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** Phoenix Valley Wrestling Presents  **
**            SHOWCASE                **
**            10.19.11                **
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-> Rob Cole
-> Mike Bisignano
-> Marcus Manson #1
-> Phoenix
-> Livestock & The Gutch #1
-> The Berserkers
-> Danny Daniels
-> Adrian Freeman
-> Christopher Black
-> AsH
-> Uncle Frank
-> Sammy Knight
-> Supreme Wright
-> Livestock & The Gutch #2
-> Chris Hartt
-> Larry Gionet
-> Senor Cloak Dos
-> Gibson Hayes
-> Spectre
-> Sinister & The Berserkers
-> Marcus Manson #2
-> Livestock & The Gutch #3
-> Johnny Detson
-> Perry Fontana






****************************************
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Rob Cole
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[The kitchen table of Rob Cole is nothing special. It's a plain wood
job, it's got a neat stack of freshly stamped pre-addressed envelopes,
and another stack of torn envelopes off to the side. The former World
Champion isn't wearing a shirt... his arm is wrapped in a bandage,
anther bandage is taped to his forehead, and another bandage is taped
beneath his ribs. He idly handles one of the torn envelopes as he
speaks.]

RC: I hate you, Bill... I've always hated you. I've hated you since
the day you walked into Detroit... since the day you first stepped
foot in my ring and used your size and strength to bully everyone you
thought was beneath you. I hated you when you painted your face, when
you filed your teeth, when you turned yourself into a mockery of
everything in this sport... when you abandoned your wife and your son.
I've hated you for a long time Bill... because at the end of the day,
you are everything I didn't want to be. I hated you because I was
scared... because you were a reminder of everything I could lose,
everything I wanted to avoid. You think you're the only one with a
broken past?!?!!!

HUH?!?!?!!

"Daddy didn't love you... whaaa... " I never knew mine, Bill. Oh, I
had plenty of steps to beat some cruelty into me... but mine? Mine was
gone... the same way you took off from your sons life, the same way
that I would /never/ abandon mine! NEVER!!!

You want some sort of prize from me, Bill?!?!!!

YOU WANT WHAT I HAVE?!?!?!!!

You're not going to beat it out of me... you're never going to get the
girl when you paint her in a caricature. You're never going to get the
boy when all you see is someone to tell stories to. You're never going
to be a man when all you understand is in some sort of a ring... Muay
Thai, travelling the world, exotic places, exotic injuries, and a cozy
little lonely place in the desert where you can avoid the PTA, the
bills, and garbage night on a weekly basis. You want to talk about my
hubris?!?!!

All those times you beat me... when you were Major Damage, when Marley
took you out from behind, when you buried me alive, when you rammed a
steel railing in my chest, pinned my shoulders, and just kept beating
me time and time again... the one thing you keep forgetting is that I
would get up over and over again. I would keep getting up... and then,
the one time, the one single time where you were trapped and your body
arched backward and you couldn't escape... you were afraid and you
tapped out. I didn't pin your shoulders, Bill. You didn't make some
sort of brave stand... you didn't put me down and I didn't beat you
down afterward, either. I beat you... I made you tap out and I walked
UP THAT RAMP!!!

[Cole shakes his head... he takes a deep breath and he reaches up,
pulls the bandage from his stitched wound and tosses it aside with
disgust. He takes a deep breath... and wipes the torn envelope from
the table before collecting his thoughts again.]

RC: You got on that microphone... desperation, fear, and some sort
of.... Some sort of weird "hope" that maybe you weren't washed up;
maybe you still had some fight in you! And you were reaching for some
sort of lifeline and you screamed and you ranted and you raved.... And
I heard you and I felt nothing. I felt no anger no rage no insult... I
felt no pity.  And then you opened your mouth and you threatened to
wipe my wife... to wipe my son... to "wipe them off this earth"...
that's what you said, right?

RIGHT?!?!!!

[Cole grabs the table... trying to keep himself from flipping out. His
head looks to be swimming, his features are read and sweating... there
are tears seeping from his eyes and he breathes in deep, his nose
snorting at the last as he chokes a little on his own snot. He shakes
his head and keeps speaking.]

RC: We met outside of school... I was working for fifteen dollars a
night by slinging a camera, catching rookies for Orion's School back
in Tennessee where a couple of names cut their teeth. We were
together, we were young, we were struggling... and maybe eyes wandered
where they shouldn't have for the both of us, maybe things got a
little out of hand. All this dirty laundry already got aired out years
ago, Billy... YEARS AGO!!!

But... the memory is a fickle thing for a lot of the fans, and some
people don't really know because they weren't there and it's just a
vague allusion we go back to every once in a blue moon. But I think we
need to talk about it again.... We need to talk about the thing that
made my career, Bill. Because I have won title after title, feuded
with the Yakuza, held the PVW Championship, and all of that began with
a single beating that took place one night in a long defunct bingo-
hall company.... And all of THAT began the night that I was yanked out
from behind the camera!

He was seven feet of bad attitude and a big cigar chomped 'tween his
teeth. Wherever he went he became a "Franchise" player... titles came
on a silver platter, victims lay at his feet, and he directed the most
fearsome group of wrestling graduates to ever lace the boots. He
called himself "Retribution", Bill... he drove a humvee, he wore steel
toe boots, and he wrapped a chain around his forearm.

He grabbed me from around the throat and he dragged me into the
ring... and he hit me with his big new move. And my girlfriend left
me, Bill... she left me and I dragged my broken body back home, pooled
my resources, and I entered this blood sport and I made a name for
myself. So we can fast forward a few years, we can remember all that
happened... we can remember that seven foot man coming after me, we
can remember my gal leaving me a few times, we can remember all the
heart ache and pain of a relationship that didn't always see the
brightest days. I can remember all of that, I can give the fans here a
little flash lesson on the history of Rob Cole and his
relationship.... You want to call her a Valkyrie, pretend she's some
sort of prize, pretend that my LIFE... is some sort of a prize?

[Cole opens his eyes... ]

RC: I paid for her headstone, Bill. She was going to be beautiful...
adorable. We were ready to give her a name... the first of so many
things we could give her, the first step in a life that could have
been anything or gone anywhere. No, you don't turn away from the look
in my eyes...

YOU DON'T DARE DISMISS MY MEMORIES!!!

Let's talk about the prize a little more, Billy.... Let's talk about
who she was going to be, what she was going to be... let's talk about
how some monster wiped her off this Earth. Wiped her and broke her and
she never even had a chance to take that first breath... it's called a
miscarriage and it tore us apart. You look at all your choices in this
life, Bill.... Wearing tattoos, refusing to deal with father hood,
never wearing a belt... how pathetic it all really is when you face
real and terrible loss. I paid for her headstone and I gave her a
name... she wasn't even born and I knelt in the grass and I stared at
that stone. How would you comfort the valkyrie, then?!?!!!

HUH?!?!!!

What would you have said at that moment, Billy?!?!!!

[Cole takes another breath.]

RC: We've taken this as far as it can go, Bill. And while I may have
been afraid... at this point, I'm disgusted and angry and sick to my
gut. I'm a man who loves his family... and I'm a man who hates with
that same passion.

I hate you.

I hate what you've done and what you've threatened... I hate that your
sick little mind keeps justifying itself, that you have been jealous
of me, that you have wanted to make me pay for sins that have never
affected you. And so all this hate and all this disgust and rage is
all soaked in the stomach acid and I want to vomit it up all over you,
show you what this has meant to me, show you what you are... because I
can't think of any way to make you suffer more than in making you live
with what you've done, with what you've chosen to become.

I can beat you, but it won't make any difference... so it has to be
more than a beating. It has to be the bloodiest and most brutal match
this company will allow, Billy. It has to be a horror show, because
nothing less will get through that skull of yours... and the monster
beneath your bed is a man taking a stand.

*fade*

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Mike Bisignano
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[Scene: Alcatraz Island -- the infamous prison is off in the
background as we see 'The Biz' Mike Bisignano. The Biz is wearing a
black long sleeve "Tapout" t-shirt with a pair of Theory jeans and
black dress boots. The wind blowing off the water creates a large
roar. He looks at his watch before talking to someone off-camera.]

Biz: They're clearly not coming so let's just get this over with,
shall we.

[He takes a pause before beginning to speak]

Biz: First off, as you can plainly see, neither JDM Superstar or Devin
Houlihan are here. Which to be honest, it doesn't surprise me since as
of late, neither one of those two have really done much to show that
they are worth the time, effort, or respect I've given them already.
And besides, this will go a lot quicker without Jeffrey going on and
on with one of his sermons on "enlightenment".

In my world, the time for talking is over. This thing between Sinister
and I has grown to a whole new level; one that doesn't involve just he
and I anymore. These Berserkers that stand aside him... they clearly
don't know who they are getting in bed.  I'm not quite sure how he is
even considered a locker room leader when every person he pledges
allegiance with ends up on the wrong end of things. Don't believe me?
Just take a good hard look at Caleb Foley and Senor Cloak Dos -- both
are mere shells of their true selves; their inner fire smoldered by I.
And how can we _ever_ forget Sinister's bosom buddy, Tommy Ryder? The
only thing he's riding these days is a couch back in Norfolk,
Virginia.

[The Biz then looks directly into the camera.]

Biz: Which is why I have a clear cut message for JD Houlihan.

Take a good hard look at your brother, JD, and ask yourself "Am I not
my brother's keeper?". Because while Devin may share the same physical
features as you, that's about it. You can try and try again to be the
goody two shoe like Big Papa Sin but I can assure you that it won't
get you anywhere aside from being under the heel of guys like Larry
Gionet and Tom Landis. And if I were you, JD, I'd pay very close
attention to your brother in the days to come because I _know_ Devin
is going to be doing just that when it comes to you.

[A horn is heard as a ferry pulls up to the docks]

Biz: Sinister, Bersekers... I'll see you three on the . As for JDM and Devin, I'll let you guys worry about them
because I sure as hell won't be.

[And fade as The Biz walks towards the ferry.]

****************************************
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Marcus Manson #1
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[The scene set is a sparse one. Marcus Manson sits on a steel chair in
front of a small TV, most likely backstage in the locker room at a PVW
show. There is no light on Marcus, only what spills forth from the
images on the television.  His chin rests in his hands, and his elbows
sit atop his knees as he leans over, staring at the images, barely
moving with each breath.

Various clips and voices flash by on that screen. The voices of
several of PVWs announcers are heard in rapid succession.

First is Uncle Frank pinning Senor Cloak Dos on Shockwave.]

"...Uncle Frank is your new Television Champion!..."

[Then Christopher Black setting the little dead girl's momento on
fire, along with Senor Cloak Dos' mask.]

"...Christopher Black is sick! I can't believe this!..."

[A segment from Heatwave. Right after wrestling Sammy Knight, Manson
is nose to nose with Spectre. Spectre simply smiles at Manson while
Marcus lays into him verbally, until Spectre kicks him in the gut, and
then...]

CL: REBIRTH!  REBIRTH!  REBIRTH ON MANSON!

[We hear Merc's voice.]

Merc: But you, Marcus... I never thought I'd see you agree to
something like this.

