Matt Rollins #1

In no way do I think I am the best ever, so do not think that. I think that I am well-versed in mat wrestling but I consider myself a hybrid wrestler. I mix speed, technical knowledge and mesh it into a new innovative style that defines the generations to come in the wrestling interesting.

This week, I debut in PWA against a man by the name of Skorch. As far as my knowledge goes, Skorch hasb't been able to pick up a victory here in PWA. Which must be difficult for him, seeing as how professional wrestling is all about your win/loss records...to most people.

My win/loss record actually doesn't matter to me at all. Sure, you get merchandise and what not if you win, which means more money, but I am content with the salary PWA has offered me. And when you think about it, it's a pretty good deal that I've signed with his company.

I am getting paid money, to fight people. Nowhere in my contract does it say I have to win, it just says I have to show up and put on a great match. That is something that I am more than capable of doing. Sure, winning is what I'll be trying to do but I won't be devestated if I get pinned to the mat.

Wrestling is just a job to me, sure I'd love to win a bunch of matches, sure I'd like to beat everyone who steps in front of me and sure, I'd love to become PWA World Champion. But the reality of the situation is that you don't win every damn time. And I am fine with that.

To get paid is my main goal, to become PWA World Champion is second. None of the lower level titles concern me, except for maybe the Tag-Team Championship. Do I want to face Psycho Sandra and win her Grizzly Beer Championship? Not really. I'll wrestle her if that's who I am booked against, but that title doesn't really mean anything to me.

I'll explain myself. The PWA World Championship is the top title in PWA, the best in the promotion holds it. Holding that belt means you are the best singles wrestler in PWA at the current time. So what is the need for any other singles titles? It baffles me.

The Tag-Team Championships make sense because to win them means that you and another wrestler are the best cohesive unit in PWA. Right now, The Brothers Grimm are the best tag team in PWA. And I can understand that because they are a great tag team.

I'm not trying to take away from Psycho Sandra or Protean, or anyone who wrestles for lower level titles because anyone who disrespects anyone else in this business is an asshole, and that's not who I am.

I am a man who has come here to become PWA World Champion and to get paid. I'll shake my opponents hand before and after the contest. I don't sneak attack, I don't insult, I just explain to them what I am capable of, and how I will beat them.

Skorch, I debut in PWA against you, and you will help me make a statement for what the rest of my PWA career is going to be like. Be ready my friend, I expect nothing less.

The Man #1

The scene opens up inside the hotel room which is currently being occupied by PWA superstar (snicker) “The Man.” The blinds have been drawn tight against the offensive bright sun which is still managing to stream through the crack and onto the form of The Man lying naked, crumpled on the floor of the hotel room; a deluge of alcohol bottles littered around the floor, evidence of a previous nights over indulgence. “The Man” begins to stir and groan and mumbles something that sounds like “Truck Me In The Goat Grass”, but I’m sure the first and last words were actually something far more explicit. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and looks up at the camera.

The Man: “What the hell are you doing in here… Why the hell do you have your vacuum cleaner on your shoulder? Man you room service people do things funny in these fancy pants Hilton Hotels!”

The Man looks up blankly at the camera man as his mind tries to process in vain what is going on. He slowly gets to his feet, using the back of the couch for support as he stretches his arms. The Man then looks down in surprise to realize that he is not wearing any clothes. He quickly grabs a near by cushion in an attempt at decency.

The Man: “Sorry about that chap, I’m sure yours is average size no need to get all depressed it probably just looks small compared to my freakishly large… wait a minute, you never really did say what you are doing here.”

Cameraman: Uh, I’m just here for an interview?

The Man: Oh my God, I passed out and Barbara Walters got real ugly.

Cameraman: Uh, I’m from the PWA.

The Man: “An interview for the PWA? Oh crap, I forgot about that part. I thought this was a once a week job with the occasional Sunday thrown in?”

Cameraman: I’m pretty sure it’s in your contract that you’ve got to do these once in a while.

The Man:What do you mean it is in my contract? That was a contract? Chamelion said he wanted my autograph! Well isn’t that just like the little weasel. So what do you do, like ask questions now or something?

Cameraman: You know you are remarkably lucid considering the fact that I came in here and you were passed out on the floor.

The Man: I slipped a couple of uppers to get me through this interview, you’ve only got about 10 minutes max before I crash again.

Cameraman: So are the rumors about your narcotic abuse true?

The Man:No, I’ve never abused narcotics.

Cameraman: Define abuse.

The Man: Maybe I could use it in sentence for you. The camera man asking stupid questions so The Man abused him. Badly.

Cameraman: Okay fine, next question. Genesis Six. Why?

The Man:Well I was a little bored and I was in the neighborhood so I thought, what the hell. Chamelion asked if I wanted to make an appearance and I told him I’d throw something together. After the show he said that he was desperate for someone of my caliber, and smashing good looks to be a regular part of the show. I sort of need some money for… uh… food. So I agreed to compete again in the PWA. It’s sort of like riding a bicycle right?

Cameraman: Well you’ve got a match scheduled for Saturday against Scotty Snow, are you worried at all about returning to action after how many years?

The Man:Scotty THE PANTHER Snow? I’m screwed. He’s like a former PWA World Champion or something like that. I dunno man, what can you do right? All I can do is go out there and I will either win or I’ll lose. There isn’t too much point in analyzing it to death, especially against a guy like Scotty Snow.

Cameraman: In the old days you used to…

The Man: woah woah woah. In the OLD days? What are you saying? Are you saying that I’m old? Elderly? Infirm? Ancient? Decrypted?

Cameraman: Decrypted? I didn’t realize you were such an Enigma. I think you mean Decrepit.

The Man: Well look who thinks he’s Clever Dan.

Cameraman: As I was saying. When you used to wrestle before, the fans loved you. You used to get some of the loudest pops when you were with the W4F, and this time they were giving you boos and jeers.

The Man:Well who’s the drug addict now? What show were you watching foolio? I clearly remember the crowd going off their feet when I was about to make an appearance.

Cameraman: You mean, when you played the theme music of The Spider and they thought that Dalton Campbell was coming out of retirement?

The Man: Uh… well yeah when you put it that way.

Cameraman: Then you cheated them out of a match with XTC and The Notch. Man they were pissed.

Unable to believe what he is hearing The Man begins to reel. His fans are very important to him. He staggers and then begins to speak.

The Man:Actually…

Suddenly he falls to the ground, the effects of the pills apparently worn out. The cameraman looks in shock at him and picks up a golf club (what the hell was that doing in the middle of this hotel room?) and pokes The Man with it. After a while he shrugs his shoulder and heads out the door. The scene begins to fade to black but just before it does it comes back as The Man suddenly sits up.

The Man: Is he gone? Did you hear that Sanchez the fans don’t like me. I’m not over. We’ve got work to do….

Now the scene fades out.

Randal Moran #1

“’Bout frikkin’ time.”

Randall is sitting down on his black leather couch. He’s slouching backwards, go ahead, imagine it, and has a look of pure and utter nothingness on his face. Judy is sitting demurely next to him with a smile on her face and a hand on his knee.

Randall “But I guess it was nice of me to give Sirus his time to shine, and now we can have a little shadow.”

Judy “Geeze. Look babe, you might be what some people consider the black sheep of the family, but really you’re more like a light grey.”

Randall “Nice Judy, real nice. Here I was going to try and bill myself as someone who’s hardcore and can handle his own while doing some other brainless activity at the same time. Draven might not be doing so hot right now, heh, but he still had quite a reputation. I had this all planned out .. well, at least half assed anyway. I was going to say something like …”

Randall clears his throat and sits up straight.

Randall “This isn’t your daddies Moran you’re dealing with.”

Judy “But Draven isn’t even your daddies Draven anymore.”

Randall gets this smirk on his face then turns to Judy, swings a leg over here and gives her a huge kiss .. a little fondle … a small dry, well, never mind. Judy giggles and finally pushes him off of her. She straightens out her clothes and points to the camera.

Randall “Since when are you shy around cameras?”

