********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** American Wrestling Alliance Proudly Presents AWA Saturday Night Wrestling Live from the WKIK Studios Dallas, Texas February 7, 2009 ********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** [As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing, the viewing audience is greeted by the sounds of "One More Saturday Night" by the Grateful Dead. A large white map of the United States fills the screen as the music plays. The shot zooms through the map, different states "popping up" into view as we race past them. As we pull back from the map, it no longer is white but rather made up of the Stars and Stripes. The map goes into a spin, spinning round and round as we zoom all the way into it, dissolving into a few slow motion shots of animated men battling in a red, white, and blue ring. The animation runs through various wrestling moves from an atomic drop to a bodyslam to a piledriver. And as the blue animaniac applies a clawhold on the white animaniac, we freeze and the AWA logo fills the screen. After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the parking lot of the WKIK Studios where Jason Dane is standing.] JD: Good evening, fans - I am LIVE in the parking lot of the WKIK Studios where we are awaiting the arrival of- yes, yes, here he comes now. [Dane turns to gesture to a sparking red Ford Mustang pulling into the parking lot. The car's driver arrogantly parks in two parking spots before climbing out of the vehicle. The passenger door opens as well as an equally arrogant man steps out. They are, of course, Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman. Jason Dane, mic in hand, rushes towards them.] JD: Mr. Dufresne, Mr. Freeman - welcome to 2009! [The two egotistical rulebreakers mockingly laugh at Dane as they open the trunk, pulling their bags from the vehicle.] JD: Mr. Dufresne? You ended 2008 coming up short in your quest to be a tag team champion but then rebounded by winning the Secret Santa Showdown - what are your goals for 2009? [Freeman echoes the question in a mocking voice causing Dufresne to chuckle as the two men walk past Dane.] JD: Guys? Hello? [The rulebreaking duo steps through the doorway into the WKIK Studios leaving a frustrated Jason Dane behind... ...and we fade inside the building 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. This is the first Saturday Night Wrestling of 2009 and we at the AWA want to thank all of our fans for their understanding as WKIK kicked it up a notch by presenting NFL action over the past several weeks. I am Gordon Myers, your host for the next 60 minutes of action, and by my side is the man who was recently named- BW: Not yet, Gordo! Let's not spoil it! GM: You're waiting for the official announcement later tonight? BW: You got it, daddy! GM: We've got an exciting night of action here tonight. The National Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride, will be in action! BW: And we've got a handful of tag teams competing tonight as well, trying to get that first point to get a shot to challenge the champs. The War Pigs, Rough N Ready, even those goofs Sweet Heat'll be in action. GM: The Tag Team Title scene is red-hot here in the AWA, Bucky. Moments ago, we saw yet another tag team - Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman - making their way into the WKIK Studios... BW: Drivin' a brand new Ford Mustang by the way! GM: They certainly were - the very car won by Dufresne in that big Secret Santa Showdown over a month ago on Christmas night in West Dallas. They didn't have much to say to Jason Dane but you can bet that'll change later tonight when Adrian Freeman goes one-on-one with Despair in our Main Event! BW: And I've got a feeling that this is the night that the AWA gets cleaned up of that idiot Despair once and for all, daddy! GM: We'll see about that. But in addition to all the great tag team action, we've got also the National Champion, the "Russian War Machine" Kolya Sudakov, in action tonight as well as he defends the gold, Bucky! BW: All the top contenders for Sudakov's gold are in the house tonight. Marcus Broussard, the former champion. Adam Rogers, the former World Champion. Mark Shaw, the Number One contender. GM: Not to mention men like Raphael Rhodes, Naitomea, and Soup Bone Samson who're looking to break into the top of the contenders' list. Plus, that backstabbing traitor Kevin Slater makes his AWA return here tonight... and hopefully we can find out EXACTLY why he did what he did to Bobby Taylor at Christmas Clash. BW: AND I GET MY AWARD! GM: You certainly do. Fans, all of this tremendous action plus you just never know what else we'll see go down tonight in the WKIK Studios. It's great to be back and let's head up to the ring for our opening matchup! [We dissolve to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing in her Saturday Night finest.] MC: The following contest is our opening match and it is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit. Currently in the ring, hailing from the state of Texas and at a combined weight of 480 pounds... Jorge and Jose... LOS VAQUEROS! [Two Hispanic men dressed in blue jeans and each wearing a cowboy hat raise their arms.] BW: What in the heck is a Vaquero? GM: That would be Spanish for "cowboy." BW: Since when have there ever been Hispanic cowboys? [As the two wrestlers in the ring remove their cowboy hats, the opening strands of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" kick in, the chords seemingly building anticipation for what is to come. And once the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's when Rough N Ready emerges from the entranceway. Dave Cooper wears black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white wrestling boots, and also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N Ready" in white lettering. Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and white wrestling boots. Standing in between them is their manager, Sarah Sharpe, dressed in black pants and matching jacket and a white T-shirt.] MC: And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by their manager, Sarah Sharpe, hailing from Albuquerque New Mexico, at a combined weight of 615 pounds, here are Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers, the team of ROUGH N READY! [The trio makes their way to the ring, Sarah walking in front with Dave and Eric side by side, Dave with a serious look on his face and Eric with a mischievous grin. They reach the ringside area, where Dave is the first to ascend the ring steps and duck between the ropes, followed by Eric, as Sarah takes her place at ringside.] GM: We all saw what went down at Christmas Clash between Rough N Ready and The War Pigs... clearly issues have not been settled between those two teams. BW: Especially after what Somers did to Hammer... he could have crippled him with that chokeslam on the floor! GM: Somers displayed viciousness that we haven't seen out of him since Rough N Ready came to AWA... and he's starting this match for Rough N Ready... [As Gordon says that, the bell rings, and Somers is immediately grabbing Jorge and pounding him repeatedly across the back.] GM: Somers isn't taking long to inflict damage! BW: The referee better do his job and keep Somers in check... there's no call for Somers to try to injure somebody like he tried at Christmas Clash! GM: Hard to blame Somers for acting that way after the War Pigs' attack during Black Friday Beatdown... Somers now drags Jorge off the mat and lifts him over his head... overhead press slam and with authority! BW: Gordon, as far as Black Friday goes, it's sour grapes... Somers just can't accept the fact that Dufrense and Freeman had a brilliant strategy to get to the finals and he took it out on poor Hammer at Christmas Clash. GM: I'd hardly call what went down at Black Friday a brilliant strategy... Somers now has Jorge backed into the corner and is just repeatedly hammering him! BW: Get in there and do your job, Meekly! GM: Referee Marty Meekly trying to pull Somers back, and Somers just turns and stares at him. He doesn't look to be in a good mood tonight. BW: I'd be in a good mood if the War Pigs came out and took care of him right now! GM: Somers pulls Jorge out of the corner... gutwrench suplex takes him down! Now Somers looks to his corner and tags in Cooper... BW: Now we get to watch the senior citizen of the duo... GM: Stop that, Bucky. Somers lifts Jorge up as Cooper runs into the ropes.. atomic drop by Somers... right into a lariat by Cooper! BW: I'll give 'em that... impressive double team move. They're gonna need a lot more than that to get by the War Pigs again, though. GM: Cooper with a cover... one... two... no, Jorge kicks out! BW: These Mexican cowboys are showing some fight. GM: They are from Texas, Bucky. BW: Mexican, Texan, whatever... they're both equally stupid. GM: Stop that, Bucky. BW: You're right... they're all twice as smart as Rough N Ready. GM: [sighs] Let's get back to the match... Cooper with a side headlock, but Jorge shoves him into the ropes... shoulderblock by Cooper on the rebound. He comes off the ropes... knee to the back by Jose! BW: Hey, there's some tag team smarts for ya! GM: Cooper caught by surprise as Somers tries to get into the ring, but Marty Meekly not allowing it! Jorge now with an uppercut that knocks Cooper into the corner... now he drives the shoulder into the midsection. BW: And there's a nice Irish whip to the other corner... GM: But Cooper comes out... another lariat takes Jorge down just like that! BW: Gotta press your advantage, Jorge! GM: Cooper drags Jorge up... a bodyslam and Jorge rolls to his corner quickly to make the tag. And Jose quickly ducking between the ropes and getting into a slugfest with Cooper! BW: Now that's the way to take the fight to your opponent... of course, when your opponent is eligible for Medicare, it's not as difficult. GM: [ignoring Bucky] Jose with a thumb to the eye to gain the advantage! Marty Meekly warning the Vaquero, but he keeps the assault... Irish whip into the ropes and a hiptoss on the rebound. BW: This is where Jose really needs to take advantage... GM: Jose comes off the ropes with an elbowdrop... but there's nobody home! Cooper gets out of the way and now drags Jose up... reaches over to tag in Somers... BW: And now here comes the thug of the duo. GM: Double Irish whip into the ropes... double shoulderblock by Rough N Ready. And now Somers dragging Jose off the canvas... he's been all business in that ring tonight. BW: He's a bully, Gordon, plain and simple. Can't wait for the War Pigs to teach him some manners. GM: Somers cinching in a bearhug... but Jorge enters the ring and comes off the second rope... axhandle to the back breaks it up! BW: And now Cooper comes in... and Marty Meekly shows once again he can't keep things under control! GM: All four men in the ring and now it's Cooper cornering Jorge... but there's a jab to the throat and now Jorge has Cooper backed into the corner! Somers staggering to the opposite corner as Jose gets some shots to the back of the head. BW: And good ol' Meekly has no clue what to do about it. GM: Los Vaqueros with a pair of Irish whips... but Rough N Ready reverses and Jorge and Jose are sent right into each other! BW: And Cooper just tossed Jorge through the ropes... Marty, get him out of there already! GM: Meekly doing just that, but now Somers has Jose trapped in a waistlock... and an overhead belly to belly suplex! BW: He came that close to throwing him over the ropes! Gordon, that would definitely have crippled Jose! GM: You're right, Bucky, Jose almost went out of the ring... but instead, he bounces off them and onto the canvas! And a cover by Somers... one... two... three! It's over! [The bell rings as now Somers rolls underneath the ropes, not even waiting for the referee to raise his hands. Cooper climbs down from the apron and confronts him, Somers with a hard glare in his eyes.] MC: The winners of this match... earning their first point... ROUGH N READY! [Somers doesn't lose the glare in his eyes and the camera can't quite catch what Cooper is saying to the big man. After a minute, though, Somers and Cooper both head to the back as Sarah Sharpe comes over to join Myers and Wilde at the broadcast position.] GM: Sarah Sharpe joining us... what has gotten into Somers, may I ask? SS: Gordon, it shouldn't be hard to figure out... the War Pigs cost us the chance to reach the finals of the tag team tournament. BW: What makes you think for a minute you would have ever beaten Dufresne and Freeman... they proved beyond a shadow of doubt who was the better team. SS: In your mind, Bucky... but the War Pigs found out exactly what happens to those who want to push Eric over the edge. Now, I know Eric lost his cool at Christmas Clash and his actions meant we were cost a likely victory, but believe me, Dave is going to keep reminding him about that and not to make the same mistake the next time around. GM: Still, Sarah, that chokeslam on the floor... that could have caused serious injury to Hammer. SS: Then Hammer, Scythe and Richard E. Lee should have thought twice before making any under-the-table deals with Dufresne and Freeman. They found out what it was like to incur Eric's wrath... and they also found out that Dave can still pack a mean punch, regardless of the old age jokes Bucky likes to make. I can assure you, though, that Rough N Ready have not finished with the War Pigs... and I know the War Pigs are in the building somewhere, but they can be thankful that Dave is keeping an eye on Eric, or otherwise they'd be in for more pain than they felt at Christmas Clash. And that's all I really have to say, Gordon. [Sarah then departs the commentator's position.] GM: You heard the lady, fans. Rough N Ready are on the warpath and I wouldn't want to be either the War Pigs or Freeman and Dufresne when the RNR Express get their hands on them. Don't go away, fans - we'll be right back! [The camera holds on Gordon Myers for a moment before fading to black. After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking building.] "Have you ever dreamed of fame?" [Cut a little closer.] "Of glory?" [A little closer.] "Of your friends and family seeing you on television?" [And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that reads "AWA Combat Corner."] "Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American Wrestling Alliance!" [We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring. There are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course, working out in the ring.] "With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in the ring in the shortest amount of time!" [Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.] "With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on Day One!" [Two young students are grappling on the canvas.] "So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar! You want to be the future of the business! You want to wrestle!" [Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner. We freeze there for a moment... ...and then back up on the parking lot area where a disgruntled Jason Dane is leaning against the wall.] JD: I don't understand why I have to be camped out here tonight. Dufresne and Freeman wouldn't talk to me - now I have to wait for- what? We're on? [Dane sheepishly straightens up, putting on a professional look.] JD: Welcome back, fans! I am still out here in the parking lot of the WKIK Studios and- [Dane looks off camera - then points in the same direction. The cameraman turns his gaze towards the gesture to reveal "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean.] JD: Kirk Maclean! Welcome to Saturday Night Wrestling! [Maclean slings his bag over his shoulder, shaking the hand of Jason Dane.] KM: Thanks, Jason! It's my pleasure to be out here tonight! JD: You're not scheduled to compete but I'm assuming you plan on being in your partner's corner in the Main Event when Despair takes on Adrian Freeman. [Maclean nods his head.] KM: You're absolutely right about that. I've got all the faith in the world that Despair can take care of Freeman but I want to make sure that Dufresne doesn't stick his nose in... [Maclean's voice trails off a bit as he looks across the parking lot. The camera follows his gaze, resting on the shiny new Ford Mustang belonging to Calisto Dufresne. The camera quickly pulls back on the grinning face of Maclean. After a moment, Despair joins his tag team partner.] D: You thinking what I'm thinking? [Maclean turns towards his partner.] KM: I'm pretty sure I am. [With a grin, Despair turns back towards the car they just parked as Maclean puts his hand over the camera.] KM: I don't think you need to be around for this, Jason. [After a moment of an obscured camera shot, we cut back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from Hollywood, California... at 245 pounds... Ricky Royce! [Royce hops to the midbuckle, striking a double bicep pose before flipping his long blond hair to the jeers of the crowd. He hops down off the buckles as the sultry sounds of LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out" kicks in to the cheers of the AWA faithful.] MC: And his opponent... standing 6'6 and weighing in at 310 pounds... from DEEEEETROIT, Michigan... the man with the big right hand... SOUP! BONE! SAAAAAAAAMSON! [The cheers grow louder for the big, tough veteran as he stomps into the WKIK Studios, big silver metal chain hanging from the dog collar around his large neck. Samson pauses just inside the curtain, nodding his head up and down at the cheering crowd before making his way down the aisle. Samson rolls under the ropes, pulling off the chain and tossing it aside as he gets up to his feet... ...and gets promptly attacked from behind by Ricky Royce! Referee Mickey Meekly calls for the bell to officially start the match.] GM: Royce is all over Samson, battering him with big clubbing forearms to the back of the head, knocking Samson chestfirst into the corner. BW: And what is going on with the matchmakers backstage? First, we had old man Dave Cooper out here and now Samson? Did you realize that Samson is turning 50 years old this year?! FIFTY! He's a half a century old, Gordo! GM: Yes, yes, I was aware of that. BW: And we get these two fossils in back to back matches? The only thing I can figure is that they need to get out of here early enough to get down to the local greasy spoon for the Early Bird Special, daddy! GM: Give me a break! Would you stop? [Royce continues to batter Samson against the turnbuckles. He turns the veteran around in the corner, blasting him with an overhead forearm across the chest. Grabbing Samson by the wrist, Royce fires him from corner to corner. With a bellow, Royce charges across the ring at top speed, blasting Samson in the buckles with a muscle-filled clothesline.] BW: Samson's being worked over by Royce already, Gordo! This guy need to call it a day and retire before he gets seriously hurt inside that squared circle. GM: Another whip by Royce... another charge... [But this time, the elder statesman of the AWA steps to the side, allowing Royce to slam chestfirst into the turnbuckles. Hooking Royce around the waist, Samson hoists him into the air and slams him down with a side slam. A quick cover only scores a two count.] BW: Look at him trying to end the match before he needs a hit of oxygen. This guy should probably be in an iron lung somewhere, Gordo - not in a wrestling ring. GM: I'd like to hear you say that to his face. BW: I would! GM: He'll be over here after this match. BW: Well, I've got something important to go do in a few seconds. [Samson drags Royce off the mat, throwing him into the corner where he rushes in with a clothesline of his own. A big hiptoss throws Royce halfway across the ring out of the corner. Samson balls up his fists, dancing back and forth as a staggered Royce gets back up off the mat... ...and EATS a right hook to the side of the jaw that causes Royce to crumple unconscious to the mat. Samson sits down on the chest of Royce, holding up his clenched fist for the camera to see as the referee drops down to count.] GM: There's one... and two... and three. That's all she wrote right there. BW: Old man or not, that right hand can turn your lights out in an instant. One big punch will end your night. GM: And Soup Bone Samson will be over here in just a moment to- BW: I'll be right back, Gordo. I need to- uhh, I need to take care of some- [A loud "CLUNK!" is heard as Bucky seeks cover. The camera cuts to the announce desk where Gordon Myers is shaking his head.] GM: Fans, at this time, let's welcome Soup Bone Samson! [The man with the big right hand steps into view, resting a hand on the shoulder of Gordon Myers.] SBS: Thanks, Mr. Myers. It's my pleasure. GM: Fresh off another impressive victory right there, Soup Bone. SBS: Just another day at the office, Mr. Myers. I clock in when the bell rings and when this big right hand finds