[We see Sammy Knight.]

Knight: And you can continue to break bones, tear limbs, and destroy
careers but how fleeting is that?"

[Knight pauses.]

Knight: "How quickly until you find yourself looking for that next
violent 'fix'?"

[Another pause.]

Knight: "You're better than that Manson.  And I know that."

[And again we hear Merc's voice.]

Merc: What happened to the bad-ass Misery Machine?

[A shot from Heatwave.]

"THE REBIRTH!  THE REBIRTH!  HE HIT THE REBIRTH OUT OF NOWHERE!"

[Indeed The Spectre managed to hit Manson with the deadly Fisherman's
Buster Piledriver called The Rebirth, sending Manson's head crashing
into the mat.]

[A Clip from Tradition VI. With a smile, Spectre picked Manson up,
locked in a front facelock,
hooked his leg...and nailed The Rebirth! The third on Manson in as
many weeks.]

[In the here and now, Manson is standing. The chair that he was
sitting on is now in his hands.]

Merc: What happened to the man that stood toe to toe with me just a
little while ago?

[On Shockwave, Manson has Tom Landis pinned. At two, The Mercenary
pulls Manson off and dumps him outside the ring, covering Landis
himself and getting the three count.]

"Mercenary just stole this match from Marcus Manson ...."

Merc:  If I could have guessed that this would happen, I would have
reserved a spot for you in the home too.

[There is a thunderous sound, as the chair in Manson's hands is swung,
and meets the plastic and glass of the TV. The glass cracks, and the
TV falls from its perch to the floor. Ironicly, it is now filled with
snow and issues forth only static as Manson stands over top of it,
staring down. His shoulders rise and fall with deep breaths as his
hand turns white as it squeezes the chair in his hand. Slowly, his
head turns to look over his shoulder, and the scene quickly fades.]

****************************************
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Phoenix
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"Jaime Roberts"

[The painted face of Phoenix is framed by the camera.]

"You are everything that should be in this sport. One heck of a
competitor, and one heck of a man. We as performers are paid by the
people that lay down their hard earned dollars. We as athletes are
defined by the children that line up for miles, and waves signs
emblazoned with our likeness, just for a glimpse of their hero. Your
personify the honor that I will restore here in Phoenix Valley
Wrestling, and I commend you on a thrilling and honorable match."

[Phoenix nods respectfully to the camera. His eyes flash with a
seriousness not usually seen beneath the festive face paint.]

"NOW... Me and the little 'nixers are a little torn this week. We find
ourselves a little, split down the middle if you will, and if you
happened to catch the last Heatwave, you should partially understand
why. for the past couple months I have watched as a once proud and
honorable warrior, a man that was the absolute living definition of
the path I myself have tried so hard to walk, regress into a cowardly,
vicious, bitter shell of a man that suddenly exists only to spread his
misery, his unprovoked anger, and his utter cowardice."

[Phoenix shakes his head in disgust and points a finger at the
camera.]

"You Larry Gionet have taken it upon yourself to become the PVW's
latest bully. And just like a bully, you're a coward, and a snake, and
what you tried to do to Caleb Foley was disgusting, and has no place
in this sport. We all have families to feed and you should be fired
for your blatant disregard for another's wellfare. Since we both know
that won't happen, me and my legion of firebirds are coming after you.
For Caleb Foley, for Chris Hartt, and everyone else that has ever felt
like a victim because of you, Karma's coming to collect."

[He begins to pace as his agitation and excitement level builds.]

"But as luck would have it Lar, there's someone else standing in front
of ya' in the line to battle yours truly, a man making his debut here
in PVW but he's definitely not a stranger to this fine business, a man
that goes by the name of Adrian Freeman. Like I said, a lot of people
around this biz know this guy. I happen to be one man that doesn't.
From what I've seen he's another pompous wind bag in a over priced
shirt. Wooo!"

"IF YOU ASK ME! Haha! He's nothing more than an over inflated ego that
could barely get his head in the door. A guy that would rather talk
about all the things he's _done_ rather than actually do anything.
Well Adrian, me and the 'nixers, we don't believe the hype. We respect
the athlete, but in the age of what have you done for me lately, we're
not all that impressed. The Resume reads real nice, but thats about
all there is."

[He stops pacing and smiles at the camera again.]

"No Disrespect intended Mr. Freeman. We are definitely hoping you
present an honorable and worthy challenge, but we're a little more
like Larry Gionet, than Caleb Foley. Just bring your best, and I'll
bring mine. We'll see who the better man is..,"

[Fade]

****************************************
****************************************
Livestock & The Gutch #1
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****************************************

[Fade in on the interior of a dusty, musty old gym.  High windows let
the sun shine in to illuminate an old boxing ring with faded ropes
dyed with the colors of the US flag.  It's silent, eerie even, until
the peace of the scene is shattered by a familiar voice.]

Johnstone: Okay you fat sack of pus, keep moving that flat ass of
yours.

Gutch: Did he just call me fat and thin in one sentence?

Livestock: Well you are fat, but for some reason you carry almost all
of it around your gut now.  If you'd just work your core more or do
some cardio you'd probably be built like Alex Martinez!

Gutch: Can we still talk about him?  I mean he quit and there is a PVW
camera here.

Livestock: Well they'll probably edit it--

Johnstone: Will you shut your twin *BLEEP*-sucking *BLEEP* holes?
This is serious.

[Strolling into the scene come the twin titans of Livestock (the
beauty) and Gutch (the beast half of this pair).  Behind them, shoving
Gutch (with little effect) is the ever caustic Todd Johnstone.]

Gutch: Yeah, yeah I'm goin'.  Walkin' to my damned execution.  This
ain't cool, Todd.  It just ain't cool.

Johnstone: It's a gauntlet, Gutch.  Now where's that trainer?

Livestock: What?  That Joe guy?

Johnstone: Yes, Joe Craven.  He was supposed to meet us.

Gutch: Craven?

Johnstone: Yes!

Livestock: Wait ... is he related to Zeke and Bill?

Johnstone: Yes, he's Broderick Ezekiel Craven's son.

Gutch: How are we just findin' out about this guy?  We've known Zeke
over ten freakin' years!

Johnstone: I don't know.  He likes to compartmentalize.  Oh, here he
comes.

[Hustling from a now-open locker room door, the red-headed smash-faced
(apparently) son of Zeke Craven enters the gym.  Following at a
respectable difference is a veritable rainbow of men in various colors
of gloves and shorts with enough to represent every ethnicity on the
planet earth.  They form up ranks, 4 deep and 5 wide, behind their
coach.]

JC: You said 20 guys right?

Gutch (loud whisper): So now we know why the gym's in Michigan, anh?

Livestock: Sh.

Johnstone: Damned straight!  You think the fat one's ready?

JC: Hell no.  He's fat and these guys are all finely-tuned athletes.

[Gutch looks around himself, breathes in deep, then coughs a little.
Everyone not in the phalanx of boxers turns to stare at him.]

JC: Something to say fatty?

Gutch: What?  Me?  Naw.

Livestock: What are you doing Gutch?

JC: You think this is funny?

[Gutch is grinning a little.  A you-know-what eating grin.]

Gutch: Naw, naw.  Okay, look, I did the trainin', I got a little
boxin' in me now, and my knucks are like steel.  I got at least six
inches on all these guys are probably 200 pounds.

JC: The lightest man here is 220 pounds!  They're all heavyweights!

Gutch: Well ... heavyweight covers a lot of ground, Joey.

JC: Don't call me Joey.

Gutch: Why?  That what Zeke called you growin' up?

[Joe snaps to Johnstone.]

JC: You told them who my dad is?

Johnstone: I may have let it slip.  At least I didn't tell you how
your face got so *BLEEPED* up.

JC: Wh-why you!  That's it, the deal's off.

Gutch: WOOT!

Johnstone: No, no you don't.  You need my money to keep this
*BLEEP*hole open, Joe.  Unless, of course, you want to crawl to daddy
begging for a handout...

JC: You son of a bitch...

Johnstone: She wears the name like a badge of pride.  Now select the
first guy you want to fight Gutch.

[Joe scoffs as he rubbernecks between Gutch and his crew.  Finally, he
settles on one exceptionally thick and very dark black man.]

JC: Fine.  You want a challenge?  Let's make this quick.  Plug!  Get
out here!

[The six-footer steps forth.  He's got massive shoulders, treetrunk-
like arms and a pot belly that keeps him looking like a pure athlete.]

Gutch: Uh ... yeah, hey.  "Plug?"

[Plug nods.]

Gutch: What you weigh, bro'?

Plug: 320.  Big enough to take you down.

Gutch: Uh ... huh.  Let's get in that ring I guess.

[Gutch raises an eyebrow and turns to enter the ring.]

Johnstone: Hold on Gutch, aren't you forgetting something?

Gutch: Me?  Naw.  Why?

Johnstone: It's a boxing contest.

[Joe steps forth with a massive pair of black gloves.]

JC: There was a little trouble finding XXXXL gloves for those hams of
yours but after tearing some stuffing out we managed to get these
novelty oversized gloves big enough on the inside.

Gutch: Gee ... thanks.

[Wow.  Those are some big gloves.  Big cherry red boxing gloves.
They're not comedically large but then they go on Gutch's hands with
some difficulty too.]

Gutch: What are these for anyway?

Livestock: To protect your hands.

Gutch: Wha'?  Why'd I have to punch the brick bare-handed?  I split my
knuckles you dick!

[Joe Craven shrugs.]

JC: I don't really like you.  You're friends with my dad.

Livestock: What's up with Craven kids hating their dads?

Johnstone: Get in that ring you fat bastard!  I have dinner
reservations!

[Shoving on Gutch, Johnstone persuades him to roll into the ring.]

JC: For future reference you climb the steps to get in.  Idiot.

Gutch: Oh yeah, hey Plug's got it down.

[Entering the ring, Plug gets in his corner.  Gutch unsteadily does
the same.  Livestock assumes the position as corner man and an
assistant coach goes to Plug's.]

*** CONTINUES TO PART TWO ***

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The Berserkers
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****************************************

(Standing looking as intimidating as always infront of the PVW banner
is the two men that chased the Prophets into retirement homes, Wolf
and Doom ... The Berserkers.)

Wolf: PVW faithful ... Your welcome.  Your welcome for doing what
nobody else has been able to do and that is rid the PVW of those sour
old men ... the Rage brothers.  Now they can stop living off the
1990's and their time in relevance.  Because, it's the BOOM time and
we have done everything to prove that we are the new force in the PVW.

(Doom shakes his head in agreement of his tag team partner.)

Wolf: So last Heatwave we were sitting in the back feeling good about
chasing the Prophets out of Phoenix ... Then that no-good Devin
decided he was going to take sides with the Biz ... Another man who
has spouted off disrespect for the great company that pays us _all_.
We couldn't just allow those disrespectful cowards snake bite a man we
respect in Sinister.  So Doom and I, we decided to set our sights on a
new target ... We decided to let Devin and anyone that is stupid
enough to keep him in company know that we aren't going to sit by and
allow them to inject their disrespect into the PVW locker room with
the poison they spew.   Like the Prophets they put more effort into
what _ISN'T_ happening then what actually is.   And like the Prophets
their time around here is about to take a turn for the worse.

