****************************************
****************************************
** Phoenix Valley Wrestling Presents  **
**            SHOWCASE                **
**            12.08.10                **
****************************************
****************************************



-> Rob Cole
-> Danny Daniels
-> Max and Sal
-> The Mercenary
-> Chris Hartt
-> Doc Holliday
-> Cheap Thrills
-> Johnny Detson
-> Prophets of Rage
-> Gibson Hayes
-> Sinister
-> Marcus Manson
-> The Renegades
-> Tommy Ryder
-> Los Corazones
-> William Craven






****************************************
****************************************
Rob Cole
****************************************
****************************************

[Cold wet towel draped over the back of his neck and shoulders,
longish hair hanging in loose tangled ringlets around his clean shaven
features. Deep scars crisscross his chest and arms, his features
marked with a number of smaller scars and one long healed gash up the
left cheek from the corner of his eyes to the jaw. Fresh wounds are
bandaged, spotted with blood beneath. Discolored bruising beneath his
eye socket marks another bit of damage in the long and expanding list.
He looks up into the camera, his voice trembles a little as he
speaks.]

RC: Did you find something special in that hole, Marley? Did you look
down deep and face that broken mirror and see something? No, kiddo...
no no no, hush it up now. I'm not taunting you... I'm asking you a
real question: Did you find something you never thought you'd ever see
in the bottom of that dark little hole? I've been sitting here for a
few hours now, going over it again and again and again... no, not the
brutal attack, not the words, not the way you made an impact. I've
seen it before, Rick... I've seen you walk down that aisle and I've
seen you do plenty of terrible things. What I've never seen, though...
what made me flinch, what made me realize that you weren't the same
man I buried... I saw your eyes, Rick. I had a split second to stare
into those two desperate orbs.

[Cole suddenly takes a breath, wincing at the memory of Rick Marley's
attack. Yes, the man who called himself a "Monster beneath the bed" is
flinching... there is real concern in his eyes, he looks down at his
own hands and then back up toward the camera. He takes a deep breath
and lets it out slowly before continuing.]

RC: You know what? I'm not shocked... I did something terrible to you,
Rick. I put you in a deep dark hole and I buried you alive... I left
you there, in the deep deep dark with nothing but your own screaming
to echo in your ears. I did something that William Craven could never
do, Rick... I broke something inside of you and I made you feel some
real fear for the first time in your career. When they pulled you out
of that hole, when they dragged you up through the dirt, when they
pulled open that casket lid and you saw your red knuckles rubbed raw
from trying to beat your way out... did you cry a little? Did relief
wash over you so hard that it nearly choked the back of your throat?
You know how you felt... you relived that moment night after night,
sleeping with the lights on and flinching at the gentlest touch. I've
had moments like those myself... but even when something breaks in us,
something else takes over. Something gets a little stronger because we
find out that we understand how much we can endure.

[Rob Cole unlaces his fingers and clenches his fists... his shoulders
trembling as a slow smile creeps across his features. His eyes gleam
with hunger and he rises from his chair, licking his chops. His voice
is tight with laughter as he speaks.]

RC: How much do you hate having seen that part of yourself, Rick? I go
to bed with the terrible filth rot cowardice in my gut every single
night! I come face to face with my limit every time I walk down that
aisle! Now you have it in your own eyes, that haunted look and
desperate fear that drives you forward and forces you to come face to
face with who and what you are! IT WILL NEVER GO AWAY!!!!! Are you
really tired of living up to expectations? Is that what this is all
about for you? Give these people some credit... give ME some credit,
you miserable piece of filth! I did this thing to you, Rick.... Me! It
wasn't Craven, it wasn't the Widowmakers, it was me that allowed you
to peel back the mask and see the horror underneath it all... Monster,
Circus Geek, however you want to dismiss me; the truth is that I'm the
man who earned this title in blood and tears while you played patty
cake with a green-skinned pretender. It doesn't even matter if the
people love me or hate me, they still talk about me and they talk
about this belt. It ain't the trophy, it ain't the symbol of
excellence... it's a worm on the hook.

[Cole starts to laugh now, shaking his head in disgust as he reaches
down to drag the title off the floor. He stares down at the gold plate
and then turns his gaze up to regard the camera.]

RC: Chase Williams... he wants to wear this belt like a crown, like it
gives him some sort of bragging right, like this makes him the best.
And he came at me... he tried to put me down, he tried to beat me
down, he tried to pin me down, and I just kept getting up. Over and
over again, one pinfall after another and another and another... I
just kept getting up and I chopped him down a little at a time. He lay
in the middle of that ring, his body broken and bleeding and his
spirit a shattered remnant looking for the merciful end... but it
never came. And, you see, now he'll stand up and he'll make an
excuse... he could have tricked me, beaten me, taken my move, caught
me in the middle of the air, waved his little pixie dust toesies and
cast some terrible curse... he has an out, and he'll make a big show
about hating you for it but the truth is that you saved him the
embarrassment of having a near 300-pound Champion come crashing down
from the heavens and smearing him on the canvas!

[Cole lifts the gold plate now, showing it to the camera.]

RC: And it's all about this, Ricky. It's about taking this thing away
from me. You hurt me, I hurt you, and then you hurt me back... on and
on and on it goes. But now there's something more to it, huh? Now you
want to beat me, now you want to hurt me... this is where we find out
what you're made out of. I can see it in your eyes...  Fight or flight
time! Let's face it, Rick... I'm either too stupid or too crazy, but
I'm going to fight you tooth and nail with every fiber of who and what
I am. The monster, the man, the geek, the whatever-it-is that walks
down that ring... NONE OF IT MATTERS!!! HYPE?!?!!!  I'm Rob Cole and
I'm the man who buried you beneath dirt and earth and left you all
alone in the dark. I'm the horror show, Rick... and I'm the man you
always wished you could be. You're cashing in your guaranteed shot to
snatch this title from around my waist. Are you going to pretend
something else? Are you going to waste my time with head games and
sneak attacks? What are you going to do about it?!?!!!

WHAT?!?!?!!! FIGHT?!?!!!

[Cole starts to laugh maniacally... it fades and he takes a serious
look into the camera, stepping closer.]

RC: I'm ready to sign the contract, Ricky. I'll be there at
Heatwave... I'll walk down that aisle, no tricks and no violence. Just
man to man and eye to eye, a contract between us. I hope you enjoy the
stipulation I've asked for... I did it just for you. Whether you want
the belt or the satisfaction or the bragging rights, none of it makes
a damn bit of difference to me. I'm going to put you down one....

More....


Time...

[Cole grins softly as we fade to black.]

****************************************
****************************************
Danny Daniels
****************************************
****************************************

[The camera fades to see Danny "Your Hero" Daniels standing outside.
He turns to face the camera, and is not wearing his sunglasses for
once.]

D"YH"D:  Greetings... and Salutations!  Last week was the debut of
GOOD SINESTRO~!  But our debut was marred by an unfortuante loss.
After spending hours upon hours watching the videotape, I realized the
error.  Tom Fondis, you see, is an ENABLER!  His mere presence tricked
and cajoled Siinestro into reverting to his EVIL~! ways.  Since that
match, I've read hundreds upon thousands of letters...

[Danny holds up several envelopes, addressed from one Mr. Danza in
Dallas, Texas]

D"YH"D:  ... detailing the horrors that Tom Fondis brings upon the
earth!  While normally, I would handle Tom Fondis myself, and rid the
league of his scourge!  But... [slowly, Danny shakes his head]  no....
no.   This task does not fall to me.  Instead, Sinestro himself must
stand up, face his demons, and rid the world of the horrors that Tom
Fondis.  I have faith in my protege can step up and redeem himself...

[Danny puts on his sunglasses and grins]

D"YH"D:  ... and perform a Fondis-ectomy.

[80's Music starts playing, and the camera fades into a montage.  We
see Sinister working out in the gym as Danny daniels stands to one
side, yelling into a megaphone, and the lyrics start to play...]

#Try to be best
'Cause you're only a man
And a man's gotta learn to take it

Try to believe
Though the going gets rough
That you gotta hang tough to make it

History repeats itself
Try and you'll succeed

Never doubt that you're the one
And you can have your dreams!

You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ow-own#

[A flash, and Sinister looks grumpy seated in a child's desk.  Danny
Daniels stands in front of a blackboard, dressed in a graduation robe
and hat, using a pointer, showing pictures of a chair cracking the
skull of the referee, with a giant red line through it and the word
WRONG! on the blackboard.  The music continues...]

