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American Wrestling Alliance
Proudly Presents
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling
Live from the Crockett Coliseum
Dallas, Texas
October 30th, 2010
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade. It is replaced with footage
marked "TWO WEEKS AGO!" where Juan Vasquez is standing in the ring,
staring across the squared circle at the National Champion "Hotshot"
Stevie Scott and "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson.]
JV: Enough is enough, boys...I'm through jumpin' through hoops and
playing your little games just to get one last shot at the National
title! Forget your damn lawyers and forget the damn loopholes.
I'm willin' to lay it all on the line right here and now!
[Juan holds up a finger.]
JV: One last title shot between me and Stevie Scott.
SuperClash.
[Ben Waterson screams furiously at Vasquez, but Juan won't let himself
be drowned out as he makes his announcement.]
JV: One last shot.
And if I lose?
[He shakes his head.]
JV: _That's it._
No more rematches.
No more title shots.
[Juan closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, before staring back at
Waterson and Scott.]
JV: And no more Juan Vasquez.
[Shocked pop! Ben Waterson stops his ranting and raving long enough to
let out a confused "What!?"]
JV: Do you hear me loud and clear, boys??? If I lose at SuperClash,
there ain't nothing left for me here!
I'll quit!
I'll walk away!
[He composes himself.]
JV: I'll leave the AWA forever.
[The crowd is pleading for Juan to reconsider, but he's got his mind all
but made up.]
JV: One more shot.
What do you say?
[Waterson eyes Vasquez for several moments. He turns to the Hotshot for
a moment who seems to not believe what he just heard.]
ATTSBW: One more shot?
[Vasquez nods.]
ATTSBW: And if you lose... you're gone... for good?
[Another nod.]
ATTSBW: No more crying? No more begging? No more tricks?
One more shot... and WHEN you lose, you leave the AWA for good?
[One final nod.]
ATTSBW: Juan Vasquez...
[Dramatic pause.]
ATTSBW: We accept!
[The crowd roars with a shocked reaction!]
GM: OH MY STARS!! Vasquez is putting it ALL on the line at SuperClash!
Either he walks out with the National Title around his waist... or he
walks out of the AWA FOREVER!
[And with that, we fade to the sounds of the brand new intro music for
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Saturday Night Special"
A large white map of the United States fills the screen as the music
plays. The shot zooms through the map, different states "popping up"
into view as we race past them. As we pull back from the map, it no
longer is white but rather made up of the Stars and Stripes.
The map goes into a spin, spinning round and round as we zoom all the
way into it, dissolving into a few slow motion shots of animated men
battling in a red, white, and blue ring. The animation runs through
various wrestling moves from an atomic drop to a bodyslam to a
piledriver.
And as the blue animaniac applies a clawhold on the white animaniac, we
freeze and the AWA logo fills the screen.
After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the interior
of the brand new Crockett Coliseum where over 4,500 fans have jammed
into the building to watch their favorite AWA stars.
The ring sits in the middle of the oval-shaped seating area, surrounded
by a metal barricade on all sides. The ringside seats are your standard
steel chairs while tall wood and metal bleachers are erected all around
the rear of the oval.
A long elevated entrance ramp runs from the entryway to the ring. On
either side of the ramp stand two elevated platforms to be used for
interviews.
As we cut to the ringside area, atop thin black mats that cover the
concrete floor of the former warehouse, we find two tables - one for the
timekeeper and one for the announce duo.
Speaking of which, the camera cuts from the cheering crowd to the ring
where we find the familiar faces of "No Descriptions Needed" Gordon
Myers alongside "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde - the best announcers in the
game.]
GM: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling where you will see all the stars of the American
Wrestling Alliance, THE Major League of Professional Wrestling. I am
Gordon Myers and by my side, as always, is the two-time Announcer Of The
Year, Bucky Wilde!
BW: Smile when you say that, Gordo.
GM: I was! I promise! Fans, it's an exciting time to be a fan of the
AWA as we are all walking the road to SuperClash II... just a few weeks
away now. And we found out last time out that SuperClash will be held
in TWO cities - Dallas, Texas and St. Louis, Missouri!
BW: So much action, we spilled into another state.
GM: We'll find out more about SuperClash later tonight but what about
what we just saw, Bucky?
BW: Juan Vasquez has run his big mouth once too many times, daddy. He
has written a check that his body simply can not cash. On Thanksgiving
night, AWA fans and wrestlers alike will have much to be grateful for -
and what the Southern Syndicate will be grateful for is that Juan
Vasquez will be GONE from the AWA forever!
GM: The stipulation is quite simple - Juan Vasquez either walks out of
SuperClash wearing the AWA National Title or he walks out of the AWA
period! The stakes have never been higher here in the AWA for one match
and we'll have the official contract signing for that one here tonight.
Trust me when I say you will NOT want to miss that!
BW: What do you know? What aren't you telling me?
GM: I spoke with Jim Watkins before we came on the air and... well, to
say he was absolutely giddy would be an understatement.
BW: What? Why?
GM: I have no idea but I think we'll all find out together later
tonight. Fans, it's going to be a wild night of action here in Dallas,
Texas - now let's go up to the ring for our opening matchup!
[We crossfade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]
MC: Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... from San Antonio, Texas... Hector Santana!
[A decent cheer for the spunky Santana who thrusts a fist in the air.]
MC: And his opponent...
["Try Honesty" by Billy Talent starts up to a huge shower of jeers.]
MC: He is accompanied to the ring by his manager, Ben Waterson.
Standing 5'11 and weighing in at 190 pounds... he hails from Sydney,
Australia and represents the Southern Syndicate...
AAAAAAADRIAN FREEEEEEEEMAN!
[The jeers intensify as Ben Waterson walks through the curtain onto the
elevated entrance platform, jabbering away at aisleside fans as he walks
towards the ring. Adrian Freeman is a few steps behind him - all focus
and intensity as he glares towards the ring at his opponent.]
GM: Adrian Freeman looks like he's all business here tonight.
BW: When ISN'T Adrian Freeman all business? And after that tussle he
got into with Raphael Rhodes two weeks ago, you know he's got a lot on
his mind here tonight, Gordo.
GM: Ben Waterson has labeled him as the enforcer of this group - of the
Southern Syndicate. He's the muscle. He's the pitbull. When Waterson
points at someone he wants eliminated, he expects Freeman to be the guy
to do it. That's a lot of pressure.
BW: Freeman can handle it. Guaranteed. By the time Freeman gets
through with him, Rhodes will wish he'd never even seen the Southern
Syndicate. And Von Braun might be right there with him.
[Freeman steps through the ropes into the ring as Waterson pats him on
the shoulder, giving a few final words. The Australian nods as Waterson
steps down to the floor and the referee signals for the bell.]
GM: And our opening matchup is underway!
[The two quickly tangle up in a collar and elbow in the middle of the
ring. Freeman leverages Santana's head down a bit and delivers an
overhead elbowsmash to the back of the neck, knocking Santana down to a
knee.]
GM: Hard shot to the neck...
[And a big knife-edge chop knocks the kneeling Santana down to his back.
Freeman measures his man, delivering a big stomp to the chest. He
stomps three more times before leaping high in the air...
...and dropping a knee across the sternum of his opponent!]
GM: Ohh! Kneedrop on target - and here's a cover for one! For two!
[Santana kicks out before three and eats a kneeling haymaker to the jaw
for his efforts. Freeman promptly wraps both hands around the throat of
his opponent, strangling the air out of him as the referee counts.]
GM: One... two... three.. four... come on, ref!
BW: Don't start already, Gordo. The ref was counting and Freeman broke
it at four.
[From outside the ring, Waterson shouts a few instructions. Freeman
nods as he rises, grabbing the legs of his foe to drag him towards the
corner. The Australian backs to the corner, hopping up to stand on the
middle rope...]
BW: Get him, Adrian!
[Freeman leaps off the middle rope, driving his elbow down into the
throat. He applies the lateral press, failing to hook a leg.]
GM: One! Two! Thr- oh, come on!
BW: Hehehe.
GM: He pulled him up! Why? Why would he do such a thing?
BW: This is about sending a message to Raphael Rhodes and the rest of
the AWA! This is putting the entire AWA on notice now, Gordo. If you
mess with the bull, you get gored! And it's Adrian Freeman who is doing
the gorin' for the Southern Syndicate.
GM: This kid hasn't done a thing to the Southern Syndicate!
[Freeman yanks his opponent off the mat, tugging him into a front
facelock. He slings Santana's arm over his neck, pointing out to the
jeering fans before hoisting him high in the air...
...and DROPPING him on the top of his skull!]
GM: BRAINBUSTER!! That'll do it!
[Freeman's face is covered in a cold smirk as he rolls into a lateral
press, planting his forearm bone on Santana's cheek as the referee drops
down to count.]
GM: One. Two. And there's the three.
"DING! DING! DING!"
[Freeman slowly rises off the downed Santana, planting a kick in the
ribs as he reaches his feet. He smirks at the referee's reprimand
before exiting the ring, stepping out to join Ben Waterson on the floor
where they've approached the announce area.]
GM: Nice win there for-
ATTSBW: When I want your opinion, Myers, I'll give it to you to recite
back to me.
[The crowd jeers as Myers frowns.]
ATTSBW: Let's let a real professional handle this one, shall we?
Bucky, ask the question that the whole world wants answered.
[Bucky looks a little puzzled as he steps up to the plate.]
BW: Umm... well... I guess the question all these idiots in the crowd
want to know is why, Ben? Why would you let Vasquez have another shot
at the National Title?
[Waterson grins.]
ATTSBW: Perfect, Bucky. Absolutely perfect. That's the million dollar
question, isn't it? And the answer?
Opportunity.
[Bucky shakes his head.]
BW: What do you mean, Ben?
ATTSBW: It's simple, Bucky. Every once in a while in this sport, a
certain type of opportunity presents itself. And that type of
opportunity is one that can not be turned down.
Take Adrian here.
[Waterson "presents" Adrian Freeman with an arm flourish that draws
jeers from the crowd.]
ATTSBW: Adrian has found himself presented with an opportunity to make
Raphael Rhodes regret the day he ever HEARD the words "Southern
Syndicate." And at the same time, he found himself in a position to
protect the Syndicate's most prized posession - the AWA National Title.
[Waterson grins.]
GM: Do you mean to tell me that-
ATTSBW: Nobody's talking to you.
[Bucky steps up once more.]
BW: Adrian Freeman's in Steal The Spotlight?
ATTSBW: Once again, Bucky... absolutely perfect. That's right! After
what went down two weeks ago out here, I went to Jim Watkins and I
offered to boost the marquee value of Steal The Spotlight in a big time
way.
You see, Raphael Rhodes has been added to Steal The Spotlight.
[Big cheer! Waterson shakes a finger.]
ATTSBW: But so has Adrian Freeman!
[Jeers!]
ATTSBW: And Adrian knows perfectly well what his job is in that match.
He's to keep that guaranteed title match out of the hands of anyone that
the Southern Syndicate doesn't want having it. That means Raphael
Rhodes. That means Marcus Broussard.
[A smirk.]
ATTSBW: Who knows - that might even mean MAMMOTH Mizusawa.
BW: But he's on the same team!
ATTSBW: There are no teams when it comes to Steal The Spotlight, Bucky.
Because Jim Watkins has informed me that he doesn't intend to give out
a bunch of shots at the National Title at SuperClash.
There will be only one.
If more than one team member survives the match, that team will fight
themselves to earn the shot!
Only one title shot. Only one man stealing the spotlight.
[He "presents" Freeman again.]
ATTSBW: And you morons are looking right at him.
[Waterson shoves the mic into Gordon Myers' chest, turning to leave
alongside the silent but violent Adrian Freeman as they head back up the
aisle towards the locker room.]
GM: Well, fans... SuperClash gets hotter and hotter ever moment. We
just saw two more names added to Steal The Spotlight and now we know
it'll be Marcus Broussard, Raphael Rhodes, Johnny Sone, and two more
competitors teaming up to take on MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Adrian Freeman, and
three others. Who else will join this big showdown? We'll find out
later tonight but for now, let's go backstage to Mark Stegglet who is
standing by with one of the final two men battling for a spot in the
semifinals in the Longhorn Heritage Title tournament!
[We cut to backstage where we find Mark Stegglet standing in front of an
AWA backdrop, next to Supernova, who is already dressed in his wrestling
attire and face painted black and yellow.]
MS: Supernova, tonight you are set to take on Nenshou in the
quarterfinals of the Longhorn Heritage title tournament. I'm sure you
saw what went down two weeks ago... what are your thoughts about this
match?
S: First of all, Mark, I have to send out some props to Vernon Riley...
most men after getting jumped by a bunch of freaks would opt to take the
night off and get better. But Vernon Riley wouldn't do that, and for
that, I salute you! You, sir, have the heart of a champion and it
certainly would have been an honor to step into the ring to face you!
MS: But that leaves you against Nenshou tonight... certainly you are
aware about how dangerous he is, as well as the men he associates
himself with.
S: Dangerous... you know, some people say if it isn't dangerous, then it
really isn't any fun! Well, if Nenshou and his fellow freaks want to
make it dangerous, I'm more than ready for that! Hell, when a guy like
me likes to live on the wild side, he's bound to experience some danger
in his life, so that means he better be ready for danger when it comes
along. And I can assure you, Mark, I am more than ready!
MS: You are aware about the dreaded mist from Nenshou... how are you
going to handle that if he pulls that trick out?
S: You make it sound as though Nenshou was all about the mist... and
hey, I'm aware about that. I'm also aware that the man is a great
wrestler. I just believe, because I know what it's like to experience
danger, that I'll be ready for whatever Nenshou throws at me tonight. If
he wants to bring out the mist... well, then the only thing I'm gonna
have to do is turn up the heat a little more... to see how much Nenshou
can take!
[And before Mark can get in another word, Supernova steps forward, cups
his hands to his mouth and howls, before shouting out, "Yeah, I'm
ready!" and walking off camera.]
MS: Well, folks... I'd say Supernova is ready for Nenshou tonight... and
we'll be right back with more Saturday Night Wrestling!
[We fade away from Mark Stegglet to black...
And then to a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking
building.]
"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"
[Cut a little closer.]
"Of glory?"
[A little closer.]
"Of your friends and family seeing you on television?"
[And just a little closer, revealing a red, white, and blue sign that
reads "AWA Combat Corner."]
"Well, now you can make all your dreams come true by signing up today at
the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school for the American
Wrestling Alliance!"
[We cut to the interior of the building where we can see lots of
standard gym equipment surrounding a very basic wrestling ring. There
are people lifting weights, running on treadmills, and of course,
working out in the ring.]
"With the very best trainers in the business, the AWA Combat Corner is
the most-equipped training facility to get you in shape and get you in
the ring in the shortest amount of time!"
[Cut into the ring where Todd Michaelson is barking out instructions.]
"With former World Champion Todd Michaelson leading the classes, you can
guarantee that you will be prepared for in-ring action upon graduation
and with the AWA expanding by the day, you will have a place to work on
Day One!"
[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]
"So, stop by the Combat Corner today... call our offices... visit our
website... and let them know that you want to be the next AWA Superstar!
You want to be the future of the business!
You want to wrestle!"
[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner. We
freeze there for a moment and then fade to a black screen.
We fade back from black to Mark Stegglet standing between Marty Morgan
and Scotty Storm - The Rockstar Express. Both men are in their
wrestling gear topped off with a set of hair metal t-shirts.]
MS: Welcome back, fans, and I have been joined by two men who have a
date with the National Tag Team champions Rough N Ready later tonight
BUT it is a non-title matchup, fellas.
SS: Non-title or not, Marky, we know what's at stake tonight.
MM: That's right. The AWA tag team division is red hot. The best
teams in the world are here and more are showin' up all the time. And
to get a shot at the champs ain't an easy thing to do. But you know the
easiest way to get there?
MS: What's that?
MM: Beat 'em.
[Scotty nods, high-fiving his partner.]
SS: That's right, Marty. If we take Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew
Somers and pin their shoulders to the mat later on here tonight, you
just know we'll fly right on up those rankings to get a title shot. And
like we said before, we respect the heck out of what those two inside
the ring... but outside? Whew... that's a different story.
MS: That's all well and good, guys. But you're forgetting something.
Yeah, you might get a shot Rough N Ready for the gold if you beat them
tonight... but what about the Blonde Bombers? What if they win the
titles at SuperClash?
[Morgan waves him off.]
MM: You worry too much, Marky. Whether it's Rough N Ready with the
gold after Thanksgiving night or it's the Bombers, you know the
Rockstars are comin' for 'em.
And more importantly, THEY know the Rockstars are comin' for 'em.
[A big dopey grin crosses Morgan's face.]
SS: And when the rock and roll freight train starts a-rollin', there
ain't nothin' gonna stop it but a big ol' pile of gold - championship
gold!
MM: You hear that, Scotty?
SS: What's that?
MM: The train whistle's blowin'... and first stop? Tonight.
[One more high five and the team walks out of sight together as we fade
back to the ring where Melissa is standing.]
MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first... already in the ring... from
Stillwater, OK, standing at 6'2" and weighing 312 pounds, the Oklahoma
Thunderhorse, Stephen Albright!
[A shaggy youngster with a very big build and beard to match raises his
left arm up. Wearing an Oklahoma State University singlet, the OK
Thunderhorse looks pretty calm for being a rookie.]
MC: And his opponent, from Haleburg, AL, weighting 265 pounds, "Mr.
Murder" Irvin Merrill Monford
[Freddie King's "Going Down" plays and "Mr. Murder" Irvin Merrill
Monford hustles down with a pissed off sneer on his face.]
GM: Have you ever seen Irv Monford smile?
BW: Once, after he broke a kid's ribs for talking out of turn.
["Mr. Murder" moves to the center of the ring, standing toe to toe with
Albright.]
"C'mon kid, hit me!"
[Albright looks puzzled, looking around at the crowd.]
GM: "Mr. Murder" sticking out his chin and daring the Oklahoma
Thunderhorse to knock him off his feet.
BW: He's taking it easy on the rook; gotta give the fans more than just
a quickie. The AWA could probably live on Bucky Wilde alone, but a
little help never hurts.
[The eager young hoss from Oklahoma is still wary, but goes in anyhow. A
stiff right hand to the face connects firmly on the jaw, knocking
Monford back a step. Albright grabs him by the back of the neck with
his left hand before crushing him with a headbutt that staggers Monford
back a few steps...
...where he slaps himself across the face, pointing a finger angrily at
Albright.]
"Is that all you got, you wet nosed punk?"
[Albright moves in quicker this time, showing a little fire at being
verbally browbeaten. He tears into Monford with a series of right hands
to the forehead, knocking Monford back a few more steps.]
GM: Albright's comin' hard and if Monford doesn't fight back soon,
he'll-
[Monford lashes out a boot to the right knee, stunning Albright and
allowing him to hook a front facelock, SPIKING Albright skullfirst into
the mat with a DDT!]
BW: You were saying, Gordo?
GM: I stand corrected. The man who calls himself Mr. Murder really
caught him coming in there. And that one has got to ring Albright's
bell quite badly.
[Monford promptly pulls Albright up by his bushy beard, hooking a
three-quarter nelson to snapmare him down into a seated position...
...and PLASTERS him with a straight side kick to the back of the skull!]
BW: Oof! Did you see Albright's head snap on that one?
GM: I certainly did.
[Albright slumps back down to the mat, clutching the back of his head.
A sneering Monford takes the chance to jump up into the air, bringing
both feet squarely down on the midsection with a double stomp! Albright
rolls around in agony, clutching his stomach.]
GM: Good grief! That could crack a rib or worse!
BW: And by worse, you mean internal injuries.
GM: Monford could have done some serious damage with that move.
BW: Obviously he saw that lardo choking and had to do something. See?
This is why I'm paired with you, to point out the obvious things your
bias misses.
GM: Gee, thanks Bucky.
BW: You're welcome!
GM: Monford dragging Stephen Albright up by the beard...
[A stiff right hand lands on the jaw of Albright, knocking him back a
step...
...but he lunges forward, connecting with a running shoulderblock that
knocks Monford back into the ropes.]
GM: Monford got caught!
[Albright rears back, throwing a haymaker to the skull... and a second.
He grabs Monford by the wrist, firing him across the ring...]
GM: Off the ropes... backdr-
[Monford pulls up short, burying the toe of his boot in the throat of
Albright. The Oklahoma native straightens up, clutching his windpipe
and Monford promptly leaps up, lashing out with his head kick.]
BW: Boombox! Pow! Right in the kisser!
[The kick floors Albright immediately. An irritated looking Mr. Murder
sits down on the chest of Albright, ordering the referee to count.]
GM: He's sitting on the kid for the 3 count. Such a show of disrespect
from Irvin Merrill Monford.
BW: Ya gotta earn respect, Gordo and the Oklahoma Thunderchoke did no
such thing.
[As Monford scores the win, he rises to his feet. He snatches his
raised hand out of the grip of the official, threatening him with a
backhand as he stalks away. Monford steps through the ropes, heading
back up the ramp.]
GM: This guy just has the worst attitude, Bucky.
