**********************************************************
**********************************************************
********************************************************** 
  American Wrestling Alliance 
        Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

   Live from the WKIK Studios 
          Dallas, Texas 
       February 27, 2010
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************

[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 Eric Preston as he 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."

[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,
tonight, after the chaos that we just saw at the opening two weeks ago -
tonight, we are on LOCKDOWN!

BW:  That's right.  Two weeks ago, our whole studio just about came
tumbling down, daddy.

GM:  Literally, Bucky!  This wall where we're standing was on the ground
at the hands of Juan Vasquez and Stevie Scott and-

[Myers is interrupted by a HUGE heel pop, and then by the two who are on
the receiving end of said heel pop, Ben Waterson and Stevie Scott. 
Before Myers can react, an irate Waterson snatches the microphone away
from him.]

ATTSBW: I... DEMAND... JUSTICE!

[More heel poppage, then a chant of "STE-VIE SUCKS!" starts up.  The
national champ ignores it, for now, as Waterson keeps ranting.]

ATTSBW: Two weeks... two weeks ago, we came out here and had to listen
to yet another miserable dosage of Juan Vasquez running his mouth,
Gordon Myers.  And you know what happened?  We got SICK of it.  The
National Champion got SICK of it.  So he decided to shut that dirty punk
up once and for all.

[Waterson pauses, gritting his teeth visably.]

ATTSBW: And he would have, except for the fact that Juan Vasquez proved
ONCE AGAIN that he has to resort to cheap tactics to get one over on the
Southern Syndicate.

[Myers, who now has the spare third mic from the table, interjects.]

GM: Cheap tactics?  Are you serious?  Isn't that the pot calling the
kettle-

ATTSBW: NO!  It is not, Gordon Myers, and even asking that question
shows me your clear bias against the Southern Syndicate.  When, may I
ask you, have we EVER used foreign objects to put Juan Vasquez in his
place... which is laying on his back in the middle of the ring?

[Myers is apparently stunned so much by this logic that he can't
answer.]

ATTSBW: But Vasquez?  Oh no, Gordon Myers, Vasquez finds it perfectly
acceptable to use a 15 pound plaque and send it crashing down on the
head of the greatest wrestler in the world!  You find THAT to be OK,
Myers?

I wonder if Stephen Ross feels the same way?

[Waterson points to the back.]

ATTSBW: ROSS!  GET YOUR SORRY TAIL OUT HERE NOW AND GIVE US JUSTICE!

[And more heel poppage as Stevie takes the mic.]

HSS: Hey, you people can yell at us all you want, you can say I suck all
you want, but as far as you people are concerned?  When tonight's show
ends and all you Texas rednecks are going back to your double-wide
trailers hoping that a tornado doesn't pass through your trailer park
later...I'll be hanging out in the penthouse suite of the downtown
Hilton with ladies that you can only touch on the monitor of your
computer screen.

[Stevie laughs.]

HSS: And _they're_ gonna be the ones sucking tonight!  Whoo!

[Uncalled for, really that was.]

HSS: Now...Gordon Myers...my agent Ben Waterson speaks the truth.  Don't
confuse Juan Vasquez's being on the receiving end of multiple Southern
Syndicate adminstered tail kickings with us resorting to cheap tactics. 
What Vasquez did two weeks ago..._that_ was cheap.  He was finally in
the ring with me, one on one, no crazy stipulations in his favor, and
what did he do?

Foreign object.  Cheap shot.  And proved, _once again_, that he's not
man enough to handle Stevie Scott on his own.

[Stevie holds up the AWA National Title.]

HSS: But as far as I'm concerned, after that cheap attack two weeks ago?
 You ain't getting another shot at _my_ title.  You haven't proven
yourself worthy enough of a contender.

[And a chuckle.]

HSS: And when MAMMOTH Misuzawa gets through with you, there probably
won't be enough of you left to scrape off the mat to get back into MY
ring anyway.

ATTSBW: NOW STEPHEN ROSS...GET OUT HERE!

[After a moment, a haggard and frazzled looking Chairman of the
Championship Committee, Stephen Ross, emerges from the locker room area.
 He slowly walks towards the announce area where Stevie and Waterson are
still fuming.]

ATTSBW:  It's about time, Ross.  Time is money, buddy.

[Waterson taps his watch as Ross approaches.]

SR:  What... what can I do for you gentlemen tonight?

[Waterson fumes as Stevie Scott shakes his head in disbelief.]

ATTSBW:  What can do you for us?  Are you deaf, Ross?  Weren't you
listening back there?  We're out here for justice!  Did you see what
Juan Vasquez did two weeks ago on this show?  Did you see what he
caused?

SR:  I did.

ATTSBW:  Of course you did.  Everyone's talking about how outraged you
were backstage after the show.  But the question is, Stephen Ross, what
are YOU gonna do about it?

[Waterson puncutuates the "YOU" with a stabbing finger to the chest that
makes Ross sneer in response.]

SR:  I'm not sure what you want me to-

ATTSBW:  Seriously?  You don't know what I want - what the entire
Southern Syndicate wants?  Fine, Ross... let me make it crystal clear
for your simple mind.

First, we want Juan Vasquez fined.

[Ross nods.]

SR:  That is currently under consideration by the Champ-

ATTSBW:  That's not good enough!  We want it to happen right now... but
on second thought, that's not enough, Ross.  It's nowhere near enough
after what Vasquez did to Stevie Scott!  He could have seriously injured
him!  This man is your National Champion... your best wrestler walking
the Earth... and the reason people watch your show.  Vasquez could have
ruined all that... he... he...

[Waterson seems to be thinking.]

ATTSBW:  HE SHOULD BE SUSPENDED!

[The crowd jeers that suggestion as the Hotshot turns to them, nodding
his head in agreement with his agent.]

SR:  Well, Mr. Waterson, I can assure you that that is under consider-

ATTSBW:  Under consideration?  UNDER CONSIDERATION?!  That man tried to
kill Stevie Scott without any provacation by us!  That man bloodied him
in the middle of this studio!  He caused a huge brawl with people
fighting in the crowd!  Fans could have been injured!  But more
importantly, Stevie Scott could have been injured!  Stephen Ross, I
don't think you understand-

SR:  NO!  YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!

[Big cheer!  A bit surprised but a cheer nonetheless.]

SR:  You don't think I know all this?  You don't think I know that
Vasquez bloodied the National Champion?  You don't think I know that a
brawl broke out that put us in a serious liability situation?  You don't
think the WKIK front office was FURIOUS at us for allowing that to
happen?  You don't think we wrote a big check two weeks ago to get this
studio put back together?

ATTSBW:  If all that's true, than why don't you do something about it,
Ross?  You're the reason all this happened!  You let this situation get
this far!  You let Vasquez put bounties on us!  You allowed those bounty
hunters into the building!  You-

SR:  Waterson, I assure you that this situation will be taken care of
very-

ATTSBW:  I can wipe my rear with your assurances as far as I'm
concerned, Ross.  I want action and I want it now.  Vasquez should have
been fined.  Vasquez should have been suspended.  But since you didn't
do either, I think there's only one course of action left.

Juan Vasquez... should be FIRED!

[Another huge shower of jeers on Waterson.]

SR:  Mr. Waterson, I don't think-

ATTSBW:  I KNOW you don't think, Ross.  That much is obvious!  This
situation should have been taken care of two weeks ago yet it still
hangs over all our heads.  You and your Championship Committee has done
absolutely nothing about Juan Vasquez!  And I'm sick of it, Ross.  I
want answers and I want them now.  WHAT.  ARE.  YOU.  GOING.  TO.  DO?!

[Waterson continues to jab his finger into the chest as he shouts at
Ross.  Ross continues to grow more and more agitated until finally he
slaps Waterson's hand away.]

SR:  FINE!  YOU WANT AN ANSWER?

SECOND ANNIVERSARY SHOW!

VASQUEZ!

SCOTT!

REMATCH!

[The crowd EXPLODES in cheers as Ross storms off the WKIK Studios set,
leaving a stunned Waterson and Scott behind.]

HSS:  Did he just say...?

ATTSBW:  That can't be right.  That... Vasquez has a match already. 
He's got... no.  This can't be right.  Let's go talk to... we'll get to
the bottom of this.

[Waterson and Scott pull away from the announce area, heading towards
the locker room with the crowd still roaring.]

