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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                               The Stampede Cup

                   Live from the Laredo Entertainment Center
                                  Laredo, Texas
                              December 25th, 2009
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"The Stampede Cup."

[The serious tone of the Voice of the AWA, Gordon Myers, is heard just
as the sounds of Charles In Charge fade away.]

"To the thirty-two men who walk into Laredo, Texas tonight - it can
change everything."

[A shot of Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, fresh off becoming the
National Tag Team Champions.]

"For some, it means big cars."

[The Right Proper Thugs appear alongside their lovely manager, Lady
Victoria.]

"Beautiful women."

[An image of Raphael Rhodes in a finely-tailored suit appears.]

"The best in clothing.  

But to others, it means so much more.

It means the humiliation of a country."

[A shot of Vladimir Velikov waving a Soviet flag.]

"A long-awaited family reunion."

[The two Taylor brothers locked in an embrace from the last Saturday
Night Wrestling.]

"A return home."

[The War Pigs stand in a Japanese ring holding a set of title belts
overhead.]

"A trio of young teams look to step up to the next level."

[Three pictures pop up on the screen - Bailey Fitzgerald, Corey Lawson,
the Fabulous Falcons, and Simply The Best.]

"Two tough and rugged veterans look to make an impact in the tag team
division."

[Vernon Riley and Clayton Shaw work together in the ring.]

"Two legendary squads try to prove that they still have what it takes."

[A split-screen shot of Strictly Business and the Outlaws.]

"And two blood rivals attempt to move beyond their feud and show the
world what they're capable of."

[The still photos end with a slow-motion piece of footage showing the
Bishop Boys and Rough N Ready battling all over the ring during
SuperClash.]

"Sixteen teams.  Thirty-two men.  

[A big montage of photos of all the teams - including a quartet of
question marks for the two spots not yet filled.]

"A shot at the National Tag Team Titles."

[The sparkling gold and silver jeweled title belts.]

"One million dollars."

[A stack of cash.]

"The Stampde Cup can change everything."

[A slow-mo panning shot around the silver and ruby jeweled Stampede Cup
trophy.]

"And it starts... now."

[With a jumpcut, we are inside the Laredo Entertainment Center where a
huge crowd has turned out on Christmas night to see all the superstars
that the AWA has to offer in action.  

A panning shot over the roaring crowd shows families still in their
holiday best attire as they scream and shout for the AWA.  As we pan
across the ring, we can see the usual red, white, and blue ring ropes
with matching turnbuckles around the white ring canvas.  Out on the
floor are the standard thin pads surrounding the ring.  Steel barricades
are in place to hold back the fans.  A long aisleway leads from the
locker rooms, ropes on both sides along with a sprinkling of security
guards.

As we cut to ringside, we find two tables.  Melissa Cannon, a nameless
timekeeper, and Dr. Bob Ponavitch are manning the timekeeper's table
while several feet away, we find our announce table where our two
announcers are standing.

Gordon Myers, the Voice of the AWA, is in a salt and pepper sportcoat
and slacks with a gaudy Christmas tie that you have to assume a
grandchild must have given him this morning.  He has a big smile on his
face as the camera hits him.

So does Bucky Wilde, the AWA's color man, who is in perhaps the ugliest
suit ever created in the history of the world.  It looks like it might
have been conceived as a Christmas suit of red and green.  But the red
is an eye-scorching shade that comes closer to orange.  The green is a
neon green.  But Bucky is oblivious to it all as he flashes a toothy
smile, holding his ever-present bedazzled briefcase in his hands.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and a Merry Christmas to one and all. 
Alongside Bucky Wilde, I am Gordon Myers and we welcome you to the
Laredo Entertainment Center in the heart of Laredo, Texas - one of the
greatest wrestling cities in the world - for the premier event in tag
team wrestling - The Stampede Cup!  Sixteen teams have come to Laredo,
Texas here on Christmas night to do battle over the next two days... and
to the winner go some very big spoils, Bucky.

BW:  You betta believe it, daddy!  A shot at the National Tag Team
Titles, that shiny Stampede Cup, and one million dollars!  That's enough
to make any man do ANY thing to win this thing, Gordo.

GM:  There's a lot on the line as the AWA prepares to wrap up 2009.  It
will be very difficult for the winner of this tournament to NOT be
considered the best tag team in the sport and with the new National Tag
Team Champions involved, the pressure is really on the #1 seeds, Bucky.

BW:  Calisto and Adrian are the odds-on-favorite and you can bet they're
ready to live up to the pressure.

GM:  But according to a recent fan poll, the odds-on-favorites here
tonight will be Doc Holliday and Brent Maverick, the legendary Outlaws! 
They defeated Raphael Rhodes and Gary Bright on the last Saturday Night
Wrestling to gain some momentum heading into this big two-night event. 
The first round of matches will be held here tonight - everything else
comes tomorrow night.  And right now, we're going to meet up with the
other two members of our broadcast team.  Jason Dane and Mark Stegglet
are standing by in the locker room area - let's check in with them now
and hear from the two teams in our opening matchup!  Jason?

[We cut back to the locker room area where Jason Dane is standing all
alone in a stylish black suit.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon!  I'll be back here all night long trying to get
comments from the teams in the tournament as well as some of the other
AWA superstars who are here tonight.  In just a moment, I'll be joined
by Mark Stegglet as we talk to Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson but
first, let's take a look at some pre-recorded comments from the AWA
National Tag Team Champions, Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman!

[As the scene opens, viewers are at first wondering if they are actually
watching a commercial break as the camera sits in between two chairs on
a beach. In between the two chairs is a small table with two Coronas
resting on it. A man's arm can be seen on the right side of the screen
as he leans over and grabs one of the bottles and pulls it back off
screen. As it returns to the screen, it's about 3/4 of the way gone.

A bikini-clad cocktail waitress walks by as the man can be heard
speaking to her...]

VO:  Hey, sweetheart, get the champ another couple of pops. And not
these watered down bottles you brought us the last time.

[As the camera swings around, we can now identify the man in question.
He is one half of the AWA National Tag Team Champions, ÒSubzeroÓ Adrian
Freeman. He is clad in a pair of white board shorts and nothing else,
his championship belt laying against the chair in the sand. He looks at
the camera and speaks.]

AF:  I'll tell you one thing about Calisto... he certainly knows how to
live it up.  Without him I would probably be in a cheap hotel room
pacing and worrying about the upcoming tournament.  But now?  I can just
sit back and relax.  Because there's no point in worrying when you're
the shoe-in to win this anyway.

[As Freeman speaks, in the background there is a bit of a commotion as
four figures walk towards the camera. Three of them are wearing what
amounts to a pack of dental floss, and the other clad in a pair of
bright green board shorts and a pair of flip flops, his long blonde hair
pulled back into a tight pony tail and his eyes being shielded by a pair
of designer sunglasses. He's a recognizable figure as he is the partner
of Adrian Freeman and the other half of the AWA National Tag Team
Champions, ÒLadykillerÓ Calisto Dufresne. He's busy holding court with
the three ladies alongside him as he approaches Freeman and the camera.]

CD: Adrian, look what the tide brought in! They said they loved gold,
and I told them we had plenty of that.

[Dufresne begins to laugh, but stops mid-chuckle as he notices the
camera crew. He looks somewhat irritated, but then looks back towards
the ladies.]

CD: Ladies, go get yourselves a drink. Duty calls. Just put it on our
tab.

[One of the women mumble something unintelligible.] 

CD: What name, you ask? The tab is under ÒStephen Ross.Ó 

[The women saunter off as Dufresne turns towards the camera and
addresses it.]

CD: I know what you're thinking. ÒWhat in the world are these two
doing!? They're merely weeks away from the biggest tag team tournament
in history and they're sitting on a beach!Ó 

[A slow nod.]

CD: Exactly.

See, there's a reason we're the number one seed in this tournament. It's
because we're the _best._ And as the best, we don't need to sit for
hours in a gym trying to talk strategy and practice moves and all this
nonsense.

All we have to do is show up. And our pure wrestling prowess and our
throngs of adoring fans will take care of the rest.

[Dufresne reaches over to the table, picking up the other beer as
Freeman continues.]

AF:  The only team that could ever beat us was those two yokels, and now
that we put City Jack out of the business there's simply nothing to
worry about.  At least poor Jack has one eye left, so he can watch us
win.

[Dufresne puts down the beer he had been drinking.]

CD: I'm not here to take this whole tournament personally. At first we
were a little perturbed at the idea of Stephen Ross and the rest of
those suits putting a bounty on our heads. But then I realized that from
their standpoint, it was the logical thing to do. 

They looked everywhere for a team to beat us. They looked at teams
already in the AWA. Obviously none of them were going to beat us. They
looked at random singles wrestlers they could slap together. None of
those guys can carry our extremely large jock straps either. Hell, they
even looked under some rocks and found dinosaurs like the Outlaws and
Strictly Business. And they don't stand a chance either.

So what's the next move, then? Put them all in a giant tournament and
pray to God someone can beat us.

Unfortunately for the suits in the AWA...

[Dufresne shrugs.]

CD: ...those prayers will go unanswered.

AF:  I'm probably one of the smallest men in this tournament, but put
simply there is no one in it I am afraid of.  Least of all our
first-round opponents, two of the clean-cut half-wit do-gooders that
have been sprouting like weeds lately.

[Dufresne nods at Freeman's comments.]

CD: I don't know a thing at all about Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey
Lawson, to be honest with you. Somebody in the locker room told me that
they're two rookies who have been getting the hell beaten out of them in
their short stints in the AWA.

And after seeing the fact that they're being put up against the champs
in the first round of the tournament... well, they've got to be thinking
that somebody upstairs doesn't like them very much.

[A quick shrug.]

CD: And they're probably right.

AF:  Don't you get it?  This Fitzgerald guy's claim to fame is getting
beat up by MAMMOTH Mizusawa several times, which for some reason people
see as an admirable trait. And Lawson, um, lost alongside him onetime.
So by slaughtering them in the ring we'll only be giving their fanbase
what they crave.

CD:  It's because Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne are benevolent
champions... Because Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne are
kind-hearted warriors, that we're going to do the one thing you two have
been dreaming of since the moment you signed that minimum wage contract
and the one thing Ross and company have no intention of doing.

We're gonna make you famous.

[A Cheshire cat grin from Dufresne.]

CD: And don't worry, boys. When it's all said and done and Adrian and I
are a million dollars richer...

[A nod, a wink, and a smile.]

CD: ...we'll pay for your hospital bills.

[We fade away from the pre-recorded footage to reveal Mark Stegglet who
has joined Jason Dane.]

JD:  The champions seem very confident heading into the Stampede Cup
here tonight where they certainly are marked men.  Even if you don't win
the tournament, a win over the champs has to put you in line for a shot
at the gold.  Scheduled to join us now are the two men who worked so
extremely well with one another in the Steal The Spotlight Showdown back
at Superclash... and the two men who will momentarily step in the ring
with the newly-crowned AWA National Tag Team Champions to kick off the
inaugural Stampede Cup... ladies and gentlemen... Bailey Fitzgerald and
Corey Lawson!

[Entering into view now are the two men, both ready for action.
Fitzgerald is shirtless, sporting a pair of black wrestling tights with
fluorescent black and green designs cascading down the sides.  His
cropped blond hair already matted down, Fitzgerald places his hands upon
his hips upon his arrival.  Lawson is also dressed for action, wearing
light blue wrestling tights with black bandannas tied around his wrists
and knees.  His hair is blond and spiky, and he is smiling broadly as he
shuffles from side to side.]

JD: Gentlemen, welcome.

CL: Hey, brother, it's our pleasure to be here tonight, ain't nothin'
goin' to tear us away from a chance like this!

[Clearly already sporting his game face, Fitzgerald can simply nod.]

MS:  Guys, so much has been said about all the great teams here tonight
to kick off the first ever Stampede Cup event.  And with all the hype,
all the anticipation, all the buzz that's going through this arena
tonight - with all that - the two men who have arguably been lost in the
proverbial shuffle are the two of you.  What are your thoughts heading
int --

[With his response already coursing through his mind, Bailey
interjects.]

BF: Of course nobody's talking about us, Mark.  And for good reason.
What have we done?

[Clearly the pessimist of the duo, Fitzgerald simply offers a shrug of
his shoulders.]

BF: I don't know about Corey, but I don't see the point in trying to
smokescreen the pitfalls the other thirty guys in this tournament
already have us pegged for.  There's no sense in trying to dilute
anyone's thinking here and try to pass ourselves off as the dark horses
of this whole shebang.  Truth be told, there's probably a dozen other
teams out there with better credentials than ours who, in theory, should
be in this position.  I'm certainly privy to the fact a couple rushes of
adrenaline for us at Superclash with the right people watching is what
put Corey and I where we are tonight.

[Fitzgerald pauses, briefly collecting his thoughts.]

BF: And most people you ask, Mark... they'll tell you we couldn't be in
a worse position.  But you know something?  I couldn't disagree more.

[A small pop as Fitzgerald nearly musters a grin.]

BF: In the end, it's a matter of expectations.  You take one look at the
two of us - two guys who had never exchanged a greeting two weeks ago -
and everything about us screams hundred-to-one shot.  It's not like
we're blood like the Taylors or the Rhodes.  We don't have any laundry
list of accolades or teams we've beaten like the Outlaws or Strictly
Business.  The fact is, we're two guys whose dance cards weren't full
and we weren't satisfied standing on the sidelines.

[Lawson nods in agreement.]

BF: But what separates us from the rest of the teams involved is the
fact we didn't think twice about checking our egos with the hat check
girl.  How many of our peers can say the same?  Sure, there's a
prairie's worth of butterflies in my stomach going into tonight's
encounter - I wish I could say different.  But when push comes to shove,
the fact we're the lowest seed in this tournament doesn't matter in the
slightest.  With what they did to Kentucky's Pride still fresh in
everyone's minds... to be the first ones thrown Dufresne and Freeman's
way?  It may come as a surprise, but you won't find any complaints here.

[Fitzgerald nods in affirmation.]

BF: To us, it ain't about a million dollars.  A future shot at the tag
team belts?  Meaningless.  On paper, sure, we know it looks anything but
promising.  But there's something to be said for a couple of guys from
the sticks without a thing expected of 'em and nothing to lose.

CL: People can call us a Cinderella story... the #16 seed in the NCAA
tournament never stands a chance in the devil's house against the #1,
that's what all the oddsmakers say.  But this ain't basketball, man. 
This ain't somethin' where we're just goin' to get steamrolled.  I know
Dufresne and Freeman are probably all cocky about their chances.  I
mean, they're the National tag team champions!  But boys, Corey Lawson
ain't about to sit back and let you get to the next round.  Bailey
Fitzgerald ain't goin' home tonight without lettin' you know you've been
in the damnedest fight you've ever seen.

[Lawson punches an open hand out of enthusiasm.]

CL: My partner said pretty much what I was thinkin', but let me make
this point clear.  Disregard us at your own peril.  Ignore us at your
own downfall.  Look over us, and you'll be watchin' the rest of the
Stampede Cup on the sidelines, wonderin' where it all went wrong.  And
man, let me make somethin' else clear... I'm not just doin' this tonight
for Bailey or myself, but I'm doin' it for someone that might never see
out of his eye thanks to the tricks of our opponents...

[Lawson points at the camera.]

CL: City Jack, this one's for you, buddy.

[Before heading to the ring, Fitzgerald matter-of-factly chimes in.]

BF: Just remember, boys -- this one's sanctioned.

[Back to you, Gordon and Bucky!  We cut back to the ring where Melissa
Cannon is standing.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... WELCOME... to the Stampede Cup!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty
minute time limit and is a first round matchup in the sixteen-team
Stampede Cup tournament!

[Another big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... they are the #16 seed in the tournament...

[A third big cheer goes up as Neil Young's "Rockin' In The Free World"
kicks in over the PA system!]

MC:  At a combined weight of 427 pounds... they are the team of Bailey
Ftizgerald and Corey Lawson!

[A good-sized cheer goes up for the fan favorite duo as they dash
through the curtain.  Racing down the aisle, they slap the hands of all
the fans with their limbs stretched out.  Fitzgerald and Lawson are all
smiles as they work their way towards the ring.]

GM:  These guys are like a breath of fresh air around here lately,
Bucky.  They're just so happy to be here in front of all these great
fans competing here tonight.

BW:  That's so cute.  It'll be even cuter when Dufresne and Freeman put
them in the hospital.

GM:  That's not going to happen.

BW:  That's what City Jack thought.  Haven't seen him around lately,
have ya?  But at least when it does, our gracious champions have offered
to pay their hospital bills.

GM:  Those two make me sick, Bucky.  

[Lawson and Fitzgerald hit the ring, taking opposite corners to pump up
the crowd as the music changes to ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" to the
overwhelming jeers of the crowd.]

MC:  And their opponents... they are the #1 seed in this tournament and
the current AWA National Tag Team Champions... at a total combined
weight of 435 pounds...

"Subzero" Adrian Freeman and the "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne!

[The jeers intensify as Dufresne struts through the curtain, pausing at
the top of the aisle to look out over the rabid crowd.  He smiles
arrogantly as he pats the title belt secured around his waist.  After a
moment, Adrian Freeman joins him, the belt slung over his shoulder as he
glares at the ring.  Freeman is all business - Dufresne, not so much as
he flirts with a couple of girls near the aisleway.]

GM:  Perhaps the most hated men in the entire AWA, Bucky.  After what
they did to City Jack, there's not a soul in the industry who isn't
looking to take these two out.

BW:  Are you serious?

GM:  Absolutely.  City Jack is one of the most popular men in the entire
wrestling world and from what I understand, the phones have been ringing
off the hook in the front office with wrestlers looking to take
advantage of that Open Door policy to take their shot at Freeman and
Dufrense - especially Dufresne.

[Freeman leads the way down the aisle, focused on the two men inside the
ring as he marches down.  Dufresne is still playing the role of the
playboy, giggling and flirting with anyone who gives him the time of day
alongside the aisle.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne doesn't look too concerned about this match,
Bucky.

BW:  Have you seen his opponents?  Why would the tag champs be concerned
about these two nine-to-fivers?  I'm surprised Fitzgerald and Lawson
could get the day off at the 7-11 to come wrestle tonight.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Freeman is the first up the steps, climbing through the ropes and
tossing the belt to the referee...

...as he storms across the ring, blasting a surprised Bailey Fitzgerald
in the back of the head with a rushing forearm as referee Mickey Meekly
calls for the bell to start the match.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[The crowd is all over Freeman as he stomps and kicks Fitzgerald down on
the mat in the corner.  The Australian firmly plants his boot on the
windpipe of Fitzgerald, trying to choke the life out of him as a
protesting Corey Lawson shouts at the referee.]

GM:  Get him off of Fitzgerald!

[Dufresne finally reaches the ring, taking his spot on the apron as he
applauds his partner's actions.  Inside the ring, the referee steps in,
shoving Freeman back out of the buckles...

...and gets tossed aside as he moves back in, hauling Fitzgerald off the
mat by the hair.]

GM:  Freeman drags him up and- ohh!  Big forearm shot to the jaw!

[The forearm blast knocks Fitzgerald back into the buckles as Freeman
grabs him by the hair, shouting to his partner who raises a boot in the
corner...]

GM:  Double team coming up...

[Freeman dashes across the ring, SLAMMING Fitzgerald's face into
Dufresne's boot before making the tag.]

GM:  In comes the Ladykiller off the tag...

[A quick double whip fires Fitzgerald across the ring.]

GM:  Double clothesli- ducked by Fitzgerald!

[The spunky Buffalo native leaps up to the middle rope, springing
backwards with a twist...

...and LEVELLING both of the tag champs with a crossbody!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The crowd roars as Fitzgerald pops up to his feet, grabbing Dufresne by
the ponytail and hauling him to his feet as Freeman rolls out to the
floor.  A hard forearm smash knocks Dufresne back into the ropes.]

GM:  Whip by Fitzgerald... biiiiig running clothesline!

[Fitzgerald pumps a fist to the crowd...

...and then ducks down as Corey Lawson comes sprinting across the ring,
drilling an incoming Freeman with a right hand, knocking him off the
apron to the floor!  Big cheer!]

GM:  The champs are in trouble!

BW:  Wait a second!

[Lawson and Fitzgerald throw a double chop into the chest of Dufresne
before going into an Irish whip...

...and taking him up and over with a big backdrop!]

GM:  This crowd is rockin' and rollin' with Fitzgerald and Lawson!

[Dufresne staggers to his feet where a picture perfect double dropkick
connects, sending him back down to the mat where a diving Fitzgerald
cover gets a two count...

...broken up by a diving Adrian Freeman!]

GM:  Freeman's in again and- 

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  SO IS LAWSON!  Lawson and Fitzgerald aren't about to let the champs
doubleteam and cheat their way through this one tonight!

[Lawson and Freeman are trading haymakers on one side of the ring as
Calisto Dufresne staggers to his feet, drilled with a boot to the gut by
Fitzgerald.]

GM:  Dufrense's on the ropes... irish whi- reversed by the champ...

[Fitzgerald hits the ropes, rebounding back as Dufresne ducks down for a
backdrop...

...and the Buffalo native leaps clear over him, hooking him around the
waist to pull him down in a sunset flip!]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP!!  

[Freeman attempts to help his partner but Corey Lawson leaps up, hooking
a headscissors, and DRAGS himself and Freeman over the ropes to the
floor as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEE!!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  WHAT DID WE JUST SEE?!?

BW:  That didn't happen!  That's... no!  That can't be!

[Fitzgerald leaps to his feet, a shocked expression on his face as he
stares at the refeee who nods his head...

...and raises his hand in the air!]

GM:  Fitzgerald pinned Dufresne!  Fitzgerald pinned Dufresne!

[The crowd is absolutely roaring as Bailey Fitzgerald leaps around the
ring, falling into an embrace with Corey Lawson as he re-enters the
ring.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... moving on to the second round...

BAILEY FITZGERALD AND COREY LAWSON!!

[The roar intensifies for that announcement as Fitzgerald and Lawson
celebrate their victory!  Outside the ring, Adrian Freeman looks
absolutely stunned as he stares at the celebration.  Calisto Dufresne is
on his knees in the corner, shaking his head in disbelief at the
announcement.]

GM:  What an upset!  Fitzgerald and Lawson have knocked off the
champions!  Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson have defeated the
National Tag Team Champions in the opening match here at the Crockett
Cup!  I still can't believe it, Bucky!

BW:  This... well, this throws the whole tournament into an uproar!  The
National Tag Team Champions - the #1 seed - is eliminated in the opening
match!  

GM:  The celebration is still going here in the ring - let's... let's go
back to Jason!

[We cut back to the locker room area where a grinning Jason Dane is
standing.]

JD:  What a moment to open up the Stampede Cup, guys.  Bailey Fitzgerald
and Corey Lawson moving on to the second round with a big win over the
champs.  You've gotta love that.  Now, let's talk about our next-

[Dane's attention turns off camera where after a moment, Louis Matsui
emerges with a smirk.]

JD:  Mr. Matsui, I'm not sure why you are here.  You're certainly not
scheduled to-

[Matsui dismisses Dane's complaints with a wave of his hand, grabbing
the mic.]

LM:  Thank you, Jason.  Firstly, you must be wondering why I am here
alone. Secondly, you must be wondering why I am out here at all, since
tonight is dedicated to a tag team tournament which my client is not a
part of. I will keep my statement brief, and let you return to your
little tournament shortly. Since the AWA suits have not seen fit to
invite my client to be a part of the Stampede Cup, I have given
Mizusawa-san the rest of 2009 off to spend with his family back home.

Why? Because when 2010 rolls through, expect MAMMOTH Mizusawa to steal
the spotlight that is due to him. At the next Saturday Night Wrestling,
I will be making THE announcement. Let's just say, Mr. Ben Waterson and
the Southern Syndicate's $25,000 bounty on the head of one Juan Vasquez
has got my client and me very, very interested.

JD: Does this mean you plan on cashing in on the bounty and challenging
Juan Vas-

LM: Like I said, Dane, I will make the announcement at the next SNW.
Till then, I want to wish all the fans, and all of the AWA superstars a 
Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! 

[Matsui smirks.]

LM:  Yes, even you, Vasquez... Enjoy it while you can. Now, let's just
get back to our little tournament, shall we?