Judy “No you goof, talk about your match a bit will you?”

Randall “But I’d … he can … fine.

Draven, you want to hear a little bit about my philosophy? Tough shit, you’re going to anyway. Here it is, pure an simple. Ready?

Make love AND war. Got it? Great. What does it mean? It means have fun because life is way to fucking short and brutal. If you can’t go out and have fun then you’re screwed. The lucky few who can make a living doing what they love, more power to them. The fact that people pay me to try and beat the crap out of strangers in the ring? I’m laughing!

You I might do for free though. I may not agree a lot with what Sirus has to say, but I do believe that wrestling should be about, oh let’s see, wrestling! You want to keep pulling shit, be my guest. You want to be part of the next grand wrestling opera, then get ready to kill your twin .. or sleep with your sister .. or mind control a town or what ever it is you people do. You want to keep sulking around in the shadows then for god’s sake, please keep your face in them as well hunh?

I’m a being clever? God I hope you don’t think I’m being clever. I’m really trying not to be clever. I’d rather be a balls in your face pain in the ass son of a bitch than be clever. Insert gay jokes here if you want, me I have Judy thanks. What we have here is a good old fashioned match. Is it for a title? No. Is it for a spot somewhere? No. Is it some fancy schamncy ring or setting? Hell no. What it is, is you and me in that ring trying to make each other bleed. I’m sorry if that’s not good enough for you. I’m not singling you out, to be honest it’s really not enough for most people. Me, I’m good. There’s only one thing that gets me up in the morning more than knowing I get to step into a ring with someone.”

Judy tries to stifle a laugh but isn’t quite successful.

Randall “Anyway … me and Judy are going to, uh, work on some holds and see who screams first.”

They get up and start to leave. Just then Randall turns and yells into the camera “BANG, fuck you’re dead!”

Fade out …

Psycho Sandra #1

The scene opens in the ring where Sandra's usually racticing. Her coach doesn't seem to be around, so she's hitting a punching bag. She looks like she's been at it for a while, because her body's glazed over with sweat, and her fists look red. Every once in a while, she'll switch it up to kick at the bag.

"Hey, Sandra!" Says someone from behind.

She stops practicing for a moment, and turns to see a man in a suit. He has a grin accross his face, and is holding a box. "Sandra, baby, smoochies!"

"No thanks, Al," she says with a smirk. "What's up?"

"Got new product for ya to try out! Congrats on keeping the title, by the way! It would have been hell to have marketed a new campaign with someone else..." he reaches into the box, and pulls out a bottle that looks like Gatorade. "Introducing... new Grizzly Beer Sports Drink! For the man, or woman of course, who doesn't want to quit her buzz just 'cuz she's working out! What do you think?"

Sandra takes the bottle from his hand, and looks at it strangely. "Uhm... but aren't sports drinks supposed to be good for you?"

"Oh, it is, it is! What athlete wouldn't want a nice buzz?"

"One that once to win! Listen," she hands him the bottle. "I've really got to keep up the training. The truth is, I've got a match coming up against Phoenix, and I'd like to kee my record. The guy's good, and I want to be in tip top shape!"

"Right right, of course of course!" Al says, puttin the bottle down on a bench. "Just keep these drinks for yourself! Maybe you'll warm up to them, huh? But yu keep working out, we don't want our official mascot to lose now, do we?"

Sandra looks at Al, an angry expression coming across her face. "Is that all I am to you? A mascot? I'm here to win for myself, not for your marketing leeches!"

"Woah woah, Sandr, baby-doll, lets keep things in mind, shall we?" He puts a hand on her shoulder and grins. "You're not doing it for me, you're doing it for all of those bars out there! All of those men who watch you, every week, wishing they could be as strong as you are! Isn't that how you got your start? in bars?"

She nods. "Yeah, well... it's true."

"And isn't that what you'd like to reprisent? The common man! Er-, woman! Fighting for the average drunken joe!"

Sandra smiles again, and chuckles. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"So you don't mind going ahead with that Grizzly Beer Chewing Gum idea?"

Her expression turns annoyed. "Get out of here, Al!"

Al raises his hands, and walks out. "Okay, okay! I'm gone! Good luck on your match, Sandra! You may need it."

Sandra frowns, and sits on the bench. She sighs and picks up one of the bottles. Looking it over, she unscrews the top, and takes a drink.

"Pppppppfftttt! Ghyuck!!"

Fade out.

Johnny Phoenix #1

*Scene opens on an office. Inside the office, we see Johnny sitting in front of a desk. Sitting behind the desk is an older man. He looks to be of Mexican descent. Hung on the walls of the office are many framed wrestling magazine covers from around the world. Each has a short inscription to the balding man behind the desk. Johnny stands and walks to the wall. He is staring at the covers*

Johnny: I don't know what happened last night, Jorge. I did everything that we've worked on for the past 4 years. What went wrong?

Jorge Limon: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You won at Geneis! You chose your destiny.

Johnny: I know Jorge, but it wasn't a decisive victory. I got out of that by the skin of my teeth.

Jorge: My boy, you are right. You did exactly everything that we've worked on. And that is half of the problem. You were absolutely not prepared for the surprises you faced. In the professional wrestling business, Johnny, you need to ready for anything. If you think your opponent is going to go right, he may go left, and THAT is what you need to wrap your mind around. Once you can understand that not everything is going to happen according to your plan, then and only then will you be a sucessful wrestler.

Johnny: You're absolutely right, Jorge. I was definately not prepared what Littlebear and Galle threw at me. I don't think that I underestimated them, though.

Jorge: You can't try to think too many steps ahead, because when you do, sometimes the guy will throw a curveball at ya, and, just like the other night, wham! Right in the melon...and out go the lights. It happens to everyone Johnny. The main thing is you got up, and continued. I wouldn't worry too much about it. Things happen for a reason Johnny. You of all people should understand that. What is that thing you always say?

Johnny: That which does not kill you only makes you stronger.

Jorge: Yeah thats the one. That is the one thing I want you to remember this week when you are training for your next match against...who was it again Johnny?

Johnny: Psycho Sandra. What do you know about her?

Jorge: Not much, Johnny. But, from what I do know of her, you are going to have to train harder for this match than any you have had before. I hear this lady is a one woman wrecking crew. She is the current Grizzly Beer Champion. This will be a tough match Johnny.

Johnny: You're right. This will be a challenge, but have you ever known me to back down from a challenge? Of course not! I WILL be prepared for this match. I can PROMISE you that, Jorge.

*Johnny removes one of the framed pictures from the wall. On it is a photo of a masked wrestler with an impressive gold championship belt slung over his shoulder. Johnny pauses to read the message written on it. It read "To Jorge: The best trainer and friend a guy could have. This couldn't have happened without you! Signed, El Torrino".*

Johnny: One day, Jorge, you will have a photo of me hanging in here. I guarantee it.

Jorge: I don't think so Johnny. This room is full of great wrestlers that I have trained throughout the years. It takes a special breed of man to make these walls.

Johnny: GREAT! Now my trainer doesn't even believe in me.

Jorge: Dammit Johnny! Thats not what I said at all. I said that these walls were full of "great" wrestlers. You are not great. You have the most talent and potential of any of the men you see there. I don't think that you will be on this wall, because with all the magazines you will grace the covers of I will have to get a new office.

Johnny: I appologize for jumping you like that, Jorge. I'm just a little on edge after that match last night. I know you have never doubted me...not even for a minute. And I will show you that your expectations of me aren't wasted thoughts. I will go out there and fight Psycho Sandra. I will show her, and the rest of PWA what I am made of. I will show them it wasn't a fluke that I won that match. Let's go Jorge! Its time to prepare for this week's challenge.

*As they rise to leave the office, Johnny lets Jorge walk out first. He hangs the photo back on the wall. As he turns out of the office, he runs right into Tommy and Mikey Knight.*

Johnny: Oh, hey fellas, whats going on?

Tommy: Not too much, man. How did your match go last night?

Mikey: Yeah, we couldn't watch it because we had that try out for that promotion you sent to watch us.