GM:  Holy... what a way to start the show, fans!  Juan Vasquez and
Stevie Scott in a rematch for the National Title... a SuperClash
rematch... in TWO WEEKS!  The Second Anniversary Show is coming and Juan
Vasquez FINALLY gets another shot at the gold!

BW:  But... but... he has a match!  We heard two weeks ago - he's got a
match with MAMMOTH Mizusawa!  This can't be right, Gordo.  There must be
some kind of a mistake.

GM:  Make no mistake, Bucky.  The match is on!  And let's go up to the
ring for our opening matchup!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC: The following contest is set for one fall with a fifteen minute time
limit. Introducing first... in the ring at this time hailing from Tokyo,
Japan- Standing 6 feet and weighing in at 240lbs. Here is….

HUUUUUUUDOOOOOOKUUUUUUUU!!

[Hudoku bows in the middle of the ring showing respect. Hudoku wears
simple white trunks with the Japanese flag on the sides, white knee pads
and white boots. The crowd gives him a lukewarm reception.]

MC: And his opponent...

[‘Riddles of Steel’ begins to thunder bringing the crowd to their feet.]

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

DEVASTATION!!

[’Riddle of Steel’ blares signalling the arrival of only one man,
Devastation. The crowd is somewhat mixed as Ronnie Jamieson steps out
first. The short, porky manager is decked out in a top notch grey, black
pinstriped 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.]

GM: Devastation impressed last Saturday Night Wrestling. Destroying the
young Ricky Riggins!

BW: Good news is Riggins is going to be okay after a third grade
concussion. The bad news, Gordo, is tonight we could be adding another
to the list. This guy is simply huge.

GM: Amen to that, Bucky. Look at the size of this guy!

[Indeed. The wrecking machine is decked out in simple black wrestling
pants with ‘Devastation’ running down each side in blue and sports black
biker style wrestling boots that end just under the knees. His chiseled
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 light blue 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: Not only did he show size and strength last Saturday Night, he
showed some agility for a big man!

GM: He sure did, Bucky. I was talking to Ronnie earlier and he said what
we saw last time was just a small taste of what this man can do!

BW: That’s scary!

[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 smacks his biceps
with opposite hands, getting the blood flowing before grabbing the top
rope and stretching. He paces back and fourth in his corner. Twisting
his neck and rolling his massive shoulders.]

DING! DING! DING!

GM: Here we go!

[Both men walk to center ring. Hudoku bows in respect and gets clubbed
in the back of the neck sending him to the canvas!]

GM: Big mistake by Hudoku. Devastation showing a true lack of respect
there.

BW: This is the AWA, Gordo, and in case you haven't noticed, EVERYONE is
showing disrespect. What would make you walk up to a guy this big and
take your eyes off of him for even a second? Hudoku paying for his
stupidity.

[Devastation picks Hudoku up and whips him into the turnbuckle chest
first. A small 'ping' sound is heard from the impact. ]

GM: Did you hear the impact when Hudoku hit that corner!?

BW: I'd be surprised if could breathe right now, Gordo.  I'm surprised
that didn't break some bones!

[Hudoku is on hands and knees in the corner trying to catch his breath.
As he gets to a crouch position, Devastation drives him in the side of
the face with a size 17 boot. He quickly picks him up, and drives three
headbutts into the Japanese star's temple before scooping him up on his
shoulder and dropping down on his knee with a modified backbreaker.
Devastation holds him on his shoulder a little longer, making it even
more painful before dumping him to the mat. Ronnie yells something and
Devastation quickly goes to the outside apron.  He holds the top rope
and leans back, waiting for Hudoku to rise to his feet in the ring only
a few feet away!]

GM: What is Devastation gonna do here?

BW: I dunno but I bet it's going to be good!

[Hudoku gets up to his feet with his back to the big man.  He stumbles
around just as Devastation catapults himself over the top rope and hits
Hudoku with a flying shoulder tackle!]

GM:  WOW!  WHAT AGILITY BY DEVASTATION!

BW: That is something you don't see everyday!  I told you Gordon!  This
guy is dangerous!

[Devastation cranks back his head and roars as he smacks his chest. He
goes to the corner and perches himself up top.  He stands, measures the
downed Hudoku then sails through the air nailing a perfectly positioned
headbutt between neck and shoulder.]

GM:  OHHHH!  Flying headbutt off the top!

BW:  I never can get tired of seeing that one.

[Devastation is up to his feet quickly and motions for Hudoku to get up,
he drives a boot down on the youngster's head as the ref intervenes and
checks on Hudoku.]

GM:  The ref checking on Hudoku.  When is enough-enough, Bucky?  When
does somebody cross that invisible line between respect and disregard?

BW:  This is a statement Gordon. This is telling the rest of the AWA
that Devastation has arrived and it's not going to be pretty, daddy!

[Hudoku is now trying to get up as Devastation moves in once again.
Devastation goes to pick him up but is met with a chop to the throat
that knocks the big man back. Hudoku screams out as he rises to his feet
throwing a flurry of chops to the big man's chest.]

GM: Hudoku a house of fire here! He is knocking back the big man with
that array of chops!

BW: I think Devastation is more surprised then anything! He thought
Hudoku was ready to go out on a slab!

[Hudoku continues his onslaught driving the big man into the corner.
Devastation goes for a clothesline that Hudoku ducks..

THWAP!

... and hits the big man with a kick to the jaw reeling him back and
leaning on the ropes.]

GM:  Ronnie Jamieson is beside himself here!  He's yelling at
Devastation who looks to be on queer street Bucky!

BW: Hudoku gaining momentum here! Devastation still reeling from that
sidekick to the jaw!

GM:  He charges!

[Indeed, Hudoku shows off his martial arts moves then runs at
Devastation, hand up in the air for looks to be a big chop to the head.
However that is stopped as Devastation, showing good speed stops leaning
on the ropes…]

GM:  Look out!

[… and nearly takes Hudoku's head off with a Yakuza kick! ]

BW: He ran right into that like a locomotive hitting a wall Gordo!  That
kick is simply awesome!

GM: Awesome and devastating, Bucky!  Hudoku isn't moving and neither
would anyone else be after that!

[Devastation looks annoyed as he scares away the ref who is trying to
check on Hudoku. Devastation throws him into the corner then hoists him
up so he is sitting on the top rope.]

GM: What's he doing now?

BW: I'm not sure, but I'm glad I'm not Hudoku!

[Devastation turns his back to him then steps on the ropes so he is on
the second turnbuckle. Hudoku is on his feet but slumped over as
Devastation lifts him in a Gorilla Press position and quickly leaps from
the turnbuckle and hits a modified stomach buster! Hudoku yells out in
pain, holding is midsection and kicking his legs!]

BW: What a move!  I've seen alot of crazy things in my career. But that
move is going to be one that sticks out for awhile!

GM: What power and agility by Devastation.... I don't even know what to
call that... except painful.  He could have broken some ribs there!

[Devastation stalks around Hudoku who is all but done. He grabs him by
the head and pulls him to his feet like a rag doll. He picks him up in a
gorilla press slam again!]

GM: This could be it!

[And then drops him on his shoulders and falls over sideways with a
deadly Death Valley Driver.]

BW: That is one of the sickest finishers in the AWA, Gordo.

GM: I would have to agree.  The ref is counting but this is elementary! 
There's one.  There's two.  And there's three.


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC: The winner of this match...

DEVASTATION!

[A gleeful Ronnie claps his hands as he heads for the ringsteps.]

GM: Devastation with another win here as he tries and climb his way up
the ladder!

BW: Well, if he keeps putting guys away like this, that could be a very
short ladder!

[Ronnie is in the ring congratulating his big man. The ref tries to
raises his arm but Devastation pulls his arm away then chases the ref
out of the ring. Ronnie claps and promotes his prodigy to the crowd
before the two exit and head towards the interview area.]

GM: Looks like they are heading over here....

[Ronnie Jamieson steps into the interview area beside Gordon as the
massive Devastation stands behind his manager, looking to be in a foul
mood as not even a win seems to make him happy. He scowls at the
announcers and the crowd.]

GM:  Another win for your charge here in the AWA. He looked impressive
once again, Mr. Jamieson.

RJ: [mocking tone] Did he look impressive, Gordon? Well I'm glad we
impressed you.

[Ronnie shakes his head at Gordon who nervously glances at Devastation
who just stares him down before looking off at the crowd again.]

