********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** American Wrestling Alliance Proudly Presents BATTLE ON THE BAYOU Live from the Lakefront Arena New Orleans, Louisiana September 6th, 2010 ********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** [As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing, the viewing audience is greeted by blackness. Slowly, a white title fades onto the screen - words uttered by General George S. Patton. "The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his." The words slowly fade back out, leaving black as the sounds of "House Of The Rising Sun" by The Animals are heard. As we come up from black, we find footage from the infamous "RIOT" episode of Saturday Night Wrestling. Juan Vasquez is dragging a bloodied Stevie Scott up to his feet by the hair, pointing at a nearby downed Eric Preston.] "YOU! YOU CAUSED ALL THIS! THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!!" [Vasquez drags Scott near the wall of the WKIK Studios set, smashing the National Champion's face into the AWA logo on the wall. Scott tries to slump to the floor but Vasquez is having none of it, keeping Scott on his feet as he shakes his head back and forth, refusing to let him fall... ...and then SMASHES his face into the wall again, leaving a bloody streak where Scott's face slides along the wooden wall. Vasquez grabs him by the hair, again refusing to let him fall. He promptly smashes the back of the Hotshot's skull into the wall. Backing away, Vasquez is screaming at Scott who is clinging to the wall, trying to stay on his feet. Vasquez throws his head back, letting loose a blood-curdling scream as we suddenly cut to a black and white slow-mo effect as Vasquez rushes forward, throwing himself into a spear tackle. A tackle that sends both men smashing into the wooden wall - a wall that without warning collapses backwards from the impact. The two men lie motionless on the floor of the WKIK Studios, the downed wall beneath them. A sea of AWA officials flood the scene, trying to survey the damage. When suddenly Juan Vasquez emerges from the chaos, covered in splinters, dust, and blood. He turns towards the nearest camera, lifting a weary arm to point at it.] "The war... has just... begun." [The camera shot freezes on Vasquez... then slowly fades out to white script once more.] "Tonight it ends." [And then back to black for a moment before coming back up to the interior of the Lakefront Arena in New Orleans, Louisiana. The crowd is roaring inside the fairly large building welcoming the AWA to the Bayou. Our cameras are panning back and forth over the record-setting AWA crowd. A quick cut to ringside shows a panning shot of the fans lining the metal barricades surrounding the double ring. There are fans of all ages, shapes, and colors going nuts for their favorite promotion. A quick cut to a wide shot reveals the double ring in the middle of the basketball floor, ringside seats surrounding it. A large elevated platform is running from ringside all the way back up the aisle to the entrance curtain, serving as the entrance aisle for the night. We cut back to ringside where we find our announce duo - familiar by now to AWA fans but still worth mentioning! The elder statesman of our announce duo is clad in a dark navy suit, white dress shirt, and a tie sporting the American flag on it. His salt and pepper hair (a little more salt than pepper) and well-groomed moustache are on display as he grips a wireless mic in his hand, grinning widely at the camera. He is the Epitome Of Professionalism, Gordon Myers. By his side is the two-time Announcer Of The Year and he's not likely to let you forget it. In his right hand, he's clutching a house mic in gold-ring covered fingers. A glitter-covered briefcase is held in his left hand as he grins through whitened teeth at the roaring crowd. His gut is trying to power out of a hot pink dress shirt, the buttons straining to contain it. A sunburst yellow jacket and pants tops off the ensemble... unfortunately. His black hair is messy to be polite. Former manager "Big Bucks" Bucky "My Mama Calls Me Buckthorn" Wilde.] GM: Good evening, fans, and welcome to Battle On The Bayou! Over the next three hours, you will be seeing all the starts of the American Wrestling Alliance, THE major league of professional wrestling. I'm Gordon Myers along with Bucky Wilde for the hottest night of the summer. This is it, Bucky. The final night of the AWA's summer tour and I can't think of a better place to wrap things up, Bucky. BW: I've been here all week long and there's no place like New Orleans, daddy. The booze, the women, the... well, I'll leave it up to your imagination, Gordo. GM: My thanks for that. Fans, we've got a ton of action here tonight - Destiny versus Langseth, the Bombers vs the Rockstars, Casanova versus Mayhem, the Enter The Darkness Challenge, Dufresne and Rust, the National Tag Team Titles on the line and of course, the steel Hell known as WarGames! It's sure to be an incredible night and as I'm sure my colleague would agree, the time for hype is over. BW: That's right, daddy. It's showtime! GM: It certainly is. And coming up first here tonight, we're going to have a big $50,000 Battle Royal! We first heard about this last week on Saturday Night Wrestling and what a lineup of competitors we've got in this one. Throughout the week, we've gotten words from the majority of the men in this match so let's take a look at that right now! [We fade from ringside. Shot comes to an extreme close-up of the scarred face of the tormentor of Jack Snyder for all these many months - Grant Stone.] GS: I'm no saint. [Stone pauses, looking straight into the camera with his deadened eyes.] GS: But in New Orleans, I'll play the part. I'll donate my claim to the fifty thousand dollar prize... [The big Kentuckian takes in a pained breath.] GS: If every one of the fourteen agrees to let me be, painting the canvas of the mat with that maggot's blood. [Stone's eyes widen a little bit with intensity.] GS: No heroes in that ring... Or else I'll be in a much less charitable mood. [Grant sneers at the camera, letting the image of his still-healing mug stand before the shot cuts. The backdrop: a large Iranian flag, with Arabic lettering across the white stripe in the middle. In the foreground, Count Adrian Bathwaite and the Sultan Azam Sharif. Bathwaite, a short Eurasian man with Asian eyes and English teeth, is wearing a glittery red shirt and beige pants, while the Sultan wears his white kaffiyeh, black agal, and reddish-brown bisht.] CAB: Tonight, fifteen men enter the ring to get a crack at fifty large. Fifteen... because the sixteenth man isn't there for the money. He's there to teach the whole lot of you needle-necked serfs a lesson in humility you'll never forget. Tell them, Sultan. SAS: Ahal! You know dot, Mistair Count Batway, vat did fifteen jehbrohnies got unto deh ring with deh Pahvlani Keshvar! Dey all rough-tough fighairs, an dey all gonna do vatevah it take for deh money. BUT REMEMBAH! [The Sultan rips off his kaffeyeh, revealing his black hair, neatly trimmed mustache and beard, and weatherbeaten, battlescarred face. He's rather intense, to say the least.] SAS: Deh Sultan Azam Sharif, two-tousan two Ashun Game shampwon, two-tousan four Olympic Game shampwon! I am deh best wreslair in deh vorld, un it diddunt mattair how rough-tough dot dem othair wreslairs was! I come to deh AWA for one reason, un dot was to show deh AmerEcuns vat ve do in deh oldest country, deh tradition, deh best country in deh vorld, Iran! I don need deh money! I gonna show dese fifteen jehbronies, as salaamu alaikum, ana asef, but I'm gonna throw em out of deh ring an be deh AWA shampwon! [Having now shed his bisht, he slaps both sides of his chest and wipes down the sweat, then makes a 'most muscular' pose for the camera. He's pretty well-built; there are scars in various places, but the man clearly takes care of himself.] CAB: Look at this man; he's a machine! He can toss out anyone in the AWA, suplex anyone in the world, and take anything that any of you dirt farmers can dish out. Fifteen slobs are getting in the ring for money, some for petty revenge, but this man has the real motivation! He's here for a higher purpose! And nothing is going to stop him. Nothing! Because he's very simply better than you, in every imaginable way. SAS: CAMARAMAN! ZOOM IT! [The cameraman obliges this time, zooming in on the Sultan's muscles as we cut. A two-shot of "Superstar" Kevin Slater and "Scorchin" Shane Taylor... oh, and Kandi Kane's in there too somewhere to be sure.] KS: Fifty thousand dollars. SST: Think that's enough to buy off some of these bounty hunters? KS: I told you to stop worrying about it. SST: Easy for you to say. KS: Hey, I had a bounty on my head once. SST: Yeah? You put it there. KS: Point. SST: The better point is that we're about to get in that ring with fourteen other guys looking to finish me off. They want the 50 g's, sure. But what they want more is whatever the hell Bobby's gonna give 'em, Kev. KS: You're right. SST: Yeah? KS: That IS a better point. [Taylor looks exasperated.] KS: I got it under control, kid. Trust me. [The duo walks off camera together as we cut. [Backstage, 'The Last Good Man' Jesse Ewiak is standing in his ring gear, looking directly at the camera. He simply stares it down for a moment, before beginning to speak.] JE: They say a man only has two chances at a first impression and that's only if people get to forget about the first time around. Well, I figure it's been a decent interval since my last appearance so I'll make this time short and sweet. [Beat.] JE: I'm not goin' to lie and say I need the fifty thousand bucks. I made good investments, I saved my money, I didn't blow it on loose women and white powder. But, this ain't about the money. It's about standing in the ring with legends like Slater, pretenders like Taylor, monsters like Grant and Snyder, and mysteries like the Assassin. Standing in the ring with them nose to nose, chest to chest, man to man, and being the last one standing. [Beat.] JE: A decade and change in this business means lots of battle royals. I know how they work. I know how they can break down. I'll be ready for just 'bout anything to happen from tag teams explodin' to enemies teaming up. So, try and put me over the top. 'Cause I'm coming for each and every one of ya'. [Cut to Jason Dane standing in between the War Pigs, Hammer to his left and Sabre to his right. Both are decked out in their black leather ring gear, their faces freshly painted black and red, and studded wrist bands on both wrists. Behind Dane is the manager Richard E. Lee, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back. He wears his usual silk shirt and sunglasses.] JD: I'm backstage with the War Pigs, who have been on quite a streak lately, but have also found themselves dealing with a very wild and unpredictable team in the Moonshiners. All four of you will be in the ring tonight. Is going after them part of your strategy? [Hammer abruptly grabs Dane's arm and pulls it toward him.] H: Strategy? Strategy? You think we need a strategy, Dane? Look at us! Who in that battle royal tonight is gonna be man enough to dump either me _or_ Sabre over the top rope? Save it - the answer is _no one_! Naw, Dane, we ain't talked about a strategy, but we don't need to. All we got to do is bust some heads, break some bones and dump some chumps over the top rope to the cold, hard concrete floor, and the 50 grand will be ours! Tell 'em, Sabre! [Mimicking his partner, Sabre grabs Dane by the arm and yanks the interviewer over towards him. Try as he might, Sabre can't contain his grin as he begins to speak.] S: WEEEEEEELLLLLLL, Jason Dane...lemme break it down for you nice and simple. If the Buttshiners get in our way? They're gonna get wiped flat out. If Grant Stone gets in our way? Same result. It doesn't matter if it's Jack Snyder, Flippy El Flippo, Azul Whatever-his-name-is, Velikov, Slater...they're all gonna meet the same painful fate. Getting our hands on the Buttshiners would be icing on the proverbial cake, Dane, but make no mistake about it - their time of reckoning is coming. Maybe it's tonight, maybe it's not. But it's coming. And it's gonna be uglier than Virgil's third cousin-slash-wife. JD: Richard E. Lee, comments from you? REL: Only a simple question for everyone getting into the battle royal with my men tonight. What's more important to you - 50 thousand dollars? Or being able to walk for the rest of your lives? [We fade over to a black back drop with ‘Wade Kennedy’ sprawled across it in red. Standing in front of the backdrop is no other then…well, Wade Kennedy. The lanky, blonde youngster is decked out in red trunks, red knee pads, red and white cowboy style wrestling boots, his black leather vest and a red bandana wrapped around his left wrist. He stares intently as the camera, pointing a finger.] WK: Tonight I climb into the ring with some of the most talented and strongest men in the AWA today. The prize? Fifty thousand dollars. There are a lot of things I could buy for fifty thousand dollars, but the one thing you can’t buy is respect! [Wade shakes his head.] WK: I know the odds are against me. You have the powerful War Pigs and guys like Devastation. You have the talented Grant Stone, Kevin Slater, West Memphis Assassin and more then I have time to name. [puts his hands on his hips] WK: I know nobody is giving me a chance to win. The odds are stacked against me and I’ll be fighting for my very survival in that ring! But if there is one thing I love more then winning, it’s proving people wrong. Yes, Wade Kennedy is going against a stacked deck, but I will walk out with the most important prize tonight- respect. [big smile] WK: And fifty thousand dollars! Don’t count out this Texan just yet! [Screen fades off to Vladimir Velikov.] VV: Watch, Comrade Ivan. Watch very closely. Because tonight, I take one more step to showing you - and Mother Russia - exactly what Vladimir Velikov is capable of. Watch very closely. [We fade away from Velikov. Overwhelmingly imposing, the looming and ubiquitous threat known as the Masked Menace fills the screen. Behind his big, black masked mug a logo of his name is laid over a black skull; providing backdrop for the man himself. Drawling, muffled, the Menace glares in his usual sinister manner.] MM: Problem with money; it makes a bottleneck. Everybody tryin' to get to that pay window. Nobody realizes the walls are closin' in to where it's only shoulder wide. Things get violent and the process winds up bein' long, painful ... and messy. In the end, blood is spilled, yeah, but the Menace ... gets his green. [Hammering his massive chest with one fist, the Menace grits his teeth, barely visible as a white field behind the slit in his black mask.] MM: Man name o' the "West Memphis Assassin" tries to cash in at my pay window, and son, I'll put you THROUGH that window to get what lies beyond. Maybe that boy Shane ain't done yet man, but he will be, and it'll be by my hand. Now hey, Assassin, hey man, you see this? See this right here? [Points to the mouth slit in his mask.] MM: This here? This ain't for talkin'. This ain't for eatin'. This is a damned money slot! I'm a vendin' machine, son! Money goes in, beatin's come out! That ain't even up to the man, man. The man ain't the one screamin' for the green. It's the mask. It's always been the mask. [Smoothing out the surface of the mask as if petting an animal, Menace glowers anew from behind the mask.] MM: But hey, there's a lot of other boys in that ring with me tonight. No use in tossin' all my ordinance at one target. So here's a salvo for all the rest of y'all. See this here? [Points to the Biohazard tattoo on his left deltoid while flexing the arm hugely.] MM: Meet Little Boy. This is what I hit you if I like you. See this here? [Points to the Nuclear radiation symbol on his right deltoid with another flex.] MM: This here's Fat Man. He's what hits you if I don't. Then, for the man who comes too close or, God help you, stops me from reachin' that pay window... There's somethin' special called the DMD and what it does is break a body into pieces. It ain't personal, man, I'm just takin' care of business and business ... is brutal. [Cut. We open to a shot of the West Memphis Assassin standing in front of an AWA backdrop. He's dressed in a tailored black business suit and he stands tall with his arms folded across his chest. Standing beside him with microphone in hand, is Jason Dane.] JD: The winning streak continues! On the last edition of Saturday Night Wrestling, The West Memphis Assassin was able to pull out a controversial disqualification win over Calisto Dufrense. Assassin, your thoughts going into the $50,000 Battle Royale? WMA: Fifteen men, Jason Dane. Fifteen men stand in the way between me and my prize. JD: Indeed, that $50,000 is a great-... [The Assassin cuts him off.] WMA: That's not the prize I'm referring to. I didn't come to the AWA for money. Like I told you before, I only have my eyes on one prize: The National title. JD: But even so, there will be several men gunning for you, including a man that almost cost you the match against Calisto Dufrense...The Masked Menace. [The Assassin shakes his head, unimpressed.] WMA: A mercenary with a stolen name. JD: While that may be true, he's not the only person in the AWA with controversy surrounding his real identity. A major issue of discussion among wrestling fans and the AWA lockerroom has been who YOU really are. [The Assassin turns and glares at Dane.] WMA: Who I am? [The Assassin continues to glare at Dane and then slowly tugs down on his mask before answering.] WMA: Tonight you can call me "The Winner." [For the first time, a smile can be seen on the West Memphis Assassin's face.] WMA: Soon, you will call me..."The Champion." [Fade out. Cut to the masked little guy, Pugnacio Supremo, standing in front of an AWA banner. He looks confident, although that's just from body language.] PS: Battle royale time. You got bodies flying everywhere, big hombres like the Masked Menace and Devastation going toe to toe, chaos everywhere. Finally, it looks like there's a clear winner, one man who's going to take home the crown... [Supremo smirks, visible through his mouth slot.] PS ...and then, in a flash of red and brown, that guy's on the floor, wondering what hit him. And then he looks up to the ring and sees the last man standing, the ultimate underdog... Pugnacio Supremo. Count on it. [And another cut revealing the mass of thick guts and tangled wild hair known as the Moonshiners, Jug and Zeke with their manager Mange.] M: Mmmm. A big ol' battle royal. Like that, boys? [Grunts to the affirmative from both men.] M: That's right. Sixteen of the AWA's toughest all tangled up to try and throw each other over the top rope onto solid concrete floor. And why? For money. [Mange chuckles.] M: I like the sound of that. And fifty thousand dollars? [Mange slaps both of his boys on the chest.] M: The boys like the sound of that. Ain't that right? [Two more affirmative grunts.] M: And if those painted up sissy boys, Hammer and Sabre, think they can get in our ways, we'll bust 'em up just like we did to their keeper. Believe it. [We cut once more, this time to live action - see, we can tell by the "LIVE" in the bottom right corner. Mark Stegglet is on the screen.] MS: Hey, everyone! I'm going to be backstage all night long, checking out all the comings and goings and all the action that you can- [Stegglet looks off camera... and then gestures wildly at the cameraman. The shot slowly pans to reveal the Masked Menace and Ben Waterson huddled in the shadows. Stegglet slowly approaches with the camera and mic.] ATTSBW: There's something not right... I know it. You know it too, right? [Stegglet arrives.] MS: Mr. Waterson, what in the world- [Waterson cuts off Stegglet.] ATTSBW: Get the hell away from me, kid. I've got important business to take care of. MS: We all know the Masked Menace is a hired gun! What do you have planned for WarGames? [Waterson smirks.] ATTSBW: WarGames? WarGames? Not everything's about WarGames, Stegglet. I've got other interests as well. And this particular interest has everything to do with someone trying to pull a fast one on me and the Southern Syndicate. MS: What are you- ATTSBW: It's simple, Stegglet. Everyone assumes I'm focused on WarGames - and I am - but that doesn't mean I don't watch the rest of the show as well. There's something fishy going on around here... ...and West Memphis Assassin, I'm talkin' to you! [Waterson punctuates with a finger point.] ATTSBW: And this man? [Waterson slaps the Menace in the chest.] ATTSBW: ...is going to to answer the question that's been dancing around my mind for nine days. Just who the hell is the West Memphis Assassin. [Waterson looks at the Menace.] ATTSBW: I think I know the answer... I just need you to provide the proof. Got it? [The Menace nods, walking off camera into the shadows towards the entryway.] ATTSBW: Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a match to watch... closely. [Waterson makes his exit, leaving Stegglet behind.] MS: Let's go down to ringside to Melissa Cannon! [And with that, we fade through black back to the ring which is full with almost all of the men scheduled for the $50,000 Battle Royal. Outside the ring, Melissa Cannon makes her announcement... quickly.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's opening contest is a FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLAR BATTLE ROYAL! [BIG CHEER!] MC: The sixteen men inside the ring will begin the match in mere moments with the only way to be eliminated is to be thrown over the top rope and have both feet to touch the floor below. The last man standing in the ring will be your winner... And now... [No need for anything further as Jack Snyder breaks into a sprint, charging Grant Stone and throwing himself into a flying body attack, knocking Stone down to the mat where he starts battering him. The crowd roars as the referee calls for the bell to start the match!] GM: And this battle royal is underway, Bucky! BW: That means it's time for my first scoop of the night, Gordo. GM: Oh? BW: This match means a heck of a lot more than $50,000. Fifty grand is no small chunk of change for sure but it's more important than that. GM: What do you mean? BW: You heard Jim Watkins mention a new title for the AWA last weekend, right? GM: Sure. BW: I've been told that this match will DIRECTLY impact that new title. GM: In what way? BW: I've told ya all I can, Gordo. GM: Well, a mysterious tease for sure but apparently this match is a little more important than we realized, fans. [We cut to a long shot, showing off the entire ring where we can see people tangled up like Hammer with Vladimir Velikov, Pugnacio Supremo with Sultan Azam Sharif, the Moonshiners battering Jesse Ewiak, and more.] GM: Sixteen men battling it out for fifty thousand dollars and these fans are loving it. It's a great way to start a show, Bucky. BW: How can you not love people just beatin' the heck out of each other for cash? [Devastation quickly finds himself in trouble with the West Memphis Assassin lifting up one leg on him and Kevin Slater lifting up the other.] GM: The big man's up! He's in trouble! [A ringside Ronnie Jamieson is screaming and shouting for his big man to battle back... ...but a rushing Shane Taylor helps out, getting the big man all the way over the top rope to the floor!] GM: Ohh! Devastation, the big powerhouse, is gone early! BW: And that's a big shocker to the field. A big man like Devastation has to be considered a major favorite in a match like this and now he's gone, Gordo! Fifteen men left and they all stand a heck of a better shot at winning it with him gone. [The Masked Menace quickly grabs the West Memphis Assassin from behind, hurling him spinefirst into the nearest turnbuckles where he tees off with right hands and left hands to the temples of the fellow masked man.] GM: And here we go! The Menace is going after the Assassin - thanks to Ben Waterson! BW: The Southern Syndicate affects EVERYTHING in the AWA, Gordo. This Battle Royal doesn't have a single Syndicate member in it yet they're still trying to influence it. GM: But what in the world is wrong with Waterson? What did he see in that match last weekend that made him come after the Assassin like this? BW: The same thing that I did! Something's suspicious about that guy! You know it and I know it and Ben Waterson damn sure knows it, Gordo. GM: Obviously but- [The crowd roars as Pugnacio Supreme deadleaps into the air, snapping off a dropkick to the chest of Vladimir Velikov, sending the Russian stumbling back into the ropes. The Moonshiners are pounding Wade Kennedy with double axehandles on the canvas.] GM: Look at those wild Moonshiners all over young Wade Kennedy! [With the 'Shiners distracted, Hammer and Sabre at an unspoken word both hurdle the ropes... ...and go straight after Mange on the floor, barreling him over on the thinly-padded concrete!] GM: THE PIGS ARE GONE!! THEY ELIMINATED THEMSELVES!! BW: But look at why they did it! They're beatin' the heck out of Mange! [The crowd roars as Hammer and Sabre knock Mange down to the floor, battering him with kicks to the body. Sabre yanks Mange up by his wild hair, SLAMMING his head into the steel ringpost!] GM: OHHH! MANGE TO THE POST!!! [The loud "CLANG!" catches the attention of Jug and Zeke who topple themselves over the ropes as well, going after their rivals!] GM: WE'VE GOT A FIGHT ON THE FLOOR!! [The crowd roars as Jug and Zeke rush to their manager's aid, throwing rights and lefts at Hammer and Sabre who are more than happy to return fire!] GM: AWA security is out in full force, trying to get this situation under control at ringside! [The cheers continue as they batter one another alongside the entrance ramp, battling back up the aisle as the security force races behind them, trying to settle things down.] GM: And just like that, we're down to eleven men! [We cut back to the wide show where Stone is battering Snyder against the ropes, pummeling him with right hands to the skull. Nearby, Jesse Ewiak and a recovering Wade Kennedy are working over the Masked Menace in the turnbuckles. With more room in the ring, Pugnacio Supremo hooks a knucklelock on Vladimir Velikov, running up the ropes, springing off to take Velikov down with an armdrag... ...and gets CREAMED with a running clothesline by Sultan Azam Sharif!] GM: OHHHH! [Sharif approaches the downed Supremo, driving his hooked boot into the ribcage of the luchador. The West Memphis Assassin walks across the ring, drilling Kevin Slater with a right hand before making his way to the corner to help Ewiak and Kennedy.] GM: Look at this - three men on the Masked Menace now... [The crowd ROARS as Grant Stone connects with a lunging clothesline that takes both Stone and Snyder over the ropes to the floor!] GM: OHHH! WE'RE DOWN ANOTHER TWO MEN!! BW: The bodies are flyin' out of the ring, daddy! Stone and Snyder are both gone! Who the heck is left in there? GM: Jesse Ewiak, Slater and Taylor, the Menace, Pugnacio Supreme, Sharif, Velikov, Kennedy, and the West Memphis Assassin! [The Menace starts throwing right hands, battling for his life in the corner. A wild haymaker catches Ewiak in the temple. A solid headbutt to Kennedy knocks the young man back... ...and allows the Menace to wrap his arms around the body of the Assassin, powering him up into the air, and throwing him down in a thunderous standing spinebuster!] GM: Good grief! [The Menace quickly pulls the Assassin to a seated position, hooking his meaty fingers underneath the mask.] GM: He's trying to take the mask off! The Menace is trying to take the mask off! BW: He's having a good return match back with us here tonight, Gordo. GM: There is NO way this is the same Masked Menace, Bucky. Stop trying to convince people of it because it's just not true. There's no chance he's the same man. BW: How dare you say that? [The crowd is buzzing as the Menace inches the mask higher and higher up on the face... ...until a well-placed kick to the ribs by Wade Kennedy breaks the attempt, allowing the Assassin to roll away, tugging his mask back into position as Sultan Azam Sharif buries a kick into the ribs.] GM: The Assassin just barely got out of that one - thanks to Wade Kennedy. [Kevin Slater whips Pugnacio Supremo across the ring, throwing out an arm for a clothesline... ...which the luchador counters by swinging himself up into a crucifix, floating all the way over into a swinging neckbreaker!] GM: Ohhh! Nice counter by Supremo! [A quick camera cut shows Jesse Ewiak pushing on the upper body of Shane Taylor, trying to topple him over the ropes to the floor... ...which allows Vladimir Velikov to slink up, bashing Ewiak across the back with a forearm smash and then upending him!] GM: Ewiak's gone! Eight men left - all fighting it out for fifty thousand dollars... BW: And more. GM: So you say. Fans, Bucky Wilde says that this match will have a direct effect on this new title that Jim Watkins has told us is coming. We do not know how though. [Sharif hooks the Assassin around the waist, hoisting him up off the mat, and taking him down in a big gutwrench suplex. Sharif immediately takes a knee, popping up a single bicep pose to some jeers. Vladimir Velikov promptly pulls the Assassin up, pushing him back into the corner... ...which allows the Masked Menace to barrel across the ring, smashing the Assassin with a back elbow!] GM: Goodness! What a shot! BW: The Assassin is a marked man in this thing, Gordo! GM: He certainly is! [The Menace promptly wraps his hands around the Assassin's throat, strangling him as he shouts at him.] GM: I can't hear what he's saying to the Assassin but I can't imagine it's anything good. [Sharif tries to get involved with the choking... ...and eats a right hand from the Menace!] GM: Whoa! BW: The Masked Menace has no allies, Gordo! Never has, never will. GM: I think Sharif would agree at this moment. [An angry Sharif pops back up, burying a curved boot into the ribcage of the Menace. Velikov moves to help him, executing a double whip on the Menace and flooring him with a double clothesline. Across the ring, Pugnacio Supremo has mounted the midbuckle, battering Kevin Slater with right hands as the crowd counts along.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEV- OHHHHH!" [The crowd's reaction comes from a sneaky Shane Taylor who slips up behind Supremo, tossing him over the ropes to the floor!] GM: The luchador is gone! And now we're down to seven, Bucky! BW: And right now, you've gotta put Slater and Taylor as the odds on favorite, Gordo. They've got the numbers in their advan- [BIG CHEER!] GM: THE ASSASSIN CLOTHESLINES THEM BOTH TO THE FLOOR!!! [The crowd is still roaring for the masked man's double elimination of Shane Taylor and Kevin Slater when Vladimir Velikov catches a dropkick on the chin from Wade Kennedy to knock him flat!] GM: We've got the Menace and the Assassin, Sultan Azam Sharif, Vladimir Velikov, and Wade Kennedy! Five men left fighting for fifty thousand dollars! [Kennedy drops to a knee, grabbing Velikov by the back of the head, smashing him with a right hand... ...and leaving himself exposed to a big double axehandle to the back of the neck by Sharif!] GM: Sultan Azam Sharif with a big double axehandle! BW: Hey, camerman! Zoom it! GM: Don't you start with that too. [Sharif lays the boots into the ribs of the downed Wade Kennedy and when Velikov gets back to his feet, he does the same.] GM: The Russian and the man from Iran are doubleteaming Ade Kennedy which leaves the Assassin and the Menace trading right hands yet again! This is a- [A wild right hand from the Assassin is ducked by the Menace who hooks in a sleeperhold... ...and promptly starts tearing at the eyeholds of the mask!] BW: If he can't take the mask off, he's gonna rip it off! GM: The mask is being pulled at, yanked at, torn at! [The crowd zooms in on the Menace's large hands pulling at the eyeholes of the mask, trying to rip it apart... ...which is only stopped by the Assassin throwing his foot back into the groin of the Menace!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" GM: Low blow! Low blow by the Assassin and that's perfectly legal in this one! [The Menace stumbles backwards towards the ropes... ...where the Assassin charges!] GM: CLOTHESLI- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [A sidestepping Menace grabbed the Assassin by the back of the head, HURLING him over the ropes and down to the floor below!] GM: He's gone! The Assassin's gone! BW: And he was probably the favorite! GM: You may be right but not anymore! The West Memphis Assassin has been eliminated and we're down to four men left in this one. We've got the Masked Menace, Sultan Azam Sharif, Vladimir Velikov, and Wade Kennedy, Bucky! Who's your pick? BW: I've gotta go with Velikov! [Big cheer!] GM: VELIKOV'S GONE!! BW: Like I was saying, I've gotta go with the Sultan. [The crowd is roaring for Wade Kennedy who just managed to duck a clothesline from the Russian, pulling down the top rope to send Velikov crashing to the floor. But a well-placed boot to the gut from Sharif has Kennedy clutching the ropes. Sharif spins him around, trying to push him over the ropes... ...which gives the Masked Menace the chance to rush forward, pushing both men over the ropes to the floor!] GM: THEY'RE GONE!! THEY'RE BOTH GONE!! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner... THE MASKED MENACE! [The crowd jeers the Menace who backs up to the middle of the ring, throwing his meaty arms up into the air to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: The Masked Menace has won this one. He may not have gotten Shane Taylor. He may not have gotten the mask of the West Memphis Assassin. But tonight, the Masked Menace has won this battle royal. He's won fifty thousand dollars... and at this time, we're being joined by "Big" Jim Watkins who may be about to tell us what else the Menace has won. [The camera cuts to ringside where the announcers have indeed been joined by the Chairman of the Championship Committee, "Big" Jim Watkins. He's dressed in a black suit, white dress shirt, and tie.] GM: Welcome to New Orleans, Jim! [Big cheer!] JW: Thanks, Gordon. It's great to be here at Battle On The Bayou - and like you said earlier, I can't imagine a better place to wrap up the AWA's summer tour. GM: Jim, I understand you've got a big announcement for us. JW: I do, I do. A couple of them actually... first, let's talk about SuperClash 2 real quick... [Big cheer!] JW: Now, we know that there are a lot of cities trying to bring the AWA to town for the biggest event of the year. And we want to know exactly WHICH city's fans want to see us the most. So, we're going to be launching a poll tonight so fans can vote where they will see SuperClash 2 take place on Thanksgiving night. What cities are we considering? Here's the final five... [A graphic comes up on the screen listing the final five as: Dallas, Texas Greensboro, North Carolina St. Louis, Missouri Los Angeles, California Atlanta, Georgia There are some cheers from the crowd as the cities come up one by one.] JW: Remember, we will be having that poll up after the show tonight and we'll be eliminating one city a week until we have our final choice. GM: That's big news but my broadcast partner, Bucky Wilde, says you've got something else for us, Jim. JW: I don't know where he gets his sources... but he's right. [Watkins smirks as Bucky pumps a fist in triumph.] JW: After a long week of meeting and lawyers and... all that garbage that I hate, Gordon... all of those legal issues I mentioned last week have been sorted out. And now, it's official. We've got a new championship here in the AWA. [Big cheer!] JW: The Longhorn Heritage Title - a nod to our old friends down in South Laredo. I want this title defended on EVERY Saturday Night Wrestling, Gordon, and if I have my way, it will be. GM: The Longhorn Heritage Title... when will we see this title filled? JW: We are embarking on a tournament to decide the first Longhorn Heritage Champion starting at Homecoming in two weeks. The tournament will continue on Saturday Night Wrestling every week, leading us all the way up to SuperClash 2 when our first champion will be crowned. GM: And the Menace? [Watkins nods.] JW: By virtue of his victory here tonight in the Battle Royal, the Masked Menace is the first man entered into the tournament. He will be in action in two weeks at Homecoming in the first tournament matchup. And to the rest of the men in action tonight, bring your best because the Committee is backstage watching to determine who will be the AWA superstars entered into the tournament! GM: A huge announcement there by Jim Watkins. Thanks for coming out here to share with us, Jim, and fans, we'll be right back after this break! [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 come back on footage where a caption reads "Earlier Today" over a view of the Lakefront Arena indoor parking space. A Tesla Roadster streaks silently but violently into the shot, speeding into an empty parking spot. From the car emerges Joe Petrow, looking dapper as ever. As he exits the car and begins to walk towards the entrance, Jason Dane uses the opportunity to exert some ambush journalism upon the Executive Consultant, walking along side him] JD: Mr. Petrow, I see that you _have_ come to New Orleans despite Bishop Boys manager Cousin Bo's desire to have you banned from the arena. JP: [still walking] I am here because I am contracted by my clients, and they have requested my presence. JD: So if you here against the Bishop Boys wishes, that means that you must be here to represent Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers of Rough N Ready! [Petrow suddenly stops in his tracks to glare at his inquisitor.] JP: That's certainly a plausible theory. Simplistic, but plausible. But let me give you another plausible theory. You saw Cousin Bo speak last week...alone. How did he look? Like a confident leader of the team that holds the most prestigious prize in tag team wrestling? No. He was an incoherent babbling mass of insecurity! That wasn't a normal kind of fear. That didn't look like fear of losing a match, or even fear of losing a title to me, Jason. That looked like a more basic kind of fear...like the fear of losing one's job. JD: What!? JP: Go back and look at his performance over the last year! Failure to beat Rough 'N Ready in a match similar to tonight's! Botched strategies! Bungled partnerships! Hell, the Bishop Boys wouldn't even BE the champs right now without my help three weeks ago! Cousin Bo has been nothing but a liability! And yet, somehow, The Bishop Boys became, and are still, the tag team champions. Maybe they're wondering, "If we came this far carrying that albatross along, how good could we be with a REAL plan, and REAL leadership?" You see, I think Cousin Bo's biggest worry isn't that Rough 'N Ready have Joe Petrow on their side. I think his worry is that his "Boys" have gone behind his back, made that phone call, and made him expendable. And I think that THAT...is a plausible thing to worry about. [Petrow suddenly turns to Dane with a smile, looking him straight in the eye and giving his shoulder a hearty slap.] JD: But YOU, my friend, have nothing to worry about! Because tonight, you, and everyone else, will learn exactly who I've been working with all this time. And everything will make perfect