BW: You don't get paid to make friends, Gordo. You get paid to win
matches and so far, Mr. Murder is undefeated here in the AWA
GM: I'd pay him to go away.
BW: How much? He might listen to a good offer.
GM: Fans, I'm being told that Jason Dane has got Mr. Murder standing by
with some comments.
[We fade to the interview area where Jason Dane is standing alongside a
sweaty Irvin Monford.]
JD: Mr. Monford, what are you exactly trying to accomplish here in the
AWA?
["Mr. Murder" wipes away some sweat from his eyes.]
IMM: A paycheck. That boy I left in the ring? He's paycheck #3. But if
y'all think I'm gonna be set right with just tussling with the rooks and
dregs, then you don't know jack squat. Bigger paydays are a coming. Mr.
Murder, he's coming for you. Each one of you guys higher on the card,
breathing that fancy air, you are in my crosshairs. Each one-a-you fancy
boys, you bring in bigger bucks and I'm gonna take those checks right
outta your hides. Bank on that!
[Monford huffs off, still angry.]
JD: The man wants to get paid - badly - and I'd hate to be standing
between the man known as Mr. Murder and a paycheck, fans. And let's go
back down to the ring to Melissa for more action!
[We fade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing by with a man
dressed in a white, sleeveless top, with three large, black buttons down
the front; loose, white patent leather pants and white boots. He also
wears a ninja-like mask with an orange, carrot-like protuberance on the
front.]
MC: The next match is scheduled for one fall with a ten-minute time
limit. Introducing first, from the Great White North, weighing in at 200
pounds...
COLD SNAP!
[The snowperson dressed in a white mask with an orange, carrot-like
protuberance on the front; a white, sleeveless top, with three large,
black buttons down the front; loose, white patent leather pants and
white boots does some martial arts-like flurry with his hands and throws
in a few snap kicks for good measure.]
BW: Look at that ninja technique, Gordo. Does that not make your blood
run cold?
MC: And his opponent...
[The sound of bubbling liquid and surging electricity plays over the
Colisseum speakers as the house lights begin to flicker. A male voice
can be heard exclaiming, "IT'S ALIVE! ALIVE!" as Bobby "Boris" Pickett's
"Monster Mash" begins to play. From the entranceway emerges... Louis
Matsui? Dressed in... A white lab coat? Matsui rubs his black-gloved
hands gleefully, his characteristic smirk on his face.]
# I WAS WORKING IN THE LAB LATE ONE NIGHT #
# WHEN MY EYES BEHELD AN EERIE SIGHT #
# FOR MY MONSTER FROM HIS SLAB BEGAN TO RISE #
# AND SUDDENLY TO MY SURPRISE #
[Emerging behind him, dressed as Frankenstein's monster, is the
seven-foot-tall Japanese giant, who has on a pair of black pants over
black bloots and a black round neck T-shirt under a dark grey jacket.
He has on a pair of green gloves and his face is painted a similar
shade, with fake stitches going across his forehead and bolts attached
to his neck.]
# (HE DID THE MASH) #
# HE DID THE MONSTER MASH #
# (THE MONSTER MASH) #
# IT WAS A GRAVEYARD SMASH #
# (HE DID THE MASH) #
# IT CAUGHT ON IN A FLASH #
# (HE DID THE MASH) #
# HE DID THE MONSTER MASH #
MC: Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420 pounds and being
accompanied to the ring by LOUIS MATSUI, he is...
MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!!!
[As Matsui walks to the ring, he pays little attention to the fans on
either side of the aisle, although he is still smirking. The towering
Mizusawa, on the other hand, lumbers, more so than usual, behind his
manager.]
GM: Mizusawa's enough of a monster on any normal day, Bucky, but this?
We've got a cartoon character on the other side of the ring, and now we
have these two playing dress-up?
BW: Hey, if Louis Matsui and MAMMOTH Mizusawa want in on some Halloween
fun a night early, Gordo, who are we to judge them? As long as MAMMOTH
doesn't actually DO the Monster Mash.
GM: I think the Monster Smash is what Mizusawa's looking to do to the
ninja from the Great White North.
BW: Now you're getting into the spirit of things, daddy!
[Reaching the ringside area, MAMMOTH Mizusawa grabs the top rope and
pulls himself onto the ring apron, then steps over the ropes and into
the ring. He heads to his corner, where he is joined by Matsui, who has
climbed onto the ring apron but staying on the outside. As the music
starts to fade, he is giving some instructions to Mizusawa, before
climbing back down to the ringside area and leaving his charge in the
ring for the opening bell.]
"DING! DING!"
GM: And here we go! Cold Snap, seemingly unperturbed by the sight of the
monster, comes flying in with a series of martial arts strikes!
BW: But the monster is unfazed, Gordo! He's shrugging off the blows
and... Is he laughing?
"SMAAACK!!!"
GM: Cold Snap really let loose with that MASSIVE roundhouse kick, but
Mizusawa swatted it away and levelled the snowperson with AN EVEN BIGGER
clothesline!
BW: What does Cold Snap have to throw at the monster to slow him down?
A snowboard to the back of the head? A log?
GM: I don't think a gang of ninja snowper-
BW: People.
GM: Ninja snowpeople are going to slow MAMMOTH Mizusawa down.
BW: Is gang the proper collective noun for ninja snowpeople?
[Meanwhile, MAMMOTH Mizusawa has been motioning for Cold Snap to get up.
As he pushes himself onto his hands and knees, Mizusawa charges in and
lays a kick to Cold Snap's side.]
BW: He nearly kicked him clear out of the ring, daddy!
[Cold Snap tries to use the ring ropes to pull himself up but a charging
Mizusawa puts a stop to that as he jumps against his opponent's back,
driving Cold Snap's chest into the ropes.]
GM: The big man showing some agility there and Cold Snap might have had
all the air driven out of him.
BW: How would you feel to have twice your body weight land on you like
that, Gordo?
GM: I'm not sure there'd be much left of me to feel, Bucky. The monster
now looking to his "creator," as it were, for instructions.
BW: Louis Matsui might be a genius, Gordo, but I don't think he needs to
stretch any brain cells to figure out what to do next.
[Indeed, we cut to a shot of Matsui shouting for his client to "Finish
him!" Mizusawa nods and starts to pull Cold Snap to his feet. He wraps
his hands around Cold Snap's throat. The ninja snowperson starts
flailing and trying to hit Mizusawa's arms in an attempt to free himself
of the monster's grip. Of course, it's futile as Mizusawa lifts Cold
Snap and drops him back down with the two-handed choke slam.]
BW: As they say in Japan, daddy, TUSK KU-RUSHAAA!!!
[Cut to a shot of Louis Matsui applauding excitedly, a wide grin on his
face. Just as Mizusawa is about to make the cover, however, Matsui
starts yelling, "NO! NO! NO!" He motions his hands, holding up two
thumbs up and pointing them skywards.]
GM: What does Matsui want his monster to do now?
BW: I'm not sure, Gordo, but I think MAMMOTH got the message loud and
clear. He's dragging Cold Snap's lifeless body back to his feet again.
GM: I think I know what's coming and I'm starting to feel sorry for Cold
Snap... Here we go! The monster has him up in the air with a gorilla
press... What a show of power! INTO A SPINEBUSTER!!!
BW: MAMMOTH SLAAAM!!! There's your Monster Smash, Gordon!
GM: And Mizusawa places his finger on Cold Snap's chest for the cover...
One! Two!
"DING! DING! DING!"
GM: Arrogant but effective...
MC: Here is your winner...
MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!!!
[Louis Matsui climbs into the ring to raise his client's hand in
victory. He points to the spotlights and mimes how the giant is going to
rip them straight out of the rafters.]
GM: Of course, Louis Matsui also has his sights set for SuperClash where
his client hopes to replicate his success at last year's event in the
Steal the Spotlight Match.
BW: And I reckon we're going to hear all about it, because here they
come.
GM: Oh... Great... Louis Matsui, have you had your share of the fun for
the night?
LM: First thing's first, Myers, that's DOCTOR Matsui to you. Secondly,
the night isn't over and there's a locker room back there that needs to
be TP'd along with a couple of cars in the parking lot. But make no
mistake about it, while tonight might be all fun and games, come
SuperClash, there will be no tricks, just treats for my client when we
Steal the Spotlight and earn our shot at any title in the AWA we so
choose. It'll be like taking candy from some babies, Myers! Speaking of
which, Mizusawa-san, let's go scare some kids.
[An incredulous Gordon Myers looks on as Louis Matsui leads MAMMOTH
Mizusawa to the back.]
GM: The Steal The Spotlight showcase is gonna be something else, fans,
and with that man in it, who can say the odds aren't in his favor?
Don't go away 'cause we'll be right back with more AWA Saturday Night
Wrestling!
[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 live action where Melissa is already inside the
ring.]
MC: The following contest is set for one fall, with a ten minute time
limit!
[The fans cheer, as a young wrestler who is short and has a very compact
build hops in through the ropes. He sports a black mullet and goatee,
silver thigh-length trunks with triangular navy blue segments extending
from the legs on up to the hip, navy blue boots, and matching
elbowpads.]
MC: From Apple Springs, Texas... weighing two-hundred fifty pounds...
RICK SCOTT!
[The Texas native gets a nice ovation, and he is amped up. He goes from
side to side, pumping both fists at the crowd.]
GM: Young Rick Scott appearing for a second time here on Saturday Night
Wrestling. He's a fireplug, but I fear he's in for a hard time tonight
against a man who has just scored the biggest, albeit most
controversial, win of his career.
[Who is that? Well, the Persian vocal open bursting loudly over the PA
should be a pretty good clue. The crowd boos "Saz O Avaz Mahdor" by
Mohammed Reza Shajarian, and boos louder when a small mountain of cloth
bursts through the curtain. The huge Iranian flag, long reddish-brown
bisht, and white kaffiyeh can only mean one thing: Sultan Azam Sharif is
here.]
BW: I don't think the Sultan could get a drink of water in this country
without someone cryin' controversy.
[Behind the Iranian grappler strolls Count Adrian Bathwaite, a former
wrestler and now manager. He sports a shiny beigish-yellow dress shirt
with black sequin designs on it, along with black slacks and brown
loafers. He uses his walking stick to aid his movement down the ramp,
sticking his nose up at the fans around him. The silver-haired
Bathwaite, who is a strange Eurasian blend of ethnicities (narrow Hong
Kong eyes and big English teeth!), stays behind his charge as he waves
that enormous flag.]
MC: And his opponent... coming down the aisle, and accompanied by his
manager Count Adrian Bathwaite... from Shiraz, Iran... weighing
two-hundred fifty-nine pounds...
...SULTAN AZAM SHARIF!
[The Sultan steps through the ropes, his shiny gold hooked galesh-shaped
boots gleaming in the light. He continues to wave his flag, with the
predictable result:]
"U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A!"
[Sharif shakes his head vehemently, motioning with one hand for the fans
to stop chanting while bearing the flag aloft with the other. Bathwaite
starts berating people at ringside.]
BW: Aw, now this is disrespectful, Gordo. These people should be
honored to have a great athlete from a faraway country comin' here to
put on an exhibition. They should be chanting "IRAN! IRAN!"
GM: Bucky Wilde, I would like to see you go about this great state of
Texas chanting "IRAN". However, I'd rather not have to adjust to a new
broadcast partner.
BW: Ya think they'd fire me for that?
GM: I think they'd fire AT you for that.
[Well, Rick Scott has had just about enough of this, and as soon as
Sharif passes the flagpole over the ropes to Bathwaite, he rushes him
and hammers him in the back with a double axehandle! The fans cheer as
the bell rings, with Sharif not even out of his to-ring attire!]
"DING! DING! DING!"
BW: CHEAP SHOT!
GM: Yes, it was! But we have seen Sharif stall before, and Rick Scott
having none of it! Lefts and rights to the man from the Middle East!
Irish Whip... and a big clothesline floors the Iranian!
BW: Somebody get his towel, it went flyin'!
GM: That is a kaffiyeh, and you have to wonder what would have happened
had Kolya Sudakov gotten off a quick clothesline just like that... as we
know, HIS clotheslines are absolutely devastating!
BW: Well, he didn't, did he? He got pinned, didn't he?
GM: Thanks to Ivan Kostovich!
[Scott stomps away at Sharif, who is hampered by his bisht. Suddenly,
Bathwaite calls in to Sharif, and the former Olympian obediently bails
out of his robe, and quickly scoops Scott's leg.]
GM: I think Sharif may be overlooking this young man.
[The Sultan scrambles up, but catches a one-foot dropkick to the face
with the free leg of Rick Scott. Now out of his appearance-concealing
to-ring getup, we can see the battle-scarred, weatherbeaten visage of
the Sultan. He has short black hair which is very well-groomed, and a
neatly trimmed mustache and goatee. He's wearing white baggy sirwal
(loose pants) that are tucked into the tops of his boots, and adorned
with a shiny gold sash. He's also visibly frustrated, especially as the
crowd is cheering on his young foe.]
BW: He just ain't used ta rulebreakin' yet. He's an Olympic wrestler,
ya know.
GM: Oh, he's shown that his problem is not an unfamiliarity with
rule-breaking. He has Bathwaite, after all. That man stole more
matches in his day than Bernie Madoff stole money.
[Scott rushes forth with a meaty forearm shot to the chest, sending the
Sultan backwards into the ropes. His attempted haymaker followup dies
in mid-swing as the Sultan bounces back from the ropes with a direct
cross-chop to the throat, dropping the young Apple Springs native in a
heap! BOOOOO!]
GM: RIGHT TO THE WINDPIPE!
BW: What'd I tell ya about messin' with Arabs?
GM: Technically, the man is not an Arab. He's a Persian. We tend to
misuse those descriptors over here and call all non-Israeli Middle
easterners "Arabs", but that...
BW: Can the social studies lesson, Gordo, we got a match!
[Yes, we do. Sharif is putting those hooked boots to the ribcage of a
downed Rick Scott, who is rolling away for clearance. The "Great And
Honorable Sultan" does not allow him the leeway, though, and presses the
attack. The young mullet-topped grappler gets up, but before he can
straighten up, the Sultan rakes his back with his fingers! Protesting
jeers emanate from the audience.]
GM: And what is that?!
BW: Totally legal.
GM: Arguably... but honorable?
BW: Sure it is. That's a classic Greco-Iranian technical move. The
"ten finger takedown".
GM: Abdominal stretch by Sharif, and he has this match back under
control. Adrian Bathwaite pounding the mat, trying to encourage Rick
Scott to submit.
BW: I've seen guys who could do this for a submission, Gordo, but
they're usually really tall. I don't think Sharif is tall enough to
pull off an abdominal stretch finish.
GM: Agreed, but at 6'2", he does have a few inches on the under-six-foot
tall Rick Scott. Scott is compact and strong, though, and he is trying
to reverse this into a hip toss... Sharif blocks with a hiplock!
BW: Ya don't see those old basics much anymore!
GM: Rick Scott punches his way out of the hiplock... GOOD NIGHT!
[The fans' momentary excitement that Scott may be back on the offense is
killed by a swift and powerful belly-to-belly suplex, rocking the ring!
Rick clutches his back and rolls to the ropes, trying to use them to
stand.]
BW: WOW. Ya ain't gonna be able ta take much of THAT treatment, I don't
care who ya are!
GM: The Sultan's suplexes are deadly. Rick Scott climbing up the ropes,
but Sharif with one of those illegal pointed boots to the ribs stops
that short!
BW: Illegal?! What's illegal?
GM: Hard leather points on your boots! That is illegal, and why doesn't
the AWA make a ruling on this?! Again with the boots! Sharif
mercilessly abusing his advantage, and Scott now draped over the second
rope! A knee to the back drives the young man's neck into the second
rope! And now... goodness, I know what this is going to be...
[The Sultan runs off the far ropes as Scott leans on the second rope to
recover, and jumps across his back in a seated position to drive all of
his weight down on Rick Scott. The Texan's neck is driven hard into the
second strand, and after Sharif gets off of him, he falls back to the
mat clutching his windpipe!]
BW: The good old hobby horse!
GM: That is a vicious tactic. Rick Scott is stunned, and Sharif
dragging him into the center of the ring. And spinning him around...
BW: Facing him east! It's over!
GM: He has to actually apply the hold first, Bucky!
[The Sultan stretches his arms out in preparation, walks down Rick
Scott's back, straddles him, and pulls up his left arm across his left
thigh. Then the right. then the chinlock, and then he sits back with
it. The crowd again starts the "U! S! A!" chant, but it is a little
half-hearted as they know it's over.]
GM: CAMEL CLUTCH APPLIED!
BW: Ring the bell!
GM: I agree with that! Rick Scott showing guts by hanging on, but
there's no point! He can't escape this! The only counter to the
properly-applied camel clutch is to not get into it in the first place!
BW: Teach him some humility, Sultan!
"DING! DING! DING!"
GM: The young man finally submits, but now the Sultan has to break the
hold! And he's not doing that!
[Boos rain down as the Sultan continues to pull back for all he's worth.
The bell rings more.]
BW: This punk kid jumped the Sultan from behind! Remember what he did
to Kolya Sudakov for that?! Why does he think he'd get off any easier?!
GM: Sharif ambushed Sudakov with Vladmir Velikov's help, and you know
it! He had help attacking him and help beating him! But Rick Scott is
helpless here! And finally, the Sultan lets him go!
BW: He broke before the ref counted ta five! That's legal!
GM: DURING a match! Not AFTER it!
MC: The winner of this match... SULTAN AZAM SHARIF!
BW: See? They didn't reverse the decision, so it couldn't be too bad!
[The Sultan rises, thrusting a single finger in the air to indicate his
opinion of himself. Many of the fans follow suit. They seem to be
using different fingers, however.]
GM: We're going to listen to what the Sultan has to attempt to say
momentarily...
BW: HEY!
GM: But let's have a look at the replay. Bucky, take it away!
[We get the slo-mo replay of the Sultan with a hiplock applied; he's
trapped Rick Scott's right arm back using his own, and bending Scott
back at the hip. The young fireplug fires away with a punch, but the
Sultan ducks into the swing, locks his arms around Scott's chest with
the right arm still trapped in there, and explodes into a pivoting
belly-to-belly suplex!]
BW: Right here, ya see why the man was an Olympian. Transitions so
smooth, Scott didn't know he was gettin' suplexed until he was up in the
air, daddy. He gripped 'em an' ripped 'em, an' coulda pinned him right
there if he wanted.
[And then the Camel Clutch replay. Rick Scott's face is turning
purple... his eyes are bugging out, but he thrashes away helplessly,
unable to get off of his stomach, and unable to move his arms from under
Sharif's arms.]
BW: But no, this is how he wanted ta finish it. Look how Scott's
trapped. A lot of people use this hold these days, but most don't do it
right. They don't do the arm trap an' they don't sit back like this.
Sultan Azam Sharif talks real funny, but he's dead serious about
wrestling, you can see it here. An' now you're gonna hear it, as
Gordon's with 'em now. Get your translators handy!
[We cut over to the intersection of ringside and the aisleway, where
Gordon Myers is handling this interview himself (apparently, Jason Dane
is preparing for a different interview; lots of people on this show, you
know). Count Bathwaite is in front, while the Sultan waves his
ginormous flag in the background. The "U! S! A! U! S! A! U! S! A! U!
S! A!" chant is in full swing.]
GM: Count Adrian Bathwaite... your man, once again, very impressive.
CAB: Thank you, Gordon Myers. I heard a bit of choking on those words,
so I accept them.
GM: But two weeks ago, although the Sultan was also victorious, it took
an assist from Ivan Kostovich to eke out the win over Kolya Sudakov.
[Bathwaite acts shocked and startled at this statement. The Sultan is
busily plugging his ears and imploring the fans to stop chanting;
naturally, this eggs them on even more.]
CAB: What are you talking about, you needle-necked serf?! My man won
fair and square! Small package, brilliant technique, center of the
ring!
GM: Well, if you need me to jog your memory, we have a replay...
[And cue the replay that is clearly marked "TWO WEEKS AGO" as the
Russian gets to a knee, waiting as Sharif charges him...
...and scoops him up into the air, rotating quickly, and DRIVING Sharif
down to the mat!]
GM: POWERSLAM!! POWERSLAM!!
[The former National Champion throws himself into a lateral press,
reaching back to hook a leg.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR-
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
GM: Shoulder up! He got the shoulder up in time!
[Sudakov pushes up off the mat, shaking his head as he climbs back to
his feet, slowly backing towards the corner...
...and suddenly the crowd begins jeering wildly.]
GM: Wait a second! Wait one second!
[The crowd boos wildly as Ivan Kostovich shows up on the ramp, walking
with purpose in his designer suit down the walkway.]
GM: Ivan Kostovich! What in the world is he doing out here?
[Upon reaching the ring, Kostovich pauses...
...and Adrian Bathwaite climbs up on the apron on the opposite side of
the ring, drawing the referee's attention.]
GM: The ref's distracted and-
[Kostovich suddenly charges down the apron, DRILLING a surprised Sudakov
in the chest with a double axehandle sledge!]
GM: OHHH!