#Fight 'til the end
Cause your life will depend
On the strength that you have inside you

Ah you gotta be proud
starin' out in the cloud
When the odds in the game defy you

Try your best to win them all
and one day time will tell
when you're the one that's standing there
you'll reach the final bell!

You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ho-how-ho-own#

[INSPIRING GUITAR SOLO... the camera flashes, and Sinister is looking
even more morose.  He's also dressed in a blonde wig and has
wraparound sunglasses on his face, along with a bright yellow 'YOUR
HERO' t-shirt on.  Danny Daniels is standing next to him, beaming, in
the same outfit.  To Danny's right is a middle-aged man in a suit
wearing wire-rimmed glasses.  He looks over Sinister....]

Man:  I see the look you're going for, but it hasn't come together
yet.  [snaps his fingers]  Make it work.

[Danny gives a giant's "thumbs up" as the lyrics play again.]

#You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you dow-ow-ow-ow-own

Fight 'til you drop
never stop
can't give up
Til you reach the top (FIGHT!)
you're the best in town (FIGHT!)
Listen to that sound
A little bit of all you got
Can never bring you down#

[A final scene of Danny and Sinister running on a track in a gym.
Sinister, showing no signs of his bad knee, begins outpacing Danny,
and soon is half a lap ahead of him.  Sinister makes a sharp left,
goes down the corridor, and shuts the door behind him.  We hear
pounding from the other side of the locked door as Sinister grins and
the camera fades to black.]

#You're the best!
Around!
Nothing's gonna ever keep you down
You're the Best!
Around!#

****************************************
****************************************
Max and Sal
****************************************
****************************************

[A muted video of the end of last week's match- Max hitting Livestock
in the face with a baseball-side dropkick as Livestock was caught in a
Camel Clutch from Sal.  We hear Sal's voiceover.]

Sal VO:  Last week was a great match- we teamed up with Caleb Foley
and Hersher von Donkerhardt to beat Johnny Detson, Gibson Hayes, and
the tag team champions Livestock and the Gutch.  It was a big moment-
a win in a big match, proof of our credentials, a chance to show that
we are a successful tag team...

[The video then changes to a few minutes later, as the Prophets of
Rage storm the ring and attack Max and Sal from behind.]

Sal VO:  ...unfortunately, it ended abruptly.

[A slow motion video of the stereo superkicks to the head of Max
Weinrib... reversed... and played in slow motion again.]

Sal VO:  ...and painfully.

[Cut to Max and Sal, seated on chairs in the locker room.  They're
dressed in street clothes, with duffel bags containing their wrestling
attire on the floor.  Sal speaks live this time.]

Sal:  Max, let me start by asking you this- after those kicks to the
head- have you suffered any brain damage?

Max:  I dunno...  [scratches the back of his head]  But I've got this
sudden urge now to watch "Jersey Shore".

Sal: [grimacing]  It's worse than we feared then.

Max VO:  Continuing in the news of mental health, we wondered  --
after months of ignoring us and overall not acknowledging our very
existence  -- what actually made the Prophets come out?  It didn't
take us too long to zero in on the culprit.

[Cut back to Max and Sal back in the locker room each in a pondering
pose.]

Max & Sal:  [nodding together]  Alzheimer's.

Max:  See, it actually took all those long months for the Rages to
remember us in the first place!

Sal:  And they kept getting distracted by "Golden Girls" marathons
beforehand.  Kinda pathetic, really...

Max:  And now we have a match with them.  I myself, am very worried
their Alzheimer's is going to kick up again...

Sal:  ...or an episode of Matlock starts up...

Max:  ...and they forget to come to the match.

Sal:  We should print out Mapquest directions to the arena and send
them over to remind them.

Max:  [Standing up and speaking directly to the camera]  Now, Derek
and Shadoe... "Mapquest" is a website on your computer that can give
you directions to just about anywhere in the country.

Sal:  [Also standing up and speaking to the camera]  And a "Computer"
is a machine that runs on electricity that performs many functions, as
a typewriter, calculator, or access to the internet.

Max:  And "Electricity"... it's a source of power, not unlike the
windmills you might remember from your earlier days.

[The screen shows a video of Livestock, the Gutch, and Zeke all
cackling maniacally]

Sal VO:  As constructive as this lesson on advances in modern
technology was, we also had to deal with the little problem of the PVW
tag team champions and their manager being involved in our match -- as
the referee and special ringside "enforcers".

[A close up of Max shaking his head]

Max:   Lawyers...why did it have to be lawyers?

[The camera cuts over to Sal]

Sal:  I'll lay you ten to one odds Livestock Zappa has the AARP
already on speed dial getting tips on how to file an age
discrimination suit against us on behalf of the Prophets of Rage.

Max:  But the Rages are Canadian.

Sal:  International law then?  This is not gonna be pretty.  This
might even be worse than Trenton...

Max:  [blanching]  I thought we agreed not to bring that up again!

Sal:  We need to make sure the fire extinguishers are working in the
arena this time.

[Max and Sal sit back, clearly despondent and lost in thought.]

Sal VO:  So there we were... in pain from physical wounds, well aware
that we would be facing a virtual five-on-two situation.  And the
Prophets of Rage had shown that they were not above attacking us from
behind when we were tired.  It was the act of desperate men, scared
that their place in tag team was wrestling was about to be taken away
from them...

[Max and Sal turn to face the cameras.  Sal puts on the sunglasses as
Max just cracks his knuckles.]

Max:  Well...  they're right.

[Max and Sal stand up and walk out of the screen.  A moment later, it
fades to black.]

****************************************
****************************************
The Mercenary
****************************************
****************************************

(Scene opens. We're in the PVW interview area.. a simple place really,
with the black curtain background featuring the PVW logo. Placed in
front of it is a wooden stool, waiting for its next guest. And he
comes into the scene from the left and it is none other than the
Mercenary. He approaches the stool but instead of sitting, he tosses
it out of sight. Merc adjusts his sunglasses and then addresses the
camera)

Merc: As I'm kinda pressed for time, I'm going to try to keep this
quick and simple. First off, I have to congratulate Marcus Manson for
somehow getting the win last week. Even though I thoroughly out fought
him, out thought him and basically dominated him in all facets of our
match, he still managed to catch me off guard for just a second and
put me down for the three count. Now, I'm not going to make excuses
about how my mind wasn't quite into the match or how this being my
first match in 6 months caused some ring rust to show. That's not my
style. Manson won, so it's time to move on.

Which brings me to my upcoming match with one Tommy Ryder. We've
crossed paths before during my days in the WMI, but that was business.
Granted, our upcoming match is for a shot at the TV title, and that
qualifies as business as well. The difference is, this time it has to
do with my personal business... It leads to something which will
benefit me directly, and not the machinations of some power hungry
little Napoleanite. No, Ryder, you are directly in my way of a title
shot, something I haven't had here in the PVW. And it will be mine.
Make no bones about it...I want that title and no amount of flippy
shit that you pull is going to stop me. You probably saw what I did to
the Misery Machine, and if I can do that to someone his size, just
imagine what I can do to a runt like you. You may be tough for a
little guy, as seen by some of the beatings that you survived in the
past, but trust me, you're no Marcus Manson. You don't stand a chance.

(And with that, Merc exits stage right. Fade to snow)

****************************************
****************************************
Chris Hartt
****************************************
****************************************

In a small park in a quiet neighborhood, Chris Hartt walks among the
casually strolling public. Everyone dressed in appropriate winter
climate gear (for Phoenix, anyway). Hartt walks and watches some
children play, happy, smiling adults tending to their children or just
enjoying their quiet time together.  At a small copse of trees, Hartt
takes a bench.

"This is what means the most to me. Regular people doing regular
things. Just enjoying their lives. Being a wrestler for the PVW means
as much to me as the freedom to live their lives in peace and quiet
does to these folks.

So it really sets me on edge when, on our first night back, I'm
subjected to the horrifying unsportsmanlike conduct of William Craven.
I never thought little of Craven and tried not to take him for
granted, but to be choked with the tag rope is completely inexcusable.
I realize Craven does little to outwardly pass as a man, preferring
his monstrous appearance, but this kind of crap is nonsense.  Was it
so important to deliberately hurt me just for the win, Craven?  Was
there so much on the line that you just had to resort to low tactics
to satisfy your small and easily bruised ego?

