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                               American Wrestling Alliance 
                                       Proudly Presents 
                               AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                               Live from the WKIK Studios 
                                         Dallas, Texas 
                                      February 13, 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 "LAST TIME ON SNW!" where we see Juan Vasquez standing in the
middle of the ring surrounded by some allies - the Keenings, Werewolf
Gregorson, and Eric Preston

JV: It's time to solve this problem...like how _Juan Vasquez_ would.

[What does he mean by that!? The crowd reacts with confusion, as Juan
continues on, leaning over the ropes and speaking slowly, making sure
The Southern Syndicate hears his every word.]

JV: Twenty-five thousand...

[Juan is suddenly wracked by a fit of coughs, but he manages to settle
down, once again repeating the words...]

JV: ...twenty-five thousand dollars...

[As he pauses momentarily to take in a deep gulp of air, Juan's face
twists and contorts into a dark, serious look.]

JV: ...on _all_ your heads.

[HUGE SHOCKED POP! Ben Waterson screams a clearly audible "WHAT!?!" as
the rest of the Syndicate have equally shocked reactions. Inside the
ring, the other wrestlers seem similarly confused.]

BW and GM: WHAT!?!

JV: If you stand with the Southern Syndicate, you're my enemy! If you
side with the Southern Syndicate...if you shake the hand of Ben
Waterson...if you align yourself with that devil, then this bounty's on
your head!

[The crowd is going wild, because they can't believe what they're
hearing. Neither can anyone else.]

JV: Bring me blood or bring me a corpse...I don't care! If twelve of you
gotta' band together to split the money and leap outta' a bento box in
Tokyo to take down MAMMOTH Mizusawa, then so be it! If I gotta' pay off
Shane Destiny's alimony for the next year to end the Rhodes bloodline,
then I will! If I need to feed, clothe and let James Monosso live like a
king to get this done...then damnit...whatever it takes!

Whatever it takes!

[Waterson and the rest of the Syndicate scream and shout threats at
Juan, but he's not hearing any of it. He's too far gone to tolerate
anything they say any longer.]

JV: You said I'm "finished" with you? You consider me a "dead issue"!?

[He smiles and shakes his head.]

JV: Oh no, boys...I ain't done with you by long shot. Like that song
they played at my wedding...We've only just begun!

[As the crowd begins to lose their minds over the sheer craziness of
what Juan's been saying, a smirk appears on his face as he drops his
next bombshell.]

JV: By the way...I almost forgot to mention...

[Dramatic pause.]

JV:  _FIFTY_ thousand dollars to whoever rids the AWA of Ben Waterson.

[HUGE POP! Waterson is livid to say the least. Juan then points directly
at his greatest adversary...the National champion, himself.]

JV: Just don't touch Stevie Scott.

[A cruel, almost twisted smile forms on Juan's bloodied face.]

JV: Leave that bastard to me.

[Another HUGE POP! And with that, Juan Vasquez drops the microphone to
the canvas. Behind him, the various wrestlers in the ring turn to each
other with the same disbelieving look on their faces, trying to process
what Vasquez just said. Up the ramp, the Southern Syndicate continue to
scream threats at Vasquez. And just then, the darnedest thing happens.

Eric Preston, the young rookie who had impressed so many on this night,
going toe-to-toe with Juan Vasquez...

...leaps out of the ring and runs up the aisle straight towards the
Southern Syndicate...

...quickly followed by everyone else in that ring...chasing Ben Waterson
and the Syndicate up the aisle!]

GM: THEY WANT THE BOUNTY! THEY WANT THE BOUNTY!!! THEY'RE ALL GOING
AFTER THE SOUTHERN SYNDICATE!!!

BW: Has Vasquez lost his mind!?!?! He put a bounty on Ben Waterson! On
the Syndicate! On every single person associated with them! If he wasn't
a walking dead man before, he sure as hell is one now, daddy!

GM: We're desperately out of time, folks! But what a night...what a
night! Juan Vasquez has thrown the entire AWA into utter chaos! My
gosh...see you next time!

[The camera cuts to a shot of a smiling Juan Vasquez, the shot freezes
before slowly fading to the sounds of "One More Saturday Night" by the
Grateful Dead.

A large white map of the United States fills the screen as the music
plays.  The shot zooms through the map, different states "popping up"
into view as we race past them.  As we pull back from the map, it no
longer is white but rather made up of the Stars and Stripes.

The map goes into a spin, spinning round and round as we zoom all the
way into it, dissolving into a few slow motion shots of animated men
battling in a red, white, and blue ring.  The animation runs through
various wrestling moves from an atomic drop to a bodyslam to a
piledriver.

And as the blue animaniac applies a clawhold on the white animaniac, we
freeze and the AWA logo fills the screen.

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the interior
of the WKIK Studios in Dallas, Texas.  The back wall is covered with
various flags from around the world.  The bleachers on three sides of
the ring stand a little taller, helping to fit a few more people into
the building.  The ring is sporting red, white, and blue ropes with
matching buckles and is lookin' good, yo.

A quick cut reveals our announce area - a brand new blue and white
backdrop with a television screen currently displaying the AWA logo
behind our announce duo.  They stand behind a small wooden podium, all
grins as the fans cheer.

One is clad in a dark navy suit, white dress shirt, and red and white
striped tie.  He sports nicely-styled salt and pepper hair and a
well-groomed moustache.  He grips a wireless mic in his hand, grinning
widely at the camera.  In his late-50's and the epitome of
professionalism, this man is Gordon Myers.

By his side is... well, somewhat a bit more flashy.  With a mic in one
hand and a glitter covered briefcase in the other, this man is paunchy
to say the least.  He's got a decent sized gut pushing at the buttons on
his lime green dress shirt underneath an eye-burning yellow jacket.  His
black hair is tousled in all directions like he hasn't run a comb
through it in his life.  He's in his late 30's... he's former manager
"Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling
Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  Bucky Wilde,
the wrestling world is BUZZING about this night of action!

BW:  It's Awards Night... and I wish we could focus on that, daddy... I
really do.  But that's not all we've got going on.  We've got the start
of the Lady Luck Challenge as well!  But even THAT is not the focus of
the night, Gordo.

GM:  It's certainly not.  The focus of the night?  The bountys.  We've
got bountys flying all over the place.  The Southern Syndicate started
this thing by putting a bounty on the head of Juan Vasquez and anyone
who aided him.  Then two weeks ago, as you just saw, Vasquez returned
the favor!  $25,000 on the heads of all of the Southern Syndicate
members and anyone who helps them!  $50,000 on the head of Ben Waterson
for anyone who runs him out of the AWA!  But not Stevie Scott... not the
National Champion...

BW:  But that's only because Vasquez wants to take Stevie out himself,
Gordo!

GM:  That's exactly right.  And I don't know if you were backstage
before the show, Bucky, but it's a pressure cooker back there... it's a
powder keg.  Everyone's looking over their shoulders.  Everyone's on the
lookout for someone to earn them some cash.  And from what I understand,
Jason Dane is out there in the parking lot with the Chairman of the
Championship Committee, Stephen Ross... to get his thoughts on this
atmosphere going into tonight.  Jason?

[We cut to the parking lot where Jason Dane is indeed standing next to
Stephen Ross.  Ross has his back turned to the camera, staring out into
the parking lot.  He's dressed in a fancy black suit, shaking his head
as Dane speaks.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Mr. Ross, this is a dangerous situation.  This
is... what are your thoughts?

[Ross continues to shake his head, looking away.  Dane gestures to the
cameraman and they circle around to the other side, facing a
nervous-looking Stephen Ross.  Dane thrusts the mic in front of him.]

SR:  Jesus... this is like something out of a bad dream.

[The camera follows the gaze of Stephen Ross, revealing a very familiar
(and large) individual getting out of a car.]

JD:  Is that... The Robfathah?!

[It is!  And Kraken's with him!]

JD:  The Robfathah here with Kraken... just for the money!  They're not
under contract... they're taking advantage of the Open Door policy, Mr.
Ross.  Who else could be showing up here tonight and what are YOU going
to do about it?

[Ross looks irritated in Dane's direction.]

SR:  What CAN I do about it?  Vasquez, the Syndicate, they've got
everyone whipped into a frenzy.  There's all this money changing hands. 
I mean, hell, Dufresne and Freeman just won a million dollars!  That'll
pay off a lot of bounty hunters!  So WHAT... WHAT DO YOU SUGGEST I DO,
DANE?!

[And with that, Stephen Ross storms off, leaving Dane behind.]

JD:  This is getting serious, Gordon.  Stephen Ross is obviously under a
lot of pressure.  This is a dangerous atmosphere we find ourselves in
here tonight and-

[Dane's gaze drifts off-camera and as we pan over along his eyeline, we
see why.  A balding man in a gray suit has just stepped up next to Dane,
eyeing him up and down.  Behind him stands a man in a black robe,
wearing a crazy mask.  The mask is a crimson red samurai mask; a red
helmet that falls across the shoulders, covering a hard mask with an
open mouth and sharp red teeth, the eyes covered by the brim of the
helmet.  The balding man looks at the camera.]

JD:  Can I help you?

[The man ignores Dane, snatching the mic from his hand.]

???: It was a long flight into Texas from Yokohama, but we are here. 
For those not in the know, I am "The Master of Ceremonies" Don E. Allen,
and the man behind me?

[Don E. stops and slaps the unidentified man in the chest.]

DEA: He's the man who will step into AWA and strike fear into anyone who
stands in our way.  He's the man who will answer any challenge, face any
competitor, and will knock them down one after the other until no one is
left standing.  You can almost feel the clouds gathering overhead, feel
the atmospheric pressure starting to push on your lungs, making it
harder to breathe.  Oh, a storm is coming to the AWA.  A "Blinding
Storm", as it were.  Welcome, AWA...

[Reaching up, the man in the mask removes his head covering, revealing
an older Japanese man, his face painted black with yellow lightning
bolts striking down on either side of his cheeks.  He stares at the
camera with a grimace, the intimidation pouring off of him.]

DEA: ... Tatsumi Nanami!  From Japan he comes, where the men hit harder,
suplex faster, and stretch further than anywhere else in the world.  The
AWA has yet to feel anything quite like him, and they will regret ever
stepping in the ring with him.  But first...

[A grin stretches across Don E. Allen's face.]

DEA: ... I hear there are a few bounties being placed across this
promotion.  A few men who aren't exactly on friendly terms placing
monetary rewards for the elimination of others.  Well, when money is
involved, "The Master of Ceremonies" takes interest.  Because money
equals more clients.  Money equals better merchandise for the fans to
buy.  Money equals a few of the right palms greased.  In other words,
money equals power, and if there is one thing that Don E. Allen wants
more than anything else, it's power.

[Another slap to Tatsumi Nanami, who steps forward and becomes the focal
point of the shot.]

DEA: As of right now, those men with bounties on their head should be
put on notice.  Maybe it will be Juan Vasquez being eliminated.  Or
maybe I'll let Nanami-san loose on The Syndicate.  Or maybe, just maybe,
I'll personally walk up to Ben Waterson, wrap my hands around his
scrawny neck, and choke the life out of him until I'm fifty thousand
dollars richer.  Consider this your notice, children.  Don E. Allen and
"Blinding Storm" Tatsumi Nanami are coming for you.  And what we want...
we get.  Bet on it.

[Don E. Allen slaps the mic back into Jason Dane's hand and exits the
shot, leaving Tatsumi Nanami staring menacingly at the camera.  After
several seconds, the big man grunts, and walks off towards Allen.

Jason Dane shakes his head as he watches them leave.]

JD:  More bounty hunters!  This is...  Gordon, this is bad.  Back to
you.

[We cut back to the ringside interview area where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.]

GM:  What in the world is going on here tonight?  Kraken's here!  This
Don E. Allen has shown up with someone by the name of Tatsui Nanami...
and they're both looking for the bounty.  If I'm in the Southern
Syndicate or if I'm Juan Vasquez, I just might take the night off,
Bucky.

BW:  Not this night.  It's Awards Night, daddy!

GM:  It certainly is and we'll be joined by the representative from the
Just The Facts website in just a little while to start giving out some
of those awards but before we get to that, let's go up to the ring for
our opening match!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit.  Introducing first... in the ring at this time from Sarasota, 
Florida...

RICKY RIIIIIIGGGGINS!

[A fresh faced rookie wearing simple all green wrestling attire bounces
in the corner, smiling and waving at the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Riddles of Steel" begins to thunder bringing the curious crowd to
their feet.]

MC:  Accompanied by his manager, Ronnie Jamieson. Standing 6'4 and
weighing in at 295 pounds... Here is

DEVASTATION!!

GM: Devastation, the newest superstar signed by AWA. Wait till you get a
look at this guy!  He’s just plain scary!

[The crowd is somewhat mixed as Ronnie Jamieson steps out first. The
short,porky manager is decked out in a top notch blue suit while the
little hair he has left on his head is pulled back in a small ponytail.
He smiles smugly at the crowd then chuckles as the mammoth of a man
known as Devastation steps out from the curtains.]

BW:  Oh my God…..

[The wrecking machine is decked out in simple black wrestling pants with
‘Devastation’ running down each side in red and sports black wrestling
boots. His chiselled upper body is exposed showing off muscles we never
knew existed. His wrists wrapped in black athletic tape along with the
tips of his fingers. Black, slim leather arm bands wrapped around
mountains for biceps, black and red face paint styled for intimidation
and a red Mohawk just make him even scarier. He screams at the top of
his lungs and smacks his chest like a gorilla, before glaring at the
crowd as he follows Ronnie Jamieson down to the ring.]

BW: Run kid! Run now! Forget your pride! Forget everything; just get the
heck out of there!

GM: Devastation definitely a sight to behold Bucky. Nobody knows much
about this guy, except for Ronnie Jamieson of course.

BW: Well, you just remind me to send him a Christmas Card!

[Once at ringside, Ronnie whispers in the monster’s ear who nods in
understanding. He walks up the steps, smacks his chest again and dips
between the second and top rope. The big man cranes back his neck and
yells again while flexing his whole upper body. He scowls at the young
Ricky Riggins with a snarl on his lips. Riggins doesn’t look as happy
now as the bell rings!]

GM:  There’s the bell!

BW: Ricky’s best offense- RUN!

[Devastation steps out from his corner, stalking the young Ricky who
bounces sideways, thinking of a way to lock up. Devastation runs at
Ricky who rolls underneath a big clothesline. Devastation snarls and
smashes his forearms off the top turnbuckle. He spins around and stalks
the youngster again.]

GM:  Ricky Riggins seems to have taken your advice here Bucky, keeping
away from the big man.

BW:  I’ll tell you what the scenario of this match is. If Ricky runs
like he is doing, he only makes that monster angrier. But if he gets
caught- he’s hamburger!

[Devastation stalks the youngster again closing the distance between the
two. Devastation fakes a clothesline which Ricky once again rolls to
avoid...

...only rolling right into hands of the big man!]

GM: Oh OH!

[Ricky smacks at the monster’s forearms trying to break the grip around
his neck but to no avail. Devastation grabs Ricky’s trunks with his free
hand and hoists him up in the air and drives him down with a chokeslam!
Ricky rolls around on the mat holding his back grimacing in pain.]

GM: Ronnie Jamieson barking orders now from the outside. Ricky Riggins
in a lot of pain.

BW: There was a lot of impact behind that move, daddy.

[Devastation quickly picks Ricky up by his brown locks and drives a chop
into the throat of the rookie. The ref warns the big man of the move,
who simply ignores the ref and drives three big head butts into his
opponent’s skull before smashing him to the mat with a big knee lift!]

GM:  Ricky in big trouble here. Devastation not letting up as he just
continues to pour it on.

BW: Ronnie has taught this man right! Stay on your opponent. Don’t let
him breathe.

[Devastation grabs Ricky and brings him to his feet. The young man tries
to counter with punches to the ribcage, but the big man just shakes them
off and knees him the gut. He throws him off the ropes and catches him
with a big spinning powerslam, making the ring quake on impact! Ronnie
claps approvingly as the big man is on his feet, cranes his neck back
and let’s out a huge roar before smacking his chest once again and
motioning for Ricky Riggins to get up.]

GM:  Did you see the ring shake after that move! My oh my, what a
powerslam! He nearly put that poor youngster through the mat! This match
is over! Ricky Riggins not moving!

BW: I don’t think he is done quite yet…

[Devastation looks down at the pained Ricky Riggins.  He measures him up
then hits him with a falling headbutt.  The ringside camera cuts to
Ronnie Jamieson who is cackling as he shouts orders to his man.]

"MOVE HIM TO THE CORNER BABY! SHOW THE AWA WHAT THEY ARE IN FOR!
AHAHAHA!

[Devastation grabs a limp leg of Ricky and drags him closer to the
corner. He scales the turnbuckles…]

GM: The big man going to the top!

[...and nails a perfect flying headbutt in the neck and shoulder area of
Ricky Riggins!]

GM: What agility by this big man!

BW:  Devastation showing us here tonight that big men can fly too! I
think we have a serious contender on our hands!

[Devastation stands over top of Ricky who is basically unmoving except
for the odd twitch.  Ronnie continues to bark orders as Devastation nods
and brings a wobbly Riggins to his feet.  A big right hand to the
stomach drops Ricky to a knee, but he can’t crumple to the mat because
Devastation still has a hold of him.  The big man whips Ricky towards
the far ropes and bounces off the closer ones himself.  As they close
the distance Devastation lifts his boot…]

GM: HUGE KICK TO THE FACE.  I THINK HE MAY HAVE DECAPITATED HIM THERE!

[… Ricky does a flip upon impact from the boot to the face.  He lies
crumpled in the corner unmoving.  The crowd shows their disapproval,
booing the big man who doesn’t seem to notice.  The ref is concerned as
he checks on Ricky Riggins.  Wiggling his neck to try and wake him up
while asking him if he’s alright to no answer.]

BW: This is a total mismatch. I’m down for watching a good butt kicking
but even I don’t think I can handle much more of this.

[Before the ref can make a decision, the big man moves him out of the
way and picks up the limp rookie. He hoists him up over his head in a
Gorilla Press position and circles in the middle of the ring, snarling
at the crowd. He then quickly drops him on his shoulders and drives down
with a sick Death Valley Driver!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

BW:  That impact was sickening!  Call for the damn bell already!

[The ref, seeming to hear Bucky, quickly waves his hands and signals for
the bell. He kneels down checking on the youngster then motions at the
back for more help.]


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... By referee stoppage at five minutes and
twenty seven seconds...

DEVASTATION!

[The crowd continues to jeer as the big man stands over the downed
Riggins, glaring at him as the referee continues to try to aid him.]

GM:  What… devastation in that ring.  I couldn’t think of a better name
for that big man!  I just hope that youngster is alright.  AWA has to
get some control, Bucky!  The inmates are running the asylum.

BW:  I couldn’t agree more and I hate agreeing with you this much, trust
me.  But what we just saw was a little too much, even for me.

GM:  The referee has called for medical attention, they're on the way
out here and- uh oh... these two are coming over here.

The crowd boos as Devastation exits the ring allowing the EMT’s to check
on Ricky Riggins.  Ronnie pats him on the broad shoulder then both walk
over to the interviewing area.]

GM:  Fans, we're being joined by Ronald Jamieson and Devastation.  What
in the world did we just witness, Mr. Jamieson?  You guys could have
crippled that poor young-

[Jamieson interrupts.]

RJ:  Shut your mouth, Gordon!  Or you could be next!

[Myers takes a step back as does Bucky.]

RJ:  Let me get straight to the point. We didn’t come here to make
friends. We didn’t come here to sell t-shirts, candy bars or foam
fingers.  We don’t care if these idiot fans love us or hate us.  We came
to the AWA for two simple reasons, Gordo.

GM: Let me guess, titles and fame?

[Ronnie chuckles]

RJ:  Close, my friend,  but just a little off.  You see, in case none of
you realized it, word of the so called ‘bounties’ flying around this
federation has stretched right across North America and beyond.  There
is money flying everywhere around here it seems as guys in the back have
resorted to putting money on each other heads.  So did we come for
titles?

[He nods.]

RJ:  Of course. Devastation was made to be a champion. But the one thing
more important to both of us Gordo is the greenbacks, baby. The
‘cabbage’, the ‘dough’, the money, whatever you wanna call it.

We came here to collect, that’s the bottom line. Whoever is within
range, is gonna get it. Whoever’s checks don’t bounce [shakes head] and
trust me boys, you don’t want them to bounce. Whoever’s signature cashes
that money, we let survive.

GM: There are twenty-five to fifty thousand bounties on people’s heads.
Some could be allies, others..

[Gordon is interrupted again.]

RJ:  Let’s make it crystal clear to you and everyone in the back.  We
don’t have allies.  Whoever has cash on their head, is a marked man. 
Now if you want to ‘pay’ for our services to protect or help you take
out the other guy [sleazy smile] we are up to negotiations for our
services.  If you want to be brave [shrugs] then you will end up like
that piece of scrap meat in the ring right there.

GM: But what abo-

RJ: We have work to do, Gordo.  Everyone has been warned.  The time for
talk is over.  Let’s go big man.

[Devastation stares down Bucky and Gordon before following Ronnie
Jamieson off camera view.]

BW: Man, there is some really bad dudes showing up for that money.

GM: And sadly Bucky, I believe this is only the beginning of it.  We've
seen Kraken arrive.  We've seen Tatsumi Nanumi show up here for the
money.  And now, this monster Devastation?  I hope Stephen Ross is
watching because this situation just got a little bit worse.  Fans,
let's go back to the locker room area where I understand that Jason Dane
is standing by with one-half of the National Tag Team Champions, the
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Jason?

[The camera cuts backstage to where Jason Dane stands alongside one half
of the AWA Tag Team Champions, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Dufresne
is clad in a tight-fitting white Ed Hardy t-shirt and a pair of black
jeans.  Hanging over one shoulder is his gleaming gold title belt with
one hand holding what appears to be a television remote and the other
hand holds what looks to be a red laser pointer.  His blonde hair is
pulled back away from his face, exposing a steely gaze from the
champion.  In between Dane and Dufresne is a television set.  Dane looks
a bit puzzled, but his professionalism kicks in as the boos reign down
from the ringside area.]

JD: Thank you, Gordon.  I'm here with AWA National Tag Team Champion,
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Conspicuous by their absence are his
fellow Southern Syndicate members.  Calisto, what is the meaning of
this?

[Dufresne clears his throat.]

CD: The meaning of this, Dane, is simple.  In the spirit of Black
History Month, Calisto Dufresne is here to do what Calisto Dufresne does
best: right a terrible wrong.

[A self-affirming nod.]

JD: And what wrong might that be?

CD: Watch for yourself...

[Dufresne turns towards the television, pressing a button on the remote
control as the screen comes to life...

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

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

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

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

GM:  SUNSET FLIP!!

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

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  WHAT DID WE JUST SEE?!?

[Dufresne angrily pushes pause on the remote.]

CD: Can you believe what you just saw, Dane?

JD: I believe I just saw you get pinned, fair and square.