BW: RUSSIAN HAMMER! RUSSIAN HAMMER!
GM: Sudakov got rocked and-
[And gets dragged down into a small package by Sharif just as the
referee turns around.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEE!!!
[We freeze there and cut back to live action where Bathwaite, who had
walked over to view that on the commentary monitor, is looking outraged.
He feigns outrage very well.]
CAB: YOU LYING COMMONERS! THAT WAS TRICK PHOTOGRAPHY!
GM: ...trick photography?!
CAB: Trick photography! You spliced in one of Comrade Kostovich's many
victories, showed him using the Soviet Hammer on some unwitting victim
that looks like Kolya Sudakov, then cut to the part where my man rolled
him up for the clean pin! Now you listen here, you lowborn little
beggar!
[Bathwaite starts with the Angry Old Man cane-jabbing on Myers. Gordon
grimaces, as that's really irritating.]
CAB: Ivan Kostovich is an honorable man. He would never cheat his own
countryman; he loves his nation! I wrestled against Kostovich in the
first card ever held in the Egg Dome back in 1988, and he was one of the
few, and I say the VERY few, men I have battled who earned my respect.
He was even worthy to be in the ring with me, and I do not say that
about many people. He is now a friend of mine, and a true equal... which
is so very hard to find in a world full of lowlife garbage. To see you
try and shame and disgrace the man is a preposterous heresy. I ought to
thrash you myself, you smelly prat! But I made a promise to never soil
my hands with the rabble again, and my man here the Sultan would never
attack the helpless for any reason, even when he ought to!
GM: That's reassuring.
[And now the Sultan, who quite legitimately seems embarrased by all of
this, tries to play peacmaker.]
SAS: Men fathlek, men fahtlek! Mistair Gordon Myers, vat for did you
make it so Mistair Count Batwaite get so angry? Tousan-tousan peepel all
over deh vorld saw vat did I do to Koolya Sudokopff! But Mistair Koolya
Sudokopff, he is a good wrestlair, un I raspec him. He nevair got AWA
shampwonship rematch, un Mistair Jumm Vatkins, you should do vat is
honairable un give Koolya Sudokopff dot shampwonship match like dot vat
he say!
BUT RAMEMBAH! Sultan *slaps left chest* Azam *slaps right chest*
Sharif! *wipes the sweat off with both hands* I pin Koolya Sudokopff
like nobody else in AWA could do, only for Mistair Stevie Scott vat is
AWA shampwon! Now I know, Mistair Count Batwaite know, un OntollEgunt
AmerEcuns know! Dey know dot sometimes, ven you not AmerEcun, dey not
gonna give you fair treatmunt like did dey gave Jew-an Vuzquez
tousan-tousan title shots but Koolya Sudokopff dey gave none! But dot
doesn't mattair! Mistair Count batwaite, he gonna make sure dot I get a
title shot, even ven I gotta beat more jehbronies like dis vun I just
beat, un deh othair AWA wrestlairs!
CAB: That's right, that's right! My man is too humble, too polite to
tell you needle-necked serfs that he already deserves a shot and it's an
outrage that he has to wade through the rank-and-file. Why, I even
heard some snotnosed naff, some dirt farmer called Supernova a couple
weeks ago spouting off about my man, and making fun of his accent!
[Sultan seems genuinely upset now.]
SAS: I know dot I not speak very good Anglaish! Un all dese peepell
gotta shant USA, USA?! Un Supairnova, who is dot jehbronie?
[And the people chant USA again. You can't win, Sultan!]
CAB: Don't worry about him, Sultan. He's just some dumb kid who was
supposed to debut in AWA two years ago, but had to be scratched from the
card six times.
GM: Huh? What are you talking about?
CAB: Finally, on the seventh time, he ran out of spray paint, and some
kind soul gave him grease paint instead... so they didn't have to call
an ambulance every time he made his face up! That's the kind of
braindead chu tou we're dealing with here in America. Like all of these
people who chant USA, as if the Sultan and I aren't cashing American
checks and banking American money! You dirt farmers exist only for the
convienience of the elite, so know your place! And that goes double for
any no-talent rookies that want to run their mouths about the Great and
Honorable Sultan!
[Sharif waves the Iranian flag some more, as the two men make their way
up onto the elevated rampway. The fans keep chanting and booing as
Gordon heads back to the announce position.]
BW: And there ya have it. To sum all that up: the Sultan won cleanly,
deserves a title match, Gordon needs to get whipped for lying about Ivan
Kostovich, an' Supernova is an idiot. Hey, welcome back, Gordo. Jason
Dane thanks you for doing his job for him.
GM: He's got an interview of his own coming up... and I have two
comments from what Bathwaite just said. One, he practically admitted to
being in cahoots with Kostovich. And two, he is leading this man Sharif
around by the nose.
BW: Nah, you're crossing the line from 'opinion' to 'lies', Gordo.
GM: Time will tell. Fans, right now we've got a very special
presentation for you. We get a lot of fan mail and one of the number
one questions we keep seeing as of late is - what is going on with Eric
Preston? He's here, he's not, he's hurt, he's healthy. No one seems to
know what is happening with that young man... until now. Earlier this
week, we dispatched our own Jason Dane to sit down with Eric Preston and
to get some answers for all of you. Let's go to that footage now...
[The scene switches to Jason Dane, sitting back comfortable in a chair,
dressed in a blue AWA pullover and khaki pants, with a clipboard in
front of him.]
JD: Jason Dane here fans, coming to you from Greenville, South Carolina
- home to this man, Eric Preston.
[The camera switches to Preston, sitting in a leather backed chair,
dressed in a white Nike t-shirt and black jeans, a beaten down Hickory
Crawdads hat pulled low on his head. He's unshaven with circles around
his eyes, and unnaturally flushed in the face.]
JD: Eric, the question has to be asked. A few months ago you were one of
the AWA's rising stars. You were a darkhorse to win the Rumble, you ran
with some of the biggest stars in the company, you were endorsed by
everyone from Todd Michaelson to Juan Vasquez.
And yet we haven't seen you compete on Saturday Night Wrestling in
weeks, and now that I see you face to face... you don't look so good.
What's going on?
[Preston leans back in his seat and rubs a hand through his hair.]
EP: You know Jason, I don't know. I feel like, ah, I feel like there's a
dark cloud hanging over me. Like, every time I try to move on in my
career and go forward, something keeps pulling me back.
JD: Is that cloud...
EP: Yeah. Monosso.
[Preston spits the name out and shakes his head.]
EP: I can't do it, man. It physically pains me to see that guy, and
those... people, it makes me ill to see those people doing the things
they do. Wrestling is about tradition, and it's respect. It's one of the
last real forms of athleticism and competition and all the things that
are right with our culture and, and...
...and these guys make a mockery of it. They drag it through the mud,
and they injure people in the process.
JD: Including you.
EP: Including me.
[Preston looks down again and exhales, angry even talking about it.]
JD: At the hands of James Monosso, you've cracked a rib, gotten a
concussion, had a deep thigh bruise that required rehab and chipped a
tooth. How has the impacted your life?
EP: Truth be told, it's made it hard to function normally. Forget as a
wrestler, just as a normal person. I lost about three hours from that
concussion, and the headaches have just started to go away.
You know, there's so much emphasis on head injuries and medical
procedures when the head is involved, I haven't been cleared to wrestle
since Battle at the Bayou.
JD: [interjecting] Battle on the Bayou.
EP: Right, Battle on the Bayou. Things like that, little slips, they
keep popping up. I have a real hard time...
[Preston stops again, and collects himself.]
EP: I have a real hard time focusing on anything else in my career,
because that black cloud keeps hanging over my head. When I left the
Combat Corner, this is not what I envisioned. I wanted to be the first
guy out of the Corner to win the National title, I wanted to climb the
ranks of the AWA and pursue everything I thought wrestling had to offer,
you know.
I wanted to get in there at SuperClash, put this all behind me and get
back on track to where I wanted to go. I wanted to get some closure on a
bloody section of my life and resume my quest.
But how can I get closure, how can I put this stuff behind me when I
can't get cleared? When I watch SNW and see Combat Corner students, guys
I know, when I see Monosso chew them up and spit them out. Everywhere I
go man, even when he's not there, I'm seeing this guy all around me.
I'm seeing the blood he's causing, the broken bones. I'm telling you, I
know it sounds crazy, but I can't get my head straight while he's still
upright. I've got to put a stop to him, if not for me then for all the
people that he intentionally puts in danger everytime he steps in the
ring. I know it's a brutal sport Jason, but he's over the line. No one
is safe, no one in the AWA. I've got to, I just need to--
[Preston wipes his forehead, now starting to sweat.]
EP: I need to take him out, Jason. I need to get the job done, because
if I don't I'm not sure who will. People are put in places for specific
reasons, and I was put here to stare down James Monosso. If I don't take
him down, no one will.
[Dane looks perplexed at Preston, who is grabbing the arms of his chair
so hard he nearly pulls them off.]
JD: So... you're putting your title aspirations on the backburner?
EP: No way, Jason. I'm working through them. I've been cleared by the
doctors to compete, and I want to make my return to the ring in style.
On this next Saturday Night Wrestling, I'm challenging James Monosso to
a one on one match. So I can get my closure, so I can get rid of this
damn black cloud hanging over my head.
So I can finally sleep at night without seeing the horror show he brings
with him wherever he goes. So I can sleep again period.
And once I rid myself of this damn Monosso plague, I'm going right back
to work. I'm entering into the Steal the Spotlight match at SuperClash,
and I'm going to win the whole shebang. And from there, with Monosso
behind me, I'm going to climb the rungs, one by one, and surpass
anything I've ever accomplished.
JD: And you think that beating James Monosso and getting the closure you
need is going to give you that clearness of conscience?
EP: Jason...
[Preston sits back and nods emphatically.]
EP: I'm willing to bet my career on it.
[The camera holds on Preston for a long moment... and then fades to
black.
...and back up to a shot of the original SuperClash logo. A voiceover
begins.]
"It was a night that few can forget."
[We can hear announcer cries like...
"ROUGH HOUSING! ONE!!! TWO!!! THREEEEEEEE!!!!"
"What a night for the Matsui Corporation! They stole the spotlight and
now they've beaten the mighty Tumaffi!"
"FIREBALL! FIREBALL!"]
"Stars were made. Careers were shortened. Lives were altered forever."
[We can hear the "moment of truth" for Raphael Rhodes...
"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"]
"But in the end, there was only one conclusion...
SuperClash... IS... wrestling."
[One more soundbite.
"HE DID IT! HE DID IT! STEVIE BEAT ALL THE ODDS!"]
"On Thanksgiving night, show the world of wrestling what you're thankful
for."
[And a final graphic comes up...
SuperClash 2. Thanksgiving Night.
We fade back to live action where Melissa is already standing in the
ring.]
MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a five-minute
time limit. Introducing first, from Retribution, Texas, weighing in at
245 pounds...
JAMES JUSTICE!
[Justice fires finger guns at the crowd.]
MC: And his opponent...
[Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love" kicks in to a big negative reaction,
which quickly quietens to an uncertain buzz, because the man who emerges
from the entranceway is clearly not the "Playboy" Johnny Casanova. The
pasty white skin on the puffy physique does not match the tanned face,
indicating that this man is wearing a fat suit. In place of Casanova's
trunks, he has on a pair of tiny yellow thongs over the fat suit and a
matching feather boa. He is followed by a tall, blond, manly-looking
woman. In fact, judging by the five o' clock shadow, she might well be a
man.]
BW: That's not the Playboy and THAT is CLEARLY not Big Mama!
[Rounding out the trio is a blond woman, dressed in a short, white dress
and a pair of high heels.]
GM: That's Miss Amanda!
BW: Which means that's...
MC: Hailing from Jacksonville, Florida, tipping the scales tonight at
350 pounds and being accompanied to the ring by MISS AMANDA and CHUNKY
MUMMY, he is
SCOTT
"SWEET CHEEKS"
MAYHEM!!!
[Mayhem stops waddling towards the ring to turn around and wiggle his
padded butt at the camera. He turns around and, despite blond wig, his
wild eyes are unmistakeable as he looks over his star-shaped shades into
the camera as the handsome Chunky Mummy leans in for a kiss. Mayhem
holds his hand up just as she is about to land a peck on his cheek and
motions instead for Miss Amanda.]
BW: He's got a lot of cheek-
GM: Well, that is a lot of cheek for one man, Bucky.
BW: Ha-ha, everyone's a comedian tonight, Gordo. Mayhem won't be
laughing when Casanova's lawyer gets him for stealing the Playboy's
look.
[Reaching the ringside area, Mayhem pretends to be having trouble
getting onto the ring apron. Chunky Mummy has to give him a boost as he
rolls under the bottom rope. He gets to his feet and twirls around,
sending feathers flying, then wiggles his thong-clad bottom some more
and throws a few pelvic thrusts in James Justice's direction.]
"DING! DING!"
[Weary of Mayhem's antics, Justice comes charging in at the bell, but
Mayhem holds up his hands and stops Justice in his tracks. He motions
for his opponent to punch him in his bulging gut. Justice obliges, but
Mayhem doesn't seem to feel it under the fat suit. He motions for
Justice to do it again, miming a flurry of punches. James Justice lets
loose with a cartoonish series of punches to the midsection which Mayhem
simply shrugs and laughs off.]
GM: And in a move straight out of the Three Stooges, Mayhem just stuck
his fingers in James Justice's eye.
BW: Disqualify him already so we can end this stupidity!
GM: Justice is not happy... He swings for Mayhem's head!
[But Mayhem sidesteps the wild swing and, grabbing Justice by his hair,
rams his forehead against the top turnbuckle.]
GM: Flying knee to the upper back! You're right, Bucky, that's not
Johnny Casanova. I don't think the Playboy could ever get that far off
the ground. And once more with a HIIIGH leaping knee drop!
[James Justice rolls about the ring, clutching his chest, and somehow
finds himself positioned with his head under the bottom rope. Chunky
Mummy holds him down while the referee tries to stop Scott Mayhem from
stepping through the ropes.]
GM: BIG leg drop! Right across the throat! And Mayhem's strutting his
stuff on the outside.
[Despite losing his wig, we see Mayhem mocking the Playboy strut and
wiggling his butt at the crowd, before rolling back into the ring.]
GM: No problem getting back in the ring that time. Now he's pulling
James Justice to his feet... He's got his arm hooked!
[Mayhem's about to hook Justice's other arm but he struggles free. A
clubbing blow to the back, however, sends Justice crashing to the mat.
Mayhem again drags him to his feet and manages hook both arms. He throws
in a couple pelvic thrusts for good measure, before lifting him...]
GM: UNDERHOOK FACE DRIVER!!!
BW: He's even stolen the Playboy's moves! He can't do that!
GM: But Scott Mayhem is not done! He points to the top rope! He's going
to the top! Shades of the Playboy in his heyday... HUGE TOP ROPE LEG
DROP!!! COVER! ONE! TWO!
"DING! DING! DING!"
GM: Three hundred and fifty pounds or not, that beautiful high-flying
leg drop earns Scott Mayhem a victory.
[Chunky Mummy and Miss Amanda join Scott Mayhem in the ring and raise
his hands. Mayhem whispers something in Chunky Mummy's ear, pointing to
the laid out James Justice. With a smile, Chunky Mummy goes over to
Justice and drops to her knees as if to check on him. She leans down and
kisses him on the lips, causing him to splutter back to life. Mayhem
and Miss Amanda laugh at the sight of James Justice trying to fight
Chunky Mummy off, as they both exit the ring and make their way towards
the interview area where Jason Dane is standing by.]
JD: Scott, one question, please! Now, I don't know what just went down,
but I have to ask, Scott, what's with the get-up?
SM: What's with the get-up, Jay-Dee? It's Halloween tomorrow, oh yes,
and I needed to find the scariest, ugliest, most horrifying thing I
could dress up as! Now I know what it feels like to be the Playboy and I
have to tell you, Jay-Dee, it's not a good place to be. Johnny Casanova
is convinced that he's seen the end of the Mayhem, but if he doesn't
know already, he's about to find out how stubborn I can be, oh yes! I'm
going to mock you, I'm going to stalk you, Casanova, and when SuperClash
comes around, if you're in the Steal the Spotlight match? I'll be
standing right across that ring from you. It'll be just like looking in
the mirror, Johnny, or at least a glimpse of what you could have been.
Believe that!
[And with that, Scott Mayhem leads Miss Amanda to the back to continue
their celebration.]
GM: Another big win for Scott Mayhem and you heard him, Bucky. If
Casanova wants in Steal The Spotlight, so does he.
BW: Man oh man... Preston inserted himself in there earlier tonight and
now those two? This thing could steal the whole show just like the name
says, daddy.
GM: It certainly could. And speaking of show stealers, Nenshou's
incredible athleticism has the chance to do exactly that every time he
steps into the ring. And tonight, when he steps into that ring, he'll
be in there with a man hungry to do the exact same thing - steal the
show and prove to the world he means business. It will be Nenshou
versus Supernova later tonight for the final spot in the semifinals in
the Longhorn Heritage Title tournament but for now, I understand that
Jason Dane has been summoned backstage. Apparently, Percy Childes
didn't even want to be bothered to come out to the interview platform.
BW: When you're the man holding Monosso's leash and Nenshou's contract,
daddy, ya get to name your time an' place.
GM: I certainly wouldn't want to be the one to tell him 'no', at any
rate. Let's go backstage to see what the "Collector Of Oddities" has to
say.
[We cut back to a hallway, which is decorated with plain off-white paint
and brown doors. Nothing pretty, but then again, it wasn't designed to
be pretty. Jason Dane stands next to the well-rounded form of Percy
Childes. The malevolent manager is wearing a black suit which is
tailor-made; obviously, nothing off the rack would fit his Weeble-esque
physique. A calm demeanor is about the manager, whose hands are folded
neatly in front of him, as if he were praying... not an activity he does
much of.
Jason opens up in a confrontational tone.]
JD: Percy Childes, we have an interview stage for a reas... *gack*
[Maybe too confrontational. The crystal-tipped end of Childes' cane is
pressed against his Adam's apple, though Percy's face holds no sign of
anger. Just a matter-of-fact cold glare. When he speaks, it is in a
near-hush.]
PC: Mister Dane. Kindly keep your voice down... if you wish to keep
your voice.
JD: ...sorry?
PC: Yes, I summoned you back here not for my own convienience, but for a
rare privilege. Tonight, as you would have no doubt soon reminded our
short-of-attention-span audience, my Nenshou faces the young
Supernova... of whom I have more to say in a moment. But out of the
goodness of my heart...
[Percy pauses a bit here to chuckle. Even he doesn't buy that line.]
PC: ...I decided to give you a small glimpse into the preparation of
Nenshou. Bring the camera around, and do so silently.
[Percy steps over to a door, and opens it halfway. The lights are out
inside, and only a few candles provide any illumination. In the center
of the candles, which encircle what appears to be some arcane symbol
drawn on the floor in chalk, is Nenshou. He is on his knees, intently
staring at his own hand, two taped fingers raised in some gesture that
has significance to only him. Aside from that, there is no motion. No
sign that he is aware of the camera, or anything else.]
PC: This is a deep meditation used by the warriors of the Orient for
many thousands of years. Nenshou is preparing his mind, Dane. The
concept of mental preparation is lost on this generation. It is more
than studying your opponent, more than 'psyching yourself up'. Nenshou
is entering a battle meditation state. It grants him superior
concentration, discipline, mental reflexes, and perception. He becomes
one with the battle, and that is why he always wins.
[Percy turns back to the camera, closing the door quietly behind him.]
PC: The last time this program aired, we showed the world the difference
between the common man and the man who sets himself above. Vernon Riley
fell to Nenshou.
JD: Thanks to the efforts of Anton Layton and James Monosso from earlier
in the week!
PC: That is no excuse. Greatness overcomes. Nenshou overcomes. And
Supernova, tonight we will expose you for what you are. But really, you
yourself have already exposed what you are. After all, Dane, what is a
supernova?
JD: It's when a star explodes.
PC: It is an event that coincides with death. You might just as well
have called yourself "Death Gurgle", "Last Breath", or "Final Regrets".
A supernova shines brightly for a moment, and then the star dies. The
supernova only exists for a very, very brief time compared to the life
of a star. If a star were a man, it would be the equivalent of... a few
weeks.
How apropos.
Tonight is the end, Supernova. You have shone brightly for these past
few weeks. You could have had a future, if you had the proper training
and the proper mindset. But your attitude and demeanor have betrayed
you. You allow your passions to flow unchecked, you allow your energy
to be so easily spent, and you allow the fickle fans free reign over the
processes of your mind. You are undisciplined. And that means that
Nenshou has already won. Wild reckless emotion can never, ever overcome
the disciplined mind. Tonight, Supernova... your star dies. And my
star? He is only now entering Main Sequence. He will illuminate
professional wrestling for a long, long time to come.
[Percy steps away, leaving Dane to close out.]
JD: A strong statement from the Childes camp, but later this evening,
we'll all find out if Nenshou is as stellar as he thinks.
[Bad pun! He grins, a bit too proud of himself.]
JD: Let's head back down to the ring for more action!