Johnny: Oh man, I totally forgot about that! Nevermind me, how did the showcase go? Did you guys do what I told you?

Mikey: Yeah Johnny we did everything just the way you said.

Tommy: It was beautiful, bro. We fought each other with the same energy we did when we were fighting as kids. We really went at it.

Mikey: Totally! I was afraid of this maniac for a minute...he had a look in his eye that really freaked me out.

Johnny: I think I've seen that look. He showed me the one day he found out....

Tommy: Johnny, lets not bring that up right now. I am past that point in my life.

Johnny: Anything you say man, but what did the scouts think?

Tommy: Well, they just sat there for a while after we were done.

Mikey: Yeah, they were just whispering to each other for about 3 minutes while we were standing in the ring, drenched.

Johnny: And? What was the decision? The suspense is killing me!! Come on guys, tell me.

*Tommy and Mikey look at each other. Then at the same time....*

Tommy and Mikey: WE GOT IT!!!

Johnny: That is absolutely amazing!! Guys, I am so proud of you!

*Johnny, Tommy and Mikey hug and pat each other on the back*

Johnny: Hey Jose!! Did you hear that?

*Jorge walks into the screen from the locker room*

Jorge: Yeah, they told me earlier.

Johnny: And you didn't tell me? You're a mean old man Mr. Limon.

Tommy: We asked him not to tell you. We wanted to deliver the
good news ourselves.

Johnny: Well that is truely outstanding boys! This calls for celebration. What do you say to drinks on me, at Ghost Bar at the top of the Rio?

Mikey: Yo, I'm definately in for that.

Tommy: Absolutely, sounds really good. But Johnny, how did you do last night?

Johnny: Well, I had a very grueling match against Greg Littlebear and Cody Galle.

Mikey: Okay, how did that one work out?

Johnny: It was really back and forth. I made a few mistakes I shouldn't have, but in the end....I pulled out the victory and got to Choose My Destiny.

Mikey: Outstanding!! I would have loved to see that.

Tommy: Well, what did you choose? The Title match or the spot in the Tournament?

Johnny: I choose the spot in the tournament. You guys know that my goal upon entering the PWA was to win the World Championship. And as Wayne Gretzky once said, "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." But anyway, enough about me...lets celebrate your contract! Did you come up with a name yet?

Mikey: Yeah dude, check it out....how does this sound? Tommy and Mikey Knight.......Knight Train!

Johnny: That is so perfect man. You two are like a runaway train. It fits perfectly. Well, lets go Knight Train, there's some booze calling our name. Jorge!! You comin'?

Jorge: No, no, no. I'm too old for that crap! You boys go have some fun. But I want you all back here tomorrow to train for
Johnny's match next week!

Johnny: Jorge, we will be here tomorrow....but we may be a little late.

Jorge: Kinda figured that out already Johnny. I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good time tonight, but please....Don't do anything stupid.

Johnny: Who? Us? You don't know us very well do you, Jorge?

Jorge: No, I know you all to well, hence the warning. Just take it a little easy would ya?

Tommy: Alright, Jorge, but just for you. Anyone else...no way, but we will try to take it easy.

Jorge: Thats all I can ask. You boys have fun. Johnny hit the lights on your way out could you?

Johnny: Alright kiddies, you heard the man. Lets have a great night! I'll meet you guys at the Jeep. Its right outside.

Mikey: Alright Johnny.

*Tommy and Mikey walk out the door to the Jeep Wrangler parked outside the front door. Johnny walks to the switches by the locker room door, and before he flips them he looks into the camera*

Johnny: Like I said before, my motto is "That which doesn't kill you, makes you stronger". Ms. Sandra, you, especially you, should take a quick listen to this. I've been near dead too many times. I am ready for anything this life can throw at me, and you can bet I WILL BE ready for this match against you. Just like the legend says....the Phoenix will Rise from the Ashes!!

*Johnny hits the switch and the screen goes black*

Psycho Sandra #2

The scene opens inside of Sandra and Chamelion's house. Sandra's wearing a purple and black sweat suit, her long hair in curls and tied back in a ponytail. She's on her knees, rummaging through a cardboard box. She finally pulls out a photo album, it's cover depicting roses and angels. She opens it and smiles, flipping through pages before finally finding something.

"Ah ha..." She says with a grin, before turning to the camera. "Phoenix. I saw your fight. You did a good job, bro! Congrats for making it this far. Now, I just wanted to take you through a tiny history lesson."

She stands up with the book, and sits on the couch. Sandra holds up the page she landed on, and shows it to the camera. It's a picture of herself, holding up the PWA World Title belt. "Now this is an old picture, but I'm pretty sure you get the jist of it. Y'see, I'm not your average fighter. I didn't get to fight in the PWA by being average. You talk a lot about having nearly died and ressurected, which is poetic and cute and everything, but the fact is you're going to have to do a lot more to get past me without a broken jaw.

"That belt there," she says, pointing to the belt. "That's my legacy. People know what I am. I'm one of the few great ones left in this fed. I held that belt, and I held on to it tight. Do you think anyone ever expected me to win it? Not by a long shot. I think you know who I am, and what I'm about, because you're no rookie. You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, so I'm just going to give you a little warning;

"I don't fight the way other people here do."

She stands up, setting the book down on the coffee table, and walks over to a huge arcade machine. The song "Stomp To My Beat" is playing quietly in the background, and upon closer inspection we can tell that this is a 3rd Mix DDR machine.

"Y'see Phoenix, I learned to fight in bars. My best skill? Boxing. Now, half of boxing is in the foot work. A lot of people don't realize it, but foot work can be the key to victory. It's always best to train every single part of your body equally, but a lot of kids here like to strengthen their arms without working out their legs. I don't expect you to be one of them, but if you think you're full of surprises, just wait until you go up against me. I think you might be in for more than you bargained for."

She goes back over to her seat, and picks up her book. Underneath it, she sees a PWA Magazine. On the front page is a picture of Draven, from his match with Raizzor. She looks at it apprehensively, and motions for the camera to cut. The camera man says “okay!”, but he continues to film Sandra as she gets up from her seat and walks over to the phone.

“…yeah, Mark? Yeah. Oh, I’m fine, just finishing up a promo for Phoenix. … Well sure, it’s going to be a close match I’ll bet, but I can pull this off. I haven’t stopped training on the same degree I did with Protean, so I should be well prepared. … Uh huh. Right. … Yeah, listen… there’s something important I need to tell you. … What? … No no, nothing like that… it’s… it’s just that… can I talk to you in private? It doesn’t feel right to say this over the phone. … Yeah. … Yeah, okay. I was just going out for a run, so I should have enough time afterwards to shower and meet you there. … Yeah. See you then. … Love you too.”

Sandra hangs up the phone, and looks a little nervous. She looks around, and grabs a water bottle before heading outside and running down the block.

Johnny Phoenix #2

*Scene opens on Johnny Phoenix walking through the Bellagio Hotel & Casino in Las Vegas, NV. He has Ashley with him, and they are walking from the Cirque du Soleil theater. As they pass table after table of people winning and losing, Ashley suddenly stops at a roulette table. Johnny doesn't realize at first, but looks behind him and sees her placing a bet. He rushes back to her*

Johnny: Come on, Ash. These games are all a rip off. The odds are stacked so high against you, its not worth the risk.

Ashley: Its ok, Johnny. I know what I'm doing. And if you know what's good for you, you'll bet the same numbers that I do..

Johnny: Is that a fact? Alright, here's the deal, I'll bet with you for one hand of roulette. If your number hits, we do whatever you want for the rest of the night. If mine hits, we leave the casino, and go do something where we don't just throw money away. Deal?

Ashley: Deal, now watch and learn.

*Ashley places a $100 chip on the number 24. Johnny does the same. As the dealer spins the wheel, and rolls the ball.*

Johnny: I hope you know what you're doing.

Ashley: Don't worry. I'm usually pretty good at this.

*The dealer waves his hand over the table indicating that bets are closed. As the ball begins to slow, it bounces all around the wheel. Finally, it takes one last hop, and lands in its place*

Dealer: 24!