(Doom snarls and cuts in.)

Doom: Devin ... You have injected some excitement in our lives again.
You see we weren't sure what we were going to be doing come Boiling
Point now that the Rage Brothers left town.  Our dance card appeared
to be free ... Then you came out and gave us a reason.  We are an
equal opportunist and we have no problems smashing some punks skull.
You want to march to the Biz's tune?  You want to sell out and leave
your own twin brother hanging?  Well that excites me ... That gives me
a reason to beat the tar out of you!

(You can hear the excitement in Doom's voice.)

Doom: Devin you now have a bulls eye on you and it says DOOM.  I can't
wait to get out there and step inside the ring and put the hurt on
you.  I know I should limit my excitement ... You have proved time
after time that you are a coward.  And there isn't anything I hate
more then a coward.

(Wolf pats his partner on the back.)

Wolf: JD ... We have no clue where you stand.  Don't think for one
second we have forgotten about you.  We know that blood is thicker
than water.  While, you may not agree with the actions that your
brother has taken.  We aren't a pair of blind fools.  We know that the
bond you share with your brother is deeper then anything else on this
planet.   However, let me warn you ... Not if, but _when_ you decide
to stick your nose in Berserker business ...  You will become target
number two.  And we will hurt you.  There is no other way ... So think
long and hard.  Is the path that your brother has picked for your
family name worth the disrespect ... Will it be worth the path of a
coward?

Will it be worth pissing off the toughest pair of SOB's in the PVW?

(Doom and Wolf glare into the camera.)

Doom: Devin, JDM, and The Biz ...  You three have the unfortunate
pairing with Sinister and ourselves.  Last week you made your choice.
Sinister we have your back ... We hold honor and respect for the PVW
and the men who bust their ass and bleed for our company very serious.
 We will be there and ready to drop each and every one of them on
their heads.

(Wolf smiles wide.)

Wolf: Chi-Town Beast and the Twin Force of Natures come together to
take out the trash and rid the locker room of the cancer and poison
that has set in.

This is our company ...  It's time to remind guys like the Biz of
that.

(Fade.)

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

[The camera fades in to see... a hair salon.  Counting botht tthe
stylists and customers, there's about a dozen people inside.  It's a
nice fall day in Califo...

... the ringing of the bell gets the attention of everyone, and the
door opens to reveal Danny "YOUR HERO" Daniels.  Danny waves to people
as he walks in, goes to the bulletin board on the wall, and quickly
staples a "DANNY DANIELS- YOUR HERO AND PVW PRESIDENT!"  on the board.
He quickly adjusts the board before turning to the camera.]

D"YH"D:  Greetings!  And Salutations!  I'm Danny "YOUR HERO" Daniels,
a Presidential Candidate so nice they named me twice!  Very soon, the
election between myself and Johnny Detson, scourge of the Universe,
will approach.  But for now, we have a PRIMARY!

[Danny starts counting off on his fingers.]

D"YH"D:  Myself... Scourge of the Universe Johnny Detson... Chris
Hartt... Alex Epstreme...  Super Right... Sammy Right, Super's
brother... Mercy Me... and... and... the last guy.  Big, never washes
his hair- oh, Neve-

[Danny pauses to adjust his poster before continuing]

D"YH"D:  Oh, forget it.  The last guy.  The PVW public will have an
opprtunity to vote for two of us to compete.  As always, I encourage
the PVW public to support me, and as your Presidential candidate, I
believe in putting my abilities to the test at any time!

[Danny goes to sit down in one of the salon chairs.  A stylist
appears, removes his wraparound sunglasses, and begins brushing
Danny's hair.  Danny seems unaware of this as he continues speaking.]

D"YH"D:  But who would be the best opponent?  Obviously, the chance to
defeat Johnny Detson, Scourge of the Universe, is ALWAYS a good idea.
But I fear that the public doesn't want to validate him in any way.  I
certainly wouldn't.

As for the others, Hartt has a loyal following.  And, as "The
Paladin", the more religious PVW followers obviously support him.

Epstreme is a longtime veteran, and men who have been wrestling since
1960 are always dangerous.

The Right brothers... well, both can fly, obviously.  It's dangerous
to take on a wrestler who has family that is also in wrestling- you
never know what bloodlines you are going to accidentally cross.

Mercy Me?  Another longtime veteran.  I think he and Epstreme opened a
chain of coin-operated laudromats together, then had a blood feud over
the price of detergent back in the Carter years... [Danny shakes his
head]  A tragedy, really.

And finally, the last guy.  [Danny snaps his fingers]  I know I should
know his name.  It's right on the tip of my tongue.  Neverm...

[Danny's eyes widen as he suddenly reaches into his pocket.]

D"YH"D:  OH!  My Ginko Balboa!  These things are great for remembering
the important details.

[Danny reaches in, grabs a bottle, and swallows a couple of pills.]

D"YH"D:  Now, normally I would give my advice on who my opponent
should be.  But I have FAITH in the PVW public!  Faith that they will
make the important choice.  Just as they know to support... ME!  Danny
"YOUR PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE" Daniels for the title of PVW President.

[The stylist, having tassled Danny's hair long enough, grabs a pair of
scissors.  Just as he goes to start cutting, Danny stands up, nearly
causing the stylist to trip.  Danny grabs his glasses and puts them
back on his head.]

D"YH"D:  I must go.  Places to visit, signs to put up.  Remember to
vote- PVW's future is in YOUR hands.

[Danny gives a finger wave to the camera.]

D"YH"D:  TOODLES~!

****************************************
****************************************
Adrian Freeman
****************************************
****************************************

[A pleasant park, probably somewhere in San Francisco.  Adrian Freeman
is sitting on a field of green grass, leaning up against a tree,
enjoying a balmy California fall.  He's wearing sunglasses, white
khakis, and a T-shirt with some other promotion's blurred-out logo on
it.  There's still a scowl on his face, but this is about as tranquil
as "Subzero" gets.  The newest PVW signee looks up at the sky and
begins speaking to the camera.]

AF: Hope is the big buzzword now, I guess.  You have a president who
got elected by using it as a mantra.  You have a stable running this
promotion bearing that name.  But there's one thing nobody tells you
about hope: it goes away.

[The scowl begins to morph into that smirk that Freeman's enemies have
grown to hate.]

AF: When you're a young kid, just trying to break into the business --
like, say, my opponent on the next show, or Supreme Wright -- all you
have is hope.  You live in your fantasies, where you're a champion
just like your idols, where there's no one who can defeat you, simply
because you can't imagine defeat.  No matter how humble Mr. Wright --

[Freeman stops a moment to snicker.]

AF: --tries to act, deep down inside he doesn't really think he can
lose, at least not in the longterm.  That's because he's full of hope.
Hope is that drug that makes you think that, no matter how many guys
start in the same position as you in fail, you're going to be
different.  You're going to be the one in a hundred that succeeds.
And as your career goes on, you either grab that brass ring, and your
hope becomes reality -- or, more likely, you fail, and the hope
becomes despair.

Me?  I've come to live with my successes and failures.  I've given up
on having the fans chant my name.  I've accomplished many of my goals,
and some are still to be accomplished.  But I live in the present --
not in an imaginary future.  And that's what seperates me from wet
behind the ears rookies like Phoenix and Wright.

[He preens, as if trying to show off that example in his face.]

AF: Phoenix, you go out every night and *hope* you're going to win.
When you dive off the top rope with one of your stupid high-flying
moves, you *hope* you won't break your neck.  But when I step out from
behind that curtain for my first match in PVW... I'm going to *know*
that I'll win.  And that's the difference between you and me.  You can
keep on hoping, and I'll keep on winning.

And Supes?  Make sure you've got your PVR set, because you're gonna
want to watch carefully how far hope gets you.

[And with that, the smug Freeman lies back to enjoy the sun.  You
almost wish it would rain just to spoil his mood.  But alas, we can
only fade.]

****************************************
****************************************
Christopher Black
****************************************
****************************************

[Fade in on a simple studio setup -- basic black backdrop and three
chairs.  Only two of those three chairs are occupied, however.  On one
end is Sir Tyler Holbridge, on the other is Jacob Rose.  And the
middle chair is vacant.]

TH:  Thank you for agreeing to this interview, Mister Rose.

JR:  Of course, Sir Tyler.  [Rose straightens up a little in his
chair, his accent nearly as crisp as his countryman's]  I appreciate
being given this opportunity.

TH:  Hmm, perhaps.  [Tyler eyes the empty chair between them with a
slight frown.]  It appears your client doesn't share your opinion,
Mister Rose.

[Jacob's face falls, looking uncomfortable.]

JR:  Yes, well...  [His jaw tenses]  ...I regret that Mister Black
does not wish to be interviewed at this time.

TH:  No matter.  Mister Rose, a few weeks back, prior to its
confirmation, you expressed your concerns about whether or not
Christopher Black was indeed involved in the theft of Senor Cloak Dos'
mask.  That you wanted to see it for yourself, I believe.

[Holbridge's voice holds none of the accusatory tone that the injured
Dean Hayes was quick to show towards Jacob, but it is no less intense.
Jacob quickly nods.]

JR:  Yes, that's correct.

TH:  Mister Rose, just what were you hoping to see?  More importantly,
now that your client has admitted his guilt -- indeed, reveled in it
-- what do you have to say about it?

JR:  I--  [Jacob's voice falters]  I have offered apology after
apology -- to the Barretts, to Mister Cloak Dos and to the PVW
organization.  What my client did was an atrocious act  -- but he
alone was responsible!  [He looks genuinely pained]  What more else
can I say, Sir Tyler?

TH:  Hmm, yes.  [The storied veteran's expression remains neutral]  I
have looked into your background, Mister Rose.  You are a legitimate
financial advisor and the firm you work for is rated rather highly by
Barron's.  [A thoughtful frown now crosses Holbridge's face]  What
reason is there for you to personally accompany Mister Black?

JR:  Ah, I--  [The turn of questioning has caught Rose off-guard,
though he's more confused rather than defensive]  --well,
international markets being as they are in this economy and the
exchange rate between the dollar and the pound...

TH:  All of which such work could easily be accomplished back in an
office.  [Tyler looks at Jacob, offering now a trace of sympathy.]  We
are judged by the company we keep, Mister Rose.  You have a
conscience.  No one would think any less of you if you only did the
job you're supposed to do in the proper environment.

[Jacob is silent, staring at Sir Tyler for a few moments as his words
sink in.  But then he just shakes his head.]

JR:  [voice strained]  I think, Sir Tyler, that you and I both know
that that isn't good enough for the public anymore....

[Fade out]

****************************************
****************************************
AsH
****************************************
****************************************

[Camera opens on the kitchen of the Cruiserweight Icon, the King of
Cruisers, the Small Package and numerous other nicknames. Kieran Crowe
is sitting at the island in the center eating a bowl of raisin bran
while AsH's son is sitting in a booster seat next to her, enjoying a
round of french toast. They seem to be enjoying a blissfully quiet and
relaxed morning. Until...]