[We fade back to ringside where Melissa is standing.]
MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring at this time... from
Parts Unknown... THE RED DEVIL!
[A bulky masked man throws up his beefy arms to some jeers.]
MC: And his opponent...
[The sounds of Metallica's "Creeping Death" kicks in to a HUGE cheer!]
MC: From Russia... he is a former AWA National Champion... the Russian
War Machine...
KOLLLLLYAAAA SUUUUUDAKOV!
[The Russian War Machine bursts through the curtain, arms raised to a
huge cheer from the crowd. The heavy metal chain hangs over his
shoulders as he stomps down the entrance ramp towards the ring. He
throws down the chain before stepping through the ropes.]
GM: Kolya wasted no time in-
[The bell rings as Sudakov shouts at the Devil in Russian.]
GM: I think Kolya wants this one underway and he wants it now.
[The masked man rushes towards him, his near three hundred pounds
bearing down on the Russian...
...who sidesteps and snaps off a kick to the ample midsection of the Red
Devil.]
GM: Ohh! Nice kick to the gut!
BW: Sudakov's all fired up. He's bent out of shape that he got beat by
a TRUE winner in Sultan Azam Sharif two weeks ago. Who can blame him?
GM: He's upset because Ivan Kostovich cost him that match, Bucky!
BW: Semantics.
[Sudakov shoves the masked man back to the corner, moving in with his
shoulders squared. A hooking blow to the ribcage shocks the plump Red
Devil. Sudakov throws a knee to the gut as well, doubling him up.]
GM: Look out here.
[Grabbing the Red Devil behind the neck, Sudakov lands three crushing
Thai style knees to the skull before throwing the big man out of the
corner by the head.]
GM: Sudakov's just muscling him around out here and-
[As the Devil stumbles up, Sudakov ducks down, powering the big man
up...]
GM: Oh my stars! Look at that!
[...and SLAMS him down to the mat with a thunderous bodyslam!]
GM: He slammed the big man! Pure power on display by Kolya Sudakov
and-
[Sudakov throws his arms apart, letting loose a roar as he backs to the
corner. He crouches, sizing up his target as the big man slowly
staggers back up to his feet...
...and rushes towards him, striking with the running clothesline across
the collarbone, knocking the Devil flat!]
GM: SICKLE! SUDAKOV HITS THE SICKLE!!
[The Russian dives atop the downed masked man, pushing his fists down
into the chest and pressing himself off the mat.]
GM: One. Two. And there's the three.
"DING! DING! DING!"
MC: Here is your winner... KOLLLLYAAAA SUUUDAKOV!
[The Russian gets back to his feet, allowing the referee to briefly
raise his arm in triumph before stepping through the ropes. He quickly
makes his way back up the ramp.]
GM: A victory for Kolya Sudakov but you have to imagine that what he's
really looking for at this point is another match with Sultan Azam
Sharif.
BW: He really want another loss on his record?
GM: I don't think that would happen again. Sudakov had that match well
in hand until Ivan Kostovich got involved, Bucky. And you know it.
BW: All I know is that Sharif got his hand raised once and if they meet
again, that'll happen again!
GM: Mark Stegglet has Kolya with him right now - let's hear what he
thinks about that.
[We fade back to the interview platform where Mark Stegglet is standing
alongside the former National Champion, Kolya Sudakov.]
MS: Thanks, Gordon. Kolya, another nice performance in there.
KS: Thank you, Mark Stegglet. Kolya did what Kolya does best. The AWA
put many, many people in Kolya's path as he heads back to the National
Title. Men like the Red Devil in there tonight - he is no challenge for
Kolya.
But Sharif? Sharif is challenge.
MS: Well, Kolya, some would argue that Sharif is more than a challenge.
He beat you two weeks ago!
[Kolya eyes Stegglet for a moment.]
KS: Do you believe that, Mark Stegglet?
MS: Huh?
KS: Do you really believe that Kolya lost to Sharif? Lost as a man
should lose? One on one... how you say... man to man?
MS: Well, obviously there was some interference.
[Sudakov nods.]
KS: Yes there was. Ivan Kostovich... my comrade... my childhood hero.
Do you know the move he hit Kolya with two weeks ago?
MS: The Russian Hammer?
[Another nod.]
KS: The same move Kolya used in WarGames as tribute to my hero. That
was a message - a greeting to Comrade Kostovich. An invitiation to come
to Kolya to discuss Russian presence in the AWA.
[A shake of the head.]
KS: Kolya was willing to stay out of Comrade Kostovich's way... but
he... how you say... has put himself on Kolya's path. That is fine,
Comrade Kostovich too. You want Kolya? Kolya is waiting for you.
[Suddenly, the crowd begins to buzz as the spotlight illuminates the
entryway to show Ivan Kostovich in yet another stylish suit arriving on
the scene. He makes his way over to the interview area, glaring at the
younger Sudakov.]
IK: Kolya is waiting for me?
[Kostovich throws his arms apart.]
IK: Here I am, you ignorant savage.
[The crowd jeers Kostovich.]
IK: Now what's next?
[Sudakov glares at his childhood hero, unsure of what to do next.]
IK: I'll tell you what's next, Sudakov. You have let down yourself...
you have let down your family... and worst of all, you have let down
your country.
You were once a great champion. A hero yourself to the Russian people.
Now?
[Kostovich spits on the ground.]
IK: You fail to defeat an Olympian from another nation. You have
shamed us all!
[The crowd jeers as Sudakov looks down with something approaching
disappointment on his face.]
IK: I came to the AWA for you, Sudakov.
[Kostovich points a threatening finger.]
IK: To take you back to Russia for "government review."
[Sudakov's head rises, shaking his head at Kostovich.]
IK: You act like this is a suggestion. This is an order, Sudakov.
[Sudakov continues to shake his head.]
IK: You are stubborn like a mule.
[Kostovich strokes his chin for a moment.]
IK: Very well, Kolya. I will give you one final chance to prove
yourself.
One match. On one side of the ring... you.
On the other?
[Dramatic pause.]
IK: Your uncle, Vladimir Velikov. It is high time he proves himself
worth staying here as well instead of embarrassing the Russian people.
[Big cheer at the idea of that one.]
IK: I will arrange with Mr. Sharif and Mr. Bathwaite to stay out of the
match. They will not interfere, I assure you. This match will be
sanctioned by the Russian Athletic Commission as well.
[He raises a finger.]
IK: But there are stakes, Sudakov. If you win that match, your
obligations binding you in service to your country will be revoked. You
will be a...
[He sneers.]
IK: ...a free man.
However... if you lose...
[A smirk.]
IK: You will do whatever I say. If I tell you to go back to Russia,
you go. If I send you back to the cagefighting world you come from, you
will go. If I send you to wash cars in my driveway, you will go.
Do we...
[He gets a mocking fake heavy accent.]
IK: "how you say"... have a deal?
[Sudakov stares long and hard at Ivan Kostovich...
...and nods his head.]
IK: Good. Very good. I bid you farewell... and good luck, Kolya.
[Kostovich turns, walking away to the jeers of the crowd.]
MS: Kolya, those are very high stakes indeed. Are you sure you should
have agreed to those?
[Sudakov looks up at Stegglet.]
KS: It is done.
[With a short nod, Sudakov walks past Stegglet, heading back up the ramp
towards the locker room.]
MS: Wow. Kolya Sudakov may have just made the biggest mistake of his
career, fans. What will happen when he faces his Uncle one on one
inside this ring? You won't want to miss that one. Now, let's head
over to the other side of the aisle with my good friend, Jason Dane!
Jason?
[We pan across the entrance aisle to Jason Dane who is on the other side
of the platform.]
JD: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, I want to welcome the reigning
AWA National tag team champions... they are Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew
Somers... Rough N Ready!
[With that, Cooper and Somers emerge from the entranceway and make their
way to the interview platform. They are already dressed in their
wrestling attire, each with a title belt slung over his shoulder. The
crowd gives them a mixed reaction, although the boos are evident.]
JD: All right, Rough N Ready, tonight you are set to take on The
Rockstar Express in a non-title matchup... but the first question I have
to ask you... why would this be a non-title affair?
EMS: [raising his eyebrows] And are you implying that we are afraid to
defend the titles tonight?
JD: I didn't say that, Eric.
EMS: I'm sure you didn't. Just as I'm sure I won't hear those words out
of the mouths of these pretty boys we've got tonight. Hey, I heard what
they had to say... we're the type of old men who just shout at kids to
get off our lawn. Not exactly... we're the type of old men who go up to
those kids on the lawn, pick them up and throw them off!
[He has a wicked grin on his face as he says this. Dave then
interjects.]
DC: First of all, Jason, because your inquiring mind wants to know,
evidently Larry Doyle bugged the front office so much about our offer
for a title match at SuperClash, he wanted an iron-clad guarantee that
nobody else before his Blonde Bombers got their shot. Well, that's just
fine... because when they get their title shot at SuperClash, we're
gonna see to it that the only words out of Doyle's mouth to the front
office is that he's ready to turn in his resignation because his Bombers
failed to get the job done!
As far as the Rockstars go... boys, you may have the excuse of the
Masked Menace's involvement for your loss to the Bombers, but you won't
get that excuse against us, because all it's gonna take to beat you are
two men... that's Eric and myself. And evidently, you spent too much
time partying the night of Battle on the Bayou to pay attention to how
we do business in that ring.
Well, tonight, you get a firsthand experience of how we do business in
the ring, and you're gonna find out that putting us out to pasture isn't
gonna happen... instead, you'll get taken to the woodshed!
[With that, Rough N Ready departs the interview position 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 comes back up to live action in the locker rooms where Rob
Donovan is reclining in a steel chair, wearing a black t-shirt with the
old LWC logo, blue jeans, black boots -- the standard fashion plate
fare. The big man looks like he was in a fight recently, too, evidence
of the violence level in his matchup against Jack Holland. That said,
he's still smiling.]
RD: Guess ya ain't too much the "Gentleman" after all, Jack. Damn good
thing too, since if you didn't fight back, I woulda gladly beaten you
into the dirt an' left you layin' as a message to all the folks still
left in this tournament.
[Suddenly, the smile is gone.]
RD: People might think I just went a little bit too far 'cause that
match was in Laredo, Texas, an' maybe I was just havin' some
Longhorn-related flashbacks. I know there was a lot of nasty violence
that went on there, but the brain still came out relatively unscarred,
folks. No, what happened with Jack Holland wasn't the result of a
hallucination or a flashback, it was nothin' more than a reminder.
[Donovan leans forward.]
RD: This tournament is to crown the Longhorn Heritage Champion -- the
first Longhorn Heritage champ, ta boot. I've gone on an' on about what
that represents an' what it means to me, so I won't bore ya with the
details again, but lemme bring up this point...if ya thought what
happened between me an' Jack Holland was disturbing or violent, then you
ain't got a clue what the LWC was about.
[Donovan leans back again, chuckling quietly.]
RD: Gettin' a lil' banged around ringside, bounced off the post or the
rail...that's nothin'. It's nothin' to me...an' I guarantee it'll seem
like nothin' to the rest of you sorry bastards standin' between me an'
that Longhorn Heritage belt.
[With that, we fade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]
MC: The following non-title matchup is scheduled for one fall with a
fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first...
[The sounds of KISS' "Rock And Roll All Nite" sparks to life over the PA
system, sending the crowd into a roar.]
MC: From the Heart of Rock And Roll... at a total combined weight of
455 pounds... Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan...
THE ROCKSTAR EXPRESS!
[The popular duo breaks through the curtain to an even bigger cheer.
Together, they trot down the aisle, slapping the outstretched hands of
the fans lining the entrance ramp. As they near the ropes, they stop
and point to the crowd, encouraging a mass sing-a-long.]
# I WANT TO ROCK AND ROLL ALL NITE #
# AND PARTY EV-ER-Y DAY! #
# IIIII WANT TO ROCK AND ROLL ALL NITE #
# AND PARTY EV-ER-Y DAY! #
[With the crowd singing, the duo steps through the ropes, approaching
opposite corners where they mount the midbuckle, saluting the cheering
fans before they hop off to the middle, exchanging a high five as the
music changes to Deep Purple.]
MC: And their opponents...
[Once the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's
when Rough N Ready emerges from the entranceway. Dave Cooper wears
black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white wrestling boots, and
also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N Ready" in white lettering.
Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and white wrestling boots.
Both men have the National Title belts slung over their shoulders as
they walk with purpose towards the ring.]
MC: From Albuquerque, New Mexico... at a total combined weight of 615
pounds... they are the AWA National Tag Team Champions... Dave Cooper
and Eric Matthew Somers...
ROUGH! N! READYYYYYY!
[Cooper steps through the ropes quickly, pointing a finger of warning at
a nearby Scotty Storm who balls up his fists, ready for a fight if
needed. Somers steps into the ring as well, sneering at Marty Morgan
who is pacing back and forth.]
GM: There's a lot of anticipation on both sides of the ring for this
one, Bucky.
BW: Cooper and Somers have been talking about respect. About young
kids thinking they should step aside. Well, teams like the Rockstars
are gonna have to MAKE those two step aside, Gordo.
GM: And the Rockstars have made it clear. SuperClash isn't in the
cards for them. They'll get no shot at the National Tag Team Titles
there. But they're looking ahead. They're thinking about who
challenges the winner from SuperClash and just maybe they're thinking
about Christmas and the Stampede Cup as well, Bucky.
BW: If you're a tag team in professional wrestling, the Stampede Cup
can't be far from your mind this time of year, Gordo.
GM: That's a fact.
[The champions hand the belts over, Somers stepping out to the apron as
Scotty Storm does the same across the ring leaving Morgan and Cooper
inside the squared circle as the official calls for the bell.]
GM: And here we go, fans.
[The two men square off, circling one another but Morgan doesn't get
much time to ease into things as Cooper rushes into a collar and elbow
tieup, pushing Morgan back against the ropes.]
GM: The referee wants a clean break here...
[Cooper steps back, breaking clean...
...and throws a right hand that Morgan blocks before throwing one of his
own, knocking Cooper down on his tail!]
GM: Cooper tried to pull a fast one there and that wasn't gonna happen.
Marty Morgan was waiting for it and he caught him good on the chin with
that one.
[An angry Cooper scoots away, pointing out the clenched fists to the
referee who steps between Cooper and Morgan which allows the veteran to
get back to his feet. Cooper immediately backs to the ropes, his
partner moving over to speak to him.]
GM: Dave Cooper didn't like that one.
BW: Really? Let me pop you one on the jaw and see how you like it.
GM: I'll pass on that one.
[Cooper edges out of the corner again, looking to lock up. As they
engage, Cooper grabs Morgan's wrist, twisting it and yanking it into a
wristlock. Morgan fights it right away but Cooper holds firm, turning
up the pressure.]
GM: There's a lot of torque on the wrist of Marty Morgan here and-
[The crowd buzzes as Morgan grabs the top rope with his free hand...
...and front flips into the pressure, twisting his arm back the other
way.]
GM: Whoa! What a counter!
[And then pops Cooper on the jaw with a punch again, knocking him flat.]
GM: He floors Cooper again!
[An irate Cooper scampers back to his feet, charging back in...
...and taking another right hand on the jaw!]
GM: Morgan drops him once more!
[Cooper pops up again...
...and frantically backpedals away from a reared-back right hand,
stumbling back into his corner.]
GM: Morgan sent him a-runnin', Bucky.
BW: And this is what the Rockstars need to do to succeed here tonight.
Hit and move... run and duck... move quickly and move a ton. They need
to stay out of the reach of the champs... out of their power and
technique. The Rockstars need to hit the big moves and run back out in
a hurry.
[Cooper, on his feet in his corner, converses with the big man of his
team...
...and slaps Somers on the hand, bringing him into the match.]
GM: Here he comes, fans! The big man from Rough N Ready is tagged in!
[Eric Matthew Somers steps into the ring, looking down at Marty Morgan.
Somers smirks, reaching up to lightly slap his cheek...]
"Come on, kid. Show me what you've got."
GM: Somers just invited Marty Morgan to hit him. He wants the kid to
hit him with his best shot and-
[Morgan obliges, popping Somers on the jaw...
...but Somers feels nothing, grabbing Morgan by the back of the head,
and crushing his skull with a headbutt that knocks Morgan flat.]
GM: Ohh! Big headbutt there and-
[Somers spins around, moving quickly towards the corner where he claps
his arms together on the head of Storm, sending him crashing off the
apron and down to the floor.]
GM: Ohh! Come on!
[Somers spins around, charging a rising Morgan, and flooring him with a
running clothesline!]
GM: Down goes Morgan again and they're not doing what you suggested,
Bucky.
BW: No, they're not. They're gettin' slapped around by Somers though
and that's still fun to watch.
[Somers reaches down, dragging Morgan off the mat by the hair. He
promptly reaches down, picking him up in a bodyslam lift...
...and powers him up into a gorilla press!]
GM: Look at the raw power! Eric Matthew Somers has Morgan pressed
straight up overhead and-
[But as Somers turns with the helpless Morgan pressed high, a sneaky
Storm leaps off the midbuckle, catching Somers on the chin with a
dropkick that causes Somers to drop Morgan down on top of him.]
GM: Ohh! DOWN GOES MORGAN ON SOMERS!!
[The referee dives to the mat to count but Somers powers him off before
the one count comes down. An angry Somers gets up, getting caught with
a barrage of right hands from Storm.]
GM: Scotty Storm is tearing into him!
BW: He's illegal! Get him out of there!
[Somers reaches up blindly...
...and hooks a hand around the throat of Scotty Storm!]
GM: Whoa! Wait a second! What's going on here?
[Morgan rushes forward to help his partner...
...and gets a hand wrapped around his throat as well!]
GM: Double choke! He's got them both!
[But the Rockstars ain't goin' out like that, each lashing out with a
boot to the gut. With the double choke broken, Storm and Morgan each
take an arm over their necks.]
BW: No way, Gordo. This ain't happenin'.
GM: I can't imagine how they can- but they're going for it! They're
going for a double supl-
[The two Rockstars struggle and strain, trying to hoist him high into
the air but can barely get him off the mat before he settles back
down...
...and powers them both up into the air!]
GM: OH MY GOD!!
[And takes both men down with a bone-rattling double suplex!]
GM: Double suplex! Double suplex by Eric Matthew Somers!
[Somers gets up, throwing his arms back and letting loose a wild roar.
The crowd jeers him, getting an angry wave off in response. He marches
over to the downed Storm, pulling him up by the hair...
...and promptly HURLING him over the ropes to the floor!]
GM: Good grief! He has absolutely no regard for someone else's body!
[The big man spins around, yanking Morgan up to his feet as well. He
physically hurls him back to the corner, rushing in behind him with a
running clothesline!]
GM: Big clothesline in the corner...
[Somers leans over, grabbing the middle rope...
...and DRIVING his shoulder into the midsection! He does it again...
and again... and again... and again... and again...]
GM: Relentless assault in the corner by Somers and when you're 350
pounds, that's how someone ends up with broken ribs, Bucky.
BW: Somers has really taken on a dark side since strapping that belt
around his waist. He's shown a mean streak that I didn't know he even
had. They both have, really.
GM: Somers drags him out... uh oh..
[The crowd buzzes as Somers pulls Morgan into a standing headscissors.]
GM: He's got him hooked! If he hits this, it's over!
[But Scotty Storm climbs up on the apron, distracting Somers who throws
Morgan aside. He approaches Storm who ducks down, throwing his shoulder
into the gut of Somers.]
GM: Ohh! He caught Somers coming in!
[Pulling Somers' head through the ropes, Storm hops up on the middle
rope, leaping up...
...and dropping a leg across the back of Somers' neck, causing him to
slump through the ropes to the floor!]
GM: Whoa! That'll turn the tide in this one, fans! Scotty Storm with
a big time counter and that should turn things in the favor of the
Rockstars.
[Storm, not wanting to waste a moment, climbs back into the ring. He
moves to his partner's side, shaking him to help revive him.]
GM: What's going to happen now?
[Storm says something to Morgan who nods. Morgan stumbles over near the
ropes as Storm charges across...
...and gets backdropped over the top rope by his tag team partner,
sending him flipping through the air and down on top of a stunned Eric
Matthew Somers!]
GM: WHAT A MANEUVER!! The Rockstar Express with a big double team move
and Eric Matthew Somers just got wiped out by it!
[Storm pops up, pumping a fist to the roaring crowd. He grabs Somers by
the arm, dragging him off the floor with great effort and shoving him
under the ropes where Morgan dives across his massive chest.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!!
[Somers again kicks out with authority, sending Marty Morgan sailing
through the air and down to the mat.]
GM: Big kickout but they're slowly chipping away at the big man, Bucky.
BW: You might be right. It may be time to tag Cooper back into this
one.
[Morgan grabs Somers by the back of the head, throwing right hand after
right hand into the skull. Getting to his feet, Morgan grabs Somers by
the leg, dragging him backwards towards the corner.]
GM: They've got Somers down... what is this?
[Storm reaches over the ropes, slapping the hand of his partner and
quickly stepping into the ring as Morgan scales the ropes, sitting down
on the top rope.]
