[As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing, the viewing audience is greeted by the sounds of silence. In the middle of the screen, white text slowly fades in. 32 Men The words fade away as a voiceover comes in over the blackness. 'To be a champion is to be at the peak of your game.' As the voiceover fades, two more words in white fill up the darkened screen. 16 Teams The words fade once more as the voiceover returns. 'To be a champion is to be among the elite of your peers.' The voiceover echoes out to nothing as the white text appears once more. 1 Winner Gone are the words as the voice returns. 'To be a champion is to be the very best at what you do.' A Champion 'To be a champion is to be on top of the world ' with everyone else looking to bring you down.' The final voiceover echoes to nothing. The dark screen remains for a moment as music slowly starts to build in the background. The music erupts as the screen changes. 'Working On A Dream' by Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band rocks over the graphic announcing exactly what we're watching: ********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** *** American Wrestling Alliance *** *** Proudly Presents *** *** *** *** BROKEN WISHBONES *** *** *** *** Live from the WKIK Studios *** *** Dallas, Texas *** *** November 27, 2008 *** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** From the opening graphic, we fade up into the jam-packed WKIK Studios in downtown Dallas, Texas, where the fans of the American Wrestling Alliance are going crazy, hootin' and hollerin' as the Springsteen song continues to play over the PA system. The squared circle sits in the middle of it all. Decked out in its' holiday finest, there appears to be brand new red, white, and blue ring ropes and turnbuckle pads to go with the canvas that is adorned with the AWA logo. The thin grey pads sit on the concrete surrounding the ring area. The camera zooms into the bleachers surrounding the ring, showing the wild AWA fans dressed in the gear of their favorite AWA superstars. As the camera pans to show more and more fans, the voice of Gordon Myers is heard.] GM: Good evening, fans, and a very Happy Thanksgiving to you all from all of us here at the American Wrestling Alliance as we welcome you to a very special edition of AWA television featuring all the stars of the AWA, _the_ major league of professional wrestling. [The camera cuts to reveal our announce duo. One man is clad in a dark black suit, white dress shirt, and red and white striped tie. He sports nicely-styled salt and pepper hair and a well-groomed moustache. He grips a wireless mic in his hand, grinning widely at the camera. In his late-50's and the epitome of professionalism, this man is Gordon Myers. By his side is the Announcer of the Mid Year, Bucky Wilde. Bucky is lightly slapping the side of a glitter-covered briefcase that rests atop the announce desk. Mr. Wilde is sporting a slightly-large gut that appears to be one turkey leftover away from busting the buttons on his eye-scorching orange dress shirt under a lime green jacket that makes you want him to get tested for color blindness. His black hair is cut into a bowl cut, showing a bit more style than usual. He flashly his freshly-whitened grin to the masses. They're standing in front of a bluish gray standard television studio set where you can see the AWA logo splashed across the wall above a small television monitor.] GM: I am Gordon Myers, your host for this exciting night of professional wrestling action. And by my side is... [Gordon pauses, looking expectantly at Bucky.] BW: Cat got your tongue, Gordo? GM: Isn't this when you usually interrupt me? BW: Not tonight, daddy-o. GM: Something else to be grateful for then. By my side, fans, is the Announcer of the Mid Year, Bucky Wilde! [There's a burst of cheers from a small section of the crowd, drawing a look of confusion from Gordon.] GM: Friends of yours? BW: The family's in town for Thanksgiving so I brought 'em here to get a free Thanksgiving dinner backstage. GM: Classy. BW: My mama enjoyed the cornbread but she thought the stuffing lacked a little something, Gordo. GM: I'll make a note of that. Your mother's opinion on the AWA staff's cooking aside, we're in for an exciting two nights of AWA action, Bucky, as we walk the road to crown the very first AWA National Tag Team Champions. BW: Sixteen teams have fought for months to earn a spot in the tournament that starts here tonight but by the time the weekend rolls around, only one team will be wearin' the gold, daddy. GM: The experts have been making their guesses all week. Any predictions, Bucky? BW: I predict that we're about to see a major upset cause I saw who is backstage to take that Mystery Team slot in our opening matchup and those goofballs in Rough N Ready are about to get their skulls busted and their behinds dusted, daddy! GM: You know who the team is? Who? BW: I'm sworn to secrecy on that one. You can find out with the rest of the peons out there. GM: Well, if you know, then surely our backstage reporter, Jason Dane does as well. Let's go back to Jason right now as he is standing by with Rough N Ready just moments before the first match in this big tag team tournament! [Cut to backstage, where we find Jason Dane standing in front of an AWA backdrop. Standing with him are the members of Rough N Ready... Eric Matthew Somers to his left, Sarah Sharpe to his right, with Dave Cooper next to Sarah.] JD: I'm here with the members of Rough N Ready... tonight, the tournament for the National tag team titles gets underway and the two of you are set to face a mystery team. What are your thoughts as you head into this match? EMS: A mystery team, eh? You know, I always loved a good mystery... and the fact is, I think I know what the answer to the mystery is going to be... and that's regardless of who it is, it's gonna be Dave and myself whipping on these guys and moving on to the next round, and having a grand old time doing it! JD: You are aware, though, Eric, that the AWA could have found just about anybody to fill that slot... some rumors are about that legendary teams like The Fraternity Boys, The Down Boys and The Epitome of Cool could be entered. EMS: Wow, Jason, you know your tag teams, don't ya? [Hearty laugh] Hey, if they did bring a blast from the past to take us on, all the better... it'll give us a chance to prove that we can hang with the legends... even if we happen to be older than they are. [Another hearty laugh] But regardless of who it is we are facing, Dave and I still have our sights set on those tag team titles, so legends or not we end up facing, we are going to hit 'em hard until they can't be hit no more... then we'll hit a little more for kicks before we finish the job. JD: But exactly how do you prepare for such a match when you don't know who your opponents might be? [Dave now motions to Jason, indicating he'll answer the question.] DC: Jason, what you and everyone else needs to understand is that, if you want to be the best tag team in the business, you have to be prepared for anything or anybody. You don't just train for a specific opponent... although I'm not gonna deny Eric and I would specifically like to get our hands on The Glamour Boyz at some point... but that aside, in a tournament like this, the preparations you make are to simply get ready for a tough battle, and to prove to yourselves and everyone else just who is destined to be the best tag team in the AWA... as proven by whoever walks out with those tag team titles around their waists. JD: You brought up The Glamour Boyz... you do realize it would not be until the semifinals that you would meet up with them, provided that you and the Boyz do make it that far. DC: And we realize that... and Jason, you know all about the trouble those two and that slime of a manager have caused us the past few months. When it comes to our problems with that trio, it's not about looking ahead... it's about keeping them in the back of our minds, because knowing those three, they're bound to try to cause us more trouble. Well, just a little message to Hoff and his young men... don't come looking for trouble from us, because you certainly don't want any of it from us any more! JD: Sarah, how do you believe your men will fare in this tournament? It does seem the expectations are high, considering you got the first spot and the top seed. SS: Jason, as Dave has said before, having the first spot in the tournament doesn't mean anything if you can't get it done in the ring... and ditto for getting the top seed. But I have all the confidence in the world in Eric and Dave... some may say they are getting up there in years, but they have demonstrated time and again that they know what it takes to get the job done. And they are going to continue to prove it can get the job done, by taking one step at a time in this tournament, until the tag team titles are in their possession. JD: Thank you so much for your time... Rough N Ready, ladies and gentlemen, will be set for tag team tourney action against a mystery team... let's take it up to the ring to Melissa Cannon to find out exactly who that team will be! ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * Rough N Ready vs ??? * ************************************************************************ [We fade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon has stepped into the middle. She's clad in a classy black dress that earns her a few catcalls from the rowdy crowd as the mic lowers from the ceiling to her waiting hand.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen... WELCOME TO BROKEN WISHBONES! [A big cheer goes up from the AWA faithful.] MC: The opening contest is a first round match in the tournament to crown the first AWA National Tag Team Champions! [Another big cheer.] MC: It is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... they are the Number One seed in this tournament. [The opening strands of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" kick in, the chords seemingly building anticipation for what is to come. And once the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's when Rough N Ready emerges from the entranceway.] MC: They hail from Albuquerque, New Mexico. At a total combined weight of 615 pounds and being accompanied to the ring by their manager, Sarah Sharpe... they are Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers... ROUGH N READY! [Dave Cooper wears black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white wrestling boots, and also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N Ready" in white lettering. Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and white wrestling boots. Standing in between them is their manager, Sarah Sharpe, dressed in black pants and matching jacket and a white T-shirt. The trio makes their way to the ring, Sarah walking in front with Dave and Eric side by side, Dave with a serious look on his face and Eric with a mischievous grin. They reach the ringside area, where Dave is the first to ascend the ring steps and duck between the ropes, followed by Eric, as Sarah takes her place at ringside.] GM: The Number One seed in this tournament and the team that you have to consider the favorites to win the whole thing, Bucky. BW: Maybe YOU have to consider them that but I'm going with someone else. GM: Who? BW: I'll let you know. Don't worry. But you can be sure it's not these goons and their floozy. GM: Bucky, what did Sarah Sharpe ever do to you? BW: I'd rather not discuss it. GM: Well, it's time to find out who that mystery team is. Let's go back up to Melissa. [Cut back to the ring.] MC: And their opponents... the #16 seed in the tournament... from Parts Unknown... at a total combined weight of 850 pounds... [The crowd buzzes at that stat.] MC: They are former EMWC World Tag Team Champions... SQUISH SQUASH! [The crowd buzz grows louder as a mammoth individual steps through the curtain. He's dressed in black full length tights that barely can contain his girth. His upper body is completely exposed - a disgusting sight for our viewers. Soon, he's joined by his twin brother - who we can only distinguish by his red tights. They exchange a flabby high-five and begin wobbling towards the ring where Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers are exchanging some strategy now that they know their opponents.] GM: Look at the size of these behemoths! BW: I told ya, Gordo! I told ya! Cooper and Somers don't stand a chance against these monsters! Not a chance! 850 pounds, daddy! GM: This certainly is a... big challenge for Rough N Ready. [The fleshy bodies of Squish and Squash manage to climb the ringsteps, stepping up on the apron.] BW: Look at Somers, Gordo. He's scared to death. He thought he was the big man on the block but now he's gotta get in there with these two behemoths. [Squish, who we know is Squish by the name stitched across his giant backside of tights, steps through the ropes into the squared circle. Referee Mickey Meekly steps over, giving him some words of instruction before turning to Dave Cooper and repeating the same.] GM: Some final words for both men - and there's the bell! [Cooper edges slowly out of the buckles, eyeing the massive Squish warily. Standing in the middle of the ring, Squish slaps a flabby arm against his fleshy chest and screams in Cooper's direction. Dave Cooper looks a bit anxious as he moves into a collar and elbow tieup - and then promptly gets shoved down to the mat as Squish strikes a big double bicep pose, showing absolutely no muscle tone at all.] GM: Whoa! Lots of power on display by Squish. BW: And old man Cooper doesn't stand a chance with that kind of power. He'll be back yelling at kids to get off his lawn before the night is over, daddy! [Slowly getting back to his feet, Cooper is very cautious as he moves back in on Squish, diving back into another tieup that soon finds him backpedaling into the corner as Squish puts his 450 pounds to work. With Cooper's back against the buckles, Squish turns slightly and throws a big backhand chop across the chest that knocks Cooper down to a knee in the corner. He yanks Cooper off the mat by the throat, delivering an overhand chop that echoes throughout the WKIK Studios. He arrogantly turns his back on Cooper, slowly walking across the ring - and giving Cooper an opportunity to strike. The wily veteran charges across the ring, leaping onto the back of Squish and attempting to apply a sleeperhold.] GM: Dave Cooper's fighting back! He's on the back of Squish, trying to get that sleeper locked in. BW: Getting a sleeper on would be a good strategy to wear down a big man but there's no way that Cooper can get the leverage on Squish to get the job done. GM: You might be right, Bucky. Squish is still on his feet, trying to escape. [Wheeling around to face away from his corner, Squish promptly lunges backwards, sandwiching Cooper between the turnbuckles and Squish's 450 pounds. With the wind knocked out of him, Cooper clings to the top rope to stay on his feet as Squish makes the first tag of the match.] GM: There's the tag to bring Squash into the match. BW: A doubleteam coming up and when these two stand next to each other, you'd think there's an eclipse going on, daddy! [Squish and Squash work together as Mickey Meekly puts a five count on them, each grabbing an arm of Dave Cooper and pulling him out a few feet from the corner before hurling him back into the buckles. Squish taunts the crowd before stepping back out to the apron. Dave Cooper is barely able to stand on his own when Squash turns around, simply pressing his massive backside into Cooper's stomach. The referee reprimands Squash, trying to get him away from the corner to which Squash replies by stepping out of the buckles - and then slamming his body back into the torso of Cooper, smashing him against the corner again.] GM: There's 850 pounds of humanity in there for Squish Squash and they're using it to great effectiveness against Dave Cooper so far. You can hear Sarah Sharpe screaming instructions and encouragement to Cooper from the floor. She's telling Cooper to get to the other side and make the tag to his big man. BW: Brilliant strategy. Why doesn't she just tell him to get a three count or a submission while she's at it? This is why women are who you take home after the matches not listen to during them, daddy. GM: I can't believe you said that. [Squash slowly drags Cooper out of the corner by the wrist, firing him into the ropes. His sloppy clothesline attempt is easily ducked by Cooper though who rebounds with a cross body block that Squash easily manages to snatch out of the sky - holding him across his body for one and all to see as he turns around in a circle. With a bellow, he leaps slightly into the air and smashes Cooper into the canvas with a powerslam. Referee Meekly dives to the canvas, slapping the canvas twice before Cooper fires a shoulder off the canvas.] GM: A close call there for Rough N Ready and we almost saw the #1 seed eliminated just like that, Bucky. BW: I told ya, Gordo. The element of surprise is a powerful weapon. Not that it would have mattered if Cooper, Somers, and their hag at ringside would've known about it ahead of time. They were goin' down no matter what. GM: It's not over yet, Bucky. [Squash complains about the count to the official who reiterates that it was a two count. Angrily shaking his head, Squash drags Cooper off the mat by the back of the trunks, using the grip to throw Cooper back into the corner. He nods his head confidently as he marches across the ring to the opposite corner, letting loose a wild bellow as he charges from corner to corner.] GM: AVALAAAAAAANNNNNNCH- BW: HE MISSED! HE MISSED! [Squash slams sternumfirst into the corner as Dave Cooper dives out of the way in time. Squash staggers backwards, clutching his chest as Dave Cooper regains his feet, fists balled up. He pumps a fist in the air as the crowd cheers wildly. Fired up, he spins Squash around before spinning around himself and connecting with a Roaring Elbow across the jaw of Squash that sends the ample opponent crashing back into the buckles. Cooper promptly leaps to the midbuckle, throwing a balled-up fist into the air to the cheers of the fans before he throws the fist down into the head of Squash. The crowd cheers, counting along with every blow as Cooper rains down punch after punch into the massive skull of his opponent.] GM: Dave Cooper's all over him - taking it to Squash! BW: I can't believe it. Squish needs to get in there to help his partner! [On cue, that's exactly what Squish does, wedging his body through the ropes and waddling across the ring where Cooper has landed his tenth blow to the head - and promptly leaps off backwards, connecting with a cross body block on Squish that takes the surprised big man off his feet. Cooper promptly gets back up and lunges to his corner, slapping the hand of Eric Matthew Somers to bring him into the match to the roar of the crowd.] GM: And here comes the big man of Rough N Ready! 