AsH: Good morning, family. How are you enjoying this fine morning,
brought to you courtesy of my awesomeness?

[AsH walks into the room, decked in a wifebeater and a pair of blue
soccer shorts. The normal assortment of bruises seems relatively
absent as he looks to be in both great health and great spirits. His
son laughs at him as he gives an oddly cocky strut into the room.
Kieran simply rolls her eyes and points to her son's plate to remind
him of a few pieces of apple he hasn't eaten yet]

AsH: I know what you're thinking, how could my husband and father have
made our lives any better? I mean, he provided this wonderful house
and this fantastic standard of living simply from being dropped on his
head... and since he never really used it much in the first place,
we're seeing no ill effects.

Well, stop right there and remember...

I just got me another title shot!

[AsH walks up to his son and presses forehead to forehead with the
little guy]

AsH: Daddy's gonna be world champ REAL soon, little man. And then I'll
give you the belt to play with... or throw in the toilet, as it seems
to be your normal MO.

[AsH's son laughs as Kieran mumbles under her breath]

Kieran: Attitude like that... it'll be in the toilet the second you
win it...

[AsH gets a sideways smile before looking up]

AsH: And what's that supposed to mean, might I ask?

[Kieran clears her throat and goes back to eating the cereal]

AsH: Come on, you made the comment, let's hear it.

[Kieran grumbles and roughly drops her spoon back into the bowl. She
crosses her arm and sits back, eyebrows high and clearly pretty
irritated at being caught]

Kieran: Fine. Don't get mad at me, because you asked for it. ...But
you keep acting like this, you're going to lose the title match. And
if, by some shocking fluke you WIN the title, you'll drop it your very
next defense.

[AsH looks almost wounded by the words and folds his arms, leaning
backwards into a cabinet and looking down]

AsH: Go on...

[Kieran uncrosses her arms and leans forward]

Kieran: We all know that you've got the talent, honey. That much is
readily obvious to pretty much anyone who's watched you get in the
ring. So don't act like that's what I meant.

[AsH sets his jaw]

Kieran: The truth is that whenEVER you go in with this much
confidence, you generally fall flat on your face. There's a fine line
between confident and cocky, and you have serious trouble walking that
line. For some people it's a sidewalk, others it's a tightrope.

For you, it's a razor blade. And EVERY time, you get cut by it, one
side or the other.

AsH: ...I sell myself short over I underestimate my opponent. That
what you're getting at?

[Kieran nods slowly before picking a raisin out of the bowl and
popping it in her mouth]

Kieran: And that doesn't mean you should be confident. You DID, after
all, come out with a win that included the top talent in the
federation that doesn't happen to wear any gold. You came away from
Craven, Spectre and Detson's clutches without more than a handful of
bruises.

That IS something you should be proud of.

But don't start your big nut strut before that gold is securely around
your waist.

[Kieran stands up as AsH looks confused at the strut comment. She
walks up to him and places her hands on either side of his face]

Kieran: Let's face it, honey. You're a chaser. Someone puts a moving
goal in front of you and you run it down until it kills you. God knows
we've both seen that before. You look like a living fireball until you
get to that goal and one of two things happens.

You sputter out before you reach it.

Or you achieve it... and quickly lose interest.

[AsH tries to talk but Kieran pinches his lips shut]

Kieran: You can't afford to do that anymore. We know that this is your
chance to be a real world champion. This may, in fact, be your LAST
chance... and that's fine. But when it comes down to it, you need to
carry the confidence from the last few months forward, while
remembering that you ARE the underdog for a reason.

Gibson Hayes has done nothing, if not ensure his reign will be a
lasting one.

[AsH sputters something through his pinched lips and she finally
releases him. He hugs her and smiles]

AsH: I know I'm the underdog. Truly, ANYONE against Hayes is the
underdog... he's just that good right now. And thank you for quickly
bringing me back down to earth.

[AsH moves back and holds her arms]

AsH: But I tell you one thing. Gibson Hayes may have ensured his reign
is a lasting one, but he's forgotten one important thing. I'm not
smart enough to understand the concept of insurance.

Kieran: Insurance and ensuring are different----

AsH: Shh, shh, shh. You had me at hello.

Kieran: What? I ---

AsH: Don't cry for me, Argentina.

Kieran: You're not making any---

AsH: Hakuna Matata.

Kieran: I hate you...

AsH: I love you too!

[With that, AsH walks over to his son and pulls him out of the booster
before putting him over his shoulder and singing Hakuna Matata as he
walks out of the room]

****************************************
****************************************
Uncle Frank
****************************************
****************************************

[Let's start with an extreme closeup of a face.  Specifically the eye
region.  Don't complain, it could have been worse.  It could have been
a close up study of our subject's nostrils.  The eyes in question are
pale blue and belong to a person of caucasian skintone.  Pulling out
we find unkempt, dirty-blond hair, red-blonde stubble covering the
lower face and a very familiar, very unpleasant grin.  Uncle Frank, it
appears, has something to say.]

FK:  MINE!

[Well, that was informative.  We pull further out to see that Frank is
dressed in his regular ring gear and is walking through the backstage
area of an arena, the camera staying just ahead of him.  Given his
sweaty and dishevelled appearance it would not be an unreasonable
assumption to think this was recorded shortly after the end of the
last Shockwave.  And clutched tightly to his chest is the PVW
Television Championship belt.]

FK:  [Almost whispering] Mine...  Uncle Frank's.  It belongs to Uncle
Frank now.

[He chuckles and stops to admire the title belt properly turning it
over and over to let the light catch on the metal.]

FK:  They'll want to take it away, but they can't.  Uncle Frank will
not allow it!  It belongs to Uncle Frank, and taking what belongs to
someone else is wrong!

[And the grin turns downright sneaky as he looks directly at the
camera.]

FK:  Although Uncle Frank might let you look at the shiny belt...  Oh
yes.  He might let you play with the shiny belt even.  All you have to
do is come up to Uncle Frank and ask him.  You can do that, right?  Of
course you can.  Uncle Frank knows you wouldn't disappoint him.

[Pause and the grin grows wider.]

FK:  It will be fun, Uncle Frank promises.  It will be...

[A final pause.]

FK: [In a whisper again] ...educational.

[And fade out.]

****************************************
****************************************
Sammy Knight
****************************************
****************************************

"Pride will eff ya."

[Beat.]

"Pride will eff ya."

[Beat.]

"Pride will eff ya."

[The camera quickly fades into PVW's own Sammy Knight, sitting alone
on an exercise bench of sorts.  Sitting topless, a heavy, black
shoulder brace keeps an injured arm motionless, strapped tightly to
his side.  Swear profusely drips down his tattooed upper body.]

"That may be true.  But where I come from?"

[Knight leans in every so slightly.]

"Pride can also _MAKE_ you."

[He leans back, temporarily re-adjusting the brace with his off-arm.]

"You see, I contend that there's a difference between pride and
hubris; confidence and cockiness.  And I pray to God that I have the
wisdom to tell the difference between them."

[He pauses.]

"To me, pride tells you _NEVER_ to quit."

[Knight peers seriously into the camera.]

"Pride tells you to _PUSH PAST_ what the world tells you is possible."

[Knight doesn't blink.]

"Pride tells you to _ACHIEVE_ the impossible."

[He nods.]

"Pride defines exactly who you are when your back is against the
wall."

[Knight looks at his damaged arm.]

"It didn't take a genius to see, but Fontana hurt me like crazy.  He
damn hear ripped my arm from socket.  Some of the most intense pain I
have _EVER_ experienced while in the middle of that ring.  But I
couldn't quit.  I didn't quit.  I wouldn't quit."

[He shakes his head.]

"And I'm paying for it with a muscle tear."

[More shaking.]

"You can call it my pride.  I call it my character; a character of
resilience.  And at the end of the day, I'm okay with that.  Because I
will live.  I will fight.  I will...survive."

[Knight stands up and walks towards the camera.]

"And that's why Sammy Knight will _ALWAYS_ be a problem."

[Beat.]

"Because there is no quit in me...

..._EVER_."

[Knight leaves the view of the camera.  The camera focuses to a small
bottle of pain killers that were positioned on the ground besides the
exercise bench.]

****************************************
****************************************
Supreme Wright
****************************************
****************************************

[We fade into a shot of PVW "mega prospect", Supreme Wright, standing
in front of a PVW backdrop. Wright is looking quite dapper in a grey
tweed suit, a dark blue sweater and a striped necktie. He has his arms
folded across his chest, looking straight at the camera with a serious
look on his face.]

SW: I thought I could make a quiet debut...keep my head down, mind my
own business and work my way up the ladder; but I guess I just ain't
destined for that sort of thing.

[A slight frown forms on his face.]

SW: I wasn't kidding when I said the front office wanted to hype me up
big. I told'em to tone it down and just let me handle my business in
the ring, but they weren't having any of that. I thought they were
already going overboard calling me a "Mega Prospect", but then Mr.
Lester started saying some REALLY crazy things about me.

[Supreme gives a look of disdain.]

SW: "The best pure wrestler in PVW?"

[He chuckles.]

SW: He seriously said that. I mean, really? Come on, son...

[A sigh.]

SW: No wonder Adrian Freeman was mad as hell. Heck, I bet he ain't the
only one that wanted to slap me after they heard that mess. I
wouldn't blame'em for being angry, either...but now, Mr. Freeman's
under the impression that I wanna' use him as a stepping stone. That I
wanna' build up my career at his expense. He thinks that the big, bad
"mega prospect" wants to climb right over him to the top of PVW.

[A more serious look forms on Supreme's face.]

SW: Well...he's right.

[A sheepish grin.]

SW: The only way I'll ever prove that I'm just as good as they say I
am is by stepping into that ring and beating each and every man that
stands in my way. I was sure an internationally famous buttkicker like
Adrian Freeman can understand where I'm coming from...

...but when I gave Mr. Freeman a chance to shatter the myth right then
and there, he bailed. When I gave him a shot to put Supreme Wright
down before I could ever become a threat in PVW...he chose to walk
away.

[He lowers his head and shakes it sadly.]

SW: Well, that just ain't gonna' do. You don't come at me, face-to-
face lookin' for a fight and just walk away, boy. It didn't cross my
mind 'til I saw you, but now it's obvious to me that if I can't defeat
you, Mr. Freeman, there's no way I'm ready to take on the best that
PVW has to offer.

So, now? I'm coming for ya', Freeman. I'm coming right at you...and
before you know it...

[He looks back up, with an ominous, mocking grin.]

SW: ...I'm gonna' soar right past you.

[Fade out.]

****************************************
****************************************
Livestock & The Gutch #2
****************************************
****************************************

*DING!*

Gutch: Oh hey.  Todd's the bell guy?

[Stepping to center, Gutch looks down at Plug as Joe moves between the
competitors.]

Gutch: So how we doin' this?  You gonna frisk us like--

*WHUDD!!!*

*THUMP!*

[And Gutch is floored with the first punch!]

JC: 1!

Livestock: Gutch, you have to get up!  Remember if you lose any of
these bouts Johnstone won't re-sign your contract!