While it's easily seen that the answer to everything is 'Yes', it's
still a sad shock. Throughout the rest of the show, anyone who could
take easy advantage of situations in the most extreme and overdone
ways did so and really made PVW's first night back less than it could
have been.

This is a violet sport.  We all go into it knowing that. The need to
draw blood and unnecessarily harm opponents is far too rampant these
days, and that needs to change. Extremism for the spectacle of it all
is overdone. I'm here to bring good, solid wrestling to PVW. Every
match I have is a showcase of technical and precise skills. I'm
interested in being the best I can be against the best competition to
be found anywhere.  But there's always the few rotten apples that
spoil the bunch.

But this week, Marcus Manson and I are a team, facing the most spoiled
and rotten of this entire company. William Craven and Chase Williams
are of a like kind.  Full of entitlement and personal goals of glory
at the sake and cost of everyone around them.

I barely know Manson, but I can only expect that he's got his own
agenda in making sure these two don't find it so easy to walk all over
everyone in this company. Together, we're sure to be thorns that catch
the soles of their feet and make them rethink where they're going.

Dismiss us as you see fit, Craven, Williams.  There's no doubt in my
mind that the only way you're going past us is by losing a lot of
yourselves at our hands."

Hartt stands up and starts to make his way back down a path.

"Rest assured. We'll stop you at every chance."

****************************************
****************************************
Doc Holliday
****************************************
****************************************

[SCENE: A film room.

It's a cozy little room, with dark grey carpeted walls to negate
echoes, a big flat plasma screen dominating one wall, and comfortable
seating.  Multiple cabinets are built into the walls, storing a
variety of movies and media.  It would seem to be someone's private
residence, and judging from the fact that he's on screen, the best
guess as to whose residence it is would be Doc Holliday.

Holliday is seated in a big soft black La-Z-Boy recliner, but instead
of reclining, he's leaning over a table which is covered with discs
and cases.  Some of them are clearly visible... old UEW, EMWC, RCW,
and IWF/WOW shows.  Others are harder to see.  It looks like Doc, clad
in a black-and-gold "I MARK OUT FOR MYSELF" T-Shirt (he started
selling those back in 1999) and grey pants, is compiling a playlist.
He's got a notepad and pencil, and is moving the discs into stacks.]

DH: C'mon in, Mistah Cameraman.  Ah'm workin' on mah scoutin' list fer
thet big dope, Alex Martinez.  Aftah all, ah wanna be sure ah got alla
his matches, on account of they gonna be collector items real soon.

[Doc leans back and addresses the camera directly.  A big grin has
spread over his angular, clean-shaven face.  The long wavy light-brown
hair of Holliday is still a bit damp, as he's either recently showered
or trained.  And if it's the latter, I'd hope he also did the former.]

DH: Loser.  Leaves.  Town.

Man, them words got some sting to 'em, don't they, Alex?  One of us is
gonna git put out.  Not leave.  Not retire.  Not move.  GET PUT OUT.
An' forevah, either ya git ta say "Ah put out Doc Holliday." or ah git
ta say "Ah put out Alex Martinez."

Oh, ah'm sure we'll wrassle someplace else.  Yer already still in
Toronto an' Dallas, an' ah'm welcome either place an' many other
beside.  But fer th' rest of our lives, one of us is gonna see a big
ol' spot on th' map... Phoenix, Arizona... an' know in our heart of
hearts that we got run out o' thar.  We'd know that we picked a fight,
got whipped, an' walked away with tail between legs.

Arizona is mah home.  This heah is mah private film room in mah house
in Tucson.  Ya think I mean ta set heah in my own home, knowin' that
ah cain't nevah wrassle in this territory ag'in?  On account of ah
lost a match ta Frankenstein?!  Ah couldn't nevah even look at mahself
inna mirror ag'in th' rest o' mah life if ah lost this fight,
Martinez, an' ah don't believe ya quite know how thet feels like.  Ya
already lost yer heart an' soul.  Ya got whipped fer yer wife in Los
Angeles, ya got yer arm tore off by a lesser man in New York, an' yer
nothin' more than a mercenary at this point.  An' you ain't even THE
Mercenary, at that; at least he's up front about who he is.  You?  You
jus' gonna take yer show ta another payin' customer if ah beat you.

If you beat me?  It'd kill me.  KILL me.

An' thet's why it won't happen.  You got a long an' glorious track
record, an' yer badder than jus' about any man walkin'.  But when th'
stakes are highest, more often than not, th' pressure gits ya.  It's
happened time an' ag'in... but ah was born fer this.  While Alex
Martinez trudges through life, Doc Holliday _lives_ it.  Only when th'
stakes're truly exorbitant does th' moment become truly worth livin'
in.  An with three words, ah took that one lil corner thet you an'
Marshall backed me into, an' turned it inta a fight ah cain't lose.

But ya live in this worl' long enough, an' life teaches ya hard
lessons.  Ah learnt th' hard way many a moon ago thet ah must prepare
if ah wanna win.  So right heah...

[Doc gestures at the table.]

DH: Ah got a whole selection of footage ta git me ready.  Ah got Alex
Martinez matches from all ovah, from all parts an' times.  Thet'll
prep me mentally.  An' ta prep me physically fer takin' punishment, ah
got this:

[He picks up a DVD from the corner of the table.  It is a movie:
'Chomp: The Dana Hittaki Story'.  Whatever that means, one of the
actor names on the bottom of the case?  Johnny Detson.]

DH: Johnny Detson.  Ya know, he weren't a half-bad actor; he don't do
nothin' halfway.  Heard tell he even won an Academy Award back about
fifteen years ago.  Then thar was thet scandal whut got him
blackballed from Hollywood... ah'm thinkin' somebody thar finally saw
his movies... an' since then he's been a wrassler.  Detson's fulla
piss an' vinegar.  He's bitter, hates anyone who's a success, an' even
shut down alla PVW on account of he was upset about losin' ta Hayes.
Well, thet's th' rumor.  Even if he didn't do it, ah know he woulda
done it if he could.

But fer alla thet, he's got somethin' thet interests me.  He's driven.
Been wrasslin' a long time, toilin' in places thet were high quality,
but didn't git th' mainstream press he craves.  Ah know whut thet
feels lak mahself.  Most like him from that era moved on long ago.
But he's still goin'... still got somethin' ta prove.  After alla
these years, he's still hungry.

Good.  Ah need ta fight a man thet wants it, an' wants it bad.  A man
thet still remembers whut it means ta have an empty feelin' in his
soul, an' only victory can fill it.  A man who fights every match like
it was Loser Leaves Town.  Nothin' less will do!  Ah want Martinez ta
see whut it means ta NEED somethin'.  Ah want him at his meanest,
best, hungriest.  Ain't no glory in beatin' a half a man.

So here it is, Detson.  Ah'm gonna watch yer movies, an' git mahself
in a real mean mood.  Ya finally got a Main Event slot, an' a chance
ta show th' world ya rate above 101.  One shot, one chance... ah want
yer best.  Ah want th' best fight ya know how ta give!  On account of
Doc Holliday ain't fittin' ta rest on his laurels.  It's been too long
since ah had mah fill of spotlight, an' had a fight worth havin'.  So
bring me what I got ta have, Detson.

Fer alla yer career, you been workin' fer th' day ya ride on top
ag'in.  Just lak th' day ya (allegedly) won yer Academy Award.  An'
finally, ya got one time, one chance, one day ta grab fer it.  Ah'm
th' man ya need ta beat ta have yer day... ya know why?

EVERY DAY is a HOLLIDAY!

[Doc nods, smirking to himself as we quick-fade to the next scene.]

****************************************
****************************************
Cheap Thrills
****************************************
****************************************

[The camera fades in to... a pile of maneuer.]

[Yeah.  You can see steam rise off that son of a .]

[There's a large man with overalls and a t-shirt on, with a baseball
cap high up on his balding head that reads "Triple Cross".  He speaks
in a slow, southern accent.]

???:  Been awhile since I done this.

[The large man grabs a shovel and puts it into the pile.]

???:  I'm supposed to be all doin similies and meta-whatevers and
.  They put me out here with this pile of  and I'm
supposed to tell ya how it's like the competition in the old Pee Vee
Dubya and how I'm gon' shovel some sums into the dirt and kick
ass and all that stuff.

