********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** American Wrestling Alliance Proudly Presents AWA Saturday Night Wrestling Live from the WKIK Studios Dallas, Texas October 24th, 2009 ********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** [As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando Wilson show as the shot starts to fade. It is replaced with footage marked "TWO WEEKS AGO!" with Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde standing in front of the camera.] GM: The following are in response to conversations that have been held with AWA competitors and representatives throughout tonight's edition of AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. Number one - earlier tonight, the team of Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman - a team with only one point of title contention at the moment - challenged Kentucky's Pride for a rematch for the National Tag Team Titles. One-half of the tag team champions, Tin Can Rust, accepted their challenge for a title match in complete violation of AWA rules and regulations. After further consideration, the Championship Committee has ruled that Dufresne and Freeman... [Dramatic pause.] GM: ...will NOT receive a rematch for the National Tag Team Titles until such time that they have secured three points of contention! [A mixed reaction from the fans on hand.] GM: And number two... after much discussion with several individuals, it has been ruled that the situation between Rough N Ready and the Bishops has gone on long enough. With both teams stuck at two points, they continue to collide in an effort to earn their third point. With that in mind, the Committee has named a DOUBLE MAIN EVENT for the next Saturday Night Wrestling! [Big cheer!] GM: In the first match, the Bishops will be taking on the team of Juan Vasquez and Tumaffi! And in the second match, Rough N Ready will be competing... ...against Stevie Scott and Gary Bright! [HUGE CHEER! The fans are cheering as the shot freezes before slowly fading to the sounds of "One More Saturday Night" by the Grateful Dead. A large white map of the United States fills the screen as the music plays. The shot zooms through the map, different states "popping up" into view as we race past them. As we pull back from the map, it no longer is white but rather made up of the Stars and Stripes. The map goes into a spin, spinning round and round as we zoom all the way into it, dissolving into a few slow motion shots of animated men battling in a red, white, and blue ring. The animation runs through various wrestling moves from an atomic drop to a bodyslam to a piledriver. And as the blue animaniac applies a clawhold on the white animaniac, we freeze and the AWA logo fills the screen. After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the interior of the WKIK Studios in Dallas, Texas. The back wall is covered with various flags from around the world. The bleachers on three sides of the ring stand a little taller, helping to fit a few more people into the building. The ring is sporting red, white, and blue ropes with matching buckles and is lookin' good, yo. A quick cut reveals our announce area - a brand new blue and white backdrop with a television screen currently displaying the AWA logo behind our announce duo. They stand behind a small wooden podium, all grins as the fans cheer. One is clad in a dark navy 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... well, somewhat a bit more flashy. With a mic in one hand and a glitter covered briefcase in the other, this man is paunchy to say the least. He's got a decent sized gut pushing at the buttons on his lime green dress shirt underneath an eye-burning yellow jacket. His black hair is tousled in all directions like he hasn't run a comb through it in his life. He's in his late 30's... he's former manager "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.] GM: Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling. Bucky Wilde, we've got a wild night in store for these fans, don't we? BW: We sure do. Three big matches already announced plus... well, you know. GM: Plus, we've got the announcement that Bucky has said will be the biggest announcement in AWA history! The wrestling world has been buzzing since we went off the air two weeks ago, Bucky. BW: As well they should. Bigger than Slater, bigger than Destiny. You won't believe it when you see it. GM: But we're going to have to wait? BW: This isn't an opening match level announcement, Gordo. This is a Main Event level announcement. It's only the headliner, daddy! GM: I see. Well, fans, I guess we'll be waiting to hear- [The crowd jeers as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson strides into the WKIK Studios, dressed impeccably as always as he takes his place with the announce team at ringside.] GM: Mr. Waterson, I don't believe you're scheduled to be out here right now, sir. ATTSBW: Gordon, Gordon, Gordon... if you've learned nothing else in the few months we've been slapping people around the AWA, you should have learned that we don't care what's scheduled. If I feel like what I have to say is more important than what's going on out here, then I'm coming out here to say it. GM: Alright then... the floor is yours, I suppose. [Waterson smirks.] ATTSBW: I am here for two reasons, Gordon Myers. You will notice that I am NOT accompanied out here right now by the Gold Bomber nor the AWA National Champion... GM: I did notice that, yes. ATTSBW: And the reason for that is because those two men are preparing for battle... right here, later tonight, they'll be taking on Rough N Ready in what should be the worst night in the lives of Cooper and Somers... which is saying quite a bit considering how bad their lives have been. [Waterson cackles loudly, Bucky joining in of course.] ATTSBW: But that tag match is only part of why I'm out here, Gordon. Here's the situation... the Bomber, the Hotshot, and myself? We have become the victims of a conspiracy at the hands of the Championship Committee! GM: A conspiracy? ATTSBW: You heard me, Gordon. Those dolts in the Committee have put us in a situation where my men are coming out here to face two men who have teamed together for YEARS! Now, I'm not saying we're outgunned... who could be outgunned when Gary Bright packs the biggest set of guns in the universe? [More cackling.] ATTSBW: But what is becoming obvious is that the Committee is out to get us! Between this tag match tonight... Stevie being FORCED into hosting an episode of Stevie's Hotspot, the highest rated segment in AWA Saturday Night Wrestling history... not to mention this Vasquez situation. Gordon, you have to understand how delicate this Vasquez Situation is. GM: I'm sorry? ATTSBW: A title shot whenever he wants? Wherever he wants? And under whatever rules he wants? How is that fair? HOW?! GM: Those are the stipulations that your man Stevie Scott agreed to, Mr. Waterson. ATTSBW: Under duress from that scoundrel Vasquez! GM: Well, that's an arguable point but... ATTSBW: Why doesn't Juan Vasquez be a man and tell us when he's cashing in that title match? Huh? Why is he allowed to walk around here and hold that over our heads? GM: Those are the- ATTSBW: THAT'S NOT WHAT WE AGREED TO! [Gordon Myers raises his hands, begging off.] GM: We'll just have to agree to disagree on that one, Mr. Waterson. I'd assume that's the first reason you're out here tonight... but what about the second? [Waterson's demenaor changes greatly as a grin crosses his face.] ATTSBW: The second? Well, the second is simple. You see, Gordon... the Bomber, the Hotshot, and myself have had several high level meetings lately to discuss the future of our little company... our corporation... our conglomerate... [Waterson smirks.] ATTSBW: ...our syndicate? [A chuckle.] ATTSBW: And we have determined that the time has arrived to expand our organization. Yes, yes... I know... even in these trying economic times, our company is one of the few looking to expand right now. Of course, when we expand... ...careers get ended, Gordon Myers. [Myers flinches.] GM: The list of names you've put on the shelf is becoming quite lengthy. ATTSBW: Kolya Sudakov, Sweet Daddy Williams, Marcus Broussard, Adam Rogers, Ron Houston... who else, Gordon? Who is next for us? Perhaps it'll be Mr. Vasquez... or Rough N Ready... or maybe even that big whale Tumaffi! GM: But this expansion? ATTSBW: This expansion is simple. The Bomber, the Hotshot, and myself have consulted. I know we previously had done some scouting to fill the next spot in our group. We checked out men like Pure X and Ron Houston but just didn't find what we're looking for... yet. [A grin.] ATTSBW: But you, Mr. X... you've still got a chance. The ENTIRE wrestling world has a chance, Gordon Myers! [Dramatic pause.] ATTSBW: All you have to do is prove yourself to us. Prove yourself worthy of joining up with the most elite organization in professional wrestling today. Everyone's got a chance! I see my old friend Vladimir in the ring right now... he's got a chance! Shane Destiny's going to be out here later... he's got a chance! The Falcons... Kevin Slater... Soup Bone Samson... how about Rough N Ready, Gordon? GM: Do you really think they'd join up with you? ATTSBW: If they're smarter than they look, they'd be knocking our dressing room door down right now to find out what it's going to take. We saw so many people debut and return two weeks ago... they've all got a shot! Moretti! Riley! Shaw! Lawson! Hey, how about Aaron Anderson? [Myers shakes his head.] ATTSBW: The first graduate of the Combat Corner? You know he's gotta be thinking about it. Whoever it is... anyone back there in the locker room... anyone at home watching on TV... you've all got a shot to be a part of the most elite group in the business... All you've gotta do is prove yourself worthy. And to the rest of the AWA who doesn't make the cut? [A chuckle.] ATTSBW: If you're not with us, you're against us. And that won't turn out very well for you. Consider. Yourselves. Warned. [And with that, Waterson strides out of view, leaving Myers and Wilde behind.] GM: There you have it, fans. An open call for the entire wrestling world to... prove themselves... to Waterson, the Bomber, and the champ. BW: How generous! GM: Give me a break. Fans, let's go up to the ring for our opening matchup! [We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring... from Houston, Texas... Bart Stevens! [A few cheers for the Texan.] MC: And his opponent... in the corner to my right... from Russia... weighing in at 290 pounds... VLADIMIR VELLLLIKOV! [Toting the heavy metal Russian chain, Velikov raises a hand to the jeers of the crowd. He smiles at the reaction before setting the chain aside... ...and barreling across the ring, connecting with a big double axehandle the back of the head and neck that knocks Stevens into the buckles. Referee Marty Meekly calls for the bell to start the match as Velikov drives knee after knee up into the body of the young Texas.] GM: Velikov is all over him early in this one, Bucky. BW: Vlad made his return to the AWA two weeks ago, now he's showing some of that famed Russian mean streak. GM: Irish whip to the corner... [A running back elbow connects under the chin, knocking Stevens down to a knee as Velikov walks out of the corner, arms raised in the air to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: Going into this match, many wondered how Velikov would fare out here all alone, Bucky. He's got no Kolya Sudakov backing him up anymore. BW: Sure, there's no Kolya but Vlad's no slouch at all. He's been wrestling in the States for years, Gordo. He's not some guy who just became relevant when his nephew showed up. GM: I'm not saying that, Bucky, but you have to admit that he's a lot less intimidating without Sudakov standing behind him. BW: Tell that to Bart Stevens. [A hard boot to the chest knocks Stevens back down to the mat where a few stomps send him rolling under the ropes to the floor. The big Russian steps out on the apron, dropping down to the apron.] GM: Velikov is out on the floor... [The Russian hauls Stevens off the barely-padded floor by the hair, slinging him backfirst into the ring apron. A hard forearm across the chest knocks Stevens down to his knees again.] GM: Vladimir Velikov is showing that hard-hitting tenacity that makes him one of the most effective warriors in the entire AWA, Bucky. BW: That's right... and you talk about Vlad being all alone out here, Gordo, but you heard it firsthand two weeks ago, Vlad is NOT alone. He said that he does not fight alone so sooner or later, we'll find out who exactly is in Vlad's corner. GM: You don't have the scoop on that one? BW: Vlad doesn't exactly trust Americans, Gordo. [Velikov shoves Stevens back into the ring, rolling under the ropes as well.] GM: Back into the fray... Stevens to his feet... ohh! Dropkick to the ribs! [The crowd cheers Bart Stevens as he connects with a dropkick to the body as Velikov rolls under the bottom rope. Stevens throws a few more kicks to the ribs before reaching down, dragging Velikov to his feet and popping him with a forearm that sends the Russian falling back into the corner.] GM: Stevens on the assault in the corner... right hand... another right... another right... [Stevens pumps a fist and lets out a whoop to the cheers of the crowd before grabbing Velikov by the wrist.] GM: Corner to corner whip... here comes Stevens! [The Texan sprints across the ring, leaping into the air for another dropkick... ...but Velikov sidesteps, causing Stevens to smash into the buckles before falling down to the mat, the back of his head smashing into the canvas.] GM: OHHHH! [Velikov quickly hops up to the middle rope, standing tall... ...and drops off with a near three hundred pound kneedrop across the chest!] GM: Kneedrop! Off the middle rope! BW: That'll do it, Gordo. GM: There's one... two... and there's three. [The bell rings as Velikov pushes up to his knees, sneering as the fans boo his every move. The big Russian slowly gets to his feet, looking down at the dazed Bart Stevens before stepping through the ropes to the apron, and drops down to the floor.] GM: Vladimir Velikov with an impressive victory in his AWA in-ring return and he's coming over here to join us now. Mr. Velikov, welcome back to the AWA. [Velikov nods his head curtly.] VV: Comrade Gordon Myers. Comrade Bucky. GM: Mr. Velikov, in the two weeks since we saw you return to the AWA, the entire AWA has been buzzing. You say you have not returned to the AWA alone. Just who have- [Velikov interrupts with his gravelly voice.] VV: You need not worry, Gordon Myers. The... how you say... secret weapon... will be revealed in due time. But for now, you must be impressed with Mother Russia asserting herself inside the ring on that pathetic American. GM: Well, it was an impressive victory. VV: That is right. Impressive. You... how you say... speak the truth, Gordon Myers. Vladimir Velikov is impressive. Mother Russia is impressive. And what I do on behalf of my homeland is just as impressive. Mother Russia has demanded that Vladimir Velikov come back to the AWA and dominate yet again and that is exactly what I intend to do, Gordon Myers. GM: Do you have your eyes set on the National Tag Team Titles? Maybe the National Title your nephew- VV: Do not bring up his name to me! GM: Alright. But what are your goals here in the AWA this time around, Mr. Velikov? [Velikov sneers.] VV: My goals are the same they always are. To show the entire world what a pitiful, pathetic sham of a country that America is... [HUGE JEERS!] GM: Oh, come on, now. You don't think we can let you- VV: What happened to... how you say... freedom of speech, Gordon Myers? Why are America's freedoms only- [BIG CHEER! The crowd roars as "Stars And Stripes" Clayton Shaw emerges from the locker room area, all fired up as he storms towards the announce area. Gordon Myers raises a hand, trying to keep Shaw from attacking Velikov.] GM: Whoa! Whoa! Take it easy, Clayton. [Clayton Shaw slams both fists down on the wooden podium, knocking it over as he shouts at Velikov.] GM: Clayton... this isn't the time or- [Shaw rips the mic out of Gordon Myers' hands.] CS: You're right, Gordon! This isn't the time... this isn't the place... cause I don't want this red devil to have ANY excuses when I beat the tar out of him and wave Ol' Glory over his battered body! [Big cheer!] CS: Velikov, I'm sick of it... I'M! SICK! OF! IT! [More cheers!] CS: You might have gotten away with talkin' all this commie crud while I was laid up but not anymore! You want to talk bad about this country... about MY country? Then you do it over my dead body! [The crowd roars again.] CS: Two weeks from tonight, Velikov... I'm sick of hearin' ya. And I'm gonna shut that trap of yours once and for all! Me! You! In that ring! [HUGE CHEER!] CS: And if you've got some secret weapon, heck... bring him too! Cause there's more than enough of the ol' Stars And Stripes to go 'round! [With that, a nodding Vladimir Velikov retreats towards the locker room area.] GM: You heard the challenge! Vladimir Velikov vs Clayton Shaw in two weeks' time on Saturday Night Wrestling! What a war that's gonna be, fans! Don't you dare go away, we'll be right back! [The camera holds on Gordon Myers and a fired-up Clayton Shaw 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 fade back to live action where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: Welcome back, fans... and during the break, we did receive word from the Championship Committee. It IS official! "Stars And Stripes" Clayton Shaw vs Vladimir Velikov in two weeks' time! I can't wait for that one, Bucky. BW: You know, I'm a red-blooded, flag-wavin' American through and through, daddy... but if Clayton Shaw is standin' up for us, someone get me the words to the Soviet National Anthem. GM: You're unbelievable... you know that? Fans, we've got a big night of action still to come here tonight in Dallas, Texas, at the WKIK Studios including those two big tag team showdowns to try and crown the #1 contenders for the National Tag Team Titles and- [Suddenly, we hear the voice of Shane Destiny bellowing through the studio.] SD: Wait a minute, wait a minute, hold on! [Destiny steps into frame as Gordon Myers sighs. Destiny is dressed out to compete, but clearly isn't taking this seriously as he has left behind his entrance robe, instead choosing to wear a T-shirt promoting a gym in Las Vegas along with his trunks and boots.] SD: So Gordon, let me ask you a very important question. GM: With all due respect, Mr. Destiny, we didn't have you slotted for interview time. SD: Look, little man, when you're Shane Destiny, it doesn't matter if I'm _scheduled_ for time, people make time for _me_. I don't care what your format says, when I want to come out here and talk, nobody's going to stop me, not even these jerks in the audience. [A loud boo erupts from those in attendance.] SD: Now, let me ask you that question, Gordon. What kind of a fool does the AWA take me for, huh? They put me in the ring with someone who calls himself an old dog, huh? GM: You mean the #9 contender to the AWA National title, Soup Bone Samson. SD: Of course I do, these people know that. I mean, it was only advertised as a feature match. But I've been sitting and I've been thinking about Soup Bone, and I just can't shake it... he calls himself an _old dog_? You know what they do to old dogs when they get too old to do anything aside from sit in the sunlight, in pure misery and agony, right? They take them down to the vet, the vet gives them a couple of shots, and then they go off over that old rainbow bridge. GM: Mr. Destiny, this is hardly fit for family viewing... SD: They've got to know sometime! You see, Soup Bone, I know all about you. You've got one move... a punch. A punch to the head! Isn't that just magnificent? The sport of professional wrestling has been maligned and disrespected because someone who doesn't know when to hang it up brags... _brags_... about punching people right in the face. Well, let me tell you something, Soup Bone... you're not stepping in the ring for boxing. You're stepping in the ring for _wrestling_, and you're doing so against the best wrestler walking God's green earth today. I'm the man Pure X _wishes_ in his wildest dreams he could be... and you think you're going to punch me in the head? You think you're going to get that ride to the top that's been evading you your whole career through beating _me_? [Destiny scoffs.] SD: Well, Soup Bone... "old dog"... I'm going to do what's right and humane tonight. I see you suffering, I see you in misery... tonight, Soup Bone, you're going over that rainbow bridge, just like the pathetic old dog you are. [Destiny walks away cackling, as Myers shakes his head in disgust.] GM: Fans, that showdown between Shane Destiny and Soup Bone Samson is still to come later tonight but right now, let's go back up to the ring for more action! [Dissolve back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from Seattle, Washington... Kurt Gilbert! [The long-haired slender Gilbert throws up both arms to some jeers.] MC: And his opponent... [The sounds of "What's That Sound?" by Les Rhythmes Digitales hits the PA, bringing a