GM: Somers is down - Morgan is up and on the ropes!
[Scotty Storm quickly steps up to the middle rope, hooking his arms
around the waist of his partner...
...and hoists him up in a belly-to-back suplex, tossing Morgan backwards
in backflip and sending him crashing down across Somers' chest in a
makeshift moonsault!]
GM: OHHHHHHHHHH!
[Morgan rolls clear as Storm stands up on the middle rope, arms held
high...
...and leaps into a backflip of his own, crashing down across the chest
of Somers!]
GM: DOUBLE BACKFLIP SPLASHES!!
[Storm stays on top, reaching to hook a massive leg.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR-
[The crowd groans as Dave Cooper makes a diving save, breaking up the
pin attempt. An angry Cooper pulls Storm off the mat, chucking him
through the ropes...
...but Storm scrambles, staying on the apron as Cooper delivers a pair
of boots to the downed Morgan, forcing him to the floor.]
GM: Morgan's out and-
[But as Cooper turns back around, Storm slingshots over the ropes,
taking Cooper down with a clothesline!]
GM: BOOM!
[Storm pulls Cooper off the mat, peppering him with jabs to the jaw. He
grabs Cooper by the wrist...]
GM: Irish whi- reversed by Cooper!
[The big whip by the veteran sends Storm crashing hard to the buckles.
He stumbles out of the corner into Cooper's waiting arms just before he
pivots...
...and DRIVES Storm into the canvas with a spinebuster!]
GM: SPINEBUSTER! SPINEBUSTER!!
[Cooper grabs his partner by the arm, throwing him across the downed
Scotty Storm before exiting the ring.]
GM: Cover for one! Cover for two! Cover for th-
[BIG CHEER!]
GM: Shoulder up! Scotty Storm got the shoulder up off the spinebuster!
[An angry Cooper kicks the ropes outside the ring, shouting to his
partner who is slowly getting back to his feet. Somers reaches down in
a daze, hauling Storm up off the mat. He grabs the arm, firing him
across the ring.]
GM: Irish whip...
[Storm hangs onto the ropes, blocking the rebound. Somers rushes him in
response...
...and Storm uses the rope to kick his legs into the air, catching the
charging Somers on the chin!]
GM: OHHH! HE CAUGHT HIM!!
[Storm shouts to his partner who quickly gets back into the ring,
joining Storm in sizing the big man up...
...and lash out with a double dropkick, knocking Somers backwards and
leaving him tied up in the ropes!]
GM: HE'S CAUGHT!! SOMERS IS CAUGHT IN THE ROPES!!
[Cooper rushes in, trying to help his partner...
...but eats the double dropkick as well, knocking him flat!]
GM: COOPER'S DOWN AS WELL AND-
[The crowd suddenly EXPLODES in jeers!]
GM: What the heck are they doing out here?
[The boos draw louder as Larry Doyle and the Blonde Bombers come
charging down the ramp from the locker room. Love Machine Nova and
Bobby Baldwin are on the scene, swarming Scotty Storm.]
GM: The Bombers are-
"DING! DING! DING!"
GM: The Blonde Bombers have jumped Scotty Storm! The bell has rung -
this one's over but... but what in the heck is going on here?
[Marty Morgan rushes to his partner's aid, firing right hands at the
back of Baldwin's head. He spins Baldwin around, throwing him through
the ropes to the ramp. Morgan steps out to go after him...
...and points a finger of warning at Larry Doyle!]
GM: Morgan's coming after Larry Doyle! Morgan's coming after-
BW: Get away from him! He had nothing to do with this!
[But Morgan is forced to turn back around as Baldwin catches him with a
forearm to the back. Baldwin spins Morgan around, battering him with
right hands.]
GM: We've got a fight inside the ring! We've got a fight outside the
ring!
[Storm and Nova are tangled up, throwing fists as fast as they can.
Outside the ring, Morgan catches his dance partner with a haymaker on
the jaw, sending Baldwin staggering back...
...but as he turns towards Doyle, he gets coldcocked with a wildly swung
cowboy boot to the side of the head!]
GM: OHHHHH!
BW: Doyle cracked his skull! He knocked him flat!
GM: We gotta get some help out here! The Rockstars and the Bombers are
battling it out... but why? Why in the world would the Blonde Bombers
save the team they'll face at SuperClash?
[With the Rockstar Express and the Blonde Bombers still trading punches,
we fade to black.
And then fade back up to a "star field" looking background. Some crazy
techno music is playing in the background as the AWA logo appears on the
screen. The voice of Jason Dane is heard.]
"The AWA heads back out on tour for the Road To SuperClash!"
[The graphic changes to one reading:
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 4
LOMAN, MISSISSIPPI
DAVEY WHITNEY COMPLEX]
"The AWA is back in Mississippi for more action featuring Robert
Donovan, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, and the Samoan Hit Squad!"
[The graphic changes again -
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 5
HATTIESBURG, MISSISSIPPI
REED GREEN COLISEUM]
"The AWA arrives at the University of Mississippi for more non-stop
action. Kolya Sudakov is on the bill. Violence Unlimited takes on the
Rockstar Express! Plus Adrian Freeman tangles with Tin Can Rust!
[The graphic changes once more -
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 6
LAKE CHARLES, LOUISIANA
BURTON COLISEUM]
"The action in Lake Charles will be something you will NOT want to miss!
Brent Maverick is in action. Mark Langseth will be on the bill. Plus
Shane Destiny takes on Jesse Ewiak!"
[The graphic changes back to the AWA logo.]
"Don't miss the AWA - the MAJOR league of professional wrestling - when
it comes to your town!"
[And the music cuts out as we fade to black.
We fade back up to silence for a moment... the crowd still buzzing over
what they just saw and-]
#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#
[They're back, baby! Bombah time! The curtains part and out steps
"Beautiful" Bobby Baldwin.. Love Machine Nova and Crusher Glenn.. his
face still battered.. his neck smothered in a huge neck brace.]
"BOOOOOOOOO!"
[That sound can mean only one man.. the _Hollywood_ man.. Larry Doyle
emerges behind his charges. His attire, which cannot go without mention,
is an orange and black plaid suit.. nobody can claim the man isn't
festive. His left boot black.. his loaded right boot is orange like a
construction cone. The foursome slowly walk over to the interview area.
Their paranoia from two weeks ago has slightly washed away. Doyle
reaches Jason Dane and pulls the microphone close to himself simply by
pulling Dane's arm towards him.]
LD: DDDDDaaannnnnneeee!
[Doyle ruffles Dane's hair.]
LD: I'm still a bit mad at you for that blantant intrusion of my
_private_ dressing room two weeks ago. However, us Bombahs are having a
good night, baby, so I'll find it in my heart of hearts to forgive you.
_BUT_.
If you should _eevvvaaarrrrr_ find yourself wandering into Bombah
bidness a-ggaainnn..
[Doyle pumps his fists triumphantly.. doing a little hop.]
LD: .. Nova'll grab that rug you call "hair" he'll take it and
_ripitoffyerhead_.. then.. thheennn he'll shove it down your throat and
Crusher here will rip it straight out of your belly with _one_ punch to
that big ol' gut you've got. Then "Beautiful" Bobby'll sow the damn
thing on your stupid head backwards.. just because.
Ok.. end rant. Interview me, bay-bee!
[Dane stares at Doyle like he's a convicted criminal.. which he very
well may be.]
JD: First and foremost.. I'm not dignifying that repulsive statement
with a comment. So let's just move right along to the question on
everyones mind. Why?
LD: Why what?
JD: What business did yourself, Baldwin and Nova..
[Nova steps up.]
LMN: That's _Love Machine_ Nova to you, Dane.
JD: What business did yourself, Baldwin and _Love Machine_ Nova have w-
[Baldwin steps forward this time.]
BB: That's "Beautiful" Bobby to you, _Dane_!
JD: Enough with the games! What business did the three of you have being
out here a few moments ago to attack the Rockstar Express?!
[Doyle looks at the Bombers like Dane's lost his marbles.]
LD: What business did we have?! What _business_ did we have?! We protect
_our_ interests, Dane-o. And right now.. _our_ interests are singular.
Keeping _our_ number one contender ranking. How do you think it would
look if Storm and Morgan were to have _beaten_ Rough N Ready? How do you
think it would've looked to the Championship Committee? Lord knows these
yahoos..
[Doyle sweeps an arm around motioning to the fans. Boo!]
LD: .. would rather see those two losers go against the champs than us.
So when two men who aren't even "has beens", but instead are "couldn't
bes" show up. Two men that we decimated and defeated.. rushed and
crushed.. beat and.. um.. _beat_.. show up and try to thrust themselves
back into _our_ championship spotlight. When they do that, Dane-o..
we're gonna take notice.
And we're going to put them back in their place.. exxacctlly where they
belong.
JD: So you're _protecting_ Rough N Ready? The same two individuals who,
under a month ago, laid out this man here to send a message to you
Baldwin and Nova?!
[Dane points at Crusher.. Crusher's face tenses up.]
LD: "Protecting"?! Har.. har.. _HAR_! As if we would _ever_ protect
those two hillbillys. After what they did to my boy! Nonononono. Let me
make this nice and sparkling clear for you, Daneimal.. any team back
there that has the desire or urge to rush the champs.. to lay them out..
to put them in the hospital.. break their legs, arms, nose, feet, hands,
faces.. _FEEL FREE_!
_BUT_..
[Doyle jabs an accusing finger in everyones direction.]
LD: .. don't any of you dddarrrreee try to put their shoulders on the
mat for three seconds.
Rough N Ready _will_ arrive at SuperClash as tag team champions.. their
condition I couldn't care less about. And we wwilllll be the number one
contenders. No hot shots like Storm.. Morgan.. Haynes.. Morton.. you
name 'em! None of them are leapfrogging us and taking _our_ shot at
Superclash. We know how fickled this..
[Air quotes come flyin' out of nowherah!]
LD: .. 'Championship Committee' is. We know how much they'd love to
throw two media darlings like Storm and Morgan into our title match..
regardless of how many times we've beaten them to a bloody pulp.
JD: That sounds awfully paranoid.. even by your standard..
[Doyle interrupts.]
LD: I don't care if the lord almighty himself came down and told me..
"Larry, bromigo.. the universe will end if I don't remove Da Bombahs
from their shot at SuperClash.. or at least add the Rockstars to the
fold!"
We will _not_ be shown up. We will _not_ be pushed aside. We will
_nnootttttt_ be dennieeddd, bay-bee!
We've worked too long and too hard, and come too far to have some
curtain jerkers stealing our spotlight at the last moment.
[Dane turns to the camera as if to "wrap up" the interview.]
JD: Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the paranoia we saw from Doyle
and the Bombers two weeks ago.. has reached new heights. You have to
wonder how badly Rough N Ready have beaten their ways into the psyche of
the number one contend-
[Scccrreeeecchh! Doyle backpedals upon hearing this closing. He jabs a
finger in Dane's chest.]
LD: I hope you get hit by a bus, Ddaaannnee.
[Doyle storms off.]
#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#
[The Bombers stroll back through the curtains.. following behind Doyle.
Threatening to smack a fan or two on their way through the curtains as
we cut back to ringside.]
GM: Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.
BW: What?
GM: They've got the match at SuperClash! They're fighting for the
titles in less than a month. Why would they get involved in a non-title
matchup?
BW: They told you why, Gordo. They're not about to let the
Championship Committee get any ideas about getting the Rockstar Express
involved in the match. And if Storm or Morgan somehow managed to pin
one of the champs? All bets would be off.
GM: The Rockstar Express gains a disqualification victory over the
National Tag Team Champions, Rough N Ready, and you have to imagine that
will boost their status in the Top 5 rankings.
BW: Maybe but it won't make them number one.
GM: It might also improve their status in the Stampede Cup. As we've
heard, AWA officials are hard at work assembling the field for the Cup
and have begun the seeding process as well. A win like this really
should help the Rockstars... heck, they might even get one of those
coveted seeded positions in the tournament.
BW: Now you're getting ahead of yourself, Gordo. The Rockstars may be
worried about Christmas but the Bombers and the champs, all they've got
on their minds is Thanksgiving night.
GM: We've yet to hear where the National Tag Team Title match will be
taking place - St. Louis or Dallas - but we hope to find out more
details on that later tonight in the Control Center. But for now, let's
go back up to Jason Dane who has another special guest!
[We fade. Once again, intrepid interviewer Jason Dane stands by at the
interview platform. And this time, his intrepidness will be tested, as
he is standing next to the tall, stringy-haired figure of James Monosso.
Monosso is wearing his usual "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION"
cutoff T-shirt, over his black-and-silver single strap singlet and
wrestling boots. His blocky face sports a small amount of stubble, and
a strange expression; his eyes are wide, his lips are pursed and
slightly turned down, and he seems to be muttering to himself as he
looks over the object in his hands: a football helmet.]
JD: James Monosso, earlier tonight, Eric Preston challenged you to a
match. Two weeks from now, in this building, on this program. Do you
accept?
[Monosso hesitates, still looking at the helmet. Then he looks over at
Dane.]
JM: Didn't I say I wanted to fight him months ago?
JD: Well... then I guess that's a yes.
JM: Is it?
[Okay, now Dane is just confused. Monosso seems frustrated for some
reason, and takes an aggressive step towards Dane.]
JM: ANSWER ME!
JD: Yes! Yes, you did!
JM: Oh. Good.
[Monosso's reaction is like that of a man who has just heard something
for the first time. He goes back to staring at the football helmet.
Dane is now absolutely perplexed.]
JD: You don't remember demanding another rematch with Preston?
JM: Maybe.
JD: What? What do you mean 'maybe'? How can you not know whether you
remember something?!
JM: Have you ever had a... concussion, Dane?
JD: No.
JM: This last week, there were a lot of concussions in football. So
many that they thought about changing the rules. But the players got
mad because those hypocrite coaches would demand them to still go all
out like normal and win by any means. So screwed if you do, screwed if
you don't. But at least those jerks make a ton of money, so who cares?
I got my first concussion... I forget when. Obviously. It's hard to
remember things that made you lose your memory. But I was young. I was
young, and I had no money. All I could do was fight. And the doctor
gave me the choice. THIS part... this part I remember, and I will
always remember. He told me, "Son, you need to walk away now. As soon
as you get your first concussion, the second one comes easier. And the
third even easier. And before you know it, your brain will be mush."
I wrestled that night. I got another concussion.
Ten years later, who-knows-how-many concussions later, they sent me to
an asylum. A HELL ON EARTH.
[As the topic of the asylum comes up, James goes from morose to angry
with alarming speed and vigor. His knuckles clutch the facemask,
turning white as his grip mirrors his rage.]
JM: They put me away! They said I was crazy! But I'm not crazy! The
concussions... they DID THINGS TO ME. That's not being crazy! That's
not needing psychiatrist help, that's needing medical help! But nobody
cared. NOBODY GAVE A DAMN!
[Monosso spikes the helmet off the floor, sending it bouncing
off-screen.]
JM: Nobody's gonna care about those bums that got leveled in the NFL
when they're drooling on the street in ten years, barely remembering
their own name! And you hypocrites sit there and cry, "Football is a
MAN'S game! MAN UP! BE A MAN!", you cry. "You make so much money, now
die for our pleasure!" And then you throw them in the garbage when
they're done crippling themselves for you... just like in wrestling!
But we don't GET helmets here! We don't GET millions of dollars! All
we get is enough scraps from the promoter's table to live on! And then
MORE CONCUSSIONS! MORE MESSED UP! EVERY DAY!
[Monosso's outraged rant suddenly stops, and his tone drops to a low
growl as he points to the camera.]
JM: Walk away, Eric Preston. Walk away now. It is too late for me...
but you? If you come to fight me, you're going to start down this same
road. You might win, you might even become a champion. But within ten
years, they'll put you away, too. No one will care. Noone will miss
you. You'll be like Mike Webster, living in subways and train stations
until you drop dead and THEN people notice! Or don't you remember, that
for MONTHS I was living in an alley trying to get into AWA, before Percy
Childes stepped in and helped me? That's you, Eric Preston! That is
your future! That is your life!
Unless you walk away now. Now, while you have the chance. Don't show
your face in two weeks. I'll be here; I'm already screwed up! It
doesn't matter if I die in the ring; I might be better off that way. No
one will care. I have no family, have no friends.
So before you step out of your nice little house two weeks from now, I
want you to find the person you love most in this world. I want you to
find them, and look them right in the eyes. And I want you to tell
them. I want you to tell them that everything is going to be alright.
I want you to have to look them in the eyes... LOOK THEM IN THE SOUL...
...and lie to them.
[Monosso stops, hearing the boos of the fans for seemingly the first
time. He takes a slow pan of the crowd in front of him, disgust on his
face.]
JM: Just like all these people lie to you.
[The boos intensify, setting Monosso off again. He stomps up to the
edge of the podium, eyes bulging and nostrils flaring, screaming at the
top of his lungs at the crowd.]
JM: WHERE WERE YOU PEOPLE WHEN I NEEDED YOU?! YOU CHEERED ME FOR YEARS!
YOU CHEERED ME ON AS I TOOK BRAIN INJURY AFTER BRAIN INJURY! YOU ACTED
LIKE YOU CARED, YOU BUNCH OF LYING DOGS! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I WAS IN
THE GUTTER?! WHERE IS 'MONOSSO DRIVE'?! WHERE IS 'MONOSSO LANE'?! I
WAS A WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION BEFORE ANYONE IN THAT LOCKER ROOM LACED
A PAIR OF BOOTS! AND YOU PARASITES... PARASITES!
[Monosso takes a step up on a camera rig adjoining the interview
platform, for an even higher position to overlook the fans, who are now
rabidly booing him. His tone drops back down to that low, deadly
serious level.]
JM: You all left me to rot in hell.
Now I'm going to show you exactly what that hell looks like.
[With that, Monosso whips the microphone at Dane's head, and starts
stomping towards the ring.]
GM: He's lost it!
BW: When did he ever have it?!
GM: James Monosso scheduled to wrestle young Tyler Kowalski here, and
he's storming the ring!
[Melissa is just now getting in center ring, as a slim young wrestler
with navy blue thigh-length trunks and navy blue boots, long brown hair
and thick eyebrows is stretching out in the corner. She seems to
realize that she had better hurry.]
MC: This match is set for one fall! First... from New York City...
weighing two-hundred thirty pounds...
...TYLER KOWALSKI!
[The youngster raises his hand.]
MC: And from The State Of Confusion... weighing two-hundred eighty-eight
pou...*THUD*
[Too late, Monosso is there. Melissa tosses the mic and runs for it as
the grizzled veteran barrels across the ring and slams Tyler Kowalski
across the bridge of the nose with a running forearm.]
*DING*DING*
GM: Monosso is irate, and Kowalski is trying to cover up as the madman
pummels him here!
BW: He any relation to S...
GM: No.
BW: How about Ch...
GM: No.
BW: He better find some winning genes in his bloodline fast, then, or he
ain't gonna last long.
GM: Monosso with a wild swinging double-sledge to the side of the skull,
and Tyler Kowalski is down! Monosso is a burly man, with a naturally
strong build, and this youngster cannot possibly try to win with
physicality.
BW: The only guy who MIGHT win a match with Monosso just on physicality
is Misuzawa, and I don't think it'd be all that easy. There are guys who
are stronger, but Monosso's horror-movie-monster tough. There's just
nothing that's going to keep him down that ain't made of metal or wood,
daddy.
[As Bucky relates this information, James removes his T-Shirt and uses
it to choke Tyler as he simultaneously headbutts him.]
GM: Headbutt, and with Monosso's self-avowed concussion history, that
move seems more unwise than it once did.
BW: On the contrary. The damage is done as far as he's concerned,
Gordo.
GM: I... don't think it works that way. Monosso blatantly choking with
the shirt, until finally the referee takes it from him! Where is Percy
Childes, by the way?
BW: Probably taking care of Nenshou. It ain't like Monosso's gonna need
any help here.
GM: Kowalski thrown to the ropes, bounces off, and a brutal power slam!
This kid has not put up any offense, and is completely outmatched!
BW: Yeah, well, what's in a name?
GM: Perhaps, like James Reed a few weeks ago, Tyler Kowalski has the
misfortune of reminding Monosso of some wrestling legends who are
remembered more fondly than he is. Monosso's heyday was in the
early-to-mid nineties, and much of that era seems to be overlooked by
wrestling historians.
BW: I bet Hamilton Graham would have remembered who Monosso was.
[Monosso has been choking Kowalski, and breaking at four... then
repeating. Now he lifts up the youngster, grabs him by the seat of the
pants and the back of his head... and RAMS him into the ringpost
shoulder first. Tyler's body is launched between the turnbuckles like a
dart, and he comes to a sudden halt as shoulder meets steel. The fans
boo and stand, as they know what is next; James steps out onto the
apron.]
GM: How can James Monosso decry concussions, and then do THIS?! This
would cause a concussion as sure as a baseball bat!
BW: This is a helpful, friendly reminder to everyone: stay out of this
man's way or he'll ruin you. And that goes double for Eric Preston,
daddy.
*CLANG*
[HUGE HEEL POP!]