Ashley: I told you I knew what I was doing.

Johnny: Holy crap! How did you do that?

Ashley: Just luck I guess. Now that pays out 36 to 1. That equals $3600. How about that?

Johnny: Thats outstanding! Now can we leave?

Ashley: Leave? I don't think so. Your deal was that if we win, we do what I want for the rest of the night. I want to gamble.

Johnny: Alright, what game do you want to play now?

Ashley: Same game. We're gonna let it ride on the next hand.

Johnny: No way! Are you kidding me? $3600 on one hand? You're nuts. Absolutely, certifiable.

Ashley: Come on, Johnny. Where's your sense of adventure?

Johnny: $100 is an adventure, $3600 is just plain dumb. Do you know what the odds are of hitting twice in a row?

Ashley: Probaby pretty bad. But we're gonna do it. Dealer, we'd like to let this bet ride for the next hand.

Dealer: I'm sorry Miss, but that would be over the table limit.

Johnny: Ya hear that, honey? Looks like its time to go.

Ashley: Hang on a minute. Sir, could you please call over the pit boss, please.

Dealer: Certainly, ma'am.

*The dealer asks the pit boss to come to his table. The big man in the custom suit walks over to listen to the situation.*

Pit Boss: What seems to be the problem, ma'am?

Ashley: Well, we just hit for $3600, and we would like to let it ride on the next hand. I know that your table limit is lower than that, but we were wondering if you'd be able to make an exception. Tell you what. We'll even bet the same number again. How about that?

Pit Boss: Ma'am, I am going to have to advise you that this is a very risky bet.

Johnny: No kidding. Betting again is bad enough, but the odds are astronomical that the same number will hit twice in a row.

Ashley: I know the risk, sir. And if you'll allow it, we'll be placing our bets now.

Pit Boss: Its your funeral, lady. Dealer, I'll allow it.

Dealer: Very good, sir. Table is open for bets.

*Ashley puts her stack on 24, and moves Johnny's stack next to it. By now they've accumulated quite the crowd around the table. No one else makes a bet and the dealer waves his hand once again. Johnny can't bear to watch, and as he is walking away, he hears a loud roar from the crowd, and lots of clapping and cheering. He turns around to see Ashley jumping up and down. He hurries back over to the table. As he peers into the wheel, he sees the little white ball resting in the 24 slot.*

Ashley: We did it Johnny!! Can you believe it? We beat the odds!

Johnny: Oh my god! You have got to be kidding me! We just won $129,600 each!! Thats amazing! How did you do it? Wait...I don't want to know. Ashley, I feel like the luckiest man in the world right now.

Ashley: Hang on, Johnny. We've got to collect now.

Pit Boss: Congratulations, miss and sir. We will have your marker ready at the cage.

*Johnny and Ashley walk to the cash cage nearest them. When they get there, the cashier has a huge smile on her face.*

Cashier: Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Phoenix. That was quite some luck out there.

Ashley: Actually, its not Mr. and Mrs. Its Mr. Johnny Phoenix and Ms. Ashley Combs. But, yes it was some good luck out there. Thank you.

Cashier: We are just waiting for your checks to be printed, but if you'd be so kind, there are some tax forms to fill out.

Johnny: No problem. Ashley, I think we need to talk....after this is all over.

Ashley: Sure, Johnny. You've got it.

*Ashley and Johnny hand the filled out forms to the cashier, and she hands them checks in the amount of $129,600. They receive an armed escort out of the casino, courtesy of the Pit Boss. When they get outside, Johnny leads Ashley over to the Venetian. They talk on the way*

Johnny: How could you do that? Go up against the odds like that? That takes a special....I don't know what, but its special.

Ashley: Well, Johnny, its really no different from what you do every week. You go up against people who are sometimes bigger, sometimes stronger, sometimes more experienced. A lot of the times you get in the ring the odds are stacked against you. From people telling you that you'll never do it, the critics discounting you before you even step into the ring. But each week you shatter the odds. You don't care about them. You just go out there and do whatever it takes to get the win. Something I have learned from you is that odds are irrelevant if you truely believe that you can beat them.

Johnny: Wow, I never looked at it that way before. But I guess you're right. I do go against the odds every week. But one day that will change. I will be the one favored to win. I am going to prove myself to everyone in the wrestling world. I will do whatever it takes.

*Just then they arrive in the front of The Venetian. This particular resort has gondolas that run around and through the building. Johnny leads Ashley over to the loading area. Johnny gets in first to help Ashley down. As she steps in, she slips and falls into Johnny's arms.*

Ashley: Oh, Mr. Phoenix...my hero.

Johnny: Thats really funny. I thought you were a goner, I almost lost ya there.

Ashley: I had faith that you'd catch me.

Johnny: Alright, lets just enjoy this ride.

Ashley: I'm sure I will.

*She cozies up next to Johnny. He puts his arm around her*

Johnny: Do you really believe that I can do all that stuff you said before?

Ashley: I do, Johnny. I see in you things I haven't ever seen before. There is a passion, even a fire that I can see burning in your eyes. Most people don't have anything they are that passionate about. It says something about you when you just exude a certain energy. Its almost contagious, you know?

Johnny: Well, Ashley, I want to tell you something. I have felt like a new man since I met you. Before, all I had was wrestling. Now that you are in my life, I have two things I wake up for everyday. Its almost like each of my loves make me love the other more than I thought possible. I want to accomplish everything I set out to do, but I want to do it with you by my side the entire way.

Ashley: Johnny, of course I'll be there with you. I won't leave you out there alone.

Johnny: I don't think you are quite getting what I'm saying.

*The gondola is slowly passing underneath a pedestrian walkway over the "river". There are people standing all around, just looking at the beauty of the Las Vegas strip. Johnny slowly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a little box.*

Johnny: Ashley, with you in my life, it feels like anything is possible. Like I can accomlish even the most lofty of goals. Like even if I fall as I am climbing to that goal, you're my safety net. Ashley Combs, I am asking you to marry me.
*Johnny opens the box to reveal a 4 carat diamond ring.*

Ashley: Oh, Johnny. We've only been together for 2 weeks, I don't know what to say.

Spectator on Bridge: Say yes for crissakes, the man loves you!

Johnny: Yeah, what she said.

Ashley: And I love him...er you. Yes Johnny I will marry you.

*They embrace and kiss. The crowd on the bridge applaud, and shout encouraging words to the love struck couple below. The boat pulls back into the staging area, and the man working the gates helps them out. Once on dry land again, they hold each other close again. There is a look in they're eyes that ooks like pure, unbridled love.*

Johnny: I truely AM the luckiest man on the planet right now. I've got a pocket full of money and the most beautiful woman in Las Vegas is going to be my wife. Could life get any better?

Ashley: Well, you'll just have to wait until we get home to find out, now won't you?

*Screen fades as Johnny hails a cab and they get in*

Gregory Littlebear #1

Fade in.

Gregory is benchpressing in a gym. Brian sits nearby, reading the New York Times. Every so often, he spares a glance to Gregory. "...sir?"

"Yeah?"

Brian clears his throat. "Um... so... how are you?"

Gregory continues to benchpress.

"...sir?"

Gregory sets the weights down on it's pegs. "Brian, I lost."

"I know, sir.."

"It's not a good idea to lose, in the PWA," he says as he picks up a towel, and wraps it around his shoulders. "People who lose too often are doomed to obscurity. I've already got points against me for being a minority, y'know."

"Oh, sir... I really don't think--"

"No no, it's true!" He sighs. "I'm kinda gimmicky. These other guys who usually win are all cut from the same cloth, y'know? Big, anglo, long hair... but the moment you throw some pepper in the salt, things get shook up!"

Brian clears his throat again. "Well... I know how you feel."

"Really?"

"Well, I am Jewish..."

"Oh, right!" Gregory claps Brian on the back. "Almost forgot, ya little Zion! Heh, well, can't blame anyone for losing but myself, but I will not lose again. That Cody Galle guy's got nothing. He's drunk half of the time, and the other half he's babbling incoherently."