sense. Trust me! [Petrow walks away, leaving Jason Dane behind with a creeped out look on his face... ...as we fade back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.] GM: The ever-mysterious Joe Petrow has arrived here in New Orleans and... well, he says we'll finally understand tonight what he's been up to, Bucky. BW: We might find out who he's working for but I don't know if we'll ever know what he's up to, Gordo. GM: You can say that again. Coming up next though, we've got two relative newcomers to the AWA in action against one another - their first opportunity to relish the spotlight of a major AWA event, Bucky. BW: That means the nerves are flying high - the butterflies are swirlin' 'round the belly. These two guys are about to walk out on the biggest stage of their lives - heck, we've got a record crowd here tonight! GM: 9523 is indeed the biggest crowd in the AWA's history and that makes this match all the more important. BW: You know what REALLY makes it more important? These two guys, Scott Mayhem and "Playboy" Johnny C - they're EXACTLY who the Longhorn Heritage Championship is aimed at. Two up-and-comers lookin' to take the next step. And a win here tonight just might land them in that tournament, daddy. GM: Let's go back to Mark Stegglet who is standing by with "Playboy" Johnny Casanova and Big Mama! Mark? [Backstage, Mark Stegglet is talking to "Playboy" Johnny Casanova and his manager Big Mama, who's rubbing his shoulders and running her fingers through his straggly blonde hair.] MS: Thanks, guys! In just mere moments now, we've got this man right here, "Playboy" Johnny Casanova, taking on the "Jacksonville Terror" Scott Mayhem. Johnny, do you like your chances? JC: Does the Playboy like his chances against a guy who calls himself the Madness? Ya better believe it, Steggy! Scotty Mayhem, he may be a fine wrestler... he may be experienced in Florida... but let's face it, Mark, what's the first thing you think of when you hear his name? MS: Well, I- JC: Ya don't need to tell me, Marky! I already know. The first thing ya think of, is that he's two sandwiches short of a picnic basket. So he's out there, and he's taking on the Playboy, and I'll tell ya what's gonna happen, Mark. He's gonna come at me, and he's gonna try to take me down, but I ain't gonna be taken down. He's gonna try to pick me up, but I ain't gonna be picked up. He's gonna try to spin me around, but I ain't gonna be spun around! At least, not until I take my sweet lil pumpkin out dancing... [He breaks off to briefly kiss Big Mama.] JC: And when he gets fed up of not being able to push me around like Terry Trick, then I'm gonna take him to school, daddy! I'm gonna do whatever I feel like to him, and he's gonna snap. And when he snaps, and the Madness runs wild, do ya really think that cute lil Miss Amanda is gonna like what she sees? [He shakes his head.] JC: No sir! She ain't gonna like it one itty bit. And Scotty's mind's not gonna be fully on what's happening, and I'm gonna take advantage. Ya know what I'm gonna do to him? [He looks at Stegglet, but it's Big Mama who answers.] BM: You're gonna put him to sleep? JC: Ya got it, honey! I'm gonna put him to sleep! [Casanova raises his arms triumphantly at the thought of the victory, then nods at Stegglet and walks away, Big Mama following him.] MS: A very confident Johnny Casanova and Big Mama heading to the ring but let's go across the arena to where my good friend, Jason Dane, has caught up to Scott Mayhem and the lovely Miss Amanda... Jason? [Jason Dane is standing by with Scott Mayhem, who is dressed in a black-and-white sequinned robe with a diamond pattern and white-framed shades, and Miss Amanda in a short white dress.] JD: Scott Mayhem, tonight you make your supercard debut- SM: Battle on the Bayou, Jay-Dee, oh yes! JD: You make your supercard debut against "Playboy" Johnny Casanova. Your thoughts? SM: Johnny Casanova is a man with a history, Jay-Dee, but so is Scott Mayhem, oh yes. You know what? Casanova's wrestled all over this country, Jay-Dee; he's won titles, and that is something that Scott Mayhem has not achieved... Yet! But that's what makes us different, Jay-Dee. All that history just shows how far gone Casanova is from the man he used to be. He wants to talk about not changing, Jay-Dee, but he doesn't realise how much he's changed, too, oh yes! I, on the other hand, embrace change, oh yes, because I don't want to be stuck in the past. I want to be the change I want to be, Jay-Dee! Johnny Casanova wants to be the "Playboy" that he once was, but Scott Mayhem's leaving his ghosts behind, oh yes, and moving on, Jay-Dee, with the beautiful Miss Amanda right by my side! Scott Mayhem's moving on up, oh yes, and tonight, the Mayhem Machine will soar above "Playboy" Johnny Casanova... Right before dropping the Jacksonville Jam! Believe that! Let's go, babe! [And with that, Mayhem strides off, with the lovely Amanda trailing behind.] JD: Intensity personified... that's Scott Mayhem for you. So now, let's go down to Melissa for the introductions in this one! [We crossfade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time limit. Introducing first... [Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love" kicks in to a big shower of jeers from the AWA faithful in New Orleans.] MC: From Hollywood, California... weighing in tonight at 205 pounds... he is accompanied to the ring by main squeeze Big Mama... "PLAAAAAYBOOOOY" JOHNNY CASSSSANOOOOVA! [Casanova strides through the curtain arrogantly. Clad in a sparking red floor-length robe, he pushes down his sunglasses as he waves the cameraman closer.] "Zoom in here real close, cowboy, and let all the ladies take a long look at what they just can't have." [Casanova does a slow turn, his arms spread as Big Mama proudly claps behind her man. Spinning back around, the duo starts to make their way down the elevated ramp towards the ring.] GM: The fans are really letting this guy have it, Bucky. He may be a fairly new competitor here in the AWA but "Playboy" Johnny Casanova has really worked up the ire of the AWA faithful. BW: They're just jealous. GM: Jealous? Of what? BW: He's more man than they'll ever be and he's got a woman hotter than they'll ever be WITH, daddy! GM: I see. [Casanova reaches the ring, gesturing to Big Mama who proudly sits on the middle ropes, holding the ropes apart for Casanova as he steps into the squared circle, quickly going into another slow circle in the middle of the ring to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: You know that Casanova would love to strap that belt around his- well, put it over his shoulder anyways. BW: Very funny, Gordo. Casanova is ripped and cut to shreds. GM: Of course he is. He lies and you swear to it. Let's go back down to Melissa! [Franz Von Suppe's "Light Cavalry Overture" starts to play over the arena speakers and the crowd is abuzz as a wild-haired man in a black-and-white sequinned robe with a diamond pattern and white-framed shades emerges from the entranceway and makes a beeline for the ring. He is followed closely by a blond woman in a short white dress.] BW: We're looking at two athletes who can really go in this match. It should be an exciting, high speed, pedal-to-the-metal encounter, Gordo! GM: Are you for real? [As they make their way down the platform, the man and woman slap hands with and high-five the fans on either side.] MC: Hailing from Jacksonville, Florida, weighing in at 237 pounds and being accompanied to the ring by Miss Amanda, he is... SCOTT... MAAAAAAYHEM!!! [The name receives a decent-sized pop.] GM: One thing the two might have in common, of course, is that both seem to have no qualms about taking the occasional shortcut. The Playboy has said he's checking his conscience at the door for this match. Let's see if Scott Mayhem's new attitude, so to speak, stands up to the test. [Reaching the ringside area, Scott motions for Miss Amanda to hold the top and middle ropes apart for him. She does just that, allowing him to step through. Entering the ring, Mayhem twirls around, showing off the full majesty of his robe, then mounts the corner and poses for the crowd with his arms spread out. He climbs off the ropes and Amanda helps him out of his robe to reveal white trunks, black knee pads and black boots. Mayhem removes his shades, handing them over to her, as his wild eyes dart from the Playboy to Big Mama... ...and then back to the Playboy before the referee calls for the bell.] GM: Here we go! Remember, ten minute time limit in this one so they don't have time to waste to get right to it. [The two men quickly circle one another, looking for an opening before diving right into a collar and elbow tieup where Casanova promptly pulls Mayhem's hair, tugging him into a side headlock.] GM: And Casanova immediately breaks the rules to no one's surprise. BW: What are you yappin' 'bout now, Gordo? I didn't see anything. GM: Missed the hairpull? BW: Mayhem pulled the man's hair? [Turning the headlocked Mayhem away from the ref, Casanova slams home a clenched fist to the skull before breaking the hold as Mayhem falls to a knee.] GM: How about the closed fist? See that one? BW: You're enjoying New Orleans too much, old friend. [Casanova shakes his head as Mayhem complains about the closed fist to the referee. He holds his hand open, hitting his other hand to inform the ref it was an open hand.] GM: He's, of course, lying to the referee now as well. BW: That's a bold accusation, Gordo. GM: I'm comfortable with that. [Casanova and Mayhem tie up once more, the larger Casanova using his weight to force Mayhem back into the buckles. The referee steps in, calling for a break which he gets... ...and Casanova DRILLS Mayhem with a haymaker on the jaw!] GM: The referee SAW that clenched fist! [Mickey Meekly is reprimanding Casanova severely when Mayhem rushes forward, smashing a back elbow into the jaw and knocking the bigger man off his feet to the mat.] GM: Ohh! That takes him down! [Dropping to his knee and grabbing a handful of hair, Mayhem pulls his opponent up and throws fist after fist into the temple of the Playboy before dragging him up to his feet. Still holding the hair, he winds waaaaaay back... ...and DRILLS him with a right hand, knocking Casanova clear off his feet to the mat!] GM: Down goes Casanova this time... [Mayhem promptly drops to both knees, flipping Casanova to his stomach where he grabs his hair with both hands... ...and SLAMS him facefirst into the canvas!] GM: Ohhh! Hard facefirst to the mat! [Still using the hair, Mayhem pulls Casanova up to his feet, and shows a surprising amount of power as he scoops the big man up into the air... ...and throws him down hard with a bodyslam!] GM: Big, big bodyslam! BW: Look at that. Mayhem showing a lot of power there. Maybe even surprisingly showing a lot of power. [With Casanova floored, Mayhem claps his hands together before he jumps sky-high into the air... ...and DROPS a knee down across the chest!] GM: Wow! That kneedrop was up in the rafters! [Mayhem promptly attempts a lateral press, hooking a leg.] GM: We've got a cover for one! For two! But the shoulder is out at two! [The Florida native leaps to his feet, repeatedly stomping the ribs of Casanova, forcing him to roll towards the ropes. Mayhem stops short, rolling out to the floor where he drags Casanova's head and torso under the bottom rope, positioning him face up.] GM: What's he got going on here? He's got Casanova under the ropes and now he's climbing back up on the apron... [Mayhem waves an arm around in a circle as he measures Casanova. He takes two steps, preparing to leap up to drop a leg across the chest of the Playboy when a loud shriek stops him dead in his tracks.] GM: What in the... oh, look at that! [Cut to a shot of Big Mama menacingly approaching Miss Amanda, who tries to back away, terrified.] GM: Scott Mayhem looks torn as to what to do. BW: Big Mama is a dangerous woman, Gordo; if Mayhem doesn't stop her, there's no telling what she might do. [Mayhem's wild eyes dart from his opponent, who is still down, to the two women at ringside. He shrugs and drops a leg across the chest of Johnny Casanova. The crowd's reaction causes Big Mama to turn around, a look of dismay on her face upon realizing that Mayhem chose hurting his opponent over saving Miss Amanda. She goes to check on her man as Mayhem celebrates as if he's won the match at ringside. Throwing a glance towards Miss Amanda to see that she's still there, he starts to climb back into the ring.] BW: Scott Mayhem, barely looking to see if the lovely Amanda is alright. GM: She still looks shaken, Bucky. BW: Of course she does. Have you SEEN Big Mama? GM: How could I miss her? [With Casanova down on the floor, Mayhem walks around the ringpost, standing on the apron over him... ...and leaps off, double axehandle aimed for the skull but Big Mama gives her man a hard shove, knocking him out of the way in time.] GM: Oh! Big Mama got him out of harm's way and- [Mayhem points a finger of warning right in the face of Big Mama who doesn't back down an inch, shouting at the Florida native.] GM: I don't know if I'd pick a fight with Big Mama. BW: Me neither. Mayhem may want to re-think this one. GM: Casanova rolls back in... he wants no part of Mayhem out on the floor... [A dazed Casanova backs away, staggering back into the ropes next to the other ring. Mayhem rolls back in, immediately charging forward with a clothesline attempt... ...and gets backdropped from one ring into the other!] GM: OHHHH! NICE COUNTER BY CASANOVA!! [Casanova pops back up, leaning against the ropes. He's breathing heavy but takes the time to put his hands on the back of his head, swiveling his hips around and round to the jeers of the crowd.] GM: Give me a break. There's no call for that, Bucky. [Casanova slowly steps from one ring through the ropes and again through another set to end up in the other ring. The referee quickly follows as Casanova backs to the corner, pushing himself up on the middle rope as Mayhem slowly regain his feet.] GM: The backdrop took a lot out of Mayhem but... BW: But Casanova's taking too long! GM: He certainly is! [Mayhem rushes forward, burying a right hand into Casanova's ample midsection. A second one follows, slightly doubling up the Playboy. Grabbing the hair with both hands, Mayhem pulls hard, flipping Casanova over before he crashes down to the mat!] GM: Ohh! Mayhem brings him down the hard way! [The Florida native yanks Casanova up, shoving him back into the corner as Miss Amanda applauds quietly at ringside. By contrast, Big Mama is absolutely SCREAMING at her man to break the hold. A snapping jab to the jaw connects from Mayhem who lands two more before grabbing the arm of Casanova, whipping him hard across the ring to the opposite set of buckles.] GM: Into the corner hard... here comes Mayhem! [A running elbowsmash to the crown of the skull connects, smashing hard into Casanova. The Playboy staggers out as Mayhem backs to the buckles, swinging his hand around in the air again... ...and charges back out, leaping up and connecting with a high knee to the back, sending Casanova sailing forward, smashing chestfirst into the buckles!] GM: Mayhem's coming at him now in the corner... BW: Casanova's in big trouble now, Gordo. GM: He's certainly having some issues with Mayhem. [As he reaches the corner, Mayhem spins Casanova around... ...and catches a well-placed thumb to the eye!] GM: Ohh! He caught him in the eye! Cheap shot by Casanova! "FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!" [With Mayhem blinded for the moment, Casanova steps out, grabs Mayhem by the upper thighs and lifts him up before bringing him back down on his knee in an inverted atomic drop!] GM: He got him right there and- [Casanova holds up a clenched fist, spitting on it, and then uncorks a nasty uppercut on the jaw that sends Mayhem sprawling back and down to the mat.] BW: What an uppercut! Casanova cracked him, daddy! GM: And that might turn the tide in this one... [Casanova steps forward, snapping off another hip swivel before leaping up, dropping a heavy elbow down on the chest. He rolls over into a lateral press, shouting at the referee.] GM: Casanova for one! For two! But that's all. [An angry Casanova holds up three fingers to the ref who holds up two. He shakes his head as he batters Mayhem with right hands on the mat for a few moments before hauling him back up to his feet. Still holding the hair, he drags Mayhem over to the ropes, pushing his face down against the top rope... ...and rakes Mayhem's face across the ropes, burning the flesh.] GM: Another cheapshot from Casanova, Bucky. BW: He doesn't apologize for it either. He cheats and he likes it. [Grabbing the wrist, Casanova fires Mayhem off to the ropes.] GM: Mayhem off the far side... ohh! He buries the knee into the gut! [With Mayhem doubled up, Casanova shoves him headfirst over the middle rope where he stumbles to the mat. The big man pushes Mayhem's throat down on the second rope, pushing on the back of the neck with his boot to the jeerrs of the crowd.] GM: Come on, referee! Get in there! [The referee does exactly that, first counting and then physically pushing back Casanova, warning him for his illegal actions... ...which allows Big Mama to continue the attack, pulling down on the back of Mayhem's neck to choke him more.] GM: Turn around, ref! BW: Casanova and Big Mama are playin' this ref like a fiddle, daddy. GM: They certainly are. [A big smirk is splashed across the face of Casanova as Big Mama lets up, leaving Mayhem gasping for air across the ropes. He pulls Mayhem up with the back of the trunks, turning him around into a front facelock. He shouts "It's over, baby!" as he slowly turns him over... ...and swivels his hips to more jeers.] GM: He's wasting time, Bucky. [And he quickly proves Gordon right as Mayhem reaches back with both arms, breaking Casanova's grip... ...and then pulling him down into a backslide!] GM: BACKSLIDE!! WE'VE GOT ONE!! WE'VE GOT TWO!! WE'VE GOT- whooooa! BW: That was TOO close, daddy! GM: If you're Johnny Casanova, it was WAY too close, Bucky! [An angry Casanova gets up quickly to rear back his right hand, spinning a full 360 and uncorking a really slow discus punch that connects on the jaw, sending Mayhem back into the ropes.] GM: Casanova's got him on the ropes now... irish whi- reversed! [And as he bounces back, he catches a back elbow on the jaw that sends the Playboy falling back through the ropes, landing out on the apron. Mayhem approaches from the blind side, pulling Casanova to his feet.] GM: He's trying to bring him in the hard way, Bucky! [A quick camera cut reveals Casanova dipping into his tights, pulling out an object covering in white tape... ...and uncorks a blind spinning right hand that Mayhem somehow avoids, leaping up with a knee to the back that sends Casanova sailing off the ropes and crashing to the floor below!] GM: OHHHHHH! [Mayhem glares at the downed Casanova, then at the white-tape covered object now out on the floor. He angrily shakes his head as he shoves the official aside, moving to the corner where he begins climbing the ropes.] GM: Wait a second... wait just one second... what in the world is he doing here? BW: Bombs away, daddy! [Mayhem steps up to the top rope, standing atop his perch with tremendous balance. It doesn't even seem to be an effort for him as he stands tall, arms raised high as he waits for Casanova to stir to his feet... ...and then leaps from the top rope, bringing both hands crashing down over the skull in a sledge hammer blow!] GM: DOUBLE AXEHANDLE OFF THE TOP TO THE FLOOR!! BW: He nailed all of that, daddy! GM: He certainly did. [Mayhem wastes little time in pulling Casanova off the mat, firing him under the ropes into the ring.] GM: Casanova's back in... and look at Mayhem! He's going up again! Well, no, maybe he's not. [The Florida native appeared to be doing exactly that, stepping up on the apron... ...but then suddenly shaking his head, turning back to snatch up the foreign object down on the floor.] GM: Wait a second! What's he doing with that? [Mayhem hops up to the apron, quickly scaling the ropes with the object clutched in his hand.] GM: He can't do this! He's going to be disqualified! Scott Mayhem looking to take the Playboy out... BW: And this crowd is egging him on, Gordo! GM: Well, one person doesn't look too pleased. [Cut to Miss Amanda looking on disapprovingly. She shakes her head and we see her mouth the word "No." Mayhem looks to her and to the crowd and back to his opponent who is trying to get back to his feet. He raises his loaded hands, preparing to leap off.] GM: He's gonna do it, Bucky! He's gonna crown him with that- [A big cheer goes up as Mayhem hurls the object away.] GM: No! No he's not either! Good for him! His conscience won out and- BW: His conscience? Miss Amanda won out! GM: Whatever it is - he's ready to fly! [Mayhem leaps off the top rope, hands clutched together... ...and gets caught in the midsection with a right hand to the gut!] GM: Ohh! Casanova caught him! [And moving swiftly for a man his size, Casanova promptly double underhooks both arms, leaping up, and DRIVING Mayhem's face into the canvas!] GM: PLAYBOY PLUNGE!! [Casanova promptly flips Mayhem to his back, applying a lateral press.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREE!! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Here is your winner... "PLAYBOY" JOHNNY CAAAAASANOVA! [Casanova rolls to his rear end, throwing an arm up in triumph as a thrilled Big Mama applauds from the floor. After a moment, Casanova rolls out to join her in a big embrace, laying a sloppy kiss on her as the duo makes their way back up the aisle towards the locker room.] GM: Johnny Casanova with a victory - a tainted victory - but a victory nonetheless. BW: Call it tainted all you want but the record books say WIN - CASANOVA! GM: They certainly do. [Miss Amanda makes her way up the ringsteps, climbing into the ring to check on her downed man... ...who rolls back to his knees, glaring at her. He shouts something accusatory, pointing a finger at her.] GM: Oh, come on. It's not Miss Amanda's fault. BW: Are you serious? Of course it is, Gordo! He wanted to crown Casanova with that weapon but she talked him out of it. If he'd have used that weapon, Mayhem would have won it. GM: He would have been disqualified! BW: That's not up to you. Who knows what that blind idiot Meekly would've seen? [Mayhem pushes up to his feet, glaring at Miss Amanda with his hands on his hips. He angrily shakes his head, shouting across the ring at her again. After a moment, he grabs her by the wrist, exiting the ring quickly and walking back up the ramp together.] GM: What a piece of work this guy is. He's talented as can be but... well, fans, we need to take a quick break but before we do, let's go backstage where Adrian Freeman, one of the men in tonight's WarGames Main Event, is standing by! [We cut to the back, where AWA interviewer Mark Stegglet is standing by with Southern Syndicate member "Subzero" Adrian Freeman. Freeman has his trunks on already, and wears a blue polo shirt as well. He looks a little tense.] MS: With me now is one of the competitors in tonight's big War Games match, "Subzero" Adrian Freeman. Adrian, you've been fairly quiet in recent weeks. What's your opinion on Raph-- AF: Stegglet, I don't know what community college you got your broadcasting degree from, but this is the reason you aren't up there with Buckthorn. Interviewing me, on the cusp of the huge War Games match, you want to ask me my opinions about a former fourth-banana like Raphael Rhodes? No, there's only one question you should be asking me at this point. [Stegglet raises an eyebrow.] MS: And what is that? AF: Who's it going to be? I'm the best technical wrestler in the world, and I'm stepping into a match that can only be won by submission. The outcome seems obvious. The only thing in doubt is which member of the other side I'm going to put in the Deep Freeze, break their back, and force them to tap and cry for his mother. Maybe I'll send Marcus Broussard fleeing from the AWA again. Maybe I'll make Kolya Sudakov wish he had never left the shack in Siberia where he lives. Or maybe I'll finish what we started and put that traitorous idiot Rhodes in a wheelchair. There are so many options. [Freeman snaps his fingers.] AF: Actually, you know what? I think I like the last one best. Raph, when the hospital doctors ask what could possibly have made your spine bend that way, just remember that it didn't have to be this way. [With that Freeman turns around and heads back to his locker room. Stegglet turns back to the camera with a shrug.] MS: Adrian Freeman calling his shot for WarGames. Fans, don't go away 'cause we'll be right back! [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: You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel! MS: Jason, that kind of news is so hot, it should be on the app! [The two men laugh very awkwardly as a giant iPhone appears.] JD: Hello, Mr. iPhone. [The iPhone speaks. Yes. Yes it does.] iPhone: Hello, Jason Dane. Did you know that former AWA National Champion Kolya Sudakov was a former Mixed Martial Artist? JD: Well, actually I did. iPhone: Mark Stegglet, did you know that Calisto Dufresne was the first and only champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution? MS(in his best Johnny Carson impression): I did not know that! [Thankfully, a voiceover starts.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access Version 2.0! This new app contains a brand new TRIVIA mode where you can get all the details on your favorite AWA superstars! Plus, be the first to see our brand new BEFORE THE AWA section where you can find matches from the best of the AWA - before they were AWA! AWA Access Version 2.0 - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... As the footage fades up, we hear playing in the background Metallica's "Seek and Destroy." And the footage fading up would be that of a wrestler with a blonde crew cut and his face painted black and yellow, the yellow on his face resembling that of a flame. He is dressed in a pair of black tights with yellow flames running up the sides and black wrestling boots. And as the guitar kicks in, we now cut to footage of this wrestler in action... and as we see the clips, we hear a fairly deep voice... one can only assume it belongs to the wrestler in question.] "In my travels in the wrestling world, I have come across many men." [Footage of this wrestler clotheslining an opponent.] "And while many of these men choose to walk the straight and narrow path." [Footage of the wrestler hitting a dropkick.] "Other men prefer to take shortcuts to success." [Footage of the wrestler picking up an opponent for a bodyslam.] "And while those men who take shortcuts to success may reach success first." [Footage of the wrestler standing on the second rope, playing up to the crowd.] "Those who stay on the path will eventually catch up to them." [Footage of the wrestler coming down the aisle, slapping hands with the fans.] "I will never stray from that path... lest I let the fans down." [Footage of the wrestler suplexing an opponent.] "But rest assured, I will catch up to those who took the shortcuts." [Footage of the wrestler delivering an elbowdrop to an opponent.] "And for all those in the AWA who have taken those shortcuts..." [Footage of the wrestler executing an atomic drop.] "When I catch up to them, there will be only one question I will have for them." [Footage of the wrestler raising his arms in triumph after another win.] "Can you take the heat?!" [And the footage freezes there on that final image, as one word appears at the bottom of the screen, in big yellow letters. "SUPERNOVA" And when that fades, we get additional words. "THE HEAT IS COMING..." Those fade, and then these final words "...TO THE HOMECOMING" And the image slowly fades out back to ringside.] GM: Supernova is coming and he's coming to Homecoming in just two weeks! BW: This is the guy that Sarah Sharpe discovered? GM: It is. BW: Loser. GM: You haven't even seen him compete yet! BW: Don't need to. If Sharpe found him, he's a loser. Just look at Cooper and Somers. They just finally got interesting when she got out of the picture! GM: I don't- fans, let's go to Melis- [Five sneaky little words.] #REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH# [BOOM! _Immediate_ jeers as "Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode rips through the arena.] GM: After months of build up, it's finally time for The Rockstar Express to extract a bit of revenge for the heinous attack that Larry Doyle and his men orchestrated the last time these two teams met up. BW: Hopefully we get more of the same, Gordo. I love these guys. [The curtains part and there they are. Doyle. Nova. Baldwin. Glenn. Crusher is pushing Doyle down the aisle ahead of the Bombers. He is, of course, in his custom built golden wheelchair.. styled from head to toe in a beautiful golden tuxedo. Hamming up the major event. Adorn in a cheshire grin. Soaking in the "adulation". Baldwin and Nova follow behind in their matching sequin red robes that read "Bombers" across the back in glittery cursive perfection.] GM: These guys have never seen a fight they haven't looked to sidestep with an ambush, so you've gotta wonder what the Bombers have up their sleeve for tonight. BW: They've got _victory_ up their sleeve! [The entirety of The Bombers reach ringside in unison and Baldwin and Nova slip into the ring.. removing their robes and tossing them aside to reveal tanned blonde machismo just oozing off every orface. Doyle slips out of the chair and climbs into the ring as well.] MC: The following cont.. [Doyle's hand comes flying into view and rips the microphone away.] LD: Don't mind if I dooooo! [BOO!] LD: I'll keep this short. [Yeah, right!] LD: Because we're men of brevity. We're men of style. Of class. Of _honor_. Of.. _ACK.. TION_! And right here.. right now.. we're just ready to turn those two slimeballs, Morgan and Storm, upside down and drop them on the tippy _top_ of their heads and let 'em "Rock N Roll" their way into the nearest emergency room. Where _that_ will be waiting for them.. [Doyle points to the wheelchair at ringside much to the chagrin of all in attendance.] LD: .. don't worry, we'll must up enough Bombers scratch to get 'em each their own. Two grown men in one chair.. well that wouldn't make much sense now, would it? We're classier than that and will do those two soon-to-be-crippled's right. [Doyle scoffs.] LD: And after we're done with them here tonight. After we've left them in Da Bombah's rear view mirror. Then we're coming after.. _you_.. Goorrddoonn. GM: What?! BW: HA HA! [Doyle wags an index finger judgingly.] LD: How _dddarrree_ you refuse to read a letter that took time out of my infinitely busy schedule to write. I put _countless_ thought provoked hours into that letter. Then when I give you the _honor_ of reading my written word you have the audicity to refuse to read my pearls of knowledge aloud for the entire world to hear. [Doyle furrows his brow.] LD: We'll get to you later. _THEN_.. [Doyle pauses for emphasis.] LD: .. _then_.. after we've put you in your place.. after we've put Storm and Morgan in _their_ place.. and after we've put all you neanderthals in _your_ place.. [Doyle points in circles at the audience. Boo!] LD: .. then we're coming after whomever ends up unfortunate enough to walk out of tonight with _our_ gold. So you _both_ better pray to god you come up short tonight. [Doyle smirks.] LD: Cause as the world knows by now.. ain't no beatin' like a Bombahs beatin'.. cause a Bombahs beatin' goes all night...BAAAYYY-BEEEE! [Doyle does a quick hop, skip, and jump in excitement.] LD: But enough foreplay.. let's get this show on the road! Cause I got a little surprise for those two mushheads that I can't wait any longer to unleash. Get. Out. Here.. NO-- [The loudmouth is cut off by the sounds of Kiss' "Rock And Roll All Nite."] GM: Oh yeah! Let's get this one going! [After a mere moment, Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan come bursting through the entrance curtain onto the elevated ramp. Dressed in matching black and white full-length tights, Storm is rockin' a Ratt t-shirt with the arms cut out while Morgan has on a Whitesnake tanktop. They exchange a big high-five at the top of the ramp before both men turn to point at the Bombers, Glenn, and Doyle... ...and come tearing down the ramp towards the ring!] GM: HERE! THEY! COME! [Doyle and Glenn quickly abandon ship, the former screaming at Nova and Baldwin to "go get those goofs!" as he flees the ring. Baldwin and Nova quickly oblige, climbing out onto the elevated platform where they meet a running Storm and Morgan to the roars of the crowd!] GM: HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO! [The roars of the crowd are near deafening as Storm pairs off with Nova, trading right hands as Baldwin and Morgan do the same just a few feet away.] GM: These two teams have been waiting for this moment for months, Bucky! [The two teams battling out on the elevated ramp have the New Orleans fans on their feet as Baldwin slips a knee into the gut of Marty Morgan. Grabbing him by the hair, Baldwin hurls him over the ropes into the ring to the applause of Larry Doyle. With Storm teeing off on his partner with haymakers, Baldwin drills him from behind with a double axehandle blow across the back of the head.] GM: He caught Storm from behind... he's holding him now... [Holding the arms back, Baldwin exposes the chest of Scotty Storm for Johnny Nova to deliver a boot to the midsection, doubling up Storm. Grabbing Storm by the arm, the Love Machine fires him towards the ropes from outside the ring.] GM: Off the ropes... no! Scotty hangs on! [Nova rushes him... ...and Storm drops the head, backdropping the Love Machine over the ropes and down inside the ring!] GM: Ohh! Big backdrop! [A shocked Baldwin moves in, popping Storm with a thrusting front kick to the midsection. He quickly applies a front facelock, slinging Storm's arm over his neck.] GM: Baldwin's setting for a suplex out on the ramp... BW: Has this match even started yet? GM: I haven't heard a bell at all. [Baldwin attempts to hoist up Storm... ...and then dumps him gutfirst on the ropes!] GM: Ohh! [Storm is laid out over the ropes, clutching the top rope as Baldwin measures him, delivering a big boot to the face that sends Storm sprawling back inside the ring. "Beautiful" Bobby steps through the ropes, grabbing the downed Storm as Morgan and Nova take their respective spots out on the apron and the referee calls for the bell.] GM: And this one is officially underway, fans. [Baldwin grabs the wrist, firing Storm across the ring.] GM: Big whip... Storm off the ropes, ducks a clothesline... off the far side... [A high-speed charging Storm leaps into the air, throwing himself into a cross body press that wipes out Baldwin.] GM: Crossbody off the ropes! We've got one! We've got two! [But Baldwin kicks out of the pin attempt.] GM: No dice there. [Storm buries a boot into Baldwin's gut as he rises, dragging him by the arm over to the corner. Grabbing the wrist, Storm executes an armtwist and slaps the hand of his partner who quickly scales the ropes, leaping off to drop a forearm down across the twisted arm.] GM: Down across the arm! [Morgan grabs the wrist, twisting the arm again and forcing Baldwin down to the canvas flat on his back where Morgan promptly drops a leg across the injured limb.] GM: Nicely done! The Rockstar Express is focusing their attack on the arm of "Beautiful" Bobby Baldwin so far in this one, Bucky. BW: A change of pace for the team that many expect would just come rushing a mile a minute. [Not wasting a moment, Morgan pulls Baldwin back up to his feet. He quickly executes another armtwist, forcing Baldwin up to his tiptoes, wincing in pain as Morgan puts on the pressure.] GM: Another quick tag right there. The Rockstars are moving in and out with ease early on in this one... [Storm quickly scales the ropes, leaping off with a double axehandle across the stretched-out arm causing Baldwin to shout out in pain, dropping down to his knees.] GM: The arm is really taking a pounding in the early moments of this one. Storm grabs the wrist, hauling Baldwin back up. He cranks on that arm again, twisting it around and- [And Baldwin slips a thumb into the eye, breaking the hold.] GM: Ohh! Baldwin goes to the eyes! [Cut to ringside where Larry Doyle is laughing gleefully.] GM: Oh, looked who liked that. BW: It's only cheating if you get disqualified... and then it's just unlucky. GM: Words to live by? BW: Of course. [With Storm blinded, Baldwin forces him back into the Bombers' corner, slapping the hand of "Love Machine" Johnny Nova who slips through the ropes quickly. Baldwin keeps Storm's torso pushed back which allows Nova to bury a boot into the midsection of the Rockstar. At Doyle's shouts, Nova delivers three more boots to the gut, doubling up Storm.] GM: Nova's really working over Storm here in the corner. He's dragging him out now by the arm... [The Love Machine executes an Irish whip, sending Storm across the ring as he stretches out his own arm...] GM: Clothesli- ducked by Storm! [Storm hits the far ropes, rebounding back even faster.] GM: Another clothesli- ducked again! [Storm's velocity increases even more as he comes sailing off the far side, leaving his feet this time to drive his forearm into the skull of Johnny Nova to a big cheer!] GM: Oh yeah! BW: Oh yeah? Can you at least TRY to be impartial, Gordo? GM: You're gonna be out here rootin' for the Bombers, Bucky. Don't try to hide that! [The impact of the forearm causes Nova to roll straight out of the ring, shaking his head out on the floor as Larry Doyle tries to give him some sound advice... ...and Storm grabs the top rope, slingshotting over the ropes onto the Love Machine!] GM: OHHHHHHHHHH! HE WIPED HIM OUT!! [The crowd roars for Scotty Storm as he springs to his feet, pumping a fist in triumph. He points a finger of warning at a nearby Larry Doyle before picking Nova up by the hair, shoving him back inside the ring. Storm quickly gets back up on the apron, grabbing the top rope again, and slingshotting over the ropes into a splash!] GM: Slingshot splash! He's got him down for one! For two! [But there's only a two count as Nova lifts the shoulder.] GM: Nova out at two and Scotty Storm just needs to stay right on him, Bucky. BW: Nova's going for the corner! [The crowd buzzes as the Love Machine crawls on all fours across the ring towards "Beautiful" Bobby's outstretched hand... ...but Scotty Storm grabs the ankle of Nova, breaking off his escape.] GM: Nova's not gonna get there! Storm grabs the ankle! [Pulling hard, Storm drags Nova back to the Rockstar Express corner where he makes the tag to Marty Morgan.] GM: Both Rockstars in now... they're pulling up Nova... BW: Illegal doubleteam on the way! GM: They've got a five count to get in and out of there, Bucky. You know that. [Each Rockstar grabs an arm, firing Nova into the ropes.] GM: Double whip to the ropes... [As Nova rebounds, the Rockstars duck down in unison, hoisting Nova up into the air and sending him crashing down to the canvas!] GM: Oh yeah! BIIIIIIIIG double backdrop by the Rockstar Express sends Johnny Nova up into the lights! [Nova crashes down hard, immediately clutching his back as Scotty Storm exits the ring, leaving his partner to continue the attack. Marty Morgan wisely positions himself between Nova and the corner, grabbing Nova by the hair to haul him up to his feet. He grasps Nova's wrist, firing him into the neutral corner.] GM: Into the corner goes Nova... here comes Marty! [Marty Morgan leaps into the air, his feet landing on the upper thighs of Nova.] GM: MONKEYFLI- OHHHHHH! [The crowd jeers as Morgan goes sailing backwards out of the corner, smashing down on the back of his head on the mat. Nova stays in the corner, having countered the monkeyflip thanks to Crusher Glenn who quietly grabbed the back of Nova's trunks to prevent the monkeyflip.] GM: Crusher Glenn, the big bodyguard for Larry Doyle and the Blonde Bombers, just played a huge part in the match right there. He grabbed the trunks on Nova, blocking the monkeyflip and now it's Marty Morgan who is hurting, Bucky. BW: Crusher did his job to perfection. GM: His job? BW: He's a bodyguard, ain't he? [Nova stumbles out of the corner, casting a quick glance at Morgan who is down on the mat clutching the back of his head. The Love Machine quickly slaps the hand of "Beautiful" Bobby who slips through the ropes and drops an elbow down on the back of Morgan's head.] GM: Ohh! Right down on the back of the head! [The crowd jeers as Baldwin gets back up, drops an elbow... up again, elbow again... one more time? One more time. Baldwin finally gets up, smirking at the jeering crowd as he tosses his long blonde hair. He leans over, hauling Morgan back up, grabbing him around the head and neck to take him down in a snap mare. Standing behind him, he spreads his arms wide, and deadleaps straight up before driving both feet down into the back of the head.] GM: Standing dropkick to the back of the head! Nice execution on that one. [A boot to the ribs causes Morgan to roll to his stomach, hands on the back of his head as Baldwin leaps high in the air, dropping his leg down across the back of the head.] GM: Ohh! Big legdrop there... and he's going for a cover! [Baldwin rolls Morgan to his back, reaching back to hook a leg.] GM: We've got one! We've got two! But just a two. Morgan's out at two. "FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! TEN MINUTES REMAIN!" [Baldwin takes it in stride, pulling Morgan back up by the hair. He backs him into the Blonde Bombers' corner.] GM: Uh oh. Marty Morgan's in the wrong part of town, Bucky. BW: He sure is. The Bombers can really do some damage there. [Proving Bucky right, Baldwin uncorks a nasty clenched fist to the jaw. The referee reprimands him, backing him out of the buckles - which allows Johnny Nova to slip a forearm across the throat, pressing on the windpipe, strangling the air of Morgan!] GM: HE'S CHOKING HIM! Come on, referee! Get in there! [But by the time the ref turns around, Nova has released the choke and Morgan's down on a knee in the corner. Baldwin arrogantly slaps the hand of his partner who tags in.] GM: Double whip by the Bombers... [As Morgan rebounds, Baldwin executes a drop toehold, bringing down Morgan as Nova bounces off the ropes, leaping up to drop an elbow across the back of the head.] GM: Nice doubleteam... and another cover here... one! Two! Just a two again. [The crowd starts to rally behind Marty Morgan with Scotty leading the chant from outside the ring.] "MAR-TY! MAR-TY! MAR-TY!" GM: The fans are trying to get Marty Morgan a second wind... provide some of that powerful inspiration that they can provide... [An angry Nova kicks Morgan hard in the ribs, rolling him to his stomach. He sits down on the back of Morgan, clapping his hands in rhythm and shouting "MAR-TY! MAR-TY!" in a mocking voice to the jeers of the crowd. Smirking at the reaction, Nova SLAPS Morgan hard in the back of the head.] GM: What a jerk this guy is! Making fun of the fans... now those insulting slaps to the head. Johnny Nova's not making any fans here in New Orleans tonight. BW: Speak for yourself, Gordo. The Bombers are lookin' more and more like the next National Tag Team Champions every moment here tonight at Battle On The Bayou, daddy! [A couple more slaps land before Nova hauls Morgan up by the hair, dragging back to the corner where he slaps the hand of "Beautiful" Bobby...] GM: Both Bombers back in and another double whip... [And this time as Morgan rebounds, they hoist him up around the legs in unison, falling straight back to send Morgan SMASHING facefirst into the canvas!] GM: FLAPJACK!! THEY HIT THE FLAPJACK!! [Baldwin quickly applies a lateral press, shouting at the official to count.