RJ:  It is really simple, AWA.  We will keep doing this till we get the
attention we want. Last time out, everybody and their mother was after
that cash and of course they went about it the wrong way. We sat back
and let the cards fall where they may. We didn't run around like a bunch
of mindless jackals looking for scraps. We didn't show our hand to
anybody. We're still sitting on the fence.  Our cash flow is in no
jeopardy, but we still like to make more. So this is how it's going to
go down. Syndicate has till next week to either match Juan's bounty
[shrugs] or we start picking you guys off one by one [smiles] and trust
me boys, you won't know when or where- it will just happen.

But [holds up index finger] If you make us an offer we can't refuse
[shrugs] then I can guarantee you that you will not be touched by
anybody. Not outside organization guys, Juan or even that big dumb
Japanese oaf stumbling around here - NOBODY!

GM: Whoa, wait a minu-

RJ:  Shut up, Gordon!  Just stand there and hold the stick and let the
big people talk.  This is business gentlemen. This isn't personal, this
isn't a vendetta. I live by one motto- 'Cash rules'. You have the dough,
you have my attention. Now you may be thinking 'Why should i even
consider it?'

[smirks]

RJ:  Good question but the answer is simple. Look at the man I've got
with me, boys.

[Devastation scowls into the camera, a snarl on his face as he does so.]

RJ:  You may not know him. He may not be a big name... yet. But not
knowing him, fellas, is the better option then wanting him to know you. 
Catch my drift? You have seen what he has done these past two weeks. 
You have seen what this man is capable of.  Don't make us hunt you down
because I can promise you it will be the biggest mistake you ever make. 
 You have a week, Syndicate, you know how to reach me.

[Devastation and Ronnie Jamieson walk off camera view....]

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling so
don't you dare go away!

[We hold on Gordon Myers for a moment before we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

"Do you feel it?"

[The screen fades to a mountaintop, looking out onto the ocean.  The
waves rise ominously as a batch of dark clouds approach over the
horizon.]

"Do you feel the way the seas rise in anger at the approach of the
storm?

Do you feel the way the breeze warns of it's approach?

The temperature drops.

Livestock shies.

The electricity builds in the air...

[The camera pans, coming to rest on the same painted face we saw on the
last show...the black face paint with red script on the cheeks leaving
the whites of the man's eyes to stand out in sharp contrast...the same
eyes that stare out dispassionately into the camera.]

"They all know...

Nenshou is coming to AWA.

You have been warned."

[Fade back to ringside.]

GM:  Nenshou is indeed coming to the AWA and if what I've heard about
this man is any indication, he will be yet another top flight superstar
being added to the AWA roster, Bucky.

BW:  Nenshou is one of the best wrestlers in Japan and when he comes to
the States, the AWA superstars won't even know what hit them until it's
too late, Gordo.

GM:  Speaking of top flight wrestlers from Japan, let's go up to the
ring...

[In the ring, 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 Houston,
Texas; and weighing in at 215 pounds... "Sizzler" Tyrone Sisler!

[Slight face pop as the young African-American athlete hops up onto the
middle rope and 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, carrying a coil of bullrope, complete with a cowbell, on his
shoulder. 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: Again, Matsui has his personal security detail escort his client and
him to the ring. How did he manage that when Stephen Ross declared
lockdown for tonight while he gets this bounty business sorted?

BW: I'm more interested in the length of rope Mizusawa's carrying,
Gordo. Did you see how thick it looked? I think we are going to have a
demonstration.

[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.]

GM: Their Two out of Three Falls match will happen, Bucky, but it won't
happen at the Second Anniversary Show. You heard what Stephen Ross had
to say earlier-

BW: It doesn't matter, Gordo, when it happens; it remains that Juan
Vasquez will have to step into the ring against this monster in, at
least, a Texas bullrope match and an I Quit match!

[The shot cuts back to Melissa.]

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.]

GM: I don't know why Mizusawa is carrying that bullrope; this is
scheduled to be a regular match.

[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, Louis
Matsui steps through the ropes and motions for the mic from Melissa
Cannon.]

BW: We're about to find out, Gordo.

LM: Stephen... Ross... You might have declared lockdown tonight, but why
do I not believe you? Oh, that's right, because YOU are not one to keep
your word, are you? You want to bump the Best Two out of Three Falls
match off the Second Anniversary Show because you want Vasquez against
the National champion for the Main Event? That's fine by us, but this
had better not be an attempt to screw MAMMOTH Mizusawa out of the match
that he _RIGHTFULLY_ earned as a result of his Steal the Spotlight
victory at SuperClash!

Because this match is going to happen, one way or another; if not at the
Second Anniversary, then at some other point in the future. You want it
on a Saturday Night Wrestling? That's fine, too, IF you think an SNW is
_BIG_ enough to hold such a _MASSIVE_ encounter. And it _WILL_ be
gigantic when MAMMOTH Mizusawa lays his hands on Juan Vasquez and
_BREAKS_ him. Now, Ross, who am I to tell you how to run the place,
right? Other than the fact that you have OBVIOUSLY lost all control!
See, Ross, I am clearly within my right to ensure the safety of my
client, since _CLEARLY_ you can't, and I'd rather put my trust in these
eight men that MY money can buy than that crack squad that you've hired
for _OUR_ security.  And with MY money, Ross, I will not hesitate to
bring the whole might of Matsui Corporation's lawyers down on the AWA,
should you even think of screwing us out of the match which we
rightfully earned.

[Heel pop!]

LM: So, how about we have a little sampler of that match tonight? [To
Sisler.] Hey, shiz, how about we make this a Texas bullrope match? 
Think you have what it takes, kid?

[Tyrone Sisler might be young, but he is not stupid; he shakes his head
vigorously, waving his arms in front of him and saying "Hell no!  I
ain't that crazy."]

LM: Alright, fine, I know why you wouldn't want to face this monster in
a match like that. We'll just do a quick demonstration, alright?  Come
on over here, we aren't going to hurt you. Just a quick tug-of-war,
alright?

[Sisler approaches Matsui tentatively. Matsui motions to Mizusawa to
uncoil the rope. Mizusawa hands him one end, while wrapping the loop at
the other end of the rope around his thick left wrist. Matsui steps
closer to Sisler, holding out the loop on the other end of the rope.]

LM: Here, put this around your wrist; I'd recommend you leave your
leading hand free. Come on, it's just a quick show of strength, kid. 
We'll take it off for the actual match.

[Tyrone Sisler takes the other end of the rope and puts his hand through
the loop, tightening it around his wrist. Louis Matsui nods approvingly
and pats the young man on the back, before taking a step back.]

LM: Now, shiz, I want you to use all your strength and see if you can
pull the big man towards you. Go on...

[Sisler starts to pull, but Mizusawa holds his ground, arms folded in
front of him. Sisler digs his heels in and starts to lean his weight
into it, but that still does not budge the giant.]

LM: Come on, kid, I want you to really try...

[Sisler looks at Matsui, his face straining, and shakes his head, but
continues to pull. Mizusawa does not seem terribly bothered by the
effort.]

LM: Go on, shiz, is that the best you can do? Pull, damn it!

[Sisler really leans all his weight into it, but Mizusawa is going
nowhere. Sisler looks at the big man, then at his manager, and shakes
his head. We hear the words "... Can't do it..." barely-audibly. Louis
Matsui steps towards Sisler, mic in hand.]

LM: Are you saying that you can't do it, kid? Are you giving up? Is that
it?

TS: Yes... Yes! It's impossible, he's too big!

LM: Very well, then. [Takes a step back.] Mizusawa-san, show him what
you can do...

[Tyrone Sisler looks at the smirking Matsui quizically, then realises
what is about to happen. He tries to remove the rope from around his
wrist, but is too late as MAMMOTH Mizusawa pulls Sisler with great force
towards him and goozles him. Sisler is still struggling and kicking as
Mizusawa lifts him up and drops him with a chokeslam!]

GM: Oh this is ridiculous, Bucky! Referee Mickey Meekly is trying to
step in and look at that grinning fool Matsui stopping him.

[Indeed, we see Louis Matsui in referee Meekly's face, while Mizusawa
pulls Tyrone Sisler off the mat. The giant starts wrapping the rope
around Sisler's neck...]

GM: Good God, Bucky, what is Mizusawa doing?

