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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                February 21, 2009
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[As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing,
the viewing audience is greeted by the sight of Vladimir Velikov working
over a kneeling Marcus Broussard as the National Champion, Kolya
Sudakov, glares at "The Natural Adam Rogers and inviting the Natural to
bring the fight to him.]

GM:  Sudakov's challenging Rogers!

BW:  It sure looks like it!  That's a former World Champion in there,
Kolya - you sure you wanna do that?

GM:  Sudakov, the Russian War Machine, he wants it... but is he gonna
get it?  Is he going to-

[The boos start to pour down as Adam Rogers simply shakes his head,
turning away from his former friend and partner as the Russians batter
him in the corner.  Rogers steps out of the ring, dropping down to the
floor and not looking back as he makes his way towards the exit.]

GM:  Rogers is walking out!  I can't believe it!

BW:  After everything they've been through, Adam Rogers just walked out
on Marcus Broussard when the San Jose Shark needed him the most - just
like Rogers accused Broussard of doing!

GM:  And now Marcus Broussard is at the mercy of the Russians!

[Rogers walks through the curtain...

...just as Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams come blowing through it
in the other direction!]

GM:  SWEET HEAT!  SWEET HEAT!

[The fan favorite tag team hits the ring, Sweet Daddy Williams
immediately assaulting Velikov with a barrage of right hands that bowl
the elder Russian through the ropes and out to the floor.  The hefty
heavyweight goes through the ropes after him as Stevie Scott and Kolya
Sudakov start trading blows in the middle of the ring.]

GM:  We've got a throwdown between the Hotshot and the Russian War
Machine!

[The crowd roars with each and every blow thrown by both men - but soon,
Sudakov starts to get an edge, using his superior striking skills to
batter Stevie back against the ropes.  Grabbing him by the wrist,
Sudakov fires him into the ropes...

...and gets tackled by a fired-up Broussard!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  The Shark is all over the Russian!

[Broussard throws right hands as quickly as he can at the former MMA
star who tries to turtle up to defend himself.  Across the ring, Stevie
Scott slides to the corner, leaning over the ropes to check on his
friend...

...and then starts stomping his foot on the mat.]

BW:  What is that idiot Stevie doing?

GM:  He's- 

[Sudakov suddenly turns Broussard over, throwing a few blows of his own
before getting up a bit staggered...

...and turning around into a waiting Stevie Scott who lashes out of the
corner, catching the National Champion RIGHT under the chin!]

GM:  HEATSEEKER!  HEATSEEKER!

[The impact of the superkick puts Sudakov flat on his back.  Almost
instinctively, Stevie Scott dives across the chest of the National
Champion, cradling both legs tightly.]

BW:  Look at that idiot.  This isn't a match - there's no ref!

[But there is a very willing Marcus Broussard who drops down to his
knees.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEEE!!!

[Stevie Scott leaps to his feet as the crowd ERUPTS in one of the
loudest cheers in AWA history.  The nearby San Jose Shark gets to his
feet, glaring down at the barely-conscious Sudakov.  Soon, Sweet Daddy
Williams gets back in the ring, celebrating with his tag team partner as
the crowd continues to roar.]

GM:  STEVIE PINNED THE CHAMP!  STEVIE SCOTT PINNED THE NATIONAL
CHAMPION!

BW:  It doesn't mean anything!

GM:  Try telling Stevie that!  It may not be legal, it may not go down
in the record books, but on this night?  Stevie Scott is on top of the
world!

[And with Stevie continuing to celebrate with his partner and friend...

...the sounds of "One More Saturday Night" by the Grateful Dead and a
large white map of the United States fills the screen.  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 inside
of the WKIK Studios where we find our two favorite announcers.

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.  His teeth appeared to have been whitened
recently... perhaps several times even as he flashes a huge smile.  He's
in his late 30's... he's former manager "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.

They're standing in front of a bluish gray standard television studio
set where you can see the AWA logo splashed across the wall above a
small television monitor.  Wilde lifts his glittering briefcase with a
flourish, slapping it down onto a wooden "desk" in front of them as
Myers begins to speak.]

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.  I am Gordon
Myers, your host for the next 60 minutes of action - the most exciting
one hour on television.  And by my side is the man who was voted the
Announcer of the Year for 2008, Bucky Wilde!

BW:  I'm a man who needs no introduction, Gordo.

GM:  I'll remember that next time.

BW:  Well, let's not be hasty, daddy.

GM:  Just moments ago, we saw the ending of our last AWA Saturday Night
Wrestling that saw the Russians beating up - viciously assaulting -
Marcus Broussard because the former National Champion challenged Kolya
Sudakov to a non-title match.

BW:  You know Marcus and I go way back but I've gotta back the Russians
on this one.  Marcus has no right to challenge Kolya for any kind of
match.  Kolya and Vladimir decide who they're gonna face and when
they're gonna face 'em.

GM:  We'll see about that.  We also saw Adam Rogers refuse to help his
former friend and ally, Mr. Broussard, actually walking away to leave
him at the mercy of the Russians.

BW:  I was pretty surprised by that.  Rogers has been such a
baby-kissin' Boy Scout for so long here in the AWA - I thought he'd run
right in there.

GM:  But the Natural walked away and left Broussard to those Russian
wolves - but not for long!  Sweet Heat hit the scene, fists a-flyin',
and well, you saw the footage, fans.  Stevie Scott uncorked that
superkick - the Heatseeker - and pinned Kolya Sudakov.  He pinned the
National Champion, Bucky!

BW:  He did not!  That wasn't legal - it wasn't sanctioned!  Broussard's
not a legal ref.  It wasn't an official match.  Kolya Sudakov was not
pinned by Stevie Scott - it didn't happen.

GM:  Like it or not, it happened.  And with Broussard, Rogers, and Mark
Shaw already in the title picture - the now-apparent addition of Stevie
Scott to that list makes Kolya Sudakov a marked man, Bucky.  His days as
the National Champion may be numb-

[The words of the seasoned play-by-play man are cut short by the arrival
of a very animated Vladimir Velikov who is followed closely behind by
his nephew who seems to be seething as he glares at Gordon Myers, the
title belt slung over his shoulder.]

VV:  You think this is funny, Gordon Myers?!  You find this funny?!

[Myers lifts a hand in protest.]

VV:  You shut yourself!  You stand out here and lie to your American
people.  Just like your government and your history books who lie about
the Russians - you lie to your people... you give them false hope!  You
talk of Broussard, Rogers, Shaw... and now our old ally the Hotshot?

Bring them to us, Gordon Myers!

[Sudakov slaps the title belt down on the wooden desk causing Myers to
slightly jump.]

VV:  Bring us the Shark... the Natural... the Hellion.  They are all
fine athletes but none of them are the superior physical specimen that
my nephew is.  My nephew Kolya is the most dominant force in
professional wrestling.  He is... how you say... an irresistable force
tearing through the AWA.

Stevie Scott... you think you're a smart guy?  You think you are so
tough?  You try to show these people how tough you are.  You come out
when Kolya not expecting you - you come out and kick Kolya in this face
and knock him down.  You big, tough guy.  But Kolya is tougher. 
Kolya... is... tougher.

Come to us, Stevie Scott.  Sign the contract.  Bring yourself and your
fat little friend to face Kolya and myself!

[Sudakov uncharacteristically shoves his uncle to the side, grabbing
Myers by the wrist and pulling the mic in front of his face.]

KS:  There is difference between Hotshot and Kolya - big difference. 
Stevie knock down Kolya and Kolya get back up.  When Kolya knock Stevie
down...

[Sudakov glares into the camera.]

KS:  You NEVER get back up.

[Sudakov grabs his title belt, walking out of sight.]

GM:  Now, wait a second... where is HE going?

VV:  Nephew Kolya goes to ring, Gordon Myers.  He is National Champion. 
He fights when he wants.  Marcus Broussard, you were great champion. 
Now you nothing.

You want Kolya?  Come get him.

[Velikov storms off the set as well, heading to the ring to join his
nephew and leaving a stunned Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde behind.]

GM:  I don't- fans, Sudakov versus Broussard is supposed to be our Main
Event but it looks like- Kolya Sudakov is in the ring, Bucky!

BW:  You heard the man.  They fight when they want to fight.  If the
Shark wants his non-title match at the Russian War Machine, he'd better
get his tail down here right now.

[We quickly cut to the ring as a confused Melissa Cannon climbs into the
ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fal- 

[The crowd suddenly erupts into a mixed reaction that leans far more
towards cheers as the San Jose Shark, Marcus Broussard, comes charging
from the locker room area.  He's dressed in street clothes - a pair of
dress slacks and shoes, yanking his dress shirt off as he approaches the
ring and tossing it to the crowd to a squeal from some of the women in
the crowd.]

GM:  Here comes the Shark!  

BW:  Wait a second - he's not even dressed to fight, Gordo!

GM:  I don't think he cares.  He's been waiting for this shot at Sudakov
since he lost the title to Ron Houston so many months ago and now he's
got it!  Get him, Marcus!

[Broussard dives headfirst under the bottom rope, completely exposing
himself as Sudakov lunges towards him, crashing down with a forearm
smash to the back of the head.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  

BW:  Hey - Marcus wants a fight, Kolya's gonna give it to him, daddy.

GM:  We don't have a referee out here yet so for now, that's exactly
what this showdown is - a fight.  There are no rules for this one - not
until we get a referee inside this squared circle!

BW:  Kolya Sudakov is wasting no time in stompin' and kickin' Broussard
on the match just like the Russians wasted no time in getting this match
started.  You think there's someone runnin' around the locker room
trying to come up with another Main Event?

GM:  I have no idea.  Fans, this was our scheduled Main Event but here
in the AWA, you just never know what's gonna happen next.  Sudakov is
all over Marcus, dragging him up to his feet now and throwing him back
into the corner.

[Approaching the buckles, Sudakov drives boot after boot into the
midsection of Broussard, knocking him down to a knee.  He grabs Marcus
by the hair, delivering a hard headbutt that causes Marcus to fall back
into the corner, clinging to the ropes to keep off the canvas.  Sudakov
pulls him back up, grabbing him by the wrist.]

GM:  Big whip by Sudakov... here he comes!

[The fired-up Russian dashes at top speed across the ring...

...and smashes sternum-first into the top turnbuckle as Broussard lunges
out of the way to avoid the charge!]

GM:  Ohh!  Sudakov goes hard to the corner!

BW:  I think Kolya made a mistake there.  It was too early in the match
and Marcus was nowhere NEAR worn down enough yet to go for something
like that.  Sudakov might have let that fire in his belly get the better
of his on that one.

GM:  And now it's Marcus Broussard on the offensive, driving shoulder
tackles into the midsection of Sudakov, trying to take some of the wind
out of the big man's sails.

BW:  It's a smart move.  Sudakov is just too powerful, too strong for
Marcus.  He needs to try to wear him down a little bit.

GM:  And here we go now... we've got Mickey Meekly out here at ringside,
sliding into the ring.  Apparently he's going to be the referee of
record for this one and he's right in there, trying to get Broussard to
back away from the corner.  

[After a few more shoulder drives, Marcus straightens up, snapping
Sudakov down to the mat with a snap mare.  He promptly hits the ropes,
bouncing off and driving an elbow down into the throat area of the
Russian War Machine.  He quickly applies a cover, reaching back to hook
a leg.]

GM:  Cover by Marcus - one!  Two!  

[But Sudakov kicks out with ease, showing everyone just how much it'll
take to put the National Champion down for a three count.]

GM:  Remember, fans, this is a non-title match.  The gold is not on the
line but despite Mark Shaw's spot as the Number One contender, you have
to think that a win here by Broussard just might put him next in line
for a shot at the title.

BW:  Bah.  You think Stevie Scott's a contender now!  

GM:  He pinned the champ!

BW:  Not in a legal match!

[While the announcers argue, Marcus Broussard drops a pair of knees down
into the body of Sudakov, further trying to take some of the power away
from the Russian.  As Sudakov sits up from the pressure, Broussard
throws a hard right hand to knock him right back back down.  The San
Jose Shark retakes his feet, dragging the Champion off the mat and
blasting him with a chop that knocks Kolya back to the buckles.]

GM:  And now it's Marcus with a whip to the corner - Kolya in the
buckles... here comes Marcus!

[The San Jose Shark sprints across the ring, leaping up for a monkey
flip...

...and failing to notice Uncle Vladimir hooking the back of Kolya's
singlet, allowing Broussard to throw himself backwards and down to the
mat in a heap!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Give me a break!

BW:  Haha!  And Vladimir Velikov just showed EXACTLY why it's going to
be so difficult for anyone to unseat Kolya Sudakov as the National
Champion.  

GM:  If it's going to be a handicap match out there every title defense,
of course it's going to be tough to beat Sudakov!

[With Marcus writhing in pain on the mat, Sudakov marches out of the
corner and promptly delivers a crushing soccer kick to the ribcage of
Broussard.  The Shark cradles his ribs, wincing in pain before Sudakov
delivers a second kick that causes Broussard to roll under the bottom
ropes to the floor.  The referee is immediately near the ropes, trying
to prevent Sudakov from pursuing the downed Broussard...