grin to the face of anyone who hears it.] GM: The WKIK Studios has just been hit with a case of disco fever! [The crowd cheers as someone bursts through the curtain. He wears neon orange trunks with tassels on them that shake as he... well, shakes. Bobbing his head up and down, he holds up a decent-sized mirror ball on the end of a string as he gyrates his hips on down the aisle.] MC: From South Siciliy, California... weighing in at 205 pounds... He is the DISCO MACHINE... GIIIIIIINOOO MOOOORETTIIII! [A decent amount of cheers for the grappler as he quickly walks up the ringsteps, climbing through the ropes into the ring. Grinning widely, he walks over to the referee and makes him hold the mirror ball up in the air... ...and then proceeds to shake his groove thang with the mirror ball overhead.] GM: Hahaha! I love it! BW: Gordon, what in the world is wrong with you? [Moretti steps up to the middle rope, shaking his thang for the crowd, drawing quite the squeal from the ladies in attendance. He hops down off the buckles, staying in the corner as he waits for the referee to call for the bell.] GM: And heeeeeere we go! [Moretti slaps his hands together in rhythm, getting the crowd to clap along with him as he circles the ring, making Kurt Gilbert do the same thing... ...and then come together in the middle of the ring in a tieup!] GM: Collar and elbow lockup in the center of the ring... and Moretti hooks in a side headlock... [Holding the headlock, Moretti cranks down... and stomps his right foot twice.] GM: Moretti turning up the pressure on the headlock... [He cranks the headlock again... and stomps twice again.] BW: What is this idiot doing now? [The crowd claps along with the stomps as Moretti repeats... and repeats... and repeats...] GM: The WKIK Studios is rockin', Bucky! [An irate Gilbert hoists Moretti off the canvas, dropping him down on the back of his head in a belly-to-back suplex to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: Ohh! BW: Kurt Gilbert had enough of that jerk messin' around and he made him pay for it. This kid reminds me a lot of Sweet Daddy Williams, Gordo. GM: How so? BW: Playin' the fool. Tryin' to make these fans giggle. Not being able to focus on the action inside the ring. GM: He won his match two weeks ago. BW: Williams wins a lot of matches too. Doesn't mean he's not a big goof who'll never be as good as he could've been. This guy's the same way, Gordo. He's trying too hard to be liked to be a winner. [Gilbert drags Moretti off the mat, uncorking a left hand that knocks him back into the buckles. Doubling him up with a boot to the gut, Gilbert buries an elbow in the back of Moretti's neck, knocking him down to a knee...] GM: Gilbert's all over him... he may be looking for the upset here tonight... [The Seattle native hits the ropes, rebounding back with a running boot to the side of the face that knocks Moretti down to the canvas. A few stomps follow before Gilbert leaps into the air, dropping an elbow across the chest of the Disco Machine.] GM: Ohhh! Big elbowdrop by Gilbert! [Pushing up to a knee, Gilbert grabs a handful of Moretti's jet black hair and drills him with right hand after right hand to the jaw before throwing him back down to the mat, applying a lateral press.] GM: One! Two! And the shoulder's up at two. BW: This guy may be a goof but it's gonna take more than a couple of punches to put him down. Stay on him, Gilbert. [Kurt Gilbert regains his feet, dragging Moretti off the mat by the hair, throwing him back into the corner by the hair. He grabs the wrist of the stunned Moretti, firing him across the ring... ...and then barrels across the ring himself, leaping into the air!] GM: OHHHH! He missed the running knee in the corner! [Gilbert falls back from the corner, clutching his leg. Moretti promptly kicks Gilbert in the shin, causing him to double up where Moretti quickly hooks a front facelock, shaking his rear a few times... ...and snaps off a swinging neckbreaker!] GM: SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE BREAKER!!! [The neckbreaker puts Gilbert down and allows Moretti to hook the leg of his opponent as the referee drops down to count.] GM: One! Two! Three! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Here is your winner... "THE DISCO MACHINE" GINO MORRRRRETTI! [The Disco Machine is all smiles as he gets back to his feet, clutching the side of his face as the referee raises his arm. After a moment of saluting the fans, Moretti steps through the ropes, hopping down to the floor as he walks towards the announcers.] GM: Another win for Gino Moretti... on his way now to join us and- Gino Moretti, congratulations! [A smiling Gino Moretti waves to the cheering crowd.] TDMGM: Thanks, Mr. Myers. Thank you so much. GM: Victorious for the second match in a row here on Saturday Night Wrestling and I have to- now, wait a second... [The crowd jeers out of control as The Bishop Boys and Cousin Bo step into view of the camera. Cletus Lee steps to the front, glaring at Gino Moretti coldly.] GM: Uh, Gino... uhh... I think it'd be best if you... [Moretti nods, not looking pleased but apparently realizing the numbers are against him.] TDMGM: Yeah, yeah... I get it. [Moretti turns and walks away as Gordon Myers turns to face Cousin Bo.] GM: I don't know what you're doing out here but- [A visibly agitated Bo snatches the mic from Gordon and shoves him right out of the picture.] CB: I don't have time to listen to your inane questions. Go play out in traffic or something, I really don't care. [Bo waves him off and turns to the camera.] CB: Tonight, we're gonna do this a little differently. I'm gonna keep things nice and short. [Bo runs his free hand through his hair and grits his teeth.] CB: Because I have had absolutely enough of the waiting. I am through with playing games with Rough N Ready. Through with playing phone tag with the Championship Committee. [Bo turns red and starts jabbing a finger wildly at the camera, his voice raising with each word he says.] CB: And I'm sure as hell tired of watching two creaky old invalids who can barely get out of bed in the morning hang on to those precious gold belts by the skin of their stinkin' false teeth! [Bo spits and punches the wall behind him. The Bishop Boys are actually smiling at how riled up their cousin is.] CB: So congratulations, Vasquez and Tumaffi! It's your lucky frickin' day! [Bo hands the mic to Duane Henry for a second and mockingly claps.] CB: Because not only is it bad enough that you managed to get on Ben Waterson's bad side. [Bo wags a finger.] CB: Oh, no. Because, as a result of that, now you're on OURS as well. And so now the Committee decides that, in order to get that third point we've been waiting on for FAR too long, we have to go through the two of you. [Bo scratches his chin pensively.] CB: That's fine with me. So you go regale the crowd with stories of what tough wars you've been in yet again, Juan. Go babble on about this "great warrior soul" mumbo-jumbo you keep spouting, Tumaffi. Keep talking. [Bo calms himself down enough to bring his voice back down to normal.] CB: Because we'll see just how great you two are when you get into the ring with two men who've been waiting for fate to lend a hand for way, WAY too long. [Bo looks as if he's about to leave, but he stops, apparently thinking of something at the last moment.] CB: And Rough N Ready? I know exactly what you're thinking. Don't even try it. Get involved and we'll make sure your in-ring career's as dead as your managers'. [Bo gives the cut signal and we abruptly cut 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 back up to live action where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing alongside the grizzled veteran known as Soup Bone Samson.] GM: Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling and at this time, please join us in welcoming to ringside the man who is the #9 contender to the AWA National Title and will meet Shane Destiny one-on-one later tonight... Soup Bone Samson! [Big cheer from the crowd! Samson nods.] GM: Soup Bone, I'm sure you saw what Shane Destiny had to say out here earlier tonight. [Samson smiles a thin-lipped grin, slowly nodding his head.] GM: And? [The big veteran scratches his chin and shrugs.] SBS: What is there to say, Gordon? GM: Uh... well, I expected more than that, I think. SBS: Alright. [Samson pauses.] SBS: Gordon, did Shane Destiny say anything that's not true? GM: Well, I don't- SBS: Did he say something that wasn't true? Simple question. He's right. I come out here week after week and I refer to myself as an "ol' dog." [Samson shrugs.] SBS: I AM an old dog, Shane. I'm a man far past my prime. I'm a man whose glory days are behind him. I'm a man who is a lot closer to the grave than the cradle. But what does that really mean, Shane? [A smirk.] SBS: Does it mean that you're going to put me down like a rabid ol' pup? [He shakes his head.] SBS: Maybe it does... or maybe it means that I'm desperate. Maybe it means I'm hungry. Maybe it means that I know I'm running out of chances to have nights like this. Soup Bone Samson... the definition of a never-was if there ever was one. I ain't never wrestled no place big. I wasn't in Los Angeles... I wasn't in St. Louis or Portland... I wasn't in Baltimore or Canada... [Another shake of the head.] SBS: I don't have a bunch of trophies and titles to show for my career, Shane. All I got are the scars on my body... the blood I've spilled in almost every State in the union... and these people out here who pay their hard earned money to see me do what I do. So, you talk down to me, Shane. You tell me that my days are numbered. You tell me that all I can do is throw a punch. You tell me that I'm an old dog that's 'bout to be thrown off a bridge. [A pause.] SBS: Shane, you tell me everything that I know right here... [Samson taps on his chest.] SBS: ...and we'll get inside this ring. We'll do what we do... and at the end of the night, we'll just see what happens. [And with that, Soup Bone Samson strides out of the interview area to the cheers of the fans.] GM: It's hard to argue with that, Bucky. BW: When a man is desperate, you just never know what might happen. GM: Fans, let's go back up to the ring for tag team action! [We fade back up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following matchup is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first... in the ring at this time... from New York City... Hank and Harry Sanders! [Two guys in cut-off denim shorts and wifebeaters mount opposite corners, drawing some jeers from the crowd.] MC: And their opponents... hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada... at a combined weight of 490 pounds... Shane Falcon... Ken Falcon Jr. The Fabulous Falcons! [The music of Journey's "Separate Ways" hits the PA as the Falcons make their way into the WKIK Studios. Both men are in matching black and gold singlets and boots as they stalk towards the ring, rolling under the bottom rope to glare at their opponents as Melissa Cannon makes her timely exit.] GM: The Fabulous Falcons made their AWA debut two weeks ago against the returning Bling Bling Beaumont and "Supersonic" Shannon Stokes. It was one heck of a tag team showdown too, Bucky. BW: It was, it was. My old friends, the Falcons, came up a little bit short but they're looking to change all that here tonight. [As the bell rings, Ken Falcon Jr. tears across the ring, drilling a surprised Hank Sanders with a forearm smash to the back of the head. He quickly hauls Sanders out of the corner to the middle of the ring where he hooks him under the arm, taking him over in a hiptoss... ...and bringing him crashing down across a bent knee!] GM: Ohh! What in the world was that?! BW: Hiptoss backbreaker! GM: A fired up Ken Falcon stomps and kicks the downed Sanders a few times... [And then leaps into the air, dropping all his 230 pounds across the chest of a downed Sanders in a backsplash senton. Falcon rolls to his knees, pulling Sanders up by the hair and throwing right hand after right hand after right hand to the side of the head before dragging Sanders off the mat by the hair, throwing him into the Falcons' corner where he quickly makes the tag to Shane Falcon.] GM: There's the tag to Shane... [The tag brings the bigger Falcon brother into the ring where they team up to double whip Hank Sanders into the ropes. As he rebounds back, each Falcon grabs a leg, hoisting him off the mat over their shoulders... ...and then SNAP him back down into a standing spinebuster slam!] GM: OHHHHH! BW: That'll get you a serious case of whiplash in a hurry and- [Shane quickly grabs the legs of the downed Hank, reaching back to slap his brother's hand before falling back in a catapult... ...which FIRES Hank right into a forearm smash from Ken, knocking him back over the raised knees of Shane. Ken grabs the top rope, slingshotting over them...] GM: OHHHHH! Slingshots into an elbowdrop! [Shane vacates the ring while Ken Jr. drives a pair of right hands into the downed Hank Sanders. Ken drags him off the mat by the hair, throwing him by his mane to the corner where Harry Sanders makes the tag, charging into the ring... ...where Ken Jr. pushes him straight up into the air, leaving his feet for a picture perfect dropkick right on the chin!] GM: Good grief! The Falcons are absolutely dominant! [Ken Jr. takes a knee in the ring, grinning at the crowd's shocked reaction.] GM: And while the fans didn't seem too fond of the Falcons last week, they seem to be coming around to them this time, Bucky. BW: They're good-looking, exciting to watch in the ring, and they've got a legacy to live up to. How can you not like these kids? GM: Even if they don't use your strategies? BW: Hey, everyone's got a fault. GM: Ken Jr. waits for Harry Sanders to get to his feet before hauling him to the corner... another tag... [Shane slips through the ropes into the ring, quickly scaling the ropes and sitting down on the top. Ken Jr. hoists Harry up in a suplex... ...and then sets him down across the shoulder of Shane.] GM: Uh oh! What do they have in mind here, Bucky? [Shane stands up, holding Harry across the shoulder... ...and leaps off the buckles, DRIVING the wind out of Harry Sanders in a thunderous slam!] GM: MIDDLE ROPE POWERSLAM! OHHHH MY! [Shane pushes up off the canvas, leaving one hand on the chest of Sanders as the referee makes the three count.] GM: That's it. "DING! DING! DING!" GM: Your winners of the match... THE FABULOUS FALCONS! [Ken Jr. and Shane trade a brief hug as they raise their arms in victory.] GM: And that puts the Falcons with one in the win column after an exciting loss to Simply The Best two weeks ago, Bucky. BW: The first of many, I'm sure. GM: Wins or losses? BW: Depends on their attitudes. GM: I see. Fans, don't go away, we'll be right- wait a second... Jason Dane is back in the locker room and he's got... let's go take a look! [We cut backstage to where we find Jason Dane standing with one of the most despised men in the AWA, one "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne. Clad in a crisp charcoal gray suit, Dufresne has a gym bag over one shoulder and an irritated look plastered across his face. His blonde hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail. He looks down at Dane with impatience.] JD: Thank you, Gordon. I'm here with Calisto Dufresne, who just arrived and is none too pleased with the Championship Committee's decision last time to deny a rematch against Kentucky's Pride for the Tag Team Championships. Calisto, your thoughts. CD: My thoughts? My thoughts are that Adrian and I have suffered a complete miscarriage of justice! In fact, I'd go so far as to say that our civil rights have been violated! [Dane looks dumbfounded.] JD: What? CD: You heard me, Dane. The Championship Committee is clearly a sexist group, and they're showing that by keeping Adrian and I away from a rematch against Kentucky's Pride. [Dane begins to look even more confused.] JD: I... I'm not sure I understand. How is the Championship Committee acting in a sexist manner? Are you sure you know what sexist means? [Dufresne scoffs at Dane.] CD: Dane, I don't know if you know, but I had numerous scholarship opportunities out of high school. I know what sexism is. To hold one group of people down because they are far more attractive than another group is blatant sexism and we're not going to stand for it! It's not our fault that women throw themselves at us instead of fat, out of shape pigs like Kentucky's Pride. We didn't _ask_ to be beautiful, Dane. It just happened. Guys like City Jack and Tin Can Rust were drawing from the short end of the gene pool, I get that. But that's not a reason to discriminate against us. It's wrong. [Dane is temporarily speechless by this show of ineptitude.] JD: Have you, uhh... ran this theory by Adrian Freeman? CD: No, but I've ran by my high-powered attorneys. And they are in complete agreement with me. And if we don't get the rematch we rightfully deserve, this company will be hearing from them very, _very_ soon! [With that, Dufresne thankfully storms off camera.] JD: Wow. Alright, well, on that note, we'll be right back, fans! [The camera holds on Jason for a moment before fading to black... ...and then back up. It's a shot of a few kids standing outside of a classroom. A fourth kid walks up to them, carrying his backpack over his shoulder.] 4th Kid: Hey guys... wait til you see what I got from AWAShop.com! [He whips open the backpack and produces... ...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!] "Whoa!" "Wow!" "That rocks!" "I want one... now!" [The 4th kid looks pleased with himself... ...until a fifth kid walks up.] 5th Kid: Juan Vasquez, huh? That's not bad... but check this out! [The 5th kid opens his backpack and reveals... ...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!] "WHOA!" "WOWER!" "THAT ROCKS MORE!" "I WANT ONE... NOW!" [The fifth kid looks proud as the fourth kid looks sad at his Vasquez bobblehead and we fade to black... ...and then back up on the locker room of the Right Proper Thugs, where we find Barrett Topps and Marcus Moore. Moore is dressed in jeans and a Manchester United tee shirt, while Topps is wearing ripped cargo shorts and a wife-beater t-shirt with what we'll just have to assume are a combination of blood and beer stains. To say the Right Proper Thugs look angrier than usual would be a bit of an understatement, punctuated by the way Moore is slamming his head into the bank of lockers beside them... and Moore's skull seems to be winning as he dents the metal.] Topps: Let's cut right to the chase, yeah? We're bloody sick and tired of the way we're bein' treated around here and we're not gonna take it anymore. You utter wankers thin you can just ignore us and we'll go away? Is that what you're thinkin'? Because if it is, you're barkin' up the wrong bloody tree, mates. [Moore stops headbutting the lockers, turning to glower at the camera... a stream of blood trickling down his face, and he doesn't seem to be taking any notice of it.] Moore: Let me try to explain the situation to you. Me and m'mate, Barrett? We had two choices growin' up. We could take crap from wankers or we could kick the crap out of wankers. In case you're too bloody thick to figure it out, we kicked the crap out of all the bloody gits who got in our way. And we're still doing that. So when the Championship Committee has the gall to ignore us, well... what other option do we have than to start taking matters into our own hands, yeah? [Topps actually laughs, which may the scariest thing he could have done... because it's a nasty, angry sound, and there's no real amusement in his expression at all... his face actually twisted up in a mixture of rage and psychotic intent.] Topps: And that means that it don't matter who gets in our way now, mates. It could be Kentucky Pride.. it could be Rough N Ready... it could be the Bishops... do you think we give a toss? It could be the members of the bleedin' Championship Committee if they're thick enough to show their faces. Yeah, that's right... because what have we got to lose, mates? We're not gettin' our due, so we have nothing to lose the way I see it. We can do anything and what are you going to do? Suspend us? Fire us? Do me or Marcus look like we give a damn? [Moore drags his fingers against the blood oozing from the gash on his forehead and then licks at it with his tongue, a wild look in his eyes.] Moore: It's no more Gentleman Jim from the Hight Street for you lot. From this point on, it's the Right Proper Thugs verus the entire AWA, from the bloody ring crew to the bloody championship committee.. from the redneck in the opening match to Stevie Scott... we don't give a toss. You understand that? Every American wanker is on our bloody hitlist! [The sound of a female, sinister laugh draws the attention of the camera away from the Thugs, spinning to the side to reveal Lady Victoria, dressed in black leather pants and a blood-red latex cinch-top that barely contains her ... attributes.] Victoria: Oh, you poor Yanks, you've gone and upset me mates, haven't you? I haven't seen the lads this riled up since... well, since the other night when we all got utterly pissed and ended up having a lovely row with a barful of ignorant American rednecks... which is a bit redundant, but there you go. And we're not making idle threats here, mates... we don't care who we have to punish to get what we want. From hereon out, there's gonna be nothing right nor proper about the Thugs. From here on out? It's bloody war... and mister cameraman? That means you too, now you'd better sod off before we start with you. [And the camera man, who apparently is taking this pretty seriously, turns and runs in the other direction while we fade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is waiting.