Burning Effect - May 9th 2008
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[The camera zooms in on a hallway. Pacing the hallway while looking
in a small hand-held silver mirror and applying lipstick is a young
woman in her early twenties. She has piercing sky-blue eyes and long
flowing red hair. She is dressed in a deep purple silk blouse and
black jeans. Muttering to herself, she examines her features one more
time in the mirror before putting it away in her pocket.]
[Affixing a beaming white smile, she knocks. Chris Hartt opens the
door.]
Hartt: Uh, hello...can I... help you?
[The woman looks him over, barely containing her enthusiasm. This guy
is stunning. He's in his early 20s, barely taller than her, with a
spectacular build, a bare chest, jeans and white wrist tape, obviously
in the beginnings of gearing up for his night's activities.]
She sticks her hand out, grasping his. "Hey sexy... Has anyone ever
told you how handsome you are?"
Hartt: Uhh....Thanks, but I barely know you. What is it I can do for
you?
[She leans in close to his body, as if to whisper in his ear, then
pauses while taking in his scent.]
Blackstone: I'm Alyssa Blackstone. Pleased to make your acquaintance,
Champ.
Hartt: Nice to meet you. Someone told me a reporter was coming,
but....wow! You're the best dressed reporter I've ever met!
Blackstone (with a slight blush): Thanks, I try to keep myself in
shape. You smell good, what's your favorite deodorant or cologne?
Hartt: Uhh...Degree Shower Clean and Halston Z-14.
Blackstone: Mmm.. So, Champ, tell me about the path to becoming such
a hyped sexy superstar wrestler such as yourself.
Hartt (stuttering a bit): Uhh...well...Sexy? I....I don't know
anything about that. Becoming a superstar wrestler, well, that's come
from being great at what I do and working my ass off to get where I
am.
[Alyssa looks over Hartt again with a smile and a sigh.]
Blackstone: What's it like to be the Rising Phoenix Heritage Champion?
Hartt: It's the most beautiful pain I've ever endured. This belt means
everything to me. To be the oneto hold this belt and give the fans
someone to believe in and be proud of...it's a feeling I would die for
and would die to keep. Even though it puts a bullseye on me from
everyone else in the federation, I wouldn't change it for the world.
Blackstone: Well it is a very important achievement. To be finally be
a champion after all this time. I understand you had somewhat of a
troubled past. Would you have any words of encouragement for the fans
out there who might be struggling right now?
Hartt: Be aware of where your life can go and be careful what risks
you take. You don't really wanna jeopardize your future. Only you
hold you back from what you want from life.
Blackstone: Any good luck charms or rituals?"
Hartt: I get butterflies every time I hear my music start to play. But
I say a prayer to God and hear the words my father once told me. 'Do
what you love and love it till you die. Once you stop loving it, it's
time to move on.'
Blackstone: Well I personally am glad you love it, and aren't yet
ready to move on. You're a strong competitor. Speaking of
competitors, I understand that you are in a bit of a feud, you could
say, with your ex-best friend. I heard you were trying to steal RJ
Souza's wife.
[Hartt's eyes narrow a bit and his tone goes deadly cool.]
Hartt: You're mistaken. I've never tried to take Destiny away from RJ.
RJ pushed her away and all I ever did was try to counsel a hurting
friend. I have never--ever--thought of taking her for my own.
Blackstone (with a faraway look): "Never? Not even once did you
fantasize about her being on your arm, walking you to the ring,
blowing you good luck kisses from the corner?
Hartt: Look, Destiny is like a sister to me! I've NEVER had any
deeper intentions toward her than I would a member of my own family.
And I'm from Minnesota, not Kentucky!
Blackstone: In closing, I just wondered what your next step is.
Hartt: Represent this belt as best as I can until someone beats me for
it and then look to set my focus on the Heavyweight Title. But most of
all, I'm going to prove that I am one of the best technical wrestlers
in the world today.
[Cut. Still images flash across the screen as synthetic percussion is
heard; wrestlers with microphones, striking poses, standing before
crowds. Johnny Styles and Semi, CKD Abdullah, Caleb Foley, and
Charles Lassiter, all with their mouths open, talking.]
#Survivor!#
[Finally, the voice of David Draiman, lead singer of Disturbed, and
their song "10,000 Fists" is heard.]
#Survivor!#
[Rob Cole, still bleeding from a hard match, points at the viewer.
Outlaw with the championship belt before there was ever even a
champion. Charles Lassiter, looking moody. Jack Baldwin talking to a
thoughtful looking Judd Marley.]
#One more god-damn day when I know what I want,#
#and my want will be considered tonight,#
[The massive Jonathan Monarch stands behind an attitudinal-looking
Paul Styles. Steven Hayes and Jimmy Lane stand behind a conniving-
looking Samuel Cunningham. Livestock and the Gutch have each other in
headlocks while Zeke Craven rubs his temples.]
#HWA-HWA!#
#considered tonight!#
[Johnny Oakes with his ribs taped up. The Spectre looking menacing.]
#Just another day when all that I want,#
#will mark me as a sinner tonight,#
[The Rage brothers, Derek and Shadoe with cigars and bottles of
liquor. RJ Souza has himself a bat, and it looks like he's been using
it. Christopher Michaelson looking cocky. Shawn Covell and Gideon
Frost with Darius Walker, Walker addressing them in what looks like a
pep talk.]
#HWA-HWA!#
#I'm a sinner tonight, yeah!#
[Major Damage, his glowing eyes looking out from a darkened room.]
#People can no longer cover their eyes#
#If this disturbs you then walk away#
[Apollo Jones and Bones Ellis
#You will remember the night you were struck by the sight of#
#Ten Thousand fists in the aaaaaaaaaair!#
[Chris Hartt holds high the Rising Phoenix Heritage title. An image
similar to the previous; Chase Williams raising up the PVW Heavyweight
title. The music goes instrumental again as we cut to the PVW
"Burning Effect" logo.]
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[Then fade in on the PVW studio. Two very grizzled older gentlemen,
but fit for their age sit in tall high-backed stools before a counter
that serves as table between them. The gray-haired muscular fellow in
the black sweater speaks first.]
JB: Hello PVW fans. I'm Jack Britain, and here with me is my
broadcast colleague, "Fabulous" Fred Hoyle.
FH: A pleasure ... for some people. Not me.
JB: Ah, yes. At any rate, just now at the top of the hour we just saw
Chris Hartt, after Heatwave went off the air last week, being
interviewed, or some might say accosted, by Alyssa Blackstone. Miss
Blackstone is the newest member of the PVW staff.
FH: And quite the looker. I wonder how she feels about older men.
JB: As terrifying as that thought is, I'm going to try and remain
professional. Getting back to the subject; Blackstone spoke of the
family trouble in the Souza household, and the fact that Hartt is
unfortunately caught in the middle of it.
FH: Well he shouldn't have stuck his nose in it if he didn't want to
lose the tip, huh?
JB: Rather than reiterating the talking points, let's hear from RJ
Souza himself.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Production video,
"Bad Karma" RJ Souza.
------------------------------------
[There is nothing wrong with your television. The follow segment is in
black and white]
[One ring, in an empty arena. The Man in Black....The Batman of PVW
stands in the middle alone. He's in his black boots, black jean shorts
and black ray-bans. His shirt reads "Out of My Mind, Leave A
Message".]
Voice over: It's never been about the title.....
[Fuzz breaks across the screen as it shows the interactions of Chris
Hartt and RJ Souza in combat. Trading of blows and moves.]
Voice Over: It isn't even about winning or losing.
[Fuzz breaks again as they show Destiny, first with RJ during happier
times, then with Chris Hartt backstage...and the swing heard around
the world when RJ hit Destiny.]
Voice Over: It's been about Pride!
[Fuzz breaks as it shows RJ jumping rope, hitting the punching bag and
sparring with another boxer.]
Voice Over: It's been about Jealousy!
[Fuzz breaks as Chris Hartt and Destiny talk backstage.]
Voice Over: It's Now About REVENGE!!
[The camera starts to focus on the man with the bat.]
RJ Souza: Let's get right to the point. I don't know Omnifly enough to
give a crap who or what he is. The only thing I know that he and Out-
Duh both stand in the way.
RJ Souza: You both are in ne hell of a situation. You both want a
title shot at Chris Hartt. You both want to have the pride of being
the best. The idea that the belt gives you power to brag.....Yeah,
the championship. It sounds really good, huh?
RJ Souza: You can talk that title and shove it up you ass!!
RJ Souza: I don't want the title as much as I want blood. Outlaw knows
I would have beat him if Chris Hartt would have let our match go
uninterupted. He feels it in his heart that Chris helped him get the
upper hand on ME! Now we have a fly in the drink... an Omnifly. What
is an Omnifly anyway? Should I bring an oversized Omnifly swatter? I
seen you kid. But I been in the ring a while. I know what I need to
do. I need to give Chris Harrt a wake-up call. They only way I do that
right now.... I put your sorry ass out to dry,
RJ Souza: Out-Duh! You would lose your own head if it was not screwed
on right. You can't make it to the arena on the right night. You got
over on a fluke on me. This time, I show you how things get done. I
have to put you down. Nothing personal. It's just business.
RJ Souza: Chris. It's all about getting back to basics with you. I'm
one week away. I will dispose of these two lightweights and bring the
fight where it belongs. Back to the man who stole my wife from me.
This week, I put two pretenders to the side. Next week, I BREAK YOU!!!
[fuzz....and ftb. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Souza still harboring some resentment towards Chris Hartt.
FH: Resentment? Yes. Anger? Maybe. Gold fever? You betcha.
JB: Souza did say that he didn't want the title.
FH: Yeah, I've said that too in the past. It was because I lost the
title match.
JB: Good point...
FH: Besides, nothing works better than reverse psychology. Hartt
figures this guy's not a threat, then BAM! Bat when the ref's looking
at RJ's old lady in a neckbrace, 1, 2, 3 and Souza's got the strap.
JB: You never cease to disgust me.
FH: That's how I know I'm doin' my job.
JB: Moving on. Let's hear from one of the men Souza just referenced.
The man we all believe is still on some level the former "Flyking"
Will Geddings; Omnifly...
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Production video,
Omnifly.
------------------------------------
[The scene opens to a black background. The word "Omni" is written in
nondescript lettering. A director's chair is, once again, placed in
front of the background. The OmniFly sits in said chair and looks
straight at the camera. He is...laughing.]
[Omni]: Heh...heh heh heh...who do you think you are, Johnny Styles?
Or maybe you don't know. Maybe that was a trick question? Maybe I am
the trickster, not your gnome...not that runt Outlaw. It's me. The
best at what I do. Better than even "'Law". Didn't you find my play on
words funny, Johnny? A play on your habits, you see. HAHAHAHA!
[And an abrupt stop to the laughter]
[Omni]: You tried to reason with me, Johnny. That's what I call you,
you know. Johnny. And you're to call me Omni...or Mr. Fly. You will
treat me with the respect that I deserve. Respect that I earned
through blood, sweat, and simple superiority. I am the most decorated
athlete in this goldfish tank of a federation. Not Rob Cole. Not Paul
Styles. Certainly not Chase Williams. Me. Look it up. It's a face.
[Omni]: But you would try to...to...to reason with me. To try to make
me stay out of your little dance with the Prophets. I had you fooled,
didn't I? When I told you I'd leave you out of it. I could see the
shock in your face as a landed blow-after-blow...
[Omni begins pantomiming the shots...]
[Omni]: ...after-blow on your face. You were fooled. It was a thing of
beauty.
[Omni]: Do not ever try to reason with me again, Johnny. Don't you
ever speak to me in those familiar tones...speaking as if you know me.
There is no FlyKing anymore. No FlyBoy or God. There is no good left
in me, boy...only Omni.
[Omni begins to chuckle again]
[Omni]: Why would Omni hit his partner? Why why why? The more
appropriate question would have to be why wouldn't Omni? What interest
does Omni have in tag team wrestling? Tag team wrestling is the ugly
stepchild of true competition. It didn't matter who I hit with that
chair, my purpose would be accomplished. Outlaw thinks he's avoided my
shot? That he...that -he- has outsmarted Omni? Please. That chair shot
was for the community. Omni never misses when he swings. I hit exactly
what I was aiming for.
[Omni]: Now I step back into the ring with Outlaw. Back into the ring
with PVW's equivalent of a rodeo clown. The thing is, Outlaw...you
know you can't beat me. You know that you have never or will never be
able to defeat Omni. You'll go to some clever location and film some
humorous little video...and it'll be funny, no doubt. Insane asylum?
Monastery? HI-LA-RITY.
[Omni shakes his head]
[Omni]: I don't know where you'll go this week, kid. Maybe the Omni in
Atlanta? Maybe something regarding an OmniBus? Don't know. I
just...don't know. But I do know this...I know this and you know this
and that big straight-man you bring around with you knows this...you
will not beat me. You cannot beat me. You don't even know anyone who
is capable of defeating Omni. No one willing to show their face, at
least...
[A wry smile crosses OmniFly's face]
[Omni]: Oh, that was a joke. There's no one that you know, period, who
can beat me. Heh...heh heh...
[Omni appears to be lost in thought for a moment. He then snaps back
into the moment]
[Omni]: RJ Souza? Don't care. Habitual underachiever. This Rising
Heritage Title is the big time for you, isn't it RJ? This is the
pinnacle of your career. I can only imagine your disappointment at the
news that you have to go through Omni to get a shot at your little
friend. Here's the thing, RJ...when I beat you. When I pin you...or
Outlaw...or both...then I will go on to Heatwave and absolutely
obliterate Chris Hartt. It won't even be a competitive match. You'll
get to keep your little slap-and-tickle with Hartt going on in spite
of the fact that you lost your title shot. Consider that my gift to
you, RJ. An olive branch, so to speak.
[Omni]: The truth is, I couldn't care less about this second-rate
title. Why Omni was thrown into this ring for this..."championship" is
a mystery. Meanwhile, Chase Williams and Rob Cole and Major
Damage...MAJOR DAMAGE!???! Since when does Don't Ask, Don't Tell get
headliner consideration. ...Anyways, these individuals are getting
main event status handed to them, and yet Omni has to earn it? It's
nonsensical.
[Omni]: I will win this Rising Heritage number one contenders match.
Then I will win this Rising Heritage title. And then, finally, I will
melt that title down to its core elements. Sell it...maybe have it
formed into a cheap watch...who knows. But I will finally infuse some
value into this worthless title.
[Omni smiles]
[Omni]: Ask RJ...I'm a giving person. Consider this legitimation of
your title my gift to you, PVW.
[Scene fades. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Omnifly speaking in a very roundabout way.
FH: You surprised? Will Geddings, if it is Will Geddings, has had
more names and personalities than you or I have had skin cells. He's
probably off in Oz somewhere while his body runs around in a
preprogrammed fog.
JB: My, that's almost ... profound, Fred.
FH: Hey, watch your mouth. This is a family show, pal.
JB: Uh ... true. Fans, don't leave your seats. We'll be right back.
FH: Yeah, sit there and get fatter, Americ--
[Cut to commercials.]
------------------------------------
Commercials.
------------------------------------
[The Urban Legend locker room. Semi stands next to a couch, facing
Outlaw and a duffel bag. Outlaw is pulling things out of a "Judgement
Day" duffel bag. Saraphina seems to be doing voiceover.]
[Outlaw throws a shinai at Semi, who catches it easily.]
Nightfire's Voice: Singapore Cane...$0...
[Outlaw thows a pair of belts at Semi, who struggles to catch them
both.]
Nightfire's Voice: Old TV and IC Titles...$0...
[Outlaw throws a strip of magneseum and a match at Semi. Eyes wide,
Semi steps out of the way.]
Nightfire's Voice: Fireball...$0...
[Outlaw continues digging through the bag, muttering to himself.]
Outlaw: Where the [bleep] did that other [bleep] fake belt go?
[bleep] it.
[Outlaw shrugs, and tosses the whole bag at Semi. He catches it, but
stumbles backwards into the couch. Outlaw grins at Semi, then at the
camera.]
Outlaw: Having a [bleep] goof big enough to carry all this [bleep]?
[bleep] priceless.
Nightfire's Voice: There are some things money doesn't need to buy.
For everything else, there's MasterCard.
[The camera fades out.]
------------------------------------
JB: Welcome back, fans. When last you saw us, we were discussing the
Omnifly. He'll be in a big 6-man match, fighting alongside the
Prophets of Rage. Across the ring will be these three men...
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Remote feed,
Outlaw and Urban Legend.
------------------------------------
[Cut to a sparsely decorated appartment. An black oddly comfy couch
is pushed up against a wall, a large tv facing it. Outlaw sits on the
couch holding a copy of the book "Instant Karma" in his hands. The
song Karma Chameleon is playing from an unknown audio source.]
Outlaw: [bleep] this is boring.
[Semi pops into the camera shot.]
Semi: The heck?
Outlaw: What?
Semi: Yer really reachin' for the research this time around.
Outlaw: Well [bleep], what else am I supposed to [bleep] do, I need to
[bleep] study up on [bleep] Karma. I don't [bleep] know what the
[bleep] a [bleep] Souza is.
Semi: It's a person.
Outlaw: Exactly. What the [bleep] am I supposed to [bleep] do about
that?
Semi: Oh I dunno, study the man himself. Ya know, like any normal
person would do.
Outlaw: Hey, I [bleep] remember you [bleep] dragging me to the [bleep]
zoo before
facing the [bleep] Crazy Animals.
[Semi opens his mouth to speak, but stops.]
Semi: Was that really me?
Outlaw: I don't [bleep] remember. My memory isn't what it [bleep]
used to be.
Semi: Thank god.
[He sits himself down on the couch looking at the TV.]
Semi: What's the movie?
Outlaw: It's called [bleep] Karma.
Semi: [bleep] Karma, or just Karma?
Outlaw: Ya [bleep] listening? It's [bleep] called [bleep] Karma.
Semi: right.
[pause.]
Semi: Ya ever feel like this is a great big Monty Python skit?
Outlaw: A [bleep] what?
Semi: Nothin'. So what's the plan for the match? You wrestle in a
triple threat
match recently?
Outlaw: One [bleep] opponent, two [bleep] opponents, six [bleep]
opponents. It's all the [bleep] same to me. I remember the time I
[bleep] beat Bobby Cole and [bleep] Retribution in a [bleep] hell in
the cell, triple threat, table ladders and chairs, first blood, 2 out
of 3 falls, inferno match.