[And with that, we fade back to the ring where the crowd is still
buzzing from the upset they just saw.  Melissa Cannon is still in the
ring and ready to go.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty
minute time limit and is a first round matchup in the Stampde Cup
tournament.  Introducing first...

[The sounds of Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" hit the PA, sending the crowd
into a roar.]

MC:  From DEEEEEETROIT, Michigan... at a total combined weight of 555
pounds... they are the #8 seed in the tournament... accompanied to the
ring by their manager Richard Eric Lee... 

HAMMER!

SABRE!

THE WAAAAAAAAR PIGS!

[Hammer and Sabre tear thru the entrance portal with manager Richard
Eric Lee in tow.  The two face-painted, mohawked musclemen let out a
primal scream, flexing their muscles, before sprinting to the ring and
sliding underneath the bottom rope.]

GM:  Those two didn't waste a second in getting to the ring.  Fresh off
a tour of Japan where these two have had a lot of success, recently
winning the Tiger Paw Pro Tag Team Championships.  They'll be going back
to Japan in a couple weeks to defend those titles but when I spoke with
Richard E. Lee earlier today, he said that there wasn't a chance that
the War Pigs would miss The Stampede Cup.

BW:  I liked these two better when they had guts.  Now they're in there
playing up to these idiot fans.  

GM:  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, I suppose.  The War Pigs and
the fans weren't exactly on the best terms with one another when the
Pigs left the AWA but ever since, they've gotten quite warm welcomes
when they've appeared.

BW:  But the real question in this one, Gordo, is who are they facing.

GM:  AWA officials have been pretty tight-lipped about it - only saying
they'd be taking on a team that the Southern Syndicate would not be too
happy to see.  We're about to find out exactly who that'll be.

[The shot cuts back up to Melissa who is looking a bit puzzled herself.]

BW:  I don't even think Cannon knows, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly doesn't appear that way.  Is she-

"WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIIIIIGHT?"

[The crowd ERUPTS into a massive cheer!]

GM:  Did you hear that?

BW:  No, no, no, no, no!  Not him!  Anyone but him!

[The cheers grow even louder as the curtain parts and everyone's
favorite shucker and jiver, Sweet Daddy Williams, pops into the view of
the Laredo crowd!]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is back!  We haven't seen him in months!

BW:  Best months of my life, babydolls.

[Williams pauses just beyond the curtain, waving the crowd to their
feet...

...and then points towards the curtain where a grinning Soup Bone Samson
walks into view!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Sweet Daddy and Soup Bone!

BW:  I didn't know they made tag teams that made me want to vomit.

GM:  Listen to these fans!  The #4 contender to the National Title and
one of the most popular men in AWA history have united for the Stampede
Cup!

[Grinning all the while, Sweet Daddy Williams makes his way down the
aisle, leaning over the rope to embrace as many fans as he can.  Soup
Bone Samson walks right behind him, slapping the hands of the leftover
fans that the Sweet Daddy misses.]

GM:  And these two just instantly became one of the most popular duos in
this tournament.  Two veterans who've known each other a long, long time
- they were allies back in Atlanta in the Southern Championship
Wrestling days with us, Bucky.

BW:  Unfortunately, I remember.

GM:  These fans are on their feet and they are loving this right now!

[The two fan favorites scamper up the ring apron, joining the War Pigs
inside the ring.  All four men immediately break into a fighting stance,
ready to go in case it breaks loose.  But referee Marty Meekly manages
to keep them under control.]

GM:  Hammer and Sabre against Soup Bone and Sweet Daddy - what a
showdown this should be.

BW:  The War Pigs have gotta be happy right now.  They basically got a
bye to the second round tomorrow night.

GM:  Give me a break.

[An insistent Sweet Daddy Williams starts the match as Soup Bone Samson
steps out to the apron.  Across the ring, Sabre stays in as Hammer steps
out.]

GM:  We're down to two on two and here we go!

[The bell rings as Sweet Daddy Williams rushes across the ring into a
collar and elbow, easily powered around and shoved back into the corner.
 Sabre winds up with a massive arm...

...but the spunky fan favorite dashes out of the corner to avoid the
blow, pausing to shake his hips from side to side to the roars of the
crowd.]

GM:  Hahaha!  You gotta love the Sweet Daddy!

BW:  No, I really don't.

[Sabre glares bullets across the ring at Sweet Daddy Williams who
hotsteps across the ring to his corner, trading a high-five with Soup
Bone Samson before heading back towards his opponent.  This time, on the
collar and elbow, Sabre buries a right hand into the midsection.]

GM:  Ohh!  Gutshot by Sabre!

[Winding up his right arm, Sabre smashes it across the back of Williams'
head.  Using his left, he slams it up into the body again.  Right, left,
right, left is repeated until he pushes Williams back into the corner.]

GM:  Back on the ropes again... another big shot to the gut...

BW:  Well, if there's a soft spot on Sweet Daddy Williams - and believe
me, there's a lot of them - it's that fat gut of his.

GM:  You ever heard a saying about a pot calling a kettle black?

BW:  What are you implying, Gordo?

[Dragging Williams out of the corner, Sabre dips down and hoists him off
the mat.]

GM:  Bodyslam... no, wait a second...

BW:  He's gonna press him, daddy!

[The crowd begins to buzz as Sabre tries to muscle the 302 pounder up
over his head...

...but a wriggling Williams slips free before he can be pressed up,
dropping down on his feet behind the powerhouse.  He spins Sabre around
and pops him across the jaw with a haymaker!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[The crowd roars for Williams as he throws punch after punch after punch
that seems to rock the big man.  Knocking him back to the corner,
Williams throws a few boots into the body himself.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy's fighting back!  He's taking the fight to Sabre!

[Grabbing him by the powerful arm, Williams fires him across the ring to
the opposite buckles where Sabre hits hard...

...but charges right back out, felling Williams with a back elbow smash
to the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  He knocks Sweet Daddy Williams down to the mat!

BW:  See, a smart team would know not to get into a fight with the War
Pigs.  Luckily for Richard E. Lee and his boys, Sweet Daddy Williams' IQ
can be counted on two hands.

[Sabre walks around the ring for a moment, glaring at the fallen
Williams, and then leaps into the air, pulling back his fist...

...and smashing it into the canvas as Williams rolls aside!]

GM:  He missed the fistdrop!

[Seizing the moment, Williams gets back to his feet, throwing fists as
quickly as he can at the stunned Sabre.  Grabbing him by the just-missed
fistdrop hand, Williams fires him across the ring...

...and LEAPS into the air, smashing his hind quarters directly into the
face of Sabre!]

GM:  The Butt Butt is on the money!

BW:  That's disgusting.  Imagine the smell.

GM:  I'd rather not but it's definitely effective.

[Williams dives across the downed Sabre.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!

[But an incoming Hammer drives a stomp down on the back of Williams to
break the pin attempt.]

GM:  That breaks up the pin.  

BW:  I don't think Williams stood a chance of getting the pin there but
Hammer wasn't going to take that chance.  There's a million dollars on
the line, Gordo.

GM:  There's the first tag for Soup Bone Samson.

[The big veteran steps through the ropes, grabbing the rising Sabre by
the back of the neck, and smashes his skull with a headbutt that knocks
Sabre backwards, falling to a knee.]

GM:  Samson's in and he's got one of the hardest heads in the entire
AWA, Bucky.

BW:  Nothing in the skull to hurt.

GM:  I'll make sure to tell him you said that.  And when you're talking
about Soup Bone Samson, you've always gotta talk about that big right
hand.  One shot and your night is over... even if you're as big as
Hammer or Sabre.

[Grabbing Sabre around the neck, Samson snapmares him over to the mat
and promptly leaps up, smashing the flat of his boot down on the sternum
of Sabre.]

GM:  Ohhh!

[An angry Sabre rolls over and over towards his corner, pushing up to
his knees and slapping the hand of Hammer as he glares at Samson who has
both fists balled up and at the ready.]

GM:  There's the first tag for the War Pigs now to bring in the big man,
Hammer.

[Hammer steps in, nodding his head at Samson as he approaches, tying up
in a collar and elbow.]

GM:  Look at these two big bulls struggling against one another, trying
to power the other man down and-

[The crowd buzzes as Hammer coils up and SHOVES Samson down to the
canvas with what appears to be relative ease.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Hammer's the powerhouse of the War Pigs and he just showed why.

GM:  He's shouting at Samson... telling him to bring it again...

[Samson slowly gets to a knee, looking up at Hammer who is waving him
forward.]

GM:  Samson back up...

[Hammer lunges for another collar and elbow but Samson sidesteps,
hooking in a side headlock.]

GM:  Headlock slapped on by Samson and- look out!

[Showing off his power again, Hammer hoists Samson up off the mat,
holding him in the air for a moment...

...and then throws him down to the mat.]

GM:  Wow!  Pure, raw power right there.

BW:  Samson's no lightweight either, Gordo.  He's up there around three
hundred pounds.

GM:  And Hammer lifted and tossed him like a sack of potatoes.

[Samson gets back to a knee again, staring at Hammer, almost sizing him
up as he gets to his feet.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson's gotta be wondering how he can get an edge on
this big man... maybe those punches are the key.  Get in there and pop
him with a few of those.

BW:  Which is completely illegal by the way.

GM:  Well, perhaps, but...

[Samson lunges in, hooking a side headlock once more.]

BW:  What an idiot.  I know he's old but did he forget already what
Hammer did to him a few seconds ago?  Talk about short term memory loss.

[Backing Samson to the ropes, Hammer fires him off...

...and floors him with a shoulderblock!]

GM:  Down goes Samson again!

BW:  I'm loving this, Gordo.  These fans were all worked up over the
return of Sweet Daddy Williams and the War Pigs are just giving these
two the business right now.

[Using the ropes, Samson hauls himself to his feet.]

GM:  Samson back up...

[Samson shows a little more fire this time as he rushes into a collar
and elbow...

...but a lifting knee to the gut breaks the tieup.  Hammer delivers a
crushing double axehandle to the back of the head and neck, knocking
Samson to a knee.]

GM:  So much power.

[Hammer ducks down, scooping Samson up for a bodyslam...

...and then powering him up, trying to get him up in a military press.]

GM:  And now it's Hammer going for the press slam- no!  

[Samson slips free before he can get pressed up, landing on his feet
behind Hammer where he catches him with a hooking right hand to the
ribs.  A second one to the left side causes Hammer to stumble forward
into the ropes.]

GM:  Hammer's a little dazed now and-

[The veteran grabs him from behind, hoisting him up in a bodyslam with
his face facing out...

...and SLAMS him facefirst to the canvas!]

GM:  Facefirst bodyslam!  Good grief!

[Samson pops up, pumping a fist to the cheers of the crowd as he reaches
over to slap the hand of Sweet Daddy Williams.  The fan favorite quickly
takes the middle rope as Samson hauls Hammer to his feet, pulling him
into a front facelock...

...which allows Williams to leap off the buckles, smashing a double
axehandle across the back of Hammer!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  And Sweet Daddy Williams comes back in in a big way with
that middle rope double axehandle.

[Showing off years of friendship and teamwork, Williams drags Hammer
into a front facelock, slapping Samson's hand.  The big veteran steps
in, climbing to the middle rope...

...and leaps off, smashing his forearm down across the back of Hammer!]

GM:  Nice teamwork on display by Williams and Samson.

BW:  Should be.  I think they teamed against Abe Lincoln and Dave Cooper
once.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Samson drags Hammer off the mat, pulling him into an Irish whip.]

GM:  Whip by Sams- reversal!

[The veteran hits the ropes, rebounding back as Hammer drops down to the
mat.]

GM:  Look out!

[Sabre tries to interfere from outside the ring but Samson pops him with
a running forearm, spinning around to catch an incoming Hammer in the
gut with a boot to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Samson escaped that one and-

[Hoisting Hammer over his shoulder, Samson completely misses a
desperation tag to Sabre before he throws Hammer down to the mat in a
standing spinebuster...

...and gets DRILLED with a running clothesline to the back of the head
from Sabre!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Sabre caught him from the blind side!

BW:  Samson missed the tag.  He didn't see Sabre make the exchange and
then he paid for it.

GM:  Sabre immediately in there, all over Samson with stomps and kicks
to the head!  

[A leaping fistdrop connects this time before Sabre rolls over into a
double handed choke on the downed Samson, earning the War Pigs the jeers
of the crowd for the first time in the match.]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Get in there!

[An angry Sabre gets to his feet, threatening to backhand the referee.]

GM:  Look out, Mr. Meekly!

BW:  Lee needs to get his men under control.  They can't afford a DQ
here.  That's just throwing a million dollars out the window.

[Sabre drags Samson to his feet in a front facelock, turning it over and
dropping down in a reverse neckbreaker.]

GM:  Ohh!  Neckbreaker connects!  And there's one!  Two!  No... just a
two.

[Sabre wastes no time again, getting up to drop a leaping legdrop across
the throat for another two count before Samson gets a shoulder up.]

GM:  Sabre is all over Samson... hauling him up again...

[An Irish whip smashes Samson into the buckles where a rushing
clothesline sandwiches him in place.  A few big right hands keeps Samson
in the corner as Sabre argues with the official.]

GM:  Sabre drags him out of the corner... Irish whip...

[A rushing clothesline is ducked by Samson who is ready when Sabre
rebounds, catching him with a right hand to the breadbasket.  Samson
shouts out, cocking his right hand back...

...when Richard E. Lee suddenly leaps up on the ring apron, drawing
Samson's attention.]

GM:  Get him down from there!

[The momentary distraction is enough for Sabre to lash out with a boot
to the gut on Samson, hooking a front facelock, and SPIKING him
skullfirst to the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Snapping DDT by Sabre!

[Sabre rolls into a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thr- Sweet Daddy makes the save!

[The crowd cheers the nearfall as an irate Sabre drags Samson up,
chopping him across the chest and sending him falling back into the
buckles.]

GM:  Samson's in the corner... and there's the tag to Hammer!

[With both Pigs inside the ring, the referee starts a double count as
they whip Samson into the ropes...

...and FLOOR him with a leaping double shoulderblock!]

GM:  OHHH!  That might do it!

[With Sabre keeping guard, Hammer attempts the cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- KICKOUT!  KICKOUT!

[Shaking his head, Hammer throws fist after fist to the side of Samson's
skull.  Climbing to his feet, he leaps skyhigh to smash down an
elbowdrop across the chest.]

GM:  The referee's forcing Hammer- excuse me, Sabre - out of the ring.

[Hammer climbs to his feet, dragging Samson up with him.]

GM:  Irish whip...

BW:  Did Williams make the tag?

GM:  I'm not- SPINNING POWERSLAM!!

[The crowd roars at the impact of the powerslam, Hammer hanging on for a
cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHH!!  

[The roar grows louder as Sweet Daddy Williams leaps off the middle
rope, smashing a splash down across the back of Hammer's neck to break
the pin attempt.]

GM:  Williams broke the pin and...

[Sabre rushes in with a clothesline aimed at Williams...

...and causes them both to go tumbling over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[A dazed Hammer and Soup Bone Samson are on opposite sides of the ring,
trying to drag themselves to their feet.]

GM:  Hammer's up... listen to Richard E. Lee screaming at him...

BW:  A million dollars, daddy!

GM:  Samson's up as well...

[Hammer slowly approaches, hands pulled back for a double axehandle...

...when Samson suddenly straightens up and lashes out with a ferocious
right hand, popping Hammer under the jaw and knocking him flat.  Samson
stumbles over, collapsing on top of Hammer.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... the team of Soup Bone Samson and Sweet
Daddy Williams!

[A huge cheer goes up for Samson and the Sweet Daddy's victory.]

GM:  Samson and Williams upset the War Pigs and they'll move on to
tomorrow night where they'll face Fitzgerald and Lawson in the second
round!  Fans, we need to take a quick break but we'll be right back with
the next first round matchup!

[We fade out on a celebrating Samson and Williams...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky have been
joined by some very special guests.]

GM:  Welcome back to The Stampede Cup, fans.  And at this time I am
forced to welcome... the Right Proper Thugs.

[The crowd shows their displeasure as the Thugs walk down the aisle.
Barrett Topps and Marcus Moore come out first, followed by Lady
Victoria.  The Thugs are dressed in their wrestling attire, ready for
their match obviously.  Victoria is wearing a very tight, very short
skirt and a ripped up Long Blondes tee shirt, which is probably pushing
the boundaries of AWA good taste.  Moore and Topps take up flanking
positions alongside the suddenly nervous looking Gordon Meyers, while
Victoria moves in uncomfortably close, dragging a finger along Gordo's
chest.]

VPB:  Forced to welcome us?  Oh now Mister Myers, is it really so bad
having the next AWA tag team champions out here to have a little chat?

GM:  Well frankly that claim remains to be seen....

VPB:  Oh, too right.  And why is it that it remains to be seen?

BT:  Because the Championship Committee is a bunch of bloody American
wankers who are trying to keep us from having a match for the damn
belts.

GM:  Now hold on a minute, you brought that on yoursel...

[Myers chokes back the last word as Marcus Moore leans in, scowling at
the broadcast announcer and poking a finger into his chest.]

MM:  You best watch your words, mate.  Since the day we came into the
AWA you done been talking crap about the Right Proper Thugs.  I wouldn't
be surprised if you were whisperin' in the ear of the Championship
Committee, holding us back.

[Gordon shakes his head defiantly.]

GM:  I don't have anything to do with that.

[Victoria pushes against Moore's chest, and he steps back, still glaring
at Gordon Myers.]

VPB:  Well it's all neither here nor there is it.  Because now the Thugs
have our chance in this tournament, yeah?  All we have to do is beat the
holy hell out of every team that is unfortunate enough to step in the
ring with my boys here.  And that means we start with the bloody
Fantastic Falcons or Fabulous Thunderbirds or whoever they are.  The
Wubbulous Wankers most likely.

BT:  Oi!  Bird boys!  I hope you've been paying some bloody attention to
what's happened to other teams what stepped in the ring with us, yeah?
Most of 'em ain't around anymore are they?  So about now is when we
could say 'forfeit the match and save yourself the pain' , but what fun
would that be, eh?  We want you to climb into the ring with us, boys.
Because we want to put a bloody hurt on you tossers.

MM:  And that goes for all you other gits out there.  You think we don't
know why City Jack is out pretending to be injured?  You think we dont'
know why Kentucky Pride lost their belts?  It's because there IS NO
PRIDE in Kentucky.  Those two little schoolgirls knew they'd have to
face the Right Proper Thugs and a chill went up their spines....

VPB:  Or whatever passes for spines in Kentucky.

MM:  ... and they went out and laid down so they wouldn't have to face
me and Barrett.  Because they'd rather stay home and nurse their
so-called "injuries" rather than step in the ring with the Thugs and
find out what injury really bloody means.

VPB:  Well I hope Kentucky Pride is watching tonight.  They'll get to
see that hiding at home is the smartest thing anyone from Kentucky ever
did.  Tonight we're going to make a bloody statement.  A brutal, vicious
and VERY bloody statement.

[Victoria licks her lips at the thought of the impending carnage and for
a moment it appears as if she may strike Gordon Myers with her cane...
but then she laughs, a nasty mean sound, and she walks up the steps into
the ring.  The Thugs stare down at Myers, who, as one would expect stays
very quiet and very still until the Thugs finally follow Lady Victoria.]

GM:  Let's go back to Mark Stegglet.

[We cut to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet is standing with two
young men dressed in matching yellow trunks with falcons stitched in
white thread on the front.]

MS:  Thanks, Gordon.  I'm back here with Ken Falcon Jr. and Shane
Falcon, the Fabulous Falcons, as they get set for a showdown with The
Right Proper Thugs.  You guys are certainly the underdogs going into
this match.

[Shane Falcon nods.]

SF:  Not just this match, Steggs.  This whole tournament.  Nobody thinks
the Falcons are going to get the job done.

[Ken interrupts.]

KFJ:  Fitzgerald might.  That guy seems to think everyone's better than
he is.

[Shane chuckles.]

SF:  Good point.  But no one else!

[Shane pauses - almost daring his brother to interrupt.]

KFJ:  Sounds 'bout right.  But that doesn't matter one bit to us,
Steggs.  The Falcons have been fighting the odds their whole lives.  And
not just us.  Our uncles... our father... they all had the odds stacked
against them back in the old days but they made it through all right.

SF:  That's right.  And then there's us.  No one's ever given us a
chance to make it.  Everyone always assumed we only had a job because of
our family and not because of our talent.  Everyone assumed that until
we went coast to coast and around the world kickin' tail and showin'
everyone what the name Falcon means in professional wrestling.

KFJ:  And that's exactly what we're going to do over the next two
nights, Steggs.  We're going into that right with the odds against it
but we're comin' out with all the people talkin' about us.  

SF:  It starts with the Thugs.  You guys are good.  Real good.  I don't
think anyone really knows or appreciates how good you guys are.  But we
do.  We know you're talented.  We know you've got what it takes to win
the whole tournament.  And you can stand around and pretend you don't
know who we are or make fun of our names.

KFJ:  'Cause we've never heard that before.

[Ken rolls his eyes.]

SF:  But the fact of the matter is, when this night is over you're going
to have give us the same respect we're giving you.  Because we're going
to take you to the limit and then some.  And when it's all said and
done...

[Shane smiles.]

SF:  Everyone will know exactly what we're all about.

[Shane starts to leave when Ken pauses.]

KFJ:  And Victoria, you just bring your sweet cheeks over in my
direction and we'll see what happens, baby.  Believe that.

[And with a wicked grin, Ken Falcon Jr. exits the interview area to
catch up to his brother.]

MS:  Let's go up to Melissa for the next matchup!

[The camera cuts to Melissa Cannon in the center of the ring.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time...
hailing from England in the United Kingdom, weighing in at a combined
weight of 535 pounds, please welcome...

...THE RIGHT PROPER THUUUUUUUGGGGSSSSS!!!!!

[Marcus Moore and Barrett Topps stand in the middle of the ring, Lady
Victoria between them to raise their arms in the air.  Moore and Topps
don't even change their facial expression at the booing crowd.]

GM: The Right Proper Thugs are looking very focused tonight, Bucky.

BW: Can you blame them?  They've got a chance to be a million dollars
richer!  And the first step is to wipe the floor with these two young
punks.

GM:  You used to have a relationship with these two "young punks" as I
recall, Bucky.

BW:  They're different now.  If they were the same team I knew, they
might win this whole thing.  But now, they're easy pickings for the
Thugs, daddy!

[Melissa continues.]

MC: And their opponents... hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada... at a
combined weight of 490 pounds... Shane Falcon... Ken Falcon Jr.

The Fabulous Falcons!

[The music of Journey's "Separate Ways" hits the PA as the Falcons make
their way into the Laredo Entertainment Center.  Both men are in
matching gold trunks and boots as they stalk towards the ring, rolling
under the bottom rope to glare at their opponents as Melissa Cannon
makes her timely exit.]

GM: The Fabulous Falcons have arrived here tonight and they too are
looking like they're spoiling for a fight!

BW: Well they're about to get one!

[DING! DING! DING!]

GM: Here we go!

[Barrett Topps leans against the turnbuckle while his partner Marcus
Moore climbs out of the ring.  On the other side of the ring, after a
brief discussion, Shane Falcon slowly stalks out of his corner towards
the center of the ring.  Topps snaps into action, charging wildly
towards Falcon who is waiting for him and quickly floors Topps with a
hiptoss!  Topps quickly scrambles back to his feet and charges yet again
at Falcon, who again drops him with a hiptoss!  Pop!]

GM: It looks like Shane Falcon has been watching some tape of the Right
Proper Thugs and knows about their wild tendencies!

BW: A blind squirrel gets a nut occasionally.

[Topps once again scrambles up to his feet, but this time does not go
charging in towards Falcon, instead glaring at him.  Falcon tries to
bait Topps into charging again, but instead Topps dives in and the two
lock up in a collar and elbow tieup.  Topps uses his height advantage
and puts his leverage down on Falcon, trying to push him down to one
knee, but Falcon shows some strength of his own as he pushes back up.
Topps puts a stop to that by quickly kicking Falcon in the midsection
doubling him over.]

GM: Those are the types of moves we can expect out of The Right Proper
Thugs and The Fabulous Falcons had better get used to it otherwise they
could be in deep trouble tonight.

BW: They were in deep trouble the moment the seedings were announced.