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring... from Parts Unknown... the Black Knight! [A burly masked man raises an arm to the jeers of the crowd.] MC: And his opponent... from San Antonio, Tex- [The words of Melissa Cannon are cut off as Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross comes stumbling out of the entryway, falling down on the floor in a heap. A moment later, Barrett Topps, Marcus Moore, and Lady Victoria come into view as well, wearing exactly what we saw from them moments earlier.] GM: What in the world- [A hard boot to the ribcage of Ross down on all fours by Moore rolls him to his back. Topps quickly drags Ross off the mat as Moore hops up on the ring apron. Holding Ross by the head, Topps SLAMS his skull into the steel ringpost, sneering as Ross collapses on the floor. Lady Victoria is just a few feet away, a big grin on her face as she shouts instructions to her men.] GM: We need to get some help out here! This was supposed to be a match for Jackson Ross but these two... these three... Thugs are out here all over him! Can we get some- what are they doing? [Topps drags Ross off the floor, hooking his arms around the waist before hoisting Ross up and dropping him down in a backbreaker... ...just before Moore leaps off the ring apron, smashing his leg down across the throat of Jackson Ross!] GM: OHHHHH! Oh my god! [Ross falls helplessly to the floor, completely motionless as Moore and Topps stomp and kick Ross on the barely-padded concrete with the crowd jeering wildly... ...when suddenly Colt Patterson comes charging into view!] GM: PATTERSON! [The crowd roars as the veteran tears into anyone that moves, blasting Moore with a right hand... then knocking Topps down with one as well. He tears off his shirt before flooring a rising Marcus Moore with a clothesline!] GM: Colt Patterson has arrived to save his friend! [Leaning over Marcus Moore, Patterson starts to put the boots to him, kicking him in the torso repeatedly... ...and getting DRILLED with Lady Victoria's cane across the back from the sauncy wench herself!] GM: OHHHH! [Patterson drops down to a knee from the impact of the cane shot, Victoria immediately screaming orders to Barrett Topps as he regains his feet.] GM: We need more help! Where is Scott Pain? [Grabbing the discarded cane, Topps holds it with both hands and DRIVES it into the throat of a stunned Colt Patterson!] GM: Good grief! Patterson just took that cane right in the windpipe! [The veteran rolls back and forth on the floor, clutching his own throat as Barrett Topps stands over him, screaming at the downed Patterson. He reaches down to slap Patterson HARD across the face before driving a few more stomps down into the ribs. Topps grabs Patterson by the hair, hauling him up to his feet. He shoves him towards a rising Marcus Moore who catches Patterson by the throat.] GM: Look at Moore... just reading him the riot act... [Moore grabs the 270 pounder, hoisting him high in the air into a gorilla press... ...and as Barrett Topps leaps into the air, Moore steps back, allowing Patterson to fall towards Topps who raises both knees.] GM: OHHHH! Patterson's face just got DRIVEN into the knees of Barrett Topps! Good grief! [Colt Patterson rolls onto his back, completely motionless as the Right Proper Thugs stand over them, Lady Victoria raising both of their hands in victory.] GM: The Right Proper Thugs are acting like they won something, Bucky! BW: They did. They absolutely did! They won the attention of the Championship Committee right now - that's for sure. Let's see the Committee ignore them now! Let's see the Committee pass them up for the Bishops and Rough N Ready now! [With Topps, Moore, and Victoria standing over the downed Ross and Patterson, we fade to black. ...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt. The super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.] "You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!" [A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.] "You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last Stampede!" [A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.] "You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!" [Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging over his shoulder.] "And now, it can be yours!" [A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a shot of a young fan doing the same.] "Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA superstars have held!" [A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black... ...and then fades back up to live action where the WKIK Studios has been darkened except for a single spotlight resting on the ring. A director's chair has been set up in the middle of that spotlight and seated in that chair is "Superstar" Kevin Slater.] KS: Welcome, AWA fans, to Superstar Theater. [The boos are loud. Damn loud.] KS: Before Kevin Slater, the former two time World Champion, lowered himself to wrestling in the sticks in places like Dallas, Texas... [Yep, more boos.] KS: He worked in Los Angeles... the City of Angels... Hollywood! He regularly was spotted at the city hotspots with the who's who of Hollywood! Spielberg! Stallone! Cruise! Megan Fox! GM: Wasn't she about nine years old when he worked in LA? BW: Be quiet! KS: Over the years, you can be sure he picked up a few things about how Hollywood works. [The spotlight widens and Slater stands up.] KS: And you can also be sure that if there's one thing that will drive Bobby Taylor absolutely crazy and send him running to sign that open contract I left in the AWA offices for him, it's making fun of what he considers to be his legacy in this business. So, tonight... we take you back to a very special night. We take you back to December of 1997... to Toronto Skydome. We take you to... ...the Legends Beatdown! [Slater does wiggly fingers and rolls from the ring out of the spotlight. His voice continues to boom over the PA system though.] KS: Throughout the summer and fall of 1997, Bobby Taylor was a glory hungry fool. He thought he had the talent to be the very best in this business. He thought he had the skill to shine the brightest. He thought all he needed was an opportunity. So, he spent several months trying to do the impossible. He was trying to draw John Wesley Hardin out of Portland and into Los Angeles. He ran around calling himself the Outlaw, running down Hardin at every opportunity. He knew that if he could do it... if he could draw in Hardin... he just might cement a career for himself. On December 31, 1997... the stage was set... [The lights come up a bit to reveal Slater now standing in the ring with a Stetson cowboy hat on his head.] KS: Now, at this point, Taylor was running his mouth as he was oh-so-prone to doing. He was talking trash about this old hasbeen and that old hasbeen, trying to get people to think he was a tough guy. But just like that night, no one cares now about any of that either. In fact, no one cared about anything they were seeing from Taylor until... [Slater swings an arm towards the entryway where a voice is heard over the PA.] VOICE: Ya know somethin' kid...? [All eyes turn toward the top of the aisle, where a man stands holding a microphone.] Man: Ya talk too damn much. [The crowd begins to buzz... but you know it can't really be...] KS: Oh, by the way, the role of John Wesley Hardin tonight will be played by Bobby Taylor's former understudy... former EMWC... well, he worked there anyways... MANIAC JACK! [A decent amount of cheers for arguably the EMWC's most infamous enhancement talent as he steps into another spotlight.] GM: This is ridiculous. This is NOT what the AWA is about, fans. "HEY!" [Slater leans over the ropes, pointing at Gordon Myers.] KS: You've got lines in this little scene as well, Gordo. Get to it. GM: You've gotta be kidding me. I'm not going to- KS: You do it or I'll come over there and slap your false teeth right out of your mouth, ya dig? [The camera cuts to Gordon who is shaking his head. He grabs a sheet of paper in front of him.] GM: AWA fans, I apologize for everything you're about to witness but... is that? It can't be. Is it? BW: Whoops. My turn. I think it is... but... is that possible? GM: That's J.W. Hardin. It's J.W. Hardin- [Slater interrupts.] KS: GORDON! Once more... with feeling! [Myers sighs heavily.] GM: Oh my god! Wha- what the hell is he doing here? The former World Champion is here! The REAL Outlaw! [Maniac Jack is wearing a black duster that seems a bit too large for his smallish frame. A black cowboy hat sits atop his head... also a little too large. He speaks into the mic once more as he reads from a sheet of paper.] MJ: That's one o' the dif'rences tween us, kid. One o' the MANY dif'rences. But, it seems ya wanna overlook- KS: Jack! Jack! Let's skip ahead a bit. I mean, if I remember right, that whole thing went on for an hour or two. We don't have time for all that. Let's... page 3... let's go there... [Jack nods, quickly paging through the sheets of paper.] MJ: Kid, yer gonna get a lil' lesson in life tonigh- KS: No, no, no. Let's keep going. Let's skip ahead to the part where you get into the ring... [Jack nods, hurrying towards the ring where he rolls under the ropes. He gets back to his feet, producing the mic again.] MJ: Yer gonna get a match tonight... a lil' thing I like to call an Outlaw Match. No refs and no rules. Last man standin' walks away the winner. And ya know somethin', kid? That ain't gonna be you. 'Cause just like the sign out front says... there ain't no imitations accepted! [Maniac Jack turns to the side, rearing back a right hand... ...and throws it right at Kevin Slater who slaps it aside like shooing a fly. Jack looks surprised, scratching his head.] MJ: Kev, uhh.. I don't think that's how it went. KS: Hrm. No? Let's try it again. [Maniac Jack nods, winding up again, and throwing another big haymaker... ...but Slater slaps it aside again. The crowd boos Slater as he smirks at a confused Maniac Jack.] KS: Sorry, kid. There's been a change in plans. [Jack looks puzzled.] KS: The role of Bobby Taylor tonight will be played... ...by his understudy. [And with that, Slater uncorks a right hand squarely to the jaw of Maniac Jack, knocking him back to the ropes. The crowd jeers as Slater throws right after right after right after right to the jaw of Maniac Jack, knocking him down to a knee. Slater yanks him off the mat by the arm, firing him to the ropes... ...and knocking Jack down to the mat in a pile with a stiff lariat!] GM: Ohh! Come on! This kid just got rocked, Bucky! BW: Well, it sounds like there was a little last minute recasting. That kind of thing happens in Hollywood sometimes. GM: This is ridiculous! [Slater drops a leg down across the back of Jack's now-hurting neck before dragging him off the mat by the hair, tugging him into a front facelock... ...and then hoists him off the mat, SPIKING him skullfirst to the canvas!] BW: Cattlebuster! Better than Hardin ever did it! GM: I don't know about that but it was very effective. Maniac Jack definitely did not get what he was expecting here tonight. Kevin Slater took advantage of this kid wanting to be back on television and now he's making him pay the price. [Slater grabs the discarded mic off the canvas, all grins as he backs to the corner, hopping up on the top turnbuckle.] KS: The role of John Wesley Hardin, if you couldn't tell yet, is now being played by the Superstar. [A smirk.] BW: Good casting choice. GM: This is just terrible. AWA officials should get out here and stop this. This isn't what the AWA is all about. This is the kind of thing you'd expect to see in... well, in some other promotion... but not here. BW: Different strokes for different folks, Gordo. [Slater is still grinning as he speaks into the mic.] KS: I been 'round the world and I done stepped into the squared circle with the best o' 'em. There been many a man I walked away hatin' and many more who... blah blah blah... [Slater sneaks a peek at his watch.] KS: Let's get to the money part of this. The so-called Legends Beatdown! [Slater hops down off the buckles.] KS: Well, this first part was with Casey and Claw but... uhh... I need an assistant for that one. Let's skip that. [Maniac Jack pushes up to a knee, groggily trying to get to his feet where Slater pastes him with a right hand, knocking him back down to the mat.] KS: Okay, who was next? [Slater consults his sheet of paper.] KS: Verhoeven! That's right. Let's see if I can remember how to do this. [The former Wild Thing hauls Jack off the mat by the hair, hooking him around the throat... ...and sloppily takes him up for a chokeslam, dropping him across his own bent knee!] GM: Well, that was kind of a Slaughterslam, I guess. [Slater ignores the jeering crowd, popping up to his feet with a roar.] KS: Okay... whew. That was tougher than it looks. That old German kraut was stronger than I thought. Who was next? [The Superstar consults his paper.] KS: Subway Psycho? Are you serious? And then Kauffman showed up? [Slater scratches his head.] KS: I'm sorry. Didn't someone say this was a LEGENDS Beatdown? Where the heck are the Legends in this thing? Taylor, if this is your biggest claim to fame, you're worse off than I EVER thought you were. Was there anyone else worth a damn that show- "Hey!" [The crowd suddenly pops as Pure X steps out into the WKIK studio.] PX: Hey, please... [Pure X makes his way to the ring, shaking his head at the display going on.] PX: Let's just stop this here, ok? For not just these people's sake or the respect of the ring, but for your own dignity's sake, ok? [Pure X walks up to Slater.] PX: Did you listen to me last time? Did you at all take in what I had to say? KS: What YOU had to say? PX: Yeah, me... Pure X. Your next opponent. Not Bobby Taylor and not some fake legends. Me, the most skilled wrestler in the AWA. KS: You don't- PX: Get a hold of yourself, too, Slater. It almost - ALMOST - pains me to see a man who used to be respected in the ring be nothing more than a clown night in, night out. Wrestling chickens? Re-actors? How about WRESTLING? How about wrestling ME? [Pure X throws the mic down, ready for a fight as he stands between Kevin Slater and the downed Maniac Jack.] GM: Oh yeah! That's what these fans want to see! Not some stupid skit with Slater reliving 1997 - they want to see Slater vs Pure X and they want to see it RIGHT! NOW! [Kevin Slater throws the mic aside, glaring at Pure X, balling up his fists... ...and then laughing his head off as Shane Destiny sprints from the locker room, diving headfirst under the bottom rope, and DRILLS Pure X in the back of the head with a clothesline!] GM: OHH! Destiny! BW: He's got a match tonight, Gordo! But he's still making time to stomp Pure X's skull into the canvas! [The crowd is jeering wildly as Shane Destiny kicks and stomps Pure X down on the mat while Kevin Slater stands across the ring and looks on.] GM: Destiny drags X off the mat... [Hooking Pure X around the thighs, Destiny hoists him up and dumps him down in an inverted atomic drop that is IMMEDIATELY followed up with a running clothesline that knocks X down to the mat again.] GM: Pure X got caught offguard by Shane Destiny and the man who EARNED the nickname Legend Killer is working him over! [Hooking on to the top rope, Destiny firmly plants his boot on the windpipe of Pure X, pushing down to strangle the air out of the young upstart while Destiny screams at him.] GM: Can we get some help out here? Can we- [The crowd roars as Destiny lets up for a moment... ...and Pure X uses that moment to grab Destiny's leg, ripping it out from under him as he grabs for his foot!] GM: THE X! THE X! [But the standing anklelock is cut short as Kevin Slater BLASTS Pure X in the back of the head with a running forearm smash. He quickly hooks X in a front facelock... ...and puts him right down on the mat next to Maniac Jack with a CattleBuster DDT!] GM: OHHHHH! Come on! [Shane Destiny slowly gets to his feet, glaring at the downed Pure X. He switches his gaze to Kevin Slater, giving the fellow rulebreaker a quick nod before making his exit from the ring.] GM: Shane Destiny is walking out of here but the damage has been done, Bucky. BW: Shane Destiny just showed exactly WHY he's one of the most feared men in the business. He showed exactly why he wasn't afraid to go toe-to-toe with Tumaffi! GM: And now what is Slater doing? [The Superstar retrieves the fallen mic, moving over the downed Pure X and leaning over him.] KS: Hey, kid... consider your challenge accepted. See you in two weeks. [Slater straightens up, dropping the mic down on the chest of Pure X before turning to leave the ring as we fade to black. We fade back up from black on a white screen. Black text appears slowly on the screen.] "Thanksgiving night" [A voiceover begins.] "Once a year, the very best in the AWA gather to give the entire wrestling world something to be thankful for." [The text appears again.] "Dallas Memorial Auditorium" [The voiceover.] "SuperClash is coming." [Information on where and when to buy tickets fills the screen before fading out... ...and then back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: Welcome back, fans, and at this time, we'll be joined by a newcomer here to the AWA, Corey Lawson! [Corey Lawson walks into frame, his bleached-blond hair spiked up and a big grin practically plastered across his face. He is sporting a beaten-up Van Halen shirt, along with teal leg-length tights with silver tassels running up the legs, and silver wrestling boots with red bandannas tied around his shins and wrists. He extends a hand to Myers, who accepts.] CL: Golly, it sure is nice to meet you, Gordon. I watched you on the TV all this time and I'm so glad to be here! GM: Well, we're certainly excited to see you, Mr. Lawson. I've heard a lot of good things about you from our sources around the Tennessee area! CL: Aww man, I hope they didn't build me up too much. I'm just so doggone excited to be here in front of all these great fans. I can't wait to get in that ring and make these folks happy. I know the AWA's had a lot of no-good low-down sons of witches runnin' around here, but I'm lookin' forward to gettin' in there and helpin' all the good fellers here clean this place up so the fans can have some good, old-fashioned wrestling to hoot and holler about! I tell you what, man, it's just so great to be here! [Lawson points at Bucky Wilde.] CL: I'm lookin' forward to your announcement, too! I bet it's goin' to be a big one! [Lawson slaps the desk with excitement.] CL: But I tell you what, it's so good to be here! I'm ready to get in there, Gordon. You think these fans are ready for some wrestlin'?! [The crowd cheers their approval.] GM: I believe they are, Mr. Lawson! CL: Well gosh, I reckon we ought to give it to them! [Lawson steps out of frame and towards the ring.] GM: You heard the man. I reckon we ought to give it to them as well! Let's go up to Melissa! [Dissolve to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring... fighting out of Tocula, Mexico... Hurricane Jarada! [Mild boos for the luchador.] MC: And his opponent, now stepping into the ring... fighting out of Greeneville, Tennessee... standing 5'11 and weighing in at 213 pounds... Corey Lawson! [A pretty decent cheer goes up for the good-natured fan favorite.] GM: And here we go! [Jarada and Lawson immediately tie up in a collar and elbow, the luchador pushing Lawson backwards... ...but getting taken down with an armdrag!] GM: Nice armdrag by Corey Lawson! The fans liked that one, Bucky. BW: You say you've heard good things about this guy? GM: I certainly have. BW: I haven't. I hear he's a baby-kissin', hand-shakin' suckup to these fans. GM: And what's wrong with that? [Back on their feet, they tie up once again, Jarada slipping a knee into the midsection this time. A quick whip fires Lawson towards the ropes where he drops down in a baseball slide, preventing hitting the ropes. Jarada charges towards him... ...and gets caught with a dropkick right under the chin!] GM: Whoa! That dropkick was up in the lights, Bucky! BW: It was impressive, I guess. GM: Jarada back to his feet and- [Lawson is there to greet him, firing a jab into the jaw. A second jab follows. A third staggers Jarada and allows Lawson to run towards him, leaping up to hook a headscissors... ...and take Jarada down to the mat!] GM: Oh my! And the Hurricane is completely off-balance in this one. Corey Lawson is all over him! [A few more jabs knock Jarada back into the ropes where Lawson grabs the arm, going for a whip that the luchador manages to reverse.] GM: Lawson off the far side... ohhhh! What a backdrop by Jarada! [A running backsplash senton flattens out Lawson and allows Jarada to apply a quick lateral press.] GM: One! Two! Shoulder up at two! [Trying to ground the highflyer, Jarada quickly hooks a full bodyscissor, squeezing the air out of the Tennessee native with his legs.] GM: Jarada's trying to wind him... drive the air out of his lungs and keep him on the mat. BW: Smart strategy. It's obvious that Lawson likes to leave his feet and he holds an edge over Jarada in that one. Jarada isn't exactly your prototypical luchador, Gordo. GM: He's a bit on the bulky side... that's for sure. [With Lawson trapped in the bodyscissors, he starts pumping his fists in the air. The crowd claps and stomps in rhythm along with his fistpumps, cheering the newcomer on.] GM: These fans are rallying behind Corey Lawson and it almost seems to be driving him! Look at Lawson! [Suddenly with fire in his eyes, Lawson is moving his arms back and forth, soaking up the cheers of the fans, rolling to his side so that Jarada is pushed back against the mat... ...and throws a big right hand to the roar of the crowd!] GM: Jarada's holding the scissors though... [Another big haymaker connects!] GM: Lawson's fighting back! Two right hands... there's a third! [And one more breaks the bodyscissors, allowing Lawson to spring to his feet, pumping that fist in the air again.] GM: Lawson's on his feet! He's up! [Jarada staggers to his feet, eating a big right hand.] GM: Down goes Jarada! [He gets back up... ...and gets knocked right back down!] GM: Down he goes again! [The luchador climbs to his feet... ...and Lawson leaps into the air, hooking Jarada around the head and neck with his legs, taking him down in a rana takeover where he delivers a few more well-placed right hands before springing to his feet with a whoop and a holler!] GM: Oh yeah! Corey Lawson has the WKIK Studios arockin' and arollin'! [With Jarada down, Lawson steps through the ropes, pointing to the turnbuckle as he starts walking down the apron.] GM: Corey Lawson is going up top! Corey Lawson is gonna fly! [Lawson pauses atop the ropes, looking out over the crowd. He pumps a fist as Jarada gets to his feet... ...and HURLS himself off the top, smashing down across the chest of Jarada with a cross body that takes him down to the mat where Lawson tightly cradle a leg!] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREEEE!! [Big cheer!] MC: Your winner of the match... COREY LAAAAAAWSON! [Lawson rolls off the downed Jarada, popping to his feet where he pumps a fist again, a big grin splashed on his face as the crowd cheers for him.] GM: Corey Lawson scores the win in his debut! And these fans are happy to see it, Bucky! BW: Ugh. GM: And judging by the reaction from these fans, I'd say everyone will be quite eager to see Corey Lawson back inside an AWA ring very soon, Bucky. This guy has electrified these fans and- [As Gordon stops speaking, the camera cuts from Lawson inside the ring to the announce desk where our announce duo has been joined by a third.] GM: Ms. LaFoye. ["The Truth" Shannon LaFoye stares coldly at Gordon Myers, curtly nodding her head.] SL: Myers. [Gordon looks irritated.] GM: Obviously, you have something you want to discuss. SL: I do, I do. Gordon Myers, have you ever called a woman's wrestling match? GM: Absolutely. In my career, I've called- SL: Here in the AWA? GM: Not here, no. [LaFoye nods slowly.] SL: Do you object to that? [Gordon suddenly looks uncomfortable.] GM: I'm not sure I- SL: Does it bother you that your current employer doesn't think women's wrestling is worthy of TV time? GM: Well, I- SL: Don't bother, Myers. I know you're only looking out for your own paycheck so I can't possibly expect you to come close to the truth. But the truth in this one is pretty simple. The AWA has no interest in women's wrestling. The AWA believes women have no place inside the ring. The AWA has no intention to change to that view any time soon. [She pauses.] SL: Sound about right? GM: Miss, I have absolutely no idea what- SL: Of course, of course.. how could I imply otherwise? [And with that, she simply walks away leaving a puzzled Gordon and Bucky standing behind.] GM: Fans, I apologize for that. I'm not sure what that was about at all. Let's go back up to the ring. [Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing, looking a little annoyed.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from Phoenix, Arizona... Eric Thomas! [A tall, beefy dude that looks to be about 270 pounds raises a flabby arm to the jeers of the crowd.] MC: And his opponent... [As the bell rings, Anderson and Thomas circle out of their respective corners, looking for an opening.] GM: Here we go! The debut match for the first graduation of the AWA Combat Corner! [The two men draw closer, Anderson dropping down to lunge at the legs of Thomas. He hooks the legs, pulling them out from under Thomas, taking him down to the mat!] GM: And there goes Anderson, immediately showing off the skills that made him a NCAA Division II wrestling champion at St. Cloud State University, Bucky. BW: All those takedowns and riding times are great on the amateur circuit but he's a pro now. Can he make the transition to the pro rings? That's the real question. [Anderson backs away, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he waits for Thomas to climb off the mat.] GM: Both men back to their feet now... [The All American edges in, leaning over with his arms outstretched... ...and then lunges, moving in behind Thomas into a rear waistlock. Thomas struggles against the hold for a bit, trying to find an escape when Anderson suddenly hoists him high into the air off the canvas, throwing him down chestfirst on the mat.] GM: Ohh my! Look at the power on display by this young man, Bucky. BW: It's pretty impressive. That's for sure. GM: Eric Thomas is not a happy camper, Bucky... he looks all fired up. [An irate Thomas kicks the ropes as he gets back to his feet, pointing a finger of warning at Anderson before charging towards him again... ...and Anderson sidesteps the charge, hooking in the waistlock again, and again hoisting Thomas into the air, throwing him down on his chest to a cheer from the crowd.] GM: And again he takes him down! This kid is showing off the education he received at the hands of Todd Michaelson at the Combat Corner, Bucky. BW: Took him long enough to graduate. I'd hope he had learned something. GM: Thomas back up! [And for a third time, Anderson hoists him off the mat, throwing him down... ...but this time he goes down to the mat with him, spinning around and around across his back before popping up to his feet to even more cheers from the WKIK Studios crowd!] GM: Oh yeah! You've gotta like what we're seeing out of this kid so far, Bucky. BW: I haven't seen much yet. Just some takedowns. My mama has a heck of a takedown too but that don't mean she's AWA material, daddy! GM: Eric Thomas slowly up to his feet... he's absolutely fuming. This rough and tumble veteran... you know he can't be pleased at being thrown around like this by this rookie. [Thomas edges in slowly towards Anderson who is ready and waiting... ...and gets a finger in the eye!] GM: Thomas goes to the eyes! Cheapshot! BW: Welcome to PRO wrestling, meat. GM: Meat? Who are you, Crash Davis? [With a blinded Anderson at his mercy, Thomas snaps off a big right haymaker across the jaw that knocks the rookie back into the corner.] BW: Now we get to see just what this kid is made of. GM: Another hard right hand by Eric Thomas! He's got the rookie reeling off a pair of heavy shots there. This brawling style... I'm not sure Todd teaches that in the Combat Corn- [Anderson bursts out of the corner, connecting with a solid forearm to the side of Thomas' ear, knocking him a few feet back out of the corner... ...which creates just enough separation for Anderson to lunge forward, hooking his arms around the big man's legs, POWERING him up into the air onto his shoulder before falling back in a big slam!] GM: OHHHH! That'll knock the wind out of Thomas! [With the big man dazed, Anderson quickly pulls him into a double underhook... ...and hoists Thomas in the air, flipping him over before DRIVING him down to the canvas with a thunderous Tiger Driver!] GM: OHHH!! BW: You know what that was? GM: The Billion Dollar Bomb! Shades of Todd Michaelson! [Anderson dives down across Thomas, reaching back to tightly cradle both legs.] GM: One! Two! And that's three! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winner of the match... THE ALL AMERICAN... AARON ANNNNNNNDERSONNNN! [A decent sized cheer goes up from the AWA faithful as Anderson springs to his feet, pumping his fists in triumph before the referee raises his hand in victory.] GM: A big victory for the All American, Aaron Anderson, in his debut here on Saturday Night Wrestling... and it looks like he's going to join us here at ringside for some comments. [Waving to nearby fans as he steps down, Aaron Anderson stops... smiles once again... and shakes the outstretched hand of Gordon Myers as he joins the announce team.] GM: Aaron Anderson, you have just made your AWA debut and in impressive fashion. How do you feel right now? AA: Well... as proud as I can be. The training at The Combat Corner paved the way for here today and if it wasn't for my trainers and for Todd Michaelson I would be sitting at home watching instead. GM: And what can we expect from The All American in the future? [Overcoming his slightly heavy breathing and sweat pouring down his face, the young newcomer smiles.] AA: More of what you saw today. More improvement. More victories. Making Mr. Michaelson, myself, my family and all these people proud! [Slight" Hey, he mentioned us!" POP!] AA: And continue to be what I am... a proud All American! GM: There you have it, fans. Aaron Anderson, a big win in his debut. We'll be right back, fans! Don't you dare go away! [The camera holds on Aaron, Gordon, and Bucky 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 fade back to live action where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: Welcome back, fans... and joining us at this time, a man who needs no introduction... the Samoan Beast, Tumaffi. [Stepping in from offscreen is the enormous frame of Tumaffi. Clad in a dark-green silk robe with light florals, the 400-pound powerhouse easily dwarfs Myers and Wilde, eclipsing most of our view. His facial expression is difficult to read behind his wild mane of shaggy black hair, but the gigantic Samoan isn't happy.] GM: Tumaffi, we all heard Gary Bright issue a challenge to you for Thanksgiving night. What is your answer to the challenge? Tumaffi: Tumaffi thinks that perhaps Gary Bright is not what his surname would indicate. Of course Tumaffi accepts your challenge! You need not even have made allowances for any other possibility, for Tumaffi will never refuse a challenge. Tumaffi understands that the mainlander Bright is merely a tool used by the alleged champion in order to attempt to hinder Tumaffi's efforts to regain contender status. This is a wise move on his part, to allow his lackey to protect him from such a dire threat. Be it known that Tumaffi will very gladly run this gauntlet, in order to build a case for a championship match. GM: That's all well and good, but it sounds like you are overlooking Gary Bright a bit. He's a powerful, powerful man, Tumaffi. [Tumaffi's answer to this is laughter.] GM: Is something funny? Tumaffi: Indeed Gary Bright is powerful, if you compare him to yourself, Gordon Myers. If you compare him to the weaklings that his insignificant agent pits him against on a regular basis, he is powerful indeed. But if you compare him to Tumaffi, Gary Bright no longer seems powerful. He seems to Tumaffi like a larger version of the usual soft mainlanders whom Tumaffi overwhelms weekly. His power is nothing next to my own! Of what use is it to be able to lift ten elephants if your opponent can lift twenty? Of what use is it to run a mile in five minutes if your opponent can run it in four? Such is the plight of Gary Bright, whom Tumaffi will surely vanquish on his way to qualifying to face Stevie Scott, or whomever defeats him, or whomever defeats the man who defeats him... it is of no importance! All that matters to Tumaffi is crushing any resistance between myself and the National Title! BW: I think you're forgetting something. A couple of things, actually. [Tumaffi turns in mild surprise. Bucky Wilde, who normally flees the scene when Tumaffi comes around for fear of an outburst, has not moved.] BW: The last time we saw Tumaffi, he was busy LOSING to Shane Destiny! Tumaffi has shown mercy, Tumaffi has pandered to fans... how about I sum it up for you? Tumaffi has got soft! [Bucky pokes Tumaffi in the midsection. The fans react in an "is Bucky stupid?" sort of gasp.] BW: I used to fear you, run from the booth when you were around, but now? I think Tumaffi is just another guy who needs a haircut. And that other thing you forgot? Tonight, you're teaming up with Juan Vasquez to take on two guys who are what you USED to be. Vicious killers. And... *gluukkk* [Uh, oh. Tumaffi goozles Bucky. This could end badly.] GM: Tumaffi! Please! Tumaffi: FOOL! Do you not know to whom you speak? Tumaffi will show you what soft is when I pull out your femur, reduce it to jelly, and feed it to you! GM: Tumaffi! You'll be suspended! The Championship Committee will... Tumaffi: Ah! Another ploy by the alleged champion. Of course. [Tumaffi lets go of Bucky, who immediately returns to his previous policy of vacating the area.] Tumaffi: Far be it from Tumaffi to do the work of my rivals. But know that Tumaffi has heard your babble and will respond. You say this team represents what Tumaffi once was? Let them be the yardstick, then! And we shall see indeed exactly who is soft! [Tumaffi exits... Bucky reluctantly comes back, still holding his neck.] BW: *cough*cough* GM: You're lucky he realized in time that he'd be suspended. BW: Suspended?! He's gonna be sued! I'll make sure he never ever gets a title shot! GM: In other words, you're going to make it so he has no reason NOT to smash you to bits next time. BW: ...well, maybe I'll just let Gary Bright take care of it Thanksgiving. If he makes it out of here tonight. GM: Fans, let's go up to Melissa for our first of three big featured matchups tonight! [Slow fade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is already standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... [LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out" kicks in to a big cheer from the WKIK Studios audience.] MC: Standing 6'6 and weighing in at 310 pounds... fighting out of DEEEEEETROIT, Michigan... he is the #9 contender to the AWA National Title... SOUP! BONE! SAAAAAAAMSON! [The crowd cheers as Samson walks through the curtain. The big man is sporting a pair of black MMA style shorts with no shirt. A heavy metal chain hangs over the back of his neck as he walks into the makeshift arena. Samson lets loose a howl that the fans echo as he reaches the ringsteps.] GM: Soup Bone Samson is one of the most experienced veterans we have here in the AWA, fans. BW: That's a nice way of saying he's older than Moses. GM: He's definitely getting on in years but what he lacks in youth, he more than makes up for in toughness. And with that big right hand, this man is NEVER out of a fight, Bucky. BW: That's great against most guys. But tonight, he's facing Shane Destiny. The man is a world class wrestler - one of the best inside the ring I've ever seen. He can throw blows with the best of them, he can bend and stretch ya, and he can drop ya on your head in a heartbeat. He's a former champion in some pretty big places, Gordo. Comparing Shane Destiny to Soup Bone Samson is like comparing ice cream to horse manure. [Samson steps through the ropes, jogging in place as he tosses his steel chain over the ropes to the floor. The referee moves to the corner to give him a few quick words as Melissa continues.] MC: And his opponent... standing 6'2 and weighing in at 252 pounds... from Las Vegas, Nevada... he is the #4 contender to the AWA National Title... SHAAAAAAAANE DESSSSSSTINY! [The music drastically changes to "True Faith" by New Order as the fans start jeering out of control. Destiny strides through the curtain to even more boos as he slowly walks the aisle towards the ring, ignoring the reaction of the crowd and keeping his eyes locked on the waiting Soup Bone Samson.] GM: The man gives up four inches in height and a whopping sixty plus pounds in weight yet he looks perhaps more confident than I've ever seen him before, Bucky. BW: This man has stepped into the wrestling ring with names like Courtade, Kinsey, and Martinez. He's supposed to be scared of an old man who never stepped out of the flea markets and American Legion Halls until the AWA? GM: I think you're underestimating Soup Bone Samson, Bucky... and if Shane Destiny is doing the same thing, he just might find his lights turned out in a hurry. [Destiny slowly walks up the steps before climbing into the ring. He leans back in the corner as the referee delivers instructions, starting across the squared circle at Samson who is a bundle of nervous energy, still bouncing from foot to foot while shadowboxing.] GM: I have a feeling we're in for one heck of a treat tonight on Saturday Night Wrestling, Bucky. Referee Michael Meekly with a few last words for both men... "DING! DING! DING!" GM: And here we go! [The crowd cheers at the sound of the bell as Samson quickly moves from the corner, fists balled up and in a quasi-boxing stance. Shane Destiny stays in the corner, pointing at Samson and complaining to the official.] BW: Closed fists... you tell 'em, Shane. [The referee steps in between, ordering Samson to open up his hands. The veteran reluctantly does so as a smirking Destiny edges out of the corner... ...and then stomps across the ring, getting right in the face of Samson.] "You want to box? You want to box? I'm the best wrestler in the world!" [The words are punctuated by a hard shove to the chest, knocking Samson back a step... ...until the big man comes towards him again, fists cocked at the ready.] GM: Here we go! Here we- ohhh, the referee steps in again! [A grinning Destiny backs into the ropes, arms spread wide as the official orders Samson to open his hands again.] BW: Shane Destiny is brilliant inside that ring, Gordo. He'll get this guy all fired up and you can bet he'll take advantage of the first mistake that Samson makes. GM: You may be right about that. [As Samson lowers his arms, Destiny slowly moves away from the ropes, arms down as he extends his head.] GM: Now, what in the world is he doing? BW: I'm not- I get it! He's offering Samson the chance to put him in a headlock! GM: Why would he do that? BW: Because Shane's not worried in the slightest about what this guy can do to him. Shane can get out of any hold this street fighting thug would try to put him in and he's going to prove exactly that right now. [Samson looks suspicious but slowly moves in... ...and wraps his big arms around the head of Destiny, squeezing the skull of the Las Vegas native.] GM: There's the headlock... whatcha got, Shane Destiny? [Destiny struggles against the hold, first trying to slip his head out from between the arms.] BW: Here it is... he's out... almost there, Gordo... [But with a loud roar, Samson cranks down on the headlock.] GM: You were saying? BW: It's comin'... wait for it... [Destiny drops down to a knee, throwing some light forearms to the ribs of Samson, trying to break his grip... ...but the big man cranks down again causing Destiny to shout out loud.] GM: Hehehe... no luck, Bucky. BW: It's going to happen, Gordo! Stop being so impatient! GM: The big man from Detroit is really squeezing Destiny's head with that side headlock. Destiny keeps trying to find a way out but he's not having any success quite yet. [The technician tries once more, hooking his arms around the waist of Samson.] BW: Here comes the suplex! [But Destiny can't budge the 310 pounder off the mat as Samson squeezes even harder... ...which finally forces Destiny to drag Samson to the ropes, reaching back to grab them to force a break. Big cheer!] GM: He couldn't do it! He couldn't break the headlock, Bucky! BW: Beginners luck. GM: Perhaps. Let's see Destiny try it again if he thinks Samson got lucky. [Destiny seems to be thinking the same thing as he leans against the ropes, rolling his head and neck back and forth. He points at Samson, shouting something the camera doesn't quite catch.] GM: And it looks like Destiny IS going to try it again. He just told Samson to prove that he can do it again... we're about to find out if it was luck, Bucky. BW: Oh, believe me, it was. GM: Let's find out together. [The Detroit native reapplies the headlock... ...which Destiny quickly breaks by throwing Samson off to the ropes. Destiny drops down, forcing a rebounding Samson to hop over his opponent to hit the ropes again.] GM: Off the far side... whoooooa my! [The crowd roars as the 310 pounder runs right over a surprised Shane Destiny with a football tackle, knocking the technician down to the canvas where Destiny quickly rolls under the ropes to the floor, slapping the ring apron with both arms in frustration before turning to