[The man shrugs.]

???:  But all I can think about is where are the in Mexicans
that are s'posed to be here shoveling?  Can't you find some border
brothers to take care of this mess?  They work cheap.

[From behind the camera you hear someone yell, "TELL THEM YOUR 
ING NAME!"]

???:  Oh yeah.  They may not know who I am.

[The man puts the shovel down and looks at the camera.]

???:  My name is Buzzsaw.  Buzzsaw Wesson.  I rassled a few years ago
here and there, got thrown out of as many feds as bars back in those
days.

[A chuckle.]

WESSON:  And I'm here in the old Pee Vee Dubya with my buddy Brandon
Spears.

[From off camera comes a pretty boy with short blonde hair, a
wifebeater, and scars on his arms and face.  He smiles brightly.]

SPEARS:  That's right!  I'm back in a mothering wrestling ring-

[Spears turns to the pile and points.]

SPEARS:  Who the  thought of this???  Why the  do I have
to stand in front of a pile of  and cut a promo introducing
myself?

WESSON:  Demola thought it'd be a good idea.

SPEARS:  That explains it.  A pile of  and Nick Demola go hand
in hand.

[Spears smirks into the camera.]

SPEARS:  Well, people of the world, I've stepped out from behind the
Three Dee Dubya microphone to wrestle in this fine, fine organization
with my buddy Buzzsaw Wesson.

WESSON:  Buddy?  We just met like ten minutes ago.

SPEARS:  

[Brandon pulls Wesson's head in close to him.]

SPEARS:  It's called a character, Buzzsaw.  It's something you have to
get into in order to be a ing professional wrestler.

WESSON:  Oh yeah.  Right.  I never had time to learn no characters or
no lines.  I just figure I can walk out in front of this here camera,
say what I gotta say, and get to kicking  on a regular basis.

SPEARS:  Well, Buzzsaw, you're going to have to learn to be a 
ing professional when you work with me.  Got it?

[Buzzsaw shrugs.]

WESSON:  Whatever, man.  Point me to the ring and the asses I get to
kick and we'll get along fine.

SPEARS:  Good.

[Spears picks up a shovel.]

SPEARS:  Now, as we were saying... we're here in Pee Vee Dubya to
clean  up.

[Spears picks up some maneuer in his shovel.]

SPEARS:  I mean, tag teams nowadays are just comprised of guys who
can't make it as singles wrestlers.  Guys who'd be right at home in
this pile behind me if it weren't for the fact that they get to
wrestle other y wrestlers every night and make themselves look
good.

[Spears throws the maneuer over his head.]

SPEARS:  But no longer!  Me and Buzzsaw here are ready to  up
the system!  We're here to prove that two top talents can come
together, bond, and in doing so elevate the entire ing division
to previously unseen levels!

[Brandon looks over to Wesson, who's pulled a blunt out of his
pocket.]

SPEARS:  Uh... Buzzsaw...

[Wesson looks at him as he puts the blunt in his mouth.]

WESSON:  Wha ith it?

SPEARS:  Are you... are you smoking marijuana on camera?

[Wesson pulls the blunt out of his mouth.]

WESSON:  Oh don't tell me you're one of THOSE ing holes!

[Wesson puts a finger in Spears' face.]

WESSON:  I've got a in right to put whatever I want in my own
body, God  it!  I don' need no gov'ment or no hippie ass
fot liberal suckers telling me what the  I can
and can't smoke on my own time!

[Wesson stares at Spears, who just smirks.]

SPEARS:  Nah, man.  You got me all wrong.

[Spears pats Wesson on the shoulder.]

SPEARS:  Just wanna know if you're down to puff and pass.

[Wesson smiles.]

WESSON:  Well hell yes, son!

[Wesson puts the blunt in his mouth.]

WESSON:  I think we gonna be just fine.

[Spears lights the blunt for Wesson as the camera fades.]

****************************************
****************************************
Johnny Detson
****************************************
****************************************

(We open the scene at the PVW "Headquarters."  There we see Johnny
Detson sitting behind a Mahogany desk wearing a black suit with a
white shirt and blue tie.  Several people are moving in and out of the
shot carrying various papers or talking on the phone, giving off the
impression of a real working environment.

Behind him hangs a banner creating a backdrop.  The banner reads, PVW:
JUAN VASQUEZ FREE SINCE 2008!"  Detson plasters on his politician
smile as if he's actually running for office before starting.)

Detson:  My fellow PVW constituents, I would like to take the time to
address you, the little people, the uneducated masses, and all-around
jack-o's, about the state of the PVW and the effort that Johnny
Detson, President and CEO, is doing to raise the stock of this place
and give the people what they truly deserve, ENTERTAINMENT!

(The wide smile slowly starts to morph into his trademark cocky
smirk.)

Detson:  My staff and I here at PVW Headquarters have been working
around the clock to try improving moral and the quality of the PVW to
give you, the PVW wallets, a show you can truly be proud of.  I'm
paying top dollar for a high quality staff to try and work out...

(Detson is cut off by a voice off camera.)

OCV:  Dude, we're interns.

(Detson, annoyed, looks off to the left.  He slowly looks back and
faces the camera with a huge smile.)

Detson:  Even better, my unpaid staff is working around the clock due
to their commitment and deep affection for this corporation.

OCV:  Dude, you said we were getting college credit for this!

(Incredulously, Detson looks off to his left again.)

Detson:  Ssssssshhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuttttttttt
uuuuuuuuuupppppppppppppppp.

(Detson shakes his head before remembering the camera.  He goes back
full into politician mode, smiling at the camera.)

Detson:  As I was saying...  People and fans of the PVW, it would be
hard to for anyone to argue that the PVW old was like a morbidly obese
fellow.  Stuffing anything bad for them down their throats completely
ignoring the consequences.  And what happened?  Well the PVW became
this fat, overweight and out of shape entity that just sat around and
did nothing.  Eventually it began to fester and smell because of its
bloated and disgusting nature.  Not a pretty picture is it?

(Detson shakes his head back and forth.)

Detson:  Well people, that picture was the picture you were tuning
into see each and every week.  When Johnny Detson, President and CEO,
came on to the picture, well I had to roll up my sleeves and get into
the trenches.  I performed emergency surgery and brought this place
back to life!  Then I got in their and cut away at the dead weight,
the bloated nature of the being, and anything else I could think of to
help sustain life on this creature I just saved.  And I did this not
for me, Johnny Detson, President and CEO; no, I did this for you, the
viewing, paying public.  I sent people packing and told their dead
weight not to come back.  I fired people so their bloated nature would
not hold us down!

(Detson scowls for a moment.)

Detson:  Unfortunately, someone still managed to let Rick Marley in
the building.

(Detson shakes his head and then immediately smiles again as if
nothing is wrong.)

Detson:  No matter, we will be victorious in spite of him.  I may be
President and CEO of this company, but I am not without compassion.
But do not confuse compassion for complacency, because I will never be
complacent!

(Detson pounds on the desk for extra emphasis.)

Detson:  PVW will live on because I allow it to do so and therefore I
am responsible.  It's a heavy burden to bear but I am definitely up to
the task.  So after trimming this place down to a respectful fighting
weight, it is up to the personnel that I have assembled to get the
message out there by their action.

(Detson jacks a thumb towards the banner behind him.)

Detson:  I feel this slogan accurately describes the sentiment of the
corporation but as we all know; actions speak louder than words.
Which is why, in my infinite wisdom as President and CEO, I have
decided to implant myself in the main event this week.  Lead by
example.  Be the Decider.  Show these people what greatness is.

(Detson nods in affirmation of himself.)

Detson:  One person in particular who needs to learn is Caleb Foley.
Mr. Foley as an employee that I, as President and CEO, allowed to stay
on with this company I do not appreciate your actions and open
hostility towards me.  I have a company to run, and as such, I
shouldn't even bother with the likes of you.  I should fire you on the
spot right here and now.  I mean look at all the hate mail the company
received against you based on your heinous assault last week!

(Detson holds up a random stack of papers and waves them in front of
the camera.)

Detson:  I mean there I was, Johnny Detson, President and CEO, out
there entertaining the masses, when suddenly I had the truly
democratic idea to go out and canvas the paying crowd to see how they
were liking the product I was putting before them, and what do you do?
You attack your President and CEO because of jealousy and spite, and
in the process put harmless, weak little mindless buffoons in danger.
All for what?  Do you disagree with my policies?  Do the results not
speak for themselves?