[As Falcon is doubled over in pain, Topps runs to the ropes, rebounding
off and then connects squarely with a running kneelift!  Shane Falcon
stumbles a bit but doesn't fall.  Topps sees to that, however, by
following up the kneelift with a European uppercut that drops the young
son of Ken Falcon Sr.  Topps quickly heads over and tags in his partner
Marcus Moore as Shane Falcon begins to climb to his feet.]

GM: Marcus Moore seeing his first action of the tournament here.

[Moore stalks towards Falcon, looking rather imposing with his tattoos
and nasty demeanor.  He reaches the young Falcon and quickly throws a
closed fist that connects with Shane, prompting an immediate scolding
from the referee.  He promptly ignores that and does it again.  As
Falcon stands staggered from the two blows, Moore grabs Shane by the
wrist and tosses him towards the ropes, where Shane rebounds back, but
not before...]

GM: We've got a tag!  Shane Falcon reached his arm out as he hit the
ropes and tagged the outstretched arm of his twin brother, Ken Falcon
Jr.!

BW: Meekly didn't see that, daddy!

[But in fact, it's not the referee who didn't see the tag; it's Marcus
Moore.  As Shane rebounds towards Moore, Moore wraps his big hands
around Falcon's throat and lifts him into the air with a chokehold lift.
 Ken promptly hops in the ring and dashes towards Moore and leaps with a
running spinning leg lariat to Moore's knees that combined with Shane's
weight sends Moore right to the mat as the crowd responds!]

GM: Nice move there by Ken Falcon Jr.!  He went straight for the legs of
Marcus Moore and cut him down!

BW: What a dirty move, trying to take out a man's legs!

[As Shane rolls out of the ring to the outside, Ken quickly scrambles to
his feet and leaps onto the downed Marcus Moore and begins to pepper him
with shots to the head, the crowd feeding into his high energy style.
Ken gets back up and quickly scrambles a neutral corner and heads up to
the top turnbuckle...]

GM: Watch out, the Falcon is going to soar!

BW: ...Seriously?

[And soar he does.  As Moore slowly gets to his feet, looking dazed,
Topps tries to warn him by pointing behind him.  Moore turns around to
see what Topps is pointing at and is met by a flying Ken Falcon Jr. who
connects squarely with a crossbody block into a pin attempt!





ONE!!






TWO!!




KICKOUT!]

BW: Not that easy, kid.  It's going to take more than that to finish the
Right Proper Thugs.

[Ken is quickly back up as Moore starts to climb back to one knee.
Falcon sends him back down with a nice step up enzugiri as Lady Victoria
Pembroke-Burton pounds on the mat in frustration.  Ken pulls Moore up by
his hair and drags him towards the Fabulous Falcon corner and slams his
head against the turnbuckle before tagging in to his brother Shane.]

GM: Here's Shane Falcon back into the match!

[Shane quickly climbs into the ring and wraps his arms around the waist
of Marcus Moore and lifts him high into the air with an overhead belly
to belly suplex that drops Moore with a thud!  Falcon wastes no time in
getting back to work, grabbing Moore by the hair and then into a front
facelock.  He leans down, hooking a leg, then throws himself backwards
with a Fisherman suplex, sending Meekly down for the count yet again!





ONE!!!







TWO!!!





KICKOUT!!]

GM: Another kickout by Marcus Moore, but you've got to admit, Bucky. 
The Fabulous Falcons are looking strong thusfar.

BW: Key word, daddy: thusfar.

[Falcon shows no frustration with the kickout and gets right back to
work.  He pulls Moore back to his feet, then locks his right arm across
Moore's chest, looking around as the crowd begins to build a cheer.
Falcon lets out a yell as he lifts Moore up and slams him down with a
devastating uranage!  Pop!]

GM: Amazing display of strength from Shane Falcon there!

BW: That's one of Marcus Moore's signature moves.  That's plagiarism! 
Or something.

[Falcon yanks a badly hurt Moore up to his feet.  Moore looks dazed as
Falcon runs against the ring ropes and...]

GM: OH!  Did you see that, Bucky!?

BW: See what?

[What Bucky's selective vision missed was Barrett Topps reaching back
and kicking Shane Falcon square in the back with the toe of his boot as
he rebounded off the ropes.  Falcon cries out in surprise and pain and
staggers towards Marcus Moore who takes advantage of the opportunity and
grabs Falcon and slams him with an even more devastating uranage!]

BW: THAT'S how you do it, daddy!

GM: He couldn't of done it without help!

[Speaking of help, Moore wastes no time in crawling over to his corner
and tagging in the aforementioned Barrett Topps who quickly climbs into
the ring to work on Shane Falcon.  He dives on top of Falcon, wrapping
his hands around Falcon's throat, choking him.  The referee tries to
intervene, laying on a five count, which forces Topps to break the hold
at 4.99999.  Topps pulls Falcon up, whipping him to the ropes and
leveling him with a stiff clothesline as Lady Victoria claps
enthusiastically on the outside of the ring.]

GM: Shane Falcon needs to get over to his twin brother and make a tag.

BW: He's in the deep end of the pool without his water wings right now,
Gordo.

[Topps scoops Falcon off of the mat, carrying him over his shoulder and
walking right by Ken Falcon Jr., who can do nothing but watch as his
brother is heaved around, then dropped unceremoniously onto Topps' knee
with a stiff shoulderbreaker!  Topps now with the cover...




ONE!!





TWO!!





KICKOUT!!]

GM: There's still some life in Shane Falcon!  He wants to move on to the
next round!

BW: You want a mistress, but that's not going to happen either.

GM:  Bucky!

[Topps is not deterred, and he pulls Shane Falcon up and whips him to
the ropes and as he rebounds towards Topps is slammed down hard with a
bodyslam that has Falcon clutching his back in pain.  Topps is up
quickly, smiling broadly and laughing at the downed Falcon.  Topps pulls
Falcon up, wrapping his arms around him and Shane Falcon for the second
time is paid back for using one of the Right Proper Thugs' signature
moves as Topps throws him down with a nasty overhead belly to belly
suplex!]

BW: Once again, the Right Proper Thugs show them how it's done!

GM: Topps heading over for the tag now...

[Topps indeed does tag out to his partner, Marcus Moore.  Moore climbs
back into the ring, ready to deal some damage after being on the other
end of the beatings his last time into the ring.  He waits for his prey
to climb back to his feet, then heads straight towards Falcon, leveling
him with a football tackle!  Moore quickly is back up to his feet,
bringing Shane Falcon with him, grabbing him by the hair, then
connecting with a stiff headbutt!  Moore scoops Falcon up yet again,
this time showing off his impressive strength, lifting Falcon high over
his head with a gorilla press, walking around the ring...]

GM: Look at the strength shown here by Marcus Moore.  Shane Falcon is a
260 pound man and Moore is having no trouble carrying him around like a
child!

BW: What goes up...!

[...Must indeed come down as Moore dumps Falcon down unceremoniously
onto the mat.  In the Fabulous Falcon corner Ken Falcon Jr. is willing
his brother Shane to get to the corner and Shane begins to crawl, but is
cut off by Marcus Moore.  Moore scoops Falcon up around the waist and
lifts him up off the ground and walks towards his corner.  He tags out
to Topps while still holding on to Falcon. Barrett hops into the ring
and dashes off the ropes and connects with a clothesline on Shane as
Moore finishes the move with a spinebuster!]

BW:  Oooh!  That looked like a better version of Dark And Bloody Ground,
Gordo.

GM:  The signature move of Kentucky's Pride - it certainly did.  And at
this point, Shane Falcon cannot take much more of this!

BW: It shouldn't be long now, daddy!

[Topps quickly tags back out to Marcus Moore, but before he leaves the
ring, scoops Falcon up and drops him onto his knee with a backbreaker!
Moore is right behind with a jumping legdrop that snaps Falcon's neck
back!]

GM: Great tag team wrestling here by the Right Proper Thugs, like them
or not.

BW: They're sending a message to everyone else in the tournament!

[Moore with the cover...




ONE!!!!!!!!!























TWO!!!!!!!!!!





















THRE---NO, KICKOUT!!!

Moore seems to sense that the end may be coming and yanks Falcon up to
his feet, looking back towards Topps asking if they should finish him
off.  Topps shakes his head, preferring to inflict more punishment
instead.  Moore nods and tosses Falcon to the ropes, sizing him up for a
lariat, and...]

GM: OHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[...gets nothing as Shane Falcon comes back towards him and executes a
perfect float over DDT that spikes Moore's head square into the mat!]

GM: That's all Shane Falcon had left in the tank, folks!  Both men are
down on the mat!

BW: Get up, Marcus!

[Both men lie motionless, chests heaving.  Falcon is the first to move,
inching towards his twin brother who is leaping up and down on the
apron, willing Shane to reach him!  Moore now begins to stir and begins
moving towards his corner with much more speed than Falcon can muster.
He reaches out and tags in Barrett Topps, who dashes in, desperate to
stop Shane Falcon from making the tag.]

BW: Falcon's not going to make it, daddy!

[But he does.  The crowd explodes as Shane Falcon reaches out and tags
Ken Jr. just as Barrett Topps yanks him by the ankle away from the
corner!]

GM: WE'VE GOT A TAG, FOLKS!

[Ken yanks on the ropes and springboards over, connecting with a stiff
dropkick to the face of Barrett Topps that sends him flying!  Marcus
Moore comes running towards Falcon and is met with a step up enzugiri
right to the side of the head that sends him through the middle rope and
to the outside, landing in front of Lady Victoria as the crowd erupts!]

GM: KEN FALCON JR. IS CLEANING HOUSE IN THERE!  HE'S LIKE A HOUSE OF
FIRE!

BW: Time to regroup!

[But Ken will not allow any such thing as Barrett Topps attempts to get
out of the ring, but is caught by the ankle and yanked back into the
ring by Falcon!  He pulls Topps back into the ring and hooks his arms
from behind, lifting him up and over and slamming him backwards with a
Tiger suplex!  Ken is quickly up to his feet, then up to the top
turnbuckle, and leaps off, dropping his leg across the throat of Barrett
Topps with a flying legdrop!  Ken keeps up the momentum, whipping Topps
to the ropes and as he rebounds, hooks his arm and hiptosses him over
into a backbreaker!  Pop!]

GM: The crowd is really appreciating these high impact moves from Ken
Falcon Jr. and the young Falcon is drawing energy from these fans!

BW: You start pandering to this rabble and your career goes down the
tube.

[Ken Falcon wants to soar once again and heads over to the top rope,
waiting for Barrett Topps to climb back to his feet.  Topps finally gets
back to a vertical base and Falcon leaps off the top turnbuckle with a
crossbody block...]

GM: Are you kidding me!?

BW: Your eyes do not deceive you, daddy!

[...and Barrett Topps catches Ken Falcon Jr. mid flight!  Falcon tries
to fight his way out, but there's nowhere to go. Topps hoists him over
his shoulders, gets a running start, and...


WHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

BW: That's a wrap!

GM: LANCANSHIRE HILLS DRIVER!  LANCANSHIRE HILLS DRIVER!

[Topps drops Falcon square on his head with his version of a Death
Valley Driver and rolls over, hooking the leg.

ONE!!!!!!
















TWO!!!!!!!!!!














Shane Falcon is in the ring now, diving to break up the tag...
























...and gets there just a half second too late.















THRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!





DING! DING! DING!]

BW: It's over, daddy!  Right Proper Thugs moving right along to the next
round!

[Melissa Cannon climbs into the ring as Barrett Topps rolls to the
outside of the ring to celebrate with his partner and manager.]

MC: Here are your winners and moving on to round two of the Stampede
Cup... THE RIGHT PROPER THUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGSSSSS!!!

[Shane Falcon helps his brother to his feet as Ken looks around with a
look of confusion on his face as he wonders how things went downhill so
quickly.]

GM: The Fabulous Falcons looked like they were taking control of this
match, Bucky, and then out of nowhere, Barrett Topps seized victory from
the jaws of defeat.

BW: That's what's great about this sport, Gordo. Things can change in an
instant!

GM:  So, the Right Proper Thugs advance with this victory to tomorrow
night where they will meet either the Bishop Boys or the Taylor
Brothers.

BW:  And either of those would be an outstanding showdown, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly would.  In fact, I'm being told that the Bishop Boys
are standing by right now with some comments.  Jason?

[Cut to Jason, who nods as Cousin Bo and The Bishop Boys arrive on the
set. Jason turns to Bo, whose head hangs a little bit.]

JD: As I'm sure you know, Mr. Allan, tonight is a big night for the AWA.
16 top teams look to claim The Stampede Cup. Not only that, the winner
earns one million dollars, AND a shot at the tag team champions.

[Bo raises his head a bit, nodding, with the hint of a small smile
crossing his face.]

JD: But before we get to that, there's one question I'm sure has been on
everyone's mind lately.

[Bo sighs, expecting what's coming next.]

JD: Ever since SuperClash, you've been uncharacteristically quiet.
Nobody's heard or seen anything from you until now.

[Bo rolls his eyes, becoming antsy.]

CB: Just get to the point and ask the freakin' question.

JD: Well, what happened to you guys?

[Bo shakes his head and snickers a bit.]

CB: What happened? That's your grand question? I'll tell you what
happened.

[Bo gets in Jason's face.]

CB: We...

[Bo stops himself and shakes his head again. Gritting his teeth, he
turns and points at his cousins.]

CB: _They_ LOST!

[Bo holds his head and curses under his breath.]

CB: I come in here EVERY SINGLE WEEK, and build these two up like gods.
I tell the world how dangerous they are, threaten serious injury to
anyone who dares cross their path. I do this for months. We get thrown a
couple of scrubs every few weeks to show our strength.

[Bo rubs his chin, his gaze not leaving his cousins.]

CB: And when it comes time to show the world that we belong, we toss
Rough N Ready around a bit. Maybe people begin to take what I say a
little more seriously. But when we get the big chance, a huge match on
one of the biggest shows of the year, and a chance to put ourselves in
prime position for the titles?

[Bo begins to shake a bit as he looks at his cousins, his eyes
unblinking.]

CB: These two drop the ball!

[The Bishop Boys look ashamed as Bo turns back to Jason.]

CB: And even worse than that is the fact...

[Bo quickly swings around and shockingly SLAPS Cletus Lee right in the
face!]

JD [surprised]: WHOA!

[Cletus Lee grunts in surprise, holding his cheek, as he looks back at
Bo with a mixture of shock and anger. Bo looks to do the same to Duane
Henry, but he wisely backs away, looking stunned that his cousin would
do such a thing to his monster of a brother. Bo instead points his
finger right in Duane Henry's face.]

CB: What's even worse is that these two have painted me as a damn liar!
Now, thanks to them, I look like some overblown hype man!

[Bo looks back and forth wildly at his cousins.]

CB: Which THEY will take great steps to assure NEVER.........
HAPPENS............. AGAIN!

[Bo looks at them as if he expects them to somehow acknowledge this.
Cletus Lee removes his hand from his face, exhales sharply, and nods.
Duane Henry narrows his eyes, staring at Bo for what seems like an
eternity before responding.]

DHB [curtly]: Yeah.

[Bo looks somewhat satisfied by this, and turns back to Jason again.]

CB: So I sincerely hope Rough N Ready don't think of themselves as some
sort of career killers. Unlike the jokes that tucked tail and ran after
those two fossils were through with them, we're not going anywhere. Now,
we train even harder. We make a commitment to making ourselves a
stronger TEAM. And we begin our AWA careers anew.

[The smile returns to Bo's face.]

CB: Which brings us to tonight. Our chance to redeem ourselves. And
another chance at getting that title shot we've wanted so badly.

JD: Right. And in order to do so, first you have to get through The
Taylor Brothers. Not an easy task by any stretch of the imagination.

[Bo nods.]

CB: Definitely not. After all, who understands the kind of bond a tag
team needs to have better than brothers?

[Bo raises an eyebrow, looking at the camera.]

CB: Of course, the real question is what Bobby Taylor shows up? Is it
"The Outlaw"? The man who's been through countless wars with the legends
of this business? The man who earned his moniker the hard way?

[Bo chuckles, shaking his head.]

CB: Or is it the tired old bureaucrat? The man who complains over and
over again about having nothing left to give for this sport, yet uses
his power in this company to enter this tournament?

[Bo laughs.]

CB: Typical politician. Tells everyone he just wants to do what's right
for them, yet when the opportunity arises for him to benefit, he can't
climb over his own ego fast enough to use his position of power for his
own personal gain. Ridiculous.

[Bo looks at Jason.]

CB: Now I've watched Shane Taylor quite a bit, and he's definitely got
the skills to go far in the AWA. But if I'm him...

[Bo chuckles again.]

CB: And believe me, in this instance, I thank the fates that I'm not.
But if I was? I'd expect that second guy I mentioned to rear his ugly
head. And Shane Taylor needs to understand that trusting that man isn't
going to get him anywhere.

[Bo shrugs his shoulders, with an expression that says "Oh well.".]

CB: So bring on whoever you've got in the quarterfinals. Because
tonight, Shane Taylor's going to learn a very rough lesson. Sometimes...

[Bo looks back at his cousins for a second and grimaces.]

CB: ...your family's just going to let you down.

[Bo walks off with a purpose, The Bishop Boys not far behind him.]

JD: Strong words there from Mr. Allan.  Will his prediction come true?
We'll find out very, very soon.  But for now, we need to take a quick
break.  Don't go away, fans!

[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...

...and then back to live action where Jason Dane stands by the interview
area, and this time his interview subjects coming into screen are The
Outlaws.  Brent Maverick and Doc Holliday are dressed for action
tonight, in their black dusters and hats, white leather gunbelts
(complete with guns), red leather laceless boots, and rust-red wrestling
tights that go to knee-length and are emblazoned with playing cards on
the sides of the legs.  Maverick, the more solidly built of the two, has
short tousled drak brown hair and a rough mustache on his bestubbled
square-jawed face.  Holliday, the leaner of the two, has a
shoulder-length wavy light-brown mullet and a clean-shaven angular face.
 Maverick has his hands on hips in an "irritated to be doing this;
rather be fighting" posture, while Holliday is more relaxed and is
grinning his Cheshire-esque grin for the camera.]

JD: With me at this time, the number six seed for the Stampede Cup, The
Outlaws!  Tonight, gentlemen, two dangerous men in Vladmir Velikov and
Baron Von Krauss.  Your thoughts.

[Maverick spits on the floor in front of Jason; a big nasty loogie that
audibly plops onto the concrete.  Jason's eyes bulge in a priceless
blend of disgust and surprise.]

BM: That about sums it up.  Any more questions?

JD: Surely you can't be overlooking these men!

DH: Naw, we ain't overlookin' nothin'.  Sure, they's real tough.  They's
hard men accustomed to hurtin' folk up till they cain't walk from th'
ring on they own steam.  Thet ain't no lookout far as we's concerned. 
Fact is, Dane, me an' Brent have wrassled in Russia.  We seen th' place.
 They got decent folk ovah thar in Russia; they was real happy an'
grateful ta see real wrasslin'.  Happy thet we went ovah thar an' gave
'em good fights.  They weren't nobody castin' no line 'bout America this
or that.  They ain't no diff'ernt ovah thar then heah, 'ceptin' they
they talk funny.

[Brent points a thumb at Doc.]

BM: So not real different at all.

DH: An' they got nice-lookin' womenfolk too, but thet's a story fer
anothah time.  We wrassled in Germany several times; same thang.  Didn't
see no Iron Claws or Barons.  What we saw was thet all ovah th' worl',
people is people.  All this dang fool "Russians is bettah" or "Germans
is bettah" or "Americans is bettah" talk is a buncha bull-an'-hooey. 
Every man stands an' falls on who he is, not whut his flag says.

BM: An' as far as runnin' our country down goes?  It's like this: we
ain't patriotic flag-wavin' baby-kissin' folk lak yer used ta.  We're
hard men who have a list o' crimes that'd give Stalin a heart attack. 
Your people?  No issue with 'em.  You think Americans're soft.  Many
are.  I'd even say most are.  But who the hell are you ta come here an'
run down our country?  Ya pick fights with clean-cut kids who got
ideals, who got character, but ain't got no killer instinct; ain't got
no stomach fer violence.  Kids who talk mom, dad, baseball, an' apple
pie, but who'd rather take a loss than break someone's spine.  That's
who you go after; kids who ain't learned yet how ya gotta be in this
business.  They fight all fair an' clean while ya bring chains an'
chairs an' make 'em inta victims.

DH: Ah tell ya whut.  Bring th' chain.  There'll be one end o' chain
comin' out yer mouth an' th' other end comin' out yer trunks.  Bring th'
chairs.  They'll take one look at ya an' realize Smirnov wus right: in
Soviet Russia, steel chair folds you.  An' when ya git home, Velikov,
yer nephew'll ask whut happened.  You kin tell 'im whut it feels like ta
be th' victim.
 
JD: Alright, fair enough, but that leads to my next question.  We've
seen enough carnage, enough blatant rulebreaking, and enough cheap shots
to last a lifetime here in the AWA.  And gentlemen...

BM: Where?  I don't see no gentlemen.

JD: My point exactly.  You're famous for throwing the rulebook out the
window.  It seems to me that if you're opposing the likes of the
Southern Syndicate, and Velikov and Von Klauss, that's like putting out
a fire by dumping gasoline on it!

BM: Maybe.  But ask yerself this, Jason Dane... that hero ya all asked
fer?  Where's he at?

[Dane has no reply.]

BM: Heroes don't live long in this business.  It's a rare breed whut can
go any length of time without stoopin' down ta th' common level.  Me an'
Doc, we ain't heroes.  We're Outlaws.  But whut we do is look out fer
our friends.  Juan Vasquez asked us, real real nice, ta tone it down. 
He wantsta believe whut you wanna believe, Dane.  Mebbe I wanna believe
it too.

DH: Ah don't.  
 
BM: True, but yer a jackass.

DH: A jackass with more champeenships than y'all got socks, Jason Dane. 
It ain't no coincy-dense.  Folk do dirty on account of it works.  Thet's
why Juan called us in.  You wanna catch a thief, ya call a thief.  We
ain't no angels, but ovah many a long year, Brent an' ah discovered
somethin' 'bout life in general.  See, gold is good an' money makes th'
worl' go round... but some thangs in life ya cain't buy nor win.  A
friend is somethin' thet has no cost, is beyond value, an' is mo'
important than a gol' belt.  We don' make friends real easy... we's
mean, hardened men who break folk up fer a livin'; it instills a certain
detach-mint in ya.  But when we do?  We will raise up Hell an' beat down
th' Devil fer thet person.  We will pay any toll an' walk any road.  An'
whosoevah crosses one of ours?  Yer bettah off tryin' ta scratch yer
back with a lawnmower than tryin' ta fight th' Outlaws.  We jus' simply
do not fool aroun'.

JD: Well, thank you gen... Outlaws for your time.  Later on tonight,
ladies and gentlemen, we will see The Outlaws in action against the
dangerous veterans Velikov and Von Krauss, but for now we... hey, now
wait just a minute!

[The fans grow suddenly on edge as another two men approach the
interview area, where Maverick and Holliday still stand.  One might
expect the Velikov/Von Krauss team to make a rebuttal or attempt a
pre-emptive strike... one might expect Ben Waterson's Southern Syndicate
to attempt to remove an obstacle to vanquishing Juan Vasquez... but no,
this is someone quite unexpected.]

JD: Bobby and Shane Taylor, this is not your scheduled time...

["The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor doesn't even acknowledge Jason Dane's
existence.  His gaze is locked on Maverick and Holliday, unblinking as
he's set for battle already in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt
along with his ever-present black Stetson hat.  Shane Taylor is right
behind his big brother, in jeans cut off to about knee-length and a
wifebeater.  Shane has the cigarette tucked behind his ear per usual but
there's no sign of Kandi Kane.  Shane looks a little puzzled as his
brother butts right into the Outlaws' space, fists at the ready.

For their part, Maverick and Holliday do not back up at all.  Maverick
has a highly suspicious half-glare, half-query in his eyes, while
Holliday is, as ever, utterly nonplussed by this situation.]

BT:  Jason Dane, you've known me a long, long time, have you not?

JD:  Yes.  Err, yeah, Bobby, I have.

BT:  How long?

JD:  We met in 1997.

[Bobby nods, his gaze still locked on the Outlaws.]

BT:  And what was my name?

JD:  Huh?

BT:  What was my name?

JD:  Bobby Taylor?

[Taylor winces, spinning to glare at Dane.]

JD:  The Outlaw.