"Speaking of which, sir, did you ever find out?"

"...what?"

"Whether or not you're... you know..."

"What, gay?" Gregory thinks back. "Y'know, I'm gonna have to go with no. No I'm not. If I was gay, I'd want to stick my sausage in your plumbing, and the idea just doesn't appeal to me. Now the other way around? Hm.. still no. Now boobs. Boobs are where it's at! We need to find some boobs after my workout. Where can I find some boobs?"

"Oh sir," Brian says with a chuckle. "You're encouragable..."

"Hey, your wife's got boobs!"

"Sir!!"

"Oh right, Jewish! You guys don't share... well, let me finish up here and we'll go boob shopping, huh?"

Brian mutters. "Women are more than just boobs, sir..."

"You're right!" Gregory says, looking suddently enlightened. "They also cook!"

Fade out as Brian slaps his forehead.

Cody Galle #1

Cody Galle sat in a hotel room. It was actually a fairly nice atmosphere, and not the dump one would expect someone like Galle to be seen in. The curtains hung limply from the windows, skewering the view of the city that was the main attraction of the room. The lights dimly illuminated the room just enough so that you could see where you were going. It was a calm, peaceful place…

…and Galle hated it.

He had just finished showering and had gone to check for messages on his cell phone. He had rather liked the idea of a week off but apparently, that was just thrown out the window.

A match…with that Littlebear guy again?[/]

To be frank, Galle was not in fighting condition. He had nearly broken a rib attempting that shooting star press, and to make matters worse, he was hit with The Rise of the Phoenix only five seconds afterward. His stomach and rib area was heavily bandaged and he’d had trouble breathing for a few days after the match.

[I]Hey, what’s this? The match is a number one contender’s match for the Grizzly Beer Championship! Just one thing…

Galle thought hard but couldn’t come up with an answer.

What the hell is a Grizzly Beer Championship? Was that the only fight that came before three rookies fighting?

Galle shrugged it off and continued to read the message. It was the usual, where to be, how early to be there, yadda yadda…

Galle yawned and threw the cell phone down on the bed. He put on some casual clothes and finally decided it was worth showing up for rampage. He went to find his video camera, which lay hap-hazardly shoved into his gym bag. He took the camera out, and placed it in front of the bed.

Galle yawned again. He needed sleep, badly.

Right after this, I’m hitting the hay.

Galle sat on top of the bed, the springs protesting loudly about his weight. A quality bed, this was not, but it would have to do. The springs could be seen poking through even the thick comforter, which was a dark red colour. Galle sighed and pressed the record button on the remote, which in turn activated the camera, which in it’s turn began recording a rather sleepy Galle.

“Listen, PWA. It’s freakin’ 11:25 pm at night, and I honestly have half a mind to just shut this damn thing off now and go to sleep…but I’m not going to.”

Galle smiled drowsily, fidgeting with a strand of his long hair for a second before continuing.

“Not to let you guys get any ideas…I’m not doing any of this for you. I just want to get some things off my chest…”

Like all the bruises, for example.

“First things first. Johnny Phoenix…congratulations, man. If there is one thing I can respect about you, it’s that…wait a second, there’s nothing I respect about you! All you can do is your crazy one million degree twisting flipping back moonsault corkscrew plancha’s. You know who else can do that? Gymnasts! Circus folk! You see, it takes real talent to actually wrestle. You know, submission holds? Maybe a little bit of cheating when no one’s looking? Ah, but I’m getting off the real subject of this interview. Johnny…if you ever want to lock up again…it’s on, bro.”

Galle gave the thumbs up, which seemingly sapped him of all energy as he groggily continued on.

“That brings us to you, Littlebear. My other opponent…the man who just lay down instead of breaking up the pin that ended the match. I can’t say I blame you, though. Ending a match probably beats having to be in the ring with me any longer.”

I intend to prove that, too…

“As far as you and I go, I think we’re not bitter enemies. We worked together in the Choose Your Destiny match, however short that alliance lasted, and hell, maybe we can team up some other time, if you learn how to be a bit more lenient with your rule breaking, that is.”

Galle bounced on the bed a bit, showing a bit of youthful enthusiasm. The will to fight and to persevere drove him onward, beating back his weariness.

“This Saturday at Rampage, though? It’s going to be a different story altogether. Once I get in that ring with you, there won’t be a third person to save you. There won’t be some crazy corkscrew jump to end the match. It’s only going to be you, me, and the referee in that ring…and once I get you cornered, it only takes one simple ‘accidental’ twist when I look in the Fishhooks to break your neck and end your career. Your future has fallen solely into my hands and the odds are stacked against you, bro. I’m out there to prove myself, and if I have to end a few promising careers than so be it. Sacrifices have to be made, you know…and once I stand over you’re broken and lifeless body…I’ll laugh. I’ll laugh because I know I’m better, I’m stronger, and I’m luckier, too. So this Saturday at Rampage, Littlebear, I’m not coming for the number one contendership.”
Galle inhaled deeply, his rant taking a lot of his breath away.

“I’m coming for you…and you’re going to crap…out.”

Galle smirked and shut off the camera. He’d send it in to the PWA office tomorrow, but for now, he needed sleep.

I’m going to prove myself this Saturday…one damn way, or another.

Gregory Littlebear #2

Fade in.

Gregory is at a bar. Brian is sitting beside him, and there is crazy techno music pumping in the background. There are a lot of men and women dancing, and everyone seems to be having a good time. Gregory is wearing a red polo shirt and slacks, Brian, hus usual suit. His size makes him stand out, but moreso is the fact that he's girl-less. There's a Grizzly Beer in his hand, which he's taking short swigs from.

"Hey, what about that one?"

Brian sighs. "Sir, I don't think--"

"Hey! Hey you! in the pink! How about a dance?"

Get lost, loser! The girl retorts.

Gregory looks to be deep in thought. He turns to Brian. "It seems that our hero is in a bit of trouble here, Brian."

Brian looks at him, annoyed. "Well maybe if you were a bit more polite to them, sir--"

"Not the boobs, chum! The match! Our hero has a match between himself, and a very very cocky young man. Hm..." He strokes his chin, which incidentally, is clean shaven. "Perhaps we should work out a new strategy... this man seems to be all about the submission holds. Perhaps he learned something about that from the men at the last bar we were at. They seemed keen on teaching me those particular techniques."

"Sir, I don't think they were--, wait, why do you keep saying 'our hero'?"

Gregory grins. "Because, chum, I'm the underdog here. I'm the one who's going to rise atop the flames of opression! This Galle is a foul mouthed villain, and I, the hero of the story, am going to beat him. However, to do that, I need to act more heroic. Hey, baby! Want some penis with that shake??"

A purse zooms past Brian, and strikes Gregory squarely in the head. Seconds later, a girl comes up to retrieve it. Ass...
Brian looks forelorn. "Sir, I can help you to come up with a strategy, but if you want to act heroic, you should try speaking to Galle. The way he did with you, you know? Let him know that you're waiting for him. Ready for him! Let him see the hero that you are."

"That... that was beautiful, Brian."

"Thank you sir."

"...could you write what I should say?"

"Mr. Littlebear--!"

"Haha, just joking, just joking, here," he hands Brian the beer he was holding. "Alright, Galle. You want me to talk to you, probably. So here I go.

"I'm talking to you.

"Cody Galle.

"The guy I'm going to fight.

"So you think that I ended the match so I wouldn't have to fight you anymore, huh? Well... y'know, you may have something there. Fact is, I don't really remember what happened. It was a tough match, all around. The fact is though, you lost just as much as I did. We're evenly matched, you and I. We have similar styles. The only thing that we don't have in common is the fact that you're pretty quick to delve into the future, and tell me what's going to happen.

"Cody... do you know what's going to happen?"