6'9, 350 pounds! BW: And still nowhere near the massive size of Squish Squash! [Somers steps over the ropes into the ring and promptly drills both staggered members of Squish Squash with a running double clothesline that knock both men down onto their ample backsides. Somers pumps a fist of triumph, drawing a roar from the crowd as he drags Squish up onto his feet, whipping him into the ropes. As the 425 pounder rebounds, he gets met squarely in the jaw with a big boot by Somers that sends Squish falling through the ropes to the floor.] GM: Ohh! Somers clears out Squish! He's all alone in there with the legal man now. BW: No, no, no! Get back in there, Squash! GM: Don't you mean Squish? BW: Whatever! Like I can tell these two fatas- GM: Bucky! [Somers leans over the ropes, taunting the downed Squish and giving Squash priceless moments to recover, blasting Somers from behind with a flabby double arm sledge to the back of the head. He delivers two short headbutts to the base of Somers' neck before turning him around and dropping him with a fleshy clothesline across the chest. Squish starts jumping up and down around the downed Somers.] GM: Goodness! He's moving the entire ring, Bucky! BW: He's gonna put Somers THROUGH the ring, Gordo! GM: Off the ropes goes Squish... [With a mighty yell, Squish throws himself into the air and comes crashing down on a spot of empty canvas as Eric Matthew Somers rolls out of the way. The crowd roars as Somers climbs back to his feet, pulling the blubbery one to his feet as he slaps the hand of Dave Cooper.] GM: He tags Dave Cooper back in - a double team on the way. [Hooking Squish around the throat and arm, Somers grimaces as he powers Squish slightly off the canvas, throwing him down in a sloppy uranage slam as Cooper leaps off the midbuckle, spiking his knee down into the skull of Squish!] GM: ROUGH HOUSIN'! That's it! BW: It can't be! It just can't be! GM: Cooper makes the cover! One! Two! Three! [The bell rings to end the match as a slightly dazed Dave Cooper gets back to his feet, sharing a quick embrace with his partner before saluting the fans as the referee raises their arms in triumph.] MC: Your winners of the match, advancing to the second round tomorrow night... ROUGH N READY! [Somers and Cooper exit the ring, making a victory lap to slap hands with the exuberant ringside fans, celebrating their big win before making their way back up the aisle towards the locker room.] GM: Rough N Ready are your winners here in our opening match. They'll advance to tomorrow night's second round where they will take on either The War Pigs or the Japanese duo of Blue Tiger and Kenta Kitzukawa. That's actually our next match but let's go backstage to Jason Dane as we will do throughout the night to get some breaking news! Jason? [We cut away from the celebrating Rough N Ready to the backstage area we saw a little earlier where Jason Dane is standing just beyond the entranceway to the ringside area.] JD: Thanks, Gordon. You want breaking news? Well, I've got some big news for you right now. Just moments ago, I caught up with Stephen Ross, the chairman of the Championship Committee, who informed me that due to the turnaway crowd here on Thanksgiving night at the WKIK Studios, the Committee has recommended that the AWA's next major event take place on Christmas night! And if that news isn't big enough, on Christmas Night, we can expect to see the very first title defense of whoever wins the National Tag Team Titles tomorrow night! [Dane looks most pleased with himself.] JD: I've also been told that the Championship Committee will be signing matches for the Christmas night event throughout the next two evenings so I'll be checking in very frequently with them so that I can bring the AWA fans all of the latest news. Back to you, Gordon and Bucky! [We cut back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: Thanks, Jason - very big news indeed as the AWA will be having another major event on Christmas night. The AWA is quickly becoming a holiday tradition for wrestling fans around the world, Bucky. BW: What a way to spend Christmas day, Gordo. Open all the presents from my mama in the morning, chow down on some biscuits and gravy in the afternoon, and then the AWA at night? Pinch me, I must be dreamin', daddy. GM: Plus, there'll be no rest for the weary as whoever wins the National Tag Team Titles tomorrow night will make their first title defense on Christmas night. And it could very well be one of the teams in our next match, Bucky, as we're about to see The War Pigs, the #9 seed in our tourney taking on the team representing Tiger Paw Pro, Blue Tiger and Kenta Kitzukawa. BW: It's an interesting showdown as The War Pigs have just roared upon the scene here in the AWA over the past month or so, just overwhelming everyone with their intensity and power. But don't look past the team from Japan. Kenta Kitzukawa is the prize student of former World Champion Todd Michaelson and Blue Tiger has ruled the rings of Tiger Paw Pro for a long, long time. This one could be a lot closer than what you see on paper. GM: Your pick? BW: I'm pickin' the War Pigs - and I'm gonna go out on a limb here and pick them to win the whole dadgum thing, Gordo. GM: What? BW: The War Pigs - the first National Tag Team Champions. Bank on it. GM: A bold prediction for Bucky Wilde and in just a few moments, we'll find out if he's in the ballpark. But first, we've got to take a break! Don't go away, fans - we'll be right back! [The camera holds on Gordon Myers for a moment before fading to black. After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking building.] "Have you ever dreamed of fame?" [Cut a little closer.] "Of glory?" [A little closer.] "Of your friends and family seeing you on television?" [And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that reads "AWA Combat Corner."] "Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American Wrestling Alliance!" [We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring. There are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course, working out in the ring.] "With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in the ring in the shortest amount of time!" [Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.] "With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on Day One!" [Two young students are grappling on the canvas.] "So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar! You want to be the future of the business! You want to wrestle!" [Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner. We freeze there for a moment... ...and then back up on live action!] ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * Blue Tiger & Kenta Kitzukawa vs The War Pigs * ************************************************************************ [Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is holding the ring mic.] MC: The following contest is a first round matchup that is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... [The sounds of "Battle Without Honor Or Humanity" is heard to a mixed reaction from the AWA crowd.] MC: Representing Tiger Paw Pro in Japan... at a total combined weight of 460 pounds... they are the Blue Tiger and Kenta Kitzukawa! [There's a bit more of a positive reaction as the duo strides through the curtain towards the ring. Kitzukawa is around six feet tall and about 270 pounds. He's wearing green and white trunks with matching knee and elbowpads. Blue Tiger is a smaller man, probably a cruiserweight to many. He's in a full length blue and white bodysuit with a matching mask. A hole is cut in the back of the mask to allow a black ponytail to hang freely. The two men enter the ring and salute the cheering crowd as the music dies down.] MC: And their opponents... [The crunchy guitar intro to Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" buzzes to life over the PA as the crowd slowly rises, keeping their eyes peeling for the arrival of the tag team by the same name.] GM: Any time now. BW: I'm pretty sure these guys act on their own timetables. [The guitar cuts out to leave the vocals of Ozzy behind - which brings the War Pigs charging from the entryway, their manager, Richard Eric Lee, trailing behind. Both physically ripped as can be, Hammer and Sabre, tear into view, diving headfirst under the bottom rope as referee Marty Meekly calls for the bell, leaving Melissa Cannon to run for her life as the two powerhouses burst to their feet, fists a-flyin'.] GM: Here we go! Here we go! [The larger man, Hammer, is all over Kenta Kitzukawa, taking advantage of the element of surprise to batter the former M-DOJO student into the corner. Across the ring, Sabre's slightly smaller frame is still towering over Blue Tiger as he uses all of his 270 pounds to great effectiveness to pummel Tiger repeatedly. The referee shouts at both men repeatedly, trying to encourage them to get one man out of the ring. Outside the ring, Richard Eric Lee cackles madly, slapping his rolled up magazine against the palm of his hand as Sabre drops Tiger down to the mat with a double axehandle to the back of the head.] GM: The War Pigs aren't wasting any time in this one - just as they never do. These guys have made a habit out of starting a match before the bell and catching their opponents offguard. BW: And with the power and intenstity they carry in there with them, no one's had a chance to recover one bit yet. [Pulling Blue Tiger off the mat by the ponytail, Sabre uses the hair to throw the masked man through the ropes and out to the barely-padded concrete floor, turning to move across the ring where Hammer is still battering Kenta Kitzukawa against the turnbuckles. Kitzukawa throws a few right hands in reply, trying to rally - but a big boot to the gut from the incoming Sabre cuts off the comeback, allowing the War Pigs to doubleteam Kitzukawa, raining down blows to take him all the way down to the mat.] GM: No finesse right there - just sheer, brute power and strength to knock Kenta Kitzukawa down to the mat. BW: You're not getting headlocks and hammerlocks. You're not getting triple flipping twister press splashes or 450 somersault Asai ranas with these two, daddy. You're getting power. Pure power. And the angry-as-hell attitude to back it up. Plus, the pure brilliance of that guy outside the ring leading the way. You talked to him yet? GM: I haven't had the pleasure. BW: He's a genius! He's almost as smart as me! GM: Oh brother. [Dragging Kitzukawa off the canvas, the War Pigs execute a double Irish whip, knocking the Japanese star back down to the mat with a double elbowsmash across the chest. Sabre promptly leaps into the air, driving a clenched fist down onto the forehead of Kitzukawa as Hammer charges forward, blasting a recovering Blue Tiger with a running forearm that sends him sprawling off the apron to the barely-covered concrete once more.] GM: Ohh! There goes the Blue Tiger! BW: He's known for being really aggressive and ruthless in Japan but he's just got too much going against him against these two, Gordo. He's two hundred pounds soaking wet - maybe! There's just no chance against these big boys. GM: Look at this! [The crowd gasps as Hammer pulls Kitzukawa off the mat, executing a gorilla press. The big muscleman shows off his power by pressing Kitzukawa up at full extension, making sure everyone can see the Japanese star pressed high overhead. Kitzukawa is thrown down to the canvas with ease as a fired-up Hammer roars at the jeering crowd. Sabre slides out to the floor to pull Blue Tiger off the pads by the hair, drilling him across the face with a forearm smash that sends him sprawling at the feet of Richard Lee. Smirking through his facepaint, Sabre pulls Blue Tiger's head back by the ponytail, allowing Lee to lean forward.] "NUMBER NINE?! NUMBER NINE?! We'll tear through all eight of ya before this thing is through!" [Lee slaps Blue Tiger across the face with the magazine before Sabre delivers a few kicks to the ribs. Inside the ring, Hammer goes for an Irish whip but Kitzukawa reverses, sending Hammer into the ropes where he rebounds out into a leaping shoulder block that knocks Hammer off his feet!] GM: Whoa hooo! Check that out! Maybe the War Pigs should focus a little bit more on their opponents in this match than worrying about what seed they are in the tournament! BW: Why should they? They SHOULD be upset at being ranked #9 in this thing. I'm upset for them! Look at 'em dealing out a beating to these two eggplants. Hikarimono and the jumping Mexican bean are ahead of 'em too. Are you serious? The War Pigs are gonna tear through this whole bracket and win it all, Gordo! GM: That remains to be seen cause right now Kenta Kitzukawa is all over Hammer! [The crowd cheers as Kitzukawa whips Hammer into the corner, racing in behind him to connect with a leaping knee to the chest. Kitzukawa shoves Hammer back in the buckles as he starts to stagger out, cocking his right hand back and drilling him with a chop across the chest that POPS throughout the WKIK Studios.] GM: One of the hardest chops I've ever heard in all my days! BW: Hammer can take it. [A bright red welt forms on Hammer's chest as a second chop finds the mark, blasting across his pectorals. With the crowd cheering, Kitzukawa throws chop after chop after chop to the upper body of Hammer, eventually managing to knock Hammer down to a knee. The Japanese superstar pulls Hammer off the mat, tugging him into a front facelock - but it gets broken up as Sabre drills Kitzukawa with a knee to the kidneys, breaking off the attack. Sabre drags Kenta Kitzukawa away from Hammer, throwing him through the ropes to the floor as Richard Lee shoves Blue Tiger under the ropes.] GM: Oh, come on! Lee should keep his hands off the wrestlers! BW: He's just trying to help Tiger out, Gordo. What's wrong with that? [Recovering from the chops, a pissed-off Hammer drags Blue Tiger off the mat. He promptly hooks in a gutwrench, tossing Tiger through the air in a standing position and down to the mat. Outside the ring, Sabre slams Kitzukawa headfirst into the ring apron before climbing back into the squared circle where his partner has hoisted Blue Tiger up into a bearhug.] GM: A doubleteam on the way by the War Pigs! BW: Hammer's got the bearhug on - Sabre running off the ropes! [Sabre leaps, turning his body into a human missile as he connects with a clothesline that nearly rips Blue Tiger's head off his shoulders. Sabre promptly presses both fists down onto the chest of Blue Tiger, pushing himself off the canvas as the referee drops down to count the three.] GM: Wow. BW: Yeah, that's right. What do you think of the Committee's seedings now? The War Pigs just annihilated these two goofs from Japan! Someone call the medics, I've got an Egg Drop Soup to go! GM: Bucky! [The War Pigs celebrate their victory by kicking and stomping the downed Blue Tiger until he rolls under the ropes and out to the floor. Melissa makes the announcement from outside the ring.] MC: Your winners of the match, advancing to Round Two where they will face Rough N Ready tomorrow night - The War Pigs! [The fans boo the announcement as Hammer, Sabre, and Richard Lee parade around the ring to celebrate their win. Hammer and Sabre shout a few well-placed insults to the ringside fans before clapping one another on the back and making their exit.] GM: The War Pigs making short work of the team from Japan but tomorrow night will be a very different story when they take on Rough N Ready, Bucky. BW: You think so? I think Somers and Cooper may have just booked the next bus out of town - using their senior citizen discount of course. GM: We'll know for sure tomorrow night. But coming up next, we've got another big first round match with The Glamour Boys taking on Despair and his mystery partner. Ever since the announcement that Werewolf Gregorson was injured and would be unable to compete in this tournament, the entire AWA has wondered just who Despair had pulled out of his hat for this one. Jason Dane has been on the case all day - let's see if he has an answer for us. [We cut to the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing in front of a large dry erase board. The board is covered with names, most of which have been crossed out. In his right hand is a marker, in his left - his own hair. He looks quite frazzled.] JD: Thanks, Gordon. Quite frankly, I think I'm stumped. I've been trying to figure this out for weeks now. I've tapped into every contact I have in this business and I'm coming up empty. Despair, quite literally, may have picked someone completely unknown. [Dane gestures at a pair of names on the wall crossed out - Spikyjim and Travis LeGrange.] JD: Some seem too obvious. [He moves his hand past a couple more - Joe Petrow and Steve Kowalski.] JD: Some seem impossible. [He moves his hand again passing Rick Styles, Kyle Backwood, and Nyx Dunne.] JD: Some we just wouldn't want to believe are true. [The camera pulls back to show Dane in his entirety.] JD: The facts are these - we just don't know. Back to you, Gordon and Bucky. [Dane simply throws the marker over his shoulder as we cut back to ringside where our announcers are standing. Gordon Myers is softly chuckling.] GM: Ahhh, poor Jason. I think the stress is getting to him. BW: He may have cracked his shell, Gordo. GM: You can say that again. Well, I think it's time we all find out who Despair's partner who will be. Let's go up to Melissa for the next matchup! ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * The Glamour Boys vs Despair & ??? * ************************************************************************ [Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon has taken her usual spot.] MC: The following contest is a tag team tournament match scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... ["Superman" by Stereophonics comes on over the PA system to loud jkeers from the WKIK Studio audience.] MC: From Southern California, at a combined weight of 412 pounds. They are accompanied to the ring by their manager Robert Hofstedder. "Nasty" Nick Hunter and "Marvelous" Michael Taylor - The Glamour Boys! [Robbie Hofstedder bursts through the curtain, leading his team to the ring. Hoff is dressed in a cheap looking suit and jacket while both Glamour Boys walk out dressed in blue and red robes.] BW: The epitome of teamwork and unity, the Glamour Boys are smooth as silk and if the squeals of the ladies are any sign, twice as sexy, daddy! GM: Did you just called Nick Hunter and Michael Taylor sexy? BW: Well, I was speaking for the ladies- GM: What about The Hoff? Do you find him attractive too? BW: Now, look here, Gordo! I'm not about- GM: Shhh. Melissa's talking. [Melissa Cannon speaks once more as Taylor and Hunter disrobe.] MC: And their opponents... [The howl of a wolf echoes through the arena, and a montage of voices begins to play over the P.A. "Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" "He's dead, Jim." "FATALITY!" And the crowd comes to its feet with a loud cheer as Dream Evil's "The Chosen Ones" begins to blast out over the P.A. and Despair steps out onto the stage dressed in black MMA-style shorts with "The Dead Pool" written down the sides of each leg and makes his way towards the announce desk.) BW: Check it out, Gordon. Poor Despair couldn't find anyone stupid enough to fill the shoes of that big oaf, Gregorson. Maybe he's coming out here to drop out of the tournament. What do you think? GM: I think you're playing with fire, Bucky, and something tells me that, if you're not careful, you're going to get burned. [And, as Despair takes his place alongside Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde, you can almost taste the anticipation of the crowd. Will his new partner be Travis LaGrange, Spikyjim, or someone totally unexpected?] GM: Despair, it's been just over a month since the mighty Werewolf Gregorson was cut down by that devastating ACL injury and, while I understand that he is currently recuperating at home and watching this broadcast on television, the question on the tip of everyone's tongue is "Who will replace him tonight?" [Despair takes the mic.] D: Well, let me tell you, Gordon Myers, that it wasn't an easy choice to make. To some, losing the big guy would be like losing an arm... a much bigger arm in this case, of course, but an arm nonetheless. To me, having Werewolf taken out is like having a part of my family taken out. You see, I'm not the type that has a whole lot of friends but the ones I do have are the only family I've got. And a common bond we all have is that every single one of us will lay down and die for one another. So, when Werewolf got hurt, I got calls from Travis LaGrange, Spikyjim - the guys you all know I've run with in the past - both of them saying "Just say the word, bro, and we're there." Hell, I got calls from some guys from back in the day saying they'd be happy to come on out and raise hell with me. You know, that big, fat bastard, The Juggernaut, even offered to use a different locker room if it would make me more comfortable. And of course I have to admit I even had some pimple-faced teenager call me up and try to pass himself off as Hannibal Carver. [Recognition pop.] D: But, you see, all that would be expected. A hell of a lot of fun, yeah, but people could watch tape on how to deal with The Outlaw or Spikes teaming up with me. Then I got a phone call from one man that I never expected to hear from again, a man I've known him since my days back in a dinosaur of a federation called RAW. He's been retired for two years now but he's a man I wrestled in some of the most brutal matches I've ever been in. And the kicker is, no matter what I did to him or how far I pushed him, I could never get this guy to back down. So when he called and offered to come out of retirement to watch my back, I couldn't say no. We might not see eye to eye on everything but, when push comes to shove, Gordon Myers, there's no better man to have in your corner than' "HURRICANE" KIRK MACLEAN! [And the crowd cheers as Judas Priest's "Riding On The Wind" begins to blast out over the PA and "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean steps out onto the ramp. Dressed in a pair of full-length green tights with the word "Hurricane" written down the side of each leg in gold lightning bolt-style letters, the 6'2", 228 pound, blond-haired superstar from Shawnee, Kansas, looks out at the crowd and nods his head in approval before making his way down the aisle to where Despair is standing alongside Gordon and Bucky.] GM: Mr. Maclean, let me be the first to welcome you to the AWA. I'm... BW: Hold up, hold up, hold up. Are you... [Bucky points a finger at Despair.] BW: Mr. Short, Dark, and Gothy... Trying to tell me that this... [Bucky points at Maclean.] BW: Mr. Goody Two Shoes here is your new partner? [Despair slaps Bucky's hand out of Maclean's face and looks as if he's about to do more when Maclean takes the mic and interjects.] HKM: Mr. Wilde... Can I call you Mr. Wilde or do you prefer Bucky? BW: I- HKM: Good. Now, Mr. Wilde, I might look like Mr. Goody Two Shoes to you but, as my partner has already pointed out, I've taken some of the worst he's had to offer and still been able to walk away. But something tells me that you wouldn't be so lucky. [The crowd cheers the threat of violence against Bucky - except for his family who boos loudly.] HKM: Now, as to why I'm here tonight, it's simple. Despair and I, we've been through wars together, Mr. Wilde. We've beaten the absolute bloody hell out of each other, done things to one another in a wrestling ring that the AWA won't even let us think about, and left scars on one another that will never, ever heal... [Maclean points to a long shiny scar on the inside of his left forearm.] HKM: But, when push comes to shove, there's no one else I'd rather have in my corner, either. You see, Bucky, Despair and I, we're like opposite sides of the same coin, both able to read the other's mind because we're each way too capable of being that other person, and that's why we're going to win this match tonight against The Glamour Boys' [Maclean pauses and looks up at the ring.] HKM: That's right, boys. I did my homework. I know who you are and I'm ready for you. [Another cheer from the Dallas crowd!] HKM: Now where was I? Oh, that's right. That's why we're going to win this match tonight, move on to the semi-finals and finals tomorrow night, and wrap up the holiday weekend by being crowned the first ever AWA National Tag Team Champions. D: That's right Bucky Wilde, 'cause while Werewolf's a big part of my family, this guy...I might have hated him for years...I might have even tried to kill him a couple of times...but that's what brothers do, even brothers from another mother like me and him. And, while we can kick the crap out of each other, when somebody else tries to kick the crap out of either of us, we stand united...and we take care of our own. HKM: And, believe me, Bucky Wilde, when I say that's not a threat to be taken lightly. Now, if you'll excuse us, the last time I checked, this was a wrestling show, not Dr. Phil, and Despair and I...we've got a match to win. [And, with that, Maclean hands off his microphone and the two men slide into the ring.] GM: Well, Bucky - you feeling a little sheepish right now? BW: Those two want to bully me? Fine. They want to try to intimidate me? Fine. But they're not going to