[Turning back towards Maverick and Holliday, Taylor nods his head.]

BT:  That's right.  "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor... handed down the name
through the fires of hell by the ONLY other man fit to wear the name -
John Wesley Hardin.  He coulda given that name to anyone - Casey, Brody,
Claw.

[A curt shake of the head.]

BT:  It was me.  I was... I AM the only Outlaw of professional
wrestling.

[Maverick shakes his head a bit as he speaks up.]

BM: So lemme git this right.  In 1995, a promoter called us Outlaws, an'
somehow ya think we copied folk we nevah heard of until 1997.  Did I git
that right?  On account of it sounds ta me like yer a lil' insecure.

[Taylor's expression doesn't change a bit.]

BT:  Insecure?  Insecure? 

For years, I walked around with this name and told anyone who thought I
didn't deserve it to come take it off me.  A lot of people tried...
ain't a damn one managed to do it.

But the whole time, I had to hear about the two of you.  The Outlaws
this.  The Outlaws that.  

[Taylor spits on the ground.]

BT:  Turned my damn stomach every time I heard 'bout you.  Now that I
have to stand here in my backyard and LOOK at you?

[Maverick interrupts.]

BM: Real funny ya should mention that.  Fer years an' years, people
whined and cried about our name.  A dadgum name.  Got news fer ya,
Bobby.  In New York, WE made our name.  In Saint Louis, WE made our
name.  In Canada, WE made our name.  In Japan, WE made our name.  In the
Southeast, WE made our name.  And there is not one single, solitary
person who has seen The Outlaws that will not tell you to your face how
we _earned_ the right to call ourselves whatever we want, even if we
didn't have the name before anyone made that name special.  You can talk
about Portland, LA, or even right here in Laredo.  Well, ya know what? 
It so happens that all this cryin' an' whinin' people do about who was
first where in what territory with what name pisses us off, an' we been
wantin' ta settle up with a fight fer years on end ourselves!  

[Taylor smiles.]

BT:  Is that right?  The two of you who built some legacy in a bunch of
places I don't give two damns about want to take me on?  You want to
talk about making your name?  I fought Hardin.  I fought Thunder.  I
fought Casey and Claw til my damn body fell apart.  I fought Bram Black.
 I bled and shed blood in every damn ring that I've ever been in against
the best in the world.

And yet, they still wanted to talk about you.  You who are the "best tag
team in the world."  You who are future Hall of Famers.

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  I ain't got no illusions about it.  I ain't makin' the Hall of
Fame.

But I can damn sure bleed you two future Hall of Famers out all over
Laredo, Texas.

[Maverick steps forward a bit, not much space at all between he and
Taylor now.]

BM: That so?  Well, we heard a lotta yap about you fer a long time, an'
we been wantin' ta fight ya on account of they say yer supposed ta be
real real tough.  They even say ya might be as tough as us.  That's th'
kinda talk that gits us interested in findin' out.

[As Bobby and Brent go back and forth in the middle of the screen,
practically nose-to-nose with the sort of aggressively imperious glares
that cannot be mistaken for anything other than a direct challenge,
Shane and Doc are on the sides.  Shane Taylor's looking pretty freaked
out at this point while Holliday is rather casually taking an inventory
of the weapons on his person.  Brass knuckles, check.  Lead pipe, check.
 Crowbar (where is he hiding all of this?!), check.  Shane is nervously
watching that, growing increasingly agitated as each
subsequently-more-lethal weapon is pulled out, and he attempts to alert
Bobby by tapping him on the shoulder... but the elder Taylor neither
notices nor cares.  In the background, Jason has the mortified visage of
someone who is vehemently hoping that this won't erupt into violence two
feet from his person.]

BT:  I've been standing in every ring from Laredo to Los Angeles to
Japan to Grand Isle for over a decade, waiting for you two to show up
and come for me.  You want to be Outlaws?  It takes a hell of a lot more
than just sticking the name on yourself.

Especially if you're gonna come out here lookin' like two extras from a
damn spaghetti western.

[Shane Taylor taps his older brother on the shoulder again but gets no
response as Brent Maverick jabs a finger into Bobby's chest.]

BM: Now yer jus' talkin' fool talk.  We ain't never backed down from
noone or nothin'.  All th' time, we usedta go ta them interfed cards ta
git our hands on somebody that was talkin' bull on us.  Hell, one time
Holliday even hadda team up with Rick Styles ta git hold of someone
talkin' about him.

DH: (idly testing the heft on a golf club he's pulled from... goodness
knows where) Tell me ah ain't dedicated!

BM: Seems ta us it's you who made yerself a hard man ta find, Taylor. 
Yer own brother hadda BEG ta git ya ta come fight, an' now alla sudden
yer brave?  That sorta thing has made us wanna fight ya even more!

[Bobby nods his head, returning the favor with a poke in the chest.]

BT:  I had my reasons for not wanting to get back in that ring.  I was
willing to live and let live.  I was willing to let all this go and let
someone else take my spot.

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  But not you two.  Never you two.  I didn't come out of the front
office to fight you two...

...but since we're here, it ain't a bad damn idea.

[Maverick shoves Taylor hard in the chest.]

BM: Yer on!

[The fans cheer loudly at the thought of another match!]

JD: Wait!  You're on opposite sides of the Stampede Cup bracket!  You
can't fight now; you'd both have to make it to the finals, and you
already have matches tonight!

[Maverick's eyes are locked on Bobby Taylor still as he speaks.]

BM: Did anyone say anything about "match", "wrestle", or "tournament"?

JD: You can't mean...

BM: We gonna meet ya in th' alley out behin' th' ol' closed-up warehouse
on th' west side, behind Zebras' on Victoria Street!  Th' one down from
th' Days Inn.

[Taylor nods his head.]

BT:  Oh, I know the spot.  I'll be there.  And you better show or this
is gonna be a hell of a lot worse for you than you ever imagined.

BM: We gonna be there sho' nuff.

[Shane Taylor suddenly speaks up, throwing himself in front of his
brother.]

ST:  Bobby!  You can't be serious!  When we beat the Bishops tonight,
we're going to be in a match tomorrow night in the second round!  You
can't go out there and fight these idiots in the street!  What if you
get hurt?  What if you-

[Bobby turns to face his brother with an incredulous expression, as if
he can't believe what he just heard him say.]

BT:  Hurt?  By these two?

[Taylor chuckles.]

BT:  It's gonna be just like back home.  Now, go find yourself a pair of
knucks and get my Louisville Slugger out of the trunk.

[That taken care of, Bobby then turns from his brother back to the men
in front of him, and continues to speak.]

BT:  Now that all that's out of the way... you talked to Alex lately? 
How's he doin'?

BM: Purty good all tol'.  He bought a new house las' month, got one o'
them repos real low, sold 'is own place fer more than he got it for. 
Still got that naggin' back, though.

BT:  I miss that ol' bastard.  We had quite the run back in LA with
Casey, you know?  Still can't believe I let Lau talk me into getting
that damn brand on my neck though.

[His eyes now widened in an expression of absolute bewilderment, Shane
again interrupts with the tone of a man who just does not understand
what he's hearing.]

ST:  What in the HELL is going on here?  First, you said you're gonna
fight these guys in an alley tonight and now you're trading small talk?

[Bobby glares at his brother.]

BT:  Is it 3 AM yet?

[Shane looks puzzled.]

BT:  Shane, is it 3 AM yet?

[Shane shakes his head.]

BT:  That's right.  And what the hell are you still doing here?  Didn't
I tell you to go find some damn knucks?

[Shane's jaw drops as he stares at his old brother.  Holliday reaches
around his tag team partner, holding a pair of brass knuckles out in
plain view.]

DH: Ah got a spare if'n ya need one.

[Bobby looks at the offered pair of knucks.]

BT:  Those look good.  Take 'em.

[Shane looks confused and slowly walks away shaking his head.  There is
a short pause as all three Outlaws watch him leave... and then they
start laughing in unison.  Jason Dane is shaking his head, trying to
make sense of any of this.]

JD: What?  What... I'm totally confused!

DH: Ah suspect thet young man done been whut th' kids nowadays call
'punk'd'.

JD:  Bobby?

[Taylor shrugs.]

BT:  If you can't put one over on your own brother, who can you? 
Besides, serves the little punk right for making me get back in the ring
tonight.  

[Dane looks confused.]

JD:  So... you're not fighting in an alley at 3 AM?

[Maverick and Taylor stop laughing rather abruptly.]

BM: Maybe.  Maybe not.  None o' yer business either way, Dane.

[Bobby glares over Maverick's shoulder, where Doc is still laughing.]

BT:  I think your boy thinks this is a little funnier than it is,
Maverick.

[Holliday bristles at being called "boy" and starts to get fired up with
Dane interrupts.]

JD:  Alright... gentlem... Outlaws... please.  We have to get to the
ring for the next matchup...

[The principals slowly back away from one another, and we fade to the
ring where Melissa is standing.]  

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a twenty
minute time limit.  Introducing first... from Kingsland, Arkansas...
being accompanied to the ring by their manager Cousin Bo... weighing in
at 568 pounds...

Duane Henry and Cletus Lee...

THE BISHOP BOYS!

["Trashville" by Hank Williams III starts up to a very loud explosion of
jeers from the crowd as the hillbilly trio makes their way into view,
heading down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  And would you look at this?  Not a single move by Cletus Lee and
Duane Henry towards the crowd?

BW:  Maybe Cousin Bo slapped some sense into them finally.

GM:  The Redneck Wrecking Crew seems to be all business tonight in their
quest to earn one million dollars and their shot at the National Tag
Team Titles.

BW:  After that loss to Rough N Ready at SuperClash, you know they don't
want anything more than a shot to redeem themselves tonight in Laredo.

[Cletus Lee steps over the ropes as Duane Henry climbs through them to
join him in the ring.  Cousin Bo continues to lecture them as their
music fades out.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[AC/DC's "Back In Black" kicks in to a big cheer from the Laredo
Entertainment Center crowd.]

MC:  At a total combined weight of 493 pounds... the team of...

"SCORCHIN' SHANE TAYLOR and...
"THE OUTLAW" BOBBY TAAAAAAAAYLOR!

[The cheer grows louder as the Taylor brothers break through the
curtain, dressed as we saw them just moments earlier, heading down the
aisle towards the ring as quickly as they can.]

GM:  Here they come!  A family reunion LIVE in Laredo, Texas!

[The Taylors hit the ring, rolling under the ropes...

...and running right into the fray!]

GM:  Here we go!  Here we go!

[Bobby Taylor wastes no time in going after the biggest dog in the yard,
throwing big haymakers at Cletus Lee who is more than happy to return
fire - the two big men beating the tar out of each other.  

Duane Henry is ready for Shane though, catching him right in the jaw
with a back elbow.  A series of stomps to the body causes Shane to roll
under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Look at the Outlaw and Cletus Lee!  They're tearing right into each
other and-

[Out on the floor, Duane Henry pulls Shane Taylor up by the hair before
slamming him facefirst into the timekeeper's table!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Shane Taylor eats the table!

[Duane Henry rolls back into the ring, moving to help his brother.]

GM:  Wait a second!  It's a two on one!

[Grabbing Taylor by the back of the hair, Duane Henry winds up as Cletus
Lee does the same...

...and together they CRUSH the Outlaw with a double headbutt!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Headbutt takes him down to a knee!

[Suddenly, a fired-up Shane Taylor slaps his hands into the mat with
both hands, rolling under the ropes...

...and SPEAR TACKLING Duane Henry right off his feet, battering him with
lefts and rights.]

GM:  Shane's all over him!  He's all over Duane Henry!

[Popping off the mat, Taylor grabs Duane Henry by the head, throwing him
through the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  He clears out Duane Henry and-

[The crowd roars as Shane Taylor throws right hand after right hand into
the body of Cletus Lee, rocking the larger Bishop Boy as Bobby Taylor
lies on the canvas a few feet away trying to recover.]

GM:  Shane's got him reeling but he can't take him-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  Black Beauty!  Shane's got Black Beauty!

[The crowd roars as Shane Taylor slips the diamond-studded black leather
glove onto his right hand, rearing back as he turns towards Cletus
Lee...

...and then spins around, DRILLING his older brother right in the jaw
with the presumably-loaded glove!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[Bobby Taylor collapses from the impact of the punch, lying motionless
on the mat as Shane Taylor invites Cletus Lee and Duane Henry to join
in.  Cousin Bo orders them to do so, cackling as the three men stomp
Bobby Taylor into the canvas.]

GM:  Come on!  

BW:  This is great!  Bobby Taylor never saw it coming!

GM:  I can't believe this.  After what we saw from Shane Taylor, begging
his brother to get involved... begging his brother to be his tag team
partner... I can't believe- ohhh!

[The crowd jeers as Cletus Lee presses Duane Henry in the air and drops
him chestfirst on a downed Bobby Taylor with a grinning Shane Taylor
applauding what he's seeing.]

GM:  This is disgusting and- wait a second...

BW:  Awww yeah!

GM:  The Bishops are pulling Bobby Taylor off the mat...

[Duane Henry somehow muscles Bobby Taylor over his shoulders in a
torture rack backbreaker as Cletus Lee dashes to the ropes behind
them...

...and CREAMS Taylor with a Charging Big Boot as Duane Henry spins him
around, dropping him in a seated powerbomb!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  

BW:  DOC ALLAN'S MIRACLE HEADACHE ELIXIR!

GM:  Bobby Taylor's been laid out!  He's been laid out by- 

[The referee drops down to count - quickly counting to three.]

GM:  That's it.  The referee makes a quick count to thankfully spare
Bobby Taylor any more damage.  

[Shane Taylor drops down to his knees, trashtalking his brother as the
Bishops celebrate their victory.]

GM:  The Bishop Boys have won... I'm sure Cousin Bo wasn't exactly
pleased his boys didn't get to show off their skills but they've got the
win and they're moving on to the second round to face the Right Proper
Thugs.

BW:  That could be the match of the tournament.

GM:  Shane Taylor is all over his brother... pounding him with right
hands... now stomping him...

[Getting back to his feet, glaring down at his motionless older brother,
Shane Taylor shakes hands with Cousin Bo as he makes his exit.]

GM:  The Bishop Boys are advancing to the second round but... Bobby
Taylor has just been laid out by the Bishops and his younger brother. 
Why, Bucky?  Why would Shane Taylor do this to his own family... his own
blood?

BW:  I have no idea but whatever his reason is, I don't think Bobby saw
it coming at all, Gordo.  He was completely blindsided by that.

GM:  The Taylors are out of the tournament... the Bishops move on... and
we'll be right back with more action here at The Stampede Cup!  Don't go
away!

[With Bobby Taylor still laid out on the canvas, we fade to black...

...and then back up.  It's a shot of a few kids standing outside of a
classroom.  A fourth kid walks up to them, carrying his backpack over
his shoulder.]

4th Kid:  Hey guys... wait til you see what I got from AWAShop.com!

[He whips open the backpack and produces...

...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!]

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

"That rocks!"

"I want one... now!"

[The 4th kid looks pleased with himself...

...until a fifth kid walks up.]

5th Kid:  Juan Vasquez, huh?  That's not bad... but check this out!

[The 5th kid opens his backpack and reveals...

...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!]

"WHOA!"

"WOWER!"

"THAT ROCKS MORE!"

"I WANT ONE... NOW!"

[The fifth kid looks proud as the fourth kid looks sad at his Vasquez
bobblehead and we fade to black...

...and then back up to live action where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  Fans, welcome back to The Stampede Cup.  With me at this time is a
team about to head down the aisle for their first round match - the duo
of Vladimir Velikov and Baron Von Klauss.

[The big Russian and the lanky German step into view.  Von Klauss is
absent-mindedly flexing his fingers as he glares cockeyed into the
camera.  The heavy steel chain is draped over the wide shoulders of
Velikov as he begins to speak.]

VV:  Tonight is a night of glory for Mother Russian and the Motherland
of my comrade, Jason Dane.  The AWA tries to silence us by bringing...
how you say... a ringer.

JD:  A ringer?

[Velikov nods sharply.]

VV:  These Outlaws... they are the best, no?

JD:  Many would say they are the best tag team in wrestling, yes.

VV:  Yet they have only competed one time in the AWA, no?

JD:  That's true.  This will be their second-

VV:  So, Comrade Ross and the Committee of Champions... they bring this
best team in world to face the Baron and myself, no?

JD:  Yes, that's true also.

[Velikov nods.]

VV:  Fear.  Panic.  Terror.  I understand these feelings your Committee
has for us.  But I do not feel them.

Bring us these Outlaws.  Bring us the best.  

And we will spit them out just like everyone else we've faced.  We do
not fear these Outlaws.  We do not fear what you've... how you say...
brought to the dance.

We come to fight.  We come to win.  

[A smirk.]

VV:  One million American dollars will go a long way in Mother Russia.

[A gravelly-voiced chuckle follows before Velikov walks out of view,
gesturing for the Baron to follow.]

JD:  Can this international duo score a huge upset and knock off the
Outlaws?  We're about to find out.  Let's go down to Melissa!

[We fade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following first round contest is scheduled for one fall with a
twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first...

[The sounds of the Soviet National Anthem start up over the PA.]

MC:  Weighing in at a combined weight of 563 pounds... they are the team
of Vladimir Velikov and Baron Von Klauss!

[The jeers pour down for the foreign team as the lanky German and bulky
Russian head down the aisle, climbing up onto the ring apron.  Velikov
drapes his chain over the corner post before stepping through the
ropes.]

GM:  Velikov and Von Klauss will certainly be looking for an upset here
tonight.  They would love to knock off the team that many consider one
of the favorites here tonight... especially with the National Tag Team
Champions already out of the tournament!

BW:  The Outlaws have quickly earned the spot as the team to beat in
this thing so you can bet Velikov and Von Klauss will pull out all the
stops in this one.

[Back in the ring, Melissa continues as the opening grating strains of
"Cowboys From Hell" by Pantera burst from the PA to the loud cheers of
the capacity crowd.  The ring announcer makes the call:]

MC:  Coming down the aisle at a total comined weight of 472 pounds...
Brent Maverick and Doc Holliday...

THE OUTLAWS!

[As the ring announcer commences, The Outlaws burst right out from
behind the curtain.  The fans continue to cheer the veteran tag team. 
Both men are clad in black dusters and 'cowboy' hats, with white leather
gun belts (complete with guns) around their waists.  They wear rust-red
knee-length trunks with five playing cards running down each leg (four
aces and the 21 of Spades), and reddish brown leather 'western' style
boots with an engraved eagle motif along the front sides.

Taking the lead is Brent Maverick, who storms directly towards the ring.
 Doc Holliday, limping a bit and using his mahogany hand-carved cane for
support, follows behind, taking the time to interact with the fans on
either side of the aisle.  Holliday catches up to Maverick in time for
both Outlaws to enter the ring in unison, Maverick going under the
bottom rope and Holliday jumping over the top rope.

The crowd gives a loud ovation as The Outlaws take center stage, going
to opposite sides of the ring to play to the crowd.  Maverick quickly
goes to his corner, now focused entirely on the match, while Holliday
continues to showboat and play to the crowd.  The music dies down as the
referee starts to get the principals in line.]

GM:  Referee Mickey Meekly's the man in the middle for this one and I'm
looking forward to seeing just exactly how good these Outlaws are.  I've
seen them on tape before, of course, but this is the first chance to see
what they can REALLY do live.

[Meekly gets Holliday out of the ring on one side along with Von Klauss
on the other.]

GM:  Brent Maverick will be starting this off with Vladimir Velikov...

[And as the bell rings, Maverick charges the big Russian, throwing fists
aplenty.]

GM:  Whoa!  Whoa!  Whoa!

BW:  Maverick's not wasting any time!

[The Russian seems a little surprised, backing to the corner with his
arms up to try to protect himself while Maverick throws fist after fist,
bouncing off the bald skull of Velikov.  He grabs the Russian by the
wrist, firing him across the ring to the opposite corner.]

GM:  Corner to corner whip... in comes Maverick!

[Maverick charges the Russian, who wisely brings up a boot, causing
Maverick to run facefirst into the foot.]

GM:  Ohh!  Velikov, the veteran, gets the boot up into the jaw...

[With Maverick staggered, Velikov brings a heavy forearm smashing down
on the back of Maverick's head and neck, knocking him down to a knee. 
The big Russian snags a side headlock, balling up his fist to drive it
into the face of Maverick over and over and over.]

GM:  Velikov's working over Maverick in that headlock...

[Releasing the headlock, Velikov spins and buries a boot into the chest,
knocking Maverick down to the mat.  A big elbowdrop follows before
Velikov rolls into a lateral press.]

GM:  Just a two count on the pin attempt and it quickly becomes very
obvious that Vladimir Velikov has no intention of wasting time here
tonight.  He wants the win and he wants it quickly.

BW:  Can you blame him?

GM:  Velikov hauls Maverick off the mat by the hair, shoving him back
into the corner...

[Where he slaps the hand of the lanky German who steps into the ring,
burying a boot into the gut of the cornered Brent Maverick.]

GM:  Von Klauss hauls him out of the buckes... big whip...

[Bending over, the German elevates Maverick high in the sky with a
bone-rattling backdrop...

...and then dropping an extended leg down across the throat.]

GM:  Another two count and I'm a little bit surprised at the way Velikov
and Von Klauss have handled the Outlaws so far.  Brent Maverick seems to
be outmatched in the early goings of this one.

BW:  Maybe they're taking Velikov and Von Klauss too lightly.

GM:  Von Klauss brings Maverick back to his feet again...

[Where a hard headbutt sends Maverick falling back into the ropes. 
Grabbing him by the wrist, the German attempts a whip...

...but finds it reversed as he hits the far ropes.]

GM:  Von Klauss off the ropes and-

[A big cheer goes up as Maverick rushes forward, smashing Von Klauss
with a rushing shoulder block that knocks the German down to the mat. 
Vladimir Velikov steps into the ring, looking to sneak attack
Maverick...

...but a second running football tackle knocks Velikov off his feet!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  He floored Velikov!  I can't believe it!

GM:  240 pounds of momentum just smashed right into Velikov, knocking
him down to the mat...

[Velikov sits up on the canvas just as Maverick rushes off the ropes,
dropping down with a double axehandle smash across the face.]

GM:  Pure impact right there!  Right across the bridge of the nose!

[With both of their opponents inside the ring, Doc Holliday rushes in to
get involved.  He quickly grabs the rising German, firing him into the
ropes as he hits the set behind him...

...and DRILLS Von Klauss across the jaw with a flying forearm smash that
sends the German sailing out to the floor!]

GM:  The German's out of the ring...

[Grabbing the top rope, Holliday lets loose a whoop before slingshotting
over the ropes, wiping out the German with a cross body!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

[In the meantime, Brent Maverick has Velikov trapped in the corner,
rocking him with blows to the body.]

GM:  I don't think Velikov is the legal man at all.

BW:  Does it matter at this point?

[Grabbing Velikov under the arm and around the head, Maverick HURLS him
into the air and down to the mat with a biel throw!]

GM:  DOWN goes Velikov again!

[Maverick attempts a lateral press only to be informed that Von Klauss
is the legal man.  Holliday rolls the German under the ropes as a cranky
Maverick gets back to his feet, glaring at the official as he walks
towards Von Klauss...

...and promptly STOMPS his hand!]

GM:  Ohh!  Right down on the wrist!

[Maverick stands on the wrist, smirking as Von Klauss flails about on
the canvas in pain.  Reaching out, Maverick slaps the hand of Holliday
as he makes the tag.]

GM:  There's the tag to Holliday... uh oh...

[The crowd starts to buzz as Holliday scales the ropes, looking out over
the masses...

...and then leaps into the air, tucking his legs up, and DRIVING them
down in a double stomp on the hand of Von Klauss!]

GM:  Oh my!  A double stomp off the top of that hand and-

BW:  The hand!  Do you know what they're doing?  They're trying to take
away the Claw from the Baron!  That's not fair!

GM:  Maverick steps out... a few kicks to the ribs of Velikov by
Holliday knocks the big Russian out to the floor.

[Grabbing Von Klauss by the arm, Holliday applies an armbar...

...and then grabs the fingers of Von Klauss, yanking them back and
sending even more screams of pain from the German as Holliday enjoys
some small joint manipulation.]

BW:  That's illegal!  He can't do that!

GM:  Are you going to stop him?