Gutch: Wuzza-fuzza?

JC: 2!

Livestock: Gutch, you have extra skull!  They can't properly X-Ray
your brain without looking at it from the base of your neck up!  You
can NOT be one-shotted by some dude that much smaller than you!

JC: 5!

[What?  Yes 5!  Livestock said a lot.  It took time.  So does this.]

JC: 8!

Gutch: Okay, okay I'm good.

JC: 9!

Livestock: Gutch!

Gutch: Hoop!

[Using the ropes to pull himself up (they give a lot, not being as
stiff as wrestling ropes) Gutch just barely beats the count.  Joe
looks surprised as Gutch shakes off the cobwebs.]

JC: Uh ... hey fatty, your eyes are a little ... wall-facing.  You
want to
continue?

Gutch: Damn straight!

[More shaking.]

JC: Okay, fight!

[Stepping in, Plug hits Gutch several more times but Gutch, no longer
flat-footed, isn't caught flush and doesn't seem that affected.  His
own swings fail to make contact as Plug ducks and dodges.]

Livestock: The body, Gutch!  His head's too quick!

Gutch: Okay!

[A hook hits home on Plug who stumbles back but rebounds to tie up on
Gutch.]

Livestock: Rabbit punches!  Joe he's cheating!

JC: So what?  I'm a coach not a referee!

Livestock: What the hell?  Gutch, hit him back!

[Sloughing Plug off, Gutch swings again, missing wide, and absorbs
several combination punches that seem to make him want to sneeze and
leave his midsection shaking with jiggle physics.]

Livestock: Get him Gutch!

[As Plug charges again, Gutch scoops him up and BODYSLAMS him to the
mat!  Bounding to his feet, disoriented, Plug charges--]

JC: No!  This is boxing not wrestling!

*CRACK!*

[Aaand headbutt sends Plug to the mat.]

JC: That's two points!  Two points!  One for the slam and one for the
headbutt!

Gutch: Whatta you care?  You're a coach not a ref.

JC: Grrr...

Livestock: Uh ... Joe?  I think you might want to call a doctor for
Plug.

[Pan over to poor, poor Plug who is now not only unconscious but wears
a very thick crimson mask of fast-flowing blood.]

JC: GOD!  Jake!  Stitches!

[Points to Gutch.]

JC: And you, 30-second round break.

Jake: Need more time than that to get him stitched and out!

JC: Just go sit down you fat tub!

[Gutch approaches the corner, gingerly sitting down on the tiny corner
stool.]

*** COUNTINUES TO PART THREE ***

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

"It wasn't supposed to go that way."

[A mirror in a bathroom, covered by steam from hot running water. A
figure in darkness grips the side of the sink and hangs over it,
wrenched in agony.]

"All I ever wanted was just a match. All I asked was for you to face
me in the ring!! You laughed at me, you strung me along, and when you
turned your back on me and started to walk away...

[Chris Hartt reaches up and wipes the steam off of the mirror.  His
tired, haggard face is wracked with pain and suffering.]

"...I snapped.

All I could think of was hurting you. Tearing you apart. I saw blood.
I saw screaming terror and agony.

Next thing I knew, I was backstage, being held down by refs and other
wrestlers.  They told me what happened and all you did was lay there
and smile."

[Hartt runs some water and swipes it over his face.]

"I let myself be driven to extremes with you. I still want to face you
in the ring, simply to prove to myself I can defeat you and do it my
way, but also to show you what comes from messing with my mind like
you have.

You've tortured me.

Taunted me.

Broken me.

But you know all of this so...."

[Hartt punches the mirror before him. The corner shatters into
hundreds of cracks. Blood splatters over many bits and pieces. All
views focus on Hartt and his furious expression.]

"...Nevermind."

****************************************
****************************************
Larry Gionet
****************************************
****************************************

[The camera pans to a backstage area.  We see a blue backdrop with the
Phoenix Valley Wrestling logo imprinted in the center.  In the front
of it stands Larry Gionet getting himself mentally ready for his
battle.]

Larry Gionet:  I told you didn't I wrestling world? I told you Phoenix
Valley Wrestling. I TOLD YOU CALEB FOLEY DIDN'T I?!  I said that your
farewell would be one you would never forget.  I would hope that
armbar triggered back bad memories of failing to capture the biggest
prize in this sport.  Just like that fateful night you continued your
trend of breaking promises.    Speaking of, I would have broken that
arm in half if it was not for Phoenix.  I am giving you this one
warning and ONE warning only Phoenix.  You try to get in my business
again and I will do ar worse to you than I would have done to Foley.
While you may have fire in that heart of yours but when you play with
fire, I promise you that you will get burned!

[Larry Gionet cracks his knuckles sending an eerie echo throughout the
arena.  A sadistic smile reaches his face as he continues his verbal
assault.]

LG:  Uncle Frank, congratulations. You can now call yourself the
Television Champion. A title that is just as hard to win as it is to
keep believe me I know.  Now I am in a scramble match to earn a shot
at that Championship that you hold dear.I don't care who I have to go
through to get that shot. Send me up against the whole damn roster.
Last week was just a taste of what I personally have in store.   When
I take each and every poor soul in that scramble match it will become
a very dark day for Uncle Frank and his Television title reign.  If
you thought what I did to Caleb Foley was anything, you haven't seen
anything yet.  I will take you out Frank and you will become just a
footnote in the world of PVW just like Foley.

It will be a glorious day. Night after night my impact will truly send
ripples across this place once and for all.  I will NOT be ignored!

[Larry Gionet violently pushes the camera aside so we see the camera
make a sharp left turn due to the impact. Gionet disappears from sight
leaving his looming footsteps as a final reminder of his presence. We
fade to black.]

****************************************
****************************************
Senor Cloak Dos
****************************************
****************************************

[The scene opens to a studio with a small couch and a desk next to it
with a backdrop that makes the whole thing look like a talk show. ASLL
fans recognize the studio and every male fan on the planet recognizes
the Mexican woman standing in front of the desk wearing a dark red
dress suit with a skirt that hugs her hips oh so tight and show off
such amazing legs! Concentrate! We have to finish describing the
scene! Of course the only woman who has caused such lapses in
narration concentration in these parts can only be All Star Lucha
Libre's interviewer, Maria Juarez!]

MJ: Hola, Phoenix Valley Wrestling fans! My name is Maria Juarez and I
am here to present a very special edition of my show, that appears
regularly on All Star Lucha Libre's LuchaMania TV, Maria Gets the
Scoop... PVW edition! *WINK*

[SHE WINKED! My heart! It's racing it's.. LEAPING with joy and fire
and.. Oh yeah.. uh.. I mean.. Stay calm..]

MJ: PVW has tried to get the very popular luchadore, Senor Cloak Dos,
to do an interview about the recent events that took place on PVW's
Shockwave and Heatwave events but.. He refused to comment at this
time.

[Maria makes a sad face but then flashes a smile.]

MJ: So they brought me in to talk with his parents! Please welcome the
parents of Senor Cloak Dos!

[Out comes a very lean but short Mexican man who looks to be in his
mid 40's wearing an olive green pair of slacks, a tan button up shirt
with the buttons undone to his mid-chest to show off his chest hair
and a crucifix necklace. He also is wearing a black luchadore mask
with cherry colored eye visors and "SCII" on the forehead. Beside him
is a Mexican woman who is slightly taller than the man, wearing a dark
brown dress with pink flower print on it and she is also wearing a
black luchadore mask with cherry colored eye visors and "SCII" on the
forehead. Maria greets both of them with kisses on their masked cheeks
and speaking in Spanish, which we get subtitles for.]

MJ: (Welcome to my show, Thank you both so much for coming.)

[They both nod towards her and she motions for them to sit down on the
couch. They sit down and Maria, almost in a dance movement, flashes a
smile at the camera then moves behind the desk and sits down.]

MJ: For all the PVW viewers at home, Cloak's parents are wearing his
mask to help keep his secret identity a secret. Also, neither one
speaks English so we will be talking to them in Spanish but subtitles
have been provided for all of you! *WINK*

[GASP! Oh be still my heart! Concentrate.. Maria turns her beautiful,
oh so beautiful, face towards SCD's parents.]

MJ: (We have some questions for both of you concerning your son, Senor
Cloak Dos.)

[The man nods his head and the woman hangs her head sadly.]

MJ: (Recently on an episode of PVW's Shockwave, while your son was
defending the PVW Television Championship against Frank Knight,
Christopher Black came out wearing a mask of his that Josie Barrett,
the young fan who passed away recently, has put stickers on. This
distracted your son and allowed Knight to defeat him and claim the PVW
Television championship. But the bigger news was afterwards Black
bound your son to the ring and forced him to watch as he set the mask
on fire, destroying it. Since then no one has been able to get an
interview with your son so we have come to ask you, because all of his
fans want to know.. How is Senor Cloak Dos doing?)

[Dos' masked mother begins to weep and his father pats her arm.]

SCD's Mom: (My poor son! *SOBS*)

SCD's Dad: (Maria, I would be happy to answer the questions that you
and the fans have about my son. But.. He does not say anything to us!
We have tried to talk to him, to help him deal with everything that
has happened but no.. No, Maria! Our son is not saying anything.)

[The masked father shakes his head in the negatory.]

MJ: (Surley he must have called..)

SCD's Mom: (*SOBS* He use to call three times a day.. *SOBS*.. But
since the incident with the mask.. *SOBS*... He does not call! We must
call him! And he.. He does not talk! *SOBS* My son! My poor son!
*SOBS*)

SCD's Dad: (Maria, I know my son and he does not have to talk for me
to know what is going on inside his head.)

MJ: (Oh? What is going on in his head?)

SCD's Dad: (I believe that my son is angry. Very, very angry. And I
fear, in his anger, he is going to get himself into trouble!)

SCD's Mom: (No! *SOBS* Not my son! My poor son! Someone has to help
him! Keep him out of trouble! *SOBS*)

SCD's Dad: (What my son needs.. Is a woman!)

MJ: (Oh?! Senor Cloak Dos needs a woman?)

SCD's Dad: (Yes, Maria. A beautiful, beautiful woman.)

[The masked father of SCD moves closer towards Maria's desk.]

SCD's Dad: (A beautiful woman who will calm him and keep him focused
in the right way.)

MJ: Wow! This is amazing, folks! Senor Cloak Dos' Dad says he needs a
woman to keep him on the right track!

SCD's Dad: (He needs a woman like... YOU! Maria!)

[Maria's eyes bug out as Dos' father leans even closer to her.]

MJ: (M-me?!)

SCD's Dad: (You could take such good care of my son with your
beautiful.. OW!)

[Cloak's mother grabs the masked ear of her husband.]

SCD's Mom: (You dog! You wish trouble and bad things on our son and
THEN you try to give him away to this woman just because she is busty
so that you can oggle her whent hey visit!)

SCD's Dad: (Let me go woman!)

[Maria smiles nervously.]

MJ: Th-that's all the time we have! Apparently not even Senor Cloak
Dos' parents have been able to talk to him! The mystery of what frame
of mind he is in continues!