Semi: That's a mouthful. Also never happened, but the visual is
rather interesting.
Outlaw: I'm still [bleep] trying to figure out what the [bleep] a
heritage championship is.
Semi: Do you really want to know, or are ya just trying to be clever.
Outlaw: [bleep] you.
Semi: Of course. So no plans at all, you're basically just going to
walk in there
and wing it.
[Outlaw shrugs.]
Outlaw: That's pretty much what I [bleep] do every [bleep] match isn't
it? Have I
ever [bleep] had a [bleep] plan ?
Semi: I seem to remember one time during a bring your own weapon match
that you
actually thought ahead for more than five minutes.
Outlaw: That was [bleep] awesome. Did I [bleep] win?
Semi: Eh, probably not.
Outlaw: See, I [bleep] planned, and I [bleep] lost. This way I get to
[bleep] goof
around a lot, take no [bleep] responsibility for anything I [bleep] do
or [bleep] say, and basically be a [bleep] ass.
[Semi looks at Outlaw a little bit perplexed.]
Semi: Wait, what?
Outlaw: I said I'm gonna [bleep] kick their [bleep] asses, like I did
[bleep] Chase
Williams and Paul [bleep] Styles.
Semi: Ah right, for a second there I thought ya actually had a lucid
thought.
Outlaw: Now who's [bleep] crazy. Oh speaking of [bleep] crazy, I had
a [bleep] idea for [bleep] researching [bleep] Geddings.
Semi: Really?
Outlaw: I figure the [bleep] is [bleep] insane right. So I found this
[bleep] mental hospital. Figure I can [bleep] dig up some [bleep]
dirt on him.
Semi: Eh. We went there two weeks ago.
Outlaw: Well [bleep] me silly. So basically I've got [bleep] nothing
for this
[bleep] week?
Semi: Looks that way.
[Outlaw tosses the book on the floor, and reaches for a videogame
controller.]
Outlaw: Might as well have some [bleep] fun then. Wanna play some
[bleep] hockey?
Semi: Can I use Mr. Stick?
Outlaw: I don't need to [bleep] know what you [bleep] call it.
[Semi grabs an extra controller and sits back on the couch.]
Semi: A'ight, best two of three.
Outlaw: Now you're in the [bleep] spirit of the [bleep] triple threat
match.
Semi: Did you just trick me into that?
Outlaw: Who [bleep] knows what the [bleep] I'm doing.
[ftb. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: Y'know, I'm pretty sure that listening to Outlaw kills brain
cells. Then again, so does booze.
JB: True.
FH: Got any booze?
JB: No. Does that mean you're entertained by Outlaw?
[As Jack replies to Hoyle, the "Fabulous" one has already found a
gunmetal gray flask inside his blue blazer, and is detaching the shot
glass that serves as cap for it.]
FH: Got it. Wait, what were you saying?
JB: Absolutely nothing. Folks, let's hear from the Prophets.
------------------------------------
Backstage segment,
Wrestler's name.
------------------------------------
[Fade in: "Swingin'" Dean Hayes stands before the PVW backdrop. The
jovial radio announcer/wrestling interviewer seems in good spirits.]
Hayes: This is Swinging Dean Hayes here with you on another edition of
PVW Burning Effect. My guest at this time needs no introduction.
[As he finishes the line Shadoe Rage slides into the shot stage left.
As usual, he doesn't seem to walk so much as he glides. His upper body
stays posed all the way so we can read his sleeveless T-shirt's logo:
ENEMY OF THE WORLD in shiny gold letters against the black jersey
fabric. Rage's eyes are hidden behind aviator glasses and his hair is
held back with a red paisley bandanna. He flexes his arms for the
camera, letting the super definition of his biceps, triceps and
forearms dazzle the audience while he mugs for the camera. His tongue
lolls and flickers lewdly. Suddenly he claps his hands and then rips
them apart and black confetti spews forth, spraying all over Swinging
Dean Hayes.]
Hayes: (brushing himself off) What was that for?
SR: You have just been baptized by the funk, YEAHHHHH!!!!!! Baptised
by the glory of the Rage! It's a freak out! It's a celebration. It's
time for me to do what I do. Yeahhh.
Hayes: Well, I'm not so sure you should be celebrating. Last time we
saw you you were on the wrong side of a pin. It seems that Urban
Legend has your number. They've managed to beat you twice. Nobody else
in Phoenix Valley Wrestling can make the same claim.
[Shadoe's demeanour changes. His tongue stops flickering. His
shoulders hunch as he rests his fists on his hips. He cocks his head
and stares at Dean Hayes and encroaches on his space.]
SR: What exactly are you suggesting?
Hayes: I'm suggesting that Semi is going to make the most of his
opportunity and defeat you in the ring. I'm suggesting that Urban
Legend has figured out how to beat the Rages.
SR: That's what you're suggesting?
Hayes: Yeah.
SR: Unbelievable! Unbelievable, Swinging Dean Hayes that you would
throw out that kind of endorsement to a team that is frankly ...
embarrassing. Urban Legend: Johnny Stalker and Semi and throw in their
potty mouth friend Outlaw, too. You saw that they couldn't compete
with the Prophets when it counted. In the gauntlet match for the World
Tag Team titles they came up short, didn't they?
Hayes: Well, technically, so did you.
[Swinging Dean must be very sure of the strength of his chin or the
protection clauses written into his contract because his words have
Shadoe shaking. The Wildman of the Rage clan looks ready to turn
Hayes' teeth into the next confetti shower.]
SR: We're not talking about how PVW unfairly stacked the deck against
us. That's a subject for another time. We're talking about how one-on-
one the Urban Legend couldn't stop the Prophets. And it doesn't matter
how many trips to the monasteries they make. It doesn't matter how
many cute little gimmicks they come up with ... they can't beat the
Prophets head-to-head. And I'm going to remind them of that fact.
Semi, head-to-head can't beat me.
Hayes: Well, I hate to disagree with you again.
SR: Disagree. Go ahead, I dare you.
Hayes: But Semi is 6'11 and outweighs you by 100 lbs. He may be one of
the most agile big men ever in this sport.
SR: Yeah, he's big. Yes he's fat. And yeah he can fly. But he can't
fly like the Angel of Death! He can't move like me. And he definitely
can't hang in the ring as long as I can. You know that and I know
that. So Semi can do whatever he likes, but he's in Rage Country
without a passport and that spells nothing but bad news for him. Yeah,
we're gonna have to detain him and then send him back to wherever he
came from ... yeah, we're going to stamp denied right across his fat
ass.
Hayes: You sound very confident.
SR: I am confident, Hayes. I am very confident. When you are as great
as I am, right? [Rage pauses as he glares at the incredulous look on
Hayes' face.] As I said when you are as great as I am you can make
bold predictions. That's why I am a Prophet. When I speak the Word
comes true. Word and will to power, baby. That's what I do.
Hayes: Will you be relying on help from your brother? Maybe Omnifly?
SR: The less said about Omnifly the better. Will Geddings is and
always will be useless in tag-team situations. He's not a man you can
rely upon. No, he's not. He can't get citizenship in Rage country.
He's not good enough.
Hayes: You keep mentioning this Rage country. Where is it? What is the
population?
SR: Rage Country exists in every arena around the world. Hayes, don't
you hear them chanting my name when I go to that ring? Don't you hear
the love?
Hayes: (straight-faced) No.
[Rage's eyes pop as he removes his sunglasses and glares into Hayes'
eyes. He tosses them over his shoulder.]
SR: You better start paying attention, then. They all know the truth.
The Rage ... it cannot be denied. Once it takes hold it must have
blood. It will not be satisfied with less. That's the truth man.
That's the truth. And PVW knows that when we go out to that ring we
are going to do business. Read my shirt.
Hayes: Enemy of the World.
SR: That's a misprint. It should read: ENEMA. Yeah.
Hayes: Enema?
SR: That's right, because the PVW management uses us to clean out the
[beep] on their roster. Highway 44 ... outta there. Sexual Energy ...
outta there. UFOs? Unidentifiable Flushed Objects. Outta there. And
now we got these two swollen ass[beep]s in Urban Legend. Yeah, now the
PVW switched to extra strength. Shadoe Rage is going to take the
largest turd on the roster and get rid of it once and for all. I'm
gonna lay him out ... [He holds up his elbow to the camera] ... then
I'm
gonna take this big elbow ... shine it up real nice ... [He rubs the
point
of the elbow] and stick this bitch in you sideways, Semi. And there
will be nothing left for you to do ...
Hayes: Excuse me, but did you just say you were going to turn your
elbow sideways and stick it in Semi? What does that even mean?
SR: It doesn't matter what it means!
[Swinging Dean Hayes freezes, confused by the turn Rage has taken.]
SR: It doesn't matter what direction I take because when it is all
said and done Semi is getting flushed out of PVW. And when I hit him
with the Angel of Death Drop there will be nothing left for him to do
but die in darkness. Do I make myself clear.
Hayes: No.
[Rage glares at Hayes. He simply nods his head.]
SR: Don't understand my words then watch my actions. You'll understand
when you see me in that ring. Fatman, I'm coming for you ...
YEAHHHHHH!!!!!!
[With that Rage backpedals off stage exit left. Swinging Dean Hayes
looks after him bewildered.]
Hayes: Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know about you, but I want to
tune in just to see this clash. I don't know what he said, but I know
he's going to fight.
[Fade out. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: Say what you will about the rulers of Rage Country. They got some
confidence!
JB: That's for s--
FH: And their fans, all over the world ... the Rage-aholics.
JB: I haven't heard of tha--
FH: They're so full of rage, they went to anger management class ...
AND STARTED A RIOT!
JB: Now I know you're not serious.
FH: Just gettin' into the spirit of things.
JB: As is expected.
[Pausing oddly, Jack pushes something deeper into his ear.]
JB: Fans, I've just been notified that another piece from Semi of
Urban Legend via the World Wide Web! Let's watch.
FH: Why does it matter how we got it? It could be fairies for all the
cauliflower-brained cabbage heads care.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Remote feed,
Semi.
------------------------------------
[Just off US Highway 180 in Breckenridge, Texas. The only respite
from the clear, sunny, tire-melting day is found within the shade of
various buildings. Lucky for the cameraman, the sign in the window of
Pam's Cafe reads "Open."
[Cut inside... to a close-up of a rather large cheeseburger and pile
of fries, both dripping with condiments. The camera pans out to two
-- standing, an aging, slender woman in a dress and apron sets down
the burger's plate, smiling slightly. Sitting, and eyeing the food
greedily, Urban Legend's Semi is dressed out of his element in black
slacks and a grey polo shirt. He takes his eyes off the prize meat to
smile at the lady.]
Semi: Thank ya muchly.
[The woman nods, fills his water with the pitcher in her other hand,
and steps back into the kitchen. Semi makes a great show of cracking
his knuckles in preparation.]
Semi: Ah, good ta get outta the desert and see the home front... just
me, lunch, some peace and quiet ta clear the webs--
(Voice): I got mail! Yaaaaaaay!
Semi (nonplussed): ....annnnd the most inconvenient cellphone ever.
[The RAZR on the table vibrates obliviously. Sighing, Semi picks it
up and starts dialing in, shoving some fries into his mouth with his
other hand. He sets the phone down again, listening (and chewing).]
(Voice): First new message.
(Outlaw): Where the [bleep] are you, you [bleep] goof? Just because
you lost the [bleep] game doesn't mean you [bleep] have to leave the
[bleep] st--.
[Rustling is audible in the background, along with other voices and
some amount of censoring. Semi grunts through a mouthful of burger.]
(Stalker): You had t'leave me babysittin' when I'm still healin' up.
[An exaggerated sigh.] Anyway, say 'lo to the usual for us, an' be
sure to get some time in 'fore the Rage match. Ciao.
[Click. Semi puts down the burger, and sighs.]
Semi (grumbling at the phone): So much fer hangin out, now my mind's
on it. [He looks directly at the camera.] And I guess that explains
you.
[He shrugs.]
Semi: Ya know, can we just be done with this whole back and forth
thing? We try kickin yer asses in a fair match and mostly succeed, ya
try kickin our asses after a match with numbers after the match and
mostly fail. I'm startin to care less and less who the better pair is
-- even though it's us -- and at this point I'm fixin to beat another
couple holes in ya to alleviate the boredom of beatin another couple
holes in ya.
Semi: A few weeks ago, Johnny pulled the singles title card. I'm
guessin Shadoe's gonna do it... and I'm gonna do it too, though I've
only got a couple to my name, and we'll say one of em's... unique.
Also, in 'law's duffel bag at the moment. Heh.
Semi: Aside from that... we know how ya work at this point. Watchin
yer matches, being in the ring with ya... and, well, kickin yer asses,
if I may say again. Johnny's got a win on Derek, the three of us got
a win on ya, and now I'm gonna get one on Shad and hopefully close the
book on this. I'm as fast as ya, I can move like ya, I'm as smart as
ya... and I hit harder. There ain't much more to the equation than
that.
[Pause. Semi deflates, staring at his meal.]
Semi: Yeah, this just ain't the same without 'law, now that I think
about it. Gym's on deck, mental's good...
[His face lights up a bit all of a sudden. He calls out.]
Semi: Hey, hon, can I get this ta go? [Lower.] I gotta go piss off
another monk or three.
From the kitchen: What?
Semi: Uh, nothin.
[Semi stands, grabbing the plate to meet halfway. The camera fades
out. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: I don't get it.
FH: See, the cauliflower is the brain, and the cabbage is the head--
[Jack suddenly looks at something just to one side of the camera lens,
and thus the viewer.]
JB: Okay, I think you just made me miss Semi's entire promo.
FH: So? Just double click or control alt delete or whatever and play
it again!
JB: I can't do that, we're on a time crunch here, Fred. Folks! It's
almost time for our first match of the evening, but first, let's hear
from one of the participants in that match: Tommy Ryder.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Production video,
"The Phenom" Tommy Ryder.
------------------------------------
[The camera catches Tommy and Laurel as they arrive in their car]
Dean Hayes: Hey Tommy! Good to see you survived your first match.
Any words for the fans tonight?
[Tommy pauses after opening the trunk and turns slowly to the camera.]
Tommy: Dean, I didn’t survive my first match. I proved a point. It’s
not size that makes the wrestler. It’s heart, drive, determination.
I went out there and showed the fans what ‘The Phenom’ can do. The
announcers almost needed Laurel to sit down and do play-by-play with
them for some of my moves.
Laurel: Tommy, where’s my bag?
DH: Well you did pull off some nice moves, but no one is going to say
you didn’t take a beating out there...
[Tommy cuts dean off.]
TR: Let’s be honest Dean, I’m not the biggest guy on the roster. I
know it. The fans know it. Everyone knows it. BUT, nothing he did
could keep me down. He threw his best at me. I took it and got right
back up.
LL: I still can’t find my bag...
TR: I said I’d be giving him my best and that he couldn’t handle it.
[Tommy pauses, looks away from the camera and quickly turns back.]
TR: Well I was right. That was nothing compared to what I CAN do.
The fans need to expect to see a lot more where that came from. I AM
‘The Phenom’ of the New Breed here in PVW. It won’t be long before
people start taking notice. I’m not a side show. Tommy Ryder is not
the little guy that thinks he weighs 300 pounds. I know my size. I
know my opponent’s size and I’m going to use everything to my
advantage. In wrestling, it’s not the bigger man that always wins,
but the man that has the best strategy has already won before the bell
rings.
LL: Tommy, can you stop yapping for one minute to show me where you
put my bag?
[Turning with an exasperated look on his face.]
TR: Laurel its right there. You’re looking at it.
LL: That’s not my dress bag. That’s got my wrestling gear in it.
[With a half sigh half spelling it out tone]
LL: This is the bag you brought? Why would I wear this? They don’t
have women’s matches in PVW yet. Didn’t you notice the difference in
the bags?
[Anger started to rise in her voice, but dropped just as quickly]
LL: I’m sorry maybe I’m being a little harsh. I just want people to
really see ‘Lady’ Laurel Levinger by your side and how can I do that
in my wrestling gear?
[Dean has a puzzled look on his face. From past experience this
doesn’t match the behavior of ‘Lady’ Laurel Levinger.]
TR: Well, let’s get in and get ready for tonight. Dean, I just want
to remind you and the fans to keep an eye on ‘The Phenom’ and you
won’t be disappointed with what you see.
[Tommy heads into Armory with Laurel trailing slightly behind.]
DH: Well it looks like ‘The Phenom’ is ready for tonight and maybe
Laurel has adjusted to the PVW...
[Laurel snatches the microphone from Dean.]
LL: I told you to address me as ‘Lady’ Laurel Levinger! Oh I’ve
adjusted alright! But is PVW ready for me? Let me tell you this,
maybe there’s more than one phenom here in the PVW.
[She tosses the mic back at Dean as she walks away and Dean motions to
the cameraman that they’re done. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Well, they're in the arena. Now it's time to see again what the
Phenom is all about. Let's take it down to ringside.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Singles action,
Andy Action
-vs-
"The Phenom" Tommy Ryder.
------------------------------------
[Obsession" by Animotion plays over the PA as "Lady" Laurel Levinger
walks down to ringside to present Tommy Ryder, posing with one arm
pointing to the entrance and the other in the air. "Headstrong" by
Trapt blasts over the PA system as the fans raise to their feet. "The
Phenom" Tommy Ryder comes out when he hears "Back off..." in his
music.
Trotting to the ring, he pumps his arms and shakes hands with as many
of the fans as he can reach.
JB: Tommy Ryder is a part of this so called New Breed.
FH: It's quite obvious he is a rookie, but Laurel Levinger on the
other hand.
[Andy Action stands in the ring awaiting Ryder. The bell rings and
the two begin circling around the ring. A quick elbow-colar tie up
and Andy Action pushes the rookie into the ropes... Ryder whipped
into the ropes, and he rebounds right into a standing dropkick.]
JB: A nice drop kick by one half of the tag team Action Packed...
Andy Action quickly pulls him up and Ryder ducks under a standing side
kick... BIG KNEE BREAKER!!!!! Andy Action bounces backwards and off
the ropes... LOW DROPKICK INTO THAT KNEE AND DOWN GOES ACTION..
FH: Not bad.. Ryder going for that knee as Lady Laurel shouts to break
that knee. I like her fire!