BW: I believe, Gordo, he's going to string this kid up. Vasquez had
better be watching; this is what could happen to him when the giant gets
his hands on him.

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa slings the young man over his shoulder. Sisler is
holding onto the rope around his neck in an attempt to support his
weight, while his legs are kicking about. His struggling does not seem
to slow Mizusawa down as he approaches a corner and smacks the top
turnbuckle with his free hand. Referee Meekly motions to the timekeeper,
while Louis Matsui, still holding the mic, starts to count...]

LM: One! That's one corner he's touched...

"DING!  DING!  DING! DING! DING!"

BW: I don't know what ringing the bell is going to do to make Mizusawa
stop, Gordo.

[Mizusawa walks over to the next corner with Sisler over his shoulder,
now kicking weakly. Again, Mizusawa smacks the top turnbuckle...]

LM: Two! Two more to go, Mizusawa-san!

"DING!  DING!  DING! DING! DING!"

[To the third corner goes the giant, Tyrone Sisler now barely moving,
and smacks the top turnbuckle again.]

LM: Three! So close... What a match!

"DING!  DING!  DING! DING! DING!"

GM: That is absolutely disgraceful, Bucky!

[Mizusawa lumbers over to the final corner and smacks the top
turnbuckle, before dropping the Tyrone Sisler's limp body and slipping
the rope off his wrist. Louis Matsui raises Mizusawa's arm
victoriously.]

LM: And the winner of the first fall, by touching all four corners in
succession, MAMMOTH... MIZUSAWA!!!

GM: That wasn't even an official match, damn it! Referee Meekly has
thrown out the match and is checking on this young man, while those two
fools, Matsui and Mizusawa celebrate like they've actually won
something!

BW: We might see this very same sight when Vasquez steps into the ring
against Mizusawa, Gordo, get used to it!

[The referee signals to someone in the back and EMTs rush to the ring to
bring medical aid to Tyrone Sisler. Mizusawa simply looks on coldly. The
crowd is absolutely livid by now, but Matsui still has the mic.]

LM: Shut up, I'm not done!

[Massive heel pop!]

LM: Juan Vasquez, _THIS_ is the fate that awaits you! But before that,
you have Stevie Scott and the Southern Syndicate to worry about, and the
question of the bounties... Both the bounty on your head and the bounty
you placed on MAMMOTH Mizusawa... Frankly, it's gotten to the point of
ridiculousness.

Vasquez, one way or another, you will step into the ring against my
monster, so what do you say to putting this bounty business aside, at
least where it concerns you and Mizusawa-san here? Call off the bounty
on MAMMOTH Mizusawa and I _PROMISE_, we will not try to collect the
Syndicate's bounty on you, at least not until the big face-off. That's
when we will break you and collect the twenty-five grand, and I am sure,
in your head, that's when you plan to slay the monster yourself, so why
waste twenty-five grand of your money getting someone else to do it for
you, and delaying the inevitable?

[Matsui smirks.]

LM:  Unless, of course, you're afraid... You know you can't defeat
MAMMOTH Mizusawa, so you are willing to pay someone else off to postpone
_YOUR_ day of reckoning... Where is your spirit of competiton, Vasquez?
Where is the honor in having hired help to do what you should face
yourself? Drop the bounty, Vasquez, and come meet our challenge with the
pride and respect that is deserving of such an encounter. Drop the
bounty, Vasquez, so that, even if you fail, you'll know you failed by
your own hand, that you fell honorably and that you did your best
against _IMPOSSIBLE_ odds. Or prove, Vasquez, that you are no better
than the very people you oppose.

[Matsui drops the mic before motioning to the outside. Both men exit the
ring and head to the back, the eight men in dark suits forming a ring
around them.]

GM:  Louis Matsui with a very clear message to Juan Vasquez with that...
well, it wasn't even a match.  And then... did I hear that right?  Did
he offer to not try to cash in on the bounty on Vasquez' head if Vasquez
calls off the bounty on Mizusawa?

BW:  It sounded that way, Gordo.  I'm not sure I understand that one.

GM:  Right now, we're going to go back up to the ring for more action!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon begins to announce the next
match.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten-minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time...
weighing in tonight at one hundred and ninety-four pounds... hailing
from Osaka, Japan... Yoshino Nanami!

[A small but hardy pop from a segment of the fans who are into puroresu,
as it seems that Tatsumi wasn't the only Nanami to be signed to a
contract.]

MC: And his opponent...

[The electric/acoustic guitar combo attack of the intro to "Holy War 21"
begins, followed by the full-on guitar assault.]

MC: From Yokohama, Japan... he weighs in tonight at two hundred and
fifty-seven pounds...

"BLINDING STORM" TATSUUUUUMI NANAMI!

[The crowd voices their disapproval hard and fast for the man who on the
last SNW made his presence felt by trying to cash in on the bounty on
Juan Vasquez's head.  From behind the curtain "The Master of Ceremonies"
Don E. Allen steps out in a burgundy suit with matching tie, followed
closely by his Asian assassin.  Black paint covers Tatsumi Nanami's
face, with two white lightning bolts steaking down his cheeks.

Don E. doesn't waste any time, immediately jawing with any fan that gets
within speaking distance, letting them each know that he is managing the
future of the AWA.  Tatsumi, on the other hand, ignores the fans
completely, concentrating his gaze on the ring.]

GM: This is going to be quite the interesting match here, Bucky.

BW: Tatsumi Nanami is going to be taking on his own kid, Gordo. 
Interesting is an understatement.

[Arriving at ringside, Don E. climbs the stairs while Tatsumi swings up
onto the ring apron using the middle rope, ending up on one knee. 
Tatsumi looks back out at the crowd, and cracks his neck on either side.
 Don E. holds open the ropes for his charge, which Tatsumi graciously
accepts.]

BW: That Don E. Allen is pure class, Gordo!

GM: Pure class?  He was one of the men who tried cashing in the bounty
last show on Juan Vasquez!  I'd hardly call that "classy".

BW: You wouldn't know class if it hit you in the...

GM: BUCKY!

[With Tatsumi cornered up in the ring, "The Master of Ceremonies" gets
right into the referee's face, letting him know in no uncertain terms
that he expects fair officiating from him.  Annoyed, the referee escorts
Don E. Allen to the ropes, which allows Tatsumi time to rush forward and
kick his son in the gut!]

GM: Oh come on!  Already with the cheap shots!

BW: On his own son, Gordo!  Even blood isn't going to stop Tatsumi
Nanami from victory.

[The referee quickly rings the bell, and admonishes Tatsumi for the
early assault.  Tatsumi ignores it, however, as he smashes a big forearm
down across young Yoshino's back, driving him down to the canvas.]

GM: Don E. Allen is at ringside, calling out the shots for this veteran
of the Orient.  I still can't believe that Tatsumi Nanami is taking on
his own flesh-and-blood here in his debut match for this company.

BW: He demanded it, Gordo, so he could prove that no man is safe.  If
proving that means beating your own kid into paste, then so be it.

[Following the advice of his manager, Tatsumi lifts Yoshino up off the
mat by the hair, shoves him against the ropes, and just LIGHTS HIM UP
with a hard chop across the chest.]

GM: Holy Toledo, you could hear that in Ohio!  And another!

BW: Who says that beating your kids isn't fun?!

[Pushing back on Yoshino, Tatsumi slings him off the ropes into an Irish
whip.  Clothesline attempt it ducked... and Yoshino EXPLODES off the
ropes with a flying knee strike right to his father's shoulder!  CROWD
POP!]

GM: Oh my!  Yoshino actually bringing some offense!

[With Tatsumi stunned, Yoshino follows up with a stiff kick to the
chest... and another.  The younger of the Nanami's lets out a roar, and
finally takes his father off his feet with a high kick right to the
jaw!]

BW: Get in there Don E.!  Get that kid off of your man!

GM: Series of kicks knock the elder Nanami off his feet...

[Racing to the ropes, Yoshino leaps up, taking flight with a springboard
moonsault squarely across the chest.]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a dive!

[Not even pausing for a cover, he pops back up, racing to the ropes
again, and springing back with a double stomp to the chest, this time
wasting no time making the cover.]

GM: We've got one!  We've got two!  OH SO CLOSE!

BW: Not even, Gordo.  Tatsumi kicked out of that with authority, and
he's P.O.'d!