[Maria turns towards her guests.]

MJ: (Thank you for coming on my..)

SCD's Mom: (KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY SON!)

MJ: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

[Cloak's mother gets to her feet...]

*SMACK*

SCD's Dad: OWWW!

[She slaps her husband then stomps towards the camera.]

SCD's Mom: (Son! It is your mother! Call me! I will take care of you!
Do not listen to your dirty minded father! Call me, son!)

[Maria looks scared and leans to the side so we can see her beautiful
face.]

MJ: Thank you for watching, adios! *WINK*

SCD's Mom: (CALL ME, SON! CALL YOUR MOTHER!)

SCD's Dad: (Stop making a scene, woman!)

SCD's Mom: (Shut up you dog!)

[The masked woman goes after her masked husband who promptly jumps to
his feet and takes off running away! Cloak's mother gives chase after
him while Maria shakes her head as the scene fades to black.]

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

[Gibson Hayes, PVW World Champion, stares outside of his bedroom
window. Gibson is dressed, as usual, in his blue suit with white shirt
and red tie. His bedroom is large, but barren. A king sized bed is
behind him but there are no other signs of furniture. In fact, his
room looks barely lived in. Such is the life of a fighting champion.]

So it has come down to some gamesmanship.

[Gibson smiles.]

I expected as much. What "man of the people" won't blame their loss on
a few instances of third party involvment. It's ok Ash, you got your
wish. Big bad Bubba, Todd and Evelyn won't be at ringside to keep your
brittle old bones from their last hours of sunshine. Really, that's
the only reason you could not get the job done. It couldn't be your
age, your knees... or your famiily.

[The champion looks out the window then back to the camera.]

Something stuck out to me, Ashy-kins. You said you felt like the Ash
of old; the young firebrand who would not stay dead. I was intrigued
and, dare I say, hopeful of the promise of you becoming a starving
mountain lion waiting for a hunk of meat. The thought of you on the
prowl, throwing caution to the wind and taking outrageous fortune by
the throat made me feel good - made me feel confident. The PVW common
man is asking why I liked hearing about your rediscovered inspiration.

It's a simple explanation, really. THe more you hunger, the less you
care about feeding your family. You can't have the fire and protect
your loved ones, Ashy-kins. That all consuming flame in your belly, it
comes at a cost. You have something more to lose in this match than a
simple title. You have more than just a reputation or face to lose.
No, Ash, you have the well being of your wife and children hanging in
the balance.

[A shrug from Gibson.]

Can you do what it will take to beat me? Can you do that knowing your
wife will have to see what you were before you married? Can you do
that while your children watch, mouth agape, at the actions you need
to take to beat Gibson Hayes? You talk about how you're re-invigorated
and raring to go. Yet, I see a man who's backed into a corner. I see a
man who knows the clock is ticking and that his number won't be called
again. You have one last chance to prove everyone and any one wrong.
But ask yourself this question, Ash, are you willing to go far enough
to make sure you pry this belt away from my body? Will you close the
door on family to satisfy your ego?

If you can step onto that dangerous path, Ash, know that I've already
won. If I can get you to take a misstep in fighting back the monsters,
if I can get you to compromise what is truly important to you, to take
you to my level, then what does all that talk about the higher ground
really mean? You talk a great game and you definitely haven't lost
that much in the ring... I aim to change that, Ash.

Hug your child, kiss your wife and hope you can stay true to yourself.

[Gibson turns back around to his window as the camera fades out.]

****************************************
****************************************
Spectre
****************************************
****************************************

[The scene fades in on a simple PVW backdrop.  Orange letters on a
black background, partially obstructed by The Spectre.  The ghoulish
goth's features betray nothing of what goes on behind his eyes as he
stares at into the camera lens quietly for twenty seconds.]

"You were all warned."

[Unblinking, he stares into the lens, his pale blue eyes shining out
from the screen of his black dreadlocks.]

"We told you our intentions after our opportunity was taken from us.
We cautioned that we would spill blood.

We were mocked...our cause and our accomplishments denigrated...our
intelligence called into question..

And now the little masked interviewer ha paid the price.

[The slightest hint of a smile played at the corner of Spectre's
lips.]

"And now, we are provided not the opportunity to capture a title as we
deserve...but instead we are being placed into a contest with an
opponent who holds that which we desire.

An opponent so clearly inferior to us as to beggar the imagination.

An opponent that has hidden behind little Fontana's skirts when
presented with the sight of us across the ring from him.

An opponent so unworthy of the accolades that have heaped upon him
that he must be 'protected' again and again by a self-aggrandizing
man-child on a quest to prove to the world that he is relevant...a
man-child that has decided the only way to prove his worth is by
defeating this paper tiger of a champion while that paper tiger is
completely unharmed.

A man-child that has robbed us of our prey, mocked us, questioned our
ability and roused our ire.

Now..."

[Spectre closes his eyes, his smile widening before he re-opens them.]

"...how do YOU think his health will be after he stands across from us
and faces our righteous fury?

And what do you think little Knight will think as we dismantle this
paper tiger for all to see?  Will he admit that the horrors we inflict
upon the false champion resonate deep within his mind.

And will he finally admit that he has come to fear the dark?"

[fade]

****************************************
****************************************
Sinister & The Berserkers
****************************************
****************************************

[The scene fades in to a still shot of the man known to the PVW as
Sinister sitting cross-legged on a large field of grass surrounding a
man-made lake, his back facing the camera as the sun shines brightly
overhead, its rays glistening off the water's surface. His thick back
is covered by a red short-sleeved shirt and he wears a pair of
black-and-red sweat pants. A pair of red-and-black Nike Air Jordan's
rest to his left on the grass, holding a pair of keys and a cellular
phone inside of them. There are various people performing various
actions at the park such as jogging, reading, resting, speaking
quietly with others and such. The camera begins to circle to the front
of Sinister and we see he is meditating, his hands palm up, resting on
top of each knee, his fingers curled and his breathing slow and deep.
The camera completes its circle and Sinister is now directly in front
of the camera's focus. Without opening his eyes he speaks]

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, I hope all of you are well.
Often times I have to remind myself to take a moment to live rather
than worry so much about making a living. Life is fast and short,
unfortunately, so I try to take every opportunity I can to slow it
down as much as possible and appreciate it for its tremendous value.
[He takes another very deep breath and exhales slowly, tilting his
head slightly towards the sun] It has become apparent to me that there
are a few men who have a different view about the value of life than
mine, the three individuals known as The Biz, JDM Superstar and Devin
Houlihan. Their idea of the value of life lies in material objects,
such as shiny motorcycles that are meant to entice others to perform
actions they otherwise would not."

[He lowers his head and holds is straight again, slowly opening his
eyes and peering directly into the camera. His eyes appear rather
tranquil and his tone is pleasant]

"Devin, you have been promised a shiny new bike if you are able to
remove me from the PVW. As you experienced recently, taking me out is
not as simple as it may first seem. There's no doubt that I'm not the
spry young chicken I used to be...[he chuckles momentarily]...but
discipline, diligence, and persistence have allowed me maintain my
strict martial arts training regiment and that has allowed me to
overcome various injuries that would have ended many a man's career or
desire to continue one. There is no magic formula to success and never
will I present martial arts as a miracle-working entity. Like any
other successful individual, there is an existence of intelligence, a
strong constitution, passion, desire and the ability to maintain focus
regardless of what occurs."

[He rolls his shoulders slowly while tilting his head back and taking
another deep breath.  Loud audible pops emanate from his shoulders as
he exhales and continues as he rolls his neck in a big circle twice.
He tilts his head left to right and a few more pops are heard. He then
relaxes his shoulders and folds his hands in his lap]

"Biz, JDM and Devin, the three of you are focused on unleashing your
form of tyranny and chaos amongst the ranks in the PVW and I, for one,
will not sit idly by and allow that to occur. Why? The answer is
simple. For years I have watched numerous individuals such as
yourselves scheme, lie, deceive and egregiously cheat your way through
life, be it in a wrestling ring, in the business realm, or in the
streets. Along the path of said deception you hurt people in various
forms and do not give a damn how you affect their lives, as long as
you achieve what you are focused upon. Some admire such methods and
see them as ambitious. Perhaps they are but in my perspective, these
are simply methods of avoiding the most difficult path because you do
not have the character to withstand such difficulties. Life is not
meant to be easy, gentlemen, for if it were then there would not exist
such realities as death, destruction, pain, suffering,
torment...sadness."

[He reaches into the right pocket of his sweat pants and pulls out a
picture of Josie, the lovely little girl who passed recently due to
cancer. He exhales heavily, eyeing the picture tenderly, then places
it back into his pocket]

"As all of you saw recently, Cloak Dos nearly left this business
because of the impact of recent actions and events upon him. Do you
feel he sees life as easy? How about Josie's parents? Men like you
Biz, JDM and Devin, have a very shallow perspective of life thus do
not appreciate it in full, cheating its value by doing exactly
that...cheating. You attempted to cheat J.D. Houlihan and I during our
impromptu tag team battle in which J.D. is now faced with some
decisions concerning you, Devin. Know this, the decisions I have made
concerning you as well as your running buddies, if you will, are very
easy to figure out."

[He unfolds his legs from underneath him and stretches them in front
of him, massaging his knees briefly. He places the soles of his
shoeless feet together and continues]

"I will do what I must to expose the three of you for what you are,
and that is nothing but a group of men who spread petulance in the PVW
by performing actions that are blatantly insulting to wrestlers who
battle like true warriors in the ring, and it is insulting to the fans
of the PVW who pay hard-earned money to see warriors battle and
provide entertainment, not disdain for them. I know one thing for
certain and that is we do not put up with crap like this in Chicago.
If any of you three were in Chicago and attempted to perform any of
the actions you have done recently, your world would be turned upside
down and done so very quickly."

[He pauses and his eyes tighten as he peers to his left suddenly.
After a very brief moment his facial features relax and he stands. The
camera man quickly adjusts the camera to capture Sinister's height as
he smiles widely and quickly turns his head to look directly at the
camera once again]

"Speaking of Chicago, here come two Chicago bad asses right now!"

[From a short distance we see the two well-muscled figures known to
the PVW as Doom and Wolf, the tandem forming the team known as The
Berserkers. Dressed in black leather jackets and decked out in their
usual menacing face paint. Sinister shakes Doom's right hand with his,
pulling Doom in for a pat on the back. He does the same with Wolf then
motions to the camera. The three men turn their attention to the
camera, Sinister standing on the far right]

Sin: "You know brotha's, there's something that I never formally did."

[Doom and Wolf look at Sinister with curiosity]

Sin: "I never formally thanked the both of you for helping me out when
I was getting jumped by those sorry asses."

Doom: Sinister don't mention it.  Where we come from ...

[Doom turns in a half circle pointing at all three of the menacing men
standing there.]

Doom: We watch our friends backs.  When we arrived in the PVW you were
one of the first men to welcome us.  While there is a home town
connection, there is something that runs even deeper  ...  It's called
respect.

[Wolf nods.]

Wolf: That's right Big Daddy Sin!  When you walk around the back
people take notice.  You are the godfather of the PVW ... You are a
man we are proud to call ...

friend.