[Dufresne steps back as if struck by a right hand.]

CD: You're as blind as that fat oaf City Jack, Dane.  You need to
consider something here.  I broke into this business nearly seven years
ago, straight out of high school.  I came straight from high school and
set the world on fire.  Not unlike LeBron James.  And during that time,
I've been in wars.  I've carried federations like this one on my broad,
statuesque shoulders.  And during that time, I have _never_ had my
shoulders pinned to the mat.

Ever.

And then there's this.

[Dufresne jerks a thumb towards the television.]

CD: A complete miscarriage of justice.

[Dane stammers a bit.]

JD: I don't see what the problem is, Dufresne.  You were square in the
middle of the ring with your shoulders to the mat and--

[Dufresne cuts him off.]

CD: --Ahh, but that's where you're wrong, Dane.

[Dufresne hits a button on the remote, rewinding the video to the point
where the referee is counting two.  He uses his other hand, turning on
the laser pointer, pointing the red dot at the spot where his right
shoulder is on the mat.]

CD: You see?  My shoulder wasn't down.

[Dane looks incredulously at the television.]

JD: It certainly looks down to me.

CD: That's because you're an idiot.  What these cheap TV's the AWA
provides don't show is that my shoulder was up!  On a high-definition TV
that I bought with my million dollar winnings, I found the evidence that
will clear my name.  The evidence that will get this blemish off of my
pristine record.  I've got Ben Waterson looking into it alongside my
high-powered lawyers.  And I promise you that I will have this injustice
rectified!  Like slavery.  Like sending the Indians to work in casinos.

[The boos start rolling in.]

CD: You hear that, Dane?  These people can't stand injustice.  And
before it's all said and done, we will fix it.

[A self-righteous nod.]

CD:  If the glove doesn't fit... you must acquit.

[And with that, Dufresne storms off, leaving a thoroughly confused Jason
Dane staring at his exit.]

JD:  Fans... we'll be right back.

[We fade out on a stunned Jason Dane...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to a panning shot of a remote mountain, the driving
beat of taiko drums filling the background with a building tension. 
Stormclouds gather overhead, casting ominous shadows over the
mountainside.]

V/O: Japan.  Land of the Rising Sun...the heart of the mysterious
Orient...

[The camera swoop zooms down towards the mountainside, revealing a small
cave with the tell tale flicker of a campfire.]

V/O: Their martial artists train from birth, showing a dedication and
drive that staggers the western mind.  A proud and ancient martial
tradition, there is no other that matches it on the face of the earth...

[The camera continues to swoop zoom, entering the cave and focusing on a
solitary figure seated with its back to the camera.  The lanky but well
toned man sits in the lotus position with his back to the
camera...presumably staring into the flames of the campfire in front of
him.]

V/O: Yet one man stands out from the rest...one man has proven that he
has no equal in Nippon...he comes from the east like the Mongol hordes
of old, leaving broken bodies in his wake.

He feels no pain.

He knows no fear.

Prepare for the coming of Nenshou.

[face out on the shot of his back...

...and then back up to live action at ringside where Bucky and Gordon
are standing.]

GM:  Nenshou is coming... and I haven't been able to get a lot of
details about the man from the Land of the Rising Sun, Bucky.

BW:  That's because you don't have the contacts I do, Gordo.  The man is
dangerous.  Deadly.  Frightening at how skilled he is.  The AWA thinks
they're in trouble with this bounty mess?  That's nothin' compared to
what it'll be like when Nenshou arrives - guaranteed.

GM:  Well, we'll see about that.  There's a lot of new faces showing up
in the AWA these days as everyone wants to be a part of the American
Wrestling Alliance - the major league of professional wrestling.  Now,
Bucky, throughout the night, as you know, we will be joined by Chock
Full, a reporter from the Just The Facts website who will be helping us
in honoring some of the AWA competitors who recently ranked in their
Year End Awards.

BW:  Not just competitors, daddy!

GM:  Well, no... but we'll get to that.  At this time, I'd like to
welcome Mr. Full out here to join us.

[Chock Full steps onto the scene to some slight applause.  He's in his
early 40s, "rockin'" a set of jeans and a Mark Ecko t-shirt under a
black JTF blazer.  He shakes hands with both Bucky and Gordon.]

GM:  Mr. Full, the floor is yours.

CF:  Thank you, Mr. Myers.  It is with great pleasure that Just The
Facts has once again completed the calculation of the 2009 Year End
Awards and it's also with great pleasure that we have returned here
tonight to the AWA to help honor those members of your company who
ranked.  And without anything further, at this time, I would like to
welcome the man who... well, I guess you can see he won the unique honor
of being named as the first runner-up for the Most Hated man in
wrestling - your National Champion - "Hotshot" Stevie Scott!

[Indeed, the champ comes into view.  He holds the AWA National Title
belt in his left hand, and sports a light gray suit with no tie and a
cool pair o' shades.  The JTF representative extends his hand to shake
Stevie's, which the champ does indeed accept.]

CF:  Mr. Scott, on behalf of Just The Facts, we...um...congratulate you,
I guess, for being the first runner-up in the "Most Hated" category.

[Chock Full hands Stevie a plaque, which Stevie accepts and immediately
lays down on the table beside them.]

HSS: I never said I got in this business to make a bunch of friends.  I
got in this business to be successful, to win titles, and to make a lot
of money.  And that's what I've done.  The rest of it - like this award,
no offense to you or your organization - means very little to me.  But I
do appreciate what you guys do.

[Stevie offers a nonchalant handshake to the JTF rep, who then walks out
of the picture to leave the champ and Myers.]

GM: As long as we have you out here with a few minutes to spare, Mr.
Scott... there was an interesting end to our last show with Juan Vasquez
placing his own bounties on the heads of your Southern Syndicate
partners.

[Stevie pauses, then lets a tight smile show, before going back to
serious mode.]

HSS: Juan.  Vasquez.

You're not a very fast learner, are you, big boy?

[Stevie pauses, laughing silently.]

HSS: I don't know what it's going to take, Gordon Myers.  I don't know
what it's going to take...to get Juan Vasquez to realize that he's in
way over his head with the Southern Syndicate.  We've given him beating
after _beating_...embarrassment after _embarrassment_...and still, he
keeps coming back for more.

[The camera cuts in for more of a close-up of Stevie now, cutting Myers
out of the picture.]

HSS: Vasquez, brother, I can only guess that you're one of two things
right now.  You're either _stupid_, or you're _desperate_.  And a man
with your experience...a man with your credentials...you don't get where
you are by being stupid.

So that leaves desperate.

About $125,000 desperate, in fact.

You see, Vasquez...

[Pause.  Smirk.  Stevie does seem to be loving this now.]

HSS: You've gotten so desperate, so lost on how to solve the puzzle of
Stevie Scott and the Southern Syndicate...that you've decided to try to
get other people to do a job that _you_..._can't_..._finish_.

Now, Raphael Rhodes, Calisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman... those are all
men who can take care of themselves, all actively competing _wrestlers_
on the AWA payroll.  And I can tell you that _none_ of us are worried
about your pitiful little bounty because there ain't _no one_ in the AWA
who can collect on it.

But then... there's the 50 grand you put on the head of Ben Waterson.

A man who's not laid a hand on you.  A man that's not even a wrestler. 
A man whose job is to handle the business affairs of the Southern
Syndicate.  And you, Vasquez, you gutless, spineless _punk_...you put
_twice_ the bounty on his head than you do on the rest of us.

[Stevie's getting more fired up with each word, his face now turning red
as he continues his ranting.]

HSS: You want to put a $50,000 bounty on someone's head?  Put it on
_mine_, big boy!  Take _me_ out because that's the _only_ _damn_ _way_
that you're getting this belt off of my waist!

I don't give a _crap_ that these Just The Facts people named you the
wrestler of the year, Vasquez, because that don't mean anything when
you're dealing with Stevie Scott.  You're in the AWA, Juan, and this is
_my_ house!  _I_ am the #1 wrestler in the AWA, big boy, no matter
_what_ you've got going on anywhere else!  So you take that "Wrestler of
the Year" award that you're going to be handed later tonight with you
back up to Canada or wherever the hell else you go, because here?

[Stevie lifts up the AWA National Title off the desk.]

HSS: _THIS_ is the only award that matters.

And it's one that _you're_ never going to touch.

[Scott tosses the title belt over his shoulder, glaring into the camera
before walking out of sight.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring for our next match.

[We dissolve into the ring where Melissa Cannon has the mic, ready to
announce the next match.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Already in the ring at this time... hailing from
Sweetwater, Texas; and weighing in at 230 pounds... Allan Keirn!

[Slight face pop as young Allan Keirn raises both arms in the air.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[We cut backstage where eight dark-suited men stand outside a door
marked "MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA." One of them, with a hands-free earpiece
knocks on the door, which opens to reveal a smirking Louis Matsui. The
men exchange nods as Matsui emerges from the room, followed MAMMOTH
Mizusawa. The eight men  form a tight circle around the two as Tomoyasu
Hotei's 'Battle Without Honor or Humanity' starts to play over the arena
speakers. The camera follows the group as they make their way down the
backstage corridors of the WKIK Studios.]

GM: You have got to be kidding me!

BW: The genius! Matsui clearly knows how many men are clamoring to claim
the bounty on a prize as large MAMMOTH Mizusawa, so he has his own
security detail to watch their backs. If I know Matsui, these men must
be Corporation funded.

[Cut to the entrance way where a mass of bodies stream out. Louis
Matsui, still smirking, is in the middle of it all, alongside the
scowling seven-footer, MAMMOTH Mizusawa.]

BW: For someone who might have a bounty on his head, Matsui sure does
not look concerned.

GM: Well, when you have your own security detail, what is there to worry
about?

BW: I think, when you have a seven-footer watching your back, what
_ELSE_ is there to worry about.

[Melissa continues.]

MC:  Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420 pounds and being
accompanied to the ring by LOUIS MATSUI,

He is MAMMOTH... MIZUSAWA!

[The circle of eight men open up slightly to allow Matsui to point with
his thumb over his shoulders at Mizusawa, who raises both his arms in
the air. All ten men start to make their way down the aisle, two members
of the security detail leading the way, two on each side of the aisle,
and two taking the rear, with Mizusawa and Matsui in the middle.]

BW: Bounty or not, we heard the announcement last week, Gordo. No amount
of money is going to stop MAMMOTH Mizusawa from facing Juan Vasquez in
the ring. He won the Steal the Spotlight match and he will have his
match against his chosen opponent.

GM: Yeah, but what match will it be, Bucky? Matsui promised to reveal
the stipulations that he has picked sometime tonight.

[As Matsui walks to the ring, he pays little attention to the fans
sitting on either side of the aisle, although he is still smirking.  The
towering Mizusawa, on the other hand, walks slowly beside his manager,
glaring at the crowd.

Reaching the ringside area, Matsui's security detail line up along one
side of the ring, making sure to have the aisle covered. MAMMOTH
Mizusawa steps forward, 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 to await the start of
the match.]

GM:  There's the bell and Allan Keirn comes charging towards MAMMOTH
Mizusawa. Mizusawa holds out his arm for a clothesline. Keirn ducks
under and hits the ropes.

BW: This time the big man sidesteps the rebounding Keirn and he hits the
ropes again...

[Heel pop!]

GM: And runs right into a size eleven boot!

[The big boot kick falls Keirn. Mizusawa raises his elbow and drops it,
but might have telegraphed it too much as Keirn rolls out of the way.
Keirn very quickly gets back to his feet and goes to the top rope.]

GM: The young man looking to fly! He launches himself... No!

BW: The big man caught him in mid-air, Gordo! It was too early to try to
take it to the air, kid...

GM: And now Mizusawa wraps his arms around Keirn and _SQUEEZES_ for all
that he is worth!

BW: Yes! Listen to the kid scream!

[Allan Keirn is flailing his arms, trying to fight the pain. He
eventually gathers a bit of his wits about him and...]

SMAAACK!!!

[Claps his hands over MAMMOTH Mizusawa's ears.]

GM: That's one way to get the giant to break his hold... A kick to the
big man's gut! Keirn hits the ropes again...

SMAAAAAACKKK!!!!!!

[And stops short on the rebound to lay a clubbing blow across Mizusawa's
back, then hits a dropkick that sends the giant staggering to the
ropes.]

GM: Allan Keirn charging in again... And hits a shoulder tackle into the
big man's midsection!

[He continues to plant his shoulder multiple times into Mizusawa's gut,
but on the fourth try, Mizusawa blocks and smacks his hands down across
Keirn's shoulders and upper back.]

SMAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!!!

BW: You know how some men pride themselves on the strength of their
chops? Mizusawa's massive hands make every single one of his hurt like
hell!

GM: _AND_ a massive back elbow sends Keirn sprawling to the mat. Here
comes the giant lumbering towards him... Keirn sits up and gets those
two massive hands latched onto his shoulders.

BW: Mizusawa's applying pressure to the trapezius muscles, Gordo! And,
once again, we hear Allan Keirn screaming in pain.

[Referee Mike Meekly asks Keirn if he wants to give up, and we can hear
Louis Matsui audibly encouraging him to do so. Keirn shakes his head,
even as he continues to writhe in pain. He tries to fight it and push
himself back to his feet, the crowd cheering him on. Mizusawa pushes
down harder.]

GM: Can you believe this, Bucky? Allan Keirn is actually forcing the big
man back and getting back to his feet!

BW: Impossible, Gordo! This is just impossible!

[With a primal roar, Allan Keirn shoves Mizusawa's hands clean off his
shoulders. But MAMMOTH Mizusawa sends Keirn back down to the canvas with
an open-handed blow to the top of his head.]

BW: That was... Short-lived.

GM: To say the least. And Mizusawa pulling Keirn up into a seated
position... AND WRAPS HIS MASSIVE HANDS AROUND KEIRN'S HEAD!

BW: After he pulverised Keirn's brains with that shot, he's going to try
to crack the head open and squeeze out what's left, I think.

[Keirn struggles for a bit, clawing at the hands squeezing his head. 
Soon, however, his body begins to go limp.]

GM: Referee Meekly needs to get in there and check on the kid and maybe
stop this before Mizusawa does any lasting damage to this young man's
career.

BW: Forget his career, we don't want him to be eating out of a tube the
rest of his life, Gordo.

GM: Finally, the referee raises Keirn's arm... And it falls! Again...
That's twice! And the third time...


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Keirn's out!

MC:  Here is your winner... MAMMOTH MIZUUUUSAAAWAAA!

[The crowd jeers the announcement as Mizusawa still has the head vice
locked on. Louis Matsui climbs into the ring, applauding. The referee
gets in Mizusawa's face, telling him to break the hold.]

GM: Oh, let the kid go already!

BW: He is proving his dominance yet again, Gordo.

GM: Well, if he doesn't let go, he might walk away with a loss, if the
referee decides to reverse his decision. Meekly starts the five count!

[The smiling Matsui taps Mizusawa on the upper arm and the giant
releases his hold. Matsui raises his charge's hand in victory before
motioning to the outside. Both men exit the ring and head over to the
announce position, the eight men in dark suits following close, forming
a perimeter around the announcers' table, where Gordon Myers rises, mic
in hand.]

GM: Louis, whatever game you're playing, aren't you the least bit
worried you'll get your-

LM: Shut up, Gordon! My question is, is there a bounty on the head of
MAMMOTH Mizusawa or isn't there? Because, so far? Nothing. Take a good
look at this man. Is that the face of a man that is worried about being
jumped by a group of flunkies hoping to make some quick cash?  Hey,
we're not that hard to find. So if there is indeed a bounty on my
client's head and any of you are foolish enough to try to cash in, well,
just look for the biggest man in the building. Whether it's that mongrel
cur, Werewolf Gregorson... Assuming he can get his nose out of sniffing
some other dog's butt long enough to get back on the trail of the
hunt... Or the man who ought to be getting back to his all-soup diet
from whichever retirement home he ran away from, Soup Bone Samson...
None of these men, if I can call them that, matter to MAMMOTH Mizusawa
nor Louis Matsui. Only one name matters right now and that name is Juan
Vasquez...

[MASSIVE FACE POP!]

LM: Well played, Vasquez, turning the game around by putting bounties on
your enemies' heads. Makes me wonder who exactly is funding your little
operation, or if you even have the money to make the payout should
someone actually try to cash in. It doesn't really matter, because the
moment you mentioned MAMMOTH Mizusawa in your little diatribe, it became
a lot more than just about the bounties. Now we don't even care whether
or not the Southern Syndicate pays us to break you; we will do it just
because we can. After all, what good is a bounty when the man who placed
it is unable to pay up? Why would you even waste that money when you
know that one way or another we will get you in a match? Because,
Stephen Ross, if you're out there listening, was my client not one of
the winners of the Steal the Spotlight match at SuperClash? And does his
victory not mean that he gets to face _ANYBODY_ in _ANY_ match that we
want? We chose you, Juan Vasquez. Do you think placing some kind of
bounty on my client is going to delay the inevitable? Create some kind
of buffer between MAMMOTH Mizusawa and yourself? Taking him out now only
delays your reckoning. Whether it takes place at the anniversary show or
whether it takes place one, two, six, seven months, a whole damn year
from now, if you haven't already been run out of this place, we will
have the match one way, or another... Or another.

[Heel pop!]

LM: That's right, because the match we have in mind will be _MASSIVE_!
All of you can jeer all you want; Louis Matsui has only your
entertainment interests in mind, because the match I propose will make
it worth the price of admission. It will give you more bang for your
buck than any one single match, because the match I propose will be a
BEST TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS MATCH!

[Mixed pop!]

LM: That's right, fans, at the very least, you get two matches for the
price of one. That's two ways for MAMMOTH Mizusawa to destroy your hero,
Juan Vasquez! Vasquez, I hope you were watching our match tonight,
because I want you to imagine being in that kid's place.  Imagine the
giant's hands locking onto a part of your body and squeezing the very
life out of you? Because, Vasquez, the second of the three falls in this
match that we are proposing will be contested under I QUIT RULES!

[Heel pop!]

LM: And if we make it to the rubber, I want to make sure that the
decision is arrived at fair and square. I want you to be able to face
your maker one-on-one and I want the victory to be decisive. So I say,
let's lock you and the beast up in a cage for the third fall!

[MASSIVE HEEL POP!]

BW: But what about the first fall, Louis?

LM: You didn't think I would have forgotten, did you, Bucky? Or that I
failed to put number one before numbers two and three? See, a good
promoter would want to keep such a match simple. Not too many
stipulations as to confuse the fans. A good promoter would probably let
the first fall be contested like any other singles match, see who really
is the better man, no gimmicks needed.

[Face pop as fans begin cheering for Vasquez.]

LM: But I never was a good promoter, probably never will be. Which is
why, the first fall will be fought under... TEXAS BULLROPE RULES,
cowbell and all! Let's see you try to drag my client around in order to
touch all four corners of the ring in succession.

[MASSIVE HEEL POP!!!]

LM: _ANYBODY_ in _ANY_ match we want, Bucky, and we choose Juan Vasquez
in a Best Two out of Three Falls match; first fall with both men
connected by a Texas bullrope, second fall under I Quit Rules and the
third fall inside a cage. One thing I do know about good promoting,
Bucky? A match of this magnitude deserves to be on a show that can
contain it. Sure, the American Wrestling Alliance puts out great
Saturday Night Wrestling, but if I were a good promoter, a match of this
magnitude? Needs to be on my second anniversary show.

[More jeers as Louis Matsui shakes the hand of Bucky Wilde, then leads
MAMMOTH Mizusawa to the back, still surrounded by their personal
security detail.]

GM:  Wow!  A two out of three falls match - each fall with a different
stipulation and Matsui wants it in one month's time at the Second
Anniversary Show!

BW:  I think he gets it too, Gordo.  They won the Steal The Spotlight
match.  They get whatever match they want against whomever they want. 
Doesn't that mean they get it when they want as well?

GM:  I think Stephen Ross and the Championship Committee will have to
decide that.  Fans, Jason Dane is standing by backstage where he has
caught up with one of the men who will be in tonight's first-ever Lady
Luck Challenge, Pure X!

[Cut to the backstage area where we see Jason Dane standing by with Pure
X. As can be seen by his facial expression, X still doesn't look that
thrilled - even with being in the first Lady Luck Challenge match.]

JD: Here with Pure X as he's only moments away from the first Lady Luck
Challenge match and... you don't seem to be all that enthused right now?

[X sighs as he shakes his head.]

PX: I'm sorry, but... Just a little hard to get my head on straight
while Shane Destiny's out there - ABOVE me in the rankings - even though
I beat him at SuperClash. I know, I know - I shouldn't get hung on about
it, but...

[X bites his lower lip as he shakes his head again.]

PX: I've just worked so da... So hard to get up the rankings the only
way one should - step by step, taking on the best and beating them,
soundly. But Destiny gets AWARDED a spot for not pinning anyone to end a
match? It's-

[Pure X stops himself and puts his arms up for a moment.]

PX: Alright, you know, I'm going to stop. I know it's wrong, I know the
fans know it's wrong, and I know for sure Destiny himself knows it's
wrong, but... I've got a match with Corey Lawson and that's who I've got
to focus on right now. It's not fair to Lawson and, really, it would be
going against one my most important rules - ALWAYS be focused on your
opponent.

JD: What are your thoughts of Corey Lawson then?

PX: Well, from what I've seen of him? He's a guy who doesn't know the
word quit. He, uh, he didn't show any hesitation going up against
Mizusawa at Superclash - a relentless coming at you, coming at you,
coming at you. I'm sure there were points during that match where he
could have let others on his team work for him, but he took on the
challenge himself.

[Pure X nods.]

PX: And then at the Stampede Cup, he and his partner beat the tag champs
- impressive stuff.

JD: So how would you assess his chances against you today?

PX: Well, Lawson's not a pushover, ok? But I have to add, Dane, that I
am THE best pure wrestler in the sport today. Lawson's not going up
against a lumber giant oaf in the ring and he's not going up against me
with a tag team partner. There's not going be any team today for Corey
Lawson, Dane. There's not going to be anyone bailing him out when he's
in a rough patch against me, Dane. And trust me, there will be PLENTY of
rough patches for Lawson today.

[Pure X looks from Dane to the camera.]

PX: Lawson? You've got promise. You're a good wrestler, starting out.
But all in the luck in the world's not going to matter when you face me,
alone, in a wrestling match.

[With that, Pure X leaves the area as the camera focuses back on Jason
Dane.]

JD: Appears that while he's got Shane Destiny on the mind, Pure X is
still focused enough for his upcoming match. Back to you, Bucky and
Gordon.

[We fade back to ringside where Bucky and Gordon are standing.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  The Lady Luck Challenge is still to come later
tonight as Pure X does battle with Corey Lawson but we've got a lot more
action to come before then.  Right now, let's send it back up to Melissa
for our next matchup!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Vancouver, Washington... Bryan Craig!