intimidate the Glamour Boys! And right now, that's who is looking them dead in the eye, standing right in their way of getting to the next round of the tournament. GM: You don't think Despair and Maclean can beat the Glamour Boys? BW: The Glamour Boys are a team, Gordo. A team. They've worked together for years. Despair and Gregorson might've stood a chance against them but these goofs? I don't think so. In fact, I'm picking the Glamour Boys to win the whole thing! They're gonna be the first National Tag Team Champions! GM: I thought you were picking the War Pigs! BW: What? When did I say that? GM: Just a few minutes ago! BW: You musta been nippin' at the cookin' sherry while making Thanksgiving dinner, Gordo. I'm picking the Glamour Boys to outlast fifteen other teams and strike gold in Dallas, Texas! [AWA senior official Michael Meekly has a few words for both teams and a word of warning for The Hoff before calling for the bell to officially start the match. With a brief embrace, Michael Taylor steps out on the apron as Nick Hunter tugs on the top rope to loosen up. Across the ring, Maclean and Despair share a high-five before Maclean steps out to the apron.] GM: We're down to business and it's going to be Despair and Nick Hunter starting things off for their respective teams. There's a buzz in the air here tonight - these fans are in for something special over the next two days and they know it. BW: I hope Hunter knocks Despair's teeth down his throat and shuts him permanently. I'm getting sick and tired of having that guy threaten me, Gordo. He's wearin' on my last good nerve, I'm tellin' ya. [Hunter and Despair circle out of their corners, moving around the ring as the crowd cheers in anticipation of the matchup. With a lunge, the two men tangle in a collar and elbow tieup, Hunter managing to muscle Despair backwards into the turnbuckles. The two men jostle for a bit in the corner, trying to secure an advantage but Despair hooks Hunter by the arms, spinning him around so that Hunter is against the corner. The referee steps in to count but Despair quickly breaks cleanly, backing off with a fist raised.] GM: Clean break by Despair. You have to like that. BW: The heck I do, Gordo. I want to see this thing get down and dirty so the Glamour Boys have an excuse to put Despair through the floor. [Hunter quickly moves out of the buckles, tying right back up in a collar and elbow with Despair. They continue to struggle against one another until Despair hooks an arm, whipping Hunter down to the mat with an armdrag takedown. The crowd cheers as Despair pops up, ready for more action but Hunter peels away to his corner, getting some words of advice from both Taylor and The Hoff.] GM: You think The Hoff is a great source of managerial advice, Bucky? BW: Well, he's no "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde for sure. But he'll do since that guy is retired. GM: If you were still active, would you manage the Glamour Boys? BW: It never mattered who I managed, Gordo. Whoever it was, they went straight to the top, daddy. [Hunter edges out of the corner, gesturing at Despair to lock up once more. Again, they tangle in a tieup - but this time, Hunter immediately moves into a side headlock, grinding down on the head and neck of his opponent. Despair wraps his arms around the waist of Hunter, looking for an escape but Hunter turns up the pressure, forcing Despair to break his grip. Hunter drags Despair back into the corner of the Glamour Boys as Taylor slaps the shoulder of his partner.] GM: There's the tag by Michael Taylor to bring himself into the ring. BW: Now it's time for some of that trademark Glamour Boys doubleteam offense, daddy. [Hunter loosens the headlock enough to be thrown off into the ropes by Despair who drops down to the mat as Taylor steps into the ring. Hunter leaps over the downed Despair which forces Taylor to leapfrog his oncoming partner, landing on his feet only to be taken right back down to the mat by a Despair hiptoss to the cheers of the crowd!] GM: Oh yeah! Great doubleteam by the Glamour Boys, Bucky. BW: I sense sarcasm, Gordo. [Taylor recoils as he gets to his feet, one arm clutching at his back. He looks unsettled at having had their doubleteam opportunity snaked out of by Despair. Taylor looks out at The Hoff for advice, nodding his head before lunging back in, getting tied up in a side headlock by Despair. Taylor quickly backs to the ropes before throwing Despair off to the far side where he comes charging back at full speed, throwing himself into a leaping shoulderblock that sends Taylor sprawling to the canvas once more, immediately retreating back into a neutral corner as Despair stands at the ready to on the attack again.] GM: And Despair seems to be on a whole other level here tonight. Many in the AWA thought Despair had been greatly overshadowed by Werewolf Gregorson in their team but tonight, Despair looks like the star of the show - and we haven't even seen Maclean get in there yet! BW: When we do, that's when the Boys will strike. Guaranteed! [Taylor slowly climbs up from a knee, moving in on Despair who lunges towards him and gets caught with a knee to the gut. Grinning arrogantly, Taylor blasts Despair with an elbowsmash to the back of the neck, knocking him down to a knee. He grabs Despair by the spiky hair, dragging him to the corner where he slaps the hand of Nick Hunter before shoving Despair back into the buckles. Hunter quickly steps in, balling up a fist and punching Despair back to the corner - where Despair snaps into another gear throwing punch after punch after punch at Hunter, backing him all the way across the ring before slapping the hand of "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean.] GM: Stand back, there's a Hurricane coming through. BW: Weird. I just got a d'j' vu. [Maclean steps into the ring, moving several feet away from the corner where Despair is holding Hunter. He charges forward, leaping up with both feet in the gut of Hunter and monkeyflipping him down to the mat! The crowd roars as Maclean pops back to his feet, ready to strike again. But his balled-up fist doesn't find a home as Hunter backpedals to the corner, seeking solace from his tag team partner. Taylor pats Hunter on the back, whispering to his ally as The Hoff slaps the canvas over and over, shouting at Maclean.] GM: Did The Hoff just say this isn't fair? BW: Well, it's really not, you know. Maclean wasn't announced before tonight. The Glamour Boys had no chance to prepare for him. They didn't know who Despair would team with. GM: You had no complaints when Rough N Ready had to face a mystery team tonight! BW: That's different. GM: How? Because you don't like them? [Hunter moves away from the corner, lifting his arms for a test of strength - and promptly boots Maclean in the gut when he does the same. Maclean collapses to the mat on his rear which allows Hunter to hit the nearest ropes, rebounding back and DRIVING his knee into the face of the seated Maclean, knocking him flat on his back. The crowd groans from the impact of the blow but is relieved when Maclean kicks out at two on the pin attempt. An irate Hunter delivers a trio of clenched fists to the jaw of Maclean before shoving him back down and applying a second lateral press, again only scoring a two count.] GM: Some frustration being shown by "Nasty" Nick. He seems to be surprised at Kirk Maclean's resiliency so far in this first round tournament match. BW: He ain't the only one. [Hunter drags Maclean off the mat by the hair, pulling him to the corner and slapping the hand of Michael Taylor before hooking both arms in a double chicken wing. With Maclean wide open, Taylor charges towards the corner but at the last moment, Maclean dives out of the way causing Taylor to monkey flip his own partner! The crowd roars as Despair re-enters the ring, flooring Taylor with a right hand as Hunter crawls out to the ring apron. With the cheering crowd firing them up, Despair and Maclean execute a double whip on Taylor into the far corner.] GM: Big whip to the buckles - biiiiiig double hiptoss down to the mat! BW: Watch out for "Nasty" Nick! [Nick Hunter quickly scales the ropes behind the duo, leaping from his perch into a double punch to the midsection by the fan favorites that has the crowd rocking. They quickly hook Hunter, turning away from the downed Taylor. With a double lift, they hoist Hunter into belly-to-back suplex position and flip him all the way over into a big splash onto his own partner to an explosion of cheers from the crowd!] GM: Look who's showing teamwork now! BW: Why isn't the referee counting?! They're only allowed to be in there for five seconds together! [Hunter and Taylor quickly roll under the ropes to the floor, moving to consult with The Hoff as Despair and Maclean exchange a high five to the roars of the capacity crowd. The Hoff can be seen shouting at both Hunter and Taylor, red-faced with anger and frustration at seeing his boys manhandled so far in the match.] GM: Despair and Maclean are on fire! But can they keep it up? Don't go away, fans! We'll be right back with more action! [The camera holds on The Hoff shouting at his men on the floor before fading to black... ...and then fading back up on a pair of kids outside of what appears to be a grade school. They're both wearing cold weather gear as they trudge up the steps to class.] Kid #1: How was your weekend? Kid #2: Amazing! Did you see AWA Saturday Night Wrestling? [The two kids talk animatedly about the show as a third joins them.] Kid #3: Guys! Did you see Adam Rogers on Saturday Night Wrestling? I want to be just like him when I grow up! Kid #1: Not me. I want to be like City Jack or Tin Can Rust! Kid #2: You guys are lame. Check out my new shirt! [Kid #2 opens his jacket to reveal a shirt that reads "San Jose Shark" with a large golden shark taking a bit out of the text. The others "ooh" and "aah."] Kid #3: I want one of those! Kid #1: Me too! Where did you get it? Kid #2: At AWAShop.com! Kid #3: I know what I want for Christmas! [The kids continue to talk as a voiceover is heard.] "Don't be the only one at school without your official AWA gear! Check out AWAShop.com today for your holiday wish list items!" [A shot fills the screen of various wrestler merchandise before fading to black... ...and then fading back up on the ring where Maclean has Hunter backed into the ropes but quickly catches an uppercut to the jaw that staggers him. Hunter quickly reaches back to make a tag to Taylor who immediately hits a running back elbow that knocks Maclean off his feet and down to the canvas where Taylor stomps him a few times for good measure. Despair starts slapping the buckles, trying to rally his partner as the crowd claps their hands in rhythm. Taylor screams at the crowd to stop as he bounces off the ropes, leaping into the air for a senton splash but coming up empty!] GM: He missed! He missed the backsplash! BW: Maclean needs to make a tag but the Glamour Boys need to cut him off! [With Taylor in pain, Maclean starts crawling for the corner - and lunges just as Taylor tries to grab his foot. The crowd cheers as Despair charges into the ring, drilling Taylor with two short right hands to knock him back into Maclean who is on all fours, taking Taylor down to the mat. Despair promptly pulls him up, whipping him to the ropes and burying a boot into the gut as he rebounds. Pumping a fist to rile the crowd, Despair hits the ropes himself, leaving his feet with a dropkick squarely to the side of the head of the doubled-up Taylor that sends Taylor spilling through the ropes and out to the floor!] GM: Despair clears out Taylor! These fans are electrified once more! BW: The Hoff is livid and I can't blame him. Every time the Boys have the match in hand, these two punks come up with something to turn the tide again. I can't believe it! [Outside the ring, The Hoff whispers something to Michael Taylor as he pulls him off the floor by the arm. Despair moves over the ropes, reaching over them to drag Taylor off the floor and up on the apron. Despair throws Taylor's arm over his neck, preparing a suplex over the ropes but The Hoff grabs his ankle, distracting him.] GM: Oh, come on! Give me a break! [The referee reprimands The Hoff but it gives Taylor the distraction he needed to jab a thumb into Despair's eye, grabbing him around the head and dropping down, snapping Despair's throat over the top rope! Taylor steps through the ropes and promptly slaps the hand of "Nasty" Nick Hunter who pulls Despair off his knees and snaps him over him with a suplex, floating into a pin attempt. Despair kicks out at two to the cheers of the crowd. Hunter quickly mounts Despair, throwing rights and lefts - and easily gets reversed by the MMA-trained Despair who throws some dangerous punches of his own from the mount until Michael Taylor gets back into the ring, throwing his body into a double arm sledge on the back of Despair's head to break up the assault. Kirk Maclean is on his way in when the referee blocks his path.] GM: These two teams are going back and forth, back and forth, Bucky Wilde. BW: Nobody said it was going to be an easy night for either of them. GM: And at this stage, you start to wonder if the time limit is becoming a concern. We've got to be close to the ten minute mark, I would think. BW: That's a good point, Gordo. All of these first round matches have a fifteen minute time limit and if you fight to a draw, both teams are out! GM: They certainly are. [Taylor helps Hunter off the mat before leaving the ring. A dazed Hunter pulls Despair up, connecting with a right hand that knocks Despair back against the ropes. Hunter slaps the hand of his partner as he fires Despair to the far side, taking him down with a drop toehold as Taylor drops a leaping elbowdrop to the back of Despair's head and neck.] GM: Now THAT'S a nice doubleteam by the Glamour Boys. BW: Don't sound so surprised, Gordo. GM: We haven't seen much of it in this match but we certainly did right there. [Taylor rolls Despair to his shoulder, applying a lateral press for another two count - although a much closer two count. Maclean leans over the ropes, stretching his arm out as far as he can - and eats a right hand from Michael Taylor that knocks him off the apron. Taylor smirks as Maclean tries to charge in but gets blocked - which allows Nick Hunter to come back into the ring without the benefit of a tag.] GM: Illegal switch by the Glamour Boys, taking advantage of a lack of control by Kirk Maclean. BW: Call it what it is, Gordo. A temper tantrum and a show of stupidity. This is the kind of thing you cannot do in a tag team match and this is the kind of thing a TRUE tag team would not do in this situation. [Hunter drags Despair off the mat, firing him to the ropes yet again, and again taking him down with a drop toehold. He quickly regains his feet, walking on the back of the downed Despair, looking out at the jeering crowd arrogantly, and then executes a picture perfect standing moonsault across the back of Despair!] GM: Oh my! What a move by Nick Hunter! BW: He calls it the G-Spot! GM: The what?! Fans, I apologize for that. BW: You should apologize to your wife for not knowing what it is, Gordo. [Hunter flips Despair to his back, hooking a leg, and again scoring a near fall. Hunter questions the official's count before dragging Despair off the mat again. A hard right hand to the side of the head causes Despair to fall back towards his corner where he attempts a lunging tag but Hunter dives on top of him, cutting it off. Hunter smirks at Maclean who is trying to stretch for a tag before dragging Despair away by the foot. The fans boo as Hunter pulls Despair up, throwing him backfirst into the Glamour Boys' corner. Taylor makes the exchange yet again, helping Hunter pull Despair towards the center of the ropes.] GM: Double whip by the Glamour Boys - double clotheli- ducked by Despair! [Despair rebounds off the far ropes, leaping into the air with his legs split - and catches BOTH Glamour Boys squarely in the mush with a split-legged dropkick!] GM: OH MY! He caught 'em both! BW: Get up! Get up! [The Hoff shouts the same thing at his men as a weary and battered Despair crawls towards a fresh and waiting Kirk Maclean. Maclean slaps the buckles, stomping his feet, trying to cheer his partner on as he inches closer and closer. The crowd roars as well, trying to encourage Despair as he gets within range - and LUNGES!] GM: TAG! BW: Aw hell. [The crowd ERUPTS as Kirk Maclean makes the exchange, quickly scaling the turnbuckles.] "TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!" [Maclean HURLS himself off the top rope as both Glamour Boys regain their feet - and get absolutely bowled over by the big cross body press!] GM: DOWN GO THE GLAMOUR BOYS! [A fired-up Maclean gets back to his feet, fists pumping as the crowd roars for his every move. A big knife-edge chop crashes across the chest of Nick Hunter, sending him spilling over the ropes and down to the floor below at the feet of The Hoff. Michael Taylor throws a wild right hand that is easily blocked as Maclean throws a knee to the gut, moving behind Taylor to secure both arms and snapping him over in a Tiger Suplex!] GM: CHICKENWING SUPLEX! ONE!! TWO!! THR- [The crowd groans in unison as Michael Taylor fires a shoulder off the mat before the three count. Maclean quickly pulls Taylor off the mat, uncorking another big chop that sends Taylor falling backwards into the ropes. Maclean moves in, pulling Taylor back to his feet and whipping him across - flooring him with another knife-edge chop before dropping onto him with a lateral press that Taylor escapes at two.] GM: We've got less than five minutes to go and these four men are giving it everything they've got, Bucky! BW: You wouldn't expect anything less on a night of this importance. GM: He's pulling Taylor up again, dragging him to the corner. [A shout of warning from Despair gets Maclean to turn around - but right into a snapping superkick from a recovered Nick Hunter that sends Maclean staggering into a crushing Samoan Drop from Michael Taylor!] GM: OHHH! BW: THE RED VINE! THAT'LL DO IT! GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRE- [The crowd EXPLODES as Despair sprints across the ring, leaping over a double leg takedown attempt by Hunter and crashes down onto the pin attempt, breaking up the three count. A furious Hunter pulls Despair off the mat, shoving him into the corner where he delivers a quick run-up knee to the face on the second rope. A few feet away, Michael Taylor has pulled Maclean up, shoving him towards Nick Hunter who goes to the opposite corner with Maclean, pulling him into a standing headscissors.] GM: What're they going for here? BW: The Glamour Drop! If they hit this, they're going to the second round! [With a signal, Hunter hoists Maclean into the air in powerbomb position, charging out of the corner towards a waiting Taylor - who suddenly gets caught in a dragon sleeper by Despair!] GM: Taylor's caught! [Hunter tries to bring Maclean down into the leaping neckbreaker part of the move - Taylor's part - but ends up getting snapped over into a tightly-cradled rana by Maclean!] GM: CRADLE! ONE!! TWO!! THREE!!! [The crowd EXPLODES as the referee calls for the bell!] MC: Your winners of the match, advancing to the second round... the team of Despair and "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean! [The cheers increase once more as an exhausted Maclean throws a triumphant arm into the air. Despair releases the dragon sleeper, allowing Taylor to roll out to a waiting Hoff, who is not happy at all. Despair slowly pulls himself up to a knee, shaking hands with his new tag team partner as they celebrate their win.] GM: Maclean and Despair are moving on - and it looks like your pick to win it all is gone, Bucky! BW: What are you talkin' 'bout now, Gordo? The War Pigs are still in it! They're facing Rough N Ready tomorrow night in the second round. Did your meds kick in and you fell asleep during that? GM: You changed your pick to the Glamour Boys! BW: Wow. What kind of pills are you takin' now anyways? GM: Give me a break. Fans, Maclean and Despair are in the second round where they will meet either Freeman and Dufresne or Marley and Pain. We'll find out who in just a few moments but first, let's go backstage where Jason Dane is standing by! [We cut to the backstage interview area where Jason Dane is standing, looking very happy.] JD: Thanks, Gordon! It's been an exciting night here so far at Broken Wishbones where we've already seen two upsets in the bracketing out of the first three matches! As we look ahead, we can see several other matches ripe for the upset as well. Who else could score the upset tonight? Maybe the team of Adam Rogers and his mystery partner? Lots of rumors going around about who that might be. Perhaps the team that has many people calling them Sweet Heat - Sweet Daddy Williams and "Hotspot" Stevie Scott! Or maybe the Cindarella team to end all Cindarella teams, the Oklahoma Brothers! [From off camera, we hear the gravel-throated laugh that can only belong to one man, Vladimir Velikov. After a moment, Velikov steps into view, already dressed for his match later in the show. The trademark Russian steel chain is draped over his shoulder as he approaches.] VV: You... you think these Oklahoma Brothers stand a chance with the mighty Russians? JD: Well, in a tournament like this, as we just saw, anything is possible, Mr. Velikov. [Velikov smirks in response.] VV: You think that these weak, puny, pathetic Americans who can not even compete with your own weak, puny, pathetic Americans stand a chance with the mighty Russians? JD: Well, like I said- VV: Silence! [Dane, quite obviously, stops speaking.] VV: Yes, yes - anything can happen. The great American catchphrase. The words that make your people buy cars they can't afford to drive, houses they can't afford to live in, try to do work they can not do. Those words are why your country is in the pathetic mess it's in, Comrade Dane. [Dane doesn't respond.] VV: You do your people no service by convincing them that they are better than they actually are. You do your people no service by convincing them they can do things they can not do. Because of your... how you say... Cindarella stories? Pathetic fools like the Oklahoma Brothers will get in the ring with myself and my nephew - your National Champion - Kolya Sudakov. And they will hurt. And they will bleed. And they will pay the price for your country's arrogant belief that they can do anything. [Velikov pulls the chain down, wrapping it around his fist.] VV: Your people can NOT do anything. Your people can NOT achieve anything they... how you say... set their minds to. Your people are limited by their own weakness. And when your Oklahoma Brothers come face to face with the mighty Russians, then you will all see just how weak your... American dream... [Velikov spits.] VV: ...actually is. [Velikov gives Dane a cold glare before walking away, chuckling that gravelly laugh all the while.] JD: Back to you, Gordon. [We cut back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: Absolutely ridiculous and appalling, Bucky. On Thanksgiving Day, where all of America gives thanks for what we have - we have to be reminded by that... that... BW: Watch it, Gordo. GM: ...man... that the AWA National Title is in the hands of the enemy themselves. BW: It sure is. And before this week is over, the National Tag Team Titles could be as well. What would you think of that, Gordon Myers? GM: That can't happen. That WON'T happen. Someone has to step up and stop those Russians, Bucky. They just have to. Fans, let's go up to the ring for our next match. ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * Adrian Freeman & Calisto Dufresne vs Rick Marley & Scott Pain * ************************************************************************ [Cut to Melissa holding the mic.] MC: The following contest is a first round tournament match scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... at a total combined weight of 435 pounds... they are the team of "Subzero" Adrian Freeman and "The Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne! [ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" starts up to a big blast of boos from the WKIK Studio audience as Dufresne and Freeman make their entrance through the curtain.] GM: What? No team name? BW: With a name like "Subzero", wouldn't it just be a rush of really bad temperature puns? GM: Cold As Ice. Frozen Heartbreak. Chilly Ladykillers. BW: Point made yet? GM: Cold Spell! BW: Point made. [Dufresne steps into the ring, ripping off the tearaway pants to the cheers of some of the ladies in the crowd. He points to them and gives a wink as he settles into the corner. An intense Adrian Freeman rolls his neck back and forth, glaring at the entryway as Melissa continues.] MC: And their opponents... [Before Melissa can utter another word, Rick Marley comes tearing from the entryway, sprinting towards the ring where he dives under the bottom rope into the ring, popping up to his feet and promptly drilling a surprised Dufresne with a right hand as the referee calls for the bell to start the match!] GM: He can't start the match yet! Where's Scott Pain? [A fired-up Marley turns and drills an incoming Freeman with a right hand. A second one causes Freeman to backpedal, looking for an escape, but a third deposits him into the corner. Marley promptly leaps up on the second rope, raining down punches and not even waiting for the fans to count along with him which they attempt to do in vain.] GM: Look at Marley! He's fired up for this one! [The crowd's cheers of warning let Marley know that Calisto Dufresne is incoming so he steps up on the chest of Freeman and executes a picture perfect moonsault onto the incoming "Ladykiller" to the roars of the fans!] GM: Ohhh my! What a flip by Marley! [Marley quickly takes the mount on Dufresne, throwing right hands at him as quickly as he can. He then gives up on the "finesse" of punching and wraps his hands around the throat of Dufresne, strangling the air out of him.] BW: That's a blatant choke! Call it, Gordo! GM: Well, you're right - and the referee is counting. But Marley's got a full five count to break. [But before he can get that far, Freeman pulls Marley off of Dufresne by the hair, blasting him with a European uppercut that knocks Marley back into the corner.] "You wanted a fight, Marley? You wanted a fight?" [Freeman punctuates his words with another European uppercut that keeps Marley in the buckles. The Australian drags Marley away from the corner by the hair, turning back, and slamming him facefirst into the buckles. The crowd gasps at the shot to the injured face of Marley as "Showtime" slumps down to the mat, leaning chestfirst against the corner turnbuckles. With Dufresne slowly getting off the mat, Freeman grabs two hands full of Marley's hair and slams it into the turnbuckle yet again, causing Marley to slip all the way down to the canvas.] GM: Freeman's going after the injury. Going after that nose and facial area that Dufresne and Freeman hurt several weeks ago. They've tried to do it before and they're trying to do it again, Bucky. BW: Of course they are. Didn't you expect that? GM: Freeman drags Marley out of the corner by the foot - he's waving Dufresne over to help him. [An irate Calisto Dufresne moves over, pulling Marley up to his knees by the hair. The "Ladykiller" leans in, screaming at Marley repeatedly, and then slapping him hard across the face, knocking Marley back down to the mat. With the fans booing, Dufresne looks around at the roaring crowd, nodding his head with an arrogant smirk on his face.] GM: He's gonna do it! He's gonna do it, Bucky! [The crowd buzzes as Freeman holds Marley facefirst down on the mat, pressing his nose firmly against the canvas. Dufresne stands over him, looking down icily... and raises his foot!] GM: NO! NOOOO! [The crowd EXPLODES as Scott Pain comes lumbering from the locker room area, quickly stepping up on the ring apron as Calisto Dufresne races towards the near seven footer - who promptly grabs Dufresne around the throat. The crowd roars as Pain steps over the top rope, still keeping the chokehold in place. Once inside the ring, Freeman charges towards Pain - and eats a big boot squarely to the face that sends "Subzero" rolling under the ropes to the floor as Pain shows a trapped Dufresne off to the whole world. With a grin, Pain HOISTS Dufresne high in the air before spiking him down to the canvas with a chokeslam!] GM: CHOKESLAM! CHOOOOOKESLAM! [But before Pain can make a pin attempt, Freeman grabs Dufresne by the ankle, dragging him under the ropes and out to the floor. The fans boo the rulebreakers for the move - a move that likely saved the match for them. Pain glares at the two men for a moment before helping his tag team partner off the mat - and then with a grin, lifts Marley up into a gorilla press, charging towards the ropes and HURLING Marley down onto a shocked Dufresne and Freeman to the roaring cheers of the crowd!] GM: OHHHHH! BW: No fair! This guy's a monster! 6'10, over three hundred pounds. How would you expect someone the size of Freeman to compete with this guy? GM: Scott Pain has just evened the odds a little bit on two guys who have loved every second of the chance to doubleteam Rick Marley for months! Freeman and Dufresne have been under Marley's skin since Day One here in the AWA and finally, Marley's out for a little bit of payback, Bucky! BW: He was on the winning team in WarGames - how much more payback does he need? GM: There's the little matter of a face stomped into concrete to get even for and you know it. [Marley continues to batter Freeman and Dufresne on the floor - just raw, barbaric hammerfists to any part of the body exposed to attack. After a bit, Marley gets back to his feet, dragging Dufresne off the barely-padded floor. Marley grabs Dufresne by the wrist, promptly whipping him into the steel ringpost to the roar of the crowd. With Dufresne down, "Showtime" yanks Freeman off the floor and rolls him under the ropes where Scott Pain is waiting.] GM: Pain reaches down, pulling the much smaller Freeman off the mat by the throat. [Pain throws Freeman back into the buckles by the throat, slowly moving towards the corner - and DRIVING a hard back elbow into the side of Freeman's head. He turns away from the corner, pumping up the crowd before turning back to Freeman who slyly kicks his legs up, wrapping them around the head and neck of Pain.] GM: Some kind of a headscissors applied by Freeman. BW: You ninny. Any fan of Mixed Martial Arts would recognize that as a triangle choke! He's cutting off the blood flow to the brain of Scott Pain - and as small of a brain as Pain has, he needs all the blood to it he can get. GM: This is a type of sleeperhold? BW: If that helps you, sure. [The big man struggles against the Australian's grip, the legs tight around the head and neck as he manages to force Pain down to a knee, pulling on the ropes for more leverage as the referee tries to get him to break the hold. Freeman breaks just before the five count, driving a boot squarely into the face of Pain that knocks the big man down on the mat. Outside the ring, Rick Marley is pummeling Calisto Dufresne with clenched fists squarely between the eyes.] GM: We've got a fight inside the ring - we've got a fight outside the ring as well. Marley and Dufresne on the floor. Freeman and Pain inside the ring. [Freeman stomps Pain into the canvas before reaching down to grab at the mammoth tree-trunk-like legs. He hooks them beneath his arms, trying to turn Pain onto his stomach but the big man kicks him off, knocking Freeman back into the buckles. Out on the floor, Marley pulls Dufresne off the floor, shoving him under the ropes into the ring. He climbs up on the ring apron, grabbing the top rope with both hands.] GM: Marley's on the apron! Marley's looking to fly! ["Showtime" leaps up to the top rope, springing off - and connecting with a dropkick right to the jaw of Calisto Dufresne sending him flying over the ropes and out to the floor!] GM: OHHHH! BW: He got lucky, Gordo. He could've crashed and burned just as easily. [Marley pops up to his feet, pumping a fist in the air. He turns back towards the ring where Adrian Freeman is staggering out of the corner by a rising Scott Pain. Marley waits for a moment and then uncorks a superkick right on the jaw!] GM: Ohh! CASTING CALL ON FREEMAN! [The superkick knocks Freeman flat, making him easy pickings for a pinfall. With a grin, Scott Pain drops into a lateral press on the downed Australian.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR- [The crowd gasps as Marley pulls Pain off of Freeman, shaking his head as he kneels down next to Freeman, driving a right hand down into the head of Freeman. He drives another clenched fist into the head, and another, and another before leaning over and biting the forehead of his rival. Marley finally peels off, not even looking at his tag team partner who looks stunned, glaring at Marley with his hands on his hips. "Showtime" pulls Freeman off the mat, throwing him into the buckles. He quickly moves in, wrapping his hands around the throat of the Australian. The referee quickly moves in, laying a count on Marley's illegal choke.] GM: Referee Mickey Meekly is trying to get him to break the choke. He's got until the count of five to break. BW: What has gotten into Rick Marley? GM: He's snapped! All of this abuse at the hands of Freeman and Dufresne has finally pushed him too far and all he can think about is revenge. [Marley breaks the choke at four - and promptly reapplies it. The referee protests vehemately but Marley ignores him, eyes filled with rage, teeth clinched as he strangles the air out of his opposition. The fans buzz with concern for Marley's mental health as he chokes the life out of Freeman. A dazed Calisto Dufresne pulls himself up on the apron, stepping through the ropes - right into a boot to the gut from Scott Pain who pulls Dufresne into a standing headscissors to the roaring cheers of the crowd.] GM: Powerbomb! Pain's going for the powerbomb! [But just as Pain leans over for the powerbomb, Marley pulls out of the chokehold, glaring at the official - and then shoving him down to the mat as he races across the ring, pulling Dufresne out of the powerbomb attempt. He promptly throws Dufresne down to the mat, grabbing the legs of the arrogant Ladykiller. He steps through the legs, turning Dufresne over in a scorpion deathlock.] GM: SHOWSTOPPER! THE SHOWSTOPPER IS LOCKED IN ON- [The crowd ERUPTS as the bell rings!] GM: Huh? Did he give up? BW: No way. He was barely in the hold a few seconds. [The hold stays on, Marley leaning back to punish his rival as the dazed referee slides to the floor to speak to Melissa Cannon.] MC: Referee Mickey Meekly has ruled that due to Rick Marley shoving down the official - the team of Rick Marley and Scott Pain have been DISQUALIFIED! Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne will move on in the tournament! [The fans jeer the disappointing announcement but no one looks more disappointed than Scott Pain. Pain strides across the ring, ripping Marley out of the Showstopper. Adrian Freeman reaches under the ropes, pulling his partner out of the ring to the floor.] GM: Freeman and Dufresne are getting out of here but this might not be finished yet, Bucky. Scott Pain is hot! BW: Can you blame him? The man came out of retirement for a shot at these tag team titles and Rick Marley just cost him that shot! He's furious and he's got every right to be furious! GM: You may be right but he and Rick Marley are nose to nose, shouting at one another. These two are screaming at one another. The referee is trying to get them to settle down but I don't know if there's any chance of that. Fans, we've got to take a break. We'll be right back! [The camera holds on Pain and Marley shouting at one another before fading to black. After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet in an apparently moving car.] JD: Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go, wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA superstars when you're away from home? MS: I know I would, Jason! And I'd also love to have a place to put out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. JD: You've got that right. Wouldn't it be great if we could combine both of those ideas into one? [Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!] JD & MS: NOW WE CAN! [A voiceover takes over - thank God.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors, and happenings before the rest of the world. And don't forget to check out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired! AWA Access - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... ...and then back up on the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing, looking up nervously at a seething Scott Pain.] JD: Scott Pain, you must be disappointed at- [Pain interrupts.] SP: DISAPPOINTED?! DISAPPOINTED?! Disappointed doesn't even BEGIN to cover how I feel right now, Dane. It doesn't even come close. JD: Well, can you- SP: Yeah, yeah, I think I can. Jason Dane, I was sitting at home, earning a career's worth of rest when I saw the AWA on television. I heard about the tournament and for one split second, I could see myself wearing gold again. I made the call to my old friends. I told them I'd give it one more shot - one more chance to win a championship. It's all I wanted. It's the ONLY thing I wanted. [Pain shakes his head.] SP: And this kid Marley throws it away. I was grateful to him, you know? Taking a chance on an old man like me. My biggest fear was that I'd show up to fight in this tournament and no one would give me the time of day. But Marley needed my help and I needed his. That's what I thought at least. [Pain runs his hands through his sweaty hair.] SP: BUT RICK MARLEY DIDN'T NEED A DAMN THING FROM ME! He came out here and fought the fight he wanted to fight. He didn't give a damn what I wanted to do - and I don't even know if he cared that I was out there. You wanted payback, kid? That's fine with me. I can understand that. But the best payback you could've gotten was to take those guys out of the tourney - to rob them of the chance that you just robbed me of. But they get their chance - and I lost mine. [Pain stares coldly into the camera.] SP: Exactly how do you think that makes me feel? [He holds his gaze for a moment - and then strides out of the camera's view.] JD: Scott Pain, disappointed and very, very angry. Fans, we're halfway through the first round of the tournament but we've still got a long way to go. Coming up next is the first round matchup between The Russians and the Oklahoma Brothers - earlier tonight, we heard from Vladimir Velikov but joining me at this time for their first AWA interview - The Oklahoma Brothers! [The camera pulls back a bit as two young looking men that the AWA faithful have seen before in the ring - Kaden and Cooper Oats, aka the Oklahoma Brothers, join Jason at the interview point. The two brothers look alike - short blondish hair, fair complexitions, decent builds - though Cooper is a bit shorter than Kaden. They both wear jeans and black "OK Brothers" t-shirts with a picture of their home-state on it.] KO: Thank ya, Jason. Naw I know we haven't said much of nothin' 'round here, but we sure been fixin' to do these'n speakies. CO: Us two, we come from the outback - the real outback, Okleemhoma! And us two, we ain't 'fraid of much 'round here. KO: What y'alls ought to know is thatun when someone puts their fists to us, we ain't 'bout to be packin'. CO: Ah, yayus Kaden! When we git in thatun ring with them Russians, I don't KO: Russian, you two've run 'round here like ya own the place. Coop, one them Reds even gots the National title. [Cooper smacks his forehead, a little bit over-the-top like, not believing it.] KO: Guess it's just up to us Oats brothers to put these'n two commies where they belong - down the mat, beggin' for mercy! [Cooper Oats holds his hand up to stop his brother.] CO: Yehbut, Kaden - everyone sayin' thems two's posta paste us good. Dem ex-perts said we'd be scrapped right offa the mat! We ain't no challenge to them naw. [Cooper rolls his eyes.] CO: Why they say we dasent even come 'round fer fear of dem Russians killin' us all 'bout! [Kaden shakes his head.] KO: Ain't happenun, Coop! We both faced fear in the eyes of that monster Stone. Sure none both us walked away, but we faced him! So'these'un two don't scare us none. We may be young n' lackin' some experience, but us two can go far in this'n tournie. Cause my name's Kaden - CO: And my name's Cooper - KO: And we'll prove once and fer all thatun you can't put a good Okie down! [Kaden and Cooper both nod at the camera in unison before the shot fades back to the ring where Melissa is standing.] ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * The Russians vs The Oklahoma Brothers * ************************************************************************ MC: The following contest is a first round match scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... [With little fanfare and no music, Jaden and Cooper Oats stride into the WKIK Studios to a surprisingly loud reaction from the AWA faithful. They beam at the reaction, giving each other a high five right in front of the entrance curtain.] GM: Listen to this response for the Oklahoma Brothers, Bucky! BW: The fans always like a loser. You've seen them cheer Sweet Daddy Williams, right? [The Oats brothers look overjoyed - until Vladimir Velikov and Kolya Sudakov steamroll through the entrance curtain, levelling both Oats brothers with brutal attacks from behind. The crowd roars their disapproval as an uncaring Russian squad stomp and kick the downed underdogs.] GM: Gimme a break, Bucky! There's no call for this! BW: You heard Velikov earlier tonight. He was bent out of shape that they even had to take this match. He knows the Oats boys don't stand a chance in there with the Russians and now they're going to prove it in the center of the ring. GM: They're not even in the ring! BW: Semantics. [After a few more stomps, the veteran of the squad drags Kaden Oats off the concrete floor, pulling him towards the ring as Kolya Sudakov yanks Cooper Oats up and does the same. The Russians fire both men under the ropes into the ring as a confused Marty Meekly calls for the bell to officially start the match.] GM: Marty Meekly rings the bell to start the match and I can't say that I agree with that decision, Bucky. He should have given the Oats boys time to recover so that this match could start on equal ground. BW: Equal ground? This match wouldn't be on equal ground if the Russians laid down to start the match, Gordo. This is a mismatch - plain and simple! GM: We'll see about that. [Inside the ring, Velikov quickly throws Kaden Oats into the turnbuckles, driving boot after boot into the midsection while Marty Meekly protests the assault. In the opposite corner, the National Champion, Kolya Sudakov openly chokes Cooper with both hands.] GM: That's some display of sportsmanship that the National Champion is putting on. BW: No one ever accused the Russians of being sportmen. They do whatever it takes to win a match - period. [Sudakov throws Cooper out of the buckles by the throat, smirking as the young man attempts to crawl away from the AWA's top champion, looking for a breather. The Russian War Machine stalks him, biding his time and waiting for the opening for the most impact. Nearby, Velikov buries a knee into the ribs of Kaden before whipping him from corner to corner where Kaden collapses out of the buckles. Velikov cackles as he approaches the downed Kaden, driving a boot to the ribcage that forces Kaden to roll under the ropes to the floor, leaving his partner all alone with the mighty Russians.] GM: This is a two-on-one situation. Marty Meekly is trying to get one of these men out of the ring but he hasn't had any luck so far. BW: The Russians are going to do pretty much whatever they want, Gordo. They don't take orders from no one! [Velikov joins Sudakov in pummeling Cooper Oats in the corner with punches to the body followed by kicks to the same area. Each man grabs an arm, whipping Cooper Oats across the ring to the far corner. Sudakov grabs his uncle's wrist, turning him into a human freight train with an Irish