[Indeed, Tatsumi does not look happy, as Yoshino pulls Tatsumi up to his
knees, and throws yet another stiff kick to the chest.  A second one is
blocked however, and holding the leg, Tatsumi gets to his feet.]

GM: He's got his son's leg trapped... OH MY!

BW: CAPTURE SUPLEX, DADDY!

[A scowl on Tatsumi's face, he pushes up off the mat, looking down at
the pain-wracked body of his only son.  He grabs Yoshino by the hair and
yanks him to his feet, hits the far ropes...]

GM: Big kick almost sends his son's teeth into the front row!

BW: Yakuza-style, Gordo!  Learn to call it right, because I don't think
it's the last time we'll be seeing it.

[Once again Tatsumi takes his time pulling Yoshino up off the mat, as
Don E. Allen calmly explains what he wants from Tatsumi next from the
floor.  Yoshino throws a sudden shot to the jaw of Tatsumi, but it's
just shrugged off and is answered with a hellacious chop to the chest. 
Another chop rattles the kid, followed by another that sends him into
the corner.  Tatsumi pie-faces Yoshino, looks out at the crowd...]

_THWAK!  THWAK!  THWAK!_

GM:  My GOD what chops!  He's damn near taking his son's skin off his
chest, Bucky.

BW:  I... think the worst is yet to come, Gordo.

[Indeed, as Tatsumi suddenly picks up the pace, and starts chopping
Yoshino at a breakneck speed.  One after another, the chops smack the
chest machinegun-style, Yoshino's chest turning beet red.]

GM: Flurry of chops just punishes Yoshino Nanami!  The young man just
_collapses_ into the corner.

BW: I wonder if Yoshino is secretly Tatsumi's stepchild?

GM: Tatsumi charges away from Yoshino, into the far corner... what in
the world is he planning?

BW: INCOMING!

_THUUUUUUUUUUUNK!_

GM:  RUNNING KNEE!  Tatsumi Nanami just _buried_ his knee into his son's
face while he was down in that corner!

BW: And he's just letting his knee grind into Yoshino's cheek, staring
out at this crowd.  I like this guy, Gordo!

[The referee tries to get Tatsumi to break contact with Yoshino's face
and the turnbuckle, which just draws a stare from Tatsumi.  The referee
begins to count, gets to four, and is then chased off by the elder
Nanami.]

GM: Come on, there's no need for that kind of conduct.

BW: There sure is.  If your opponents are intimidated, you're already
halfway to victory, Gordo.

GM: Intimidate them with your skill in that ring, not by scaring an
official, Bucky.

BW: To each their own!

[Turning his attention back to Yoshino, Tatsumi grabs yet another
handful of hair, and begins to yank Yoshino up off the mat.  He's
stopped midway, however, by a fist to the gut.]

GM: Oh my!  This kid still has some life in him!

BW: Stay down, kid.  This can't lead anywhere good for you!

[Two more shots to the gut unbalance Tatsumi enough to allow Yoshino to
get back to his feet on his own, and unload with several hard elbow
shots to the jaw.]

GM: Yoshino has his father reeling here!  High kick to the side of the
head!  Spin kick to the gut bends Tatsumi over!  Flip kick to the face!

BW: Tatsumi isn't going down, Gordo!

GM: But he's almost there!  Keep pouring it on, kid!

[Fired up, with the fans on his side, Yoshino leaps over the closest
ropes, springboards off of the top...]

GM:  DROPKICK!

BW:  But Tatsumi only down to a knee!

GM: What in the world is it going to take to take Tatsumi Nanami off of
his feet?!

[Realizing it's now or never, Yoshino quickly kips up to his feet...




... only to be met with a spinning backfist!]

GM: OHHH MY!

BW: FORE!  Ha ha, he just sent his kid's head halfway back to the
Orient, Gordo!

GM: This kid is still standing, Bucky!

BW: He's out on his damn feet.

[Well, he was still standing until Tatsumi spins around in a full circle
and DRIVES his elbow into the side of Yoshini's head, knocking him
flat.]

GM:  ELLLLBOOOOW!

BW:  Now he's out on the damn mat!

[A roar, as Tatsumi yanks Yoshino up into a seated position, Yoshino's
body just slumped over.  It doesn't even bring Tatsumi to pause, as he
hits the far ropes, and baseball slides back, delivering the _hardest_
elbow strike you'll ever hear.]

BW: Sliding D, Gordo!  You can count to a million!

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... TATSUMI NANAMI!

[Lying prone over his progeny, Tatsumi Nanami just stares off, until Don
E. Allen taps him on the back.  Snapping out of it, Tatsumi slowly
climbs to his feet, and allows "The Master of Ceremonies" to raise his
hand in victory.]

GM: "Blinding Storm" Tatsumi Nanami has just decimated his son, Yoshino,
and he doesn't even look like he's concerned with his own child's
well-being.

BW: Them's the breaks, Gordo.  When you get into this business as a
second- or third-generation star, you have to be ready to get your butt
kicked left, right, and center by your old man.  It just so happens that
Yoshino's old man is one hard-hitting son of a gun.

GM: It will be interesting to see if Tatsumi's skills will be quite as
effective against men who are a little closer to his caliber, though,
Bucky.

BW: Personally, I just want to watch him knock Juan Vasquez clear out of
wrestling and collect that cool $25 G's the Southern Syndicate is
offering!

[With Yoshino Nanami laid out in the ring, Tatsumi Nanami rolls out to
the floor, joining his manager by the broadcast position.]

GM: It looks like we're being joined by "The Master of Ceremonies" Don
E. Allen and "Blinding Storm" Tatsumi Nanami currently, folks.

BW: Make sure you treat these men with respect, Gordo.

[Don E. Allen stops alongside Gordon Myers, while Tatsumi Nanami stands
several feet back, the paint on his face chipped away almost
completely.]

GM: That was quite the performance there by your man...

DEA: Charge, Gordon Myers.  Tatsumi Nanami is my charge.

GM: OK, your charge, then.  But do you think that he could handle the
other men lining up to get a shot at AWA stardom?

DEA: Handle them?  Gordon Myers, Tatsumi Nanami is a one-man riot.  When
he steps into the ring, he doesn't step into the ring thinking of titles
or fame; that's my job to worry about those things.  No, when Tatsumi
Nanami steps into that ring, he thinks only of defeating his opponent. 
While the AWA has many men looking to become "stars", Tatsumi Nanami is
a different breed entirely.

GM: He better be, as you made your intentions clear last show with your
attack on Juan Vasquez.

DEA: You don't seem to understand, Gordon Myers.  The attack on Juan
Vasquez had nothing to do with Juan Vasquez.  It had everything to do
with money for me, and creating name recognition for Tatsumi Nanami. 
Personally, I could care less about Juan Vasquez and his petty little
"feud" with the Southern Syndicate.  Yet they created an opportunity for
me to get my charge a shot in this company, to get my charge involved in
a way that was immediate and impactful.  The potential bookings I can
now get for Tatsumi Nanami number in the dozens, whereas before he was a
non-entity in North America.  Juan Vasquez was a means to an end,
nothing more.

GM: So what exactly are you looking for for Tatsumi Nanami?

DEA: That's simple, Gordon Myers.  I'm looking for the world, and
everything in it.  As Tatsumi Nanami's manager, it's my job to make sure
he has the world in the palm of his hands.  I'll do anything...
_anything_... to get him it.

[With that said, Don E. Allen exits the scene, Tatsumi Nanami following
close behind.]

GM:  Fans, 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 ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  It's already been an exciting night here on
Saturday Night Wrestling as we found out that in two weeks' time, we'll
see Juan Vasquez challenge "Hotshot" Stevie Scott for the National
Title!  It's huge news that we got at the start of tonight's show and I
understand that we'll be getting a response from the challenger later
tonight.  But first-

[Suddenly, Pure X - dressed in his wrestling gear - steps into the shot,
looking none too pleased as he stands by Gordon Myers.]

GM:  Excuse me, fans... but we're being joined by Pure X. Now, your Lady
Luck Challenge match with Sweet Daddy Williams isn't scheduled to be
next -

PX: I know, Myers, I know... But I'm not out here to talk about
wrestling -

[Pure X closes his eyes, almost a sense of disdain comes about him as he
utters the name.]

PX: Sweet Daddy Williams. I'm not here about the Challenge or any of
that.