[Tommy Ryder grabs that knee and swings it around his own leg working
it over. He pulls Andy Action up and tosses him right out of the
ring. Tommy Ryder with a killer instinct tonight begins to go through
the ropes, but the ref pushes him backwards.]
JB: The Ref now busy with Ryder and Andy Action climbing back to the
ring apron slowly....
[To everyones suprise... Laurel leaps on the apron right behind Andy
Action and lifts him backwards --- ]
"CRRAAACCKK"
JB: HOLY COW!!! BACK SUPLEX FROM LOVELY LAUREL RIGHT ONTO THAT
CEMENT!!
FH: Fiesty!
[Lovely Laurel performs a full flip landing on her feet into a
standing position. She looks at Tommy Ryder ignoring the mixed
reactions coming from the fans.]
JB: The referee now counting Andy Action down...
FH: She may have just won this match for Ryder.
[Finally at a seven count.. Andy Action rolls back into the ring.
Tommy Ryder pulls up Andy Action and whips him with full strength into
the corner with an Irish Whip... Andy Action bounces out and right
into a spinning heel kick. Ryder quickly hooks the leg -- ]
One ...
Two ...
JB: Action with a kick out! Ryder quickly back up and climbing the
ropes...
FH: Andy Action up!!!
[Tommy Ryder leaps... HURRICANRANA AND OUT GOES ANDY ACTION AGAIN!!!]
JB: RYDER EXCITING THE CROWD!!!!
FH: Hoyle quickly back up and realizes he is near Lady Laurel. He
doesn't want any of her...
JB: Apparently he does!
[Andy Action realizes that he's near Laurel and begins focusing on her
trying to get a little payback for earlier. While he's focused on
Laurel, Tommy Ryder takes off.... Top Ropes ... Corkscrew Moonsault to
the outside RIGHT ON ANDY ACTION!!!]
JB: LISTEN TO THESE FANS!!
FH: They love Lady Laurel.
[After getting up from the move Ryder is doing his doule thumb phenom
statement. Laurel is leaning over trash talking into Andy Actions
ear.]
JB: Tommy Ryder rolls Andy Action back in and he follows hooking a
leg!
One ...
Two ...
Thr ---
FH: Not this time! Andy Action just kicks out. You are going to have
to do better then that!
JB: Tommy Ryder not missing a beat sets up. Andy Acton uses the ropes
to rise to his feet and turns... CHOP BLOCK BY RYDER!!!!
[A double under hook DDT while simultaneously kicking Andy Action in
both knees...]
FH: STAY DOWN!!!
JB: Maybe?
One ...
Two ...
Three !!!
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
[The referee raises Ryder's hand, and we cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Tommy Ryder with another impressive win.
FH: Yeah yeah. Y'know, the more I watch this kid, the more I'm
convinced that he's the manager and Laurel's the wrestler. She's got
her head on straight with how this business is supposed to run.
JB: Laurel does cut a mean shape, and I have heard it implied that she
has a competitive background. With some of the ladies coming into the
PVW as managers and valets, I wouldn't be surprised if the rumors that
PVW is starting a women's division were true.
FH: Oh yeah, I hope so. Love me some girl-on-girl action.
JB: Fans, with that, and before the FCC catches up with Fred here,
it's time for another commercial break.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Commercials.
------------------------------------
[Open up on the exterior of some sort of gigantic complex. It looks
like an endless gray box with a colorful lid. Atop said box are the
words "Hel*Mart".]
Narration: When entrepreneur Helen Martin began Hel*Mart back in 1898,
she had no idea of just how big we'd get.
[Cut to the interior of the same box. Only a crisscrossing pattern of
steel girders overhead break up the store's cube-like pattern. Viewed
from just inside the front entrance, the back of the store is not
clearly visible, although the word "layaway" is just barely legible to
those with HDTV sets and a magnifying glass.]
Narration: We have over 300,000 locations worldwide, with dozens more
opening every day. We bring millions of jobs to the communities we
infect, er, "inhabit".
[Panning view of the endless shelves. Ridiculously low, penny-on-the-
dollar prices for a variety of produce.]
Narration: And soon, when our underselling tactics drive all
competitors out of business, you'll have no choice but to work for us,
and then give your paycheck back to us for our merchandise.
What do you expect from a company with a higher GDP than most
oil-producing countries, that pays less in taxes than a poor
family, and owes no loyalty to any sovereign nation?
[Cut to a large group of miserable employees, who turn joyous when
they realize the camera's on. It's clearly faked enthusiasm.]
Crowd: It's my Hel*Mart!
Narrator: Hel*Mart. Just remember; we own you.
[Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: You ever work in Puerto Rico? Man, I had like eight guys pull
knives on me in the locker room. Knives!
JB: I'm shocked. No, really...
[Jack is clearly not shocked. He's so not shocked that it wouldn't be
a surprise if he had a knife in his sweater, waiting for Fred.]
JB: Welcome back, fans! The New Breed of PVW, our second generation
of professional wrestlers. The first large crew of guys who weren't
here when we started this journey called Phoenix Valley Wrestling.
FH: You mean like you?
JB: No, I'm an announcer.
FH: But you were a wrestler.
JB: Past tense. I digress; these kids have been making a serious
impact. First, let's hear from Iraq War veteran, the Tucson Kid.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Backstage segment,
The Tucson Kid.
------------------------------------
[Backstage. Nothing here but a PVW logo backdrop and the Tucson Kid.]
Tucson Kid: So, they call it the New Breed.
[Tucson, a dark-brown haired young man who is wearing his tan leather
poncho and a black bandana, holds up a NEW BREED T-Shirt, which has
well-drawn sketches of each of PVW's newcomers grouped on the back.
Tucson is on the left-hand side, second row down.]
TK: I heard of this when I was walking backstage after the last
Heatwave. Somebody stopped me and asked me where I thought I stood in
the ranks of the New Breed. I didn't know what he was talking about,
and I said so. What IS the New Breed, I asked. Is it a stable? Is
it a faction? Is it an alignment? Is it a tag team that's going to
go back to 1986 in a failed attempt to change the future?
No, turns out that this influx of talent into PVW is gettin' lumped in
together and given a nice catchy name. We're the New Breed. The PVW
promoters are setting us all up to have at each other, have at the
established stars, and they're looking to make some money on us.
I'm all for it.
[A grin spreads across the face of the Tucson Kid, spreading his thin
goatee out wide.]
TK: Tonight, the New Breed starts to weed each other out. Now, there
are three things I know for sure about everyone you see here on this
shirt.
The first: Some will fall, and never be heard from again. People will
look at this shirt, and look at someone's sketch, and ask "Who the
blazes was that?" They will go the road of grapplers from the past
such as Brian Aspen, Ernest Hertz, Johann Svenson, and Allan
Silverbrook. Those people sound familiar to you? No? They were each
the hot new thing in some organization once, the 'future champions',
and they each faded into obscurity.
Is that you, Gibson Hayes?
The second: Some will rise, and tomorrow they will be the
establishment. And they'll look at the next New Breed and sneer,
because here comes ten more guys just like them, trying to fight and
claw and take their place. Go on, name off the PVW stars. From the
top on down, from the normals to the monsters, every one of them
was somebody's New Breed once.
Is that you, Gibson Hayes?
The third thing I know for sure about the New Breed is the simplest,
Gibson Hayes. And I'm not going to ask you about it, because tonight,
I'm the one who will answer the question.
The third: We will tear each other apart to make it in this sport.
That will not be you, Gibson Hayes. Oh no, that will not be you.
That will be the Tucson Kid. And maybe next week, or next month, or
next year you'll get back into the mix and climb your way to the top,
but that night will not be tonight. Our relationship is very well-
defined. One of us is stepping, and the other one is the stone.
Just don't blame yourself when it happens.
[And with that, we cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: Hey, he was talking about the same thing you were.
JB: Yes, and that's good. The 'Kid knows full well his place in PVW,
and he wants to better that position. The only question is: will it
be at the expense of this man?
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Production video,
Gibson "Red" Hayes.
------------------------------------
(A crude handmade sign (black magic marker style) appears on the
screen reading: This is not a paid advertisement for Gibson Hayes.)
(Another sign appears: Gibson Hayes Loves America And Why The Tucson
Kid Wants To Blow Up All Your Loved Ones.)
V/O: Hello America. My name is Gi... er Joey Mereca. I am here to tell
you about a man who puts his country first and his own personal well
being a distant fifth behind his country.
(A picture of Washington Crossing the Delaware with the black haired
with dyed red tips Gibson Hayes superimposed on one of the men in the
background.)
V/O: However not everyone loves the United States. In fact, some
people hate the United States. People who are Godless, Communist
sympathizers who do nothing but plot the downfall of this great
nation.
(A photo of the Tucson Kid at a wrestling event is shown but he has
been defaced with a crude handle bar mustache and a top hat. In his
open and outstretched hand someone drew a money bag that reads:
"Stolen Orphanage Money" and scrawled above his head it reads: Center
for Baby Punching and Doggie Kicking - Instructor: Tucson Kid.)
V/O: Some people's villainy knows no bounds. Some people's idea of a
good time is going to the nursery and punching babies in the face then
stealing their blankets and using those blankets to tie doggies to
speeding cars. And while this cannot be proven, it is rumored that the
Tucson Kid was an adviser to Ho-Chi-Mihn, Genghis Khan, Josef Stalin,
Emperor Palpatine, Cobra Commander, Megatron, Yosemite Sam, Ernst
Stavro Blofeld, Charles Manson and the Kite Eating Tree in Peanuts.
(In succession more cut and paste images of the Tucson Kid are shown
with the listed "villains". Instead of Starscream's face the Tucson
Kid's head is there... well half of it. Someone did not do a good job
of cutting the head out of a photo. As a bonus an extra photo of the
Tucson Kid's head on a random bikini girl's body is shown and in the
background yelling can be heard to switch to another photo. We are now
greeted by a rather crude drawing of a muscle man throwing ships out
of the Pacific Ocean.)
V/O: However America is safe because of men like Gibson Hayes. Gibson
Hayes who so valiantly fought the Japanese at Midway and threw five
hundred and eighty seven Japanese ships into low orbit... wait, that
does... okay, okay, I'll keep reading just stop hitting me! *ahem*
Gibson Hayes who radioed the Apollo 13 mission with instructions at
how not to suck at piloting space craft? Gibson Hayes who hit the game
winning home run against the Kaiser in World War One? Who wrote this
crap?
(A random photo of a dog standing on its hind legs is shown for no
apparent reason.)
V/O: Well, it is obvious America that Gibson Hayes is our only hope to
stave off the dark days that evil, heinous, hideous, smelly men like
the Tucson Kid wish to throw our nation into. Thank you!
[Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: Wow. That was interesting. Very ... different.
JB: Gibson Hayes with a ... little offbeat promo. I can only assume
that Hayes is unaware of the Tucson Kid's service to his country.
FH: Think he's any relation to Tyrone "Purple" Hayes?
JB: Y'know, I'm not sure. I'm going to have to look into that.
FH: You do that, meanwhile, I'm going to go and refill my flask. I
just happen to know where the janitor keeps his stash.
JB: Fred?
[Hopping up and briskly departing, Hoyle is gone like a flash. A
drunken, middle-aged flash. Jack turns back towards the camera.]
JB: Uh, fans, while we wait for Fred to return, let's hear from the
military man monster: Major Damage.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Production video,
Major Damage.
------------------------------------
[Slow bass guitar plays, and it's "The Red" by Chevelle. The lyrics
start in after a few moments as a silhouetted figure is shown against
a sunset backdrop, the sky seemingly set aflame.]
#They say freak,#
#when you're singled out.#
[Flat black fingers flex, then clench in a fist.]
#The red, well it filters through.#
[Darkening rapidly, the sky turns artificially to night, and the
figure by contrast becomes more clear. The gas mask that serves as
face tells everyone just who this is. Standing there, at the edge of
a desert cliff, is Major Damage.]
#So lay down, the threat is real,#
[Fade further, sky joining with silhouette.]
#when his sight goes red again.#
[Finally, everything is black, and twin red pinpoints flare to life;
the LED lights inside Damage's gas mask that serve as his "eyes".
Words in white, animated and shaking, scribble their way across the
screen.]
"Our country right or wrong."
-- Stephen Decatur.
#Seeing red again.#
#Seeing red again.#
[Fade in on a burning American flag waved in slow motion. The view
widens to show Damage, from behind, just outside the entrance portal.
Beyond him is the crowd, most angrily shouting, some even throwing
garbage, but a disturbing portion salutes, standing at attention as
the Major prepares to approach the ring.]
#This change, he won't contain,#
#slip away, to clear your mind.#
[Fade to show Damage walking a circuit around the ring, flame leaving
a red trail behind the still burning flag.]
#When asked, who made it show (who made it show),#
#the truth, he gives in to most.#
[Abruptly, with a hard drum-beat, the Major slams the flagpole down
onto the concrete, and all goes black, only to cut madly to scene
after scene of the Major beating people with his flagpole. First
Horse Thief, then Tyrone Parker, back and forth over a dozen times
keeping with the rhythm of the song's drums.]
#So lay down, the threat is real,#
#when his sight goes red again.#
[Cut to black. Another quote appears on the screen.]
"Only the dead have seen the end of the war."
-- Plato.
[A musical interlude interrupts the lyrics. Open up on the exterior
scene again and Damage is seen watching the sunset from behind. Pan
wildly around the military man monster to show his front, the green of
his camo turned gray by the light, and his black gas mask illuminated
red by the sunset.]
#So lay down, the threat is real,#
#when his sight goes red again.#
[Cut to show old footage of another masked man, gaudily dressed in a
red, white and blue outfit with gold eagle design on the chest being
beaten senseless with Damage's flag pole. Cut again to show the
burning flag being laid over said masked man, who awakes, screaming
and thrashing as he feels the heat.]
#So lay down, the threat is real,#
#when his sight goes red again.#
[More old footage shows Damage repeatedly slamming a smaller, scarred
man's head into a cinder block wall before posting his ribs with the
flagpole.]
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
[Damage again, waving his burning flag. The video is more recent,
however, and the flag is Irish. Now, another quote.]
"...We shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the
fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never
surrender."
-- Winston Churchill.
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
[Damage pummels Johnny Oakes with his pole. Cut to show the same man
taking a Thunder Melter in the middle of the ring. Then, another
quote.]
"War is a series of catastrophes which result in victory."
-- Albert Pike.
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
[Rick Marley takes a pole beating, just like everybody else thusfar,
then eats a Thunder Melter on the ringsteps.]
"...The Way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death."
-- Miyamoto Musashi.
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
#SEEING RED AGAIN,#
[Damage drills Rob Cole into the mat, then hooks the leg for a pin.]
"Patriots always talk of dying for their country and never of killing
for their country."
-- Bertrand Russell.
[Back to Damage on the cliff. Damage remains transfixed on the
sunset, his red "eyes" flaring ever brighter.]
"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the
other bastard die for his."
-- George S. Patton.
#SEEING REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED!!!#
[The lights in the lens of the Major's gas mask dim. Zoom in close on
the mask, expressionless, as he gives the viewer a salute.]
"I have not yet begun to fight!"
-- John Paul Jones.
#They say freak...#
#when you're singled out.#
[Finally, the light in his lenses die completely, and the Major turns
to walk away.]
#The red, it filters through...#
"Enemies of the state shall burn."
-- Major Damage.
[Falling silent, the music ceases. His catchphrase disappears, and
the Major's name bursts into CG flame. End. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Wow, that was something.
FH (from off camera): What's going on?
[From stage right comes Hoyle, carrying a bottle of whiskey and two
large bags of chips.]
JB: The video. A music video for Major Damage.
FH: Aw man, can you rewind it?
JB: No. No, Fred, again, we're making the television program, not
just watching it.
FH: Ah, you suck, old man.
JB: I'm ... fairly certain I'm younger than you.
FH: You're only as old as you feel. Here, have some Funyuns.
[Tossing the bag at Jack, who catches it, Fred plops back down in his
chair. With an incredulous look on his face, Jack nevertheless opens
his bag.]
JB: Fans, let's go back now to the Armory for more action. The Major
himself is taking on Gene Gaines. The match is already in progress.
[Cut to ringside. Standing in the ring is Major Damage, who is, for
once, facing off against a man his own size, and perhaps bigger!]
------------------------------------
Singles action,
"Big" Gene Gaines
-vs-
Major Damage.
------------------------------------
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
JB: Referee Duke Martin calling for the bell, and the Major is just
staring down Gene Gaines. Gaines looking a little intimidated.
FH: Wouldn't you be, Jack? I mean, look at the trail of destruction
this man's left in his wake. If I were in there, I'd get on my knees
and pray to him as unto a god.
JB: Gaines isn't the most easily intimidated individual, Fred. I just
thought it was interesting that he would be taken aback by the Major.
FH: You didn't let me finish; and then I'd whack him one in the nuts.
JB: That is keeping in theme with your career. Gaines just circling
Damage, who watches with his head, but doesn't turn.
[Indeed, Damage remains still, waiting.]
FH: Lord knows he's got nothing to prove against Gaines.
JB: It's rumored that Damage may be making a play for Chase Williams'
Heavyweight Championship. Showing disdain and lack of concern over a
low-ranking wrestler such as Gaines might just be him showing where he
considers himself to be in the PVW.
[Cut to later in the match. It looks like Damage has remained
pensive, while Gaines fearfully keeps his distance.]
Crowd: Boring! Boring! Boring! Boring!
[Ignoring the chants, the announcers continue their prattle, but
Gaines is finally goaded into making a move. Pop!]
FH: Full Nelson! You kidding me!
JB: But can Gaines lock his hands?
[It's a contest of strength for a moment. Gaines strains, and Damage
wiggles a bit as he attempts to escape.]
FH: He's got him!
JB: It's a step in the right direction, but NO!
[Spinning around to face his opponent, Damage frees an arm, spins,
grabs Gaines by the wrist while maintaining the contact with his
captured arm, and kicks the back of Gaines' knee while hurling himself
down on top of Gaines.]
FH: What the hell!?
JB: Damage frees himself, applies a top wristlock, and rear heel trip
takes Gaines down!
GG: AAAAAAAHHH! NO!
[That's Gaines telling the referee that he doesn't give up as Damage
plants a knee in his shoulder, and pulls up on his arm.]
JB: And that's a new one! Damage trying to rip the shoulder of Gene
Gaines! He can't quite straighten his back, but if he does, that's
going to be a separated shoulder for Gaines, at the least!