He smiles at the camera. "I'm going to beat you. Fair and square. I'm going to climb in that ring, and beat you. I'm going to destroy those tiny little dreams of yours. Those tiny little ideas that you have, where you think you could possibly beat me. Why? Because I'm the hero. You're the villain. I'm the good guy, you're the bad guy. I'm the guy who trains hard all day, you're the guy who gets drunk and sleeps all day. I win; you lose. That's what's going to happen. And if it doesn't? Hell is going to freeze over, and I'll have to send you there to send me a postcard."

He takes back his beer. Brian looks dumbfounded for a second. "Hey sir, why the sudden interest in heroes, anyway?"

"Superman is out, today! And everyone loves Superman. Chicks dig Superman, even!"

Brian looks skeptical. "You think so?"

"I'll prove it." Gregory whistles. "Hey! Hey blonde! Do you like Superman?"

Screw you, 'tard!

He shrugs. "She must be gay or something. Hey! I have an idea... lets head to the gym for some late night practice!"

"But sir, the gym is close--"

"Not for me, it isn't!" He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a key. There is a keychain hanging from it that says "Bud".

"Sir... who's Bud?"

"Doesn't matter anymore!" Gregory says, as he grabs Brian by the collar and drags him out.

Cody Galle #2

Cody Galle sat, legs crossed, stunned at what he had just seen. He had found himself a copy of Littlebear’s latest ‘adventure’ and had decided upon watching it.

Bad idea.

What…the hell…was that?

Galle wore a confused expression on his face as he ejected the tape from his television. The camera focused on him for a second before it cut out to the room he was currently residing in. It was more like a small storage room, really. Galle had a bed…well, a clean mattress…well, he had a mattress on the ground to sleep on, and a television off in the corner complete with a video game system and DVD player. That was about it…

…actually, that was all the space the room had.

Galle smiled, beaming at the camera before his expression changed to confusion once more. He brushed back one of the strands of hair that had fallen on his face and then rather suddenly threw the tape across the room into the wall, which would have broken the tape if the entire width of the room hadn’t been roughly six or seven feet.

Galle sighed at his misfortune. He had chosen to get back into shape and to do that, he had decided, he would need to live in a gym. After all, when he was up late drinking and needed to take aggression out on someone, a wrestling dummy could do in a pinch. Oh…

…and he could learn a thing or two. If, you know, he wanted…

The gym manager had surprisingly not needed to be convinced. Having a wrestler train and live in his gym was good for business. The only thing he wanted was for Galle to teach a wrestling class, maybe once every two weeks or so when he came back into town. Galle had quickly agreed, eager to find a place he didn’t need to pay to sleep in every night.

And that was how Galle had gotten to where he was…through a bit of sheer luck, as always.

Galle shrugged off the failed dramatic attempt and stared straight into the camera.

“I know you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m in this dump…and that’ll be explained in due time, friends…but first, let me ask something. Where on earth is Gregory Littlebear even from? How do you not know how to pick up chicks? Or how do you have no clue which way you swing? I mean…this is all very basic stuff. I pick up chicks via my astounding good looks and my stunning physique, and I know which way I swing because, well, I pick up chicks!”

The analogy had sounded better in his head…

“To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if it turns out Littlebear really is a super zero from Krypton, or something. That would explain a few things, actually. Like how completely clueless he is in every real-life situation…”

Galle thought for a moment or two.

“I’m sort of worried…not about myself, of course, but for Littlebear. I think he’s taking me slightly to lightly…and that’s a mistake. If there’s one constant in the betting on wrestling world…it’s Cody Galle. The King of Gambling. The Master of Luck. The Gambling Guardian…if you want to play that super hero game Littlebear seems to be playing, anyways. As far as I’m concerned, Littlebear is walking straight into his own death sentence, and it’s fine with me…so long as I get that shot at the Grizzly Bear Championship. However…if anything goes wrong…anything at all…I will shove my poker chip so far up your…well, you know the rest, I assume.”

I’m on a roll, baby!

“You see, I claim I’m a master of submission holds and that will hold true…and not the submission holds you know, Littlebear. I save those for women, and I’d advise you to do the same…or at least wait until after I’m far away from you.”

Galle gestured that he was almost done.

“I’m the Lex Luthor to your Superman, and Littlebear…I’ve got a whole boatload of kryptonite, bro. And if you still think, after all this, that you’re going to win…wanna make a bet?”

Galle smirked as the camera faded out.

Gregory Littlebear #3

Fade in.

Gregory is working out his legs on some gym equipment, lying on his back, and pushing the weight up and down. He's sweating pretty hard, but Brian is close by with a towel.

"You know, funny thing about this Galle guy..." he says between grunts. "He says I'm not taking him seriously, but have you ever seen him work out?"

Brians shrugs. "Maybe he doesn't like to do it on camera, sir."

"Exactly!" Gregory continues to pump his legs up and down, the movements becoming increasingly slower as we see him struggle against the weight. "It's my thought that maybe he has some sort of secret plan! I've been training for his submission holds, which he enjoys bragging about... but what if there's something else? Something I won't expect? Like some sort of doomsday device?"

Brian shakes his head. "I think he's just trying to psyche you out, sir."

"Well, he is a handsome man. I'm sure that won't be too hard."

Brian sputters. "W-what??"

"Haha! Joking, Brian! Yes, this Cody Galle is a formidable foe..." Greg says while setting the weight on it's pegs, and giving himself a break. "But I have a feeling he's bit off a bit more than he can chew. He seems to think I'm your average run-in-the-mill competator. The truth is, I'm his words nightmare. I think he's afraid of what will happen when I win. He's just going to end up another jobber, like King Agony."

"Those are tough words, sir. Are you going to take up mister Galle on his bet?"

"Hm..." He scratches his head. "I suppose it would be cowardly if I didn't. Of course, I could be the better man and say screw it, but where's the fun in that! I'll tell you what, Galle,"

He turns and faces the camera.

"Give me your terms. I'm going to bet something important, so I expect you to do the same. I'll wager you Brian here," hepoints to his manager. "For an entire month. He's good. Good with accounting, managing, all the good stuff. Now, if you can bet something even remotely close to his worth, we've got a deal."

Brian looks dumb struck. "...sir, I don't know if I'm comfortable with--"

"Don't worry, Brian! Number one, I'm going to win. And number two?" He grins. "Galle doesn't have anything remotely close to being worth as much as you are. Ha!"

Fade out as Gregory walks over to the free weight stand.

Alex Wilkie #1

Lean Bean Miller: Ladies and Gentlemen, my guest at this time is the man who fought an incredible battle at Genesis this Sunday, but came just short of a victory. Please welcome, Alex Wilkie.

The camera pulls out slowly to show a battered and bruised Alex, his face is taped up and stitched here and there, and even across his arms are all taped up and one was even held in a sling.

Lean Bean Miller: Now, Alex, I know you’re in a lot of pain, so we’ll get through this quick. My first question is, how does it feel to lose, after coming so close last night at Genesis. Even though you told the world you would over come the odds stacked against you.

The camera shifts over to Alex who’s head hangs for a moment and then brings it back up.

Alex: How do I feel? How do I feel, Miller? I feel like complete and utter shit! Do you know what its like to say something and have those same words shoved right back into your mouth. I’m sure you’d know about things being shoved in your mouth.

Lean Bean Miller: Well I…

Alex: Be Quite, I had Brymstone, I had him in my grasps and I was going to put him in the ambulance but he blind sided me and threw me in there! And just as I was on my way out, Chamelion, out of no where super kicks Brymstone in the jaw and knocks him back onto me and knocks me unconscious. Then Brymstone makes it out the side door!

Alex held the back of his neck with his good, hand, wincing a bit in pain.

Alex: So to answer your question with a simple, I feel like shit, will suffice.

Lean Bean Miller: So what you’re saying is, that it wasn’t Brymstone’s fault you lost, it was Chamelion’s fault.

Alex sighed for a second and tried to adjust the bandages on his right arm.

Alex: What I’m saying is, Chamelion stuck his nose in where it didn’t belong. He came out to “Screw” Brymstone, because he’s teamed with Draven. Which I think is a damn stupid reason to even think about coming out, let alone interfering in the match.