whip. But as Velikov's three hundred pound plus frame barrels towards the corner, Cooper Oats throws himself clear and causes Velikov to slam chestfirst into the turnbuckles.] GM: Ohh! Velikov hits the corner! It's not over yet! [Sudakov storms across the ring, obliterating a rising Cooper Oats with the Russian sickle that takes Cooper over the ropes and down to the floor below.] BW: You were saying? [At a bark from his uncle, Sudakov steps through the ropes onto the apron, dropping down to the floor where Kaden Oats is lying. The National Champion drags him up to his feet, hurling him under the ropes before turning his attention back to Cooper. A slightly-injured Velikov pulls Kaden to his feet, blasting him with a right hand that knocks Kaden back into the buckles where a blatant choke is applied.] GM: And right back to the dirty tactics they employ so well. Sudakov is beating up a defenseless Cooper Oats outside the ring and Velikov is strangling the life out of Kaden Oats inside the ring. BW: Of all the first round matchups, you have to think the Russians got the luck of the seedings. They checked in at #3 and got the team who got into the tournament on the whim of the Championship Committee. GM: You don't think the Oats boys earned this spot? BW: It's hard to earn a spot by getting your tail kicked - somehow they managed it. Good for them but this is their reward for it, daddy. [Velikov pulls Kaden Oats away from the corner, driving in another right hand that knocks him back into the ropes. The elder Russian pushes his head back before delivering a clubbing forearm blow across the chest of Kaden. He cackles as Kaden falls to a knee, leaning over the ropes to speak in Russian to his nephew. Grabbing Kaden by the wrist, Velikov fires him to the ropes again, ducking down for a backdrop - a backdrop that Kaden Oats leaps over, taking Velikov down in a sunset flip.] GM: SUNSET FLIP OUT OF NOWHERE! ONE! TWO! THREE! [The bell rings as Kaden Oats springs up to his feet, the crowd roaring as the youngster leaps up and down in celebration. Outside the ring, Kolya Sudakov realizes what's going on and dives under the ropes, moving to assault Kaden who lunges for the ropes, escaping just in the nick of time. The Russian War Machine moves to help his uncle off the mat, Velikov absolutely red with rage as he glares at the retreating Oklahoma Brothers.] MC: Your winners of the match - advancing to the second round - THE OKLAHOMA BROTHERS! [The fans roar once more as a giddy-as-hell Oklahoma Brothers disappear from sight through the entrance curtain, celebrating their unlikely triumph - but getting the hell out of Dodge City before the Russians decide to come after them again.] GM: The biggest upset of the night by far - a #14 seed knocking off a #3 seed - and the Oklahoma Brothers will face either Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams or the Wild Card entry of Juan Vasquez and Raphael Rhodes tomorrow night in Round Two! Speaking of which, I'm told we caught up with Juan Vasquez earlier tonight. Before we go to a commercial break, let's find out what's on his mind! [We fade into a shot backstage in the interview area, where we see Jason Dane standing next to a smiling, upbeat and proud-looking Juan Vasquez. The Latino superstar is wearing a tailored white suit with a solid charcoal-colored necktie. If he looked any classier, he'd have a monocle and a top hat...but that's beside the point.] JD: I'm here backstage with a man, who along with Raphael Rhodes, won the battle royal on our last show to gain entry into the National Tag Team Title tournament...Juan Vasquez. Now Juan, you're going into this tournament with a man you have never teamed with. How do you expect to make it far in a field filled with several experienced tag teams? JV: Well first off Jason, let me just address the four or five people in the universe who didn't think that I wouldn't walk out of that battle royal a winner. [He bows his head down.] JV: I know that it ain't always a good thing to be a gloater, an ungracious winner or just a jerk in general, but folks...guess who won? [Suddenly, his head pops back up with a big smile.] JV: Hate to say... [Juan pauses briefly and looks to his left and then to his right, before turning back to the camera, looking just about ready to crack up.] JV: ...I told ya' so. [He laughs to himself, as if he's privy to a joke that no one else gets.] JV: I know, I know...but hold the applause and don't toss the confetti just yet. I don't wanna suffer any injuries from pattin' myself on the back too hard. But it's just a wonderful and beautiful feeling whenever you happen to be absolutely one hundred and fifty percent correct about ohhhh...everything you predicted that would happen. I mean, lets review, shall we? [Juan takes a deep breath.] JV: Battled my way through "nine to some undetermined number" of other men in the battle royal and found myself with my hand held up in victory by the time the match was done? [He holds up his finger and uses it to check off some imaginary list floating in mid-air.] JV: Check. [A smirk.] JV: Ended up with a partner that's probably a complete jackass? [He checks off another item off his imaginary list.] JV: Check. [A chuckle.] JV: We haven't ended up becoming the best of friends with a matching, color-coordinated tag team ensemble? [This time, Juan sighs, sounding slightly dejected.] JV: ...Check. [He proceeds to lean in close to the camera and cups his hand to the side of his face, whispering.] JV: ...but I'm still crossin' my fingers on that one. [A knowing nod.] JV: But the point is people...I don't need to like Raphael Rhodes. I don't even need to *trust* Raphael Rhodes. All I'm asking from him is one thing. In fact, the most important thing. I want him to be able to look me in the eye and tell me... [Juan then turns to Dane and channels his inner Raphael Rhodes, dropping to his knees and clenching his fists, letting the emotions fly.] JV: "Juan...I WANT those tag team titles! Juan...I NEED those tag team titles! Juan...I'LL TEAR OUR YOUR DAMN THROAT IF WE DON'T WIN THOSE DAMN TAG TEAM TITLES!!!!!!!" [Dane takes a step back, a bit freaked out by Juan, who calmly gets back to his feet, dusting off his pants.] JV: You see, I need him to convince me that he'd move heaven and Earth, Jupiter and Mars, the Sun and the Moon and whatever the hell else that happens to get in our way, in order to win the AWA tag team titles. 'Cause if we got the same goal. The same objective. The same crazy, obsessive, urgent, soul destroying _NEED_ to get those tag team titles around our waists...well, then I ain't gonna' give up on him. [He shakes his head, mouthing, "Nope, nope, nope."] JV: I ain't gonna' doubt him. I ain't gonna' question him. I ain't gonna' try to teach him right from wrong. And I ain't gonna' make him change his terrible, evil ways. So go ahead and kick all the puppies ya' want. Smuggle all the illegal, undocumented child slaves ya' need. Steal the spotlight, hog the glory, and take in all the cheers that I would otherwise deserve. It'll still be alright with me, 'cause there's only _one thing_ I need from ya' Raph. One thing! All ya' need to do...is want to _WIN._ And I'll guarantee that there won't be a single pair of men that we face in this tournament that'll be able to stop us. [He turns to Dane, who seems a bit taken aback by Vasquez's words. Juan gives him a knowing look, closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.] JV: Okay, okay...I know maybe I'm starting to sound a bit crazy here. Like a man without principles. A man with low morals. The kind of low-class Raphael Rhodes-type of thug that'd punch his own mother in the jaw and stomp in her head to make it ahead in this business. Right? [He once again turns to an unsuspecting Dane, who hesitates, before slowly nodding his head.] JV: So I suppose the question we gotta' ask then, is..."Is Juan Vasquez, the type of man willing to sink as low as to partner himself up with a no-good, dirty, rotten scoundrel like Raphael Rhodes, just to win a pair of title belts?" [Juan pauses, turning to Dane before slowly cracking a smile and turning back towards the camera.] JV: Well...duh. [And there's the wink.] JV: Where've you been for the last ten years? [Juan chuckles to himself and playfully punches Dane in the shoulder before walking off. We fade away from Jason Dane... ...to a shot of a loving family around a crackling fire on what appears to be Christmas morning. The young son looks disappointed as he pulls a pair of socks from a box.] Son: Socks... again. Thanks, Mom And Dad. [The boy grabs a smaller nearby box. We catch a shot of the mother winking at her husband as the boy starts to tear away the wrapping paper. After a moment, he pulls out an envelope and cries out.] Son: TICKETS TO TONIGHT'S AWA SHOW! THANKS, MOM AND DAD! [The son throws himself into embraces with his parents as he beams at the tickets clutched in his hand.] Voiceover: Christmas night! The AWA brings all your favorite superstars to town for the final show of 2008! You do NOT want to miss it! [Fade away from info on the show back to Jason Dane in the interview spot.] JD: You certainly do not want to miss the Christmas night show here in the AWA because just moments ago, I received word from the Championship Committee that the Glamour Boys have made a challenge to either Rough N Ready or the team of Despair and Kirk Maclean! If either of those teams don't win the title tomorrow night, the Glamour Boys want them! That's in addition to the announcement earlier that the tag team titles will be defended for the first time that night as well. What a night it'll be on Christmas! In addition to that, we also have just been told by the Championship Committee that because of the Russians' loss here tonight to the Oklahoma Brothers, Kolya Sudakov suddenly has an opening in his schedule for tomorrow night - but not any longer. Tomorrow night, here in the WKIK Studios, Sudakov will defend the National Title one-on-one with Bruno "The Butcher" Verhoeven! You won't want to miss- [From off-camera, we hear someone clear their throat rather insistently. Dane looks to the side before sighing.] JD: At this time, I've been joined by the "Catch Thug" Raphael Rhodes. [Raphael Rhodes steps into view sporting a white leg-length tights with trunks sporting the Union Jack over top of them, along with powder blue wrestling boots with red trim, and his black leather jacket. He has buzzed his hair back into a mohawk, and he smirks at the camera as Dane begins the interview.] JD: Mr. Rhodes, many people have said that you were very opportunistic with how the Wild Card battle royale ended, leading Naitomea to believe that you were going to team up with him and toss Juan Vasquez, but instead you betrayed him. RR: You're right perceptive, mate! JD: Well, yes, but how does Juan Vasquez know he can trust you? You went after everyone in that battle royale and already betrayed one person. RR: Listen, it ain't about the battle royale anymore. You heard what I said that night, right? It don't matter to me who my partner is. All Juan Vasquez has to do is follow my lead. JD: With all due respect, sir, Mr. Vasquez has been a champion around the globe, and yo-... RR: Oi! It don't matter what belts he's won before! I beat the world in that battle royale! If it weren't for me, he wouldn't be in the bleedin' thing! When everyone else was running away from that big, salty Hyde, who was jumping on his back and crossfacing him? I ain't got a bone in my body that's fearing another man! And let me just say this, Jason... Vasquez has held titles around the globe, okay, fine. But, there ain't no titles more important right here, right now... [Rhodes mimes having a title belt around his waist.] RR: ... than those National Tag Team titles. If Juan Vasquez wants one of those belts, all he's got to do is work with me. I don't care about whether he likes me, or whether these people like me... all I care about is how much this night is going to put in my annual earnings. [Dane turns towards the camera.] JD: The "Catch Thug" is certainly determined for this tournament! And he's on his way to the ring! Take it away, Melissa! ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * Juan Vasquez & Raphael Rhodes vs Stevie Scott & Sweet Daddy Williams * ************************************************************************ MC: The following contest is a tag team tournament match scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. The winner will move on to Round Two to take on the Oklahoma Brothers. Introducing first... at a total combined weight of 439 pounds... they are the Wild Card team of "Catch Thug" Raphael Rhodes and Juan Vasquez! ["Return of the Tres" by Delinquent Habits starts up to a loud cheer from the AWA crowd. The curtain parts and the makeshift duo of Juan Vasquez and Raphael Rhodes walk into view. Neither man seems especially thrilled to be walking to the ring with the other but they quickly make their way to the ring.] GM: These two men battled through that big battle royal to be the Wild Card entry in this tournament - and when you looked at the field of entries into the battle royal, it's hard to imagine two better competitors to win it. Notice I didn't say "team" though. I still don't know how they'll be as a team. BW: Juan Vasquez' resume speaks for itself. Raphael Rhodes definitely seems to be on his way to greatness in the AWA. But together? Who knows? The good thing for them is that Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams have never teamed together either. Both teams have this first round match to work out the kinks in their style before going into the second round. GM: Where they'll meet an established tag team in the Oklahoma Brothers. BW: Seriously? So, basically, these two teams are fighting for a bye to the semifinals. GM: That's your opinion. [Rhodes and Vasquez stand several feet away from another, not meeting to discuss strategy or teamwork as Melissa continues.] MC: And their opponents... "WHO WAN SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIGHT?" [The crowd ERUPTS as "I'm Gon' Be Your Sweet Daddy", the self-written, self-performed entrance music by Sweet Daddy Williams kicks in over the WKIK Studios PA system.] MC: At a combined weight of 530 pounds... "Hotshot" Stevie Scott! Sweet Daddy Williams! Together, they are known as - SWEET HEAT! [The crowd roars once more as the duo tears out of the curtain clad in matching red and yellow ring gear - much to Juan Vasquez' disappointment. Together, they work their way around the ringside area, slapping hands with the bleacher fans who seem to have found themselves a new fan favorite squad. On the far side of the ring, they meet up with one another - and break out into a dual jig!] GM: Haha! These guys are havin' a good time out here! BW: Dancing, slapping hands, kissing babies - this is all straight of the Sweet Daddy Williams playbook. But you know what else is in his playbook? Failure. He takes nothing serious and you can't win if you don't take things seriously. [Stevie Scott rolls under the bottom rope into the ring as Sweet Daddy Williams climbs up on the apron, hanging onto the top rope as he shakes his groove thang to the cheers of the crowd. They exchange a high-five as the music fades out, leaning in to discuss a few things as Sweet Daddy steps back out on the apron as Stevie Scott leans back in the corner, waiting to see who he'll face. Vasquez and Rhodes simply glare at one another for a bit before Rhodes just waves Vasquez off, slapping himself in the chest.] GM: It looks like Raphael Rhodes wants to start things off for his squad. BW: A wise choice. Rhodes is the true talent in that team. Vasquez has never been anything but a product of good marketing and hype, Gordo. GM: I thought you said his resume speaks for itself. BW: It does. It speaks for how well he markets and hypes himself! [Referee Mickey Meekly calls for the bell, officially starting the match with Raphael Rhodes and Stevie Scott going head to head. Rhodes sidesteps out of the corner, forcing Stevie to do the same as the two men circle one another to look for an opening. Suddenly, they come together in the center of the ring in a collar and elbow tieup. Rhodes quickly shows his scientific wrestling advantage by hooking in an overhand wristlock. Smirking at the jeering crowd, Rhodes steps on the back of Scott's knee, forcing him down to a knee - which Stevie quickly counters by backrolling away from the pressure, whipping Rhodes down to the mat in an armdrag.] GM: Whoa! Stevie takes him down! BW: And that had to upset Raphael Rhodes. He prides himself at his skill on the mat, Gordo. [Rhodes kneels near the ropes for a moment, eyeing Stevie Scott who pops back to his feet, fists balled up at the ready for a throwdown. The "Catch Thug" slowly pushes up to his feet, glaring at Stevie Scott as he tries to figure out his next move. They tie up once again in the middle - Stevie using his size advantage to push Rhodes back against the ropes this time. The "Hotshot" holds for a moment - the referee stepping in to lay down a five count - and then breaks away, fist cocked at the ready as he backs up.] GM: A clean break by Stevie Scott and the crowd cheers for that. This is a much different Stevie Scott than we saw in the months leading up to The Last Stampede and WarGames, Bucky. BW: It is - and I can't say that I like it at all, Gordo. Stevie used to be smart, cunning, skilled, strategic - he used to be one of those guys who'd do whatever it took. You never would have seen the old Stevie Scott with a clean break. Why? No one's ever gotten disqualified for jabbing someone in the eye on a break. GM: You're a real role model, you know that? [Rhodes sneers at the clean break of Scott before locking up once more. This time, Rhodes immediately goes to the eyes with a rake that causes the "Hotshot" to stagger away, blindly wandering into the corner where Rhodes approaches. Grabbing Stevie behind the head, he pulls his head down before popping him under the chin with a European uppercut. He follows up with a boot to the gut that knocks Stevie down to a knee. The "Catch Thug" grabs Stevie by the hair, pulling his head back and leaning in to shout at him.] GM: Rhodes is trash talking Scott now, really laying into him and- oh! [The crowd gasps as Rhodes uncorks a brutal slap to the ear that knocks Scott down to the mat, clutching the side of his head. The crowd boos as Rhodes repeatedly stomps the downed Scott near the buckles. Outside the ring, Sweet Daddy Williams claps for his partner, leaning over the ropes to offer a tag. Scott crawls in the direction of his partner. Rhodes doesn't even attempt to stop him, allowing Scott to make the exchange with the 302 pounder. A big cheer goes up as Sweet Daddy Williams steps into the ring.] GM: There's the tag. And there's the first sign of Raphael Rhodes not knowing the world of tag team wrestling. Tag team wrestling is all about cutting the ring off, keeping the tired man in the ring. Am I right, Bucky Wilde? BW: You're absolutely right but even with Stevie Scott becoming a big pansy, I'd rather have this fat goof in there. Imagine what the "Catch Thug" can do to him? [A quick tieup in the middle of the ring finds Sweet Daddy Williams powering Raphael Rhodes back into the ropes. He grabs Rhodes by the wrist, firing him across the ring - and burying a right hand into the midsection of the "Catch Thug!" Williams quickly hits the ropes, rebounding back, and popping Rhodes under the jaw with a running knee lift that causes Rhodes to crash down on the mat. The Englishman promptly rolls under the ropes to the floor, grabbing his jaw as he stares up into the ring where the Sweet Daddy is shakin' and shimmyin'.] GM: Oh my! Sweet Daddy Williams is having a good time in there right now, Bucky. BW: This is exactly what I'm talking about. Instead of going out to the floor, grabbing Rhodes, and sending him into the post - this big moron is in there shaking his fat rear end all over the ring. GM: You just really don't like him, do you? BW: I don't like spinach. I don't like bad traffic. I don't like when Mama makes me rub her feet. But Sweet Daddy Williams? The words "don't like" don't begin to cover it, daddy. [Rhodes rolls under the ropes near his corner, reaching right up to slap the hand of Juan Vasquez who steps through the ropes to a loud ovation from the crowd. He grins at the cheers before locking up in the middle of the ring with the Sweet Daddy - and promptly burying a knee into the ample midsection of the 302 pounder. Vasquez winds up and blasts Williams across the chest with a chop that knocks him off his feet. The Los Angeles native quickly pulls Williams back to his feet, edging him back to the ropes where he fires him off.] GM: Irish whip by Juan Vasquez... clothesli- ducked by Sweet Daddy Williams! Off the far side and... ducks another clothesline and- [The crowd jeers as Raphael Rhodes slips down the apron and buries a knee in the lower back of Sweet Daddy Williams. Juan Vasquez turns quickly to face his opponent - completely unaware of the actions of the "Catch Thug."] GM: Rhodes with a cheap shot to get his team the advantage! Juan Vasquez didn't see it but you can tell from the look on his face, he's suspicious of what went on when his back was turned. BW: That's just for show, Gordo. Vasquez couldn't care less if he has to cut a few corners if it means strapping one of those big gold belts around his waist tomorrow night. GM: I don't know about that. Mr. Vasquez has been quite the sportsman and fan favorite since arriving here in the American Wrestling Alliance. BW: He may be kissing babies right now but Vasquez can be as dirty as they come - believe that. [Vasquez points an accusing finger at Rhodes who ignores his partner's accusations. The LA native slowly helps Sweet Daddy Williams off the mat - and eats an uppercut for his efforts! A stunned Vasquez falls back to the corner where Rhodes makes another quick tag, racing into the ring and tackling the Sweet Daddy down to the canvas before the rotund one can make the exchange to a waiting Stevie Scott. With Williams facedown on the mat, Rhodes straddles his back, slamming