(Detson frowns and shakes his head.)

Detson:  Your actions are unacceptable Mr. Foley and as a consequence
of those actions consider this your first verbal warning!  I will not
tolerate insubordination!  You think you're the face of the PVW?  Well
I think we can all agree Mr. Foley that you ARE in fact the face of
the PVW!

(Detson smirks at the camera.)

Detson:  You're the face of the OLD PVW Mr. Foley.  You know, the one
that didn't succeed.  The one that every time tried to make something
of itself IT FAILED.  The one that every time tried to rise to the
occasion it FELL FLAT on its face.  The one that just kept getting
opportunity after opportunity after opportunity and EACH TIME FAILED!
That was the OLD PVW Mr. Foley, and it was also you.

(Detson sighs.)

Detson:  They say, "Those who don't remember the past are doomed to
repeat it!"  That's why I allow you to be here.  You're the reminder.
You're the thing that can't be repeated.  You're the thing we're
trying to be better than.  Don't think you're defending the PVW
because the PVW you're defending is long gone.  You left Caleb, you
went to greener pastures the moment the lights went out.  I stayed, I
saved this place, made it want to be better.  That was me, not you.

(Detson's smirk gets larger as he points down on the desk.)

Detson:  So this PVW?  The PVW I allow you to be in?  This one is
mine.  As President and CEO, I am the face, the heart, and the soul of
the PVW.  You?  You will always be the face of the PVW that everyone,
including yourself, turned their backs on, the one that failed, the
one that did nothing, the one with 100% potential and 0% results.
That's Caleb Foley and that was the PVW you believed in.  It's the
dawning of a new day Caleb, you can either get on board...

(Detson's face gets deadly serious.)

Detson:  ...or I can run you right over.

(With that we fade to black.)

****************************************
****************************************
Prophets of Rage
****************************************
****************************************

[Fade in:

Swingin' Dean Hayes stands before the PVW backdrop.  Good ol' Swingin'
Dean is a professional through and through.  So even though he doesn't
want to conduct the next interview he's still smiling.  It's a little
too forced.  It's a little too fixed to be natural, but the man is
still going to do his job.]

SDH: Welcome back to PVW.  Heatwave coming back to the airwaves after
our rebirth.  We're just weeks away from Rise From the Ashes II and
what a spectacular card it is shaping up to be.  On Heatwave one of
the matches will be held to determine who is going to be the number
one contender to the World Tag Team championships.  My guests at this
time.

[The smile wavers a little bit.]

SDH: Made a dramatic return to the ring with a sneak attack on Max and
Sal.  They will be attempting to win the World Tag Team titles for a
second time.  Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, the Prophets of
Rage.

[Derek Rage enters stage right and slides behind Hayes, crowding him.
The 7'2 wrestler is dressed in his wrestling gear, a black jersey
unitard with purple piping around the armholes and the Y-neck collar.]

SDH: ...

[Why is he waiting?  Because he knows that Shadoe Rage is going to
make an entrance.  And he does!  The flamboyant member of the Prophets
of Rage comes out with his cape held wide open and his back to the
camera so that everyone can see the gaudy ring robes in the purple and
black sequins.  He turns around, flicking his tongue at the camera and
shaking his wild head of long braids.  He turns in circles for a
moment before settling down and facing Dean Hayes.]

SR: Swingin' Dean Hayes, it's been a while hasn't it?

SDH: Not long enough.  I see that frog in your throat hasn't cleared.

[Shadoe smiles brightly.]

SR: Yeah, I'm glad you're thinking you're still a somebody.

[Shadoe looks to Derek.]

SR: He's sure got a smart mouth, doesn't he?

DR: Maybe he thinks Weinrib and Mubarak will protect him.  Hayes, I
hope you're not thinking that, are you?

SDH: ....

[The Prophets of Rage close in on him from both sides, staring him
down.]

SR: I'm sure that you can see that that's not a wise idea.

DR: Max and Sal have a lot of talk, but they saw that when it came to
a question of action that they really weren't up to the task.  The
Prophets of Rage don't have to spend a lot of time talking.  We're
more into proving.  Max and Sal don't have what it takes to survive
against us in the ring.  And we're going to prove that at Heatwave and
that we're still the measuring stick around here.

SDH: So why have you chosen now to answer Max and Sal's challenges.
They've been trying to get you in the ring for a while.

SR: The world works on our time.  Don't worry about that.  Yeah, now
it means something to go after them.  Now what's at stake is the
number one contendership.  And that's the reason we do what we want
when we want. There has to be something in it for us.  And right now
there is something in it for us.  And that is the World Tag Team
titles.  We are the greatest tag-team on the face of the Earth and we
are out to make an example of every tag-team in the PVW.  And that's
all we have to say right now.

SDH: This isn't like you two.  That was pretty straight forward and
simple.

DR: Simple message.  Simple mission.

SR: Make every team Die in Darkness.

DR: Fade to black.

[Fade out]

****************************************
****************************************
Gibson Hayes
****************************************
****************************************

[Oh, look at that, it is the offices of one Gibson Hayes. You can tell
it is an office because there is a desk and some potted plants as well
as some sort of computer machine... and the various tchotkes. A large
American flag hangs behind the desk. The American Hero that is Gibson
Hayes is seated in a large black chair. Hayes is wearing blue suit
with white shirt and red tie. His hair is still in that amazingly
great poofy afro. The latest Hayes monster is smiling.]

I like to think that being American means something.

[Solemn nod territory here folks.]

We're an exceptional people, far better than the rest of the filth on
the North American continent and definitively better than trash from
the old world. Of course America's bronzed Adonis, her one true
protector, me, Gibson Hayes, is a cut above the rest of you rabble.
Just because we're better than everyone else doesn't exactly mean
we're perfect.

[Gibson's face lights up.]

...scratch that, doesn't mean _you are_ perfect. Me? I'm the
culimination of the American dream, what the pilgrims to the north and
merchants to the south hoped would come from the great American
adventure. When people think of exceptional Americans they think of
Gibson Hayes. When people think of American gods they think of Gibson
Hayes. When people think of American icons, they think of Gibson
Hayes. When all you folks think of PVW you think of "Mr. Tradition",
the bright and shining example to al of America's children, your idol
and mine, Gibson Hayes. Being such a role model and example means
having to take what this country does very seriously.

[Another sip from the champ.]

So I am a bit chuffed at the audacity of Hermmy von D. He acts as if
he committed no crime, as if he deserves to be free. He's just lucky
that Todd likes to play with his food.

HvD, since it is easier to say your initials than trying to twist my
jaw into some sort of pretzel trying to say your trashy, stupid Euro
name, there is some business to take care of on this upcoming
Heatwave. I won't be there though, but Todd will.

[SHOCKING REVELATION~!]

I get a night off, so I'm going to enjoy my rest. You, Herscher, you
should count your blessings that you are such a failure because it
won't hurt as much when you sign your life away. Ta-ta!

[Gibson turns his chair around so I guess we're done.]

****************************************
****************************************
Sinister
****************************************
****************************************

[The scene fades in and immediately "That Was Just Your Life" by
Metallica is heard booming before we see a large, very clean swimming
pool with steam steadily rising from it and small waves rippling. The
camera pans the pool and surrounding area and the viewers see the
background to be a high-end gymnasium. There are large glass mirrors
surrounding the structure and in the distance, another pool is seen
that lies on the same level as the one in primary focus. On either
side of the pool there are the standard elliptical machines, free
weights, etc. and there are individuals performing various exercises.
There is one large dark-skinned gentleman in the pool, running in
place in the deep end of the pool, the source of the ripples in the
water. This man is known to PVW as Sinister and as the camera focuses
in closer on him, we notice he is intentionally raising his knees as
high as he can to his chest with each movement of his legs]

[As the song ends, Sinister slows to a slight jog while taking deep
breaths and holding his arms above his head. The camera captures his
thick, well-muscled torso with a few scattered scars, the most
prominent being the one upon his face. "Hold On" by Limp Bizkit begins
to play on the surrounding speakers and Sinister gradually slows his
pace until he stands still. He exhales loudly then cracks his neck and
crosses his arms back-and-forth across his chest. He then walks to the
edge of the pool, grabs a large white towel, dries his hands and
pushes a button on a nearby remote control. The music stops playing
and he looks into the camera]

"Good afternoon ladies and gents of Phoenix Valley Wrestling. It seems
most of the time you get to hear me flap my yaps while I'm working out
so I apologize for that. I'm a health nut thus the price you pay for
my regiment. However, I'll do my best to not bore you. [He wipes the
towel around his head and face before laying it around his broad
shoulders. He takes another deep breath and sits on the edge of the
pool] Needless to say folks, I'm not exactly thrilled that the back of
my noggin got kicked in by my…'savior'…Danny Daniels. Out of all the
damn things that could have happened, all of his talks about 'focus'
and 'know what's happening at all times', what happens? Instead of HIM
focusing and knowing the situation, he drifts off into God only knows
where, kicks me in the back of the noodle and boom, a three count on
yours truly!"