Lean Bean Miller: Alright, well actually what I am here to talk about is your match at Rampage this Saturday night, the Who’s the Man Qualifier, you vs. XTC, a high profile match, PWA’s rising star vs. a PWA veteran, what are your thoughts on this match.

Alex: Well. To tell you the truth Miller, I thought because of my big match at Genesis, I was going to get the night off, but nope, I guess Chamelion doesn’t flush when he fills his head with bullshit. If he would clean out his head once in awhile he would know that I am in pain, I can barely walk, let alone compete in a Who’s the Man Qualifier match against a man I respect, but also a man who also got beat down and bruised at Genesis.

Lean Bean Miller: So you have no problem facing your opponent but you have a problem with the match?

Alex: Did you not just listen? I have a problem with being on Rampage this week period.

Alex held the bridge of his nose for a few moments and then let go taking in a deep breath.

Alex: No, Actually I have a problem with a lot of shit right now, and this weeks Rampage is just making it worse. I mean, to tell you the truth, I really wasn’t expecting myself to lose at Genesis. We are Human after all. And my body reached its limitations.

He sighed and looked at the cuts and bruises on his arms.

Alex: My body gave out on me, once I was in that ambulance, I knew I couldn’t continue, it was over. No but you see this month is going to be different, I’m going to train harder then ever for Who’s the Man, I’m going to show anyone who crosses my path, that I AM a force to be reckoned with! And that goes same for XTC, he may be the PWA’s biggest drug, or so I’ve heard, but that won’t stop me from beating him down and knocking him right of the tournament brackets.

Alex looked into the camera and grinned.

Alex: Why? Because I’m that fucking good! In the words of one of my idols. IT’S TRUE! IT’S DAMN TRUE! XTC, I’ll show you what its like to go up the Baddest Rising Star in PWA today, I’ll show you No mercy, No Remorse, No End, I’ll put you in so much pain XTC, you’ll tap before I will even apply a hold.

Alex lifted up his index finger for a second.

Alex: I come from a long line of Canadian Wrestlers. Some think I’m just gonna be another Wrestler out of Canada trying to be American. No, actually, I’m going to be as big as Bret Hart, as big as Chris Benoit, Christian, Edge, You, XTC, You’ll go down as another win on my list… and no one will stop me this time not even…

Alex looked ahead of him off the camera.

Alex: Speak of the Devil…

The camera shifts and a huge pop from the crowd sounded through the whole arena as Chamelion walks into the scene.

Alex: Now what the fuck…

Chamelion: You watch your tone, Kiddo! Look, I’ve heard what you’ve been saying; about me sticking my nose in where it doesn’t belong…

Alex: And what, you’ve come to tell “Hey You’ve still gotta do that match! GOT IT?”

The crowd laughed as Alex has his feeble attempt at mocking the PWA President. Chamelion just raises his eyebrow and waits a moment. Sighing, he shakes his head.

Chamelion: Well, actually, what I really wanted to say was; I’m sorry.

Chamelion offers his hand.

Alex: Sorry for what?

Chamelion: Well, like you said, it wasn’t my place to get into your match. So, Sorry.

Alex seems a bit taken back at this sudden gesture of kindness from Chamelion, however he ponders Chamelion’s words. Shrugging, he reaches out and grasps Chamelion’s hand and they shake. Alex looks disgruntled, however but replies.

Alex: Apology accepted… I guess…

Chamelion: Oh and one last thing.

Alex looks at him, quizzically.

Chamelion: Your still in that Qualifying match on Saturday…GOT IT?!

Chamelion walks away, as Alex looks at him, he shakes his head and Walks off the screen slowly, lean bean miller stands on the floor, looking a bit confused. The scene fades slowly.

Synthasia #1

Fade in.

Scene opens. A darkened room, the only light being provided by a single dull bulb that hung at the center of the crumbling ceiling. The walls too, were crumbling, with cracked pink paint chipping away, and in some spots, revealing the brown sheeting that covers the sheet-rock...there were even some places where the wall had been smashed in...not completely, but leaving large, crushing dents scattered about...

A very attractive room, to say the least.

At it's center (as it was otherwise devoid of any furniture) sat the massive Tomb from the Seven Gates of Hell match at Genesis Sever, now just hours passed. It was shackled shut, with massive bolted chains hanging all over it.

A top the Tomb, sat a very attractive (I'd bang her, personally, but that's just me...) woman...her clothing was very revealing, and all pink, and left just enough to the imagination to piss us all off.

She sat there, pouting and twirling her hair for a brief while, allowing us all a moment to take this all in, before she speaks up, all innocent like---

"It's really a crying fucking shame with what happened to your brother and all, Mrs. Macabre...ah, to hell with the formalities...we should be like family, ya know? As close as your brother and I use to be..."

She pats the Tomb beside her.

"...it is so good to have him back. Back where he belongs...back with ME. So good, in fact, that I'm starting to doubt that you or anyone else will ever see him again...Awww, but don't you start crying on me just yet...and don't you worry...I'll take good care of him for you. I'll feed him...give him water...take him out for walks every now and again...well, maybe, if he's good...Good as in---well, you can probably figure that much out for yourself, hm?"

She lets out an innoscent schoolgirl half laugh half giggle, before proceeding.

"As a fellow woman, you probably know how hard it is to come across people that know what they're doing...I've heard you've been around the block a couple times yourself---which reminds me...how's the boys? They doin ok? Quite well I hope....and their father?"

She frowns slightly. Then snaps out.

"Uh, no sweetie...I mean their real father...ya know, the one you fucked behind your husbands back, and like is typical of cheap whores, got pregnant...remember now? Don't worry, though...we all have our little secrets...including your brother here...he's got a lot of little secrets that you don't know about...guess I was one of them. But now that we've met, I'm Synthasia, by the way...so nice to finally meet you!"

She smiles, batting her eyebrows...then, as suddenly as her smile appears, it's replaced with an even deeper frown.

"Yeah, so now that we've met, I've come to offer my assistance in your family affairs...help liven things up a bit...bring everyone together...you, and brymstone, and myself and your brother, together as one big ass happy family!"

"Curious? Confused?"

"Just keep watching bitch, because I haven't even begun to toy with you!"

She waves goodbye as the scene fades out.

Nina Daemon Macabre #1

The scene opens inside of a kitchen. Daemon is wearing her usual burgundy business suit, and her hair is done in the usual elaborate hairstyle. The difference is, today, she’s standing at the stove. She’s wearing a white apron. She’s actually cooking something, and by the looks of it, she seems to be cooking an entire meal. The oven’s light is on, and we get a shot of a medium sized bird roasting inside. On the stove, she seems to be cooking something green. There is a salad on the counter. She takes a break from stirring, as a hand reaches up and tugs on her apron.

“…what are you doing?”

Daemon looks down, and sees Joseph. He’s a good looking young boy, even at just five years old. He has bright blue eyes, and platinum hair. His skin is very fair, and there are signs of sunburns on his cheeks. Unlike his twin brother, Ashram Jr., he isn’t very strongly built. He actually looks rather frail. “I’m cooking dinner, darling.”

“Isn’t that Gonji’s job?” The boy asks, while seating himself upon one of the stools.

With a calm smile, Daemon pats his head. “Gonji’s busy, tonight. He’s out.”

Joseph looks down, fiddling with his hands. “Has he gone to look for uncle Eric?”

“No, sweety,” Daemon says casually, getting back to work. “I know where your uncle is. Don’t worry, he’ll be alright.”

Joseph sits and watches Daemon, as she continues to prepare dinner. After a few moments, a young Japanese male walks into the kitchen. He’s wearing a black suit, with white gloves. “Daemon-san,” he says with a thick accent. “I have been asked to give you this, from my grandfather.”

She takes a letter from his hands, and opens it. She reads over it casually, her lips parted just slightly. Once she’s finished, she hands it back to the young man. “Thank you, Kato. I’ll be sure to work these into my plans.”

Daemon continues cooking, but Kato looks at her strangely. He and Joseph exchange looks. “Uhm, ma’am, if I may be so bold…”

“Yes?”