[Releasing the armbar, Holliday drags Von Klauss to his feet, tossing
him into the rulebreakers' corner...

...and then charges in!]

GM:  Clothesli- OHHH!  

[The crowd jeers as Vladimir Velikov grabs the arm of his partner,
yanking him out of the way just in time, causing Holliday to smash
chestfirst into the corner.  

GM:  Velikov just saved his partner there and-

[A seething Von Klauss lashes out with a kick to the chest of Holliday,
pushing him back into the corner where the two rulebreakers spring into
action.]

GM:  Velikov's back in now too!

[The two men are pummeling Holliday in the corner, throwing rights and
lefts...

...but Holliday is fighting back, throwing a series of punches on both
men.  He spins around, trying to step up to the middle rope.]

GM:  Where's he- 

BW:  It doesn't matter!  He just got caught!

[Grabbing Holliday by the back of the tights, Velikov YANKS backwards,
causing Holliday to smash down on the back of his head on the mat!]

GM:  Good grief!  Down goes Holliday!  Right on the back of his head. 
He knocked the chain off the ringpost with his boot on the way down and
he hit REAL hard, Bucky.

BW:  This could be it right now.  Cover him, Baron!

[The referee forces Velikov out of the ring as Von Klauss stomps and
kicks at the prone Holliday a few times.  A falling headbutt smashes
Holliday across the skull, allowing the German to hook a leg for a pin
attempt.]

GM:  One!  Two!  But the shoulder is up at two and-

[Grabbing Holliday by the head, Von Klauss throws a hard right hand and
immediately cries out, cradling his injured hand as he staggers up to
his feet, slapping the hand of his big Russian partner.]

GM:  In comes Velikov on the exchange...

[A few hard stomps by the Russian keep a rising Holliday down on the mat
where a leaping elbowsmash crushes the chest of one-half of the Outlaws,
allowing Velikov to apply a cover of his own.]

GM:  Another cover - one!  Two!  But again Doc Holliday kicks out at
two.  

BW:  But the Russian and the German are getting closer, Gordo.

GM:  Perhaps they are.  Doc Holliday needs to get out of the ring right
now.  He's still feeling the effects of getting slammed down to the mat
on the back of the head.  That could easily give someone a concussion,
Bucky.

[Velikov drags Holliday to his feet, lashing out with a heavy boot to
the body that knocks Doc back into the ropes.]

GM:  Irish whip by Velikov...

[Doc ducks under a clothesline attempt, bouncing off the ropes on the
far side...

...and scores with a picture perfect dropkick on the chin, knocking the
Russian down to the mat where Holliday starts crawling towards the
corner where Brent Maverick is waiting for the tag.]

GM:  Listen to these fans cheering him on... they want Maverick in
there... they want the tag...

[Holliday draws closer and closer as Velikov slowly gets to his feet,
shaking his head.  He stalks towards Holliday...

...but is too late as Holliday makes a lunging tag, bringing Maverick
through the ropes where he floors Velikov with a rushing clothesline!]

GM:  Down goes Velikov!

[Von Klauss enters the ring, hand at the ready for the Claw...

...but Maverick slaps it away, grabbing the German around the head and
arm, and throwing him overhead with a bone-rattling suplex that brings
the crowd to their feet!]

GM:  What a suplex!  He calls that the Hangman's Suplex!

[With Von Klauss down, Maverick is back to his feet, grabbing Velikov
off the mat and throttling him with a barrage of blows to the bald
skull, knocking the Russian back to the corner.  He promptly mounts the
midbuckle, raising a clenched fist...

...and delivers blow after blow to the skull as the crowd counts along!]

GM:  Three!  Four!  Five!

BW:  You too?  I thought these idiot fans trying to count to ten was bad
enough.

GM:  Hey... where did Doc Holliday go?

[The camera searches the area near the Outlaws' corner, trying to find
Holliday possibly out on the floor.]

GM:  I don't see Doc Holliday.

BW:  Maybe he wisened up and went running back to Arizona before he gets
himself seriously hurt, Gordo.

GM:  I seriously doubt that.

[Inside the ring, Maverick hops down off the buckles at the count of
ten, grabbing Velikov's massive skull with one hand and Von Klauss' with
the other...

...and SMASHING their heads together to a huge roar from the crowd!]

GM:  Double noggin knocked by Brent Maverick!  Oh my!

[A couple moments later, the camera catches Doc Holliday climbing back
up on the ring apron.]

GM:  What the-?  Where did he go?

BW:  I think he was under the ring, Gordo!

GM:  He was under the...?  Why?

[Out on the apron, Holliday starts shouting at a staggered Von Klauss,
laying the badmouth on him...

...which causes the German to rush forward, attempting to grab Holliday
around the throat.]

GM:  What in the world is...?

[Holliday signals to Maverick who slips out to the apron as Holliday
grabs Von Klauss' arm, stretching it across the ringpost...

...just as Maverick races down the apron, DRIVING a boot into the arm
and smashing it into the steel post!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Von Klauss snaps back out of the corner, clutching his arm as he falls
down to the mat.  A grinning Holliday slaps the hand of his partner,
bringing himself into the ring where they each grab an arm of Velikov,
firing him into the ropes...]

GM:  Double whip... big double boot to the gut...

[Holliday charges to the ropes, bouncing back where Maverick hoists him
up in a gorilla press...

...and THROWS him at the doubled-up Velikov where Holliday hooks a loose
headlock to SMASH Velikov's face into the canvas with a bulldog
headlock!]

GM:  Whoa!

BW:  The Outlaws are showing off those doubleteams that made 'em famous.

GM:  Velikov rolling away from Holliday...

[The big Russian backs to the corner, trying to fight off Holliday with
a few hard right hands...

...which gives Doc just enough room to snap off a jaw-bustin' jab,
knocking Velikov back to the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  That jab is absolutely scintillating, Bucky!

[Doc quickly leans over, grabbing the legs of Velikov and hoisting him
off the mat.  With Velikov's arms over the top rope, the Russian dangles
helplessly in the air...

...which allows Brent Maverick to scale the buckles, pump a fist, and
then leap into the air, tucking his legs and smashing straight down
across the upper body with a senton splash!]

GM:  OHHHH!  That's gotta do it!

[Maverick exits the ring as Holliday dives across the downed Russian.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- 

[But a diving save by Baron Von Klauss breaks up the pin attempt.]

GM:  Ohh!  He almost had 'em there!

[Von Klauss reaches over the ropes, slapping Velikov's hand to bring
himself into the ring.]

GM:  The German's back in... but Velikov's in there as well...

[A frustrated Maverick slaps the buckle, shouting at Holliday to finish
it off as the German and the Russian haul Holliday off the mat.]

GM:  Double whip... clothesli- 

[The crowd roars as Holliday ducks under a double clothesline, hitting
the far ropes...

...and wiping both men out with a big double cross body!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Holliday takes 'em down!

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  And he tags in Maverick!

[Maverick rushes in, throwing fists at both Von Klauss and Velikov,
knocking them to opposite ropes.  A rushing clothesline knocks the
German through the ropes to the apron.  Maverick spins to do the same to
Velikov, charging him...]

GM:  Another clothesli- ducked by Velikov and-

[The crowd GASPS as Velikov spins around and DRILLS a surprised Maverick
with a standing Russian Sickle!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  That's it!  Cover him, Vlad!

[But the big Russian is too dazed to do it, dropping down to a knee.  He
crawls over to Maverick slowly...

...but Doc Holliday doesn't allow a pin attempt, burying a kick in the
ribs of Velikov.]

GM:  Von Klauss is in and we've got all four men inside the ring!

BW:  Meekly's lost all control of this one!

[Von Klauss grabs Holliday by the hair, raking his eyes with his long
fingers, and then throwing him through the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  Von Klauss clears out Holliday!

[With Holliday cleared out, the legal man does a quick high step towards
the rising Brent Maverick...

...and LUNGES forward, wrapping his powerful hand around the head of
Brent Maverick!]

GM:  CLAW!  CLAW!

[But Von Klauss immediately cries out as he tries to grip the head with
the hand the Outlaws went after earlier in the match...

...and then has his hand shoved clear off his head by Maverick.]

GM:  Maverick breaks the Claw!

[A dazed Vladimir Velikov, having seen the Claw fail, approaches the
corner.]

GM:  I think... Vlad's going for the chain!

[Velikov reaches over the ropes for the chain...

...and does not find it.]

GM:  It's not there!  The chain's not there!

[With Maverick just pummeling Von Klauss with right hands, a desperate
Velikov rolls to the floor.]

GM:  Velikov's looking for the chain outside the ring now.

BW:  Where's the damn chain, daddy?!

GM:  He can't find the chain... he can't-

[Outside the ring, a sneaky Holliday rushes forward and SHOVES Velikov
facefirst into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  Ohhh!  TO THE POST GOES VELIKOV!

[Inside the ring, Von Klauss is trying to fight back when Maverick
quicky grabs him around the head and neck, using his leg to sweep the
German's legs out, driving him down to the mat with an STO!]

GM:  Ohh!  The German gets planted with that one and-

BW:  Holliday's going up!

GM:  Maverick's hoisting the German off the mat...

[The crowd cheers as Maverick lifts the German in a bearhug, leaning
over to hold him parallel to the canvas...

...which allows Holliday to hurl himself off the top, smashing down with
his leg across the throat of the German!]

GM:  21 OF SPADES!  THEY NAILED IT!

[Maverick collapses on top of Von Klauss as the referee drops down to
count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!! 

[And Holliday DRILLS an incoming Velikov with a right hand just as the
referee's hand hits the mat a third time!]

GM:  THREE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match moving on to the second round... 

THE OUTLAWS!

[A big cheer goes up for Maverick and Holliday as they exchange
congratulations in the middle of the ring.  After a moment, Holliday is
running around the ring, pumping his fist.]

BW:  This goof is acting like they just won the whole thing, Gordo.

GM:  Doc Holliday does seem a little... overexcited.. perhaps.  You
can't blame him though.  This was a pretty big win to move on to the
second round where they'll face either the Rhodes Brothers or... well,
we really don't know, do we?

BW:  We know it won't be Kentucky's Pride, that's for sure.

GM:  It was Kentucky's Pride spot but as of right now, I understand that
City Jack is NOT in the building. 

[Inside the ring, Maverick grabs Holliday by the hair, pulling him back
into reality with a few stern words.]

GM:  Brent Maverick is all business and now he's got Holliday back in
track now too it seems.  For these two men, all that's left is to see
who they will be facing in the next round.  Fans, we need to take a
quick break and we'll be right back with a special interview with head
AWA physician Dr. Bob Ponavitch!

[Hold on a shot of the triumphant Outlaws for a moment before fading to
black...

...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt.  The
super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.]

"You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!"

[A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.]

"You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last
Stampede!"

[A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.]

"You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!"

[Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging
over his shoulder.]

"And now, it can be yours!"

[A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a
shot of a young fan doing the same.]

"Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA
National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA
superstars have held!"

[A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black...

...and then fades back up to live action where we open to Mark Stegglet
who is standing at ringside next to the timekeeper's table where AWA
ringside doctor Dr. Bob Ponavitch is standing.]

MS:  I'm Mark Stegglet here at ringside next to the timekeeper's table
where AWA ringside doctor Dr. Bob Ponavitch is standing.

[I think we knew that somehow.]

MS:  The match that's about to happen is a little bit different than
what was planned.  The AWA had given a spot to Kentucky's Pride in hopes
that City Jack would be able to recover from his injury to compete here
tonight.  But fron what I understand, that has not happened.  Dr.
Ponavitch, you have an update on the status of City Jack?

[The doctor looks down for a moment and nods slowly, with an expression
unbecoming of good news.]

DBP: Ah, yes, what we first thought might have been a, uh, temporary
condition has turned for the worse.

MS: Worse?

DRB: Yes, um... 

[The doctor takes a moment to clear his throat.]

DRB: Unfortunately, Mr. Jack's injury sustained last month, coupled with
the pre-existing impacts taken to the eye and the socket... Has caused
Mr. Jack's eyesight to be severely impaired.

MS: "Severely impaired"? How serious are we talking about?

DRB: There's a very good chance that Mr. Jack's eyesight will have a
permanent reduction in capability and... Unfortunately, partial
blindness is still not yet out of the question.

[Mark Stegglet reacts with a momentary gasp at the news delivered by Dr.
Ponavitch.]

MS: Oh... Wow. I'm... I'm really taken aback by this news. I was going
to ask when we would see City Jack back in the ring, but -

[The doctor immediately shakes his head.]

DRB: It's my professional opinion that Mr. Jack not return to the ring.

MS: For how long?

DRB: You misunderstand.  In my opinion, Mr. Jack should NOT return to
the ring. I can't and won't clear him to be in any sort of match and
neither would any respected physician. I think that Mr. Jack has much
more to worry about with his health right now than anything that can go
on here, Mr. Stegglet. 

[Stegglet slowly shakes his head in disbelief before extending his hand
to Dr. Ponavitch, who accepts.]

MS: Well, thank you for the update, Doctor Ponavitch.

DBP: You're welcome - I wish I only had better news for you.

[Mark nods as the doctor retakes his seat and the camera centers to
Stegglet.]

MS: An upsetting revelation and quite possibly the announcement of a
forced retirement to a man that many here, including me, can call a good
friend in City Jack.  Gordon... Bucky...

[The camera cuts over to Gordon and Bucky who are standing by their own
ringside table.]

GM:  That news... that's just heartbreaking to hear.  City Jack is one
of the most popular men in the AWA - both inside the ring and outside
the ring.  He is beloved everywhere he goes throughout the sport.  The
AWA has received thousands of letters and e-mails, well-wishers from the
fans as well as from Jack's fellow wrestlers.  And to think that those
two... to think that Dufresne and Freeman could cause something like
this... it's absolutely disgusting.

BW:  Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman did whatever they needed to do
to become the National Tag Team Champions in a match where they were
allowed to do exactly that.  How can you fault them?

GM:  When you look at City Jack, injured, perhaps never to step into the
ring again.  They took a man's career... his livelihood... you had
better believe I can fault them, Bucky Wilde, and I am not the only one.
 If I were those two men, I'd ask Santa for eyes in the back of my head
cause they're going to need them.

[Gordon pauses, looking solemn as Bucky looks a little surprised at the
harsh words from the Voice of the AWA.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to Melissa...

[We fade up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following first round contest is scheduled for one fall with a
twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first...

[Annnnnnd Melissa simply shrugs.]

GM:  Well, obviously Melissa hasn't been let on in the secret either.

BW:  Who's it gonna be, Gordo?  Who is gonna face the Rhodes Brothers?

GM:  I'm not sure but-

[Suddenly, an air raid siren wails over the P.A. loudspeakers for a
moment before Disturbed's "Indestructible" begins playing loudly.]

GM:  What is this?

BW:  Oh, heck no!  The last time we heard this song, that annoying
washed-up has-been...

[Before Bucky Wilde can continue, a squat powerful figure steps into
view.  Upon sighting the familiar silhouette, the fans begin to clap and
cheer.]

GM:  Jason Keening!  And he looks like he's dressed to compete!

BW:  This just keeps getting worse!

[The brawny Keening is bare-chested but wearing buckskin pants with
leather fringes along the outside of the legs along with black-dyed tall
moccasins on his feet.  A simple brown leather strap with Paiute
beadwork sewn into it circles his head as his long, straight black hair
cascades down around his shoulders.  Keening acknowledges the cheering
crowd with a grin and a wave but the smile vanishes as he looks toward
the ring and begins marching down the aisle with a purposeful gait.]

GM:  I'm not entirely sure what's going on but... we just might be
witnessing Jason Keening coming out of retirement tonight!

BW:  What?  To take Kentucky's Pride's spot??  On his own... wait a
second... two-on-one with the Rhodes brothers demolishing that
sanctimonious Boy Scout?  This might not be such a bad thing after all!

[The music begins to fade out as Keening rolls underneath the bottom
rope into the ring and accepts a microphone from one of the attendants. 
Stalking into the middle of the ring, he waves at the cheering crowd but
then turns to face up toward the aisle.]

JK:  Sometimes... sometimes the stars align... things come together...
and circumstances just happen to coincide so that something that didn't
seem possible one day... becomes almost inevitable the next.  Such is
the case... tonight!

[The fans cheering dies down as Keening pauses for a moment.]

JK:  Up until recently, I hadn't thought that I would ever wrestle
again.  But when you've got a gathering of wrestling talent that
includes some of the finest tag teams that have ever stepped into the
squared circle... I have to admit, the Stampede Cup started to get me
interested again.  But still... I wasn't sure.  And then, an old friend
called me up and asked if I wanted to see SuperClash up close.  I
accepted and... well, as everyone here knows... I had a bit of an
encounter with a young man by the name of Raphael Rhodes.

[At the mention of this hated name, the crowd erupts in a chorus of loud
booing and jeering.]

JK:  Now, it doesn't actually bother me that Rhodes didn't take my
advice that night.  That was his decision to make.  But what DID bother
me was the way he deceived everyone... he tried to fool every single one
of us that he actually wasn't sure what he would do.  When the truth
was, he had every intention of joining the Southern Syndicate from the
very beginning.  THAT bothers me!  You want to pull the wool over
everyone's eyes?  You better damn well not get me involved!!  

So congratulations, Rhodes.  I was tempted to come out of retirement to
take on some teams that I've never been able to beat... but YOU are
actually the one who convinced me to come out of retirement tonight!

[The booing of a moment ago changes into loud cheers.]

JK:  `Cuz unlike you, punk, I never wrestled for the money.  That may be
your motivation but since you've gone and ticked me off but good... I've
decided that I'm makin' it my mission tonight to ensure that you and
your brother get nowhere near that million dollars!

[Again the crowd cheers.]

JK:  Trouble is... this is a tag team competition... seems like I'm
gonna need a partner... hmmmm... I wonder...

[Keening rubs his chin in a deliberately exagerated gesture as on cue,
"Indestructible" begins playing once more and a slender, muscular figure
appears at the top of the aisle wearing the same buckskin pants and high
black moccasins as the man standing in the ring.  His facial features
and long dark hair display his Native American heritage as well as his
strong resemblance to Jason Keening.]

GM:  MICHAEL KEENING!  "THE BANSHEE" IS HERE!!

BW:  What??  NO!!!

GM:  The Ghost Dancers!  The Ghost Dancers are in the Stampede Cup!!

BW:  NOOOOOOOOO!!!

[Michael Keening smiles and waves as the crowd cheers but remains
standing at the top of the aisle.  In the ring, his younger brother
raises the microphone to his lips once more.]

JK:  Now the pieces are starting to fall into place.  But... what about
The Southern Syndicate?  Won't they simply try some gang-style sneak
attack or something?  Hmmm... maybe... just maybe we're gonna need
someone to watch our backs for us...

[Suddenly, a venomous wash of guitar feedback emerges from the P.A.
system which then suddenly mutates into Nuclear Assault's hateful
musical creation that is named "Something Wicked".]

GM:  I know that music!

BW:  I can't believe this!!

[Upon the instance when the bass, guitar and drums lock together and
work as one, a scarlet-tinted spotlight behind the transparent material
of the connecting curtain at the entranceway bursts into life.  It
reveals a silhouetted and muscular male figure standing perfectly
upright with his hands resting comfortably upon his hips.  The figure
steps through the curtains and moves to stand beside Michael Keening,
tattooed and goatee'd while wearing a plain, baggy T-shirt which is
raven in its hue upon his muscular upper torso.  Black denim jeans (with
a white metal legbrace covering his right knee) and short white boots
adorn his lower extremities.  His fingers are taped and thick white
leather supports encircle his wrists to the elbow while his long, grey
shoulder length locks are pulled back into a tight ponytail.]

GM:  GABRIEL WHITECROSS!  "THE ERA OF DEFIANCE" GABRIEL WHITECROSS IS
HERE AND HE'S WITH THE KEENINGS!!

BW:  Raphael Rhodes could NOT have seen this coming!!

[Michael Keening slaps a hand on the shoulder of Whitecross and grins as
the two begin marching down toward the aisle while the fans cheer.]

JK:  Seems like the band is back together.  So... come on out, Rhodes. 
Bring your brother and let's DANCE!!

[Jason walks over and hands the microphone back to Melissa Cannon
Michael Keening and Gabriel Whitecross join him in the ring.]

GM:  Fans, I... yes, I understand that Jason Dane's got the Rhodes boys
with him!  They've gotta be livid!  Let's go back to Jason!

[Fade back to the locker room.  We are greeted by Jason Dane, who has an
incensed Raphael Rhodes pacing behind him, with Ben Waterson trying to
calm him down.  Raphael is dressed in a pair of light blue leg-length
tights and black wrestling boots with black kneepads.  Standing next to
Dane is a somewhat familiar sight... a man with shaggy brown hair, a
beard, and a slightly weathered face.  His arms are covered in tattoos,
and he's wearing red leg-length tights, with black wrestling boots and
black kneepads as well.]

JD: You must be... 

SR: Simon.

[Simon Rhodes extends his hand to Dane, who wearily accepts.]

JD: Well, I was hoping we could get some comments from you and your
brother about what we just saw out in the ringside area, as your
opponents were revealed as the Ghost Dancers... with Gabriel Whitecross
at ringside, no less!

SR: You ain't hearin' from Raphael, I can pretty much guarantee that.
I'm sure you've seen him in this mood before, and it ain't pretty.  But
let me say this... before we came down here, Raphael was callin' me for
months, sayin' he thought that the matchmakers here had somethin'
against him.  And I can plainly see they do after that little display of
bravado, Jason.

JD: What do you mean?

SR: Listen, mate, I'm no fool.  In most sporting tournaments, if someone
can't compete, there ain't no bleedin' alternate.  Kentucky's Pride
can't compete tonight because of a pithy little eye injury to City Jack,
aye?  Tough stuff, mate.  We should've been declared the winners by a
forfeit and moved onward.  But because the AWA has somethin' against my
brother and the Southern Syndicate, they say we got to wrestle two
feather-wearin' dinnermashers and their gimpy nature-lovin' pal?

[The elder Rhodes scoffs.]

SR: I dare say it's a conspiracy!  These people know full well how good
my brother is in the ring.  The AWA knows I'm a tag team specialist and
I've been all over the world.  They know we're winnin' this tournament,
and they want to throw us a curveball because they _want_ to see us
lose.  Well, Ghost Dancers... 

[Simon cracks his knuckles.]

SR: There ain't goin' to be any dancin' once Simon and Raphael Rhodes
get done, but you two is damn sure goin' to be ghosts.

[Simon walks away, and Dane goes to pitch back to Gordon and Bucky, but
Raphael snatches the microphone from Dane.]

RR: Tonight, you're not going back to the retirement home, Keenings...
you're goin' to the damn morgue.  We'll even pay for the funeral with
the million bucks we're goin' to win.

[Raphael throws the microphone back at the chest of Dane, who fumbles to
recover it.  Raphael walks off-screen, with Ben Waterson following...

...but of course pausing to say three little words.]

ATTSBW:  Consider.  Yourselves.  Warned.

[A seething Waterson walks off camera, trying to catch up to the Rhodes
Brothers and leaving Jason Dane behind.]

JD: The Rhodes brothers aren't happy, but they're ready for action!

[We fade back to the ring, where the Keenings await their opponents.]

BW: I'm not sure that getting under Raphael Rhodes' skin was such a
smart decision... and his brother looks like he's the same type of
brawler!  This may be a long night for the Keenings!

["The Riverbed" by Gallows begins to play, as Simon and Raphael Rhodes
burst from the entrance, charging at the ring, sliding head-first and
immediately starting to brawl with the Ghost Dancers!]

GM:  Whoa!  Hang on!  Get outta there, Melissa!

[Melissa Cannon does exactly that, rushing out of the ring as referee
Michael Meekly rings the bell to start the match.  Simon Rhodes and
Michael Keening are trading shots on one side of the ring where Raphael
Rhodes and Jason Keening are doing the same on the other side.]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands!

[The crowd is on their feet roaring for the brawl as the four men
continue to throw heavy blows.  Ben Waterson takes a spot at ringside
but keeps a wary eye on Gabriel Whitecross who points a finger of
warning in his direction.]

GM:  The Era Of Defiance is in effect as he keeps that no-good scoundrel
out of the ring.  I love it!

BW:  Does this man even have a manager's license?!

GM:  He's their friend, Bucky, and tonight, he's also their backup.

BW:  Way to dodge the question.