pace around the ringside area.] GM: And I don't think this match so far is going the way Shane Destiny thought it'd go, Bucky. After his sneak attack on Pure X earlier tonight, I'm sure Destiny thought the rest of this night would be smooth sailing but so far, Soup Bone Samson seems to have his number. BW: Oh, it's waaaaay too early to be saying that, Gordo. [After a few moments, Destiny seems to regain his composure, climbing the ringsteps. He stands near the corner for a bit, glaring at Samson who is standing in the middle of the ring, jabbing at the air as he waits for his opponent.] BW: Shane was right! All this idiot wants to do is box! This is wrestling, you goof! Try and do some wrestling! GM: Soup Bone Samson is gonna do what he needs to do to win this match... and you know that big right hand is ready and waiting... locked and loaded... ready, set, and- BW: We get it. [Destiny again demands that the referee get Samson to unclench the fists as he slowly steps back into the ring. There is no offered headlock this time, Destiny edging towards the middle of the ring... ...and lunging into a collar and elbow tieup that he quickly converts into a rear waistlock. The big brawler grabs at the wrists, trying to break the hold.] GM: Now it's Samson's turn to try to find a way out of something. He's grabbing the wrists, trying to pull the hands apart... [Instead, Samson opts to simply walk backwards, pushing Destiny's back up against the turnbuckles. The referee is immediately on the scene, ordering a break.] GM: Will we get a clean break here? BW: If Samson is the hero he claims to be, he'll break- GM: There's your break... right there... [But the big brawler spins around in the corner, fists balled up as he throws rapid fire rights and lefts to the midsection of Destiny.] GM: Ohhh my! Right! Left! Right! Left! [The crowd roars for the flurry of fists and then somehow gets even louder as Samson hooks Destiny under the arm, HURLING him high into the air and down to the canvas with a biel throw!] GM: OHHHH! DOWN GOES DESTINY! [Destiny quickly scrambles to his feet... ...only to find Samson waiting for him, right hand cocked back. The Vegas native bails out backwards just as the fist flies, just narrowly avoiding the knockout punch as he falls to the canvas, scooting backwards to the corner. The crowd roars as Destiny leans against the buckles, eyes a bit wide as he stares at the smirking Samson.] GM: And Shane Destiny just showed the entire world just how badly he wants to avoid that right hook, Bucky. BW: Well, of course he wants to avoid it. He knows that punch will turn his lights out once and for all. But he also knows that punch is an illegal weapon, Gordo. And you're a hypocrite for not pointing that out. [Destiny slowly regains his feet, glaring at Samson as he edges out of the corner before lunging into a collar and elbow. Using Samson's size against him, Destiny swings him around, pushing Samson's back against the buckles... ...and pops the big man across the chest with a chop!] GM: The referee's trying to get him out of the corner and- [The crowd roars as Destiny shoves Samson back into the buckles, snapping off a trio of chops to the chest. He grabs the big man's arm before firing him across the ring to the opposite corner.] GM: Samson hits the buckles hard... here comes Destiny! [Sprinting across the ring, Destiny winds up and delivers a bone-rattling clothesline against the buckles. Staying in the corner, he cradles the head of Samson and delivers a barrage of forearm smashes to the side of the face that knocks the big man to a seated position in the corner.] GM: Oh, come on! Get in there, referee! [With Samson down, Destiny places his boot on the throat of the big man, pushing down to choke the life out of him.] GM: A blatant choke from Destiny! BW: Yet you're not concerned about a blatant clenched fist punch. GM: I never said I wasn't concerned about it, Bucky. BW: But you cheer like a high school yell captain whenever Samson throws it! GM: Yell captain? [Destiny reaches down, hauling the big man off the mat before blasting him with a forearm smash that knocks him back to the buckles again.] GM: Samson's back on his feet... ohhh! Another big chop in the corner by Destiny! Absolutely devastating! BW: Shane Destiny's one of the hardest hitters in the entire AWA, daddy! Soup Bone Samson just discovered that for himself. GM: Another whip... [Destiny charges across the ring again, looking for another clothesline... ...but at the last moment, Samson raises one of his big boots up into the chin of the stampeding rulebreaker!] GM: OHHH! [Destiny stumbles backwards out of the corner, allowing Samson to regain his senses and charge out of the corner, connecting with a big clothesline of his own. The veteran quickly throws himself across Destiny's chest as the referee drops down to count.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! No! BW: It's gonna take more than a clothesline to pin Shane Destiny. GM: How about a right hand? BW: Very funny. [Samson drags Destiny off the mat by the hair, scooping him up in a bodyslam-like lift with Destiny face-up... ...and POWERS him down in a thunderous slam!] GM: Good grief! A facefirst bodyslam by Soup Bone Samson - and that'll shake Destiny to his very core! [With Destiny facefirst on the mat, Samson lets loose a wild whoop before throwing his 310 pound frame into the air, smashing down backfirst on the prone Destiny!] GM: Backsplash by Samson! BW: That's a biiiiiiig senton with a lot of weight behind it! Samson's using his power and weight edge to take it to Shane Destiny at this stage in the matchup. GM: Samson's back to his feet, dragging Destiny up... [A desperate Shane Destiny reaches up, grabbing the front of Samson's tights and YANKING him into the buckles, sending him smashing chestfirst into the corner!] GM: Ohhh! BW: Beautiful! A brilliant move by Destiny! GM: Now who's being a hypocrite? BW: What? GM: The last time I checked, that was an illegal pull of the tights to get that leverage move in, Bucky. BW: You gotta fight fire with fire. [Destiny slowly regains his feet, shaking the cobwebs as he approaches Samson who is leaning chestfirst against the buckles. Leaning over, Destiny grabs the middle rope... ...and DRIVES his shoulder into the lower back of the veteran!] GM: And he slams his shoulder into the back! [A couple more shoulder drives to the back has Samson clinging to the top rope before Destiny drags him out by his trunks, tugging him into a side waistlock. The technician hoists him into the air... ...and DROPS him down on the back with a belly-to-back suplex!] GM: Some power on display there by Destiny, muscling that 310 pounder up into the air to take him down to the mat... [Destiny promptly rolls into an MMA style mount, cradling the head of Samson and throwing forearm after forearm into the side of his face. At the end of the assault, he grabs Samson's head with both hands, SLAMMING the back of the skull into the canvas over and over before the referee literally drags him off Samson.] GM: Whoa! Look out! [An irate Destiny gets right in the face of the referee, shoving a finger into the face of the official, trying to back him down.] BW: The referee has no right... NO RIGHT... to put his hands on a wrestler in there, Gordo! You know that! GM: And Destiny is absolutely furious as he pulls Samson up off the mat, shoving him back against the ropes... whoa! Another big chop from Destiny! [A few more chops have Samson leaning on the ropes, trying to stay on his feet as Destiny grabs for his arm.] GM: Irish whip... [As Samson rebounds, Destiny hooks him, rotating quickly, and PLANTING him into the canvas with a spinning powerslam!] GM: POWERSLAM!! ONE!! TWO!! TH- shoulder up! Shoulder up! [Destiny is immediately on his feet, shouting at the official who reiterates that it was only a two count. The Las Vegas native shakes his head before violently stomping Samson repeatedly into the canvas.] GM: Shane Destiny is showing the attitude that makes him one of the most disliked men in the entire AWA. That mean streak... that vicious side of his personality... BW: The killer instinct that separates him from the rest. GM: Perhaps. [A fired-up Destiny hauls Samson back to his feet, blasting him with a chop... ...and getting a left hand to the body in response! Cheer!] GM: Chop by Destiny... [But Samson fires back again!] GM: Another chop by Destiny! BW: Another clenched fist by Samson! GM: These two are trading shots in the middle of the ring! Listen to these fans! [Destiny throws another chop but Samson slaps it aside, grabbing Destiny's head with both hands and SLAMMING his skull into the Vegas native's, knocking him down to the mat!] GM: OHHH! HEADBUTT! [Samson takes two steps back and swandives, DRIVING his skull into Destiny's once again!] GM: FALLING HEADBUTT! ONE!! TWO!! THR- OHHHHHH! [The crowd gasps and groans as Destiny fires a shoulder off the mat just before the three count falls.] GM: This match is so important to both of these men. To Shane Destiny, the #4 contender, a win here could put him next in line for a shot at the AWA National Title. And for Soup Bone Samson, a man trying to climb from the #9 position in the Top 10 to the top of the charts, a loss here would be absolutely devastating! [A disappointed Samson gets to his knees, looking down in frustration before pushing himself off the canvas. He reaches down, hauling Destiny up into a fireman's carry.] GM: This could be the Steel City Crusher - he learned this during his days in Pittsburgh! [Samson slowly spins around in an airplane spin and just as he looks to spin Destiny around into an Ace Crusher, Destiny slips out the back door, dropping to a knee.] GM: Ohhh - Destiny slips out and- [As soon as Samson turns around, Destiny CREAMS him with a right hook of his own, stunning Samson just long enough to hook him around the body, hoisting him up and dropping him down in an inverted atomic drop... ...and then IMMEDIATELY floors Samson with a clothesline that Destiny puts everything behind, crumbling to the mat with the effort.] GM: OHHHHHH! BW: Haha! How do you like THAT right hand, Gordo? GM: After all that talk about Samson just being a boxer, Shane Destiny uses a clenched fist to stun Samson long enough to get that atomic drop in! Samson's down and- [Destiny waves his arms in an "it's over!" gesture as he starts walking to the corner... ...and spots Pure X standing in the aisle!] GM: Wait a second! BW: What's HE doing out here?! GM: Pure X - Pure X who was assaulted by Shane Destiny earlier tonight - has made his way into the WKIK Studios once more and Shane Destiny is livid! [From inside the ring, Destiny points at Pure X, shouting at the young technician he attacked just a short while ago. He leans over the ropes as he approaches the corner, screaming insults at Pure X.] GM: Pure X hasn't taken a step towards the ring though, Bucky. Maybe he's just scouting Destiny. BW: Or maybe he's trying to distract him! GM: Well, if that's his goal, it's working. "TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!" GM: Five minutes left in the time limit... and Destiny's climbing up on the middle rope. Destiny sitting on the top turnbuckle, still shouting at Pure X... [Pure X doesn't even verbally respond, just watching as Destiny runs his mouth in his direction while standing up on the middle rope. He raises his right hand, showing it to X... ...and not even noticing that Soup Bone Samson is now up to a knee.] GM: He's calling for a fistdrop! Another clenched fist! [Destiny shouts at X one more time before leaping into the air... ...and EATING a precision right hook on the way down!] GM: OHHHH! RIGHT HAND! RIGHT HAND! [The blow knocks Destiny flat just as Samson collapses from exhaustion, falling right across the chest of the Vegas native.] GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEE! "DING! DING! DING!" [The crowd EXPLODES into cheers as an exhausted Samson continues to lie across the downed Destiny. The camera cuts to a shot of a grinning Pure X who simply turns his back and walks to the locker room.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner... SOUP! BONE! SAAAAAAAAMSON! [An ENORMOUS roar from the crowd is heard for the announcement as the referee flips Samson off of Destiny, raising his limp arm in victory as the fans continue to cheer.] GM: Soup Bone Samson has won! Soup Bone Samson has defeated Shane Destiny! BW: Thanks to Pure X! GM: He didn't touch Destiny, Bucky. BW: He distracted him! You saw it yourself! Shane Destiny just got robbed by Pure X! GM: And with that loss, you have to imagine Destiny will tumble down the Top 10 a bit and Soup Bone Samson should climb up! What a big victory here for Samson... in fact, I'd argue it may be the biggest singles victory of his career, Bucky. BW: Considering who he beat... yeah, I'd say so. GM: Fans, we'll be right back - don't you dare go away! [The camera holds on Soup Bone Samson who is kneeling in the middle of the ring, a very emotional expression on his face as the fans continue to cheer for him as we fade 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 back up to live action where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing. The commentators are now joined by the trio known as Rough N Ready. Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers are already dressed in their wrestling attire. Their manager, Sarah Sharpe, is dressed in her usual managerial attire.] GM: Welcome back, fans, and now we are joined by Rough N Ready, who will get the oppprtunity in just a few moments to face a duo they challenged four weeks ago, but never got to face because chaos quickly broke out. And this match tonight could be your opportunity to secure that final point toward getting a National tag team title shot. SS: Gordon, that final point for a tag team title shot is something my men have been waiting too long for... but given the circumstances going into this match, the final point isn't the top issue on the minds of Dave and Eric right now. BW: You're kidding me, right? Who wouldn't want the opportunity to finally secure a tag team title shot? SS: You've got yourself a short memory, Bucky... Dave and Eric had laid out the challenge to Stevie Scott and Gary Bright not simply to get that final point, but because they felt it was long overdue that they stand up for what's right in this place... after the likes of Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers were put out of commission and after City Jack got hurt, the three of us knew that it was time for us to step forward and teach the likes of Scott and Bright some lessons. Tonight's match is more than just securing a final point... it's about making a point to Ben Waterson's men that their bullying ways are going to end. GM: You brought up City Jack... he is one half of the current National tag team champions and his partner, Tin Can Rust, clearly wants to get Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman in the ring again, and put those titles up... what happens if you secure that final point tonight? DC: Gordon, I'll answer that... I don't blame Tin Can Rust for wanting to get his hands on Dufresne and Freeman. We've been on the receiving end of the stunts those two have pulled off, although I'm not going to compare them directly to what happened to City Jack. But all the same, we know what a pain in the rear end those two can be. So if we do get our final point for a tag team title match... we'll let Tin Can Rust and City Jack have their match with Dufresne and Freeman first. We'll let them settle things with those two punks once and for all... then we can move forward to our title shot. Hey, we've been forced to wait to get that final point for some time after the committee ruled we can't face the Bishop Boys in another tag match... what's wrong with waiting a little while longer so two men can teach two other men a lesson. GM: Well, the Bishop Boys also have a tag match tonight, in which they could secure the final point a tag team title shot as well... I don't think they'd be as generous as you are about waiting your turn. DC: Considering what we've dealt with the Bishop Boys the past few months, I'd expect they wouldn't want to wait... and if somehow they were able to beat City Jack and Tin Can Rust... although I certainly wouldn't bet against the current champs.. then they'd have to deal with us. And if that were to come to pass, there's no way we'd be letting the committee come between us and the Bishops. GM: Yet the Bishops did get hired by Waterson and Scott as security a couple weeks ago... you don't suppose they could be swinging another deal to... [Eric, at that point, steps forward and pulls the mic away from Gordon.] EMS: All I've got to say is this... Bishop Boys, you keep your nose out of our business! I'm out of patience when it comes to punks like you, Stevie Scott and Gary Bright... and believe me, if you thought I was wild, crazy and dangerous before... just wait until you find out how wild, crazy and dangerous I can be when my patience is gone! [He then puts the mic back in Gordon's hand as he walks off the set. Dave soon follows him, ostensibly to calm him down.] SS: I guess that answers your question, Gordon... but believe me, regardless of what happens in tonight's matches... we still have a score to settle with the Bishops and it's going to be settled, whether the committee likes it or not. [She walks off after Dave and Eric who are headed for the ring.] GM: Let's go up to Melissa for tag team action! [Fade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... weighing in a total combined weight of 615 pounds... from Albuquerque, New Mexico... ROUGH N READY! [Big cheer from the AWA faithful!] MC: And their opponents... [The sounds of "Pomp And Circumstance" come blasting over the PA system to the jeers of the crowd.] MC: Being accompanied to the ring by Ben Waterson... at a total combined weight of 513 pounds... they are the team of... "GOLD BOMBER" GARY BRIIIIGHT... and... The AWA National Champion... "HOTSHOT" STEEEEEVIE SCOTT! [The boos intensify as Scott, Bright, and Waterson emerge from the entryway, slowly making their way towards the ring. The champion is huddled up with Waterson, gesturing at the duo waiting inside the ring, ready to battle for their third point.] GM: Stevie Scott doesn't look too thrilled about getting inside that ring, Bucky. BW: He has to get into the ring with two very skilled tag team wrestlers. He should be concerned. GM: Was that a compliment? BW: Hey, I may not like these guys but I can respect the fact that they've been a tag team for ages and can certainly go inside that ring, Gordo. [Another huddle-up outside the ring goes down - and ends with Gary Bright being ordered into the ring by Waterson and Scott. After a moment, a nodding Gold Bomber steps up on the apron, entering the ring... ...and pointing straight at Eric Matthew Somers! Big cheer!] GM: And the Gold Bomber wants himself some of the big dog! [With the Bomber in there drawing some attention, it allows Stevie Scott to sneak around the corner... ...and yank Dave Cooper down off the apron!] GM: What the-?! [The National Champion takes the quick advantage to use Cooper's tights to HURL him into the front row of bleachers as the referee calls for the bell to start the match. The Hotshot hammers Cooper at ringside with Sarah Sharpe shouting to her husband. Inside the ring, Eric Matthew Somers spins around to spot the action out on the floor. Somers starts towards the ropes when Gary Bright suddenly tackles Somers, knocking him back into the corner.] GM: Here we go... and this cheapshot out on the floor has Stevie Scott all over Dave Cooper... [The Hotshot grabs Cooper by the wrist, whipping him backfirst into the ring apron!] GM: Ohhh! [Inside the ring, Bright drives shoulder after shoulder into the midsection of Eric Matthew Somers. Somers throws forearms from the top, trying to break up the corner assault and manages to catch Bright with a big knee in between shoulder smashes, causing the powerhouse to tumble backwards out of the corner... ...only to get FLOORED with a rushing clothesline by the big man!] GM: DOWN GOES THE BOMBER! [Somers spins around, stepping over the ropes to the apron, dropping down to the floor. Stevie Scott immediately backpedals at the sight of the big man marching towards him, pointing at him as he tries to step away.] GM: Look at 'im! Look at 'im! The Hotshot is runnin' for it, Bucky! BW: The National Champion doesn't want to tussle with a 6'9 monster - can you blame him? [The Hotshot continues to back away, leaving Somers to tend to Dave Cooper who is clutching his lower back in pain. The champ rolls under the bottom rope, scampering to his feet. He quickly orders Bright out of the ring as he waves Dave Cooper in.] BW: He wants Cooper in there. GM: Of course he does. He just spent a couple minutes beating up Cooper on the floor and he's obviously terrified of Somers getting his hands on him. [A fired-up Dave Cooper shoves past his partner, diving under the bottom rope... ...where Stevie Scott immediately drills him with a falling double axehandle to the back of the skull!] GM: Ohhh! Another cheapshot by the champ! [The Hotshot gets back to his