He swallows hard. “Uhm… don’t you think you should… say something about this woman? The one who has Draven-san? She has insulted you, and your children. I did not think you would take it lightly.”

Daemon turns to Kato. The ends of her mouth are turned upwards, and she’s smiling darkly. “Oh, you’ve much to learn Kato… you see, things that she does, they are for lower people. Insulting people, bringing up things in one’s past. Why should I lower myself to her base level? She can’t even dress herself properly. Do you really think my brother can’t handle something like her?”

“But, Daemon-san…” He continues, nervously. “She said that… she and your brother--”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Kato,” Daemon replies, patting him on the head the same was she did her son. “I don’t doubt that my brother has done things that I would not approve of, but then again, so have we all. Isn’t that right, Kotori?”

From the corner of the room, there stands a young woman. She is small and frail looking, almost to the extent of Joseph. Her hair is long, dark, and thin. Her skin has a yellowish tint, and as she turns to look at Daemon from the cutting board (where she was preparing potatoes), we can see that her face looks hollow and malnourished. Kotori nods. “Ma’am?”

“I think Eric is having a difficult time, Kotori,” Daemon explains. “What do you think we should do?”

Kotori looks at Daemon and Kato, her expression forlorn. It is then that we notice her neck and wrists are littered with bruises. She turns back to her work, but it is obvious from her breathing that she is crying. “I don’t know, ma’am.”

“Well, I do,” Daemon says, her smile fading. “Kato, don’t doubt me. This is one of those times when the things I do may seem a little… unorthodox. I’m going to have to ask you to trust me. Are we clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Kato says.

“Good. You’re excused.”

Kato leaves the kitchen, and Daemon turns back to the stove. She stirs the greens she’s been cooking, and speaks to Joseph. “Did you learn anything from that, son?”

Joseph looks up at his mother. “Never lower yourself to your enemy’s level? Always have a plan?”

Daemon smiles. “Good boy. Now… go and call your brother and father downstairs. Dinner is ready.”

The following bits occur right after Sandra RP #2

The scene shifts to the other side of the conversation, as Chamelion sets the reciever back down in the cradle. Biting his lip, his mind begins to run through scenarios of what his wife may have been talking about.

Looking at the clock, he knew she would be at least an hour and a half before showing up. Her voice sounded unnerved and he didn't like that.

Picking up the phone, he dialed a number by heart and waited for the other end to pick up.

"Hey, it's Mark Sommers. Yeah, back again, heh.... Hmm.. Yes, same order as before.... correct.... same address too.....right, right. Oh, add in a bottle of your finest wine as well, would ya?..... celebration?.... no, not really..... I just want to impress my wife..........*gets a bemused look on his face*..... Charlie, you don't know me that well to make such a crack!...... *laughs*... I'm just messing. Send it Asap, okay?.... yup, same credit card..... thanks!"

Hanging up, Chamelion begins to clean up the office, clearing the desk for the soon to be delivered food. He looks around for a moment and sighs loudly.

"There. Now all I need to do is not get an overly-active imagination!"

Sitting down in his chair, Chamelion flicked on the television to review this weeks promos for Rampage, while waiting for his wife to show.

Fade

Fade in to Sandra, as she pulls into PWA HQ on her red Harley Davidson Sportster. She's wearing her leathers over a pair of jeans and a PWA T-shirt, and takes off her helmet before walking inside. Once she gets to Mark's office she hesitates for a second, before pushing open the door.

"...hey, how are you--"

She stops once she sees what he's done. Theres a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket of ice, and two bags. "...aw, Mark, you didn't have to do all this," she said with a painful smile as she walked towards him. "This isn't the type of news you celebrate. Well, maybe... baybe it is, I don't know."

Chamelion looks at her, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I've been feeling guilty. About... something pretty important. And I couldn't tell you why, but it's killing me now, and damned if I break my promise, but we're talking about someone's life here!"

Chamelion looks like he might be angry, for a moment. "...alright, well, what is it?"

Sandra opens her mouth to speak, but notices the camera. "Wait. We can't do this. Not like this."

The camera cuts to static.

Synthasia #2

She sat there, along side the old priest.

The area was an old, empty warehouse...broken glass and various torn boxes and other trash cluttered the floor. Along the walls were the various broken out, brown and yellowed windows, with a few spray paint taggings here and there.

Synthasia sat on the floor beside the old man, wearing what appears to be a modified wedding dress, with most of the props , the lace and the ribbons, roughly removed from it, and completed with skull and crossbones stockings...no shoes. Her expression was that of a non-amusement...half despaired and half bored to tears. The priest, an old, balding, obese man, seated on a half rotted stool, wore the typical, traditional garb of the catholic priesthood... a long and flowing red robe accented with gold ribbons and ties.

She flashes us a quick "What the fuck are you looking at." glance, then turns her attention to the priest, whose expression was that of nothingness. A tired, old man, all but dead.

"Is it really necessary to keep him locked up in that box all the time? Ya know, I could easily convince him to stay..."

An expression of shock and rage overtakes the old man's face.

"Of course it is! Under no circumstance must he be let out! He's a mad man...sadistic. He'd come for all of us if he were set free!"

He pauses, thinking through his next choice of words...

"Child...you must forget completely about your past with this man. He is no use to you now. Lose what ever compassion you had in your heart, else the end result of this will crush you as well..."

She was confused. Confusion with a hint of worry.

"Crush me as well? Just what the hell did you think you were going to do to him?!"

"My child...this man must pay dearly for his sins. He has slain innocents, raped and brutalized, and all from the young age of sixteen. I myself barely escaped him! He must suffer, and no earthly punishment is great enough! Draven's fate lies in the hands of God, and God alone, so in God's hands we must place him!!"

And now a look of shock and rage from Synthasia, as she leaps up to her feet, her arms raised at her sides in protest.

"HEY! He's done NOTHING to anyone who didn't cross him first!! AND....I wouldn't be at all surprised if it was YOU that did most of that shit! I was wrong for ever agreeing to help you...to HELL with the money...I'm out!"

She turns to leave...just as a massive shadow overtakes her. She freezes, her eyes wide with that 'Deer in the headlight' look. Her mouth hangs slightly open, as she just stares on in fear. The Priest laughs in amusement.

"I've got to admit...you weren't lying when you said he told you secrets of his existance...but I don't think he told you everything there was to tell. You see, sweetheart, MY innocent factor is no matter in this situation. True, I might have been the one who raped and brutalized...but the records show that it was Draven...he never protested his innoscence...He never spoke much of anything back then...so the only two witnesses were myself and that poor little girl, to traumatized to speak up. So I had to give my own, personal account of the situation...telling of how he raped, cut and burned them...and then attempted to smash my skull in with a lead pipe. It was my word, against no one...for no one else would speak up...besides, I'm a man of the cloth...I'm innocent on all accounts regardless of personal guilt. I have forgiven myself countless times, after all. But Draven...he I shall not forgive. He shall die, and his knowledge of this apparent Truth he spoke so much about...this metaphysical 'Darkness' that he has willingly embraced...it all passes on to me."

He steps down, walking circles around her as she remained frozen in fear. He steps back, gripping her hair tightly and snatching her head backwards in a quick and violent motion.

"And, as for you...you are NOT OUT...but rather, you've just brought yourself even deeper...and reluctantly, against your will if you choose it so, you will stay and see this out to the end. That's why I've purchased the assistance of this massive beast of a man that's standing before you right now...To keep you inline...to keep things on track...to make sure that Draven STAYS in that tomb, and suffers for his sins against me. And your job? Simple. You keep his sister and distant family of in laws out of this...at whatever costs...In fact...I've taken it upon myself to arrange a match between yourself and Daemon Macabre at the next Rampage...I wouldn't lose if I were you, never mind what you must go through to win...I assure you the brutality you'll suffer at the hands of this man, afterwards, will be much worse...."

He jerks back, causing her to fall to the ground.

We fade out to the sound of the priest's hysterical laughed echoing throughout...

Brymstone #1

With that the scene cuts to static after Brymstone gets into a limo and drives off .