[Sinister's obvious rising temper is quelled by another few deep
breaths and a closing of his eyes for a few moments.  He opens his
eyes, cracks his knuckles and continues]

"That's over now so it's on to the next one. The ever-intelligent
brass of PVW has granted me an opportunity to battle Tom Landis,
obviously someone I'm quite familiar with as of late, and I can't
thank the PVW administrators enough. It's nice to have an opportunity
to battle someone who respects this sport as well as having honor. I'm
sure those of you who watched the match noticed that I did not rudely
separate Mr. Landis from Daniels during his pin attempts, quite unlike
how I separated Mr. Fontana, and there's a reason for that. Landis,
like me, does not believe in underhanded tactics, though somehow
Daniels sees my legal physical actions in the ring as 'evil'. How is
it evil if the referee is not admonishing me? Never mind, back to
Landis. Tom, I see the struggles you face each and every day with your
situation concerning Fontana and I know it's an inner turmoil that
tests your morals every single day. Despite having such a nagging
presence, and believe me, I KNOW how you feel!...you are a stand-up
individual and I respect that. I know you respect me but your partner
Mr. Fontana, does not and I do not trust him whatsoever to allow us to
battle cleanly."

[He rubs his chin slowly in thought for a few moments while crossing
his arms across his chest. He looks to both his left and right before
continuing]

"Allow me to make myself very clear Fontana. You remind me very much
of Daniels, a skilled wrestler that lives in his own world and has a
very big mouth. Now personally, I don't give a damn if you scream and
shout the entire time Landis and I are battling. However, if you
decide you should interfere in any manner aside from being a
noisemaker, then I will not apologize for the transgressions I
unleash. I'm sure you understand I completely condemn your recent
actions but now is not the time for me to get into that. Our paths
will cross in due time. Daniels, I'll only say this. If you
accidentally or intentionally cost me another match, the 'evil
Sinestro' you are so concerned about will reappear and his vengeance
shall be swift!"

[The scene fades with Sinister exiting the pool area, looking very
much perturbed]

****************************************
****************************************
Marcus Manson
****************************************
****************************************

[We fade up to Marcus Manson, standing before the PVW banner
backstage.]

Manson: "William Craven."

[Manson pauses, and sneers.]

"You know, I could come here and call you a big green freak, a
tattoo'd monster, and a multitude of other petty put downs.

But ultimately, Bill, I want you to listen, and I want you to listen
very carefully, because i'm going to tell you exactly how the next few
weeks are going to work.

First, at Heatwave, I'm going to give you a taste. Just a taste of
what The Misery is like. How it pierces through your scaly green
exterior and latches onto your heart, and you get that cold chill that
runs up your spine.

You try to shake it off as you start to feel the beads of sweat roll
down your back... and then it's gone, and you can breathe again. Until
Rise From The Ashes, where I finally take you down.

At Rise From the Ashes - no matter what you pick, Bill, I will put the
Green Beast down. Cage, hardcore, ladder, table, Submission... it
doesn't matter.

You don't get that you don't stand a chance. You want to send a
message to me by using the heart punch? Try doing it to me at Rise
From The Ashes. Try doing it to me at Heatwave.

[Manson splits an evil grin.]

Two weeks Bill. Two more weeks for you to live with the delusion that
you are the biggest, baddest monster in Phoenix Valley Wrestling. I
already took the title of Toughest SOB from Larry Gionet, and at Rise
From the Ashes II am going to do a variety of things.

First, I'm going to prove that I am STILL the toughest son of a bitch
not only in PVW, but in this sport. Period.

Second, I am going to walk out the same way I walked in, Unbeaten. Two
years Bill, nobody has pinned me or made me give up for two years.
What have you got that makes you think you can do what countless
others have failed to do -- including our current World Heavyweight
Champion, Rob Cole.

Speaking of the Championship, the last thing I'm going to do at Rise
From The Ashes is take another step up in the rankings, from #5 to #4.

So enjoy the time you have left, Bill, and ponder this as Heatwave
approaches. Can YOU handle the Misery?"

[Fade]

****************************************
****************************************
The Renegades
****************************************
****************************************

[The camera is busy moving through a empty apartment building's lobby.
The metal mailboxes off to the right give it away.  And, then, there's
voices... Three of them...  One old, two oddly similar...]

"I'm sure you guys will _LOVE_ this place!"

"I hope so, Uncle Sid! Sure is costing us a lot of moola!"

"From the looks of this lobby, I'd say we're gunna feel right at
home!"

[Uncle Sid? That can mean only one thing... THE RENEGADES ARE HERE!!!
And as the camera turns the corner, there they stand in all of their
glory.  JD is dressed in blue jeans, and throwback Heath Millers
jersey, suitcase on wheels next him..  Devin takes the more
'alternative' route, wearing baggy black jeans and a tye-dye shirt,
the words "BEST EVER!" scrawled across the front. Across his back is
slung a army green duffel bag. And, not to forget Uncle Sid, who kept
it simple, choosing to wear classic blue jeans and a black 'PVW"
shirt, neatly tucked into his pants like most old people do for some
reason!]

UNCLE SID: And, JD, don't you worry about the money! That's _MY_ end
of the agreement remember?

JD: Well, I guess if you're pay---

DEVIN: You paying for it? Sweet shit 'cause I remember what the
contract said our pay was...  Doubt we can afford a
_palace_ like this with the money we get from PVW!

JD: Yea, I bet we couldn't even afford tickets to Cardinals game on
that salary, and I hear their dirt cheap these days!

UNCLE SID: It's NOT the money that's important boys, it's the
_EXPERIENCE_!

[The twins just shake their head, knowing full well it is ALWAYS about
the money.  The elevator dings, and the three men step aboard.  The
doors shut, and when they open... we suddenly find ourselves on the
Renegades' floor! Gotta love TV magic!  The trio wanders their way
down the hallway, observing the pictures on the wall, making comments
about certain smells coming from different rooms, and then finally...
Finally they come to their domicile! Uncle Sid leads the way, opening
the door.  Potheads quickly see the rooms number is '420' and they all
collectively giggle.  The twins quickly burst into the room, dying to
see what their new digs look like!]

JD: What a [CENSORED] view! I can see all of downtown Phoenix from
here!

UNCLE SID: And it's only a couple blocks walk to the 52nd Armory!

DEVIN:  [CENSORED] the view, this is
what _I'M_ talking about! Over stuffed, comfy as [CENSORED] furniture,
and a fifty-two inch high definition tee-vee to rot my brain in front
of! Can it get much sweeter???

UNCLE SID:  It's _actually_ fifty-five inches,
Devin! And boys, if you think the living rooms nice, check out the
rest of the place!

[Devin and JD shoot each other looks and begin running towards the
lone hallway in the apartment.  Uncle Sid quickly chimes in, "Both
bedrooms are the same, so don't fight!" hoping to quell any brotherly
disputes.  He wasn't so lucky.  Of course, shortly the sounds of
fighting, pushing and yelling come out of the back as Uncle Sid plops
himself down in the recliner, taking the initiative to spend some one
on one time with the camera.]

UNCLE SID: So, are you ready Pee Vee Dubbya? Are you ready for the tag
team revolution the Renegades are bringing to the table? After last
weeks Heatwave, seeing all the helpless tag talent.. seeing a division
that is desperately in need of _fresh blood_, I bet you all are quite
happy to see teams like the Renegades appearing on PVW's radar!  Sure,
they're young and green behind the ears...  Sure, they don't got much
in-ring experience.  But if you've seen what I've seen...  You
wouldn't doubt it for a sec that you are seeing the _FUTURE_ of not
only tag team wrestling in Pee Vee Dubbya, but across the _ENTIRE_
sport!