feet, stomping and kicking at the downed Cooper. The referee steps in, shoving him back from the assault. Scott backs away, giving Cooper a moment to push up to all fours... ...where a running kick to the ribs knocks him right back down on the mat.] GM: Good grief! [Grabbing the top rope, the Hotshot drives stomp after stomp after stomp into the body of Cooper, pushing him under the ropes out to the floor. The crowd jeers the smirking Stevie Scott as he backs away from the ropes at the referee's orders.] GM: The National Champion backing off... [But as soon as Cooper climbs to his feet, Scott rushes across the ring, dropping down into a baseball slide, driving his feet into the face of the rising Cooper!] GM: OHHHH! Down goes Cooper again! [Scott rolls under the ropes, reaching down to haul Cooper off the barely-padded floor by the hair... ...and SLAMS his face into the ring apron!] GM: Come on, referee! Get in there and get some control over this! [Again grabbing Cooper by the hair, Scott pulls him into a front facelock out on the floor.] GM: Waterson's calling for the gourdbuster! This is the same move that Duane Henry Bishop used to concuss Dave Cooper several months ago! BW: The floor is padded but just barely, Gordo. If Stevie hits this, he might put Cooper right back on the shelf! [Hooking the trunks with one hand, the Hotshot tries to hoist Cooper into the air... ...but Dave Cooper kicks and wriggles, forcing Stevie to put him back down on the mat where he promptly EATS a right hand from the technician!] GM: What a shot by Cooper! A big right hand stuns the champion! [Grabbing Stevie by the hair, Cooper takes the opportunity to SLAM Scott's face into the ring apron!] GM: Turnabout is fair play for Dave Cooper out here at ringside! [Cooper pulls Scott into a side waistlock, hoisting him into the air, and dumping him down on his own knee in an atomic drop that sends Stevie falling flat on his face!] GM: Biiiiiig atomic drop out on the floor! [Cooper yanks Stevie to his feet, throwing him under the ropes into the ring before rolling back in himself. He winces a bit as he gets to his feet, promptly grabbing Stevie by the foot, preventing him from crawling to the corner where Gary Bright is eagerly waiting for a tag.] GM: Cooper blocks him... Boston Crab! [The crowd roars as Cooper flips Scott onto his stomach, yanking back on both legs to wrench the lower back of the National Champion... ...but a running double axehandle to the back of the head by the Gold Bomber knocks Cooper down to the mat!] GM: Ohhh - Gary Bright breaks up the Boston Crab! Cooper had the champion caught in the Boston Crab and the Gold Bomber intervened to save his partner. BW: And Somers didn't like that, Gordo. [Across the ring, an angry Eric Matthew Somers shouts in the direction of the official as Gary Bright steps back out to the apron, waiting for his partner to get to him.] GM: Cooper and Scott... both men slowly getting to their feet now... [As they get back to a vertical base, Scott pastes Cooper with a right haymaker, knocking him back against the ropes. Grabbing the wrist, Scott fires Cooper across the ring, attempting a clothesline that Cooper ducks under, hitting the far ropes... ...and then taking Scott down with a Thesz Press, balling up his fist to drive it down into the skull over and over and over to the roar of the crowd!] GM: Cooper's lighting up the AWA National Champion! [Getting back to his feet, Cooper reaches over and slaps the hand of Eric Matthew Somers who steps in to another big roar from the crowd. Together, Rough N Ready haul the champ to his feet, firing him across the ring... ...and sending him SAILING through the air in a thunderous double backdrop!] GM: Ohhh my! Did you see that, Bucky? BW: Just barely. They put Stevie so high, he almost caused an eclipse! GM: And now it's Eric Matthew Somers' turn inside that ring with Stevie Scott, hauling him back to his feet... [Hooking in a front facelock, Somers lets loose a big whoop before SLAMMING his forearm down across the back of the champion, knocking him down to a knee. A second forearm connects, smashing the Hotshot down to the canvas... ...and a LEAPING forearm smash to the back makes sure Stevie stays there as Somers flips him over, throwing his 350 pounds across the champ in a lateral press.] GM: One! Two! Stevie slips out at two! [Somers nods his head as he slowly pushes off the mat to his feet, looking around at the cheering crowd... ...and throws his body into the air, smashing down with a thunderous legdrop!] GM: OHHHHH! [The 6'9 beast rolls off the downed Stevie, cracking a grin at the cheering crowd as he slowly climbs to his feet, reaching over to slap the hand of Dave Cooper who promptly steps up to the middle rope as Somers hauls Stevie off the mat, holding his arms behind him as Cooper leaps into the air, connecting with a double axehandle across the skull, sending the champion back down to the mat.] GM: Cooper with a cover - one! Two! No! Shoulder out at two! And at this point of the match, just a few minutes in, you have to be impressed with the teamwork being shown by Rough N Ready, Bucky. BW: Of course you do. We all knew this was an uphill challenge for Stevie and the Bomber. They don't team together on a regular basis. They are not your traditional tag team. But what they are are two of the best singles wrestlers in the world. Tonight, we may get the answer to the long-asked question - what happens when a great tag team meets two great singles wrestlers? GM: We may get that answer twice, Bucky. Don't forget we've got the match with the Bishops versus Vasquez and Tumaffi still to come later tonight! BW: Absolutely. [Cooper hauls Stevie off the mat by the hair, blasting him with a right hand that knocks the champion into the corner. With a shout, Cooper steps up to the middle rope, fist balled up.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TEN!" [Cooper hops down off the buckles, grabbing Stevie by the arm and firing him across the ring. As the champion staggers off the whip to the middle of the ring, Cooper buries a boot into the gut. He quickly hammerlocks Stevie's arm, scooping him into the air, and SLAMMING him down onto the arm!] GM: OHHH! Hammerlock bodyslam by Dave Cooper! [Scott rolls around in pain on the canvas, clutching his own left arm in pain as Cooper stands over him, leaping up with a big elbowsmash across the chest!] GM: Leaping elbow by Cooper - a cover! One! Two! No, not enough. [Cooper pushes up to his knees, delivering a pair of right hands to the skull of the National Champion before climbing to his feet. Reaching down, he drags Stevie off the mat by the injured arm, spinning it into an armtwist that he quickly moves into a hammerlock, pushing Stevie across the ring and slapping the hand of Eric Matthew Somers who steps into the ring.] GM: Another tag right there brings in Somers... what's he doing now? [In the middle of the ring, Somers sets and then charges the corner. At the last moment, Cooper steps aside, allowing Somers to avalanche the hammerlocked arm!] GM: OHHHHH! [Stevie falls out of the corner, dropping down to his knees in the middle of the ring. An angry Somers points right at Gary Bright as he grabs Stevie by the arm again, yanking it into a hammerlock.] GM: He's going for the flying hammerlock! This is what Bright used to put Ron Houston on the shelf! This is what- [But just as Somers gets Stevie off the mat, Ben Waterson leaps up on the apron, screaming and shouting. The distraction causes Somers to throw Stevie down to the mat, heading towards Waterson... ...but the dastardly agent drops back down to the floor, shaking his head at an irate Somers.] GM: Look at Stevie! Look at Stevie! [Seizing the moment, Stevie is crawling for his life, trying to get across the ring towards his partner who is stretching out for the tag into the match.] GM: Bright's ready for the tag... but can Stevie get there in time? [The Hotshot gets within range just as Somers spins around and spots him. A charging Somers catches Stevie by the foot, hauling him up to his feet... ...and POPS him with a right hand that sends Stevie falling back into the corner where Gary Bright tags himself into the match!] GM: Ohh! The right hand allowed Stevie to make the tag and here comes- good grief! [The crowd EXPLODES as Bright and Somers waste no time in throwing blows at one another. Right hands by the Gold Bomber met with right hands by Somers, each not giving an inch as they batter each other relentlessly.] GM: Look at this fight! Somers and Bright are beating the tar out of each other and- [A blocked right hand from Bright leads to a series of explosive haymakers from Somers that backs the powerhouse down... ...until he reaches up and rakes the eye of the 6'9 big man!] GM: Ohh! To the eyes goes Bright! [With Somers stunned, Bright charges forward, leaving his feet with a leaping shoulder block that takes the big man down to the mat!] BW: Oh my! Big time tackle by Bright! [The Gold Bomber immediately gets to his feet, leaping high into the air to bring his muscular arm smashing down across the sternum of Somers with an elbowdrop!] BW: What an athlete this guy is, Gordo. Not only is he built like a statue, he can leap higher than most cruiserweights! You've gotta be impressed. GM: There's no denying the skill of Gary Bright... but does he have enough to withstand the natural disaster that is Tumaffi? Tumaffi accepted the challenge earlier to face the Gold Bomber and you can only imagine what a war of attrition those two are gonna have. [Bright gets back to his feet, leaping up once again, and smashing the elbow home again!] GM: Another huuuuge elbowdrop by the Bomber... so much impact. So, so much impact. [The Gold Bomber gets up once more, striking a big double bicep pose before leaping high... ...and smashing the arm down on the chest once more before rolling off the downed Somers and going into a set of push-ups to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: Bright showing off that power much to the dismay of these fans here in Dallas, Texas - the wrestling capital of the world, Bucky. BW: Look at the arms... the shoulders... the chest... the man was blessed by the genetic Gods, daddy. [Bright pushes up to his feet, standing over the downed Somers, glaring at him as he strikes a big double bicep pose again. Somers gets to a knee where Bright creams him with a standing hammerblow to the skull, knocking him back into a seated position against the ropes. Grabbing the top rope, Bright pushes his foot onto the throat of Somers, choking him with his boot.] GM: That's a choke, ref! That's a choke! BW: He knows that, Gordo. No need to yell at him. [The official steps in, ordering Bright to back away, starting a five count.] GM: And Bright backs off at four. These men are always ready to use and abuse the rulebook to their advantage. You'll never see them break an illegal hold before four. BW: Of course not! That'd just be dumb. They get until the count of five so why not take advantage of that loophole in the rules? It's not their fault the Championship Committee won't change the rules. GM: I suppose. Bright now, hauling Somers back to his feet, big forearm smash knocks Somers back to the corner... [Grabbing the arm, Bright powers the 350 pounder from corner to corner in an Irish whip... ...and then barrels across the ring, smashing into the stunned Somers with a running clothesline!] GM: OHHHHH! [Bright backs off, flexing for the crowd as Somers stumbles out of the corner...] GM: HE'S GOING FOR THE SLAM! [The crowd roars as Bright tangles up with Somers, attempting to hoist him off the canvas for a bodyslam... ...but Somers is ready for him, throwing forearm after forearm after forearm down across the back of Bright, breaking up the bodyslam attempt and sending Bright stumbling away.] GM: Somers blocked the bodyslam attempt! BW: Just barely. Gary was gonna put him THROUGH the mat, daddy! GM: We may never know for sure. [Grabbing Bright by the back of the tights, Somers tugs him into a side waistlock, hoisting the Gold Bomber into the air, and dumping him down on the back of the head and neck!] GM: Suplex by Somers! And both men are down after that one! BW: Bright landed hard on the back of the head. That'll definitely cloud things up upstairs for ya. He may not have a clue where he is right now, Gordo. GM: And both Stevie and Cooper are waiting for the tag... both men with their arms outstretched... both men looking to make the exchange with their battered and weary partners... [The crowd is roaring for Somers to tag in Cooper as both men crawl towards their respective partners.] GM: Both men need the tag... both men want the tag... [Bright is the first to the corner, leaping to tag in the Hotshot.] GM: In comes the champ and- [BIG CHEER!] GM: IN COMES COOPER! "TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! TEN MINUTES REMAIN!" [Cooper catches Scott charging in with a hook to the body. A few more bodyshots follow before a big right hand to the skull knocking the Hotshot down to the mat.] GM: Down goes the champ! [The technician catches Stevie as he gets back to his feet, smashing him with a forearm knocking Stevie back into the ropes.] GM: Whip by Cooper... [The rebounding Hotshot gets hoisted into the air by the legs, spun around, and DRIVEN into the mat!] GM: SPINEBUSTER! SPINEBUSTER BY COOPER! [With Scott down on the mat, Cooper crosses the Hotshot's legs, and flips him to his stomach.] GM: Submission hold applied! BW: That's the Texas Cloverleaf! Cooper's got him in the Cloverleaf! GM: The crowd is going nuts! Stevie Scott is screaming in pain, pounding the canvas... can he hold on? [Cooper leans back, screaming as he tries to wrench a submission out of the National Champion... ...when Ben Waterson leaps up on the apron!] GM: Waterson's on the apron and- [BIG CHEER!] GM: SARAH PULLS HIM DOWN! [The crowd roars as Sarah Sharpe yanks Waterson off the apron by his custom-tailored slacks. An irate Waterson spins around, rearing back a right hand in a retreating Sarah's direction... ...which causes Cooper to break the hold, racing towards the ropes. A shout from Cooper causes Waterson to beg off, shaking his head at the veteran.] GM: Cooper turns back to Stevie... HEATSEEK- [HUGE ROAR!] GM: COOPER CATCHES THE FOOT! HE CAUGHT THE FOOT! [With a hard spin, he swings Stevie around... ...and drills him with a running clothesline that knocks the Hotshot back down to the mat!] GM: Stevie is down again! The champ just can't get on track here tonight, Bucky. BW: He needs to get out of there. He's got the title to think about! GM: Cooper drags him to his feet... [A weary Somers steps back into the ring as Cooper hops up on the middle rope, directing traffic.] GM: This is it! They're going for Rough Housing on the National Champ! If they hit this, it's over, Bucky! [Somers grabs the National Champion around the head and neck, looking for the uranage slam that precedes Cooper's middle rope kneedrop... ...when suddenly all hell breaks loose!] GM: LOOK OUT! [The crowd EXPLODES into jeers as Duane Henry Bishop and Cletus Lee Bishop hit the ring. Eric Matthew Somers immediately throws the Hotshot down to the canvas, peeling off to DRILL Duane Henry with a right hand. The referee immediately calls for the bell just before a charging Cletus Lee DRILLS Cooper with a big boot to the chest, knocking Cooper over the ropes and down to the floor below!] GM: OHHHH! [Cletus Lee promptly spins around, blasting Somers with a right hand to the back of the head, knocking Somers down to a knee where he's prone to a barrage of blows from both Bishops as Cousin Bo shouts instructions from outside the ring.] GM: The Bishops are all over Eric Matthew Somers! They're beating the tar out of him! They're- [Suddenly, the Gold Bomber joins the fray, driving blow after blow into the skull of Eric Matthew Somers.] GM: This is a three on one! Bright and the Bishops are working over Eric Matthew Somers! They're pounding Somers down and- [A weary and battered Hotshot regains his feet, clearing traffic out for a moment... ...and BLASTING a kneeling Somers with a Heatseeker kick under the chin, knocking Somers down to the mat!] GM: OHHHH! THE SUPERKICK CONNECTS! [The jeers intensify as all four men now are battering Eric Matthew Somers into the canvas as Dave Cooper lies stunned on the barely-padded concrete floor.] GM: We need some help out here! We need to- [A big cheer goes out as Juan Vasquez and Tumaffi come barreling through the entranceway, heading towards the ring... ...where all four men exit at the encouragement of Cousin Bo and Ben Waterson, leaving Eric Matthew Somers pounded and pummeled on the canvas as the cavalry arrives.] GM: Somers is down. Cooper is down. What in the world is going on here tonight, Bucky? BW: I don't know but what's the official decision, Gordo? Who won the match? GM: We're going to try... fans, we need to take a quick break but we need to find out what the official result of that match is. We'll be right back - don't you dare go away! [The camera holds on a motionless Eric Matthew Somers for a moment before fading to black... ...and then back up. It's a shot of a few kids standing outside of a classroom. A fourth kid walks up to them, carrying his backpack over his shoulder.] 4th Kid: Hey guys... wait til you see what I got from AWAShop.com! [He whips open the backpack and produces... ...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!] "Whoa!" "Wow!" "That rocks!" "I want one... now!" [The 4th kid looks pleased with himself... ...until a fifth kid walks up.] 5th Kid: Juan Vasquez, huh? That's not bad... but check this out! [The 5th kid opens his backpack and reveals... ...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!] "WHOA!" "WOWER!" "THAT ROCKS MORE!" "I WANT ONE... NOW!" [The fifth kid looks proud as the fourth kid looks sad at his Vasquez bobblehead and we fade to black... ...and then back up on live action where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: Welcome back, fans... and just moments ago, we saw what was developing into one heck of a showdown between Bright, Stevie Scott, and Rough N Ready turn into a giant mess with the arrival of the Bishops. During the break, we spoke with the referee on record and we got the decision. The Bishops had not touched anyone in the ring yet when THEY were assaulted by Rough N Ready. Therefore, the referee decided to THROW OUT the match. That's right, fans. It was ruled a no contest. BW: And do you know what that means? It means that Rough N Ready don't get that elusive third point! GM: But they didn't lose the match... so they don't lose their two points either. A No Contest caused by the Bishops... and that gives the Bishops a clear shot later tonight to get their third point against Vasquez and Tumaffi. BW: They're gonna do it, daddy. I can feel it in my bones. GM: We'll find out later tonight but right now, it's time for more action, fans. The Matsui Corporation has been making a lot of noise in recent weeks about the lack of competition their man, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, has been receiving here in the AWA. BW: It's a valid point, Gordo. The man is currently ranked #10 in the Top 10 rankings and who... WHO... has the AWA put in there with him? Why aren't we seeing Mizusawa against Samson? Vasquez? Heck, how about Tumaffi? I know the fans would LOVE to see that one! GM: Well, he's going to be in action tonight against- BW: Against another scrub! This is ridiculous, Bucky... and quite frankly, it's an insult to Mizusawa and the Matsui Corporation! GM: Fans, let's go to the ring... [Dissolve to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from Buffalo, New York... weighing in at 214 pounds... Bailey Fitzgerald! [A mild reaction for the New Yorker with the cropped blonde hair.] MC: And his opponent... [Tomoyasu Hotei's 'Battle Without Honor or Humanity' starts to play over the arena speakers. Louis Matsui emerges with a smirk from the entranceway.] MC: Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420 pounds and being accompanied to the ring by LOUIS MATSUI, He is MAMMOTH... MIZUSAWA! [The curtain parts to reveal the scowling seven-footer, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, dressed in a black singlet, black knee pads and a pair of black boots. Matsui points with his thumb over his shoulders at Mizusawa, who raises both his arms in the air. Both men start to make their way down the aisle.] GM: Here comes the big man along with Louis Matsui who is always at his side. BW: I talked with Mr. Matsui earlier today. He said he's refusing to join us here at the booth tonight in protest. GM: Protest? BW: Until this man gets REAL competition. GM: Give me a break. [As Matsui walks to the ring, he pays little attention to the fans sitting on either side of the aisle, although he is still smirking. The towering Mizusawa, on the other hand, walks slowly behind his manager, glaring at the crowd. Matsui has a few words for his charge who nods before stepping up on the apron, slinging a leg over the ropes into the ring.] GM: Mizusawa inside the ring now... a full foot taller than Bailey Fitzgerald... BW: And about two hundred pounds heavier. This kid is in for the worst night of