...but allowing Vladimir Velikov to pull Broussard off the thin pads and
drill him with a standing clothesline that knocks the Shark back down to
the floor.  The booing crowd tips off Meekly who spins around, screaming
at Velikov to back away from the former National Champion.]

GM:  The referee didn't see the attack by Velikov so he can't do
anyhting about it but we all know it happened, Bucky.

BW:  But you said it yourself - the ref didn't see it so it really
didn't happen.

GM:  Well, it happened and you only need to take a look at Marcus
Broussard out on the floor rolling around in pain to know for sure that
it happened.  And look out here - Sudakov's coming out there after him!

[The National Champion steps through the ropes before dropping down to
the floor.  Sudakov immediately pulls Broussard up by the hair, slamming
his face into the ring apron to more boos from the crowd.  Pulling
Marcus back by the hair, Sudakov shouts a few words in Russian at him
before slamming his face to the apron again.]

GM:  I wonder what he possibly could have said to him right there.

BW:  I think it was, "Eat mat, loser."

GM:  Would you stop?  Sudakov has regained control of this one... now
what's he doing?

[The crowd jeers as Sudakov drags Broussard away from the ring and
towards the announce desk.]

GM:  They're coming over here, fans - I'm going to... let's get out of
here, Bucky.

BW:  I'm with ya.

[As the announcers scamper away, Sudakov SLAMS Broussard's face into the
wooden announce desk.  Picking up a left-behind mic, he flips Broussard
onto his back and pushes the mic down across the windpipe of the former
champion.  The groans and gurgles of the San Jose Shark are audible to
all as a furious-looking Sudakov pushes down on the mic with both hands,
his powerful arms straining to supply more force on the choke.]

GM:  This is blatantly illegal!  

BW:  I'm not sure the referee can see that far.  I hear the Meekly
family is far-sighted.

GM:  You mean near-sighted.

BW:  Heck, I'm not sure they even have eyes, Gordo!  You ever talked to
old Moldy?  The man's as blind as a bat.  I saw him proposition a
coatrack at the company Christmas party last year.

[Sudakov finally releases the choke, dragging Broussard off the desk and
back towards the ring.  The Russian War Machine seems about to fire
Marcus back into the ring when a harsh shout in Russian from Velikov
stops him short.]

GM:  Get the man back in the ring!

BW:  I think Vladimir's got different ideas.

GM:  Kolya Sudakov is- uh oh.  He's moving over to that steel ringpost,
forcing Broussard up against it...

[The Russian turns, taking a few steps away...

...and charges back in with his right arm extended.]

GM:  SICKL-OHHHHHH!

[The crowd ROARS as Broussard slumps down to the floor, causing Sudakov
to SMASH his right arm into the steel ringpost.  He crumples to the
barely-padded concrete floor in pain, clutching his right arm against
his body as Vladimir Velikov rushes to check on his nephew's physical
condition.]

GM:  Sudakov missed the Sickle!  Broussard ducked out of the way and-

BW:  He fell down, Gordo!

GM:  Perhaps but he avoided the Sickle and now it's Sudakov who is in a
serious state of danger at the moment.  That right arm is severely
injured - it has to be.  Now if only the San Jose Shark can take
advantage of the situation.

[Broussard slowly drags himself off the floor with the help of the ring
apron.  A little dazed, he looks around in confusion for a moment before
finding Sudakov flat on his back gripping his right arm.  He quickly
yanks the Champion off the floor by the injured arm, pushing him under
the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Marcus rolls in as well - both men back inside the ring now.  And
Marcus is moving in on- now what in the world is going on?

[The crowd begins to boo once more as the curtain parts revealing the
Number One Contender, Mark Shaw, alongside his devious manager, Stephen
Marlowe.  Marlowe is leading the way as Shaw's eyes are locked inside
the ring where a surprised Broussard has turned his attention outside
the ring on the new arrivals.]

GM:  Broussard's shouting at Shaw and Marlowe - trying to get them out
of here.  But by doing that, he's allowing Kolya Sudakov to recover on
the mat!  What in the heck is Mark Shaw doing out here, Bucky?

BW:  Isn't it obvious?  We talked about it earlier.  If Broussard can
defeat Sudakov here, Mark Shaw just might get leapfrogged - AGAIN - in
his quest to get a title shot at the National Champion!  Shaw has been
the Number One Contender for ages now and between Adam Rogers and Marcus
Broussard - and maybe even Stevie Scott - it looks like he just can't
get that title match.  

GM:  You're saying that Shaw's actually out here to HELP Sudakov?

BW:  I've gotta believe he is, Gordo.  I've just got to.

[Broussard finally turns his attention away from Shaw and back to
Sudakov as the Champion pushes up to a knee on the mat.  A few forearm
smashes to the back of the head and neck have Sudakov staggered once
more as Marcus drags him up, pushing him back to the ropes.  Grabbing
the injured right arm, Marcus wraps it around the top rope and starts
teeing off with blows to the wing.]

GM:  Ohh!  Right hand to that injured arm!  And there's an elbowsmash
down onto the bicep area!

[Grabbing the wrist, Marcus turns up the pressure on the arm, twisting
it around the top rope more before throwing a couple more elbows to the
shoulder area.  Finally freeing the arm from the ropes, Broussard grabs
him by the wrist for an Irish whip.]

GM:  Whip off the ropes...

[With surgeon-like precision, Broussard connects with a leaping knee
strike to the right shoulder of Sudakov, spinning him back down to the
mat.  Marcus quickly drops down to the mat as well, pinning Sudakov's
right wrist to the mat with one foot - and then repeatedly stomping the
arm with his other foot!]

GM:  Look at Marcus!  This is that vicious side of Broussard that we saw
on our last AWA Saturday Night Wrestling and now the National Champion
is seeing it as well.

[The camera cuts to show Stephen Marlowe whispering a few words in the
ear of Mark Shaw who nods his head in response.]

BW:  What I'd give to be a fly on the ear of Mark Shaw right now. 
Marlowe's a genius - an actual genius - and I can only imagine what flaw
he just spotted in Marcus Broussard.

GM:  Marcus has that arm pinned down still and- LEAPS!

[The crowd cheers as Broussard drops a knee down on the bicep.  A quick
lateral press follows with Sudakov kicking out at two.]

GM:  No - he couldn't get him.  

[Broussard claps his hands together as he gets back to his feet,
pointing a finger of warning in the direction of Shaw and Marlowe.  An
arrogant Marlowe shouts a few words in the Shark's direction, inviting
him to step outside the ring to continue the fight.]

GM:  Don't do it, Marcus - you've got the National Champion down. 
You've got a chance to win a shot at the big gold - at getting your
title back.

BW:  Broussard's tempted!  Look at him, Gordo!

GM:  He certainly looks like it.

[Approaching the ropes, the San Jose Shark looks over them out at
Marlowe and Shaw.  Words are being exchanged back and forth between
Marlowe and Broussard with Shaw simply standing back, eyes locked on the
San Jose Shark - completely at the ready for anything that comes his
way.]

GM:  Broussard continues to- wait a second!  Sudakov is getting to his
feet!

[And without warning, the Russian War Machine barrels across the ring,
connecting with a running big boot to the back of the head that causes
Broussard to go falling through the ropes and out to the floor, crashing
down on the concrete at the feet of Stephen Marlowe.  The referee is
immediately near the ropes, shouting at Marlowe to back away.]

GM:  Get him back, ref.  We've got no need for this.  We've got-

[Seizing the moment, Vladimir Velikov hops up on the apron, causing the
referee to walk across the ring to shout at him to get down...

...and creating an opportunity for Marlowe to gesture at the San Jose
Shark, causing Mark Shaw to violently start stomping and kicking the
downed Broussard.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  Broussard brought all this on himself!

GM:  The referee has no idea any of this is going on and-

[Shaw yanks Broussard off the ground by the hair, hoisting him up in a
scoop...

...and then pushing him high into the air with a military press!]

GM:  PRESS!

[Shaw pauses for a moment...

...and then steps out from under Broussard, allowing the San Jose Shark
to SLAM down chestfirst on the exposed concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  That's it!  Stick a fork in the Shark - it's time for sushi, daddy!

[A stoic Mark Shaw looks down at his feet where Marcus Broussard is
grimacing in pain, clutching his ribs in pain as Marlowe orders Shaw to
step back.  The crowd jeers Marlowe as he pulls Broussard up by the
hair, throwing him under the ropes where the Russian War Machine is
waiting to continue the assault with stomps and kicks to the ribs and
chest of his opponent.]

GM:  Mark Shaw may have just cemented this match for the Russian War
Machine and-

[The crowd ERUPTS into cheers as "The Natural" Adam Rogers strides from
the locker room area, walking in a straight line from the curtain
directly towards Shaw and Marlowe...

...with a certain wooden equalizer pressed firmly in his hand.]

GM:  Adam Rogers is out here and he's got the axehandle!

[At the order of Marlowe, Shaw begins backpedaling away from the
incoming Rogers.  Marlowe is right behind his charge, dragging him
backwards by the arm around the ring as the Natural points the wooden
weapon straight at his rival as they continue to make a dash for it. 
With Sudakov continuing his assault on Broussard, Shaw and Marlowe
backpedal around the ring...

...and right out of the WKIK Studios, through the curtain into the
locker room area.]

GM:  Adam Rogers has cleared out Mark Shaw!  Shaw and Marlowe saw Rogers
with that equalizer and they ran for it, Bucky!

BW:  The guy's got a weapon!  Who can blame him?

GM:  Shaw is out of here thanks to Adam Rogers but...

[The crowd murmurs nervously as the weapon-wielding Rogers turns away
from the entryway, walking right back to ringside with the axehandle
over his shoulder.]

GM:  Shaw's gone but the Natural's still here!  Sudakov is in control
but can he keep it that way?  We'll be right back, fans - don't you dare
go away!

[The camera holds on a stoic Adam Rogers 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 come back up on live action where Kolya Sudakov has Marcus
Broussard back on his feet, arms slung over the top rope as the Russian
throws snapping side kicks over and over at the body of the San Jose
Shark.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - and while you were gone, the National
Champion, Kolya Sudakov, has really taken over on the former champ,
Marcus Broussard.  Adam Rogers is out here at ringside - simply watching
for the moment.  He hasn't done a thing to imply that he's out here for
any other reason than that, Bucky.

BW:  No he hasn't.  But he's got that equalizer over his shoulder and
you just never know what'll happen here in the AWA.

GM:  Sudakov is working over the body of the San Jose Shark with those
martial arts style kicks to the ribs.  

BW:  He's staying away from using those arms - especially that injured
right arm - and that's incredibly smart.  Years of experience taught to
him by his Uncle is to thank for that, I'm sure.

[Dragging Broussard away from the corner, Sudakov hooks Broussard around
the back of the neck.]

BW:  He's got that Muay Thai clinch locked in on the Shark - watch out!

[A big knee is driven up into the upper body of Broussard who tries to
put his arms in front of his head and face to protect himself.  Another
knee lands squarely on the same arms.  Using the clinch, Sudakov throws
him down to the mat before dropping on top of him for a cover.]

GM:  Sudakov with the cover - one!  Two!  Thr- it's not enough for a
three count!

[Sudakov barks a few words in the direction of the referee in Russian as
he slowly climbs to his feet.  A few hard stomps to the upper body have
Broussard crawling towards the ropes.  Sudakov buries another soccer
style kick into the ribcage - a blow that causes Broussard to roll out
on the apron.  Reaching over the ropes, Sudakov drags Broussard up to
his feet...

...and catches a lunging shoulder to the midsection from the San Jose
Shark who quickly slingshots himself over Sudakov, taking him down in a
sunset flip!]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHH!

[The crowd groans along with Gordon Myers at the nearfall.]

GM:  Marcus Broussard was oh-so-close to toppling the National Champion
right there, Bucky.

BW:  Close ain't enough.

GM:  That's for sure.  Sudakov is right back to his feet...

[And catches a rising Broussard with a kneelift to the body that causes
Broussard to fall back into the ropes.  The San Jose Shark clings to the
top rope, trying to stay on his feet...

...which sends the Russian charging to the far ropes, rebounding back in
the direction of his opponent.]

GM:  RUSSIAN SICK-

[But again, Broussard drops down, this time yanking the ropes with him
which causes Sudakov to tumble over the ropes, somehow managing to get
his head caught between the top and middle ropes in the process.]

GM:  OH!  HE'S CAUGHT!

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as Broussard starts driving right hand
after right hand after right hand to the rapidly-reddening face of the
National Champion.  The referee immediately races to the scene, trying
to pull Sudakov free from the ropes.]

GM:  The Champion's being strangled by those ropes!  He can't breathe!

BW:  Get Broussard off of him!

[Trying to help his endangered nephew, Vladimir Velikov climbs up on the
ring apron, grabbing the ropes and with the aid of the referee, he pulls
them apart, allowing the Champion to slump down to the canvas...