[Suddenly a loud "OW!" is let lose from one of the brothers, as door
slamming can be heard. Also, squeaky springs, sounding like someone's
busy jumping on a bed.  Uncle Sid just shakes his head before
continuing.]

UNCLE SID: But the first order of business is for the Renegades to
showcase their talent... prove to everyone that they aren't just a
bunch of hot air, young kids stuck on an ego trip, and they that they
_ARE_ real wrestlers, real _talent_ Pee Vee Dubbya can only benefit
from! With every incarnation Pee Vee Dubbya's had, a new tag team was
brought to the forefront! A new team came onto the scene and lit Pee
Vee Dubbya's tag division on _FIRE_! For this go around? For this
incarnation? You can bet your bottom dollar that new team, that new
_DOMINAT_ force is going to be the Renegades... if I have anything to
do about it!

[Uncle Sid nods, as the twins finally emerge from the back... with
Devin holding JD in a side headlock, applying an atomic noogie.  JD
squirms and pushes Devin off of him.  Devin crashes into the couch,
flops down and turns around, facing Uncle Sid and the camera.  JD
again takes position at the giant window (read: only window) in the
family room.]

DEVIN: So, I gotta say thanks, Sid! This is _CRAZY_ awesome! Each got
our own room, complete with tee-vee's and closet spa--

JD: And our bathroom is _HUGE_! Got double sinks, stand up shower and
a _JACUZZI_!?!? Are you sure you can aff-

DEVIN: JD, _puuuhlease_! If Unky wants to spoil us with an awesome
pad, then let it go! Just be grateful, damnit!

UNCLE SID:  _KIDS_! Don't you worry about the money!
What I want for you guys is to have a place that has _EVERYTHING_!
Theres a gym downstairs, you can use it 24/7.  There's a pool too,
_not_ accessible 24/7.  Don't forget the sauna, or the restaurant
slash bar.  _EVERYTHING_ is here, right here... So, you guys can still
enjoy yourself, but _RESPONSIBLY_ so that you can remain focused on
what matters more than _ANYTHING_!

JD & DEVIN: _WRESTLING_!

UNCLE SID: Exactly! Now, I must be getting home to the misses.  Start
unpacking, make yourselves at home and call me if you need anything.

[Uncle Sid waves, the twins wave back.  Uncle Sid walks off camera,
and presumably out the front door thanks to the sound of the door
slamming.  JD pulls himself away from his beautiful view of Phoenix
and plops down onto the recliner Uncle Sid was occupying.  Devin has
already found the remote and is busy channel surfing.]

JD: So can you believe it, Dev? We're really doing it!

DEVIN: Doin' what???

JD:  Making something out of ourselves! Becoming
professional wrestlers!

DEVIN:  Oh yea... _THAT_...

JD: What do you mean by 'that'? Don't you want all the money in the
world and all the girls that come with it? Don't you want power and
fame???

DEVIN: Yea... but...

JD: But what?

DEVIN: Right now, I'd just enjoy being able to relax and watch
television! Staying with Unky these past coupla' weeks has _NOT_ been
fun OR relaxing if you ask me! I say it falls on the line of 'inhumane
forms of torture'!

[Both men have a laugh at that.]

DEVIN: Seriously, though, brotha' man... I'm [CENSORED] stoked! And to
make our debut against former tag champs? Guys that were good enough
to win gold, no matter how shitty of a promotion they worked for!
That's just awesome! That's like... instant awesomeness for us when we
win!

JD: Glad you're so confident, Dev.  I am too, don't get me wrong.
BUT, I ask you to make sure you take this seriously.  These guys
_WERE_ tag champs. Like you said, no matter how much of a shit hole it
was, they were the _BEST_ there! Thus, that means we need to work hard
this week!

DEVIN:  Work? Hard? I got into this business to do the
exact _OPPOSITE_ of working hard!

JD:  _DEVIN_... You cannot be a wrestling superstar
if you don't work hard! It takes dedication! It takes perseverance! We
will have to hit the gym! Use the sauna! Watch what we eat! The days
of lounging around, eating junk food and just watching tee-vee are
_OVER_! This is the big time, brotha' man! _ACT LIKE IT_!

[Devin sits up, rolls his neck out and focuses his stare right on JD.]

DEVIN: _FINE_! I'll do that all bullshit, _BUT_... tonight? Tonight we
pay respects to our former lives of couch potatoeness! Tonight, we
indulge ourselves with junk food galore, and shitty tee-vee movie
after shitty tee-vee movie! Let's drink 'til we puke, smoke til we
can't breath anymore, and snort coke until our noses' bleed!

JD: ORRRR... We could get a head start of preparations! Study some
film, practice some moves, brainstorm some in-ring strategies...

DEVIN: _BORRRRING_!!!

JD:  I guess I can give you _TONIGHT_ to indulge in your
lazy ass habits! But, after tonight, Devin... I'm serious! We begin a
strict regiment of exercise, diet and more exercise! We want to be the
best Pee Vee Dubbya's got? we gotta act like it!

DEVIN: _CORRECTION_! You wanna be the best tag team in the world! I'm
just here to make sure you don't get your ass handed to you!

JD: Bah! I know you! you have the same competitive streak I do! You
wanna show the Los Corazones up as much s I do! I know it!

DEVIN: Yea, but that's just because they think we're some young punks
who can't handle ourselves sin the ring! Questioning our obvious
greatness! I mean, I get what they're saying... It is hard to believe
that two young delinquents like ourselves could possibly be as great
as a tag team as we say we are... _especially_ without having any real
in ring experience! But---

JD: --when you've been as good as we have at _EVERYTHING_, we've done,
it's just natural to assume the same with wrestling!

DEVIN: _Exactly_, brotha' man!

JD: Shit! We were all American in basketball, football and baseball!
We set track records! We did it _ALLLL_ and then some! We are just
naturally gifted athletes, there ain't shit we can't do!

DEVIN: _Exactly_, mang! So now you get where I'm coming from! We are
so great... we don't need to train!

[JD shakes his head, and whips a couch pillow at Devin.  Devin,
laughing, dodges, stands up on the couch and leaps at JD.  He lands
square on JD, tipping the recliner over.  The two brothers continue to
roll around and wrestle... Just as the camera begins to fade seems
like Devin's getting the upper hand, paying back JD with an atomic
noogie of his own.]

****************************************
****************************************
Tommy Ryder
****************************************
****************************************

[A video package rolls of highlights from Tommy Ryder.  The flip
piledriver he won his first match with, a variety of Stepping Stones,
The Phenomenal End applied to Nick Wright from the top turnbuckle in
War Games.]

TR: When I heard about PVW moving back to its roots, back to where the
Phenom got his start, how could I not want to be a part of it?

I still have a job to do here and I can't just let that go.

[Ryder looks away from the camera for a moment.  As he looks back,
that spark that the fans first saw in his eyes gleams like a beacon in
the night.  It would have been easy to miss Laurel Levinger standing
quietly in the back, since that was highly unusual for her.]

TR: I have two missions to take care of now and a much larger one
after that.

First, I have to take down the Mercenary and second I have to take the
TV Title from Gionet.

Mercenary, we're no strangers to each other in the ring or out of the
ring or in the parking lot.  You like to play both sides of the fence
don't you?  We've had our times when we're on the same side and when
you're trying to kick my face out the back of my head.

Does that show any real conviction?  Your only Real alliance to
yourself.  I'm not trying to be a zealot, but I can tell you that this
time I'm not going to lose.  Yes, you are tough, but your only cause
is greed and what's best for you.  I HAVE to give these people someone
that they can believe in.  Someone that they can look at and say
"There's one person that stands for what's right."

For the first time in what feels like forever, I know what I want and
what I need to do.  And that involves going through you. Yeah, yeah,
yeah... you're bigger and stronger and going to crush and embarass me.
You'll have to stand in line if you want to make the bigger than me
argument and we both know that I've got an arsenal that will make you
wish that I had thrown the kitchen sink at you.