his life, Gordo. [With the big man staring down his prey from across the ring, the referee calls for the bell.] GM: And here we go! [Fitzgerald looks pretty freaked out at this point, staying in his corner as Mizusawa stomps out of the corner, walking slowly across the ring, stalking towards the much-smaller man.] GM: Fitzgerald better get out of the corner - I know that much. [With the ring partially cut off, Fitzgerald tries to run to the left of the giant... ...and gets caught around the head and neck, thrown back into the buckles.] GM: He's caught! [Mizusawa rears back with a big forearm, swinging it down like an axe... ...but it falls helplessly on the corner as Fitzgerald drops down to his knees, crawling through the legs of Mizusawa and popping up to his feet behind him where he immediately leaps up with a dropkick to the lower back!] GM: Hey! Nice dropkick by Bailey Fitzgerald! [He quickly scampers out of the corner, moving back across the ring as a surly Mizusawa turns around, glaring at the New Yorker. Fitzgerald has his fists balled up, at the ready for a fight as Mizusawa slowly approaches once again.] GM: Here comes the giant once more... [At the last moment, Fitzgerald runs forward, trying to go between the legs of the big man again... ...but the giant lifts his leg and stomps down on the lower back of Fitzgerald. He pauses a moment...] GM: Oh no. BW: Oh yeah! Squish him! [With a loud roar, Mizusawa leaps up, dropping all four hundred and twenty pounds down in a seated position on the lower back of the helpless Fitzgerald.] GM: Ohhhhh. That'll do it. That'll finish this match right now. [A cackling Matsui shouts instructions from outside the ring as Mizusawa steps to the side, looking down stoically at the motionless New Yorker on the canvas. He slowly reaches down, hauling his victim off the canvas by the hair... ...and powers him up into a press slam!] GM: Two hundred plus pounds just got pressed high overhead! He's going for the MAMMOTH Slam - that'll end the night of- [The crowd cheers as Fitzgerald starts kicking and wriggling, somehow slipping free from the giant, dropping down and landing on a knee behind the big man. Mizusawa slowly turns...] GM: Clothesline! [Big cheer from the crowd as Fitzgerald's arm splashes across the chest of the giant... ...but doesn't budge him an inch.] GM: He can't move the big man! [With Mizusawa standing before him, Fitzgerald runs to the ropes, rebounding back with another clothesline!] GM: Another clothesline... BW: But Mizusawa stands tall! Nothing can hurt this man! Nothing can faze him at all! [The much-smaller Fitzgerald runs to the ropes behind Mizusawa, leaping up and catching the giant with a flying forearm smash to the back of the skull.] GM: Forearm connects! BW: Nothing, Gordo! Nothing! This man is invincible! [Fitzgerald seems to be thinking the same thing, shaking his head in disbelief as Mizusawa slaps himself across the chest, screaming for Fitzgerald to hit him again.] GM: Don't do it, kid. Don't! [The New Yorker dashes to the ropes, rebounding back, arm outstretched for another clothesline... ...when two massive paws get wrapped around his throat, hoisting him up high into the air!] GM: NO! [And HURLS Fitzgerald down to the canvas with a thunderous chokeslam!] GM: OHHHHH! [Mizusawa steps forward, placing his boot on the chest of Fitzgerald as the referee drops down to count.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEE!!! "DING! DING! DING!" GM: Another impressive victory for MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Bucky. BW: And another complete and total lack of competition for him. GM: I don't know if I'd go that far, Bucky. Bailey Fitzgerald may not have won the match but I think for a one on one showdown, he may have given Mizusawa his toughest fight so far. BW: He couldn't even budge him, Gordo! Are you kidding me? GM: I'm not kidding at all. I was impressed by that man's fighting spirit and- [From inside the ring, a badly-hurting Bailey Fitzgerald rolls under the ropes to the floor. He drags himself across the ringside area, approaching the announce duo.] GM: Wait a second, fans... is this- BW: You've gotta be kidding me. [The injured New Yorker reaches the announcers, leaning heavily on the podium to stay on his feet. He's breathing heavy, clutching his body parts in pain.] BF: Mister... Mister Myers... GM: Uhh... I don't think you're scheduled to be here for interview time, young man. [Fitzgerald nods his head.] BF: I know, I know. But... [He winces, grabbing the back of his neck.] BF: Eargh. Whew. [He breathes heavier.] BF: I know I... I didn't put on the best show out there, Mr. Myers. [He nods to himself.] BF: But I want... [Fitzgerald grabs at his own lower back.] BF: I want another shot! [A surprised reaction ripples through the WKIK Studios.] GM: Are you saying... son, you can't be serious. You want another shot at MAMMOTH Mizusawa?! [Fitzgerald nods confidently... and then walks off camera towards the entryway.] GM: This is a wild night, fans, of AWA action and this newcomer just challenged MAMMOTH Mizusawa to another match! How is that for heart and courage, Bucky? BW: He may have a lot of heart... and we may see that for ourselves if the giant rips it out of his chest! GM: Come on, Bucky! You have to respect the guts of that man - Bailey Fitzgerald! And speaking of guts and heart, ladies and gentlemen, as you all know, City Jack - [The WKIK crowd pops for the mention of the fan favorite.] GM: City Jack has been out, recovering from an injury suffered at No Escape. However, he requested time to come out here to speak, so I'd like to now introduce him... [As Myers finishes, the crowd pops again as City Jack steps into the picture. He's dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His head is bandaged so that the eye that was worked over by Calisto Dufresne at No Escape is covered.] GM: City Jack, welcome back to the WKIK studios. CJ: Good to be here, Mr. Myers. [Jack looks around, his normally jovial attitude gone.] GM: Now you requested time tonight to appeal the Championship Committee's decision to override the agreement made by your partner, Tin Can Rust, at the last show to defend your titles against Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman? [City Jack nods as Myers stretches out the microphone.] CJ: That's right on, Mr. Myers. I do intend to appeal that decision. GM: So you haven't spoken to the Committee yet? [The man from Liberty shakes his head.] CJ: No sir, Mr. Myers. No sir. [Jack looks down for a moment.] CJ: You know, Mr. Myers, I do respect you for all you do, but tonight... I'm requesting the microphone. I gotta have it, sir. [Gordon Myers agrees, handing Jack the mic and then stepping back. Jack looks around to the crowd in the WKIK Studio for a moment as the people cheer again. Jack gives a nod and then looks into the camera.] CJ: I've been wrestlin'... twenty some plus years now. I say that a good deal, 'specially nowadays. I might sound like a record on broke and all, but it's important... Very important. [Jack nods again.] CJ: Very important to me just to show how long I done survived in this here profession o' mine. There's some bright stars and big potentials that never even last more than three-sixty-five schedule once. To do that twenty some odd times around, well, I guess it shows that this here ol' sobs been doin' somethin' right... [City Jack pauses as the crowd quiets, listening.] CJ: Thankful... If I had to sum it all up like, I'd say I've been thankful. Very dang-on thankful that all the breaks went the way it went when I first got the chance to become a wrestler. Before that day, I was a man of many jobs, but no profession. [Jack lets out a slight sigh, struggling to put together this plea.] CJ: Becomin' a wrestler, it was best thing to ever happen to me. Best thing, that's for sure. To perform, entertain, and be a man with all the eyes on? It's all I ever wanted. Everything I could ever ask for... [Jack nods.] CJ: Every night, I'm thankful to be able to compete in front of all you fans - [The crowd lets out another pop.] CJ: And that's no lip service from me - it's gen-u-ine. Every day I get in that ring is another day I have to live, in my opinion. From my start in Kentucky, to gettin' that golden opportunity in South Laredo - [Some of the crowd pops to the Longhorn Wrestling Council reference.] CJ: To bein' able to do somethin' real special in the Grand Isle, I was always thankul to accept all the risks of bein' in that there ring cause it did mean one more day of doing something I love. [Jack once again nods.] CJ: And I... I've had it all, really... I've really experienced a full on time here... [City Jack breaks again, sighing as he continues to be uncharacteristically solemn.] CJ: I've had the highs and I've had the lows... Probably for every win I done got, I also had some deep bruise, some sprains, some huge gash cuts, some broken bones. Shoot, I venture to guess my noggin' ain't on the right, none, neither for all the abuse it's taken! [Jack lets out a short half-smile.] CJ: But... [City Jack pauses again, taking in a deep breath.] CJ: I need... I need to... I'm askin' you all from the Championship Committee right here to reconsider. I front of all these great AWA fans here - [The crowd lets out another pop, this one of the cheap variety.] CJ: - in the studio and at home, I'm pleadin' my case right here! [Jack points down as he continues.] CJ: NOw, I know that you all know this ain't 'bout the rules, none. I know this here decision of yours to override my man Tin Can Rust's agreement had nothin' to do with those three points. [Jack points to his bandaged eye.] CJ: This here eye, that's what it's about... That's what this here decision's over. But I got to say to you all members of that Committee... I'm fine. [The crowd lets out a cheer at Jack's declaration.] CJ: I'm fine to compete. I'm fine to put it ALL on the line. I'm fine to defend them titles... And I'm fine to put them on the line against them two backslidin' yellow tails Ca-lis-to Dufresne and Adrian Freeman! [The fans cheer on the plea from City Jack!] CJ: When my man Rust accepted that challenge, he did so KNOWING me and a KNOWIN' what I want. Knowin' me, he knew what I've done in my career and how I've done it through the years. He knew that I wasn't goin' hide behind no rules from a challenge... [Jack shakes his head.] CJ: That I've always put myself out there, one hundred percent or ten percent... Cause it's out there, in that ring, where I can say I do LIVE! Cause it's out there, in that ring, where I do make myself CITY JACK! [Jack nods, showing a bit more intensity.] CJ: And most important? He knew that I wanted my hands 'round the neck of Dufresne... Especially after tryin' to take away my ability - my chance, my LOVE - to be wrestler. [The fans cheer as Gordon Myers walks back up into the shot.] CJ: So I'm pleadin' - beggin' you all on the Championship Committee to reconsider... Reconsider for two proud men who don't know no better, but sure on want to make sure to defend ourselves in a right, proper way. [The camera holds on the focused and emotional face of City Jack for a moment before fading to black... ...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt. The super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.] "You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!" [A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.] "You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last Stampede!" [A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.] "You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!" [Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging over his shoulder.] "And now, it can be yours!" [A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a shot of a young fan doing the same.] "Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA superstars have held!" [A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black... As the commercial fades out, we reopen the show inside the ring, where the AWA National Champion "Hotshot" Stevie Scott is standing in the middle of a couple of folding chairs. "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright stands near a corner, his massive arms crossed. Neither look too terribly happy. Stevie, dressed in a blazer and dress pants, paces the ring as he begins talking.] HSS: Alright, let's get a couple of things clear right off the bat. [He raises an index finger.] HSS: One...I am only out here for Stevie's Hotspot because I am being _forced_ to do this by one Stephen Ross. I have no desire to be out here wasting _my_ time talking to chumps right after me and the Bomber just got done putting the boots to those old geezers we beat up earlier tonight. [Two fingers.] HSS: Two...this is also the _last_ Stevies's Hotspot that you'll ever see on AWA programming. Ben Waterson has since taken care of any contract loopholes that allowed otherwise. As the AWA National Champion, my time is _way_ too valuable and important to be spent standing up here as some sideshow. [Three fingers.] HSS: Three...before I bring out tonight's guest, I have a few things to say about _my_ situation with my latest and greatest challenger, Juan Vasquez. Who, by the way, has it all wrong. [Stevie pauses and chuckles.] HSS: It seems that Mr. Vasquez thinks that I'm going to be...looking over my shoulder. That I'm going to be...worrying about when he's coming for my title and with what stipulations. Well, Juan, I _do_ realize the fact that the only way you're going to be able to beat me _is_ with some crazy stipulations in your favor...but that hardly guarantees your victory. Because, while you may very well be able to stack the deck against me, you forget a few things. You forget... [Stevie points his thumb back to Bright, who still stands motionless in the corner.] HSS: ...that I have the Gold Bomber on my side. You forget that I have Ben Waterson, the greatest managerial mind in wrestling, on my side. And who, exactly, do you have on _your_ side, Juan? [Stevie mockingly scratches his chin.] HSS: Oh, that's right. NOBODY. That's the problem with chumps like you. You've been all over the place, wrestled under every organization known to man, and in the process? In the process, you've alienated yourself. You're here in AWA, and you're here _alone_. [Stevie stops pacing and takes a seat in one of the folding chairs.] HSS: Think about it. You got here, you formed a team with Raphael Rhodes, and within a month's time you two clowns were already beating the hell out of each other. That's what happens with you and your friends, isn't it, Juan? How many bridges have you burned in your time in wrestling? Is it so many that you can't call for backup when you're going to need it? Yes, Juan, you have your stipulations. You have that going for you. But, brother...that is ALL you have going for you. You don't have the _allies_ that I have. You don't have the _connections_ that I have. You don't have the _money_ that I have. And you damn sure don't have the _ability_ that I have. [Smirk.] HSS: So take a minute, Juan, and _think_. Think about the mess your ego has gotten you into. Think about how you're going to try to get out of it. But most importantly, think about where your next job's going to be. Because when _I'm_ done with you? There won't be enough of you left to stay in the AWA. [Stevie stands back up.] HSS: OK, so now let's get this debacle over with. My guest tonight is someone who, apparently, got his feelings a little hurt a couple of weeks ago. So come on out, Raphael Rhodes... let's have a little Dr. Phil session or something. [The sounds of "Chemistry" by UNKLE filters through the public address system, as the entrance curtain bursts open, with Raphael Rhodes emerging, eyes fixes solely on the ring. The crowd responds with a mixed reaction for the man who hasn't been seen since the steel cage showdown with Juan Vasquez at No Escape. He slowly walks towards the ring, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a black towel hanging around his neck.] GM: There he is, Bucky. It's been several weeks since we've seen this man inside an AWA ring but in just moments, he'll be standing in there face to face with the man who he secured a bogus countout victory over a few weeks ago. BW: You can't imagine that Rhodes is pleased about that. It surely doesn't appear that way. [Rhodes calmly walks up the ringsteps before climbing into the ring. He stands near the ropes for a moment, glaring at Stevie Scott who has a hand offered. Rhodes stares at the offered hand, all business inside the ring.] GM: Uhhhh. BW: I'm not sure I like the looks of this, Gordo. [Ignoring the offered hand, Rhodes strides across the ring and gets right up in the face of Stevie Scott. To his credit, the National Champion doesn't back down, returning the stare at the man from the United Kingdom.] GM: This could be about to break down at any moment, Bucky! BW: Come on! Give peace a chance! [Seeing his partner in crime in jeopardy, Gary Bright steps forward, nudging his way in between Rhodes and Scott. The powerhouse shouts a few words in the direction of Rhodes as the crowd buzzes about what may be about to happen... ...and suddenly, a voice rings out!] "STOP! STOP THIS! STOP RIGHT NOW!" [The jeers go wild as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson comes rushing from the locker room area. He promptly makes his way up the steps, entering the ring to take a spot right next to the Gold Bomber. The National Champion looks at Waterson with some confusion as the Agent tries to intervene.] ATTSBW: Raphael Rhodes... you do NOT want to do this. [More boos from the fans. Rhodes' expression doesn't change at all as he continues to stare at the National Champion.] ATTSBW: Believe me. You do NOT want to do this. Raphael, I know you're a smart man. And I know you're a business man. You know when to separate a personal issue from a business issue and that's exactly the situation in front of us right now. This is a business issue. [Still no reaction from the UK warrior.] ATTSBW: Earlier tonight, I came out here and I challenged the entire wrestling world to impress us. I told them all to step up to the plate and show myself, the Bomber, and the National Champion that they were worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as us. I wanted people to prove themselves to us. Well, Raphael... without question, what you did at No Escape... you proved yourself to us. [The jeers intensify.] ATTSBW: You fought your heart out in one of the damndest brawls I've ever seen in my life. You bled, you sweated, you battled... and in the end... ...you lost. [Rhodes visibly flinches at that statement, his gaze still on the champion.] ATTSBW: I know what that felt like for you. To spend so many months in a war with someone and after all is said and done, to come up short in finishing him off. I know what it felt like. It was disappointing. No, it was heartbreaking, Raphael. And you never wanted to feel that way again. [Waterson pauses.] ATTSBW: So, the opportunity is in front of you, Raphael. You want to avoid that feeling for the rest of your career, the choice is clear... You unclinch those fists at your sides. You forget about the little fun that we had at your expense a few weeks ago. [One more pause.] ATTSBW: And you shake my hand. [The jeers go nuts as Rhodes turns to glare at Waterson, finally breaking his gaze away from Stevie Scott. Waterson slowly extends his hand.] ATTSBW: It's the easiest thing you've ever done, Raphael. You shake my hand. You shake the Bomber's hand. You shake Stevie's hand. And when it's all said and done, you join the most elite group in professional wrestling. The clothes, the cars, the houses, the jewelry, the money, the women... The opportunity to be the best in the world. Look around you, kid! [Rhodes continues to stare at Waterson.] ATTSBW: You've got the greatest mind in professional wrestling steering the ship. You've got the best body in professional wrestling - the future of our sport - watching our backs. And you've got the AWA National Champion - the best in the world - being THE MAN in this business. It's your chance, Raphael. It's your opportunity. It's your choice. [And with a gesture from the Agent To The Stars, Bright and Scott back away, exiting the ring and leaving Raphael Rhodes to stare motionlessly at them as we fade 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 to live action where we find Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde at ringside.] GM: Welcome back, fans... and what in the world did we witness before the break, Bucky? BW: Opportunity knocking for Raphael Rhodes. GM: Rhodes came out here for Stevie's Hotspot and I have to be honest, I thought he was coming to clean Scott's clock, Bucky. But Waterson... he made the pitch. He made the offer. Raphael Rhodes was given the chance to join up with Waterson, Bright, and the National Champion... and he called it the most elite group in pro wrestling. Rhodes, Bright, Scott, and Waterson. I don't know if I could argue with that statement, Bucky. BW: The most elite group in pro wrestling - how could he possibly turn that down? GM: He didn't... but he didn't accept either! We tried to get him to join us for comments on Waterson's offer but he refused. What in the world is he going to do, Bucky? BW: We'll have to wait and find out. GM: Fans, I guarantee you that we'll be hard at work over the next two weeks to get that answer for you and if we can't, I'm going to confront Raphael Rhodes myself to get the answer LIVE in two weeks' time! BW: Big man. It STILL won't top the news I've got still to come tonight. GM: Your big announcement! When is it coming, Bucky? BW: I told you it was a Main Event announcement and last I checked, we've still got a couple more matches to go. GM: Fans, we've got more than that. Jason Dane is standing by in the Control Center with all the news on our next big event! Let's go to him now! [We fade to a shot of Jason Dane sitting behind a desk in a makeshift "studio." There are TV monitors behind him showing various AWA action. He's all grins as he begins to speak.] JD: Thanks, Gordon. And fans, welcome to the Control Center! For weeks, the speculation has been running wild but now, tonight, we can confirm that on Thanksgiving Night, the AWA will be in action for arguably our biggest night of the year! The Dallas Memorial Auditorium will play host to an event so huge it can only be called... SUPERCLASH! [Dane pauses for dramatic effect as the brand spanking new SuperClash logo fills the screen along with the date and venue of the event.] JD: We are sure to have more announcement of matches throughout the days and weeks to come but for now... here's what we've got... You heard the challenge two weeks ago and we heard it answered tonight. You often have heard it wondered who would win a contest between the Irresistable Force and the Immovable Object. In about one month's time, we'll find out when the Gold Bomber, Gary Bright, goes one-on-one with the mighty Tumaffi! What a showdown that'll be, fans. I'll be back later tonight with more matches to be announced but for now, let's go back to the ring where one-half of the National Tag Team Champions, Tin Can Rust, is in action! [We fade away from the Control Center to ringside where Melissa Cannon is ready to go.