[Scooting both himself and Damage, Gaines somehow miraculously makes
it to the ropes.]
JB: Gaines gets an ankle on the bottom rope! Duke Martin with the
count!
DM: ONE!
[No reaction from Damage, who cranks on the shoulder, getting another
shout from Gaines.]
DM: TWO! C'mon Damage!
[The Major jerks his head up, looking at the referee, blankly.]
DM: THREE! Now! FOUR!
[Letting go, Damage advances on the Duke Martin, who flees to the
other side of the ring. The crowd gives mixed heat, unsure of what to
think.]
FH: Oh boy, now he's done it.
JB: Referee Duke Martin trying to keep order in there, but it looks
like Damage is attempting to assert himself as the real authority in
the ring.
[Abruptly, from nowhere, Damage is crushed into the referee, who
collapses in the corner as Damage staggers out.]
JB: MASSIVE shoulder check by Gaines! What is he thinking? He's
taken out the referee!
[Grabbing Damage by the neck with both hands, Gaines heaves him up
with ease, and NAILS him into the mat.]
*THOOM!*
[And the crowd goes wild...]
FH: DOUBLE CHOKE BOMB!
JB: Upset! But there's no referee!
FH: WAIT! Look!
[What Fred's referring to is the fact that Damage has sat up.]
JB: Boot to the gas mask by Gaines! Damage rolling over, and already
trying to scramble up! POWERBOMB!
[Heaving Damage up, Gaines indeed gets the power move off.]
*THOOM!*
FH: How the hell is he doing this!?
JB: I don't know, but there's a cover. AND HERE COMES MAX KELLY!
[POP! Sliding halfway across the ring, the replacement referee is
counting before he even skids to a halt.]
JB: ONE!
[Splat goes the replacement referee as, somehow, Gaines is tossed on
top of him. POP!]
FH: WHAT! Damage kicks out, just presses Gaines, tosses him onto Max
Kelly! WHAT!?
[The replacement referee is instantly taken out of the match as the
300+ pound Gaines lands on him. Stunned, but tenacious, Gaines dives
onto Damage, who is in a sitting position, and slaps on a chinlock.]
FH: Gaines is getting desperate, and doesn't know what to do. Looks
like Duke Martin is starting to come to.
[Cut to later in the match. Looks like Gaines has maintained the
advantage, as Damage finds himself in the corner absorbing repeated
back elbow smashes.]
JB: Damage continues to absorb punishment, but I swear, at about the
ten minute mark now, Gene Gaines is sucking wind.
[Soaked with sweat, Gaines looks worse than Duke Martin, who has one
arm tucked to his side, apparently injured after getting crushed by
both wrestlers in the corner early on.]
FH: Damage has taken more punishment in this match than I've seen
anybody deal out except for Caleb Foley, and frankly, I don't get why.
[Blocking a punch upwards, Damage shin kicks Gaines in the ribs,
bringing a gasp from the crowd.]
JB: Sudden turn about. Damage twists -- HEART PUNCH!
[Screaming, the crowd is in amazement as Damage pulls Gaines back up
by the wrist.]
JB: Gaines stunned, but struggling. Crossface chickenwing applied,
but Damage can't get it!
[In a struggle similar to the one at the outset of the match, Damage
does his best to lock his hands together, but settles for chucking
Gaines like a sack of potatoes. POP!]
FH: HOLY! Dead Zone Suplex!
JB: Crossface chickenwing suplex takes Gaines up and over, wrenching
the arm, folding the neck! That's a vertical fall, people, and Gaines
is out of it.
[Rolling with the move, Damage squats down, regaining his grip on the
now helpless Gaines.]
JB: And that's it! Damage arching his back to get Gaines up, but
Crossface, chickenwing, and he's holding Gaines up in the air by his
neck! Gaines tapping!
[Eyes transfixed and bulging, it's clear that Gaines can't talk,
because his neck's cranked so far to one side by the massive forearm
pressed against it. Instead, he taps madly as Duke Martin first
gestures to the timekeeper, then tries to get the military man monster
to let go.]
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
FH: All she wrote, or is it?
JB: Damage not letting go! Martin making the five count ... and
again, Damage threatening the referee, and Duke Martin heads up the
aisle. Gaines, I think, is unconscious, Fred.
FH: Hell yeah he's out. I think he was passing out when he Damage
picked him up. That man's going to need a chiropractor, a neckbrace,
and an attorney.
HD: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match ... MAJOR DAMAGE!!!
["Soldiers" by Drowning Pool plays as we cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: Honestly, I don't get Damage. If I had his skill set, I'd just go
beat down the Champion's locker room door and take the belt.
JB: He still wouldn't be the champion, Fred.
FH: No, but you know the front office would give him a title match
after a stunt like that.
JB: There is a precedent set for power plays earning title shots, but
unless you want to go manage Damage--
[Fred goes wide-eyed, and looks up, thinking hard about it.]
JB: --in which case you'd have to stop commentating on this show--
[Fred stops thinking, and frowns.]
JB: --I suggest we move on. Fans, earlier in the program we heard
from the Tucson Kid, who spoke at length about the New Breed of the
PVW. Now we're going to hear from another member of that group: Larry
Gionet.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Remote feed,
Larry Gionet.
------------------------------------
[The camera pans to a nearly abandoned parking lot hours before PVW
presents Heatwave. As darkness consumes the sky we see Larry Gionet
standing in the center of the silence where one's only light is the
moon hovering from above. Gionet looks into the camera's lens with his
cold blue eyes evoking fear into the camera man as well as the viewing
audience.]
Larry Gionet: To everyone that assumed I would be taking Masked Maniac
lightly; to anybody who assumed I wasn't taking this new home of mine
seriously saw that I speak the truth. Although he disguises himself
from the rest of the world, I left Masked Maniac bruised, battered and
devastated exposing his vulnerability in front of the PVW faithful..
[Gionet looks down at the cracked open asphalt as he pulls hid dirty
blond hair back. As if playing the match back in his head, Gionet is
zoning out in his own little world. A world many have dared to enter
but one few have made out unscathed. His eyes return to the center as
the fierce look of intensity never leaves the eyes of the world-
renowned super star.]
What was perhaps the worst nightmare of his life, was just another day
in the office in the life of Larry Gionet. Was another head dropped
and another notch under MY belt! The violence, the despair, the fear
was all too real for Mashed Maniac. THAT is exactly where I'm home.
Now he sits at home questioning his passion, wondering what he could
do better. Without the fear of your world crumbling you can never stay
on stable ground.
[Larry stands firm on the cracked asphalt as he kicks a piece of it
away with his right foot. He rubs his chin goatee with his left hand.
The friction of skin meeting facial hair sounds like the crackle of a
spark waiting to ignite into flames. A fire he intends to ignite
through the PVW roster one by one. Once started with Masked Maniac and
rolls on with Eric Williams. As if in deep thought, Gionet continues
on.]
That is where I come to you Eric Williams. A newcomer to Phoenix
Valley Wrestling and a rookie to the sport of kings. If you are too
ignorant with pride to have watched my match last week, you my friend
are in for a SEVERE life lesson.
Where are you in your quest for enlightenment? Last I checked, you
needed someone to assist you in fighting your battles. How do you
expect to stand on your own two feet when you can't even rely on
yourself? You had your wife then she left you. You had Dragon Kid, and
now he is off for singles glory. Don't you worry Eric, I will break
you down leaving YOU to pick up the pieces! Unlike the others, I will
leave you with something to remember.
[Larry veers off his attention to the right as one can see the ring
truck pulling in getting ready to set up shop. A warm breeze blows
through the face of Gionet. A look of seriousness melts away from the
face of Larry. In it's place creeps in a sadistic smirk. As one of
the members of the ring crew is barking orders to others, Gionet
remains focused on his mission.]
You won't know my plan of attack, but I promise you that on Heatwave I
will emerge victorious and you Eric will come out broken but wiser.
Every gasp of breath taken will make you realize you can't go without
living without the truth. Any blood loss trickling into your eyes will
prove how blind you were to actually believe miracles can happen. Your
only hope in gaining the world is by losing everything you cherish in
it. Say goodbye to your dreams you hold close Williams because come
Heatwave they will be crushed and buried like your pride and
potentially your bones! It's not about how or why it's all about do
or die!
[Larry looks up to the star less sky. The moon continues to watch
over the horizon as smoke from the ring truck's exhaust pipe roams
like dust on the pavement. Gionet closes his eyes as his smirk
explodes into an unsettling laughter. Larry turns to his left as the
smoke breaks off from his footsteps. With his intimidating presence
away from the camera's eye we now fade to black. Cut back to the
studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Gionet with an intense promo.
FH: It's a bragging point to beat up Masked Maniac now?
JB: Fred, please.
FH: Seriously, I'll go beat him up right now if it'll give me some
cred.
JB: Fans, as Gionet said, he'll be facing "Wherewithal" Eric Williams
on the upcoming PVW Heatwave. Now, let's hear from that man.
------------------------------------
Production video,
"Wherewithal" Eric Williams.
------------------------------------
[Fade in to black. Just the voice of a man – Eric Williams, fresh off
of his first career win in this sport – is heard echoing through the
darkness.]
Eric: I have seven days. Seven days until I step into the ring for
only the second time in my life. And who am I facing? A man who has
been in this business nearly a decade.
[A gigantic screen, to the right, shows Larry Gionet hitting his
reverse tombstone piledriver - which he calls "Darkness Falls" – on
Masked Maniac, and pinning him for the three-count. The light from the
screen dimly illuminates the large stadium – in Phoenix, Arizona,
where PVW will be next – showing a figure standing on the barren
concrete floor. A floor that will be filled with screaming fans, and a
wrestling ring, on May 14th.]
Eric: I face a man who has real in-ring experience, who has been to
more main events than I can even dream of.
[The giant screen cuts to Gionet’s first promo for PVW, where he is
seen leaning against a graffiti-clad wall.]
Eric: A man trying to portray himself as being a rough, ring-worn
fighter.
[The giant screen turns black, as the house lights turn on. You see
that the figure is, indeed, "Wherewithal" Eric Williams, who is
looking around at the empty Phoenix arena with a gleam in his eye – an
addict remembering his very first high.]
Eric: You remind me of my son, begging and pleading with me to watch
him do a cartwheel. And after he’d only finish half of it, he’d stand
up and ask me how "awesome" it was.
I didn’t want to crush him, so I always told him that it was the best
damn cartwheel I’d ever seen.
A day later, he’d start doing the same half-cartwheel. And again he’d
ask, and I’d say "You still got it, son. Good job!"
But, here’s the difference between my son’s cartwheels and your
wrestling:
I’m not going to bullshit you.
[His gaze slowly glides down from the massive arena, to the glass of
the camera lens – at his feet.]
Eric: Gionet, come May 14th, I’m going to squeeze the air right out of
you. And when you’re huffing, puffing, and gasping for breath, I’m
gonna slam you on the mat, and while my music’s blaring, and the
crowd’s cheering my name, you’re gonna tap out.
And why are you gonna tap out, Gionet?
Because while you’re trying so hard to smash MY soul, I’m gonna be
pulling yours apart; one piece at a time.
I’ve got the wherewithal to survive anything you can give me, Gionet.
The cheering fans are gonna be all the adrenaline I need to plow
through you.
[The scene cuts to show clips of Eric Williams’ last match, as the
chorus of "Time Is Running Out" by Muse plays over the scenes.]
##Bury it
"___CRRRRAAASSSSHHH___"
##I won't let you bury it
CL: WILLIAMS WITH A SUICIDE DIVE THROUGH THE ROPES!
##I won't let you smother it
PW: BOTH HIM AND HAYES CRASH HARD INTO THE GUARDRAIL!
##I won't let you murder it
PW: GOOD LORD! He just stomped on Johnny Dylan’s face!
##Our time is running out
CL: Was that a smirk on the face of Eric Williams?
PW: It might have been!
##Our time is running out
[Williams pulls Dylan to his feet once again and drops down scissoring
Dylan’s angle, forcing Dylan to the mat with a drop toe hold. Eric
Williams quickly shifts his body and locks Johnny Dylan in an STF
##You can't push it underground
CL: Beautiful chain wrestling there by Williams as he wrenches on that
STF!
PW: Dylan’s screaming in pain...
##You can't stop it screaming out...
[The music, and the scene, fades to black.]
PW: Dylan screaming in pain
[Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Williams looks ready for his match this upcoming Wednesday.
FH: The kid's got some sick ring presence, and excellent awareness,
I'll give him that. I gotta give the edge to Gionet based on
experience, though.
JB: Very strong analysis, Fred. I'm surprised.
FH: Huh? Oh, right, I mean, "he sucks".
JB: Fans, we'll be back after this commercial break.
------------------------------------
Commercials.
------------------------------------
[Cut quick to a shadowy street corner somewhere in the land of
Suburbia. A man in a ski mask jimmies open the door on an expensive
sportscar.]
Narration: It's 3am, and a man is stealing a car. The car is fully
insured, but is that really enough?
[As he enters the vehicle, the camera view switches to the inside,
where the criminal sneers, pulling off his mask.]
Thief: Yeah, that's right. Come to--
*FLASH!*
Thief: --daddy?
[From nowhere, a voice speaks up.]
Computer: Please enter code.
Thief: Code? What the?
*FLASH!*
[A flash blinds the thief, who recoils in shock.]
*CLICK*
[The doors lock, and the tone of the computerized voice changes.]
Computer: Photograph uploading. Let's go for a ride.
Thief: What the hell? What's going on!?
[Panicking, the thief starts slamming his body against the car door
and trying to unlock it, frantically, as the vehicle starts to move.]
Narration: We say ... no.
[Abruptly, the car peels out as the man climbs into the back,
clumsily, searching for some way out. Pulling down the back seat to
get into the trunk, he comes face to face with a robotic arm, and
narrowly escapes its buzzsaw blade.]
Narration: We believe that the only logical insurance for a vehicle is
a security system that stops criminals ... permanently. Sure,
insurance companies hate us, because we solve the problem, and they
have to pay for the car. Let them say what they want, but there's one
thing for sure.
[Zoom in on the screaming, sweating face of the thief as he hears a
click, and realizes what's about to happen.]
*BOOOOOM!!!*
Narration: That'll teach him better than to steal your car...
Text: Deathtrap 3000: Blowing the competition into the next ...
millenium.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
[The scene slowly fades into a black and white photograph; which is in
a photo album, of Brett Hunter standing side by side with Brian Young
(or as he is called in the caption under the photo Brian Storm).
Slowly the camera pans up to reveal Brian Young looking at the photo
album. Brian gently rubs his bearded chin with his left hand as he
stares through his glasses at the image. A sly smile comes across his
lips, just before he begins to speak.]
BY: Billy Bad Ass ...
[Brian chuckles.]
BY: ... and Brett Hunter ... we were quite the combination, running
around knocking people out with chairs ... tossing our weight around
... kind of what you were doing to Caleb Foley. But Chase, that was a
different time in my life ... a time when life was crumbling in around
me ... my girlfriend was pulled from our house; dragged to the arena,
and was forced to watch me get whipped by a cat of nine tails; all the
while I was handcuffed to a steel cage ... my own blood was being
spilt on a nightly basis, and then I found out that the love of my
life is actually the sister of my enemy ...
How would you have reacted Chase?
[Brian Young pauses for a moment and slowly turns the page of the
photo album. Revealing a picture of him handcuffed to a steel cage
blood flowing from his back and nasty gash across his forehead. In the
picture Brian is screaming in pain as the blood covers every inch of
his face.]
I decided to take charge of my life and if I needed to become Billy
Bad Ass to accomplish that feat ... so be it. If I had to stab my
friends in the back in my quest to win another championship belt ...
so be it! Times change though Chase and I have, as some would say
grown up ... but in reality Chase I have come to realize the
importance of family and friends and if that's enough to
make people anoint me a hero ... well ... that just shows how sad
things have gotten around here.
[Again Brian turns the page of the photo album this time a series of
three pictures. In each one Brian is holding a championship belt high
in the air.]
BY: Chase, I have a question for you ... how can you stand there and
claim that I try to play up the fact I am this quote unquote hero and
my desires and actions are righteous? On Heatwave I made it very clear
that my intentions for the PVW are not unselfish. I was honest and up
front in when I said that I want your PVW Heavyweight Championship. I
thought I was being crystal clear but apparently I was not. So Chase
one more time, you're just a stand in ... occupying the role of king
until the true king returns.
[The camera zooms in upon the pictures. The bottom most picture, which
has the caption Brian Storm wins the AWMC Heavyweight Championship
2000, is of Brian hoisting the AWMC title high in the air with his
left hand. Brian is once again bleeding from his forehead and a piece
of wood is punctured in his right arm.]
BY: And do you know what makes your masquerade as the king of the PVW
even better?
[Brian pauses and slowly turns the page one more time. Before the
camera has a chance to focus on the picture Brian begins to speak
again.]
BY: You have decided to surround yourself with the quote unquote Royal
Family of the PVW. Chase your association with the Royal Family alone
proves my point that you are a stand in. You see for years I've seen
the man known as Paul Styles in action. I've witnessed firsthand his
quote unquote talent in the ring ... and you know what I have seen
Chase...
I've seen a man who gets others to fight his battles for him. I've
seen a man who manipulates things to his advantage. I've watched
first hand as he has someone stand in for him so that he does not have
to fight his own battles. You see Chase, Paul Styles is not royalty;
he is a puppet master ... a man who is only looking out for his own
best interests. A man who will more than likely stab his own mother in
the back to claim the crown of PVW Champion; at least with me Chase
I'm up front and tell you what I want from you.
[The camera focuses once again upon the photo album as Brian pauses
and stares for a long moment at the picture. The picture is of Brian
Young holding his young daughter in his arms with Xavier Sterling and
Sinister by his side, the AWMC title resting upon his shoulder, the
picture is dated 2002. Brian just continues to look at the picture as
he begins to speak. ]
BY: I'm here telling you that I want the PVW Heavyweight Championship
a title that day after day becomes cheapened as you toss it over your
shoulder. With each passing second of your so called championship
reign the PVW loses prestige ... loses its fan base to the various
garbage federations of the world ... Chase, you're a hindrance to this
company being taken seriously and it's time that someone takes you out
behind the tool shed and ends your reign of mediocrity.
[Brian looks up from the photo album and stares directly into the
camera.]
BY: And you know what Chase, I am just 'The One' to end your reign.