[Simon reaches up and blocks a right hand from Michael Keening, then
uses his own right hand to rake the eyes of Keening.  Simon lashes out
with a boot to the gut before smashing an elbow across the back of the
head, knocking him down to the mat.  Peeling away from the Banshee,
Simon DRILLS Jason Keening in the back of the head with a double
axehandle.]

GM:  We've got a two on one on Jason Keening... look out here...

[Simon pulls Jason backwards, holding his arms behind him as Raphael
lunges out of the corner and absolutely DRILLS Jason Keening with a
forearm smash to the face.  A second one buckles the knees and allows
Simon to shove Jason down to the mat where the two men take a moment to
stomp and kick the downed Jason Keening...

...when suddenly Michael Keening charges across the ring, leaping into
the air to grab Simon Rhodes around the head and neck, wrangling him
down to the mat with a snap mare type throw.]

GM:  The Banshee takes Simon Rhodes down and...

[Spinning around, he blocks a right hand from Raphael Rhodes, throwing a
boot into the gut instead.  Grabbing Rhodes by the hair, Michael charges
across the ring and HURLS Raphael over the top rope and down to the
floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The crowd roars as Michael Keening pumps his fists, driving the crowd
into a frenzy as Raphael bounces off the barely-padded floor.  Simon
Rhodes staggers up to his feet as well...

...where a rushing clothesline from Jason Keening takes Simon over the
ropes to the floor!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Both of the Rhodes' are out on the floor and- look out
now... Michael Keening is a risk taker!

[With both men down, Keening nods his head a few times, measuring them
as they start to stir.  He breaks to the ropes, bouncing off the far
ropes, rebounding back in a full sprint...

...and THROWS himself over the ropes in a somersault plancha that lands
atop both Rhodes brothers!  HUUUUUGE roar from the crowd as Keening pops
up to his feet, throwing himself back against the railing where the fans
lean over to pat him on the back and embrace him.]

GM:  OHHHHHH MY!!  What a daredevil dive from Michael Keening and these
fans have been ELECTRIFIED!

[Pulling Raphael Rhodes off the mat, Keening fires him under the ropes
to his waiting brother.  Jason drags Raphael off the canvas before
popping him with a forearm to the jaw that knocks him back into the
buckles.]

GM:  Big uppercut by Keening... Jason Keening that is... I guess we'll
have to be careful about that in this one.

BW:  Two sets of brothers going at it.  That doesn't happen too often.

GM:  It happened earlier tonight.

BW:  Oh... yeah.

[Jason Keening bulls Raphael back into the buckles, throwing a series of
forearms across the jaw.  Grabbing Rhodes by the head, Jason spins him
around...

...and SMASHES Rhodes' face into the turnbuckles!]

GM:  Facefirst to the corner right there...

[Rhodes staggers away to an adjacent corner where Jason quickly pursues.
 Outside the ring, Michael Keening has taken up residence in his corner
while a staggered and seething Simon Rhodes does the same on the other
side of the ring.]

GM:  Jason- ohhh!  He unloads with a forearm smash!  290 pounds of heavy
muscle blasting right across Raphael Rhodes' jaw, knocking him into the
corner again...

[Grabbing Rhodes by the head, Jason Keening drags him out of the corner
towards the corner where he slaps the hand of his younger brother.]

GM:  In comes Michael Keening... double whip...

[And with a quick duckdown, the Keenings send Raphael Rhodes sailing
through the air, smashing down to the canvas in a heap.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Big double backdrop by the Ghost Dancers!

[Michael Keening doesn't waste any time, dragging Raphael Rhodes off the
mat...

...and popping him with a chop across the chest.]

GM:  Chop by- ohhh!  Rhodes fires back!

[And if there's one thing Raphael Rhodes can do, it's hit damn hard. 
The impact of the chop echoes through the Laredo Entertainment Center as
Keening staggers away.]

BW:  What an idiot.  Who tries to trade shots with Raphael Rhodes?  Go
ask Juan Vasquez how that works out for ya.

GM:  Rhodes moving out of the corner...

[Michael Keening springs forward, throwing a right hand to the jaw to
Rhodes...

...who replies with a hard boot to the gut and a downward elbow across
the back of the head that knocks Keening facefirst to the mat.]

GM:  Down goes the Banshee and-

[With Keening down, Rhodes leaves his feet, DRIVING a king-sized
kneedrop down to the back of Keening's skull.]

GM:  Ohh!  All of Rhodes' weight down on the head of Michael Keening!

[A sneering Rhodes continues to kneel on Michael's head, looking up at
Jason Keening...

...and then SLAPS Michael across the back of the head.  An angry Jason
Keening tries to get into the ring but is cut off by the referee who
refuses to let him pass, pushing him back to the corner as Raphael drags
Michael off the mat, pulling him towards a waiting Simon Rhodes.]

GM:  Over to the corner... the tag to Simon Rhodes...

[Quickly scaling the ropes while Raphael holds Michael by the hair,
Simon reaches the top...

...and then leaps off, cracking a double axehandle down over the skull!]

GM:  Double axehandle... perfect execution by Simon Rhodes...

[Kneeling down on the mat, Rhodes grabs Michael Keening by the hair,
SMASHING the back of Keening's head into the mat once, twice, three
times before he gets back to his feet.]

GM:  This guy is a little bit nuts, Bucky.

BW:  He does seem to be a bit eccentric.

[With his shaggy hair and beard, Rhodes waves an angry tattoo-covered
arm at the jeering crowd before stomping Keening in the head.]

GM:  Another shot to the head!

BW:  Almost every shot's been to the head.  That may be their target.

[The crowd jeers more...

...so Simon Rhodes stomps more, kick after kick onto the exposed skull
of Michael Keening, forcing him under the ropes to the floor.  With a
sneer, Rhodes slips through the ropes onto the apron, dropping off with
another double axehandle, smashing across the head of Michael Keening
and knocking him flat.]

GM:  Down goes Keening again!  Simon Rhodes has chased him out here to
the floor right by us and- look out, Bucky!

[Having dragged Keening up by the hair, Simon SMASHES Keening's head
into the announce table, sending papers falling all over.]

GM:  Come on!  There's no call for this!

[A quick camera cut reveals a grinning Ben Waterson shouting
encouragement to the Rhodes brothers while Gabriel Whitecross slaps the
canvas, trying to rile up Michael Keening.]

GM:  Out on the floor... 

[Grabbing Keening around the head, Simon snapmares him over to the
barely-padded concrete...

...and then promptly delivers a soccer style kick to the chest, knocking
Keening back down to his back on the floor.  Inside the ring, the
referee protests as Rhodes smashes home another stomp, driving Michael's
head into the thin pads.]

GM:  Simon Rhodes is just a few feet away from us, absolutely pounding
Michael Keening out here.  This seems totally uncalled for to me, Bucky.

BW:  Hey, it was Keening who took this out to the floor to begin with,
Gordo.

GM:  It was but-

BW:  Stop making excuses for these Boy Scouts.

GM:  Well, the winning team here will advance to face the Outlaws and
from what I understand, there's some history between the Keenings and
the Outlaws, Bucky.

BW:  How about the Outlaws and the Rhodes boys?  There's some history
there too.  Raphael's still fuming that that no-account musclehead Gary
Bright cost them that tag match with the Outlaws.

[Dragging Keening off the floor again, Rhodes drags him over near the
steel railing...

...and SLAMS his skull into the steel, knocking Keening down to a seated
position against the railing.]

GM:  Keening's down... Keening's hurt and...

[Suddenly, Rhodes rushes forward, DRIVING his knee into the head of the
seated Keening, smacking the back of his skull into the steel railing
again.]

GM:  Come on!  Referee, you need to stop this right now.

[The referee shouts at Simon Rhodes again before Simon replies with
something that sounds like "piss off."]

GM:  Fans, we apologize for the language there.  Simon Rhodes, in his
AWA debut, certainly isn't making any fans here amongst the crowd, the
officials, or with us.

BW:  Hey, I'm instantly a fan.  Anyone who takes time out of their busy
schedule to slap around a Keening is a-okay in my book, daddy.

GM:  Give me a break.

[Finally, Simon Rhodes fires a hurting Keening back into the ring,
rolling right back in after him and breaking the referee's count.]

GM:  Both men back inside the ring now... Michael Keening immediately
trying to crawl towards his brother...

[But Simon's having none of that, slowly walking behind Michael, almost
stalking him...

...and just before Keening lunges at his brother's outstretched hand,
Simon swoops in and drills Jason Keening with a right hand, knocking him
back.  Jason Keening immediately comes into the ring but gets cut off by
the referee.  A grinning Simon Rhodes grabs the ankle of Michael
Keening, dragging him across the ring while Raphael Rhodes steps in and
drops an elbow to the back of the head!]

GM:  They cut off the tag... and wait a second, that's an illegal
exchange!  There was no tag there, referee!

[But the typically clueless referee allows it as Raphael Rhodes drags
Michael Keening off the mat, throwing him back into the corner...

...and smashing him under the jaw with a lunging back elbow smash!]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes stays on the head of Keening...

[Leaning with his back against Michael Keening's chest, Rhodes taunts
Jason Keening from across the ring...

...and then lashes out backwards with a hard elbow to the side of the
head.  Rhodes nods his head at Jason Keening, waving him on, and then
hits another elbow to the temple.]

GM:  Come on, ref!  Get in there!

[A protesting referee gets Raphael Rhodes to step out of the buckles...

...and then lunges right back in, smashing home another back elbow to
the head.  Reaching back, Rhodes snapmares Keening out of the corner to
the mat and drops down to his knees, smashing his elbow down on top of
Keening's skull.]

GM:  Look at Rhodes... just taunting Jason Keening... mocking him.

[Dragging Michael off the mat by the hair, Raphael throws him down to
the mat facefirst in the middle of the ring.  Rhodes quickly takes a
sitting position on the back of Keening, reaching under to hook a hand
under the cin, tugging Keening's head back.]

GM:  This doesn't look that effective, Bucky.

BW:  I'm not sure what he's trying to do here.

GM:  Ohh!  What a crossface!

[Rhodes stands up, still standing over the downed Michael Keening.  He
shouts out at Jason Keening, "You brought him into this!  You brought
this on yourself!" before stomping down on the back of the Banshee's
head.]

GM:  That's not fair, Bucky.  He's blaming Jason Keening for what's
happening to Michael Keening.

BW:  How is that not fair?  Jason Keening dragged his brother into this
and now he's having to watch the Rhodes boys beat Keening to a pulp.

GM:  I know Michael Keening.  He wouldn't let his brother take these two
on without him.

[Raphael Rhodes reaches down, dragging Keening off the mat again,
throwing him back to the corner where Simon Rhodes throws a pair of
haymakers to the head before shoving the Banshee back out towards
Raphael who hooks a waistlock...

...and takes Keening up and over, dropping him on the back of his head
with a German suplex!]

GM:  Waistlock suplex by Rhodes!

[A smirking Rhodes crawls over the downed Keening, reaching back to hook
a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[The crowd roars as Michael Keening kicks out at two and change!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  You gotta love the heart of Michael Keening!  He will not
go down without a fight... not at all.

BW:  Well, it's a good thing the Rhodes boys will give him all the fight
he can handle and then some.

GM:  Raphael Rhodes doesn't look too pleased though... 

[With Michael Keening on his stomach, again crawling towards his
brother...

...Rhodes rushes forward and buries a stomp in the back of the head
before spitting squarely in the face of Jason Keening!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Jason Keening rushes into the ring, charging
towards Raphael Rhodes...

...and this time actually shoving the official aside as he gets at
Rhodes, throwing right hands as quickly as he can.]

GM:  He's got him!  He's all over him!  He's-

[Seizing the moment, Simon Rhodes races into the ring, blasting Jason
Keening in the back of the head with a running double axehandle...

...and then throwing Jason Keening through the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  The Rhodes brothers are- wait a second!

[Simon yanks Michael Keening off the mat, holding his head with one hand
while Raphael does it with the other...

...and together they OBLITERATE Michael Keening with a double headbutt
that knocks Keening down to the mat!]

GM:  Good grief!  We know that Raphael has one of the hardest heads in
the game and it looks like Simon Rhodes isn't much different in that
respect.

[Jason Keening hops up on the apron, still trying to get into the ring
while the referee blocks his path...

...which allows both Rhodes brothers free reign to just keep stomping
and kicking the downed Michael Keening.  An angry Gabriel Whitecross
gets up on the apron, shouting at the referee as well.  Both Rhodes
brothers take a step back at the sight of the Era of Defiance, Simon
demanding he get down off the apron.]

GM:  It looks like Gabriel Whitecross might have given a moment of pause
to the Southern Syndicate right there.  Actually, is Simon Rhodes
officially in the Southern Syndicate?

BW:  You'd have to ask Mr. Waterson.

[A grinning Ben Waterson shouts some instructions into the ring as
Raphael Rhodes picks Michael Keening up, slamming him down to the mat as
Simon hops up on the middle rope...

...and leaps off, smashing a fist down between the eyes!]

GM:  Ohh!  Fistdrop on Keening and-

[The referee finally spins around, shouting at Simon Rhodes to get out
of the ring as Raphael drags Keening off the mat...

...and gets plucked right into an inside cradle!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!  FOUR!!  FIVE!!  

BW:  The ref doesn't see it and-

[Suddenly, Michael Meekly spins around to make the count...

...but Rhodes breaks out of it at two.]

GM:  That could have been it... perhaps SHOULD have been it!

BW:  Raphael could have gotten out of that at any time.  He was just
resting, daddy.

GM:  I see.

[Raphael Rhodes pops a rising Michael Keening with a forearm to the jaw
that stuns him, allowing Rhodes to throw Keening back into the
turnbuckles.]

GM:  The Banshee's trapped in the buckles once more...

[Stepping up to the plate, Rhodes throws a forearm to the side of the
head and then pops back the other way with an elbow to the other side of
the head.  A lunging headbutt connects squarely with the bridge of the
nose, knocking the Banshee down to a knee.  Cradling Keening's head,
Rhodes throws elbow after elbow after elbow to the temple...

...and then throws Keening down to the mat in a heap.]

GM:  Absolutely brutal.  This is getting difficult to watch for fans of
Michael Keening, Bucky.

[With Keening down in the middle of the ring, Raphael Rhodes waves his
arms in front of him in a "it's over" gesture as he heads out to the
apron.]

GM:  Now where in the world is Raphael Rhodes going, Bucky?

BW:  He's out on the apron... I think he's headed up top!

GM:  Rhodes might be thinking about that headbutt!  He might be thinking
about the flying headbutt!

BW:  We've seen this before and if he hits it, it's over, daddy!

GM:  Rhodes to the second rope... now to the top...

[Rhodes does the same arm gesture again...

...and then swandives off the top, his skull aimed squarely for the
skull of Michael Keening!]

GM:  HEADBUTT!

[And shockingly, the headbutt connects perfectly on target, skull
meeting skull in the middle of the ring!]

GM:  He nailed it!  Can you believe it?

[The impact of the headbutt sends Rhodes a few feet away, clutching his
own head, unable to take advantage of the big high impact top rope
move.]

GM:  He can't make the cover, Bucky.  The headbutt took too much out of
him and-

[Rhodes suddenly rolls over, throwing an arm across the chest.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- 

[The crowd roars as Jason Keening steps in, yanking Rhodes by the foot
off Michael.  Jason simply steps back in, pointing a finger at Raphael
Rhodes who rolls to his knees, still clutching his head.]

GM:  That was a close one off the headbutt but those years of teaming
paid off for the Keenings.  Jason knew his brother was in trouble and
made the save just in time.

[An angry Simon Rhodes shouts a few expletives in the direction of Jason
Keening.]

GM:  Again, we apologize for the language, fans.  Simon Rhodes
apparently doesn't realize where he's at.

BW:  Or he just doesn't care.

GM:  A distinct possibility, I'll admit.

[Raphael Rhodes rolls to his corner, slapping the hand of his brother
who rushes in, diving on top of Michael Keening with a double axehandle.
 With one hand on Keening's throat, Rhodes throws fist after fist to the
head...

...and then slams Keening's head into the mat.]

GM:  Right back to work on the head... and look at Simon Rhodes shouting
at Jason Keening the whole time here...

[Rhodes drags Michael to his feet, still shouting at Jason as he backs
him to the corner.]

GM:  He grabs the Banshee by the arm... Irish whi-  reversed by Michael
Keening!

[Showing surprising agility, Rhodes runs up the turnbuckles he's
charging towards and leaps backwards in a sloppy, lop-sided twisting
cross body...

...that hits nothing but air as Keening flattens out on the mat!  A huge
cheer goes up from the crowd!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!  RHODES MISSED!

[And that puts Michael Keening on the path towards the corner.  Outside
the ring, Ben Waterson is losing his mind, screaming at Simon Rhodes to
get up.]

GM:  Come on, Michael!

[Keening inches closer and closer to his brother's outstretched hand as
Simon Rhodes rolls to his knees, looking up at the corner where his
brother is screaming at him to make the exchange.]

GM:  Both men are near their corners!  Both men need to make the tag!

[A lunge from Michael Keening!]

GM:  TAG!  HERE COMES JASON KEENING!

[Jason Keening comes charging in, drilling a rising Simon Rhodes with a
forearm to the jaw.  Throwing him to the ropes, he barrels over him with
a running clothesline.  With a pump of his fist, the crowd is roaring
for him as he turns...

...and catches an incoming Raphael Rhodes with a picture-perfect
backdrop down to the mat!]

GM:  BIIIIIIIIG BACK BODY DROP!!

[A fired-up Jason Keening grabs Simon Rhodes off the mat, yanking him to
his feet in a gutwrench...

...and powers Rhodes up off the mat, twisting him in the air, and
THROWING him down in a thunderous powerbomb!]

GM:   GUTWRENCH POWERBOMB!  KEENING PLANTS HIM!

[Turning away from the downed Simon Rhodes, Keening races towards the
rising Raphael Rhodes...

...and smashes him in the corner with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Clothesline in the corner by the 290 pounder!

[As Raphael staggers out, Jason scoops him up, slinging him over his
shoulder with ease, backing to the corner...

...and stampedes out of the corner, PLANTING Raphael Rhodes with a
thunderous powerslam!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[Jason Keening pops up to his feet, throwing his arms apart with a
gutteral roar.  He points a finger of warning at Waterson who is looking
around in shock.  Walking across the ring, the former Screaming Drillbit
pulls Simon Rhodes to his feet.]

GM:  Remember, Simon Rhodes is the legal man in this one.

[Grabbing him from behind, Keening hoists him into the air, dropping him
down on a bent knee in an atomic drop that sends Simon smashing into his
own corner, staggering back...

...where Keening hooks him around the head and neck, lacing his leg
through to SNAP Simon back in a Russian legsweep!]

GM:  Russian legsweep!  Simon's head SNAPPED against the canvas!

[With Simon down, Keening floats over into a lateral press.]

GM:  WE'VE GOT ONE!!  WE'VE GOT TWO!!  WE'VE GOT- 

[The crowd ROARS with jeers as a desperate Ben Waterson grabs the ankle
of Keening, yanking him off of Simon Rhodes...

...which brings Gabriel Whitecross around the ring as quickly as he can
get there, charging towards Waterson who starts backpedaling, raising
his hands up in defense.]

GM:  Whitecross is coming for him!  Whitecross is coming for Waterson!

[Waterson backs into the aisle, still backing away with Whitecross in
hot pursuit.]

GM:  Whitecross is chasing Waterson out of here!  Waterson is abandoning
the Rhodes boys!

[Inside the ring, an irate Jason Keening drags Simon Rhodes off the
mat...

...and gets DRILLED from behind by Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  Keening got caught!  

[Raphael Rhodes hooks a side waistlock on Jason Keening as Simon Rhodes
slumps down to the canvas.  From behind Rhodes, Michael Keening enters
the ring, breaking into a sprint just as Raphael Rhodes hoists Jason off
the mat in a belly-to-back suplex attempt.]

GM:  The Banshee's in and-

[Michael Keening leaps up to the middle rope, springing back with a
picture perfect dropkick on the jaw of the Southern Syndicate member,
causing Rhodes to lose his grip and Jason Keening to flip over into a
crossbody as they hit the mat!]

GM:  THERE'S ONE!!  THERE'S TWO!!  THERE'S-

[The crowd roars with surprise as Raphael Rhodes fires a shoulder off
the mat before the three count falls.  Jason Keening slaps the mat in
frustration as he climbs to his feet.  He gestures his brother to the
corner as Jason Keening drags Rhodes off the mat.]

GM:  He scoops Rhodes up... a thunderous slam in the middle of the ring
and Michael Keening's headed up top!

[With his brother on his favorite perch, Jason Keening approaches the
corner, reaching up to help his brother...

...and HURLS him from the top, crashing down across the chest of Raphael
Rhodes!]

GM:  ROCKET LAUNCHER!  ROCKET LAUNCHER IN THE CORNER!!

[A stunned Michael Keening reaches back to hook a leg.]

GM:  WE'VE GOT ONE!!  WE'VE GOT TWO!!  WE'VE GOT- OHHHHH!

[The crowd roars again, this time because Simon Rhodes slipped in and
dove across the back of Michael Keening to break the pin.]

GM:  Simon Rhodes just saved the match for his brother!  That would have
done it!  The Rocket Launcher had him beat!

[Simon Rhodes gets to his feet...

...just in time to eat a clothesline from Jason Keening that takes them
BOTH over the top and out to the floor!]

GM:  BOTH MEN ARE OUT!!

[The crowd roars for the big-time move that leaves Raphael Rhodes all
alone in the ring with Michael Keening.]

GM:  We've got Raphael and Michael inside the ring.  Michael is the
first to his feet, clutching his ribs off that Rocket Launcher... he's
pulling Rhodes off the mat...

[A series of tight forearms to the jaw send Rhodes back to the corner. 
A weary Keening fires Rhodes from corner to corner, breaking into a full
sprint...

...and with an ear-piercing cry, he leaves his feet, JAMMING both feet
squarely into the jaw of Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  OHHHH!  WHATTA DROPKICK!

[Slowly getting off the mat, Michael Keening picks Rhodes up, setting
him up on the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  Wait a second...

[A tired Keening steps back, breathing heavily as he looks up at a
seated Raphael Rhodes.  He moves towards the corner, popping Rhodes with
a weary right hand to keep him in place as he steps up to the middle
rope...

...and then up top!]

GM:  Wait a second!  Wait a second!  Don't do it, Michael!

[With another war whoop, Keening leaps into the air, snaring Rhodes'
head between his legs...

...and SNAPPING him down to the canvas with a top rope rana!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[An exhausted Keening knee-crawls across the ring...

...and THROWS himself over the downed Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE-

[BIG SHOCKED ROAR!]

GM:  KICKOUT!  KICKOUT!  MY GOD, HE KICKED OUT!

[Keening rolls backwards, lying flat on his back in the middle of the
ring his chest heaving.  A few feet away, Raphael Rhodes looks the exact
same way with the crowd roaring for what they've just seen.]

GM:  Listen to these fans!  THIS is what the AWA's all about!


"LET'S GO MICH-AEL!"
clap clap clapclapclap
"LET'S GO MICH-AEL!"
clap clap clapclapclap
"LET'S GO MICH-AEL!"
clap clap clapclapclap
"LET'S GO MICH-AEL!"
clap clap clapclapclap
"LET'S GO MICH-AEL!"
clap clap clapclapclap


GM:  These fans are roaring for Michael Keening!  Michael Keening wasn't
even supposed to be here tonight and suddenly he's become the hero for
these people in the Laredo Entertainment Center!  

BW:  Makes me sick.

GM:  Michael Keening hears their cheers... Michael Keening is starting
to rise off the canvas...

[The Banshee looks absolutely exhausted as he gets to his feet,
clutching the top rope with both hands as he tries to stay standing.  On
the other side of the ring, Raphael Rhodes gets up as well, clinging to
the ropes.  Without warning, Keening takes a deep breath and breaks into
 a sprint...]

GM:  HERE HE COMES!!

[Throwing caution to the wind, Michael Keening throws himself into a
spinning leg lariat...

...that ends up wrecking him against the buckles as Rhodes drops down to
the mat!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The crowd buzzes with concern as they see Keening's legs trapped in the
buckles, leaving him dangling in the tree of woe.  Rhodes gets up,
stomping, stomping, stomping the trapped Keening before slamming a pair
of knees to the body.  He reaches down, hauling Keening up and shoving
him into a seated position on the top rope.]