GM: A BRUTAL RUNNING KICK TO THE SKULL! TYLER KOWALSKI'S SKULL HAS BEEN
SMASHED BETWEEN MONOSSO'S FOOT AND THE RINGPOST!
[Kowalski slumps back into the ring, falling into an insensiate heap.
Monosso slowly steps back into the ring, pointing at the booing fans and
screaming how none of them care, and that this is what they all came to
watch.]
BW: This kid showed up, Gordo! He put his name on the dotted line. It
ain't like they don't get Superstation WKIK in New York City on
satellite, daddy. He knew what this man would do, and he showed up ta
fight him anyway. Get the picture yet, Preston? This is how it ends
for you!
GM: James Monosso should pin this kid now! The referee should stop it!
Something... he's picking him up!
BW: He's doin' Eric Preston the favor of a lifetime. He's showin' him
the kinda hell he went through. He's showin' him how easy it is ta get
a brain injury, and then your life is over.
GM: Punches to the head! ...and what about Tyler Kowalski's life?!
BW: Sacrifices are necessary for th' greater good. Didn't ya ever read
philosophy?
GM: Nothing good can come of this! Waistlock by Monosso, who is having
to hold Tyler up at this point... DESCENT INTO MADNESS!
[The fans gasp, as James issues a vicious backdrop driver, slamming
Kowalski's head and neck into the canvas.]
BW: Now do ya understand why he named this move that? Kowalski's
probably got so many concussions right now that he's gone schizo!
GM: Concussions don't work that way! Monosso is just using the recent
publicity to try and psych out Eric Preston! HE'S PICKING TYLER
KOWALSKI UP AGAIN! THE KID IS OUT! HE ALREADY HIT HIS FINISHER, WHAT
IS THIS?!
*DING*DING*DING*
[The crowd boos, though not because the referee has just stopped the
match. It's because Monosso has won, and is waistlocking the ragdoll
body of the unconscious Tyler Kowalski.]
GM: NOT AGAIN!
BW: You seein' this, Eric? Send in your notice quick! While you still
remember your own name!
[Monosso walks up to a camera on the apron and holds up Kowalski in
front of it, as if he were some macabre puppeteer.]
JM: Preston! Take a good long look! This is your future! And none of
you are ever gonna see this idiot again!
[And with that... a second Descent Into Madness flops the unmoving
Kowalski into the mat again. The bell rings like crazy.]
*DING*DING*DING*DING*
BW: Oh, yeah, ring the bell some more. That'll stop him.
GM: Absolutely vile! James Monosso is projecting himself onto every
young wrestler out there! He's trying to ruin their lives, like he
thinks wrestling ruined his! It's one thing to want to beat a man.
It's one thing to want a man's title. It's one thing to have a personal
vendetta. But he's trying to ruin their lives! For no reason other
than self-pity!
BW: And you want to stop him? Go ahead.
[Monosso rolls out of the ring, and begins threatening audience members.
Medics enter the ring to tend to Kowalski as Melissa makes the call.]
MC: The referee has stopped the match, and awarded the decision to JAMES
MONOSSO!
GM: And a gutless decision by the official, who should have reversed the
decision!
BW: Monosso would have reversed the official. As in, 'turned him inside
out'.
GM: Thankfully, that lunatic is leaving. Eric Preston... two weeks from
tonight, he has a chance to rid wrestling of this stain, and I for one
hope he does it! He's destroyed too many young people!
BW: He better bring anti-tank weaponry if he wants ta do that, daddy.
This thing has been goin' on all year, and Preston don't have the
firepower to end it.
GM: We will see about that! Fans, let's go backstage where Mark
Stegglet is standing by with the man who will face his former best
friend in one of the most brutal matches in pro wrestling - Outlaw Rules
- at SuperClash II... "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor. Mark?
[We fade back out of the arena bowl... but it's not the locker room we
come to. Instead, it's the "Wall of Fame" that adorns one side of the
Crockett Coliseum. Fans are streaming by on their way to the
concessions or the restrooms, shouting words of encouragement to "The
Outlaw" Bobby Taylor who is dressed in jeans and an old J.W. Hardin
t-shirt. Mark Stegglet stands beside him, a little uncomfortable with
the surging crowd all around them.]
MS: Mr. Taylor, you wanted your chance to speak here tonight... and you
asked for me to meet you here. The Wall of Fame. Any reason why?
[Taylor grins, reaching up to pat the wall. The camera pans up to
reveal a plaque for John Wesley Hardin, the original Outlaw of
professional wrestling.]
BT: This is why, Stegglet. John Wesley Hardin.
[Taylor pauses, promptly Stegglet to nudge him verbally.]
MS: Okay. I'm not sure I-
BT: Things happen in a man's life for a reason. I believe that. And I
believe that John Wesley Hardin happened to my life for a reason.
I was nothing before that, you know? I was in the EMWC, sure... but
that EMWC was struggling to stay out of the toilet. We were fighters...
young, hungry, aching to be the best in the world... but nobody knew who
the hell we were. We were dumb, young kids who had our entire lives
ahead of us. I thought I'd get a World Title someday... I truly did.
Hell, we all did.
But one day, I got pulled aside in the back by the boss. He showed me
some tape of what the guys were doing up in Portland - the top dogs. He
showed me one man and said... "Wouldn't it be great if we had him here?
Heck, if we even had someone LIKE him here."
I knew what I had to do, Stegglet... ask your Uncle... he was there. I
became John Wesley Hardin. I became the Outlaw that night. I broke my
body - and a lot of others along the way - trying to prove to the world
that I was better than Hardin from across promotional boundaries.
[Taylor shakes his head.]
BT: But it wasn't enough. I needed to do it in person. So, I started
calling him out. I ran my mouth about Hardin every chance that I got.
You stuck a mic in my face, I was calling him a scum-sucking,
yellow-tailed pathetic excuse for a man.
And for a while there, I actually believed what I was saying. I
believed I was more of a man - more of a wrestler - than he was.
[A chuckle.]
BT: One night in Toronto? He proved me wrong.
And I ended up in a hospital bed. The doctors wanted me to retire that
night. I took such a beating, they thought I was crazy to even want to
get back in there.
But opportunity was knocking. John Wesley Hardin, a damned Living
Legend, had walked into MY house and kicked me in the teeth and you damn
well knew I had to get up and kick him back.
So I did. I came back... and we fought... and we fought... and we did
some awful stuff to each other.
[Another laugh.]
BT: Hell, I burned the guy's ranch down to get in his head.
[He shakes his head.]
BT: When we finally met in the ring, I gave him everything I had but it
still wasn't enough to beat him... but it was enough to prove to him
that I had what it takes to BE him.
So, he stepped aside... he walked away... he told me that I had to carry
the Outlaw name from then on. I was the Outlaw... and with that, I got
all the good and all the bad that came with being that.
Being the Outlaw ain't easy, Stegglet. It means a big ol' bullseye on
your back and every single soul in the business wanting to take you out.
Hated enemies... even friends who can't stand to not get the chance...
I never won a World Title. But I've been the Outlaw for twelve years
and have never regretted a second of that decision.
[Taylor rubs his chin.]
BT: Kevin Slater. He was once the golden boy of wrestling. A two-time
World Champion. He had money, fame, glory. He had the storybook tale
of a professional wrestler. He seemed destined for the Hall of Fame.
But he threw it all away. Booze, pills... a choice that he never got
past. He had his demons and he let them pin his shoulders to the mat
over and over again.
We were two sides of the same messed-up coin. The golden boy whose life
fell apart. The bad seed who lived his life trying to be someone else.
We both lost families. We both lost friends.
But we always had each other.
[Taylor nods.]
BT: Until now. This is it, Kev. The point of no return. I'm done
asking you to walk away from this because now I want it too. Because
somewhere in the back of my head, I've always wondered... "Could I beat
him? Could I have been the golden boy? Could it have been me winning
World Titles and living the high life?"
I've always wondered but I've never known.
Until now.
[Another nod.]
BT: In less than one month, we're climbing into a ring with no ref.
You can use your fancy flying elbows and all that other crap that used
to land you on magazine covers but it won't matter unless you can beat
me up so badly that I can't get up again.
You know me, Kev. You've seen me in fights my entire career.
Have you EVER seen one man beat me up so badly that I can't get up
again?
[Taylor grins.]
BT: On Thanksgiving night, I'm coming to St. Louis for the fight of my
life. I'm fighting for me... for what could have been...
[Taylor slaps the wall next to Hardin's plaque again.]
BT: And for this ol' son of a bitch right here wherever he may be.
[And Taylor walks off into the mass of fans as Mark Stegglet shakes his
head.]
MS: I've known that man for nearly my entire life and I don't believe
I've EVER seen him like that. Now, let's go back down to ringside to
Melissa Cannon!
[We crossfade to the ring where Melissa is standing.]
MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is the final quarterfinal match in the tournament to
crown the first Longhorn Heritage Champion. Introducing first...
[The lights dim and a light mist rolls out from the entryway as
"Raijin's Drums by George Sakalis begins to play over the PA System.
After a moment, the mysterious Nenshou appears, wearing a long black
robe with the hood pulled down over his painted face.]
MC: From Parts Unknown, he weighed in tonight at 253 pounds... being
accompanied to the ring by his manager, Percy Childes...
NENNNNSHOU!
[Pausing at the entrance, he begins to walk smoothly and unhurriedly
down towards the ring, his steely gaze locked on the squared circle.
Behind him comes his manager Percy Childes...overweight and sweating,
the piece of filth is as loud as his charge is silent, jawing at fans
and threating to brain them with his crystal orb topped cane.]
GM: This man defeated Vernon Riley last week to land himself in the
field of eight. With a win here tonight, he would move on to face
Robert Donovan - former LWC great - in the semifinals. But to get
there, he's got to get past a great young athlete who has been on fire
since his debut here in the AWA - Supernova!
BW: Look at Nenshou - he's focused, he's stoic - Percy's got him ready
for that one.
GM: Perhaps it was that odd battle meditation we saw him in earlier
tonight that has prepared him for this.
[Childes steps through the ropes, gesturing at the fans with his cane as
Nenshou steps through as well to join him. Nenshou snaps back his hood,
glaring back down the entrance ramp as he waits for his opponent to
arrive.]
MC: And his oppon-
[But before Melissa can finish, a voice calls out over the PA.]
"Your time is up, Melissa."
[The camera cuts to the head of the aisle where Lori Dane is standing,
dressed for a fight with a mic in her hand.]
LD: I told you that you had two weeks to change your mind. You either
accept your destiny and get back into the hunt as a professional
wrestler...
...or I MAKE you accept it!
[Melissa shakes her head.]
MC: Look, Lori... I'm getting a little tired of this. I appreciate
everything you've done for me over the years but it's not happening.
I'm NOT getting back in the ring as a wrestler. It's just not going to
happen so can you drop it?
[Lori arches an eyebrow at the response.]
LD: I knew you still had some fire in you. Let's find out how much.
You see, I expected that answer. I was disappointed it was coming but I
knew I'd hear it.
So, I came prepared...
[A pause.]
LD: Gentlemen, if you please...
[Melissa looks puzzled...
...and then horrified as Nenshou rushes her, grabbing her by the back of
the hair and yanking her head back.]
GM: WHAT THE-?!
[A screaming Melissa begs for help as Nenshou immobilizes her...
...and SPEWS a vile looking green mist DIRECTLY into her eyes!]
GM: AHHHHHH!
[The crowd explodes in shock as Cannon drops to the mat, screaming in
pain as she rolls back and forth, trying to wipe the mist from her
eyes.]
GM: She's been- we need help out here! What the hell has Nenshou
done?!
BW: And the best part is that Lori Dane put him up to it! Who the heck
saw that one coming?
GM: Melissa Cannon had that... that blinding green mist sprayed into
her-
[BIG CHEER!]
GM: HERE COMES SUPERNOVA!!
[The face-painted youngster pushes past a smirking Lori Dane, rushing
down the aisle. He steps into the ring and launches into Nenshou with a
right hand as the referee rolls Melissa Cannon out to the apron.]
GM: Here we go! Here we go!
[Supernova tears into Nenshou with a series of right hands, backing him
down into the ropes. He grabs the man from Parts Unknown by the wrist,
flinging him across the ring...
...and launching him high through the air with a big back bodydrop!]
GM: HIGH BACKDROP BY SUPERNOVA!!
[As Nenshou scrambles to his feet, Supernova throws a few more
haymakers, backing him into the corner. The muscular Californian grabs
the wrist, firing him across again to the opposite set of buckles. He
backs quickly into the corner, letting loose a howl before charging
across...]
GM: HEEEEEEAT WAAAAA-
[But Nenshou dives aside, causing Supernova to crash sternum first into
the buckles!]
BW: Haha! A rookie mistake right there, Gordo! He thought he had
Nenshou softened up enough for that and was going for a quick win but
Nenshou was thinking otherwise and now Supernova's in trouble.
[Nenshou immediately goes on the attack, landing two well-placed stomps
to the injured sternum. He leaps into the air, bringing his knee
squarely down on the chest of Supernova and promptly gets up, heading
for the corner...]
GM: Wait a second!
BW: And now it's Nenshou looking for the killshot early! He's got the
Moonsault in mind!
GM: Nenshou to the second rope, steps up top...
[And blindly throws himself into a backflip, aiming for the chest of
Supernova...
...who rolls out of harm's way!]
GM: WHOA!!
[But the crowd ERUPTS as Nenshou lands on his feet from the moonsault,
having spotted the count coming. He shakes off the missed move, tearing
into a rising Supernova with a stiff side kick to the chest that knocks
him back to the corner.]
GM: Nenshou's got Supernova in the corner now... whoa! Big knife-edge
chop!
[But Supernova stares him down, shaking his head.]
GM: No effect!
[Nenshou winds up again, throwing another chop.]
GM: Still nothing!
[A third chop lands but Supernova simply walks out of the corner,
smacking himself in the chest. He lets loose a howl...
...and gets a stiff-fingered jab in the throat!]
GM: Ohh! Martial arts thrust to the windpipe!
BW: Supernova is showing some youthful mistakes early, Gordo. He can't
let his enthusiam get the better of him. He needs to stay focused at
all times or Nenshou will end this in a hurry.
[With Supernova gasping for air, Nenshou drapes his throat over the top
rope and leans on the back of the neck, choking him with the rope.]
GM: Get in there, ref!
[The referee begins counting and reaches four before Nenshou breaks the
hold, walking away from the gasping Supernova.]
GM: Supernova's in trouble here early...
[Reaching back, Nenshou hooks him around the head, taking him down with
a snap mare just before he BURIES a stiff kick to the spine!]
GM: Ohh! Right to the back! Nenshou caught him with all of that!
BW: Beware the educated feet of Nenshou.
GM: To the ropes he goes, we've seen this before and-
[Nenshou launches himself with a low dropkick but Supernova has seen it
before as well and covers up, avoiding the feet and grabbing the legs...
...and pops straight up, trying to cross one leg over the other to go
for the Texas Cloverleaf.]
GM: HE'S GOING FOR THE SOLAR FLARE!!
[A frantic Childes screams at Nenshou who promptly scrambles to the
ropes, forcing the referee to step in and call for a break.]
GM: We've got a break coming up here and Nenshou rolls out to the
floor.
BW: He may be looking to regroup a bit here. He almost got caught in
the Solar Flare and that would have been the end of this one.
GM: We haven't seen anyone escape the Solar Flare yet, Bucky.
BW: Sure haven't.
GM: Nenshou's out on the floor and-
[The crowd ERUPTS as Supernova rushes across the ring, hurling himself
through the ropes and on top of Nenshou!]
GM: OHHHH! WHAT A DIVE!! WHAT A DIVE!!
BW: We've never seen him do that before!
GM: He's six four and two hundred and sixty pounds and flew like a
cruiserweight!
[Supernova pops up, howling again as he celebrates the big move. He
pulls the stunned Nenshou off the mat, firing him back under the ropes
into the ring. He climbs up on the apron, heading to the corner...]
GM: What in the world...?
BW: He's going up top! Are you kidding me?
GM: Give me a break! There's no way he's going to-
[But once up top, Supernova takes flight with a breathtaking high cross
body that catches Nenshou squarely across the chest, knocking him flat!]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! THR-
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
GM: So close! He almost caught Nenshou by surprise and got the win
there! And this crowd has been electrified by Supernova!
[Supernova drags Nenshou up to his feet, hooking a front facelock.]
GM: Suplex - coming up...
[But as he attempts to hoist Nenshou into the air, the agile high flyer
floats over the top, landing on his feet. He quickly lashes out with a
dropkick to the back of the knee, taking Supernova down to one bent
knee.]
GM: Oh, that puts him down and-
[Nenshou promptly steps up on the bent knee, DRIVING his knee into
Supernova's face to lay him out!]
GM: Ohhh!
BW: In Japan, they call that move a Shining Wizard and Nenshou just put
it to great use right there. He flattened Supernova with it and that
should buy him some recovery time.
GM: Nenshou down on a knee himself, looking at his man and trying to
figure out what to do next.
[Walking over to the downed Supernova, he reaches up, lashing out with
an overhead chop to the upper body. He follows up with a few more
before kneeling, wrapping his hands around the throat.]
GM: A choke! A blatant choke! Come on, ref!
[Nenshou breaks the choke at four, walking away from the downed
Supernova. He reaches for the tape on his wrist, slowly unwrapping it
while shielding the referee from this.]
GM: Look... look at that... he's got the tape loose!
[Grabbing the loose end with the other hand, Nenshou pulls Supernova
into a chinlock, using the tape to strangle him.]
GM: He's choking him with the wrist tape! The referee can't see it!
BW: Brilliant! This is a Percy Childes move through and through. I've
seen countless clients of his use this over the years.
[And a quick cut to the floor does show a smirking Childes nodding in
approval.]
GM: The referee is trying to get in there - he knows something's up.
[Nenshou breaks the hold, throwing the tape away before the ref can spot
it and leaving Supernova gasping for air on the mat. He reaches down,
hauling Supernova up by the hair and lashing out with a chop to the
chest that knocks him back to the corner.]
GM: Big chop on target there...
BW: And you know Supernova felt that one!
GM: He certainly did. He's reeling in the corner now...
[A second chop connects as well. Childes shouts something in what you
would imagine is Japanese to his charge who lashes out with three
roundhouse kicks to the ribcage before leaping into the air, throwing
his leg backwards to catch Supernova squarely in the injured chest.]
GM: Whoa! Those educated feet of Nenshou have school in session on
Supernova right now. That spinning back kick could cave in a chest
cavity in my estimation.
[Grabbing Supernova by the arm, he fires him across the ring. Backed to
the corner, Nenshou breaks into a cartwheel across the ring, springing
back and DRIVING the point of his elbow up into the chest once more!]
GM: Ohh! What a move that was!
[He hooks Supernova by the back of the head, charging out of the corner,
and leaping into the air to drive his face into the mat!]
GM: One-handed bulldog... and there's a cover for one! TWO!
[But Supernova fires a shoulder out at two, avoiding the loss.]
GM: We've got no ring announcer out here thanks to Nenshou but we've
just been told there's five minutes left in the time limit. This one is
halfway over.
BW: And you have to wonder if that'll have an effect on the match. Not
knowing the time remaining in a ten minute time limit could be a crucial
situation.
[Childes remedies it by shouting in Japanese to Nenshou, holding up five
fingers.]
BW: And I would assume Percy Childes just made sure that his man - and
only his man - knew the time remaining, Gordo.
GM: Intelligent move by the Collector of Oddities.
[Nenshou pulls Supernova off the mat again, flinging him towards the
ropes.]
GM: Supernova off the ropes... backhand cho- ducked by Supernova!
[But Nenshou blindly lashes backwards with his leg, striking Supernova's
kneecap with a kick that takes him down to a knee.]
GM: Down to a knee...
[Nenshou hits the ropes, dashing back...]
BW: SHINING WIZZZZ-
[But Supernova wisely brings his hands up, blocking a potential knee to
the face but getting caught instead with a springing kick to the back of
the head, knocking him flat.]
BW: Oh! He switched to the enzugiri in mid-move! Brilliant!
GM: Cover for one! TWO!! TH-
[The crowd cheers as Supernova kicks out of the pin attempt.]
GM: Not enough to keep Supernova down for three though.
[An angry Nenshou throws a few kicks to the downed Supernova as he gets
to his feet. He dashes to the ropes, rebounding off, and rapidly
driving an elbowdrop down into the chest.]
GM: Ohh! Nice execution on the elbowdrop - and another cover!
[The crowd counts along with the referee - counting one... two... and
breathing a collective sigh of relief as Supernova kicks out again for a
near fall.]
GM: Still can't keep him down! How tough is Supernova?
BW: He's putting up a heck of a fight. I'll give him that. But
Nenshou's in control and with Percy in his corner, he just can't lose.
GM: You have that much faith in Nenshou?
BW: No, he literally CAN'T lose. Percy will beat the tar out of him
with that cane. I've seen him do it before.
[Nenshou hauls Supernova off the mat by the hair, applying a front
facelock. He slowly turns him over so that his shoulder is braced
against Supernova's neck...