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR- whooooa! BW: The flapjack almost finished him off, Gordo. Now "Beautiful" Bobby should tag in Nova and do it again... really take it to this Rockstar punk... [Baldwin drags Morgan off the mat, throwing him bodily into the Bombers' corner. He moves in quickly, throwing kicks to the body to the jeers of the crowd. The referee protests - and then protests more vehemately as Baldwin throws a brutal right hand to the jaw. Again, the referee forces him back... ...and again, Johnny Nova slips his arm in, choking the cornered Marty Morgan!] GM: Oh, come on! Marty Meekly is doing an absolutely awful job officiating this match in my opinion. He's missing these chokes. He missed the interference from Crusher Glenn. He's just- [Baldwin moves back in, dragging Morgan out and throwing him down to the ropes, his head draped over the middle rope. Baldwin pushes Morgan's throat down onto the middle rope.] GM: More choking! This is ridiculous! Get in there, ref, or disqualify the man! [The ref does indeed "get in there" to force him back... ...which allows Larry Doyle to grab the back of Morgan's head, pulling his throat down on the second rope!] GM: Now Doyle's getting in on it! I can't believe this! [The crowd roars as Scotty Storm drops down off the apron, rushing around the ring to chase off Larry Doyle... but he stops short as Crusher Glenn steps in front of Doyle.] GM: Whoa, brother. BW: I'd stay away from the Crusher, daddy. GM: Crusher Glenn is not a man to be messed with. [The referee moves over to order Storm back to his corner... ...which allows Crusher Glenn to throw a huge right hand to the jaw, sending Morgan sprawling back.] GM: Good grief! [A sneering Baldwin drags Morgan off the mat, firing him across the ring. On the rebound, he scoops up Morgan, spinning quickly, and driving him down in a powerslam!] GM: POWERSLAM!! He's got one! He's got two! He's got thr- no! No! The shoulder's up! [The crowd buzzes with concern at the near fall. Baldwin is shaking his head at the official as he gets to his feet, reaching down to haul him back up. He slaps the hand of his partner, bringing the Love Machine back into the fray.] GM: Nova scoops him up... slams him down... [Nova reaches back, slapping the hand of Baldwin. Baldwin promptly scales the ropes as Nova does a little jig over to the corner.] GM: Wait a second... I know what's coming here... [Baldwin reaches the top rope, looking out at the crowd as Nova reaches up, hurling his own partner off the ropes...] GM: ROCKET LAUNCHER!! [...and sending him crashing down onto the raised knees of Marty Morgan! HUGE CHEER!] GM: KNEES! HE GOT THE KNEES UP! [With Baldwin down and clutching his ribs, Morgan begins crawling across the ring towards his partner's outstretched hand.] "ROCK-STARS! ROCK-STARS! ROCK-STARS!" [Larry Doyle is pitching a fit at this point, pacing back and forth at ringside with his hands over his ears. He's shouting "SHADDUP! ALL OF YA'S, SHADDUP!" as Baldwin rolls to his side, looking to make the tag to Johnny Nova... ...and he does.] GM: IN COMES NOVA!! [The Love Machine is moving quickly... ...but not quick enough as Morgan throws himself into a tag! HUGE CHEER!] GM: TAG!! IN COMES SCOTTY! [Scotty Storm slingshots over the ropes into the ring, drilling Johnny Nova with a right hand to the skull. A second right hand lands as well. A third one staggers Nova backwards... ...and Storm spins around, throwing a haymaker at a rising Bobby Baldwin, knocking him back into the corner.] GM: Scotty Storm is on fire! [Storm spins around, spotting Nova coming towards him. He scoops Nova up off the mat, slamming him down in a thunderous bodyslam. He spins around again, scooping up the approaching Baldwin and doing the same.] GM: Bodyslams to both men... in comes Nova again... [The crowd roars as Storm leaves his feet, delivering a dropkick on the jaw of Nova! He springs back up, throwing another dropkick to the jaw of Beautiful Bobby!] GM: Dropkicks to both of the Bombers! [Scotty Storm springs up, throwing both arms apart with a "YEAAAAAH!" The crowd roars for him as Storm suddenly rushes across the ring, leaping into the air... ...and DRIVES both feet through the ropes, smashing into the face of Crusher Glenn!] GM: OHHH! HE NAILED THE CRUSHER TOO! BW: That's a mistake, Gordo. He had the Bombers on the run and he takes time to go after the Crusher? Big mistake in my book. GM: We'll see about that because Scotty Storm is goin' wild! [Again, Larry Doyle is losing his mind on the floor, kicking the ringside barricade and shouting at the fans who are all over him. Storm pulls Nova up to his feet, firing him into the nearest set of buckles. Storm rushes forward, leaping up to the middle rope. He raises a right hand up to the air and starts raining down blows.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEV-" [The barrage of punches is cut short as Storm spins around, leaping off the midbuckle to take down an approaching Baldwin with a crossbody!] GM: Ohhh! He saw Baldwin coming and he took 'em down! BW: The referee's lost completely control of this, Gordo! GM: He certainly has and... [Nova stumbles out of the corner towards Storm who ducks down into a drop toehold, sending Nova's head smashing down... ...right into Baldwin's groin!] GM: Whoooooa! That'll ruin Baldwin's post-match plans! BW: It sure will! I saw the lovely ladies that Larry had picked out for the party too! I might need to join them afterwards. GM: I'm sure you will. "TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!" [Storm springs to his feet, dragging Nova up and firing him off the ropes. As he rebounds, Storm deadleaps into the air, snaring Nova's head with his legs, and taking him down in a rana! He can't hook a leg so just pushes down on the shoulders with both hands.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR- [The crowd jeers as Baldwin rushes forward, delivering a big kick to the face to break the count!] BW: Is Nova even the legal man? GM: I'm not sure. Like you said, I think the ref's lost control of this one. [Baldwin batters him on the mat for a bit, dragging him up by the hair. Grabbing an arm, Baldwin fires him to the corner. He turns away, shouting "THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, LARRY!" before blindly turning to charge the corner... ...where Marty Morgan is waiting, leaping off the top rope with a sky high cross body press!] GM: CROSSBODY OFF THE TOP!! [Morgan springs back up to his feet. Baldwin rolls away, trying to recover from the big crossbody as the Rockstar Express pulls Nova back up. Together, they fire him across the ring with a double whip...] GM: Nova off the far side... [HUUUUUGE CHEER!] GM: DOUBLE DROPKICK! THEY NAILED IT!! [The Love Machine sails backwards, crashing through the ropes to the floor. They exchange a quick high-five, measuring Nova out on the floor. Storm grabs Morgan by the arm, firing him into the ropes... ...and then backdropping him OVER the ropes and down onto a stunned Johnny Nova!] GM: OHHHHHHHHHH! DID YOU SEE THAT?! "FOUR MINUTES REMAIN!" GM: Storm pulls Baldwin back up... ohh! What a right hand! [Grabbing Baldwin by the back of the head, he smashes his face into the turnbuckle three times... ...and then pulls Baldwin down in a schoolboy rollup!] GM: CRADLE FOR ONE!! TWO!! THR- OHHHH! [Storm slaps the mat in frustration as he gets back up... ...and spots Larry Doyle standing up on the ring apron, cowboy boot in hand!] GM: Doyle's on the apron! He's got the boot and- [Storm throws a big dropkick, sending Doyle crashing down to the floor.] GM: OH YEAH! [An angry Crusher Glenn gets up on the apron, shouting at Storm who picks up the downed cowboy boot... ...and BASHES the Crusher over the skull with it, sending Glenn sailing off the apron and smashing down to the floor!] GM: GOOD GRIEF! DOYLE'S DOWN! THE CRUSHER'S DOWN! [The crowd is roaring for Scotty Storm as he holds the cowboy boot high in the air... ...and then jeers as the referee rips the boot out of his hand, throwing it down to the mat as he reprimands him loudly.] GM: Storm is getting read the riot act by- [The jeers intensify as Bobby Baldwin slips in from behind, drilling him with a forearm smash and knocking him down to the mat. He quickly pulls him up, hooking him under his arm... ...and bringing him down in a side backbreaker!] GM: Ohhh! [Baldwin, in one motion, brings him back up and back down in a side slam!] GM: Baldwin hooks the leg for one! For two! For thr- no! Still not enough! [An angry Baldwin gets up, shoving the referee hard in the chest and showing him three fingers. The referee shakes his own head, holding up two fingers.] GM: Just a two count there and- "THREE MINUTES REMAIN! THREE MINUTES!" [Baldwin stomps Storm in the chest hard before racing back to the ropes... ...where Marty Morgan pulls them down!] GM: OHHHH! BW: Cheapshot by Morgan! GM: Baldwin went over the ropes but got tangled up in them. He landed out on the ring apron! [Climbing to his feet, Storm slowly moves in on the tangled up Baldwin. The crowd starts buzzing as Storm reaches over the ropes, grabbing Baldwin by the hair. Nearby, Johnny Nova pulls Marty Morgan back, drilling him with a right hand which Morgan quickly returns the favor on.] GM: We've got a fight out on the floor... wait a second... [The source of the crowd's buzzing becomes apparent as the shot cuts to reveal the Masked Menace walking down the aisle towards the ring.] GM: What's the Menace doing out here? BW: Who knows? GM: The Masked Menace is on his way out to the- ohh! Baldwin catches Storm in the gut with a shoulderblock! [Baldwin straightens up, slingshotting himself over the ropes into a sunset flip!] GM: SUNSET FLIP!! BUT STORM IS FIGHTING IT!! HE'S REFUSING TO GO DOWN!! [Suddenly, a dazed Larry Doyle manages to get back up on the apron, screaming and shouting like a maniac. The referee spins around, trying to get him off the apron... ...which opens the window for the Masked Menace to grab the discarded loaded boot, rear back, and DRILL Scotty Storm right between the eyes with it, causing him to tumble over into the sunset flip!] GM: NO! NO! NO!! [The referee spins around at Doyle's loud insistence, dropping down to the mat where he raises his hand and brings it down once... twice... three times.] GM: I can't believe it. "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Here are your winners... the BLONDE... BOMMMMMBERS! [A cackling Larry Doyle - wearing only one shoe - is jumping up and down in triumph at ringside as Crusher Glenn, also dazed from the boot shot, helps him back up the aisle. The Bombers quickly flee the ring as Marty Morgan rolls in, escaping with their entourage as Morgan angrily asks the referee what happened.] GM: The Masked Menace... what business does HE have out here, Bucky? BW: Well, you know the Menace goes where the cash is and if there's one thing that Larry Doyle has a lot of, it's cash. The Masked Menace just played a huge part in this one. GM: A huge part? He won the damn match for them! BW: Easy, Gordo. Take it easy. GM: You take it easy! I can't believe it. The Rockstar Express had everything going their way. I believe they were about to win this thing and the Blonde Bombers, Larry Doyle, Crusher Glenn, and that Masked Menace just STOLE it from them! They literally STOLE it, Bucky! BW: A win's a win, daddy! GM: I can't- let's go to a break. Unbelievable. [The camera holds on a disappointed Storm and Morgan as we fade to black... ...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt. The super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.] "You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!" [A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.] "You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last Stampede!" [A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.] "You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!" [Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging over his shoulder.] "And now, it can be yours!" [A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a shot of a young fan doing the same.] "Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA superstars have held!" [A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black... ...and then fades back up to the ringside area of the Lakefront Arena. Gordon Myers is standing by with Percy Childes, James Monosso, Gino Moretti, the mysterious Nenshou, and the Prince of Darkness himself, Anton Layton. Childes, an overweight manager, has shaved his head recently... adding a bit of a sinister look to him. He is wearing a black suit, with a nice balck tie, and carries a crystal-topped cane. Monosso is, as usual, dressed for battle in his one-strap black-and-silver singlet. Over this, he wears a pale green "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" cutoff T-Shirt. There is a smug look on his clean-shaven face as he carries a burlap sack in his hands. Nenshou stands closely behind Childes, his presumably painted face covered up by a loose-fitting cloth mask that hangs down his bare back. Moretti looks like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world, dark circles of black paint around his eyes. His neck sits inside a dog collar with it's steel links hanging off. The other end of the chain sits in the hands of Anton Layton, cloaked in his trademark black... cloak. His hood hangs over his eyes as Gordon begins to speak.] GM: Welcome back, fans, to Battle On The Bayou and as you can see, I have been joined here at ringside by this most... unholy of alliances. Percy Childes, tonight you and your men, along with Anton Layton's... servant, Gino Moretti, are going to put Brent Maverick through a gauntlet known as the Enter The Darkness Challenge. The stakes are very, very high in this match. How do you feel going in, knowing that your man Nenshou is no longer undef- [Gordon has hit the berserk button immediately. Childes slams the end of his cane into the concrete and cuts off Gordo before he can even finish.] PC: THAT WAS AN OUTRAGE! Brent Maverick clearly had an illegal substance on his hands! He rubbed that illegal substance in Nenshou's eyes, and the referee blatantly allowed it! I'm warning you, whomever is back there in power. The Six! You remember the circle of six, don't you, Gordon? GM: Of course I- PC: Anton prophesied to me, Gordon Myers. He prophesied in the name of his Master, that the Circle Of Six would find their power broken! And we've already seen the signs. Michealson crippled. Their golden boy Preston fallen. And now, the only chance the AWA Championship Committee has of keeping order is to do their jobs, and reverse the decision! Maverick used a poisonous substance from his hand tape to blind my Nenshou! But Mr. Maverick, if you think that you've put any sort of injury on my young superstar... think again. Nenshou returned home to the Land Of The Rising Sun; to the mountain temples, where they have forgotten more about the ways of healing than western medicine has ever known! And now he is back, renewed, to take vengeance on you, and vengeance on that fat cow Vernon Riley! GM: Didn't you say that you would pay five thousand dollars to whomever defeated Nensh- PC: That wasn't a victory! That was an act of desperation! Tonight, that injustice gets rectified! And Vernon Riley, you are going to pay the price for your blind faith and undeserved trust! Nenshou has not forgotten his mission, Riley. It is you he is tasked to annihilate. Anton has prophesied about that as well... a great bloated mass rises from the masses, and withers away in the purifying mist. GM: Mr. Childes... with all due respect, you've been acting quite different since aligning with Anton Layton. You've shaved your head, and while before you were focused on Nenshou's rise as a future champion... you're beginning to sound more and more like Layton. PC: Gordon Myers, above all else, I am a man of vision. I was the one who looked to the future and identified Nenshou as the premiere athlete of the next decade. I was the one who looked to the past and saw James Monosso, forgotten by the world, as the still-deadly engine of destruction he truly is. And I look to the present and see a kindred spirit. Anton Layton has one goal, and one goal only... to destroy a man who has also been a thorn in my side for many years. Vernon Riley has MANY enemies, Myers. After tonight, he'll have one less ally, AND a date with his own mortality. Tell them why, James. [Monosso pulls a white piece of cloth from the bag. It seems to be a wrestling mask, with large black mesh eyeholes and a black-striped mouth area. The stringy-haired wildman shows this to us, and to Myers.] JM: Do you know what this is, Myers? GM: A mask. JM: OBVIOUSLY. But whose mask? Who wore this mask? GM: I don't... wait, I think I do. That was one of the masks Brent Maverick wore, along with his partner, before they became stars. JM: Exactly! Their stupid Stormtrooper masks. That's all you'll ever be to me, Mueller! I remember when you were a dumb kid trying to make it, just like Eric Preston. They made you and Holliday wear these idiotic masks, and you'd get reamed every night! Just like these idiots that get bashed week after week... the Cuban Assassins of the world. Nobody knows who they are and nobody cares. But I remember you, Brent. Don't you remember me? Big bad Brent 'Maverick'... you were helpless against me. You always were! Do you remember that feeling, Mueller? That feeling of powerlessness, knowing you were fighting a battle that you couldn't win? That two or three of you couldn't win? I know that's how you felt, because I saw it in your eyes, right before I smashed them shut. I remember crushing you several times, but never really with any conviction. You know why? Because back then I was ignorant. I figured I would just win, take my money, and go. I could have done to you what I do to these stupid kids nowadays... you seen Joseph Puckett lately, Myers? Or Chris Choisnet? Or Ryan Yoon? Huh? GM: You mean the kids you keep injuring?! JM: Exactly! I put them out for their own good, just like I should have done to "Stormtrooper #1" sixteen years ago! Because you keep encouraging these lemmings to jump off the cliff! They think they can "make it" because they think you "made it"! They don't see that there's no happy ending to this! But they will, Mueller. They'll see tonight. They'll see that it would have been better for you if I had gone ahead and finished you. Held that Hangman on. Broken your neck. Because you'd have recovered by now, and be living with your wife and kids in some rotten ghetto in Tucson, instead of what is going to happen to you in the cage. [As he speaks, Monosso gets more and more worked up. He's practically frothing at the mouth as he slowly tears the mask in two.] JM: DO YOU HEAR ME, MUELLER?! I'M GOING TO CRIPPLE YOU! I'M GOING TO ANNIHILATE YOU LIKE I ANNIHILATED YOU YEARS AGO, BUT I WON'T STOP THIS TIME! I WON'T STOP UNTIL YOU'RE FINISHED! UNTIL YOU'RE AN EXAMPLE TO ALL THESE STUPID KIDS! THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU 'MAKE IT'! [He holds up the torn mask, shaking it in a maddened frenzy.] JM: THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS! YOU MAKE IT ALL WORSE! YOU END UP WITH YOUR LIFE AND BODY DESTROYED! AND NOW!... ...now you're going to witness how it all ends. And you'd have to be _INSANE_ to think otherwise. [Gordon Myers, a wide-eyed Gordon Myers, turns almost with fear to Anton Layton.] GM: Mr. Layton, your thoughts on tonight... [Layton's head stays down and covered as a quiet voice emerges from under the hood.] AL: We grow closer... and closer... and closer, Riley. Do you feel it in the air? The chill that sends goosebumps down your spine? Do you smell it in front of you? The stench of the decomposing flesh that makes up your rotting life. Do you taste it? I taste it, Riley. It first tastes like victory - sweet... [Layton smacks his lips.] AL: Strawberries perhaps? But then, the taste grows bitter... bitter defeat that belongs to you. The time grows closer, Vernon Riley, as we face the day where I will avenge what you did to me so many years ago. The day where I will make good on the promise I made to my Master so many moons ago. The promise to rid the Earth of Vernon Riley. [He snorts loudly.] AL: Bring us your bulletstoppers, Riley. Bring us your Prestons and your Mavericks. They are nothing to my army. This army of darkness will walk all over the AWA, destroying everything you put in our path. [The hood flies back as the wide-eyed Layton shouts.] AL: EVERYTHING YOU USE TO PROTECT YOURSELF! Just as James says, this industry uses people... they chew people up and spit them out... Just like you use Maverick and Preston as chesspieces, moving them around the board. Sacrificing them as you must - all in the name of protecting your King until the moment arrives. But the moment draws near, Riley. The pieces are falling - some are mine... some are yours. But soon? EHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE! [The unnerving cackle forces Gordon to take a step back.] AL: Checkmate. [Layton orders Moretti down to his hands and knees, forcing him to stay there as each member of the unholy alliance steps up on Moretti's back, then up onto the ring apron. Monosso seems to take some sick joy in this, standing on the back for an extended period, forcing Moretti to buckle under his weight, collapsing in a heap before the madman climbs onto the apron. A jerk of the dog collar chain forces Moretti to pull himself onto the apron where Layton yanks him through the ropes into the ring.] GM: Those are some sick, sick men. BW: Yeah, but Gordo. Who is sicker? Them or the guys willing to face 'em. GM: A good point. Let's go backstage where Brent Maverick and Vernon Riley are standing by! [We're backstage with Jason Dane, who is standing just by the entranceway. Flanking him are two men known the world over... Vernon Riley and Brent Maverick. Riley's got on an old pair of blue jeans, a loose-fitting button-down shirt that's half buttoned, and cowboy boots. Maverick is dressed for action, wearing his reddish-brown leather vest, rust-red knee-length trunks with an Arizona Sun logo emblazoned on the upper left, laceless red leather boots, and brown leather gloves with the fingers cut off. One unusual difference is that a large white towel is draped around his neck. He glowers at the camera with a dtermined expression on his stubbled, square-jawed face.] JD: In just a few minutes, Brent Maverick, you're going to Enter The Darkness. What is going through your mind as you're about to face three men. [Maverick's response is delivered in a low tone, his gruff voice conveying absolute seriousness.] BM: I ain't much fer worryin', Dane. I'm gonna go in there, half-kill Moretti, teach that green kid Nenshou what it's like ta fight fer yer life, an' then put Monosso back out ta pasture where he shoulda stayed. I ain't gonna lie, it's gonna be hard. Real hard. But I didn't come ta New Orleans tanight on vacation. This is a business trip, an' I know howta take care o' business by now, Dane. Vern's countin' on me, an' I don' like ta let a man down. I done that once this year already. I don't plan ta let it happen again. JD: Vernon Riley, it has got to be tough, knowing that so much is on the line for you, but you won't be able to do anything about it. VR: Well, that's the thing about it, Dane-o. Ya see, I _have_ done somethin' about it already. I got one of the meanest, toughest and if it comes down to needin' to be it, dirtiest hombres in the sport to be in that ring on my behalf. So as usual, Dane-o, my old foe from F-L-A has miscalculated. If Layton thinks he's got the deck stacked in his favor, he'd better check again. 'Cause he's about to find out that we've got an Acey Deucy up our sleeve, ain't that right, Brent? BM: Dane, I ain't got no more patience fer talk. You tell Layton that he came to a gunfight with a slingshot. Three stones versus one bullet? You tell ME who you'd lay odds on. [With those words, Maverick heads through the curtain. We hear his music, the southern-rock cover of the theme to "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly", and the fans cheering as Jason turns back to the camera.] JD: Maverick and Riley seem confident tonight, despite the odds. Let's head down to ringside to Melissa! [And that's indeed where we go courtesy of a crossfade, into the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is a GAUNTLET MATCH! Introducing first, already in the ring at this time... they are accompanied to the ring by Percy Childes and Anton Layton... they are... GINO MORETTI... [Moretti doesn't budge, seemingly scared to.] MC: NENSHOU! [The man from the Orient whips his mask off, spewing a stream of green mist into the air.] MC: And JAMES MONOSSO! [Monosso doesn't budge, eyes locked down the entryway towards the two men approaching the ring.] MC: And their opponent... being led to the ring by Vernon Riley... [Big cheer!] MC: From Tucson, Arizona... weighing in tonight at 240 pounds... he is... BRENNNNNNT MAAAAAVERICK! [Maverick wears a white towel over his neck, throwing it down on the rampway as he reaches the ring. Maverick rolls his neck, bouncing back and forth from foot to foot as he eyes the five men inside the ring. Vernon Riley is ready for a fight as well, fists balled up so he can go as needed... ...but suddenly, Percy Childes steps in, shaking his head at the other four men inside the ring. He waves Monosso and Nenshou back, forcing them to exit the ring. Anton Layton remains inside the ring with Gino Moretti, unclipping the metal chain but leaving the dog collar on his "servant." Layton slaps Moretti hard across the face once, glaring at him as he makes his exit.] GM: The way that Layton treats Moretti, a grown man, makes me sick. BW: How does the fact that Moretti enjoys it sit with ya? GM: I don't think he enjoys it - not at all. But he's scared to death about what will happen if he fights back. You know this isn't what Gino Moretti signed on for when he joined up with Anton Layton. [Childes makes a grand gesture of pointing at Vernon Riley with his cane, waving towards the ringpost where AWA officials are waiting for him. A reluctant Riley shares a brief word with Maverick before heading down the steps off the ramp.] GM: And there you see the officials at ringside waiting for Vernon Riley. He is going to be handcuffed to the ringpost down here so that he can not intervene at all. It doesn't seem fair to me - not one bit. BW: Of course it's not fair but they're on the Devil's playground now, daddy, and you've gotta play by his rules when you're there. GM: The stakes are very high for this one as well. If Maverick somehow wins this match, Vernon Riley will get to call his shot against Anton Layton - when he gets his one-on-one match, where, and how. But if Maverick loses... BW: When he loses. GM: Perhaps. But if Maverick loses, then Riley will have to face all FIVE of these men all by himself locked inside a steel cage for five minutes on the next edition of Saturday Night Wrestling. And I don't think anyone - save the five men on the other side of that ring - want to see that happen. BW: I wouldn't mind. GM: I stand corrected. [Down at ringside, the camera zooms in as a reluctant Vernon Riley extends both arms, one on either side of the steel ringpost as an official reaches over and secures handcuffs on his wrist, cuffing his arms around the post.] GM: And there you go... that man is trapped and helpless to watch whatever's going to happen inside that ring tonight. His future lies in the hands of Brent Maverick. [With his ally secured, Maverick steps through the ropes, glaring a hole right through Anton Layton and not even taking a glance in Gino Moretti's direction. Layton smirks at Maverick, slowly nodding his head as he backs away, stepping through the ropes and dropping down to the floor as the referee steps between the two men... ...and calls for the bell!] GM: Here we go! [Moretti looks frantic as he looks at the slowly-approaching Maverick. From outside the ring, Layton is screaming instructions at the helpless former Disco Machine. Nodding his head, Moretti charges Maverick who deftly sidesteps, throwing Moretti chestfirst into the buckles.] GM: Maverick avoids the charge... Moretti stumbles back... BW: NO! [The Tucson native wraps his arms around the smaller man's waist, hoisting him up into the air and DRIVING him down on the back of his head and neck!] BW: BACKDROP DRIIIIVER! GM: That's it! BW: It is if he wants it to be! [Maverick sits up, pointing at Layton and slowly dragging a thumb across his throat. He rolls over to his hands and knees, leaning over Moretti without applying the lateral press.] "Is this it? Is this what you want your life to be?" [The barely-conscious Moretti doesn't reply. Maverick shakes his head back and forth. He pushes up to his feet, standing over Moretti with his hands on his hips.] GM: What is Brent Maverick doing? BW: I hate to say it, Gordo, but I think he's showing this kid some mercy. He knows that Layton's got some kind of a hold on him - mentally - and Maverick... I think he feels sorry for him, Gordo. GM: I can't blame him. I feel bad for Gino Moretti everytime I see him out here with these lunatics. He doesn't belong with them. I met this kid a few times before whatever happened with Layton happened and he was a good kid. Soft-spoken, unassertive... just a nice, polite kid. But now? [Maverick reaches down, shaking his head as he hauls the young man back up to his feet, shoving his limp body back into the buckles. He slowly approaches, pushing Moretti's head back to look into his eyes.] "This is the result of the choices you've made!" [A hard right hand across the jaw punctuates his statement. A second one follows, snapping Moretti's head back. Maverick holds up one finger.] "One chance. Walk away now." [Maverick steps back to the middle of the ring, turning his back on Moretti. The crowd buzzes as Moretti pushes himself up to his feet, looking around at the crowd... ...and then down to Anton Layton.] GM: It's the moment of truth for Gino Moretti! What's he going to do? [Moretti looks long and hard at Layton who is glaring at him, not saying a word... ...and then spins away, charging the exposed back of Brent Maverick, who ducks down, hoisting Moretti up on his shoulders.] GM: He's got him up! The kid is hoisted up! [Maverick backs up, takes a few steps run, leaping into the air, and DRIVES Moretti's skull into the canvas!] GM: ACEY DEUCY! He got all of that! [Maverick rolls into a lateral press, not bothering to hook a leg as the referee counts one... two... three.] "DING! DING! DING!" [The Tucson native pops back up to his feet as the three count comes down, fists at the ready as the mysterious Nenshou climbs up on the apron at an order from Percy Childes.] GM: Moretti's down! Two more to go! BW: What a waste. Can you imagine what Anton Layton's going to do to Gino Moretti now that he's failed him AGAIN? [Layton reaches under the ropes, dragging Moretti under them... ...where he just allows the youngster to fall off the apron to the floor. A furious Layton delivers a few hard stomps to the head before backing away, shouting at Nenshou.] GM: Layton's giving orders to Nenshou now as well. What a dastardly thinktank in that corner. [Nenshou slips through the ropes into the ring, eyes locked on Maverick who is in a defensive stance, ready to go. Nenshou drags a taped thumb across his throat before he fakes a lunge in on Maverick before sidestepping to try to circle behind him.] GM: Nenshou's gotta be stinging a bit over his loss to Brent Maverick - a loss that broke his undefeated streak that he's had since coming to the AWA. [The two grapplers come together in a collar and elbow tieup, jostling for position. Maverick uses his power edge to force Nenshou back into the ropes. As he breaks, he throws a right hand that Nenshou blocks, throwing a martial arts thrust into the throat!] GM: Ohh! Stiff-fingered strike to the windpipe! That's illegal! BW: And the referee's letting him know that right now, Gordo. Not your job. GM: It's my job to let the fans know what's going on, Bucky. BW: They've got eyes, Gordo. They know he threw an illegal strike. [With Maverick gasping for air, Nenshou smashes a forearm down on the back of the head, knocking Maverick down to a knee. Bending his arm, Nenshou slams down an elbow on the crown of the head. A hard kick follows to the upper back, knocking Nenshou back down to the mat.] GM: Nenshou puts him down on the mat... [A hard soccer kick to the ribs is followed by another, forcing Maverick to roll under the ropes and out to the floor to retreat. Vernon Riley, nearby, shouts encouragement to Maverick as the Arizonan is forced to quickly get back up on the apron to avoid attack from Layton and Monosso.] GM: He moves in on Maverick... [But Maverick is ready, firing a right hand into the jaw of Nenshou, knocking him a couple of steps back... ...and gives Maverick the space to grab the top rope, slingshotting over the ropes with a shoulderblock that sends Nenshou sprawling down on the mat!] GM: Oh yeah! High impact slingshot move there by Maverick and now he's got Nenshou on the run... [Maverick quickly moves in on Nenshou, dragging him off the mat by the hair. A well-placed right hand sends the martial artist falling back into the ropes where Maverick grabs him by the wrist, firing him across the ring.] GM: Whip by Maverick... [A running clothesline attempt comes up empty as Nenshou ducks underneath it. He pulls up short, blinding leaping back to snap a kick into the jaw of the turning Maverick!] "OHHHHHH!" GM: Beautiful back kick by Nenshou! [A few hard kicks to the ribs by Nenshou has Maverick quickly clutching his body before Nenshou leaps up, driving a stomp down into the midsection.] GM: Good grief! All of his weight down in that stomp! [Another hard kick to the ribs sends Maverick rolling under the ropes and out to the floor once more. The referee steps in, backing off Nenshou... ...which allows Anton Layton to go to work, stomping and kicking Maverick repeatedly without the referee seeing him. He backs off before the referee turns around, leaving a battered Maverick on the floor.] GM: Layton with some dirty work behind the ref's back, Bucky. BW: It's only dirty if you get caught. GM: I thought you'd say something like that. [Layton walks to far side of the ring, pulling Monosso down to whisper something to him.] GM: I don't like the looks of that. Monosso and Layton in a meeting of the minds? That can't be good news for Brent Maverick or Vernon Riley. [Nenshou drops down to his back, rolling under the ropes to the floor where Maverick is downed. A few more stomps to the ribs follows before Nenshou drags him up by the hair. He wraps his arms around the torso of Maverick, pushing him backwards... ...and DRIVING the small of his back into the edge of the ring apron!] GM: OHHHH! That's the hardest part of the ring and Maverick's spine... his kidneys... just were slammed home into it. [Grabbing the bottom rope, Nenshou snaps off a trio of body kicks to the ribcage of Maverick. The Asian Assassin grabs Maverick by the wrist, firing him into the steel railing!] GM: BACKFIRST TO THE STEEL!! BW: Nenshou's all over the core of Maverick. The ribs, the chest, the back. He's doing a real number on him, Gordo. GM: And at this point, James Monosso has to be wondering if he'll even get into action here tonight because right now, Nenshou is completely having his way with him. [Nenshou drags Maverick back over to the ring, shoving him under the ropes into the ring. He grabs Maverick's head, turning him around so that his upper body is still outside the ring... ...and snaps off a kick to the chest!] GM: Ohh! Full force kick to the sternum! [With Maverick's upper body still hanging out of the ring, Nenshou puts two hands on the back and throws repeated kneestrikes to the upper body of Maverick.] GM: He's battering him with knees to the body! [As the count hits eight, Nenshou rolls back into the ring. He grabs Maverick by the foot, dragging him to the middle. He flips Maverick to his back, measuring him... ...and leaps up into the air, dropping a knee down on the ribcage!] GM: Nice execution of the kneedrop... but he's not even attempting a cover. BW: That might be part of the plan, Gordo. Percy Childes just shouted something in Japanese to him right now. I don't speak Japanese but... GM: Nenshou's dragging him up, scoops him off the mat... [And drops him down across the knee in a rib-breaker!] GM: Ohh! That'll take some of the wind out of your sails! [With Maverick down on the mat, Nenshou throws a few more stomps down into the ribcage before switching to soccer style kicks to the body. He drags Maverick up by the hair, throwing an uppercut to the jaw that sends Maverick falling back into the buckles.] GM: Back to the corner again... [Grabbing Maverick by the wrist, Nenshou fires him from corner to corner.] GM: Into the buckles on the whip... look at this... [With a hop, Nenshou breaks into a cartwheel followed by a handspring, throwing himself through the air to drive his elbow into the heart of Maverick... ...who moves out of the way, causing Nenshou to slam backfirst to the buckles!] GM: MAVERICK MOVED! HE AVOIDED THE ELBOW!! [As Nenshou staggers out, Maverick grabs him around the head and under the arm, joining his hands together... ...and with great effort, takes Nenshou up and over, throwing him down on the back of the head!] GM: WHOOOOA MY! BW: He calls that the Hangman's Suplex and Nenshou may be on Dream Street after that one! He landed right on the back of the head and- [Maverick pushes up to a knee, wincing badly with his movement. He clutches his ribs in pain as he stares across at the downed Nenshou. The Tucson native stumbles across the ring, dragging Nenshou up by the back of the pants.] BW: Look at him, Gordo. He can barely walk right now. GM: The ribs and the back have taken a lot of punishment. [Grabbing the arm, Maverick falls to a knee as he hurls Nenshou across the ring at top speed, smashing chestfirst into the buckles... ...which brings Maverick barreling across the ring, throwing a hard lariat to the back of Nenshou's head, knocking him flat on his face on the canvas!] GM: OHHHHHHHH! BW: Lariat to the back of the head! That's how you turn the tide in a match, Gordo. That was high impact! That was effective! And that's the kind of move that puts people down and down hard. GM: Both men are down on the mat. Both men are hurting. [Percy Childes raps on the ring apron with his orb-topped cane. He shouts instructions in Japanese to Nenshou who doesn't respond one bit. A dazed and hurting Maverick pushes Nenshou onto his back, throwing himself into a lateral press.