[There's almost no reaction for Craig who throws up both arms, shouting
"YEAAAAAH, BABY!" as he does so.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Shoot To Thrill" by AC/DC kicks in over the PA to a decent sized
cheer.]

MC:  From Los Angeles, California... standing 6'3 and weighing in at 260
pounds...

COLLLLLLT PATTERSON!

[Patterson bursts through the curtain to a cheer.  He's clad in silver
trunks and boots and makes his way around the ringside area, slapping
the hands of the ringside fans before rolling under the ropes...

...and immediately getting assaulted by Bryan Craig who throws himself
into a double axehandle on Patterson!]

GM:  There's the bell but Bryan Craig decided he was going to start this
one early!  He's all over him, Bucky.

BW:  Patterson's a three time World Champ, Gordo.  You get in there with
him and I say you do whatever it takes to get an edge.

[Craig hauls Patterson off the mat, uncorking a pair of right hands that
send the veteran staggering across the ring, falling into the corner.]

GM:  Patterson's in the corner but there will be no Scott Pain waiting
for him tonight.  Unfinished Business... well, they appear to be
finished to me, Bucky.

BW:  Pain finally got sick of all his buddy's crap and dumped him like a
bad Valentine's Day date.

GM:  Something I imagine you know plenty about.

[Grabbing Patterson by the powerful arm, Craig goes for a whip but
Patterson easily reverses it, sending Craig smashing into the buckles
where a running clothesline drops him down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big clothesline from Patterson!

[With Craig down on the mat, Patterson positions himself right next to
him and leaps as high as he can straight up into the air...

...crashing down with an elbowdrop squarely across the chest!]

GM:  Oh my!  What an elbowdrop by the former World Champion!

[Patterson rolls into a lateral press but only scores a two count before
Craig fires a shoulder off the mat.  The veteran quickly gets back to
his feet, pulling the Washington native up with him before popping him
in the jaw with a forearm smash.]

GM:  That one rocked Craig...

[With the young man stunned, Patterson powers him up off the mat,
putting him down with a thunderous body slam.  Walking around the downed
Craig, Patterson backs to the corner, hopping up to the second rope.]

GM:  He's measuring Bryan Craig.  I'm not sure what he's got in mind
here, Bucky, but he's-

[As soon as Craig gets to his feet, Patterson leaps off the ropes,
smashing Craig under the chin with a forearm smash!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[The blow levels Craig, leaving him motionless as Patterson applies a
lateral press.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  And we've got three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner... COLT PATTERSON!

[Patterson climbs back to his feet, raising a triumphant arm to the
cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Colt Patterson may not have his long-time friend and tag team
partner, Scott Pain, by his side anymore but that didn't stop him from
picking up an impressive win here tonight.

BW:  We'll see if he can keep it up though, Gordon.  Bryan Craig ain't
no MAMMOTH Mizusawa or Kevin Slater... heck, maybe even one of these new
fellas like Devastation'll give this old man a run for his money.

GM:  Perhaps.  Fans, at this time, we're pleased to welcome the tandem
of Clayton Shaw and Vernon Riley, who will be in action later tonight
against a pairing that you gentlemen have had a few run-ins with over
the last couple of months.

[Indeed, Riley and Shaw enter the picture with Myers.  Neither have put
on their ring attire yet, with Riley wearing a Dallas Cowboys jacket and
blue jeans.  Shaw's dressed in a black tank top with a pair of camo
pants.]

VR: Ya know, Gawdahhhnn...Vernon Riley has been in this sport many a
year, and this ol' body's got some mileage on it.  I've been through
battle after battle, war after war inside wrestling rings just like that
one right there.

[Riley points to the ring, as if no one knew where it was.  It's that
big square thing in the middle of the studio in case you were
wondering.]

VR: So what Clayton Shaw and I are about to embark upon tonight...it's
hardly anything new for Vernon Riley.

But lemme tell ya something that _is_ new, Gawdahn Myahs.

It's been a long time since ol' Vern's had to prove himself in the
middle of that ring, to prove himself to the fans, to the other
wrestlers, and to the promoters that he _is_ who he says he is.  Not
since my rookie years in Minnesota did I have to prove my merit,
my...value, if ya will.  Because once I established it there, my
reputation spoke for itself.

But here in the Ay-Dubya-Ayyyy...it's been a different story.

[Riley pauses, because that's what old guys do.  They have to remember
what they're saying, or where they are for that matter.]

VR: I came here to the great city of Dallas in my home state of Texas
with little fanfare.  No one rolled out the red carpet for me, and I
didn't ask 'em to.  I said it when I got here that I was ready to climb
the ladder from the bottom rung...all the way to the very top.

But to this point, I ain't even managed to _step_ on the bottom rung of
that ladder.

That changes TONIGHT, daddy!

[That gets a decent-sized pop out of the crowd.]

VR: Tonight, I'm here to show the entire Ay-Dubya-Ay who Vernon Riley is
and just _why_ he's won title after title after title EVERYWHERE that
he's been!

Tonight, I'm here to kick off 2010 in style!  I'm here to make 2010 the
year of the Workin' Man, daddy!  And it's gonna start with me and
Clayton here givin' Velikov and Von Klauss a good, old-fashioned
American butt-whoopin'!

[Ah, patriotism pop!  Did you expect anything else from Texas?]

VR: Now...things ain't gone too well thus far for me and Clayton as a
team.  We didn't fare to well in the Stampede Cup a couple of months
ago. But, daddy, this ain't a couple of months ago and Velikov, if you
and your no-talkin' partner are restin' your hats on _that_, then you're
gonna be in for a big surprise tonight.  Because this ain't that team.

Tonight, you're facing AMERICA'S TEAM, daddy!

[Patriotism pop x2!]

VR: Tonight, we're gonna give you a beatin' delivered on behalf of every
hard-workin' American man and woman out there that's sick and tired of
listenin' to you run down the greatest country on the planet!  The Cold
War ain't got NOTHIN' on what we're bringin' to you tonight!  Tell 'em,
Clayton.

[Shaw grins as he rubs his hands together.]

CS:  Gordon Myers, you know how long I've waited for this chance.  One
of the first things I did when the AWA started was draw a line in the
sand with me on one side and those nasty Russians on the other.  Things
got in the way, I got hurt at the hands of Velikov and his punk nephew,
and I never got the shot I deserved.

Until tonight, brother.

[He nods his head.]

CS:  The players have changed but the game stays the same.  On one side,
it's the big, bad Russians who failed to notice it's 2010 and we done
sent the Commies packin' a long time ago, baby!

[Big cheer!  Gotta love the cheap stuff.]

CS:  And on the other, it's me and Big Vern.  Two good ol' boys who
ain't never turned down a chance to wave Old Glory and stand up big and
tall for the chance to defend our country.

The Russian and the German against America's Team?

[Shaw cracks a grin, nodding to his partner.]

CS:  Yeah, I like the sound of that.  We'll see you out here tonight,
you scum-sucking pieces of trash.

[With a bit of fire in his voice, Shaw storms out of view, a grinning
Vernon Riley walking behind him.]

GM:  Fans, what a tag team showdown that's gonna be later tonight. 
Don't you dare go away - we'll be right back!

[And we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to live action where Melissa Cannon is standing
inside the squared circle.]

MC:  This next match is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute
time limit. Introducing first, already in the ring at this time, from
beautiful Southern California, weighing 256 pounds...

"GOLDEN BOY" TROY DeMANG!

[Demang raises both hands in the air and cackles, brushing his hands
through his thinning dirty blonde hair and flicking the sweat at the
crowd. He wears a simple golden singlet with black trim, with a big
dollar sign on the back in green.]

GM: Troy DeMang, ready for combat, Bucky. Gotta say, the Golden Boy's
looking a little pale these days.

BW: Not exactly shorts wearin' weather around these parts, daddy, maybe 
DeMang picked something up.

[Back to Melissa.]

MC: His opponent! From Greenvile, South Carolina... weighing 248
pounds...

ERIC PREEESSTTOOOOOOONNNN!!

[The fans let out a cheer as "Show Me How To Live" by Audioslave blares
in the WKIK Studios, and Eric Preston trots through the the curtains.
Preston holds his hands up to acknowledge the crowd, and then zig zags
down the aisle, slapping hands and exchanging war whoops. The chiseled
Preston is in his customary purple tights with the orange and white
waistband, and white boots with orange and purple stripes around the
top. His wrists are heavily wrapped in white athletic tape, and as he
climbs into the ring he lets the officials check him out, before
loosening up his shoulders in the corner.]

GM: Here is a man who is creating tremendous momentum, Bucky. He took
Juan Vasquez to the limit, and the fans are really starting to get
behind him.

BW: I've never seen so many people get excited over a loss, Gordo, it
vexes me considerably.

GM: Vexes?

BW: Five dollar word, Gordo.

GM: Yes, I'm well aware of what it means, but why does it "vex" you?

BW: All he did was stare at the lights, daddy, it's not like he pulled
the upset. You want the applause of Bucky Wilde, you beat the people
you're not supposed to.

[Referee Meekly calls for the bell and then waves both wrestlers on.
Preston takes a few steps out of the corner and looks at the crowd, then
begins to clap his hands in rhythm. The crowd catches on and claps along
with him, soon filling the WKIK Studios as the two wrestlers circle on
another.]

GM: The crowd is already into it as both men lock up. Preston wins the
tie up and backs Troy DeMang into the corner, then grants the clean
break... DeMang charges!

[POP!]

GM: Deeeeep armdrag by Eric Preston! DeMang back up, another armdrag!

[Troy DeMang races to his feet and gets taken off of them by a charging
clothesline by Eric Preston, that knocks him out of the ring!]

GM: Impressive in the early going, Bucky Wilde.

BW: Yeah, I'll tell you Gordo, one big difference I'm seeing is a sense
of urgency. We have seen Preston be timid his first few times out, but
he's been aggressive from the start and is moving at a different speed.

GM: He's taking it right to DeMang, and now measures him on the
outside...

[With Troy taking his time, Preston bounces off the far rope and then
hits a baseball slide dropkick that sends the Golden Boy flying into the
front row! Big applause from the fans as Preston throws him back in the
ring.]

GM: DeMang rolls to his feet, I think Preston might have rolled him in
too quickly... DeMang with stomps to the back as Preston tries to enter
the ring.

BW: Nothin' too fancy from the Golden Boy, Gordo, just taking advantage
of an opening.

GM: Eric Preston, trying to fight to his feet, now an elbow to the gut
of DeMang stops him in his tracks. A right hand to the side of the face,
and a kneelift doubles over the Golden Boy.

[Preston grabs a front facelock, then turns his body so his back is to
the broad side of the ring, and then snaps Troy DeMang over with a hard
suplex. Eric rolls away and immediately goes to the outside, climbing to
the top rope as DeMang gets to his feet and turns around...]


"WHAAAAAAAAACK!"


GM: Double axehandle, right between the eyes! Preston is so, so
comfortable on that top rope Bucky, his athleticism is top notch.

[Preston gets to his feet again and backs away, holding his arms out
wide as he circles the staggering DeMang.]

GM: DeMang is getting to his feet, seems to be woozy... and Preston
locks on a cobra clutch! A new maneuver from Eric Preston, who always
seems to be adding to his repetoire.

[Troy DeMang feels the hold being locked on and freaks out, throwing
wild elbows before digging his heels in and lunging backwards,
sandwiching Preston in the corner.]

BW: He better put that one back in his arsenal, Gordo. Didn't do him any
good!

GM: DeMang with a desperation move, and he might have knocked Preston
silly in the process. DeMang swings an elbow back- Preston ducks!

[Eric swiftly moves out of the corner and kicks DeMang in the gut,
forcing him back into the buckle, then backs up a step and catches a
charging DeMang, hurling him up and over as the crowd cheers in awe at
the impressive looking move.]

GM: My gosh, he threw him right over his head from that belly to belly!
That is just an impressive move to witness Bucky, and Preston executes
it to perfection.

BW: Even I gotta admit, that suplex is good like Mama's sweet 'tato pie.
It's even better then it looks, daddy.

[Preston gets to his feet, looks at the crowd and waves his hand in a
small circle, as the crowd gets to their feet.]

GM: Preston's signalling for it Bucky, I think DeMang's about to feel
the Greenville Thunder.  Troy DeMang gets to his feet, gets a boot to
the gut...

[Preston walks into a front facelock with his left hand, hooks the far
leg of DeMang with his right hand and lifts...

...then drops with the fisherman's buster. The crowd cheers as Preston
rolls over into a cover, and Michael Meekly drops for the count.]

GM: One! Two! Three! This one's academic, Bucky. Put it in the win
column for Eric Preston.

[The South Carolinian rolls to his feet as Audioslave plays, and Melissa
Cannon makes the announcement.]

MC: Your winner, in 3:13... Eric Preston!

[The crowd cheers again as Preston has his hand raised by Michael
Meekly. Preston salutes the fans and then exits the ring, walking over
toward the announce table as Gordon and Bucky stand up.]

GM: Eric Preston, come on over here for a second.

[Preston comes over and shakes the outstretched hand of Gordon Myers,
who pats him on the back.]

GM: Eric, Bucky and I were both saying that we are enjoying watching you
come out here every week and develop into a fine wrestler. It seems like
you're getting more confident every week.

EP: You know what Gordon, I think you could chalk that up to the Combat
Corner and the trainers there, Todd Michaelson in particular. Training
with those guys really prepares you for the rigors of the AWA. It's a
tough, tough school they run there, and I'm proud to say I graduated.

GM: Your match with Juan Vasquez raised some eyebrows and has garnered
you some praise from people in the business. Has that helped you get
acclimated?

EP: Juan Vasquez is a heck of a wrestler, Gordon, and having to wrestle
him... man, I gotta tell you. It made me dig down just to keep up with
him, it made me nervous. But once I got over it and settled down, it was
just another match. I did my best, I took him to the limit and I'd like
to think I earned his respect and the respect of all these people,
Gordon...

[The crowd cheers in affirmation.]

EP: ...and at the end of the day, it made me realize that the sky's the
limit here in the AWA.

[Bucky takes this moment to butt into the conversation.]

BW: Yeah yeah, that's great, kid, but lemme ask you this: you were the
first wrestler to run down and try to collect on that bogus bounty Juan
Vasquez put on the Syndicate. You ran into the snake den, son, how are
you gonna handle it when they come after you?

EP: I think the better question is how are they gonna handle it when _I_
come after _them_. Take a look around you, Bucky, have you noticed all
the people here tonight?  The mood has changed brother, the Syndicate
isn't strikin' the fear of God in people anymore.  Juan Vasquez put the
word out, and last I heard Ben Waterson needs an armed security guard
with him at all times.

It's a dicey, dangerous situation around here for everyone, Bucky, not
just me. Everyone's gunnin' for everyone, no matter which side of the
law you're on. But fear isn't my game, brother, I'm not afraid to stick
my nose in there. If the situation arises and I can cash in, I won't
hesitate for a second. I've gotten knocked down and knocked out before,
and I know it'll happen again.

I'm not afraid of that, and I'm not afraid of the Syndicate. And it
seems to me that no one else is either, which is the first time you can
say that in a long, long time.

GM: So if you get a chance to cash in?

[Eric smiles at the thought and slaps Gordon on the back, playfully.]

EP: If I get the chance, I'm gonna call down the Greenville Thunder,
line my pockets with dead presidents and have the celebration _right
here_ in Dallas, Texas.

[The crowd erupts as Preston breaks out in a grin.]

BW: And when they hunt you down like a dirty dog?

EP: Then they'll find out just how down and dirty this dirty dog can
get.

[The fans cheer again as Preston slaps Bucky on the arm, maybe not as
playfully, and goes to leave, throwing up one hand in the air to salute
the fans as he goes...

...and runs headlong into a mass of humanity sprinting through the
curtain, throwing himself into the air, and smashing his arms together
on the head of a surprised Preston!]

GM:  KRAKEN!

BW:  RELEASE THE KRAKEN!

[The Robfathah follows his massive charge through the curtain, screaming
and shouting at him as the big man stomps and kicks at the downed
Preston!]

BW:  Man, it's no wonder I'm the Announcer of the Year, daddy!  Did I
call this one or what?!  I just got done telling Preston what was gonna
happen to him and now it's happening!

GM:  But why?

BW:  Hey, Vasquez wasn't the only one who said anyone who helped the
Syndicate is fair game!  Waterson had said that weeks ago!  If you stand
with Juan Vasquez, you stand against the Southern Syndicate and Eric
Preston definitely stood with Juan Vasquez two weeks ago!

[Pulling Preston off the concrete floor, Kraken drags him by the head
over towards the ring, hurling him backfirst into the ring apron...

...and charges forward, smashing the youngster between his massive body
and the metal frame that holds up the ring!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  We may be seeing young Preston's career die before our very eyes,
daddy!

[With a powerful shove, Kraken pushes Preston back into the ring where
the referee and Melissa Cannon get the heck out of town as Kraken climbs
up on the apron, stepping through the ropes.]

GM:  Kraken and the Robfathah are here and they're bounty huntin'!  They
want to cash in here tonight and they've selected Eric Preston as the
guy who's going to earn them some big money!

BW:  Good choice.  The kid seems outgunned to me.

[Leaning over, Kraken picks Preston up by the throat, lifting him all
the way up into a choke.]

GM:  He's choking the life out of Eric Preston and-

[...and a hard kick from Preston breaks Kraken's grip, allowing Preston
to drop down to the mat.  After a moment, Preston springs up, uncorking
a right hand on the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot by Preston!

[A few more haymakers follow before Preston steps back, sizing up his
attacker...

...and leaps into the air with a dropkick attempt that Kraken slaps
away, sending Preston crashing back down to the canvas.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Kraken knocks him flat and- LOOK OUT!

[The crowd explodes with a worried buzz as Kraken leaves his feet,
smashing Preston under a big splash!]

GM:  HE SPLASHED HIM!  KRAKEN SPLASHED THE KID AND-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  VASQUEZ!  VASQUEZ!

[The Number One Contender to the National Title comes tearing out of the
locker room area, diving headfirst under the bottom rope.  Kraken turns
to meet his next prey, spinning in a full turn.]

GM:  URAK-

[But the spinning backflst misses the mark as Vasquez ducks underneath
it, racing to the far ropes...

...and rebounding back with a dropkick to the knee of Kraken, taking him
down to a knee!]

GM:  Vasquez is trying to hobble the big man!

[Hooking a side headlock, Vasquez throws fist after fist after fist into
the jaw of Kraken...

...and then spins off, throwing a wild right hand at The Robfathah who
was up on the apron before dropping down safely to the floor.]

GM:  Ohhh - he just missed him, Bucky.  Just missed that-

[Vasquez turns his attention back to Kraken who is now back to his feet.
 A few right hands from Vasquez wobbles the big man...

...and a leaping enzugiri to the back of the head knocks Kraken down to
the canvas!]

GM:  HE DROPPED HIM!  HE DROPPED THE BIG MAN!

[But the celebrating Vasquez is caught completely off-guard as yet
another figure slides into the ring, completely unseen by the Number One
Contender...

...until he turns around, getting a mouthful of black mist squarely in
the eyes!]

GM:  MIST!  MIST!

BW:  THAT'S SEISHUKI!

[The former bodyguard and ninja assassin for EMWC VP of Talent
Relations, Bill Masterson, strikes with his blinding black mist that
lands right in the eyes of Vasquez!]

GM:  Oh my god!  Vasquez can't see!

[The top contender flails his arms wildly, trying to lash out at
Seishuki who stays just out of reach...

...and then uncorks a thrust kick under the chin that knocks Vasquez
down to the canvas!]

GM:  He dropped him!  Seishuki takes him down and-

BW:  Seishuki's here for the bounty too!  This is nuts!

[Grabbing Vasquez by the hair, the ninja assassin drags the blinded
Vasquez to his feet...

...and locks his hands around the throat of Vasquez, strangling the air
out of him against the buckles!]

GM:  Vasquez is blinded and he's being choked in the corner by-

[The crowd jeers as yet another man emerges from the locker room,
wild-eyed and crazed as he rolls under the ropes and pops up to his
feet.]

GM:  Oh god, it's that lunatic!

BW:  James Monosso!  Monosso's in the ring!  This just keeps getting
worse for Vasquez and Preston!

[Monosso approaches the corner where Seishuki is working over Vasquez...

...and bodily yanks away the ninja assassin, throwing him down to the
mat just before he tears into Vasquez with rights and lefts.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky!

[The wild-eyed lunatic drags Vasquez out of the buckles, slinging him up
and across his wide shoulders...

...and charges back into the buckles, smashing Vasquez' facefirst into
the top turnbuckle before falling straight back in a Samoan Drop!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  He calls that the Happy Valley Driver!

GM:  He... he what?!

BW:  Hehehe.

GM:  He could have knocked Vasquez' teeth out of his mouth!

[Monosso rolls over on top of Vasquez, pummeling him with rights and
lefts...

...when a running low dropkick from Eric Preston catches Monosso under
the chin, knocking him off of Vasquez.  Seishuki lunges back into the
fray, hooking Preston around the neck and grabs a nerve in his neck
between his fingers.]

GM:  Oh!  Nervehold by Seishuki and-

[Suddenly, Kraken lumbers back into the fray, spinning around
completely...

...and SMASHES Seishuki squarely in the cheek with the spinning backfist
as Preston dropped down to the mat to avoid it!]

GM:  OHHH!  KRAKEN HIT SEISHUKI!!

[And suddenly, James Monosso charges across the ring, leaping onto the
massive back of Kraken, hooking an arm under his chin and across his
throat as he uses his other hand to club Kraken's masked head.]

GM:  The bounty hunters are fighting with each other!

[Seizing his chance, Eric Preston rolls under the ropes to the floor,
reaching under them to grab Juan Vasquez by the ankle and drag him
outside as well.]

BW:  No!  No!  No!

GM:  Preston and Vasquez escape!  Monosso, Seishuki, and Kraken starting
beating on each other and Eric Preston just got he and Juan Vasquez the
heck out of there!  This is crazy, Bucky!

BW:  And we're just getting going!  We've got over an hour left!

GM:  This is... fans, we've gotta take a break!  Good grief!

[Seishuki gets back to a knee and lunges into a tackle, taking an
off-balance Kraken down to the mat where both he and James Monosso are
battering the biggest man in the ring...

...as we fade to black.

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

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

[He whips open the backpack and produces...

...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!]

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

"That rocks!"

"I want one... now!"

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

...until a fifth kid walks up.]

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

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

...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!]

"WHOA!"

"WOWER!"

"THAT ROCKS MORE!"

"I WANT ONE... NOW!"

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

...and then back to live action where Gordon and Bucky are standing,
both looking a little stunned still.]

GM:  Fans, welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling.  We're just...
finally, we're just getting some control over what went down before the
break.  It was... well, it was one of the wildest scenes I can recall
seeing here in the WKIK Studios, Bucky.

BW:  First it was Kraken attacking Eric Preston... then Vasquez came out
to save Preston which brought out Seishuki to attack him... then James
Monosso tried to get involved too... then the bounty hunters started
fighting amongst themselves!  It was... man, it was nuts.