[Slowly the camera fades to black as Brian Young closes the photo
album. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Brian Young with strong words for the PVW champion. Fred, what's
your view on Williams' alliance with the tag champs?
FH: What's there to say Two champions plus one champion equals three
champions. All the gold in one place? Who can hold a candle to that?
[Pauses.]
FH: Well, it'd be all the gold if they got the Heritage championship,
but whatever.
JB: I think I know someone who might agree with you. One half of the
tag champs, and one of Young's opponents this Wednesday: Johnathan
Monarch.
------------------------------------
Production video,
Johnathan Monarch.
------------------------------------
[Carl Stevenson is now seated at his large desk rather than Paul
Styles, but the setting is identical so Paul likely just stood up.
Johnathan Monarch stands beside Carl on the same side of the desk.
Carl is dressed in a sharp three piece suit while Johnathan is in a
black dress shirt with maroon suspenders. Only Johnathan's PVW Tag
Title belt sits on the desk, so Paul must have taken his with him]
Carl Stevenson: Well... since Paul refused to be on camera when we
brought up "The Greek God" Jimmy Lane we had to break up our tape this
week, but
that's okay. It doesn't seem strange or dumb at all.
[Carl pauses and glares at someone (Paul) off camera]
CS: But getting to the point... what are you doing, Hartt? Johnathan
Monarch, the third ranked contender and current PVW Tag Team Champion,
tells you and the championship committee that he wants his title match
and a week later The Paladin is set to wrestle The Greek God? Jimmy
Lane is getting title matches? Jimmy Lane shouldn't even have a roster
spot at this point!
[Carl pauses to calm down since his voice had been gradually rising]
Johnathan Monarch: [calmly] I want my title match, Chris.
CS: As epic as The Paladin verse The Greek God is going to be, and as
worthy as [bleep]'in Outlaw will be as Number One Contender, we aren't
going to stand by and watch Jimmy [bleep]'in Lane get title matches
while the real Heritage Champion sits in the top five rankings list.
[Carl leans back in his chair and looks to someone off camera again]
CS: There, are you happy?
[Paul Styles, with his PVW Tag Title belt strapped around his waist
until into frame]
"Rolemodel" Paul Styles: [to Carl] Very! I'm "Rolemodel" Paul Styles,
the undefeated co-holder of the Tag Team Championship. I can't be
associated with jokes like Jimmy Lane or Steven Hayes.
[Paul turns to the camera]
PS: It takes a special like of loser to be the weak link of The
Thrillers, Jimmy. You haven't even won a match yet... why are you
still here? Waiting for a big win over The Dragon Kid to turn things
around? Consider this title match as your severance package because we
all know you're halfway out the door already.
[Paul picks up Johnathan's title belt from the desk and slings it over
his shoulder]
PS: Johnathan wants the Heritage title but even more importantly -I-
want Johnathan to hold the Heritage title. Samuel, you and your team
are jokes so I suggest you three quit wasting everyone's time and just
leave before I'm annoyed enough to turn The Thrillers into The UFOs.
[Paul turns back to Carl with a laid back smile]
PS: Turns out The Greek God was good time after all.
[camera fades out as Carl just shakes his head, Paul points to the
title belts and Johnathan doesn't even look to be paying attention.
Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Looks like the whole Royal Family is focused on Monarch winning
Chris Hartt's Rising Phoenix Heritage championship. I wonder if their
focus will cause them to overlook their opponents in the six man tag
this Wednesday.
FH: I doubt that, Jackie. Let's face it, when you get three champs in
the ring like these guys, and Williams, magic is bound to happen.
Hell, after the fact, they might not even know they were in a match
'cause they won it so easy.
JB: That remains to be seen. For now, let's hear from Monarch's
partner, Paul Styles.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Remote feed,
"Rolemodel" Paul Styles.
------------------------------------
["Rolemodel" Paul Styles sits behind Carl's large antique oak desk
wearing a Gray dress shirt under a pale red sweater vest as well as
small round reading glasses, his usual casual preppy look. The brand
new PW Tag Title belts are both propped up on the desk with the faces
displayed for the camera. A text graphic fades in along the bottom of
the screen]
GRAPHIC: Paul Styles And Friends vs Rob Cole, Caleb Foley, and The One
"Rolemodel" Paul Styles: Rob Cole...
[the graphic fades out]
PS: It's been a long time old friend.
[Paul acts as though he was talking to a close friend]
PS: Heatwave is going to feel like old times. What has it been, seven
years since we've competed? Probably seven years since we've even
spoken, Rob...
[Paul glances down at the desk to hide a small smile and tries to
cover by picking up a pencil]
PS: Yeah, I think besides the Christmas cards and the kids' birthdays
it's been seven years... a long time. But the more things change the
more they stay the same, Rob. Here we are after all this time... out
in the desert with you still trying to one-up me. And I bet seven
years from now you and I will still be doing this all over again with
different partners... And since we're both here lets just be honest
about why Rob Cole has been so obsessive about Paul Styles since he
realized I had returned...
[Paul leans back in the chair, absently tapping the pencil on the
desk]
PS: Rob Cole looks up to me... I'm like a mentor, a father figure. You
don't have to like your father but you respect him and you know you
owe him. What is Rob Cole known as? Who is Rob Cole? He's the scary
guy that ran wild in AWMC when that company was at its peak in the
middle of the wrestling boom. Rob Cole is a legend because of those
matches... the matches with me. Four corner matches, ladder matches,
war game matches, bloody epics with passionate crowds and frantic
media coverage. The defining matches of a company I built from the
ground up, the defining matches of the then little known Rob Cole...
matches that are still talked about today! Eight years later and
people are still asking for rematches. Rob Cole became a star.
[Paul tosses the pencil down]
PS: Except it turns out that despite all the politics and backroom
deals Rob was pulling off he couldn't change the fact that it was
really The Paul Styles AWMC Super Show and Rob Cole was just right
place-right time-and lucky. Without "Rolemodel" Paul Styles, Rob's
polar opposite and arch antagonist, what has Rob Cole done? He hasn't
even been able to keep the companies he's worked for open! Fast
forward to today, I'm back for three months and PVW has become the
hottest company in wrestling and Rob Cole is supposedly on his
strongest roll in years... I'd bet seven years.
PS: And Rob Cole is right, we do hate each other. And not in the
competitive sense that most guys in this business hate each other, but
legitimately hate each other... although for different reasons. Rob
Cole hates Paul Styles because I'm the one person in the world that
Rob Cole needs. Rob's newfound momentum, a career revival acknowledged
by both his peers and critics is just more proof that Rob needs me. I
bring out the best in The Outcast, a competitive edge that Rob had
forgotten he even had.
[Paul takes a deep breath and confidently smiles]
PS: And why does Paul Styles hate Rob Cole? Because Rob's a jerk.
[Paul just pauses and smiles into the camera, giving a slight nod of
acknowledgment to Rob Cole watching]
PS: But this match isn't just about Paul Styles and Rob Cole. It's
also about "The Fighting Irishman" Caleb Foley trying to prevent his
career from burning out. "The Irish Just-Lost-The-Biggest-Match-Of-My-
Life Man" Caleb Foley couldn't beat Chase Williams at Ashes, proving
what most of us already knew, that he didn't deserve to be in there.
What is going to be different this time, Foley? Can you win this time
because you can hide behind Cole? Young is already planning to hide
there, so we'll go to Plan B. Can you win because the pressure of a
super show's main event is off? You're about to wrestle all three
heavyweight champions, including the undefeated
"Rolemodel" Paul Styles, and that sounds like pressure to me so we
need Plan C. The only problem is Plan C is hoping Brian Young's new
nickname will finally make him a credible wrestler... not likely.
[Paul pauses, thinking it over]
PS: So all Foley has left to fall back on is his tenacity. You're able
to take an incredible beating and keep getting up. Which is admittedly
impressive it is also ineffective. The Fighting Irishman has the
offense we could expect from a teenager... none. He keeps getting up
but he can't defend, he can't counter, and he can't win. You can try
and survive, Foley... ... ... and that's about it.
[Paul lazily shrugs]
PS: So my advice to you, kid? Find someone to teach you wrestle,
someone to teach you to win. Remember, if you never learn how to win
and think you can just survive you're going to fail miserably and turn
into Brian Young...
[another text graphic fades in along the bottom of the screen]
GRAPHIC: DISCLAIMER - NO DOCUMENTED PROOF THAT BRIAN YOUNG CAN SURVIVE
PS: The One...
[the graphic fades out]
PS: I turn my head for a month to win the tag titles and now The One
is wrestling in main events? Who is this guy? The guy was allowed to
do some commentary and crack a few of his crappy jokes and he thinks
he's a big deal? The One's follow-up speech on Heatwave was a nice
try, but saying you're a big deal doesn't mean its true... especially
when I've never heard of you winning anything, although we've –ALL-
heard of your reputation as a pretender. You make a lot of noise but
never an impact. You get signed to a few big matches but never win.
You're nobody Brian... And you haven't entertained or impressed anyone
beside yourself in your entire career.
[Paul grabs one of the titles belts off the desk and lays it across
his left shoulder, letting the right strapped fall between his back
and the chair and holding it tight with his left hand]
PS: Up until now The One's PVW career has been a fantasy. Talking
about himself on commentary, standing up to the PVW Champion, hanging
out with the stars he wishes he was... Sounds like "The One" Brian
Young is a real big deal around here! Except he hasn't had to actually
wrestle yet and I don't even think his partners believe he belongs
wrestling all three PVW Heavyweight Champions. We know The One is
taking the fall in the match, we know The One will never wrestle for
the PVW title, and after his commentary on Ashes we know The One will
never be cool. Rob and Foley wont even matter because all Paul Styles,
Chase Williams, or Johnathan Monarch have to do is beat Brian Young...
he's The One.
[Paul motions to the belt over his shoulder with a nod]
PS: The three world champions against a guy who is still secretly in
awe of me, a guy watching his career free fall, and a guy who should
rightfully be in the Heritage title contendership match... See you on
Wednesday.
[Paul looks into the camera with a small smile and points to his title
belt as the camera fades out. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Styles reinforcing what was said in the previous segment, and
making reference to the six man tag as well.
FH: See? They're not overlooking anything.
JB: Maybe. Still, looking forward to Hartt's title can be a
distraction, and when you're competing at the level of all these
gentlemen, all it takes is a single distraction to tip the scales and
win the match.
FH: Wait, there's a weigh-in for the match? They'll need a cattle
scale for Monarch, they know that, right?
JB: Anyway, here's one of those gentlemen's opponents. Fans, this is
Rob Cole.
------------------------------------
Production video,
"Outcast" Rob Cole.
------------------------------------
[Rob Cole sits in a dark room, a folding chair holding his frame as he
leans forward with his hands folded before him. He's dressed in his
ring attire, covered in sweat, his fists still taped from earlier in
the evening. His face is swollen, and a bandage is taped to his
forehead where Spectre opened up a gash. He's silent for a moment
before he turns his gaze towards the camera.]
RC: It's not 1998... it's not the year 2000. This isn't Detroit, ILOC,
GEWA, or the IWF. As far as everyone else is concerned, Rob Cole is
completely irrelevant. It's the buzz-word heard all round the dirt
sheets, whispered in the locker room, and shouted out in front of the
camera. I simply do not matter. Twelve years of breaking that ring
down, busting people, tearing flesh, dripping blood, and burning
mileage on this body means absolutely nothing. NOTHING!!!! Being the
Monster beneath the bed... it's gotten old, it isn't scary anymore,
people simply do not care, and yadda yadda blah blah. That seems to be
the talk all around me, kiddies... that this poor old monster is
getting
hung out to pasture with those old days long gone by.
[Cole chuckles. He licks his lips and raises both brows in
consideration as he stares down at his fists, taped and sweaty. He
looks up into the camera and offers a smile... ]
RC: You know what I have to do in order to earn a title shot? I have
to beat every last person that they put in front of me... every last
guy who holds a ranking close enough to the top. I can't just step out
and make a speech about how great I am... that's never really been my
style. I can't go out there and talk about what a jerk the champion
is, because I've done so much worse in my life. I have to win...
PERIOD!!!! I have to win over and over and over again. And you know
what? I'm not as fast as I used to be... can't exactly spring back
with a moonsault like when I was a young kid. I've got a lot of scar
tissue criss- crossing my body, some dug in deep enough to spread a
dull ache on a rainy day. Cauliflower ear on the left side of my
skull, have to drain that after every match so it doesn't harden too
much. I'm in my mid-thirties, but I can feel aches every single
morning... it's called growing up, getting old, and it's becoming
"irrelevant".
[Cole grins and leans back, shaking his head with another chuckle.]
RC: I go to the music store and the kid behind the counter gives me
bug eyes when I ask for the new Anthrax album. I'm not a key marketing
demographic anymore, movies feature kids half my age or classic actors
twice, and the television commercials are all about being ultra-hip
and ultra-cool. I remember back when MTV used to play music. So maybe
everyone has a little bit of a point... but getting older also means
learning about who you are, what kind of man you should be, what kind
of mark you want to leave, what kind of legacy you want to create.
What you remember... that's a caricature of who I am, it's a bunch of
insane matches strung together with hateful feuds and brutal moments.
It's what you think you see, it's what I created for you, but I
continue to defy those memories with one moment after another.
[Cole stands, rolling his neck as he stares daggers into the camera.]
RC: I'm not Charles Lassiter, Spectre... I came to grips with who I
was, what I've done, and who I left behind a long time ago. I know all
about the monster and I've long since made it part of the Man. You
want a taste of my blood? Like it? I don't think you understand what
you've done... of course, you think you left me a message. I hear
you, kiddo... you want to prove something about how sick and twisted
and dark you are. You think "evil" is something that defines you, and
you think I'm the guy to give you the kind of fight you want. I know
who you are, kiddo. It's like taking a flash back look into the past
and seeing the kind of thing I used to be, back when I wrestled
Wallace, Retro, and Shakur. It's like seeing the way Cole used to
be... way back in those old days that all the dirt rags seem to be
focusing on all of a sudden. You want me to be just like those old
days? You want me to be just like those bad days? Spectre... if you
need a "friend" to show you what real horror truly is, then I think
maybe you started barking up the wrong tree.
[Cole stares up into the camera... ]
RC: Truth is, I wanted to use you as a message of my own... I wanted
to wrestle you, beat you clean, and take away the pain and the blood
you wanted so badly. I wanted to send a message to everyone that Rob
Cole deserves the reputation he earned through sixteen years of effort
in this business... sixteen years of battles and wars, sixteen years
of blood and pain, sixteen years of bones and twisted ligaments. But
you reminded me of something back in that ring, Spectre... no one
should ever be taken lightly. No one should ever be given anything
less than the absolute worst that I have in me. Even if it's to play
with their heads and leave them confused, I should still spill every
last drop of their blood.
[He cricks his neck... raising a fist for the camera to see.]
RC: Cole isn't the Thing he used to be, though... he made that a part
of him, just like he made being a former champion a part of him, being
a father, husband, and friend other parts of him. What you are seeing
is a man who has been in this business since 1996, who entered the
ILOC and made a mad dash up the roster to his first Championship. You
are seeing the monster that took on an entire Underground, lost his
wife, lost his sanity, regained both, and found a family. Between all
of that, he won more titles and faced every kind of wrestler and every
kind of style. But, you have a point, Chase. I don't know you. I've
seen you work through this roster, seen you hold that belt, seen you
make a bunch of fancy speeches and then trounce up some rookie...
that's all I've seen from you, and it isn't much to go on. Are you
something I've never seen before? Are you, somehow, some kind of
wrestler that I've never had to face? Are you more gifted than Takada?
More sadistic than Lawrence? Bigger than Retro? More cowardly than
Styles? What makes you so special? You have a belt... you have a win
on me... you're a little younger, a little less hurt, and you have the
advantage of knowing who I am. I'll be honest with you... Kiddo...
I've wrestled a lot of guys with belts, a lot of guys who thought they
were the best, a lot of guys who thought they were the sickest. I have
twelve years of history in this business, complete with a lot of
threats and a lot of beatings. I don't know you, Champ... but you damn
well better know me if you're going to shoot off at the mouth. You
better know what you're getting into when you call me "irrelevant".
[Cole lowers his fist... he licks his lips and shakes his head a
little.]
RC: I expect that kind of attitude from you... but Brian Young? You
think because some kid gets disrespected, that means you have to ride
your white horse to the rescue. Caleb Foley became a wrestler to fight
his own battles, Wildchild.... I don't think he needs you to hold his
hand and walk him across the street. You want a shot at the champ, I
think you'd better get in the back of the line and start working up
the roster... you've paid your dues before, punk. Are you too good to
do
it again? Superstar status makes you better than everyone else? I've
seen you wrestle before, I know what you bring to the sport, and I
know that you're every bit the glory hound the Champ says you are...
this is how you demand a title shot?! You make me sick!!
Honestly, I might just slap the pretty right off your face.
[He sits back in the chair, leans a bit and takes a deep breath.]
RC: I'm going to show Caleb Foley the respect he deserves... I'm going
to give him pain, blood, and heart ache. I'm going to tear into the
kid during this quest to get a title shot, rip him up, break him down,
and I will show him no mercy.
[Cole stares into the camera hard... ]
RC: Or do you want to be babied? Be honest, Foley... you want me to be
nice, take you out to dinner, powder you up and sing you a lullaby? I
don't think so... I think you want the monster. You want the best I
have, the worst I am, and you want to earn your title shot just like a
real man should. Don't start whining about respect, kiddo... this /is/
respect. This is treating you with the expectation that you can handle
the best, the worst, and the monster inside me. This is taking off the
kid gloves because you are /not/ a child! You're a man... you proved
it
at "Rise", you proved it on your way up to "Rise", and you proved it
last week when you took a stand after that big fall. You could've
slunk away and licked your wounds, but you stood up and you demanded
an opportunity to be the best. You decided to prove it, just like
every other contender in this race... and I respect it. The only
problem
between us is that we are in each others' way.
[Cole stands violently, kicking the chair back with a loud crash as it
smacks against the wall. He steps forward, face in the camera where
his eyes blaze through... intense.... ]
RC: YOU ARE IN MY WAY!!!!! So, if I have to bleed you dry and rip your
flesh from your bone, than that is what I am going to do! When you
step in the ring, you do what you have to do... no guilt, no remorse,
nothing but what we do to one another for the chance to be the best!