the mark, it's time for the other guy to clock out. [Myers grins at the verbage.] GM: Well, since this is the first AWA show of 2009, I suppose it's only fitting to ask - do you have a New Year Resolution you'd like to share with the fans? [Samson tosses the big steel chain over his shoulder, nodding his head.] SBS: Yeah, I 'spose I do, Gordon. I heard that big fat scumbag Bucky Wilde has been runnin' around and tellin' everyone that I'm turning 50 years old this year. That right? GM: He did bring it up - that's for sure. SBS: I thought so. I can't fault the man for tellin' the truth but the fact of the matter is that he thinks that my age is going to keep me from competing in the AWA this year. But it ain't the age, Bucky - it's the mileage. And I got lots of miles left in this here engine. It may be a little rusty and it may take a little longer to get started these days but when you put the hammer down... [Samson lifts up his clenched right hand.] SBS: ...then there ain't a car on the road that can beat me. GM: Well said, Soup Bone. SBS: So, my Resolution for 2009 is to be the same ol' dog I've always been. Stand in that ring and throw down... fight the good fight. All that stuff. And at some point in 2009, I want to be wearin' AWA gold around this waist. Whether it's the tag team titles or payin' my old friend Kolya a visit, this ol' dog could use a nice golden collar, don'tcha think? GM: It'd like to see it. How 'bout you fans? [A big cheer goes up from the fans.] SBS: Much appreciated. The rest of the AWA is on warning from here on out, Gordon. Cause the ol' dog is still barkin' and he ain't gonna stop until he gets what he wants. [Samson claps Myers on the shoulder before making his exit from the announce area.] GM: Soup Bone Samson is looking for some gold, fans - and speaking of looking for gold, let's head right back up to the ring for some more AWA action! [We cut back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 15 minute time limit! Introducing first, already in the ring, weighing 220 pounds and hailing from Amarillo, Texas, please welcome BUDDY MACDOOOUUUGALLLLL!! [A small smattering of cheers for the young Buddy Macdougal, clad in a pair of standard blue wrestling tights and blue boots, who raises his arm in the air and giving a hook em, horns! sign to the crowd.] MC: And his opponent weighing 245 pounds and hailing from Avery Island, Louisiana, ladies and gentlemen, he is THE LADYKILLER CALISTO DUFREEEEESSSSSSNNNNNEEE!! [The studio lights begin to flicker slightly as the opening riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" begin to blare across the sound system, the crowd responding to the music with a chorus of boos. The camera cuts to the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal one of the AWA's most despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne. Dufresne is clad in a black three-piece suit, his flowing blonde hair cascading down past his shoulders. He stands at the head of the entryway for many moments, soaking in all of the boos he probably thinks are cheers from his "throngs of adoring fans". He finally begins to make his way towards the ring, ignoring every fan who is screaming obscenities at him. They just hate him because he's beautiful. Yeah, that's it. Dufresne finally makes it to the ring, where he proceeds to climb up the stairs and in through the ring ropes. "The Ladykiller" then proceeds to move to the center of the ring and slowly remove his three-piece suit, mostly to the chagrin of the male audience, but a few female shrieks are heard from the crowd as well. Dufresne finally finishes removing his suit, and now proceeds to pose for the crowd, flexing his well-defined muscles as the crowd's ever-increasing boos become more and more evident.] BW: Did I miss anything, Gordo? GM: Welcome back, Bucky - and you know exactly what you missed. BW: Nothing. That's what I thought. But I'm back just in time because Calisto is ready to make short work of this guy, Gordo! GM: Hes yet to suffer a pinfall loss in his career, Bucky, as you constantly remind me. Lets see if Buddy Macdougal can be the first. [Dufresne leans against the turnbuckle in the corner, looking quite bored. Buddy Macdougal on the other hand, looks anxious to get the match started. The bell finally rings and Macdougal moves to the center of the ring to meet Dufresne, but Dufresne hasnt moved from the corner. Macdougal looks a bit surprised, but decides to take the attack to the Ladykiller, dashing towards the corner where Dufresne awaits. Just before he reaches the corner, Dufresne ducks to the side as young Buddy Macdougal crashes into the corner. Dufresne spins Macdougal around and lays into him with a brutal backhand chop, prompting the obligatory WHOO!! from the crowd.] GM: Dufresne getting the crowd involved early here, Bucky. BW: Hes here to give his millions of fans their moneys worth! [As Macdougal clutches his reddened chest as Dufresne grabs him by the wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite corner, and he rebounds from the corner, staggering towards the center of the ring, where Dufresne is waiting, scooping up Macdougal and slams him down with a thundering body slam. Dufresne pops up to a vertical base and promptly strikes a statuesque pose, flexing for the crowd, who rain down boos on the Ladykiller. After a few moments, Dufresne heads over to the corner once again, boosting himself up to the second turnbuckle. He takes aim at the downed Buddy Macdougal and leaps off the second turnbuckle, landing square to the face of his opponent with a sharp elbow drop.] GM: Dufresne is completely in control here, coming off his impressive victory at Christmas Clash where he walked away with a fine new Ford Mustang! BW: I think he's planning to donate the car to a childrens homeless shelter after the show, Gordo. GM: Somehow I doubt that. [Dufresne gets back to his feet quickly and struts over to one side of the ring, where he spies a buxom young blonde in the front row. He leans over and says something to her, flashing a toothy smile. Her eyes go wide and she covers her mouth, blushing. The man sitting next to her doesnt seem too happy with whatever it was that Dufresne said, letting the Ladykiller know hes number one. Dufresne has bigger problems, however, as Buddy Macdougal has recovered from the elbow drop and sneaks up behind Dufresne and executes a school boy trip, rolling Dufresne up for the pin! ONE!!! TWO!!! THR---DUFRESNE KICKS OUT!] GM: Thats what he gets for not focusing on a strong, determined competitor like Buddy Macdougal! BW: He was never in trouble, Gordo. Relax. [Dufresne pops up to his feet, looking furious at Macdougals temerity at attempting to pin him. He begins to throw haymakers at Macdougal, using a closed fist. The referee admonishes Dufresne, but the Louisiana native pays him no heed as he continues his barrage. Finally, he relents and irish whips Macdougal to the ropes, but the young man reverses it and Dufresne is sent to the ropes instead. Macdougal leans over for a back body drop, but is met by a boot to the face instead, stunning him. Dufresne quickly locks him up and lifts him into the air, crashing down with the implant DDT better known as] GM: WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU, MAAM! BW: Thanks for coming, Buddy, well let ourselves out! [Dufresne places a boot on the chest of Macdougal, flexing for the crowd as the referee makes the count ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! DING! DING! DING!] GM: Another impressive victory for Calisto Dufresne and singles match or not, you have to imagine that'll help Dufresne and Adrian Freeman in their quest to get back in the ring with Kentucky's Pride, the National Tag Team Champions. BW: They won't get a point for a singles win though, right? GM: Nope. To get a point, the win must be in tag team action. BW: What about when Freeman beats Despair tonight? That's two wins! They should get a point for that. GM: They wouldn't. BW: Well, that hardly seems fair. [As Dufresne celebrates inside the ring, Adrian Freeman rushes from the entryway into view, calling for his tag team partner's attention.] GM: What's Adrian Freeman doing out here? BW: He's trying to get Calisto's attention. I'm not sure why. GM: Freeman is- [The crowd buzzes with confusion as a frantic-looking Freeman waves Dufrense over, shouting at him. Dufresne looks confused as he listens to Freeman... and then dives through the ropes, joining his partner on the floor.] GM: What in the world is- where are they going, Bucky? BW: I have no idea. GM: Fans, we're going to take a quick break. Do not go away! [The camera holds on Freeman and Dufresne racing through the entryway. After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet in an apparently moving car.] JD: Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go, wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA superstars when you're away from home? MS: I know I would, Jason! And I'd also love to have a place to put out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. JD: You've got that right. Wouldn't it be great if we could combine both of those ideas into one? [Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!] JD & MS: NOW WE CAN! [A voiceover takes over - thank God.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors, and happenings before the rest of the world. And don't forget to check out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired! AWA Access - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... ...and then back up on the parking lot area where Jason Dane is looking a little frantic. There are angry shouts in the background - Dane wincing with some of the words.] JD: Fans, welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling where... well, let's just take a look... [The cameraman pans away from Dane to rest on the formerly shiny brand new Ford Mustang which now has very obviously been trashed. An irate Calisto Dufresne is a few feet away, screaming at everyone in sight. Adrian Freeman is nearby, fuming silently at the mess of dented metal and shattered glass in front of him. After a few moments, Dufresne reaches down onto the badly-mangled hood... ...and holds up a tire iron. We fade back to the announce team.] BW: What in the heck is goin' on out there, Gordo? Who did that? GM: Well, I wouldn't want to speculate. BW: I would! You know as well as I do that Maclean and Despair did that! That beautiful car... I told you Dufresne was going to donate that to a children's charity today... and now Maclean and Despair RUINED all of that! The kids, Gordo - what about the kids? GM: I don't believe for a second that Dufresne was donating that car. And I don't believe that YOU believe it either! BW: I'm in shock. Those two animals should be fined - they should be suspended! This can't be allowed! GM: Fans, let's go up to the ring for our next match! [We cut up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... he is the Cuban Assassin #6! [Castro's favorite wrestler throws up a beefy arm to the jeers of the crowd.] MC: And his opponent... from New York City... SCOOOOOOOTT PAAAAAAAIN! [Slayer's "Here Comes The Pain" starts up to a cheer from the AWA fans. The 6'10, 320 pounder walks through the curtain, immediately throwing a fist in the air to even more tribute from the crowd. Pain immediately climbs up the ringsteps, stepping through the ropes. He jerks a thumb in his direction, shouting at the camera.] "I'M THE BEST BIG MAN IN THE AWA! I'M THE POWER!" [Spinning away from the cameraman, Pain stands tall in the middle of the ring as he waits for the bell to ring. As Michael Meekly calls for the bell to start the match, the Cuban Assassin charges out and starts throwing right hands that don't even seem to faze Pain... ...who replies with a big boot to the chest that sends the Cuban stumbling back into the corner.] GM: Ohh! What a boot - right to the chest! [Pain marches into the corner, wrapping his hands around the throat of the Cuban, leaning over him in the corner.] BW: That's a choke, Gordo! GM: It certainly is. The referee's right in there, calling for a break. [Breaking the choke, Pain grabs the Cuban by the wrist and fires him across the ring, causing him to slam hard into the corner. He immediately stumbles out of the buckles, dropping down to his knees on the mat where he clutches at his lower back.] GM: And it has been all Scott Pain at this point in the match, Bucky. BW: He's another old man living off his reputation but at least he can still bring it inside the ring. GM: Pain grabs him by the hair... ohh! The Cuban Assassin with a right hand to the body! [Pain stumbles back a step as the Cuban connects with a second right hand to the gut. The Cuban throws another blow, this time getting back to his feet with his fists balled up... ...and rushes right into a right hand being wrapped around his throat!] BW: Another choke! GM: I don't think that's what he has to worry about! [Holding the Cuban at arm's length, Pain screams in his direction and then yanks him in, throwing him high into the air before slamming him down to the mat with one hand!] GM: OHHHHH! WHAT A CHOKESLAM! [Pain stands over the Cuban, staring down at him with a cold gaze as the crowd starts chanting...] "POW-ER-BOMB!" "POW-ER-BOMB!" "POW-ER-BOMB!" "POW-ER-BOMB!" [Nodding his head, Pain rips the dazed Cuban off the mat, tugging him into a standing headscissors.] GM: Pain's got him hooked - the crowd is calling for it... [The big man hoists the Cuban high into the air over his head... ...and DRIVES him down with a thunderous powerbomb!] GM: OHHH! That's it. [Pain drops to a knee, slapping a hand down on the chest of the Cuban.] GM: One. Two. And there's the three. [The crowd roars as Pain gets right back up to his feet. He marches across the ring where the cameraman is, leaning closer.] "DUFRESNE! FREEMAN! SUDAKOV! I'M COMIN FOR YA!" [With a smirk, Pain backs away from the camera, raising a triumphant hand in victory as we cut back to the announcers at ringside.] GM: A win there by Scott Pain and that has to help his quest to climb higher in the Top Ten Contenders list. He made it in at #10 in the last set of ratings so you can bet he's looking to climb even higher. BW: That's for sure, Gordo. If he wants a- hey! [Bucky Wilde's words are broken up by the arrival of Jason Dane who looks at Gordon with eager eyes.] GM: Jason Dane has joined us here at the table but I can't say exactly why. Jason, what are you doing out here? [Jason Dane grabs the mic.] JD: I had to come out here, Gordon, because I've got some very big news that I wanted to share with the audience here in the building and of course, at home as well. [Gordon looks a little puzzled.] GM: Well, the floor is yours, I guess. Go right ahead. JD: Thanks, Gordon. I have just taken a phone call from a former broadcast colleague of mine from the days when I worked the desk for the EMWC. That description is probably enough for many of you but here's some more - he's a former EMWC World Champion and a former EMWC Hall of Famer... and on the next AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, COLT PATTERSON, will be here to do an up close and personal interview with me! GM: Wow - that's pretty big news, Jason. Colt Patterson is coming to the WKIK Studios for an interview. Did he give any indication as to why he'd be here? JD: He says he's got some stuff to get off his chest. That's all he said. GM: I'll certainly be looking forward to that. Thanks, Jason. JD: It's my pleasure, Gordo - and it'll be my pleasure to do the interview with Colt as well! [Suddenly, the 6'10 frame of Scott Pain steps into view, nudging Bucky Wilde to the side as he grabs the mic.] SP: Did you just say that Colt Patterson is going to be here on the next show? [Dane and Myers nod.] SP: That can't be right. [Pain shakes his head.] SP: It can't be right. Colt Patterson is my best friend. If he was coming to the AWA, he would have told me. [No words from the announcers.] SP: I'm... I've got to get to the bottom of this. [Pain walks off the set leaving the speechless announcers behind as we fade out to commercial... After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking building.] "Have you ever dreamed of fame?" [Cut a little closer.] "Of glory?" [A little closer.] "Of your friends and family seeing you on television?" [And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that reads "AWA Combat Corner."] "Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American Wrestling Alliance!" [We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring. There are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course, working out in the ring.] "With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in the ring in the shortest amount of time!" [Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.] "With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on Day One!" [Two young students are grappling on the canvas.] "So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar! You want to be the future of the business! You want to wrestle!" [Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner. We freeze there for a moment... ...and then back on the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.] GM: Welcome back, fans. At this time, we are joined by Richard E. Lee and his team of Hammer and Sabre, the War Pigs. [Enter the trio of terror into the frame, and they don't look none too happy. Bad grammar and all.] GM: Gentlemen, it seems that you have met your match in the form of Rough N Ready. REL: Met our match? Met our match? Gordon Myers, the warhasjust begun! If you knew your history, you'd understand that early battles don't determine the long-term outcome of any war. Yes, my War Pigs might have lost a match to Rough N Ready...we might have battled to a no contest at Christmas Clash...but those, Gordon Myers, those are merely minor skirmishes compared to what looms on the dark horizon. And my question to Dave Cooper and Eric Somers is simply this: are you ready? Are you ready to go to war with these two men? Because what you've gotten so far is only a small dosage of the pain, of the destruction that these men have to offer. [The camera zooms in on the bald-headed Lee as his brown eyes gaze directly into it.] REL: When we came to the AWA, we made promises of bodies left burning in the ring. It doesn't matter to us who that is. My men, Hammer and Sabre, are built for war...and that's exactly what we're bringing to anyone who gets in our way. So boys...you'd _better_ be rough...you'd _better_ be ready...because that's the only way you'll have a chance to survive. [Lee strides away from the announcers.] GM: Let's go up to- now! [The camera quickly cuts to the ring where Hammer and Scythe are on the attack. Referee Marty Meekly quickly calls for the bell as the War Pigs completely physically overwhelm a pair of younger grapplers who don't even receive the spotlight of a ring introduction.] GM: Here we go! Young Jack Cole and his partner Tyler Martin are being battered by Hammer and Scythe against the ropes! Hammer is all over Cole with some absolutely brutal shots. These guys are serious heavy hitters inside that ring. BW: Outside that ring too. We saw what they did to Rough N Ready back at Black Friday Beatdown when they took them out of the tournament. GM: In the employ of Dufresne and Freeman - don't forget that. BW: No one ever proved that. [A fired-up Hammer grabs Cole by the hair, running all the way across the ring and HURLING the rookie through the ropes and down to the floor much to the approval of Richard E. Lee who cackles at the sight of the rookie smacking down on the barely-covered concrete. Nearby, Scythe shoves Martin through the ropes and down to the floor as well, allowing both War Pigs to mount opposite midbuckles, soaking up the jeers of the capacity crowd as Lee gestures at both men with his rolled-up Wall Street Journal.] GM: The War Pigs are boasting to the crowd that they're the top dogs in the tag team division - and it's a hard point to argue against, Bucky. Obviously, there are a lot of great teams here in the AWA but you have to admit that the War Pigs are probably physically the most intimidating. BW: Absolutely, Gordo. You can talk about Rough N Ready, you can talk about Sweet Heat - even the Russians - but I don't think anyone is as much of a force as the War Pigs. Somewhere in the back, you have to think Kentucky's Pride is watching and are more than a little bit nervous about what they're seeing. GM: The War Pigs are yet another team looking to get a point on the board here tonight as they realize that the first team to get those three consecutive points will get the next shot at the champions. [Licking their wounds, Cole and Martin get back up on the apron. A few words of encouragement from Cole sends Martin through the ropes into the ring and right into a lockup with the big powerhouse known as Hammer.] GM: Hammer's getting a chance to