GM:  And like you said, the night's still young... but at this time, I
think we're going to restore a little bit of order to tonight's show as
we welcome Chock Full back out here as well as the Chairman of the
Championship Committee, Stephen Ross.  Welcome, gentlemen.

[Nods and handshakes all around.]

GM:  Mr. Full, I believe you have some more awards to give out.

CF:  I do, I do.  And this one is one that the entire AWA can share. 
You all should be very proud of yourselves.  Mr. Ross, on behalf of Just
The Facts, we award Saturday Night Wrestling as the 2nd runner-up for
the Best Show.

[A cheer rings out through the building.  Ross takes the plaque,
grinning widely.]

CF:  And as well, we would like to award the American Wrestling Alliance
as the 2nd runner-up for Promotion Of The Year!

[Ross takes the other plaque in his free hand, holding up both to the
cheers of the crowd.]

SR:  It is a great pleasure to accept these awards on behalf of all the
wrestlers, the backstage staff, and of course, the fans of the AWA.  We
could not and would not do it without all of you.  Thank you.

[Some more cheers from the crowd.  Ross looks about to leave when he
gets stopped.]

GM:  Mr. Ross, a few questions since you're here.

[Ross looks annoyed but nods.]

GM:  You must have witnessed the same thing we just saw out here-

SR:  I have no comment on that.

GM:  But sir, there's gotta be something you can do abou-

SR:  Gordon, I have no comment on that.

[Myers reluctantly nods.]

GM:  Alright then.  Well, how about the challenge made by MAMMOTH
Mizusawa?  Can you address that?

[Ross pauses.]

SR:  Yes.

GM:  That's it?

SR:  The man and his manager won the right to pick their match.  
There's very little I can do about it.  So, yes.  MAMMOTH Mizusawa and
Juan Vasquez will meet in one month's time at the Second Anniversary
Show in a two out of three falls match with the stipulations outlined by
Mr. Matsui.

[And with that, Stephen Ross storms away.]

GM:  Well, fans, I was hoping to get more out of the Chairman but I
guess that's all we're going to get.  Big news though as the match is
set for the Second Anniversary Show.  Fans, we've got the debut of the
Lady Luck Challenge set for later tonight and at this time, I'd like to
introduce one of the men who will tonight make AWA history... Mr. Corey
Lawson!

[Corey Lawson walks over to the entrance portal to the cheers of the
studio audience.  He is dressed out, sporting a pair of red leg-length
tights with black and blue bandannas tied over his kneepads and boots,
along with around his wrists.  He wears a T-shirt from the Stampede Cup
as well, and he greets Myers with a handshake.]

CL: Man, it's been a wild few weeks here in the AWA, hasn't it?  Sure is
nice to be back here in Dallas!

[The crowd cheers for Lawson's appreciation of the studio, a warm grin
overtaking the face of the Tennessee native.]

GM: And it's good to have you here with us, Corey.  There has been a lot
of buzz about you after the Stampede Cup, and tonight, you and Pure X
have the first ever Lady Luck Challenge match!  Your thoughts on this
historic occasion?

CL: Well, I'll tell you what, Gordon... the last few weeks have been
kind of rough on me.  My ribs got busted up by those doggone Bishop Boys
in the semifinals of the Stampede Cup, and I've been sittin' at home and
watchin' tapes of what's been goin' down here in the AWA.  And I've been
seein' a lot of carnage, Gordon.  But let me assure you, let me assure
that rat Bucky Wilde, and let me _especially_ assure you fans... you
ain't goin' to see none of that mess in a match with me and Pure X.  Not
a dang bit of it, I tell you.

[Lawson pats Myers on the shoulder.]

CL: Mr. Myers here has had to call a bunch of shenanigans for way too
long, and I guarantee you this much... I'm going to do my doggone best
to prove tonight that it ain't how many people run in your posse, and it
ain't how many shortcuts you can take, it's about what lies down deep in
your heart.  I may have been wrestlin' for a long time without ever
breakin' into the top stars, but I knew when I signed with the AWA, it
was because of my own merits.  It was because I busted my butt up and
down the country, sleepin' in my car, eatin' more tuna fish than a
doggone bear... and I didn't pull nobody's hair, I didn't yank nobody's
tights, and I did everything down the straight and narrow.

[Lawson points to the crowd.]

CL: The only thing I ever needed was you people cheerin' me on.  And
yeah, I got beat a lot, but I tell you what, Gordon... I ain't regretted
one bit of my career.  I could've probably gotten here by bein' all mean
and nasty... hell, I watched Stevie Scott in Knoxville, I know what his
game's all about.  But let me tell you somethin'... if I got here by
cheatin' and backstabbin' and bein' a jerk, it wouldn't be nearly as
sweet as it was when I got here.  Bailey Fitzgerald and I made it to the
semifinals of the Stampede Cup... we beat the doggone National Tag Team
Champions!  And you know what?  The only people that gave us a shot were
these fans here in the AWA.

[Lawson turns back to Myers.]

CL: Now I've seen Pure X wrestle, and I know what he cares about.  And I
figure any man that can put down someone like Shane Destiny _twice_ in
one night is a heck of a fighter.  And he may not say it, but he knows
deep down that the prize at the end of the race ain't worth nothin' if
you took a shortcut to get to the finish line.  And yeah, he's pretty
doggone good.  He's probably the longshot to win.  But I promise you
this... I _promise_ each and every single fan that ever bought a ticket
or turned their TV on to watch the AWA, I'm goin' to give you a good,
old-fashioned, clean wrestlin' match.  And if Pure X... if he puts me
down for the count?  Well, I'd be glad to shake his hand and say he's
the better man, because I know he'd respect that.  I can just say this
much, Gordon... I ain't goin' down without a fight.  You can bet on that
one.

[Lawson looks off-screen, and a big grin spreads across his face.]

CL: This here's another good one!

[Interjecting is the six-foot form of Bailey Fitzgerald.  Clad in a pair
of off the rack jeans and a royal blue crew tee, Fitzgerald calmly
saunters into view and approaches the trio of Myers, Wilde and Lawson. 
Myers warmly greets the Buffalo native and casually approaches the young
grappler.]

BF: Sorry for sticking my nose in, guys.  This isn't the way I usually
go about things - interrupting like this, tossing my two cents in and
all, but there was something that needed to be said.  So here goes.

[He pauses, clearing his throat.]

BF: I've never been easily impressed.  On talent alone?  All the time. 
There hasn't been a night gone by I haven't been floored by the
unparalleled level of skill and athleticism put on display by each and
every guy whose stepped through that curtain back there.  But that's not
what I mean.

[Bailey turns and motions behind him, briefly losing his train of
thought.]

BF: It's been my experience, Gordon, talent can take you a lot of places
in this sport.  But when push comes to shove, it doesn't take a whole
lot of convincing for the majority to say to Hell with loyalty and
respect.  And if they've got the right guy in their ear or the right
amount of greenbacks in their pocket, there aren't a lot of guys who
would think twice about throwing a six-inch dagger between your shoulder
blades if given the chance.

[Fitzgerald cocks his head to the side now, giving another glance toward
the dressing room area.]

BF: MAMMOTH Mizusawa is one of those guys.

[Heel pop!  Gordon Myers nods his head as Fitzgerald pauses to allow the
uproar of the crowd to suppress.]

BF: Shane Taylor is another one of those guys.

[An even louder chorus of boos now.  Bailey holds off even longer this
time, but now focuses his attention on Lawson, their eyes locked on one
another.]

BF: But you know whose _not_ one of those guys?  Corey Lawson.

[Face pop for the upstart Lawson.]

BF: I'll tell you what kind of guy Corey Lawson proved himself to be. 
The kind who'd risk life and limb if it meant breaking up a pin.  The
type who not only had eyes in the back of his own head, but his
partner's as well.  A partner he didn't know two months ago any better
than the kid who pumps his premium.

[Fitzgerald offers a shrug.]

BF: Believe it or not, I didn't come out here to blow sunshine off
anybody's backside.  It's not my style.  But this man here?

[He emphatically shoots a head nod toward Lawson.]

BF: He showed me something at the Stampede Cup.  But more importantly,
he showed the world something.  While the better part of the viewing
audience was feasting on eggnog and gingerbread men, Corey Lawson and
myself flourished while feasting on the real live thing.

[Pop!  Myers nods in agreement as Lawson retains his same, stoic
expression.]

BF: When all was said and done, we tucked tail like fourteen other
disappointed teams and went our merry little way.  For teams with no
aspirations of achieving anything more, maybe that's acceptable.  Teams
like Strictly Business and the Outlaws can return to their pensions and
social security checks.  But for guys like Corey and myself?

[An unsubtle scoff.]

BF: We're left in the wake, Corey, doing our damnedest to carve the kind
of niche the rest of those guys found when we couldn't even get in the
back door here.  I don't know about you, but I don't want to look back
years down the line and think, 'I wonder what the two of us could have
done had we stuck together and tried our luck in the tag ranks during
the prime of our careers.'

[Fitzgerald pauses, allowing Lawson to ponder his proposal.]

BF: Tonight, I'll spearhead your cheering section when you step between
those ropes and lock up with Pure X in the the first Lady Luck
Challenge.  But afterward?  Let's not let this opportunity pass us by,
Corey.  Let's give all the teams of the AWA more than they can handle. 
From the Fabulous Falcons all the way to Dufresne and Freeman.

[Bailey pauses, sporting a half-smile as he looks in Gordon Myers'
direction.]

BF: The same way we gave those cowards _more_ than they could handle in
Laredo.

[Pop!]

BF: The choice is yours.

[Lawson grasps Myers' shoulder, looking down at the floor.]

CL: Now Bailey, I'm goin' to need to think about this one for a bit...

[Lawson looks up, smile still plastered across his face, as he offers
his hand to Fitzgerald.]

CL: I'm done thinkin'... put it here, partner.

[Lawson and Fitzgerald shake hands, to the crowd's delight.]

CL: And if I get past ol' Pure X... remember folks, the Lady Luck
Challenge means if I can pull off five wins, I can go for any title I
want.  Well, I don't like gettin' ahead of myself... but if I can beat
five of the AWA's best, I know exactly what _we_ will be goin' for,
Bailey.  So if you fans want to see Corey Lawson and Bailey Fitzgerald
beat Dufresne and Freeman _again_?  For the belts?

[Lawson points to the fans.]

CL: Well by golly, I'm goin' to need the support of each and every
single one of you.  Let's do-

[Lawson stops short as yet another person makes their presence known in
the WKIK Studios.  Someone holding a tissue to his eye, wiping it with a
mocking expression on his face.

It's "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson.]

CL:  What do _you_ want?

[Waterson raises a defensive hand as he closes in towards the mic.]

ATTSBW:  Easy now, fella.  Simmer down.  I'm not here for trouble.  I
just wanted to come out here and say that was one of the most touching
moments I can remember here in the AWA.

[He wipes an eye again.]

ATTSBW:  No, no - I mean it.  You two together?  Wow.  It makes me
almost want to root you on.

[A grin.]

ATTSBW:  I said "almost."

The fact is, I know two gentlemen standing in the back waiting to come
out here later tonight and show the world what it takes to be called
"champions" in this company.  And those two gentlemen, well, let's say
they'll be quite excited to hear that you two have decided to keep
teaming up.

[Waterson slowly nods.]

ATTSBW:  Neither of them were happy after Night One of The Stampede Cup
and heck, I think you saw Calisto STILL talking about that sham of a
victory you two scored over them that night earlier today.  So, I'm sure
that they would love another chance to take you on... and take you out.

And since everyone seems to be making their own matches around here
since that idiot Ross is going off the deep end...

[Waterson pauses.]

ATTSBW:  Yeah, that sounds right.  How 'bout this?  The Second
Anniversary Show - one month away - the AWA National Tag Team Champions
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman take on the team that... "beat"
them... at The Stampede Cup, Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson...

[Big cheer!]

ATTSBW:  ...in a non-title match.

[The cheers turn to boos but Fitzgerald and Lawson don't seem to be
surprised.]

ATTSBW:  So, whaddya say, boys?  Care to try your luck a second time?

[Lawson grabs the mic.]

CL:  For these great fans?  You better believe it, Waterson.

[The crowd cheers the acceptance of the challenge as a smirking Waterson
claps Bucky Wilde on the back.]

ATTSBW:  See you then.  Now, if you don't mind, I believe I have an
award to accept.  Shoo now.

[Waterson waves at the duo dismissively.  Fitzgerald looks like he plans
to take offense all up in the manager's grill... but Lawson talks him
down, walking back through the curtain.]

GM:  This wasn't when we were... well, Mr. Full... thanks for coming
back out here.

[Chock Full looks a little out-of-sorts.  Obviously, Ben Waterson
changed plans on him.]

CF:  Errr, yes.  Um, at this time, it gives me great pleasure to award
Ben Waterson with the #1 runner-up plaque for the Manager Of The Year!

[Jeers from the crowd.  Waterson looks long and hard at Chock Full.]

CF:  Mr. Waterson?

[Silence from the usual verbose manager.]

CF:  Mr. Wat-

ATTSBW:  Shut up.

CF:  Pardon me?

ATTSBW:  I said shut your damn mouth.

[The crowd jeers.]

ATTSBW:  Did you honestly think I'd do it, Myers?  Did Stephen Ross
think I'd do it?  All those stuffed suits on the Committee or in the
front office?  Did you think I'd dance the dance?

GM:  Mr. Waterson, I don't know-

ATTSBW:  Of course you do, Myers.  You're in on all of this.  Well, let
me tell you all something.  I have no intention of playing a role in the
biggest sham of voting since Florida in 2000... no, no... worse... since
Bucky Wilde was ROBBED in the Mid Years!

I am the greatest manager EVER in this sport.  Not in the past six
months.  Not in the past twelve months.

EVER!

[Waterson's face turns red with anger.]

ATTSBW:  Screw Brian Lau!  Screw The Robfathah!  Screw Awesome T!  Screw
Jessie James!  Screw the Lady In Red!  Screw Goku Waru!  Screw Linda! 
Screw Veronica Temple!  Screw them all!  It's me, damn it!  _I'm_ the
greatest of all time.

And until such time as the worthless rag-peddling rejects at Just The
Facts get their heads out of their collective-

[Myers jerks the mic away from Waterson.]

GM:  That's enough out of you.  Mr. Full, I apologize on behalf of-

[Waterson snatches the mic again.]

ATTSBW:  Don't you DARE apologize for me, Myers!  I'll have your damn
head on my wall for that!  I'll reach into your chest and rip out your
still beating heart, you son of a-

[Myers grabs the mic again.]

GM:  Let's get out of here!  Go to commercial!

[An abrupt cut to black on a still-shouting Waterson...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action where Gordon, Bucky, and Chock Full
are still standing.  Thankfully, there's no sign of Ben Waterson.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and we apologize profusely for what just
happened with Ben Waterson.  Mr. Full, please accept my apologies on
behalf of the entire AWA for that horrific moment.  There are no excuses
for Mr. Waterson's actions.

CF:  Maybe he saw my review of his first wresting match.

[Gordon chuckles.]

GM:  Now, I believe you have another award to present...

CF:  I do.  Hopefully, this one will go over a little better although I
understand neither of these men are here to accept the award.  As
someone who has followed the careers of City Jack and Tin Can Rust for a
long, long while, it is an honor to be able to give them the award for
the first runner-up in the Best Tag Team of 2009 category!

[Big cheer...

...which quickly turns to jeers as the opening riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp
Dressed Man" explode through the WKIK studios.  From the entrance portal
emerge the AWA National Tag Team Champions, "Ladykiller" Calisto
Dufresne and "Subzero" Adrian Freeman.

Dufresne is clad in a white Ed Hardy t-shirt and a pair of black jeans,
his championship belt thrown over his shoulder.  Adrian Freeman is
dressed in a button-up shirt and black dress pants, looking suitably
clad for an awards ceremony.

The two join the trio at the desk, with Gordon Myers looking visibly
angry.]

GM:  Wait a second, now.  Don't you two think you've done enough? 
You've essentially ended City Jack's career, you've pushed Tin Can Rust
over the edge and now you want to ruin their moment?

[Dufresne snatches the microphone from Myers.]

CD: _Their_ moment?  Are you serious, Gordo?  You want to come out here
in front of our throngs of adoring fans and hold this ceremony for the
number two tag team in the world?  Where is the ceremony for the number
_one_ tag team in the world?

GM: Well they aren't part of our organiz-

[Myers is cut off again.]

CD: _We_ are the number one tag team in the world.  _We_ won the
Stampede Cup, full of the supposed "best" tag teams in the world.  _We_
beat the number two tag team in the world.  That makes us number one. 
Even someone with an IQ of an ashtray like City Jack could figure that
out, Myers.

AF: We're here to help out these Just The Facts people.  You see, they
made a typical blunder by letting the fans vote on these awards, which
resulted in City Jack and Tin Can Rust -- a team whose failure so many
can relate to -- getting this award.  All we want to do is correct their
mistake.  They can now turn their joke of an award into a legitimate one
by handing it over to the best team in wrestling.

GM: Clearly you two are delusional.  This organization will be much
better off once someone claims Juan Vasquez's bounty on your heads!

[Pop for Gordon!]

AF: Do you see what we have to put up with?  An official of the AWA, a
supposedly neutral announcer, wishing harm on us.  That's a hostile work
environment, Gordon.

CD: Not that we need help with any of the scrubs that come knocking on
that idiot Vasquez's door, but you should consider something: What's
$25,000 to a couple of millionaires?  Vasquez wants to pay a group of
guys to try and take a shot at us?  Go right ahead, pal.  As the
fighting champions that we are, we welcome any challenge, at any time.

[A self-assured nod.]

CD: But put yourself in the shoes of the men who would try, Juan.  Is
$25,000 worth getting the crap beaten out of you?  If $25,000 worth
being put in the hospital?  Is $25,000 worth having your career ended?

[A pause as a smirk plays across Dufresne's face.]

CD: ...Is $25,000 worth losing an eye like City Jack?

[Heel pop!]

CD: Because that's exactly what will happen to any man, woman or child
who dares take Juan Vasquez up on his offer.

GM: Do you really thin-

[Dufresne snatches the microphone and the plaque for 2nd Runner Up Tag
Team of the Year from Myers, shooing him off.  He hands the microphone
to Freeman as he kisses the plaque, raising it in the air as if it were
an Oscar for Best Actor.]

AF: I'd like to dedicate this award to everyone who thought we couldn't
do it, and everyone who booed and jeered us every step of the way.  You
made it all worth it.

CD: As for me...

[A pause.]

CD: ...Gosh, there are so many people to thank and so little time to do
it.  So, umm...

[Another pause.]

CD: ...I guess I'll just thank myself.

THANK YOU, ME!!

[Adrian Freeman applauds fakely.  And much like an award recipient
taking far too long with their acceptance speech, the AWA production
crew wastes no time in drowning out any further nonsense from these two;
cueing up "Sharp Dressed Man" once again, leaving Dufresne waving to
what he believes are their fans (who are jeering heartily) and Adrian
Freeman admiring the plaque that rightfully belongs to Kentucky's
Pride...

...as the two men head towards the ring where Melissa Cannon is
standing.]

GM:  Wait a minute.  These two are scheduled to compete tonight but
are... are you kidding me?  They're going to do this right now?

BW:  No better time than the present.

GM:  They're not even dressed to compete!

BW:  Do you really think the best tag team in the world can't beat a
couple of scrubs wearing their street clothes, daddy?

GM:  Their opponents aren't even out here!

[A hustling AWA official can be seen rushing backstage.]

GM:  Well, apparently, we're sending someone to the back, trying to see
if we can get some opponents out here for Dufresne and Freeman, the
National Tag Team Champions.

BW:  Might as well just drag a couple of bums out of the crowd.  They'll
stand as much of a chance as some of the guys we've got back there,
Gordo.

GM:  That's awful.  Just... so disrespectful, Bucky.

BW:  Hey, I'm just keepin' it real, yo.

[After a few more moments, two skinny, pale young men come through the
curtain, looking pretty confused.]

MC:  And their opponents... from-

[Dufresne doesn't allow for the announcement to be made, rushing across
the ring and dropping into a baseball slide that catches one of the
opponents squarely on the jaw, knocking him flat.  The Ladykiller rolls
under the ropes to the floor, shouting at the other opponent to get into
the ring which he does for some reason...

...only to get creamed with a running clothesline by Adrian Freeman!]

GM:  This is ridiculous!  The bell hasn't rang.  These kids didn't even
get announced!  Dufresne jumped the one outside the ring before Melissa
could even-

BW:  OHHHH!

[The crowd echoes the cry as Dufresne whips the young man into the steel
ringpost!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Inside the ring, Freeman uncorks a European uppercut that knocks the
other one back into the corner where he unleashes a series of hard chops
across the chest.  He snapmares the young man out of the corner and
smashes his knee into the spine.]

GM:  Can we get some control out here of this one?  This is-

[Freeman argues with the referee, ordering him to ring the bell to start
the match but the referee refuses...

...and gets shoved down to the mat by Freeman!]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!

[Out on the floor, Dufresne has dragged the young man off the thin pads
that line the WKIK Studios floor, scooping him up...

...and slamming him down in a bodyslam on the concrete floor!]

GM:  Give me a break!  Get security out here!  Get someone out here to
stop this!

[Dufresne abandons his victim, rolling into the ring just as Freeman
fires the young man into the ropes, scooping him up over his shoulder on
the rebound...

...which allows Dufresne to step forward, hooking a front facelock.]

GM:  No!

[Both men drop down at the same time, spiking the young man's skull into
the canvas with an assisted Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am!]

GM:  Good grief!  The Southern Syndicate has laid waste to both of these
young men out here... and I don't even think this match became official.

BW:  And they did it in their street clothes, daddy!

GM:  They certainly did.

[Dufresne rolls across the chest of the young man, staring towards the
ceiling as Freeman drops down to the mat, slapping the canvas once,
twice, and three times.]

GM:  Well, that certainly doesn't count.  That's not legal.

BW:  A successful title defense for the champs!

GM:  Bucky, that wasn't what that was and you know it.  It was a mugging
- pure and simple.

[Freeman pulls the youngster off the mat, chucking him through the ropes
to the floor with a sadistic smile.]

GM:  Ohhh!  These kids are going to need some help out here.  This...
this makes me sick, Bucky.  These guys in the Southern Syndicate are
absolutely convinced they can do whatever they want whenever they want
to do it.

BW:  Until someone stops them, who says they can't?

GM:  That's just wrong.  These kids did nothing to them... nothing at
all and they- wait a second!

[Much to everyone's surprise, the curtain parts at the top of the ramp
and the 6'8" tall Werewolf Gregorson steps out onto the stage dressed in
a charcoal gray suit with a microphone tucked under one arm. The Champs
look very unamused as the silver-haired superstar congratulates them for
their win with a very insincere golf clap.]

BW:  Werewolf Gregorson?  What's that big goof doing here? He's not
scheduled to wrestle and he sure isn't gonna collect on any bounties
dressed like that!