down clenched fists into the side of the head near the ear.] GM: Oh, come on! Those are clenched fists! BW: They certainly are - effective too. [The referee's protests causes Rhodes to break up the punching attack but he quickly follows up by hooking his fingers in the nostrils of the Sweet Daddy, pulling his head backwards by the nose. The crowd jeers the blatant rulebreaking as the referee's count reaches four before Rhodes releases, looking down at his own fingers in disgust as he rises to his feet.] BW: Someone get him some antibacterial wash, daddy. That's just dirty. GM: Speaking of dirty, those are absolutely disgusting tactics being used by Raphael Rhodes. All those years of fighting in pubs throughout England seem to be coming to the forefront here tonight in Dallas. BW: You ever tried to get out of a tab in an English pub? You need to gouge a few eyes and kick a few groins, I'm tellin' ya that. [Sweet Daddy Williams inches towards his corner, his arm outstretched - an arm that is quickly pinned down to the mat under the right boot of Raphael Rhodes moments before he stomps the fingers with his left foot!] GM: Ohh! BW: Look at this, Gordo. You'll enjoy this! [The crowd roars with disgust as Rhodes kneels on the wrist of Williams, straightening the arm. He grabs the wrist with his left hand and starts twisting and pushing back on the fingers with his free hand. Screams of pain escape Sweet Daddy Williams as the count reaches four and Rhodes breaks his torturous grip. The "Catch Thug" slowly rises to his feet again, sneering at the protesting referee. Rhodes pulls Sweet Daddy Williams off the mat by the hair, popping him with another European uppercut that sends Williams falling back into the opposite corner.] GM: The Sweet Daddy falls back into the buckles - and there's a tag back in to Juan Vasquez. BW: Let's see if he can keep up the good work that Rhodes has been doing. GM: Good work? Give me a break! [With Rhodes holding Williams in the corner, Vasquez slips through the ropes and buries a boot into the gut of the Sweet Daddy. Rhodes pats Vasquez on the shoulder before stepping through the ropes onto the apron. Vasquez shakes his head at his partner as he drags Williams away from the corner, snap maring him down to the mat before leaping into the air with a big leg drop across the chest. Vasquez quickly applies a lateral press but only gets a two count. He pops right back to his feet, dropping an elbow across the chest. Vasquez gets right back up and drops the elbow right back down. He repeats the process three more times before applying yet another lateral press.] GM: Vasquez with a series of elbowdrops - and there's another cover. One! Two! No! Shoulder up by the Sweet Daddy to the cheers of this capacity crowd in the WKIK Studios. The crowd is quite split in this one. BW: That's why you can't care what the fans think, Gordo. One day they cheer you - the next they boo you when you haven't done anything differently. Why should Vasquez suck up to them when they cheer this fat slob for kicking out against him? Just don't make sense. [Vasquez drags Williams off the mat by the hair, shoving him back into the corner. A hard right hand to the side of the head connects, knocking Williams to a seated position against the turnbuckles. Vasquez promptly lunges forward, slamming his knee into the face of the downed Williams - and another - and another - and another before peeling off, racing across to the other corner where he slams on the brakes just before reaching Stevie Scott. He turns on his heels, sprinting across the ring and buries both feet squarely into the face of his opponent with a seated dropkick!] GM: OHH! What a shot right there! Vasquez pushes off the mat and- a forced tag by Raphael Rhodes, bringing himself back into the match even though Juan Vasquez had this match well in hand at the moment. BW: It's all about keeping the fresh man in, Gordo. Rhodes obviously knows that - do you? [Sliding into the ring much to his partner's dismay, Rhodes pulls Williams to a standing position, turning him out of the corner - and DRILLS him with a standing lariat, diving onto the fan favorite and tightly hooking the leg.] GM: ONE! TWO! THR- Kickout! [The crowd roars as Sweet Daddy Williams slips the shoulder up just in time. An irate Rhodes shows three fingers to the referee who shakes his head, showing two fingers in reply. Still fired-up, Rhodes shoves his forearm down across the cheek of Williams, ordering the referee to count again and only getting a two count in reply. Rhodes pushes up off the mat, stomping Williams repeatedly in the head and chest to the boos of the fans. Grabbing the foot of Williams, he drags him several feet away from the corner before heading back towards the buckles. He props himself up onto the second rope, standing on it for a moment before swan diving off with a headbutt - and hitting nothing but canvas!] GM: HE MISSED! RHODES MISSED THE HEADBUTT! [The crowd erupts as Sweet Daddy Williams takes the chance to start crawling across the ring where Stevie Scott is waiting, arm outstretched. Raphael Rhodes rolls onto his back, clutching at his forehead as Juan Vasquez screams at him to make the tag as well.] GM: We've got a race on our hands! Who can make the tag first? [Throughout the bleachers, the fans clap and stomp, trying to cheer on their favorite to make the exchange. Raphael Rhodes rolls over again, just a foot or two away from the outstretched hand of Juan Vasquez as Sweet Daddy Williams is on all fours, inching closer and closer and closer until...] GM: TAG! [A huge ovation goes up as both men make the tag, Juan Vasquez and Stevie Scott racing towards one another. Scott quickly scores with a running dropkick that knocks Vasquez off his feet. Both men are lightning fast back to their feet where a second dropkick has the same result. Again, both men scamper to a vertical base where the Hotshot doubles up Vasquez with a kick to the gut. A quick double underhook is applied before Scott hoists the Los Angeles native into the air, flipping him around and dumping him down in a backbreaker!] GM: OHH! BW: Stevie calls it the Spinal Tap! He really took- [The crowd EXPLODES as Scott leaps into the air again, connecting with a dropkick that knocks Raphael Rhodes clear off the ring apron, crashing down to the concrete floor below. Scott regains his feet just in time to catch Juan Vasquez on a knee, leaping into the air and popping him with an enzugiri! With Vasquez down, Stevie points towards the turnbuckles to a deafening cheer from the crowd.] GM: Vasquez is down - and the Hotshot is heading for the high rent district in a hurry! BW: You can live or die up here real quick. Stevie to the second rope - now to the top... [Scott stands atop his perch, facing away from the ring, and with a wild arm gesture, executes a picture-perfect backflip, crashing down across the chest of Vasquez, He reaches back with both arms, hooking both legs tightly.] GM: STEVIESAULT CONNECTS!! ONE!! TWO!! THRE- [From outside the ring, Rapahel Rhodes throws himself onto Stevie Scott, breaking the pin attempt to the boos of the fans. A tired Sweet Daddy Williams steps back into the ring, charging across, and THROWING himself into a cross body block that sends both he and Rhodes toppling over the ropes and down to the floor below!] GM: OHHHH MY! LOOK OUT, OUT THERE! BW: How in the world did that disgusting pig get himself that high in the air? GM: Stevie Scott is back to his feet, dragging Vasquez off the mat as well. Both men back up now. Scott with a handful of hair, DRIVES Vasquez facefirst into the top turnbuckle! [Still holding Vasquez by the hair, Scott runs to the next adjacent turnbuckle, slamming his head into the buckles. The crowd roars as he points to a third - and does the same. And yes, one more time he drives the head into the top turnbuckle before letting Vasquez wobble away from his grip, falling facefirst down to the mat!] GM: Juan Vasquez is on dream street, Bucky! [Outside the ring, we catch a glimpse of Raphael Rhodes and Sweet Daddy Williams are trading heavy haymakers, pummeling each other just feet away from the fans. Stevie Scott walks to the corner, grabbing the top rope, looking out over the crowd... and STOMPS...HIS...FOOT!] GM: Uh oh! Listen to these fans! Would you ever have imagined that Stevie Scott would be getting cheers like this from the WKIK Studios crowd? BW: I guess that's what happen when you lie down with dogs like Sweet Daddy Williams, Gordo. GM: Stevie's stomping his foot! The crowd is roaring! The Hotshot's waiting for Vasquez to rise. He's got the Heatseeker cocked and ready! [The camera cuts out to the floor where Raphael Rhodes jabs a finger into the eye of Sweet Daddy Williams just before he grabs the 302 pounder by the head and SLAMS his skull into the ringpost, dumping the big man on the floor in a heap!] BW: Haha! I love it! The "Catch Thug" just took out that big goofball! GM: He certainly did - but look at Vasquez! Vasquez almost to his feet! [Staggering off the mat, Vasquez slowly spins until he's dead in the sights of Stevie Scott - who suddenly has his base leg grabbed by Raphael Rhodes from out on the floor!] GM: Rhodes! Rhodes grabs the ankle! [Seizing the moment, Vasquez charges across the ring, stepping up on the second rope and BLASTING Scott in the back of the head with a step-up enzugiri!] GM: OHHH! WHAT A SHOT! [Rhodes releases the ankle, allowing Scott to stumble out into the waiting arms of Juan Vasquez who slings Scott over his shoulder, reaching down to hook the head.] GM: Here it comes! City Of Angels! [Vasquez charges out of the corner, leaping into the air, and smashing the back of Scott's head into the canvas!] GM: OHHH! THAT'LL DO IT! [The referee dives down to the mat to count one... two... three! The bell rings as a tired Juan Vasquez rolls off of the downed Stevie Scott to a mixed reaction from the AWA faithful.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen... advancing to the next round... the team of Juan Vasquez and Raphael Rhodes! [Grinning like an idiot, Rhodes walks away from the ringside area, arms raised in victory as the referee raises Juan Vasquez' hand as well. A disappointed Stevie Scott rolls under the ropes to the floor where he takes a knee next to a downed Sweet Daddy Williams.] GM: Obviously disappointed, Stevie and Sweet Daddy were hoping to go far in this tournament but came up short in this one against the team of Vasquez and Rhodes who, quite frankly, were pretty impressive, Bucky. BW: They were - they definitely were. Now, I don't know if that's because they had pathetic opponents or- GM: Would you stop? At least give Sweet Heat credit for their performance here tonight. BW: I will not! Stevie Scott made the biggest mistake of his life when he changed his ways to become a fan-pandering loser. Someday he may get it but until he does? Get used to the loser's end of the purse, daddy. GM: Well, the result of this match means that Vasquez and Rhodes will take on the Oklahoma Brothers tomorrow night in the second round of the tournament. Will the makeshift Wild Card team triumph or will the Cindarella story continue? Fans, let's go back to Jason Dane who is apparently with a team who already advanced earlier tonight - The War Pigs! Jason? [We cut backstage where Jason Dane is standing along. Soon after, the Pigs and Lee enter the screen, with Hammer and Scythe still in their ring gear and what remains of their face paint. Lee is still in his suit and sunglasses, grinning confidently.] REL: Tonight is the beginning, Jason Dane ...the beginning of a new era in the American Wrestling Alliance. You see, I have brought the War Pigs here for one reason, and that is to completely and thoroughly annihilate the competition that is presented before us. It is only a bonus that we now have the prize of the National Tag Team Titles awaiting us at the end of our path of destruction. Tonight, you saw my men barely break a sweat against two of the best that Japan had to offer. It turned out that what Japan had to offer was a sacrifice, a sacrifice to the two most powerful, most unstoppable behemoths in professional wrestling. JD: With all due respect to you and your men, tomorrow night you have to face the number one seed in the tournament in Rough N Ready. [Lee scoffs. Scoff, scoff.] REL: Let me tell you something, Jason Dane ...there's nothing rough about those two pencilnecks, so they'd better be ready for the beating of their lives. Rest assured that my War Pigs are _nothing_ like any team they've faced before. Tell 'em, Hammer. [The massive Hammer steps in front of Lee.] H: Cooper! Somers! I hope you two punks took a good look at what happened to those two clowns from Japan, boys, because that's what's coming your way tomorrow night! Those National Tag Titles are nice, but the War Pigs are about beating the snot outta punks like you, and that's exactly what we plan to do. Number one seed, number ten, whatever, it doesn't matter to us. The only thing that matters is makin' you count the lights on the ceiling after we drop a weapon of mass destruction on you. Tell 'em, Scythe! S: Yea, though we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we will fear none evil...for we _are_ the evil, Jason Dane! The AWA is just getting a taste of the terror, a preview of the path of destruction that is coming the way of any who have the _guts_ to oppose us! Now as for Cooper and Somers...EMS...believe me boys, there's going to be a serious need for emergency medical service for you two after you get into the ring with the baddest pair of... [Scythe pauses, stopping himself from dropping one on live TV.] S: You-know-whats, Dane...that you'll find _anywhere_ in professional wrestling. So before you show back up tomorrow, boys, you'd better get your affairs in order...reserve a bed or two in a hospital...start looking for other places to wrestle...because when you get in the ring with us? There will be no mercy. REL: We prey on pain, Jason Dane, and we feast on fear! [Hammer and Scythe give intimidating looks at the camera before Lee points away with his magazine, and the trio of terror walks off camera leaving Jason Dane behind.] JD: Rough N Ready? They'd better be both when they get in there tomorrow night with the team known as The War Pigs! Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back with more action here at AWA's Broken Wishbones! [We fade away from Jason Dane to commercial. After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking building.] "Have you ever dreamed of fame?" [Cut a little closer.] "Of glory?" [A little closer.] "Of your friends and family seeing you on television?" [And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that reads "AWA Combat Corner."] "Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American Wrestling Alliance!" [We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring. There are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course, working out in the ring.] "With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in the ring in the shortest amount of time!" [Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.] "With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on Day One!" [Two young students are grappling on the canvas.] "So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar! You want to be the future of the business! You want to wrestle!" [Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner. We freeze there for a moment... ...and then back up on live action!] ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * Hikarimono & El Corazon Negro vs Adam Rogers/??? * ************************************************************************ MC: The following contest is a Round One tournament matchup scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... ["Little Crazy" by Fight starts up to a mixed reaction from the AWA faithful as two masked men race through the curtain.] MC: At a combined weight of 460 pounds... the international duo of El Corazon Negro and Hikarimono! [The masked duo climb into the ring, exchanging a high-five as their music fades and is replaced by Deep Purple's "Smoke On The Water" and a deafening roar from the fans.] MC: And their opponents... [Melissa simply shrugs her shoulders, exiting the ring.] GM: So, apparently not even Melissa knows who the tag team partner of Adam Rogers is going to be here tonight, Bucky. BW: Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone. [The cheers increase as Adam Rogers walks through the curtain clad in a white windbreaker jacket. He looks a little bit disappointed as he strides directly over to the announce desk instead of the ring.] GM: Fans, it looks like- yes, we're being approached here at ringside by Adam Rogers. "The Natural" is- Mr. Rogers, welcome to ringside. [Rogers looks down at the ground while Gordon Myers extends the mic to him.] AR: I had a partner, Gordon. I really did. But there's bad weather back in- GM: Wait a second here... [The crowd begins to buzz as "Hellion" Mark Shaw emerges from the entranceway alongside the hooded man who has accompanied him since The Last Stampede. Both pauses, looking over at a surprised Adam Rogers - and with a single gesture from the hooded man, Shaw leaps into action, charging the rest of the way to the ring, diving under the bottom rope.] GM: Adam, it looks like- AR: I don't know what this guy thinks he's doing but- [Grabbing the referee by the collar, Mark Shaw intimidates him by shaking him back and forth - until the bell rings. Shaw promptly turns on his heels, charging across the ring and knocking El Corazon Negro off the apron with a shoulder tackle.] GM: Adam, it looks like you've got a partner! AR: I'm not teaming with this nutcase - this psychopath. I didn't ask for this, Gordon. BW: Ask for it or not - you've got it, Rogers! [Shaw glares over the ropes at Rogers, completely oblivious as Hikarimono starts pummeling Shaw in the back of the head and neck with clubbing blows. Without warning, Shaw spins around and drills Hikarimono with a standing clothesline that flips the masked man before dumping him down to the mat.] GM: Ohh! What a clothesline! BW: I don't think your partner needs you, Rogers. AR: He's not my partner, Bucky. I didn't- [Shaw yanks Hikarimono off the mat, pulling him into a gutwrench. With a powerful hoist, he throws the masked man up in the air and POWERS him down to the mat! With a sick grin, Shaw drops down in a lateral press, glaring at Rogers as the referee counts one... two... three.] GM: That's it. It's over. BW: Congratulations on making the second round, Rogers! That's the best performance in the ring I've ever seen from you. AR: Damn it, Bucky, I'm not going to team with that son of a- GM: Easy, Adam. [The Hellion pushes off of the downed masked man, approaching the ropes where he points a finger at a still-motionless Adam Rogers.] MC: Your winner of the match, advancing to the second round... the team of Adam Rogers and Mark Shaw! [With an evil smirk, Shaw rolls from the ring, joining his hooded ally as the two men make their way back through the entrance curtain into the locker room area.] GM: Well, Adam- AR: This isn't over, Gordon. This isn't over. [Rogers stalks away from the announce desk, heading towards the entryway as well.] GM: With that, fans, we're down to two more matches. We've got our final first round tournament match with Kentucky's Pride taking on Jarrod O'Lachlan and Naitomea. But there's one more match on tonight's slate and one of the men in that match is standing by with Jason Dane! [We cut to the backstage interview spot. Jason Dane is standing alone.] JD: Thanks, Gordon. While tonight has been all about tag teams, we do have one singles match scheduled to go down in our Main Event here tonight and what a singles match it is. For months, this man has been on a path of terror and destruction with not a single soul able to stop him. Tonight, he gets the man he's been waiting for, one on one, inside the ring. Grant Stone, your thoughts. [Shot comes up to the face of the man who's been terrorizing the AWA ever since he arrived, Grant Stone. This close in, one can easily see all the scars and pock marks that litter the Louisville man's face from all his previous battles. The camera stays on this close in shot as Stone begins to speak.] GS: Years... [Stone continues to stare into the camera, eyes of a determined warrior.] GS: Years, Taylor... Years... [Stone pauses again, his breathing already very heaving.] GS: That's how long I've waited to get this moment. It's been that long since you were paid to take me down... Paid to ruin my... life... [Stone takes a moment to seeth.] GS: I'm sure you've asking why I've been set out to destroy you, Taylor. You've been thinking, "Why oh why has that sick monster taken out my friends, my prized rookies, my own baby brother?" Why am I tormenting you? [Stone smiles, but mostly shows his teeth as he does.] GS: Of course you'd forget. It was only a small time deal to you. Some backwater place in El Paso, Texas no one cared about, some small time person giving you a quick payday to take down the person causing too much trouble. An in & out type of job for you, no problem, no repercussions. But what you didn't take into account... [Stone spits out the next word with disdain.] GS: "Outlaw"... [The large man from Kentucky does everything but spit at the camera to show his disgust.] GS: Is that the moment you attacked me... the moment you blindsided me... the moment that you took away something that could've turned me around at that point? That's the moment I made sure to destroy you, your support, and your legacy. [Stone pauses, again looking straight into the camera.] GS: It took some time, Taylor. I had to wait until you got into the public eye again. Oh sure, I could've just sent you to the hospital at any moment, but that would only hurt you physically. [Stone shakes his head for a moment.] GS: That wouldn't do... I needed to hurt your reputation. I needed to make sure that anyone who held you in any regard knew what a low person you really are. I needed them to see that you were only a coward when faced with situations that didn't favor you any. I needed everyone to see that the... [Again, Stone spits out the next word, dripping with hatred.] GS: "Outlaw" was nothing more than a simple opportunist. Someone only driven by money and some idea of a legacy. The way to do that was to just be you, Taylor. Just be you... [Stone again grins.] GS: I got paid to destroy your friends and I got paid to destroy your baby brother. I got paid at every stop by that Man, but that's where it ended on my acting of you. Everytime that maggot of a Man paid me, I threw the money back at your face, Taylor. I made sure to show you that even this monster, this psychopath, has more moral standing than even you... [Stone again throw out the next word with disdain.] GS: "Outlaw". [Stone pauses again, longer this time as he takes a couple deep breaths.] GS: I destroyed your friends... Ruined your reputation... and now, this Thanksgiving day? I'll finish what I set out for years to accomplish. I'll destroy the name... "Outlaw" and end your legacy, right in front of everything you built and all the last remaining fans of yours. At the end of the night, Taylor, the last image people will have of you... [No grin, no smile, just a grim look with eyes wide open.] GS: Is begging at my feet, pleading not to make you a cripple like your kin... Begging like the coward you are... [Stone continues to stare into the camera as the shot fades. After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet in an apparently moving car.] JD: Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go, wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA superstars when you're away from home? MS: I know I would, Jason! And I'd also love to have a place to put out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. JD: You've got that right. Wouldn't it be great if we could combine both of those ideas into one? [Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!] JD & MS: NOW WE CAN! [A voiceover takes over - thank God.