show off all that power right here, muscling Martin around with that collar and elbow tieup. [Bracing himself, Hammer simply shoves Martin backwards into the ropes, hurling him through the air with a hiptoss on the rebound that nearly throws Martin through the ropes to the floor.] GM: Good grief! BW: That maniac Somers isn't the only one who can toss someone around like a sack of potatoes, daddy! GM: Martin back to his feet, trying to shake the cobwebs. [He moves in for another tieup but Hammer drives a boot into the midsection to double up Martin. A powerful double axehandle smash to the back of the head knocks Martin down to a knee but Hammer quickly pulls him back to his feet, scooping him up and throwing him down in a big bodyslam.] GM: Ohh! What a slam by Hammer! Elbow! [The big man leaps into the air, intent to slam his arm down on the chest from a startling height... ...but Martin rolls aside at the last moment, causing Hammer to slam backfirst down on the mat!] GM: Martin moved! The rookie got out of the way! [Hammer quickly regains his feet but is a little off-balance, making him easy prey as Martin lashes out with a dropkick that sends Hammer falling back into the corner. With the crowd cheering, Martin approaches the corner, throwing big forearms across the massive chest of the War Pig.] GM: Look at Martin! Tyler Martin is all over Hammer! This kid is lookin' for an upset here tonight in the WKIK Studios and the crowd would love to see it as well. [Grabbing Hammer by the wrist, Martin attempts an Irish whip... ...but the big man reverses it, sending Martin racing towards the buckles where he leaps up on the midbuckle. He pauses for a moment as Hammer approaches and then blindly leaps off, twisting into a cross body block.] GM: CROSSBODY! BW: CAUGHT! [The crowd gasps as Hammer snatches the two hundred and thirty pounder out of the sky, holding him across his body... ...and then DRIVING him down across his knee!] GM: OHHH! BACKBREAKER BY HAMMER! [And this time when Hammer leaps up for the high impact elbowdrop, it connects solidly across the kidneys of Martin. Hammer rolls the kid onto his back, pressing down with both hands on his chest.] GM: Cover by Hammer - one... two... and he pulls him up. No surprise there, right? BW: I didn't think they were done yet. GM: Hammer pulls up Tyler Martin by the hair, dragging him up to his feet. Backing to his own corner where Scythe makes the tag into the ring. [Scythe bullrushes Martin back into a neutral corner, lashing into him with a knife-edge chop. Grabbing a limp Martin by the head, he throws his upper body backwards into the buckles to expose his chest again and snaps off another chop across the pectorals to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: Scythe is lighting up the youngster - snapmares him out of the corner... [And with Martin in a seated position, Scythe SLAMS the point of his elbow down on the crown of Martin's skull. Scythe pulls Martin up by the hair again, this time throwing him down in a bodyslam.] GM: Big slam by Scythe. Isn't that enough? BW: No way! Do you think Cooper and Somers have gotten the point yet? GM: What point? BW: That they don't stand a chance in a war with these two men. GM: I doubt it. BW: Then it's nowhere NEAR enough, daddy! [Scythe glares down at Martin before leaping into the air, driving a fistdrop down on Martin's skull. He grabs Martin by the hair, yanking him off the mat as he gets back up.] GM: Both men on their feet now - another scoop... [This time, Scythe presses Martin slightly over his head and throws him down to the mat very close to Martin's own corner. A battered Martin throws a hand up to tag Jack Cole into the match for the first time. Scythe approaches the corner with his hands stretched high overhead in a double axehandle... ...and catches a right hand to the gut from the incoming Cole. A few more shots follow, causing the crowd to rally behind the young tag team but Scythe quickly rakes the eyes, pulling Cole into a side headlock.] GM: Oh, come on! BW: What? GM: It's not enough to have the sheer genetics of these two men - they have to cheat as well? BW: You do what you need to do to win, Gordo. GM: But that's the point, Bucky. They don't NEED to do that to win. BW: Eh, maybe they like it. [Scythe drags Cole to the ropes where the youngster throws Scythe off. The War Pig rebounds... ...and knocks Cole flat with a running shoulder tackle!] GM: See! Who needs an eyerake when you can- [Scythe runs to the ropes again as Cole gets back up... ...and gets knocked right back down with another running shoulder block!] GM: Scythe just levelled him again. And now he's dragging Cole off the mat - Irish whip... [Cole rebounds off the ropes, baseball sliding through the legs of a surprised Scythe. As he gets back to his feet, he hits a picture perfect dropkick to the jaw. Cole jumps right back up, peppering Scythe with right hands. He grabs the wrist of Scythe, attempting a whip that Scythe easily reverses.] GM: Reversed by Scythe - backdrop coming u- SUNSET FLIP BY COLE! CAN HE BRING HIM DOWN? [Cole struggles to bring the War Pigs down to the mat... ...but catches a clenched fist squarely to the temple instead, breaking the sunset flip attempt. Scythe glares down at Cole before dragging him to his feet by the hair, scooping him off the mat again.] GM: He's got Cole up - and throws him down hard in another bodyslam, right down in the corner. [Reaching up, Cole slaps the hand of his partner, bringing Tyler Martin back into the ring. He races in, fists a-flyin'.] GM: He's all over Scythe! Martin backs him down to the corner! BW: But it's the wrong corner, Gordo. Martin's in the wrong side of town! [Hammer quickly tags himself back into the match, delivering a crushing double axehandle to the back as Scythe holds Martin in place. Hammer quickly pulls Martin away from his partner, scooping him up... ...and then powering him up into a huge military press!] GM: Oh my! Look at the power! [Hammer takes a few steps around the ring with his opponent held high before simply tossing him down to the mat like a bag of trash. A shout from his manager causes Hammer to nod his head in response, slowly dragging Martin off the mat. He bends down behind Martin, tucking his head between the legs and hoisting the youngster up in an Electric Chair lift.] GM: Uh oh! He's got Martin up - walking him to the corner... [A quick tag sends Scythe scurrying up the ropes, stepping up to the top rope. He poses there for a moment before leaping from the top, cradling the head of Martin in his arms, and DRIVING the back of Martin's head into the canvas with an inverted bulldog headlock!] GM: WMD! THEY GOT ALL OF THAT ONE! [Scythe throws himself onto Tyler Martin as Hammer dashes across the ring, blasting an incoming Jack Cole with a running forearm smash that knocks Cole off the apron to the floor as the referee counts to three.] GM: And there it is. "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winners of the match - earning their first point... THE WAR PIGS! [The fans boo the announcement as Richard E. Lee joins his men in the ring just as Scythe throws a defenseless Martin through the ropes to the floor. Lee raises the arms of Hammer and Scythe in victory as they parade around the ring triumphantly.] GM: So, that puts both The War Pigs and Rough N Ready on the board with one point each - two points away from getting a shot at the National Tag Team Titles and Kentucky's Pride. BW: And on a collision course with one another to get to those three points first, Gordo. GM: You've got that right. We're going to be seeing Kentucky's Pride in action later tonight as well but speaking of that, what about the last team to get a shot at the champs? Juan Vasquez and Raphael Rhodes challenged for those titles on Christmas night in West Dallas in a rematch from the semifinals of the tournament that crowned the first champs. BW: That's right - and they would be the champions right now if Juan Vasquez wasn't such a bleeding heart goofball! He couldn't get the job done back on Thanksgiving. He couldn't get the job done on Christmas night! And finally, FINALLY - Raphael Rhodes had seen enough of it. GM: Let's go back to the closing moments of that match on Christmas night and see just how the partnership of Raphael Rhodes and Juan Vasquez came to a shocking - and violent - conclusion. Let's take a look. [We fade to footage labeled "CHRISTMAS CLASH" just as the Catch Thug sits up on the mat, shaking his head back and forth... ...and dives to his corner, slapping the outstretched hand of Juan Vasquez who slingshots himself over the top rope, racing across the ring, and hurling himself on top of City Jack who was just out of reach of his partner!] GM: OHHH! So close to making the tag! BW: Vasquez cut off the tag - now he needs to finish this fat goof and become one-half of the National Tag Team Champions! GM: Vasquez with a few well-placed stomps to the head of City Jack. BW: The arm! Go for the arm, you idiot! [Vasquez grabs the foot of Jack, dragging him out of the corner, and then grabs the second leg, flipping through into a double leg cradle.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR- kickout! BW: And did you see that big cheater Tin Can Rust trying to get in there? GM: He was trying to save the tag team titles! Can you blame him? [CUT: The footage jumps ahead to later in the match where out on the apron, Raphael Rhodes is dipping into his trunks to the jeers of the capacity crowd. With boos roaring through the West Dallas Community College gym, a sneering Rhodes pulls his hand into view, complete with a set of brass knuckles resting on them.] GM: Look at that! Raphael Rhodes is sporting brass knuckles, Bucky! BW: I don't think so. He just has a really big ring on. It's a promise ring, I hear. A fine young lass from London. GM: Give me a break, Bucky! [Rhodes peers over his shoulder, keeping the knuckles shielded from everyone inside the ring. An unaware Juan Vasquez hits the ropes, rebounding back, and leaping high in the air, crashing down across the chest of City Jack with a Tommy Stephens style senton splash. Vasquez flips into a lateral press, reaching back to cradle the leg.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THRE- [The crowd ROARS as City Jack fires a shoulder off the canvas just before the three count falls. A surprised Juan Vasquez gets to his feet quickly, glaring at the official. He pulls Jack off the mat, rocking him with a right hand that knocks Jack back into the buckles. Grabbing Jack by the wrist, Vasquez fires him from corner to corner and charges in behind him... ...and catches a lifted boot squarely in the jaw!] GM: OHHH! CITY JACK GOT THE FOOT UP! [But with so much ring real estate between City Jack and the other corner, the big man opts to charge his opponent with a running clothesline... ...that Vasquez counters with a hiptoss, quickly stepping over Jack and snapping off a perfect standing moonsault!] GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! THRRRR- NO! NO! SHOULDER UP! [A frustrated Vasquez slaps the canvas in frustration as he waves three fingers at the referee but Mickey Meekly confirms it was only a two count. Vasquez slowly gets to his feet, dragging City Jack up as well. The Los Angeles native wraps his arms around Jack's ample midsection, charging towards the ropes... ...where a waiting Raphael Rhodes decides to strike.] GM: To the ropes... [Rhodes uncorks a brass knuckles assisted right hand, aimed squarely for the jaw of the approaching City Jack... ...who drops down to a knee at the last moment, causing the punch to drill Juan Vasquez who drops like he's been shot. The crowd erupts with surprise as well as Raphael Rhodes' jaw absolutely drops.] GM: HE HIT VASQUEZ! BW: That was an accident! GM: HE DRILLED VASQUEZ WITH THE BRASS KNUCKLES! [City Jack pushes off the mat to his feet. Still shocked, Rhodes throws another right but again Jack drops down, ducking the punch that spins Rhodes around with his back to the big man from Kentucky. Popping to his feet, Jack winds up his big right arm... ...and DRILLS Rhodes in the back of the head with the Metropill, sending Rhodes sailing off the apron and down to the gym floor!] GM: OHHH! RHODES IS GONE! [Clutching his injured arm in agony, Jack takes a quick two-step off the ropes... ...and DROPS all his weight down on the chest of Vasquez in a big splash. Jack reaches back, hooking the leg of the unconscious Vasquez.] GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEE!!! 'DING! DING! DING!' MC: Your winners of the match and STILL AWA National Tag Team Champions... KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIIDE! [Tin Can Rust steps into the ring, throwing his arms up in victory. TCR yanks his partner off the mat, lifting Jack's arm in the air to yet another big wince from the big man from Kentucky.] GM: Alright! Kentucky's Pride has retained the title here at Christmas Clash - here at the West Dallas Community College gym. City Jack and Tin Can Rust are taking home the belts and they're about to kick off 2009 as the AWA National Tag Team Champions! BW: Unbelievable. I thought this one was in the bag. GM: After those knucks came out, I thought you were absolutely right, Bucky. [As Jack and Rust exit the ring, slapping the outstretched hands of the ringside fans, Raphael Rhodes steps into the ring, looking down at his unconscious tag team partner who is just starting to stir a bit.] GM: Rhodes and Vasquez have failed in their quest to become the tag team champions for the second time but you have to appreciate just how close they came to winning the gold here tonight in West Dallas. BW: They were so close so many times. GM: But in the end, they came up just a little bit short and- [And suddenly, the story of the title change that almost happened falls to the wayside as Rhodes starts stomping Juan Vasquez on the canvas.] GM: What the-?! BW: Haha! He's had enough of that loser! GM: Rhodes is stomping the heck out of his tag team partner! BW: I'd say FORMER tag team partner at this point, Gordo. GM: I suppose so. [Rhodes drops to a knee, pulling Vasquez head back by the hair, screaming at his partner... ...and then BLISTERS him across the face with a hard slap to the boos of the capacity crowd.] GM: Good grief! BW: How do you like that, Vasquez? Merry Christmas, you loser! GM: Rhodes is stomping him again! [Suddenly, the pub brawler drags Vasquez off the mat, hurling him over the ropes and out to the floor. He steps through the ropes, dropping down on the barely-padded floor next to Vasquez. Dragging his now-former partner off the floor, Rhodes SLAMS his head into the ringpost!] GM: OHHH! TO THE STEEL! [Vasquez collapses in a heap on the mat, a stream of blood now trickling from his head forehead. The maniacal Rhodes dives on top of Vasquez, throwing punches to the head - then leaning in to bite the wound.] GM: This guy has snapped! He's lost it, Bucky! BW: This is what happens when you take away a man's chance at a title! GM: He pulls Vasquez up... [With Vasquez on his knees, Rhodes slams his head into Vasquez' skull. The cut deepens as Rhodes repeatedly drives headbutt after headbutt after headbutt into his former partner's head.] GM: Come on! We need some help out here! [Finally, Rhodes breaks off the assault, throwing Vasquez down on the floor in a heap. With an evil sneer, Rhodes turns to the camera, blood all over his skull... ...as we fade back to the announce table at ringside.] GM: There you have it, fans. That's how the champs kept the gold and that's how the challengers fell apart in such a violent fashion. And at this time, we're being joined by the man who was victim to that violent split on Christmas night... Juan Vasquez! [The crowd erupts with cheers as Juan Vasquez steps out through the curtains. Juan is dressed in street clothes, his face still bearing the marks of Raphael Rhodes' attack at the conclusion of Christmas Clash. He walks over to Myers at ringside and shakes his hand, waving towards the still cheering crowd.] GM: It's good to see you again, Juan Vasquez. But I'm sure as you know, what everyone wants to hear are your thoughts regarding the attack that your now ex-tag team partner Raphael Rhodes, performed on you, following your last match on Christmas Clash. [A slight frown forms on Juan's face as he searches for the words he wants to say.] JV: First off, let me just say, I'm not mad at Rhodes. I'm just disappointed. GM: Disappointed? [Juan nods.] JV: For someone that seems to think that he knows all the answers, he went out there and did the dumbest damn thing anyone ever possibly could've done. [Juan scratches the bandage over his eye and moves in closer towards the camera.] JV: He stabbed his partner in the back and didn't make sure that he left a corpse. [Juan pounds a fist to his chest.] JV: 'Cause I'm still living. I'm still breathing! And you better believe I won't rest, until I get my pound o' flesh! [The crowd responds with cheers, but Juan ignores it, continuing on.] JV: Wrestling may be in your blood, Rhodes. Wrestling may be in your soul. Wrestling may be something that you've lived, breathed and thought about since you were still messin' your pants and wearin' diapers, but I'll tell you right here and right now, son. You still don't know a damn thing about wrestling. [He places his hands on his hips, looks up and gives an exasperated sigh.] JV: It's sad. It's really sad. [He looks down at his feet, shaking his head sadly.] JV: Four generations worth of family in this sport and not a single one of them bothered to teach you a damn thing about it, kid. [Juan holds up four fingers and points to them, shaking his head in disbelief.] JV: It doesn't matter if your great-grandfather wrestled in some carnival fifty years ago. It don't matter if your mother popped you outta' the womb at ringside while watching your father wrestling three midgets and a bear inside the ring. If you had a single clue about this sport, you never would've laid a single filthy finger on me. But you *don't* have a clue and we all saw what you did to me. [He points to the bandage over his right eye, the partially healed split lip and the various bruises still faintly visible on his face.] JV: And now you're gonna' have to learn everything the hard way. [A chuckle.] JV: But that's fine, kid. You got the best damn teacher you ever could've hoped for. 'Cause I'll teach you respect. I'll teach you humility. I'll teach you more about the life and death struggle of surviving in this sport than eighty years of Rhodes family tradition ever could. [A smirk.] JV: And when I'm through with you, God-willing... [Juan pauses and stares at Myers, giving him a knowing look, before refocusing his attention towards the camera.] JV: ...maybe there'll be enough of you left to start a fifth generation. [Vasquez strides out of view, leaving Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde behind.] GM: Juan Vasquez is as focused as I've ever seen him and I have to believe that he just won't stop until he gets some sweet, sweet payback on Raphael Rhodes. BW: Who WILL be in action later tonight. GM: He certainly will. Don't go away, fans - we'll have more exciting AWA action for you right after this! [We hold on Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde 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 where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.] GM: Welcome back, wrestling fans - and at this time, we're being joined here at ringside by another newcomer here to the AWA - a young man from a great wrestling family here in Texas - please welcome to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross! [A young African-American man walks into view, dressed in a black and white AWA t-shirt. He eagerly shakes hands with Gordon Myers.] GM: Welcome to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, Mr. Ross. JR: Mr. Myers, I can't even believe I'm here! Whoo! [The kid's exuberance gets some cheers from the crowd.] GM: Your family's history in wrestling throughout the state of Texas is well-known to many but for those who don't know can you shed some light? JR: Absolutely, Mr. Myers. My great-grandfather was Roger Ross. He promoted out of San Antonio for twenty-five years for Texas All-Star Wrestling. My grandfather is Oliver Ross - he wrestled under a mask for twenty years as The Masked Maniac. [Jackson chuckles a bit at that one.] JR: And of course, my father is Ellis Ross. He runs Lone Star Wrestling right now - they tour all the county fairs during the summer and run a handful of shows the rest of the year. He also is a former Texas Heavyweight Champion as The Masked Maniac II. Which means I know your next question, Gordon. [Gordon looks puzzled.] GM: You do? [Jackson nods.] JR: Yep. You want to know why I'm not wrestling as The Masked Maniac III. [Gordon smiles.] GM: The thought did cross my mind. JR: It's not because I'm embarassed of it if that's what you think. Far from it. It's because at nineteen years old, I'm just getting started in this business. I've only got a year of matches under my belt and before I put on that Maniac mask that my family has worn so proudly for nearly half a century, I need to prove something. GM: To your family? JR: To my friends, my family, the fans... all of the great superstars in the back who think I'm only here because of who my father is. I'm here to send everyone a message. Jackson Ross is for real. And if you don't take me seriously, you're going to end up on your back. GM: Well, best of luck to you, Jackson, on your AWA debut. JR: Thank you, Mr. Myers. It's a great honor to have you calling my first match on television. [Jackson shakes hands with the veteran announcer again before jogging out of view towards the ring.] GM: Fans, let's go up to the ring to see Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross in his AWA debut! [We cut to the ring where Ross has slingshotted over the top rope into the ring.