GM: You're that confident you can -

[Pure X raises his voice, showing some anger that's yet to be seen from
him while in AWA.]

PX: Look, I said I wasn't here to talk about the damn match!

[X, now seething, looks around at the cooling audience.]

BW: Gordo, just let the man have to say his words.

[Myers backs off, allowing Bucky to handle the interview... or rather,
holding the mic.]

PX: I've been trying me best to do the right thing here in AWA. I've
been climbing the ladder of contenders, one by one, and beating everyone
put before me...

[Pure X trails off, having a hard time putting his high emotions into
words.]

PX: It's not even just Shane Destiny getting gifted a ranking ahead of
me - ME! The man who beat him TWICE in one match! No, now it's...

[Pure X shakes his head as he gets a confused look on his face.]

PX: Now it's... It's Mark Langseth? He's getting a shot at Destiny? Why
is this happening, Wilde? Why is Mark Langseth of all people getting in
the ring, taking my match? He's not fit to wrestle Destiny - he could
barely win his first match.

BW: I know your frustration, but it was Destiny who made the call to
Langseth's challenge.

PX: And that's it? Because the two said so? Mark Langseth's not ready to
get in the ring with Shane Destiny.

[X shakes his head again.]

PX: Go back to the last show. Go back and look at Langseth's eyes when
Destiny said he'd end his career. You could see the fear strike him,
right then and there. And... Yeah, you know what?

[Pure X nods.]

PX: I want him to come out here, right now - I want Mark Langseth to
come out here right now and tell me to my face without a hint of fear
that he can take on Shane Destiny. Because I don't believe it, Wilde.

[Pure X steps back, looking back at the entrance, before swinging back
to the mic.]

PX: I just don't buy it... So come on out here now and tell me you
deserve that match more!

[Pure X waits...

and waits...

and waits...]

PX: I... I thought so... Alright, if you don't come out here, I'll come
to you and we'll hash this out.

[Pure X storms off from the shot, leaving Bucky behind.]

BW:  Errr... is Dane back there?

[Bucky pauses, getting a response.]

BW:  Alright, let's go back to Dane.

[We cut to the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing next to the
Chairman of the Championship Committee, Stephen Ross.]

JD:  Thanks, Bucky.  Mr. Ross, you made quite the announcement earlier
tonight.

SR:  Under the circumstances, I believe that is the only thing that can
restore order to the AWA.  If those two have one more match to get all
this out of their systems... no more bounties... no more
sneak-attacks... it'll be all over.

JD:  You truly believe that?

SR:  I have to, Jason.

JD:  Well, I can't imagine Louis Matsui was too happy about this
decision no matter what he said out here earlier.

SR:  That's correct.  Mr. Matsui made it quite clear that his legal team
was on standby if we did not make this situation... worth his while...
as he put it.

JD:  And?

SR:  The man was allowed to pick any match he wanted against any
opponent he wanted without limitation.  There's not a lot of room for
negotiations.  So, we were forced to give him the one thing he COULDN'T
get with that Steal The Spotlight win.

JD:  Which is?

SR:  If Juan Vasquez wins the title in two weeks, the Two Out Of Three
Falls match with MAMMOTH Mizusawa will be... for the AWA National Title!

[Dane looks stunned.]

JD:  Vasquez against the giant... for the title?!

SR:  Only if he wins the gold.  If he doesn't, it'll remains a non-title
matchup.

JD:  Well, big news from back here in-

SR:  One more thing, Jason.

[Dramatic pause.]

SR:  After much consideration, the Championship Committee has decided
that there is too much potential for outside interference to have an
effect on the outcome of the title match.  Therefore, we have decided to
name a special OUTSIDE THE RING ENFORCER for the title match at the
Second Anniversary Show.

JD:  An enforcer?  Who?

SR:  I'm not at liberty to reveal that information at this time.  But
believe me, you will NOT be disappointed.

[And with that, Stephen Ross walks away leaving Dane by himself.]

JD:  You heard it, fans.  A special enforcer assigned to the title match
in two weeks' time.  And now, let's go back to the ring to Melissa
Cannon!

[Fade back to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Huntsville, Alabama... Jackie Carter!

[Spunky young Jackie Carter pumps a fist to a few cheers.]

MC:  And his opponent... hailing from anywhere he damn well pleases...
weighing in tonight at 320 pounds...

SCOTT PAAAAAAAIN!

[Slayer's "Here Comes The Pain" starts up to a pretty loud shower of
boos from the AWA faithful.  The near seven-footer slowly makes his way
through the curtain, dripping with sweat as he walks into view.  He
pauses just beyond the curtain, nodding his head at the jeering crowd as
he gestures them to "bring it on."]

GM:  The big man on his way down the aisle.  It's been a few weeks since
we saw him in action but the last time he was out here, he made it very
clear that he and long-time friend Colt Patterson were going their
separate ways, Bucky.

BW:  He's a former World Champion too, Gordo.  It's not like he needs
Patterson's help to succeed here in the AWA.  Heck, he was here first!

[Pain climbs up on the ring apron, slinging a leg over the top rope to
enter the ring...]

GM:  There's the bell... and off we go...

[Pain is immediately trash-talking the youngster as the bell rings,
lashing out with a boot to the gut that knocks Carter back into the
buckles.  He pushes him back to the corner, screaming at Carter.]

GM:  Oh, come on.

[Grabbing Carter by the wrist, he fires him from corner to corner,
smashing him into the buckles where he crumples down to the mat.]

GM:  Down goes Carter... Scott Pain showing off some of that power that
has made him one of the most feared men in our sport for years, Bucky.

BW:  He's mean.  He's vicious.  And now, he's all alone.

[Approaching the downed Carter, Pain leans over to pick him up...

...and catches a right hand to the gut!]

GM:  Carter catches him with a right hand!  And another!  And a third!

BW:  He's just making him mad, Gordo.

GM:  He's trying to rally back and-

[Pain reaches out with one hand, grabbing Carter around the throat.]

"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM, BOY?!"

[And with a powerful one-handed lift, he hoists Carter into the air,
driving him down to the mat with a thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  Ohhh my!

BW:  Incredible power.  Incredible.

GM:  Pain's got this one won... but he's not going for a cover.

BW:  Not yet.  He's got one more piece of business.

[Grabbing the downed Carter off the mat, Pain tugs him into a standing
headscissors, reaching down to hook his arms around the waist of the
much smaller man.]

GM:  Uh oh.  Look out...

[With a powerful lift, Pain hoists Carter high up into the air...

...and DRIVES him down with a bone-rattling powerbomb!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Pain drops down to a knee, planting his palm on the chest of Carter.]

GM:  One.  Two.  And three.  That's it.

[The big man immediately stands back up, smirking at the jeering crowd
as he steps back over the ropes, striding over to the announce
position.]

GM:  Scott Pain... an impressive win right there...

[Pain nods his head.]

SP:  Did you really expect anything less, Gordon Myers?  What you are
looking at is a new man!  A man freed from the shackles of a so-called
friend who did nothin' but drag me down to his level.

GM:  So, you're still on this Colt Patterson kick?

SP:  Not at all, Myers.  I couldn't give a damn about Colt Patterson
anymore.  Like I said, I'm freed from his shackles.  I've gone my way
and he's gone his.  As long as he stays out of my way, I'll let him
continue walking.

GM:  But what about the reaction of these fans?  That's gotta sting
considering how long they've cheered for you.

[Pain chuckles silently.]

SP:  You really think I care about these fans, Gordon Myers?  For my 16
years in this business, I haven't cared about a single one of them. 
Deep down, you know?  There were times when it was convenient for them
to cheer me so I let them cheer me.  But shake hands?  Kiss babies? 
Pander to these rejects of society?

That's Patterson.  Not me.

So, whether you love me or hate me, I just don't give a damn as long as
when the time comes, you get out of my way.

[The big man strides out of view, leaving the announce team behind.]

GM:  We'll be back with more Saturday Night Wrestling so stay right
where you are, fans.

[And 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.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  Stephen Ross is not the most popular man in
the building tonight having already had run-ins with Ben Waterson,
Stevie Scott, Louis Matsui, and MAMMOTH Mizusawa.  And just moments ago,
we received word that the National Tag Team Champions, Calisto Dufresne
and Adrian Freeman, went to confront him as well!  Our cameras were
there thanks to a request by Ben Waterson so let's go see what happened.