...which brings Broussard racing forward, leaping into the air and
catching Velikov squarely in the chest with a dropkick that sends the
burly Russian sailing off the ring apron RIGHT onto a surprised Adam
Rogers on the floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  VELIKOV GOES DOWN!  ROGERS GOES DOWN!

[Broussard looks over the ropes down at the floored Rogers, kicking the
ropes in frustration before turning back towards his opponent...

...and getting a HUUUUUUUGE running double leg scoop into the air before
being slammed down to the canvas where Sudakov immediately takes the
mount, throwing huge pummeling blows.]

GM:  He's got Broussard down!  Those are clenched fists, referee!

BW:  Hey!  Broussard is the one who attacked Velikov!  He reaps what he
sows, daddy!

GM:  Sudakov is pummeling Broussard - pounding the life out of the
former Champion!  Broussard is trying to cover up but he doesn't stand a
chance against the former Mixed Martial Artist!

[The crowd jeers wildly, shrieking with concern as the Russian War
Machine relentlessly drives his clenched fists into the skull of the San
Jose Shark over and over.]

GM:  Come on!  Get in there, referee!

[Mickey Meekly does exactly that, screaming at Sudakov to back off,
begging for the Russian to get off of Broussard.  The Russian ignores
the cries of the official though, continuing his assault.]

GM:  Sudakov is out of control!  Ring the bell!

[Feeling a surge of daring, Meekly wraps his arms around the chest of
Sudakov, pulling with all his body weight and actually managing to get
Sudakov out of the mount...

...where the angry Russian furiously throws Meekly down to the mat in a
heap!]

GM:  OHH!  

BW:  Meekly just got laid out!  

GM:  Can you excuse THAT one, Bucky?

BW:  Absolutely!  Meekly had NO right to put his hands on a wrestler! 
That's not his job!

GM:  And here comes Velikov!

[Equally angry, Velikov rolls back into the ring...

...and immediately starts stomping the downed Broussard.  Soon enough,
his nephew joins him and together, the Russians are doing major damage
to the former National Champion.]

GM:  And Broussard's in trouble - big, big trouble!

BW:  He got himself into this one, daddy!

GM:  Velikov is stomping him... Sudakov is kicking him - we need to get
some help out here!  We need to get some help for Broussard right now,
Bucky!

[Dragging Broussard off the mat by the hair, Sudakov holds his arms
behind him as Velikov throws right hand after right hand to the ribcage
of a helpless Broussard.]

GM:  This is a bad situation and there's no sign of relent in the eyes
of the Russians!

[The Russians push Broussard back into the ropes, battering him against
the ropes...

...when suddenly Adam Rogers gets back to his feet, grabbing the
axehandle off the padded floor.]

GM:  ROGERS!  COME ON, NATURAL!

[Adam Rogers hops up on the ring apron, axehandle in hand, ready to step
through the ropes...

...when his eyes come to rest on Marcus Broussard being battered by the
Russians.]

GM:  What the- come on, Adam!  Get in there!

BW:  I don't think so, Gordo.  The cavalry is NOT coming for Broussard!

GM:  Adam, don't do this.  Please, Adam - don't do this!

[Rogers pauses for a moment, knuckles turning white on the wooden
axehandle...

...and then drops off the apron just as the Russians double whip
Broussard into the ropes.]

GM:  Rogers is - no... he's walking away!

BW:  AGAIN!

GM:  Broussard off the ropes- NO!  

BW:  SICKLE!

[The running clothesline from Sudakov finds the mark, leaving Marcus
Broussard flat on his back on the canvas.  Sudakov looks down ice cold
at Broussard, glaring at him as Rogers slowly walks away, leaving his
former friend at the feet of the Russians.]

GM:  Broussard is down.  Rogers is walking away.  And the Russians...
those darn Russians... they're standing tall over everyone once again. 
Fans, I can't believe it - we'll be right back.

[The camera holds on the Russians standing over Broussard before fading
to black.

After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark
Stegglet in an apparently moving car.]

JD:  Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go,
wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA
superstars when you're away from home?

MS:  I know I would, Jason!  And I'd also love to have a place to put
out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling.

JD:  You've got that right.  Wouldn't it be great if we could combine
both of those ideas into one?

[Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!]

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new
application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors,
and happenings before the rest of the world.  And don't forget to check
out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired!  AWA Access -
coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and then fade back up to live action where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing with a furious-looking Marcus Broussard who is
rubbing his collarbone.]

GM: We're back from commercial, fans, and holy hannah, Marcus Broussard,
the Russians just put- 

MB: I don't wanna talk about the Russians, Myers! I wanna talk about
Adam Rogers, you hear me? I'm speaking directly to _you_, Rogers! 

[Broussard is fired up in a way the fans have never seen, and the place
comes alive as a hobbling, stumbling Marcus, who can barely stand, holds
onto Gordon Myers for support and bellows into the microphone.] 

MB: I cannot believe that for a _minute_ that I ever once called you a
friend, Rogers. How we made it this far, being cordial with one another,
I'll never know. You are somebody I looked up to, someone I respected,
and for you to stand out there and _watch_ me get my clock cleaned by
those Russians, holding your axehandle and smiling, I can't believe I
ever for a _second_ respected you. 

You're nothin' man, you're the lowest piece of dirt I've ever seen. 

GM: Wow, strong words from- 

[Marcus coughs violently, and then cuts Gordon off.] 

MB: I never said that I didn't do stupid things. I never said that all
of my actions in the AWA the first time around were on the straight and
narrow, but what I did say was that I would try to get the title back
the right way, by getting back to basics, the same basics _you_ taught
me, Rogers. 

Hard work, honesty, commitment, dedication- those are all out the
window, huh? Everything the Triumvirate was based on, everything we
preached, that's all done for, is it? What a crying shame, to see
someone like Adam Rogers crumble into a sniveling, backpedaling little
weasal because he couldn't get it done. 

This grandstanding and filibustering has gone on long enough, Rogers. If
you've got any stones- 

BW: Uh oh, here we go. 

MB: If you've got any kind of intestinal fortitude at all, you'll accept
this challenge: One on one, Rogers and Broussard.  Let the best man win,
the best _man_ win. That'll require you to act like a man for the first
time in a long time Adam. 

Don't disappoint me! 

[To a loud roar, both positive and negative, Marcus Broussard hobbles
away from the announce table to the back, as Gordon Myers stands in
momentary shock.]

GM:  Wow.  Uhh, well, fans - you heard it from the man himself.  Marcus
Broussard has made a challenge to Adam Rogers - one on one - to settle
their issues.  Will the Natural accept that challenge?  Hopefully we'll
be able to catch up with him later tonight to get that answer.  Fans,
over the past couple months, we've seen a lot of new superstars show up
here in the AWA as part of the New Blood Drive and as I understand it,
this next match is scheduled to feature more new blood in the AWA. But,
uh....

[Gordon ruffles some papers around, apparently looking for something.]

BW: But what, Gordo?

GM: Well, it's the darnedest thing. I can't seem to find any notes on
whoever's debuting.
'
BW: Uh-huh. Well, I'm gonna use the ol' Wilde family's famous power of
deduction to say that this is going to be a tag team match.
'
GM: What makes you sa- ah, right, the fact that two men are already in
the ring.
'
BW: Took you long enough.
'
GM: [sighs] Let's just send it to the ring.

[Cut to Melissa Cannon, who raises the microphone.]
'
MC: The following'contest'is a tag team match'scheduled for one fall
with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring
at this time, from El Paso, Texas, weighing in at 286 lbs... Chad
McMurtry!

[A nice Texas pop for a rather out-of-shape young man with a red moptop,
wearing a blue singlet and white boots. McMurtry raises his right arm
and nods slightly in response.]
'
MC: And his partner, hailing from Amarillo, Texas, weighing in tonight
at 238 lbs... "The Ace" Lee Monroe!

[A very nice pop for an older gentleman with balding black hair, wearing
black tights and white boots with "Ace" inscribed on them. Monroe smiles
and points out at the crowd.]
'
BW:  And yet again, the AWA acts as the old wrestlers' retirement home. 
Dave Cooper, Kentucky's Pride, Soup Bone Samson - now this ol' fossil.
'
GM:  Bucky! Show a little respect for a local legend!
'
BW:  Whatever. Who's the fat kid?
'
GM:  I understand that young Chad McMurtry is a rookie, looking to gain
a little experience.  What better person to pair him up with than the
ol' "Ace"?
'
BW:  Please.  Gramps over there would probably be better off teaching
the piglet how to play bingo.
'
[Gordon sighs.]
'
MC: And their opponents...
'
[Melissa pauses as the fans crane their necks to see who's coming.]
'
MC: At a combined weight of 568 lbs... from Kingsland, Arkansas...
'
["Trashville" by Hank Williams III plays as a lone man with
shoulder-length dirty blonde hair'in beat-up old black jeans and black
boots comes stomping out of the entryway with a nasty snarl on his face,
pounding his taped fists together.  As he heads toward the ring, he
threatens to backhand anyone who tries to touch him, showing them his
Arkansas state flag tattoo.  The crowd immediately boos this
nasty-looking individual.]
'
MC: Accompanied to the ring by Cousin Bo, they are Cletus Lee Bishop and
Duane Henry Bishop... THE BISHOP BOYS!

GM: Okay, well, I'm confused.  Melissa announced three men, but I only
see one.  What is going on-
'
BW: [interrupting with awe in his voice.] Oh. My. Dear. Lord.  Gordo,
look at THAT!
'
[A rather well-built man in a dark gray suit with short black hair and a
thick black mustache enters with a big smile on his face, gesturing to
the back where an absolute ox'of a man'slowly stalks his way from behind
the curtain.  This man has wild, stringy dark brown hair that comes down
to just below his shoulderblades and light sideburns that form into a
big ol' mess of hair that one could presumably call a beard, plus an
unkempt mustache.  He also wears beat-up black jeans and black boots,
plus a scuffed-up wifebeater.]

GM:  Wow!  Would you look at the size of that guy?!  He has to be at
least 6'9"!
'
BW:  Man, what a downright beast this guy is!  Even the fans are awed by
this guy!
'
[The big man stares maniacally around at the audience. He pulls at his
beard as the man in the suit assuringly pats him on the back. The first
man has made his way to the ring by now, sliding in and raising his arms
to the jeering crowd. The larger man slowly makes his way down, looking
as if he's going to snap on the fans. He climbs the ring steps and
strides over the top rope. As he enters, both men have to be restrained
by the ref from assaulting their opponents. The suited man shouts at the
two to wait for the bell to ring, before making his way over to the
broadcast table.]
'
GM:  Um, Cousin Bo, I presume?
'
CB: [donning a headset] You presume correctly, Gordon Myers.  Hello, Mr.
Wilde.  Pleasure to make your acquaintance.
'
BW: Likewise, Mr...?
'
CB:  The name's Bo Allan.  Just call me Bo.
'
GM: Okay, Bo...