This is what you want, right?!?!! Don't lace those boots up if you're
not willing to do it... don't strap your padding on if you can't rise
to
the occasion! Be the best, or be the man who gets beaten... that's the
way we do it!
[Cole strides forward, pushing the camera man back against the wall
with a jarring thud as he stares with hatred and fury into the
camera.]
RC: NEXT WEEK!!!!! I spent the first few weeks in this promotion
trying to get Paul Styles to step in the ring with me... it's what I
begged for, on my hands and my knees. It's the one thing I wanted,
more importantly than titles or rankings.... and it was the one thing
that they kept away from me. Now that nobody cares, now that no one
gives a damn, now that it's honestly just another throw-away main
event with top name draws... NOW THEY GIVE ME PAUL STYLES?!?!!! I'm
sick of playing your game, Phoenix... Sick of the lawsuits, the Masked
Outlaws, the lack of respect, the lack of sense... I'm sick of Major
Damage, sick of Rick Marley avoiding a fight because he lacks courage,
and I'm sick to death of the Omnifly idiocy! I stopped asking for
Styles because it was obvious he couldn't man up... NOW?!?!!!!
[Cole stares into the camera... and shuts his eyes in frustration, his
body trembling as he shoves himself away with a rageful scream... that
slowly turns to hysterical laughter. He staggers back as the camera
man slides to the floor... and we watch Cole fall to his ass, back
crashing against the lockers as he stares into the distance.]
RC: Way too much going on in my head right now... talking way too
much, not doing anything about it. I'm sick of it, sick of the drama,
the stupidity, the blood, the violence.... sick of playing by the
rules, sick of keeping things on track, and I'm sick of Phoenix Valley
Wrestling. Am I the monster beneath your bed? No... I don't think
that works anymore... I don't think it's getting the message across
clearly. I think you can shut your camera down now.... DO IT NOW!!!!
****BLINK!**
[Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Wow, strong, strong words from Rob Cole.
FH: He's losing it a little bit, I think.
JB: He's concerned about the times passing him by. Perhaps more
importantly, being washed up before his time. Me, I wrestled well
into my forties. You're a recent retiree as well, aren't you Fred?
FH: Who says I'm retired?
JB: Folks, that wasn't the last from Rob Cole. The man who opened the
show tonight, Chris Hartt, caught up with him some time after that
promo was recorded. Check this out...
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Remote feed,
"Outcast" Rob Cole and
"The Paladin" Chris Hartt.
------------------------------------
[Chris Hartt is being followed by a camera crew, and he slams open the
door to a local gym where he finds Rob Cole sitting on the bench-press
with his head buried in his hands. Hartt is full of fire as he stalks
towards the Outcast, eyes blazing with fury.]
Hartt:Hey! Cole! I need some advice. I've had all I can take of RJ
Souza and his idiot manager. I'm done playing fair. I'm not getting
anywhere expecting him to play by the rules, so I need to get more
hardcore. I need to be more brutal. You're all about brutality. The
blood and broken bodies, torn flesh and all that stuff. I need you to
help me out with being more brutal against RJ Souza. What do you
suggest? Barbed wire 2x4's? Nerf bats with razor blades? Flaming
chairs? What about beds of broken glass and angry bees?
[Cole continues to sit with his head buried, unmoved by the passionate
hatred within Chris Hartt. The Paladin falls silent for a moment, and
then glances around before his eyes fall on something off camera... he
turns to regard Cole quizzically... ]
Hartt: Hey!! What's wrong with you, man? Did you even hear anything
I said? I need advice from the Monster under the Bed! Are you ok?
[Cole takes a deep breath, and turns a pair of bleary eyes up to stare
at Chris Hartt... he rises, eyes bruised from a lack of sleep and face
stubble from lack of shaving. He seems a little shaky, and stares
hard into Chris Hartt's eyes as if only just noticing him for the
first time. He licks his lips.]
Cole: You want what from me? Advice on pain, hurt, death, horror?
Hartt: I can't handle being taken advantage of like this anymore.
Souza's hurt Destiny, blames me for things I've never done and for
things other people did in my presence. The odds aren't in my favor,
so I need to be more vicious. More brutal. I don't wanna just beat
Souza, I want to punish him. I wanna break him under my heel. I--
Cole: Chris... be quiet for a moment and listen to yourself. Listen
to what you're saying. This isn't about Destiny right now... this is
about hurt, loss, and your own pain. I know where you're coming from
right now, and it's not where you need to be... I'm not the guy you
need to be talking to.
Hartt: What? Why? Where's this coming from? You're the guy to talk
to about being vicious, mean and evil. Why are you being like this?
It took a lot for me to come to you, man! I know you're as likely to
beat me up as you'd answer me, but I don't know anyone else who'd know
more.
Cole: This is about what happens when something you love turns into
hatred... when friendship turns into something bad. Don't be me,
Chris... you're a rising star in this industry, a champion in Phoenix,
and you need to find out why you decided to be that champion. The guy
you knew... the RJ you knew... he did this to himself, he ignored
everything you guys stood for, and he became the man that he became.
You became a champion...
[Chris stares hard at Rob, who merely falls back to his seat...
burying his head in his hands. He stares down at the man who'd been
known to be a monster, but for only the briefest of moments decided to
show that he was more human than previously thought. Hartt glances
back off camera, and then down at the Outcast again. Hartt clenches a
fist before him, then looks down at it. He looks again at Cole, takes
in a breath, then slowly lets it out, letting his shoulders go slack
and his face contorting in a twist of sadness and pity. He drops his
fist and reaches a hand out, about to put it on Cole's shoulder
comfortingly. As he lets it hover there for a few seconds, unknown to
Cole, Hartt sheds a tear and draws his hand back. Straightening
himself upright. he wipes away the tear and resolves himself,
gathering pride and nobility. He looks to the back of Cole's head and
nods quietly. He turns and walks away with a purposeful stride,
renewed in doing the right things, the r
ight way, for the right reasons.]
------------------------------------
JB: Dramatic.
FH: Awe-inspiring.
JB: Well now--
FH: Sarcasm.
JB: Well, that's great. Back to the six-man tag match. There's one
man who hasn't been heard of yet tonight who will be in that match.
That's Caleb Foley. Foley absorbed some serious brutality from Major
Damage, and then got knocked around after his match by the Spectre.
Let's hear from the man himself, and maybe find out a little about his
condition.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Inring segment,
"The Fighting Irishman" Caleb Foley.
------------------------------------
[The camera fades in and you see an almost empty PVW arena. You see a
figure standing in the middle of the PVW ring and you can tell by his
red hair it is none other than the youngster "The Fighting Irishman"
Caleb Foley. Foley is dressed for battle as he has his ring attire on
and doesn't seem to be his happy go lucky self. The rookie has a
bandage in the middle of his forehead showing the battle he was
just in against Major Damage. Caleb begins to speak...]
Foley: "I guess I should be happy ... No one thought I would walk out
of my match against Major Damage alive ... Yeah I may have suffered a
severe amount of blood loss ... But many people say I have done the
impossible I defeated ... Major Damage. Well I for one am not happy.
Yeah I may have gotten the WIN but I didn't want to win like that. The
Mercenary thought it was probably hilarious when he throwing ice cubes
at Damage ... Merc I don't care who hired you or why you signed up
with the PVW. But let me tell you something when I signed a PVW I
signed to give the fans a show. I didn't sign to win a match by a
count-out. So Merc you may be here as a hired gun but I am sick of
everyone thinking I am just a rookie and I can't hang with the big
guys here in the PVW."
[Foley just stands there and then rips the bandage off his
forehead...]
Foley: "You see this ... Yeah it hurt like hell ... Yes I lost a lot
of blood ... But it won't stop me from coming down to this very and
taking on The Royal Family and Chase Williams ... But before I talk
about them ... A certain someone wants to be my new FRIEND Spectre. So
you thought it was funny to attack me when I was walking through the
curtain. Yeah it took a real big man to attack someone after he just
lost a ton of blood. So I guess I am your next target ... I mean let's
face it you made an example out of Charles Lassiter and he hasn't been
heard from since. So Spectre I am not a hard man to find all you had
to do was ask for a match and I would have given you one. But no you
want to make a statement .. Well you have gotten my attention now so I
guess this week the only fair thing to do would be to return the
favor..."
[Foley pauses for a moment...]
Foley: "So it seems like Chase has found some people to watch his
back. Our World Champion has found The Royal Family. So now it looks
like everything is going right for the World Champion. I mean Chase
was a conceited bastard before but now well he is a Royal Conceited
Bastard now right? One has too wonder how can two men like Chase and
Paul Styles get along. I mean they both have EGO's ... You can't
trust either men ... One can only think it is a matter of time before
this whole Family thing is gonna blow up and boy do I hope I am there
when it happens. Basically this match is like champions versus the
contenders. Rob Cole will finally get his hands on Paul Styles ...
"The One" Brian Young will be on a mission to get his hands around
Chase... Jonathan Monarch is gonna eat everything he sees in his
sight. But once agin that leaves me forgotten.. Every always seems
to forget about me. I mean I am just a rookie who tooks Chase Williams
to the limit at Rises of Ashes. But a week prior to that I almost did
the unthinkable and won WrestleBowl. But yet I still get no RESPECT
from any of the wrestlers..."
[Foley stares into the camera...]
Foley: "Well this week that is all about to change. My LUCK will start
to change. I have to take this opportunity and run with it. I am gonna
do just that. I mean I have to show that I deserve a second shot at
Chase. I didn't get the opportunity to prove it last week and for that
I think the fans were robbed. You see this match is quite simple on
one side they have absolutely everything but on that other side of the
ring they have nothing. And that makes us a very dangerous team.
We have everything to gain and nothing to lose. What would happen if
Cole snaps and breaks Paul's leg or arm ... What would happen if
Monarch had a heart attack would that make the Tag Team vacant ...
What if DA CHAMP gets pinned ... You see Jonathan, Paul and Chase I
don't care what you say ... who you know ... or what excuses you have
the time has come to either put up or shut up ... This is gonna
be my TIME... I am sick of being told I am TOO SMALL ... I am gonna
show the fans of PVW that anything is possible here in PVW and that
good does prevail over evil. The time for talk is over I'll see you
guys in this ring..."
[Caleb exits the ring and then hops over the ring barricade as the
camera fades to black. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Foley, the energetic rookie sensation, has done exceptionally well
for himself since debuting in PVW. At age 19, he's one of the
youngest competitors to wrestle at his level, I'd say.
FH: Feh, if he were a 19-year-old champion, then I'd be impressed.
The kid loses as much as he wins! And it's not like he's pinning
everyone or getting submissions. His wins are just as often DQ's and
stuff!
JB: Stuff, yes. I ... wait, I'm getting word. Yes.
[Pausing, Jack gestures to a nameless stage hand who scrambles for a
chair.]
JB: The buzz surrounding our next guest has been fairly large,
creating quite a stir both on our PVW Message Board as well as
backstage in the locker room. He's wrestled in quite a few companies,
even overseas in Japan, and now he signs an exclusive contract with
PVW. He's known for his epic battle with Caleb Temple, as well as
winning the 2005 J*STAR Tournament Trophy...
FH: [interrupting] Are you _kidding_ me? _This_ is the best we have to
go off of? Let's face it, he hasn't made even a silent fart of
difference in the sport in _years_. He started to ascend, fizzled out,
tried a comeback, fizzled out _again_, and now wants to come back as a
member -- nay, _leader_ of the new breed? There's a time to count
losses, this is one of those times.
JB: Remember, all opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the
views of _everyone_ in Phoenix Valley Wrestling.
FH: That's fine, deny the truth. We'll see who's right.
JB: Either way, it's my pleasure to introduce Jaiden Andrews.
[Walking out onto the Burning Effect set is the "SoCal Superstar"
himself, Jaiden Andrews. Though he looks a bit taken aback by the
comments made by Fred Hoyle, he's still got a confident swagger about
him -- nothing over the top or egotistical, but definite confidence.
He's dressed casually in a black t-shirt with Bam Margera's
"heartagram" on it, baggy black jeans, and black DC skate shoes.
Andrews shakes hands with both Britain and Hoyle, then takes a seat on
a chair in between the two men.]
JB: Thanks for joining us tonight, Jaiden.
JA: Not a problem.
JB: First and foremost, I have to ask about the comments made earlier
in the week, where you talked about being the "leader" of the New
Breed. I can only assume that the rest of the New Breed has heard
it... what have been their reactions to this?
JA: To be quite honest, I haven't really talked to anyone. I'm still
getting acquainted with PVW, so I'm really not sure. I know that I've
been out of the "mainstream" scene for awhile, but I still feel that I
have what it takes. This sport hasn't seen my full potential yet, and
I feel that I have an unclaimed spot at the top. PVW is my chance to
regain what I've lost.
JB: You've already had many accomplishments in the sport, that's for
sure.
FH: Yeah, like twelve years ago...
JB: [interrupting] For those unaware, can you update us on your
whereabouts over the past few years? The last time we saw you, you
were trying to make a comeback in Milwaukee after the whole "incident"
in Los Angeles. You got kind of a bad name after that whole ordeal,
and you kind of took a step back and faded out into the background.
What have you been up to?
JA: Well, there's no denying that I got a bad reputation after snaking
Todd Michaelson and keeping true to my indy "roots." I've tried to
move past it, and I'd like to think it's been buried, but every now
and again it comes back to haunt me. The truth is, I've just taken
some time to focus on me. I returned to the Strong Style Dojo as a
full time head trainer, which helped me not only train and tune my
skills, but got me back into teaching the next generation of stars get
into the sport.
From there, I did a tour of Japan for about three months, where I
wrestled as myself _and_ under a mask as Black Cicada X. I've always
felt that I owed the fans and promoters in the Land of the Rising Sun,
since back in my rookie years I was a rather large prick. The tour did
wonders for me, and really gave me the energy and drive to come back
to the United States, where I brought the BC-X character to some small
California indys... but I really wanted to give the fans Jaiden
Andrews.
JB: And that's where PVW fits in, I assume?
[Andrews nods his head.]
JA: You've got it.
FH: Wow, what a heartwarming story. But let's cut to the chase,
Jaiden. You said that you've had _zero_ interaction with anyone, yet
you _still_ make a bold statement about being a leader. Let's face the
facts, though. You're unproven in the United States, no matter what
you did in Japan. How can you sit there and claim leadership and hope
not to anger others?
JA: Honestly, _anyone_ can make a statement like mine. There's always
some rookie or some veteran with high aspirations, saying whatever
they can to get noticed. But when it comes down to it, gentlemen, a
guy like me can _prove_ it. I go out there, give everything I have,
and _improve_. Wins and losses? Just a formality. I lead by example.
If someone wants to refute what I have to say, fine. If someone wants
to take it to heart? So be it. I'm up for _any_ challenge at _any_
time.
FH: You say that now.
JA: You're damn right I do. This place has some of the top talent in
the country. Guys like Foley, Williams, and Marley... all of them at
the top of their game. Why do you think I chose PVW in the first
place? I wasn't going to sign a contract blindly. I did my homework. I
_wanted_ the competition. If I'm going to be the best, if I'm going to
climb the ladder, if this whole "leader" nickname is going to stick,
I'm going to have to prove myself against each and every one of these
men.
[Andrews turns his attentions to the camera.]
JA: And boys, I'm ready to do just that.
[Andrews rises to his feet, taking off his shirt.]
JA: You already know what I bring to the table. You already know what
I'm capable of doing. You've seen me go through some "cream of the
crop" talent to capture the J*STAR crown. You've watched as I spilled
blood and entered the gates of _hell_ against Caleb Temple. It doesn't
matter how long I've been away. It doesn't matter if I haven't faced
talent in the United States. I'm _ready_. I begin my rise again
tonight. The spot is there for me to take, I just have to reach up and
grab it.
I _will_ take the first step.
I _will_ emerge victorious.
I _will_ become the PVW Heavyweight Champion.
This is my first and _only_ warning, PVW. You can scoff, laugh, or
choose not to heed. But just as I've gone through the gates of hell
and lived to tell the tale, I'm _more_ than willing to take that trip
again. One by one, I will face every challenger that stands in my way
of becoming the best. One by one, I will defeat them. And, whether
it's Chase Williams, Caleb Foley, Rick Marley, or anyone else who
holds the title when I get my shot... they will fall victim to Jaiden
Andrews.
[A slight smirk, then a look of pure confidence.]
JA: And _that_ is why I'm the leader of the New Breed.
[With that, Andrews picks up his shirt, then walks off the shot.]
JB: Jaiden Andrews is sure confident, and seems to be focused on one
thing... the PVW Heavyweight Title.
FH: All I have to say to that is this: prove it, Jaiden.
JB: Fans, we have to take a commercial break. When we return, it's
time to see Jaiden Andrews in action!
------------------------------------
[OOC note: SEND IN COMMERCIALS to burningeffect@e-wrestling.info!
Back to the fake commercial at hand.]
[Dramatic music: "O Fortuna" from Carl Orff's Carmina Burana plays
softly.]
Voice: I served my country, then I made my fortune.
[Cut jaggedly to a burning building, silhouetted in the night by an
unhealthly glow.]
Voice: That fortune should've bought me any life I wanted to live.
[Cut again, this time to a misshapen shadow, silhouetted by the moon,
atop a church steeple.]
Voice: Instead, when I returned home ... I found that hell had come to
small town America...
[Cut rapidly, too fast to make out the action. For a moment there is
nothing but chaos.]
Voice: Now I turn the tables. They stalked and killed all I cared
for!
[Cut to show a man, from behind, largely muscled and loaded for war.]
Voice: Now it's their turn.
[Instant black, and a logo "Stalk the Dead", then "February 2009".
Cut back straight to the arena.]
------------------------------------
Singles action,
Brian Masters
-vs-
Jaiden Andrews.
------------------------------------
HD: Making his way to ringside...
[Cue "Tortures of the Damned" by Bayside.]
HD: ...hailing from Los Angeles, California.
[The crowd cheers.]
HD: Standing 6'1" and weighing in at 255 pounds...
JAAAAAIDENNNNN ANNNNNDREWWWWWS!!!!!
[The curtains are tossed to the side, and emerging from the back is
Jaiden Andrews, who stands at the entrance with his hair masking his
eyes. He then looks up, raising a hand to move the hair from his face,
then sizes up the cheering crowd. Raising an arm into the air, he
makes his way to ringside, slapping hands with the fans as he does
so... though his gaze fixates on the ring.