...but the California youngster reaches back with both arms, hooking
Nenshou's and dragging him down to the mat!]
GM: BACKSLIDE!! ONE!! TWO!! THRE-
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
GM: I thought he had him! He came so close to heading to the
semifinals right there, fans! Supernova was a half a count away from
heading to the semifinals against Robert Donovan in two weeks' time!
[But as Supernova attempts to scramble to his feet first, he gets caught
in the temple with a sidekick that sends him falling backwards into the
ropes. Nenshou grabs him as he stumbles off the ropes, quickly dropping
him in a backbreaker and moving to the corner. He steps up to the
middle rope, then to the top...]
BW: MOONSAULT!!
[And this time, he connects, crashing down hard across the chest.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! HE GOT HIM!!!
[HUGE CHEER!]
GM: NO, HE DIDN'T!! SUPERNOVA GOT OUT IN TIME!!!
[The crowd is going nuts for Supernova now as Nenshou glares at the
official who is holding up two fingers.]
GM: Just a two count there and- fans, we've got just under three
minutes to go in the time limit!
[Childes smacks his cane into the mat, shouting orders at Nenshou who
nods before dragging Supernova off the mat. He throws a stiff-fingered
thrust into the throat again, knocking Supernova back a couple steps.]
GM: Another illegal strike to the throat!
[A sweeping kick to the leg knocks Supernova down to a knee once again.]
GM: He's going for that kneestrike again!
[But the third Shining Wizard attempt proves to be disaster as Supernova
stands up, using Nenshou's momentum against him to launch him straight
into the air...
...and whaps him in the gut with a right hand on the way to crashing
facefirst on the mat!]
GM: SUPERNOVA BLOCKED IT!!
BW: Nenshou went to the well one too many times, Gordo!
GM: And now Supernova's looking to take advantage of it! He pulls
Nenshou off the mat... big chop! Right hand! Another right hand!
[He lashes out with a boot to the gut. Supernova grabs a handful of
Nenshou's hair, leaping up and DRIVING him facefirst into the mat with
both hands!]
GM: Oh yeah!
[The crowd for Supernova as he gets to his feet and lets loose a howl
back to the fans. He drags Nenshou off the mat by the hair, flinging
him towards the buckles.]
GM: He's got Nenshou on Dream Street, fans!
[Grabbing the Asian Assassin by the arm, Supernova fires him across the
ring from corner to corner. He falls back to the corner, charging
across the ring, and takes flight...
...CRUSHING Nenshou against the buckles with a leaping corner splash!]
GM: HEAT WAVE!! HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!
[Grabbing Nenshou by the head, he throws him down to the mat. He nods
to the cheering fans before leaning down to grab his opponent's legs...]
GM: Childes! Childes is on the apron!
[And with the referee distracted, Nenshou lets loose a blast of green
mist into the eyes of Supernova!]
BW: MIST!
GM: OHH! HE CAUGHT HIM WITH THE MIST!
[Supernova crumples backwards, blinded from the blast of green spray
into his eyes. He falls to his back, rubbing his face and eyes with his
arms as Percy Childes continues to distract the official.]
GM: Come on, ref! Turn around! Look at what just happened in there!
[Nenshou quickly scales the turnbuckles, standing up top for a moment.]
GM: He's going for another backflip splash!
BW: I don't think so!
[And proving Bucky right, Nenshou leaps as high as he possibly can into
the air in a move destined to live on highlight reels forever. He
backflips one full rotation...
...and keeps on going, making his way all the way around one more time
before CRASHING down on the chest of Supernova to a crazed roar from the
stunned crowd!]
BW: DOUBLE MOONSAULT! DOUBLE MOONSAULT!! THAT'S A GIFT FROM THE
GODS!!
[Childes gestures at the pinning predicament with his cane, causing the
referee to spin around, diving to the mat to make the count.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! THREEEEEEE!!!
"DING! DING! DING!"
GM: Nenshou has won it! By hook or by crook, he's won it and he's
moving on to the semifinals!
BW: By hook or by crook?! Did you see the Double Moonsault?! It's the
damndest thing I've EVER seen in this business! And you're saying he
cheated to win?
GM: He DID cheat to win! Did you miss the mist?! He sprayed that vile
green mist into the eyes of a second person tonight and that directly
led to Supernova losing this match, Bucky! Deny that!
BW: All I saw was Nenshou PROVE he's the future of this business with
the greatest single high flying move I've ever seen! Supernova and you
can cry all you want about what happened before that but Nenshou is the
real friggin' deal, daddy!
GM: Unbelievable. We need to get some help out here for Supernova.
Fans, I can't believe what we just saw but... well, we need to take a
quick break. We'll be right back with more Saturday Night Wrestling!
[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 return to live action where the crowd is still buzzing over
what we just saw. Suddenly, ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" comes booming
across the Crockett Coliseum and the AWA faithful immediately leap to
their feet to relish the man emerging from the entrance portal with a
chorus of boos. "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne struts out towards the
entrance portal wearing a black three-piece suit with his PWR Pacific
Championship around his waist. His long blonde hair is pulled back into
a pony tail, emphasizing his hawkish features. He pauses to acknowledge
the crowd with a flourished bow before looking himself up and down and
smiling. Finally he makes it over to the interview area where Mark
Stegglet awaits him as the music dies down.]
MS: Let's get right down to business, Calisto. Las-
[Dufresne cuts Stegglet off.]
CD: Before we do that, Stegglet, let me just ask... is today Halloween
or is it tomorrow? Because as I look around this arena I see a lot of
people dressed up as fat, out of shape ogres.
[Cheap heel pop as the camera pans around the arena. A few women appear
to be looking at their husbands with disdain, agreeing with the
Ladykiller. Stegglet tries to get things back on track.]
MS: Be that as it may, two weeks ago after you attacked Tin Can Rust
with that very title belt, Jim Watkins announced to the world that you
two would meet once again to settle things once and for all; this time
in a TEXAS DEATH MATCH in front of all these Dallas fans!
[This turns the crowd's spirits around quickly.]
CD: It's finally come to this. A culmination of everything Tin Can Rust
has done over the past year. A year's worth of injustice will finally
be righted. Tin Can Rust can no longer hide behind the suits of the AWA
who look to protect him at every turn. He has to face the one and only
Calisto Dufresne in a match where only the strong survive. Only the
brave will make it out in one piece. And we all know that if there's
two words that describe Calisto Dufresne, it's strong and brave.
[Dufresne flexes his bicep, kissing it through his suit coat.]
MS: What are your thoughts on Watkins making it a Texas Death Match?
CD: To be honest, Stegglet, I had no idea what that was. These rednecks
in Texas have all kinds of odd customs and rituals, I've learned.
[More cheap heat.]
CD: I had to go back and ask Ben, Adrian and Stevie exactly what Watkins
got me into. I assumed it would be Rust and all of his ignorant fans
against just me. 10,000 people against the one shining, beacon of light
- that's me, by the way - until only one would be left standing.
Calisto Dufresne would've been victorious, of course, it may have just
taken a little while. But when I found out that it was basically a
fight until the other guy can't get up, I realized this was perfect for
me.
MS: How so?
CD: Well, we all know that Calisto Dufresne is no quitter.
MS: Didn't you submit to Rust at Battle On The Bayou?
[Dufresne shoots Stegglet a dirty look before continuing on.]
CD: I did no such thing. I blacked out and that crooked Meekly gave
Rust the win. It's wrong to make light of people's medical conditions,
Stegglet. Anyhow. As I was saying. We all know what happened last
year at SuperClash. The world learned that Calisto Dufresne was not a
man to trifle with. And it seems only fitting that this year that
lesson be brought back to the forefront of everyone's thinking.
MS: And finally, do you have anything to say about the recent issues
within the Southern Syndicate? There appear to be cracks in your
foundation.
CD: Let me make something abundantly clear to all of you conspiracy
theorists. Calisto Dufresne has no desire to have the AWA National
Title around his waist right now. As long as Stevie has it... as long
as the Southern Syndicate has it, Calisto Dufresne is satisfied.
[A smile.]
CD: The Southern Syndicate has been down, but we're not out. And with
Stevie and I coming through with huge victories at SuperClash and Adrian
and I getting ready to follow that up with another victorious Stampede
Cup, you'll see us back on top of the world...
[A nod, a wink and a smile.]
CD: ...right where we belong.
[With that, "Sharp Dressed Man" kicks in once again and Dufresne heads
back through the entrance portal, boos following him the entire way.]
MS: Now that's a man whose ego is bigger than the Lone Star State
itself. Let's go to the Control Center!
[We fade from the inside of the Crockett Coliseum to blank blue
background with the SuperClash 2 logo splashed across the screen. After
a moment, that zooms back to a corner of the screen that is now filled
with a shot of Jason Dane standing in front of a bank of television
monitors.]
JD: Hello everyone and welcome to the SuperClash 2 Control Center -
your source for all the information about the big event coming up in
just about one month's time.
It will be Thanksgiving Night, November 25th. The event so big that
it's spilled into TWO cities. We'll be coming to you live on WKIK from
both Dallas, Texas as well as the AWA's debut in St. Louis, Missouri...
Here's what we know...
[The shot is replaced by a graphic showing Shane Destiny on one side and
Mark Langseth on the other.]
JD: It will be Hold vs Hold in the Family Arena in St. Louis - the
Destiny Strangle versus the Greatness Personified when Shane Destiny and
Mark Langseth collide in just about a month. It was the St. Louis-based
River City Wrestling where Shane Destiny became a World Champion and
he'll be looking to channel some of that mojo against the Hall of Famer.
[The graphic changes to a shot of the Longhorn Heritage Title surrounded
by the faces of Brent Maverick, Jackson Haynes, Robert Donovan, and
Nenshou.]
JD: It has been a long, hard road as sixteen men fought to become the
first Longhorn Heritage Champion. Now? We're down to four and by the
time we reach Thanksgiving Night, we'll be down to the final two in a
showdown that our fans in the Fair Park Coliseum in Dallas, Texas will
see.
[Tin Can Rust and Calisto Dufresne's faces fill the screen.]
JD: In a match announced two weeks ago, the final showdown between Tin
Can Rust and Calisto Dufresne will take place in Dallas, Texas - in a
TEXAS DEATH MATCH! After a year of bad blood, these two will settle
their issue on Thanksgiving night.
[Bobby Taylor and Kevin Slater appear.]
JD: It'll be OUTLAW RULES when Kevin Slater and Bobby Taylor collide in
a match over two years in the making. That one will go down in St.
Louis.
[The two former friends disappear as they are replaced by Brian Von
Braun and Ron Houston.]
JD: It's been a long time coming when Ron Houston and Brian Von Braun
meet in Dallas, Texas!
[The screen fills with six men.]
JD: A decades-old feud comes to a head when the War Pigs team with
their manager, Richard E. Lee, to take on the Moonshiners - all of 'em!
Jug, Zeke, and their manager Mange! St. Louis is gonna love that fight!
Ten men will attempt to STEAL THE SPOTLIGHT in that annual five-on-five
showdown. But this year holds a very special prize for the winner - a
title shot of their choice! And to ensure only one man gets the title -
if there is more than one survivor on the winning team, that team will
face off with each other until there is only one man standing!
[The words STEAL THE SPOTLIGHT fill the screen.]
JD: On one team, we know already that Marcus Broussard is the captain.
We also know that Johnny Sone, Raphael Rhodes, and Eric Preston have
joined the team. That leaves one spot on that side.
On the other, MAMMOTH Mizusawa will be joined by the Southern
Syndicate's Adrian Freeman. Plus, we can now announce that "Playboy"
Johnny Casanova has been given a spot on the team.
As soon as that was announced, Scott Mayhem announced his intention to
join the other squad!
So, on one side... Broussard, Sone, Rhodes, Preston, and Mayhem.
On the other? Mizusawa, Freeman, and Casanova... and this just in...
"Gentleman" Jack Holland will take one of the remaining slots on that
team. And the final spot in the match?
Wade Kennedy.
[Dane smirks.]
JD: How in the world will Wade Kennedy get along with that group of
ruffians? That becomes one of the more intriguing questions in that
big, big matchup in St. Louis.
The National Tag Team Titles will be on the line in St. Louis as well
when The Blonde Bombers challenge Rough N Ready for the gold!
[Another graphic comes up.]
JD: Rounding out the show in Dallas will be one of the most bitter
grudge matches in AWA history when Vernon Riley collides with Anton
Layton... and this just in... James Monosso will be in Layton's corner!
And in the Main Event.. the AWA National Title will be on the line... as
will Juan Vasquez' AWA CAREER when Vasquez challenges "Hotshot" Stevie
Scott...
...ONE MORE TIME!
Where will this huge Main Event happen? You'll have to wait and find
out later tonight during the contract signing when Jim Watkins will make
it all official!
It's going to be a huge night in just a few weeks' time and I can't wait
to be a part of it all.
From the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane. Now, let's go back to ringside
for more AWA action!
[We fade from the Control Center down to ringside where Gordon and Bucky
are standing...]
GM: An amazing lineup for our fans in St. Louis and Dallas, Bucky.
BW: Incredible. There's a bunch of matches on that lineup that would
be Main Events on their own anywhere in the country but on a night like
SuperClash, they're on the undercard. Destiny/Langseth, Taylor/Slater,
Rust/Dufresne, Layton/Riley...
GM: Don't forget about Ron Houston and Brian Von Braun. Incredible
stuff for sure. And speaking of Ron Houston, let's go up to Jason Dane!
[The camera fades to the AWA interview area. Two individuals encompass
the entire screen. Jason Dane and the former National Champion, Ron
Houston. The Athens Georgia Madman is cloaked in a full length tan
"confederate flag" trenchcoat and black cowboy hat. He cranks his neck
and leans in.]
JD: Ladies and gentlemen, join me in welcoming at this time, Ron
Houston!
[Pop!]
RH: Thanks fer havin' me, Jase.
Jd: For the better part of this year, dating back to your time as
Special Enforcer.. dating back to the Memorial Day Rumble.. dating back
to pretty much his _debut_.. Brian Von Braun has been a thorn in your
side. He's antagonized you.. taunted you.. attacked you.. and in a few
short weeks you'll finally get your opportunity to step into the ring
with him at SuperClash..
[Houston nods.. rubbing his hands together.]
JD: .. your thoughts?
RH: Since comin' into AWA Brian Von Braun has tried ta drag mah good
name through the mud, smacked me in the fact, hit me with a chair,
suckered mah best friend into throwin' himself out of his retirement
match, brought in the Kraken ta try ta take me out, and most recently
dragged his entire dang family out to try ta put me outta business. He's
tried and tried and _tried_ ta send me back into retirement and time
after _time_ ah've overcome the odds.
[Houston tips his hat back slightly.]
RH: Ah'm a simple man, Dane. Ah can count the things ah love on one
hand. But ya can rest assured that knockin' Brian Von Braun 'round is
right near the tippy top of that list. Ah'm gonna _enjoy_ puttin' Von
Braun down fer good. Ah'm gonna enjoy puttin' him on my shoulders and
droppin' him face first.. or perhaps puttin' mah fist into his chest and
feelin' his heart twitch.
JD: Things have certainly escalated.
RH: Ya ain't wrong there.
[The East Coast Terror directs his attention towards the camera.]
RH: And in two weeks time.. ah'm paintin' the canvass with Brian Von
Braun's blood. Then.. ah might work mah way back through his family just
fer _thinkin_ that they could put their hands on me.
[Houston pauses.]
RH: They say that a man's past casts a long shadow.
[Another beat.]
RH: When ah was retired ah spent a lot of time thinkin'. Week in and
week out, when ah was Special Enforcer, ah'd come back out here and have
ta be haunted by mah past. Whether it was mah foolish pride costin' me
the National Title or lettin' the Syndicate put me out of the business..
the _home_.. ah love fer a year.
Ah stayed up at night wonderin' 'bout how ah'd become the man ah see in
the mirror.. ah wonder where things went so wrong.
Ah live every day thinkin' 'bout what ah've done wrong. Thinkin' about
the decisions that ah've made that took me from a Rumble winner.. from a
National Champion.. ta a guy who's openin' the curtains and warmin' up
the crowd at the biggest show in this industry. A man who's been once
again consumed by the one thing that put him in such predicaments in the
first place.
Ah'm aware ah'm too prideful of a man.
And at SuperClash.. ah'm putting mah foolish pride aside..
[Houston tosses his hat to a Madman in attendance.]
RH: .. and ah'm gonna make ya'll remember that ah _am_ the man ah used
ta be.
Even if ah gotta spill "Bee-vee-bee's" insides all over the damn arena.
[Houston removes his trenchcoat and hat, tossing them to the crowd,
revealing his wrestling gear. Black trunks, black knee pads, black
boots.. and a black arm sleeve over his historically injured arm.]
RH: Bring me whatever ya got.
Ah'm in the mood ta fight.
[Houston pounds the pavement down towards the ring. He steps through
the ropes, spins around, and crouches facing the entrance with his hands
on his knees.]
GM: Ron Houston wants a fight!
BW: And I've been told that Brian Von Braun was expecting this and he's
got a Halloween surprise for him.
GM: A Halloween surprise?
BW: That's right! And what would Halloween be without a horror movie?
GM: What in the world are you-
[Suddenly, the curtain parts as an obese African American man comes
wobbling out of the locker room area. His fingers are heavily taped as
he points a finger towards the ring. Rubbing his heavily scarred
forehead with his taped hand, his eyes are wide and crazy-looking as he
heads towards Ron Houston.]
GM: EBOLA ZAIRE?! That's the Halloween surprise?!
BW: He's a friggin' walking horror movie, Gordo!
GM: He certainly is!
BW: A standing slasher flick!
[Zaire stumbles through the ropes...
...and Houston rushes him, throwing haymakers as the bell rings to start
the match.]
GM: Here we go! It's Main Event time on Saturday Night Wrestling!
[Houston pushes Zaire back against the ropes, throwing the right hand as
quickly and as heavy as he can. With Zaire staggered, Houston dashes
back to the far ropes, rebounding off...
...and getting caught with a stiff-fingered thrust into the throat!]
GM: Ohh! Cheap shot by Zaire!
BW: Get used to it. That's all this sick psycho knows.
[Zaire grabs the choking Houston around the neck, tugging him into a
side headlock. He turns away from the official, shielding himself as he
slams his taped thumb into the windpipe as well, causing Houston to
slump down to his knees on the mat, grabbing his throat with both
hands.]
GM: Zaire's gone twice to the throat already and-
[The big man from Africa lowers the boom with a big boot to the face of
the kneeling Houston, knocking him flat. Zaire hits the ropes, bouncing
off...]
GM: LOOK OUT!!
[Zaire lets loose a "DUUUUUUUU!" as he drops a heavy elbow down across
the chest of Houston.]
GM: Good grief! That's over four hundred pounds down in an elbowdrop
to the sternum!
[Zaire rolls his massive body into a press.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!!
[But Houston slips a shoulder off the mat, getting out from under the
massive amount of bodyweight. Zaire pushes up to his knees, simply
slamming his fist down in a hammer-like motion on the throat of
Houston.]
GM: Ohh! Another shot to the throat!
BW: The referee is reprimanding him for it but I don't know if Zaire
gives a damn, Gordo. I've never seen Ebola Zaire look like he cares
about the rules one bit.
[Houston, gasping for air once more, rolls towards the ropes, trying to
stay away. Zaire pushes up off the mat, shoving the official aside, and
delivers a hard kick to the kidneys, forcing Houston to roll off the
apron to the floor.]
GM: Houston hits the floor hard... grabbing at the lower back...
Zaire's coming out after him too.
BW: And that's exactly where Ebola Zaire wants this match. This man
LOVES a fight, Gordo. If Houston's dumb enough to tangle with him on
the floor, he may spend the night in intensive care.
[Zaire steps out to the apron, dropping down to the floor where he grabs
a kneeling Houston by the hair with both hands, hauling him to his
feet...
...where Houston fires a right hand, breaking Zaire's grip!]
GM: Big right hand by Ron Houston! The East Coast Terror is fighting
back!
[A second right hand causes Zaire to backpedal. Houston grabs him by
the back of the head, SLAMMING his face into the ring apron!]
GM: Facefirst to the apron goes Ebola Zaire! Ron Houston's taking the
fight to him!
[Houston grabs Zaire by the arm, turning him around. He hurls Zaire
towards the railing where the four hundred pounder smashes hard into the
steel, moving the barricade.]
GM: We may need to move some fans out there.
BW: I'm surprised the railing held up with four hundred pounds hitting
it. We could have had to clean up our front row of fans with a sponge,
Gordo.
[The Athens, Georgia Madman approaches, pulling Zaire into a side
headlock. He drives a right hand into the skull of Zaire a few times
before dragging him off the steel. He smashes an overhead elbow across
the forehead of the man from Deepest, Darkest Africa before tossing him
under the ropes into the ring.]
GM: Houston puts him back in... and now he's getting back in there as
well...
[Ron Houston climbs up on the apron, stepping back into the ring.]
GM: Both men back inside now - which is a good thing, believe me.
BW: It's a good thing for the AWA's insurance premiums.