CB: You, however, can call me Mr. Allan.
'
GM: Er, okay, Mr. Allan.  Introduce us to The Bishop Boys, if you
please.
'
CB: Certainly. The big ol' boy's Cletus Lee Bishop, his "little"
brother's Duane Henry Bishop. And I'll tell you right now, my cousins,
The Bishop Boys, are going to turn the AWA on its head.
'
GM: Well, that remains to be seen.
'
[The bell rings and The Bishop Boys immediately charge, hammering their
opponents with fists aplenty.]
'
BW: I think Fatty McFatterson and the codger better hope they have a
real good IC unit at the hospital, 'cause it looks like they're gonna
need it.
'
[The ref tries to gain control as Duane Henry stomps Monroe down. Cletus
Lee grabs McMurtry'by the hair and sends him flying out of the ring,
following right after him. The ref follows as Cletus Lee puts his boot
to the opponent's throat, choking the air out of him. The ref, staying
as far out of reach as possible, threatens Cletus Lee with a DQ if he
doesn't stop his attack. A confused Cletus Lee looks over at Cousin Bo,
who nods, and backs off, heading towards his team's corner of the ring.]
'
GM: Mr. Allan, pardon my ignorance, but do your cousins even understand
the basic rules of wrestling?
'
CB: Nope, not really, Myers. That's why they have me. Great, ain't it?
'
GM: Er, quite.
'
[Bucky chuckles in glee at the mayhem. Meanwhile, Duane Henry picks
Monroe up off the mat and chops him as hard as possible repeatedly. He
follows up by irish whipping Monroe to the far side, and hiptossing him
back down on the rebound. Duane Henry then leaps and hits Monroe with a
legdrop, quickly gets back up, and this time drops a senton on him.
Duane Henry gets up and turns to the crowd, raising his arms and
yelling.]
'
DHB: WHATTA Y'ALL THINK ABOUT THAT?!
'
[The crowd responds with hearty boos. Duane Henry scowls and spits out
into the crowd.]
'
GM: Good grief, these two have no scruples whatsoever.
'
BW: And I'm lovin' it, daddy!
'
GM: Don't these men have any regard for people?
'
CB: Who? The fans? Who cares what they think? Their opinion matters as
much as yours, Myers. The bottom line is winning. And if you've gotta
break a few bones along the way, well, so be it.
'
GM: You're despicable.
'
CB: Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment.
'
[Duane Henry kicks Monroe towards the corner, where a recuperating
McMurtry is standing. Duane Henry points at McMurtry and shouts at
Monroe to tag him in. Monroe slowly crawls over, but apparently not fast
enough, as Duane Henry once again demands that he tag McMurtry. McMurtry
reluctantly reaches in as Duane Henry kicks Monroe hard. Finally, the
tag is made, and Duane Henry immediately hauls the heavy young man over
the ropes and lets him fall to the canvas. Duane Henry looks towards his
brother and then Cousin Bo before hauling the rookie back up.]
'
GM: So far, this is just an absolute slaughter.
'
CB: Heh heh, and you ain't even seen what Cletus Lee brings to the
table.
'
[Duane Henry'rocks McMurtry with a nasty European Uppercut and then just
smacks the taste right out of his mouth.]
'
BW: Wow, what a vicious shot. This is an old-fashioned beatdown, just
the way I like it.
'
GM: This is just chaos. Why don't they just stop toying around and end
this already?
'
CB: They're finished when I say they are. And to be quite honest, I
haven't been entertained enough just yet.
'
[Cousin'Bo whistles and Duane Henry looks over. Bo gestures towards
Cletus Lee. Duane Henry smiles and forces McMurtry over to his corner.
He holds the opponent in place as Cletus Lee hauls back and hits a
sickening headbutt that sends Chad flying back halfway across the ring,
drawing a concerned pop from the crowd.]
'
GM: My word, what astounding impact from that one single headbutt! The
sound of that thud was like a cannon!
'
BW: Hehehe, apparently pigs CAN fly!
'
[Cletus Lee strides over the top with a menacing wide-eyed stare at the
fallen young wrestler. With one hand, he hauls the poor kid back to his
feet.]
'
GM: The strength of this man is uncanny. Wait, he has poor young
McMurtry's arms trapped. What in the world is this?
'
[With frightening speed, Cletus Lee headbutts Chad again. And again. And
again. And again. And again. And again. Cletus Lee finally lets go after
9 straight headbutts.]
'
GM: For the love of all that's holy, this kid is completely out. Please,
just let this end.
'
BW: Aw, come on, Gordo, this is fun. Man, I wish I had some popcorn
right now.
'
[Cletus Lee grabs the ropes and scrapes his opponent's face with his
boot. The referee steps in and once again threatens to disqualify the
big man. Cletus Lee shoots him a look that makes him jump back.]
'
GM: Come on, ref, do your job. Stop letting this... this... maniac
intimidate you.
'
CB: Would you care to go tell him to stop yourself?
'
GM: Um, no.
'
CB: Because that can be arranged, y'know.
'
GM: That's, uh, that's fine. Thanks anyway.
'
[Cletus Lee drops a big elbow, right to McMurtry's head. Once again, he
picks up the kid's dead weight with one hand. He presses him up over his
head, circling the ring like a predator showing off its prey.]
'
GM: Good lord, what does he have in mind here? I don't like the looks of
this.
'
[Cletus Lee comes to a stop in the middle of the ring, and lets McMurtry
fall stomach-first onto his outstretched knee.]
'
BW: Sweet fancy Moses, what a phenomenal press slam gutbuster!
'
GM: I'm going to be sick.
'
[Once again, Cousin Bo whistles and gestures towards the opponent's
corner.]
'
GM: Now what's he doing?
'
BW: He's forcibly making the kid tag the old geezer back in! This is
tremendous. I love it.
'
[Gordon grumbles. Meanwhile, Cletus Lee lets Monroe slowly climb into
the ring halfway before simply pulling him in and hitting a knee lift.
The fans are sickened by this display, and rain boos down upon Cletus
Lee. Confused, Cletus Lee looks around wildly and grits his teeth,
pulling his hair.]
'
CB: Aw, come on. CLETUS LEE! HEY! FOCUS! STAY ON HIM!
'
[Cletus Lee looks back down at the fallen "Ace" and stomps him
repeatedly, yelling wildly. He looks back up at the crowd and makes a
swatting gesture towards them.]
'
GM: What was that all about?
'
CB: Cletus Lee ain't much for large crowds. Heck, he ain't much for
people in general. He's fine though. I know what I'm doing.
'
GM: Thank God somebody does.
'
[Cletus Lee grabs the veteran around the throat, and jolts him back up,
keeping the grip.]
'
GM: Oh, no, this doesn't look good.
'
BW: Gordo, you couldn't be more wrong. This is great.
'
[The big man hoists Monroe up, and leaves him hanging for a second,
before...]
'
BW: Chokeslam! What impact! What a devastat-
'
GM: Hold on a second, Bucky, he has him right back up over his head! Now
he has both arms hooked. What in the world is he-
'
[And with that, Cletus Lee takes a few steps forward before launching
him'to the mat.]
'
GM: OH MY! A _tossing_ powerbomb! What force behind that throw! When
will this carnage stop?
'
CB: Eh, y'know what? I think that's about enough. [chuckles] Don't want
to give away all of our secrets, now do we?
'
[One more time, Bo whistles and gives Cletus Lee the throat-slitting
gesture. Cletus Lee almost smiles as he makes the tag to Duane Henry,
who hops back into the ring.]
'
GM: Now what?
'
CB: Heh, I think you're gonna enjoy this.
'
BW: I know I will.
'
[Duane Henry hoists the "Ace" up in an Argentine backbreaker and moves
to the center of the ring. Cletus Lee charges the ropes behind Duane
Henry, bounces off, and runs full steam ahead, lifting his leg and
hitting a thunderous big boot right to Monroe's head.'Duane Henry hangs
on and swivels the opponent forward, hitting a seated powerbomb. A
stunned pop goes up for the devastating move.]
'
CB: And THAT, my friends, is Doc Allan's Miracle Headache Elixir!
'
BW: Whooee! Forget about it. Godzilla ain't gettin' up from that!
'
GM: One.' 'Two.' 'Three.' 'Goodnight. Thank heavens it's over.
'
[Just for good measure, Cletus Lee forearms McMurtry back off the
apron.]
'
MC: Here are your winners... THE BISHOP BOYS!
'
BW: Incredible. I don't think we'll be seeing Porky Pig or Methuselah
again. Ever.
'
CB: And to think, there is so much more of this to come for every team
in the AWA. Let this be a message to all of you. If you're itchin' for a
fight, The Bishop Boys ain't hard to find. Bucky, it's been a pleasure.
'
BW: Indeed.
'
CB: And Myers...
'
[Gordon tentatively reaches out for a handshake. Cousin Bo takes one
look at the outstretched hand, snorts derisively, and leaves. He meets
his cousins outside the ring, and raises their arms in victory, drawing
firm boos from the AWA fans now. Bo just rolls his eyes and walks back
towards the entrance, gesturing for The Bishop Boys to follow. Each eyes
the hostile crowd with malicious intent.]
'
GM: That was one of the most disgusting'displays of "wrestling" that
I've ever seen. What exactly were the Board Of Directors thinking?
'
BW: Money, daddy. Lots and lots of money. The people pay to see complete
destruction, whether they want to admit it or not.

GM:  Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back with Sweet Heat!

[The camera holds on the exiting Bishop Boys for a moment before fading
to black.

After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a
pretty dingy looking building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

"Of your friends and family seeing you on television?"

[And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that
reads "AWA Combat Corner."]

"Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at
the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American
Wrestling Alliance!"

[We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of
standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring.  There
are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course,
working out in the ring.]

"With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is
the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in
the ring in the shortest amount of time!"

[Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.]

"With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can
guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation
and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on
Day One!"

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

"So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our
website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar!
 You want to be the future of the business!

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment...

...and then back on the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans, and at this
time now we welcome one of the most surprising and unorthodox duos in
the AWA.  I'm talking about none other than Sweet Daddy Williams and
Stevie Scott, together known as Sweet Heat.

[SDW and the Hotshot enter the frame, their excitement completely
uncontained.]

GM: Gentlemen, that was quite the turn of events at the end of the last
show.

[Sweet Daddy nods emphatically and slaps his partner on the back. 
Stevie pauses before realizing that Williams wants him to do the
talking.]

HSS: Gordon, my man...I just...man, I just can't believe what is
happening!  Whooooo!

[Big pop!  Even Myers cracks a smile.]

GM: Listen to this crowd if you will, Mr. Scott.

HSS: Aw, man...Gordon, lemme tell ya...I _never_ thought I would get a
reaction like that from the fine fans in Dallas, Texas!

[Cheap hometown pop!]

HSS: You know, all my career...all my career, I've never appreciated
these people.  But my good friend here, the Sweet Daddy.  Hey, shake
that money maker, Sweet Daddy!

[SDW is happy to oblidge, turning his rather large posterior to the
camera and shaking it for all it's worth.  Huge pop!]

HSS: Now that's what I'm talking about!  This man, my good friend here,
Gordon...he showed me the light.  I was at a dead end.  In my arrogance,
I had alienated myself from every good person back in that locker room. 
I was left with nothing, no friends, no allies, no one.

Until this man came along.

Sweet Daddy took me under his wing when no one else would.  He didn't
care what I had done or where I had done it, Gordon.  Sweet Daddy knew I
still had a lot of good wrestling left in me, even when I thought I was
finished.  He helped me see the error of my ways, you know?  He helped
me have _fun_ again in that wrestling ring, and more than that, outside
it.  Whether we're doing appearances at car dealerships, shopping malls,
gymnasiums, wherever we find the fans of the AWA...we're having a good
time.  Ain't that right, Sweet Daddy?

[The crowd cheers as Sweet Daddy Williams grabs the mic.]

SDW:  That's exactly right, Hotshot.  Everywhere Sweet Heat goes... the
kids are cheerin', the men are clappin' us on the back, and the women...

[The Sweet Daddy fans himself, wiping his brow with his forehead.]

SDW:  Oh my lawd have mercy!  The women!  The women are all gathered
'round day after day, night after night when the Sweet Heat Express
comes to town.  Whether it's here in Dallas or down in San Antone...
maybe out in Okie City or headin' way down on the Bayou... every bar the
Sweet Heat Express stops in, there's only one question on the mind of
everybody in the place, baby...

WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIGHT?!

[Another huge cheer goes up from the WKIK Studios crowd.  Sweet Daddy
Williams gives another wink to the camera before allowing Gordon Myers
to have his mic hand back.]

GM: Now let's get down to what happened last time we were in the WKIK
Studios.  Specifically, you, Stevie Scott, putting Kolya Sudakov, the
AWA National Champion, flat on his back.

[Stevie can't help grinning.]

HSS: It all happened in a flash, Gordo.  Before I even know what's going
on, Sweet Daddy tells me we gots ta get down to the ring and help a
brotha out.  Next thing I know...._BAM!_

[Stevie slaps his hands together in the air to a big pop.]

HSS: The Heatseeker finds its mark, right on the chin of one Mr. Kolya
Sudakov.  And down...goes...the big man.

Gordo...don't think for one moment that I've forgotten what happened at
War Games either.  You know, old man Vlad there, he wants to call me a
coward and say I lost the war for our team.  But here's my question for
the Russians.  Whatever happened to the _team_?  Huh?  When my _eye_ was
about to be poked out, where were the Russians?  Huh?  Where were they,
Gordo?

GM: I... I don't really-

HSS: I'll tell you where they _weren't_, and that was with our team. 
Now, I don't really expect the Russians to get this, because what does
history tell us, Gordo?  You're a smart guy...what does history say
about the Russians?

GM: Well, they-

HSS: It tells us that they can't get the job done on their own, that's
what.  World Wars I and II?  America carried them.  Cold War, who backed
down?  The Russians.  They come in here, they claim superiority, they
claim Americans are weak, but they don't get it, Gordo.

You see boys, when you go to _war_, you have to look out for your
comrades, right?  Right?  War ain't about one-on-one.  It's about _us_
versus _them_.  But that's the difference between you and men like the
Sweet Daddy.  SDW gets it, boys.  It ain't all about the Sweet Daddy, no
sir.  It's about the _team_.  And that's why we were able to put you two
loudmouths in your place last time you ran across us, baby!

No...I haven't forgotten War Games either.  I haven't forgotten that you
two left me to be _blinded_, all in the name of what?  Victory?  Your
country?  Your flag?  Whatever it was...it was more important to you
than the well-being of one of your "comrades."  And for that...you
_will_ pay.

SDW:  Owwww baaaaaybee!  We's comin' for yas!

[Sweet Daddy Williams and Stevie Scott trade a quick high-five before
walking off the camera's view.]

GM:  Sweet Heat is on their way to the ring lookin' for their second
point of tag team title contention.  Let's go up to Melissa for tag team
action!

[Cut to the ring where two masked men looked agitated at the arrival of
Sweet Heat to the ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to my right...
from Parts Unknown at a total combined weight of 570 pounds... THE
SHADOWS!

[Boos pour down for the masked men who are in really boring gray
outfits.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[Yay!]