[We cut to the backstage area where Jason Dane is chatting with Stephen
Ross.  Ross looks pretty tired and is leaning against a nearby wall in a
very unauthoritative pose.  Suddenly, Ross averts his gaze from Dane off
camera.  His expression takes on a much more stressed and impatient
look. Of course, that might just be because he's facing down the trio of
Calisto Dufrense, Adrian Freeman, and their manager "Agent to the Stars"
Ben Waterson.]

SR:  Alright.  The camera's here like you asked for although I have no
idea why... 6 ATTSBW: For posterity.  You got nothing to hide, do you
Ross?

SR: Look, I'm a busy man.  Can you just get around to what you want?

AF: Actually, we just wanted to thank you for your actions tonight.  We
haven't always seen eye to eye, but you had the good sense to realize
that the senseless violence -- violence that was mostly directed against
us, of course -- was getting out of hand.

CD: Our legions of fans want to see us compete at the highest level,
Ross.  Our fans want to see us beat the best this sport has to offer and
to do it with dignity and honor.  And in response to that, the AWA
allows swarms of teams to come attack us for a bounty?  It's guerrilla
warfare against us and it's _wrong._

AF: There must have been at least a dozen thugs out for our scalps last
week.  Of course, no two of them could stand up to us individually, so
they resort to strength in numbers like the cowards they are.

SR (dryly): Who would think of doing such a thing?

AF: I mean, it's almost as though there's a conspiracy against us.  You
have the sore loser Gregorson sicking a pair of Samoans on us.  You have
those two butt-ugly rednecks who couldn't leave a good thing alone and
accept that they were always a sideshow attraction.

CD: And then you've got those two scrubs who are running aroung touting
the fact that they pinned _my_ shoulders to the mat, when we all know
that's never been done in a half decade in this business.  At least
you're letting them get another crack at the champs so we can put those
two never-weres back in their place.

[Dufresne scoffs at the thought of Fitzgerald and Lawson.]

CD: And who could forget the old-as-dirt Rough 'n Ready?  They've had
three points for months, yet they still don't have the testicular
fortitude to get a crack at the gold and promptly get returned to zero
points.  Enjoy being the number one contenders, gentlemen.  Because
that's as close as you'll ever get to our titles.

SR: All of those teams are contenders to your titles, on top of the
bounty business.  What do you want me to do about it?

ATTSBW: We want our own personal security.  What you've done here is
nice, but you need to focus it on the actual targets of all these
attacks, which are us, the Southern Syndicate.  And I want those damn
Samoans suspended!

SR: No and no.

CD: This is an _outrage!_

[Calisto Dufresne slams his fists on the wall dramatically.]

ATTSBW: No?  I don't think you understand the position you're in.  These
two have been getting offers from every major promotion in the world. 
If this place isn't safe for them to wrestle in, I can take them over to
Phoenix, or Las Vegas, or even up to Canada.  And you'd be stuck with a
bunch of imbeciles as an excuse for a tag team division.

SR: I think you'd better look at your clients' contracts closer.  But
even if what you say is true, you're not going to get me to do whatever
you want.  And I should remind you that if it weren't for me trying to
get everything under control, you two wouldn't be setting foot in this
building.  Now if you would leave me to more important work...

AF: One of these days this is all going to catch up to you, Ross.

CD: And that day is coming sooner rather than later. You can take that
to the bank.

ATTSBW: Let's go boys.  This is a waste of our time.

[And with that the trio of Southern Syndicate members storms out of
view, leaving an exasperated Ross behind.  He sighs heavily as the
camera fades back to ringside.]

GM:  Poor Stephen Ross.

BW:  Poor Stephen Ross?  You heard what Waterson said earlier.  This is
exactly what Ross had coming to him!  All of this is his fault and like
Freeman just said, one of these days this is all going to catch up to
him.

GM:  That sounds like a threat to me.

BW:  The Southern Syndicate doesn't make threats, Gordo.  They make
promises.

GM:  And on that note, let's go back to the ring!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is ready to get funky like a monkey.]

MC: This next contest is a tag team match, scheduled for one fall.
Introducing first...

[A mariachi version of Leo Arnaud's "Bugler's Dream", better known as
the Olympic theme, plays over the PA.]

MC ...from Athens, Mexico...

BW: Huh?

MC: ...at a combined weight of a mighty 780 lbs., they are Medallista
Oro and Medallista Plata, LOS CAMPEONES OLIMPICOS!

[Two masked guys who look like they barely weigh 200 pounds each come
proudly marching out from the entryway. As you might expect, one is
wearing all gold attire and the other all silver.]

BW [stifling laughter]: Where do we FIND these people?!

GM [chuckling a bit himself]: I have no idea, Bucky. None at all.

[Each man exaggeratedly struts up the ring steps, vaulting over the top
rope and balancing themselves as if the ring can't possibly hold their
weight. They nod to each other and begin making laughable muscle poses.]

GM: Obviously somebody in the back has a weird sense of humor.

BW: Come on, Gordo, look at these guys! You have to, hehe, be impressed
by their physi-

[Bucky dissolves into laughter.]

BW: Hehe, oh man, I'm sorry, I just couldn't finish that with a straight
face.

[Bucky laughs so hard he snorts. Meanwhile, Melissa looks at the
Olimpicos as if she just saw a monkey doing a soft-shoe routine. She
shakes her head and continues.]

MC: And their opponents...

[The choppy distorted guitar of Rebel Meets Rebel's "Nothin' To Lose"
cranks up over the PA.]

BW: Well, great, there goes my fun for the evening.

MC: ...at a combined weight of 568 lbs., and hailing from Kingsland,
Arkansas. Accompanied by Cousin Bo, CLETUS LEE! DUANE HENRY! THEY ARE
THEEEEEEE BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISHOOOOOOOOOOOP
BOOOOOOOYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!

[As the song fully kicks in, The Bishop Boys come storming out into the
aisle, eyes fixated on their opponents. Cletus Lee is no longer wearing
a wifebeater, but otherwise retains the same gear as usual. A pair of
beat-up old black jeans and black boots, just like his "little" brother.
Immediately noticeable is a large razorback tattoo over his heart. Well,
we presume he has a heart.]

GM: Wow, look at this. Cletus Lee appears to be in the best shape of his
life. He's always been huge, but now his physique is starting to match
his size.

BW: The heck with that. Look at these Olympic morons. They're not
moving. Hasn't anybody learned by now that the best strategy with the
Bishops is to run?!

[As The Bishop Boys enter the ring, Bo belatedly makes his entrance.
He's seemingly not even paying attention to his surroundings, his eyes
glued to a newspaper he's brought with him.]

BW: Oh, nice to see ol' motormouth is finally gracing us with his
presence. What is he even reading?

GM: Um, it appears to be...

[Gordon stops as he tries to make out the title.]

GM: B...Base......Baseball America?

BW: Are you kidding me? His cousins have a match, and he's probably so
busy trying to put together his fantasy team, he's not even paying
attention. Some manager he is.

[Meanwhile, in the ring, Los Campeones Olimpicos are showing The Bishop
Boys their supposed medals, which look like plastic. The Bishops look
unimpressed. Duane Henry points at himself, and his brother nods,
heading for the corner.]

BW: Argh, this is awful. Go back to breaking the rules and killin' your
opponents.

GM: Bucky, stop and think for a second. Do you really think The Bishop
Boys need to cheat to beat Los Campeones Olimpicos?

BW: Hey, they ARE champions, daddy.. Just look at their name. Don't
discriminate just because they dress goofy.

GM: Look who's talking.

[The Olimpicos seem to be having a small argument, as Medallista Oro
appears to insist his partner start the match, since his "gold medal"
makes him the leader. Medallista Plata looks across the ring at Duane
Henry, then turns back to shake his head, but Oro has already left the
ring. Plata gulps, then slowly moves toward the wildly grinning redneck.
Plata hesitates, then shoots his right arm in the air. The crowd
chuckles as they realize what he's doing.]

GM: Is he challenging Duane Henry to a test of strength?

BW: Maybe his silver comes from arm-wrestling.

GM: Arm-wrestling is not an Olympic sport, Bucky.

