE!


HD: Supreme Wright is the current interim Television champion!


[Above the ring, Christopher Black and Chris Hartt don't notice...but
outside the ring, Adrian Freeman and Uncle Frank both look up from
where they were about to lock up again, disbelief on their faces as
they realize what just happened!]

CL: Wright drawing on his reserves to make the cover!  We have a new
champion...and now both Freeman and Uncle Frank trying to climb back
inside the ring!

[Black takes a cursory, uncaring glance at the scene below him...and
back up at Chris Hartt, who still is trying to catch his breath...]

CL: CHRISTOPHER BLACK SHOVES THE LADDER!  IT TIPS OVER...CHRIS HARTT
FALLS THROUGH THE AIR!

[Black watches as both Adrian Freeman and Uncle Frank, side-by-side as
they grab onto the ropes to get back inside the ring, instead become a
crash landing pad as the Paladin slams into them from fifteen feet in
the air!]

CL: HARTT'S DOWN!  FREEMAN'S DOWN!  FRANK IS DOWN!

[And, with supernatural calmness, Christopher Black grabs the swinging
American title...

...

...

...and unhooks the last button!]

CL: We have a NEW American champion...and we have a NEW Television
champion!

FH: I can't believe it...HOPE got robbed!


HD: Ladies and gentlemen...the winner of this contest...AND
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW PHOENIX VALLEY WRESTLING AMERICAN
CHAMPION...CHRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTOPHER BLAAAAAAACK!


[A rain of boos begin to rain down from the Saddledome faithful, as
Christopher Black, breathing hard, chest hitching, throws the American
title over his shoulder, looking out over the jeering crowd without a
single thought given to their reaction!]


HD: And...the NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW PHOENIX VALLEY WRESTLING
TELEVISION CHAMPION, SUPREEEEEEEEEEEEEEME WRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT


[Uncle Frank and Adrian Freeman are out of it, unable to react to the
announcement as Max Kelly drops down besides Supreme Wright!  The
young man rolls over, still lying on top of Seiger, and as Kelly
presses the belt onto this chest, he grabs it with one hand, clutching
it to his chest.   A smile begins to forms on his face as he realizes
what's happened, and Wright sits up, his eyes going to the ten pounds
of gold in disbelief!]

FH: Todd Johnstone can't believe it!  For once, the smartest man in
PVW isn't saying a single word!

[Standing over the form of the former American champion, Todd
Johnstone has his hands in his hair, mouth open in shock as Supreme
Wright gets to his feet!    Max Kelly raises his arm in victory...and
with the other hand, Wright shoots the title belt into the air,
celebrating his hard fought victory as the Saddledome crowd eagerly
cheers the new champion!]

CL: Ladies and gentlemen, in one night, in ONE match, the very fabric
of Phoenix Valley Wrestling has changed!  HOPE has lost two of their
titles!  A plan to win Adrian Freeman a title has backfired, with
Supreme Wright the new PVW Television Champion!  And, the hunter has
become the hunted, and that JUST might be the way the new PVW American
Champion, Christopher Black, wants it!

FH: I can't believe...gone!  Both belts gone, just like that!

CL: Folks, after that incredible match, we are JUST about out of time!
For "Fabulous" Fred Hoyle, I'm Chip Lester!  So long, from Calgary!

[The camera takes a low angle, and as Tradition VII comes to a close,
in the foreground, Supreme Wright, a grim smile on his face, holds the
PVW Television title into the air, while, high above the ring,
Christopher Black stares out into the distance, at something beyond
the Saddledome, one hand gripping the PVW American title resting on
his shoulder]



**********************************************************************
PVW Writer Credits
Dawson v. Mercenary - Roger
Manson & Gold Rush v. Uncle Frank & Lineage - Brian
Tracy Hudson v. Dragon Kid - Talion
Fatal Four Tag Team Match - Rob
Brian Young v. Rob Cole - Mark
Perry Fontana v. Derek Weaver - Flouze
DD, Talion, & KQ v. Holliday, Nevermind, & Whisper - Jerod
Sinister v. Spectre - Andy
Double Title - COB

If you feel that you are missing out on all the fun, which you _ARE_
then send an email to pvwinc@gmail.com and volunteer to help!
**********************************************************************