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! TH- [But the count is broken as Nenshou's foot ends up on the bottom rope... ...thanks to Anton Layton!] GM: Layton puts his foot on the bottom rope! Layton broke the pin! [Maverick rolls off Nenshou, clutching his body and glaring at Layton at ringside. Vernon Riley fires off a stream of angry words in Layton's direction but can do nothing to help his ally as Maverick slowly gets back to his feet, holding his ribs. He reaches down, hauling Nenshou back to his feet and shoving him into the corner.] GM: Right hand to the ribs by Maverick! And another! And a third! [A haymaker to the temple connects as well, rocking Nenshou. Maverick quickly applies a side headlock, pointing to Vernon Riley!] GM: What?! BW: He's going for the Riley Roundup! GM: That bulldog out of the corner! If he hits it, it might be ov- [Maverick charges out of the corner, ready to leap up, but Nenshou shoves him off, reaching up to grab his throat as Maverick staggers to a stop, spinning around...] BW: MIST! [A spray of yellow flies from the mouth of Nenshou, Maverick narrowly dropping down to a knee to avoid it. He pops back up, throwing right hands...] "DING! DING! DING!" GM: What in the...? [Melissa quickly confers with the official.] MC: Due to Nenshou's attempt to use the mist, he has been DISQUALIFIED! [Big cheer! Maverick continues to throw right hands to the skull of Nenshou back against the ropes... ...which allows James Monosso to climb into the ring, rushing the exposed back of Maverick.] GM: LOOK OUT!! [The madman throws himself into a spear tackle to the lower back of Maverick, POWERING him into the corner and crushing Nenshou against the buckles at the same time!] GM: OHHHHHH! BW: He nearly broke Maverick in half, Gordo! GM: Monosso just obliterated Maverick's back with that spear! [Grabbing Maverick around the waist, Monosso lifts him up with ease, bringing him down across his knee in a backbreaker. The wild man screams as he pushes down on Maverick's face with one hand and his legs with the other, bending the spine over his own knee.] GM: That's a submission hold, Bucky. BW: And an effective one. Since Maverick's back and ribs have been punished in this match so far, a hold like this could easily end things for Brent Maverick. [After a few more moments, Monosso breaks the hold, shoving Maverick off his knee to the mat. The big man slowly rises, looking down at the handcuffed Riley. He reaches down to haul the prone form of Maverick to his feet. He hoists Maverick up with easy, slinging him over his shoulder... ...and throws himself forward, driving Maverick down to the mat with a thunderous powerslam!] GM: OHHH! That might do it! [Monosso stays atop Maverick as the referee drops down to count.] GM: ONE! TWO!! THRE- [Maverick raises his shoulder just before the three count comes down, drawing hopeful cheers from the AWA fans. Monosso glares at the official before simply wrapping both hands around the throat of Maverick, screaming wildly as he does so.] GM: Come on, ref! BW: Maverick already got lucky with one DQ. I don't think it's likely to happen again. GM: With a maniac like Monosso, disqualification is a moodswing away, Bucky. [Monosso grabs Maverick by the back of the tights, hauling him up to his feet. Keeping ahold of the tights, Monosso FIRES Maverick through the ropes and shoulderfirst into the steel, his head ominously pressed up against the ringpost.] GM: Uh oh. BW: We've seen this before! GM: We certainly have. Monosso's out on the apron... sizing up Maverick... [The big man rushes down the length of the apron, lifting his leg up, and KICKING the side of Maverick's head, driving it into the steel!] GM: Good grief! [The camera cuts to ringside where both Childes and Layton are grinning widely at what they just saw. Childes barks an order to Monosso who steps through the ropes, takes two steps, and jumps as high as he physically can, DROPPING a mammoth knee down across the chest of Maverick!] GM: KING KONG KNEEDROP! [Monosso again applies a cover, Vernon Riley shouting encouragement.] GM: We've got one! We've got two! We've got- [The crowd roars as Maverick again somehow gets a shoulder off the mat in time to break up the three count. An angry Monosso throttles Maverick with a chokehold, breaking at four and throwing right hands to the skull of Maverick over and over.] GM: Come on, ref! [The referee again counts Monosso, forcing him to break up the attack at the count of four. The big man slowly gets to his feet, glaring at the official but a shout from Childes helps him regain his focus. Monosso slowly leans down, hauling Maverick back to his feet by the hair.] GM: Ohh - he just flings Maverick to the corner like he's nothing. [At Layton's barked orders, Monosso backs to the far corner, glaring across at Maverick... ...and with a loud bellow, he charges across the ring at top speed!] GM: HERE HE COOOOOOM- [BIG CHEERS!] GM: MAVERICK MOVED! MAVERICK MOVED!! [Maverick promptly charges back in, bashing Monosso across the face with a double axehandle. He leans down, powering the big man up onto his shoulders!] GM: HE'S GOT MONOSSO UP! HE'S UP FOR ACEY DEUCY! [The crowd ROARS at the sight of Monosso slung across Maverick's shoulders... ...but Percy Childes is having none of it, pulling himself on the apron and shouting at Maverick, jabbing his cane in the air at him. A frustrated Maverick shrugs Monosso off his shoulders, approaching Childes.] GM: Oh, big mistake there in my opinion. BW: Ya think? He had him up for Acey Deucy and he put him down! GM: He's coming after Childes and- [The dastardly manager takes a full swing with his crystal-topped cane... ...but Maverick catches it to the cheers of the crowd! He shakes his head at Childes as he tries to rip the cane away and then yanks the cane free from Childes' hand.] GM: Oh yeah! Maverick's got the cane! [And Brent Maverick returns the favor, taking a full swing at Childes who drops off the apron, avoiding the swing. Maverick spins around, cane in hand... ...and Monosso grabs him by the throat, forcing him to drop the cane!] GM: Monosso's got him hooked! He's got him by the throat and- [The crowd roars as someone comes rushing down the ramp.] GM: Wait a second! Wait a second! BW: What's HE doing here?! GM: IT'S ERIC PRESTON!! AND HE'S GOT A STEEL CHAIR!! [The referee, distracted by a shout from Vernon Riley turns his back on the action in the ring... ...which allows Preston to step into the ring, winding up...] BW: NOOO!! "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The impact of the chairshot across the back forces Monosso to release the chokehold, causing him to stagger into Maverick who hoists Monosso up on his shoulders as Preston dives out to the floor, trading right hands with Anton Layton!] GM: HE'S GOT MONOSSO UP!! [Maverick takes a few steps and then throws himself to the side, SPIKING Monosso skullfirst to the canvas!] GM: ACEY DEUCY!! ACEY DEUCY!! [Maverick falls atop Monosso, reaching back to hook a leg.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEEE!! "DING! DING! DING!" MC: Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner... BRENNNNNNNNT MAAAAAAAAVERICK! [Maverick is still completely out of it as Preston joins him in the ring, steel chair at the ready as Layton and Nenshou drag Monosso out of the ring to the floor. Layton is completely outraged, screaming and shouting at the ring where Preston is standing at the ready, inviting any of the unholy alliance to join him.] GM: Eric Preston... my God, I had no idea he was even HERE tonight, Bucky! BW: Nobody did... well, apparently Maverick and Riley did! This was a set-up, Gordo! Riley distracted the ref just in time for Preston to come out here and... oh my... GM: What? BW: Riley just outsmarted Anton Layton! I never thought I'd see the day! [Layton is still screaming at Preston as he circles the ring where the referee is about to uncuff Vernon Riley... ...and he shoves the official down, wielding the dog collar chain in his hand!] GM: Wait a second! Wait a second! [A furious Layton lashes out with the steel chain across the back of the still-handcuffed Riley. Riley screams out in pain as Layton lashes him across the back over and over and over!] GM: Come on! [Eric Preston rushes to the apron, dropping off with the chair still in hand to stand guard over Riley. Layton backs away, cackling wildly as he glares back at Preston.] GM: Brent Maverick got the win... but look at this... [Preston stands over Riley as Riley is uncuffed from the ringpost. Riley falls down to a knee, leaning against the ringpost as Preston protects him.] GM: Riley's down and beaten. Maverick's down and beaten. And Eric Preston, fresh off an injury, is trying to protect them both with a steel chair... BW: Some winners they are, Gordo. They may have won the battle but this one goes to the unholy alliance in my opinion. GM: I can't agree with that at all but it's obvious this one is a long way from over, Bucky. BW: You'd better believe it. GM: Fans, we've gotta take a quick break but we'll be right back with more from the Battle On The Bayou! [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 fades back up to the locker room area where Jason Dane stands by the 6'6" man known as Tin Can Rust. The former Kentucky Pride member, dressed in his usual ring gear of a black "Kentucky's Pride" t-shirt and black wrestling tights, looks straight into the camera as Dane starts the interview.] JD: Welcome back to Battle On The Bayou, fans, and as you can see, I have been joined by Tin Can Rust. Rust, tonight you lay on the line your career of twenty-plus years as your deposit to get in the ring with the dangerous Calisto Dufresne. Do you think the gamble is worth the risk? [Rust looks down at Dane and shakes his head.] TCR: Dane, no. Putting my career on the line - ending what I LOVE to do - to just get a chance at denting in the face of Dufresne ain't a fair trade. [Rust pauses, the reality that this might be the last night in the ring hitting him.] TCR: I'm a proud man, Dane. I'm damn proud of every moment I've had in the ring and all I've accomplished. TCR: But the fact is? Those were the terms. Those were the terms to get that coward in the ring with me. So I had to agree. And you know why? [Dane sort of nods, sort of shakes his head.] TCR: Because I have a friend in need. Because I have friend - a friend prouder than I am about HIS career - sitting home right now. A damn good man who's feeling like he got cut out of what HE loved to do and never got the chance to fight for it! [Rust's anger rises.] TCR: I've got a friend who got a FIREBALL to the face! He lost sight in one of his eyes! [Rust shakes his head, upset at the situation.] TCR: Dane, a man I've known for nearly half of my time on this Earth in City Jack was put out from what he loved because some little cowardly punk couldn't take no for an answer. He never got this final shot to make it right... [Rust puts his hands on his hips as he lets out a few audible huffs & puffs.] TCR: So that's why I agreed to those terms. It's not fair and it's certainly not equal, but it's what I HAD to do for a man I consider the equal of my brother. JD: Well, I see how affected you are about what happened to your tag team partner, City Jack, and how emotional you are right now. Will you be able to rein in your emotions when you stand face to face with Dufresne? TCR: Dane... [Rust shakes his head.] TCR: This is my shot to make thing right... "Eye for an eye", right? That's the saying? [The man from Centre City, Kentucky shakes his head again as he turn towards the camera.] TCR: Dufresne? Get this right - I ain't going in for a win and ain't about to abide by the rules. When I agreed to this match, it was my way of getting at you in a fight. And if I get an opportunity to whack you upside the head with a two by four? Or smash your brains in with a steel chair? [Rust nods.] TCR: I'll do it! I'm going to make you a bloody mess, boy! A bloody damned mess! [As Rust stares into the camera, his eyes afire, the camera pans back and over to Jason Dane to close out the interview.] JD: A determined Tin Can Rust, to say the least. Can we say the same thing about his opponent? Let's go over to my good friend Mark Stegglet and find out! [We fade away from Jason Dane and over to where Mark Stegglet is standing by with the man who will be pulling double duty tonight, one "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne. Looking confident as usual, Dufresne appears ready to hit the ring at any moment as he is clad in his black three piece suit, his blond hair matted down with water. His PWR Pacific Championship rests over one shoulder and he pats it lovingly. Stegglet gets the green light that he's live and immediately begins.] MS: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with Southern Syndicate lieutenant "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne who in just a little while will be facing Tin Can Rust as he attempts to end his career as he did his best friend City Jack, and then after that will be part of the WarGames match in the Main Event. How focused are you, Calisto? CD: I'd like to say that I'm fully focused on my tasks tonight, Stegglet, but alas, I cannot. While I should have been spending hours upon hours watching film on my opponents like I usually do, I've been stuck this week wrangling with some legal issues that have come up. Very unfortunate. [Stegglet cocks an eyebrow as Dufresne stares down at his championship belt, shaking his head a bit.] MS: What legal issues are those? CD: I can't really discuss it, unfortunately. My high powered legal team has advised me not to say anything. MS: Fair enough. Are you thinking that this could be a distraction to your two matches this evening? CD: Let's be clear on something: Calisto Dufresne doesn't believe in excuses. He doesn't make excuses for anything. What happens, happens. And even if that hurricane made landfall tonight and somehow knocked me down long enough for Tin Can Rust to pin my shoulders to the mat - which, let's be honest, would never happen since you'd need more than a hurricane to beat me - I would never make excuses to explain it away. [Dufresne nods to the camera.] CD: Tonight marks he end of an era. The end of Kentucky's Pride. Since I couldn't get City Jack just to admit that I was the better man I've been forced to leave a trail of carnage in my wake. It's unfortunate that the fat slob has caused so much pain not only to himself but to those who he cares about. And tonight I put the final exclamation point on my statement to City Jack by sending Tin Can Rust packing back to Kentucky where he and Jack and can raise pigs or something. [A dangerous smirk creeps across Dufresne's face.] CD: And if they're lucky, they'll have one pair of eyes between the two of them. [Stegglet shakes his head in disgust, but continues.] MS: And what about the Main Event? Raphael Rhodes, your former partner in crime, has returned to take the place of Todd Michaelson in WarGames. How do you intend to deal with four former National Champions and a man who wants nothing more than to put your head on a platter inside two steel cages? [Dufresne scoffs.] CD: The same way the Southern Syndicate deals with everything, Stegglet... [A nod, a wink, and a smile.] CD: ...with overwhelming force and one hell of a plan. [With that, Dufresne exits stage left and we cut back to ringside to Gordon and Bucky.] GM: Two men - one of the most bitter feuds we've ever encountered here in the AWA. Calisto Dufresne has been at war with Kentucky's Pride since his very first night here in the AWA. Two years ago, Dufresne stepped inside WarGames with them. They battled over the National Tag Team Titles as well. And it was back at SuperClash that Calisto Dufresne threw a fireball into the eye of City Jack - an action that caused an injury that Jack STILL hasn't recovered from fully. For months, we saw friends of City Jack try to avenge him... but now, his very best friend, Tin Can Rust, gets that chance. BW: But if he fails, Gordo, he can go sit alongside Jack in the retirement home. GM: He certainly can. Tin Can Rust has put it all on the line. If he loses here tonight, he loses his entire career. The stakes have never been higher for the grizzled veteran. This could be a historic moment we're about to witness here in New Orleans. And it's going to happen right now. Melissa, she's all yours! [We crossfade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first... [The sounds of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" fill the Lakefront Arena as the crowd explodes in jeers.] GM: Here he comes, Bucky... arguably the most hated man in professional wrestling... [The Ladykiller, Calisto Dufresne, walks through the curtain. He's all business, already dressed for battle with the PWR Pacific Title slung over his shoulder. Dufresne ignores the jeering crowd, walking a straight path down the elevated ramp... ...when suddenly Tin Can Rust comes charging out from behind him, flooring Dufresne with a running right forearm smash to the back of the head! Huge cheer!] GM: Here we go! Rust isn't gonna wait! He's not waiting for the introductions! He's not waiting for his music! He's not waiting for the bell! Dufresne has ended the career of his very best friend and Tin Can Rust is out for blood! [Kneeling over Dufresne on the ramp, Rust drills him with a right hand to the jaw. The crowd is roaring as Rust takes his time, putting full effort into each and every blow to the face. From inside the ring, referee Michael Meekly steps out on the ramp, walking towards the brawling superstars.] GM: Meekly's headed out there after him - fans, we were informed earlier tonight that Michael Meekly was instructed to... how should we put it... relax the rules a bit in this match. With the stakes so high, AWA officials didn't want some kind of chicanery causing a disqualification that would cost a man his career. BW: Which is completely ridiculous if you ask me. If someone wants to put their career on the line, fine. But don't handle them with kid gloves because of it! [Rust continues to hammer away, ignoring the protesting official. Climbing up off Dufresne, Rust grabs the fallen Pacific Title belt. Dufresne immediately rolls to his stomach, trying to crawl away from Rust who winds up...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [The crowd roars in response to the Pacific Title belt being slapped down across Dufresne's exposed back. The referee is screaming at Rust but the veteran walks right past him, raising the belt high overhead again... ...and slams it home across the back once more!] GM: Good grief, Bucky! BW: What kind of welts does solid gold and silver leave on a man's back? GM: I think we're about to find out. [Rust spits on the title belt, flinging it carelessly to the elevated platform as he reaches down, dragging Dufresne off the wooden stage by the hair. He holds the back of the hair, rearing back with a right hand, and drives the haymaker into the skull, sending Dufresne falling back closer to the ropes.] GM: Dufresne's almost made it to the ring - exactly where he needs to be if he thinks he's going to have a chance in this one. He can't take part in a fight with Tin Can Rust here tonight. BW: I agree. If he wants to end Tin Can Rust's career here tonight, he needs to wrestle the man. It's going to be a wrestling match that puts Rust out of wrestling - not a brawl. [Shaking his head, Rust grabs Dufresne by the foot, dragging him a few feet away from the ropes back down the ramp. The brawler leans down, grabbing Dufresne by the back of the hair... ...and SLAMS the Ladykiller's face into the platform!] GM: OHHHHHH! BW: Not the face! [Rust pulls his head off the wooden stage again... ...and slams it down into the platform once more!] GM: Again! BW: Did you hear that noise, Gordo? GM: What noise? BW: Millions of women around the world just screamed out and fell silent as they fainted to the floor. GM: Give me a break. [Rust hauls Dufresne off the platform by the hair, grabbing him by the arm.] GM: Whip to the ropes... [The crowd roars at Dufresne hitting the ropes outside the ring, rebounding back where Rust ducks down, tossing the Ladykiller high into the air, and sending him crashing down on the platform in a heap!] GM: BIIIIIIG BACK BODYDROP ON THE WOODEN STAGE! GOOD GRIEF! BW: That'll put a man in traction, daddy! GM: Calisto Dufresne is in trouble early on here - and you have to notice that there's no members of the Southern Syndicate - including Ben Waterson - out here for this match. BW: They've got important business to take care of tonight. GM: This isn't important? A man's career is on the line! [Dufresne, down on the wooden platform, decides to make a run for it, crawling his way back up the ramp towards the locker room entrance.] GM: Where's he going? BW: Maybe he forgot something in the back. GM: His courage? BW: Are you calling Calisto Dufresne a coward, Gordo? GM: Not exactly but I think I can see the yellow stripe running down his back from here! [Rust shoves aside a protesting Michael Meekly, pacing up the ramp after the Ladykiller. Dufresne rolls to his back, holding up his hands, begging for mercy as he slides backwards down the ramp.] GM: Oh yeah. Now he wants mercy, Bucky! After all this son of- BW: Easy, Gordo. GM: How DARE he think he'll get mercy from Tin Can Rust here tonight? [Rust slowly approaches the downed Dufresne, shaking his head in disbelief, his mouth running all the while.] GM: What could he be saying to Dufresne right now? What could he possibly be saying to him? BW: Maybe HE'S telling Dufresne that he's a better man. Maybe he learned a lesson from City Jack's mistake. [Rust draws closer, leaning down to grab Dufresne... ...who reaches up to jab a thumb into Rust's windpipe!] GM: Ohh! He caught him in the throat! [Dufresne climbs to his feet, moving in on Rust who is staggering away, trying to suck wind into his body. He clubs Rust from behind with a forearm, knocking him down to a knee.] GM: Dufresne turns the tide in this one... and I still don't think this match has officially started, Bucky. BW: I never heard a bell. GM: Rust down on his knees... [Measuring the veteran, Dufresne brings the point of his elbow smashing down on the bridge of the nose, knocking Rust all the way down to the wooden platform. Smirking, Dufresne raises his foot... ...and STOMPS on the back of Rust's head, smashing Rust's face into the platform!] GM: OHHHHHH! [Rust immediately rolls over to his back, reaching up to grab his face. Dufresne drops to a knee, pushing Rust's hands aside as he drives right hand after right hand into the same area of the face.] GM: I think - I think he might have broken Rust's nose! [As Rust's hands fall away, we see a trickle of blood coming from his right nostril.] GM: And we've got blood already in this one, fans. I knew we might but- ohh! Another hard stomp to the face by Dufresne! This guy is a savage - a total savage - inside that ring. [Hauling Rust off the platform, Dufresne hurls him through the ropes into the ring. He waves the referee inside, ordering him to ring the bell.] "DING! DING! DING!" GM: And now, the match is finally official. BW: Pin him now, champ! GM: Champ. Give me a break. [With Rust down on the mat, trying to regain his feet, Dufresne against measures him... ...and delivers a hard kick to the side of the face, snapping Rust around and putting him back down on the canvas. Dufresne slowly backs into the nearest set of ropes, walking off them...] GM: What's he going for here? [The Ladykiller leaves his feet, leaping into the air, and DROPPING his knee down squarely across the face!] GM: Ohh! What a kneedrop by Dufresne! [The Southern Syndicate member quickly applies a cover, reaching back to hook a leg.] GM: ONE!! TWO!!! [The crowd cheers as Rust fires a shoulder off the mat.] GM: Not enough to keep him down. BW: But if I'm Dufresne, I keep up that attack. Cover as much as possible. Make him tire himself out by kicking out over and over. See if all those months away from the ring have put... well, ring rust on him. No pun intended. GM: Dufresne firing away with right hands again... just battering the head and face of Tin Can Rust. We can see the blood now, steadily flowing out of the nose of the former National Tag Team Champion. BW: Both of these guys are former National Tag Team Champions, Gordo. GM: You're absolutely right. It was a National Tag Team Title match back at SuperClash when Dufresne threw that fireball at City Jack, ruining his vision forever. And that's what brings us here - that night, that moment. [Dufresne slowly hauls Rust off the mat by the hair, hooking a front facelock.] GM: Already? BW: Hit it! Do it! WHAM, BAM- [But Rust straightens up, having Dufresne well-scouted, sending him sailing through the air... ...and over the two sets of ropes where he crashes down to the canvas in the second ring!] GM: Ohh! All the way into the second ring! Nice counter by Rust! BW: He felt his career slipping away from right there and had no choice but to get out of that DDT. If he hits that, it's over - tonight or any night. GM: Dufresne is down in the other ring, Rust climbing through the ropes to join him now... [The Ladykiller staggers to his feet, falling into the far ropes... ...where a running clothesline from Tin Can Rust takes him over the ropes, knocking Dufresne down to the thinly-padded concrete floor below!] GM: OHHHHH! ALL THE WAY OVER THE TOP TO THE FLOOR!! [The crowd roars for Rust as he doesn't waste a single second, stepping out to the apron where he drops down to the floor. Dufresne is still down on the floor when Rust gets there, kicking him hard in the ribcage.] GM: Good grief! High impact kick to the ribs there by Rust! He said it earlier - he's not looking for a win... he wants to avenge his friend. BW: He'd better be looking for a win or he'll be looking for a new job tomorrow morning. And trust me, no one's hiring some old guy these days. GM: Rust pulls Dufresne up by the hair... [Grabbing the arm, Rust FIRES Dufresne into the closest steel barricade!] GM: OHHH! INTO THE STEEL HE GOES! [Rust approaches Dufresne whose arms are slung over the railing, trying to stay on his feet. He throws a big kick into Dufresne's chest, knocking him off the rail and down to a knee. Spinning Dufresne around, Rust drapes him over the railing... ...and pushes his throat down on the railing!] GM: Whoa! Look at that! BW: Ring the bell! DQ him! GM: The referee is reprimanding Rust - he's out on the floor with them now! It's not often that you see the referee go outside the ring to try and keep things under control. But like we said, expect some relaxed rules in this one. [Rust releases after a bit, allowing Dufresne to stagger away. He ends up by the timekeeper's table, draped over it. Melissa Cannon scurries away as does the unnamed timekeeper, leaving Dufresne laying on top of a pile of papers.] BW: How far do you go with relaxed rules, Gordo? How far do you- "CLAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!" [The crowd jeers Dufresne who had blindly turned, ringbell in hand, and CLUBBED Tin Can Rust in the skull with it!] GM: OHHHHHHH! BW: Haha! Take that, relaxed rules! GM: I think that might be going too far. [Michael Meekly looks quite anguished trying to decide if that's the case, screaming at Dufresne who stands over the downed Rust, smirking at his fallen rival. As Rust rolls over, the camera cuts to a close-up, revealing a heavy flow of blood coming from the forehead.] GM: He split him open! Dufresne busted his head open with the ring bell! BW: Now this is getting good, Gordo. GM: I can't believe what I'm seeing here. [Dufresne throws the bell into the ring, dragging Rust up by the hair, and SLAMMING his face into the wooden timekeeper's table, sending a splatter of blood onto the white papers piled on the table.] GM: Down on the table! [The Ladykiller pulls Rust back to a standing position, shoving him back under the ropes into the first ring. He rolls in behind him, quickly going for another cover.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! TH- [Big cheer!] GM: Out at two. BW: But he's getting closer, Gordo. That was a heck of a lot closer. GM: Certainly was. [Dufresne throws a few more right hands to the cut forehead, trying to split the cut wider before regaining his feet. He reaches down, hauling Rust back up before he buries a boot into the gut.] GM: He's going for it again! [The Ladykiller sets for the DDT once more... ...but Rust feels it on him, driving Dufresne back into the buckles!] GM: Dufresne is dying to get that DDT on Rust! BW: If he hits it, it's over, daddy! We all know it! GM: Twice now, Tin Can Rust has been able to avoid what would certainly be the end of his career by countering that DDT in some fashion. First, it was a backdrop. This time, he drives him back to the buckles. [Rust stays doubled over, hands on the middle rope, and DRIVES his shoulder into the ribs!] GM: Ohh! [Still holding Dufresne in the buckles, he repeats the shoulder drive three more times before straightening up. He pushes Dufresne's head back, looking into his face... ...and snaps off a hooking right hand to the ribcage!] GM: Ohhh! Big shot to the body! [Striking a boxer's stance, Rust throws hook after hook to the body, lighting up the ribcage of the Ladykiller.] GM: Those are brutal blows to the body - the kind that'll crack ribs, Bucky. BW: Nobody ever accused Rust of being a finesse kind of wrestler. He wants to fight. He wants to throw down and brawl. [Grabbing Dufresne's arm, Rust fires him across the ring where his back SMASHES into the buckles. The Ladykiller staggers out, getting scooped up under Rust's arm as he spins to the side and DRIVES him down with a thunderous sidewalk slam!] GM: CAN CRUSHER!! HE GOT IT ALL!! [And with Dufresne down on the mat, Rust looks down at him from his knees, almost as if he's considering what to do next.] GM: Cover him, Rust! [Rust looks to be considering exactly that... ...but shakes his head, climbing back to his feet again.] GM: He wasn't kidding, Bucky! He might have been able to finish this match right there but he wouldn't even attempt a cover! He wants to hurt Dufresne! He wants to hurt him badly! [Rust reaches down, hauling Dufresne off the mat by the hair... ...and flings him over the ropes, crashing down on the wooden platform once more!] GM: Back out on the platform goes Dufresne... and Rust is going out there after him! [The Kentucky's Pride member steps out on the platform, delivering a hard kick to the ribs of the on-all-fours Dufresne. A second one connects as well, causing Dufresne to roll to his back.] GM: Two hard kicks to the body - Dufresne's ribs are getting pummeled, Bucky! BW: And there are five guys standing back in the locker room really excited to see that. Remember, Dufresne is working double duty tonight. He's still got WarGames to come and that match is submit or surrender. Anyone in that group know how to use a bearhug? [Rust drops down to a knee, grabbing Dufresne by the back of the hair. He drives a right hand to the skull once. Holding the hair, he delivers a second... then a third... then a fourth.] GM: Rust is beatin' the heck out of him out there! [The veteran gets back to his feet, dragging Dufresne up to his feet by the hair. He flings Dufresne into the ropes, watching him rebound off, and CRACKS him with a lariat!] GM: Ohh! Down he goes again! [Rust stands over the downed Dufresne... ...and KICKS him square in the face!] GM: OHHH! [The brawler pulls Dufresne up by the hair, smashing his skull into Dufresne's with a headbutt. The blow knocks Dufresne back against the ropes, staggered.] GM: Rust has got him on the ropes! BW: Literally! GM: Hooking right hand to the ribs... [The crowd roars as Rust again throws a series of body blows, rocking Dufresne over and over with them... ...and then grabs Dufresne by the hair, screaming into his face.] "You want to hurt somebody?! You want to take somebody out?!" [Spinning around, Dufresne's hair still in his hands, Rust HURLS Dufresne off the platform, sending him sailing through the air, crashing down from about four feet high onto the thinly-padded concrete!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" GM: DID YOU SEE THAT?! DID YOU SEE THAT?! HE THREW DUFRESNE OFF THE PLATFORM!! [Rust stands at the edge of the platform, staring down at the motionless Dufresne who is in a heap on the floor. The crowd is roaring for Rust as he stoically stands alone, the referee reprimanding him all the while.] GM: You want to talk vengeance? You want to talk payback? I think we just saw exactly the kind of payback that Tin Can Rust has in mind here tonight, Bucky! [After a long moment, Rust hops down off the ramp to join Dufresne on the floor. He reaches down, hauling Dufresne off the floor by the hair. Rust wipes a hand across his own brow, clearing the blood from his eyes as he fires Dufresne under the ropes and back into the ring.] GM: He puts Dufresne back in... rolling in as well now... [Rust pulls Dufresne to a seated position, kneeling down behind him. He slowly raises his right arm into the air...] "FOR JACK!" [And SLAMS his elbow down into the right eye of Calisto Dufresne!] GM: OHHH! [He raises the arm slowly... ...and SLAMS the elbow down into the eye again!] BW: He said an eye for an eye but I didn't think he meant it! [Another elbow lands... and another... and another... the crowd roaring and cringing simultaneously with every vicious blow landed to the eye socket of Calisto Dufresne. Another elbow connects, lacerating the eye area as a trickle of blood starts to escape.] GM: He's busted open! ELBOW AFTER ELBOW! [The crowd is deafening as Rust attempts to avenge his fallen friend and partner with repeated elbow strikes... ...when suddenly the bell rings!] GM: What the-? [AWA Senior Official Michael Meekly LITERALLY throws himself at Tin Can Rust, physically pulling him off of the downed Dufresne who collapses backwards, falling motionless as Meekly tries to prevent Rust from going back after him. Soon, a sea of AWA officials and security team members do the same, boxing Rust into the corner as a medical team member kneels next to the downed Dufresne. The referee escapes the ring, trying to get to ringside.] GM: We've got- there's security in the ring. Rust wants another shot at him! Tin Can Rust wants to take another shot at Calisto Dufresne! I don't think he's done with him yet! BW: What happened? The bell rung! What's the result? GM: The referee called for the bell, I believe. He's out here talking to Melissa right now and- [Melissa raises the mic.] MC: Ladies and gentlemen... referee Michael Meekly has ruled that the winner of this match... BY SUBMISSION... TIN! CAN! RUST! [BIG CHEER!] GM: He quit! He gave up! Dufresne gave up! BW: He didn't have a choice, Gordo. His eye... he didn't want to end up like City Jack! GM: Calisto Dufresne surrendered... and Tin Can Rust has gotten some degree of payback for his friend, City Jack, Bucky. BW: He certainly has. GM: And if you're sitting in that locker room right now, waiting to go into WarGames... you just saw a man who will be in that double cage tonight... you saw him quit! You know it's possible! What a night this has been, fans, and we're only halfway home! We've got to take a quick break but we'll be right back with more AWA action! [Fade to black. ...