Getting to ringside, Andrews slides underneath the bottom rope, then
immediately gets to his feet. Walking to each of the turnbuckles,
Andrews climbs them and raises his arms into the air, the fans
cheering and taking pictures. As he descends the last turnbuckle, he
makes his way to his corner, taking off the t-shirt and tossing it
backwards into the crowd. Andrews then looks down, beginning to take
deep breaths and preparing a strategy for his upcoming match.]
JB: Jaiden Andrews was a huge signing for the PVW. He joins this so
called New Breed. However he has claimed to not only join the New
Breed, but lead them!
FH: It's like an infection!
[Brian Masters stands across from him. Andrews rolls his neck waiting
for the bell. As the bell rings the two quickly begin circling in the
squared circle. Masters goes for the lock up, but Andrews quickly
around.... Masters charges forward, but a crisp takedown by Andrews
and he leaps up slapping the back of Masters head backing away.]
FH: Rubs a little salt in the wound.
JB: Masters didn't like it at all. The two lock up... Armbar by
Andrews... Masters backs him away and whips him across... Shoulder
block by Andrews sends Masters down.
[Masters quickly back up only to eat a few stiff European Uppercuts.
Andrews backs Masters into the corner and begins driving shoulders
into Brian Masters midsection....]
JB: Andrews punishing Masters backs away... He Charges... Palm
Strike!!!!
FH: That'll hurt.
[Masters slumps all the way down sitting into the corner just staring
up. Jaiden Andrews backs away and takes off again -- ]
"CRRRAAAACCCKKK"
JB: BRUTAL SHINING WIZARD AND MASTERS LOOKS OUT OF IT!
FH: That was fast.
[Jaiden Andrews drags the near unconcious Brian Masters into the
center of the ring. He lifts him up and --]
"CRRAAASSSHHHH"
JB: Exploder Suplex!!!! This one should be over!
FH: Or is it?
[Andrews doesn't look done. He has Brian Masters back up, barley. He
is facing him and grabs both of Masters arms and crosses them in front
of the Masters's body.]
JB: What's he setting up?
[Andrews traps both of Masters arms in one Andrews armpits. Jaiden
Andrews then uses his free arm to hook Masters leg....]
"CRRAAAASSSSSHHHH"
JB: OH MY!!! THAT MUST BE HIS, Belly to Belly Crossed Arm Trap Cradle
Suplex!
FH: What an impressive debut. Maybe he will lead this so called New
Breed.
One ...
Two ...
Three !!!
[Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Andrews showing us something tonight. He can really get it done
in that ring.
FH: Yeah, against Brian Masters. Let's see him do that to Chase
Williams. When he's racked up a few wins maybe I won't ... well, I
will give him a hard time still, but maybe less so.
[Pause.]
FH: But probably not.
JB: Fans, we have to keep it moving. Let's hear now from a team that
almost won the Tag Team Titles at Rise from the Ashes: Livestock and
the Gutch!
------------------------------------
Remote Feed,
Livestock and the Gutch.
------------------------------------
[Open up on the interior of a suburban household in the middle of who
knows where. It's a nice house, with a nice coffee table, and an
archway that leads to a kitchen with an island, and a nice couch ...
with a black-suited big fat tub of lard on it.
That's right, it's Gutch Bartilucci. The Gutch is reclining on
one side of a patent leather sofa that obviously has recliners
built into either side. From stage right comes Cindy "Bar Bitch"
Hewitt, dressed in men's boxers as a pair of shorts, and a "wife
beater" style A-shirt, no bra. It wouldn't be so messed up when
she plops down in Gutch's lap, except that she's supposed to be
Livestock Zappa's girlfriend.]
Gutch: Aw man, this is freakin' sweet.
BBH: Hey, like, what is up with that thing on top of the flatscreen?
[Pointing to the camera, Gutch clicks the remote control, and a
television can be heard to come on somewhere.]
Gutch: That? That there's a webcam. Livestock's got the thing wired
up for videoconferencin' and stuff.
BBH: Well huh. Ain't that somethin'.
Gutch: Oh yeah. It's neat, I guess.
[A click is heard, and a door opens stage left, admitting one
Livestock Zappa.]
Livestock: Oh man, Cindy, you're not gonna believe this one. I wound
up in court today representing Ed Green. The bastard had a DUI, if
you can ... the hell?
[Raising his eyes after locking the deadbolt, Livestock notices his
girl in his friend's lap.]
Gutch: Eh, buddy. Welcome home!
BBH: Hi, honey.
Livestock: What's going on here? Gutch, why are you here? Cindy, WHY
ARE YOU ON GUTCH!?
[Taken aback by their usually laid-back if a little bemused
associate's sudden outburst of rage, Cindy and Gutch separate on the
couch. Gutch looks uncomfortable, but Cindy looks defiant.]
BBH: Hey, I wasn't doin' nothin'.
Livestock: Double negative noted, because you were doing something.
BBH: Hanh?
Livestock: Gah, I mean why in the world would you lay on him in my ...
MY underpants, and a muscle shirt with no bra!?
BBH: Hey, don't judge me. He's warm, the AC is always on in this
place, and ... I don't like wearin' bras in the house. The underwire
cuts me.
[Unblinkingly, Livestock turns his attention to Gutch.]
Livestock: Okay, I'll ask you. Gutch. What. The. Hell?
Gutch: What? Look, girl wants to sit on me, I let her. Simple as
that.
Livestock: What about Carla?
Gutch: Carla? Hey, buddy, I'm not coppin' to nothin', 'cause I was
just sittin' here. But even if I was, Carla don't care. I'm gone
half the time, and she's nailin' my cousin Ricky.
[Now Livestock blinks.]
Gutch: With my blessin', of course.
[Turning towards the camera, Livestock looks extra confused.]
Livestock: And why's my webcam on? What possible reason could you
have for turning my webcam on?
Gutch: Oh, that? I figured it'd be a good way to, y'know, get some
interestin' footage...
Livestock: Footage? I don't think I like where you're going today,
Gutch. I'm starting to freak out.
Gutch: Oh, no, ha-ha, nothin' like that. I'm just thinkin', y'know,
let the guys what watch Burning Effect see what your home life is
like. Pretty sweet, eh?
Livestock: See? My girl's using my best friend as a human crash bag.
I'm used by jobbers as a way to avoid paying speeding tickets.
Gutch: I thought Green had a DUI.
Livestock: Whatever! All I wanted was to have a nap before watching
Countdown. I need my news, man. What are you watching?
Gutch: Oh, this? I tivo'ed this crazy crap about bullriders who get
gored. Pretty sweet, eh?
Livestock: And now you're altering the settings on my DVR. Wow.
Perfect.
Gutch: Don't be so uptight, buddy. What's the big deal?
Livestock: The big deal?
Gutch: Yeah, life's good. Rakin' in the dough, and you got a place
like 5 minutes from the Armory. Hot amazon-lookin' broad at home.
BBH: Bitch.
Gutch: It's okay if you say it, sweetie, but I ain't steppin' on that
land mine. Still, Livestock, you got it pretty sweet, I'm thinkin'.
Livestock: Sweet? Sweet, he says. Y'know what'd be sweet? If we had
won the PVW tag titles. That would be the sweetest plum of them all.
Gutch: Plums? Plums give me gas, man.
Livestock: Enough! It's always a joke with you. In like a week, we
have to face Extreme Conditions.
Gutch: So what? We already beat those guys.
Livestock: No, we didn't. Where are you getting that?
Gutch: The big tag match with Damage and the Thrillers.
Livestock: We lost that match, Gutch!
Gutch: Yeah, but, uh, those other guys got eliminated first?
Livestock: So what!? Y'know what, Gutch? I want you to take this
seriously for once. We came so close to winning ... but who knew that
arrogant little pissant Paul Styles could leverage me over into a
bodyslam when I was wearing those sand weights?
Gutch: Yeah ... that's right. You're the one what lost us the titles!
Livestock: No, Gutch! No. We both lost, but I'm the only one who
seems to care. If anybody needs me, I'll be in the basement on my
bench, working my pecs. Gutch, if you give a damn about making it in
this business, you'll join me.
Gutch: Heh, what? Hey, what's weightlifting have to do with tryin'
cases, man?
Livestock: Wrestling, Gutch! Wrestling!
Gutch: Oh yeah...
[Turning to Hewitt, Gutch shrugs sheepishly.]
Gutch: Man's got a point Cindy. Enjoy watchin' those rodeo clowns get
gored, okay? Bye-bye.
[Sighing with boredom, Hewitt watches both men leave, and then plops
down in Gutch's seat, pulling a beer from a door in the armrest. She
smiles and sighs, wiggling in her new seat.]
BBH: Mmm ... warm.
[The roughest chick in PVW pops the non twist-off cap off with her
hands, and commences to drinking. Her left breast pops out at the
last second, and is blurred by the censors. That's about it; cut back
to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: An ... interesting peek into Livestock Zappa's home life.
FH: ...
JB: Fred, are you okay?
FH: I'm sorry, got lost in the boo--moment. Lost in the moment.
JB: Folks, those two are facing off against Extreme Conditions this
Wednesday, so without further ado, here their manager: Darius Walker.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Production video,
Darius Walker.
------------------------------------
Walker: Playa, playa, playa ... [Darius clears his throat] ... excuse
me
for not being my usual formal self, but today I feel as if I deserve
to unwind a little bit. For you see justice has finally been served in
Phoenix Valley Wrestling. Yes, justice has been served.
[Darius paces a few steps away from the camera and stops in his
tracks. A slight chuckle can be heard coming from Darius.]
Walker: You see I am a man of my word and therefore I deliver on my
promises. I told the world that Extreme Conditions would defeat The
Thrillers and they did just that. And with that victory I can finally
rest easy knowing that all of Mr. Cunningham’s antics and actions for
the past few months did not yield any benefit to his clients or
himself. Thriller’s you’re exactly where you started the day you
debuted in the PVW, at the bottom trying to find a way to make
yourself noticed in this industry.
[Darius continues to walk away from the camera once again, but for a
second time he pauses in mid step and turns to face the camera.]
Walker: Yet, I realize that while three thorns have been removed from
the lion’s paw there are still three that remain. The quote unquote
masterminds of the mythical lawsuit against myself,Gutch Bartilucci,
Livestock Zappa and Broderick Ezekiel Craven. You’re supposed to be
the hired retainers of the PVW three men with the experience to help
the wrestlers maintain an amount of who shall we say it for your
obviously simple minds ... actually I will not play into your lies
anymore ... Livestock and The Gutch you men are frauds; three
individuals who swindled their way into an extra paycheck from the
PVW.
[Darius pauses.]
Walker: For you three men realized that from day one Mr. Cunningham
had no case and yet you decided to feed into the man’s illusions of
grandeur and tell him that he had a civil suit against me ... and now
we all know the outcome of that facade do we not?
[Darius turns away from the camera as he continues to speak.]
Walker: At Heatwave beauty and the beast you will find out exactly
what happens when you cross the path of Darius Walker and Extreme
Conditions.
[Slowly the scene fades to black. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Walker confident that his team will go over PVW's legal team.
That remains to be seen.
FH: I'll believe it when I see it. Livestock and Gutch are some of
the sharpest knives I've ever seen in any drawer. With Zeke Craven on
their side, it's like Einstein leading Stephen Hawkings and ... a
bunch of other geniuses into a math war!
JB: By genius ... do you mean they cheat.
FH: Nothing more genius than that, baby.
JB: Folks, we have to squeeze in one more commercial break this
evening, but when we get back, we'll have our main event and more.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Commercials.
------------------------------------
[A young couple, only a little older than teenagers, sit down at a
couch with a small plastic device.]
Boy: Okay, this is it.
[He feigns a smile, but it's only half convincing.]
Girl: Yeah, uh ... it's ... one line! Okay! Okay, no big deal.
Boy: Uh, Jenny ... isn't that fading in? I mean, I think I see--
Girl: No...
[Cut suddenly to a closeup of the girl's face as her eyes widen with
horror. Cut again to show what is clearly a pregnancy test.]
Girl: YOU DID THIS TO ME!
[Cue the Psycho theme. "Reek, reek, reek!"]
Boy: I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!
Girl: You bastard! I HATE YOU!
[And now the voice of an announcer is heard. The bottom half of the
screen is filled with a "Rorschach" brand name logo and a picture of
the product. In the background, the girl picks up a chair and beats
the boy with it.]
Announcer: Rorschach. Because you may not wanna know, but let's face
it, you gotta know.
[Cut back straight to a promo.]
------------------------------------
Backstage segment,
The Dragon Kid.
------------------------------------
[We fade in to the backstage area at the 52nd Street Armory and see a
number of PVW ring crew members walking around preparing for the
Heatwave event in a few hours. The camera pans around and off in a
corner, we see The Dragon Kid stretching against a wall. He has his
mask on (as usual) and is wearing a plain white t-shirt along with his
ring tights and boots. The cameraman walks closer and taps Dragon Kid
on the shoulder to get his attention. The Dragon Kid turns around and
begins to speak]
DK: a ano yurushi watashi. watashi ha anata ha watashi no macchi no
tango ga konya hoshii to omou sore o toru
(Subtitle: Oh, pardon me. I take it you want a word on my match
tonight.)
[The Dragon Kid shakes his wrists out and continues to speak]
DK: PVW ha kono kaisha no " atarashii hinshu " no doragon no kodomo 1
o dabingu shi ta
(Subtitle: PVW has dubbed The Dragon Kid one of the "new breed" in
this company.)
DK: sore ha watashi ga mottomo kichou hoji suru kubetsu de aru
(Subtitle: That is a distinction that I will hold most dear.)
DK: fuun ni mo, watashi ha watashi no hantai sha to shi Johnny Dylan
kono taitoru o konya kyouyuu shi nakere ba nara nai
(Subtitle: Unfortunately, I must share this title with my opponent
tonight, Mister Johnny Dylan)
DK: Johnny Dylan - saigo watashi tachi ha atta, watashi ga sa seru
omotte i ta to watashi ha mina ni yakusoku shi ta...
(Subtitle: Johnny Dylan – Last time we met, I promised everyone that I
was going to make you go to sleep...)
DK: ... soshite watashi ha watashi no yakusoku o hatashi gachi de aru
(Subtitle: ...and I tend to live up to my promises.)
DK: shikashi ima saido modotte ki, watashi ni chokumen suru koto o
erabu
(Subtitle: But now you choose to come back and face me again...)
DK: anata no hijou ni rippa de aru watashi ha - zenin suru sono you na
sonshitsu o kurushin da nochi shiji shi nai tame ni. watashi ha sore
o, nani mo sonchou suru
(Subtitle: I will admit that is very honorable of you - to not back
down after suffering such a loss. I respect that, if nothing else.)
DK: soshite mouichido, watashi ha GO TO SLEEP toiu yakusoku o tsukuru
(Subtitle: And once again, I make a promise that you _WILL_ GO TO
SLEEP.)
DK: konkai tada, watashi ha mezame nai koto o tashikameru
(Subtitle: Only this time, I will make sure you don't wake up.)
[fade out. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
FH: Okay, what the hell was that guy saying?
JB: He was speaking Japanese Fred.
FH: Fat lot of good that does. We're in America here.
JB: You're supposed to read the subtitles.
FH: Hey, again, America. I don't have to read here. Didn't you hear?
Most of us are functionally illiterate, and proud of it.
JB: Wait, wait. I thought you spoke some Japanese.
FH: That's beside the point.
JB (sighing): Folks, we're in the final stretch here. There are two
more promos, and two more matches, so without further ado, let's hear
from the Wildcards.
[Cut!]
------------------------------------
Backstage segment,
The Wildcards.
------------------------------------
[The scene opens on the massive back of PVW's own Black Jack Baldwin.
The Wild Card is sitting across from the table from his partner, which
we discover as the camera pans to Baldwin's right. Laid out on the
table between the two mean are dossiers clearly labeled with the other
tag team names who compete in PVW. Royal Family's is currently open
on the table as Marley and Baldwin engage in a semi-heated debate.]
JB: I'm telling you, the dynamic that they've got going is tried and
true...it's older than dirt, Judd. They knew going in that it was
money in the bank.
JM: I just don't know that I buy it , Jack. I mean...it seems sorta
far fetched that there's some mythical formula that carried them
through...
JB: Dude, I just laid out how many other examples of great duos like
those two?
JM: Yeah, but Jack...they were...
JB: Classics? Icons? Larger than life?
JM: Movie stars was what I was gonna say, actually. Look: Laurel and
Hardy, Abbot and Costello, Dan Aykroyd and John Belushi, David Spade
and Chris Farley...they're all acting teams, Jack. That dynamic has
nothing to do with being even a half way decent tag team.
JB: But c'mon...the fat guy and the little guy has roots everywhere,
Judd. Even the big dog/little dog bit from the old Warner Brothers'
cartoons. Fat guy in a little coat?
JM: Jack, I think that Monarch is barely paper trained...I'm pretty
sure that Styles doesn't let him wear his clothes...even for that
wonderful dynamic that you're so fired up about.
JB: (muttering) THAT explains that newspaper in the corner of their
locker room...
JM: (shaking his head) Listen Jack...the Royal Family are the champs
right now, whether we like it or not. We can make fun of them...
JB: Which we will.
JM: Granted. But they're still the ones that have those belts...at
least until we manage to get a match to take them.
JB: I don't so much need a MATCH to do that. I have a plan. I'm gonna
need two lengths of rubber tubing, about four inches around and twelve
feet long, six jars of chunky peanut butter, one feather boa and a
marmot. What we'll do is...
JM: No marmots. I remember last time. We weren't allowed back in
Tulsa for two years.
JB (laughing) That was a good time though.
JM: No...that was them saying you violated the Geneva Conventions of
Civilized Warfare...that does NOT qualify as a "good time".
JB: They were such babies.
JM: Okay...so here's the deal: we've got a match coming up...our first
time in the ring since we took down Prophets of Rage...
JB: That was a good time.
JM: And then got knocked off by Livestock and Gutch.
JB: Ooooh...those lawyers...AND the fat guy/small guy dynamic. How
did I MISS that?
JM: Because you mostly use your head as a battering ram instead of to
think with?
JB: We all have our niche, Judd.
JM (sighing) Listen. Step one to get those belts that we both want is
to bear down and focus...
JB: Bears...that gives me ANOTHER idea...
JM: FOCUS on actually winning it in the ring instead of with some
convoluted scheme.
JB: ...Fiiiiine.