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors, and happenings before the rest of the world. And don't forget to check out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired! AWA Access - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... ...and then back up on the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing.] JD: It all comes down to this. Tonight's Round One of the tournament to crown the first National Tag Team Champions is about to end in one final showdown pitting Kentucky's Pride against Jarrod O'Lachlan and Naitomea. We tried to get City Jack and Tin Can Rust to speak to us here on camera tonight but have had no luck. They are focused, they are determined, and they are ready to become the National Tag Team Champions. Don't believe me? Watch this clip recorded earlier this week! [The scene comes to the inside of a dive bar that's pretty empty. There's a generic country song playing in the background as the camera focuses in on one of the benches (I did say it was a dive bar) where the two members of Kentucky's Pride sit, beers at hand. City Jack looks uncharacteristically down, slumped over the bench top as his tag team mate Tin Can Rusts tries to talk to him.] TCR: Look, it wasn't nothing, ok? The match got heated, that's all. [Jack sighs and continues to look down.] TCR: Jack, come on - he hit the post, 'k? He ain't done it to nobody but himself. The fact that he was fighting you doesn't mean a thing. He went crazy and hit a post, what could you have done? CJ: Yeah, and I done celebrated it all like I won the damn lottery. From look of the way that young man hit that post, head-on... [Jack shakes his head.] CJ: Shoot, looked like it could've been the end... and I didn't do nothin'... TCR: Jack, look - Gregorson? He didn't get put out cause of that head-to-pole hit. He tore his own leg up in the match. Things happen, injuries happen. You of all people know that. [Jack nods as he rubs his right knee.] CJ: Very true, very true... TCR: And that Gregorson? Well what if that lunatic actually hit you into that post, huh? I don't think your back could've taken that impact none. He seemed more than eager in that match to take you out for good. Him and Despair. [Jack nods again, straightening up a little bit.] TCR: The fact that Gregorson couldn't have lived up to a simple Gentleman's agreement to not have no one at ringside just shows what sort of ill intentions them two had lined up for you. That's the only reason I came out - the writing on the wall was clear as day. CJ: Maybe... Maybe... TCR: All you did, Jack, was hit him mistakenly - one time. Then he goes out into that match lookin' like he's planning to take your head off. It just wasn't right and, well, in the end he got paid back for whatever ill deeds he had up for that night for you. CJ: I don't know about no ill deeds, Rust'er... Even so, it's no reason to feel no glee after that match. [Rust throws his hands up in the air.] TCR: Look, it's the past. Things happen and things happened to him. He brought it on himself and just leave it at that. It's no reason to feel sad-sacked just before mighty damned important tournament! We've worked too hard, 'k? [Begrudgingly, Jack nods and sits upright with a forced smile on his face.] CJ: You're right... You are right... This mopin' does nothin' to change the situation. What's done is done and if that boy Despair feels the need to find it in his way to make things right, well... [Jack nods.] CJ: Well, I'll be more than happy to give him the opportunity to - TCR: Opportunity? No, no, no... The way them brackets line up now? Why, the only way that opportunity comes up is if he and whatever friend he's going to pull out of thin air meets us in the finals. And if we are in the finals, Jack, there'll be no sorrows and no restitution. We came here to AWA with a purpose - to show the world that that best tag team is you and I! I'm not lettin' any sense of what's right or some sort of idea of justice get in the way of proving just that! CJ: Rust, come on - you darn well know this ol' sob more than to just lay down for some other to walk over. If it is that Despair and his pal against us in the finals, the opportunity WILL be that finals match. And the opportunity WILL be enterin' a full scale war for them National Tag Team Titles. No ifs, ands, buts about it. [That erases some of the concern from Tin Can Rust's face.] CJ: But... Phew, it ain't goin' be easy... All them matches, all one night... Shoot, aside from Despair and them vile Russians, we never done tussled with any of these other teams. TCR: Stevie Scott we have... [Rust curls his lip.] CJ: Naw... The Stevie Scott we done faced was a different man. This new Scott's got some actual heart now. We never faced that. [Rust simply shakes his head.] CJ: And we shouldn't talk none about any of them other teams aside from our first match... Them boys we're facin'? I saw them compete past couple weeks and they ain't heartless none neither. That Nat... Naga... TCR: Naitomea. CJ: Yeah, him... Phew, my stars! Quick as can be! [Rust sighs.] TCR: He's nothing. We've beaten speed before. And that fool he's partnered with is nothing to be concerned with. [Jack looks on at his partner with a puzzled look.] CJ: What's that kind of talk now? Shoot, I done lost to speedsters and young upcomers like that O'Lachen- TCR: O'Lachlan. CJ: Yeah. Can't be sayin' they're nothin'! That's not the kind of talk to be talkin' about now. If I can't be moping none, you sure as rain can't be thinking them sorts of thoughts neither. [Tin Can Rust looks at Jack... and begrudgingly nods.] TCR: But if we do get past them... then... it's the Russians... and I really want to make sure they feel a beating. Especially for what they've done during AND since War Games. [Rust rubs his neck.] CJ: Hey, could them... or could be Scott and SWEEEET Daddy - now there's - mmhmm - now there's a guy that I sure do like the cut of. He's got something, Mr. Williams does. [Jack finally flashes a smile.] CJ: Shoot, all I'm tryin' to say is that it could be anyone in them finals. Could be Marley and Pain... TCR: Or Freeman and Dufresne. CJ: Sure, sure... and if it is, and we're there, I'll be sure to put Ca-lis-to on notice again. But all in all, it could be anyone and we got to be prepared for anyone - and I do mean ANYONE - and that certainly goes for our first round opponents. The only thing I can say is that by the end of the night, we'll be hopin' to hang them titles up high in our arms. TCR: No hoping... We will be... We will be. [Jack looks on, a bit concerned for a moment at his all-too-determined friend... but shrugs and nods in the end, picking up his glass of beer to down it as the shot fades back to ringside.] ************************************************************************ * AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES* * ROUND ONE: * * Kentucky's Pride vs Jarrod O'Lachlan & Naitomea * ************************************************************************ MC: The following contest is the final first round match in the tournament to crown the first AWA National Tag Team Champions! It is set for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... ["Kool Thing" by Sonic Youth starts up to a shower of boos from the WKIK Studio audience.] MC: At a combined weight of 415 pounds... they are Jarrod O'Lachlan and Naitomea! [The Australian and the masked man walk through the curtain to even more boos from the jam-packed, capacity crowd. Naitomea ignores the fans' reaction while O'Lachlan spends some time taunting them on his way towards the ring. Naitomea slingshots over the ropes while O'Lachlan arrogantly climbs the ringsteps, leaning against the ropes to give more verbage to the fans before stepping into the ring.] MC: And their opponents... ["My Old Kentucky Home" by Stephen C. Foster kicks in to a tremendous ovation from the crowd.] MC: At a total combined weight of 583 pounds... they are Tin Can Rust and City Jack... KKENTUCKY'S PRIDE! [The cheers become deafening as City Jack and Tin Can Rust walk through the curtain. Jack is immediately his charismatic self, pointing to the crowd, leaning in to slap hands with his fans. Tin Can Rust is a little more subdued, slapping an occasional hand but keeping his eyes locked on the ring. After a few moments, both men climb the steps, slipping through the ropes into the ring. City Jack steps up to the midbuckle, soaking up the cheers of the fans while TCR takes a long, hard look across the ring.] GM: It looks like Tin Can Rust has his eyes locked on those National Tag Team Titles, Bucky. City Jack with a bit more fun-loving mood with the fans but Rust is all business. BW: And that's how you have to be, Gordo. Much like we saw with Sweet Daddy Williams earlier tonight, you can't win the gold if you don't have your eye on the prize. [As the referee delivers some final instructions, an insistent Tin Can Rust stands in the ring as City Jack steps out on the apron. Across the ring, Naitomea slingshots back over the ropes, leaving the Australian to start the match.] GM: Jarrod O'Lachlan has been thrown from the frying pan to the fire here in the AWA so far. His in-ring debut was in that big battle royal and his second match is in the first round of this tournament. Not an easy way to start your career in a new promotion. BW: But that's the kind of competition you have to expect if you want to survive in the AWA. There's no easy nights. Every night, you're battling the best in the world so you'd better be at the top of your game as well. [Tin Can Rust walks out to the middle of the ring, a steely determination on his face as the referee calls for the bell to start the match. An arrogant Jarrod O'Lachlan smirks as he walks out to meet the veteran, coming to a stop as the two wrestlers stand chest to chest in the center of the squared circle. The Australian starts talking, jabbering away as Rust stands stoic, silently glaring at the young upstart.] GM: What in the world is wrong with Jarrod O'Lachlan? BW: He's just trying to get inside the old man's head - a little bit of trash talking. You know, it's all mind games, Gordo, and it's all good. GM: Tin Can Rust hasn't said a word, simply listen- [The crowd gasps in unison as O'Lachlan rears back and slaps Tin Can Rust hard across the face, the blow echoing throughout the entire WKIK Studios. Rust turns his head from the impact of the blow, still holding still - and then slowly turning back in the Australian's direction, glaring at him.] BW: What's wrong with this guy, Gordo? How do you get slapped across the face like that and not even react? What kind of a man does this guy claim to be? [Rust stares dead in the eye of O'Lachlan who jabs a finger into Rust's chest a few times before cocking his hand back and slapping Rust across the face again. The crowd "oooohs!" with the impact as Rust's head gets snapped to the side. A closeup of Rust's face shows him shaking with intensity as he slowly turns back towards O'Lachlan, visibly trembling with rage at this point. O'Lachlan seems oblivious to this as he jaws away at his older opponent, rearing back again - and getting floored with a right hand right on the chin instead!] GM: Ohh! Mighty haymaker by the veteran puts the kid down on the mat! Tin Can Rust had finally had enough of O'Lachlan's arrogant attitude and he made him pay for it. BW: About time. I thought he was just giving up on life. It happens sometimes at his age, Gordo. [Rust stands over O'Lachlan, glaring down at him as he crawls backwards towards his corner - reaching up to slap the hand of Naitomea who slingshots over the ropes - and then sprints at top speed across the ring, leaping up with a barrage of right hands that actually manage to barrel Tin Can Rust back against the ropes. Naitomea peels back a step, throwing leg kicks to the old wheels of the veteran before stepping away and uncorking a leaping spinning back kick to the chest of Tin Can Rust that forces him to grab the top rope to stay on his feet.] GM: Swarming kicks by Naitomea - showing some of that killer instinct we've seen from him in his matches in Japan. Naitomea, of course, has been a fixture in Tiger Paw Pro for years and it would be sure to make big headlines back in the Land of the Rising Sun were he able to pull off what would certainly be considered an upset by knocking off Kentucky's Pride in this one. BW: And Tiger Paw Pro could use some good news after those two eggrolls, Kitzukawa and Blue Tiger, got rolled over by The War Pigs earlier tonight, Gordo. Naitomea just might be the guy to give it to them. [With Rust on the ropes, Naitomea uncorks a series of hard chops across the chest that actually force the veteran down to a knee where the high flyer applies a side headlock, slamming clenched fists into the skull of his opponent. Leaning over, he bites the forehead, causing squeals of outrage to erupt from the capacity crowd. He pulls Rust off the mat, dragging him over to the corner where he slaps the hand of Jarrod O'Lachlan, bringing "The Life Of The Party" back into the ring where he promptly drives fist after fist into the midsection of the cornered Rust before straightening him up with a knife-edge chop across the chest.] GM: An absolutely brutal assault in the corner- choke! There's a choke being applied by O'Lachlan! These two guys are absolutely savaging Tin Can Rust in the corner! [The referee backs off O'Lachlan, allowing Naitomea to reach over the ropes and apply a chokehold of his own. Tin Can Rust flails like crazy, trying to free himself from the grip - but Naitomea releases it on his own as O'Lachlan moves back in, dragging Rust out of the corner.] GM: O'Lachlan looks like - a suplex perhaps? [The Australian attempts to hoist Tin Can Rust up in a vertical suplex but the veteran manages to block the lift. O'Lachlan struggles but attempts it again - and again gets nowhere. Finally, he just breaks the hold and drills Rust with a right hand across the face that sends Rust falling back into the ropes.] GM: He couldn't get Tin Can Rust up in that suplex but he certaily got him with that right hand, Bucky. BW: O'Lachlan seems to have a chip on his shoulder here tonight and I'm betting it's got a lot to do with everyone counting him and Naitomea out of this tournament. Ever since the brackets were announced, people have been talking about Kentucky's Pride going the whole way - like these two upstarts are just stepping stones. That's enough to get anyone fired up, daddy! GM: #15 seeds in the tournament - it's obviously a longshot for them, Bucky. BW: Tell them that. [A few more blows land solidly on the jaw of Tin Can Rust as O'Lachlan hammers away. Grabbing Rust by the wrist, he whips him off the ropes. As Rust rebounds, O'Lachlan drops down on the mat causing Rust to leap over him as he races to the ropes - where Naitomea pulls down the top rope, causing Rust to topple over the ropes and down to the barely-padded concrete floor below!] GM: OHHH! BW: Haha! How about that, Gordon Myers? The two singles wrestlers just pulled off the best teamwork of the match! O'Lachlan gets Rust going towards the ropes and Naitomea low bridged him! GM: It was a cheap shot, Bucky. BW: Maybe - but it was effective as all heck. [Standing up on the apron, Naitomea makes a quick hand signal to O'Lachlan who grabs the referee by the shirt collar, dragging him away from the ropes - which allows Naitomea to run down the apron, leaping off with a senton splash off the apron onto a downed Tin Can Rust!] GM: Another cheap shot! This is ridiculous! BW: Still want to talk about them being the number fifteen seed and standing no chance in there with Kentucky's Pride, Gordo? These two are showing that you've gotta be in it to win it! [City Jack drops down off the apron, moving around to the other side of the ring where Naitomea slithers away, leaving Jack to try and help his partner up off the floor. Inside the ring, O'Lachlan points out City Jack's actions to the referee who starts warning City Jack, forcing him to back off of the recovering Tin Can Rust. Jack angrily stomps away, shouting encouragement to his partner as he climbs to a knee. Rust pulls himself onto the apron at the four count, standing on the apron in a daze as O'Lachlan shouts at City Jack, distracting the referee again.] GM: Naitomea, behind the referee's back, is up on the apron by Tin Can Rust and- [Rust catches an incoming Naitomea with a big right hand. He follows it up with a headbutt that knocks the Japanese cruiserweight down to a knee. Rust reaches down, grabbing Naitomea around the neck, and HURLS Naitomea off the apron and down to the floor below!] GM: OHHH! BW: Talk about a cheap shot! GM: O'Lachlan can't believe it! Here he comes! [But the incoming Australian gets caught with a right hand as well that staggers him. A double-armed ear clapper causes O'Lachlan to stagger away as Tin Can Rust steps through the ropes back into the ring. O'Lachlan charges in again, eating a boot to the gut before Rust makes a big show of winding up his arm - and popping O'Lachlan square in the jaw with an uppercut!] GM: TIN! JAW! ROCKER! [O'Lachlan falls back into the corner as Rust stomps across the ring, slapping the hand of City Jack to finally bring him into the ring. With a wild whoop, Jack pulls O'Lachlan out of the corner, firing him into the ropes. As the Australian rebounds, Jack grabs him, lifting him up in a bearhug as Rust hits the far ropes, then the near ropes, and blasts O'Lachlan with a clothesline as Jack drives him down with a belly-to-belly slam!] GM: DARK AND BLOODY GROUND! ONE!! TWO!! THREE!!! [The bell rings as City Jack pushes up off the downed Australian, throwing a victorious arm in the air, doing a little jig as a steely-gazed Tin Can Rust leans against the ropes, staring at the just-defeated O'Lachlan. Rust turns to the corner, holding up one finger.] "One down - three to go." [Rust pats City Jack on the shoulder, sharing a quick embrace before the two veterans exit the ring to the cheers of the crowd. The duo slaps hands with the fans on their way back to the locker room.] GM: Kentucky's Pride with the victoy in the final match in the first round of the tournament to crown the first National Tag Team Champions. And that means that in the second round, we're going to see Kentucky's Pride squaring off with Mark Shaw and Adam Rogers in what should be an amazing match! BW: I'm looking forward to seeing Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne completely break down Despair and his new running buddy personally. GM: What about what should be an incredible showdown between Rough N Ready and The War Pigs? That's a match that could be the sleeper matchup of this tournament. BW: And of course, we get to see Vasquez and Rhodes completely walk all over the Oklahoma Brothers. It's always fun to see a slaughter. GM: Would you stop? The first round of the tournament is over and now it's- [Without warning, Animotion's "Obsession" starts playing over the PA. The crowd buzzes a bit, anticipating just who it could be, when a man, a well suited man, steps from the curtian. Well, no one knows just who this man is, so the crowd stays a bit silent. The man, dressed in a grey three-piece suit with red tie, has shoulder length dirty blond hair tied back in a tail, and wears glasses on his clean shaven face. He walks with a bit of a purpose, talking not to the crowd, but to whoever is on the other end of his bluetooth earpiece, speaking of some contract deal. He reaches the broadcast desk, ignoring both Gordon and Bucky as he snatches the mic from Gordon's hand, motioning the cutting of his music as he signs off the phone and hits the hang-up button.) MAN: Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Triston Rockford. And I... am a SuperAgent. [Rockford smiles as he looks around, not quite getting any reaction from the crowd yet.] TR: You don't know me yet here in the AWA but you will. Oh, I promise you will. You see, I've been following the AWA since its inception here, looking for the hottest talent to sign, to take elsewhere to bigger things. [Well, this finally gets a reaction from the AWA faithful, drawing boos.] TR: Oh come on, admit it. The AWA is small potatoes on the wrestling scene. It won't be until tomorrow that you finally have Tag Team Champions and your title is