GM: Maybe not, but you'll never know if you don't let the man talk,
Bucky!

[Gregorson smirks as he raises the microphone to his lips and addresses
the Champs.]

WEREWOLF: You know, as I was sitting at home this past week and trying
to decide what my next steps would be here in the AWA now that your two
fat heads could be worth so much to me, an opportunity presented itself
in the form of a phone call.

You see, I wasn't a hundred percent comfortable with being a bounty
hunter and, to be honest, I've got all the money I'll ever need, but the
one thing I don't have - the one thing I'll never have because the two
of you put my tag team partner on the shelf - is the AWA National Tag
Team Championship.

But, after talking on the phone to an old friend of mine who retired
last year to a little island in the South Pacific, I chartered a plane,
flew down there this past weekend, and brought back two men who might be
able to rectify that...

And put a little money in their pockets while they do.

So, without any further adieu, ladies and gentlemen...and Champs...I
give you Scola and Mafu...The Samoan Hit Squad!!

[And the two monster Samoans come storming through the curtains and
charge straight down the ramp to attack the Champs!! Scola - the larger
of the two men - nailing Adrian Freeman with a devastating clothesline
while Mafu - the smaller, more agile member of the team, starts trading
punches with Callisto Dufrense.]

GM:  WHOA!  WHOA!

BW:  What's going on here?  Help!

[Scola and Mafu spin off of Freeman, moving to work together on
Dufresne.]

GM:  They've got Dufresne!  He's caught!

[Both men wind waaaaaaay back, driving their skulls in unison into the
head of the Ladykiller, sending him sprawling through the ropes and out
to the floor!]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a headbutt!

[The camera cuts to Gregorson who is smiling broadly as he watches the
two Samoans turn their attention to a stunned Adrian Freeman who throws
a few weak blows at the big man, Scola, who simply lashes out with a
knife-edge chop across the face of Freeman, knocking him to a knee.]

BW:  He chopped him in the face!  Who DOES something like that, Gordo?

GM:  Apparently these two do!  The Samoan Hit Squad, I believe he called
them, are all over the National Tag Team Champions!

[Scola and Mafu throw Freeman back into the corner, tearing into him
with punches and kicks of a ferocious nature, just obliterating him with
strikes that push him all the way down to a seated position against the
turnbuckles.]

GM:  The smaller Samoan there... he's backing to the far side of the
ring...

[And then sprints across, turning his back, and smashing his hind
quarters into the face of the seated Freeman!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Scola reaches down to drag the dazed Freeman off the mat by the hair,
whipping him to the ropes...

...and catching him in a bearhug on the rebound!]

GM:  He's got him!  He caught him in those massive arms!

BW:  Where's the little one going?!

GM:  The smaller Samoan is scaling the ropes... up to the middle rope...

[Scola backs towards Mafu who pauses, lets loose a war cry, and then
leaps from his perch, smashing his skull into the head of Adrian
Freeman, toppling him down to the mat!]

GM:  Flying headbutt!  Oh my!

[Scola and Mafu stand over the downed Freeman, slapping each other hard
in the chest - hard enough to leave red welts - before Scola walks away,
hopping up to sit atop the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  This big guy's gonna fly?!

[The crowd begins to buzz as Mafu starts climbing the same ropes, facing
his partner.]

GM:  What in the world...?

BW:  I think they're gonna kiss, Gordo.

GM:  I don't think that's what they have in mind, Bucky.

[With his partner within reach, Scola hooks him around the neck,
slinging Mafu's arm over his neck.]

GM:  What the... I don't understand what they have in mind here.

[Standing up, Scola hoists Mafu in the air into a superplex position,
holding him horizontal to the mat...

...and then shoves him outward, sending Mafu into the air where he
CRASHES down across the downed Freeman!]

GM:  OHHHH!  OH MY STARS!!  WHAT WAS THAT?!?

[Scola stands on the middle rope, letting loose a loud war whoop as a
stunned Calisto Dufresne reaches under the bottom rope, pulling his
downed partner out of the ring.]

GM:  The Samoan Hit Squad have struck!  And the National Tag Team
Champions are gettin' the heck out of here, Bucky!  They're running out
of here like thieves in the night!

BW:  They got backjumped!

GM:  They're embarrassed!  They're humiliated!

BW:  Damn it, Gordon, they got jumped from behind by two guys nobody's
ever heard of!  And look at that idiot, Gregorson, he's loving this! 
But I can promise you, the Southern Syndicate won't take this one lying
down.  The Samoans and that goof Gregorson just put themselves on the
list, daddy!  Guaranteed!

GM:  Fans, we've gotta take a quick break!  What a wild night this has
been so far and we're nowhere near done so don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on the Samoans who have been joined by Werewolf
Gregorson in the ring to the cheers of the crowd as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to the ringside announce area where Gordon and Bucky
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  As we said before
the break, it's been a wild night here in Dallas, Texas.  The bounties
are in full effect and that's brought guys we haven't heard from in
years - guys like Kraken and Seishuki and... wow.  Plus, we just saw
these Samoans debut - the Samoan Hit Squad - and completely take out the
National Tag Team Champions.

BW:  They were backjumped, Gordo!

GM:  Perhaps but that doesn't change the fact that they had to scurry
out of here.  We now know two matches for our big Second Anniversary
Show coming up here in a month - Juan Vasquez versus MAMMOTH Mizusawa in
a two out of three falls match with each fall carrying a different
stipulation as well as Dufresne and Freeman meeting Bailey Fitzgerald
and Corey Lawson in a non-title match!  I can't wait for that but we've
still gotta get through tonight where we've got that big tag team
showdown with Clayton Shaw and Vernon Riley meeting Vladimir Velikov and
Baron Von Klauss plus we've got the first ever Lady Luck Challenge match
with Pure X meeting Corey Lawson.  So, if you're just joining us, sit
right back and enjoy because this is one of the wildest nights I can
remember here in the WKIK Studios.

[The crowd cheers as Mark Langseth enters the WKIK studio. Dressed in a
pair of khakis, a dress shirt and a sportsjacket, Langseth's obviously
not out for a match as he walks towards Bucky and Gordon.]

GM: And now it's my pleasure to introduce a certifiable Hall of Famer,
Mark Langseth, to the broadcast booth!

ML: Good to be here again, Gordon... Bucky.

[Wilde nods, but doesn't bother shaking hands.]

GM: It's been some time since we last saw you in the ring, Mark -

ML: Yeah, something like four months?  Come on, I may not be a young gun
anymore, but I certainly can handle a schedule a little more robust than
that!

[Langseth smiles.]

GM: And I hear that's why you've come here today?

[Mark nods, clearing his throat as he does so.]

ML: Yeah, Gordon. You know, that first match with Macht Kraftwerk was a
thrill. It really was - just getting back into the ring, getting a feel
of being in a live match again? It was really great. It really...

[Langseth pauses, trying to find the words.]

ML: Really just... Brought me back, I guess. Made me feel like when I
was on top of the wrestling world, in those big spotlight matches on top
of the card of the pay per views - it really invigorated me. And then at
The Stampede Cup, seeing my former mentor Whitecross?  Again, it's like
I never left, Gordon. So...

[Mark pauses again, looking around to the audience, and then pointing
towards the ring.]

ML: While having that feeling is great and all... I really need to get
in the ring again!

[The crowd cheers, to which Mark nods.]

ML: I can't go months without being the ring, Gordon!  I came here to
wrestle!  I came here to prove that, yeah, I can still perform and,
hopefully, still have enough left in the tank to go far.  So... The next
available opportunity - obviously not tonight cause you've got a full
boat-

[The crowd immediately boos at not seeing Langseth wrestle tonight,
which gets Mark raising his hands up defensively.]

ML: Hey, hey, hey! Don't boo me, yet - I'm just relaying the message!
Wait until I double-cross somebody, alright?

[Langseth chuckles to himself a bit at his quip.]

ML: But seriously? Next available opportunity? I'm laying out a
challenge - to ANYONE - to come on down that aisle and put their skills
and mine to a test in a match.

GM: Anyone?

ML: ANYONE, Gordon - whether they're in AWA or in wrestl-

[Langseth pauses as we hear slow clapping off-screen.  He looks over to
the side as we see Shane Destiny walk into frame, wearing a pair of red
trunks, black kneepads, red boots, and a T-shirt promoting a grappling
gym in Las Vegas.  Destiny stops clapping to casually pull the
microphone towards himself.]

SD: Let's all rain down the accolades on the precious Mark Langseth. 
Let's all kiss up to him, call him great, and whine because we aren't
seeing him in action tonight.  Not like that's any surprise, isn't it? 
After all, Gordon said it, you've been out of the ring for four months. 
I know exactly what you're feeling deep down inside... you know you
don't want to get in there.  You don't want to step foot in that ring
and have to prove yourself.  Otherwise, you'd have brought your gear and
tried to superstar the Championship Committee into giving you
_somebody_.

[Langseth goes to respond, but Destiny again keeps the microphone held
by Myers towards himself.]

SD: You've bored the people long enough, Langseth.  These people _care_
what I have to say.  These people _care_ what Shane Destiny does, every
single week.  You are about as irrelevant as Macht Kraftwerk.  And you
know... gosh, that name, it sounds so familiar.

[Destiny taps his forehead, trying to think.  Suddenly, he raises a
finger, as if he remembered what he was trying to think of.]

SD: Oh, that's right.  I put Macht Kraftwerk on the shelf for _six
years_.  After he got in the ring with me, he was never the same
again... sure, he'd take a booking or two, but he would never be the
same wrestler after he got in the ring with Shane Destiny.  That's what
I do to people, Langseth.  I take people, I hurt them, and I run them
out of this sport.  And for _years_, you've been dodging me.  You've hid
behind other people in other promotions, shaking in your boots about the
mere _thought_ of wrestling Shane Destiny, because you know better than
anyone... I end careers.

[Destiny smirks as Langseth stands back, his arms crossed as an annoyed
looks comes on his face.]

SD: But still, these people... they _worship_ you.  They don't
appreciate true talent.  They don't appreciate an international
superstar who, unlike you, isn't afraid to get in the ring.  I got told
before I came out here that I placed, what was it, Gordon, second on
some website for Comeback of the Year?

GM: It was actually third.

[Destiny's smirk fades, turning into a cold glare.]

SD: Like it matters.  I was the highest-rated AWA representative on the
list, though.  Where were you, Langseth?  Some flunky told me you didn't
even place.  Now you're out here, issuing grandstand challenges, saying
you'll face _anyone_.  When you issue a challenge like that, you're
issuing a challenge to the best professional wrestler walking the earth
today... _me_.

GM: But what about Pure X?  Unlike Mr. Langseth here, he actually
challenged you by name.

SD: Pure who?  Who's that again?

GM: Pure X.  The man that beat you twice in one evening a few months
that.

SD: Huh.  How about that.  You know, Gordon, I can't remember that
because, quite frankly, anyone rated below me on the top 10 list clearly
isn't _worth_ remembering.  Anyway, as for you, Langseth... I'd issue a
challenge for you tonight... but you clearly aren't ready.  And I doubt
you'll be ready in two weeks' time... so how about this one?  How about,
on March 13, at the Second Anniversary Show... Mark Langseth wrestles
the last match of his career... against Shane Destiny.  Because if
you're going to throw down challenges... I'll be more than happy to
break your back.

[Destiny walks away, not even waiting for a response.]

GM: Well, you heard the man, Mark - will you accept?

[Langseth looks back in the direction of where Destiny exited and then
back to Myers with an angered expression.]

ML: I'd say I really don't have a choice now, do I?  Destiny wants to
face me?  Fine, make the match, AWA! Make the match!

[With that, Langseth walks off to the exit.]

GM:  Wow.  If you add Mark Langseth and Shane Destiny to the Second
Anniversary Show?

BW:  Then the AWA just put on an early contender for the best show of
2010, daddy!

GM:  You've got that right.  But what about Destiny just completely
disregarding Pure X?  Pure X BEAT him twice at SuperClash, Bucky!

BW:  But the Championship Committee says that Shane Destiny is the #5
contender and not Pure X.  And aren't you always going on and on about
respecting the decision of the Championship Committee?

GM:  Yes, but in this case, I believe they made a mistake.  And at the
minimum, they need to schedule a Pure X vs Shane Destiny rematch as soon
as possible to settle this situation!

BW:  Pure X may have missed his window because Shane Destiny is moving
on to bigger and better things.  Like the chance to end a Hall of
Famer's career, daddy!

GM:  Disgusting.  Fans, let's go backstage where Jason Dane is standing
by with Vladimir Velikov and Baron Von Klauss!

[Cut back to the locker room area where the scene is exactly as Gordon
Myers' described.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Gentlemen, you heard what Clayton Shaw and Vernon
Riley had to say earlier tonight.  You'll be stepping into the ring with
them a bit later.  Your thoughts?

[Velikov immediately cackles.]

VV:  My thoughts, Comrade Dane, are that if those two pathetic idiots
are the best that America has to offer to defend themselves, I am
surprised the Hammer and Sickle do not hang over your White House right
now.

[Another loud cackle.]

JD:  Alright, they have taken great issue with a lot of what you have
said about America, Mr. Veikov.

VV:  Let them.  The AWA will celebrate a birthday next month, yes?

JD:  Two years, yes.

[Velikov nods.]

VV:  I have been here for two years as well.  And I have told the truth
about your country the entire time.  I have yet to see anyone... how you
say... man up... and shut my mouth, Comrade.  I don't expect that to
change tonight.

JD:  Mr. Von Klauss?

[The Baron, standing in a red satin hooded ring jacket with the hood
hanging over his head, growls into the mic.]

BVK:  They call me silent.

[Von Klauss, the lanky German, shoves his massive hand in the direction
of the camera.]

BVK:  THIS... is all you need to know.

[The German strides out of view as a cackling Velikov follows close
behind.]

JD:  The Russian and the German don't have much to say but they intend
to do their talking inside the squared circle later tonight.  Fans,
don't go away, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on a shot of Jason Dane before fading to black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky are standing
with JTF's Chock Full.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and at this time, we have been joined once
again by Chock Full who has some more awards to give out.  Mr. Full, if
you please...

[Full steps into view, two plaques in hand.]

CF:  Thank you, Gordon.  And right now, it's time to pay tribute to two
men that many consider the backbone of the American Wrestling Alliance -
the announcers!

[Big cheer!]

CF:  To you, Gordon Myers, I award this plaque honoring you as the #3
runner-up for Announcer Of The Year.

[Gordon is beaming as the crowd roars their respect, cheering as he
gratefully takes the plaque, shaking the hand of Chock Full.]

CF:  And of course, to Bucky Wilde...

[Bucky doesn't wait a single second, reaching across the podium to
snatch the plaque away from a still-talking Chock Full!]

BW:  Thank you!  Thank you all so much!  This means the world to me...
and of course, to all my fans out there.  They couldn't go on if they
didn't think I wasn't getting my due out here.

I have so many people to thank... well, not really.  I just really want
to thank myself!  I carry this show!  I carry the supercards!  I break
the big news!  I am without a doubt the best announcer ever!  Suck it,
Soundbite!  Bite me, Michaelson!

GM:  Bucky, please.  Watch your language.

BW:  Hush, Gordo.  Just 'cause you finished in fourth place, it's no
reason to be bitter.  In fact, you should be honored to share a mic with
the TWO-TIME Announcer Of The Year!

[A decent cheer for that!]

BW:  And just so you know, Chock... I forgive you.

CF:  Forgive?  For what?

BW:  For that sham of a result in the Mid Years when I lost to some
thing named Slush.  It's only fitting that I finally return to my place
of honor here tonight.  The only thing that could be better than this is
if my mama were here to share this moment.

[Bucky actually tears up.]

GM:  Your mother's back home in Atlanta, Bucky.

BW:  I know, I know.  Mama, this one's for you!

[Bucky's tearful dedication is accompanied by a big point to the
camera.]

GM:  Well, fans, it's obvious that Bucky Wilde's pretty emotional right
now so let's go backstage where Jason Dane has "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor
standing with him.

BW:  MAMA!  WE DID IT!

[Smash cut to the backstage area where Dane is indeed standing by with
the Outlaw of professional wrestling, Bobby Taylor.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon... and congratulations to you both.  Mr. Taylor, it
was back at Night One of the Stampede Cup that you were scheduled to
team-

BT:  I think everyone knows what happened, Jason.  My brother played on
my emotions.  He got me to team with him for Night One.  I was, in a
way, honored, you know?  For him to use his one match that he could pick
to team with me?  It was... it should have been one of best nights in my
career.  But nope.  Shane sold me out for a fistful of dollars.

[There's a grin surprisingly.]

BT:  I can't really fault him for that though.  I mean, I'm the Outlaw,
right?  I've done some pretty nasty stuff in this business for money. 
I've hurt people.  I've broken people's bones.  I've ended careers.  All
for a dollar or two.  So, I can't fault him for selling me out for
money...

...but I CAN fault him for selling me out to Kevin Slater.

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  I wanted to let it go, Kev.  I told you straight out that I had no
desire to get in the ring with you.  I know what you've done to me and I
still didn't care.  You came out here and tried to make a joke of my
career.  I let it go.

You came out here and hurt my friends.  I let it go.

You even came out here and hurt my family.  I let it go.

That's how badly I wanted to not get in the ring with you, Kev.  I
wanted so badly to keep that one last bond.  I mean... honestly, Kev...
you're all I've got left.  Luke, Chris, Simon, Casey, Alex, Jack... all
of those guys are out of the business or wouldn't cross the street to
help me out.

[Taylor reaches up to slap his chest.]

BT:  But you?  You were different.  Through everything we'd been
through, up and down, good and bad... you were different... we were
different.  We were family, Kev.  Not blood but... in a way, it was
something better than blood.  We were family born through the fires of
this business.  We'd been through it all and still came out together.

But something changed you.  And you wanted to change all that.

[Taylor nods.]

BT:  I fought it, Kev.  I really did.  I could forgive almost
everything.  The stuff with Grant Stone?

[He shrugs.]

BT:  Jumping me at Christmas Chaos?  It hurt but I just chalked it up to
another one of your... mood swings... and let it go.  I thought you
wanted to use me to prove a point.

Which is true... but it wasn't the point I thought.  You wanted to hurt
me.  You wanted to end me.

After all the years I spent looking for someone who could end my career
and take this damn name off my head, I never thought it'd be you.  I
never DREAMED it would be you, Kev.

[Taylor closes his eyes.]

BT:  Maniac Jack?  Jack's a big boy... he can take care of himself.  But
Kev, now you've gone too far.  You took my own blood... and you paid him
to turn against me.

You made my own brother stab me in the heart.

And that's something that I CAN'T let go, Kev.

I guess I always knew this would happen.  I always knew someday we'd
have to go toe to toe in there.  It's happened with everyone else. 
Whether it was in the ring or in a locker room somewhere, I've had it
out with everyone who was ever close to me.

So, yeah... I guess it had to happen.

[Pause.]

BT:  But Kev, as much as you think you wanted this, I still don't think
you know what you're doing.  You don't tug on Superman's cape... you
don't spit in the wind...

And in this business?

[Taylor's eyes slowly open, revealing a fire we haven't seen in ages.]

BT:  You damn sure don't wake up the Outlaw.  And that's what you've
done, Kevin.  When you and I get in that ring, you don't get Bobby
Taylor who flew first class with you as a member of the Cult of
Personality.  You don't get Bobby Taylor who went to bat with you with
management over and over to keep you employed or to get you a job.  You
don't get Bobby Taylor who you spent holidays and vacations with... your
family and mine.  You don't get Bobby Taylor who sat next to you in a
rehab clinic in Boston when you tried to kick whatever crap you were
putting in your body.

You get the Outlaw.

[A cold stare hits the camera lens.]

BT:  You get the man who went to hell and back with John Wesley Hardin. 
You get the man who took the beating of a lifetime - the most infamous
beating in the history of our sport - from a walking Hall of Fame and
still stood up to keep fighting.  You get the man who battled the
Syndicate for years, earned their respect, and earned a spot to fight
right alongside them.  You get the man who has broken bones and shed
blood in every damn country he's stepped foot in.

You get the Outlaw, Slater.

And he's a man who has no family.  He has no friends.  And he has not a
damn bit of mercy in his cold, dark soul.

You get the Outlaw.

[Taylor cracks the smallest of grins.]

BT:  Congratulations.

["The Outlaw" turns away from Jason Dane, walking off camera.]

JD:  Wow.

[Dane doesn't say anything else and after a moment, we fade back to the
ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is the first match in the LADY LUCK CHALLENGE!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first...

[Neil Young's "Rockin' In The Free World" starts up to a big cheer from
the AWA fans!]

MC:  Weighing in at 213 pounds... from Greeneville, Tennessee... he is
the #8 contender to the National Title...

COREY LAWWWWWSON!

[The big cheer continues as Lawson bursts through the curtain with a big
fist pump, still wearing the ring attire we saw earlier in the night. 
He hits the ringside area quickly, slapping hands with the ringside fans
before climbing up onto the apron and stepping through the ropes into
the ring.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The music changes to "The Thing I Hate" by Stabbing Westward to another
decent sized cheer from the crowd.]

MC:  From Pittsburgh, P-A... weighing in at 227 pounds... he is the #6
contender to the National Title...

PUUUUUUURE X!

[X is all business as he walks through the curtain as usual.  He ignores
the cheering fans, keeping his eyes locked on the ring where Lawson is
pacing back and forth.]

GM:  Pure X seems very focused on the matter at hand.  Hopefully he's
put the Shane Destiny stuff aside in his mind for the timebeing. 
There'll be another time and place for him to tangle with Destiny but
tonight, he needs to be focused on Corey Lawson and the Lady Luck
Challenge.

BW:  The #6 and #8 contenders to the National Title in the ring with one
another tonight and THIS is exactly the kind of thing that the front
office was hoping we'd get out of the Lady Luck Challenge, Gordo, the
best in the AWA colliding on a regular basis on live television, daddy!

GM:  You'd better believe it.

[Referee Mickey Meekly gives both men some final instructions before
calling for the bell.  Lawson immediately offers a handshake to Pure X
who accepts it, nodding at the Tennessee native in a show of respect.]

GM:  And how about that?  Some respect being shown by both men before we
get this thing going.

[The two men immediately lunge into a collar and elbow tieup, Pure X
immediately twisting Lawson's arm behind him into a rear hammerlock,
cranking up on the arm.]

GM:  X immediately on the arm, showing off those technical skills.

BW:  Both of these men need to keep constantly aware of the clock
though.  Ten minutes is not a long time for two top athletes to go at it
so the time limit could be as big of an opponent for either of them.

GM:  Lawson's fighting the hammerlock, trying to find a way out...

[Pure X releases the hammerlock, dropping down to yank both of Lawson's
legs out from under him, dumping him facefirst on the canvas.  X
promptly glides over the downed Lawson, securing a side headlock.]

GM:  Nice takedown by Pure X.