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first in the corner to my left... weighing in at 235 pounds... Karl Kane! [The distinguished veteran raises an arm to a mixed reaction from the crowd.] MC: And his opponent... hailing from San Antonio, Texas... weighing in at 245 pounds... JACKSON "THUNDERBOLT" ROSS! [Ross lifts an arm to a sprinkling of cheers. He claps his hands together as the referee signals for the bell to be rung to start up the match.] GM: And this one is unnnnnderway! [The fourth-generation competitor steps out of the corner to the middle of the ring, extending his hand in the direction of Karl Kane. Kane looks a little surprised but quickly accepts the handshake to cheers from the crowd.] GM: Karl Kane has been around this business for a long, long while so this should be a good test for the rookie's skills. And you often think of young competitors as brash and cocky but Ross showed a lot of respect right there for the veteran with that handshake. [The two men circle one another with the crowd clapping for them both as they lunge into a tieup. Kane quickly switches to a standing waistlock, stepping through into a snap mare that takes Ross down to the mat. Kane steps away, allowing the rookie to get back to his feet.] GM: And the former Southern Heritage Champion - one of the top regional titles in the Southern States - takes Jackson Ross down in the early moments of this one with a snapmare. BW: Maybe next time Ross won't shake his hand - he'll suckerpunch him! GM: You'd like that, wouldn't you? BW: What do I care if Ross is a loser from his debut match on? [The two competitors tie up once again but this time it's Ross who applies the rear waistlock. He holds it for a moment as Kane looks for an escape and quickly finds one, dropping out of the waistlock into a drop toehold that puts Ross down on his chest. Kane again quickly releases the hold, simply stepping back and watching as the youngster gets back to his feet.] GM: Jackson Ross should be incredibly frustrated at this point, I would think but he seems to be in good spirits. [Still smiling, Ross claps his hands together and lunges back in for another tieup. This time, Kane pushes Ross back against the ropes where he quickly grabs the wrist, firing Ross across the ring. As the youngster rebounds back, he leapfrogs over a doubled-up Kane's attempt at a backdrop and then hangs on to the far ropes as Kane rears back for a right hand.] GM: And that time it's Ross who gets the upper hand! BW: How? Because he avoided getting his teeth knocked out? GM: Even Karl Kane is enjoying this. Look at the grin on his face. The game of human chess is in full swing in this one, Bucky. [Easing away from the ropes, Ross slowly reaches out for a tieup and catches a knee squarely in the midsection. Kane pushes Ross back against the ropes... ...and then buries a right hand into the gut of the "Thunderbolt!"] GM: Ohh- those veteran wiles on display by Karl Kane. [Grabbing Ross by the arm, Kane fires him across the ring, ducking down for a backdrop again... ...but this time, the athletic Ross spins around, using Kane's own back to assist in a backflip over the top of the throw. He lands on his feet behind Kane and as the veteran turns around, he eats a high standing dropkick under the chin that sends him sailing down to the mat.] GM: Oh my! Tremendous dropkick by the fourth-generation grappler... and here he comes again! [Kane scurries to the corner to cover up, pulling up to his feet. Ross immediately charges in, leaping up into a big monkey flip throw out of the corner down to the mat. The crowd cheers the flashy move as Ross springs back to his feet and connects with another leaping dropkick, this one knocking Kane through the ropes and out to the floor.] GM: Karl Kane gets sent out to the floor courtesy of that high flying dropkick by the "Thunderbolt!" [Ross steps out on the apron, leaning against the ringpost as he waits for Karl Kane to get up... ...and then sprints the length of the apron, leaping off at the last minute with a somersault, and knocking Kane down to the floor in a heap to the roar of the crowd!] GM: Wow! BW: I bet the Masked Maniac I or II never tried that one! GM: I think you're right, Bucky! A death-defying dive off the ring apron by Jackson Ross has put them both down on the floor and- [With the crowd still cheering, Ross climbs to his feet and backs into the crowd, leaning backwards as the fans clap him on the back and shoulders - a few leaning in to embrace the newfound fan favorite as he pumps his fist up and down in the air.] GM: Look at these fans showing their support for Jackson Ross! BW: Great. GM: Ross drags Kane off the mat, rolling him under the ropes into the ring and now the Thunderbolt rolls back in with him. [Pulling Kane off the mat, Ross shoves him back into the corner. With a quick grab of the wrist, Ross fires Kane across the ring and sprints in behind him. At the last minute, Ross hurls his body into the air for a corner splash... ...that Kane leaps to the side to avoid, causing Ross to slam chestfirst on the top turnbuckle!] GM: OHHHH! BW: That might do it, Gordo. That high risk offense is high risk for a reason. He may have rolled the dice right there and come up snake eyes in a big, big way. [A staggered Kane drops to the mat, pulling Ross down in a school boy rollup.] GM: One! Two! Th- shoulder up! Jackson Ross came oh-so-close to losing his AWA debut right there. The wily veteran Karl Kane avoided the corner splash and almost got the three count. BW: Kane's got him in trouble now. A few stomps to the gut. GM: He's trying to soften up the ribs and chest where Ross took the hard miss in the corner. A veteran move right there - finding your opponent's weakness and exploiting it. That youthful enthusiasm might have cost Ross and cost him big. [With a double handful of hair, Kane drags Ross off the mat, connecting with a right hand that knocks Ross back against the buckles. A few hard kicks to the ribcage follow before the referee backs him out of the corner. Ignoring the official, Kane steps back in, grabbing the middle rope as he leans over and repeatedly driving his shoulder into the midsection of Jackson Ross.] GM: This is exactly what we just talked about - trying to take advantage of a mistake made by the youngster. I almost called him a rookie there but he does have a year of experience under his belt. BW: Yeah, wrestling for his family throughout the state of Texas. He's hardly a traveled, experienced veteran at this point, Gordo. He said himself that his dad only runs a handful of shows a year. GM: Kane drags him out of the corner... gutwrench! [The veteran snaps the kid over to the mat with a tightly executed suplex before throwing himself into a lateral press.] GM: Another cover - one... two... thr- nope, he can't get him yet. [Climbing to his feet, Kane drives a few more stomps down into the ribcage before leaping up, smashing a knee down across the ribs. Ross sits up from the impact and catches a quartet of hard right hands that knocks him back down to the mat. Standing up again, Kane straddles Ross and then leaps up, driving down all of his weight in a seated position on the gut.] GM: Ohh! Seated splash to the midsection! [Reaching back, Kane hooks a leg as the referee drops down to the mat.] GM: One! Two! Thr- another kickout! We're at the five minute mark of this one and Jackson Ross, if nothing else, has shown tremmendous resiliency inside that squared circle! BW: He's shown he can take a beating - that's true. GM: What don't you like about this young man? BW: He's a kid who hasn't proven a thing in this sport but the silver spoon is shoved so far down his throat now we're stuck with him being shoved down our throats. Some hard working guy just got held back so we could get the wrestling equivalent of a trust fund baby on Saturday Night Wrestling. GM: You've got a lot of nerve after all the talking about your Mama's money I've heard over the years. [Pulling the youngster off the mat, Kane connects with a European style forearm uppercut that knocks Ross back into the buckles. Grabbing him by the arm, Kane fires him across the ring... ...where the athletic Ross runs up the turnbuckles, backflipping over a charging Kane to land on his feet near the middle of the squared circle. Kane spins around, charging out of the corner, and catches a boot squarely to the midsection. Ross immediately jumps straight up in the air, driving both feet down on the back of the doubled-up Kane's head.] GM: Ohh! BW: Double stomp on a STANDING opponent! I can't say I've seen that too many times! [With Kane flat on his back on the canvas, Ross stomps him hard on the gut, forcing him to sit up as he dashes to the ropes, rebounding back... ...and dropping down into a baseball slide, connecting with a huge clothesline!] GM: OHHH! BW: Now I KNOW I've never seen that! GM: Starting to change your mind about this kid? BW: Not yet. [Ross throws himself into a lateral press, reaching back to hook a leg as the count reaches two.] GM: Two count only but the tide has definitely turned in this one. Jackson Ross is takin' it to Karl Kane right here in the WKIK Studios, Bucky. ["Thunderbolt" drags Kane off the mat, whipping him to the far corner. Ross backs to the far corner, breaking into a full sprint... ...and leaps into the air, hurling himself towards his opponent.] GM: HE LEAPS!! OHHHHH!! BIG SPLASH IN THE CORNER! [Ross backs away, waiting as Kane staggers from the buckles into another boot to the midsection. "Thunderbolt" quickly hooks a front facelock.] GM: He just called for a "Thunderbolt Bomb!" [Reaching back to hook a leg, Ross hoists Kane off the mat for a fisherman suplex, stopping at the peak of the lift... ...and swinging Kane back down in the same direction he came up, slamming him down to the mat in a sitout spinebuster slam!] GM: OHHHHHH! [Ross rolls across the torso of Kane, hooking both legs.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEE!!! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winner of the match in his debut... "THUNDERBOLT" JACKSON ROSSSSSSS!! [Ross climbs back up to his feet, all smiles as the referee raises his hand in victory.] GM: Jackson Ross, a winner in his AWA debut! And in my opinion, this kid has all the natural tools to become a major superstar here in the AWA, Bucky. BW: We'll see about that, Gordo. Let's get him in there with some tougher competition - men like Raphael Rhodes, like Naitomea, like Freeman and Dufresne. Then we'll see what he's made of. GM: Only time will tell - that's for sure. And right after this break, we've got a very special moment for all of the AWA fans... BW: Is it time?! Is it? GM: It is. BW: Yes! Don't go away, fans - we'll be right back with the greatest moment of 2009 so far! GM: It's only our first show. BW: BEST. MOMENT. OF THE YEAR! GM: We'll be right back. [With Jackson Ross at ringside trading high-fives with anyone in sight, we fade to black. After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet in an apparently moving car.] JD: Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go, wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA superstars when you're away from home? MS: I know I would, Jason! And I'd also love to have a place to put out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. JD: You've got that right. Wouldn't it be great if we could combine both of those ideas into one? [Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!] JD & MS: NOW WE CAN! [A voiceover takes over - thank God.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors, and happenings before the rest of the world. And don't forget to check out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired! AWA Access - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... ...and we fade back up to the ringside area where Gordon Myers is standing.] GM: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, we would like to welcome to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling - a representative of the Just The Facts! wrestling website... reporter Chock Full! [There's a slight reaction for Chock Full - the most famed "dirt sheet" writer in the game. Full is in his early 40s, sporting a Marc Ecko ensemble of jeans, a designer brown t-shirt, and a black JTF blazer. He's accompanied by some generic lackey type who is carrying an armful of plaques. He shakes hands with Gordon as he approaches.] CF: Thank you for that, Gordon. We at Just The Facts! were very pleased with the invitiation from the AWA brass to come out here tonight on Saturday Night Wrestling and present these plaques. GM: And we are equally pleased to have you here tonight. For the first set of awards, I am honored to present one of the members of the AWA front office and the Head Trainer for the AWA training school... Todd Michaelson! [Michaelson is dressed in a pair of blue jeans with a white AWA t-shirt. He shakes hands with both Gordon and Chock as he steps into the interview area.] CF: Mr. Michaelson - while you and I have seldom seen eye-to-eye, I'm very happy we could put aside our differences for this night at least. [Todd nods his head in response.] CF: For the first award, we want to congratulate the AWA's The Last Stampede on being the first runner-up for Event of The Year. [Full's lackey hands Todd a plaque celebrating what he said. Todd smiles as he looks at it, setting it down on the makeshift announce desk.] CF: Also, to the AWA - to this very show in fact - we want to present a second runner-up award to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling for Show Of The Year! [Michaelson collects the second plaque, putting it down on the table.] CF: The AWA as a whole also picked up this award as the first runner-up for Promotion Of The Year. [And yet another plaque on the stack!] CF: And finally, to the AWA for Match Of The Year for The Last Stampede's WarGames: The Match Beyond! [A big cheer goes up from the AWA fans as Michaelson collects the final plaque, shaking the hand of Chock Full as he holds up the handful of plaques to the crowd.] CF: We also have an award for first runner-up for Tag Team Of The Year for Kentucky's Pride - unfortunately, the National Tag Team Champions are getting ready to compete in just a little while and couldn't come out to accept this from me. Congratulations to them though as well. GM: Alright, that's it, right? [A loud throat-clearing is heard from off camera. Chock Full cracks a grin.] CF: Nope. We've got one more to present. Well, actually, two more. The category of Announcer Of The Year was well-represented by the AWA as the second runner-up award goes to... Gordon Myers! [A big cheer goes up for the Dean of Announcing as the veteran play-by-play man accepts the award with a wide grin.] GM: Thank you very much - it's a great honor. CF: And of course... for the Announcer Of The Year... the one and only... Bucky Wilde! [Everyone's favorite colorful color man bursts into view, snatching the plaque away from Chock Full - and of course, leaving him with an offered handshake that is never accepted as Bucky hugs his plaque, then kisses his plaque, then hugs it again, then checks his hair in it.] GM: Bucky, congratul- BW: Thank you, Gordo! Thank you! And of course, I want to thank you too. It takes being with you each and every week, boring these people to tears, to make me look so good. Wait... wait... [Bucky looks solemn.] BW: That's not true. I look this good all on my own! Hahahaha! [Gordon shakes his head as Bucky jumps up and down clutching his plaque.] GM: Fans, let's go up to the ring for singles action! [We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... from Dallas, Texas... Sonny Hawkins! [The smallish Hawkins raises a hand to a cheer from the hometown crowd.] MC: And his opponent... ["Go" by Powder starts up to the jeers of the capacity crowd.] MC: From Los Angeles, California... he is the Number One Contender to the National Title... being accompanied to the ring by Steven Marlowe... He is "The Hellion"... MARRRRRRK SHAAAAAAAW! [The curtain parts and the boos grow louder for the evil mastermind Marlowe and his barrel-chested warrior as they stride into the WKIK Studios. They pause a few feet past the curtain - and a silent gesture from Marlowe causes Shaw to sprint the rest of the way, diving headfirst under the bottom rope into the ring.] GM: Shaw's in there! [A stunned Hawkins throws punches and kicks at Shaw, trying to slow down his onslaught... ...but Shaw simply hooks Hawkins under the armpits, lifting him off the mat and throwing him into the nearest corner. Approaching the corner, Shaw connects with a brutal knife-edge chop that knocks Hawkins off his feet and down to a seated position in the buckles.] GM: Good grief! BW: Now THAT'S how you throw a chop, Gordo. GM: He knocked him clear off his feet with one chop! Probably knocked the wind right out of the kid. BW: If he didn't before, he's about to. [Holding onto the top rope, Shaw throws knee after knee after knee into the face of the seated Hawkins. The referee backs him away which sends him sprinting to the ropes, charging back across the ring to drive another knee squarely into the face of a stunned Hawkins, knocking him through the ropes and out to the floor.] GM: This is hard to watch. Any time this maniac Shaw gets in there, it's hard to watch. He's just not happy winning a match. He's only happy when he's seriously hurt someone. BW: I don't know about that. He seemed pretty happy when he beat Rogers at Christmas Clash. GM: An illegal victory by the way. He hit Rogers in the knee with the wooden axehandle and then used the ropes for leverage! BW: Rogers brought the axehandle into the match! It's his own fault! [Stepping out to the apron, Shaw drops down out on the floor. He pulls the motionless Hawkins off the thin mats and hoists him up over his shoulder.] GM: Uh oh - what's gonna happen here? BW: Look out! [Shaw charges towards the steel ringpost, DRIVING Hawkins' skull into the steel to the amusement of Marlowe whose face is covered with an evil sneer when the camera finds him.] "Put him in." [Nodding at his manager's instructions, Shaw drags the dazed Hawkins off the floor, scooping him up... ...and pressing him high overhead, holding him there for a moment before throwing him over the ropes back into the ring.] GM: Pure power there. Mark Shaw is one of the strongest men in the entire AWA without a doubt. He has yet to meet anyone inside that ring he couldn't throw around easily. [Shaw rolls under the ropes back into the ring, climbing back up to his feet just as Hawkins pushes up to all fours. Reaching down, the Hellion hooks Hawkins around the torso, gutwrenching up off the mat and into the air... ...before SLAMMING him down in a powerbomb!] GM: Goodness! BW: Hawkins looks like he's been through a car crash, Gordo. That powerbomb nearly put him through the canvas. So much raw power - it's hard to imagine. GM: Look at Shaw - just glaring down at Hawkins like he's garbage under his feet. [The Hellion reaches down, dragging Hawkins off the mat by the hair. A hard slap sends him spiraling back into the buckles. Shaw charges towards the corner, connecting with a clothesline to the back of Hawkins' head.] GM: Hawkins gets hit hard - stumbling out... BW: Look out! GM: Shaw hooks him... OHHHHHH! [The crowd roars as Shaw hoists Hawkins into the air, dumping him down on the back of his head and neck at a sickening angle with the Backdrop Driver.] GM: That'll do it. One! Two! Thr- what the?! BW: He pulled him up! GM: He certainly did! But why? [Outside the ring, a grinning Steven Marlowe shouts something at Shaw. The Hellion nods, dragging Hawkins back to his feet.] GM: Hawkins can't even stand on his own! That is awful! [Shaw promptly wraps his arms around the waist of Hawkins in a bearhug. He pauses for a moment before popping his hips, driving Hawkins down to the mat in a belly-to-belly suplex!] GM: Ohhh! [The Hellion kneels on the canvas, staring out at his manager who looks on silently for a