only National? But there is talent here. Oh yes, there is talent here. Trust me, I have an eye for it. But I thought about it. I thought long and hard, and I came to a decision. I, Triston Rockford, will bring TR Enterprises to the AWA. I will do you all a favor. I will bring AWA into the big time. I will make it a World Power instead of a speck on the map. And I, Triston Rockford, SuperAgent, will give you all a Christmas Present. [He's still getting boos, all boos. Rockfrod just smiles as he looks around, almost smirking to the crowd.] TR: Yes, a Christmas Present. I, Triston Rockford, pledge to you all, the AWA Faithful, that I will start you all on the journey to the big time. And I'll start, by bringing you the first signing to TR Enterprises. Yes, my first wrestling client will be coming here. And I assure, I promise you, no, I GUARANTEE YOU, that this signing, will shake the very FOUNDATION of the AWA. [Rockford looks into the camera for a moment, before slapping the mic down on the broadcast desk as "Obsession" starts back up and he walks away, leaving a puzzled Gordon and Bucky behind as we fade... ...to a shot of a loving family around a crackling fire on what appears to be Christmas morning. The young son looks disappointed as he pulls a pair of socks from a box.] Son: Socks... again. Thanks, Mom And Dad. [The boy grabs a smaller nearby box. We catch a shot of the mother winking at her husband as the boy starts to tear away the wrapping paper. After a moment, he pulls out an envelope and cries out.] Son: TICKETS TO TONIGHT'S AWA SHOW! THANKS, MOM AND DAD! [The son throws himself into embraces with his parents as he beams at the tickets clutched in his hand.] Voiceover: Christmas night! The AWA brings all your favorite superstars to town for the final show of 2008! You do NOT want to miss it! [Fade away from info on the show back to Jason Dane in the interview spot. By his side, head bowed, is the man known as the Outlaw of Professional Wrestling - Bobby Taylor.] JD: Welcome back to Broken Wishbones. Earlier tonight, we heard from the man who has been the source of a great deal of mental torment over the past few months to the man on my left. Bobby Taylor, tonight you get your chance to return the favor. [Taylor keeps his eyes down, pausing for a moment before speaking.] BT: Heh. Return the favor, huh? ["The Outlaw" looks up, his cold eyes locked on the camera.] BT: Kevin Slater is my best friend. I've been in this business for a long time and I've had a lot of allies - but not very many friends. Simon is gone. Chris is gone. Luke and I never really saw eye to eye on a lot of things. But Kevin... Kevin was different. He's been a brother to me for a decade now. And Grant Stone put him on a stretcher - just to get at me. [Taylor shakes his head slightly as his voice quivers with intensity.] BT: Then there was Shane... my flesh and blood... my only flesh and blood left that talks to me. All Shane wanted to do in his entire life was be me. He wanted to climb in that ring and fight guys like Casey, like JW, like Otto. He would have killed to take the beating I took in Toronto - given anything to end up in that hospital like I did. But it just never happened for him. [He pauses - his voice cracking a bit.] BT: All he wanted to do was avenge Kev... avenge his brother. Just like I should have. I should have been lined up for miles. I should have been tearing down the walls of the AWA offices, begging for the chance to break my fists on the skull of Grant Stone. All he wanted was that one shot to be famous. And you gave it to him, Stone. You made him famous in one night. You made him famous as the man who you beat to a bloody pulp to draw the Outlaw out. [Taylor nods slowly.] BT: You wanted me, Stone? Now you've got me. You wanted the Outlaw? Now you've got him. You wanted the guy who took the worst beating this business has ever seen and came back to take a shot at all of those men? Now you've got him. You wanted the guy who dropped a lighting rig on Casey James? Now you've got him. You wanted the guy who went to Japan and fought some of the toughest bastards in the game? Now you've got him. [A hush falls over Taylor.] BT: You wanted the guy who stood up for his friends and family, throwing punch after punch, bleeding himself dry for the opportunity to make someone KNOW they've been in the ring with the Outlaw of professional wrestling? Now you've got him. [Taylor pulls the Stetson off, whipping it down to the ground.] BT: GRANT STONE! YOU RUTHLESS, HEARTLESS SON OF A- [Taylor stops cold.] BT: In another time, in another place - we could have been allies, Stone. In another time, in another place - YOU could have been the Outlaw, the most cold-hearted bastard walkin'. [He shakes his head.] BT: But not tonight... not tonight. Tonight, you reap what you sow, Stone. Tonight, you spill the blood you should have spilled months ago. Tonight, you feel the same pain that Shane and Kevin felt. Tonight, you get the Outlaw. But tonight? [Taylor grins just slightly.] BT: Tonight's just the beginning. [He turns away from the camera, walking towards the entryway to the ring.] JD: You heard the man. Let's go up to the ring! ************************************************************************ * BROKEN WISHBONES* * * * "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor vs Grant Stone * ************************************************************************ [Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your MAIN EVENT of the evening! It is scheduled for one fall with a 60 minute time limit. [The opening riff of AC/DC's "Back In Black" starts up to a huge ovation from the AWA faithful.] MC: From Phoenix, Arizona... weighing in at 280 pounds... he is the Outlaw of Professional Wrestling... he is BOBBY TAAAAAYLOR! [Taylor walks through the curtain to a loud explosion of cheers for his in-ring return. He quickly walks to the ring, clad in black jeans and a red t-shirt that is barely holding in his ever-growing stomach. Taylor rolls under the ropes, leaning against the ropes facing the entranceway, and ignoring the fans' response.] MC: And his opponent... ["Camero Crash Helmet" by Borgo Pass plays as Grant Stone steps out to deafening boos. Stone ignores most of the calls from the crowd, letting his glares from side to side do the talking. Stone wears his dark green wrestling trunks and black boots.] MC: From Louisville, Kentucky... at 310 pounds... GRAAANT STOOONE! [The boos grow louder for the announcement - and then turn to cheers as Taylor steps out to the apron, dropping to the floor and making a beeline towards Grant Stone.] GM: Here we go! They're not waiting for the bell - they're not even waiting to get inside the ring! BW: This could get ugly in a hurry. [Taylor immediately blasts Stone with a huge overhand right that Stone counters by throwing a hooking blow to the side of the Arizona native's head. They square off, throwing rights and lefts at one another as fast as possible, each trying to get an edge in the fisticuffs. Taylor gets the edge with a sharp jab to the jaw, wrapping his hands around the throat of Stone and choking him while shoving him backwards towards the bleachers. Another big overhand right finds the mark, causing Stone to topple into the first couple rows of the wooden bleachers.] GM: They're in the stands already! We knew this was gonna be a wild one but Michael Meekly, AWA senior official, is standing in the ring screaming for them to get inside the squared circle! BW: You think they're gonna listen to him? [Leaning over Stone who is down in the bleachers, Taylor throws a few more right hands to the head of the big man from Kentucky. "The Outlaw" promptly leans over, grabbing Stone by the head, and sinking his teeth into the flesh of his rival.] GM: He's biting him! He's biting Grant Stone! BW: Taylor's snapped! GM: Grant Stone may have driven him too far, Bucky! [The crowd screams for blood as Taylor tries to rip Stone's head open with his teeth. Stone battles back, driving his fingers into the eyes of Taylor, sending him staggering away. The 6'8 beast pushes up out of the bleachers, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs as he staggers towards Taylor who is leaning against the ring apron. Stone pounds Taylor with an overhead forearm across the back of the neck - to which Taylor responds with a right hand of his own.] GM: And we're back to a slugfest! Right hand by Stone, right hand by Taylor! These two just aren't backing down a single inch! BW: I wouldn't expect them to. Stone's been looking for a chance to end Bobby Taylor for years and Taylor very clearly is out to make Stone pay for what he did to Kevin Slater and Shane Taylor! [Stone blocks a wild right hand from Taylor, driving a headbutt into the skull of "The Outlaw" that sends him wobbling away from the fight. Moving in behind Taylor, the Outlaw spins around and buries a right hand into the gut of Stone, grabbing him by the head and delivering a crushing headbutt of his own. Stone snaps his head up, wide-eyed, as he grabs Taylor by the hair and delivers a headbutt in reply!] GM: My stars! They're trading headbutts! BW: And just one of those would put most men down but these two are trading sickening headbutts like they want to crack each other's skulls wide open with their heads! [The crowd roars in horror as Taylor returns the favor with another skull-splitting headbutt that causes Stone to fall back against the ringpost, clinging to it to stay on his feet. The Outlaw promptly wraps his hands around the throat of Stone, shoving him back against the post. A quick camera cut shows the hate-filled face of Taylor as he pushes hard against the steel, squeezing the windpipe of his hated enemy.] GM: The referee is leaning through the ropes, trying to get them inside the ring - but he's not having any luck so far in this one! BW: Who put these two in a regular match? The rules can't hold a war like this one! [Still holding Stone against the post, Taylor leans down and grabs a power cable off the ground, pulling it up sharply and wrapping it around the neck of Grant Stone. Stone fights it, pulling on the wire - an action that causes our camera shot to go black for a moment before cutting to a different angle. Taylor screams with rage as he pulls on the cable, trying to strangle the life out of Grant Stone.] GM: Listen to those screams - savage, almost primal in nature. He's like a wild animal out there right now. BW: I've seen a lot of Bobby Taylor matches over the years and I don't know if I've ever seen him as savage - as ruthless - as he is right now. Not against Casey James, not against JW Hardin, not against Bram Black, not against Otto Verhoeven. GM: He's a man posessed! [Gripping the cable in his hands, Taylor hops up on the ring apron, throwing himself over the bottom rope, pulling on the cable. Stone's eyes go wide, his cheeks puffing in and out as he tries to pull air into his body. The referee throws himself down next to Taylor, trying to pry his grip off the camera cable.] GM: Normally I don't like to see a referee get physically involved in a match but this could be the difference between life and death! BW: The Outlaw's trying to kill Stone! He's not trying to put him in the hospital, he's trying to put him in the morgue, daddy! [Taylor leans through the ropes, trying to hoist Stone's feet off the floor to hang him. A desperate referee grabs two hands full of Taylor's lengthy hair, yanking back to try and get him to break his grip on the cable.] BW: Look at that, Gordo! Meekly's trying to save Grant Stone! [Breaking his grip, Taylor turns towards Michael Meekly, stomping towards the AWA's senior official who bails out of the ring to save himself. A furious Taylor leans over the ropes, screaming at Meekly as Stone kneels on the floor, gasping for air as he tries to get some oxygen back into his body. Turning back towards his opponent, Taylor drives home a pair of boots through the ropes into the head of Stone. The Outlaw steps out on the apron, leaning over to grab Stone - and getting a straight-fingered thrust into the windpipe, causing Taylor to collapse back inside the ring.] GM: Ohh! Taylor got caught! He was coming out to the floor to come after Stone again and Stone caught him in the throat with that martial arts style thrust! BW: And now we'll see how Stone responds to attempted murder! GM: Taylor is stunned - Stone rolls back into the ring, climbing to his feet. [Stone stumbles towards Taylor who slowly pushes up off the mat - and gets a second hard jab to the windpipe, this one completely flooring Taylor who gasps for air himself. The referee slides back in, accusing Stone of using something.] GM: Does Grant Stone have something in his hand? BW: I don't see anything! [The camera zooms in on the hand of Stone, revealing a small metal bar. Yanking Taylor by the hair to a seated position, Stone drives the metal bar into the throat, screaming like a banshee as Taylor flails against the assault. The referee is immediately on the scene, laying a count on Stone for what appears to be a chokehold but is actually far worse thanks to the metal bar.] GM: I think - I'm pretty sure Grant Stone is using a piece of metal to shove into the throat of Bobby Taylor! BW: And why is that moron Meekly counting? Has the bell even rung? Is this even an official match? [Stone slowly stands up, glaring at the official as a winded Taylor slinks down to the mat. The Kentuckian points a finger of warning at Michael Meekly who begs off, backing away as Stone leans over, dragging Taylor up to his feet, and shoving him back into the turnbuckles. The referee warns Stone to back off - but a few steps in the referee's direction sends him scurrying for the safe refuge outside the ring yet again. Smirking, Stone turns back towards Taylor, approaching the corner - where Taylor leans back against the buckles, lashing out with a boot to the jaw of the incoming Stone.] GM: Ohh! Taylor's trying to fight back! [A second kick lands on the face of the doubled-up Stone, knocking him to the mat - and sending the metal bar sailing a few feet away. The referee moves to grab it but is cut off by a staggering Bobby Taylor who shoves the referee aside, grabbing the piece of metal off the canvas. The crowd roars as he holds it high for one and all to see. Grant Stone rolls under the ropes to the floor, holding his throat as Taylor steps out to the apron, dropping down to the floor. With a loud bellow, Taylor charges towards Stone, blasting him in the head with the metal object in the form of a double axehandle blow!] GM: And now it's Taylor who is using the metal bar! BW: DQ! DQ! GM: NOW you want a disqualification? BW: He's using a weapon! GM: And what was Grant Stone using? His charming personality? [A second clubbing double axehandle knocks Grant Stone to a knee where Taylor pulls his head back, exposing his face. With the roaring crowd cheering him on, Taylor drives the edge of the metal bar into the forehead of Stone, echoing Stone's screams of pain with shouts of triumphant rage as he digs into the flesh of his rival.] GM: Listen to Stone! He's screaming in agony! BW: And that nutcase Bobby Taylor is screaming right along with him. Screaming like a maniac! He's trying to rip Stone's head open with that piece of metal! [Failing to do so, Taylor throws the metal bar aside as he reaches under the ring apron.] GM: Uh oh - what's going on here? BW: He's looking for something, Gordo. He's already used that piece of metal. He's already used a television camera cable to strangle Stone. What else can he- [The crowd EXPLODES as Taylor emerges out from under the ring apron with a steel chair gripped in his hands.] GM: He's got a chair! BW: Somebody get that thing away from him! GM: Are you volunteering? BW: Not a chance. [Steel chair in hand, Taylor winds up with his weapon, bringing it down fast and hard - but Grant Stone brings his powerful arms up, blocking the blow and catching the chairshot between his hands.] GM: Stone blocked it! He blocked the steel chair and- BW: Ohh! Big boot to the gut by Stone and now he's got the chair! [Stone promptly jabs the edge of the chair into the midsection of Taylor, doubling up the Outlaw. He spikes the chair down on the floor, whipping Taylor under the ropes by the hair. Reaching down, he picks the chair up by the leg, recklessly hurling it over the ropes into the ring, sending the referee scrambling. Stone rolls under the ropes, sneering at the referee who is about to grab the chair.] GM: Look at Stone trying to intimidate Michael Meekly. BW: Trying to? He's succeeding in case you haven't noticed, Gordo. He's got Michael Meekly running for his life so Stone doesn't rip his throat out with his teeth. GM: Stone pulls Taylor off the- [The crowd cheers as Taylor pops Stone with an uppercut, sending him falling back chestfirst into the buckles. Taylor approaches from behind, hooking his fingers in the mouth of Stone and tearing at his rival's face.] BW: Ahhhh! I hate when they do that! Do you know how much it hurts to get fish-hooked like that, Gordo? Do you? GM: I don't think I want to know how you know that. [Ripping and tearing at the flesh, Taylor grits his teeth as he pulls as hard as he can. Stone grabs at the top rope, looking for a way out, and promptly mule kicks Taylor, catching him south of the border!] GM: Oh! Low blow by Stone! That oughta end this one. BW: Are you serious? Meekly let them use a cable, a metal bar, and a steel chair and a low blow is going to end it? Just face it, Meekly's got no control over this- GM: OHHHH! [The crowd reacts like Gordon does as Stone throws a haymaker at a protesting Michael Meekly, knocking him completely flat. The boos begin pouring down on Grant Stone who stares coldly at the motionless Meekly.] GM: I can't believe it! A deliberate, intential assault on the referee! Grant Stone should be fined, he should be suspended for actions just like that! BW: It was an accident! It had to be! [Proving Bucky wrong, Stone pulls Meekly up by the shirt collar and blasts him with a headbutt, knocking the referee back down on the mat to even more jeers from the capacity crowd. A few feet away, Bobby Taylor pulls himself to his feet using the ropes - but immediately gets drilled with a haymaker right hand that knocks Taylor to a knee. This time, it's Stone who leans over, biting at the forehead of his opponent. A sea of AWA officials flood from the locker room area, including Marty Meekly who climbs into the ring, looking to take his father's place in the ring. Marty Meekly immediately calls for the bell as the officials try to get Michael Meekly out of the ring.] GM: We've got chaos and carnage running wild here in the WKIK Studios! We've got referees down! We've got officials all over the place! This match should be over but- BW: But they'll fight all night if they have to! [Taylor fights back with a wild haymaker. Stone returns the favor, throwing a brutal blow of his own. Grabbing Taylor by the throat, Stone delivers a hard headbutt. Marty Meekly grabs both men by the arms, trying to separate them.] GM: Uh oh! Marty, I'd stay out of - OHHHH MY! [Marty Meekly goes flying thanks to a big right hand from Bobby Taylor that connects squarely on the jaw just before Taylor throws a matching one that catches Stone on the chin.] BW: These guys don't need a referee, Gordo! Heck, they don't WANT a referee! They just want to get in there and beat the holy tar out of one another until one of them can't stand and fight anymore! [Stone falls through the ropes, landing on the ring apron where he manages to pull himself up... ...and gets DRILLED with a running boot to the side of the head that sends Stone sailing off the apron and crashing down into the crowd at ringside!] GM: OHHH! DID YOU SEE THAT?! BW: Into the bleachers! [Not wasting a moment, Taylor steps out on the apron, dropping down to the floor and climbing up into the bleachers where Grant Stone is lying, clutching his ribcage from where he hit the solid wooden bleachers. Kneeling over Stone, Taylor throws clenched fist after clenched fist into the forehead of his rival. The fans all around them rise to their feet, some fleeing for safety, some staying to watch the brawl unfold in front of them. Another hard blow from Taylor finds the mark as he rolls Stone over to his stomach, grabbing him by the head and SLAMMING his face into the wooden benches!] GM: Ohhh! Facefirst to the wood! BW: We've got AWA officials at ringside, pleading with these two to stop the fight - begging them to stay out of the crowd but there's no talking to these two. They're going to beat each other senseless until someone drags them off the other! GM: And AGAIN he sends Stone into the wood! [Taylor stands up, screaming out a triumphant yell as the fans cheer. He leans over, pulling Stone up off the bleachers before drilling him with a right hand that causes Stone to stumble a few more rows up into the seats. He stomps up the bleachers after him, pulling Stone up by the head. Taylor points towards the edge of the bleachers, dragging Stone over towards it.] GM: What in the world? What's he doing? What's he doing, Bucky? BW: I have no idea but I don't like the looks of this. [Standing near the railing, Taylor pulls Stone into a standing headscissors.] GM: Are you kidding me?! A piledriver in the bleachers! BW: He's going to kill him! He's going to kill Grant Stone on national television! [Taylor attempts to hoist Stone up - but fails to get the big man off his feet. With a loud scream, Stone simply stands up... ...a move that HURLS Taylor over the railing of the bleachers, sending him crashing down on the concrete floor in a heap!] GM: OHHHHHHHHHHH! BW: He's dead, Gordo! He's dead! The Outlaw is dead! [Grant Stone rises to his feet amongst a sea of screaming fans and surrounded by AWA officials and security keeping him from going after Bobby Taylor. He slowly turns around, looking down off the edge of the bleachers, some ten feet down at a motionless Bobby Taylor. His face goes cold at the sight, lifting his head to the sky and screaming.] "OUUUUUUUUUUUUUTLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAW!" [And with a wall of humanity preventing the battle from continuing, we fade to black.]