BW:  And this is the kind of thing that Pure X excels at.  He's a
fantastic technician - a Rembrandt on the canvas - with some of the
finest matwork you'll ever see in your life.  He can tie someone up in
knots or just ride on someone until they're absolutely exhausted. 
Reminds me of a little Cuban girl I met in Miami once.

GM:  Wow.  I did NOT need to hear that.

[X cranks on the side headlock, wrenching the head and neck of his
opponent as Lawson tries to get his legs underneath him.]

GM:  Lawson's trying to fight back to his feet... to a knee now...

[Up to a knee, Lawson throws a right hand at the ribcage of Pure X,
trying to free himself.  A second gets a little separation, allowing
Lawson to regain his feet.  From there, Lawson fires Pure X off to the
ropes.]

GM:  X hits the ropes...

[Lawson immediately leaves his feet, lashing out with both boots
squarely in the jaw of Pure X, a blow that knocks him off his feet and
down to the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a dropkick by Lawson!

[Pure X scrambles to his feet, trying to beat Lawson up...

...but the Tennessee native is ready and waiting, taking a charging Pure
X down to the mat with an armdrag takedown!]

GM:  Deeeeep armdrag by Lawson!

BW:  But he wants no part of Pure X on the mat, just throwing him down
and getting back to his feet...

[The technician scrambles up again, still looking to slip in but another
armdrag sends him sailing down to the mat the other way...

...which causes Pure X to roll to the floor, looking to re-think his
strategy.]

GM:  Oh my... and Corey Lawson's got this crowd rockin' and rollin' in
the early moments of this one.

BW:  The crowd seems pretty split between Pure X and Corey Lawson,
Gordo.

GM:  Both men have proven very popular in recent weeks - Lawson made
quite the impression on the fans at The Stampede Cup with his gutsy
performance there.  And what about that news earlier tonight that Lawson
and Fitzgerald are going to continue their team?

BW:  They'll get a chance to prove they're more than a fluke at the
Second Anniversary Show in the non-title showdown with the National Tag
Team Champions, daddy.

GM:  They certainly will.

[Pure X rolls back under the ropes at the count of six, taking a knee as
he glares at the fired-up Lawson who wants X back up on his feet.]

GM:  Corey Lawson wants to continue this fight but Pure X has backed
off, maybe trying to regroup a little bit.

BW:  Well, Pure X needs to regroup for sure.  Lawson's taking the fight
to him and X has been constantly off-balance in this one.  He needs to
take Lawson down to the mat and punish him there.  He can't stay on his
feet and let Lawson run and jump and fly all around him.  That's just
not Pure X's game.

[X slowly edges back up to his feet, eyes still locked on Lawson as he
invites him to engage in a test of strength.]

GM:  Hrm.  That's an interesting request as Pure X isn't exactly the
strongest man in the AWA.

BW:  Far from it.

GM:  Lawson looks intrigued though...

[Not one to back down from a challenge, Lawson raises his hands for the
knucklelock, tangling his hands up with the technician...

...who promptly ducks his head underneath the armpit of Lawson, hoisting
him up and over in a takeover.]

GM:  Ohh!  A knucklelock suplex of sorts right there...

[Pure X, maintaining the knucklelock, rolls into a mounted position on
Corey Lawson where he breaks the grip, grabbing one of Lawson's arms and
scissoring his legs around it as he falls off to the side!]

GM:  Oh!  Some kind of an armbar applied here!

BW:  It's a cross armbreaker - a jujigatame!

GM:  Wow, you've done your homework.

BW:  No, I've just learned the names of the some moves after 1985,
Gordo.

[Lawson cries out in pain but immediately gets his foot on the bottom
rope, forcing Pure X to break the hold which he does, getting to his
feet...

...where he stomps down hard on the head of Lawson!]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  Hehe... now THAT'S what I want to see out of Pure X!

GM:  Pure X with a hard shot there and some of the fans are letting him
have it for that one.  It wasn't illegal.  It wasn't a cheapshot.  But
it wasn't very sporting to kick the man when he's down.

BW:  That's what pro wrestling is all about - kicking a man when he's
down, Gordo!

GM:  I beg to differ with that.

[Lawson slowly gets back to his feet as the referee backs Pure X away. 
Lawson shakes out his left arm then rubs a hand across his nose to check
for blood from the stomp.  Seeing none, he points a finger of warning at
Pure X who waves him forward.]

GM:  And this one might be getting a little testy.

BW:  Like I said, in ten minutes, there's not a lot of time for a
feeling out process.  Pure X might have just kicked this one into high
gear.

GM:  We're already at the four minute mark in this one... almost to the
halfway point...

[The two men meet in the middle of the ring again in another tieup, this
time X immediately moving to the side headlock...

...and immediately getting thrown off the ropes.]

GM:  Lawson fires him off to the ropes...

[Lawson drops down to the mat, forcing X to leap over him to keep
running...]

GM:  Lawson back up.. backdr-

[But X pulls up short, driving a boot up into the face of Lawson,
knocking him backwards where X charges in with a clothesline attempt...

...and gets taken down to the mat with a crucifix rollup!]

GM:  Whoa!  Whoa!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd is split as they react to the nearfall from Corey Lawson.]

GM:  Super close nearfall right there for Lawson and-

[As X gets up, Lawson drills him with a jab on the chin.  A second jab
sends him sprawling backwards to the ropes where he grabs onto the top
rope.  Grabbing X by the arm, Lawson fires him across the ring.]

GM:  Pure X off the ropes again...

[Lawson leaps into the air, knocking X off his feet with a leaping
hanging clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big clothesline by Lawson!

[The Tennessee native is all energy as he pops to his feet, pumping a
fist as Pure X starts to rise...

...and EATS a kneelift from Lawson that sends X smashing backwards in
the buckles, barely staying on his feet.]

GM:  Lawson's all over Pure X... corner to corner whip...

[He charges across the ring, leaping up onto Pure X for a monkey flip...

...but snaps backwards, slamming himself to the canvas as Pure X grabs
the ropes to prevent his own fall!]

GM:  OHHHH MY!  Pure X with a beautiful counter to the monkeyflip and-

[With Lawson down and dazed, X springs into motion, snatching the head
of a now-kneeling Lawson...

...and SPIKING him skullfirst into the canvas!]

GM:  DDT!  DDT BY PURE X!

[Lawson now lies sprawled facefirst on the canvas which allows Pure X to
slip in behind him, grabbing the leg, and apply a standing ankle lock as
the crowd erupts!]

GM:  The X!  He's got The X applied!

[The crowd roars as Lawson cries out, screaming and clawing at the
canvas, trying to find a way out...

...but ultimately slaps the canvas three times, tapping out.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner of the Lady Luck Challenge by submission...
PURE X!

[Another big cheer goes up for Pure X as he raises a hand in victory,
looking down at Lawson who is clutching his leg in pain on the mat. 
Pure X strides over to Lawson, extending a hand to the Tennessee
grappler...

...and helps him back to his feet, shaking hands with him before holding
his hand up as well.]

GM:  Ah yeah.  That's what I like to see inside an AWA ring, Bucky. 
Good, clean matches with sportsmanship all around.  Pure X gets the win
but Corey Lawson put up one heck of a fight

[X exits the ring, stepping out to the apron and dropping down to the
floor.  He immediately walks over towards the announce desk.]

GM:  And now, Pure X will come over here to join us where he will draw
the card of his next opponent in the Lady Luck Challenge - a match that
will happen in two weeks on Saturday Night Wrestling.  Congratulations,
sir... an impressive win...

[Myers pulls the deck of cards into view.]

GM:  And now, if you would...

[Pure X reaches into the deck, withdrawing a card.]

GM:  The card drawn by Pure X is... the Ten Of Clubs... Sweet Daddy
Williams!

[A big cheer goes up for the idea of the two fan favorites going head to
head.  Pure X nods at the draw, shaking Gordon Myers' hand before
heading towards the locker room.]

GM:  There you have it, fans... in two weeks, we'll see Pure X vs Sweet
Daddy Williams in the next Lady Luck Challenge match!  That should be a
very interesting encounter with two very different in-ring styl-

[The crowd EXPLODES into jeers!]

GM:  What the- what are THEY doing out here?

[The National Tag Team Champions come sailing from the locker room area,
sliding into the ring where Corey Lawson is still waving to the crowd
after his loss...

...and strike, Dufresne tackling the legs out from under Lawson as
Freeman drills him with a right hand!]

GM:  Come on!

[Dufresne and Freeman get to their feet, stomping and kicking Lawson
into the canvas.  Grabbing the injured leg, Freeman quickly applies the
half Boston Crab on the leg, bending it back and causing Lawson to
scream in agony.]

GM:  Boston Crab!  The half Crab applied by Freeman!

[Dufresne continues to stomp and kick the upper body of Lawson while his
partner torques the knee.]

GM:  This is awful!  These two got shown up by the Samoans and now
they're trying to take it out on Corey Lawson!  They're trying to take
out that knee and keep Lawson out of the match at the Second Anniversary
Show!  They're-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  BAILEY FITZGERALD!  LAWSON'S PARTNER!

[Fitzgerald dives under the bottom rope into the ring, springing to his
feet and flooring an incoming Dufresne with a leaping forearm smash to
the jaw!]

GM:  He knocks Dufresne flat...

[Turning his attention to Adrian Freeman, Fitzgerald uncorks a right
hand that knocks the Australian down to the mat.  Fitzgerald pumps both
fists as the crowd roars for him...

...and even roar a warning he completely misses as Stevie Scott and the
Rhodes Brothers hit the ring!]

GM:  Look out!

[Fitzgerald turns around just before he's mowed over by the two Rhodes
brothers.  Simon springs back to his feet, kicking and stomping
Fitzgerald while Raphael holds him down for his brother's assault.  A
few feet away, the National Champion continues to stomp the knee of
Corey Lawson!]

GM:  The champ's all over Lawson!  The Rhodes boys are beating down
Fitzgerald!  The Southern Syndicate is all over these two!  And why? 
For what?

BW:  They accepted the challenge!  They stood up to the Southern
Syndicate and NO ONE stands up to the Southern Syndicate, daddy!  This
is a message to the whole damn locker room!

[Stevie barks an order at Simon Rhodes who drags Fitzgerald off the mat,
holding him by the hair as the Hotshot coils up...

...and STRIKES with the Heatseeker superkick right under the chin of the
Buffalo native, knocking him flat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  COME ON!

[Raphael Rhodes gives a high-five to the Hotshot as Dufresne and Freeman
regain their feet, stomping and kicking Corey Lawson into the mat. 
Dufresne grabs the foot of Lawson, wrapping up his leg and dropping back
into a figure four leglock!]

GM:  Figure four!  Dufresne's got a figure four on Lawson - going after
the leg!

[Standing over Lawson, Freeman continues to stomp and kick the Tennessee
native, trying to keep him down as his partner does the damage.]

GM:  The Southern Syndicate are trying to take out both of there-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  VASQUEZ!  PRESTON!

[The Number One Contender and the Combat Corner graduate come tearing
through the curtain, hitting the ring fast and hard as they go after the
Southern Syndicate.  Preston dives on top of Dufresne, showering him
with punches to try and break the hold.  Nearby, Vasquez tries to get at
the National Champion but Simon Rhodes tackles him around the waist,
holding him back as Raphael Rhodes grabs his old rival by the hair,
drilling him over and over with headbutts that knocks Vasquez down to a
knee!]

GM:  They're trying to break through to help Lawson and Fitzgerald but
the numbers are just too strong!  The Southern Syndicate is just too
strong for-

[The crowd ERUPTS at the arrival of another man...

...this one carrying a steel chair, sliding into the ring and swinging
at anyone in sight, sending people scattering!]

GM:  BRENT MAVERICK!  BRENT MAVERICK HITS THE RING!

[The wild-eyed Outlaw swings the chair back and forth, sending Southern
Syndicate members flying as they try to avoid the wildly-swung steel
weapon!  Soon, the ring is clear and Brent Maverick is standing tall
amongst them all!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  I don't know what Brent Maverick is doing here but thank
God he showed up when he did!  Brent Maverick just cleared the ring of
the entire Southern Syndicate with that steel chair, Bucky!

BW:  I hope he enjoys that bullseye he just put on his chest, Gordo. 
The Southern Syndicate doesn't tolerate things like this... not one bit.
 This whole thing started because Lawson and Fitzgerald stood up to the
Southern Syndicate and now Brent Maverick tries to take them all out
with a steel chair?  This situation just got worse.

GM:  You may be right, Bucky, but for now, Brent Maverick has saved the
day!  Fans, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the ring where Brent Maverick, chair in hand, is
inviting the Southern Syndicate back into the ring.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back to live action where we find Melissa Cannon
already in the ring.]

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

[The jeers go wild as the sounds of the Soviet National Anthem are heard
over the PA.]

MC:  From Germany and Russian respectively... they are the team of Baron
Von Klauss and Vladimir Velikov!

[The boos grow louder as Velikov strides into view, the large Russian
with his heavy metal chain slung over his wide shoulders as the lanky
German comes up from behind, still in the cloak we saw earlier in the
show.]

GM:  The big Russian, Vladimir Velikov and his partner, the mysterious
Baron Von Klauss are on their way out here for what should be quite the
showdown.

BW:  This is gonna be a fight.  There's no pleasant way to say it,
Gordo.

GM:  You could be right about that.

[The Russian rolls under the bottom rope, holding up the big chain to
even more boos as Baron Von Klauss walks along the ring apron, shrugging
his cloak down to the canvas and thrusting his open hand in the sky
before stepping through the ropes.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The Marine Corps anthem kicks in to a HUGE patriotic reaction from the
crowd.]

MC:  The team of "Stars And Stripes" Clayton Shaw and Vernon Riley!

[Big cheer for the so-called America's Team as they burst into view. 
Shaw carries a big flagpole with a giant American flag on the end,
pausing to wave it back and forth to the roar of the crowd.  Vernon
Riley stands, hands on hips, a few feet away with a big grin on his
face.  He salutes the flag as Shaw hands it off to a ringside
attendant...

...and they rush the ring, forcing the referee to frantically call for
the bell to start the match!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!  HERE WE GO!

[The crowd roars to life as Clayton Shaw goes straight for Velikov,
trading heavy blows with the big Russian.  On the other side of the
ring, Vernon Riley has Baron Von Klauss in the corner and is
jab-jab-jabbin' away at the jaw of the lanky German.]

GM:  America's Team is taking it to them!

[Shaw and Riley each grab an arm of their opponents, firing them towards
the center of the ring where they collide to a big cheer from the crowd,
Von Klauss getting floored by the impact of smashing into a near three
hundred pounder.  Velikov staggers away from the impact...

...and gets popped with a big haymaker to the skull that sends Velikov
spiraling back the other way into Vernon Riley who throws a right hand
of his own, sending the Russian back the other way into another big
right hand!]

GM:  They're pinballing the Russian back and forth!

[Velikov staggers back towards Vernon Riley who shakes his thang a bit
before scoring with an overhead elbow smash to the top of the head that
knocks Velikov down to the canvas.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Down he goes!

[With Velikov down, Vernon Riley hits the ropes, rebounding back, and
leaving his feet with a crushing elbowdrop across the chest!]

GM:  Vladimir Velikov is getting rocked by Vernon Riley and Clayton
Shaw!

[The big Russian rolls under the ropes where his partner comes to greet
him...

...and where Clayton Shaw leaves the ring, stepping out on the apron,
and dropping down to the floor.]

GM:  Look out!  Shaw's out on the floor!

[The former Marine moves around the corner to where Velikov and Von
Klauss are standing.  He grabs each of them by the head, letting loose a
whoop, before slamming their heads together!]

GM:  OHHHH!  DOUBLE NOGGIN KNOCKER!

[The impact knocks Von Klauss flat again as Shaw grabs Velikov, hurling
him under the ropes into the ring where Vernon Riley gladly yanks the
big Russian to his feet, pasting him with a right hand that knocks
Velikov back to the buckles.]

GM:  The Russian's backed into the corner...

[Winding up, Riley gets a loud shout from the crowd as he smacks Velikov
across the chest with a big chop.]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  This is out of control, Gordo.  This is basically a two on one! 
Where's the ref to get control of this one?

GM:  It's one on one inside the ring.  Looks like it's under control to
me.

BW:  Well, maybe now but what about when they were smacking Velikov back
and forth between each other?

[Grabbing Velikov by the arm, Riley fires him from corner to corner,
sending him crashing backfirst to the buckles...

...and he slaps the outstretched hand of Clayton Shaw who tags in.]

GM:  Shaw's in now... Riley grabs the arm...

[Vernon Riley whips Clayton Shaw across the ring, cheering when Shaw
smashes into Velikov with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Nice doubleteam move by Riley and Shaw there!

[With a staggered Velikov stumbling from the corner, Clayton Shaw
impresses everyone by powering the three hundred pounder up into the air
and down to the mat with a thunderous slam!]

GM:  Oh my - what a slam by Clayton Shaw!

[Shaw pumps a fist as Velikov rolls to the floor again, reeling from the
offensive onslaught he's absorbed so far...

...and again, Clayton Shaw goes outside the ring after him.]

GM:  Shaw's out on the floor... big right hand on Velikov... and a
second...

[Grabbing Velikov by the back of the neck, Shaw winds him up, and SLAMS
his skull into the ring apron!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[With his partner in trouble, Baron Von Klauss slinks around the
ringpost, measuring Shaw...

...and rushes forward, knocking him flat with a running forearm to the
back of the head!  The crowd jeers as Von Klauss starts stomping the
downed Shaw on the floor!]

GM:  A sneak attack!  The German with a sneak attack and-

[The crowd cheers as Vernon Riley races to his partner's aid and BLASTS
Von Klauss off his feet with a haymaker.  The German backpedals,
scooting away from Riley who stands between him and the downed Clayton
Shaw.  Seizing the moment, Velikov drags Shaw off the mat, hooking him
around the waist...

...and SMASHES his spine back into the ring apron!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Good grief!

BW:  That should turn the tide in this one a bit, daddy!

[Velikov grabs the hurting Shaw, firing him under the ropes into the
ring.  He rolls in behind him, dropping a big three hundred pound knee
into the kidneys of Shaw!]

GM:  Ohhhh.  That'll do some damage.

[The Russian delivers a few more stomps to the lower back before
slapping the hand of his partner, the lanky German, Baron Von Klauss who
steps into the ring and drops an awkward looking falling headbutt into
the kidneys of Shaw!]

GM:  There's some of that unorthodox offense of Baron Von Klauss.  He
comes out you from odd angles with some really weird moves.  You just
don't know what to expect from him.

BW:  Pain.  Lots of it.  Oh, and if he sinks in the Claw, the match is
over, daddy.

GM:  That much is true.  That Iron Claw is quite the devastating move
from Von Klauss.

[Dragging Shaw off the mat by the back of his camo pants, Von Klauss
hooks him around the waist from the side, hoisting Shaw up into the air,
and dumping him backfirst on the canvas!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Big belly to back suplex by Von Klauss!

[The German quickly applies a lateral press, getting a two count as Shaw
fires a shoulder off the mat...

...which drives an angry German to wrap his hands around the throat of
Shaw, screaming as he strangles the American!]

GM:  Come on, referee!

BW:  He's counting, Gordo.  What more do you want?

GM:  Von Klauss breaks the choke at four... looking at the ref...

[And the crowd jeers as the Baron reapplies the choke, again screaming
like a madman as Shaw struggles to free himself.  Outside the ring,
Vernon Riley shouts at the referee who starts counting again, causing
the Baron to break at the count of four.]

GM:  The Baron breaks the choke again...

[Slowly, the German gets to his feet, delivering a few kicks to the ribs
of the downed Shaw.  He reaches down, hauling Shaw to his feet by the
wrist, throwing him back into the corner where Vladimir Velikov raises a
boot, smashing Shaw chestfirst into it.]

GM:  Some double teaming going on in the corner.

[Grabbing Shaw by the head in a front facelock, the Baron slowly turns
him so that the back of his neck is pressed against the Baron's
shoulder...

...and drops down in a reverse neckbreaker!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The Baron applies another lateral press, this time getting another two
count from the referee before Shaw drapes a leg over the bottom rope.]

GM:  Too close to the ropes there and- whoa!

[The crowd jeers as the Baron seems to snap, raining sloppy rights and
lefts down all over the upper body of Shaw.]

GM:  What in the world is he doing?

[Von Klauss climbs back to his feet, angrily slapping the hand of
Vladimir Velikov.]

GM:  In comes the Russian again...

[A few stomps to the lower back of the crawling Shaw cuts off any
attempt to the get to the corner.  Velikov flexes his right arm, showing
not much muscle at all...

...but drops the arm down on the kidneys in a big elbowdrop!]

GM:  Velikov going back after the back of Shaw...

[Getting back to his feet, the big Russian settles in, sitting on the
lower back of Shaw as he yanks back on his arms, locking his hands under
the chin.]

GM:  Camel clutch!  Velikov slaps on the camel clutch!  This might do
it, Bucky.

BW:  That's a lot of pressure put on Clayton Shaw's back - the same back
that Velikov's been punishing now for a while.

GM:  And this is a very difficult hold to escape.  Shaw's got his arms
trapped over the legs of Velikov and it's very tough to get free from
this, Bucky.

BW:  The best known counter is to stand up but you have to do even more
damage to your back to make that happen...

[But before things can get any worse, Vernon Riley slips into the ring,
smashing Velikov with a right hand that breaks the camel clutch to the
cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Well, that's one way to break the hold!

BW:  An illegal way!  Why don't you point that out, Gordo?

GM:  I figured the Announcer Of The Year would take care of that for me.

[An angry Velikov shouts in Russian in the direction of Vernon Riley who
turns around and slaps his rear end, pointing back at the Russian.]

GM:  Heheh.

BW:  Oh, hysterical.  This Riley guy is a real piece of work, Gordo.

GM:  The fans seem to like him.

BW:  They would.  They're all just like him.  Fat and useless.

[Velikov drags Shaw off the mat by the back of the pants, raising a knee
up into the lower back before shoving him chestfirst into the
turnbuckles.]

GM:  Shaw's facefirst in the corner...

[Velikov lunges forward, slamming his knee into the back again.  He
leans over, grabbing the middle rope...

...and DRIVES his shoulder into the kidneys!]

GM:  Ohh!  That's a dangerous move and- darn it, Bucky, the referee
needs to get in there to stop this!

[A few more shoulders land before the referee physically steps in,
forcing Velikov to back off, leaving Shaw clinging to the ropes to stay
on his feet.]

GM:  Velikov backs out of the corner...

[But suddenly, he shoves the referee aside, charging in again, this time
jumping a bit off the mat as he slams his knee into the back once more!]

GM:  Come on!  DQ the man!

BW:  For what?

GM:  He put his hands on an AWA official!

BW:  He was just trying to get him out of the way so he wouldn't get
hurt!

GM:  I don't believe that for a second.