MC:  SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS!  "HOTSHOT" STEVIE SCOTT!

SWEEEEEET HEEEEAT!

[The crowd roars as the two men high-five...

...and then have a joint ass wiggling session!]

BW:  I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.  

GM:  Haha!  You've GOTTA love Sweet Heat, fans!

BW:  Maybe they do but everytime I see these two, I wonder how much it'd
cost to hire someone to take them out of action - permanently.

GM:  You thinkin' about coming out of retirement?

BW:  Not at all - just wonderin' how much of my Mama's money would get
that fat goof's head on my library wall, daddy.

[The referee calls for the bell as Stevie Scott ties up in the middle of
the ring with one of the masked men.]

GM:  For lack of a better term, I'm going to go ahead and call this guy
Shadow #1.

BW:  You sure?  He looks more like a Shadow #2 to me.

GM:  Wouldn't want to argue with the Announcer Of The Year.  #2 he is!

[Stevie quickly tangles with Shadow #2 but finds himself overpowered by
the man who looks to be somewhere around 300 pounds, slowly backed into
the ropes.  The referee calls for a clean break but as the Shadow steps
back, he shoves Stevie with both hands in the chest.]

GM:  Sort of a clean break there, I suppose.

BW:  About as clean as you can expect.

[The crowd boos the shove as Stevie Scott brushes himself off, dancing
out of the corner into another tieup...

...and again, he gets powered back into the ropes.]

GM:  Back to the ropes they go again... ref calling for the break...

[This time, on the break, the big Shadow drills Stevie with a right hand
to the side of the jaw.  He quickly grabs Stevie by the ropes, firing
him across the ring.  A lumbering clothesline is easily ducked by Stevie
who leaps to the second rope, springing back with a cross body block
that takes the Shadow down to the mat.  With the crowd cheering, Stevie
pops back up to his feet and uncorks a dropkick to the chin of the
rising Shadow that sends him stumbling back to the corner where the
slightly smaller Shadow #1 tags himself into the ring.]

GM:  A flurry of offense by Stevie Scott sends Shadow #2 running for
cover and it looks like Shadow #1 is going to test his luck in there
with the man who pinned the National Champion two weeks ago.

BW:  You really need to stop saying that, Gordo. 

GM:  It's true, isn't it?

BW:  It's an oversimplification of a complicated situation!

GM:  Look at the big brain on Bucky!

[Shadow #1 steps to the center of the ring, shouting at Stevie Scott to
lock up with him.  After a moment, the Hotshot obliges...

...but gets a thumb to the eye that has the Shadow cackling at the
booing fans.]

GM:  Well, he certainly seems proud of himself.  

BW:  He got the advantage, didn't he?

GM:  Through a blatantly illegal tactic.

BW:  Didn't answer my question.

[Shadow #1 throws a trio of left haymakers that knock Stevie back
against the ropes again.  Grabbing the Hotshot by the wrist, Shadow #1
fires him across and floors him with a running shoulder block.  The
more-muscular Shadow strikes a big double bicep pose to the jeers of the
crowd before running to the ropes again.  As he rebounds, Stevie drops
down to the mat which makes Shadow leap over him to keep running.]

GM:  Drop down by Stevie.  Shadow off the far side... leapfrog by
Stevie... Shadow off the ropes again...

[This time on the rebound, he eats a standing dropkick from Stevie
squarely on the jaw.]

GM:  Stevie Scott has one of the nicest dropkicks in the game - and
there's the tag to the Sweet Daddy!

[A big squeal from the females in the crowd goes up as the bulky Sweet
Daddy steps into the ring.]

BW:  Ugh.  What kind of heffers are we letting into this building that
women are actually cheering this big, fat, overgrown, half-witted if
he's lucky, quadruple-chinned Weight Watchers reject?

GM:  Beauty's in the eye of the beholder - ever heard that saying?

BW:  I have, I have.  And you know who usually says it?

GM:  Who?

BW:  Ugly people.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Sweet Daddy Williams breaks out an exaggerated sidestep, hopping into
the air as he circles Shadow #1 and then locks up with him.  Again,
Shadow #1 goes to the eyes with an eyerake.  He quickly whips the rotund
one to the ropes, rearing back a right hand but the Sweet Daddy hooks
the top rope with his right hand, turning his back on the Shadow and
shaking that backside from side to side to a big cheer.]

BW:  Can someone get me some water?  I feel queasy.

[An embarassed Shadow charges towards the Sweet Daddy who takes him down
with a hiptoss.  The Shadow quickly pops back up and runs right into a
snapping jab to the jaw.  A second jab follows... and a third... and a
fourth... and a fifth...]

GM:  Look at the pugilistic skills of the Sweet Daddy!

[With a quick dance to rear him up, the Sweet Daddy rears waaaaaaaay
back for a haymaker...

...and then pulls up, sticking a finger in the Shadow's mask eyehole to
the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Haha!  I love it!

[With a blinded Shadow staggering away, the Sweet Daddy slaps the hand
of Stevie Scott who slips through the ropes, stomps his foot about five
times as Shadow #2 screams for his partner...

...and then snaps off a beautiful superkick that connects right under
the chin, knocking Shadow #1 flat.  Stevie drops into a cover as the
Sweet Daddy charges across the ring to prevent any interference as the
referee counts three.]

GM:  And there it is - another big win for Sweet Heat who now find
themselves one victory away from a title opportunity against the
National Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride!  And the champs will be
in action... after the break!

[The camera holds on Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams celebrating
their victory before fading to black.

After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark
Stegglet in an apparently moving car.]

JD:  Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go,
wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA
superstars when you're away from home?

MS:  I know I would, Jason!  And I'd also love to have a place to put
out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling.

JD:  You've got that right.  Wouldn't it be great if we could combine
both of those ideas into one?

[Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!]

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new
application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors,
and happenings before the rest of the world.  And don't forget to check
out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired!  AWA Access -
coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and we fade back up to the announce area where Gordon Myers is
standing alone.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Two weeks
ago, Jason Dane walked out here on the set and announced that Colt
Patterson had contacted him and wanted to sit down to have an exclusive
interview to be shown here tonight on AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  He
did not give us any information - nor any heads-up on the subject of
discussion.  He simply said he had something he needed the fans to hear.
 Tonight, we give him that opportunity to speak to the masses.  I sat
down with Mr. Patterson, a former World Champion, earlier today for that
discussion.  At this time, it is my great honor, privilege, and pleasure
to present that interview for the fans of the AWA... take a look...

[The shot of Gordon fades to... GASP!  Another shot of Gordon!  But this
time, he's sitting in what appears to be a vacated locker room
presumably somewhere in the back of the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Ladies and gentlemen, a former World Champion and my dear friend...
Colt Patterson.

[The camera pulls back to reveal Patterson walking onto the set.  He
leans over to shake hands with Gordon before taking a seat.  Patterson
is in a pair of blue jeans and wears a skintight black shirt that shows
off his still-impressive physique.]

GM:  Colt, it is an honor for me to be conducting this interview with
you tonight.  Thank you for coming down to Dallas.

CP:  It's my honor to be here with the greatest announcer our business
has ever known.  Thank you, Gordon.

[Gordon smiles at the compliment.]

GM:  Well, Colt... to be honest, I don't know where to start.  When you
contacted Jason, you weren't exactly upfront about why you wanted to
have this interview today.  So, I suppose I'll turn the floor over to
you.

[Colt nods.]

CP:  I appreciate that, Gordon.  And I appreciate that the AWA was
willing to give me this time to speak without the slightest clue why I
wanted it.  I think... in order to do this right, I need to give a
little bit of history.  I've been out of the spotlight for a long, long
time so I'm guessing a lot of your fans are wondering who in the heck I
am.

[The two men chuckle.]

CP:  I've been around this business for a long time.  I started
wrestling at the age of 24 after a failed football career.  It was... it
was an experience.  I worked all over the country, trying to get my
break.  In December of '94, I got it.  This new promotion was starting
up - the EMWC.  And it turned out that they needed some new blood to get
started with.

[Cut to Gordon who is nodding his head.]

GM:  The EMWC... never heard of it.

[Colt grins.]

CP:  It was up and coming - that's for sure.  It wasn't long before I
decided I was a part of something special and I stopped taking matches
anywhere else.  To be honest, I was pretty successful there.

GM:  I'd say so.  You won the Intercontinental title... then later the
World Title on three occasions.  You were the face of that promotion for
a couple of years, Colt.  Let's give credit where it's due.

CP:  Well, I appreciate that, Gordon... but I was just a small piece of
that.  The Brotherhood, Trey Porter, Scott Pain, Mike Austin, Todd
Michaelson... I was just a piece of the puzzle that made that place
great.

But I paid a price for that success.

[Gordon's brow furrows.]

CP:  There were... distractions.  There were things not fit for
discussion on a family show that tore my personal life apart.  My
wife... my kids... they couldn't be around for it and looking back, I
can't blame them.

And then my career started to suffer as well.  The injuries began to
pile up and the more pain I was in... the worse the... distractions...
got.  I was in pretty bad shape by the time I feuded with Todd
Michaelson back in the summer of '97.

GM:  You're referring to the match where...?

[Colt nods.]

CP:  Throughout my entire career, I always tried to beat my opponents
without injuring them.  I was never one who tried to cripple someone to
win a match.  That just wasn't who I was.  I wanted to win and would do
what I needed to do for that end.  But I never wanted to take away
someone's livelihood.

But that night against Michaelson - that's exactly what I did.  I broke
his back and although he's managed to get in the ring a handful of times
since then, his active career inside the ring was over.

I was crushed.  I... well, I think I can safely say I was never the same
after that.

[The camera closes on Colt, his eyes locked down on his hands in his
lap.]

CP:  I wrestled for a little while after that - kept my commitments but
when I lost the belt soon after that, I was pretty happy to just take
some time off.

I stopped wrestling in the EMWC in 1997 to take some time to get myself
back.  To find myself again.  But I always intended to go back.

[Colt smiles.]

CP:  But when it came time to come back... the EMWC had passed me by. 
There was an all-star show going on over there.  Guys like Hardin and
Casey and Claw... Creed... Ronnie D... they just didn't need me anymore.
 I tried to get back in the game over and over but I just kept getting
the runaround.  The people that ran the place just didn't want a... a
relic of their past around.

I was crushed.  Wrestling was the only thing I knew.  It was what I had
sacrificed everything for - and then it had just thrown me aside like a
bag of garbage.

So, I did what every broken-down hasbeen in this business does.  I
started working wherever I could for whatever I could do.  I made public
appearances.  I did autograph signings.  Occasionally, I'd even make an
in-ring appearance at some Boys And Girls Club or American Legion Hall. 


It wasn't the same - there weren't 20,000 fans watching me - but
somehow, the rush... the thrill of the cheers... that just doesn't go
away no matter what size the crowd is. 

[Colt nods his head.]

CP:  So, I kept going.  I kept fighting.  I'd do whatever I could stay
in the game.  The big companies - Baltimore, Canada, Tampa... even the
smaller places like Laredo and Grand Isle... they just didn't want any
part of me.  It was the history.  The stories that everyone had heard. 
They knew my past and it scared them.

[The room falls silent for a bit.]

GM:  Colt, do you need a moment?

CP:  I'm fine, Gordon.  Time continued that way for a long while.  I
couldn't get anywhere.  I just... well, I was in the business still and
quite frankly, that was enough for me.  I tried to get a backstage job,
a front office job with the EMWC a few more times - no dice.  I had
outlived my usefulness for them.

Until...

[Colt looks off in the distance for a second.]

CP:  Nearly eight years after I vanished from EMWC television, I got a
phone call from the boss there.  They were making a return - the EMWC
was coming back.  And Michaelson had decided not to re-take his spot at
the announce desk.  They wanted me back.  I took the job.  I was never
an announcer but I thought it was a chance to get back in.

It was... different.  I enjoyed myself - working with Jason, seeing the
boys again.  But it was different.  

The touring scene was too much for me.  Again.  Too many things... too
many distractions.  I was in trouble again and if the EMWC hadn't closed
down when it did, I probably would have been very publically fired for
my problems.

[Colt looks down again.]

CP:  Since then, I've been back on the circuit at the flea markets and
high school gyms.  Signing autographs, posing for Polaroids, whatever it
takes to make a dollar and a dream.  It was fine... just fine... until
about a year ago.

The AWA came back about a year ago... and I felt an itch under my skin. 
I saw some people get second chances... or third chances... or fourth
chances... that you just couldn't get somewhere else.  

I saw Kevin Slater get an opportunity - one more shot to make it right. 
I saw Scott Pain, my best friend, get another chance to be on national
television - to perform in front of a screaming audience.  I saw men as
old as I am get a chance to shine.

And I wanted the same chance.

[Colt smiles.]

CP:  I... I WANT the same chance, Gordon.

GM:  Colt, what are you...?

CP:  I thought it was pretty clear but if not, let's make it clear.  

Effective immediately, I am returning to the wrestling ring.  

[A reaction shot of Gordon has him looking flat-out stunned.]

GM:  Colt, I-

[Colt lifts a hand.]