moment. Then he gestures to Shaw who immediately breaks into action. He pulls Hawkins' limp form off the mat again and in a show of power, hoists Hawkins up into the air, twisting him around and driving him down in a sitout powerbomb!] GM: Good grief! BW: Wait a second, Gordo. The belly-to-belly... now a tilt-a-whirl Tiger Driver... do you see a pattern here? GM: What are you- are you kidding me? BW: Not a chance! First, Broussard... then Rogers... he's sending a message to everyone who thinks they can get between him and the National Title he's been chasing for almost a year now! GM: Hawkins can't even move - can't even stand. What else can he-? [At a one word shout from Marlowe, Shaw drags Hawkins off the mat one more time... ...and then OBLITERATES him with a standing lariat!] BW: And don't look now but I think that was a Russian Sickle, daddy! [The Hellion plants one finger on the chest of a motionless Hawkins as the referee drops down to count.] GM: One. Two. Three. That's it. "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winner of the match... MARK SHAW! [Shaw slowly gets back to his feet, jerking his arm away from the referee as he attempts to raise it. Steven Marlowe joins his charge inside the ring and with a wicked smirk, raises Shaw's arm in triumph. A steely-eyed Shaw stares off into the distance as the boos continue to pour down.] GM: Mark Shaw is your winner - and can anyone stop this man when he gets his shot at the National Title? Fans, we'll be right back - don't you dare go away! [The shot holds on a focused Mark Shaw before fading to black... ...and then fading back up on a pair of kids outside of what appears to be a grade school. They're both wearing cold weather gear as they trudge up the steps to class.] Kid #1: How was your weekend? Kid #2: Amazing! Did you see AWA Saturday Night Wrestling? [The two kids talk animatedly about the show as a third joins them.] Kid #3: Guys! Did you see Adam Rogers on Saturday Night Wrestling? I want to be just like him when I grow up! Kid #1: Not me. I want to be like City Jack or Tin Can Rust! Kid #2: You guys are lame. Check out my new shirt! [Kid #2 opens his jacket to reveal a shirt that reads "San Jose Shark" with a large golden shark taking a bite out of the text. The others "ooh" and "aah."] Kid #3: I want one of those! Kid #1: Me too! Where did you get it? Kid #2: At AWAShop.com! Kid #3: I know what I want for Christmas! [The kids continue to talk as a voiceover is heard.] "Don't be the only one at school without your official AWA gear! Check out AWAShop.com today for your holiday wish list items!" [A shot fills the screen of various wrestler merchandise before fading to black... ...and then back up on the backstage interview area where Jason Dane is standing.] JD: Welcome back, fans - and I have some breaking news that just can't wait any longer. As you know, we were scheduled to have Kevin Slater in action here tonight and perhaps more importantly, we were going to have Mr. Slater telling the world exactly why he assaulted Bobby Taylor at Christmas Clash. But moments ago, I was informed by the Championship Committee that "SuperAgent" Triston Rockford has pulled his client from appearing here tonight citing contractual obligations that were not met. I repeat - Kevin Slater will NOT be in action here tonight nor will he appear on Saturday Night Wrestling in any fashion thanks to the actions of Triston Rockford, his agent. However, at this time, I am honored to be joined here backstage by the Chairman of the Championship Committee - Stephen Ross! [A well-dressed Ross steps into view, looking solemn at the camera.] JD: Thank you for joining me, Mr. Ross. SR: The pleasure is mine, Jason. JD: All we've heard is that Slater is not going to appear because his agent pulled him from the show. Is that correct? [Ross sighs deeply before speaking.] SR: That is correct. Earlier this evening, I received a phone call from Triston Rockford, Mr. Slater's new agent, regarding some provisions of Slater's contract that he did not believe the AWA was meeting. Because of that, Mr. Rockford has declared that he is holding out his client until further notice. JD: Wait - you mean this isn't just for tonight? [Ross lifts a hand.] SR: We are hopeful that this is just for tonight but... [Ross shrugs.] SR: When you're dealing with an agent - you never know.what will happen. Triston Rockford has quickly proven himself to be the Scott Boras of the AWA, Jason. I have not enjoyed my dealings with him so far. JD: Well, in light of that news, this makes for an awkward question but... any update on the condition of "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor after that brutal assault by Slater at Christmas Clash? [Ross nods.] SR: Absolutely. Bobby's banged up - that's for sure. He sought out his own doctors so our knowledge is a little fuzzy but I believe there's been talk of a concussion. I know he also suffered a broken nose as well. Plus a few other minor injuries. But most of all, I think Bobby's going through a lot mentally. He's been in a lot of wars over the years and had a lot of people jump him but I don't think he ever expected it to be Kevin Slater. So, physically? Yeah, he's banged up a bit but I think it's mentally that'll take the longest to heal. JD: Has he given any indication as to when he'll come back? When he'll be looking to get Kevin Slater in the ring? [Ross shakes his head.] SR: Right now? I'd say it's more a matter of if... not when, Jason. JD: There you have it, fans. Will the Outlaw ride through the AWA once more? And just when will Kevin Slater end his holdout? Back to you at ringside, Gordon! [We cut back to ringside where Gordon Myers is standing.] GM: Thanks for that, Jason. Kevin Slater a holdout? Now I've seen everything, Bucky. BW: I'm sure there's a valid reason for it, Gordo. I've met with Triston Rockford before - he's a brilliant man. He wouldn't hold out his charge if there wasn't a reason for it. GM: We'll see about that. Fans, let's go up to the ring! [Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first... CARL WILLIAMS [Small cheer from the AWA crowd as Change from the Deftones starts to kick up] MC: His opponent from, Japan, weighing in at two hundred and five pounds... THE JAPANESE NIGHTMARE NAITO.........MEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA [The masked Japanese luchador erupts though the curtain holding his signature carbon fiber helmet by one horn and immediately starts jawing with the fans seated at the entrance aisle eliciting jeers and thumbs down from the entire row. He continues this until he rolls into the ring and goes to his corner. He drops his glowing eyed helmet into the corner.] GM: How about that Bucky? Fresh off his huge win against Rick Marley at Christmas Clash the fiery Naitomea looks motivated here tonight. But do you think he'll ever earn the respect of the AWA faithful? BW: Do you think thats something hes even interested in. "DING! DING! DING!" [Naitomea and Williams circle each other and then tie up. Naitomea hits a lighting fast knee to the stomach and pulls Williams in close with a headlock. Williams fighting to break free starts ramming forearms into the lower back of Naitomea.] GM: Naitomea is really wrenching that in but those elbows look like theyre angering the masked man instead of hurting him. [Williams delivers a few more rapid forearms and Naitomea just gives up the hold and spins around 180 degrees towards Williams] SMACK! BW: Oh I love it! [Naitomea hauled off and with disgust landing a huge open hand slap to Carls face so hard the force dropped him to a knee] GM: Does this kid respect anybody? Naitomea walks over to the reeling Williams and grabs a handful of hair at the base of his skull. Brutal headbutt! [Naitomea grabs a arm and pulls Williams up to the mat. With a spin, he locks in an arm wretch] BW: Side Russian leg sweep by Naitomea, and he nips up! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" GM: Standing leg drop! He rises to his feet quickly and AGAIN down with another leg drop. BW: Wow! This kid is lighting quick Gordo and he has been saying for the past 4 months hes going to get noticed around here in the AWA. [Naitomea picks Williams up off the mat and points to the adjacent turnbuckle. He leans forward into Williams to gain momentum and then reels back and fires the hometown wrestler towards the turnbuckle but Williams with his bigger size and strength stops on a dine and instead fires Naitomea instead into the turnbuckle with an impact so hard you might have thought the ring moved half a centimeter] GM: Naitomea just crashed into the corner with devastating force BM: That impact into the corner causes Naitomea to stagger back into Carls waiting arms... "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" GM: SIDE BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX, HE HOLDS IT FOR A COVER! ONE! TWO! THR- BW: MY WORD THAT WAS CLOSE! Could you imagine if we had such a major upset here tonight! GM: Carl Williams leaps to his feet his head in his hands that he was so close to victory but he pulls the kid up to his feet. Williams fires Naitomea into the ropes. HES AIRBORNE! BW: Naitomea is flailing in mid air! [Naitomea lands square on his back and immediately springs up onto his knees then falls face down to the mat kicking his feet in agony, one hand holding his lower back. Williams points out to his local hometown crowd to thunderous applause] BW: Williams goes right back towards Naitomea and drags his dead weight up off the mat. He locks in a front face lock. He hoists him up... [He holds... ...and holds... ...and still holds...] GM: What a great display of strength here by Carl Williams, hes had him up for about 10 seconds now BW: Naitomea suddenly comes to life and starts bicycling his feet into the air trying to throw off Williams momentum. GM: The Japansese Nightmare is trying to get out of this, Williams takes a few steps to the side losing his balance! [The quick, agile luchador finally breaks the momentum and drops. Spinning 180 degrees down he lands behind Carl Williams. Without hesitation he shoots in grabbing him around the waist and hoists him up into the air with a belly to back lift.] BW: This could be what weve been waiting to see for months now! [Naitomea stops at the crest of his lift and spins Carl Willams into a sit-down Blue Thunder powerbomb] GM: THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE THE DREAM! He nailed it in the blink of an eye! He holds it for a cover. One! Two! Three! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winner in four minutes, twenty nine seconds. The Japanese Nightmare, Naitomea! BW: The kid wins it here tonight Gordo and we finally see the debut of his signature move. Personal feelings aside you have to give it to him as a competitor! GM: That I can agree with, Naitomea is doing everything he can here in the AWA to get noticed and I think the brass might have finally picked up on him. Well be back after this! [The camera holds on a victorious Naitomea 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 fade back on live action on the ring where Melissa Cannon is currently standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a non-title match with a twenty minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... the team of Miguel Cortez and Bubba Jackson! [The two veterans are jeered by the crowd as they're introduced.] MC: And their opponents... they are the AWA National Tag Team Champions... Tin Can Rust... City Jack... KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIDE! [The music kicks up as the championship duo makes their way through the curtain to a tremendous ovation from the WKIK Studios audience. City Jack is all smiles, the title belt slung over his shoulder as he slaps the hands of all the ringside fans. Tin Can Rust seems to be all business as usual, quickly scaling the ringsteps while his partner continues to party with his fans.] GM: TCR hits the ring and- look out! [A shower of boos erupts as both Bubba Jackson and Miguel Cortez bumrush the tag champ, knocking him back into the corner with a barrage of punches and kicks.] GM: They're all over Tin Can Rust! He got inside the ring without his championship partner and these two veterans are taking full advantage of it. BW: The titles aren't on the line but beating the champs, even in a non-title match, would be a big step towards getting a shot at the gold, Gordo. GM: Jackson is raining down big haymakers on Tin Can Rust. He's one of the toughest veterans in the sport, Bucky. He may not get the headlines but he's tough as nails. [The beating continues until...] GM: CITY JACK! [The big Kentucky native rolls under the ropes into the ring, stomping across the ring. Miguel Cortez peels away from the attack on Rust, charging in towards him... ...and gets dropped with a big right hand of his own. Jack keeps on moving past the downed Cortez. He grabs Bubba Jackson by the shoulder, swinging him around, and popping the veteran with a big right hand that takes Jackson over the ropes to the floor.] GM: Ohhh! All the way over the top and down to the floor! [Grabbing his partner by the wrist, Kentucky's Pride barrels out of the corner to connect with a running double clothesline that takes down Cortez. Jack immediately clutches his right arm after the blow.] BW: Look at that, Gordo! That arm still isn't healed up from Christmas Clash when he accidentally hit the ringpost! GM: It certainly looks that way. It looks like- [Tin Can Rust spots his injured partner and immediately pulls Cortez off the mat. He promptly hooks a front facelock, hoisting Cortez up for a suplex... ...and then dropping him facefirst on the mat!] GM: Ohhh! Gourdbuster! [Rust flips him onto his back, dropping into a lateral press.] GM: One! Two! Three! Whoa - just like that! BW: They didn't waste any time with that. Kinda arrogant if you ask me. "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winners of the match... KENTUCKY'S PRIDE! [Rust immediately rolls off the mat, moving to check on his partner who is leaning against the buckles clutching his injured limb. Jack waves him off, shaking his partner's hand before stepping out on the apron. The two men quickly exit the ring, making their way towards the locker room area.] GM: Tin Can Rust, if we can get a quick word? [TCR waves off the announcer, walking past him on the way to the locker room.] GM: Fans, it looks like Kentucky's Pride doesn't have time to speak with us right now. BW: They've got to get to the hospital and get City Jack a new arm. GM: Fans, we'll be right- wait a second! [Surprisingly, without music or fanfare of any kind, a young man - around mid-20s or so - steps out of the entrance way. He's got long brown hair, wears a black T-shirt and jeans, and has a bit of scowl on his face.] GM: That's... Pure X? What is he doing here?! BW: Heard of him - wrestled out in LA, up in St. Louis, and someone who said - what were the exact words, Gordo? GM: He called the AWA a "wasteland", if I remember correctly. Why is he here? [Some of the fans nearby heard what Myers said while others had long memories of Pure X's trashing of AWA in some of the industry magazines, so they start to boo the man known for being a master technician in the ring.] GM: Pure X, what brings you out here, sir? What brings you to AWA? PX: What brings me out here? Simple. I'm here to wrestle. GM: I'd assume that - that's a given. PX: Is it? [Pure X raises a questioning eyebrow.] PX: It's a given that I'm here to wrestle? GM: Well, why else would you be here? PX: After watching what the sport has become today, I think I have to make sure my intentions are known. I'm here to wrestle. GM: As opposed to what? PX: To what you all saw here at Christmas Clash. What was that, twelve matches - none of which involved any actual wrestling? GM: You're referring to the Hand of Destiny match? PX: Yeah, "Hand of Destiny". Blood, carnage, mayhem... [Pure X shakes his head.] PX: Myers, what the hell has this sport - this sport that I love, that I was trained to perfectly perform... What has it become? GM: Excuse me? PX: "Hands of Destiny" matches. Cage matches. Barbed wire. Ten man free for alls. Six people in a ring doing pointless acrobatics. Blood, broken bones - even fingers being torn off. Here, just last month, two grown men doing all they can to put the other in a wheelchair. I see this and I ask myself Myers, "where's the sport?" [A few fans of said contests start to boo the young man known as Pure X.] PX: Where did the sport of wrestling go? What happened - [Pure X points to the ring.] PX: - to that? What happened to that ring? GM: I'm not sure I follow - PX: That ring is sacred. Between those three ropes and four turnbuckles, a contest of talent takes place. A battle of technique - suplex, throws, counters - that's what takes place in that ring. A battle of wits, to see who's trained more, who's plied their craft better - that's what takes place in that ring. That is what that platform is for... But today? [Pure X shakes his head.] PX: What I see today? From that "Universal" federation, that "garbage" out West and a couple states over from here in Texas... and even overseas? Even here in the American Wrestling Association? [The young master technician looks at the ring for a moment.] PX: What I see is a complete desecration of that ring and all it stands for. To say it sickens me just doesn't even begin to describe it. [Pure X turns his attention back to Gordon Myers.] PX: Myers, that I have to qualify myself as a wrestler - not some garbage specialist, not some sideshow act, and not some sort of failed acrobat... That I have to say - in a WRESTLING promotion - that I'm a wrestler? That, more than anything, pisses me off. [Some of the fans get on Pure X's case, booing the former PWR and RCW'er.] PX: So to answer your question again, Myers, why am I here? I'm here to wrestle. I'm not here to satiate some blood lust, pull some sappy woe-is-me crap, or defile that ring in any way. I'm here to restore the tradition of the ring, what the legends of the past built through their hardwork. [The fans start to mellow down on their booing of Pure X, listening to what he has to say instead.] PX: Look, I know my rep follows me and I know I can have a bit of mouth, but that shouldn't matter when I step into the ring. Everytime I go into the ring, I want live up to everyone who has poured their soul into making the sport of wrestling what is was. And everytime I do that? I want to prove that the only way one can claim to be the single best wrestler in the world is to show the proper respect and be in a pure wrestling ring. [A couple fans actually cheer X now having heard him, though not all are sold.] PX: And Myers? With a little work, AWA? Can be that pure wrestling ring once again. [With that, Pure X nods and walks off the set - still to more boos than cheers, but a better welcoming than when he came in.] GM: Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back! [The camera holds on Gordon for a moment and fades to black. After a moment, we fade back up on a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking building.] "Have you ever dreamed of fame?" [Cut a little closer.] "Of glory?" [A little closer.] "Of your friends and family seeing you on television?" [And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that reads "AWA Combat Corner."] "Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American Wrestling Alliance!" [We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring. There are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course, working out in the ring.] "With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in the ring in the shortest amount of time!" [Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.] "With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on Day One!" [Two young students are grappling on the canvas.] "So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar! You want to be the future of the business! You want to wrestle!" [Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner. We freeze there for a moment... ...and then fade back up on the announce desk area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.] GM: Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans. We've had an exciting night here in the WKIK Studios in downtown Dallas, Texas. Just before the last commercial break, we saw Pure X - a man who last competed in a very major promotion in St. Louis - make his AWA debut out here with us. And he's not the only one debuting here tonight. At this time, please welcome the "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright! [Gary Bright walks into the camera's view for the first time. Bright is an imposing physical specimen who looks to have been chiseled out of marble by an expert artisan. His long beach blond hair is slicked back to just about his neck. He smirks at Myers as he flexes his well-tanned 22" biceps.] GM: Gary Bright, at 6'4 and 285 pounds, you are quite the intimidating powerhouse. [Bright nods his head, slowly flexing his massive left arm as he starts to speak.] GB: Gordon Myers, there's nothing that upsets me more than when I turn on my tv. I turn it on and I seeboys parading aroundpretending to be athletes. They flex those tiny lilT-Rex arms andcall themselves superior athletes. I call them superiortrash. Forsome time now the AWA has lacked a man among boys. It has lacked a hammer tonail the final coffin in the career of those who should never have had the opportunity to have stepped in a wrestling ring. [Bright stands there as the audience doesn't really know how to react... but you can hear a few jeers as one heckler in the front yells out "Who do you think you are?"] GB: By the look of you, boy, I'm not your daddy. Looking at your wife, I'm not her lover. I'm a bona fide, 100%, all natural, modern wonder of the world. A living, breathing God sent down from the heavens, created in the mold of perfection. I am everything you wish that you could be and everything you never will be. You got that, jack? [The boos rain down.] GB: Tonight is the night when all thestars are bright, but none shine brighter than Mr. Saturday Night, "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright. [Bright walks away, heading towards the ring.] GM: He doesn't lack for muscles and he doesn't lack for arrogance either, Bucky. BW: Arrogance. Confidence. It's a thin line, daddy. GM: Let's get up to the ring and see if he can back up his words! [We cut up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing as Gary Bright steps through the ropes into the ring.