[Houston drags Zaire off the mat by the arm, tossing him towards the
corner. The big man from Georgia backs across the ring, slapping his
arm a few times...]
GM: HERE HE COMES!!
[And Houston runs at top speed into a raised boot!]
GM: Ohh! He got caught!
[Zaire immediately follows it up with a lunging clothesline out of the
corner that floors Houston.]
GM: Big clothesline - and here's another pin attempt...
[Zaire drops his four hundred plus pounds in a lateral press.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!! No! Just a two count there!
[The big African promptly wraps his hands around the throat of Houston,
showing no regard for the screaming official as he tries to strangle the
life out of the East Coast Terror.]
GM: He's choking the heck out of him, Bucky!
BW: Houston's turning purple!
GM: The ref can't get him to break! The count is three... four... fiv-
[Zaire suddenly breaks just before the five count, looking blankly at
the protesting official. He slowly gets back to his feet, obviously
breathing heavy as he leans down to drag Houston back up.]
GM: Ebola Zaire carries over four hundred pounds on his frame and very
obviously, his conditioning suffers for it.
BW: He won't be in any sixty minute matches, that's for sure. He'll be
lucky to make it six.
GM: But he makes up for that stamina with the kind of wild animal
attitude, ripping and clawing and tearing.
[Zaire pushes Houston back to the buckles, leaning all of his weight on
him...
...and then pushes off, smashing a back elbow into the jaw of the
Athens, Georgia Madman! Two more elbows follow closely behind, rocking
the jaw of Houston. Pushing off, Zaire lands a hard overhead slap
across the chest.]
GM: Good grief! He hits hard too!
BW: Houston needs to check his dental work after those elbows. And if
he's still got all his fillings, he may need a few more!
[Sucking wind, Zaire wraps his hands around the throat again, leaning
all of his weight against Houston in the chokehold.]
GM: Another blatant choke - two, three, four, fiv-
[Again Ebola Zaire breaks the choke as he backs off and lunges back in,
smashing Houston in the buckles with a quick corner splash.]
GM: He only was a few feet back from the corner so there wasn't a ton
of impact there but when you're using over four hundred pounds, I'm not
sure how much you need, Bucky.
[Dragging a limp Houston out of the corner by the hair, Zaire fires him
through the ropes to the floor. Zaire steps out to the apron, dropping
down to the floor again...
...and drops another four hundred pound elbow down on the chest!]
GM: FOUR HUNDRED POUND ELBOW ON THE FLOOR!!
BW: If Zaire got back in the ring right now, he might get a countout.
But that would be the sane thing to do. Ebola Zaire is far from sane.
FAR from sane. He'll take the countout if it means he gets to carve
Houston's head like a jack-o-lantern.
GM: Zaire drags him up, pushing him back against the apron...
[Zaire grabs Houston's arm, slinging him into the railing where his
spine slams into the steel.]
GM: Wait a second... wait a second...
BW: CLEAR!!
[The ringside fans do exactly that as Ebola Zaire gets a running start,
charging Houston who is leaning against the steel...
...but at the last moment, the East Coast Terror sidesteps. He grabs
Zaire by the back of the head, SLAMMING his badly-scarred head into the
steel railing!]
GM: OHHH! HEADFIRST TO THE STEEL!!
[Zaire slumps down to the floor, leaning against the railing. Houston
moves in on the attack, kneeling down to grab the back of the skull and
throw his right hand into it.!]
GM: He's beating the hell out of Zaire! Right hand! Right hand! Over
and over to the skull!
[And as Houston finally peels away, letting loose a triumphant roar, we
spot a stream of blood coming from the scarred forehead of Ebola Zaire.]
GM: He split him open! He busted open Zaire!
BW: On Halloween eve, there ain't no chance that the Human Horror Film
ain't gonna bleed, daddy!
[Houston hauls Zaire off the floor by the wrist, wheeling him around and
shoving him up onto the apron. The East Coast Terror climbs up on the
apron as well, dragging Zaire up to a knee where he blasts him between
the eyes with a haymaker!]
GM: Big right hand on the apron! Both men are on the apron and
Houston's just hammering away at that cut! He wants to split Zaire wide
open!
[The Athens, Georgia Madman hauls Zaire up to his feet...
...and sinks his teeth into the cut forehead!]
GM: AHHHHH!
BW: What kind of sick animal does that?! This is your hero, Myers?!
GM: I wouldn't go that far but he's a hero to some of these people here
tonight in the Crockett Coliseum!
[Houston pushes Zaire back, spitting on the floor. He wipes a bit of
Zaire's blood off his face as he stomps back in towards him, ducking
down...]
BW: What the-?!
GM: He's gonna slam him!
BW: WHERE?!
[With both men standing on the apron, the crowd begins to buzz at the
idea of Houston bodyslamming Zaire off the apron and down to the
thinly-padded concrete floor!]
GM: He's gonna slam him off the apron to the floor!
BW: No way, Gordo. No way. Houston's a powerhouse but he's not
getting four hundred pounds up in a slam...
[Zaire lashes out with the point of his elbow to the side of Houston's
face a few times, breaking up the bodyslam attempt. Houston falls
backwards, a trickle of blood coming from his cheek...
...and then Zaire grabs his face, raking his nails down across Houston's
face, digging into the cut!]
GM: Ugh. This one's getting hard to watch, fans. Zaire is an absolute
animal!
BW: Houston's right there with him. He bit the man, Gordo! What's
gotten into Ron Houston?
GM: I think it's Brian Von Braun! I think Von Braun has gotten under
Houston's skin so badly - this is what we've got from it. We've got a
little bit more violent side to Ron Houston!
[Pushing Houston's face down on the top rope, Zaire rakes his cut cheek
along the rope, ripping at the skin.]
GM: Good grief!
BW: They've been on the apron a long time but the referee stopped his
count 'cause he thought they were getting back into the ring. He's just
standing there watching this show of violence like the rest of us!
GM: Zaire with another blow to the throat, knocking Houston down to a
knee...
[The East Coast Terror gets pulled back up as Zaire throws a back elbow,
knocking Houston down...
...where he rolls onto the timekeeper's table.]
GM: Oh no.
[Zaire's eyes go wide, his head nodding wildly as he lifts his right
arm, slapping his elbow.]
GM: Don't do it, Zaire! Don't do it!
BW: He's gonna drop the elbow on him on the table!
GM: He's gonna put Ron Houston THROUGH the table! Somebody's gotta
stop this!
[The crowd begins to jeer like crazy as Brian Von Braun, cane in hand,
comes walking down the ramp with a big grin on his face. He's nodding
as he walks quickly down the ramp, reaching the ring.]
"DO IT!! PUT HIM DOWN!!"
[The shout from Von Braun seems to confuse Zaire as he turns to face the
shouting Southerner.]
GM: Houston's getting up!
[Von Braun shouts again!]
"NO! NO! NO! TURN AROUND, YOU IDIOT!"
[But as soon as Zaire turns around, he finds himself getting CREAMED
with a standing Lariat from Houston, who is still standing on the
timekeeper's table, knocking Zaire over the ropes and back into the
ring.]
GM: Houston puts Zaire back in... and now look at this...
[The East Coast Terror steps into the ring, pointing a finger of warning
at Von Braun who is losing his mind now, screaming and shouting at the
ring.]
GM: Ebola Zaire got distracted by Von Braun's arrival and now he's
paying for it...
[Houston drags the heavy Zaire off the mat, rearing back...
...and DRIVING his fist into the flabby chest of Zaire, knocking him
flat with a heart punch!]
GM: PULSE KILLER! PULSE KILLER!!
[Houston dives across the chest of Ebola Zaire as the referee dives down
as well.]
GM: ONE!! TWO!!! THREEEEEE!!!
[But just as the three count comes down, an in-the-ring Von Braun SLAMS
his cane down across the shoulder of Ron Houston!]
GM: Ohh! Come on!
[Von Braun winds up again and slams the cane down on the left shoulder
again!]
GM: Again! He hit him across the arm again!
BW: And you know what he's doing, Gordo? He's going after the arm that
put Houston on the shelf for months! He's going for the arm that almost
ended Houston's career!
[The cane slams home down on the shoulder again.]
GM: Good grief! Houston just screamed out in pain! That left shoulder
is in a very vulnerable state. Many people believe that the reason we
haven't seen Ron Houston take on a full schedule of matches since his
return is because that shoulder is NOT fully healed yet!
[Von Braun spikes his cane down to the mat, grabbing Houston's left arm
and jerking it up under his armpit before dropping down to the mat,
pulling back on the arm!]
GM: He's got... some kind of an armbar applied!
BW: Good lord, Gordo. I thought you were some kind of a wrestling
historian! That's a Fujiwara Armbar - perhaps best known as the deadly
finisher of Hall of Famer Jeff Matthews at one point!
GM: He's cranking back on the arm - the Fujiwara Armbar as you called
it is being put to devastating use. Listen to Ron Houston! He's
screaming his head off! That injured arm is being destroyed by Von
Braun here in Dallas..
[BVB places both feet firmly on the mat and bridges back for all he's
worth, screaming at Houston as he cranks back. He lets up only to crank
back again.]
GM: Get him off of Ron Houston! We need some help out here! We need
someone to get him off of Ron Houston!
[Von Braun is arched back, screaming as he bends the arm and we abruptly
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...
We cut to a hotel room. We see the sink and vanity mirror. Katy
Perry's "Teenage Dreams" is playing. We see the long-haired member of
the Aces come into view. He's wearing his wrestling trunks and putting
on a white button-down shirt. He buttons the top button and proceeds to
button each one after that.]
# You think I'm pretty
Without any make-up on
You think I'm funny
When I tell the puch line wrong
I know you get me
So I'll let my walls come down, down #
[Cut to the short-haired member of the Aces. We see him standing in
front of a mirror, his black tuxedo slacks are already on. His white
shirt is also already. He buttons his left cuff and then his right
cuff. He lifts up his collar and grabs a bow tie sitting on the chair
to his left.]
# Before you met me
I was a wreck
But things were kinda heavy
You brought me to life
Now every February
You'll be my valentine, valentine #
[We cut to curbside. A white limousine pulls up next to three women
dressed in evening gowns. The women look at each other, impressed by
the limo. The short-haired member of the Aces pops up through the
sunroof, motioning for the women to get into the limo. The long-haired
member opens the door and hops out. The three women get into the limo.
Cut to a shot of the group all holding champagne glasses, laughing and
smiling.]
# Let's go all the way tonight
No regrets, just love
We can dance until we die
You and I
We'll be young forever #
[Cut to the inside of a club. The camera angle is above the dance floor
as the Aces and the women share the space. All five are dancing. The
camera circles the dance floor, keeping the angle. The short-haired
Aces member breaks into the fingers interlaced arm wave as the
long-haired member spins one of the women around. The dancing
continues.]
# You make me
Feel like
I'm living a Teenage Dream
The way you turn me on
I can't sleep
Let's runaway
And don't ever look back
Don't ever look back #
[The camera zooms in on the dancing and then zooms out. We star-wipe to
a black screen. A message fades onto the screen, "The Aces, coming soon
to the AWA." The message fades away leaving a black screen.
And then fades back up to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.
Gordon has a very solemn look on his face as Bucky looks around,
watching as the ring crew assembles something inside the ring. We can
see the mat behind them as been changed to have a red carpet over it.]
GM: Welcome back, fans, to Saturday Night Wrestling. As you can see,
we finally got security out here to get Brian Von Braun under control
but... well, honestly, after several blows to the arm with that cane and
with the Fuja... Fuji?
BW: Fujiwara.
GM: Thank you. With the Fujiwara Armbar applied and put to great
usage, Ron Houston had to be helped from the ring and he was holding
that left arm all the way back up the aisle. I think... Bucky, I think
it's very possible that the arm has been reinjured.
BW: It certainly could be. The Fujiwara Armbar is one of the most
dangerous holds in professional wrestling. It can snap bones, tear
ligaments or tendons - and it certainly could have just put Ron Houston
back on the shelf.
GM: And how will that injury affect Houston in his match with Brian Von
Braun at SuperClash?
BW: The better question at this point is will Houston even MAKE IT to
SuperClash?
GM: That remains to be seen. But we do know two men who WILL be at
SuperClash, fans... the two men who will do battle in the Main Event
that night over the AWA National Title, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott and Juan
Vasquez. In just a moment, they will be joining Jim Watkins inside this
ring for the official contract signing for that night and right now,
we're going up to the ring to Big Jim for the official paperwork. Jim?
[We fade into the ring where Big Jim Watkins, Chairman of the
Championship Committee, is standing in the middle of the ring with a big
smile on his face. A wooden table has been set up in mid-ring with a
chair on either side. The aforementioned red carpet covers the entire
ring canvas as well.]
JW: Thanks, Gordon. AWA fans, are you ready?
[Big cheer!]
JW: The moment is here. Last year at the first SuperClash, Stevie
Scott and Juan Vasquez met for the AWA National Title for the very first
time. In just over three weeks, they will meet once more for the AWA
National Title but this will be the FINAL TIME!
But before we go any further, let's bring out the two men who will be
meeting on Thanksgiving night for the National Title...
First, the challenger... let's hear it for Juan Vasquez!
[A huge cheer goes up for Vasquez who appears on the entrance ramp. He
smiles at the roaring crowd, walking quickly down the ramp to enter the
ring.]
BW: Enjoy him while you can, morons. He'll be gone soon enough.
GM: We'll see about that.
[Vasquez steps through the ropes, pausing to shake hands with Jim
Watkins before settling into one of the chairs.]
JW: And now... the champion... the two-time AWA National Champion
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott!
[Scott walks through the curtain, clad in a black suit and sunglasses.
The title belt is slung over his shoulder as he slowly walks down the
ramp, his manager trailing behind him.]
GM: The champion and Ben Waterson... and keep an eye on that briefcase
that Waterson is carrying. You never know when he'll whap someone over
the skull with it.
[The two men step through the ropes, ignoring the outstretched hand of
Jim Watkins as they arrive. Scott glares at Vasquez for a long moment
before taking the title belt and dropping it on the table between them.
He sits down in a chair as Ben Waterson stands behind him.]
JW: Gentlemen, let's try and keep under control here... let's keep
things civil...
[No response from either man as they stare one another down. Jim
Watkins steps forward, holding up a stack of papers.]
JW: Now... I have here in my hand the official contract for this match.
[Watkins holds it high to some cheers... but Waterson interrupts.]
ATTSBW: I don't think so.
JW: Excuse me?
ATTSBW: You're excused, Watkins. You're also an idiot if you think I'm
going to sign that particular document or allow my client to do so.
[Waterson opens up his briefcase, pulling out a similar document.]
ATTSBW: This version of the contract has been prepared by MY lawyers.
They went over your particular document with a finetooth comb. They
looked for loopholes, exit clauses, escape hatches, any piece of legal
maneuvering that you and your precious Committee might put in place to
find a way out for Vasquez after he loses and hits the road, Jim.
And this document?
[He holds his stack of papers up in the air.]
ATTSBW: Closes all of them.
[He slams the papers down on the table between the two competitors.]
ATTSBW: If you want a title match at SuperClash, Watkins... you'll have
them sign that contract.
[Watkins picks up the papers, paging through them slowly, scanning over
it.]
JW: Juan, everything appears to be in order but... it is your decision.
[Vasquez gestures for the papers. Watkins sets them down in front of
him.]
JW: Juan, before you sign... let's make clear what is at stake here.
On November 25th... right here in Dallas, Texas...
[HUUUUUUGE CHEER! Watkins grins.]
JW: It will be Juan Vasquez challenging for the AWA National Title
against the current champion Stevie Scott.
AND... if Juan Vasquez fails to become the National Champion on that
night, he will voluntarily LEAVE the AWA FOREVER!
[The crowd buzzes with concern.]
JW: There will be no loopholes. There will be no way out, Juan.
[Watkins points to the paper.]
JW: Once you sign that paper, there is no turning back. To quote Mr.
Waterson here... consider yourself warned.
The choice is yours, Juan.
[Vasquez picks up the pen on the table, looks down at the sheet of paper
long and hard...
...and signs it!]
JW: Alright... Mr. Scott... Mr. Waterson... if you please...
[Scott grabs the paper, staring across the table at Vasquez...
...and signs the contract!]
JW: Alright! Folks, we've got a Main Event!
[HUGE CHEER!]
ATTSBW: And now, let's give these people a preview of what's gonna
happen, champ!
[Stevie takes a swing at Vasquez who blocks it and then throws a right
hand of his own, knocking Scott flat. Vasquez leaps up onto the table,
diving off onto Waterson!]
GM: OH MY!! WE'VE GOT A FIGHT ON OUR HANDS!!
[But Jim Watkins has seen enough, grabbing Vasquez around the head and
neck, and dragging him off the downed Waterson. He shoves Vasquez back
to the corner, holding him there.]
JW: I knew this... damn it, hold still, Juan... I knew this would
happen. I knew you two would be out of control tonight and I knew you
would be just as out of control at SuperClash.
I can't have it, guys. I can't risk that match not having a winner.
That match... MUST! HAVE! A WINNER!
[BIG CHEER!]
JW: So, I went out... and I made a phone call to one man who I knew
would stand between you two without batting an eye... one man who has
seen it all in this sport and has done it all in this sport...
He'll make sure we have a winner... he'll make sure this ends the right
way...
[The crowd begins to buzz with confusion and anticipation.]
JW: I went out and I got a special guest enforcer for the Main Event!
[Big cheer! Watkins turns, pointing down the ramp. All eyes turn to
the entryway, necks craning for the first glance...
But it's not a sight that informs the world just what Jim Watkins is up
to.
It's a sound.]
# It's alright...#
# It's alright...#
# It's alright... I'm just a little crazy #
[And the crowd ERUPTS in one of the loudest reactions in AWA history!]
GM: OH MY STARS AND GARTERS!! I KNOW THAT MUSIC!!
BW: SO DO I!! BUT IT CAN'T BE, GORDO!! IT CAN'T BE!!
GM: ALL EYES ARE ON THE ENTRYWAY... IS IT REALLY-
[The crowd goes absolutely NUTS as a seven foot beast of a man steps
through the curtain, hands on hips as he looks out over the roaring
crowd with a grin on his face.]
GM: ALEX MARTINEZ HAS ARRIVED IN THE AWA!!
[With the crowd still roaring, Martinez quickly walks down the elevated
rampway to the ring. He swings a leg over the top rope, stepping into
the ring where Ben Waterson is losing his mind, screaming and ranting
and raving in Martinez' direction.]
"YOU?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?"
[Martinez grins at Waterson's reaction. Juan Vasquez is glaring at
Martinez, having not taken his eyes off him for a second since Martinez
walked through the curtain.
Stevie Scott has the title belt in his hands, staring up at Martinez.
He slowly approaches, belt still in hand. He holds the title belt up,
slapping it and shoving it in the face of Martinez.]
"You here for this, big man? Take a long look now 'cause you'll never
get any closer than this!"
[Martinez turns his head, trying to ignore the title belt being shoved
into his face.]
"LOOK AT IT, PUNK!! LOOK AT THE MOST IMPORTANT TITLE IN THIS SPORT!"
[He shoves the belt closer, the gold face slapping into the cheek of
Martinez. The crowd begins to buzz in anticipation.]
"You come here into MY building... into MY ring... get involved in MY
business... and you don't have the guts to look me in the eye like a
man?! No wonder your wife left you for that psychopath!"
[Whoops. That one still stings and Martinez' burning gaze is now locked
on Stevie Scott...
...which allows the Hotshot to reach up, jabbing a thumb into the eye of
Martinez!]
GM: Ohh! Cheapshot! He thumbed him in the eye and-
[Vasquez rushes over, battering Scott with a series of right hands,
driving him through the ropes out onto the ramp...
...but as he turns around, he finds two hands wrapped around his throat!
Jim Watkins surges forward, screaming at his newest signing.]
"NO! NO, NO, NO!! ALEX, DON'T-"
[But the blinded Martinez has no idea what he's doing as he powers
Vasquez high up into the air...
...and DOWN to the canvas with a thunderous Firebomb chokeslam!]
GM: FIREBOMB!! FIREBOMB!! VASQUEZ IS DOWN!!
BW: And the champ escapes without a scratch on him!
[Scott and Waterson retreat down the ramp, the champion clutching the
title belt to his chest as he points mockingly at Vasquez and Martinez.
Martinez rubs his eyes clear, looking down to the mat...
...and seeing what he's done to Juan Vasquez.]
GM: He Firebombed Juan Vasquez! Alex Martinez has arrived in the AWA
and on his first night, he just Firebombed the Number One contender to
the National Title!
BW: He laid him out! Vasquez ain't movin' one bit!
GM: Can you believe what we just saw? Can you believe what just
happened? And can you believe what we're going to see happen at
SuperClash?! What a night, fans! We're out of time - we've gotta go!
We'll see you next time... at the matches!
[The camera holds on Alex Martinez, looking down with some remorse at
the stunned Juan Vasquez who is still laid out. His gaze turns down the
aisle to Stevie Scott and Ben Waterson who are in retreat mode. The big
man slowly shakes his head as we fade to black.]