CP:  I am returning the wrestling ring here in the AWA.  I may lose a
lot of matches - heck, I may actually win a few as well.  But I am
returning to the ring to perform in front of the wrestling fans who I
love... who I adore... who are my family and friends.

[A long pause.]

CP:  Gordon?

GM:  Hrm?

CP:  Any questions?

GM:  A ton.  But for now, let's leave it at that.  Fans, Colt Patterson,
a former three-time World Champion... is on his way to the AWA!  We'll
be right back!

[The camera holds on a two-shot of Gordon and Colt for a while before
fading to black.

After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a
pretty dingy looking building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

"Of your friends and family seeing you on television?"

[And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that
reads "AWA Combat Corner."]

"Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at
the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American
Wrestling Alliance!"

[We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of
standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring.  There
are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course,
working out in the ring.]

"With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is
the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in
the ring in the shortest amount of time!"

[Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.]

"With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can
guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation
and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on
Day One!"

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

"So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our
website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar!
 You want to be the future of the business!

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment...

...and then back on the ring where Melissa Cannon is already standing.]

MC:' The following non-title tag team contest is scheduled for one fall
with a ten minute time limit! Introducing first, from Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania, weighing in at combines weight of 412 pounds... they are
Bryant Wornor and J'ambler Chaddix...

THE JET SETTERS!

["Switch (Twitch Remix)" by Fluke plays as the crowd gives a polite
applause for the two young wrestlers who make their way out of the
entrance. Both wear the same outfits of black vinyl-looking pants, black
boots, and black t-shirts with two runways in the form of an "X". Bryant
Wornor has a dark complexion and a decent build for his size; J'ambler
Chaddix has a fairer complexion with long, red dread-locked hair, and
more sinewy build. The duo both slingshot their way into the ring before
playing up to the fans.]

MC: And their opponents...

[The familiar notes of Stephen C. Foster's "My Old Kentucky Home" plays,
bringing out a loud cheer from the WKIK faithful.]

MC:' At a total combined weight of 583 pounds... they are the AWA
National Tag Team Champions... Tin Can Rust... City Jack...

[The crowd roars again as the two men from Kentucky come out of the
entrance, belts held high.]

MC: KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!

[City Jack acknowledges the fans, points at them all as he nods with a
big smile on his face. Tin Can Rust, meanwhile, looks around with a
nonplussed look as he follows City Jack around. Jack, instead of going
near to the ring, instead steers the two over to the announcer's booth.
Gordon Myers rises and walks over to meet the tag champs, mic in hand.]

GM: City Jack, Tin Can Rust, good to see you again.

CJ: Good to be here, Mr. Myers! Good to be here, as always, sir! Always
good to be here, in front of the fans, to allow them all to see these
here beautiful - and I say really beautiful - titles.

[Jack pats his AWA National Tag Team Title belt.]

GM: Kentucky's Pride, a few weeks ago we heard the new rules for how a
challenger can get a shot at your titles. What do you think of the rules
and how they might affect your competition?

[Tin Can Rust comes forward, stern look on his face.]

TCR: We were willing from the point that we won the titles to defend
them night in, night out, no question. We've proven we can beat anyone
on the roster and we will continue doing that, no matter who's on the
other side.

[Jack smiles, pats his more serious teammate on the shoulder.]

CJ: Now, you know Ruster... We do have some good on teams here in the
AWA. Rough N' Ready? Shoot, if ever a pair lived up to their billin' -
they are rough and they are ready. War Pigs, they some big mean boys.
And of course some of the other team we got here can go toe to toe with
us. I ain't sayin' we're unbeatable -

[Jack looks back to Rust, who rolls his eyes.]

CJ: But I will say that anyone who wants to step up and try to take
these title away from us will have a big fight on their hands. They
better be ready for it cause neither of us ol' sobs are goin' down
lightly. 

GM: But doesn't it isolate you at times from defending the title?

CJ: Sure, I guess. But consider this, Mr. Myers - if a team's going to
take on the challenge of topplin' us and taking the titles, shouldn't
they be prepared? Shouldn't they have to go through them rigors of beat
all the rest to get to the best?

[Rust, surprisingly, interjects himself into the conversation.]

TCR: But let me just say this, Mr. Myers - we didn't make these rules
and don't anyone out there try to paint us as ducking them from behind
this, ok? We'll fight anyone, ok?

[Jack nods.]

CJ: Right on, right on. We got these titles here and we intend to prove
on and on that we deserve the priv-o-lege of holdin' these here AWA
National Tag Team Titles. So while we're fightin' these young bucks here
tonight, if any of you all want come on down and match skill me and the
Rust'er -

[Tin Can Rust nods.]

CJ: So if it be them Warrin' Pigs, Rough N' Ready, the Russians, or even
our ol' good friends Cal-is-to and Freeman, we'll take ya on whether you
done qualify to challenge for these titles or not!

[With that, City Jack and Tin Can Rust make their way to the ring, the
fans cheering on the duo from Kentucky. They get in the ring and hold up
their National Tag Team Titles before handing them over to the referee
Marty Meekly. The bell rings as City Jack and J'Ambler Chaddix exit the
ring.]

GM: And with that we begin this non-title match-up with Tin Can Rust and
the newcomer here, Bryant Wornor.

BW: *cough* fodder *cough*

GW: They are not fodder, Bucky.

BW: I didn't say that. I was just... clearing things up.

[Tin Can Rust and Bryant Wornor lock up in the center of the ring, with
Rust quickly using his height and weight advantage to out-power the
smaller Wornor. TCR takes a hold of one arm and whips Wornor into the
ropes. On the rebound, Rust goes for a clothesline, but Wornor easily
ducked that and rebound off the other side ropes with a dropkick to the
back!]

GM: Dropkick by Bryant Wornor sends Rust into the ropes -

[Wornor charges at Rust as he tries to get off the ropes. As Rust turns,
Wornor leaps and grabs the Kentuckian's head as Wornor clears the ropes
and crashes to the floor below! Some of the crowd cheers for the move,
while other KP-faithful boo the move's dangerous element.]

GM: What a neck snap!

BW: That might've taken Old Man Dust's head off, daddy!

GM: Certainly did do some damage to Rust. Wornor doesn't seems to be
fairing much better, having landed awkwardly on the outside from the
move.

[Rust is hurting in the ring, clutching his neck as Wornor on the
outside is just starting to mill about. Meekly's at a count of six
before Wornor gets to two feet.]

GM: Bryant Wornor slides in the ring now and by the way he's shaking his
right arm, it seems that he landed on that elbow.

BW: Or shoulder or something. What does it matter, anyway? He's in the
ring with two hicks who don't even know how to spell technical wrestling
let alone practice it! Now if these young fod... wrestlers were in the
ring with someone like Calisto Dufresne or Adrian Freeman? Forget it,
daddy! That arm would be targeted until it fell off!

[City Jack reaches out his hand for Rust, but Wornor's quickly to block
off the tag with a kick to TCR's arm and the dragging the larger man to
the center of the ring. Once there, Wornor tags in his partner Chaddix
and then locks in a camel clutch on Rust, positioning himself and Rust
towards their corner.]

GM: Camel clutch applied as J'Ambler Chaddix -

BW: Horrible name, by the way.

GM: As Chaddix clutches the top rope.

[Chaddix then slingshots himself, smacking Rust square in the face with
two feet.]

GM: Slingshot dropkick hits Rust hard as Chaddix makes an early cover!
One! T- no!

BW: Little too early to try to get the win on the tag champs there, son.

[Chaddix slaps the mat for a moment before dragging a dazed Rust to two
feet. Chaddix applies an armwringer on Rust and then yanks the arm down
a couple of times before sending the older Rust into the ropes. The Jet
Setter attempts some sort of jumping move, but it's caught by the
rebounding Rust with a high clothesline that turns the younger wrestler
inside out.]

GM: Tin Can Rust scouting out that move pretty easily and Chaddix is
paying the price for the risk.

BW: These two have fought before, Gordo, in Philadelphia before
Kentucky's Pride came to AWA. So they probably know more about each
other than some may think.

GM: Wow, that's... that's actually informative.

BW: Hey, I'm the Announcer of the Year for a reason, Gordo. I research
the fodder that comes down here.

GM: They're not fodder!

BW: A team like Freeman and Dufresne wouldn't be losing to these two
hillbillies... well, not again.

[Rust has picked up Chaddix and peppers the Philadelphian with some hard
lefts and rights, backing him into the Kentucky's Pride corner. A tag is
made to City Jack as the fans cheer. Rust whips Chaddix hard into the
lower turnbuckle, enough to make the youngster to grab his back in
pain.]

GM: Hard whip into the corner by Rust and - Oh! Even harder clothesline
by the grizzled veteran!

[But KP's not done as City Jack steamrolls into the corner, avalanching
the young J'ambler Chaddix.]

BW: Now there's one sandwich I'd never want to taste, daddy! Ouch!

GM: City Jack follows up Rust's clothesline in the corner with a ring
shaking avalanche! Jack with the cover - one, two, thr-NO! Almost, but
Chaddix is able to get his foot on the bottom rope.

[Jack wastes no time as he drags Chaddix up by his dredlocks and whips
him into the opposite ropes. Bryant Wornor makes a blind tag on Chaddix
as he rebounds off the ropes, but City Jack doesn't see it and grabs
Chaddix in a bearhug.]

GM: Bearhug applied! And - 

[City Jack easily turns the move, slamming Chaddix down with a flattened
thud.]

GM: Metroboom! City Jack hits the belly-to-belly suplex and goes for the
cover!

BW: Meekly's waving it off, though, Gordo. Chaddix's not the legal man.

[As the ref shouts down to Jack that Chaddix isn't the legal man, Wornor
rushes towards City Jack and smacks the Liberty, KY native with a hard
knee shot right to the face! The crowd immediately boos the attack as
Jack flops down to the mat.]

GM: Huge running knee hits an unsuspecting City Jack! He's down, Bucky!

BW: Wow, that was some knee shot! Maybe these two ain't fodder afterall.

GM: Wornor with a cover - one, two, three!

[The fans cheer as the ref holds up two fingers, showing that City Jack
kicked out in time.]

GM: Kickout! City Jack kicked out just in time! I thought Bryant Wornor
had scored the upset there.

BW: Maybe this is a case of the champs trying to take a night off. I
wouldn't put it past these two of trying to laze through some of the
non-title fights.

GM: Absolutely not! If there's one thing Tin Can Rust and City Jack have
shown so far in AWA is that they'll fight to the end.

BW: They better get it in gear now then, daddy.

[Wornor asks ref Marty Meekly if City Jack did kick out, and Meekly
replies with a nod as he continues to hold up the two count. Wornor
drops down and applies a sleeper hold on the still dazed City Jack. Tin
Can Rust pounds the top of the KP corner post to help wake up his tag
team mate.]

GM: Sleeper applied as these fans start to root on the champs.

BW: Don't they know they should always be rooting on the underdog?

[Meekly grabs at City Jack's arm and it falls the first time. A second
time, however, sees that City Jack holds his arm up midway before it
falls, bringing cheers from the fans.]

GM: City Jack rallying now as he tries to get to two feet! 

[Jack gets to one one knee, so Wornor applies a front facelock instead.
The crowd and Rust continue to root on City Jack as he tries to get to
two feet. Wornor, however, tries to bring the bigger Jack down with a
DDT, but the Kentuckian blocks it.]

GM: DDT blocked and Wornor now shoots some punches to the side of City
Jack.

BW: He's just pounding sand, there, daddy. Or should I say pounding
flab? Either way, none of them shots are hurting that round mound.

[Wornor tries for another DDT, but Jack again blocks the attempt as he
powers Wornor up and over his shoulder, dumping the Jet Setter in a
heap! The crowd cheers as Jack stumbles forward towards Tin Can Rust,
making the tag.]

GM: Jack makes the tag! Rust in the ring and he immediate rushes to
Wornor - oh, hard clothesline by Rust!

[Chaddix tries to root on his tag mate, but it doesn't register as Rust
picks up Wornor and slams him down hard with a sidewalk slam.]

GM: Can Crusher by Tin Can Rust! Cover - one, two, th- no! Bryant Wornor
kicks out just in time.

BW: Old Crusty doesn't look too happy about that call.

[Indeed, Rust thought he got the three count as he berates the referee
about the speed of the count. Rust gets close in to the face of Marty
Meekly, pointing into his chest as he continues to yell at him.]

GM: I don't know what's gotten into Tin Can Rust, but he's completely
out of line here. The count was fine.

BW: It's called adrenaline. That, plus the titles, and this guy's gone
on some sort of power trip.

[City Jack tries to alert his tag team partner about Wornor - who's
gotten to two feet and has charged at Rust. Hearing CJ's warning, Rust
quickly turns with his right elbow out, smacking the rushing Wornor
right in the face with the elbowshot. The Jet Setter drops like a ton of
bricks.]

GM: Wow... Tin Can Rust was just turning around and he hit Bryant Wornor
with that elbow.

BW: Lucky shot - that kid took that hit right in the side of the face,
daddy! Phew, that hurt just looking at it!