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt. The super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.] "You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!" [A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.] "You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last Stampede!" [A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.] "You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!" [Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging over his shoulder.] "And now, it can be yours!" [A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a shot of a young fan doing the same.] "Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA superstars have held!" [A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black... ...and we come back up to Mark Stegglet who is standing by backstage with the dark-suited and bespectacled Louis Matsui and MAMMOTH Mizusawa, dressed to compete in a black singlet. Both men look calm and Matsui even has a slight smirk on his face.] MS: Welcome back, fans, and, Louis Matsui, we are literally minutes away from the Main Event at Battle on the Bayou, minutes away from WarGames! Your thoughts? LM: Ever since we went off the air last Saturday night, everyone seems to be talking about the return of Raphael Rhodes. Everyone seems to be talking about how hungry Rhodes will be for revenge. Well, Mizusawa-san and I welcome the return of Raphael Rhodes. Rhodes is an angry young man, but he is not a seven-foot tall young man. Neither are Vasquez, Sudakov, Broussard, nor Houston. Now, people are also wondering if Vasquez and Rhodes can work together. Well, they'd better, because this man [Points to Mizusawa.] has got no problem working with the Southern Syndicate. Yes, even Brian Von Braun. The time for talk is over! MAMMOTH Mizusawa is well aware of what he is walking into. The question, gentlemen, is this, "Are you?" [MAMMOTH Mizusawa grabs Stegglet's hand, drawing the mic closer to his face.] MM: [Stooping slightly to reach the mic.] BANZAI!!! [The smile on Matsui's face grows wider as he reaches up to pat his client on the back as we fade back to ringside.] GM: Whew, boy. I don't think there's ever been a man in a WarGames match the size of MAMMOTH Mizusawa. The giant is going to be a serious force to be reckoned with inside the double cage tonight, Bucky. BW: I think that Juan Vasquez and his merry men are in for the worst night of their lives, Gordo. GM: We are not too far away from that but we've still got two big matches to come before then. First up, we've got a grudge match that was going to be high profile enough - some were calling it a battle of legends - but now, it takes on even greater importance because if Shane Destiny is able to beat Mark Langseth here tonight, he becomes the new #1 contender to the National Title and receives the next title shot at Stevie Scott. Very important indeed. BW: Title shots don't come along too often in some men's careers and while Shane Destiny has had plenty, he has yet to get one with the AWA National Title on the line. This is his moment - his big chance - and you better believe he's going to be ready. GM: How ready is he? Let's go backstage and find out! [We fade backstage, where Shane Destiny is standing next to Mark Stegglet. He is dressed for action, wearing a pair of black tights that stop at mid-thigh, black kneepads, and black boots with white trim. He has also taped his wrists heavily, and he is wringing his hands.] MS: Shane Destiny, tonight, you step into the ring with Mark Langseth in a battle long-anticipated by AWA fans, and if you win tonight, you will be the new #1 contender to the National Title. SD: Tell me, Stegglet... do you think I don't know what's at stake tonight? Do you think I didn't start preparing the many different ways I was going to torture Mark Langseth tonight _before_ I got the phone call, telling me that if I can put down dear old Uncle Mark... I was next in line? MS: Well, I... SD: ... of course I know! Of course I'm aware, Stegglet... you see, that National title has been the great white whale of my AWA career. I've been trying to chase that belt down since I first stepped foot in the AWA. But you see, people... some people just didn't want to see me going for that belt. That hillbilly Watkins doesn't want me with it, does he? MS: Mr. Watkins has been quite fair, in my opinion. [Destiny glares at Stegglet.] SD: My opinion is that you are incompetent. But yes... people don't want to see me going for that belt, because they know that once I strap that National title around my waist, they're going to have to retire it around my waist. And you, Mark Langseth... you of all people know just what having that carrot dangled in front of my nose means. [Destiny stops wringing his hands to punch his palm.] SD: You asked your nephew about how that Destiny Strangle felt, right Mark? Oh wait... he's not talking to you, is he. How could I forget? I already ran off one Langseth... and tonight, with everything on the line, everything I've worked hard for the last few months to attain, it's all in front of me. I warned you, Langseth. I _warned_ you. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into tonight. [Destiny smiles.] SD: I've already been passed over too many times. This is my time, Langseth, it's a time that passed you by a long time ago, and you know it. You want one last gasp, Langseth? [Destiny cracks his knuckles.] SD: With a shot on the line... I think I can arrange that. MS: Shane Destiny is definitely ready for tonight - but what about his opponent? Let's go elsewhere in the arena where Jason Dane has tracked down Mark Langseth! Jason? [We crossfade to another part of the arena where Jason Dane is standing.] JD: Tonight, the AWA will see two of the most historic wrestlers in the past two decades face off against one another for pride. In one corner, the cut throat Shane Destiny... and in the other... [The shot zooms out a bit to show Mark Langseth - dressed in his ring gear of a black T-shirt and black track pants - standing by Stegglet.] MS: The Hall of Famer himself, Mark Langseth. ML: Finally, Dane. FINALLY. MS: Mark, many have been calling this the possible show stealer of the night, "The Clash of Legends". But everyone's also been wondering - are you ready? [Langseth takes a moment to chuckle at the simple, yet complex question.] ML: "Am I ready?" [Langseth rubs his chin, feigning deep thought.] ML: That's the question, huh? That's what this has boiled down to, right? [Dane kind of nods.] ML: This whole year, all this talk and all this posturing by Destiny and me... And it all comes down to tonight and if I'm up to taking on the man who ran off my nephew... If I'm mentally ready to face a guy who beaten not just the best of the past but also the best currently here in the AWA... [Langseth takes a moment to stretch out his back.] ML: And I guess the biggest question - am I physically ready? Can this forty year old body - having gone through the rigures of a fifteen year career of cage matches, barbed wire, Woodsheds, and other insanities - withstand a methodical wrestler like Shane Destiny? Can I and all my patchworked injuries not just snap in two if I find myself in the Destiny Strangle? [Langseth nods... and doesn't say anything else.] JD: Uh... ML: Oh, did I answer your question? [Dane furrows his brow.] JD: Uh, well... Actually, no. ML: Hmm... [Langseth nods again, pondering again.] ML: Well then, I guess then you, Destiny, the fans... and myself will find out if I'm ready when that bell sounds. Right? [Mark finally shows that the question that's been dogging him all this time has finally gotten to him as he shows a bit of an angered/frsutrated face as he walks off to leave Dane behind.] JD: Well, like the man says, I guess we're all about to find out together. Let's go back down to ringside where Melissa Cannon is ready to get things going! [We crossfade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.] MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit and if Shane Destiny wins, he will be declared the new #1 contender to the AWA National Title! [The fans jeer the idea of that.] MC: Introducing first... ["True Faith" by New Order starts up to the loud jeers from the crowd.] MC: From Las Vegas, Nevada... weighing in at 252 pounds... SHAAAAAAAANE DESSSTINY! [Destiny strides out from behind the curtain, looking out with disdain at the jeering crowd. He's clad in black mid-thigh tights, black kneepads, and black boots with white trim as he strides down the aisle. The crowd gets even hotter in his direction as he reaches the ropes. Shaking his head, he stands with his hands on his hips for a moment before stepping into the ring.] MC: And his opponent... [The music switches to "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward which brings a HUGE CHEER from the AWA faithful. Not wasting a moment, Mark Langseth walks into view, soaking up the roaring cheers with a big grin on his face.] GM: This... is what it's all about for Mark Langseth. All the months of trying to come back to wrestling... all the bumps and bruises along the way... this is it, Bucky. Standing out here in front of this crowd, ready to step into the ring with one of the best in the world. BW: We'll see if he has that big dopey grin on his face in a few minutes, Gordo. [Langseth walks down the ramp, leaning over to slap the hands of the ringside fans as Melissa introduces him.] MC: From Pittsburgh, P-A... weighing in at 233 pounds... he is a member of the professional wrestling Hall of Fame... MAAAAARRRRRRRK LAAAAAAAAAAANGSETH! [Langseth throws up both arms to a bigger cheer as he reaches the ringside area. He stands just beyond the ropes, glaring at Shane Destiny who returns the cold gaze, rubbing his hands together as he waits for Langseth to get into the ring.] GM: This is amazing, Bucky. Just to think that two plus years into AWA history, we'd be able to present a match like this. Two former World Champions. A current Hall of Famer and a sure-fire future Hall of Famer. This truly is a Main Event caliber showdown, Bucky. BW: Dane called it a a Clash Of Legends and I can't say I disagree, Gordo. These two are among the best to ever lace 'em up and we're about to see them collide inside an AWA ring. Makes me kinda proud, ya know? GM: I do. [Langseth steps through the ropes, hands at the ready in case Destiny rushes him but the Las Vegas native holds his ground, shaking his head at Langseth. He points to the center of the ring, stepping towards the middle as referee Mickey Meekly gets himself at that spot, preventing any early action.] GM: Both men are in... the referee speaking to them both... and look at this staredown... [The crowd buzzes as the two superstars stare one another down in the center of the ring... ...and as soon as Meekly calls for the bell, Destiny lashes out with a hard slap across the face that spins Langseth's head around!] GM: Ohh! Come on! There's no call for- [Langseth spins around, arching an eyebrow at Destiny who invites Langseth to do the same.] GM: Is he asking Mark Langseth to slap him? BW: Destiny's fired up for this. Just look at him. I can't remember the last time I saw Shane Destiny this intense. GM: He's begging Langseth to slap him now... just absolutely begg- [The crowd ERUPTS as Langseth surges forward, upending Destiny in a double leg takedown. Langseth quickly takes the mount, throwing haymakers down at the skull of Destiny.] GM: LANGSETH TAKES HIM DOWN!! HE'S ALL OVER HIM!! [The barrage of haymakers seems to do little damage though as Destiny rolls to his right, rolling Langseth onto his back where Destiny returns the favor with right hands of his own.] GM: And now it's Shane Destiny with the heavy right hands! [The referee protests the clenched fists as Destiny pushes up off the mat, arguing with the ref. Langseth scrambles up to his feet as well, lunging into a collar and elbow tieup.] GM: They're tangled up... both men looking for an edge... [But it's the larger man, Destiny, who turns Langseth around and backs him right up into the corner.] GM: Backed to the buckles... will we get a clean break? BW: I doubt it. GM: The ref steps in... calling for the break... [Destiny steps back, then throws the right hand that Langseth blocks before throwing a right hand of his own, knocking Destiny off his feet and down to the mat!] GM: Big right hand from Langseth! BW: And from my estimation, Destiny would be better suited to NOT get into a brawl with Mark Langseth. Langseth spent a lot of time in the Land of Extreme and he knows how to throw down in a fight. GM: But Destiny's one of the hardest hitters in the game. BW: Without a doubt. I hate to admit it but that's a good point. [Destiny slides back on his rear to the far corner, looking to regroup as Langseth stands in the middle of the ring, fists balled up, waving for Destiny to "bring it on."] GM: And I think the question is answered, Bucky. Mark Langseth is ready! BW: It's still early, Gordo. It remains to be seen if he's got the gas tank to stay in this one with Destiny. We know Destiny's got it but this match has a thirty minute time limit. If it goes the distance, can Mark Langseth hang with 'im? GM: We may find out. [Destiny slowly pulls himself up to his feet in the corner, eyeing Langseth warily as a fired-up Langseth continues to call him out of the buckles. Destiny slowly edges out.] GM: Back to the tieup... [Destiny promptly goes behind Langseth, applying a rear waistlock... ...and then just as quickly breaks it, throwing a forearm smash to the back of the neck!] GM: Ohh! What a shot! BW: And Shane Destiny, ever the ring general, has done his homework. He knows that when Langseth first hung up the boots back in 2003, he did so with an injured neck and back. He also knows that it took Mark Langseth TWO years to try to come back from that and he never got close to the level he was at. [With Langseth down on all fours, Destiny lunges forward, driving the point of his elbow down into the back of the neck, putting Langseth flat on his face on the canvas.] GM: Down goes the Hall of Famer and- [Destiny promptly straddles the back, grabbing Langseth by the hair and pulling his head back...] GM: WHOA! WHOA! BW: HE'S GOING FOR THE STRANGLE! [But Langseth wriggles free, rolling to his back. He pulls his feet close to his chest, kicking off with both feet into the chest of Destiny, a blow that sends Destiny falling backwards into the ropes.] GM: Langseth gets free... he scrambles up and- [Rushing forward, Langseth connects with a clothesline that sends Destiny over the ropes, crashing down between the two rings.] GM: Whoa! He's got him between the rings! [Langseth leans over the ropes, pulling Destiny back up... ...and snaps off a chop into the chest! Destiny falls back but he's trapped between two sets of ropes and he's unable to get away so Langseth fires off another chop!] GM: Haha! Langseth's just tearing into him with chops because Destiny's trapped in the ropes! BW: That's not funny! Get that ref to break that up! [Langseth throws another big chop to the chest, knocking Destiny back with his arms draped over the top rope. The referee steps in, trying to force Langseth back but the Hall of Famer pushes him aside, stepping up on the second rope inside the first ring, grabbing Destiny by the back of the head.] GM: What in the...? [The former World Champion throws a heavy right hand into the skull! He raises his fist in the air to the cheers of the crowd.] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!" "TEN!" [Langseth hops down off the ropes, smacking himself in the chest as he screams out to the crowd who roars in response.] GM: LANGSETH! IS! FIRED! UP! [Nodding his head, Langseth turns to go back after Shane Destiny but the referee steps in again, trying to get Destiny free from the ropes... ...which gives Destiny a window to reach over the ref, raking his fingers across the eyes!] GM: Ohh! Eyerake by Destiny! [Destiny steps back into the first ring, shoving the official aside. He promptly grabs Langseth under the arm and around the head and neck... ...and HURLS Langseth over both sets of ropes, crashing down to the canvas with a biel throw!] GM: OHHHH! [Langseth smashes into the canvas, immediately rolling to his side and snaking an arm behind him to clutch his lower back.] GM: And there it is again, Bucky. That injured back you mentioned earlier. BW: That's right. Shane Destiny continues to show why he's considered one of the greatest technical wrestlers - and most brutal son-of-a-guns in the world, daddy. GM: Destiny climbs through the ropes... they're heading into the second ring now... [Destiny stands over the downed Langseth, shouting at him.] "YOU WANT MORE?!" "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [A hard kick to the lower back causes the crowd to wince, jeering wildly.] GM: What a kick! A high impact kick to the kidney area and Mark Langseth is hurting off that one for sure. [Destiny paces around, circling the downed Langseth.] GM: Destiny's like a buzzard in there, circling his prey... BW: Usually a buzzard's prey is dead, Gordo. [Destiny uncorks another kick, this one aimed for the chest... ...but Langseth catches it, grabbing the foot!] GM: Langseth's got the foot! [He swings his legs back, sweeping Destiny's free leg out from under him and pushing up to his knees, preparing to crank down on Destiny's ankle!] GM: ANKLELOCK!! HE'S GOING FOR GREATNES- [But Destiny rolls to his back, lashing out with an upkick just as Langseth did earlier. The kick catches Langseth in the chest, sending him falling back into the ropes. Destiny scrambles to get up... ...but EATS a running kneelift from Langseth!] GM: Ohh! KNEELIFT ON TARGET!! [Langseth dives atop Destiny, reaching back for the leg.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! [But Destiny kicks out at two, avoiding the pinfall.] GM: Langseth couldn't get him... [BIG CHEER!] GM: He's going for the ankle again! [But before he can secure the anklelock, Destiny promptly grabs the bottom rope to avoid it. He clings to the ropes, shaking his head violently as the referee steps in, trying to force Langseth to release him which the Hall of Famer quickly does.] BW: There he is - a ring general in every way, daddy. He knew he needed the ropes and he knew exactly how to get there. Brilliant! GM: Langseth back to his feet... [Langseth delivers a hard kick to the chest of the seated Destiny. A second one follows before he reaches down to haul Destiny off the mat to his feet... ...but on the way up, Destiny wraps his arms around the waist of Langseth, lifting him off the mat, and DROPPING him straight down, his throat smashing into the top rope!] GM: OHHHH! [Destiny rolls over, grabbing the leg.] GM: We've got one! We've got two! But that's all! [Destiny promptly grabs Langseth by the back of the head, smashing his fist into Langseth's skull five times. He angrily pulls Langseth off the mat, shoving him chestfirst into the corner.] GM: Langseth into the buckles... what's going to happen here? [Leaning over, Destiny grabs the middle rope, and DRIVES his shoulder into the kidneys of Langseth!] GM: Ohh! Right to the lower back! [Destiny screams "QUIT! QUIT!" but Langseth shakes his head when asked. Destiny drives his shoulder into the back again.] GM: This isn't your typical kind of submission hold but it's exactly what Shane Destiny is using it for. He's driving in those shoulders and then demanding that Langseth quit! [A third shoulder finds the lower back of Langseth as Destiny shouts, "Ask 'im, ref!"] GM: Mickey Meekly steps in again... no, he says Langseth said no... [Straightening up, Destiny slams his knee into the lower back of Langseth. He drags him out of the corner by the back of the tights, hoisting Langseth up off the mat, depositing him on the top rope.] GM: Langseth's up top! Destiny set him down up top! [Standing on the mat, Destiny throws some big forearms into the back of Langseth. He steps up to the middle rope, wrapping his arms around the waist of Langseth... ...and hoists him into the air, dumping him on the back of his head and neck with a superplex!] GM: Belly-to-back superplex off the middle rope! He got all of that! [Destiny promptly rolls into a lateral press, reaching back to hook the leg.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR- [BIG CHEER!] GM: SHOULDER UP!! LANGSETH GOT THE SHOULDER UP!! [Destiny pushes up to his knees, shaking his head angrily. He looks at the official who confirms the two count before climbing back up to his feet... ...and kicking Langseth right in the kidneys again!] GM: Good grief, Bucky. Is that necessary? BW: Is it necessary? What are you crazy? Have you forgotten what's at stake here? If Shane Destiny wins this match, he becomes the number one contender for the AWA National Title! He'll do WHATEVER he has to do to win this. [Destiny yanks Langseth off the mat by the hair, pulling him into a seated position... ...and kicks the back again! And again! And again before watching Langseth slump down to the canvas once again.] GM: Langseth's down... Shane Destiny is standing tall... and it may just be a matter of time at this point, Bucky. [The Las Vegas resident hauls Langseth up by the hair, hoisting him up in a body slam position across his chest... ...and DROPS him down across the bent knee!] GM: OHHH! BW: A brutal... absolutely vicious... backbreaker right there. GM: He shoves Langseth off to the mat, applying another cover... [The referee counts one... two... and almost three before that shoulder flies off the mat once more.] GM: Again! Again, he kicks out at two! [Destiny can be seen growing more and more upset with every kickout, smashing his fist into the canvas before climbing up to his feet. He drags Langseth off the mat by the hair.] "STAY DOWN!" [He again slaps Langseth across the face, hurling him back into the buckles. He moves in, grabbing Langseth by the wrist... ...and falls to the mat as he puts everything he has into an Irish whip, sending Langseth CRASHING backfirst into the buckles, collapsing to the canvas after impact!] GM: Destiny wants him to stay down and after that? He just might, Bucky. BW: Shane Destiny's absolutely punishing him. It's an absolute torture chamber in there right now for him. [Destiny walks across the ring, looking down at Langseth lying chestfirst on the mat... ...and drops an elbow down across the back!] GM: Oh, big elbowdrop to the lower back! [Destiny gets back up, dropping it again.] GM: Another one! [He gets up again, dropping a third.] GM: Three! Three elbowdrops to the lower back! [Destiny scrambles up once more, leaping into the air... ...and DRIVES his knee down into the kidneys to the groans of the crowd. He leaves the knee in place, grabbing Langseth by the hair and pulling back, bending Langseth's back against his knee.] GM: Ohh! Absolutely horrifying hold right there! Langseth just screamed out in pain, he's trying to find a way out of this - Destiny's screaming at him to quit! BW: I don't know if he can hold on much longer, Gordo. That back is being torn apart by Shane Destiny. Mark Langseth is battling for his very ability to walk out of this ring, Gordo. If he doesn't quit soon, they may have to carry him out of here! GM: I don't even want to think about that. [With Langseth still refusing to quit, Destiny shoves him back down to the mat. He slowly gets up, glaring down at the barely moving Langseth. Langseth is crawling forward, trying to get away from his attacker but Destiny's not having any of it, stomping down hard on the kidneys.] GM: Come on! BW: What? He's not doing anything illegal! GM: No, just immoral. BW: Keep your morality to yourself, Gordo. Shane Destiny's got a title match to win, daddy! [Destiny kicks Langseth in the ribs, forcing him to roll under the ropes out to the floor. The Las Vegas native steps out to the apron, dropping down to the floor as well. He quickly pulls Langseth up, grabbing him by the arm... ...and whipping him spinefirst into the railing!] GM: OHHHHHH! INTO THE STEEL!! [Langseth slumps down to a knee, clutching his lower back. Destiny shakes his head, pulling Langseth up and dragging him around the ringside area, coming around the ringpost to the side near the elevated entrance ramp.] GM: Uh oh - not again... [Destiny grabs the arm, ready to whip Langseth into the wooden platform.] GM: Another whip! [But as he draws near, Langseth drops into a baseball slide on the thinly-padded floor, blocking the whip into the platform. An enraged Destiny charges forward... ...and right into Langseth's waiting arms as he hoists Destiny up, turns a full 360, and DROPS him facefirst on the elevated platform!] GM: OHHHHHHHHHHH! [The crowd echoes Gordon's cry as Destiny's face smashes into the wooden platform and he balls up on the floor, arms covering his face. Langseth leans against the platform, trying to recover, wincing with every breath as he kneels just a couple feet away from Destiny.] "TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED! TWENTY MINUTES REMAIN!" [Langseth pushes up to his feet, hauling Destiny off the mat by the arm. He drags him towards the ring, shoving him under the ropes. Langseth rolls in behind him, crawling into a lateral press, wincing as he reaches back to grab a leg.] GM: Cover for one! Two! [But Destiny fires the shoulder up!] GM: No, not enough! [As Langseth pushes up to his knees, he grabs Destiny by the hair again, slamming fist after fist into the skull. The referee steps in, forcing Langseth to break it up.] GM: And now it's Langseth showing some signs of frustration. We're just over ten minutes into this thing but both of these men have hit some very high impact moves on one another. [Hauling Destiny back to his feet, Langseth fires him across the ring, delivering a boot to his midsecton on the rebound, immediately racing to the adjacent ropes.] GM: Langseth off the ropes... NO SWEAT! [But the swinging neckbreaker attempt is spun through by Destiny who immediately plants his feet and uncorks a HUUUUUGE standing lariat that flips Langseth before dumping him down to the mat!] GM: OHHHHH! WHAT A LARIAT!! BW: Or as my Japanese friends would say, "LAAAAARIAAAAATOOOO!" GM: Destiny floored him... rolls him to his back... ONE!! TWO!! THRE- [The crowd buzzes with concern as Langseth just barely gets his shoulder off the mat in time.] GM: So close. So very close! [Destiny pops up, grabbing the referee by the collar with both hands, pushing him back into the corner as he shouts at him.] GM: Hey! Get off him! BW: Destiny thought he had him! I think he had him too! That was a slow count, Gordo! GM: It was not! Shane Destiny's got no right to- [Destiny spins around, marching towards the downed Langseth. He reaches down, grabbing the hurting Hall of Famer... ...who reaches up, pulling Destiny down into a small package!] GM: SMALL PACKAGE!! ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEEE!!! "DING! DING! DING!" GM: HE DID IT! HE DID IT!! LANGSETH DID IT!! [Langseth promptly rolls the heck out of the ring, getting on his way down the aisle to keep away from Shane Destiny who springs to his feet, trying to grab Langseth before he gets out of there.] GM: Langseth got the win and look at Shane Destiny! [Destiny looks shocked and completely outraged at the same time. His eyes are filled with rage as he stares out at the retreating Langseth. He kicks the ropes in furious anger.] GM: Shane Destiny can't believe it! BW: Can you? GM: Not really, no. Shane Destiny looked like he had this thing won but he lost control... he lost focus... and Mark Langseth, the veteran, made him pay for it. Mark Langseth just scored what I have to consider to be an upset here tonight. [Destiny stands, still glaring off in the distance... ...and then suddenly whips his head around, staring at referee Mickey Meekly instead. Meekly shakes his head, holding up his hands.] GM: Wait a second. Shane Destiny... don't you even think of- [Destiny rushes forward, DRILLING Meekly with a clothesline!] GM: OHHHH! COME ON!!! Somebody get this maniac out of here! [With Meeky on the mat, Destiny kicks him in the ribs, rolling him over to his stomach. He reaches over, grabbing Meekly by the hair and pulling him up into a standing inverted facelock... ...and sits down on the small of the back!] BW: DESTINY STRANGLE! GM: On an AWA official! This isn't right, fans! We need to get some help out here for Mickey Meekly! Shane Destiny has lost his mind right here in New Orleans! BW: He snapped, Gordo! The thought of losing out on ANOTHER title shot was just too much for him. He's out of control and- [BIG CHEER!] GM: Here comes Langseth! Mark Langseth is coming back down here! [Langseth hobbles back down the elevated ramp as quickly as he can, stepping through the ropes... ...and THROWING himself at Destiny's exposed back, breaking the hold on the official! Big cheer!] GM: Thank the stars for Mark Langseth! Thank heavens he came back down here to break up the Destiny Strangle on Mickey Meekly - but the official is still down.. he's hurt bad, Bucky. [The referee is motionless on the mat as Mark Langseth kneels over him, checking his condition. Langseth waves to the locker room, looking for medicial help... ...but fails to notice Shane Destiny coming up behind him, hooking the inverted facelock, and pushing Langseth down to the canvas, leaning back with the torturous hold!] GM: HE'S GOT THE STRANGLE ON LANGSETH! BW: After all the torture he put Langseth's neck and back through in this one, he's got that Destiny Strangle applied! He's leaning back, turning up the pressure... [Destiny leans back as far as he can, torquing Langseth's body in a sickening position as Destiny screams at him.] "YOU STEAL FROM ME AND THINK YOU WALK AWAY?!" GM: You hear that, Bucky? He thinks Langseth STOLE something from him! BW: He did! Langseth stole a shot at the National Title that was waiting for him! GM: He did not! He won the match fair and square! Mark Langseth did not do anything wrong here! He did not- [Langseth screams out in pain as Destiny leans back further. Within moments, a flood of AWA officials have hit the ring, trying to get Destiny to break the hold on his rival.] GM: We've got all sorts of AWA front office staff in the ring - trying to break this up. There's Jon Stegglet in there... Bill Masterson... they're all trying to get that Strangle off of Mark Langseth! [But Destiny's grip is steel, refusing to break the hold as he leans back as far as he can. Stegglet grabs an arm, trying to physically pull it free. Two other officials grab Destiny around the head and neck, trying to break the hold.] GM: I don't- is Mark Langseth even conscious at this point? BW: I don't think so, Gordo. He's slumped over - he's not even moving. His arms have gone limp. [With much effort, they finally manage to pry Destiny off the motionless Langseth. Destiny slowly stands up, looking down coldly at his victim. The crowd is crazy furious, screaming and shouting. A few empty water bottles even fly at Destiny.] GM: Finally! Now, get him out of there! [The officials nudge Destiny towards the ropes, getting him out of the ring as they tend to the downed Meekly and Langseth, pushing him down the entrance ramp back up the aisle.] GM: Fans, we've got to get some medical assistance in the ring for these two men... let's... do we have anyone standing by? Yes? Just cut to that. [We abruptly cut to the backstage area to where Mark Stegglet is standing with Brian Von Braun. They're both wearing clothes.] MS: Thanks, Gordon. Brian, last week when we saw the footage of the attack on Todd Michaelson... well, you were oddly quiet, Brian. BVB: I didn't have much to talk about, Mark. I had a bit of some thinking to do. [Von Braun looks at the camera. Stegglet goes to say something, but BVB pulls the mic away from Stegglet and closer to himself.] BVB: Due to team integrity, I'm going to let a slap slide. Ron Houston, you laid me out in Athens. You pulled one over on me. [BVB rubs the back of his neck.] BVB: I want to thank you for Fading me in Atlanta, Ron. You woke me up. Regardless of what happens tonight, Ron? We're not done... not by a long shot. [BVB points at the camera.] BVB: I gave you every chance to turn and walk away from this. You decided you wanted to continue on down this path. You wanted a piece of the Rocket City Badboy. You wanted my full attention. You wanted to be the one used to prove myself to the AWA. You wanted back in the spotlight. [He pauses.] BVB: You got your wish. Careful what you wish for, Ron. [BVB walks off camera as we fade to black. ...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt. The super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.] "You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!" [A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.] "You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last Stampede!" [A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.] "You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!" [Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging over his shoulder.] "And now, it can be yours!" [A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a shot of a young fan doing the same.] "Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA superstars have held!" [A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black... ...and then back up to live action where we find Jason Dane standing with a haggard-looking Cousin Bo, and two angry rednecks with titles, The Bishop Boys. Jason nods and turns to Bo.] JD: Welcome back, fans... and Mr. Allen, tonight's the night. Your strife with Rough N Ready ends tonight, in this big No Disqualification Match. [Bo sighs.] CB: Yeah, guess so. [Jason raises an eyebrow.] JD: You guess? CB: Yeah, well, with Joe Petrow pulling strings, things are bound to be inconclusive, aren't they? DHB: Man, cuz, don't worry 'bout Petrow. We got this. We've done had these belts now for dang near 5 months. We already done held these belts longer than Dufresne and Freeman. We survived that tubbo Waterson. We can handle Rough N Ready and whatever ol' Sycho Joe can throw at us. [Bo nods.] CB: I know you can, Duane Henry. I just... [Bo sighs.] CB: I think the deck's stacked against us. JD: How so? CB: You see how it is, Dane. Petrow's already pulling strings. That's not good for ANYBODY in the AWA, least of all us. JD: You know, some people still seem to think you're faking this, and you've hired Petrow yourself. [Cletus Lee steps forward and stares at Jason. He looks like he's about to say something, but he stops just short and shakes his head disgustedly.] CB: And I TOLD YOU 2 weeks ago, we don't need his help. We don't want it. How many promises do I have to come through on before people start believing me? [Bo looks at Jason earnestly.] CB: It's ridiculous. Waterson screwed us, so what the hell makes any of you people think we want anything to do with anybody else? I'm the manager of this team, and me alone. All of our success has come when it's just been the three of us. Even The Southern Syndicate couldn't beat us down. We're the ONLY team that's managed to survive them. [Bo sighs again.] CB: If only I had tried to appeal to the right people. JD: What do you mean? CB: Look, I like Jim Watkins, he's a decent man, but he can only do so much. He couldn't ban Petrow from the show, because he doesn't have final say. We all know that. It's the front office. And I know for a fact that they don't like us very much. Let's be honest, I know I've done some less than savory things in the past. JD: Are you honestly claiming there's a conspiracy?! CB: A conspiracy? No. Whoever it is that hates us could've easily fired us a long time ago. We were an effective way of curbing the threat the Southern Syndicate posed, and I know they all hate Waterson a lot more than me. But now Petrow's here, and whoever it is that hates us thinks they can use him as a tool to deal with us. JD: Do you have any evidence of this whatsoever? CB: No, I don't. If I did, I'd call the coward out myself. But they just hide in that boardroom all the time. I don't know. It could be Taylor, for all I know. I know he can't be happy we helped his brother beat him down back at the Stampede Cup. But Bobby doesn't strike me as the petty type. Could be Todd. But he's always been cordial to me. I doubt Stegglet or your sister are that kind of person either. It's gotta be one of those mystery members. [Bo shakes his head.] CB: But you know what? Right now, I don't care. Right now, Rough N Ready, I can see the end of the road. After all of the games we've played, tonight, it all ends. I'm tired of you. I'm tired of Petrow. And I'm tired of all the games. You boys are looking at a team with nothing left to lose. So we're gonna lay it all out there for everybody to see tonight. In case you've forgotten, tonight's gonna serve as a reminder of just how vicious we can get? You want no DQs? Fine with me. Tonight, we fight as if it's the last time ever. [Bo bristles.] CB: And if......no, WHEN Petrow gets involved tonight, it may just be the last time for a LOT of people. [Bo and The Bishops walk away, and Jason turns back to the camera.] JD: Interesting comments there from Mr. Allen. Is there any validity to what he says? Or has he been stringing us along the entire time? We'll find out tonight. Let's go across the arena to where Mark is standing by with the challengers in tonight's National Tag Team Title showdown! [Cut back to the other side of the building where we find Mark Stegglet standing in front of an AWA backdrop alongside the members of Rough N Ready. Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers are already dressed in their wrestling attire.] MS: Rough N Ready, in just moments, you will step into the ring one more time with The Bishop Boys for what may be your final shot at the National tag team titles you have been pursuing for nearly two years now... it's a no DQ match on top of that. What are your thoughts going into tonight's match? DC: You oughta know our thoughts by know, Mark... Eric and I will not settle for anything less than an unconditional victory and those titles around our waists. For _too_ long we've waited for this moment, then we had it stolen from us at the Fourth of July show, but tonight, that _will_ not happen. MS: You sound very confident, but at the same time, do I sense a little bit of frustration? DC: Frustration? And what in the world makes you think we shouldn't be frustrated? First thing we had to do was earn our points. Then when we got two points, we go at it with the Bishops with nothing settled and then we wait _months_ for a rematch because the AWA was too worried about the bad blood between us! And then when we _finally_ get that third point, we have to wait a little longer, until we decided we'd wait no more and take our shot. And then, next thing you know, we have travel issues and watch somebody else get the shot... who else but the Bishops? So you would think we'd get that first opportunity, but no... we have to go into a battle royale to get that opportunity denied to us. MS: But you heard Cousin Bo then say- DC: [interrupting] Cousin Bo says a lot of things, but he should have done less talking and more action because all we got was that battle royale entry. And then, as we all know, Joe Petrow entered the equation and... MS: [interrupting himself] Wait a minute, Dave, Cousin Bo has made it clear he wants nothing to do with Petrow! You heard him deliver that ultimatum on the last Saturday Night Wrestling to try to get Petrow banned from ringside here tonight! DC: Yeah, how convenient of Cousin Bo to try to find a way to cover his tracks... well, it won't work. We're tired of hearing Cousin Bo put up a fuss about everything, acting like he's an innoncent bystander, when he was the one that caused all the trouble between us and the Bishop Boys. But after tonight's match, the trouble will taken care of for good, I promise you that! [With that, Dave walks off. Eric has just been standing there, not saying a word, and now Mark turns to him.] MS: Eric... what about tonight's match? [Eric just gets a wicked grin on his face.] EMS: Mark... Dave has said everything that needs to be said... I'll do my talking in the ring... and I doubt the Bishops are gonna like what I have to say. [He then walks off as well as we cut back to the ring.] MC: The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall with a one hour time limit and will be conducted under NO DISQUALIFICATION RULES and is for the AWA NATIONAL TAG TEAM TITLES! [BIG CHEER!] MC: Introducing fir- [But before Melissa can finish, music starts up. But it's not the music commonly associated with either of the tag teams in tonight's tag team title showdown. Instead, it's "The Lonely Shepherd" by Zamfir. And it's not Rough N Ready nor the Bishop Boys who walk out onto the elevated platform. Instead, it's a member of AWA management - Lori Dane-Michaelson. The lovely Ms. Dane-Michaelson is clad in a pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt with Todd Michaelson's face on it.] GM: Hey! I totally forgot about this! We had heard last week that Lori Dane was going to be here tonight and that she had something very special to say to an AWA employee. And it looks like now is the moment. [Dane makes a quick walk down the rampway, stepping through the ropes. Melissa Cannon grins at Lori, handing the mic to her.] LD: Hello, New Orleans! [Big cheer!] LD: I know a lot of people were surprised to see that I planned on making an in-ring appearance here tonight to address the crowd and to address a certain AWA employee. And I know a lot more were surprised to see me continue to plan on being here considering what happened to my husband over a week ago. [The crowd cheers for Todd. She smiles.] LD: I know he's at home. I know he's watching. And believe me, he appreciates your sentiments. It's hard for him to not be here tonight but doctor's orders. But that's not why I'm here. If I've learned one thing in the past sixteen years, it's that Todd Michaelson can take care of himself... [She smiles.] LD: ...usually. I'm here for something much different. As many of you know, I've been working in the AWA front office for quite some time now. I've been handling a lot of the marketing duties and some other office stuff. I've played a lot of roles in getting this company going and as I look around this building tonight and as I look around the AWA... [Dane grins.] LD: I'm incredibly proud of what we've built from scratch! [Big cheer!] LD: This is one of the greatest promotions on the planet without a doubt. There are so many fantastic superstars competing for the National Title. You look at the tag team division - it's arguably the hottest tag team division in all of wrestling. The sky's the limit right now for the AWA. But there's one thing missing... [Dane pauses dramatically... ...and then turns to point directly at Melissa Cannon.] LD: You. [The crowd buzzes with confusion - a confusion that is displayed clearly on the face of Melissa Cannon. She gives an off-mic "Me?" while gesturing to herself.] LD: Yeah, you, Melissa. You see... these people... they may not know you, Melissa. But I do. I know you. And I know that this isn't how you pictured your life in this business. Don't forget - I was there when you walked into that crappy old warehouse in Los Angeles and begged Todd to let you get in the ring and train to become a wrestler. [Melissa nods, smiling at Lori.] LD: And I was also there when I browbeat him into letting you do it. [Melissa laughs, nodding again.] LD: I saw you in that gym for months - breaking your body, busting your head open. The proverbial blood, sweat, and tears being spilled all over a dirty ring for a shot to do what you believed you were meant to do. I was there every step of the way, teaching you everything I knew about how to succeed as a woman in this business. And now? [Dane looks around with a bit of disdain.] LD: Now, I see you falling into the same trap I did. I see you giving up on your dream because everyone's telling you there's no place for you in the ring here except behind the mic. You're nothing but eyecandy for these people, Melissa. They couldn't care less who was telling them that someone was coming to the ring... but they'd like you to look nice while doing it. [A few boos shower down on Lori for the cheap shot.] LD: This isn't what you wanted for yourself, Melissa... and it's not what I wanted for you. [Lori looks pleadingly at Melissa.] LD: I want you to compete! I want you to wrestle! And if the front office won't let you do it because they think these people don't want to see it? Then we'll SHOW them that the people want to see it! [A pretty decent sized cheer for that one.] LD: Come on, Melissa. Whaddya say? Let's throw this mic down, let's go back into that front office and start working the phones... and let's FIND you some competition. [Lori moves over to the ropes, sitting down on the middle rope, waving for her former student to join her. Melissa takes a few steps across the ring... ...and takes the mic from Lori's hand.] MC: Lori, I... I appreciate the offer, I truly do. But, I think... [Melissa looks a little nervous.] MC: I think that chance has passed me by. [Lori stares at Melissa with disbelief on her face... ...and then stands up off the ropes, grabbing the mic again.] LD: I see. Well... if that's the way it has to be... [Lori suddenly lunges forward, SMASHING the mic into the skull of her student, knocking her flat!] GM: OHH! What the-?! [Dane glares down at Melissa whose hands are up around her head. Dane delivers a hard kick to the ribs of Melissa Cannon.] "TURN ME DOWN?!" [Another kick to the ribs.] "IT'S PASSED YOU BY?!" [A third kick to the ribs.] "I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO BE A WRESTLER!" [Dane dives atop the downed Cannon, delivering blow after blow to the head. She grabs Melissa by the hair, bashing the back of her head into the canvas time and time again... ...and then finally gets up, straightening her shirt as she walks away. Dane steps through the ropes, walking back up the ramp towards the locker room.] GM: I can't- can you believe that, Bucky? BW: I definitely didn't see that one coming. GM: Melissa's down. We're going to need some help to get her up. I can't believe Lori Dane just did that to her. And why? Because Melissa didn't want to wrestle anymore? The AWA doesn't even HAVE a women's division! BW: I think that was the idea, Gordo. GM: I don't- we need to get Lori Dane to tell us EXACTLY what's going through her head here. Fans... we need- the tag team title match is up next! We'll be right back! [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: You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel! MS: Jason, that kind of news is so hot, it should be on the app! [The two men laugh very awkwardly as a giant iPhone appears.] JD: Hello, Mr. iPhone. [The iPhone speaks. Yes. Yes it does.] iPhone: Hello, Jason Dane. Did you know that former AWA National Champion Kolya Sudakov was a former Mixed Martial Artist? JD: Well, actually I did. iPhone: Mark Stegglet, did you know that Calisto Dufresne was the first and only champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution? MS(in his best Johnny Carson impression): I did not know that! [Thankfully, a voiceover starts.] VO: Starting today, you can download AWA Access Version 2.0! This new app contains a brand new TRIVIA mode where you can get all the details on your favorite AWA superstars! Plus, be the first to see our brand new BEFORE THE AWA section where you can find matches from the best of the AWA - before they were AWA! AWA Access Version 2.0 - coming to an iPhone near you! [Fade back to black... ...and then back up to the ring where an unknown AWA official is standing.] GM: Welcome back, fans... and as you can see, we've got a new ring announcer for the rest of the night thanks to Lori Dane. This is Michael Morris out there to help us out. [Morris raises the mic, looking nervous.] MM: The... uhh.. the following contest is scheduled for one fall. It's a National Tag Team Title Match... it's no DQs! And it has a sixty minute time limit! [The crowd cheers... yes, they've heard this before.] MM: Introducing firs- "Tonight's story is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction" [Rod Serling's voice leads into Michael Jackson's "Threatened", which leads into Joe Petrow emerging from behind the curtain.] MM: Introducing first, representing his clients in this contest, the AWA Executive Consultant, JOE PETROW!!! [Seeming to savor the moment, and the sound of his name being announced, Petrow is in no hurry to complete his journey to ringside. A couple of people extend their hands out to Petrow, and surprisingly, he allows himself to go over to slap their hands, swapping his cell phone right and left to accomodate them.] GM: Bucky, you won't find a more controversial man in our sport than Joe Petrow, but he does have his fans, and tonight he seems to be going out of his way to acknowledge them. BW: This man puts the "maniac" in "egomaniac", Gordo. He lives for the spotlight, and that's gotta be the key to understanding what his real objectives are! GM: Well his stated goal for tonight is to see that his clients leave this match as National Tag Team Champions...whomever they might be! [Petrow slowly walks over the the far side, enters the spare ring, and takes a seat on the far top turnbuckle, as if to get the best vantage point of the action, still keeping his phone at hand, as though he needs to make or take a call at a moment's notice.] MM: And now, the challengers... [The sounds of Michael Jackson fade to Deep Purple's "Knockin' On My Back Door" as the challengers walk through the entrance curtain onto the entrance ramp.] MM: From Albuquerque, New Mexico... at a weight of 615 pounds... DAVE COOPER... 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. Together, the duo walks straight down the ramp, ignoring the mixed reaction from the AWA faithful.] GM: Two years ago, the AWA National Tag Team Titles were announced ot the wrestling world. In the two years since, Rough N Ready has STILL been unable to capture those elusive titles. BW: Tonight, that could all change, Gordo... if they hired Joe Petrow. GM: Cooper and Somers hit the ring - and if you notice, neither of them has looked at Petrow at all. BW: Maybe they're under instruction not to. GM: Perhaps. [Somers and Cooper huddle up, presumably trading strategies as they wait. The music changes to "Nothin' To Lose" kicks in to a pretty good-sized reaction from the crowd.] MM: And their opponents... at a total combined weight of 568 pounds... from Kingsland, Arkansas... accompanied to the ring by Cousin Bo... They are the AWA National Tag Team Champions... DUANE HENRY AND CLETUS LEE... THE BISSSSSHOP BOOOOOOYS! [The crowd roars even louder as the trio walks through the curtain... ...and then comes charging down the aisle together, dropping the title belts at the top of the ramp!] GM: What the-?! BW: Lemme say it, Gordo - here we go! Here we go! Here we go! [Duane Henry and Cletus Lee hit the ring fast and furious, throwing blows at the waiting Somers and Cooper. Cooper pairs off quickly with Duane Henry, turning him back to the corner where he throws right hand after right hand into the ribcage of Duane Henry. Cletus Lee wastes no time in popping Somers with a straight right to the jaw. He quickly hooks the arms of Somers, throwing headbutt after headbutt to the skull, knocking Somers down to a knee...] GM: Look at that! Cletus Lee is all over Eric Matthew Somers already and- [Referee Marty Meekly calls for the bell to start the match.] GM: And this one is officially underway now! [Cooper grabs Duane Henry around the head and neck, throwing him out of the corner with a biel. Cooper steps forward, grabbing the feet of Duane Henry.] GM: He's going for the Cloverleaf! [But before he can get it on, Cletus Lee delivers a double axehandle blow across the back of Cooper, knocking him down to a knee. The big man quickly pulls Cooper up by the hair... ...and HURLS him over the ropes and down to the floor!] GM: Good grief! Down to the barely padded floor goes Cooper and- [Grabbing his little brother off the mat, Cletus Lee gorilla presses him high overhead... ...and gets SPEARED by Eric Matthew Somers, a blow that knocks Cletus Lee backwards, forcing him to drop his brother that sends Duane Henry crashing down on the wooden platform!] GM: OHHHH! [The crowd roars as Somers batters Cletus Lee on the ropes, throwing heavy haymakers to the skull... ...and uncorks a standing clothesline, sending Cletus Lee falling over the ropes onto the ramp as well!] GM: We're off to fast start here and- [Cooper pulls himself up on the ramp off the floor, dragging Duane Henry Bishop off the wooden platform. He grabs him by the wrist, firing him into the ropes... ...and throws Duane Henry down to the wooden platform with a hiptoss takeover! Cousin Bo protests from the floor, reading the riot act to Dave Cooper...] GM: Cousin Bo's really letting him have it, Bucky. BW: Unlike Joe Petrow. [We cut to Petrow who is completely stoic, not reacting at all to what he's witnessing.] GM: Cooper glaring down at Cousin Bo... BW: Did he just tell Bo to "shut his hole?" GM: I'm pretty sure he did. [Somers steps through the ropes, grabbing Cletus Lee back up to his feet. He reaches down, scooping the big man up into his powerful arms...] GM: LOOOOOOK OUT!! "THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!" GM: SLAM!! HE SLAMMED HIM ON THE RAMP!! [The crowd roars for the aggressive style of Rough N Ready, having laid out both Bishops early on in the match. The referee warns both men, ordering them back inside the ring.] GM: Remember, there's no disqualifications in this one. These two teams can do whatever in the world they want in this one. [Cooper grabs the legs of Duane Henry, falling back to catapult him through the air, sending him crashing down facefirst on the ramp again!] GM: Another big fall onto that wooden ramp. Rough N Ready is really using that ramp to their advantage so far in this one. Both Cletus Lee and Duane Henry have been slammed down on it and- BW: Where are they going? GM: I have no idea! [Cooper drags Duane Henry off the wooden platform, dragging him by the hair back up the entrance ramp towards the locker room area.] GM: Dave Cooper and Duane Henry Bishop are on their way down the- [The crowd roars as Cletus Lee springs up off his knee, blasting Somers with a right hand. Grabbing Somers by the hair, Cletus Lee smashes him with a headbutt, sending Somers staggering back in pursuit of his partner.] GM: And there goes Cletus Lee and Eric Matthew Somers as well! What in the world is...? BW: Oh no. GM: The referee just started a count! BW: That's right! This match is no disqualification - it's not no countout! GM: Oh, come on.. this can't happen... this can't end like this... [Cousin Bo is up on the ramp, screaming at his boys to get back down to the ring but they're out of earshot at this point, trading heavy blows with their challengers down the ramp.] GM: The referee's count is up to three... now to four... [The camera shot cuts down the ramp, our cameraman running down the elevated platform to get a better shot as Somers and Cletus Lee trade right hands and headbutts on the edge of the platform. A few feet away, Dave Cooper has Duane Henry flat on his back and is battering him with closed fists to the skull.] GM: These guys are way down there, Bucky. BW: Even if they knew what was going on, I don't think they could get back at this point. [Trying to help his cousins, Cousin Bo goes charging down the ramp, screaming and shouting, waving his arms like a wildman to try and get his cousins' attention.] GM: Cousin Bo is trying to help them out - trying to get them back in there before it's too late. BW: The count's up to eight and- GM: PETROW! [The crowd buzzes as Joe Petrow dives headfirst under the ropes, springs to his feet to grab the official by the shirt.] "YOU TRY AND COUNT ONE MORE NUMBER AND I'M GONNA KNOCK YOU FLAT OUT!" [The referee argues with Petrow who holds up a fist.] "And there's not a damned thing you can do about it!" [Petrow shoves the referee aside.] GM: He just threatened to coldcock the ref if he kept counting! BW: But he's right! The ref can't DQ him for it! Petrow means it! He'll knock him flat, daddy! GM: Now he's got the mic and- [Petrow shouts in the direction of the entryway.] "You heard me, guys! This idiot isn't counting anybody out tonight so stay out there and get the job done!" [With Petrow holding guard on the official, the fight continues down the aisle... ...with Eric Matthew Somers turning away from a kneeling Cletus Lee Bishop, pointing a finger at Cousin Bo who is standing stunned just a few feet away. Bo shakes his head, holding up his hands.] GM: Wait a second! He didn't do anything, Eric! BW: Not yet! Cousin Bo is desperate to keep those titles though! Who knows what he'll do in a no DQ match?! GM: Somers is stalking towards him... he's- [BIG MIXED CHEER!] GM: HE'S GOT BO BY THE THROAT!! HE'S GOT- [The crowd roars as Somers powers Bo up into the air, hoisting him high, and DRIVES him down with a thunderous chokeslam on the wooden platform!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" [Somers stands over the motionless Bo, throwing his arms apart and roaring to the crowd... ...and just as he turns, he EATS a charging Big Boot to the jaw from Cletus Lee Bishop, a blow that connects solidly with Somers' face, sending him sailing off the ramp and crashing down into the crowd!] GM: LOOK OUT!! BW: Good lord. I hope he didn't land on anyone. It was like a redwood tree getting chopped down with an ax, daddy! GM: Somers flew off the apron, landing in the crowd... the fans scattered... [AWA officials are quickly on the scene, looking to see if anyone was injured by the falling Somers. Cletus Lee stands on the edge of the platform, looking down at Somers as the crowd continues to roar.] GM: These guys are beatin' the heck out of each other! BW: It's a no DQ match for the tag team titles, daddy! Whaddya expect? GM: Wait a second... [Dave Cooper stands up, snatching a fallen title belt off the platform. He rears back with it, DRILLING Cletus Lee between the shoulderblades, sending him sailing off the apron and down on top of the AWA officials in the crowd!] GM: Good lord! This is getting out of control! BW: They should have thought about this before making it no DQ, daddy! [Duane Henry grabs a belt as well, lashing Cooper across the back with the leather strap from it. Cooper winces, but strikes back with a kick to the gut, doubling up Duane Henry before Cooper SLAMS the title belt down on the back!] GM: Good grief! These four men are beatin' the tar out of each other! [Holding the belt overhead with both hands, Cooper SMASHES the face of the belt down on Duane Henry's face!] GM: There's not a lot on those but he's hitting him repeatedly with a gold and silver belt! You know that's gotta hurt! [Duane Henry rolls off the ramp, landing on his feet off to the side. Cooper approaches, belt still held overhead... ...but Duane Henry grabs his ankle, yanking it out from under him and causing Cooper to SMACK the back of his head on the ramp. Holding the foot, Duane Henry SMASHES the back of Cooper's knee into the ramp as well!] GM: Cooper's knee just was DRIVEN into the platform! [With the leg dangling over the edge of the ramp, Duane Henry grabs the fallen title belt, rearing back... ...and LASHING across the knee with the face of the belt!] GM: These guys are using the National Tag Team Title belts as weapons! [Duane Henry drags Cooper the rest of the way off the ramp, causing him to fall about four feet down to the concrete. A quick camera cut shows Cletus Lee Bishop throwing AWA officials aside to get at the rising Eric Matthew Somers. Bishop headbutts an official, knocking him flat as he gets there, grabbing Somers with both hands around the throat.] GM: He's choking him! He's choking Somers! [Somers slaps the arms away with his powerful hands, throwing a haymaker at Cletus Lee that sends him falling back. A pair of AWA officials try to intervene... ...but Somers grabs each of them by the back of the neck, SMASHING their skulls together!] GM: Good grief! BW: Hey, Gordo... isn't this exactly how Violence Unlimited and the Samoans got suspended last week? GM: It is EXACTLY how that happened! [Cletus Lee Bishop uses the momentary distraction to get a few feet away, shoving an official aside and grabbing a steel chair off the ground, folding it up...] GM: He's got a chair! Somebody stop him! [The bigger Bishop winds up with it, trying to get a full swing but the officials swarm him, grabbing the chair.] GM: He can't be swinging chairs out there with the fans all around! What in the world is wrong with this guy? [Somers grabs a chair as well... ...and HURLS it in the direction of Bishop. It misses, hitting a couple AWA officials instead but Somers keeps going, throwing people aside. A pair of haymakers follow as Cletus Lee tries to free himself from the officials. Grabbing Cletus Lee by the head, Somers crushes him with another headbutt, staggering him backwards where a big boot knocks Cletus Lee back over the railing and on the ground between the railing and the ramp.] GM: My god... I haven't seen anything like this before... [Somers reaches down over the railing, hauling Cletus Lee up by the hair... ...where Cletus Lee promptly goes to the eyes, blinding Somers. Grabbing Somers by the back of the head, Cletus Lee SMASHES his face into the edge of the ramp, knocking Somers down to a knee!] GM: Good grief! [Cletus Lee leans over the kneeling Somers, sinking his teeth into his forehead.] GM: He's biting him! He's biting Eric Matthew Somers! [A quick camera cut reveals Duane Henry and Dave Cooper trading right hands as they move deeper into the crowd.] GM: Can we get a camera crew that far out there? They're- [The crowd buzzes as the brawling duo works their way back near one of the arena's entrance tunnels that goes back into the arena concourse. Duane Henry buries a knee into the gut of Cooper, grabbing him by the wrist, and flinging him backfirst into the concrete wall of the arena!] GM: OHHH!! [Duane Henry measures him against the wall before charging in, leaping up to pump his leg... ...and THROWS a hard bicycle kick into the chest, pinning Cooper against the wall!] GM: Duane Henry Bishop has just improved so much in the ring from when we first saw them arrive here in the AWA. He's improved so much in his arsenal of moves and his focus inside the ring. [Pushing Cooper back against the wall, Duane Henry throws a hard right hand to the skull. He spins around, throwing a spinning knife-edge chop across the chest, knocking Cooper down to a knee. He grabs Cooper's head with both hands and with a shout, he SMASHES the back of Cooper's head into the concrete wall, forcing Cooper to slump down to the floor, seated against the wall!] GM: My god... can we- I guess we can't stop this thing. BW: No, we can't. And to make things worse, this match isn't Falls Count Anywhere so they've gotta fight all the way back to the ring before this thing will be over. [Duane Henry backs away, glaring at Cooper, measuring him as he sits against the wall... ...and charges forward with a shout, looking to drive a dropkick into the face but Cooper rolls to the side, causing Duane Henry to dropkick the wall!] GM: Ohh! He missed! Cooper just barely got out of the way and- oh no. Look at that gash on the back of his head, Bucky. BW: He hit his head on the ramp earlier but I think that one came from the concrete right there. Duane Henry cracked the man's skull open on that concrete wall. GM: There's so much violence in the air - I don't know if I'll have anything left for WarGames! [Cooper pushes up to his feet, staggering away from Duane Henry over to the nearby concession stand.] GM: Uh oh. [Cooper shoves aside the concession guy, grabbing a jar of something off the table. He walks back to the other side of the table where Duane Henry is starting to rise... ...and BREAKS the glass jar over his skull!] GM: OHHH! BW: Was that relish?! [Duane Henry slumps down to his knees, his head split open from the glass jar and green relish dripping off his head. Cooper throws a kick to the chest, knocking Duane Henry down on his back. The veteran turns around, grabbing a metal trash can filled with ice. He drags the can over towards Duane Henry, tipping it over onto him, pouring ice all over the Bishop Boy.] GM: There's ice all over the place out here and- [The crowd roars as a brawling Eric Matthew Somers and Cletus Lee Bishop enter the picture, trading right hands as Cooper empties out the trash can, hoisting it up... ...and HURLING it into the back of Cletus Lee Bishop, knocking the big man down to a knee!] GM: Good grief! This is out of control! [Somers grabs the fallen can, raising it high overhead... ...and SMASHES it down across the skull of Cletus Lee Bishop, knocking him flat! Somers throws the dented can aside, roaring in triumph as he looks down at him.] GM: Rough N Ready and the Bishop Boys are tearin' this place apart! [Cooper drags Duane Henry off the ground, hauling him over to the side of the concession stand where Duane Henry throws a knee to the body. Grabbing Cooper by the back of the head, Duane Henry SMASHES his face into a nearby wooden table, throwing Cooper on top of it. With a handful of hair again, Duane Henry SMASHES his face into the wooden table again. He grabs a nearby plastic bucket, whipping it down across the back of the head as he falls back against the wall.] GM: Get those fans out of the way... [Somers hauls Cletus Lee back to his feet, pushing him back against the wall of the concession stand. He rears waaaay back, throwing a heart punch but Cletus Lee slightly moves to avoid it, trapping the arm under his left armpit. He balls up his fist, slamming it repeatedly into the cheekbone of Somers. He grabs Somers by the back of the head, smashing a headbutt into the same cheekbone which causes Somers to fall to a knee.] GM: We've got all four men brawling in that concession stand and- [Cooper pushes back to his feet, grabbing Duane Henry and slinging him back onto the wooden table where he just lets loose with several hard blows to the chest and throat area. He wraps both hands around Duane Henry's throat, screaming loudly as he strangles the air out of him.] GM: Cooper's choking out Duane Henry! BW: Not used to seeing that... but we know how badly Rough N Ready want those belts, Gordo. I won't be surprised to see them try anything here tonight to win 'em. GM: Heck, this could be their last chance at the gold, Bucky. BW: It certainly could. [With Cooper throttling Duane Henry, he's completely exposed to a broom-wielding Cletus Lee approaching... ...and taking a full swing at the back, shattering the broom handle across the back of Dave Cooper, causing him to stagger over, leaning over the table. Cletus Lee pulls Cooper's head back, slipping the broken broom handle across the windpipe, pulling back hard on it.] GM: Look at that! BW: He's choking the life out of 'im with the broom handle! [Grabbing the other end of the broom handle, Duane Henry pushes the splintered end into the forehead of Cooper, causing the veteran to cry out in pain as his bloodied attacker tries to do some damage.] GM: Cletus Lee's choking him with the handle - Duane Henry's driving those splinters into his forehead! Dave Cooper's in the biggest fight of his life and even he couldn't have expected something like this here tonight, Bucky. I know I didn't. BW: I knew it'd be a heck of a fight but this wasn't what I had in mind. GM: Cooper grabs a- [Grabbing a metal tray off the table, he swings it full force into the side of Duane Henry's face, knocking him away. Cooper throws a pair of elbows into the ribs of Cletus Lee, breaking his grip as well. He spins around, smashing the metal tray down once across the back of Cletus Lee's head... ...and then spins with it, catching Duane Henry flush across the cheekbone with it as well!] GM: GOOD GOD! BW: Gordo, we've had ten minutes of action here tonight and they've probably been in the ring all of a few seconds. This is the damndest thing I can remember seeing in quite some time. [Grabbing Duane Henry by the hair, Cooper throws a huge right hand that knocks the champion back across the table. Cooper continues to throw sloppy blows, just battering Duane Henry on top of the table to the roars of the crowd.] GM: Cooper's grabbing for- [The crowd buzzes as Cooper grabs a glass bottle of beer from a nearby cooler, taking a full swing with it... ...and coming up empty as Duane Henry rolls to the side, causing the bottle to shatter!] GM: Ohh! He missed with that bottle but we've got glass everywhere and- [Duane Henry lashes out with a kick to the jaw of Cooper, knocking him back. He quickly steps up on the table, throwing himself through the air in a short-lived cross body attempt, toppling Cooper down to the floor. Duane Henry stays on top, throwing right hands... ...and getting pulled off of Cooper by the hair!] GM: Somers got him! [Somers throws Duane Henry backwards, smashing into the rear wall of the concession stand. He reaches down, picking up a wooden stool that the owner of the stand was using... ...and bashes Duane Henry across the ribcage with it! With Duane Henry doubled up, the wooden stool is raised high overhead, and SMASHED into pieces across the back of Duane Henry Bishop! Big cheer!] GM: Good grief! BW: This one is tough to call, Gordo. GM: It certainly is. Just brutal, unadulterated violence out here. This isn't a wrestling match - this is a fight. BW: Heck, it's not even that, Gordo. This is a bar room brawl where someone's just trying to survive, daddy! [Somers upends the wooden table, throwing it on top of Duane Henry. He leans over, helping Dave Cooper back to his feet. Together, the two men pull Cletus Lee Bishop to his feet... ...and double whip him into the wall!] GM: OHHH! Cletus Lee goes backfirst into the concrete! [Cooper grabs his own partner by the wrist, whipping him... ...and allows Somers to AVALANCHE Cletus Lee against the wall!] GM: OHHHHHHHHH! BW: Get the spatula! Heck, just get a hose! GM: Cletus Lee is down! Duane Henry is down! The challengers are standing tall in the damndest fight I've ever seen! [Cooper grabs Somers by the arm, gesturing back to the ring.] GM: What's he doing now? Somers is pulling Duane Henry out from under the table... [The big man hoists Duane Henry up, slinging him over his shoulder and walking towards the aisle heading to the ring.] GM: Somers is taking Duane Henry back up the aisle! He's taking Duane Henry towards the ring! BW: Cooper knows they can't win it out there and now that they've got the Bishops down, they're going to try to take advantage of it. [Cooper continues to stomp Cletus Lee, trying to keep him down on the ground against the wall as Somers walks back towards the ring, carrying Duane Henry with him.] GM: Somers has the titles in his sights! BW: We could be moments away from crowning new National Tag Team Champions, Gordo. GM: We certainly could. [As they reach ringside, Somers dumps Duane Henry Bishop over the railing, dropping him down on the floor. Somers slings a leg over the barricade, climbing into the ringside area.] GM: Somers pulls him off the mat, shoving him back in... [The big man rolls back in as well, immediately pulling Duane Henry up off the canvas. Grabbing him by the arm, Somers fires him into the ropes. As he rebounds back, Somers scoops him up into the air, pivoting, and DRIVING him down to the mat!] GM: POWERSLAM!! POWERSLAM!! [Somers reaches back, grabbing a leg. We cut to a split screen of Dave Cooper watching the ring from back by the concession stand, cheering his partner on.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THRE- "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" GM: SHOULDER UP!! DUANE HENRY BISHOP GOT THE SHOULDER UP!! [Somers pushes up off the downed Duane Henry, slamming a beefy arm on the mat in frustration.] GM: He was so close, Bucky! Rough N Ready were a half count away from becoming the new National Tag Team Champions! [The big man climbs back to his feet, holding up three fingers to the referee who shakes his head, holding up two in response. The split screen reveals a dejected Dave Cooper, slapping his hands together in frustration as well... ...and getting a trash can SMASHED over the back of his skull by a recovered Cletus Lee Bishop!]] GM: OHHH! HE NAILED COOPER!! [Cooper collapses to the concrete floor in a heap. Cletus Lee, seeing the action inside the ring, starts heading in that direction.] GM: Cletus Lee is heading for the ring! [Meanwhile, Eric Matthew Somers has dragged Duane Henry back to his feet... ...and wrapped a massive paw around his throat!] GM: Somers is going for the chokeslam! He wants to end this and- [The crowd buzzes at the sight of Cousin Bo hobbling down the ramp towards the ring.] GM: Wait a second! BW: He's gonna interfere again! This guy's too much, Gordo! GM: He hasn't done anything yet! He's heading to the- [Somers spots him, pointing a finger of warning as Bo approaches... ...but Bo walks right up to the ropes, screaming encouragement in the direction of Duane Henry. An irate Somers shoves Duane Henry down to the mat, moving towards Bo.] GM: Get down from there, Bo! [With everyone in the ring distracted, Joe Petrow takes the chance to slide a steel chair into the ring.] GM: What the-?! What is Petrow doing now?! BW: I don't- [The crowd ERUPTS as Somers wraps a hand around Cousin Bo's throat yet again... ...and Duane Henry picks up the steel chair, takes aim...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" GM: HE HIT THE KNEE!! DUANE HENRY HIT THE BACK OF THE KNEE! BW: Did Joe Petrow just help the Bishop Boys?! [Somers stumbles back, grabbing his leg. Duane Henry rears back, chair overhead... ...but Somers easily blocks the swing, catching the chair in his hands and ripping it out of Duane Henry's hands!] GM: Ohh! Duane Henry is no match for Somers in the power department! [Somers delivers a big kick to the chest of Duane Henry, knocking him down to a knee. He rears back with the chair, ready to cave in the skull of the smaller Bishop Boy... ...but when he tries to swing it, the chair is stuck.] GM: CLETUS GRABBED THE CHAIR!! CLETUS LEE GOT THERE JUST IN TIME!! [Somers spins around, hands still on the chair in front of his face... ...and Cletus Lee lets a straight right hand fly, punching the chair right into the face of Eric Matthew Somers, sending him staggering backwards!] GM: OHHH! GOOD GRIEF!!! [Duane Henry rushes forward, bending down to slide an arm up under Somers.] GM: What in the...? BW: No way! GM: He's trying to get Somers up into the torture rack! He's trying to get up on his shoulders for the Miracle Elixir! BW: There's no chance he's getting a 350 pounder off the mat, daddy! [Duane Henry tries and tries and tries but Somers simply isn't going up for that. He counters, throwing an elbow down to the ear of Duane Henry, knocking him back down to a knee... ...and Somers drills an incoming Cletus Lee with a rushing clothesline, knocking him back to the corner.] GM: Somers is in a two-on-one but so far he's doing perfectly fine with that. [The big man spins away from Cletus Lee, reaching down to jerk the kneeling Duane Henry up with a powerful gutwrench... ...and DRIVES him down to the mat with a powerbomb!] GM: GOOD GOD!!! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY! BW: Duane Henry bounced off the mat, Gordo! [Somers throws himself across the downed Duane Henry.] GM: ONE!! TWO!!! THRE- [The crowd responds with a mixed reaction as Cletus Lee stomps on the back of Somers' head, narrowly breaking up the pinfall attempt.] GM: Another close call for the champions! The Bishop Boys just narrowly avoid losing the titles right there. Cousin Bo is having a heart attack out there on the apron! [The camera cuts to Bo, screaming at Cletus Lee to go after him. He points wildly to the chair, which Cletus Lee picks up. He backs to the ropes, waving for Somers to rise.] GM: Now it's Cletus Lee with the chair! What's he gonna do with that? BW: Odds are he's gonna hit him with it, Gordo. GM: Thanks, Bucky. [Cletus Lee rears back, ready to connect on the kneeling Eric Matthew Somers...] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" GM: COOPER HIT CLETUS LEE!! WHERE THE HECK DID HE COME FROM?! [Cletus Lee stumbles to a knee, having had a steel chair smashed across his back by Dave Cooper. Cooper rolls under the bottom rope, shouting to his partner.] GM: Somers with a whip on Cletus Lee... [The big man ducks under a clothesline from Somers, running right into the waiting arms of Dave Cooper who spins... ...and DRIVES Cletus Lee Bishop into the canvas with a spinebuster!] GM: SPINEBUSTER!! SPINEBUSTER!! [Cooper applies a lateral press, reaching back for a leg.