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... in the corner to my right... weighing 205 pounds... Jason Sanders! [A few mild cheers for the smallish Sanders.] MC: And his opponent... weighing in at 285 pounds... from Paradise Valley, Arizona... "GOLD BOMBER" GARY BRIIIIIGHT! [Bright strikes a big double bicep pose to the jeers of the fans. He smirks at their reaction before lowering his arms. As the referee calls for the bell, Bright strides to the center of the ring, arrogantly gesturing for Jason Sanders to attack him.] GM: Young Jason Sanders looks a bit nervous, Bucky. BW: Can you blame him? Some genetic freak of nature is standing across the ring from him. Looks like something wheeled out of an Italian statue museum, Gordo. GM: He definitely is physically impressive. [Working up the courage, Sanders rears back and delivers a knife-edge chop across the massive pectorals of Bright. Bright waves his arm, calling for another blow. Sanders looks a bit edgy before delivering another big chop.] GM: Those chops aren't exactly soft as a feather either, Bucky. BW: They're not - not at all but Bright doesn't look like he even feels it. GM: He wants more of them... [Another big chop connects but Bright responds by tilting his head back and laughing at the much smaller competitor.] GM: He just laughed at him, Bucky! What a jerk! [Sanders uncorks another chop attempt... ...but this time, Bright grabs him by the wrist. He tightly holds it in place, resisting as Sanders tries to jerk his arm free. After a moment, Bright pulls Sanders' arm hard and nearly rips his head off his body with a standing lariat!] GM: Ohh! Short-arm clothesline by the Gold Bomber! BW: He drilled him with that muscular arm - could've broken a collarbone real easily. [Bright stands over the downed Sanders, smirking at him... ...and then leaps high into the air, dropping a big elbow across his chest.] GM: Oh! High impact elbowdrop! One! Two! What the-? [The crowd jeers as Bright rolls off the downed Sanders, moving into a series of push-ups on the canvas.] GM: Now he's just trying to show this young man up. This is totally uncalled for! BW: I kinda like it. GM: You would. Bright's dragging him off the mat- oh, big forearm smash sends Sanders falling back into the corner. [Bright wraps his hands around the throat of Sanders, strangling the air out of him as the referee starts a five count. At the count of four, Bright steps back to break it. Grabbing the wrist of Sanders, Bright fires him across the ring. When Sanders hits the far side, Bright barrels across behind him... ...and DRILLS him with a running clothesline in the corner!] GM: Ohh! He moves pretty well for a big man too, Bucky. [Pulling Sanders out of the corner, Bright scoops him up... ...and presses him straight up high into the air overhead.] GM: Good grief! [The powerhouse walks around the ring, not even showing any sign of exertion as he shows off the helpless Sanders to all the fans in the house and all the fans watching at home... ...and then effortlessly throws him down to the mat in a heap.] GM: This guy isn't even breaking a sweat, Bucky. [A few hard stomps sends Sanders rolling under the ropes and out onto the ring apron. The referee gets between Bright and Sanders, screaming at the Gold Bomber to back off while the young Texan tries to recover out on the apron. An arrogant Bright ignores the referee, reaching over the ropes to pull Sanders up off the mat. Pulling down on Sanders' head, Bright strangles him on the top rope.] GM: Oh, come on! There's no need for that! [After a few seconds, Bright breaks the choke, leaving Sanders leaning over the top rope. Without warning, Bright breaks out into a run to the far ropes, rebounding back... ...and leaving his feet, connecting with a flying shoulderblock that sends Sanders sailing off the ring apron and crashing down in a pile on the concrete floor!] GM: OHHHH! BW: He sounded like a package of meat shoved off the kitchen counter, Gordo! [Smirking at the referee's cries of agitation, Bright slowly pushes back up to his feet. Nudging the referee aside, Bright strikes a double bicep pose, turning so the fans can see him on all sides. The jeers are all over him as he steps out to the apron before dropping down to the floor.] GM: And he's going out after him? Come on! Just let the poor kid get counted out! BW: Why would you do that? This guy doesn't need to win this by countout. He's got this all wrapped up - it's in the bag, Gordo. GM: We'll see about that. BW: If you think this kid has a chance against Bright, I've got some property in the swamps of Florida with your name on it, daddy! [Outside the ring, Gary Bright drags the barely-moving Sanders off the thin mats, hurling him back under the ropes into the ring. A front row fan climbs to his feet, screaming in the direction of Bright he spins around and returns the favor.] GM: We've got a situation out here at ringside - can we get some help out here? [A couple of AWA security team members step between the irate Bright and the screaming fan. Bright tosses a few more insults and threats in the direction of the fan before stepping back up on the apron. Inside the ring, Jason Sanders is back on his feet as Bright steps through the ropes... ...and promptly eats a dropkick from Sanders!] GM: Oh yeah! [The crowd roars as Sanders throws a flurry of punches... ...and snaps off a big superkick that knocks Bright back into the ropes. With his opponent dazed, Sanders scampers outside of the ring, quickly scaling the corner.] GM: Sanders is up top! He's gonna fly! [Bright staggers away from the ropes, looking up into the sky as Sanders takes flight, soaring through the air in a cross body... ...but gets caught in the powerful arms of the Gold Bomber!] GM: CAUGHT! BW: Caught like he was nothing! Like a foul ball at a Little League game! [The powerhouse drops to a knee, smashing Sanders' back down across the bent leg. Bright stays kneeling for a moment, smirking at the referee who is calling for a pin attempt... ...but the Arizona native climbs back up to his feet again, turning around so a second set of fans can see him.] GM: Pure power... this is power on the same level as Mark Shaw, Bucky. BW: We talked about Mark Shaw possibly being the strongest man in the entire AWA - well, we may have a new candidate for that honor, Gordo. We just may. GM: You can say that again... ohh! Another backbreaker! [Bright repeats the process - slowly getting back to his feet, still holding the limp form of Jason Sanders across his chest with his muscular arms. He turns 90 degrees to his right, facing the third side of the ring... ...and DROPPING Sanders down across his knee again!] GM: This is ridiculous. Can someone stop this guy? BW: Maybe a freight train. GM: He picks him up again - how many of these do we need to see, Bucky? [Back on his feet, Bright takes one arm away from Sanders, still holding him with one hand. He points a menacing finger in the direction of the angry fan before turning one more time to face the announcers.] "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, BUCKY!" [Still holding him up with one arm, Bright waits... ...and then drives Sanders down across the knee harder than any of the other backbreakers before. He shoves him off the bent knee, dropping into a lateral press.] GM: One! Two! Thr- oh, come on! [The fans jeer more as Bright pulls Sanders up by the hair, refusing to stay on his opponent for the three count.] BW: That one was for me, Gordo - did you see that? GM: Yes, I did. Impressive. BW: A one-armed backbreaker after three other backbreakers? That's more than impressive, Gordo - more than impressive. [Bright climbs to his feet, yanking Sanders up with him, and pulls him straight into a standing front facelock. He slings Sanders' arm over his neck.] GM: What's he going for now? [The Gold Bomber hoists Sanders up in a vertical suplex and promptly removes his arm, holding Sanders up in a one-armed suplex.] GM: One armed again! This guy is a beast! [The crowd jeers louder and louder as Bright holds Sanders up in a delayed suplex position... And holds... And holds... And holds... And holds...] GM: Good grief! [Finally, Bright lifts his hand back up onto Sanders and then powers him up into the air, dropping down in a sitout powerbomb!] GM: OHHHHHHH! ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEEEE!!! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winner of the match... he is the Gold Bomber... GARRRRY BRIIIIIIIGHT! [Bright slowly gets back to his feet, smirking arrogantly at the crowd as he strikes another big double bicep pose.] GM: Gary Bright with a win in his debut and if he keeps things up like this, there'll be a lot more wins in his future, Bucky. BW: And if he keeps dedicating moves to me, I'll pick him as the next National Champion! GM: You're too easy. Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back after this break with Sweet Heat in action! [We fade away from a shot of a victorious Gary Bright staring out at the jeering fans. After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet in an apparently moving car.] JD: Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go, wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA superstars when you're away from home? MS: I know I would, Jason! And I'd also love to have a place to put out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. JD: You've got that right. Wouldn't it be great if we could combine both of those ideas into one? [Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!] JD & MS: NOW WE CAN! [A voiceover takes over - thank God.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors, and happenings before the rest of the world. And don't forget to check out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired! AWA Access - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... ...and then back up on the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing and looking quite frantic.] JD: Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling and we've got big breaking news that just went down here in the backstage area! Just moments ago, I received word from the Championship Committee that Despair is- [From off camera, a hand covers up the mic, yanking it away from our fiery backstage reporter. The camera pulls back to reveal Adrian Freeman standing nearby with the mic in hand.] AF: Tsk, tsk. I wouldn't want you to spoil our surprise. [With a wicked grin, Freeman looks at the camera. As his music kicks in over the PA, Freeman cups a hand to his ear.] AF: They're playing my song. Excuse me, Jason. [Freeman tosses the mic aside and the camera cuts to the other side of the entryway where the arrogant Australian is striding into the WKIK Studios.] GM: Adrian Freeman is on his way out here, fans - and he looks ready for battle. But he's not even supposed to be out here yet! This isn't Main Event time... I don't understand this at all. And unfortunately it looks like he has decided to say a few words first. BW: Do I detect a hint of bias? As a commentator, you have to be unbiased, Gordo. [Gordon just scoffs at his partner's hypocrisy. Adrian Freeman reaches onto the commentator's table and grabs a microphone.] GM: Adrian, in just a few moments you're going to go head to head with Despair in our main event. You've got to be excited for this match-up. AF: Excited? I'm nothing of the sort. Why would I be excited when, instead of getting the first point towards earning me and Callisto a rematch with those disgraceful excuses for champions Kentucky's Pride, I have to go out tonight and wrestle that lunatic Despair? I don't have to prove myself by beating these Neanderthals anymore. I, with some help from Callisto, broke Rick Marley's spirit and chased him out of the AWA. You saw his last match... he was barely a shell of his self. He looked so bad out there the AWA had to air "highlights" of his match in one last attempt to save face. GM: I saw that match first-hand and let me assure you-- AF: Are you still trying to shill that worthless pretty-boy? GM: Are you still running him down even after he's out of the company? [Freeman pauses, taken a bit aback. Bucky stares at Gordon, mock-horrified. After a moment, Adrian continuies.] AF: You're right for once in your life, Gordo. Marley is the past, now it's on to new targets, namely the Dead Pool. Dead Pool, you boys have got to be the unluckiest team in the AWA. This is the third show in a row you've had to contend with me and Callisto, and it's not going to turn out any better than the previous two times. Despair, when Werewolf Gregorson got hurt you could have gone into singles competition. But instead you got out your little black book and started dialing numbers until you found someone washed-up and desperate enough to team with you. You want to know why he did that, Gordo? Because he knows that he couldn't hack it in one on one competition. Unfortunately, that's exactly what he finds himself in tonight... singles competition with one of the best in the business. But this is just the start. Callisto and I are going to tear through all of the weaklings hiding in the tag ranks and claim our rightful spot as champions. GM: So you're focusing on the tag team division and your team with Callisto Dufrense? AF: Yes, those tag belts are my main focus at this point. I mean, I've done more than enough to earn a shot at the National Title... [Gordon looks incredulous.] AF: ...but seeing as how I keep getting passed over, I've decided to focus on a division where I can rise by my own merits. When Callisto and I get those three points we'll get our shot automatically and take those belts. No Championship Commitee, no politics involved whatsoever. But first, I have to expose Despair as a joke. Just another day at the office. [Freeman turns away abruptly and slides into the ring, waiting for Despair. Melissa Cannon steps into the ring to join him.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is our MAIN EVENT of the evening. Introducing first... already in the ring at this time... weighing in at 190 pounds from Sydney, Australia... "SUBZERO" ADRIAN FREEEEEMAN! [Freeman smirks at the jeering crowd as he leans back against the buckles.] GM: He looks pretty confident in there, Bucky. BW: When doesn't he look confident, Gordo? And rightfully so, I might add. [Cannon continues.] MC: And his opponent... [But before Melissa can say another word, Jason Dane dashes through the entryway. He makes a bee-line towards the ring where Melissa moves to the ropes to listen to him.] GM: I'm not sure what's going on at all now... what is Jason Dane doing out here? BW: I don't know either but... well, by the look on Adrian Freeman's face, I'd wager a guess that he knows, Gordo. [Inside the ring, Freeman looks like the proverbial cat that ate the canary as Dane speaks to Cannon. After a few moments, Dane pulls away and makes his way to the announce desk.] GM: Jason, what in the world is going on? JD: Gordon, I was trying to tell everyone before Freeman interrupted me backstage but apparently Despair is not going to compete tonight. Not to slander anyone but moments ago, he was assaulted by... someone. BW: Wait a second, Dane - are you implying that- JD: I'm not implying anything, Bucky. I'm just saying that Despair was attacked by someone not very long ago and he will not be here tonight to compete as a result of that attack. [Inside the ring, a badgering Freeman makes Melissa makes another announcement.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen... due to Despair not being able to compete tonight... your winner of the match via forfeit is Adrian Freeman. [Freeman leaps up and down in the air, pumping his fists in triumph as the fans boo wildly... ...a reaction that quickly turns to cheers as "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean sprints through the curtain, diving headfirst under the bottom rope into the ring. He springs to his feet, leaping into the air with a dropkick to the back of the celebrating Freeman - a blow that causes the Australian to tumble over the ropes and crash down on the concrete floor!] GM: OHHH! DOWN TO THE FLOOR GOES FREEMAN! Maclean had seen enough of this idiot taking advantage of Despair's situation! [Maclean doesn't even blink at the situation, sliding to the floor where he pulls Freeman up off the thin pads by the hair... ...and HURLS him into the ringpost!] GM: TO THE STEEL! BW: Maclean's snapped, Gordo! GM: He certainly has. He's gone off the deep end at the thought of his partner being taken out by this goon! BW: Hey! You don't know that Adrian did that to Despair, Gordo. You can't say that - you can be sued for saying that! GM: I may not know it for sure but... ohh! AGAIN TO THE STEEL! [Outside the ring, Maclean takes the mount and starts pummeling Freeman with right hands on the floor. After a few more blows, Maclean pulls the Australian up, firing her under the bottom rope into the ring. The "Hurricane" rolls back in behind him, dragging Freeman back to his feet inside the ring.] GM: Maclean's got him back up... setting him up top... [Turning his back on Freeman, Maclean reaches back behind him and grabs Freeman under the armpit. He walks away from the corner with Freeman high up in the air.] GM: He's got Freeman up! He's got him trapped and- BW: DUFRESNE! [The "Ladykiller" dashes through the entryway, diving headfirst under the ropes into the ring. As he gets to his feet, we catch a glimpse of a metal object in his hand.] GM: HE'S GOT A TIRE IRON! [Dufresne winds way back from the blind side... ...and SLAMS the metal bar into the side of Maclean's right knee!] GM: OHHHHH! BW: He nailed him, Gordo! He drilled him right in the knee! [Maclean crumples to the mat, clutching his now-injured leg as Freeman drops down to the mat. After a moment, the Australian regains his feet and the rulebreaking duo begin viciously stomping the leg of the downed Hurricane.] GM: We need to get some help out here and we need it now! Kirk Maclean has been violently assaulted by Dufresne and Freeman and... oh no. [At a few words from his partner, Dufresne rolls under the ropes to the floor. Grabbing Maclean by the feet, Dufresne pulls him towards the ringpost, twisting the legs around the steel and slapping on a ringpost figure four leglock.] GM: Figure four leglock around the steel! [Screams of pain echo through the WKIK Studios as Kirk Maclean cries out in agony over and over. With a twisted grin, Freeman stomps and kicks at the downed Maclean... ...and then picks up the dropped tire iron!] GM: Oh no... oh please no. BW: Freeman's got the tire iron! [The Australian rolls out to the floor, clutching the metal tire iron in his hands as he stares at Dufresne ripping and tearing at the knee of Kirk Maclean... ...and with the same wicked sneer, Freeman SLAMS the tire iron into the injured knee once again! With the crowd stunned into silence by the screams of pain from Maclean, Freeman winds up and hits the knee again. And again. And again. And again... ...until finally a swarm of AWA officials and security team members flood the ringside area to prevent Freeman from striking another blow. With much effort, they manage to extricate Maclean from the figure four leaving him howling in anguish as the rulebreaking duo is forced away from the ringside area... ...and we fade to black. After a moment, we fade back up on a shot of Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet in an apparently moving car.] JD: Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go, wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA superstars when you're away from home? MS: I know I would, Jason! And I'd also love to have a place to put out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. JD: You've got that right. Wouldn't it be great if we could combine both of those ideas into one? [Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!] JD & MS: NOW WE CAN! [A voiceover takes over - thank God.