GM: Tin Can Rust with the cover -

BW: You can count to a thousand, he ain't getting up.

GM: One, two, three - Kentucky's Pride takes the win here.

[Tin Can Rust gets up and sternly looks down at the fallen Bryant Wornor
as the crowd remains quiet, concerned over the condition of Bryant
Wornor. J'ambler Chaddix rushes into the ring and checks on his tag team
partner as City Jack goes over to Rust. The ref hands the champs their
titles, but Rust continues to look down at Wornor with a menacing
looking glare.]

GM: I'm not sure if that was intentional, but there is absolutely no
remorse on the face of Tin Can Rust, Bucky.

BW: Someone needs to have a killer instinct on the team - certainly not
going to be that goofball City Jack.

[Jack tries to talk to Rust and drag him away from the center of the
ring as Meekly and Chaddix continue to check on Wornor. Finally, Rust
breaks away, clutching his title as he steps out of the ring. City Jack
follows and - finally - Bryant Wornor starts to move, getting helped up
by Marty Meekly and J'ambler Chaddix to the fans' cheers.]

GM:  And finally, it looks like these two youngsters are going to be
okay.  Bryant Wornor finally stirred from that brutal elbowstrike by TCR
and listen to these fans pay tribute to him.

[The camera cuts to Gordon and Bucky standing at the announce desk.]

GM:  And not to make light over what we just saw but we're starting to
run low on time and we still have quite a bit of action to come.  And at
this time...

[Gordon and Bucky are now joined at the commentator's position by Rough
N Ready. Dave Cooper stands to the left of Bucky, Sarah Sharpe to
David's left and Eric Matthew Somers to Sarah's left.]
'
GM: We are glad to have the members of Rough N Ready joining us tonight.
'
BW: Speak for yourself, Gordon... I'm not glad to be joined by a thug,
an old man and somebody who belongs in the kitchen.
'
[Eric immediately points a finger at Bucky.]
'
EMS: You ever asked Hammer what it was like to experience that chokeslam
on the floor.
'
BW: No, it never...
'
EMS: Well, you'll get to experience it if you don't keep your mouth
shut!
'
BW: You wouldn't dare!
'
EMS: Would I?
'
[That's when Eric immediately takes a few steps toward Bucky, who now is
quick to backpedal. Dave then holds up a hand in front of Eric.]
'
DC: Relax, Eric... save your energies for the War Pigs. Besides, you
wouldn't want to hurt our esteemed commentator of the year.
'
BW: [now taking a couple steps back to the announce position] Dave, I...
I didn't know you cared!
'
DC: Hey, every wrestling program needs some comedy relief.
'
BW: Yeah, I know... HEY!
'
GM: {chuckling] Dave, you brought up the War Pigs... on March 7, it will
be you and Eric getting another shot at Hammer and Scythe... we all saw
what went down at Christmas Clash... what are your thoughts about
getting another crack at the two men who many say cost you a chance to
win the National tag team titles.
'
DC: Gordon. I was hearing Richard E. Lee telling us that we better be
ready, that we better be ready to play rough and get ready for a war...
well, Richard, you know what they say about being careful what you ask
for. Because as you can already see by the way my partner here is
wanting to get it on with the comedy relief over here...
'
[He motions to Bucky, who still does not look happy about being referred
to as "comedy relief."]
'
DC: It should be pretty evident to you that my partner can't wait for
that opportunity to be ready to get rough with Hammer and Scythe in a
war in that ring! March 7 is absolutely a date that can't get here fast
enough, because even after Hammer felt the wrath of Eric here, the three
of us still believe you haven't really been taught a lesson. All
Christmas Clash was, was a time to send a message and let you think
about it for a while. But given the words you had for us last week, it
seems like the message didn't get through... so next time, believe me,
you're not just going to get a message delivered... you're going to get
an ultimatum that Rough N Ready is out for one thing... payback!
'
GM: Eric, we saw what you did to Hammer... what about it?
'
[Eric strokes his beard before he speaks.]
'
EMS: Seems to me we've got way too many punks in this tag team division.
I saw what happened last week to Kirk MacLean... just another example of
what cowards Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne are...
'
BW: Yeah, like the cowards who destroyed Calisto's brand new car! Why,
I'll bet you...
'
[He stops immediately as Eric again takes a few steps toward him, Dave
again holding Eric back.]
'
EMS: If I want your opinion, I'll give it to you, understand?
'
[Bucky sheepishly nods.]
'
EMS: As I was saying... there are a lot of punks running around this tag
team division, and along with those cowards Freeman and Dufresne, we've
got the War Pigs starting trouble with us and finding out the hard way
what happens when they do that. I see Hammer still walking around under
his own power after Christmas Clash... well, Hammer, I'd be thankful for
that if I were you, because come March 7, after Dave and I get through
with you, you may not be so lucky next time!
'
Or who knows... it could be your buddy Scythe... it could even be your
own manager.
'
BW: Hey, now... you can't threaten...
'
[Eric immediately looks at Bucky, who backpedals a bit.]
'
DC: Bucky, do yourself a favor... keep your mouth shut, because I don't
know how much longer I can hold back my partner.
'
Or more like... how long I'm willing to?
''
SS: Better yet, Bucky... isn't it time for you to be polishing up that
award of yours?
'
[Now Bucky looks offended.]
'
GM: Sarah, your men have a chance to settle things once and for all
March 7... what do you think of your team's chances?
'
SS: Gordon, you should know by now I have nothing but confidence in Dave
and Eric and that they have what it takes to get the job done. But I
will say this... I'm not interested in seeing what happened at Christmas
Clash be the outcome... and I'm not talking about what happened to
Hammer. What I want to see is a decisive ending... and believe me, the
decisive ending I want to see is my men with their hands raised in
victory.
'
GM: So are you proposing an additional stipulation to the upcoming
match?
'
SS: Gordon, let's just say... I hope the Championship Committee
considers it... that the stipulation be that there must be a winner. Not
just because I want to see a decisive winner... but because these
gentlemen I manage want that extra point to get that National Tag Team
title shot.
'
GM: Thank you, Rough N Ready, for joining us.
'
[The trio departs, Eric glancing for a moment in Bucky's direction as
the three leave.]

GM:  And don't go away, fans, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Gordon and Bucky for a moment before fading to
black.

After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark
Stegglet in an apparently moving car.]

JD:  Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go,
wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA
superstars when you're away from home?

MS:  I know I would, Jason!  And I'd also love to have a place to put
out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling.

JD:  You've got that right.  Wouldn't it be great if we could combine
both of those ideas into one?

[Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!]

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new
application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors,
and happenings before the rest of the world.  And don't forget to check
out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired!  AWA Access -
coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and we fade back up to the ringside area when suddenly the opening
chords of "Try Honesty" by Billy Talent begin to play.  "Subzero" Adrian
Freeman walks out as the WKIK studio fills with jeers, especially after
what this man did two weeks ago.  Freeman takes a moment to sneer back
at the fans before sliding into the ring.  He takes a microphone from
Melissa Cannon.]

AF: I'm not going to talk until you yokels quiet down.

[This of course makes the boos intensify.  Freeman sighs dramatically.]

AF: Really, I can wait here all night.  Shouldn't you folks have learned
in kindergarden to be quiet when someone more important than you is
speaking?  Do I need to make you put your heads on your desks?

[Freeman pauses, seemingly waiting for the jeers to die down.  They
don't, but after a while he decides to continue anyway.]

AF: Last time in this very ring, Calisto and I demonstrated a simple
concept... the law of the jungle.  Kill or be killed.  The Dead Pool,
spurred on by petty jealousy, were coming after us and we did what we
had to.  Do you honestly think that lunatic and his tag-along Maclean
wouldn't have done the same thing if they were in our situation? 
Please.

You see, you boo people like Calisto and I, but you simply don't realize
the reality of being a professional wrestler.  Everyone else on the
roster is an obstacle between me and a big check.  Being kind and
honorable may make you feel good, but good luck feeding your family with
good feelings.  Why do you think that your icons, the Shaws and Rogers,
keep turning out to be not so heroic after all?  Wouldn't you step over
someone else to get a promotion at your job?  Oh, that's right, half of
you probably just got laid off.

[Freeman stops for a moment to soak in the jeers.]

GM: I'm sure Calisto Dufrense needed that new car to feed his family.


AF: You won't be seeing the Dead Pool again here in the AWA.  Calisto
and I broke Maclean's knee and Despair's spirit.  Now there's one less
mediocre team clogging the division and standing between us and the
title shot we deserve.  Next up...

[The howl of a wolf echoes through the arena, and a montage of voices
begins to play over the P.A.
 
"Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!"
 
"He's dead, Jim."
 
"FATALITY!"
 
HUGE FACE POP!]
 
BW: They're here?  How can they be here?
 
[Freeman looks shocked and alarmed.  Dream Evil's "The Chosen Ones"
begins to blast out on the PA, and the Dead Pool's music brings big
cheers... at least until Calisto Dufrense steps out and the music cuts
to an abrupt stop.  "The Ladykiller" is clad in a blue, long-sleeve
dress shirt and black slacks with a tight pleat down the center.  His
polished Stacy Adams dress shoes shine almost as much as his teeth,
which are seen behind his smug grin.  His blonde hair is pulled into a
tight pony tail.  Dufrense heads to the ring where he and Freeman,
wearing matching smug grins, embrace.  Adrian hands Calisto the mic. 
Dufresne waits a moment, soaking in the irritated jeers from the AWA
faithful before beginning.]

CD: Did you people really think that those two never-weres were actually
going to show up here tonight?  Really?  After what they did to those
poor children's hopes and dreams, they couldn't stand to come out here
and face the music in front of our throngs of adoring fans.

[A self-righteous nod from Dufresne as the crowd appears confused.]

CD: Bucky Wilde was right when he told the world that I was planning on
donating the Ford Mustang that I won to a local teen homeless shelter. 
It was going to be a surprise to them all.  Adrian and I were going to
show up, unannounced and help keep some kids off the street with a
selfless donation of the car and our time.

[A chorus of unbelieving boos rain down, which Dufresne ignores.]

CD: But then Kirk Maclean decided he needed to take his jealousy and
envy out - not on Adrian and I, oh no - but the kids.  Why did you have
to do that to the kids, Kirk!?  

[A shocked and saddened look plays across Dufresne's face.]

CD: Because of this heinous act by Kirk Maclean, Adrian and I had no
choice but to respond to this act of terrorism.  That's right,
terrorism.  Adrian and I have sworn to protect this company from all
enemies, foreign and domestic.  And so we reacted with what you may want
to call the 'shock and awe' strategy, if you will.  So to the AWA suits
who have us 'under review' for our actions, we hope you will come to the
same conclusion that Adrian and I have: that our honorable and noble
deeds deserve a AWA National Tag Team Title shot!

[More boos at this nonsense.]

CD: It's the right thing to do, folks.  And doing the right thing... 

[Dufresne jabs a thumb at his chest and towards Freeman.]

CD: ...is what we're all about!

["Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top begins to play throughout the WKIK
studios as Dufresne and Freeman raise their arms in the air to more
jeers before starting to exit the ring.

But before they can, we hear the sounds of LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock
You Out" which brings the AWA faithful to their feet in mass.]

GM:  Uh oh!  Here comes an old dog who told us two weeks ago that he's
lookin' for some gold!

[Dufresne and Freeman look a little confused at one another as the music
continues to play... and then look annoyed as Soup Bone Samson walks
through the curtain.  Samson thrusts the heavy metal chain hooked to the
dog collar around his neck into the air, drawing more cheers.  He nods
his head satsified as he walks over the announce desk.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson, I have to admit - you're not scheduled to be out
here right now and I have no idea why you're here!

[Samson nods his head.]

SBS:  That's right, Mr. Myers.  I wasn't scheduled to be out here right
now.  In fact, I wasn't even scheduled to come out here tonight at all. 
But somethin' strange happened a little earlier tonight when the
Russians played matchmaker.

We lost our Main Event.

[Samson nods as a few fans that "get it" cheer.]

SBS:  So, this old dog was lyin' back, enjoying the show when some suit
knocked on my door and said, "You feel like fightin'?"

[Samson grins.]

SBS:  And anyone who knows this ol' dog knows that I ALWAYS feel like
fightin'.

[Big cheer!]

SBS:  I promised these people that this ol' dog would be wearin' some
gold in 2009... and the way I see it, these two backjumpin' cowards in
the ring are in the perfect spot for me to get one point on the board
towards takin' on the tag champs.

[Another big cheer!]

SBS:  Now, now... I know I'm gettin' on in years as this colorblind
idiot Wilde likes to tell everyone.  But I ain't gone crazy just quite
yet.  I know that for a tag match... I gotta get a partner.

So, I got one.

[The crowd roars as Samson nods his head.]

SBS:  I looked around that locker room.  I saw young kids lookin' for
their first big break.  I saw high flyers who would make this ol' dog a
little queasy to try to watch from the corner.  I saw big brawlers who
would break a bone before making a cover.