[Dragging Shaw out of the corner by the back of the pants, Velikov
smashes him with a standing clothesline, knocking Shaw down to the mat
and applying another lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[A big cheer goes up for Vernon Riley who steps in, breaking up the pin
with a boot to the back of Velikov's head.  This time, it's the Baron on
the other side of the ring screaming at the official.]

GM:  Vernon Riley just saved the day for his team but Clayton Shaw needs
to get out of there badly.

BW:  He's taking a beating - just like he always does.

GM:  Riley is clapping his hands, getting this crowd to do the same,
trying to rally Shaw to get to the corner and make the tag...

[Velikov drags Shaw off the mat again, this time throwing him into the
ropes.]

GM:  Shaw off the far side... HIIIIIIIIIGH BACK BODY DROP!!  GOOD GRIEF!

[Shaw rolls around on the canvas, screaming in pain at the impact to his
back.  A smirking Velikov grabs Shaw by the ankle, dragging him back to
the corner where he slaps the hand of the Baron.]

GM:  In comes the Baron... stomping and kicking at Shaw...

[Leaping up, the Baron lands a weird looking fistdrop before applying a
cover.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!!  THR- kickout!  Shaw got the shoulder up!

BW:  Just barely.  He's in trouble, Gordo.

GM:  And the Baron again with a shower of punches to the upper body and
head!  This guy is mental!

[The Baron drags Shaw up by the head, firing him into the ropes,
connecting with a big boot to the chest that knocks Shaw back to the
ropes where he bounces off...

...and OBLITERATES the Baron with a full body clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHH!  HE CAUGHT HIM THERE!!

BW:  Shaw threw EVERYTHING he had into that clothesline!  His entire
body and soul went into that one move!

[And slowly the chant starts up...]


"U-S-A!" "U-S-A!" "U-S-A!"


[Riley claps and stomps along with the chant, pumping his fist as he
screams for his partner to get across the ring and make the tag.]

GM:  Riley wants the tag so badly.  He's pacing back and forth on the
apron, screaming at Shaw to get there...

BW:  These fans have lost their minds!  Listen to that chant!

[Velikov is screaming at the crowd, cupping his hands over his ears as
Clayton Shaw crawls closer and closer to the corner.  He's just outside
of reach when the Baron grabs him by the leg.]

GM:  Ohh!  Cut off by the Baron...

[But not for long as Shaw rolls to his back and UNCORKS a brutal kick to
the face that knocks the Baron flat, breaking his grip and allowing one
last lunge for...]

GM:  TAG!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Vernon Riley comes through the ropes into the
ring, charging across...

...and DRILLING Velikov with a right hand that sends him sailing off the
apron to the floor!]

GM:  Oh yeah!

[Von Klauss staggers to his feet as Riley spins around, looking for more
action.]

GM:  Riley's got the German in his sights... jab!  Jab!  Jab!

[The crowd roars as Riley hops to the side, peppering Von Klauss over
and over with a stinging left jab to the jaw...

...which ends as he spins his hands around with a flourish before
dropping the German with a right hand!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Down goes the German...

[Velikov pulls himself back up on the apron...

...and gets drilled with an overhead elbow smash to the skull!]

GM:  Atomic elbow!  Riley dropped him again!

[Spinning around, the German is up to a knee when Riley winds up...]

GM:  Atomic elbow on Von Klauss as well!  Vernon Riley is a house of
fire in there!

[Pulling the German off the mat, Riley fires him into the ropes,
catching him on the rebound...]

GM:  SLEEPER!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  Riley's got the sleeper locked in on the German!

BW:  He's got it in deep too!

GM:  This is one of the most famous moves of Vernon Riley - he's used it
to put people out from coast to coast!  Taught to him by one of his old
train- ohhh!

[The crowd groans as Vladimir Velikov rolls in again, drilling Riley in
the back of the head and neck with a sledgehammer-like forearm smash. 
Yanking him out of the sleeper, Velikov throws him to the ropes.]

GM:  SICKL- ducked by Riley!

[A huge crowd cheer goes up as Riley ducks under the Russian Sickle
attempt, leaving his feet with a big cross body on a stunned Baron Von
Klauss!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Riley pops up as Velikov moves in towards him, blocking a big right
hand, and then slamming the Russian with one of his own, knocking him
back towards the ropes...

...which allows Clayton Shaw to stampede across the ring, CRUSHING
Velikov with a clothesline that takes both men over the ropes and down
to the floor to a big roar from the crowd!]

GM:  SHAW TAKES OUT VELIKOV!!

[And with the ring cleared, Vernon Riley drags the Baron to his feet,
grabbing him by the arm.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by the Baron!  Riley hits the corner hard!

[With the big man stunned, the Baron charges in towards him.]

GM:  CLOTHESLI- OHHHH!

[Riley sidesteps the charge at the last moment, causing the Baron to
smash into the buckles.  The Amarillo, Texas native quickly hooks a side
headlock, swinging his arm around once in a circle before charging out
of the corner, dragging the German along with him before leaping into
the air...

...and SMASHING the Baron facefirst into the mat with a running
bulldog!]

GM:  RILEY ROUNDUP!  RILEY ROUNDUP!

[Vernon Riley quickly rolls into a lateral press, reaching back to hook
a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... Clayton Shaw and Vernon Riley!

[Riley springs to his feet, throwing an arm into the air as Clayton Shaw
rolls under the bottom rope, getting slowly to his feet as well.]

GM:  What a win for Riley and Shaw!  They put down the Russian and the
German!

[Shaw staggers across the ring, falling into an embrace with his partner
as the crowd roars.]

GM:  Clayton Shaw and Vernon Riley defeat the Russian and the German and
they've gotta be loving this!  Especially Clayton Shaw.  We heard him
say earlier how he's spent two years trying to get at Vladimir Velikov
and he finally does it here tonight.

BW:  He didn't pin Velikov.  Riley pinned the German.

GM:  It was a tag team match, Bucky.  Riley and Shaw get the big win,
fans, and we'll be right back with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling
action!

[The shot holds on the ring where Riley and Shaw are still celebrating
before we fade to black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back to live action where Melissa Cannon is in the ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Already in the ring at this time... from Tocula, Mexico...
Jose Reyes!

[A decent sized cheer from the neighbor from South of the border.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Las Vegas, Nevada... he is the #5
contender to the AWA National Title...

SHAAAAANE DESTINY!

[Destiny walks through the curtain with purpose, not even blinking as he
heads straight for the ring, rolling under the bottom rope.  Jose Reyes
knows something is up as he rushes to try to get an edge...

...and gets chopped right off his feet.]


"Ring the damn bell!"


[Destiny's order does not go ignored as the referee calls for the bell
to start the match.  But Shane Destiny seems like he couldn't care less
what the referee is doing as he drops down to all fours, wrapping his
hands around the throat of Reyes, choking him relentlessly.]

GM:  He's choking him!  Come on, referee!

[Destiny abruptly breaks the chokehold, grabbing Reyes by the head and
drilling him with a pair of right hands.  He switches his grip to a
double handful of hair, smashing Reyes' head into the mat over and over
and over.]

GM:  Referee!  Stop this!

[Still holding the hair, Destiny flips Reyes over on his stomach.  He
pulls Reyes hard by the hair into an inverted facelock, sitting down on
the back and yanking back hard.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  My god, Gordon... do you know what that is?

[Reyes immediately submits, screaming in pain as the referee calls for
the bell.]

GM:  I don't-

BW:  That's the Destiny Strangle!  Shane Destiny hasn't used this move
in years, Gordon!  He quit using it because of how dangerous it was! 
This used to be his finisher but he quit- my god!

GM:  Break the hold, ref!

[The referee is screaming at Destiny to break the hold as a stoic
Destiny just pulls back harder, causing more cries of pain to escape
Jose Reyes.]

GM:  What in the world has gotten into Shane Destiny?

BW:  This is the most dangerous submission move in the business in my
opinion!  You heard Destiny talk earlier about how he put Macht
Kraftwerk out of wrestling years ago - well, THIS is what did it!  Shane
Destiny's put countless people on the shelf with this!

GM:  Break the damn hold!

[The referee is losing his mind at this point, absolutely screaming at
Destiny.]

GM:  Shane Destiny won't let go... he won't-

[Destiny screams at Reyes.]


"YOU LIKE THIS, LANGSETH?  THIS IS YOU!  THIS IS HOW YOUR CAREER ENDS!"


GM:  He's shouting at Langseth... Langseth's not here, you maniac!  This
is Jose Reyes!  This is-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  The referee is ringing the bell again.  I think he just reversed
his decision!

BW:  He doesn't care.  He's going to break this kid in half.  He's going
to end Jose Reyes' career right here in the middle of Dallas, Texas. 
This is the kind of thing that made Destiny the Legend Killer.  This is
the kind of thing that made Destiny one of the most feared men in the
business!

GM:  Come on!  Break the hold!  Break that-

[A big cheer goes up as Mark Langseth comes tearing through the
curtain...

...with Pure X right behind him!]

GM:  HERE COMES LANGSETH!

BW:  Pure X too!

[Langseth is the first in the ring, grabbing Destiny from behind around
the arm and head...

...and tearing him off of the young man being tortured.]

GM:  Ohh!  Langseth rips him off the kid!  Langseth just saved this kid!

BW:  It may be too late!

[Destiny rolls to a knee, looking for a fight...

...but finds himself staring right at Mark Langseth AND Pure X, both of
whom look ready for battle.]

GM:  Come on, Destiny!  Whaddya got now?  Take 'em both on!

BW:  I don't think so, Gordon.

[Destiny drops down to the mat, rolling under the ropes to the floor. 
He glares at both men inside the ring, slowly backing away as AWA
medical team members rush to the ring where Reyes is laid out.]

GM:  We're getting some help in here for Jose Reyes.  Shane Destiny -
the Destiny Strangle you called it, Bucky - he used that to tremendous
effect here tonight.

BW:  I can't believe he brought it back.  I mean, he was so adamant for
years that he'd never use it again.  He said it was too dangerous.  He
said it hurt too many people permanently.  Shane Destiny has never been
afraid to hurt someone but injuring someone permanently was another
story... perhaps until tonight.

GM:  Fans, we've got to get Jose Reyes out of the ring... we'll be right
back.

[Inside the ring, Langseth and Pure X are glaring at one another,
exchanging unheard words as the medical teams works on getting Jose
Reyes stabilized and out of the ring as we fade to black.

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

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

[He whips open the backpack and produces...

...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!]

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

"That rocks!"

"I want one... now!"

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

...until a fifth kid walks up.]

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

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

...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!]

"WHOA!"

"WOWER!"

"THAT ROCKS MORE!"

"I WANT ONE... NOW!"

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

...and then back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky have been
joined by Ben Waterson.]

GM:  Fans, welcome back and we've obviously been joined by-

ATTSBW:  Don't even start with me, Myers.  I'm not in a good mood.  This
whole night has been absolutely painful for me to watch and be a part
of.  But there's one thing left that can save it.

GM:  Oh?  And what's that?

ATTSBW:  For the past month, I've been coming out here and playing
videos showing you just what's going to happen when Jack Snyder shows up
in the AWA.  He's going to rain down chaos, he's going to rain down
brutality, and he's going to do it all for me!

And he's going to start... in two weeks.

[Mixed reaction from the crowd.]

ATTSBW:  Jack Snyder will debut on the next Saturday Night Wrestling and
the entire wrestling world will find out exactly WHY we've been hyping
this up.  If you've never seen Jack Snyder before, be in front of your
television two weeks from now and witness the coming of a dying breed of
man.  Be in front of-

[Waterson's words are cut off by the sounds of the sound of choppy
distorted guitar.]

GM:  What in the world is this?

ATTSBW:  ARE YOU KIDDING ME, MYERS?!  Who in the HELL has the nerve to
interrupt me out here?  I'm talking here and some idiot has decided to
interrupt me?  I will call the Southern Syndicate out here right now
and-

[The song kicks into full gear, with the whiskey-soaked voice of David
Allan Coe singing over the chugging sounds of the musical section of
Pantera. This is Rebel Meets Rebel's "Nothin' To Lose". And making his
entrance with a nasty scowl? Well, you tell 'em, boys.]

BW [sounding as meek as possible]: Uh oh.

[Funny, the crowd just said the same thing.]

GM: Oh my! It's Cousin Bo!

ATTSBW:  It's... what?!  What in the- I'm out of here!

BW: Move, Gordo, I need to get out of here too!

GM: You stay right where you are and do your job!

[And with one simple wave of Bo's hand, the curtain goes flying open and
the fans erupt in surprise at the blur that comes charging out.]

BW: OH GOD!

GM: IT'S THE BISHOP BOYS! Good lord, look at them storm the ring!

[Two poor souls standing the ring, Ike Clanton and Chase Kent, are the
unluckiest people in the world.  Yeah, not too bright either. Kent looks
like he's going to cry and Clanton stupidly puts up his dukes. Duane
Henry seems to chuckle a bit, before attacking Clanton.]

GM:  Big tackle!  And look at Duane Henry pound away with those fists!

BW:  These two are legitimately crazy!

GM: Huh, and yet you used to love that about them. What could have
possibly changed?

BW: Just...You just...Shut up, that's it. You just shut up.

[Cletus Lee stands in front of Kent, who's actually on his knees,
pleading with the giant redneck to take it easy on him. Cletus Lee
doesn't look amused. As Kent babbles on, Cletus Lee seems to sigh,
disappointed with this lousy opponent. He shrugs, and thrusts one of his
giant hands around Kent's neck. Kent's eyes go wide and he coughs
violently. Cletus Lee hoists him back up to a vertical base, maintaining
his grip.]

GM: Oh boy, I think we know what's next.

[Still with one arm, Cletus Lee hoists the smaller man into the air. But
not for long.]

GM: And DOWN he goes with a wicked chokeslam!

BW: Oh man, did you see that kid's head go bouncing off the mat? Is this
even a match?!

GM: To be honest, it's so loud in here, I never heard a bell. But Mickey
Meekly is in the ring, so I have to assume it is.

[Duane Henry grabs Clanton by the legs, and whistles, drawing Cletus
Lee's attention. The big man nods and gets into position, standing
behind his brother.]

BW: Things don't look good for ol' Jack Clanton right about now.

GM: Oh, are we changing our tune again?

BW: Hey, I loves me some violence. I just don't think me and Bo are on,
uhm, very good terms right now.

GM: Considering the look he's giving you, I'd say that's pretty
accurate.

[Bo gestures to the ring, trying to get the announcers to focus there,
not on him. Good timing.]

GM: Duane Henry falls back, slingshotting Clanton...

BW: Right into Cletus Lee's arms!

[Cletus Lee swivels a bit, and belly to belly suplexes him almost right
out of the ring.]

GM: WOW! A slingshot into a belly to belly suplex! What a combo that
was!

BW: It's also illegal double-teaming! Come on, Meekly, put the count on
them!

[But Mickey doesn't have to, as Duane Henry actually chooses to exit the
ring on his own accord, leaving Cletus Lee one-on-one with a hurting
Jack Clanton. Chase Kent, meanwhile, is slowly standing back up on the
apron.]

GM: The Bishop Boys playing fair? This is highly unusual.

BW: I hate it.

[Cletus Lee picks up Clanton, and drives a knee into his gut, doubling
him over. The larger Bishop bounces off the ropes on the opponent's
side, hitting with such force that Chase Kent is sent flying off into
the guardrail with a sickening clang. Cletus Lee doesn't even notice,
driving a big boot to the side of Clanton's head, sending him spiraling
back down to the mat.]

GM: Oh my! Chase Kent has to be absolutely out of it on the outside!

BW: And Clanton ain't doing much better on the inside!

[Duane Henry throws his hands up in the air in disgust and shouts down
at Bo about how these opponents are worthless. Bo thinks to himself for
a second before nodding at his cousin, who seems pleased by this. Duane
Henry turns back around and yells out to his brother, who's looking out
in annoyance at the fallen Kent. Cletus Lee looks back and forth between
his brother and Kent.]

GM: What is he doing?

BW: I think he's gonna go cripple the kid. Seems to be par for the cour-

[Bucky stops in surprise as Cletus Lee walks back over to his corner and
tags Duane Henry.]

BW: What the heck? Normally, Cletus Lee would beat the runt into a pile
of blood and guts.

GM: Surprising indeed. But this sure isn't.

[Cletus Lee sets up, slapping his leg in anticipation. Duane Henry,
however, shakes his head. Cletus Lee looks at him in surprise.  Duane
Henry signals for Cletus Lee to lift Clanton. Cletus Lee nods and picks
him back up. Duane Henry exits and climbs to the top turnbuckle. Cletus
Lee hoists Clanton into position for a powerbomb.]

GM: Wow, they're not using Doc Allan's Miracle Headache Elixir? This is
indeed surprising.

BW: Aw, come on. They're not even gonna use the one move of theirs I
really like? Who are these guys and what have they done with The Bishop
Boys?

[Duane Henry leaps off the top, nailing Clanton right in the face with a
dropkick, and Cletus Lee follows through with a nasty powerbomb that
almost puts him right through the mat. Duane Henry scurries over and
makes the cover.]

GM: This one's in the books.  One.  Two.  Three.

[Ding! Ding! Ding! "Nothin' To Lose" comes blaring back over the PA as
Duane Henry quickly exits the ring, Cletus Lee staying a bit longer to
stare at Clanton's motionless body.]

MC: Here are your winners, at a time of 1 minute and 30 seconds, THE
BISHOP BOYS!

[Cletus Lee shakes his head and exits, following Duane Henry and Bo over
to the announcers' area. Bucky tries unsuccessfully to hide behind
Gordon as Bo stares a hole through him.]

BW [stammering]: Uh, um, h-hey, Bo!

[Bo points at Bucky menacingly.]

CB: That's Mr. Allen to you, Wilde! Now keep your fat mouth shut. The
men are talking.

[Is that actually a slight pop for Bo? These are crazy times.]

GM: Mr. Allen, I'm sure the question on everybod-

[Bo cuts Gordon off by raising a hand.]

CB: Hold on to that question, Myers. First, there's something I really
need to get off my chest.

[Bo turns towards his cousins.]

CB: For the last couple of months, I've been riding these two about
dropping the ball.

[Bo looks at Duane Henry.]

CB: When you lost to EMS all the way back at Death Or Glory, I gave you
hell.

[Duane Henry rolls his eyes, hating to be reminded of this yet again.]

CB: And then, at SuperClash, when you both made a mistake, and basically
handed the victory to Rough N Ready, I was absolutely furious.

[Cletus Lee nods, remembering Bo slapping him across the face.]

CB: When that happened, I told you in no uncertain terms that if you
were to fail again, I would take care of the both of you myself.

[Duane Henry folds his arms, wondering where Bo could possibly be taking
this. Bo takes a deep breath and scratches his head.]

CB: So then we get to... The Stampede Cup.

[Bo sighs and shakes his head. Cletus Lee looks at his brother
quizzically, Duane Henry responding with the same.]

CB: We were finally delivering. The Taylors? Done for, though we had
some help there.

[The Bishops nod in agreement.]

CB: The Right Proper Thugs? Annihilated them.

[More nods.]

CB: The Cinderella story of Fitzgerald and Lawson?  Brought to a
crashing halt.

[Yes, they nod again.]

CB: So then we get the *ahem* "champions".

[Oh yeah, he did the finger quotes.]

CB: Already big losers in the tournament, but hey, we're not gonna turn
down a fight.

[Duane Henry looks to interrupt, but Bo finally gets to the point.]

CB: Those two, for the second night in a row, were dead to rights. We
had the entire thing WON. And then...

[Bo shakes his head with a nasty look on his face.]

CB ...the snake came out of hiding.

[Bo rubs his chin, still remembering Dufresne's superkick. To say that
the Bishops are seething is an understatement.]

CB: It's funny, Duane Henry. I still remember the first words out of
your mouth when I told you two that we were going to be working with Ben
Waterson.

[Bo looks to the ground.]

CB: "No way, cuz! We don't need to cozy up to some stinkin' agent! We
can destroy these tag teams all by ourselves!"

[Duane Henry nods in remembrance.]

CB: But, hey, I'm the great businessman! So was I going to listen to
you? Oh, no, of COURSE not! I had my ego to feed!

[Bo gnashes his teeth in anger.]

CB: All you two ever told me was how much you HATED this alignment. How
much you didn't trust him. And all I ever did was try to convince you
otherwise. Not ONCE did I ever stop to listen to any concerns either of
you had.

[Bo bristles as he looks around at the crowd.]

CB: And, sure enough, he did exactly what you told me he was going to
do. Use us as pawns. Mere henchmen to carry out plans he couldn't
possibly accomplish on his own.

[Duane Henry nods with a look that says "Told you".]

CB: So it would seem that this time...

[Bo points to himself.]

CB: ...the one who dropped the ball was _me_!

[Everyone hushes at this admission. The crowd, the announcers, even The
Bishops themselves look surprised by this.]

CB: And I know this can't possibly make up for all that wasted time I'm
largely responsible for, but dammit, it's a start.

[Bo looks right into his cousins' eyes, and without any hesitation, says
the one thing nobody would EVER expect to hear from the mouth of Cousin
Bo Allan.]

CB: I'm sorry.

[The crowd gasps in shock. Gordon almost drops his mic in surprise. The
Bishop Boys, however, seem strangely satisfied. Bo looks pleased at
admitting his mistake and turns to Gordon.]

CB: Now, I believe you had a question?

GM: I, uh, wow. Er, yes, I did.

[Gordon gains his composure and clears his throat.]

GM: Given what just happened in the ring, and what you said, does this
mean The Bishop Boys are turning over a new leaf?

CB: Not in the slightest, Myers. If you think we're going to suck up to
the fans all of a sudden, you better think again. Think of this more as
an unleashing, if you will.

GM: An unleashing?

[Bo nods.]

CB: I'm not going to hold my cousins back anymore. As of next week,
we've been with this company for one year. I think it's about time they
take everything they've learned in the gym, and everything they've
learned by observing, and finally show everybody what they're truly
capable of. The future lies in their hands now, and that's not good news
for anybody.

[Bo smiles.]

CB: We don't care whether you're liked by the fans or hated by them. If
you stand across the ring from us, you're leaving in an ambulance. No
questions asked. If you value your lives? I have one simple piece of
advice.

[Bo laughs.]

CB: Run. We just don't care anymore. That ring is OUR dominion, and it's
high time we start proving it. You want somebody to blame for this?

[Bo shrugs.]

CB: Blame yourselves for not listening to my warning. But if you REALLY
need a scapegoat? You want someone you can curse the name of every time
the pain in your head and back makes you think life isn't worth living
anymore? You invoke the name of the man who woke the sleeping giants
himself.

[Bo stares a hole through the camera as he spits out the one name that
makes him angrier than the rest.

CB: Ben Waterson.

[Bo looks back at Gordon.]

CB: Y'know that little bounty Juan Vasquez put on Waterson's head?

[Gordon nods.]

CB: Well, if anybody's intending on collecting, they better act fast.
Because if we manage to get our hands on him and his little band of
parasites first? You can forget about it. We will obliterate every
single member of his ego trip by OURSELVES, if we have to. And the real
kick in the pants about that?