JM: Besides, we can always resort to the convoluted scheme later. No
need to give it all away now.
JB: I heard that...then all of PVW gets to go Wild.
[Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Seems like the Royal Family are being targeted by pretty much
every team in PVW.
FH: What do you expect? It's the name of the game. Monarch and
Styles are the champions, which makes everybody else challengers by
default.
JB: That being said, let's head down to the arena to see the Wildcards
in action.
------------------------------------
Tag Team Action,
Wildcards
-vs-
Crackhead and El Gato.
------------------------------------
[Cut to show the match, already in progress. It's "Black" Jack
Baldwin of the Wildcards in the ring with a miniscule luchador.]
JB: Looks like it's El Gato out of Tijuana starting it off against big
Jack Baldwin.
FH: You have a lot in common with Baldwin, don't you?
JB: I do? Such as?
FH: Initials...
JB: Back to the action. El Gato, according to my notes, is only about
150 pounds. Jack Baldwin is, literally, more than double his weight.
[As if to illustrate Jack's point, El Gato stupidly locks up with
Baldwin, only to be flung backwards into the turnbuckle, and almost
out of the ring.]
JB: Baldwin just flings Gato, and a clothesline misses. Gato back in
the middle of the ring, doing some sort of two-step.
FH: Mexican Two-Step? Isn't that something the ladies do for money
down south of the border?
JB: I wouldn't know about that, Fred.
[Grinning, Baldwin touches a finger to his temple, indicating his
admiration for his opponent's clever move.]
FH: Baldwin's being awful pensive. Isn't he the grumpy one of the
team?
JB: That's true.
FH: And hold on, what happened to the other Marley? Why is Judd in
Rick's place?
JB: I _think_ it's because Rick Marley is still injured right now.
[Actively pursuing Gato, Marley overlooks the little Luchador's
partner, a mid-sized redheaded wannabe '90s grunge rocker. As Baldwin
tries to duck between the ropes, Baldwin catches a running kneelift
that sends him tumbling onto the apron. Heel pop!]
JB: Crackhead on the offense! Surprising move from the journeyma--
[Tumbling through to the floor, Baldwin lands on his feet, and sweeps
Crackhead's feet out from under him. Pop!]
JB: Spoke too soon! The big man recovers, and sends the pipe wielding
maniac to the floor!
FH: Pipe? Crack pipe?
JB: Actually, it's just a lead pipe he uses as a foreign object.
FH: You brought these losers with you from Jersey, didn't you.
JB: Not me personally, no.
[Cut to later in the match. Baldwin and Crackhead are the legal men
in the ring. Crackhead, somehow, has the upper hand.]
FH: I can't believe that redheaded stepchild STILL has Baldwin down!
JB: "Black" Jack, in the corner, absorbing knifehand chops--
[As the referee forces Crackhead back, El Gato grabs the tag rope,
wraps it around Baldwin's neck, and hangs down off the apron. Heel
pop!]
FH: That's how you get the big man down!
JB: Referee Max Kelly brushed aside, and HIP CHECK! Big leaping
impact to Baldwin's chest.
[On the apron, opposite the action, is Judd Marley, slapping the top
turnbuckle and calling out to his partner.]
FH: Boy, I'd be embarrassed to be Baldwin right now.
JB: And more abuse being heaped on Baldwin, Max Kelly intervening
again, and here comes Gato--
[Jack sees him coming this time, however, and as the tag rope starts
to go around his neck, Baldwin grabs Gato's wrist, and HURLS him into
the ring, end over end. Face pop!]
JB: Crackhead can't believe it! Big boot by Baldwin sends him down
too! Grabbing both men by the hair! MEETING OF THE MINDS!
[Both Crackhead and Gato go down as their heads are slammed together.
Dashing across the ring, Baldwin slaps the hand of Judd Marley, who
comes into the ring fast.]
FH: Finally "The Gambler" gets in. I was starting to wonder if he
liked watching his partner get beat up.
JB: Judd is a house of fire as Baldwin rests in the corner. Gutwrench
suplex on Gato! Northern Lights on Crackhead! Gato rolls to the
outside to avoid catching another devastating shot. Now it's
Crackhead taking shots in the corner.
[Absorbing repeated knife hand chops, Crackhead tries to escape, but
is pulled back by his "Nice Shot" Kurt Cobain shirt.]
FH: Oop, almost got away.
JB: Crackhead thinking to tag in his partner, but no, and Judd ripping
the shirt right off him!
FH: Aw man, those things are vintage!
JB: You followed Grunge?
FH: Some of the girls I dated in the '90s followed grunge...
JB: So ... younger girls.
[Looking out at the crowd, Marley shushes them, then rears back.]
FH: Oh, much younger. Oh yeah, daddy! That's what they'd say, see?
JB: Back to it--
*SMACK!*
JB: LISTEN TO THAT!
*SMACK!*
[With each shot, Crackhead shouts, and his pale chest gets
progressively a deeper shade of red.]
FH: Nasty. I think he's actually bleeding from a knife edge chop.
JB: Marley, irish whip, reversal ... and Crackhead tags out.
[Looking horrified, El Gato stands stunned for a moment as the crowd
boos heavily and Judd Marley steps out of the corner he was whipped
into. Cut to later in the match. Marley hurls El Gato backwards, and
end over end.]
FH: German Suplex. Okay, this Mexican seriously needs a siesta after
all this head trauma he's taking.
JB: Judd with the tag in to a recovered Jack Baldwin. Jack LOW BLOW!
[When Jack goes to pick up Gato, the diminutive Mexican falls back
down to his knees, and hits an uppercut to Jack's groin. HEEL POP!]
FH: Little man doing what he needs to survive!
JB: Max Kelly is all over Gato, reading him the riot act--
*CLANK!*
JB: CRACKHEAD WITH THE PIPE! PIPE SHOT TO THE HEAD! Gato with the
cover, and Kelly reluctantly counts.
ONE!
TWO!
[And in an instant, Gato is airborn, but neatly lands on his feet. A
red-faced (both with anger and blood) Jack Baldwin scrambles up,
murder in his eyes.]
JB: Gato takes a boot! Why he wouldn't run after Baldwin kicked out
like that I'll never know! BEATING THE HELL OUT OF CRACKHEAD!
[Dragging him into the ring by the hair, Jack first hits a shortarm
lariat on Crackhead, then stomps the hell out of his face, neck, and a
pointed shot to the groin makes even the ladies in the audience
cringe.]
FH: CHRIST! What is the deal with this guy? All they did was tweak
the rules a little.
JB: Gato up, gorilla press, AND JUST TOSSES THE SMALLER MAN STRAIGHT
UP! Barely lets him touch, up again, and ROULETTE!
*CRUNCH!*
FH: Spinning piledriver? Now I've seen everything.
JB: There's the three, and it's academic.
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
HD: Ladies and Gentlemen, your winners of the match ... "Black" Jack
Baldwin and "The Gambler" Judd Marley, THE WILDCARDS!!!
[Coming into the ring, looking worried, Judd gives Jack a slow clap.
Wiping away the thick layer of rapidly coagulating blood on his face,
Jack looks at his palm and smiles before giving Crackhead one more
good stomp. Cut back to the studio.]
------------------------------------
JB: Impressive win by the Wildcards.
FH: Impressive? Terrifying maybe. Baldwin lost his mind for about
two minutes.
JB: True. Still, Crackhead and El Gato gave one hell of a fight, and
the Wildcards made it clear that there was no way the other team was
walking away with their hands held high.
FH: Now if they can just get the straps. Good luck with that one,
kids.
[Pause as Jack rifles through his notes.
JB: Fans, it's time for our last promo for the evening. From here,
it's straight into the main event. Now, here's "Sugar" Shayne
Grissom.
------------------------------------
Remote feed,
"Sugar" Shayne Grissom.
------------------------------------
[The screen fades up and we see a street in the city. The street
lamps light the area as we see cars drive by at high rates of speed.
The camera pans to the left and we see cars at a side street waiting
to pull into traffic. The camera pans right just as a black Corvette
pulls up to the curb. A young man in a red coat runs out to open the
door. Out steps "Sugar" Shayne Grissom. who takes a slip of paper
from the young man and says to be very careful. As the man pulls the
car away, Grissom looks over and notices the camera.]
Grissom: Hey, funny to see you here. Were you waiting for me?
[The cameraman's voice can be heard well.]
Cameraman: Yeah.
Grissom: You with PVW, right?
Cameraman: Sure am boss.
Grissom: Alright then, good timing. I got here a little early, so I
guess I got time to share a few comments before I have my evening out
on the town with a special lady I met today at the gym. Come on in
with me because I want to get my table now before the dinner rush.
Cameraman: Well if that is alright with you.
Grissom: Why the Hell not? I'm the one paying the bill, so they'll
accomodate me for sure!
[Grissom motions him on as he walks to the door of the restaurant.
Grissom stops and begins talking to the Maitre 'D.]
Grissom: Yes, I need a slightly secluded table for up to five people.
Maitre 'D: Sir, I'm not sure we can handle such a request.
[Grissom shakes his hand and seems to have slipped him some cash. The
Maitre 'D begins using his pencil to write on the guestbook.]
Grissom: You sure?
Maitre 'D: We do have an opening near the rear of the restaurant.
Please follow me.
Grissom: Sure enough.
[The Maitre 'D leads Grissom and the cameraman back to the rear of the
restaurant. The people who recognize the wrestler seem to be talking
to each other as if excited about this arrival. The Maitre 'D stops
at a booth table that is 80% surrounded by ferns and other foliage.
Very secluded from the main areas. Grissom smiles as he sits down.]
Grissom: Thank you.
Maitre 'D: You are most welcome sir. Most welcome.
[The Maitre 'D begins to leave, but Grissom remembers something he
needed to tell him and stops him. The Maitre 'D stops in his tracks
and swivels around as if on a top.]
Grissom: Oh, I almost forgot.
Maitre 'D: Sir?
Grissom: There will be a young lady arriving and asking for my table,
so if she asks for Shayne Grissom's table, please show her the way.
Maitre 'D: Indeed sir.
Grissom: Thanks.
[The Maitre 'D exits as Grissom resumes his relaxation by putting his
hands behind his head and sitting back in the middle of the booth.]
Grissom: Nice table. At least we are secluded in case of any possible
problems. You know I spent all day in the gym today. I did some
lifting and cardio work, and then spent three hours working on some
moves I plan on using against Hayes in my second match in Phoenix
Valley. After all that, it is good to have dinner with a beautiful
lady in a nice restaurant.
[Grissom sits up and seems to get very serious.]
Grissom: Steven Hayes will be a different kind of match from my debut,
that much I know for sure. Hayes will have backup with Cunningham and
Lane alongside him. So, instead of worrying about one old veteran, I
have to be watching three people potentially the entire match. It is
definitely something new. Even though I beat Parker last time out,
people are still not sure if I'm the "real deal."
[Grissom takes a drink of his water and continues with a perplexed
look on his face.]
Grissom: I really can't understand that. Parker was as legit an
opening victory as I could have asked for and I sent him to pasture.
I've got the superstar look and the fans all dig me
like....well...."sugar".
[Grissom chuckles a bit and then sits back folding his arms across his
chest.]
Grissom: Not to mention a great wrestling background and strength to
compete. Hayes, allow me to give you fair warning. I'm intending on
keeping a winning streak here in PVW. I'm not some flash in the pan
rookie that you can whip up on simply because you got scheduled on
Burning Effect. If you step inside that ring and take me theleast bit
lightly, you will find out exactly what Parker is sitting at hoem on
his couch thinking.....
[The camera zooms in on Grissom's face, so that it only fills the
screen.]
Grissom: Damn.....this kid is something else!
[The camera pans out to it's original position as Grissom smiles
again.]
Grissom: THAT is when you will realize that a future hall of fame
wrestler and superstar in this business just made you notch number two
on his victory post. Don't worry Hayes, you still have tag teams to
fret over, but just remember that after I have kicked you ass and won
the match......you probably want to avoid fighting me again. It would
be in your best interest.
[Grissom pauses and chuckles a bit before looking a little serious
again.]
Grissom: Hayes, I'm already done with you, but you don't even know it
yet. Then its on to bigger and better things...
[The Maitre 'D shows up and has a lady with him. She is a brunette
that is very attractive and well built. She smiles as Grissom moves
over for her to sit down. The Maitre 'D also pulls out the tray with
the wine on it and uncorks the bottle. Grissom thanks the Maitre 'D
and then turns once again to face the camera.]
Grissom: My run continuing as I make my way toward greatness. It may
be awhile before a belt is around my waist, but make no mistake that
I'm more than capable of taking PVW by storm. The rest of the PVW
roster better be taking noted on what I can do in the ring.....because
eventually every one of them will get a taste of "sugar" and be on the
losing end.
[Grissom chuckles as he turns to his lovely date. Shayne begins to
pour the wine into their glasses.]
Grissom: Hi Rebecca, you look gorgeous tonight.
Rebecca: Thanks "Sugar." I can't believe I am actually going out with
someone I met at the club. I never do that.
Grissom: I try not to, but you enticed me too much. (chuckles)
[Shayne notices the camera seems to still be taping and he motions for
him to cut with a slashing motion across his neck.]
Grissom: I think I need some privacy buddy, but make sure everyone
gets an earful of what I said. (chuckles) Now where were we? Oh
yes, here is your wine, beautiful.
[The camera fades to black as they reach for their glasses of wine.
Cut straight to the arena.]
------------------------------------
Main Event,
Singles action.
"Handsome" Steven Hayes
-vs-
"Sugar" Shayne Grissom.
------------------------------------
["Smoke on the Water" by Deep Purple hits the PA system as Samuel
Cunningham leads 'Handsome' Steven Hayes. The fans boo as the duo
walk down the aisle way. Steven Hayes stops in the front row and
breaks out in a full fledge pelvic thrust in front of a young lady.
She blows him off and he turns diving under the ropes.]
FH: A lucky young lady got quite a show. It doesn't get much better
then Steven Hayes!
JB: Oh please.
[Lights go out as a voice splits the darkness.]
VOICE: Alright......You know what time it is!
[Limp Bizkit's "Rollin'" begins to blare on the PA system as fireworks
and cannons explode around the entrance area. Out steps "Sugar" Shayne
Grissom decked out in a shining vest and his wrestling tights are
solid purple, with '"cut" holes in them that have black, see-through
material in them. His black hair pulled back in a tail and sunglasses
firmly on his head he poses for the crowd as a giant, purple "Sugar"
flashes on the big screen above him. The crowd explodes in cheers as
he slowly walks down the aisle and slaps high fives with fans all the
way down to the ring. Grissom reaches center ring and rather than
strike a pose to show off his muscles, simply rolls under the bottom
rope as the chorus echose with cannons firing from the ringposts...no
doubt still showing effects of the brawl moments ago.]
Song: #ROLLIN', ROLLIN', ROLLIN'#
Song: #ROLLIN', ROLLIN', ROLLIN'#
Song: #ROLLIN', ROLLIN', ROLLIN'#
[The music dies down as Grissom removes his glasses and vest to
prepare for
the match as the fans begin chanting "Sugar!" over and over.
Grissom's face
looks as though it has been through a war already.]
JB: SUGA TIME!
FH: That has to be the most lame saying ever.. Please don't ever say
it again.
JB: Hayes is a tag team veteran and is set to take on this hot
newcomer. Shayne Grissom had an impressive victory against Tyrone
Parker last Burning Effect.
FH: Parker is washed up. Let's see how the kid does against Steven
Hayes.
[The bell is sounded... Hayes is talking strategy over with his
manager, but the youngster is ready to fight! Shayne Grissom attacks
him from behind. Grissom pounds away at the back of Hayes with
clubbing forearms before whipping him off the ropes. Hayes ducks a
Clothesline from Grissom but gets caught with hiptoss on the way
back.]
JB: Heads up move by the youngster. Grissom quickly applies an Arm
Wrench on Steven Hayes, whipping him into the corner of the ring.
FH: Give him time. Samuel Cunningham is barking out strong orders.
[Grissom charges at Hayes and scores with a jumping knee to the chest.
Grissom mounts the second rope and begins his ten-count punches...]
Crowd: One!! Two!! Three!! Four!! Five!! Six!! Seven!! Eight!!
Nine!!
[... but as he gets to nine, Steven Hayes walks out of the corner and
drops Grisson with an Inverted Atomic Drop, then plows him down with a
Clothesline.]
FH: BOOO YA!!!
JB: Big counter by one half of the thrillers!
FH: It's showtime now!
[Hayes digs his knee into the back of Grissom and pulls back on his
chin, applying a modified surfboard.]
FH: Dang I didn't know Grissom could bend like that. I think I am
going to call him gumby from now on.
JB: I'm not sure he will like that.
[Hayes releases his hold and lifts Grissom to his feet, whipping him
off the ropes and nailing him with a Drop Toe Hold, followed by
sliding over towards his head and applying a side-headlock.]
FH: Text book wrestling right there.
JB: Hayes now on his feet and breaks back out in a Pelvic Thrust.
FH: Break it down!
"SMMMMACCKK"
[... Hayes thrown off the ropes and taken down with a shoulder block.
Steven Hayes stumbles back up and right into the arms of Shayne
Grissom and POWERSLAM!!!!]
One ...
Two ...
JB: Hayes just kicks out.
FH: Do something Cunningham!
[Samuel Cunningham up on the ring apron.... NOT FOR LONG!! Grissom
with a dropkick sends the old manager flying off. Steven Hayes is now
up and a big right hand... ANother.... He goes to send Grissom off the
ropes, but it's reversed and PILEDRIVER BY GRISSOM!!!]
JB: Jimmy Lane is now up and inside...
FH: Now he is in trouble...
[Grissom fights him off with a few punches, sending him off the ring
apron and to the floor. Grissom rushes over to Hayes and puts him in
suplex position....lifting him up high for the vertical suplex, but
instead of the suplex, Grissom twists and drops him straight down in a
vicious "Sugar Shock" (diamond cutter).]
One ...
Two ...
Three !!!
*DING!* *DING!* *DING!*
HD: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner of the match ... "Sugar" SHAYNE
GRISSOM!
JB: Grissom winning handily over a very talented competitor.
FH: A tag team guy with no singles record. Forgive me if I don't
faint in the man's presence.
JB: Folks, that's all the time we have this week for Burning Effect.
Until next time, I'm Jack Britain alongside "Fabulous" Fred Hoyle
saying "Goodnight, everybody".
------------------------------------