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THRE- [A diving Duane Henry Bishop breaks up the pin.] BW: How the heck did Somers not see him? GM: Well, he sees him now! [Somers yanks Duane Henry off the mat, hoisting him high above...] GM: GORILLA PRESS!! [Somers rushes forward, hurling Duane Henry over the ropes and sending him crashing down to the mat in the second ring!] GM: Ohh! Duane Henry hits the mat hard! [An angry Cooper grabs the steel chair, slamming it down on the mat. He pulls Cletus Lee up, shoving him to Somers who hooks him around the head and neck.] GM: It's Rough Housing! They're going for Rough Housing on the steel chair! BW: If they hits this, we'll have new National Tag Team Champions! GM: Somers has him hooked - Cooper up on the middle rope! [Somers goes to hoist Cletus Lee up but the larger Bishop Boy slams his elbow back into the side of Somers' face. He hits a few more, breaking Somers' grip... ...and then whips him to the corner, knocking Cooper off his perch and over the ropes to the floor!] GM: TO THE FLOOR!! [Cletus Lee races to the far ropes, rebounding back towards the staggering Somers... ...and LEVELS him with a charging Big Boot!] GM: OHHHHHHHHHHHH! [The big man applies a lateral press, reaching back to hook a leg.] GM: ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEE! BW: NO! NO! FOOT ON THE ROPES!! GM: You're right, Bucky! He got the foot on the ropes in time! The referee is pointing it out to Cletus Lee right now and- [The referee gets SHOVED down to the mat by Cletus Lee Bishop who looks completely furious. The big man delivers a few hard kicks to Somers, moving him across the ring. He shouts to his brother who leaps up into the air from the second ring, springing off the top rope... ...and DROPPING a flying legdrop on the prone Somers!] GM: OHHH! [Duane Henry leaps into a lateral press.] GM: ONE!! TWO!! THRE- [The crowd ROARS in shock as Somers fires a shoulder off the mat. A furious Cletus Lee kicks the ropes, yanking his brother to his feet by the arm. He drags a thumb across his throat, grabbing Somers by the hair, dragging him up off the mat.] GM: Where is Duane Henry going? [The smaller Bishop Boy exits the ring, quickly scaling the ropes as Cletus Lee turns Somers around, ducking down... ...and somehow powers the big man up into a torture rack of his own!] GM: WHAT THE-?! WHAT THE-?! [Duane Henry pauses, looking down at his brother applying the torture rack to their rival... ...and leaps high up into the air, DRIVING both feet down in a double stomp on the skull of Somers! In one motion, Cletus Lee spins Somers out of the rack and DOWN into a sitout powerbomb!] GM: DOC ALLAN'S MIRACLE HEADACHE ELIXIR!! BW: Sort of! GM: SOMERS IS DOWN!! SOMERS IS OUT!! [Cletus Lee orders the count as the referee dives to the mat.] GM: ONE!! TWO!!! THRE- [The crowd ERUPTS in shock!] GM: PETROW!! [Joe Petrow steps back quickly, having delivering a big kick to the head of Cletus Lee Bishop to break up the pin... ...and now having the full attention of both Duane Henry Bishop and a rapidly incoming Cousin Bo!] GM: JOE PETROW BROKE UP THE PIN! HE BROKE UP THE PIN!! BW: Does that mean... was Joe Petrow with Somers and Cooper all along?! [Cousin Bo is SCREAMING at Petrow, both of them now standing in the ring. He's wildly gesturing, shouting and yelling... ...and then CHARGING!] GM: BO NAILS PETROW!! [Petrow flies backwards into the buckles, his cell phone flying out of his hand through the air to the mat. Cletus Lee Bishop is up next, as pissed off as someone can possibly be... ...and rushes to the corner, wrapping both hands around the throat of Petrow, pushing him through the ropes and out onto the ramp. Cletus Lee and Cousin Bo go out after him, kicking and stomping the downed Petrow.] GM: The Bishops are all over Petrow! They're tearing him apart! [Proving Gordon right, Cousin Bo grabs the suit jacket, tearing at it.] GM: They're ripping the clothes off him and- wait a second! [The crowd buzzes as Dave Cooper rolls under the ropes, grabbing the fallen cell phone off the canvas, rising to his feet... ...and SHATTERING the phone over the back of Duane Henry's skull!] GM: OHHHHHHHHH! [The stunned referee looks on in shock as Cooper applies a cover, reaching back to hook a leg.] GM: He hit him with- are you kidding me? [The referee drops down to the mat - hitting the canvas once, twice, and... ...in something two years in the making, the official hits the mat one more time.] GM: They did it! They did it! [The crowd is in shock as Cooper gets up off the downed Duane Henry Bishop, raising his arms in triumph.] "DING! DING! DING!" [A stunned Cousin Bo and Cletus Lee turn back to the ring, allowing Joe Petrow to roll free off the ramp, running around the ring. He grabs the house mic off the table before Melissa can make it official.] JP: They were ROUGH, they were READY, and so they are now the NEW AWA TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, DAVE COOPER AND ERIC MATTHEW SOMERS... ROUGH! N! READYYYYYYYY! [Petrow spikes the mat to the canvas, throwing his arms in triumph as well as Cooper helps Somers off the mat just as the referee hands the title belts over to them.] GM: We've got new National Tag Team Champions! The fourth tag team champions ever are Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers - Rough N Ready - and whether you like it or not, it appears that Joe Petrow has indeed become the Kingmaker here in the AWA! [Petrow makes his escape up the aisle, trying to stay away from the now-completely irate Bishops. Cooper and Somers exit the ring as well as Cletus Lee comes back in, swinging a steel chair back and forth like a madman.] GM: The Bishops are completely irate! They're- look out! [The crowd gasps as Cletus Lee chucks the chair over the ropes, having it clang to a stop against the barricade. Cousin Bo drops to the mat, rolling under the ropes to the floor. He walks over to the announce table.] GM: Look out now - look here, Bo, I know you're upset but- [Bo rips the mic away from Gordon.] CB: I have HAD it! I'm tired of playing these games! I will not be pushed around anymore! [Bo steps up to Bucky Wilde, staring him in the eye.] CB: WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM US?! HUH?! YOU WANT THE STONE COLD KILLERS?! IS THAT WHAT YOU'VE BEEN COMPLAINING ABOUT?! Well, I hope you're happy, because YOU'VE GOT IT! [And without warning, Bo reaches out and...] "SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" [The crowd "OHHHHHs" at the sight of Bo slapping Bucky Wilde across the face... ...which results in Bucky Wilde TACKLING Cousin Bo, tangling up with him as they attempt to throw blows at each other. The Bishop Boys quickly move to the floor where Duane Henry flips over the announce table. Gordon backpedals a few steps back, screaming at Bo to back off of Bucky as Cletus Lee Bishop delivers a hard kick to the steel barricade, actually breaking a section off, tipping it over into the front row where the fans start to scatter. Cletus Lee picks up the section of railing, throwing it in the direction of the ring where it narrowly misses the timekeeper and the stand-in ring announcer who just barely gets out of the way in time. Bucky manages to get free from Bo, shouting in his direction as the Bishops' manager grabs a monitor off the table, HURLING it into the barely-padded floor, shattering the screen. Duane Henry approaches the railing, screaming over it in the direction of a pair of fans who are giving him a hard time. Breaking the cardinal rule, Duane Henry reaches out, grabbing a fan around the collar and screaming in his face. The fan spits at Duane Henry who retaliates by shoving him down to the floor... ...and here comes security. A sea of AWA officials and security teams members inserting themselves into the fray, wedging themselves between Duane Henry and the crowd. Cousin Bo takes a swing at one of the security guards who tackle him down to the floor. Duane Henry starts stomping and kicking the guards who are holding down Bo. Suddenly, the wooden timekeeper's table gets hurled through the air, breaking apart as he hits the floor. Cletus Lee rips a table leg off, smashing it against a ringpost. A pair of security guards get up in his face, shouting at him... ...and a right hand fells one of them before he smashes a headbutt into the other guard, knocking him down to the floor. The crowd is jeering heavily now as the Bishops are stomping and kicking AWA officials and security guards. The camera abruptly cuts to the entryway where a small group of police officers come rushing down the ramp, sporting handcuffs, nightsticks, and mace. The police officers hit the ringside area, rushing the three Bishops still causing carnage. Cousin Bo fights his way to his feet, spitting in the face of one of the incoming police officers who responds by tackling him off his feet. Duane Henry tries to intervene but a nightstick to the ribs knocks him down to his knees where the cuffs are quickly used. An enraged Cletus Lee tries to wade through the police officers and security guards, throwing bodies left and right. A momentary break in bodies gives some room... ...and Cletus Lee unleashes a big boot to the jaw of a police officer, knocking him flat. The result? The emptying of a can of mace in the eyes of Cletus Lee Bishop, knocking him flat where the handcuffs are out for the big man as well. The scene is chaos - pure and total chaos - Bucky Wilde can be heard screaming over the din... "YOU'LL NEVER WORK HERE AGAIN! NEVER!" Even handcuffed, Bo tries to get back at Bucky... but the police keep him held back... ...which allows Bucky to return the favor, slapping Bo across the face as he flails with his legs at the retired manager. Gordon Myers is nearby, a look of horror on his face as he tries to stay clear of the carnage. A voice can be heard from somewhere. "Cut the feed! Cut the feed!" And that's exactly what we do... ...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... 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, more specifically to the locker room area where abattered Joe Petrow, looking more like a homeless bum than an Executive Consultant in his shredded suit after the drubbing he took in the tag match, a trickle of blood running down his chin, stands euphoric next to a disgusted Mark Stegglet] MS: Joe Petrow, I cannot believe what I just saw out there! Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers, two men who's names have been synonymous with fair play throughout the entire existence of the AWA, stooping to such tactics to win the gold tonight! JP: First things first Mark! Rough 'N Ready, I fully intend to bill you for a new cell phone! [Petrow holds up his phone with the shattered LCD screen] JP: However [Petrow rips off his suit] you're off the hook for the Brioni! I'll add that on as an extra expense for the first time that the Bishop Boys hire me, which they WILL do eventually... if they EVER work here again that is! Oh, and blood doesn't come out of silk shirts either [wipes the blood off his chin with the cuff of his shirt] so I'll tack that on as well! And as for you Stegglet, and everybody else, I told you that this was a NO EXCUSES match! What does it matter that I set up a type of match that my clients have previously dominated, in matches against the War Pigs and these same Bishop Boys? What does it matter that I wanted all of this secrecy to mess with Cousin Bo's fragile mind? What does it matter who got involved in the match itself? Everything was legal, everyone played by the same rules! You fans cheered Rough 'N Ready when they used a chair to beat the War Pigs! You cheered them when they used a chair to beat the Bishop Boys! And tonight, fair and square, they took care of business yet again, but now they deserve your cheers even more, because they are FINALLY the AWA National Tag Team Champions! And *I*...have proven myself as well! Those who oppose Joe Petrow, end up like The Bishop Boys! Those who seek me out, end up like Rough 'N Ready! So who's next? Who has the guts to grab for the brass ring? Juan Vasquez? The Bombers? Cuban Assassin #6? It doesn't matter! With my brains, and whatever you bring to the table, I'll lead you over Stevie Scott, over Rough 'N Ready, to that new title, anything you want! [Petrow looks at his broken phone] JP: You'll have to wait until TOMORROW, but give me a call! Anything you need! I can, I WILL make it happen! [Petrow flashes that creepy smile one more time.] JP: Trust me! [Petrow walks away, leaving a quizzical Mark Stegglet behind.] MS: I don't know what to make of that guy. Let's go back to ringside to Gordon and Bucky. [We do indeed cut to ringside where we can see the remants of what just went down before the break. In the background, we can also see the double steel cage being assembled.] GM: Thanks, Mark... fans, we would like to apologize on behalf of the entire AWA for what just went down out here. That was not... [Gordon looks at Bucky who is fuming, shaking his head.] GM: Bucky, you okay? BW: I'll be fine, Gordo. It'll take more than that... that that... [Bucky winces, rubbing his reddening cheek.] BW: It'll take more than HIM to ruin this night for me. GM: I agree. And I have a feeling it will indeed be the last time we'll ever see those men inside an AWA building. But, fans... this night is not over. This night is not over yet... and in my opinion, the best is still to come. BW: And speaking of the best... the National Champ is standing by with final comments. Let's do this, Gordo. GM: You heard the man. Let's go back to Mark Stegglet who is standing by with the champ! [We cut back to the locker room area where Mark Stegglet is standing alongside Ben Waterson, dressed for success, and Stevie Scott, dressed to compete.] MS: We are just moments away from- [Waterson interrupts.] ATTSBW: Cut it, Stegglet. We're already running late on this show and WKIK doesn't want to waste airtime on your pathetic self. In fact, after what just went down out there... [Waterson does the "they're crazy" finger twirling at temple sign.] ATTSBW: I think that WKIK and the entire AWA is counting on the Southern Syndicate to save this night for everyone. And believe me, that faith is well-founded. Because the champ... is... here. And the Southern Syndicate is about to walk into a double cage - a massive steel hell - with five of the best wrestlers in the entire world. It's going to be wild. It's going to be violent. It's going to be bloody. And it's going to be the greatest night EVER for the Southern Syndicate. [Waterson sneers.] ATTSBW: Tell 'em, champ. [Calmly, confidently, the AWA National Champion steps up to the microphone.] HSS: Mark Stegglet, the time for talking is done. There's been a lot of big words said, a lot of threats made between the two teams over the course of the last several weeks. But all those words, as impressive and intimidating as they may sound, mean absolutely nothing if you can't back them up. So before the ten of us step into those two rings surrounded by that cold steel cage later tonight, I want everyone watching at home...everyone sitting out in the arena...and _especially_ the five walking dead men that'll be entering the cage opposite of the Southern Syndicate tonight...to ask themselves one simple question. Which team tonight has a history of backing up their words? [And some smirkage.] HSS: And which team has a history of falling flat on their faces? You see, Stegglet, when you get into that ring in the middle of war, your true character comes out. Your real motives emerge. One on side, you have a united front, a well-oiled machine of five men who are willing to sacrifice for the good of the team. On the other? You have five men all driven by rage, by anger, but ultimately...driven by their own agendas. That is the difference between winners and losers in War Games, Steggy. And the reason why the Southern Syndicate will get the best of Juan Vasquez and his merry band of losers yet again. [Scott walks off leaving his manager behind.] MS: A big night awaits the Southern Syndicate tonight in WarGames. [Stegglet looks at Waterson expectantly.] MS: Well? ATTSBW: What? MS: Say it. ATTSBW: Say what? MS: You know you want to. ATTSBW: Say it for me, Steggs. MS: Huh? ATTSBW: You know you want to. [Stegglet looks uneasy but then mans up.] MS: Consider. Yourselves. Warned. [Stegglet looks to Waterson for approval.] ATTSBW: Pathetic. [And Waterson walks off as we fade to another part of the building where Jason Dane is standing with five men. Kolya Sudakov is standing there looking mean and angry. Ron Houston sits off in the distance. His face glazed, as if he's not there. He methodically tapes black tape around his right wrist. Rolling and unrolling to get it just right. His adorn in a pair of black wrestling trunks, black knee pads, black boots, and a single black elbow pad on his left arm. His head doesn't rise, it stays low.. avoiding Broussard.. avoiding Sudakov. Marcus Broussard stands next to Juan Vasquez, arms crossed and deep in thought, although unable to not look at Ron Houston every now and again. The San Jose Shark is dressed in white trunks with a shark on the back in gold, white kneepads and wrist tape, and white boots as well with gold tassles. Standing next to Broussard and directly in front of Sudakov is Juan Vasquez. Juan is dressed in his usual tracksuit warm-ups. However, his track jacket is unzipped to reveal an AWA Combat Corner t-shirt underneath. He has his hands on his hips and he's staring up at the ceiling, either deep in thought, mentally preparing himself for the battle ahead or simply trying to avoid making any threatening glares at Raphael Rhodes. Finally, standing directly parallel through Vasquez, staring a hole through him, is Raphael Rhodes. Rhodes is dressed for a street fight, sporting a black tank top with the crest of the Manchester City Football Club across the front, jeans, and construction boots. His hair is freshly shaved into a mohawk standing about an inch high and dyed blue, and he has about three days' worth of stubble on his face. Jason Dane begins to introduce the team when suddenly, his mouth is covered by Rhodes' athletic tape-covered hand.] RR: There's somethin' that needs to be said before you say anythin', Dane. It's what everyone's been thinkin' about and it's what's clearly in the head of one other person in the room, and that's you. [Rhodes removes his hand from covering Dane's mouth and points right at Vasquez.] RR: You said it a few days ago, right? You don't think this team needs me. You don't trust me. You don't respect me. [Rhodes eyes Vasquez up and down, staring down his former tag team partner and eternal rival.] RR: The feelin' is pretty bleedin' mutual, mate. I hate you. I hate everythin' you stand for. I hate the fact that everyone cheered for you, and I hate that you got the National title around your waist. [Rhodes eyes over his partners.] RR: And the feelin' goes for all of you, too. It ain't lost on me that I'm the only one on this team that ain't been National champ. [Rhodes returns his glare to Vasquez, who's fists are clenched.] RR: But there's one thing I know about fightin'... and there's one thing I damn sure know about war. I ain't got to like you four tossers. I ain't even got to respect you. What's important is this... as much as I hate all of you combined, I hate the bleedin' Southern Syndicate more. This ain't about you and me, Juan. This ain't about what any of us had against each other in the past. This ain't about how much I want to punch your pearly whites down your throat if you keep lookin' at me like that. [Rhodes smirks at Vasquez, who is not relaxing his stance one bit.] RR: This is about the five men across the ring from us tonight, the five men that tried to retire you... [Rhodes points at Houston.] RR: ... that crippled your friend to try and make you stay home... [Rhodes points at Broussard.] RR: ... that stole your pride... [Rhodes points to Sudakov.] RR: ... made your life a living hell... [Rhodes points to Vasquez.] RR: ... or broke me brother's neck, tore apart me knee, humiliated me uncle, and tarnished me family's name. So if you don't want me in that cage, Vasquez... [Rhodes reaches off-screen, producing a lead pipe, and shoves it into the hands of Vasquez.] RR: ... then you better kill me now, because there ain't no way I'm not gettin' in there tonight to destroy those five men unless I'm in a bodybag. [Juan looks at the pipe for a second, before tossing it down, moving in close enough to be staring down at the shorter Rhodes.] JV: I never needed a damn weapon to put you down before and I sure as hell don't need one now. [Marcus and Houston make a move to separating the two, but without even breaking eye contact with Rhodes, Vasquez holds up a hand, motioning that they have nothing to worry about.] JV: It ain't about liking you, respecting you or how much you hate those bastards, Rhodes. We all know the deal. [He leans in just a bit closer.] JV: The fact remains...no one _trusts_ you. [The two just stare at each other menacingly for a few seconds, before Juan straightens up and backs off.] JV: And no matter what you say...that's a real _big_ problem. If you and your brother didn't get tossed out on your butt by the Syndicate like yesterday's garbage, you'd still be right there on the other side ready to take us all down. You're just a wild beast that can't be controlled. It's the same reason why our tag team didn't work, why Stevie Scott wanted to put you out for good, and why a single damn soul didn't come to save you when it all went down. 'Cause it's always about _you._ _Your_ revenge, _your_ hatred, _your_ ego...you...you..._YOU._ [By the time he says the final "you", Juan is inches away from Rhodes' face, once again setting off a tension-filled scene. However, he quickly backs off.] JV: But you're right, Rhodes. For the first time in your damn miserable existence, you're right. [He laughs in disbelief.] JV: Tonight ain't about any of that. [He shakes his head.] JV: It's about what those five bastards did to each and every one of us. It's about all the crap that we've been put through because of them. Everything they've taken, stolen, damaged and destroyed. Every single last one of us understands what tonight means. [Juan sighs.] JV: I hate you, Rhodes. I'll hate you today, tomorrow, and probably for the rest of my damn life. But when we step into War Games? We're in this _together._ We're gonna' fight together, bleed together...live and _die_ together inside that damn thing. [A pause. Juan makes his next words slow and deliberate, making sure Rhodes hears him loud and clear.] JV: Do we have an understanding? [Usually at this point, Juan would offer someone his hand, but he knows it's pointless with Raph. He just stares at Rhodes, waiting for any sign of acknowledgment. The two men glare at one another for a moment until Broussard comes out of his thinker's position, stepping in between the two men and pulling Dane toward him.] MB: Jason, if I may. [Dane fixes himself and holds the microphone to Broussard.] MB: To put the icing on the cake here, to really top it off, I'd like to add the following sentiment... ...I don't give a _damn_ why any of you are here. [Broussard turns around and glares at his teammates, and then turns back.] MB: It would be foolish to think that the five men assembled here have come together for the glory and greater good of the AWA. True, we are all fond of the AWA and are proud to call it our home... but that's not why we're here. It's not why I'm here. [Broussard speaks calmly and a bit quieter than usual, caught up in thought.] MB: I am here for selfish reasons. I am here because two young men who thrived under my tutelage were injured beyond repair, never to get their chance at attaining their goals. I'm here, yes, because the very place that allowed me to attain greatness has been under siege by the Southern Syndicate. And I'm here because a man who I consider a close friend is watching this broadcast from a hospital bed, instead of standing here tonight and fighting for what he helped build. Those are my reasons. I repeat. They are _my_ reasons. This man here, and this man here, and this man here... [Broussard points to Houston, Vasquez and Sudakov.] MB: ...they're here for their own reasons. They are here for their own peace of mind, to settle their own scores, and it's quite obvious that all of our reasons don't intersect. We are brought together for a single purpose, but we've come for different reasons. And let's just put down the facade and call a spade a spade. Raphael and Juan hate each other. I can't stand Ron Houston and I doubt I ever will. And I know he'd tell you the feelings are mutual. And Sudakov, well, I doubt he's ever found more than three people he can stand and none of them are in this room. There is a lot of hatred, and a lot of anger in this room, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Because while I may not be fond of Ron Houston, and Vasquez might not like Rhodes, and Kolya doesn't like _anyone_, there is a greater foe at hand. Tonight we unite to bring down the Southern Syndicate. Tonight we strike with vengeance and furious anger on the men who crippled my students and backjumped my friend. On the men who made Kolya Sudakov the patsy in a grand conspiracy to hi-jack the AWA National title. On the men who taunted, harassed and abused Ron Houston while he wasn't medically cleared to compete, because they knew he'd never be able to fight back. On the men who injured Simon Rhodes, humiliated Jeremy Rhodes and tossed Raphael Rhodes out on the street, because he had the temerity to claim what he rightfully won. Tonight we destroy the Southern Syndicate... [Broussard turns to look at Juan Vasquez.] MB: ...in retribution for the mental and physical anguish and turmoil they inflicted on one man all because he stood up and did what was right. The time is at hand to crack the foundation and bring the Syndicate crumbling down. It doesn't take a genius to see the divisions and dissension in the other locker room, Raphael Rhodes can back me up on that. There is a chasm in that locker room, a great build up of insecurity and paranoia, the type of thing that _must_ occur when you align yourself with the likes of Ben Waterson and Stevie Scott. The kind of men who prey on the insecurities of others, who lift themselves up on the backs of people who do the work for them. Again I say, Raphael Rhodes can back me up on that. [Broussard turns around and slaps Rhodes on the chest, nodding emphatically.] MB: For months, for months you've said, "Consider yourselves warned." You've threatened and intimidated an entire company into bending to your whim. You've pushed and pushed and pushed the line, not thinking of the consequences. Not seeing the forest through the trees. Now see this. [The camera pans back, getting a group shot of all five men, awaiting combat.] MB: These are the men who will kill the Southern Syndicate. These are the men _you_ forced to band together, despite our differences, to put an end to your wretched alliance. I don't care why they're here, I just care that they are. Tomorrow we'll go back to hating each other. Tomorrow we'll go back to fighting and bickering. But tonight we band together. As one. To put an end to the dark cloud hanging over the AWA. To get our own vengeance for the humiliation, embarrassment and degradation endured over the past year. Rome was not built in a day, as you well know, but it was destroyed in a single night. Payback is a bitch, Ben Waterson. Now come take your whuppin' like a man. [Ron shuts his big Athens blues. Absorbing every moment of the retribution that's to follow.] RH: It's time, gents. [Exhale, eyes open.] Let's finish this. [And as all five men walk out of the camera shot, we fade back to ringside. The lights in the arena are out save for spotlights panning back and forth over the erected double cage hell that has been build over and around the two rings. The voice of Michael Morris is heard through the darkness.] MM: Ladies and gentlemen... LET THE WARGAMES BEGIN! [DEAFENING ROAR!] MM: The rules are as follows. Two teams of five will come down to the ring in moments. One man from each team will enter the match and will do battle for five minutes. At the end of five minutes, we will have a coin toss. The winning team will send their next man in for a two-on-one advantage. After two minutes, the other team will send a man in. The pattern will continue until all ten men are inside the ring. The match CAN NOT end until all ten men are inside the structure. Once all ten men are in, THE MATCH BEYOND BEGINS! And once that happens, it can only end in SUBMISSION OR SURRENDER! [ANOTHER HUGE ROAR!] MM: Ladies and gentlemen, at ringside... the special guest referee for this matchup - he is the AWA's Director of Officiating... Max "Moldy" Meekly! [An elderly-looking Meekly stands up at ringside, waving to the cheering crowd.] MM: And now... the participants... [Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Gimme Back My Bullets" starts up to a huge explosion of jeers from the AWA faithful.] MM: First... they are accompanied to the ring by Louis Matsui and Ben Waterson... They are the team of... "HOTSHOT" STEVIE SCOTT! "LADYKILLER" CALISTO DUFRESNE! "SUBZERO" ADRIAN FREEMAN! MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA! And BRIAN VON BRAUN! THE SOUUUUUTHERRRRRN SYNNNNNNDICATE! [The music continues as the seven men walk out through the entryway. Louis Matsui and Ben Waterson lead the way, sharing a handshake before MAMMOTH Mizusawa comes out next. The giant follows Matsui close behind. Waterson stays back, giving some final words to each of his men as they walk past him on their way down the aisle.] GM: Here they come, Bucky. BW: Arguably the greatest collection of talent ever to step foot into a ring together, Gordo. The National Champion, perhaps the best tag team in wrestling, a man who has been a champion all over the world, and a friggin' giant. Put that together with two of the smartest men I've ever met and if you're a betting man, toss a few down on the Syndicate, daddy. [As the group reaches the ring, Von Braun and Freeman hop off the ramp down to the floor. Mizusawa grabs the side of the cage, roaring as he shakes it violently back and forth. A smirking Stevie Scott huddles up with Dufresne and Waterson before they join their partners-in-crime out on the floor.] GM: Now it's time to see their opponents... [The rock and roll of Lynyrd Skynyrd fades out to be replaced by the sweet, sweet sounds of Ennio Morricone. The song? "Ecstacy Of Gold"] GM: I know that music, Bucky. BW: So do I, Gordo. GM: Fans, that's the music of Todd Michaelson! These five men are coming together for more than one reason here tonight - we heard that moments ago - but do not doubt that one of those reasons is to avenge what happened to Todd Michaelson just over a week ago! Todd Michaelson is sitting at home in a hospital bed watching this instead of stepping into the ring with his partners... and they're out for payback. [As the music picks up, the curtain parts and Ron Houston steps into view - followed shortly after by Juan Vasquez and Marcus Broussard. Kolya Sudakov trails a few steps behind them and Raphael Rhodes... ...well, let's just say if he was any further away from his teammates, the curtain might close again before he gets there.] GM: You talked about the other team being arguably the greatest assemblage of talent in wrestling history - look at these five men. Four former National Champions and the man who won this year's Memorial Day Rumble and could very well be a National Champion in his own right if it hadn't been for the Southern Syndicate's brutal assault on him before the 4th of July, Bucky. BW: They're good, Gordo, but are they good enough? Are they on the same page? Houston hits Broussard and Sudakov. Vasquez hates Rhodes and vice versa. This team could blow up at any moment. GM: Well, no one really felt the Southern Syndicate was on the same page until they assaulted Todd Michaelson, did they? We saw Von Braun straying from the team. Mizusawa had to be begged to join. Let's face it, Bucky - neither of these are teams in the traditional sense of the world. Either one of them could fall apart. [The five fan favorites reach ringside, climbing down the ringsteps to stand down at ringside. Director of Officiating Max Meekly positions himself between the two teams alongside a small security force to try to keep the two sides at bay.] GM: We are just about ready, fans... and in just mere moments, our Main Event will be under way here in New Orleans. And I suppose the only question left to ask is - who will be entering the cage first for both teams? BW: It's a good question - there are a lot of things to consider in that. First, you think about stamina. We've got a guy like Marcus Broussard in there who was in the only sixty minute draw in AWA history. Vasquez has had his share of lengthy matches too. On the other side, a guy like Adrian Freeman might be a good pick or maybe even the champ himself. GM: What about experience? BW: Three men on the Southern Syndicate squad were in this match two years ago - they know the double cage... they know WarGames. On the other side? Only Kolya Sudakov has been a part of WarGames but you can't forget that both Vasquez and Rhodes were in the only one-on-one steel cage match in AWA history. So, we've got a bit of a stalemate there, I suppose. [After a huddle and a few nods all around, Brian Von Braun emerges from his team's gathering, slowly climbing the ringsteps to step into the massive double cage. He walks out to the center of the first ring, looking around a bit in awe as he stares at the deadly battleground.] GM: Even Von Braun seems overwhelmed, Bucky. BW: Unless you've been down here next to this thing, I don't know if you can truly appreciate the size of it. And I can just imagine what being INSIDE it feels like. Especially getting in there first. Von Braun just agreed to go through hell for over twenty minutes. [The Rocket City Badboy approaches the ropes, tugging at them to stay loose as all eyes turn to the other group, waiting to see who plans to start it out for the fan favorites.] GM: Von Braun's warming up in there, getting ready for a fight and- [HUGE ROAR!] GM: Look at this! [Flashbulbs fire like crazy as someone breaks away from the team, slowly climbing the ringsteps. He pauses at the doorway, his hand grabbing the steel mesh for a moment... ...and then steps into the structure, all eyes upon him. It's the team captain. Juan Vasquez has entered WarGames. And with a "CLANG!", the door slams shut behind him as the referee locks the door and orders two of the security team members to stand in front of it, blocking anyone from getting to the door.] GM: Juan Vasquez is in and- "DING! DING! DING!" GM: HERE WE GO! [The crowd roars as Vasquez leans back, arms stretched back to feel the steel cage as he sidesteps around, circling Brian Von Braun who is sidestepping as well.] GM: These two men will be locked inside this cage together for five minutes before another man can enter. And remember, this match can not end at this point. Even if someone forces a submission right here, it can not end the match. This match does not end until all ten men have entered. [The clock in the corner of the screen slowly ticks down from five as the two men continue to circle... ...and Von Braun abruptly ducks down, moving into the second ring. The crowd jeers as Juan Vasquez glares across the massive battlefield at him.] GM: Von Braun moves to the second cage - perhaps a little bit of mind games here, Bucky. BW: Could be. Von Braun's a master of that sort of thing. [An annoyed Vasquez steps through the ropes, climbing into the second ring. He slowly advances, trying to cut off the ring for Brian Von Braun, preventing an escape... ...and then sprints forward, fists a-flyin'!] GM: HERE WE GO! HERE WE GO! [The crowd is roaring as Von Braun tries to battle back, throwing haymakers of his own but just getting rocked by Vasquez whose fists are flying like a blur of action, battering Von Braun back into the corner.] GM: LOOK AT JUAN!! [The fists continue to fly, landing again and again and again, slowly chopping Von Braun off his feet, causing him to slump down in the buckles at first before falling all the way down to his rear in the corner... ...but even then, Juan Vasquez continues to pound him with punches!] GM: HE'S BEATING HIM DOWN TO THE MAT!! [The crowd is absolutely ROARING as Vasquez stands over the downed Von Braun, rearing back and throwing his fist down into the skull over and over and over. Vasquez suddenly switches his strategy, grabbing the top rope with both hands, and LUNGING forward with a knee to the face of Von Braun!] GM: Ohh! KNEE TO THE FACE!! [Vasquez backs off, measuring him again... ...and again lunges forward, driving his knee into the face!] GM: AGAIN TO THE FACE!! [Gripping the rope with white knuckles, Vasquez throws knee after knee after knee into the face before suddenly spinning away, letting loose a hellacious roar as he marches across the ring to the other side... ...and sprints across, DRIVING his knee squarely into the face of Brian Von Braun!] "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" GM: GOOD GRIEF, BUCKY!! BW: Look at Waterson... heck, listen to him! He's absolutely screaming at Von Braun... he's begging the Rocket City Badboy to get up off the mat and fight! We're not more than- are we even a minute into this thing yet and Juan Vasquez is just beating Von Braun to a pulp inside this massive hellacious strcuture! GM: The clock says we've got just over three minutes to go, Bucky. Just over three minutes until we get that coin toss and another man joins this action in here. [Vasquez pulls a barely-moving Von Braun off the canvas by the hair, dragging him to his feet.] GM: Of course, we can't forget the role that Brian Von Braun played in that National Title belt going off of Vasquez and back to Stevie Scott back in April. BW: You KNOW that Vasquez hasn't forgotten it. GM: Absolutely not. [With a handful of Von Braun's hair, Vasquez points to the cage wall to the deafening roar of the crowd... ...and rushes that side of the ring, HURLING Von Braun facefirst into the steel cage!] GM: OHHHH! FACEFIRST TO THAT STEEL MESH! [The Rocket City Badboy stumbles backwards, dropping down to a knee just a couple feet from Vasquez. With the crowd roaring, Vasquez looks around the building... ...and points to the cage wall to his left. The crowd predictably ROARS in response!] GM: Here we go again! [Vasquez rushes towards that side of the cage, HURLING Von Braun facefirst into the steel mesh again!] GM: Good grief, Bucky! [Von Braun drops down to a knee again, trying to slump down to the mat but Vasquez stops him, grabbing two hands full of hair to pull Von Braun to his knees. Vasquez shakes his head at Von Braun, the crowd cheering as he hauls the Badboy to his feet yet again... ...and points to the cage wall to his right!] GM: Are you kidding me? BW: Vasquez is just toying with Brian Von Braun! He's throwing him around like a sack of potatoes, daddy! [Still holding the hair, Vasquez rushes the side of the cage he gestured to... ...and DRIVES Von Braun's face into the cage yet again!] GM: THREE TIMES!! THREE TIMES HE SENDS VON BRAUN INTO THE STEEL! [And this time, Von Braun simply falls back, landing flat on his back in the middle of the ring, revealing a badly split open forehead to the crowd who roar like madmen!] GM: HE'S BUSTED OPEN, BUCKY! BW: Already?! And these savages here in New Orleans are like those heathens in the Colosseum back in the day. They want to see blood, they want to see carnage, they want to see bodies! Well, enjoy it, you maggots, because when the Southern Syndicate turns the tables, Vasquez will be tasting his own blood for a month! GM: Juan Vasquez has split him wide open and- oh my, he's pulling him up again, Bucky! BW: How much time is left? Can we get someone else in there? GM: Be careful what you root for there, Bucky. It could just as easily be Ron Houston or Raphael Rhodes in there as it could be someone to help Von Braun. BW: You're right but- oh, come on! [The crowd EXPLODES as Vasquez slowly turns his head, pointing to the opposite cage wall all the way back in the first ring.] GM: He's gonna do it! He's gonna put him into that wall too! [Vasquez slings Von Braun over both sets of ropes, putting him down on the mat. A wild-eyed Vasquez steps through the ropes between the rings and then steps into the first ring. He nods his head as he approaches the downed Von Braun who is shaking his head, begging for mercy as he scoots backwards... ...but getting none as Vasquez grabs him by his rapidly-becoming-blood-soaked hair, pulling him off the mat.] GM: He's got him up again! He's pointing to that final cage wall and- [The crowd buzzes as Vasquez rushes forward, bloody hair in hand... ...and SLAMS Von Braun facefirst into the final cage wall! Von Braun rebounds back like he's been shot, spinning around and falling in a heap facefirst on the mat!] GM: AGAIN TO THE STEEL! [Vasquez bounces back, throwing his arms down and letting loose a primal scream to the deafening cheers of the crowd.] BW: We've got just over forty seconds to go! GM: The Director of Officiating has called a member of each team over to him for the cointoss now... [Vasquez uses his boot to flip Von Braun onto his back, a steady stream of blood pouring out of his forehead now. The former National Champion drops down to a knee, grabbing a handful of hair. He slams a fist into the cut forehead... and then a second... We cut to the ringside camera where Marcus Broussard and Stevie Scott are standing. Meekly can be heard discussing which side is heads and which side is tails.] GM: Each side of the coin has been engraved with the names of the participants. BW: A special coin that I'm