[Bo mimes rubbing coins together and shakes his head.]

CB: Vasquez can keep his damn money. We will wipe The Southern Syndicate
from existence...

[Bo gets in Gordon's face and speaks very slowly so everyone will
understand.]

CB:  ...FOR FREE!

[And with another wave of Bo's arm, The Bishop Boys quickly make their
way to the back, letting what Bo just said sink in.]

GM:  The Southern Syndicate may have just seen the worst nightmare come
true.  The Bishop Boys?  They're comin' for 'em, Bucky.

BW:  Are they gone?

GM:  Fans, we've got one more award left!  We'll be right back with
that!

[We hold on Gordon and Bucky for a moment before fading to black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to Gordon and Bucky who have been joined by JTF's
Chock Full one more time.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and welcome back, Mr. Full.  Again, we want to
thank you for coming to Dallas to be here with us tonight and it's been
our pleasure to have you be a part of Awards Night here on Saturday
Night Wrestling.

CF:  The pleasure is all mine, Gordon.

GM:  Before you present the final award, I want to thank WKIK for
letting us go a little bit past our scheduled time so we can present
this final award.  We've had a lot of chaos tonight and we're running a
little bit long.  Mr. Full, if you please...

[Chock Full reveals one more plaque, this one a bit larger than the
others presented throughout the night.]

CF:  It is with great pleasure that I award this plaque to the man that
the fans on Just The Facts have voted as the WRESTLER OF THE YEAR...

[Big cheer!]

CF:  JUAN VASQUEZ!

[The big cheer grows louder as Vasquez walks out from the curtain,
actually dressed up a bit now.  He's in a black suit as he walks out to
the announce table, shaking hands with Gordon and Chock Full before
accepting the plaque.  He smiles wide as he stares down at the plaque,
holding it up to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Juan, this is a great honor.  A tremendous accomplishment and at a
moment like this, how are you feeling?

[Vasquez looks down at the plaque again, shaking his head.]

JV: Wrestler of the year.

[Juan laughs. He doesn't really believe it himself.]

JV: I mean, seriously... wow.

[He's speechless, really. Standing there in a state of delerium/shock,
Juan really doesn't know what to say. He finally composes himself enough
to continue on.]

JV: You know, I've been wrestling for a long, long time and I've done a
lot of great things in this sport, but this was the first time I ever
won one of these things.

[He stops to admire the award in his hand, chuckling to himself.]

JV: Somebody pinch me, 'cause I think I must be dreaming!

[Face pop! He's absolutely giddy, really.]

JV: This really is an honor. I mean, after the year that we've been
through, after all those tough times that we had to endure, I really
gotta' say that when I see this award in my hand, I know that no matter
what I had to go through to get here...it was all worth it.

[That smile on his face is about a million miles wide right about now.]

JV: I just wanna' thank my family, all the fans of the AWA and anyone
that ever bought a ticket to see Juan Vasquez for supporting me, 'cause
this wouldn't have been possible without any of you!

[The crowd erupts with applause as Juan holds that award high into the
air for everyone to see. However, the cheering quickly turns to boos as
they see the Southern Syndicate entering from the back.]

GM:  Wait a second... this is not your time to be out here.  This is
Juan Vasquez' time.  This is-

[Ben Waterson, leading the way for Stevie Scott, Raphael Rhodes, Calisto
Dufresne, and Adrian Freeman, snatches the mic away from Gordon Myers.]

ATTSBW:  Myers, you should know by now that when we say it's our time...
it's our time.

[Waterson glares threateningly at Myers who begs off.]

ATTSBW:  Well, Juan, you said it yourself.  Seriously?

[Waterson shakes his head.]

ATTSBW: The fans seriously voted _you_ as the wrestler of the year? 
Have these people _seen_ all the butt-kickings we've given you from the
time you thought you were man enough to challenge the champ?

[Waterson thumbs over his shoulder at Stevie as he says "the champ."  He
then pauses, turning and looking out at the fans momentarily before
returning his stare toward Vasquez.]

ATTSBW: Then again, I shouldn't be surprised.  These people are hardly
MENSA material.

[Heel pop!]

ATTSBW: But like the champ said earlier, Juan...you may have won some
meaningless award voted on by these meaningless fans...

...but the one _real_ prize you want?

[This time, Ben turns toward Stevie and pats the face plate of the
National Title across Stevie's shoulder.]

ATTSBW: Is one you're never...gonna...get.

[The crowd boos, as Waterson has a smug grin on his face.  Juan simply
shakes his head and smiles, taking an offered mic from a nearby
production guy.]

JV: Ya' know, I ain't surprised that you're out here flappin' your gums
_again._

[A sigh.]

JV: But what can I expect? Second-rate threats...

[Smirk.]

JV: ...from a _second-rate_ manager.

[Face pop! The smile on Waterson's face is quickly wiped away as he's
reminded of his own award loss.]

JV: You really can't let someone else get just a moment of glory for
themselves, can you? Any time something good happens around here, you
don't have to wait five seconds before the Southern Syndicate comes
along to rain on your parade.

[He shakes his head sadly.]

JV: Really, it's become something of a running joke now.

[Juan pauses and smiles, because even if he's going to pay for it later,
he never could resist a good cheapshot.]

JV: Kinda' like that coward we call the National champion.

[Big pop!  Clearly annoyed, Stevie jaws something at Juan from
off-camera, but we don't hear it... thank god.]

JV: You know, Stevie ain't gonna' be the champion forever.  If it ain't
gonna' me that does it, I know that someday, somehow...someone _will_
take that title from him. But this award?  It shows that no matter how
much money you throw around, how much planning and how many thugs you
employ...people can still see through all your bull.

This is something that you can _never_ take away from me.

[Juan puts the award down and whips off his suit jacket, rolling up his
sleeves. The crowd, sensing that something's about to go down, quickly
begins to grow louder.]

JV: But if you really want it so badly, why don't we go down to this
ring right now...so I can shove it right down your throat!

[Huge pop!  Vasquez, plaque in hand, heads to the ring, rolling under
the ropes.  He shouts over the ropes, screaming at the Southern
Syndicate, waving them towards the ring.]

GM:  Well, how 'bout it, guys?

ATTSBW:  Shaddup, Myers!  We run this show!  We do what we want!  We-

[Suddenly, Waterson is interrupted by another suit jacket being thrown
down on the announce table.]

HSS:  I'll do it!  You think you can throw down a challenge at my feet
and walk away, boy?!

[Scott shows some fire, slamming his hands down on the broadcast table,
and then kicks the podium over, turning red in the face as he points at
Vasquez who nods his head, waving the Hotshot into the ring...

...and off he goes, the Hotshot breaking into a full sprint, charging to
the ring, diving headfirst under the bottom rope!]

GM:  Here we go!  Here we go!

[The Hosthot pops up to his feet, arm already reared back to throw but
Juan Vasquez is waiting for him, having set the plaque aside as he
throws a right hand of his own, popping the National Champion on the
jaw!]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands!

[A few more right hands from Vasquez put the Hotshot on the ropes where
Vasquez approaches...

...and RIPS Scott's shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere before
he uncorks a hard knife-edge chop across the chest!]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a chop!

[Grabbing Scott by the hair, Vasquez drags him out to the center of the
ring, snapping off an uppercut that knocks the Hotshot down to a knee. 
Waterson springs up on the apron, shouting at Vasquez...

...but before Vasquez can level him, Waterson jumps back down, having
served his purpose as the Hotshot races across the ring, connecting with
a leaping knee that knocks Vasquez through the ropes and out to the
barely-padded concrete floor!]

GM:  Ohhh.... now look out!

[The rest of the Southern Syndicate swarms Vasquez, rocking him with
stomps and kicks.  Raphael Rhodes drops down to the floor, strangling
the life out of Vasquez and at a shout from Scott, they fire the Number
One Contender back into the ring where it's Scott's turn to rip the
shirt off of Juan Vasquez' back!]

BW:  This has turned into a tuxedo match, daddy!

[Scott reaches down to his pants, undoing his belt.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  Is Stevie taking his pants off?

[Nope.  Instead, the champion winds up with the leather belt, swinging
it down across the back of Vasquez!]

GM:  Ohh!  He lashed him with the belt!

[The Hotshot is scowling as he loops the belt around the throat of Juan
Vasquez, yanking back on the belt, strangling the air out of Vasquez!]

GM:  He's choking the life out of Vasquez!  He's choking the-

[With Vasquez down on the mat, turning bright red and choking against
the leather belt, his hands start searching the canvas...

...and they find what he's looking for!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE HIT HIM WITH THE PLAQUE!  VASQUEZ HIT HIM WITH THE PLAQUE!

[The Hotshot sails backwards from the impact, hitting the canvas...

...and Vasquez leaps atop him, battering his skull with right hands as
quickly as he can throw 'em.]

GM:  Vasquez is all over him!  He's beating the life out of the National
Champion!

[Out on the floor, the Southern Syndicate seems ready to strike at any
moment but Waterson keeps them back, shouting at his men to hold their
distance...

...for now.]

GM:  Vasquez pulls the Hotshot off the mat... oh my god!

[The crowd ROARS as they spot a crimson mask starting to form on the
face of the National Champion!]

GM:  Vasquez split him open with the plaque!  He busted him wide open!

[Blood pours from a wound on the head of the Hotshot, dripping down on
his bare chest as Vasquez throws him back into the corner, chopping him
over and over across the chest again.]

GM:  He's tearing into the champ...

[A big whip sends the Hotshot smashing into the opposite corner,
staggering out...

...and getting hoisted over the shoulder of Vasquez where he reaches
back to cradle the head and neck.]

GM:  He's got him!  He's got him!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Vasquez dashes a few steps, leaping in the air and
smashing the back of Scott's head into the canvas!]

GM:  CITY OF ANGELS!!

[And that opens the floodgates as Rhodes, Freeman, and Dufresne roll
into the ring, making a beeline for Vasquez!]

GM:  No!

[Rhodes throws himself at Vasquez in a tackle, taking him off his feet
and allowing Freeman and Dufresne to drop down to the mat on top of
Vasquez throwing punches and forearms and elbows and anything they can
to do some damage...

...when suddenly the crowd goes nuts with nervousness.]

GM:  MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!

BW:  Get the checkbooks out 'cause Mizusawa is about to collect!

[The Asian giant steps up on the ring apron, slinging his leg over the
top rope as the Syndicate backs away, leaving Vasquez on his knees
before the giant.]

GM:  Oh my god.

BW:  We're going to see the Second Anniversary Show early!

[Mizusawa steps forward, glaring down at Vasquez.  Outside the ring,
Louis Matsui is shouting instructions to his giant who slowly reaches
down, ready to grip one side of Vasquez' head with each hand...

...but loses his focus just long enough for Vasquez to SMASH his fist
right in the groin of the giant!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[Mizusawa shows pain perhaps for the first time in the AWA, crumpling
backwards and falling into the corner as the crowd erupts for Vasquez!]

GM:  VASQUEZ FLOORED THE GIANT!!

[Springing off his knees, Vasquez spins around and DRILLS Raphael Rhodes
with a right hand!]

GM:  OH YEAH!!

[The crowd erupts as Vasquez charges the Syndicate, fists flying in
every direction when suddenly...]

GM:  PRESTON!!

[The Combat Corner graduate comes charging out of the locker room,
racing to the ring where he quickly scales the top rope...

...and takes flight with a picture perfect cross body, wiping out a
stunned Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  HE LEVELS RHODES!!

[With Rhodes getting hit and Preston on his feet, Simon Rhodes comes
tearing out of the locker room as well, nailing Preston from behind with
a forearm to the back of the head.  Across the ring, Vasquez is teeing
off on Adrian Freeman with right hands.]

GM:  This is breaking down out here!  We've gotta get-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  FITZGERALD AND LAWSON!!

[Bailey Fitzgerald is in the lead with his hobbling partner charging
behind him.  Both men hit the ring, making a rush towards the National
Tag Team Champions while Vasquez spins off, looking for Stevie Scott...

...and spotting the bloodied National Champion rolling from the ring,
staggering with an arm across the shoulders of Ben Waterson over towards
the announce area.]

BW:  Gordo, I'm outta here.

[Bucky Wilde does indeed make a run for it as Stevie Scott collapses to
his knees by the announce position...

...which allows Juan Vasquez enough time to rush from the ring, catching
up to the champion!]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is right in front of me here, driving right hands into
the champ's skull...

[Dragging the Hotshot off the floor by the hair, Vasquez screams just
before he SMASHES Scott's face onto the toppled announce podium!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Suddenly, out from behind the WKIK Studio set comes the ninja assassin
known as Seishuki who lashes out with a thrust kick, catching Vasquez in
the ribcage.  Grabbing him by the throat, Seishuki prepares to blow the
black mist into his eyes once again...

...but Vasquez drops down, causing the black mist to hit absolutely
nothing.]

GM:  He missed!  He missed the mist!

[...which allows Vasquez to pop to his feet, uncorking a right hand that
knocks Seishuki down to the floor.  Vasquez climbs atop the bounty
hunter, raining right hands down on the ninja warrior to the roar of the
crowd.

Back inside the ring, Adrian Freeman has managed to get Corey Lawson
down on the mat, twisting the leg in a spinning toehold while Bailey
Fitzgerald trades right hands with Calisto Dufresne.  Raphael and Simon
Rhodes have Eric Preston cornered, battering him with chops and kicks to
the body.]

GM:  We need some help out here!  We need security out here!

[But it's not security we get, it's Brent Maverick who comes charging
from the locker room, heading straight to the ring where he tackles
Simon Rhodes down to the mat, rolling around in a brawl with the Rhodes
brother.]

GM:  Brent Maverick's out here now!  Nobody's even gotten to talk to
Maverick yet!  We have no idea why he's here but for the second time
tonight, he's come to Juan Vasquez and Eric Preston's aid!  This time he
didn't bring the steel chair though but Lord knows he might need it! 
The Keenings aren't here tonight.  They had other commitments but thank
heavens for Brent Maverick!

[Vasquez pulls Seishuki up off the floor and hurls him through the air
in a hiptoss, sending him crashing in a heap to the concrete floor.  The
Number One Contender lets loose a loud bellow as he turns back to Stevie
Scott who is still trying to crawl away with the aid of Ben Waterson...

...and Vasquez heads straight for him, shoving Waterson down as he drags
the Hotshot up by the hair, and SMASHES his bloody face into the WKIK
Studios wall!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Inside the ring, Raphael Rhodes has thrown Eric Preston through the
ropes to the floor...

...and SMASHED Brent Maverick in the face with a kneesmash, giving Simon
an edge on him.  Raphael rolls to the floor though, dragging Preston off
the floor by the hair, and getting popped with a fiery right hand by the
rookie!  Preston continues to throw blows at Rhodes as the Samoan Hit
Squad, Scola and Mafu, race past the brawl, hitting the ring where they
immediately attack Adrian Freeman, freeing Corey Lawson from the assault
on his leg!]

GM:  We've got the Samoans out here as well!  And they're going after
Freeman!

[Corey Lawson uses the moment to roll out to the floor, clutching his
leg, as his partner, Bailey Fitzgerald mounts the middle rope, raining
right hands down on Calisto Dufresne.]

GM:  I can't keep this all straight, fans.  We hope you can follow along
with us but this is nuts!

[The giant, still holding his nether regions, gets back to his feet and
doesn't look happy as he stalks across the ring, grabbing a Samoan with
each hand...

...and SMASHING their heads together in a noggin knocker!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[But the Samoans aren't having any of that, shaking off the effects, and
SMASHING the giant with a double headbutt that sends him falling
backwards over the top rope to the floor!  Scola and Mafu leap from the
ring, going after the giant...

...which frees up Adrian Freeman who staggers across the ring and
up-ends Fitzgerald, sending him sailing over the ropes and down to the
concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!  FITZGERALD HITS THE FLOOR HARD!

[Freeman shakes his partner, trying to revive him...

...and rushes to help Simon Rhodes with Brent Maverick, delivering a
hard boot to the face of Maverick, knocking him off of Simon Rhodes.]

GM:  We've got a three on one on Brent Maverick inside the ring!

[The camera cuts to the announce area where Vasquez is dragging Scott
around by the hair, smashing his face into anything in sight.  He walks
beyond the wooden wall where the AWA logo hangs...

...and comes sailing back the other way, courtesy of Kraken and a mighty
Uraken!]

GM:  OHHH!  WHAT A SHOT!!

[Vasquez crumples in a heap on the concrete floor, Kraken standing over
him triumphantly...

...and a quick cut shows Raphael Rhodes and Eric Preston trading blows,
brawling up into the bleachers ringside at the WKIK Studios!]

GM:  Look at that!  Get out of their way, fans!

[Preston's big looping haymakers have Rhodes backpedaling through the
bleachers, trying to escape the youngster's enthusiastic brawling.  The
crowd roars, trying to get out of the way but still dying to get a good
view of the fight...

Another quick cut reveals "Blinding Sun" Tatsumi Nanami racing into view
through the curtain.  He races towards the downed Stevie Scott and Ben
Waterson, grabbing Waterson by the shirt.]

GM:  Whoa!  Nanami's out here!  We haven't seen him since the night
started!  He's got Waterson!  He's got-

[Nanami glares at Waterson, who is screaming in response, looking
absolutely terrified...

...then suddenly relieved as Nanami spins off of Waterson, kicking a
kneeling Vasquez in the head as he kneels in front of the massive
Kraken!]

GM:  OHHH!  Nanami attacks Vasquez!  I thought... he tricked us!  I
thought he was going after Waterson and the National Champion but he
went after Vasquez instead!

[Nanami stands over Vasquez, staring stoically at the the prone Number
One Contender...

...but a hard shove by Kraken breaks up his moment!]

GM:  Whoa!

[Nanami, not one to be bullied, replies by firing a right hand at
Kraken.  And another.  And another.  And soon, Nanami and Kraken are
brawling as well, all over the ringside area!]

GM:  Nanami and Kraken!  The bounty hunters are beating each other up! 
We've got fights raging all over the WKIK Studios!

[A quick cut back to the bleachers shows Preston battering Rhodes closer
and closer to the edge of the bleachers.  He rushes towards Rhodes who
backdrops him...

...but not off the bleachers, merely sending him crashing down hard on
the steel!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[Rhodes drops down to a knee, battering Preston up near the top of the
bleachers as we cut back inside the ring where Dufresne and Freeman are
each holding an arm of Brent Maverick as Simon Rhodes batters him.]

GM:  Brent Maverick is getting pummeled by the Southern Syndicate!  He's
just absolutely getting hammered by them inside the ring and-

[The crowd EXPLODES!]

GM:  BISHOPS!  BISHOPS!

[Cletus Lee Bishop and Duane Henry Bishop come sailing from the locker
room, racing past all the chaos on the floor with only one target in
mind...

...the National Tag Team Champions!]

GM:  THE BISHOPS HIT THE RING!!

[And that's enough for Dufresne and Freeman to flee the ring...

...and actually flee the building, running out through the emergency
exit doors, rushing from the WKIK Studios!]

GM:  THE BISHOPS CLEAR OUT THE CHAMPS!!  BUT THEY'RE GOING AFTER 'EM!!

[The crowd roars as the Bishops go out the emergency doors as well, in
hot pursuit of the National Tag Team Champions!

A quick pan shows Eric Preston back on his feet with Raphael Rhodes
smashing him with headbutt after headbutt to the back of the skull. 
Grabbing him by the hair, Rhodes drags him closer to the edge of the
bleachers.]

GM:  Oh my god!  Get them down from there!  Somebody get them down from
there!

[A quick cut shows Juan Vasquez getting back to his feet, catching a
fleeing Stevie Scott by the hair, dragging the bloodied National
Champion away from the entrance curtain, flinging him back towards
Gordon Myers and the announce area.]

GM:  Whoa!  Fans, I... fans, I need to get out of here.  I'll try to
keep talking but if the- whoa!

[Myers retreats as Vasquez bursts into view, kicking Stevie Scott
squarely in the side of the head, knocking him back down to the concrete
floor.  The Number One Contender drops down to his knees, grabbing the
champion by the hair...

...and SMASHING his face into the concrete!

The camera quickly cuts again, this time to Preston and Rhodes where
Preston lunges forward, grabbing Rhodes by the legs, hoisting him up in
the air in a double leg takedown, and DRIVING him down on the bleachers
to the roar of the crowd!  Preston pops back up to his feet, letting
loose a loud war cry as he looks out over the crowd...

...and spots James Monosso slinking in from the locker room area,
heading towards Juan Vasquez who continues to pummel Stevie Scott on the
floor.  Preston stands up, races towards the edge of the bleachers,
stepping up onto the railing.

He pauses, looking out over the Studios, and shouts down at Monosso,
drawing his attention...

...and LEAPS off the perch, sailing through the air, and crashing down
onto Monosso with a cross body block, taking both men out of the
equation as they hit the concrete!  The crowd EXPLODES in reaction to
the death-defying move, even drawing Vasquez' attention who sees what
young Preston risked to save him.

Shaking his head, Vasquez drags the bloodied Scott up by the hair,
pointing at the downed Preston.]

"YOU!  YOU CAUSED ALL THIS!  THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!!"

[Dragging Scott back towards the AWA logo, Vasquez SMASHES his face into
the wooden wall again.  He holds Scott up, shaking his head at him...

...and does it again, leaving a bloody streak where Scott's face drags
along the wall.  The National Champion attempts to slip down to the
ground but Vasquez refuses to let it happen, dragging Scott up again,
spinning him around, and SLAMMING the back of his head into the wooden
set wall, causing Stevie to slump down the wall, barely able to stand as
he clings to the wall.

A furious Vasquez backs away, still screaming at the National Champion,
gesturing wildly at Preston... at the downed Lawson and Fitzgerald... at
Brent Maverick...

...and with a blood-curdling anguished scream, Vasquez rushes forward as
fast as his battered body will allow, THROWING himself into a spear
tackle aimed squarely at the ribcage of the National Champion.

He connects, knocking the wind out of the Hotshot, whipping his head
forward and sending blood flying as their bodies slam into the wooden
wall that makes up the set for Saturday Night Wrestling in the WKIK
Studios...

...a wall that without warning, suddenly collapses backwards from the
impact of the spear tackle!

The crowd erupts in cheers at the sight of the wall collapsing, then
fall to a hush as both men are completely unmoving from the impact.  The
brawling elsewhere in the studios stop as everyone rushes towards the
fallen wall, looking to help.  A desperate and shocked Ben Waterson is
screaming, screaming bloody murder at anyone all around as he tries to
get to his charge.  AWA officials flood the scene, looking to finally
regain some control...

...when slowly, someone emerges from the wreckage.

It's Juan Vasquez.  Covered in splinters, dust, and blood - some of
which now belongs to him - he looks right into the nearest camera,
lifting a weary arm to point at the camera.  The camera zooms in on
Vasquez, close enough to catch his weakened voice.]

"The war... has just... begun."

[And we fade to black.]