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors, and happenings before the rest of the world. And don't forget to check out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired! AWA Access - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... 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 fading back up on a pair of kids outside of what appears to be a grade school. They're both wearing cold weather gear as they trudge up the steps to class.] Kid #1: How was your weekend? Kid #2: Amazing! Did you see AWA Saturday Night Wrestling? [The two kids talk animatedly about the show as a third joins them.] Kid #3: Guys! Did you see Adam Rogers on Saturday Night Wrestling? I want to be just like him when I grow up! Kid #1: Not me. I want to be like City Jack or Tin Can Rust! Kid #2: You guys are lame. Check out my new shirt! [Kid #2 opens his jacket to reveal a shirt that reads "San Jose Shark" with a large golden shark taking a bite out of the text. The others "ooh" and "aah."] Kid #3: I want one of those! Kid #1: Me too! Where did you get it? Kid #2: At AWAShop.com! Kid #3: I know what I want for Christmas! [The kids continue to talk as a voiceover is heard.] "Don't be the only one at school without your official AWA gear! Check out AWAShop.com today for your holiday wish list items!" [A shot fills the screen of various wrestler merchandise before fading to black... ...and then back up to live action where a solemn Gordon Myers is standing.] GM: Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans. We apologize for the extended commercial break but if you were with us just moments ago, you saw the absolutely brutal and heinous assault perpertrated by Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne on Kirk Maclean. Maclean was helpless and his knee was savagely assaulted by that dastardly duo. During the commercial break, an EMT team assisted Kirk Maclean from the ring and to a waiting ambulance in the back where he has been rushed to the nearest medical facility. We have no current word on his condition but we hope to bring that to you as soon as it become available. And at at time like this, it's hard to say but... well, let's go up to the ring for our next match... [We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] 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... THE CHAIN GANG! [Two generic-looking biker types by the names of Ripper and Torch raise their arms to some jeers from the crowd.] MC: And their opponents... "WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIIIIGHT?" [The crowd ERUPTS as the sounds of "I'm Gon' Be Your Sweet Daddy" self-performed by Sweet Daddy Williams sounds out over the WKIK Studios PA system. After a moment, the curtain parts and one of the most popular teams in the entire AWA comes shakin', jiggin', and jivin' their way into the makeshift arena.] MC: They are Sweet Daddy Williams and "Hotshot" Stevie Scott... SWEET HEAT! [The cheers grow louder as the two fan favorites hit the ringside area, making their way around the ring to high-five each and every fan with an offered hand.] GM: Well, Bucky - I have to admit that I'm usually very happy and excited to see Sweet Heat in the house but after what we just saw happen to Kirk Maclean, I'm a little distracted. BW: Let's see - that goof Maclean got what was coming to him. It sounds like Despair did too. If only someone would come out here and clean Sweet Heat's clocks too, this would be the greatest episode of Saturday Night Wrestling ever! GM: Unbelievable. I can't believe you just said that. [The popular duo climb up the ringsteps, moving through the ropes into the ring to the cheers of the AWA faithful.] GM: Well, Sweet Heat may have their work cut out for them here tonight as they try to get a point on the board of title contention. With these two big bikers standing in their path, I'm not sure this is what Sweet Heat had in mind tonight. BW: With that fat goof Williams and that mental midget Scott in there, you know this isn't going to end up well. [After a few brief conversations, Stevie Scott stays in the ring to start the match against Ripper. The referee calls for the bell to officially start the match.] GM: And here we go... [The big brawling Ripper immediately takes the shortcut by raking the eyes of Stevie Scott seconds into a collar and elbow tieup. A few well-placed right hands has the Hotshot reeling as he falls back into the corner of the two big bikers. From outside the ring, Torch reaches in to wrap an arm around the throat of Scott. The referee immediately moves in to count as Scott struggles against the doubleteam.] GM: Oh, come on! We've already got a doubleteam - an illegal doubleteam, I might add - just moments into this match. I'm getting pretty sick of these doubleteams trying to injure an opponent. BW: That's because you're a bit of a fancypants, Gordo. [A quick tag brings Torch into the ring. The two bikers deliver a trio of hard kicks to the body of Scott before grabbing him by the arms, pulling him towards the middle of the ropes. A big double whip sends Stevie across the ring... ...and down to the canvas courtesy of a running double clothesline!] GM: Down goes Stevie! A big double clothesline by The Chain Gang puts the Hotshot down hard on the mat... and one has to wonder if the incident with Kirk Maclean isn't weighing on the minds of Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams as well. The AWA locker room is very tight knit and seeing something like that can't be easy for anyone. BW: You think so? I'm thinking Sweet Heat is doing cartwheels inside because The Dead Pool just got knocked out of the tag team division - perhaps permanently! GM: Not everyone is as self-centered as you are, Bucky. BW: Sure they are. They just don't want to admit it. [The long-haired Torch drops an elbow down across the chest of Scott, throwing himself into a lateral press for a two count. Pulling the Hotshot to his feet, Torch blasts him with a right hand that causes Stevie to stumble back into the ropes, clinging to the top rope to stay on his feet. A second big right hand nearly knocks Stevie down to the mat but Torch grabs him by the hair, pulling him back to his feet.] GM: Big whip by Torch... clothesline ducked by Stevie... [And as the Hotshot rebounds, he leaps into the air and connects with a spinning heel kick that knocks Torch down to the mat. Seizing the moment, Stevie wobbles across the ring and makes the tag to Sweet Daddy Williams who races in with his fists a-flyin'. He snaps off a couple of jabs to the rising Torch before uncorking a haymaker that knocks the incoming Ripper off the apron and sends him down to the floor. Grabbing Torch by the wrist, SDW whips him to the ropes, leaping into the air and driving his rather ample rear into the face of the rebounding Torch!] GM: Ohhh! Down goes Torch! [Looking to wrap it up, Sweet Daddy slaps the hand of Stevie who steps into the ring, stomps his foot a few times to rally the fans, and without much fanfare, he snaps off the Heatseeker superkick to the jaw of Torch, knocking him flat.] GM: Stevie with a cover - one! Two! Three! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winners of the match... SWEET HEAT! [The popular duo trades a quick embrace before exiting the ring, walking straight over to the announce table.] GM: And we're about be joined here at ringside by... here they are, Sweet Daddy Williams and Stevie Scott... Sweet Heat! Congratulations on your victory, guys. [Sweet Daddy Williams takes the mic as Stevie Scott nods in thanks.] SDW: Thankya very much, Gordie. GM: I have to say though - after you both got to the ring, you didn't quite seem like your normal cheerful selves. You seemed somewhat distracted. SDW: Well, we was... we was. You know, the Hotshot and mahself have been runnin' round these parts since Day One now and we both have seen a lot of bad things go down, ya dig? GM: You're referring to what we just saw with Kirk Maclean? SDW: That's exactly right, baby. What we saw? What happened? That just ain't right. It just ain't right at all. Those two roodypoos Freeman and Dufresne have been causin' all sorts of ruckus 'round 'bout town for months and the Hotshot and mahself... well, we's thinkin' it's 'bout time to do somethin' 'bout it, ya dig? GM: Is that a challenge? SDW: It's a- [The crowd begins to boo as Vladimir Velikov and the National Champion, Kolya Sudakov, walk through the curtain. The National title belt is slung over the shoulder of the Russian War Machine as they approach the announce desk.] GM: What in the- SDW: What's up with this now? What is up with this? [The Russians draw closer, Vladimir Velikov snatching the mic as he approaches.] VV: No one cares about your challenges. No one cares who you think you can beat. And no one cares about Kirk Maclean. You are taking up the interview time of my nephew, a true winner - a true champion - Kolya Sudakov, the Russian War Machine! Step aside, Comrades, and we will forgive this offense. [Stevie Scott starts to step towards Velikov but Gordon Myers and Sweet Daddy Williams step in his path.] VV: Your friends are wise, Comrade Hotspot. The Russians have unfinished business with you going back to WarGames. We have not forgotten your weakness - your cowardice, your American values that humiliated us in the cage. Step aside, Comrade Hotspot or we may... how you say... choose tonight to remember it. [The tussle grows a bit as both teams get a little more aggressive.] GM: Gentlemen! Gentlemen, restrain yourselves! [The camera abruptly fades to black... ...and then fading back up on a pair of kids outside of what appears to be a grade school. They're both wearing cold weather gear as they trudge up the steps to class.] Kid #1: How was your weekend? Kid #2: Amazing! Did you see AWA Saturday Night Wrestling? [The two kids talk animatedly about the show as a third joins them.] Kid #3: Guys! Did you see Adam Rogers on Saturday Night Wrestling? I want to be just like him when I grow up! Kid #1: Not me. I want to be like City Jack or Tin Can Rust! Kid #2: You guys are lame. Check out my new shirt! [Kid #2 opens his jacket to reveal a shirt that reads "San Jose Shark" with a large golden shark taking a bite out of the text. The others "ooh" and "aah."] Kid #3: I want one of those! Kid #1: Me too! Where did you get it? Kid #2: At AWAShop.com! Kid #3: I know what I want for Christmas! [The kids continue to talk as a voiceover is heard.] "Don't be the only one at school without your official AWA gear! Check out AWAShop.com today for your holiday wish list items!" [A shot fills the screen of various wrestler merchandise before fading to black... ...and then back up on the announce desk where Gordon Myers is standing with both Russians.] GM: Welcome back, fans - well, we were able to get Sweet Heat out of here to let these... these gentlemen have their interview time. Mr. Velikov? [Velikov snorts.] VV: Gentlemen. Watch your tongue, Comrade Myers. I know what is behind your words and I don't appreciate it... nor does my nephew. [The muscular Sudakov glares at the elder play-by-play man.] VV: Everywhere nephew Kolya turns these days, it seems another one of your Americans are stepping up to challenge him for the AWA National Title. Everywhere we look, there is a Mark Shaw... there is an Adam Rogers... there is a Marcus Broussard... all lining up for their chance at the title. GM: It's a tough group. VV: It is... it is. But it is also a group of cowards, Gordon Myers. GM: Cowards? VV: You heard me. All your Americans talk... how you say... a big game. But who steps up to face Kolya? Who ACTUALLY steps up to face Kolya? Not Mark Shaw. Not Marcus Broussard. Not Adam Rogers. Not even the weak and feeble like Soup Bone Samson. They all talk about facing the champion but none of them really have the courage to do so, Gordon Myers. Where are they? Where are these great American hopes? GM: They're back in that locker room and if you keep talking like that... VV: What? What? What will they do? WHAT?! [Gordon starts to back away.] VV: Watch the ring, Gordon Myers. Watch what happens to your American challengers when they meet a true Russian warrior - a champion worth the gold he carries unlike your pathetic tag team champions. That old dinosaur Rust and his fat slob Jack. GM: Your mouth is writing a check that- VV: Gordon Myers, it is YOUR mouth that should be of concern. [And with that, the Russians storm out of view towards the ring where Melissa Cannon is waiting.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit and is for the AWA National Championship! Introducing first, he is the challenger... already in the ring at this time... weighing in at 205 pounds... Keith Smith! [Smith raises an arm but keeps an eye on his incoming opponent.] MC: And his opponent... he is the AWA National Champion... accompanied to the ring by his uncle Vladimir Velikov... he is the Russian War Machine... KOLLLLLYAAAAA SUUUUUUUDAKOV! [The Russian War Machine steps into the ring, hands the title belt to a waiting referee... ...and then barrels across the ring, assaulting a shocked Keith Smith with a barrage of punches in the buckles.] GM: Sudakov's all over him and- whip to the other corner... [And as Smith staggers out, Sudakov sprints across the ring... ...and OBLITERATES a dazed Smith with a running Russian Sickle!] GM: OHHHHH! [Sudakov drops down to a knee, pressing both fists down on the chest of Smith.] GM: One. Two. Three. "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Your winner of the match and still National Champion... KOLYA SUDAKOV! [Sudakov climbs back to his feet, snatching his title belt away from the referee. The Russian throws the belt over his shoulder as he walks away from the downed opponent.] GM: Well... what can you say about that? BW: Now THAT is a dominant champion, Gordo. Who can actually stop the Russian War Machine? Who? GM: We'll see, Bucky. We'll see. Joining us at this time will be a man who performed a most despicable action on, of all days, Christmas, by outright assaulting Juan Vasquez at the conclusion of the National Tag Team title bout. Please welcome the "Catch Thug", Raphael Rhodes. [The studio audience certainly isn't thrilled with the instruction, as a cascade of boos greets Raphael Rhodes as he saunters out with a smug smirk across his face. He is dressed for combat, sporting red leg-length tights with white kneepads over top, as well as blue wrestling boots with a single white star at the top of each boot. He is also sporting a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off, leaving frayed cuffs at the shoulders. Gordon goes to say something but Rhodes calmly pulls the microphone towards him.] RR: Oh my giddy aunt, you lot of oxygen thieves sure don't like me, do you? [Rhodes lets go of the microphone with a big grin emerging across his face.] GM: Well, with all due respect, Mr. Rhodes, you certainly haven't given them much reason _to_ like you with your behavior since arriving here in the AWA. RR: Listen mate, I can't help it if they are jealous. There ain't been another man like me to step through these doors and there won't be one like me since. And I'm sure there was plenty of fan mail in the post for the last month while we were on holiday because of some inferior sport that showed up here, but it's all been carted off somewhere. GM: I somehow doubt that, sir. RR: You can doubt that if you want, but you ain't got much right with you anyway, so pardon me if I ignore your opinion. [Gordon looks visibly dismayed and disgusted with this turn in the interview, but presses on anyway.] GM: If we could, Mr. Rhodes, go back a few weeks, I'd like for you to take a look at this monitor and explain your actions at Christmas Clash. [The video is overtaken by the footage from the end of the National Tag Team title match, where Rhodes attempts to nail City Jack with a pair of brass knuckles but Jack is able to dodge, causing Rhodes to strike Juan Vasquez instead.] RR: Now see, I said I'd do anything to win those belts, and I ain't afraid to admit that I wanted an insurance policy. Juan Vasquez cost us the belts before so I brought my knuckle dusters just to be safe. And there you see I was gettin' ready to knock ten bells out of City Jack... all Vasquez had to do was just hold City Jack in place and I was goin' to finish him off, and he couldn't even do that right. GM: I disagree with that, sir! From this footage, Juan Vasquez did not even see you with that dastardly weapon! RR: It don't matter what he saw, all he had to do was hold him and I was goin' to do the dirty work he was scared to do for him. And what did he do, Gordon? He failed yet again and he went down like a bag of hammers. [The footage then shifts to Rhodes assaulting Vasquez with punches and kicks after the conclusion of the bout, including Rhodes slamming Vasquez head-first into the ringpost as well as biting at the wound on Vasquez's head.] RR: And you see there, mate, I weren't too thrilled about havin' yet another loss on my record because of Juan Vasquez. GM: Don't you think you went too far? Don't you have remorse for your actions? I mean... biting the man? RR: What, ain't you been in a fight? You got to use what you can when it's your life out there... if a man's bleedin' and you want that cut open more, you take your teeth and you rip it open. GM: That is absolutely disgusting! RR: This ain't a game to me, Gordon. I ain't here to look pretty on the telly, smilin' and shakin' hands and tellin' kids to grow up drinkin' their milk. I'm here to win, and when I lose because of someone's inadequacies, I tend to get a bit angry. Juan Vasquez did sweet F.A. in that ring to help us win, and I'm sick of it. [We fade back to the studio, where Rhodes' grin still exists, but Gordon looks pale, clearly disgusted by the footage just aired.] GM: And you're not worried about Juan Vasquez coming after you for revenge? RR: Look. I've been in a lot of fights. I've lost a few, sure, but I won a whole lot more than I've lost. And it ain't nothin' to me to put Juan Vasquez down again... you saw what I did to him, mate. I don't need the knuckle dusters to put down a washed-up pitiful excuse for a "man" who's not worth a toss like Vasquez. [Rhodes points at the camera.] RR: I know you're watchin', and I know you're seethin', Vasquez. You're wishin' you could come right over here and shut my mouth because you want all these people to think you're still tops. Well, you ain't tops, Vasquez, and you're havin' a laugh if you think you are. You're at the last stop of your career, mate... you come lookin' for me and you'll be spendin' the rest of your life in a home, waitin' for a nurse to feed you because you can't move your arms or legs anymore. Savvy? [Rhodes sneers at Gordon, then walks away... ...and comes face to face with Juan Vasquez, still in street clothes, now standing in the aisleway blocking the path of the "Catch Thug."] GM: Uh oh! This could get ugly in a hurry! This could- [The crowd's yearning to see a throwdown is cut off by AWA security rushing to the scene, eager to avoid any of the craziness we've seen throughout the night. And as Vasquez and Rhodes stand several feet apart, screaming at one another over a sea of AWA officials, we fade to black... ...and then fading back up on a pair of kids outside of what appears to be a grade school. They're both wearing cold weather gear as they trudge up the steps to class.] Kid #1: How was your weekend? Kid #2: Amazing! Did you see AWA Saturday Night Wrestling? [The two kids talk animatedly about the show as a third joins them.] Kid #3: Guys! Did you see Adam Rogers on Saturday Night Wrestling? I want to be just like him when I grow up! Kid #1: Not me. I want to be like City Jack or Tin Can Rust! Kid #2: You guys are lame. Check out my new shirt! [Kid #2 opens his jacket to reveal a shirt that reads "San Jose Shark" with a large golden shark taking a bite out of the text. The others "ooh" and "aah."] Kid #3: I want one of those! Kid #1: Me too! Where did you get it? Kid #2: At AWAShop.com! Kid #3: I know what I want for Christmas! [The kids continue to talk as a voiceover is heard.] "Don't be the only one at school without your official AWA gear! Check out AWAShop.com today for your holiday wish list items!" [A shot fills the screen of various wrestler merchandise before fading to black... ...and then back up on