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from Havana, Cuba... the Cuban Assassin #6! [The wild-bearded Cuban stomps around the ring to the jeers of the crowd.] MC: And his opponent... ["The Fighting Side of Me" by Merle Haggard starts up to a huge cheer from the AWA fans.] MC: Weighing in at 259 pounds and fighting out of Central City, Kentucky... He is one-half of the AWA National Tag Team Champions... TIN! CAN! RUUUUUUUUST! [The cheers grow louder as TCR strides into the WKIK Studios. The shiny gold belt is slung across his shoulder as heads towards the ring. He wastes no time in getting to the ring, pulling himself up on the apron. While stepping through the ropes, the Communist Cruncher leaps into action, blindsiding Rust with a flurry of punches against the ropes.] GM: Here we go! The Assassin is wasting no time in this one, battering Rust back against the ropes... [Grabbing TCR by the wrist, the Cuban attempts a whip.] GM: Cuban whi- reversed by Rust! [The Assassin hits the ropes, rebounding back into the waiting arms of TCR who hoists him up under his right arm, swinging around... ...and DRIVING him down in a thunderous slam!] GM: CAN CRUSHER! GOOD GRIEF! [Rust throws himself on the downed Assassin, reaching back to hook a leg as the referee drops down to count.] GM: One! Two! And that's a three for sure. Tin Can Rust makes quick work out of the Cuban Assassin and- [The crowd roars in surprise as Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman emerge from the locker room, diving under the ropes into the ring. Tin Can Rust quickly gets to his feet at the sight of them...] GM: Rust is up! Rust is on his feet! [Dufresne is the first one up... ...and the first one down thanks to a big right hand from TCR, knocking him off his feet.] GM: Big right hand by Rust! [Adrian Freeman dives at the legs of Rust, wrapping his arms around them. A fired-up TCR throws rights and lefts at the back of Freeman's head, trying to free himself from the Aussie's grip... ...but the momentary tieup allows Dufresne to DRILL Rust in the back of the head with the discarded title belt!] GM: OHHH! He hit him with the belt! [The blow from the National Tag Team Title belt knocking Rust off his feet puts the brawler on the mat at the mercy of Dufresne and Freeman. The Australian crawls over Rust's prone form, throwing right and lefts at the downed tag champ while Dufresne delivers stomps from his feet.] GM: We've got a mugging! An out and out mugging of Tin Can Rust at the hands of Dufresne and Freeman! They're all over the man who is one-half of the tag team champions! BW: This is great! Rust is out here all alone against two men who would like nothing better than to put him in a matching hospital bed right next to his running buddy, daddy! [Freeman hauls Rust off the mat by the head, tying his arms behind him as Dufresne delivers blows to the body. Grabbing the title belt, Dufresne throws it down on the mat, pulling Rust into a front facelock as Freeman hoists the legs off the mat in a wheelbarrow...] GM: NO! NOOOOO! [Dufresne SPIKES TCR's skull into the title belt on the canvas as Freeman sits out with the legs.] BW: Double-team Wham Bam, Thank You Ma'am! on the champ! [With Rust laid out at the hands of Dufresne and Freeman, the dastardly duo stands over him, glaring at the motionless fan favorite... ...and then quickly turn their attention towards the entryway as City Jack emerges from the back, his eye still heavily bandaged but carrying a steel chair!] GM: OH MY GOD! [The crowd roars as Jack rolls into the ring, popping to his feet with the chair in his hands. Dufresne is the first to bail from the ring, leaving his partner inside as Jack rears back with the chair, taking a big baseball-bat style swing that Freeman lunges underneath to avoid, taking Jack down to the mat in a double-leg takedown!] GM: OHHH! He missed with that chair and Freeman's got him- no! [The Australian takes the mount on the downed Jack, grabbing him by the head and DRIVING a clenched fist into the bandaged eye!] GM: Ohh! Come on! We need some help! [Dufresne dives back into the ring, immediately joining his partner in raining down blows on the bandaged eye. Getting to his feet, the Ladykiller stomps down hard on the bandages!] GM: OHHH! My god in heaven... we need help and we need it badly. We need to get- [Grabbing the discarded chair, Dufresne turns it upside down so that the edge of the chairback is facing down. Nodding his head, he orders his partner to pin Jack's head down to the mat, causing the injured eye to be facing straight up... ...and Dufresne slowly raises the chair!] GM: NO! NOOOOO! [And suddenly, a large man in a hooded sweatshirt has come rushing from the crowd into the ring, shoving aside a security guard who tried to block his path. Once inside the squared circle, he races at top speed towards Dufresne... ...and OBLITERATES him with a spear tackle, wrecking Dufresne and dumping him on the mat. The man quickly picks up the chair, holding it high as Freeman bails out of the ring as well.] GM: Who the- who is that, Bucky? BW: I don't have a clue. He's got that hood on and I can't- [Still holding the chair in his hand, the hooded man slowly walks towards the downed City Jack.] GM: Now, wait a second... [Reaching up with his free hand, the man removes the hood to reveal...] GM: WEREWOLF GREGORSON?!?! [The crowd ERUPTS at the sight of one of the AWA originals now standing in the middle of the ring, staring down at the prone City Jack.] GM: Where in the world did HE come from? BW: He was in the crowd, Gordo! I didn't even see him out there! GM: Wherever he was, thank heavens he was able to stop Dufresne and Freeman from doing any more damage to- BW: I wouldn't thank him so quickly, Gordo. [Gregorson steps closer to Jack, looking down at him, still holding the chair much like Dufresne did moments ago, ready to be driven down into the injured eye at any second...] GM: What is he doing? BW: Gordo, it was City Jack who injured Gregorson all those months ago! It was City Jack who put him on the shelf for months! Maybe he stopped Dufresne so he could do it himself! GM: No! I don't believe it! Gregorson took out Dufresne because he saw an injustice about to occur. A horrible, brutal injustice that could have blinded City Jack permanently! BW: He's gonna do it himself! He's gonna show Jack what it's like to be on the shelf! [The former Dead Pool member stands over the prone City Jack, both hands now on the steel chair, moving it slightly higher as the fans are screaming, pleading with him not to do it...] GM: What is he going to do? What is Werewolf Gregorson going to do? [Suddenly, a staggered Tin Can Rust THROWS himself over his partner's face, lifting his arms to shield his friend from any further attack. Gregorson looks down at TCR, his gaze suddenly broken by Rust's arrival... ...and throws the chair aside, walking out of the ring, and heading straight for the locker room entryway. The crowd buzzes with confusion as Tin Can Rust lies over his friend in a protective blanket, waving his arms and screaming for help.] GM: We need to get some medical help out here to check on City Jack. That eye could have been put in an even worse situation after what we just saw. What a night this has been, Bucky. BW: Tin Can Rust gets laid out by Dufresne and Freeman. City Jack tries to save him but gets beaten down. And then the return of Werewolf Gregorson! But whose side is he on? Whew. GM: And this STILL isn't over! We've got another big match still to come in mere moments plus... BW: PLUS my big announcement! GM: Fans, don't you dare go away! We'll be right back! [The camera holds on the ring where a kneeling Tin Can Rust is checking on his heavily-bandaged partner's eye before we fade 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 to live action where Gordon and Bucky are at ringside.] GM: Welcome back, fans, and we have just been informed that we are running VERY short on time! So, without anything further, let's go to- BW: Not so fast, Gordo. GM: Excuse me? BW: If we're running out of time, I think there's only one thing that these fans want to see and it's NOT Tumaffi and Vasquez teaming up out here tonight. GM: Bucky, I'm sorry but- BW: No need for apologies, Gordo. You people wanted a Main Event? Well, you got it! I'm the man who announced that Shane Destiny was coming to the AWA in the biggest Free Agent signing in AWA history! I'm the man who brought Kevin Slater back to the AWA at Memorial Day Mayhem! And tonight, I'm the man who says that as big as the Destiny and Slater news was... I'm about to do it one better. GM: Bucky, we don't have time for- BW: Make time. It'll be worth it. [Gordon sighs.] GM: Let's roll the tape... [Segment cuts to the pre-taped bit where we see Bucky Wilde sitting down in front a black backdrop with an empty chair next to him... But soon that chair's filled by a man familiar to wrestling in Detroit, LA, and St. Louis... A man hated and loved by million... A man who's been elected to the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame... One Mark Langseth.] BW: Mark Langseth, welcome. [Dressed in a suit & tie, Langseth grabs a microphone and clears his throat. His mid-length hair looks the same, but the signs of time are starting to show via a couple gray strands here and there and some more defined lines on his face. But overall, he's still in good condition - as well as a forty-year-old man who's gone through the battles that Langseth as could look.] ML: Thank you, thank you. Been a while since I did any widespread sort of filming, you know. BW: It's alright, Mr. Lan- ML: Mark. BW: Mark. But what brings you here to the AWA? Why did you request a meeting with the Chairman of the Championship Committee Stephens Ross earlier today? ML: Well, some of you may know that I previously had an agreement with AWA with a wrestling company I ran up in the Northeast in terms of talent exchanges. So I requested a meeting with Ross about firming up that relationship, but... [Langseth grows a sly grin on his face.] ML: Well, I had a bit of an ulterior motives in coming down here to Dallas. BW: Ulterior motive? ML: Hrm.... Well, I've been watching, of course. Some of the people I trained getting their feet wet down here. I see the competition, see the wrestling, even some guys I've wrestled with before while in Los Angeles in EMWC - you know, Rogers, Broussard, Slater, Vasquez. Can't say I really ever saw eye to eye with any of them while I wrestled, though... Heh... BW: So is this something more? Do you want to try to put more of your trained people in AWA? ML: Hmm... No, it's not that. I, uh... I brought up to them... If I could... [Mark Langseth laughs to himself again, unable to hide his happiness.] ML: I asked if I could be on the roster. [Bucky Wilde does a double take at what Langseth just uttered.] BW: Wait, you? On the AWA roster? As a manager or - ML: No, as an active wrestler. I want to get back in the ring. I want to wrestle again. BW: But all your injuries? I think even you yourself said that you couldn't be involved with wrestling again because of your back. [Langseth nods.] ML: Yeah... Yeah, and Ross brought up the same thing while I met with him. But I assured him that I've been working back to get into ring shape and that I've been medically cleared to wrestle. The doctors gave me the ok and, well, here I am. BW: But why, Mark? What's there left to prove for you? ML: Look, I've done everything you can do in this business... I've wrestled at the top of the game in the top promotion. Been in front of thousands of fans all over the world and wrestled against the best. I've owned, trained, promoted, helped backstage, and even managed - all after my retirement. Pretty much I've done everything short of setting the ring up. [Langseth smiles.] ML: But it's eating me up inside. The Hall of Fame induction last year? That was bittersweet. On one hand, it said, "Mark, you've done a great job and you deserved to be honored." But the other hand... [Langseth raises his left hand.] ML: The other hand said, "Mark, you're done. Thanks for the memories, but time's passed you by." [Mark shakes his head.] ML: And I just... I just feel like there's one last run in me, you know? That one last piece of me I can give back for all this business has given me. [Langseth pauses.] ML: It's been... four years now? Four years since I stepped into the ring competitively. Four years since I last tasted a moment of triumph or the felt the bitter sense of defeat. Win or lose... I still feel I want 'em both, you know? It's hard to describe... [Langseth slings back his hair and clears his throat.] ML: But... I... [Mark nods.] ML: I want to come back. I want to wrestle again. I want to climb that mountain one... one last time. [Mark sits back, a bit more comfortably after explaining himself.] ML: And what better place than AWA, right? BW: So what was the resolution? What did the committee decide? ML: Well... [Langseth pulls a rolled up document from his suit jacket pocket and unfurls it for the camera.] ML: If this signed contract is any indication, I'd say they decided that I can wrestle in the AWA ring now. [The camera zooms in on the piece of paper, the AWA logo splashed across the top and a big signature at the bottom reading Mark Langseth... ...and then we fade back to live action where a dumbstruck Gordon Myers is looking on at a cackling Bucky Wilde, his jaw dropped.] GM: I... I... I don't believe... BW: I told you, Gordon! I told you I had the biggest scoop ever! You didn't believe me and now I've shocked everyone! I've shocked you! I've shocked all these people in Dallas! I've shocked the world! GM: Fans... I'm not sure what to... Mark Langseth... in the AWA? BW: It's the biggest news in AWA history, Gordo! Bar none! GM: I can't- but it's Main Event time. Mark Langseth? [With Gordon still at a loss for words, Melissa Cannon is already inside the ring.] MC: The following contest is your MAIN EVENT of the evening! Introducing first... [Without any warning or entrance music, the Bishop Boys emerge from the entrance tunnel to the boos of the crowd.] MC: At a total combined weight of 568 pounds... fighting out of Kingsland, Arkansas and being accompanied to the ring by Cousin Bo... they are Duane Henry and Cletus Lee... THE BISHOP BOYS! [Cousin Bo leads the way, very focused as they march down the aisle towards the ring. Duane Henry is right behind him with Cletus Lee bringing up the rear. They are a very different team on this night. No mouthing off to the camera, no taunting the fans, just business as they scale the stairs, stepping into the ring.] GM: The Bishops are in and they are all business. Cousin Bo is giving both of his cousins some last minute advice before- [The sound of Melissa Cannon's voice interrupts.] MC: And their opponents... [A single deep bass drum beats... BOOM. Then again, a little louder. And again. With the sound of rain in the background, the drum beats resound throughout the arena, like the approaching footsteps of some terrible monster. Upon their climax, the crackling BOOM of a thunderbolt is heard over the PA. Hollow-sounding drumbeats and reedy-toned woodwinds form an ominous tune (amongst the backdrop of the thunderstorm) over the PA, as the behemoth form of Tumaffi steps forth from the curtain.] MC: At a total combined weight of 643 pounds... they are the team of JUAAAAAAN VASQUEZ and the mighty TUUUUUMAAAAAFFIIIII! [The cheers intensify as Vasquez joins the big man in the entryway. The two men exchange a nod at one another before heading towards the ring... ...when suddenly Stevie Scott and Gary Bright emerge from the tunnel in street clothes, heading straight for the fan favorite duo!] GM: LOOK OUT! [The Hotshot DRILLS Vasquez in the back of the head with the National Title belt, knocking him down to the concrete floor. A few feet away, Gary Bright blasts Tumaffi across the back of the neck with a double axehandle!] GM: We've got a fight on the floor! The Bishops are looking on from inside the ring... I'm not sure- did Cousin Bo know this was coming? BW: From the smirk on Cousin Bo's face, I'm guessing he did, Gordo! Waterson and Cousin Bo may have set this all up! GM: Tumaffi's fighting back... he and Bright are beating each other senseless! [The crowd roars as the two brawling beasts disappear behind the entrance curtain, the battle still raging as they do. With Bright and Tumaffi out of the picture, Scott drags Vasquez off the floor, dragging him by the hair towards the ring where he fires him under the ropes into the ring.] GM: Oh no! We've got Vasquez all alone in there against three men! It's a three on one! [Stevie joins the Bishops inside the ring and with an order from Cousin Bo, all three men start stomping Juan Vasquez into the canvas. After a bit of a beating, Duane Henry hauls Vasquez up by the hair.] GM: Uh oh - what do they have in mind here? [Duane Henry fires Vasquez into the ropes, directing traffic as Cletus Lee steps up, hoisting the rebounding Vasquez into the air by the legs.] GM: FLAPJAAAAAA- [But as Cletus Lee falls back with Vasquez, Duane Henry loosely hooks a front facelock and SPIKES the fan favorite skullfirst into the canvas with a thunderous DDT!] GM: OHHHHHHHH! [The crowd jeers wildly as Stevie Scott leaps on the prone Vasquez, throwing punch after punch after punch at him before wrapping his hands around the throat of his next challenger.] GM: He's choking the life out of Vasquez! He's choking him! [Cletus Lee and Duane Henry take turns stomping the downed Vasquez as a maniacal Stevie Scott squeezes the air out of his upcoming opponent, screaming like a banshee as he does so.] GM: This is out of control! Juan Vasquez is in some serious trouble! BW: And it's just like Stevie said earlier... who is going to help Juan Vasquez? Who is going to save Juan Vasquez? GM: I don't know but- [BIG CHEER!] GM: ROUGH N READY! ROUGH N READY! [The crowd EXPLODES as Dave Cooper and a hobbling Eric Matthew Somers come charging through the curtain, heading straight towards the ring. Cooper rolls under the ropes as Somers climbs the steps... ...and at a shout from Cousin Bo, the Bishop Boys flee the ring alongside Stevie Scott!] GM: Fans, we're out of time! We've gotta go! We'll see you next time at the matches! [With the two sides squaring off inside the WKIK Studios, shouting words back and forth, we fade to black... ...when suddenly a flashing white screen with red letters reading "BREAKING NEWS!" appears. A quick cut reveals Jason Dane inside the SuperClash Control Center!] JD: Fans, we're almost out of time! I've just got a few moments but we HAD to break in to give you this info! The Championship Committee has relented and after what we heard and saw tonight, the AWA National Tag Team Titles WILL be defended at SuperClash when Kentucky's Pride takes on Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman... in an UNSANCTIONED MATCH! We've got more but we've gotta go! Hit the AWA website IMMEDIATELY after we go off the air for more information! An emergency edition of AWA Access! Fans, we're out of time! So long every- [And the scene abruptly cuts to black.]