sure can be bought at AWAShop.com. GM: It certainly can. [The coin goes sailing into the air, dropping down to the thinly-padded floor... ...and suddenly, Team Southern Syndicate bursts into cheers!] GM: Well, I guess we know who won the toss, Bucky. BW: And about time! Brian Von Braun can't get help soon enough! "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [As the buzzer sounds, the crowd jeers as one-half of the former National Tag Team Champions, Adrian Freeman, rushes up the steps, pulling the now-unlocked door open and stepping into the ring. But Juan Vasquez is ready for him, rocking Freeman with a right hand to the jaw as he comes in. A second one sends Freeman stumbling back and a third knocks him into the corner from which he just came.] GM: Vasquez is in a two-on-one! He needs to keep one of these men down at all times! He needs to keep himself isolated into a one-on-one, Bucky. BW: That's what he NEEDS to do but it's easier said than done. GM: Juan Vasquez has got two minutes to stay out of a doubleteam before a member of his team can join him inside this crazy metal prison, Bucky. [Vasquez tries to stay on the attack, throwing punches at Freeman's skull in the corner. He grabs Freeman by the hair, dragging him out to the ropes where he grips the wrist, firing him across.] GM: Whip across the cage... [Vasquez, showing a little weariness from five minutes of go-go-go offense, drops his head early for a backdrop... ...and EATS a boot to the face from Freeman!] GM: Ohh! The Australian pulls up and caught him! [Vasquez' head snaps back from the impact... ...and Freeman HURLS himself into a left-armed lariat that takes Vasquez down as Freeman drops down to his knees!] GM: Nice clothesline by Freeman! BW: That's right, daddy! Vasquez better have enjoyed his moment there cause he ain't gettin' another one. This is the Southern Syndicate's night! GM: And look at Freeman, stomping and kicking Vasquez on the canvas. [Freeman reaches down, hauling Vasquez off the mat by the hair. He quickly hooks a half nelson on Vasquez, lifting him into the air, and bringing him down across a bent knee!] GM: Ohh! A half nelson backbreaker! BW: Get him, daddy! Get that punk! GM: I guess we're not going to even pretend to be impartial in this one, huh? BW: Not a chance. I want Vasquez to bleed! [Freeman delivers a pair of hard kicks to the kidneys of Vasquez, gesturing for a bloodied Brian Von Braun who is finally up to his feet to come assist him. Outside the cage, we see Ron Houston pacing back and forth, glaring up into the ring at his rival who now joins Freeman in putting the boots to Juan Vasquez.] GM: And there's the two-on-one we talked about, Bucky. BW: Luckily for Vasquez, Von Braun was too beaten up, too bloodied to get up and help Freeman for a big chunk of time there. We're creeping up quickly on that buzzer again when the sides will be evened. GM: But they've still got some time to do some damage. [From outside the ring, Ben Waterson seems to echo that statement by screaming into the cage to his men. Freeman grabs the legs of Vasquez, falling back in a catapult... ...right into a Von Braun superkick under the chin!] "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" GM: HE DRILLED HIM! DRILLED HIM WITH THE SUPERKICK!! [Vasquez crumples back down to the canvas from the impact of the savate kick to the jaw, making him easy pickings for both Freeman and Von Braun to continue the stomping. Freeman drops to the mat, wrapping his hands around the throat of Vasquez as Von Braun kicks him in the ribs.] GM: Freeman's choking him - trying to take some of the wind out of his sails. He knows that Vasquez has to last a pretty long while in there tonight and he's going to make him as ineffective as possible with a chokehold like that. BW: No wind, no air equals no legs, daddy. GM: Wait a second - here comes the countdown to the next man, Bucky! "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [The crowd ROARS to life as Marcus Broussard quickly scales the ringsteps, climbing into the fray. The San Jose Shark rushes towards Freeman, throwing himself into a full body tackle that knocks Freeman off of Vasquez.] GM: Ohh! He clears out Freeman and- [But he forgets about Von Braun who dives atop Broussard with a double axehandle to the back of the skull. Von Braun flips Broussard to his back, grabbing the hair to smash home a right hand. A second one lands as well before Freeman recovers enough to go for the doubleteam.] GM: They've got Broussard up - double whip here... [A running double clothesline knocks Marcus Broussard off his feet, putting him back down on the canvas.] GM: Down goes the man who was the first person to wear the AWA National Title... wait a second... where is Von Braun going? [The crowd jeers as Von Braun approaches the side of the cage, talking to his teammates. Suddenly, Ben Waterson produces Von Braun's cane, shoving it into the ring through the cage.] GM: Oh, come on! BW: No rules, daddy! GM: They've got a solid steel cage to use and they STILL need weapons! BW: I didn't hear you cryin' two years ago when Tin Can Rust used a damn jagged piece of wood to try and pop Stevie's eye out of his head! [Von Braun waves at Freeman to pull Broussard up which the Australian quickly does, holding Marcus' arms back to expose his midsection... ...which the Rocket City Badboy takes advantage of, letting loose a full swing to drive the cane into the ribcage!] GM: Good grief! Come on, Bucky! This isn't right and you know it! BW: I know no such thing, Gordo. Everything's legal in this one and if BVB wants to wear this punk out with a wooden cane, more power to him! GM: This punk? You used to be friends with Broussard! BW: He USED to be someone worth being friends with. [Von Braun rears back again, delivering another shot to the ribs. Freeman releases the hold, shoving Broussard down to all fours on the mat.] GM: And listen to these fans letting the Southern Syndicate have it, Bucky! These guys are arrogant AND vicious - a dangerous combination for sure. [With Broussard down on the mat, Von Braun turns his attention back to Juan Vasquez for a moment... ...and BASHES him over the back of the skull with the cane, flattening him out! A sneering Von Braun approaches the side of the cage, running the head of the cane along the mesh to the annoyance of the fan favorites who let loose a stream of angry words in his direction. He smirks, wiping the blood off his brow and flicking it towards them as Houston slams the palm of his hand into the cage, screaming at Von Braun.] GM: You can see just how badly Ron Houston wants inside this cage! He wants in there in the worst possible way to take his best shot at Brian Von Braun, Bucky. BW: Those two have been tangled up for months but tonight, we might finally see them UNTANGLE it. [Von Braun approaches the downed Vasquez, turning and pointing his cane at Ron Houston.] "This one's for you, Ronnie!" [And JABS the edge of the cane down into the throat of Vasquez, causing the former National Champion to roll around on the mat, gasping for air.] GM: Oh, come on! BW: That's what I love about WarGames, daddy! EVERYTHING is legal! GM: And we're getting close to getting another man into this cage. But unfortunately for Broussard and Vasquez, it's going to be a member from the other team! They could use some help of their own right now. "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [And the crowd immediately begins to buzz in horror as MAMMOTH Mizusawa slowly moves to the ringsteps, ordering the door to be opened as he scales the stairs. He ducks down, trying not to hit his head as he steps into the ring to join his partners.] GM: The giant is in! BW: It's over. It's all over now. The giant's going to end this now! GM: He can't! He has to wait until all ten men are inside the ring and- BW: Then someone's leaving here on a stretcher! [Having not forgotten the bad blood between them, Mizusawa points to the downed Vasquez, grabbing him by the hair to hurl him to his feet... ...and just as easily hoists him up into a gorilla press!] GM: Wait a second here! He's got Vasquez up! He's got him up in the air and- [With a slight running start, he FIRES Vasquez over the ropes, sending him crashing down into a heap in the second cage.] GM: OHHH! He hit the mat hard, Bucky! [Von Braun starts to move into the second cage... ...but the giant steps in front of him, glaring down at the Rocket City Badboy.] GM: Uh oh - look out here, fans. There's no secret that neither of these two men like one another and most likely neither of them wanted to be inside this double cage tonight with the other. [The giant shakes his head, pointing at Vasquez, and slapping his own chest.] GM: I think the big man's trying to tell Von Braun that Vasquez is his and- [Von Braun jabs the business end of the cane into Mizusawa's chest, then stabs the air with it as he points to Vasquez. From outside the ring, both Matsui and Waterson can be heard screaming to their respective men... ...and after a moment, the giant simply walks away, stepping over the ropes into the second ring and leaving a fuming Von Braun behind. He spins around, screaming at Freeman to pick up Broussard.] GM: Man, Von Braun is hot under the collar and- [An angry Von Braun rushes forward before Freeman even has a full grip, taking a swing... ...and crowning the Australian over the skull as Broussard ducks down!] GM: OHHH! VON BRAUN HIT FREEMAN!!! [A stunned Von Braun takes another wild swing in Broussard's direction, coming up empty which allows Broussard to hook him in a side waistlock, hoisting the bloodied BVB into the air... ...and dumping him down on the back of his head and neck!] GM: Good grief! All impact on that one! [The camera zooms in on Adrian Freeman, a small trickle of blood coming down his forehead from the missed can shot. Grabbing the discarded cane, Broussard winds up and slams it down across the ribs of Von Braun. He does the same across the back of Freeman as the camera cuts to the other ring... ...where we find Mizusawa pushing Vasquez back into a corner, leaning all his weight on him before whipping him from corner to corner.] GM: Crosscorner whip... here comes the giant! [The big man rushes from pillar to post, looking for the big avalanche... ...but Vasquez dives out of the way, causing Mizusawa to splash the turnbuckles!] GM: HE MISSED! THE GIANT MISSED!! [And Vasquez seizes the moment to scale the ropes, stopping on the middle buckle with his fist held high...] "ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEV- [But the giant cuts off the assault, reaching up and throwing Vasquez down off his perch... ...and immediately barrels him over with a running lariat!] GM: OHHH! DOWN GOES VASQUEZ!! "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" GM: Who's it gonna be now? [The crowd ERUPTS!] GM: HOUSTON! RON HOUSTON'S COMING IN!! [The East Coast Terror hit the ring with a flurry, pulling up a bleeding Freeman and throwing him to the nearest set of buckles where he throws fist after fist to the skull. Grabbing the arm, he flings Freeman across the ring to the opposite corner... ...and FLOORS him with a big boot to the jaw!] GM: BIG BOOT! BIG BOOT!! [Turning the other way, he approaches the corner where Broussard has pulled Von Braun. Shoving past Broussard, Houston grabs Von Braun around the head and neck... ...and HURLS him out of the corner and down to the mat with a biel!] GM: OHHH! BIG THROW BY HOUSTON!! [The wild-eyed Athens, Georgia Madman rushes across the ring, pulling Von Braun back to his feet. Marcus Broussard, hands on hips, looks at Houston from across the ring and shakes his head in disbelief.] BW: What's Broussard's problem now? GM: Ron Houston just shoved him out of the way. You miss that? BW: Nah, just don't care. But it doesn't surprise me. Way back in the day, Marcus used to tell me that he wanted nothing more - well, than the National Title - but besides that, he wanted nothing more than to put Ron Houston out of wrestling for good. That kind of hatred don't just go away, Gordo. He may be teaming with the man tonight but he ain't happy about it, I assure you. [Waving off Houston, Broussard steps into the other ring where Mizusawa has pulled Vasquez back to his feet, flinging him into the corner. Broussard promptly hops up on the midbuckle, leaping off with a double axehandle smash across the wide back of Mizusawa... ...who simply turns around and wraps a beefy paw around the San Jose Shark's throat!] GM: HE'S GOT HIM! MIZUSAWA'S GOT HIM!! [The crowd roars as Ron Houston uncorks a few right hands on Von Braun, knocking him down to a knee in the corner before stepping through the ropes... ...and staring the giant dead in the eyes. Mizusawa suddenly shoves Broussard aside, throwing him down to the canvas as he points across the ring at Ron Houston.] GM: Oh yeah! This oughta be good! [The giant lumbers forward as Houston does the same, the two behemoths coming toe-to-toe in the center of the ring. They stare one another down for a brief moment before Houston rears back and fires!] GM: Big right hand by Houston! [He throws another one!] GM: And a second right hand by the East Coast Terror! [The giant is absorbing the blows with little reaction and simply reaches forward, grabbing Houston by the throat again... ...which opens a window for Broussard to hit the ropes behind the giant, bouncing off to throw a shoulderblock to the back of the knee!] GM: Ohh! He clipped the giant! [The chopblock knocks Mizusawa down to a knee where Houston grabs him by the back of the head and tees off, throwing right hand after right hand to the skull of the giant. With the giant down to a knee, Houston hits the ropes behind him, rebounding off...] GM: BIG BOO- [The crowd ROARS in shock as Mizusawa catches the big boot aimed at his skull up on his shoulder... ...and stands straight up, powering Houston up into the air, and DRIVING him down with a thunderous powerbomb!] GM: POWERBOMB!! THE GIANT POWERBOMBS HOUSTON!! [Broussard tries to intervene once more, throwing hooking right hands to the ribs from behind the giant... ...but a well-placed back elbow knocks him back down to the mat as the countdown starts anew.] "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [The crowd ERUPTS in jeers as the AWA National Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott comes scampering up the ringsteps, climbing into the battleground. He pauses just inside the entrance, looking around for a first target.] GM: The champ is in! [The Hotshot promptly moves to rally his troops, getting both Freeman and Von Braun back up and ready for a fight as he looks across to the other cage where Mizusawa is standing tall.] "Gimme Vasquez, big man!" [The giant curtly nods to the Hotshot, dragging Vasquez up to his feet and hurling him back into the other ring where all three men jump on him like a pack of rabid dogs.] GM: A three-on-one! We've got three members of the Southern Syndicate battering Juan Vasquez! [Freeman drops to a knee, wrapping his hands around the throat of Vasquez as Scott and Von Braun continue to stomp and kick him. Von Braun shouts, "GET HIM UP!" as he retrieves his cane off the mat. Freeman and Scott pull him up, each holding an arm out as Von Braun measures him... ...and takes a full force swing, splintering the cane over Vasquez' skull!] GM: OHHHHHHHHHH! BW: He broke the cane! He broke the cane, Gordo! GM: They broke a wooden cane over the skull of Juan Vasquez! [Snatching the splintered cane away from Von Braun, Scott drags Vasquez to a seated position, jabbing the splintered wood into the forehead, tearing open the skin!] GM: AHHHH! BW: Payback is hell, Gordo! GM: Payback?! Juan Vasquez didn't do this to him two years ago! BW: It might as well have been! GM: He's digging that splinted wood into the forehead of Vasquez, ripping and tearing his skin apart! [The crowd is roaring, jeering like crazy as the National Champion splits Vasquez' forehead open, a stream of blood now pouring down his face. Scott drops the cane for a moment, battering the cut with his bare knuckles as a bloodied Freeman and Von Braun look on, landing an occasional kick or stomp to the body.] GM: This is getting bad for Juan Vasquez. A three on one with Stevie Scott leading the way and... [Scott gets to his feet, spiking the splintered cane on the canvas. He shouts at Freeman "Get him up!" which the Australian happily does, holding the arms as Stevie backs off... ...and snaps off a picture perfect Heatseeker, drilling Vasquez under the chin!] GM: GOOD GRIEF!! BW: Vasquez and his merry men are really gettin' it handed to 'em now, daddy! [The camera cuts to the second cage where Mizusawa has pulled Marcus Broussard to his feet, pushing him back to the corner. With a mighty overhand chop, Mizusawa leaves a red handprint on the chest of the San Jose Shark, knocking him down to a knee... ...where the giant grabs him by the throat with both hands!] GM: Look out! Look out here now! [The giant violently pulls Broussard off the mat, hoisting him up high into the air... ...where a desperate San Jose Shark throws his knee into the giant's face once, twice, three times before dropping back down to the mat... ...all the way down in fact, dropping to his knees where he DRIVES his arm up into the groin of the giant!] GM: LOW BLOW!! LOW BLOW ON THE GIANT!! BW: And that's shades of Marcus Broussard of old, daddy! That's the kind of move that made the San Jose Shark the first man to ever carry around the National Title belt! [With the giant down on his knees, Broussard backs away... ...and delivers a THUNDEROUS kick to the side of the head!] GM: OHHHH! "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [The crowd bursts into cheers once more as the Russian War Machine, Kolya Sudakov, walks up the ringsteps, flinging open the cage door and stepping into the battle.] GM: KOLYA IS IN!!! [The former National Champion strides into the ring, glaring at Freeman, Von Braun, and Scott - all who freeze in their tracks as they spot him. Sudakov doesn't budge an inch, staring straight at them...] GM: He said he'd do his talking inside the cage! He said he'd- [The crowd EXPLODES as Sudakov rushes forward, flooring the bloodied Brian Von Braun with a Russian Sickle!] GM: SICKLE! SICKLE! SICKLE!! [Turning around, Sudakov rushes towards Freeman, connecting with the same running clothesline that knocks the Australian flat, blood still streaming down his head. The Russian War Machine suddenly spins around, arm at the ready... ...only to find Stevie Scott fleeing into the other ring, running right into a right hand from Marcus Broussard that knocks him flat!] GM: The champ gets floored by the San Jose Shark! [Broussard yanks Scott off the mat, blasting him with a European uppercut that snaps the Hotshot back into the corner. The camera cuts back to the first ring where the Russian War Machine pulls Adrian Freeman off the mat, shoving him into the nearest set of buckles. He holds the top rope, snapping off kicks to the body.] GM: We've got five men in the second cage! Three in the first! And we still don't have Calisto Dufresne nor Raphael Rhodes inside this ring, Bucky! BW: And you've gotta give Ben Waterson credit! He knew that Dufresne was beaten up during that match with Tin Can Rust and he knew he needed to hold him out 'til the end! [Holding the hair of Stevie Scott, Broussard drags his head along the steel mesh!] GM: AHHHHHH! Broussard's trying to rip the head of the Hotshot wide open! [The giant staggers up to his feet, moving slowly as Louis Matsui shouts orders from the floor. Nodding his head, Mizusawa dips down into the front of his trunks... ...and as the San Jose Shark turns around, the giant HURLS a handful of powder into his face!] GM: POWDER TO THE EYES!! [The Shark stumbles forward... ...and nearly has his head removed from his shoulders from a standing lariat by the giant!] GM: MIZUSAWA PUTS HIM DOWN AS WELL!! BW: We've got bodies all over the place in the second cage and- GM: What in the world is Scott doing? He's- he's directing traffic! [The National Champion does exactly that, pointing the angry giant in the direction of the recovering Juan Vasquez. Scott delivers a few kicks of his own in the corner, holding Juan in place with a choke... ...and then dives out of the way as a rampaging Mizusawa AVALANCHES Vasquez in the corner!] GM: Scott's using the giant as his own personal weapon of mass destruction! [With Vasquez stunned in the corner, Scott gestures wildly to Ron Houston who is starting to regain his feet. The giant pulls him the rest of the way up, pushing him back to the corner. He delivers a hard standing clothesline against the buckles, flinging him out towards the Hotshot... ...who UNCORKS a Heatseeker on the jaw of the East Coast Terror!] GM: My god, what a superkick! He hit it again! BW: I can't believe it, Gordo! GM: What's that? BW: Look at the Hotshot and the giant! They look like a well-oiled machine out there! Scott's directing traffic and Mizusawa's doing the grunt work! It's an awesome sight to see, daddy! [Scott drops down to a knee over Houston, pulling him up by the hair.] "YOU'RE NOTHING, HOUSTON!! NOTHING! WELCOME BACK, BITCH!" [Scott shoves Houston's head down to the mat, popping back to his feet and moving into a slow turn to taunt the crowd.] GM: Fans, we apologize for the language there but- [DEAFENING ROAR!] GM: VASQUEZ! VASQUEZ TACKLES SCOTT!! [The pain-ravaged and bleeding Vasquez takes the mount, throwing right hands to the skull of the downed National Champion... ...which allows Mizusawa to approach from behind, grabbing Vasquez' head between his massive paws and squeezing!] GM: HE'S CRUSHING VASQUEZ' SKULL!! [An irate Scott scampers to his feet, shouting for Mizusawa to send Vasquez to him. A mighty shove leads to a boot to the gut as Stevie steps forward into a standing headscissors...] GM: Piledriver! He's going for the piledriver in the middle of WarGames! "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [The door opens once more as Calisto Dufresne races into the fray. He rushes up behind the assaulting Sudakov, burying a knee into the back. He spins the Russian around, hooking the front facelock as a dazed Freeman ducks underneath the Russian, hoisting him up off the mat...] GM: The Russian's up as well! [The shot cuts to a split screen, showing Juan Vasquez backdropping his way out of the piledriver setup just as Sudakov throws some knees into the face of Freeman, wriggling free of Dufresne's grasp!] GM: They're both out! [Sudakov throws a high roundhouse kick that Freeman ducks, hooking him in a side waistlock on the way around. He hoists Sudakov into the air, allowing Dufresne to hook a reverse neckbreaker... ...and together, they hit the mat in a doubleteam move!] GM: Ohh! Nice execution by the former tag team champions! BW: And I'd argue they should STILL be the National Tag Team Champions. They were robbed by those- never mind. GM: Yes, let's not discuss them. [With Sudakov down, Von Braun reaches under the ropes, hauling Ron Houston under the ropes by the foot into the second cage. He points to the downed Houston, waving over the former tag champs.] GM: We've got a five-on-four - and look at Raphael Rhodes waiting to get in there! [The Rumble winner and former Southern Syndicate member paces back and forth, eyeing his former partners in both cages with fury in his eyes. He keeps looking up at the countdown clock inside the arena, trying to will it to speed up as Von Braun leaps off the middle rope, planting a fistdrop between the eyes of the downed Houston.] GM: Did Freeman just- he told Von Braun to grab the arm! BW: They're gonna put Houston back on the shelf! GM: Von Braun stretches out the arm... what in the- [The crowd jeers as Dufresne leaps off the middle rope, dropping a knee down across the stretched-out bicep!] GM: OHHH! KNEEDROP ON THE ARM!!! [The jeers grow louder as Freeman continues to direct traffic in the first cage, stomping the arm as he shouts at Von Braun to "drop an elbow!"] GM: Elbowdrop on the arm by Von Braun - and another! And another! [Dufresne punctuates the attack with a leaping stomp on the bicep, leaving Houston cradling his arm down on the mat. And as a smirking Freeman turns around... ...he gets floored with a LEAPING SHOULDERBLOCK from Sudakov!] GM: OHHHHH! SUDAKOV WIPES OUT FREEMAN!! [Von Braun and Dufresne rush the Russian, battering him with punches and kicks, trying to keep him down on the mat.] GM: Fans, we are mere seconds away now! Merely seconds away from the final man entering the ring and The Match Beyond beginning! Once Raphael Rhodes steps into this double cage, the first team to force a submission or surrender will win this war! BW: The time is ticking down now. [A camera cut to the second cage shows a bloody Juan Vasquez battering MAMMOTH Mizusawa in the corner with chops and forearms. He'll throw a big chop across the chest and a forearm back the other direction... then another chop... then another forearm, each with more impact than the previous, trying to chop the giant down. On the other side of the ring, Marcus Broussard, partially blinded, is battering Scott with European uppercuts to the underside of the chin. He switches up to chops, peppering the champion with knife-edge blows across the chest. With a shout, he gets Juan Vasquez' attention and they fire the two rulebreakers towards each other, sending them crashing together with a big collision!] GM: OH YEAH!! DOWN GOES SCOTT AND THE GIANT!! [Vasquez and Broussard are celebrating, trading a high-five in the middle of the second cage. Seeing their partners in trouble though, Broussard moves to the second ring, knocking Von Braun off the downed Ron Houston as Vasquez mounts Mizusawa, battering him with right hands on the mat.] GM: Did... did Broussard just save Houston? BW: I think he did! GM: Will wonders never cease! [Across the first cage, Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne are working over Kolya Sudakov in the corner with big kicks and punches to the body.] GM: The Russian has got his hands full with the former National Tag Team Champions, Bucky! "FIVE!" "FOUR!" "THREE!" "TWO!" "ONE!" "BZZZZZZZZZ!" [The crowd EXPLODES as Raphael Rhodes rushes up the steps, throwing the cage door open, climbing into the ring... ...and holding up Kolya Sudakov's Russian chain to the roar of the crowd!] GM: THE CHAIN!! RHODES HAS THE CHAIN!! [The cheers go even louder as Rhodes wraps that chain around his fist and DRILLS an already-bleeding Adrian Freeman between the eyes with it, splitting his cut open more!] GM: OHHH! HE GOT FREEMAN!! [A second blow to the turning Ladykiller knocks him flat as well. Rhodes throws his arms apart, roaring with triumph as he throws the chain down to the mat. He promptly scales the ropes from inside the first cage, holding the mesh as he steps over to the top rope on the second cage... ...and LEAPS off the top, sailing through the air and LANDING the flying headbutt on a downed Stevie Scott!] GM: HEADBUTT!! MY GOD, A FLYING HEADBUTT OFF THE TOP ON THE NATIONAL CHAMPION!!! [Rhodes bounces off, clutching his own skull in pain. After a moment, he rolls up to his feet... ...and finds himself face to face with Juan Vasquez who just got up as well.] BW: Uh oh! GM: The Match Beyond has begun but... what's gonna happen here, Bucky? BW: It's decision time for both of these guys! Are they gonna put the past behind them and work together to win this thing or are they gonna throw it all away and beat each other to a pulp like you know they want to? GM: We're about to find out, I think! [The two men stare each other down from a few feet away, the crowd roaring their support - begging the two men to hold back their hatred for one another for just one night... ...and they appear to do exactly that, spinning away from another to put the boots to Mizusawa and Scott respectively!] GM: Yeah! Oh yeah! Vasquez on the giant! Rhodes on the champ! I love it! [A quick cut to the first cage finds Kolya Sudakov back to his feet, stepping over the downed former tag team champions. In another corner, Marcus Broussard and Brian Von Braun are trading right hands with great ferocity. Sudakov shoves Broussard aside, throwing a big kick to the chest of Von Braun... ...and then both bails out, allowing Houston to rock Von Braun with a running clothesline!] GM: BIG CLOTHESLINE BY THE EAST COAST TERROR!! [As Von Braun staggers out, Houston hoists him up in a fireman's carry to a deafening roar from the crowd.] GM: He's got him up! He's got Von Braun up for the Fade To Black! [But the Rocket City Badboy goes to the eyes, raking his fingers across them and dropping down to his feet behind Houston... ...where he promptly shoves Houston right into the back of Kolya Sudakov who was stomping Adrian Freeman repeatedly against the cage!] GM: Ohh! Look out! [An irate Sudakov spins around, shoving Houston hard in the chest.] BW: I told you, Gordo! I told you these guys couldn't stay on the same page! GM: Von Braun did it! It was a set-up, Bucky! [Houston seems to be trying to explain exactly that when Von Braun rushes him, fist wrapped in a steel chain... ...and Sudakov shoves Houston out of the way, a steel-wrapped fist CRUSHING him in the skull and knocking him flat!] GM: OHHH! BW: What in the hell?! GM: SUDAKOV TOOK A BULLET FOR HOUSTON!! He took a Russian chain shot to the skull for Ron Houston! [And Houston spins Von Braun around, scooping him up in a fireman's carry, spinning once... ...and HURLING him out and down to the canvas!] GM: FADE! TO! BLACK! [We cut back to the second cage where the giant has managed to get to his feet despite Vasquez' continued efforts to batter him down. Across the ring, Raphael Rhodes is lighting up the chest of the National Champion with knife-edge chops. Suddenly, the giant reaches out, grabbing Vasquez by the throat... ...and then grabs his throat with the other hand as well!] GM: NO! NO! NO! [Mizusawa powers Vasquez up into the air, charging him backwards, and DRIVING him into the steel cage!] GM: GOOD GRIEF!! INTO THE STEEL!! [But Vasquez grabs the steel, kicking away with both feet, freeing himself from the grip of the giant... ...and LEAPING off the side of the cage with a dropkick to the jaw of the giant!] GM: OHHH! WHAT A DROPKICK!! BW: He didn't floor him! The giant still stands! [Vasquez scampers up, grabbing the giant's head with both hands... ...and SLAMS home a headbutt to the massive skull!] GM: Headbutt! Right on target! BW: He still won't fall! GM: A second headbutt! BW: Nothing! Juan Vasquez has some of the hardest headbutts in the entire business and he still can't- wait a second! [Vasquez turns to the other side of the ring, shouting to Raphael Rhodes who reluctantly leaves his battering of Scott, grabbing the giant's head with one hand... ...and together they unleash an ungodly double headbutt that knocks the giant clear off his feet and down to the mat!] GM: OHHHHHHH! THEY PUT THE GIANT DOWN!! [And as the giant reaches up, we see a stream of blood coming down his face.] GM: HE BLEEDS! The giant's been split open as well! [With a nod, Vasquez seems to thank Rhodes as he moves to pull Stevie Scott out of the corner... ...but Rhodes steps in, shaking his head.] GM: Rhodes is telling Vasquez that Scott is his! BW: I'm sure Vasquez begs to differ on that one! Deck him, Vasquez! GM: You really want this team to fall apart, don't you? [With bodies strewn everywhere in the first cage, Ron Houston and Kolya Sudakov move into the second cage, muscling the giant up off his back and into the corner. A quick cut to the second cage finds Marcus Broussard planting Adrian Freeman on the mat with his trademark belly-to-belly suplex before doing the same to an incoming Calisto Dufresne!] GM: The National Tag Team Champions are down! Broussard takes 'em both down! [Sudakov and Houston are battering Mizusawa in the corner, trying to keep him at bay while Vasquez and Rhodes are taking turns chopping Scott across the chest in the corner... ...when suddenly, an enraged Mizusawa fights back, throwing an overhead chop that crowns Sudakov, knocking him to a knee. A headbutt to Houston sends him stumbling backwards. Grabbing the Russian's head, Mizusawa presses it against his knee and SLAMS his leg down, smashing Sudakov's head into his knee!] GM: The giant! Look at the giant! [And as Mizusawa lets loose a crazed roar, he sprints across the ring to where Raphael Rhodes, Juan Vasquez, and Stevie Scott are standing... ...and at the last possible moment, Rhodes grabs Vasquez by the wrist, pulling them both out of the path of Mizusawa, causing the Hotshot to be SMASHED into the buckles!] GM: HE GOT THE CHAMP!! HE GOT THE CHAMP!! [The giant backs off, eyes wide at what he's done as Stevie Scott collapses in a heap on the canvas. Rhodes and Vasquez each grab a limb on the stunned giant, whipping him back to the corner. Vasquez immediately charges across the ring, leaving his feet, and driving BOTH knees into the chest of the big man!] GM: KNEES! FLYING KNEES TO THE CHEST!! [Vasquez bails out, leaving room for Raphael Rhodes to follow him in, leaping into the air and connecting with a hooking lariat as he lands between the top and middle ropes, rolling through into the first ring which clears a path as Mizusawa stumbles out of the corner...] GM: HOUSTON!! [The East Coast Terror winds waaaaaaay back... ...and UNLEASHES hell in the form of a heart punch right on target!] GM: PULSE KILLER!! [The heart punch sends Mizusawa falling backwards, hitting the ropes but bouncing back off... ...where Kolya Sudakov charges, hands gripped together in a double axehandle...] GM: OHHHHHHH! [And DRIVES them right across the chest of the giant, sending the big man falling backwards into the ropes... ...or more literally THROUGH the ropes, his arms becoming tangled in the ropes!] GM: HE'S TRAPPED! HE'S TRAPPED IN THE ROPES!! [The camera cuts to the other cage where Raphael Rhodes is stomping a mudhole in Brian Von Braun and Ron Houston is bootchoking Calisto Dufresne as Marcus Broussard holds a struggling Adrian Freeman in the corner.] GM: STEVIE SCOTT'S ALL ALONE!! [Kolya Sudakov reaches down to the mat, picking up his heavy metal chain... ...and hands it to Juan Vasquez who nods, pulling Stevie Scott up off the canvas, looping the chain around his throat!] GM: What's he- he's wrapping the chain! He's wrapping the chain around his throat, Bucky! BW: He can't do that! Ref?! Where's the ref?! GM: The ref's right over there checking! The ref's trying to find out if he's- [Vasquez pulls back hard on the chain, the metal links cutting into the throat of Stevie Scott. Ben Waterson is on that side of the hellish metal structure, his hands wrapped in the steel as he screams and shouts at his men.] GM: Ben Waterson is pleading with him to escape this! Begging him to get out of this! But Stevie Scott's got no one to help him! The Southern Syndicate is down! The giant is trapped! Ben Waterson is outside the cage and he ain't gettin' in, Bucky! BW: Somebody stop this! Somebody get in there! [Through clenched teeth, Vasquez pulls back harder screaming, "QUIIIIIIIT!"] GM: But Scott shakes his head, his fingers trying to dig between the metal chain and his windpipe, trying to get some air into his lungs... into his body... [Vasquez plants a knee firmly in the back, pushing Scott down to his chest on the canvas, still pulling back against the chain.] GM: Scott's face is turning purple, Bucky! BW: He can't breathe! The man can't breathe and- this is awful! Somebody help him! GM: There's nobody! Vasquez' teammates have neutralized everyone! [A quick cut proves that - all Southern Syndicate team members being held at bay while the giant struggles to free himself from the ropes. We cut back to cage two where Vasquez drops down to the mat, applying a crossface hold with the chain pressed across the throat of Scott, increasing the pressure as Vasquez leans back, pulling the steel into the windpipe once again.] GM: He's got that hold in - I don't see any way out! I don't think he's got any choice! [A quick cut to Ben Waterson shows his red face pleading, begging, screaming for Scott to find a way out. A cut back to the National Champion shows his purple face, his mouth hanging open, the metal links actually lacerating his throat, his arms slowly, his eyes closing...] "DING! DING! DING!" GM: HE QUIT! HE QUIT! HE QUIT!! [Vasquez waits for a moment, making sure the referee is waving off the submission hold before releasing. He slowly gets to his feet, the Russian steel chain still gripped in his hands as he looks down at his barely-conscious arch-rival.] GM: After all these months... after all the sneak-attacks, the beatings, the blood, the bounties, the title changes... after all of that, Juan Vasquez has DEFEATED The Southern Syndicate! I repeat, Juan Vasquez has DEFEATED the Southern Syndicate! BW: Well, you know, he had a little help from his friends, Gordo. GM: Of course he did! Marcus Broussard, Ron Houston, Kolya Sudakov, and the returning Raphael Rhodes all played a tremendous role in securing this victory here tonight! BW: I meant those chains, you idiot. GM: The Russian chain of Kolya Sudakov, brought into the ring by Raphael Rhodes, proved to be a major difference maker in this one as Vasquez used them to choke out the National Champion... and wow, Bucky, Stevie Scott and WarGames is a match made in hell. BW: Two WarGames for the champ, two losses... and that won't sit well with him for sure. GM: It was a tough night for the Southern Syndicate but for tonight, perhaps even for just one night, Juan Vasquez, Ron Houston, Marcus Broussard, Kolya Sudakov, and Raphael Rhodes are on top of the world! [Marcus Broussard rushes the other ring, falling into a short embrace with Juan Vasquez. Ron Houston and Kolya Sudakov follow, both exchanging handshakes with Vasquez. Houston even has one for Broussard surprisingly. And finally, Raphael Rhodes arrives. He glares down at the motionless Scott on the canvas, then looks up at Vasquez...] "Not bad." [And with that, Rhodes turns away from his triumphant partners and exits the cage, leaving them behind to continue the celebration. The bodies of their fallen opponents stay in the ring for a moment before making their exit one by one. Brian Von Braun is the first to leave, wiping his bloody brow as he exits the cage and beats a quick retreat up the aisle, not staying to console his teammates. MAMMOTH Mizusawa is next, finally having escaped the ropes. He has to be talked out of charging the ring - ready to continue the fight at a moment's notice - by Louis Matsui who can be heard saying, "It's over," to his charge before they walk back up the aisle. Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman brave the potential wrath of the winners to help Stevie Scott back out of the cage, joining up with Ben Waterson at ringside to slink back up the aisle, having failed in their night's goals.] GM: What a night this has been, fans! We are WAY past our bedtime here in New Orleans and we want to thank WKIK as usual for sticking with us so we could bring you every last moment of this one, fans. It's been a crazy night from New Orleans and I hope you loved it as much as we did! For Jason Dane, Mark Stegglet, and of course, Mr. Buckthorn Wilde, I'm Gordon Myers and we'll see you next time... at the matches. So long everybody! [The camera holds on the ring where the four remaining victors mount turnbuckles, soaking up the cheers of the capacity crowd as they celebrate their triumph... ...as we fade to black.]