GM:  Keening's up top... oh no!

[The buzz grows louder as Rhodes steps up to the middle rope, wrapping
his arms around the waist of Michael Keening...]

GM:  That's a superplex!  He's going for a top rope belly to back
superplex!

[Rhodes puts one foot up on the top rope, looking for the move that
would almost certainly wrap this one up...

...when Jason Keening suddenly climbs up the ropes as well.]

GM:  Hold on!  Be careful up there!

[Standing on the middle rope, Jason Keening throws a big right hand into
the skull of Rhodes.  A second one connects as well.  Reaching out,
Jason Keening grabs Rhodes by the head and slams forearm after forearm
into the side of the head.]

GM:  Jason Keening's trying to fight him off!  Trying to save his
brother!

[With Rhodes' grip loosened, Keening delivers another big forearm smash,
straightening Rhodes up...

...when suddenly Jason Keening THROWS himself into a spear tackle across
the top rope, taking Rhodes clear off the ropes, sailing through the
air, and CRASHING down to the canvas together!]

GM:  MY GOD!!  MY GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT?!

BW:  They're done.  That's it.  Ring the bell.

[The crowd is collectively on their feet, roaring in shock at what they
just saw as both Jason Keening and Raphael Rhodes lie in a heap on the
mat.]

GM:  The referee's checking both men... both men are down... both men
are hurt.  And you may be right, Bucky.  This match may be over right
here.  The match may be over right here and now and...

[A dazed Michael Keening is seated on the top turnbuckle, clinging to
the ropes while on the other side of the ring a staggered Simon Rhodes
is climbing the apron and dragging himself up to the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  Wait a second... look at Simon Rhodes!  Look at Simon Rhodes!

BW:  Maybe this isn't over!  Come on, Simon!

GM:  Simon Rhodes is scaling the ropes... what on Earth does he have in
mind here?

[With a lot of effort, Simon Rhodes manages to get to the middle rope...


...and then to the top where he stares down at the stunned Jason
Keening, nodding his head.]

GM:  Rhodes is up top!  He's got Jason Keening in his sights and-

[Suddenly, across the ring, Michael Keening stands up on the top
turnbuckle...

...and with the crowd roaring, the two men leap into the air at the same
time.  Michael Keening, with the beauty and grace of a seasoned
high-flyer, sailing through the sky in a breathtaking backflip, and
CRASHING down across the chest of Raphael Rhodes in a picture-perfect
moonsault.

And then there's Simon Rhodes.  Messy, sloppy, ugly.  But when you're
dropping 230 pounds off the top rope in the form of a kneedrop across
the chest of Jason Keening, it doesn't have to be pretty!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[The crowd ERUPTS at the double dive, roaring as both men reach back to
hook the respectlive leg and a stunned referee dives down between the
two pinfall, ready to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!   THRE-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd EXPLODES at the sound of the bell, roaring as both Michael
Keening and Simon Rhodes push off the mat, raising their arms in
triumph.  The roaring cheer soon turns to a buzz of confusion as a
puzzled Michael Meekly gets up, looking around for Melissa Cannon.]

GM:  The referee's talking with Melissa Cannon.  I think the Keenings
won this.

BW:  No way!  It was the Rhodes brothers!

GM:  We're about to find out because Melissa's got the mic.

[Melissa Cannon makes it official.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... after twenty minutes of hard fought action,
the time limit for this match has expired.  AWA Senior Official Michael
Meekly has declared this match...

...a draw!

[The crowd roars with a mixture of shock and disappointment.]

BW:  A draw?!  A DRAW?!

GM:  They went all the way to the limit and couldn't finish the other
team off.  What a match, Bucky.

BW:  Yeah, but... the tournament!  It's a draw!

GM:  Oh my stars, I hadn't even considered that.  The Outlaws - already
one of the teams to beat in this thing - just received a bye to the
semifinals!  That'll put them in a HUGE advantage tomorrow night, Bucky!

BW:  Wait a second... that's not fair!

GM:   Fair or not, that's what happened.  After assuming for weeks that
we'd enter tomorrow night with eight teams looking to win the Stampede
Cup, now we know there'll be only seven!  Seven teams!

BW:  But that's not fair!

GM:  The Outlaws just got the break of a lifetime.  They've gotta be
loving life right now, Bucky.

BW:  This isn't... I can't believe it.

GM:  Fans, what an amazing turn of events... we need to take a break. 
Hang on!  We'll be right back with the last two matches of the night!

[The camera holds on the four exhausted men inside the ring 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 to the ringside announce area where Gordon and Bucky
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  It's been a wild night of action so far. 
We've still got a couple of matches left tonight but let's look ahead a
little bit.  Let's talk about what we're going to see tomorrow night,
Bucky.  The second round is almost set but right now, we know we'll be
seeing Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson who upset the National Tag
Team Champions in a huge upset taking on Soup Bone Samson and
surprisingly, Sweet Daddy Williams - a team that has been wrestling all
over the South for years but never together here in the AWA.  

BW:  Do I have to pick a winner in that cause I just don't care. 
There's two punks in there who got lucky and knocked off the champs. 
They don't deserve that spot - not one bit.  And on the other side is a
man older than dirt and his partner who couldn't take the hint and stay
gone.

GM:  What do you think the Southern Syndicate thinks of the return of
Sweet Daddy Williams?

BW:  I'm not sure they'll even notice him.  They're too busy with the
big cars, the fancy houses, the hottest women.  The Southern Syndicate -
and the National Champ especially - has moved far beyond Sweet Daddy
Williams but if he wants to tussle with them, I'm sure they'll oblige.

GM:  No prediction?

BW:  Sure.  I'll predict that Samson will use that illegal clenched fist
and knock some sucker out.  That might get them a win but their
celebration will be short-lived.

GM:  Well, I know you'll like the next one - The Right Proper Thugs and
the Bishop Boys collide!

BW:  You know what, I DON'T like this one, Gordo.  While scrubs like
Samson and Williams may advance to the semifinals, one of these great
teams goes out in the second round.  The Championship Committee should
just put them both through.

GM:  No prediction?

BW:  Too close to call.

GM:  The Outlaws get the bye thanks to the time limit draw between the
Southern Syndicate's squad and the Ghost Dancers - another big surprise
here tonight.

BW:  I'll predict the Outlaws advance to the semis.

GM:  Well, that's pretty obvious.  But who will they be facing?  We're
going to find out in just a little while.  Let's take a look at some
previously recorded comments with the #7 seed in the tournament,
Strictly Business!

[Scene opens to a shot of a large flat screen television mounted on a
wall above a fireplace.  On the screen we find a recent AWA match from
Saturday Night Wrestling between the Fabulous Falcons and Simply the
Best...

On the screen we see Shannon Stokes and Shane Falcon battling on the top
rope.  Falcon has Stokes up in a superplex position when suddenly Stokes
lashes out with a pair of knees to the top of the head, flipping over
the top of Shane Falcon and landing on his feet on the canvas behind
him...

...where he immediately deadleaps straight up in the air, hooks Shane
around the head, and _spikes_ him with a reverse rana!]

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM:  DID YOU SEE THAT?!  DID YOU SEE-  ONE!!!!  TWO!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match...

SIMPLY THE BEST!

[We see the television pause as a voice comes from off camera.]

VO: You ever do something like that, 'Drew?

[A voice responds.]

VO: Hell, I ain't never even _heard_ o' somethin' like that.

[The camera pans around to find two recognizable figures sitting on a
black leather couch in what looks to be a plush house.  Andrew "Flash"
Tucker is dressed in a white t-shirt with the Hurley logo splashed
across the front and a pair of loose-fitting blue jeans.  His blonde
hair spills out from under a black baseball hat.  His trademark Oakley
sunglasses are perched above the brim.  Sitting to his left is Mike
Sebastian, his bronzed chest hidden beneath a white Ed Hardy tee.  His
elbows resting on his thighs, he peers intently at the boob tube with
perspiration already forming upon his brow.

Tucker sighs deeply.]

AT: I dunno 'bout all this scoutin' report stuff, Mike.  Five years ago
we'd o' jus' showed up an' figured out what to do on the fly.

MS: The good 'ole days, right?  Hehe.  We can't afford that luxury any
longer, 'Drew.  We don't know these guys from our fourth and fifth
cousins, and clearly they're liable to pull out the kinds of stops we
haven't seen the better part of the five years.  One misstep a few years
back and we were still able to right the ship in time.  But now?  We're
gonna need to know a little more than just the names of the scraps we're
gonna see the moment we hit the Lone Star.

[Tucker nods slowly, accepting his friend's wisdom.]

AT: Yeah, I guess you're right.  Those l'il guys are quick, I'll give
'em that much.  Don't seem like half bad guys, either.  They prolly
thought they got a nice draw goin' up 'gainst a team that hasn't seen
the inside of a ring in half a decade too.

Well... They thought wrong.

MS: We were about as disconnected from the sport as two guys can get. 
We may have picked up a rag or two every now and again just to see who
was where doing what to whom but that's as far as it went.  I will say,
though - the names Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont aren't
ringing any bells.  Sounds like the kinds of names you'd find on the
back of a cereal box.  Imagine our surprise when we discovered that's
the name of our first set of opponents at the Cup.

[Sebastian raises an eyebrow, his forthcoming thoughts already fresh in
his mind.]

MS: And when we say "first" set of opponents, we mean what we say.  A
lot of the teams involved in this get-together are gonna tell you
they're not looking past the first round.  And I'm going to tell you
their full of something other than sunshine and daffodils when they do.
You have to look ahead.  If you don't, you've either got no realistic
chance of seeing action the final night, or you're gonna get your doors
blown off when you waltz into war unprepared.  We're conscious of the
fact seeing the Rough N Ready squad across that ring is potentially in
our futures.

[He pauses, shrugging his shoulders at the thought.]

MS: But if two potential upstarts who landed their team name off a
forgettable Tina Turner cut from the Max Headroom era think they're
prone to hand us an early out, then they've got another thing coming.
And for Simply The Best, it ain't gonna be a ticket to round two.

[Some of Tucker's old swagger begins to creep into his voice.]

AT: Forget the idea that the two o' us have any serious ring rust.  Tag
team wrestlin' was our livelihood.  It's written into our DNA.  We won't
need but 'bout 30 seconds to get back to runnin' like a well-oiled
machine.  It's kinda like if you leave a classic muscle car in the
garage under a car cover.  It was in such good condition when you put
the thing away for the Winter that when Spring rolls around, you may
have to give it a couple o' pumps on the gas pedal, but then it'll roar
to life and be ready to pick up right where it left off, haulin' tail.

MS: And we don't have to tell you pups... when 'Drew and I were running
full tilt?  It was like Fast and the Furious running through Amish
country each and every night that bell was rung.

AT: Fellas, we're not gonna come out here and tell ya that we hate you
an' we're gonna rip ya limb from limb an' all that.  We don't hate you.
Hell, we don't even know you.  But what we do know is that we didn't
come out o' the woodwork to get our tails handed to us in round one and
go home with nothin' more than a few shiners.

MS: And that's the difference between our two squads.  This is just
another night on the job for you boys.  You two take an 'L' and can
continue to go about your day - looking up at teams like Rough N Ready
and the Right Proper Thugs, doing your damedest every two weeks to reach
the next perch on the tag team ladder.  But for Andrew Tucker and Mike
Sebastian?  This is it.  The end of our road is Texas.  The Stampede
Cup.  We don't have an interest in accumulating any points to tell the
world how good we know we are inside that ring together.  Should we come
out and lay an egg the first match out of the gate, we head back to our
daily lives with that cold, hard fact entrenched in our respective
memories.  And the simple fact is, it's gonna take a whole hell of a lot
more than a reverse rana spike...

[He motions toward the LCD screen once more.]

MS: ...to tarnish the legacy of these two sumbitches.

[He jets a thumb in the direction of his partner.]

MS: Got too much pride for that.

AT: The idea o' facin' those two skirts Freeman and Dufresne don't
matter to us.  The million bucks don't matter either.  It's 'bout comin'
back inside the ring an' pickin' up where we left off.  It ain't
personal at all.  It's just business...

[A slight smirk creeps across Tucker's face as he looks towards
Sebastian.]

MS: ..._Strictly Business._

[And with that, we fade to the backstage area where Jason Dane is
standing with "Supersonic" Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont.]

JD:  Fans, I am standing back here in the locker room with Shannon
Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont - the two men who make up the tag team
known as Simply The Best.  Gentlemen, you just heard what Strictly
Business had to say... your thoughts?

[Stokes and Beaumont look at one another for a long time.  Then Beaumont
slowly turns to the camera.]

BBB:  Ha.  Ha.  Ha.

[Beaumont turns away, silent once more.]

JD:  I'm not sure I-

[Stokes interrupts.]

SSS:  That was the reaction they were looking for, right?  They wanted
us to laugh at their dated references about Tina Turner and our names. 
Then they wanted us to be impressed.  Impressed that they wore tag team
titles forever and a day ago.  Impressed that they're apparently so well
off, that one million dollars and a shot at the National Tag Team Titles
doesn't mean a thing to them.

BBB:  I'll tell ya flat out that a million dollars means a hell of a lot
to me.... my momma too.

SSS:  That's right.  A half million dollars will put a lot of food on
the plates of my kids.  It'll put my wife in a brand new car.  It'll get
my mom out of the Assisted Living and into someplace nicer.  

So, yeah... to us, a half million dollars means something.

[Stokes nods.]

BBB:  To us, a shot at the National Tag Team Titles means something.  It
means that all those years working in Boys and Girls clubs and American
Legion Halls was worth it.  It means that busting our tails from coast
to coast for less than the guy down at Wal-Mart makes just hoping and
praying we'd sell a couple more DVDs was worth it.  It means that WE
finally made it.

SSS:  It means that maybe ten years from now, the Blingman and myself
could be sitting retired in some swanky place watching a match of some
youngsters that we're coming out of retirement to face.  That we'll have
all the money in the world to give up the game.  That we can sit back
and make fun of these two kids because they don't show their matches on
network television.

BBB:  Are we gettin' through to you yet?  Sebastian, Tucker... y'all are
where we want to be.  We'll admit that.  We want to be sitting back and
have no pressure on us to win tonight.

[Stokes interrupts.]

SSS:  And no matter how you want to sell it to those people out there...
and maybe to yourself... WE are the one with the pressure on us tonight.
 Yeah, if we lose, tomorrow is another day.  But we'll have wasted our
chance to be Major League in one night.

BBB:  That's right.  For you two, you lose... you still go home to your
big houses, fancy cars, big bank accounts, tropical islands, and
memories of what you USED to be.  There's no pressure on you tonight. 
No matter if you win or lose, people will remember Strictly Business.

SSS:  But for us... we lose... and that's one more year before we get
another chance like this.  365 days is a long time, boys.  A lot can
happen in a year.  And we know that if we go down tonight, there's a
chance we NEVER get another chance at it.

[A pause.]

SSS:  So, believe me... you'll be getting the best that we have tonight.
 We'll be running, jumping, and flying like we never have before.

BBB:  Heck, we may even give ol' Flash a few more moves he's never heard
of.

[Beaumont grins.]

SSS:  And at the end of the night, we'll either have our hands raised or
we won't.  

[They look at one another and smile.]

BBB:  We can live with that.

SSS:  Because at the end of the night, when we say that we're Simply The
Best... that's cause we are.  It's not a clever name.  It's not a
marketing gimmick.  It's not a tribute to the best legs in music.  It's
the truth.

BBB:  Can you deal with that?

[And with a high-five, the two men walk out of sight.]

JD:  Simply The Best is...

[Dane grins.]

JD:  ...strictly business tonight in the Stampede Cup tournament.  Let's
go down to Melissa for the introductions!

[We fade to Melissa Cannon inside the ring.]

MC:  The following first round matchup is scheduled for one fall with a
twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... 

[Suga Free's "Cool" kicks in to a decent sized cheer from the Laredo,
Texas crowd.]

MC:  At a total combined weight of 350 pounds... the team of
"Supersonic" Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont...

SIMPLY THE BEST!

[Another decent sized cheer for the two youngsters as they slap hands
with the ringside fans on their way down the aisle.  Upon reaching the
ring, Stokes and Beaumont take spots next to one another on the apron
before slingshotting over the ropes in unison to another cheer.]

GM:  These two young men are looking to make history here tonight by
knocking off a very famous duo in tag team wrestling, Bucky.

BW:  Sebastian and Tucker WERE famous, Gordo.  In 2009, they're just a
distant memory trying to put themselves back into the spotlight for one
night.

GM:  We'll see about that.

[As the sounds of Suga Free starts to fade, they're replaced by Powerman
5000's "When Worlds Collide" to a big cheer.]

MC:  And their opponents... hailing from the sunny shores of 
California, at a combined weight of  452 pounds... they are 
Andrew "Flash" Tucker, "Money Driven" Mike Sebastian...

STRICTLY BUSINESS!!!

[The crowd immediately leaps to their feet and fills the arena with
cheers as two figures soon saunter out from the back and into the Laredo
Entertainment Center.]

GM:  For the first time in nearly six years, Strictly Business is in an
arena and they're here to compete!  At one time, these two men were
considered one of the best tag teams in the world.  Tonight, they
attempt to prove that one more time.

BW:  And if they fail, I think I might dig out a watermelon for 'em.

GM:  Bucky!

[One of the men is wrestling superstar Andrew "Flash" Tucker.  Clad in 
long black tights adorned with white lightning bolts, and matching
boots, his blond hair hangs down past his shoulders and his trademark
half-smirk, half-sneer plays across his face.  His bronzed chest is
bare, and glistens with water.

Sebastian, rather, is seen in a traditional pair of green wrestling
briefs, with lightning bolts on each side.  These are the same lightning
bolts seen on Tucker's tights as well.  On the back of Sebastian's
attire reads "Strictly Business" in gold, cursive writing.  Beads of
water are seen across Sebastian's chiseled, clean-shaven chest.  A
slight hint of stubble is seen across the man's face as he looks forward
with a confident, determined look.  He soon smirks, as well, and begins
the walk to the ring alongside his partner.]

GM:  Here they come... making that long walk to the ring for the first
time in a long, long while, Bucky.

BW:  They've gotta be nervous, Gordo.  They talk a good game but they've
gotta be nervous.

GM:  It would seem only natural to me.

[As Tucker and Sebastian enter the ring, Simply The Best decides the
time is now.]

GM:  Here we go!

[The two youngsters charge the veteran at the opening bell, Tucker and
Sebastian both sidestepping and allowing Beaumont and Stokes to charge
past, hitting the far ropes.]

GM:  Simply The Best off the ropes...

[Sebastian and Tucker are ready on the rebound, trying to swing both men
up into a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker...

...only to get caught by Stokes and Beaumont, dragged down to the canvas
in a pair of beautiful headscissors.]

GM:  Oh my!  Poetry in motion right there...

[Stokes and Beaumont are ready as Strictly Business regains their feet,
immediately rushing to the ropes.  As they rebound back, they duck under
sloppily thrown clotheslines from both men, hitting the far ropes.]

GM:  Off the far side again...

[The Simply The Best members leap into the air in unison, throwing their
legs behind them in a bodyscissors that they quickly turn into an
armdrag, throwing Tucker and Sebastian down to the mat.]

GM:  These two are on fire to start this one...

[As Tucker and Sebastian get back to their feet, Beaumont and Stokes
lash out with a kick to the gut...

...and are thrown off in a backflip at the same time, landing on their
feet, and then popping back into the air with a snapping back elbow to
the jaw.]

GM:  Ohh!

[Tucker and Sebastian drop down to the mat, rolling under the ropes to
the floor to regroup...

...which gives Stokes and Beaumont the opportunity to dash across the
ring at top speed, throwing themselves over the top rope in stereo
somersault planchas, wiping out both members of Strictly Business!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon Myers as Stokes and Beaumont regain their feet.
 A grinning Beaumont yanks Sebastian off the thinly-padded concrete,
shoving him under the ropes back into the ring as Stokes kicks the
downed Tucker a few times.]

GM:  Sebastian's down on the mat and-

[Gripping the top rope, Beaumont slingshots into a somersault, smashing
his leg down across the throat of Sebastian and quickly going for a
cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[But Mike Sebastian fires a shoulder off the canvas before the three
count falls.  Beaumont nods his head, still smiling as he pulls
Sebastian off the mat...

...who responds by throwing a haymaker up into the jaw of Beaumont,
snapping him back into the ropes.  Quickly grabbing the wrist, Sebastian
fires him across the ring.]

GM:  Off the ropes...

[Leaving his feet, Sebastian leaps into the air, extending his arm, and
catching Beaumont across the throat with a bulldog type clothesline,
knocking the air out of him.]

GM:  Ohhh!  The veteran knocks him flat with that one.

[Getting back up, it's Sebastian's turn to lay in the boots with some
kicks to the body.  With two hands full of afro, Sebastian hauls
Beaumont to his feet, blasting him with a right hand across the jaw that
puts Beaumont in the corner.]

GM:  Hard shot there by Sebastian...

[Grabbing Beaumont by the arm, Sebastian fires him across from corner to
corner...

...where Beaumont gracefully runs up the turnbuckles to the top rope,
backflipping off, and landing on his feet behind the charging Sebastian.
 Sebastian spins around, charging back the other way.]

GM:  BICYCLE KICK!

[The crowd cheers the big boot being shoved up under the chin of
Sebastian, knocking him back on the back of his head.  In the meantime,
Andrew Tucker and Shannon Stokes have taken their respective corners.]

GM:  Beaumont pulls him off the mat... 

[And again, Sebastian gets one in, burying a knee into the midsection of
the younger competitor.  He quickly throws him off into the ropes,
watching as Beaumont rebounds off...

...and then DRILLS him under the chin with a back elbowsmash!]

GM:  Sebastian puts him down... and a tag right there to Tucker...

[Some cheers for Tucker as he tags in for the first time, dragging
Beaumont up by the afro.  A few thrust kicks to the gut knock Beaumont
into the corner, clutching his ribs.]

GM:  Tucker moves in on Beaumont... big chop in the buckles...

[A quick Irish whip follows, Beaumont hitting the corner hard as Tucker
measures his man, charging across...

...and Beaumont throws himself out of the corner as Tucker hits the
buckles, dropping into a front roll, and throwing himself into a tag to
Shannon Stokes who slingshots over the ropes.]

BW:  Watch out for pure breakneck speed here, Gordo.

[Stokes sprints across the ring, smashing Tucker with a forearm smash. 
Dragging him from the corner, he snaps off kicks to the legs, then to
the ribs, leaving Tucker staggers in the middle of the ring as Stokes
hits the ropes again, rebounding out...

...and grabbing Tucker around the head and neck, shoving him backwards
onto Stokes' bent knee!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Modified backbreaker there by Stokes!

[Stokes pops back up, charging to the ropes again where a forearm smash
knocks Sebastian off the apron and in one motion, Stokes keeps going,
dropping into a baseball slide kick to the ribs on Tucker!]

GM:  Stokes is pure speed in there!

BW:  I believe I said that.

[Pulling Tucker off the mat, Stokes pops him with a couple forearms
under the chin, knocking him back to the corner.  A quick whip follows,
smashing Tucker into the buckles.]

GM:  Here comes Stokes!

[In a full-on sprint, Stokes tears across the ring...

...and leaps up, driving both knees squarely into the chest!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Tucker staggers out...

[Stokes deadleaps, trying to hook a rana...

...but Tucker counters, DRIVING Stokes to the canvas with a powerbomb! 
He falls back, slapping the hand of Mike Sebastian who is back up on the
apron and looking pretty cranky about it.]

GM:  Sebastian's in... more stomps and kicks to the body of Shannon
Stokes.

[Dragging Stokes up, Sebastian tucks his head under Stokes' chin,
dropping down to a knee in a jawbreaker that sends Stokes falling
backwards...

...where Sebastian leaps into the air, smashing him facefirst to the mat
in a bulldog!]

GM:  Cover by Sebastian for one... for two...

[But Stokes fires a shoulder up at the two count.  Sebastian cradles his
head, throwing a few blows to the face before hauling Stokes back up to
his feet.]

GM:  Both men back to their feet... tag to Tucker...

[A double whip sends Stokes across the ring where he rebounds, sprinting
back to duck under a double clothesline.  He rebounds again, ducking
under another double clothesline...]

GM:  He's gonna break the land speed record!