Sin: "I appreciate it brotha's, truly I do. Honestly I'm not surprised
that two kick ass brotha's from Chicago would have my back though, but
it's damn reassuring to know that there are other people in this
organization that won't stand for the crap that Biz, JDM and Devin
partake in night in and night out."

[Doom snarls and spits to his right.]

Doom: Cowards.

[And Wolf continues right off his partner.]

Wolf: We know you have been bumping heads with the Biz for quite some
time.  He has been spewing poison and injecting his cancer through out
this company.  And when we saw Devin follow him like a long lost
disciple we knew that if we didn't step in this plague would begin to
spread.  Sinister, with the Berserkers at your side we will stand tall
together and put a stop to this.

[The three men nod in agreement.]

Sin: "Despite all of the on-going I'm involved with in the PVW, I've
kept an eye on the both of you because you both remind me of myself
when I was your age. You have both come into the league, established
yourselves and have proven that you won't take anyone's bullshit and I
respect that because that's how I operate. I try to be cordial and
respectful, but dammit there are times when you just have to beat the
hell out of someone to MAKE them pay attention to, and respect, you!"

Wolf: That's how we do things.  We like to settle things man-to-man
... Devin, JDM, and Biz we are going to have ourselves a good old
fashion fight.  And where we come from we fight until the last man
standing.  I am bringing two of the toughest SOB's this industry has
ever seen.  Let me ask you a question Biz ... When you turn around and
look at Devin and JDM ... How fast do you want to get the hell out of
town?

Doom: Devin I am putting in a claim ... I am going to come out and
grab your skull and drive mine _through_ your head.  When I am done
you are going to wish you could change places with your twin brother
JD.  The only problem is, it's going to be too late.

Sin: "So PVW, you're going to see this Chi-Town Trifecta of Terror
work together to demonstrate to Biz, JDM Superstar and Devin Houlihan,
exactly what happens when people like us take a stand against your
facetious, conniving, deceitful methods. For your sakes I hope all of
you are ready for this battle because if not, you may end up spending
Halloween in the hospital! See you soon."

[The picture fades with the three men standing proudly with their arms
folded across their thick chests]

****************************************
****************************************
Marcus Manson #2
****************************************
****************************************

[Fade up. Marcus Manson sits on a bed in a hotel room, a gym bag on
the bed next to him. Some of his wrestling gear lays on the bed next
to that. As he talks, he starts putting his gear in the bag.]

I came to a realization recently. And I realize now that Sammy Knight
and Spectre only started the process. Merc finished it.

[Manson scowls.]

I became complacent. I decided to let my words do my talking rather
than my actions, and my words were telling the world that I'd gone
soft. Maybe I'd lost a step. The Misery Machine was just a machine
like any other, chugging along on it's last legs before its inevitable
breakdown.

Well, this machine got a refit, and now I'm better than ever. And I
will show the world On the Road to Boiling Point. You're going to see
a renewed Misery Machine that night. One that's a little bit more like
the man you used to know.

Gabriel Whitecross knows. He crossed paths with me more than once back
in UEW, and now we do so again here in PVW. We tore apart a cruise
ship in the process. But Gabe, if you thought I was bad back then,
just wait until we meet here in PVW.

Tom Landis got a taste of it on Shockwave. He felt the heart punch,
and he knows what I am capable of. But now that I have renewed focus
and am once again firing on all cylinders, nothing will compare to
what happens next.

Next we have JD Houlihan. Houlihan, don't think I underestimate your
abilities. I won't be writing you off simply because you're a member
of a tag team. I know the potential that lies in tag team wrestlers.
Unfortunately for you, I will be taking you just as seriously as
everyone else in this match.

And then there's Larry Gionet. Gionet, you've come a long way since we
met at Shattered Dreams two years ago. You're a little bit more like
me, actually. But here's the thing, Larry... No one is quite like me.
I

[Manson zips up his bag and slings it over his shoulder.]

I am STILL the toughest son of a bitch in PVW.

I am still your worst nightmare.

And soon, I'll be your Television Champion.

[Fade]

****************************************
****************************************
Livestock & The Gutch #3
****************************************
****************************************

[The Gutch still on the tiny corner stool.]

Livestock: Gutch, drink this.

Gutch: Yeah, cool, feelin' dehydrated.

[Nearly choking, Gutch's eyes go googily and he looks from 'Stock to
the bottle and back again.]

Gutch: What is this stuff?

Livestock: Red Bull.

Gutch: Ah geez...

Livestock: Don't knock it.  There's 20 ounces in there and you need
every drop.  Now suck it down and knock these bastards out!  That was
just the first one, Gutch, you got 19 to go.

[Scowling, Gutch starts to suck down the bottle.  Cut to black.]

Text on screen: FIGHT 2.

JC: Fight!

[A pale, freckle-faced kid with a shaved head charges Gutch as he
approaches the center of the ring.  He bounces off, Gutch trips on the
kid's foot, and then falls on top of him in a heap.  Gutch pulling
himself up, Gutch looks down at the kid who, now, is off camera.]

Gutch: Uh ... whoops?  This means I win right?

JC: Jake!

Text on screen: FIGHT 3.

[Circling a lean man taller than himself but significantly more
Cherokee-ee Gutch gets plastered on points but doesn't seem affected
much.  The bell rings and both men go to their corners.]

*DING!*

Gutch: Dammit, this guy's got like 10-foot arms.

Livestock: How's your head?

Gutch: My left eye itches.  This place is really dusty.

Livestock: Look, when you go in there, don't try to box.  Ignore his
shots, step into him, and break his ribs.

Gutch: But this is boxing?

Livestock: Boxing where the other guy's like a 7-foot cruiserweight
and there are no rules.  Who cares?

*DING!*

[To the center they go and Gutch advances, advances and advances some
more.  It's a frustrating scene as Gutch absorbs the shots and the
other guy eventually just starts running laps in the ring until
Livestock leaps up and clotheslines the tall skinny guy.]

JC: Hey!

Livestock: What?  Street rules, right?

JC: Get away from the ring or your buddy loses by forfeit.

Livestock: Dammit.

Text on screen: FIGHT 4.
[As Joe has both men meet in the middle for the staredown that boxing
is known for Gutch just sucker punches him with an uppercut that sends
the smaller man twirling through the air.  Joe glares at Gutch.]

Gutch: Next?

Text on screen: FIGHT 5.

[An Asian guy meets Gutch in the middle and starts clubbing away with
no regard for defense.  He's big but he's no Gutch so the fat bastard
starts clubbing back and neither man seems to feel it.  Cut to later,
more of the same, cut to later, more of the same, cut to later and
finally the other guy's bloodied all to hell.]

*DING!*

JC: Good job Akira!  You really took it to--

*THUMP!*

[That's right, Akira just collapsed as the round ended and his
adrenaline faded.]

Gutch: Ha!

JC: Shut up shut up shut up!

Text on screen: FIGHT 6.

[An Indian boxer meets Gutch in the middle of the ring.  Looking up at
the big man, he seems uneasy, and keeps looking at the ring stairs.]

*DING!*

Gutch: Oh yeah, startin' to feel it now!

IB (Indian Boxer): So ... you're very heavy.  What is your body
weight?

Gutch: Huh?  Like 415 or somethin'.

IB: Yes, well, you should probably see a physician about that.  I can
recommend an excellent one; his name is Chandraksar.

Gutch: Uh ... okay?

IB: Yes, well, I should be going now.  It was wonderful to meet you!

[The Indian boxer flees the ring!]

Gutch: Wait, we met?  Who the hell are you?

IB (distant): Sanjay!

[Joe Craven facepalms and shakes his head in shame.]

Text on screen: FIGHT 7.

[Cut to show Gutch sitting on some guy's back.]

*PPPPBBHT!!!*

Boxer: AAAAAAAAAHHH!

Text on screen: FIGHT 8.

JC: JUST GET HIM!  GET THAT FAT BASTARD!!!

[What follows is a surprising showing of athleticism (if staying on
your feet is athletic that is) as Gutch clubs man after man and they
more or less trample each other into the mat.  One gets the impression
that the better boxers are already eliminated.  One club per boxer and
a dozen lay unconscious.]

Gutch: So ... these were the B-team right?

Text on screen: FIGHT 9.

JC: YOU SON OF A BITCH!

[Bare-knuckled Joe Craven charges Gutch and starts peppering him with
punches.  This might work better if Joe could be considered a
Heavyweight.  He's not.  Also, after like a dozen punches he just
stops, screaming, and grabs his right hand.]

JC: GAH!

Gutch: Uh, dude ... you okay?

JC: Shut up!

Gutch: Did you break your hand?

JC: Need to ... take a leak.

[Joe staggers out of the ring.]

Text on screen: FIGHT 10.

[Cut to show Johnstone slapping Gutch's bald, fat head over and over
as the big man cringes.]

Johnstone: You violated the rules of the exercise and you know it!
You damned piece of dog *BLEEP* I should shove a cattleprod up your
ass, plug it into the wall and set it to repeat!

Livestock: Todd, what do you care about rules?

Johnstone: I don't.  It's the principal ... YOU DAMNED EGG-MAN LOOKING
SON OF A BITCH!

[Fade to black as Johnstone pointlessly abuses the Gutch.  End.]

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

(The scene opens in the executive office of President and CEO, Johnny
Detson.  There Detson sits behind his executive Mahogany desk wearing
a finely tailored three piece suit.  Detson, with a politician smile
plastered firmly on his face, begins to speak.)

Detson:  My fellow PVW-ovians, I speak to you tonight ecstatic over
the recent successful events of last Heatwave.

(A small frown appears on Detson's face.)

Detson:  I say successful in that I once again thwarted public enemy
number one Danny Daniels.  They were, in fact, less than successful
when you take into account the heinous attack, FROM BEHIND, that I
suffered.  But people let us not focus on the negative and let us
focus on the positive.

(Detson smiles.)

Detson:  Danny Daniels is a enemy to this Company and at every turn,
thanks to your President and CEO, he has been thwarted, humiliated and
bested by yours truly, Johnny Detson, President and CEO and all around
nice guy.  And for that, for the betterment of this Company which I
alone run, I once again say you're welcome.

(Detson smirks.)

Detson:  Of course, your overwhelming support in this matter has been
noted and appreciated.  Danny Daniels is and remains a constant threat
to this company, mainly because the man does not know when he has been
beaten.

(Detson shakes his head in disappointment.)

Detson:  Last week on Heatwave I once again beat Danny Daniels in the
center of that ring.  Whether or not I was awarded ANOTHER title shot
after I already earned the Called Shot is of no consequences for me.
No, my everlasting goal has been to provide high quality entertainment
for all of you, the little people, so you can spend your hard earned
money on this product increasing its popularity and let's not forget
our bottom line.

(Detson flashes a huge politician's smile.)