And then I saw him.  I saw another ol' dog who is just lookin' for one
more chance to wear that big gold.  I saw another ol' dog who's been
lookin' to get a shot.

I saw my partner.  And together, we're just about the two nastiest,
toughest roughnecks you'll run across in the whole dang AWA, Mr. Myers.

[Gordon nods his head.]

GM:  Well, who is it?

SBS:  Freddie, hit the music!

[The PA kicks in to the sounds of Slayer's "Here Comes The Pain" which
sends the crowd into a roar!]

GM:  PAIN!  IT'S SCOTT PAIN!

[And with a quick slap on the back of Gordon Myers, Soup Bone Samson
walks towards the entryway where his 6'10, 320 pound monster of a tag
partner has entered the WKIK Studios.  Dufresne and Freeman immediately
start complaining to the referee.]

GM:  I don't think this is the kind of team that the Ladykiller and
Freeman were hoping to face tonight as they try to get their first point
of title contention, Bucky.

BW:  This is completely unfair to Calisto and Adrian!  Totally unfair!

GM:  They want to fight?  They got one!

[Samson tears the dog collar off, throwing it down on the canvas as
Scott Pain climbs the ringsteps, stepping over the top rope into the
ring to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Look at Dufresne and Freeman!  They're paralyzed with fear!

BW:  Oh, don't be such a drama queen.  They're surprised by this - who
wouldn't be?  Dufresne's in street clothes, for goodness sake!

GM:  And whose fault is that?  They know they had a match.  They just
assumed they'd get some pushover tag team that Dufresne didn't even have
to be prepared for.  Well, they assumed wrong, Bucky!

[As soon as Pain removes his leather vest, the two veteran spin around
and charge their opponents' corner as the referee frantically rings the
bell to start the match.]

GM:  Here we go!  Here we go!

[The powerful arms of Pain grab Freeman around the head and neck,
throwing him down to the mat with a huge biel throw as Samson tees off
with rights and lefts to the body of Dufresne in the corner.  Grabbing
Dufresne on both sides of the head, Samson scores with a leaping
headbutt that knocks the Ladykiller down to the mat where he quickly
rolls to the floor.  Scott Pain charges across the ring, connecting with
a big boot under the jaw that takes Freeman over the ropes and down to
the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Pain and Samson are takin' over, Bucky!

BW:  They just caught Dufresne and Freeman off guard.  They need to get
time to recover... regroup.  Then they can get back into this thing.

GM:  Pain steps over the ropes, dropping down to the floor.

[Outside the ring, Dufresne and Freeman are leaning against one another,
discussing strategy with one another...

...until Pain slips up behind them, grabbing each by the head and
SLAMMING their heads together!  With the crowd roaring, Pain hurls
Dufresne under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Dufresne's tossed back in - Samson drags him off the mat...

[The big burly Detroit native throws Dufresne bodily back into the
buckles.  He stomps into the corner, throwing rights and lefts to the
body of the Ladykiller.  Outside the ring, Scott Pain climbs up and
takes his spot on the apron as a reeling Freeman does the same on the
opposite side of the ring.]

GM:  Samson with a whip... here he comes!

[Soup Bone barrels across the ring from corner to corner, delivering a
crushing running clothesline in the buckles.  Dufresne slumps down but
gets yanked right back up by Samson.  Grabbing the wrist again, Samson
fires the Ladykiller across the ring...

...where he goes SAILING over the ropes and down to the floor below!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Come on, referee!  That's a blatant attempt to seriously injure a
competitor.  We need a DQ for that!

GM:  I'll remember that the next time Dufresne and Freeman go looking
for a tire iron.

[Freeman drops down to the floor, checking on his partner, but quickly
scurries away as Soup Bone Samson rolls out to the floor as well,
approaching the downed Dufresne.]

GM:  Samson's out on the floor, dragging Dufresne to his feet... look at
the Ladykiller - he can barely stand right now.  Samson is really taking
it to this arrogant individual, Dufresne.

BW:  Don't confuse confidence with arrogance.

GM:  Samson scoops him up... ohhh!  He slams him down on the floor!

BW:  And that floor is padded but just barely.  There's nowhere near
enough padding on the floor to protect your body completely from a
bodyslam on the concrete.

GM:  There certainly isn't.

[Samson pulls Dufresne off the mat, shoving him under the ropes back
into the ring.  The veteran rolls under the ropes behind him, pushing up
to his feet.  He raises his big right hand to the cheers of the crowd as
he cocks it back, ready to let it fly.]

GM:  He's got the knockout punch ready!

BW:  And as much of a fan of Dufresne that I am, even I can admit that
if Samson hits that punch, this match is all over.  The Ladykiller
better get the heck out of Dodge, daddy!

GM:  Samson's set... Samson's ready... 

[The Ladykiller starts to stir, clutching his back as he pushes up to
his feet...

...and immediately throws himself backwards, just out of reach as the
big right hand swings past his face, just barely missing what would have
definitely been a knockout blow.  Dufresne, seated in the corner with a
wide-eyed gaze, reaches up and slaps the hand of Adrian Freeman to bring
him into the match.]

GM:  The Ladykiller is out and Subzero is in.

[Freeman slips through the ropes, charging across at top speed...

...and gets popped with a big elbowsmash right between the eyes that
stops him cold in his tracks.  With Freeman dazed, Samson ducks down,
scooping Freeman up on his shoulders in a fireman's carry.]

GM:  He's going for the Steel City Crusher!  He's going for-

[Freeman slips out of the fireman's carry, reaching around to rake the
eyes of the veteran.  The Australian quickly grabs Samson around the
neck, leaping into the air...

...and SNAPPING Samson down to the mat with a neckbreaker!]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  Freeman with a HUGE counter there!

GM:  And he's immediately back to his feet, kicking and stomping at
Samson down on the canvas.

[The Australian drops down to his knees, wrapping his hands around the
throat of the downed Samson, strangling him.]

GM:  Choke!  That's a blatant choke!

BW:  Are you sure about that?  From the angle where I'm standing it-

GM:  We're at the same angle!  

[At the count of four, Freeman breaks the choke, grabbing Samson by the
foot and dragging him to the other half of the ring.  Freeman stomps on
Samson a few more times before leaping in the air and dropping a knee
squarely on the chest of the big man.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big kneedrop by Freeman - and there's a cover!  One!  Two! 
Kickout at two.

[Freeman pops right up and starts raining down right hands on the downed
Samson.  On the other side of the ring, Scott Pain starts slapping the
top turnbuckle, trying to rally his partner and getting the crowd to
clap along with him.]

GM:  The fans and Scott Pain are solidly behind Soup Bone Samson and-

[The Australian races across the ring, scoring with a baseball slide
dropkick to the ribcage that knocks Samson under the ropes and out to
the floor below.  The referee reprimands Freeman which allows Calisto
Dufresne to drop down on the floor, grabbing Samson off the concrete...

...and SLAMMING his face into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  He put Soup Bone into the post!

[Dufresne hops right back up on the apron as Freeman orders the referee
to start a ten count on the downed competitor.]

GM:  The referee has a ten count going.  Scott Pain is cheering his
partner on, trying to get him back to his feet to keep the fight going. 
And look at Dufresne!

[At the count of five, Soup Bone Samson finds himself up to a knee.]

GM:  He's trying to get back to his feet... he's on a knee...

[As the count hits seven, Samson wobbles up to his feet...

...and throws himself under the bottom rope at the count of eight. 
Freeman immediately starts stomping the downed veteran before slapping
the hand of his partner.]

GM:  Quick tag to Dufresne...

[Freeman whips Samson to the ropes as Dufresne comes into the squared
circle.]

GM:  Samson off the ropes... boot to the gut by Freeman...

[The crowd buzzes with concern as Dufresne hooks a front facelock on
Samson.]

GM:  He's got him hooked!  WHAM BAM THANK YOU- NOOO!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Samson straightens up, backdropping Dufresne down
to the mat.  With the Ladykiller down, the veteran stumbles across the
ring, trying to get to the corner.  As he gets close, Freeman comes back
in, charging across the ring...

...but doesn't quite get there as Samson throws himself into a tag to
Scott Pain!]

GM:  TAG!

[Pain throws a leg over the ropes, climbing into the ring...

...and grabbing Freeman around the throat!  Big cheer!]

GM:  He's got Freeman by the throat!

[The 6'10 beast hoists Freeman into the air...

...and DRIVES him down with a thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  OHHHH YEAH!

[With Freeman down, Pain turns his attention to the approaching
Dufresne, easily blocking a right hand from the Ladykiller.  A pair of
big right hands knocks Dufresne down to the mat, sending him crawling
towards the corner.  He pulls himself to his feet, turning around just
in time to catch a running clothesline in the corner!]

GM:  HE DRILLED DUFRESNE!

[And as Dufresne staggers out of the corner, he catches a boot to the
midsection before Pain pulls him into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  Pain's got him hooked!  Here it comes!

[But before the big man can attempt the sure-to-be-match-ending
powerbomb, Dufresne drops down to a knee...

...and buries a right hand squarely in the groin of Pain!]

GM:  OHHHH!  LOW BLOW!

BW:  Are you sure about that?

GM:  The referee didn't see it!  Pain's big 6'10 body blocked him out! 
He's accusing Dufresne but he doesn't know it for sure and-

[With Pain hurting, Dufresne hooks the front facelock, hoisting Pain off
the mat...

...and DRILLING him down with the implant DDT!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  COME ON - NOT LIKE THIS!

[Dufresne throws himself over Pain as Freeman wraps himself around the
legs of Soup Bone Samson to prevent his entrance into the ring.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Unbelievable.

[Dufresne immediately rolls from the ring, thrusting his fist into the
air as Freeman does the same on the other side of the ring.]

MC:  Your winners of the match - earning their first point of title
contention...

ADRIAN FREEMAN AND CALISTO DUFRESNE!

[Freeman and Dufresne embrace at ringside, staying around to taunt the
veterans inside the ring 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 on the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  It's been an exciting night of AWA action and
we're just about done.  We want to thank our friends at WKIK for
allowing us to go over our sixty minutes of action.  And... well, Bucky,
I understand that Jason Dane is standing by in the back with the man who
received a very emotional challenge from Marcus Broussard earlier
tonight.' I'm talking, of course, about Adam Rogers...so let's cut back
to Jason with the former World Champion.

[And we do just that, where Jason Dane is standing with Rogers in front
of a cinderblock wall.' Rogers is visibly laughing as the scene cuts
backstage.  Dane looks a little irritated.]

JD:  Well, Adam, you heard the challenge laid down by Marcus Broussard,
and you tell me that you have an answer for him.

[Rogers reaches over and abruptly snatches the mic away from Dane, then
proceeds to ignore the interviewer's presence.]

AR: First of all, you want to know why I didn't come out there?' It's
because Marcus Broussard isn't worth the energy it would take to walk
the 100 steps out there to where Myers and Bucky are.

But don't get too excited yet, kid.' That doesn't mean I'm passing on
your challenge.

[Adam laughs again.]

AR: Who would have thought it?' Who would have thought that Marcus
Broussard would be the one acting all high and mighty, like he's the
moral compass of the AWA, trying to point me into the direction that he
thinks I ought to go.

Every time I start thinking of it...

[More laughing.]

AR: ...it cracks me up.' Absolutely cracks me up.' What was it you
called me, Marcus?' A snivelling, back-pedaling little weasel?' Son, the
only think I back-pedaled from was saving your butt from that beating
that the Russians just put on you.' And do you want to know why?

Because you _deserved_ it.

See, Marcus...you deserve a few of those, because while you were off
having your little pity party?' I was on the receiving end of a few
myself.' I asked for your help, I pleaded for your help, but what did
you do?' You went out and got a freakin' "ninja"...

[Yeah, he did the quote-unquote thing.]

AR: ...to be your buddy.

So you want to question my manhood?' How about first, you take the beam
out of your own eye, huh?' You want to come back around, like nothing
ever happened.' You want to say, "Hey AWA, it's cool.' Trust me!"' Well,
you know what?' Anyone..._anyone_...who trusts you is an idiot.

I may be a lot of things, but I'm no idiot.

[Dramatic pause!]

AR: You want me, big boy?' You got me.

Just be careful what you wish for.

[With that, Adam tosses the mic at Dane and storms away...

...only to be replaced by AWA Championship Committee Chairman, Stephen
Ross.]

JD:  Mr. Ross?

SR:  Hey, Jason.

JD:  As always, it's good to see you.  Did you have-

SR:  I did, actually.  I heard what Marcus Broussard had to say earlier
tonight and I, of course, just heard what Adam Rogers had to say as
well.  And so, with the blessing of the Championship Committee, I'm out
here to make that match happen.

In just a few short weeks, the AWA will be celebrating its first
birthday.

And I can't think of a better way to celebrate than to throw two of the
very best wrestlers in the business in the ring together and see what
happens.

Adam Rogers vs Marcus Broussard in just a few short weeks.

[Stephen smiles.]

SR:  Happy Birthday, AWA.

[And with a grinning Stephen Ross standing next to Jason Dane...

...we fade to black.]