[And then throws himself into the air with a double cross body but the
160 pounder is snatched out of the sky by Tucker and Sebastian who hold
him up...

...and then throw him up and over with a double fallaway slam!]

GM:  Ohh!  I don't know if I've ever seen that done before.

[Stokes rolls under the ropes to the floor which makes him an easy
target for Tucker who quickly scales the ropes.]

BW:  This guy hasn't been in the ring in six years and he's trying
this?!

[With a pump of his fist, Tucker drives the crowd into a frenzy before
leaping off his perch, twisting his body in the sky, and wiping out
Stokes with a twisting plancha!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!  DID YOU SEE THAT?!

[With those two on the floor, Beaumont races in, biel throwing Sebastian
over the ropes into the ring.  A picture perfect dropkick connects on
the chin with Sebastian, knocking him back across the ring...

...and a running discus clothesline knocks Sebastian flat in the
corner!]

GM:  Good grief!  Beaumont's all over him!  Beaumont is taking it to
the- what's he doing now?

[In the corner, Beaumont deadleaps straight up, splitting his legs to
bounce off the ropes...

...and smashes down across the chest in a moonsault!]

BW:  Split-legged moonsault!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH- OHHHHH!

BW:  They're not the legal men, Meekly, you idiot.

GM:  Mickey Meekly got caught up in the excitement of this one, I think.

[Beaumont yanks Sebastian off the mat, lighting up his chest with big
chops across the chest...

...which completely distracts him, allowing Tucker to slip back into the
ring, hooking Beaumont around the waist.]

GM:  Waistlock from Tucker and-


"WHAAAAAAAAP!"

"OHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd ERUPTS as Sebastian uncorks a superkick that catches Beaumont
under the chin just before Tucker snaps him over in a bridging German
suplex.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHHH!  STOKES MAKES THE SAVE!!

[A diving save by Stokes breaks the pin just in time.  Stokes
frantically throws blows at Tucker...

...but a forearm smash to the back of the head by Sebastian breaks up
the assault by Stokes.]

GM:  Grabbing Stokes by the arm, Sebastian whips him into the corner. 

[He then pulls up Beaumont, shoving him back to the opposite corner
where he drops down to all fours.]

GM:  Wait a second!

[Tucker springs to his feet, charging across the ring where he steps up
off the back of Sebastian...

...and DRILLS Beaumont with a spinning leg lariat in the corner!]

GM:  Launchpad!  Vintage Strictly Business!

[Sebastian charges across the ring, dropping down to all fours again as
Tucker charges across...]

GM:  LAUNCHPA- OHHHHHHH!

[At the last minute, Stokes ducks down, causing Tucker to sail over the
ropes, crashing down to the barely padded concrete floor in a heap to
the roar of the crowd.  A shocked Mike Sebastian is completely
unaware...

...and when he turns around, Stokes leaps into the air, yanking him down
in a tightly-cradled rana!]

GM:  HE'S GOT HIM!  HE'S GOT HIM!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHH!!  SHOULDER
UP!

[Stokes slaps the canvas in frustration as he gets up, throwing kicks to
the body of a rising Sebastian, knocking him back to the corner.  A
quick whip sends Sebastian across the ring to the opposite buckles with
Stokes charging in right behind him...

...and leaping into the air, his lower body going between the top and
middle ropes with his arm smashing into the throat of Mike Sebastian!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  What a move by Stokes!

[Sebastian staggers out of the corner, falling down to the canvas as
Stokes quickly scales the ropes...

...and leaps into a full front flip, crashing down on Sebastian with a
450 splash!]

GM:  SOMERSAULT SPLASH BY STOKES!!  OH MY STARS!!

[But as soon as Stokes turns around...]


"WHAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  CHRONIC JUMBLEJAW!!  THE SUPERKICK OF TUCKER!!!

[The kick knocks Stokes back into the ropes where he stumbles back out,
getting kicked in the gut by Tucker.  Tucker laces his leg over the back
of Stokes' neck as a hurting Mike Sebastian slowly scales the buckles. 
Leaping into the air, "Flash" SMASHES Stokes' face into the canvas.]

GM:  He calls that the Trendsetter and-

[And then Mike Sebastian leaps off the top rope, sailing through the air
with a picture perfect frog splash, crashing down on the chest of
Shannon Stokes!]

GM:  STOCK MARKET CRASH!!

[A right hand from Tucker keeps Beaumont from interfering as the referee
counts one... two... and three.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Moving on to the next round, here is your winners... 

STRICTLY BUSINESS!

[A big cheer goes up for Sebastian and Tucker as they celebrate their
victory with a high-five in the middle of the ring.]

GM:  Sweet, sweet victory for Strictly Business which will put them into
the second round to face either Rough N Ready or Clayton Shaw and Vernon
Riley.  

BW:  I gotta admit.  I'm a little impressed.

GM:  Me too.  Strictly Business shook off the ring-rust with an
impressive win to perhaps make them one of the favorites in this tourney
as well.  Eight teams will go in to tomorrow night with a shot at
winning the whole thing and now Strictly Business will be one of them.

BW:  Seven teams, Gordo.  Seven.

GM:  That's right.  The Outlaws will get a bye in the second round
because of the time limit draw between the Rhodes brothers and the Ghost
Dancers and- wait a second...

[After a few moments, Tucker moves to help Bling Bling Beaumont up to
his feet as Sebastian does the same with Shannon Stokes.]

GM:  What's going to happen here, Bucky?

BW:  Post-match beatdown?  I might come out of retirement to MANAGE
these two if that happens.

[But there will be no beatdown... instead, there's a sportsmanlike
handshake between all four men that brings the crowd to their feet.]

GM:  What a show of sportsmanship!  That's great to see, Bucky.

BW:  Makes me a little sick.

GM:  I'm sure it does.  Well, fans... that leaves us with one first
round match to go.  We're going to take a quick break and we'll be right
back with tonight's final match!

[The camera holds on the four men shaking hands inside the ring before
fading to black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to live action somewhere backstage at the Laredo
Entertainment Center.  Jason Dane is standing alongside Dave Cooper and
Eric Matthew Somes, the members of the tag team of Rough N Ready. And
with them is their manager, Sarah Sharpe.]

JD: All right, Rough N Ready is set to take on the team of Clayton Shaw
and Vernon Riley in the final match of the first round.  Sarah Sharpe...
your team earned the number two seed for tonightÕs Stampede Cup after
defeating the Bishop Boys at SuperClash, along with the final point
toward a National Tag Team Title shot... how do you like your team's
chances tonight?

SS: Jason... I'd actually like to talk a bit about SuperClash first.

[A sigh before she continues.]

SS: After Dave and Eric got the victory over the Bishop Boys, despite
the fact they had taken a licking, they were feeling pretty good about
themselves... heck, I was feeling pretty good about things. We had taken
a stand alongside Tumaffi and Juan Vasquez and declared that the stunts
the likes of the Bishops, Stevie Scott and others weren't going to be
tolerated any longer. We felt the first part of that stand had been
made...

...and then, we let our guards down.

[She shakes her head.]

SS: I felt confident that Tumaffi would get it done against Gary Bright,
and then Ben Waterson pulls out MAMMOTH Misuzawa out of nowhere, and
now, Tumaffi is the latest to be put out with an injury. Then Juan
Vasquez looks to be in control of things against Stevie Scott, and along
comes Raphael Rhodes... and while the doctors told Dave and Eric they
needed to get to the hospital, I should have never allowed it because I
should have seen the Rhodes move coming.

On top of that, there's Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman doing
everything they can to further injury to City Jack... and when he won't
go down, they stoop to an even lower level in trying to permanently end
his career. Thank goodness Werewolf Gregorson was there to prevent
further damage...

...but that being said, that doesn't absolve me or my men for not being
there.

[She folds her arms.]

SS: But I can promise you this... Dave, Eric and I are not making the
same mistakes again. Tonight is not just simply about winning a
tournament, winning the million dollars or winning a trophy.

It's about sending a message to people like Rhodes, Scott, Dufresne and
Freeman... we're not going to tolerate any longer the stunts you have
pulled any longer.

[As Sarah finishes, Eric motions to Jason to bring the microphone toward
him.]

EMS: I get accused of sometimes losing my cool and letting my emotions
get the better of me... after all, I'm supposed to be one of those guys
who needs to keep control and not cross the line. And I'll admit it's
hard to keep telling myself not to cross the line when I watch certain
individuals in the AWA do that on a regular basis.

I heard what Dufresne and Freeman had to say about what happened to City
Jack... it was an unsanctioned match and he should have known what he
was getting himself into.

[His voice starts rising.]

EMS: But unsanctioned or not, there is no excuse for what happened to
City Jack at SuperClash. It's one thing to demand a rematch for the
titles... and yeah, we should come to expect by now that Freeman and
Dufresne don't care what they have to do to win titles, just as long as
they win.

Yet that's not the issue at hand... the issue is this: They tried to
take City Jack's wrestling career away.

And that's something you just don't do to a man.

[He pauses for a moment to collect himself.]

EMS: If Dufresne and Freeman want to play that game of trying to take
careers away... even as I have to remind myself that I shouldn't cross
certain lines... they best remember these words.

Fight fire... with fire.

[He turns away from Jason, a displeased look on his face. Dave pats Eric
on his shoulder as if to calm him down.]

JD: Well, the two of you do have the third and final point for that
title shot against Dufresne and Freeman, the current National Tag Team
Champions... but after their loss tonight, your best chance to meet them
is to win the Stampede Cup. And first, you have Shaw and Riley, who may
not have been teaming for as long as the two of you have, but are
accomplished wrestlers in their own right. What about them... and what
about the other teams you could be facing along the way?

[Dave motions to Jason, indicating he'll take the question.]

DC: Jason, we are well aware about the road ahead of us tonight and
tomorrow night, don't get me wrong. It's just we've got a lot of stuff
to get off our minds... I'm sure you understand.

I have nothing but respect for Shaw and Riley... I'm sure both of them
are just as upset about what's gone down here in the AWA as of late...
but at the same time, they are thinking about this tournament and what's
at stake. And believe me, we aren't looking past Shaw and Riley. We've
got to bring our best and then some if we expect to get past the first
round.

After that, it's going to take even more to keep moving forward. I don't
mean to look ahead, but you look at who is on our side of the bracket...
teams like Strictly Business and The Outlaws, teams that have a much
longer, more impressive resume than Eric and I have despite how long
we've been in the business.

There's a lot of great teams left and we're looking forward to facing
them all... even the Bishops if the fates decide to put us together one
more time.

[Cooper smirks a bit at the idea of that.]

JD: You do remember the last time what happened when you entered a tag
team tournament with a high seed... you were the top seed going into the
National Tag Team Title tournament many months ago, but lost in the
semifinals to Dufresne and Freeman.

DC: [nodding] And believe me, we haven't forgotten that... and it's not
just because Dufresne and Freeman bribed the War Pigs to cost us the
next round, but because we let our guard down at the wrong time. It's a
mistake we don't intend to repeat.

Number two seed or not, we know what's at stake... first it's getting
past two great wrestlers in Shaw and Riley. Once that's done, we focus
on the next team to come before us.

But while our primary focus is going to be on Shaw and Riley... and then
focus on the next team after that... there's going to be that little bit
of focus in the back of our minds... a focus on two people who will
definitely have our attention in the weeks to come.

And it should be no secret who those two are.

[The trio now departs the interview area.]

JD: Rough N Ready, ladies and gentlemen... two men on a collision course
with Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman... but will they get that title
shot as Stampede Cup champions?  We'll start to get the answer to that
question soon enough.  Let's go down to ringside with Melissa Cannon!

[And with that, we fade back to ringside where Melissa is already in the
ring.]

MC:  The following contest is the FINAL MATCH in the first round of the
Stampede Cup tournament!  It is set for one fall with a twenty minute
time limit.  Introducing first... 

[The sounds of the Marine Corps anthem starts up to a big cheer from the
crowd.]

MC:  At a total combined weight of 575 pounds... the team of "Stars And
Stripes" Clayton Shaw and Vernon Riley!

[A big cheer goes up for the popular duo as they start to make their way
down the aisle.  Shaw is carrying a giant US flag over his shoulder,
waving it back and forth as Vernon Riley tries to high five everyone
along the rope barrier.]

GM:  Here they come... not the most experienced team but they may be the
team with the most heart, Bucky.

BW:  That and five bucks will get 'em a cup of coffee, daddy.

[Shaw and Riley take the ring, the crowd roaring for them as they salute
them right back and the music starts to fade.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The opening strands of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" kick
in, the chords seemingly building anticipation for what is to come. And
once the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's when
Rough N Ready emerges from the entranceway.]

MC:  From Albuquerque, New Mexico... weighing in at 615 pounds and
accompanied down the aisle by their manager, Sarah Sharpe... they are
Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers...

ROUGH!  N!  READY!

[Dave Cooper wears black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white
wrestling boots, and also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N
Ready" in white lettering. Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and
white wrestling boots. Standing in between them is their manager, Sarah
Sharpe, dressed in black pants and matching jacket and a white T-shirt.

The trio makes their way to the ring, Sarah walking in front with Dave
and Eric side by side, Dave with a serious look on his face and Eric
with a mischievous grin. They reach the ringside area, where Dave is the
first to ascend the ring steps and duck between the ropes, followed by
Eric, as Sarah takes her place at ringside.]

GM:  This is gonna be a fun one, Bucky.  A fun way to wrap up the first
round after a wild night of action.

[Cooper and Somers walk to the middle of the ring, exchanging handshakes
with Riley and Shaw before backing off to their respective corners.]

GM:  Four very rough and tumble guys in there.  I hope no one's
expecting a catch as catch can classic here because these four guys know
how to fight and that's likely what we're gonna see.

BW:  Hrm.  Boy Scouts beating up on Boy Scouts.  I might enjoy this
after all.

[Referee Michael Meekly calls for the bell to start the match...

...and then steps back as all four men dash towards one another, fists
at the ready.]

GM:  Here we go!  Here we go!  

[Dave Cooper and Clayton Shaw are trading wild haymakers while Vernon
Riley is snapping off jabs at Eric Matthew Somers who is attempts to
slap them away.]

GM:  This is a fight but it's not a fight of hatred.  These four men
have a lot of respect for each other but they just don't know any other
way to do this.

[Shaw grabs Cooper by the back of the head, smashing his face into the
buckles before teeing off once more, throwing fist after fist after fist
into the jaw of Dave Cooper.  On the other side of the ring, Riley has
managed to get an edge on Somers as well, going for a double whip...

...which causes Cooper and Somers to collide in the center of the ring,
Cooper falling down to the canvas...]

GM:  Wait a second...

[Dropping into a three point stance, both Shaw and Riley charge towards
Somers...

...who straightens up and DRILLS both men with a standing double
clothesline that takes them both down!]

GM:  Oh my!  Somers takes them both down!

[With the crowd cheering, Somers drags Clayton Shaw off the mat,
throwing a few haymakers of his own to back him into the corner...

...where Somers throws a big open handed slap chop to the chest, leaving
bright red welt behind.]

GM:  What a shot by Somers!

[With Somers and Shaw tussling in the corner, Cooper and Riley back off
to their respective corners.]

GM:  Another big chop by Somers!

[The big man backs off at the referee's direction...

...and then floors the staggered Shaw with a giant headbutt!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Down goes Shaw!

[Down on the mat, Shaw quickly moves to the corner where he slaps the
hand of Vernon Riley who comes in to a big cheer.]

GM:  Riley hasn't been around the AWA very long but he has proven to be
quite popular amongst the AWA fans, Bucky.

BW:  He's fat, ugly, and stupid.  He's got a lot in common with them.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Riley sidesteps, jigging a bit as he does so, and snaps off a jab
towards Somers that the big man slaps aside.  Riley grins as he tries it
again... and again has it slapped aside.  On the third time, Riley
feints the jab...

...but POPS Somers in the jaw with a big right haymaker that knocks the
big man to the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught Somers with that right hand.  I don't think he was
expecting that one and-

[Grabbing Somers by the arm, Riley goes for a whip...

...but Somers pulls up short, refusing to be whipped.  Riley grits his
teeth, going for it again.]

GM:  Vernon Riley can't get him goin'!  Too much size, too much weight.

[At a stalemate, Somers simply reverses direction, powering Riley into
the corner with a big whip...

...and SMASHES him in the corner with a rushing clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[With Riley stunned in the corner, Somers slaps the hand of Dave Cooper
who rushes in...

...and hooks a big right hand into the flabby breadbasket of Vernon
Riley.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big hook to the gut!  That'll take some wind out of your
sailes.

[Ducking down to grab the middle rope, Cooper sets...

...and then slams his shoulder into the gut of Riley!]

GM:  Cooper's got him trapped in the corner...

[Cooper slings himself forward again, driving his shoulder into the
midsection once more before straightening up, dragging Riley out of the
corner by the hair.]

GM:  Side waistlock applied...

[And Cooper powers him up before dropping him down on his back on the
canvas.]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Cooper applies a lateral press but only gets a two count before the
referee fires the shoulder off the mat.]

GM:  Only a two count there.

BW:  Hit him harder!

GM:  Who?

BW:  Anyone.  I just want someone to hurt someone else in this one.

[Getting to his feet, Cooper brings Riley off the mat with him, throwing
a pair of haymakers to the jaw that puts Riley in the corner again.  He
leans over again, ready to slam home a shoulder to the gut...

...but a rising kneelift catches Cooper under the chin, knocking him
back out of the buckles!]

GM:  Ohh!  Riley caught him with a kneelift!

[The staggered Cooper backs away, making him an easy target for Riley
who throws a stinging right jab that connects.  A few more follow up,
leaving Cooper barely able to stay balanced...

...when a big elbowsmash to the top of the head takes him down!  Big
cheer!]

GM:  Riley takes him off his feet... there's the tag to Shaw...

[Clayton Shaw quickly pulls Cooper up, battering him against the ropes
with haymakers.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by Cooper...

[And as Shaw rebounds, Cooper hoists him up around the upper thighs,
rotating...

...and DRIVING Shaw down to the canvas in a spinebuster slam!  Cooper
spins away, slapping the hand of Somers who charges in, BLASTING an
incoming Riley with a clothesline that knocks him flat.]

GM:  WHOA!

[With Riley out of the picture, Cooper shoves Shaw over to Somers and
steps up to the middle rope.  Holding Shaw around the head and neck,
Somers powers him up...

...and powers him down in a thunderous uranage slam just as Cooper leaps
off with a knee to the skull!]

GM:  ROUGH HOUSING!

[Somers throws his 350 pounds down in a lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEE!!!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here are your winners... ROUGH!  N!  READY!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  Cooper and Somers with the big win here to move on the second round
where they will face Strictly Business!  

BW:  And that should be VERY interesting.

GM:  It certainly should.  And just like our last match, we see Cooper
and Somers now helping Shaw and Riley back to their feet.  Some good
sportsmanship on display there.  Fans, we're almost out of time but we
do need to take one more break before we come back to wrap things up. 
We'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the ring where Shaw and Riley are raising Rough N
Ready's hands in victory before we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky have been
joined by a very special guest.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  Well, it's been one wild night here in Laredo,
Texas... but we've got just a little bit left.  As you can see, we've
been joined here at ringside by the Chairman of the AWA Championship
Committee, Stephen Ross.  Mr. Ross, it's been a heck of a night.

[Ross beams proudly.]

SR:  It certainly has and you can be assured that we're all looking
forward to tomorrow night as well for the conclusion of this two-night
tournament.  

[He raises a hand.]

SR:  But, we'll get to the tournament in a minute.  Before we do though,
I want to make a special announcement.  

Tomorrow night, in Laredo, Texas... the Championship Committee is adding
a non-tournament match!

[The crowd begins to buzz with interest.]

SR:  It will also be a non-title match!

[The interest grows!]

SR:  That's right.  "Hotshot" Stevie Scott, the National Champion,
thought he had the weekend off but he thought wrong.  Just before his
match tomorrow night, an AWA representative will bring out a hat with
EVERY AVAILABLE MEMBER of the AWA roster's name in it.  We will draw one
name and someone will get the chance of a lifetime to take on the
champion on national television.

[Pretty big cheer for that news.]  

SR:  And for the rest of this, I need to get inside the ring...

[Stephen Ross climbs up inside the ring, grabbing the mic from Melissa
Cannon.]

SR:  At this time, I would like to introduce the seven teams who will
take part in tomorrow night's second night of the Stampede Cup
tournament.

The Cindarella story of the tournament so far... 
BAILEY FITZGERALD AND COREY LAWSON!

[The crowd cheers as Fitzgerald and Lawson jog out from behind the
curtain.  They trade handshakes with all the fans again before entering
the ring to a big cheer.]

SR:  Their opponents in the second round will be...
SOUP BONE SAMSON AND the returning SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS!

[Another big cheer goes up for the veteran duo as they too shake a lot
of hands as they make their way down the aisle.  As they hit the ring,
they shake hands with Fitz and Lawson as well to the cheers of the
crowd.]

SR:  That should be a real fun match.  Also in the second round...
THE RIGHT PROPER THUGS!

[The jeers are deafening as Barrett Topps, Marcus Moore, and Lady
Victoria make their way into the Laredo Entertainment Center, ignoring
the fans as they reach the ring, glaring at the four men already there.]

SR:  And in what should make for a fascinating showdown, their opponents
in the second round will be...
THE BISHOP BOYS!

[The boos intensify as Cletus Lee, Duane Henry, and Cousin Bo make their
way down the aisle to the ring.  They are all business as they reach
ringside, refusing to go any further as Lady Victoria moves over to the
ropes to shout a few negative words in their direction.  Cousin Bo
returns fire of course.]

SR:  Please, please... let's keep some control please... also moving on
to the second round... in their return to professional wrestling...
STRICTLY BUSINESS!

[Another big cheer goes up for Mike Sebastian and Andrew Tucker, already
back in street clothes as they make their way down the aisle.  They
enter the ring, trading handshakes with Fitz, Lawson, Samson, and
Williams.]

SR:  And the team that they will face in the second round...
ROUGH N READY!

[HUUUUUUGE reaction for Cooper and Somers as they make their way down
the aisle, still a little winded from their match they just went
through.  There are some words and glares exchanged between the Bishops
and Rough N Ready at ringside.]

SR:  Guys, please!  Get some security out here please.

[The six teams in the ring and ringside area are starting to get a
little testy now, trading words with one another.]

SR:  And finally... please, guys... FINALLY... the last team to make it
through to Night Two, actually earning a bye to the semifinals of the
tournament...
THE OUTLAWS!

[Big cheer from the crowd as all eyes turn to the entryway...

...and see no one emerge.  Stephen Ross bristles at this change of
plans.]

SR:  Maybe they... maybe they didn't hear me...
THE OUTLAWS!

[Another big cheer...

...but still no sign of Maverick or Holliday.]

GM:  Where are the Outlaws, Bucky?

BW:  Probably off passed out drunk somewhere.  I told you they'd be
having a big party for-

GM:  Wait!  Wait!  We're getting word... yes, cut back to the locker
room!

[A frantic cut to the locker room is followed by a moment of confusion
as a cameraman is racing somewhere, the camera swinging violently.  When
it finally steadies, we see both Maverick and Holliday laid out on the
floor just beyond the entrance, pieces of broken wood and dented metal
all around them.

And as the camera pans...

...Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman standing over both men.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  Haha!  I love it!

GM:  Did they do this?  Did those two... did they do this to the
Outlaws?!

BW:  What do YOU think?

GM:  I can't believe this!  They're out of the tournament!  They lost to
Fitzgerald and Lawson!  They've got no right to-

[Suddenly, Dufresne speaks up...]

CD:  This isn't over.

[He lifts up a National Title belt, showing it to the camera as Freeman
leans in front of the lens.]

AF:  You don't crown the best tag team in the sport without the best tag
team of the sport being involved.

[Dufresne looks down at the Outlaws.]

CD:  No matter how... Hall of Fame... you are...

[And with a smirk, Dufresne buries a boot into the ribs of Doc Holliday
while Freeman stomps and kicks the downed Brent Maverick...

...when suddenly a flood of security and angry wrestlers pour through
the curtain, forcing Dufresne and Freeman to make a quick retreat.]

GM:  Fans, we're out of time!  These two... those damn jackals have
struck again!  What's going to happen tomorrow night in Laredo?  We'll
see you next time at the matches!

[And with pure chaos reigning in the locker room area, we slowly fade to
black.]