Detson:  So I have once again sacrificed personal goals for the
betterment of this Company, whereas Danny Daniels has selfishly tried
to secure his own personal needs.  I have bettered Danny Daniels two
times in the center of that ring, man to man, but what has Mr. Daniels
done?  He's attacked me from behind, conspired with nefarious
individuals to steal my hard earned title, and he continues to try and
take my Presidency.  MY... PRESIDENCY... after I toiled, after I
slaved,
after I, Johnny Detson, President and CEO, saved this Company from
ruin and bankruptcy and made it a highly successful, VERY profitable
utopia, only then does Mr. Daniels claim that I have somehow ruined
this Company and that Mr. Daniels would be better suited to run it.

(Detson scowls and shakes his head.)

Detson:  Well we all see through your little façade Mr. Daniels.  You
only wish to run this Company for your own personal gain.  Put the
profits I have made in your own pockets.  Place the title shots that I
have earned over on your side.  Well Mr. Daniels I have tried to
reason with you, I have tried to show you who the better man is and
who should run this Company, but you fail to listen.  And, I hate to
admit it; you have made this Company somewhat more difficult to run.
So it is with severe regret... because I care about all who fall under
my employ... even you... that I levy the following fines and
sanctions...

(Detson raises a piece of paper from his desk and begins to read from
it.)

Detson:  BY PRESIDENTIAL DECREE... it is hereby stated that due to the
unsightly, heinous, and borderline treasons of one Daniel Dansford
Daniels the following is declared.  Due the actions of the above named
and his attempted treason with a known nefarious and dishonest
individual by the name of Jack Griffin, it is hereby settled that the
known criminal Jack Griffin is now and forever banned from all PVW
events and activities.

It is further declared that based on the actions of Danny Daniels, the
title that he introduced in the PVW, the alleged Supreme Championship
will not now nor ever been recognized as an official PVW title and it
is henceforth banished as well from all PVW events and activities.
Its existence shall be now and forever stricken from all PVW records
and recordings, except for right now as I read this as to avoid any
confusion as to what I am, in fact banning.

(Detson places the paper down and looks at the camera with a solemn
look on his face.)

Detson:  It pains me to have to do that.  However, maybe this
punishment will serve to be for the good of the Company.  This turmoil
and upheaval that you have caused Mr. Daniels is not good for
business.  It disrupts business and it disrupts me from running mine.
I cannot, as President and CEO, have these constant distractions about
stupid questions regarding elections and policy reform.  There are no
elections and there is no reform.  I am the new status quo and in
order to run this Company smoothly I need there to be calm.

(Detson squints his eyes as he glares at the camera.)

Detson:  You don't make things calm Mr. Daniels and therefore disrupt
my status quo.  With these sanctions I hope that you will fall back in
line and realize that the success of this Company lies with me.

(Detson quickly flashes back to his politician smile.)

Detson:  But do not be depressed Mr. Daniels as I believe I have found
some middle ground for your little problem.  Do not misunderstand the
punishments I must enforce on you as a lack of compassion.  Because
when people think of Johnny Detson, President and CEO, Face of the
Franchise, Mr. Called Shot, and all around nice guy... they think of
compassion.

(Detson nods in agreement with his own statement.)

Detson:  I have decided in my infinite wisdom as President and CEO, to
have the first ever Johnny Detson Election!!

(Detson smirks.)

Detson:  As you can seen if you visit our website which can be
provided to you by calling our customer service reps at the number
provided to you when you mail in the request for same... I have placed
your name right here on the ballot next to mine... and several other
qualified candidates... for all of the little people to vote on.

Detson:  Is it for the PVW Presidency?

(Detson shakes his head.)

Detson:  No.  But I'll tell you what it is... an opportunity... for
you...
to win something.  That something?  A match which all things
considered isn't too shabby of an award if you think about, which I
have because you know... I designed it.

(Politician smile.)

Detson:  So there you go Mr. Daniels... you get your election!  Will
you
win?  No, probably not but as I've always told you Mr. Daniels it's
always good to know your place.

(Detson nods in agreement.)

Detson:  So the best of luck to you Mr. Daniels in this the only
election season you will have.  Maybe... just maybe, you will finally
win something.

(Detson laughs.)

Detson:  And as always... you're welcome.

(With that the camera fades to black.)

****************************************
****************************************
Perry Fontana
****************************************
****************************************

[October 11th, 4:22 AM.]

"Second to last on the left!"

[The nurse who uttered these words flattens herself against the
widening door, and we burst through. The screen shakes as we stomp
through the inpatient ward's triage area, the cameraman struggling to
keep up with the cloaked man leading the charge in front of him, his
brisk pace desperate. His madly flowing fiery robe labels him as "Le
Phenix".]

Fontana: EMILY!

[Frantic, he follows the pastel corridor inhabited by patients and
staff in transit, stacks of linens, unused IV drips and medical
equipment, and that reigning hospital smell of disease and death -
which actually the odor of disinfectant, though few visitors remember
it as such.]

Fontana: Where?...

[The King of Armbars reaches the second to last door on the left, and
what he sees through the doorway stops him dead in his tracks. The
cameraman catches up, and circumnavigates around the Deathless One;
under the robe, he wears cheap San Jose Sharks track pants and a
California Flag jumper, not a pretty combo, items he no doubt picked
up at the airport.]

Fontana [With a nod]: Mrs. Landis.

[As Perry steps inside, the camera can finally follow and peer in. On
a string of chairs, a blond woman is crumpled in the arms of her
mother, the Landis matriarch. When she sees Perry, a weak, sleepless
smile appears.]

Mrs. Landis: ...A mother always come when her little girl calls...

Fontana: What's going on?

[Liz Landis raises her eyebrows and sighs... that might not be a
question she's up to answering.]

Fontana: Neptune barely said anything before shoving me in that
taxi... Is she gonna be alright?

[Mrs. Landis runs her fingers through her daughter's hair.]

Mrs. Landis: Been awake so long, exhaustion got the best of her...

[Emily stirs, raises her head... and sees her husband.]

Emily: Perry!

[Immediately she sits up.]

Emily: How long was I out?

Mrs. Landis: Just a few minutes, honey.

Emily: I didn't miss anything did I? I told them I didn't want to miss
anything!

Mrs. Landis: I know. I know...

Fontana: Miss what? You're alright? Then... what...

[Fontana looks around him, this time taking note of the wailing babes
and children, the surrounding teddy bear picnic wall paper... this is
the children's ward waiting area.]

Fontana: The _boy_! What's _wrong_ with the BOY?!?

[Emily shakes her head.]

Emily: At first it just looked like a cold, but like on the second
day, Adam started having trouble breathing... and breathing fast...
and so when I brought him here, she - Doctor Bayda - she told me it
was pneumonia. Gave a prescription, but...

...

Fontana: But?

Emily: Well... his fever kept going up so they kept us here. It was
just going worse and worse and I started getting scared, so... I
called mom, and... you... sorta...

Fontana: I'm here now, but where's the boy ?

Emily: Just earlier, he started turning red and... oh God!

[Behind Perry, a petite brunette steps through the door, pulling down
her paper mask. Her features are plain, and so is the detached,
professional look in her eyes. Pulling off a latex glove, she passes
by Fontana and stops in front of Emily.

Yet... the doctor doesn't utter a word.]

...

Emily: Did it work?

[The doctor coughs lightly... her eyes start to wander. Perhaps a
delay will make the news more palatable?]

Emily: Doctor Bayda!

[The doctor sighs, pulls off the second glove to avoid eye contact.]

Dr. Bayda: We couldn't do anything. The SIRS diagnostic came too late
for a timely intervention, which is usually the case with neonates.

Fontana: What? What does that mean?

[Ignoring the King of Armbars entirely, the doctor keeps addressing
Emily in her cold, detached tone.]

Dr. Bayda: The infection lead to septis, but when dialysis and
mechanical ventilation failed, the patient underwent septic shock.

Emily: No.

Fontana: What the...

Dr. Bayda: We ran the code, but... I'm afraid to say that...

Emily: No!

Fontana: What's she saying?

Dr. Bayda: ... Little Adam passed on.

[Liz Landis audibly gasps, and she tightly grabs her daughter in her
arms.]

Emily: NO!

Dr. Bayda: I'm sorry.

I'm so...

... sorry.

[Emily sobs uncontrollably in her mother's arms, and yet room is
deadly still.

Like a zombie, Perry shuffles across the room towards his wife. He
extends his hand towards her, but when it hovers but inches away from
her shoulder, he hesitates. She doesn't see him, doesn't want him.
Besides, what is a pathetic little pat on the shoulder going to do in
a moment like this? Little pats did nothing for Josie, and encouraging
words didn't help either. What can anyone say? What words could
suffice? All Liz Landis can do is gently cradle her daughter in her
arms.

Mutely, the Everlasting One turns around and shuffles towards the
door.]

Dr. Bayda: Sir. Please don't go in there, protoc-

Fontana: Look, lady, I traveled a _long_ way to get here. I don't just
mean in terms of hours and kilometres, because if I did, we'd
_talking_ in terms of months and megametres. Non, what I'm talking
about is a... _spiritual_ pilgrimage, ouais.

[He bites his lower lip, to contain the emotion.]

Fontana: That journey, it only ends when I finally get to _kiss_ my
little boy.

Dr. Bayda: Might be best if you didn't. The SIRS... the sepsis, it
will have...

[His raspy voice shaken with emotion, he takes a deep breath, and
steps closer to interrupt the aloof doctor.]

Fontana: I never even got to _hold_ my boy. Do you understand? I never
got to _HOLD_ him.

[With the doctor at a loss for words, Fontana pushes through to the
other room, which almost looks like an operating room but not quite.
The center of interest, however, is a crib-like little operating
gurney overlooked by two nurses, busily disconnecting the IV drip and
ventilator.

The baby, motionless as a doll, is bloated and covered in reddish
rash-like splotches.]

Fontana [whisper]: Adam...

[The brawny wrestler brushes past a nurse a picks up his inert child.
Perry breathes heavily, a tear streaking down his cheek as he holds
the boy against his chest.]

Fontana: I just... wish...

[A painful sigh]

Fontana: You're a beautiful boy, Adam, just like your mother. I'm
sorry... I'm so sorry the Grim Reaper had to get even with your
daddy...

[Slowly, Emily makes her way to Perry's side, her tear streaked face a
picture of emotional agony.]

Fontana: I'm so sorry I couldn't get here sooner...

[Emily narrows her eyes.]

Emily: Perry?

Fontana: I promise you, Adam, that from now on, I-

Emily: PERRY! He's vomiting on your shoulder! Adam's vomiting on-...
DR. BAYDA!

Nurse: Goodness gracious, the infant's alive!

[Chaos erupts! Nurses and doctor storm the room, take Adam out of his
father's arms and shove parents and camera alike out of the room to
shouts of "clear the airways" and "ventilator!" In the swarm, Emily
and her husband find themselves back in the waiting area, only he's
all smiles. Never before has anyone been so overjoyed to dip a finger
into the baby goop that stains his chest.]

Emily: He's alive!

[Inspecting his soiled finger, the Deathless One grins.]

Fontana: He's my _son_! He _really_ IS my son!

[Relieved of a thousand ills, Emily runs to her mother's arms, and the
image fades to black to Fontana's laughter, as incredulous as it is
victorious...]