We both want that title shot, but what does it really mean to you?  A
bigger paycheck if you win the title?  Let me tell you what that shot
means to me.  It means another step closer to that goal.  It means
a chance to show people that you CAN accomplish your dreams by doing
the right thing.  It means that standing up for what's right, no
matter the odds, is rewarded in the end.

[Ryder stares directly into the camera.]

TR: Mercenary, understand this... losing isn't an option for me this
time.  There's too much at stake.

[The video fades to black as Ryder walks away with Levinger.]

****************************************
****************************************
Los Corazones
****************************************
****************************************

[Fade from black. The petite Emylee Marie Bermudez Cruz with two
masked individuals standing besides her before the PVW banner; the
camera though quickly goes to a tight shot of Emylee, who is attired
in a long skin tight red dress and red high heels. The neck of the
dress plunges deep to reveal plenty of clevage. The camera focuses
upon Emylee's clevage for a few more moments before panning up to her
face which is lit with a beautiful smile.]

EMBC: Standing before you are the ASLL Campeon Nacional Parejas ...

[The camera is still forcused upon Emylee who pauses for a moment and
looks up towards the sky for a brief moment.]

EMBC: For those of you who are too lazy to learn a second language ...
standing before you are the ASLL Tag Team Champions Los Corazones ...
Corazón Rojo and Corazón Blanco.

[The camera man finally goes to a wide shot as Emylee motions towards
the two men as if she is showing off a brand new car to a game show
contestant. After a few moments the petite Emylee smiles as she
removes the ASLL title belts from around the waists of Corazón Rojo
and Blanco and places one over each shoulder, hiding her voluptuous
chest. A sigh of disappointment comes from the camera man but he
finally gets a good shot of Los Corazones. The two men are similar in
size five foot nine or so and two hundred pounds; but each one wears a
different mask. Corazón Rojo is wearing a red mask with a white heart
on both sides of it while Corazón Blanco is wearing a white mask with
a red heart on both sides. Corazón Rojo begins to speak in a suave and
debonair voice.]

CR: Mis amigos it is an honor to have arrived here in Phoenix Arizona
...

CB: Honor? Rojo a tus amigos nearly violado ...

EMBC: Violated ...

CB: Isn't that is what I said ...

EMBC: Si but these individuals may not understand our beautiful
language Blanco.

[Blanco nods as if he forgot to whom he was speaking.]

EMBC: Especially those with the IQs of the Renegades.

CB: Por supuesto. Me olvidé por completo ... Rojo their airport
security nearly violated us with those invasive searches ... and did
you fail to see how they nearly dragged our lovely Emylee in front of
that scanner. They are not amigos they are pervertidos.

[Emylee nods her head in agreement as she holds the two title belts
closer to her body.]

CR: I was always taught to speak respectful to people ...

CB: Were you taught to lie as well?

CR: Well no ... no ... you are right Blanco these pervertidos ...
these cretins do not deserve to be treated with respect. They need to
be treated with the same disrespect we were treated with. The lust in
their eyes for Emylee was a disgrace to a woman of her beauty and
grace.

[Emylee smiles shyly as Corazón Rojo defends her honor.]

CB: It was the same lust those Hooligans gave our dear, sweet Emylee
when she accepted their challenge on our behalf ...

CR: Si ... Hooligans on ola de calor ...

EMBC: Heatwave ...

CR: Si ... si ... on Heatwave Hooligans ...

EMBC: they call themselves the Renegades.

CB: Too us they are nothing more than Hooligans.

CR: And on Heatwave Hooligans you are stepping into the ring with men
of honor ... men who understand respect and chivalry ...

[Corazón Blanco grabs one of the ASLL Championship belts from the
shoulder of Emylee and holds it before the camera as he speaks.]

CB: Champions ... and everyone will witness first hand why we are
champions.

[Emylee smiles as the masked faces of Los Corazones stare at the
camera as all fades to black.]

****************************************
****************************************
William Craven
****************************************
****************************************

[Dusk over Phoenix.  The sky looms as blood pooling red over the
blackened sand.  Kneeling, head lolling to one side, atop a rocky
bluff, a man with green skin stares at the sun.  He is barefoot and
shirtless, wearing nothing but black vinyl slacks and red gauze that
wrap about his wrists and ankles.

Panning about to find details hidden by backlighting, the camera
discovers the scarred and craggy face of one William Craven.  Craven's
face is streaked with tears and he grins tensely, hunched, knuckles
digging into the arid Arizona soil.]

WC: Spent frivolously, life is of no more value than cheap baubles and
penny candy.  Spent making war, it's cheapens further still.  Your
husk's price?  Naught but a bullet; a few grains of powder and a half
ounce of lead.  Less...

[His voice ragged and cracking, Bill rubs his face with one hand, then
gives a grand gesture out to one side that sprays visible fluid as he
rises like a dancer, twisting to face the camera.]

WC: Corpses litter the earth as the seeds of men, barren and without
purpose.  Heh, I myself have planted quite a few but then I understand
the nature of what I do ... most do not.

[Pushing hard into his own face, Bill smears the dirt on his hands
from his face around to the rear of his head then terminates the
gesture by letting his arms fall limply to his sides.  Glaring into
the camera lens, Bill curls a lip up, exposing sharpened and partially
missing teeth while doing his best to burn a hole in the souls of all
who observe him using nothing but his ice blue eyes.]

WC: Many claim that awareness is all that separates us from lower life
forms but that isn't quite true.  There are many among us in society
who are somehow still not aware of their own true nature.  Most men
are aware of their surroundings, their home, their neighborhood but
when confronted with their own reflection they find nothing but a
stranger.

To examine with an objective mind is to invite a complete collapse of
psyche as Ego collides with Superego and the Id dissolves completely.
This being said ... Marcus Manson is doing fine.

[Laughing quietly, Bill looks momentarily back at the sunset, brushing
a hand, and more dirt, across his chin.]

WC: You've never honestly stepped back and examined yourself have you,
Marcus?  You're so ... self-assured, too self-assured to truly be
self-aware.  Have you ever taken a moment of time to pick out your own
flaws, hold a candle to them, say your I-love-yous and your good-byes
and let them burn?  All I hear of you is how you have never been
pinned in a PVW ring.

From the day I first laid eyes on you I've wondered, "Marcus, have you
been challenged?"  Have you ever been put to the test, had to wonder
what it takes to conquer the task laid out before you, and rallied to
the cause?  This requires one to let go of a piece of himself, admit
the possibility of defeat, relish it and redouble his efforts.

[Falling again to his knees, Bill draws a line in the dirt with his
warped right index finger.]

WC: I ask you to cross this line with the promise of pain on the other
side.  You cross it.  I know you will cross it.  You move forward
blithely unaware of my own potential.  You underestimate me, this much
is clear.  All others tremble at my approach but, to Marcus Manson,
William Craven is nothing more than prey.

And this shall be your undoing.

I see the challenge of you, Marcus, and I relish it.  Does it sting to
know that the man you count as your best friend was squashed by me?
My flyswatter was one of the corner ring steps that give us access to
the apron, and I swatted him more than once, didn't I?  I put the
steps atop him, climbed them, and leaped gleefully back to the floor.
It was a manner of entertainment but, more to the point, it was a
salvo in the war we were both engaged in.  You, a member of WMI, me,
the primary foil to your merry troupe.  Then ... I replaced you in
WMI.

It seems ironic to me that after swearing to tear it apart, then
swearing allegiance to it's captain that somehow WMI would dissipate
around me.  It would bring a smile to these cracked lips were it not
so wretchedly sad.

But back to the point; does Regnigh still bear me ill will?  I sent
him an apology; a card stating "I'm sorry I crushed you.  It won't
happen again".  Did he get the flowers?  They were the best the Kroger
Pharmacy had that evening.

[Grinning wickedly, Bill draws another line in the dirt with his left
index finger, then uses both fingers to give himself brown eyebrows.
These dirty, Groucho Marx-inspired brows make him look oh so
concerned.]

WC: I do hope that there are no hard feelings and Marcus, you should
take heart; this isn't as bad as it gets.  Just ask your partner Chris
what to expect from me when the first PVW champion and I combine to
meet you at Heatwave.  Ask him what to expect when we meet alone, for
the first time, at Rise From the Ashes.  Hehe, but then, he doesn't
know that, does he?  Heh.

It gets worse, Marcus.  It.  Gets.  Worse...

[Laughing hysterically, Bill rubs the dirt around on his face.  Fade
to black.  End.]