the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: This match is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen minute time limit. Already in the ring at this time, from Alexandria, Virginia... weighing 282 pounds... KENNY PRESTON! [Preston, in great shape, raises his hands to the audience and then pounds his chest, letting out a loud war whoop.] GM: Kenny Preston's a second generation wrestler, Bucky, son of the great "Dream Machine" John Preston. What do you know about him? BW: Well he's a big strong baby bull, Gordo, y'know, he's a puppy with big paws. He's gonna be a player one day, but he needs some schoolin' in the ring. GM: His opponent might just be the guy to give it to him. [Back to Melissa.] MC: His opponent... from San Jose, California... weighing in tonight at 252 pounds... the former AWA National champion! MARCUS BROUUUUUSSAAAAAAAAAAAARD! ["Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing fires up in the WKIK Studios to a loud reaction. Mostly boos, but some cheers as well, as the former AWA National Champion walks out. He wears gold wrestling trunks and gold boots, with matching knee pads and white wrist tape. His dirty blonde hair is cut a little shorter than before, and his once stubbley face is clean shaven. He still shows the same focus and concentration as ever, walking to the ring with a calm demeanor and his eyes locked on the ring.] GM: The San Jose Shark trying to get some momentum back on his side here on AWA Saturday Night, after a fairly uneventful return. BW: Believe it or not, the Shark got lost in the shuffle since he came back. He had some business with Ron Houston, who got run out of town by Sudakov, and he's been looking for something to do since then. GM: As of late, Broussard has laid out a challenge to the National Champion, and of course has gotten tangled up in the Rogers/Shaw mess. It's fair to say that with a few good matches, Broussard could be right back on top of the heap. BW: A champion don't forget how to be a champion, Gordo, 'specially not one like Marcus Broussard. It's only a matter of time. [Broussard enters the ring and raises his hands, as Michael Meekly pats him down for objects. Satisfied, the referee backs off as Broussard loosens up in the corner.] *DING DING DING* GM: Broussard in the corner loosening up, Preston being checked down by the ref, and the match has officially started. A classic battle of strength against skill, as the two competitors circle one another... collar and elbow tieup to start the match, and Broussard easily manuevers into a side headlock. BW: The San Jose Shark is silky smooth, daddy, and young Preston may just find that out. GM: Kenny Preston grabs Marcus and throws him into the ropes, and hits a shoulderblock on the way back. That must be like running into a brick wall. BW: Kenny Preston is sturdy, no denyin' that. [Broussard gets to his feet and charges Preston again... and again catches a shoulderblock, this time knocking him down.] GM: A second big shoulderblock by the youngster, who's crouched in the ring, daring Broussard to charge at him again... Broussard charges, Preston swings- no, Broussard slides between the legs of the big man! And now he grabs the side headlock again, and takes him over! [Polite applause from the crowd, as Marcus wins the first battle of wits.] GM: Broussard gets the big man right where he wants him, back on the canvas, but my goodness did he have to struggle for it. BW: But he got the big man down on the canvas, mission accomplished. [Not for long...] GM: But Kenny Preston fights right back up and grabs Marcus around the waist, lifting him into the aiirrr- no, Broussard shifts his weight and brings Preston right back down to the mat. Broussard now really cinching in on that side headlock, applying undue pressure to the head and neck of Kenny Preston. BW: He about to pop his head off like a bottle cap. GM: Preston again now, trying to get to standing base, powering up to a vertical position on brute strength alone... he's got Marcus on one foot, and lifts him now, let's see if Broussard can shift his weight again- "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" GM: Oh no, not in the slightest, Broussard tried to use his leverage to bring Preston to the mat but the rookie just shotputted him halfway across the ring! BW: He coulda won second place at the county fair with that one, Gordo, there wasn't no technique there, he just chucked 'im. GM: The former National champ was a little taken a back by that one, as helps himself up in the corner... [And he doesn't hear the rumbling Preston, who is sprinting toward the corner and aiming for the nose... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"] BW: Sweet jiminy Jesus! GM: That could have knocked Broussard's lights out! An hellacious mafia kick from the thundering Kenny Preston, and he about sent Broussard into the Southern hemisphere with that. BW: He caught him in a perfect position, Gordo, Marcus was just turning around in the corner, his body had nowhere to go and that left his head and knock to take all the impact. GM: That most definitely rung the bell of Marcus Broussard, and Kenny Preston has seized control of this match! Hard whip to the otherside... "OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!" GM: Biiiiig avalanche in the corner! BW: Flattened him like a flapjack baby, with a side of double bacon and homefries, extra crispy. [Mmmmmmm. Denny's.] GM: Broussard's on dream street as he staggers out- right into a double choke! [But instead of living out every young muscle head's dream and hitting a Firebomb, Preston just lifts Marcus into the air and lets him stay there, choking him out to a surprising reaction from the crowd.] GM: The former champion is getting choked out right here in front of us, and the crowd doesn't know what to think. BW: These Longhorns hold grudges for a long time, baby, and Marcus Broussard done wrong to a lot o' folks. But these Longhorns is also dumb as dirt, and they couldn't see the beauty in Marcus beforehand. Either way, gonna be a long time before they forgive him. GM: Kenny Preston throws Marcus into the corner and rumbles to the far ropes, as Broussard stumbles out of the corner... "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" BW: HEY-OH! GM: Big lariat from the big rookie, and Marcus Broussard corkscrews to the mat! This is unbelievable Bucky! An unheralded, unknown, unseen rookie from God knows where is on the precipice of a monumental victory! BW: Toddy Mike must be on pins and needles, baby, because this is one of his kids standing toe to toe with the San Jose Shark! [Preston drags Broussard to his feet, then lifts him onto his shoulders. Marcus slides off to Preston's right and shoves him into the ropes, but Kenny bounces back with a kick to the gut. He easily steps into a vertical headscissors and _lifts_ for a powerbomb, but at the height of the lift Broussard buries his thumb in Preston's eye!] GM: That's an underhanded trick, but Broussard _needed_ to pull that out of his bag. Preston's clawing at his eye, trying to get his vision right, and here comes Marcus Broussard off the ropes--! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!" BW: PUT THE BABY TO BED, THAT DONE DID IT! GM: THUNDEROUS SPINNING SPINEBUSTER BY KENNY PRESTON! MARCUS BROUSSARD DEFLATED LIKE A BALLOON WITH A HOLE IN IT! [Preston, unwisely, pops to his feet and pounds his chest at the crowd, bellowing at the audience who gives it right back to him!] BW: What in the heck, cover him you dummy! GM: Preston drops into a belated cover... [The crowd, sensing they're seeing something huge, counts along...] "ONE!!" "TWO!!!" "OOOOOOOHHHHHH!" [The crowd stomps their feet and claps at the unexpected competitive match.] GM: Marcus Broussard kicks out after a picture perfect spinning spinebuster by Kenny Preston! BW: I can't believe I'm seeing this, Gordon Myers, this kid is taking it to Marcus Broussard! GM: This crowd has become a pro-Kenny Preston crowd, and they are showering praise on this young man right now! And Preston is just as excited! [Preston pops up and plays to the crowd, holding his arms out as if to embrace the crowd's love. He turns around and points at the recovering Broussard, who is on his hands and knees, and then goes over and paintbrushes the back of the former champion's head. A light kick to the side of the head, and Preston turns around to the crowd with a smirk.] BW: Oh Gordo, I can't believe I'm seeing this. This kid is taunting the San Jose Shark, and isn't paying him any attention. Five minutes ago, no one knew who Kenny Preston was. GM: I am absolutely shocked at what has transpired in this match, and I must assume that Marcus Broussard is as well. The former National Champion is on his hands and knees, groggy to the world, and he's being taunted by someone making his first appearance on AWA TV. [But Kenny Preston takes it a little too far. He casually strolls up behind Broussard and pulls him out of the corner, talking large amounts of trash along the way. As he turns him around, the cornered Shark lashes out... "WHAAAAACK!" ...with a headbutt right in the mouth!] GM: Oooh, a headbutt right to the kisser, and that's an uncharacteristically gritty move by Broussard. BW: I think maybe his pride has been hurt more than anything, Gordo. GM: A knee downstairs, and a European uppercut by the former champ. Preston staggers back, here comes Broussard... running dropkick right on the money, and the former champion is _rallying_ against this young rookie. [Not only is he rallying, but the dropkick sent the jacked up Preston stumbling back into the ropes... where he gets caught in between the top and middle strands, in essence crucifying himself in the ropes!] BW: Uh oh, you're in trouble now big boy! GM: Preston's caught in the ropes, and Broussard saddles up right next to him! "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" "THWAAAACK!" GM: A series of boots by a furious Marcus Broussard, who is now teeing off with right hands to the noggin of Preston! [The former champion calmly laces right hand after right hand into the head of Preston, making sure each one hits the mark and has maximum effect. After five or six, Marcus backs off... and then lays in a hard back elbow to the side of Preston's face. The crowd, previously anti-Broussard, now cheers for the hard nosed side of the Shark that had not been seen before.] BW: Dang jethro, this is a side of Marcus Broussard he's never shown anyone. I kinda like it! GM: Broussard's been man handled, and disrespected, in a way that we have never seen before, and that's making him fight back in a way he usually doesn't! [By now, Michael Meekly has untied Kenny Preston, but the onslaught doesn't let down.] GM: Broussard with Preston by the head... headfirst into the top turnbuckle! Preston turns around in the corner... and a _hard_ chop across the chest! BW: I didn't know he had it in him! [And now, back to your regular program, as Marcus takes a step back and drills Preston right in the thigh with his golden boot.] GM: A very pointed boot to the thigh of Kenny Preston, and another, and one more makes his leg crumble. BW: And the Shark smells blood, Gordo, this is how he got his name. GM: Broussard now, grabbing Preston by the wrist... whips to the far side! [Preston, still with a little pep in his step, goes hard to the buckle but gets his hands up, then kicks his legs up and out, no doubt assuming Marcus would be following him in... whoops.] GM: Preston expected to see Broussard pass under him- but Marcus is right behind him... chop block! He might have blown Preston's knee out! BW: The big fella hit the deck hard, Gordo, he played too fast and loose with Marcus Broussard, and The Man is going to make him pay! GM: Off the far ropes now... knee drop to the side of the face! That'll have Preston checking his dental work. [As Preston rubs his jaw with his hand, Broussard makes his way to his feet, turns his right foot on it's side and drops a knee on the ankle of the big man.] GM: A precise knee to the ankle this time, and we know what this is leading to, Bucky. Broussard laying in a stomp to the ankle, now another. Kenny Preston rolls onto his stomach, Broussard measures him- and he drives the point of his boot into Preston's ribs. BW: The old adage is that you wanna keep a big ol' boy like Kenny Preston on the mat, and Marcus has taken that to a new level, Gordo. He hasn't let Preston _move_ since he got him down. [Broussard gets real close to the gasping Preston and tells him in no uncertain to "show some respect!" He follows that up with another measured boot to the ribcage, and then continues the onslaught on the lower extremities.] GM: Broussard is now folding Preston's leg at a 90 degree angle... and putting his boot in the crook of Kenny's knee... "OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!" GM: My goodness, that'll, that'll break a kneecap! Broussard jumped into the air with his foot in the back of Preston's knee and just _obliterated_ that kneecap. BW: This is what happens when you don't show a former National champion the respect he deserves, daddy, you get messed up! GM: Preston is writhing in pain, and Marcus now is dragging him towards the ropes... and now he lays that right leg on the middle rope and, what's he doing Bucky, what's Marcus Broussard trying to- oh my! Broussard has tied up the right leg of Preston in the ropes, and he's in no shape to get out of it! [Cooly, Broussard ascends to the second rope and stands up, leaping back into the ring and driving a hard elbow to the forehead. Preston convulses as Marcus circles his body, and then drops an elbow on the exposed ankle.] GM: An all out assault on the ankle, like we expected Broussard to employ, but it's come in one gigantic spurt of energy and offense. Broussard now, laying in the boots, again and again and again and again. He's shown very little mercy since Preston disrespected him, Bucky. This is a Marcus Broussard we haven't seen before. Perhaps a more dangerous one. And one who has been clean as a whistle, I may add. BW: It looks to me like during the layoff, the Shark hit the gym hard and worked on sharpening his offense. He's regained the focus he may have lost somewhere along the line. GM: The referee now _forcing_ Broussard to back off, and he untangles Preston from the ropes, and I'd be very surprised if he can hold his own weight. [Like Bambi learning how to walk, Kenny Preston gets a wide base with his feet and then uses one hand to make a tripod, slowly pushing himself to his feet, awkwardly... and then Broussard strikes with a kneelift to the sternum, doubling Preston over.] GM: Kenny Preston doubled over from the kneelift, here's Broussard into a vertical headscissors... he lifts for a piledriver maybe... NO! PRESTON STANDS UP OUT OF IT! [The young powerhouse stands straight up, and Broussard flips over, landing in a sunset slip position...] GM: ONE!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! TH- NO, PRESTON KICKS OUT! [Broussard rolls him backward, and again, until Kenny Preston is lying on his back... then Marcus stands up, grabs the right leg... and cinches in the So Cal Clutch!] GM: SO CAL CLUTCH! MARCUS BROUSSARD HAS PROCURED THE SO CAL CLUTCH! *DING DING DING* BW: And Kenny Preston has to submit! The San Jose Shark with another victim, Gordo! GM: But not without a huge challenge from Kenny Preston, who was seconds away from a career defining victory. in fact, I'm going to the ring right now to talk with him about it. [A "THUNK!" is heard as Gordon Myers puts down his headset and starts walking towards the ring where a triumphant Marcus Broussard is enjoying some cheers from the AWA fans. Broussard is all grins when Gordon steps into the ring, shaking the hand of the veteran commentator.] GM: Congratulations, Marcus. That was a very impressive win for you in your return to the squared circle here on AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. MB: Thank you, Gordon. Good to be back in the ring, doing what I do best. GM: You recently issued a challenge to the AWA National Champion at Christmas Clash, but have heard nothing back. And you also got involved in Adam Rogers' match with Mark Shaw, and were on the business end of a wild Adam Rogers swing. What do you have to say about that? [Marcus wipes his brow and puts his hands on his hips, then leans into the microphone.] MB: Somewhere down the road, I'll get my shot at Sudakov. He's the top dog right now, he's got a strangle hold on the National Title and he _is_ to be respected. But not feared. I've seen the carnage he's brought to the AWA since putting Ron Houston down, and a lot of people seem to think he's a runaway train. That he can't be stopped... but I'm not one of those people, Gordon. Many men have I faced that were twice my size and twice my weight, and all of them ended up in the same predicament. Wondering how it came to be that the San Jose Shark made them submit in the middle of the ring. GM: Are you saying- MB: I'm saying it can be done, Gordon. Not that it'll be easy. [The veteran announcer raises his eyebrows and nods his head in slight shock.] GM: Very bold words, Mr. Broussard. Perhaps you have some more bold words for your former ally and mentor, Adam Rogers? [The crowd pops at the name, and Broussard can only smile.] MB: My former friend and mentor. Ha. This isn't the Adam Rogers I knew. The Adam Rogers that went nuts with an axe handle, and whacked me in the face, that's not the man I learned under and admired. He's let the gravity of the situation get to his head and he's let himself do things that he wouldn't normally do. Somewhere along the way all of the lessons he taught me about cool, calm and collected disappeared. And in it's place- [Broussard pauses mid-sentence as his attention turns elsewhere...namely to the direction where Adam Rogers is walking toward him from. Rogers wears tattered blue jeans, a t-shirt, and carries the axe handle in his right hand. Broussard steps back and holds up his hands, but Adam just grabs the mic from Myers.] AR: You've got some nerve, Marcus. [Adam glares at him for a tense moment.] AR: You've got some nerve coming out here and getting all preachy about me. Need I remind you that _I_ was the one trying to tell _you_ those things a few months ago? And what did you do, Marcus? WHAT DID YOU DO? [Myers and Marcus both take a half-step back, eyes wide at Rogers' anger.] AR: I'll tell you what you did. You _ran_. You lost your title, you tucked tail, you ran away. And now? [Adam laughs.] AR: Now, you just show back up a changed man? Now, you want to come tell _me_ about cool, calm, and collected? How about I tell _you_ a little something, pal? [Rogers pokes Broussard in the chest as he says those last words. The San Jose Shark bows up a bit in defensive mode, but Rogers goes back to talking.] AR: First of all, let me tell you a little something about friendship. It's being there for someone when they need you...like I _tried_ to do for you, Marcus. Ignored phone calls, cold shoulder backstage, didn't matter...I still tried to be there because I knew you needed it. But let me ask you this. Where were _you_ when _I_ needed you? Where were _you_ when Mark Shaw was using every dirty trick in the book to get an edge on me? You were God-knows-where, having a little pity party or something about losing your precious title to Ron Houston. As usual, Marcus, you were worried about one person. _You_. So yeah. [Adam pats the axe handle that is draped over his shoulder.] AR: You say I've lost my cool? Yeah, I've gotten a little nuts. Because I _had_ to. Because I had to do _something_, since my so-called "friends" were nowhere to be found. Because I had to something when- [Without warning, the words of Adam Rogers are cut off when Vladimir Velikov and Kolya Sudakov hit the WKIK Studios for the second time tonight. Gordon Myers beats a retreat at the sight of the Russians in the ring leaving just Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers alone with the National Champion and his Uncle.] BW: Get out of there, Gordo - this is 'bout to get crazy! [Rogers takes a double-handed grip on the axehandle, standing at the ready as Velikov and Sudakov stand, ready to strike. Broussard has his arms up as well, ready to defend himself... ...which turns out to be a good idea as the Russians rampage in his direction, enveloping him in a sea of punches and forearms that bullrush Broussard back against the ropes where the beating continues.] BW: Gordo, get over here. [There's a brief scuffling sound as presumably Gordon works to get his headset back on.] GM: Fans, it's broken loose here in the WKIK Studios again! The Russians are all over Marcus Broussard - a vicious assault on the former National Champion! [Velikov's heavy blows manage to knock Broussard down to a knee, allowing Kolya Sudakov to turn away from the San Jose Shark, staring down the Natural... ...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... ...we fade to black.]