[Duane Henry looks at Plata oddly, then accepts. As he puts his arm up
and squeezes as hard as he can, Plata drops to his knees and  shrieks
loudly. The crowd laughs again. Meanwhile, Bo is still engrossed in his
newspaper. Plata manages to yank his arm loose and cradles it, crying
out in pain. Plata turns to referee Mickey Meekly and claims that Duane
Henry tugged at his mask. Mickey sighs and does his job dutifully,
asking Duane Henry if he pulled the mask. Duane Henry looks at Mickey
like he's an idiot and waves him off. Mickey asks the fans, who
surprisingly respond "NO!" Mickey shrugs at Plata and orders them to
lock up.]

BW: Did the fans just side with The Bishop Boys on something?

GM: Surprisingly, it appears so.

BW: This place gets weirder and weirder everyday.

[An angry Plata charges at Duane Henry, who swiftly takes him down with
a hiptoss. Duane Henry gestures for Plata to get back up, and he does
so, charging at Duane Henry again, but Duane Henry takes him right back
down with an arm drag. The fans cheer once again.]

BW: What is THIS?!

GM: It appears to be wrestling. I would think the "Announcer Of The
Year" would recognize that.

BW: Yeah, real droll, Gordo. But The Bishop Boys?! WRESTLING?! And not
only that, but getting cheered for it? What alternate universe is this? 
The next thing we know, that Boy Scout Vasquez'll be beating up on sick
people.

[Plata is completely frustrated by this point, and tags in Oro. The two
argue wildly about what to do while Duane Henry folds his arms and
smirks. This is what the Olimpicos have been waiting for, and they both
attack Duane Henry, battering him with wild punches and kicks. Duane
Henry is caught off-guard by this, and they manage to take him down to a
knee. Oro orders Plata to hold Duane Henry in place. As he does so, Oro
starts to run in place.]

GM: Quite unorthodox teamwork here from Los Campeones Olimpicos.

[The crowd is bewildered as Oro runs to the corner, and starts jumping
towards the trapped Duane Henry as if he's leaping hurdles.]

BW: That's one way of puttin' it. I've got another way, but I don't
think I can say it on network TV, lemme tell ya.

[As Oro's just about to hit Duane Henry with whatever bizarre move he
has in mind, Duane Henry elbows out of Plata's extremely loose grip,
grabs his head, and slams it into Oro's, whose eyes go wide just before
impact. Both Olimpicos go crashing to the mat, and Duane Henry just
throws his hands up in the air. Having had enough of this bizarre team,
Duane Henry gets to his corner and tags in Cletus Lee...

...to a loud pop?]

BW: It's official, Texas is the worst state in the country.

[The big man rushes in and obliterates the rising Plata with a running
forearm smash that sends the man in silver flying out to the apron,
conveniently leaving the two legal men in the ring.]

GM: Cletus Lee is absolutely revved up, just wildly gesturing for
Medallista Oro to get to his feet.

BW: But Oro has his back turned and doesn't see him. Don't do it! Just
stay down! Better yet, run like the wind, daddy!

[But Oro can't hear Bucky, and turns around, right into the waiting arms
of the huge Arkansas wildman.]

GM: Uh oh! We know what's coming next! It's that crazy series of
headbutts!

[Sure enough, Cletus Lee traps the arms of Oro, and leans back before
unleashing the headbutts, which the crowd actually counts along with!]

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

[Cletus Lee leans as far back as he possibly can, before nailing one
more for the heck of it.]

11

[The crowd cheers as Cletus Lee lets Oro fall limply to the mat. Cletus
Lee looks dazed for a second, but he smacks himself in the back of the
head to get his balance back.]

BW: Y'know, I didn't realize these guys turned into a bunch of
fan-pandering wusses. What a joke. What a waste.

GM: Feel free to tell them that when they come over here after the
match.

BW: Did I say that? What I meant to say was how strong Cletus Lee looks
these days, Gordo. Yep.

[Cletus Lee peels Oro off the mat, turns him around, and lifts him
incredibly high.]

GM: Wow, he just makes that look so incredibly easy.

[Cletus Lee takes a few steps forward, and brings Oro crashing down over
his knee.]

GM: Whoa! What a huge atomic drop!

BW: It's just downright scary how much raw strength that man has.

[Duane Henry pumps his fist in excitement, and looks down at Bo with a
bit of a smile. Bo, however, still hasn't stopped reading.]

BW: Unbelievable. It's like he's taunting these great Olympic champions.

GM: Do you ever stop to listen to yourself sometimes?

[Oro weakly starts complaining about "Un foule!" to the ref.]

GM: He gave him an atomic drop. How is that illegal?

BW: There's no atomic drops in the Olympics and you know it, Gordo!

GM: Bucky?

BW: Yeah, Gordo?

GM: This isn't the Olympics! Wrestling's not even a winter sport, for
crying out loud!

BW: Jeez, Gordo, you don't have to bite my head off!

GM: How is it that you're accusing The Bishop Boys of treating this like
a joke, yet you're treating these "Olimpicos" as if they're a
world-class team?

[Bucky ignores Gordon and just in time. As Oro gets back up, an annoyed
Cletus Lee just hauls off and punches him right in the face. Oro
crumples back down in a heap.]

BW: DQ! DQ! Disqualify that man, that was a closed fist!

GM, Well, Medallista Oro obviously didn't win gold in boxing.

BW: Oh, har, har. That time, he BLATANTLY broke the rules! Come on,
Meekly, you bum, disqualify them!

[Mickey does warn Cletus Lee about the infraction, but the big man just
brushes him off and heads back to his corner. Cletus Lee gestures that
he wants to hit Doc Allan's Miracle Headache Elixir this time, but Duane
Henry again shoots him a look that says he'd rather not. The fans boo
this, and a small portion is even chanting "Elixir!", strangely enough.
Cletus Lee again gestures for it. Seeing that Bo couldn't possibly care
less about this match, Duane Henry shrugs and tags in to a small cheer.]

GM: Amazing, these fans in the WKIK studios are actually behind The
Bishop Boys. Well, some of them.

BW: Inbreds.

GM: BUCKY!

[Duane Henry hoists Medallista Oro up in an Argentine Backbreaker.
Cletus Lee looks over to see Medallista Plata getting to his feet on the
apron. But before Cletus Lee can take care of him, Plata looks at the
situation in the ring, gestures that he doesn't want any more, and jumps
off the apron, quickly abandoning his partner for the safety of the
locker room. Cletus Lee looks disappointed for a second, but quickly
goes back to what he was doing. He bounces off the far ropes, and nails
the Charging Big Boot to Oro's head from  behind. Duane Henry hangs on
and swivels Oro forward, hitting the seated powerbomb. The fans that
have gotten behind The Bishops cheer and count along with the ref.]

GM: 1. 2. 3. Doc Allan's Miracle Headache Elixir polishes off another
victim!

[The bell rings and "Nothin' To Lose" blares back over the speakers. Bo
closes the paper and strolls over to the announce position.]

MC: Here are your winners, THE BISHOP BOYS!

[Cletus Lee loudly roars and raises his arms in the air. Duane Henry
pats his brother on the back and goes to join Bo and the announcers.
Cletus Lee looks around, his eyes settling on the camera, that crazy
gleam ever-present. Cletus Lee leaves the ring, and joins the rest.]

GM: Mr. Allen, yet another dominating show from your cousins as they try
to work their way back to the top.

[Bo nods, looking a little perturbed.]

CB: I hardly got a chance to look at my Spring Training issue.

[Bo waves the now rolled-up paper at the camera.]

CB: I only managed to get through the Orioles, Pirates, and Padres
before I realized the match was over.

[Bo looks back at the paper, realizing something.]

CB: Huh, how about that. Three bottom of the barrel teams. Just like
that idiot in the ring and...

[Bo looks around.]

CB: ...well, actually, his partner seems to be the smart one. He ran for
his life, just like I've been warning people to do.

[Bo smiles.]

CB: And speaking of bottom of the barrel teams that like to take my
advice and run, you have our esteemed "champs".

[The fans boo the mere idea of them vigorously.]

CB: Well well well, looks like we actually got your mind off of those
cheap bimbos you always hang around with for a few seconds. Y'know, the
one thing actually worth mentioning about you two.

[Bo turns to the announcers.]

CB: Not that Freeman ever looks comfortable around them. Catch my drift?

[The crowd chuckles a bit as Bucky rolls his eyes in the background.]

CB: There. See that? I can make cheap insults too. Now I've stolen the
only thing you two ever have to say.

[Bo mockingly applauds.]

CB: Yes, that's right, the ol' "They're from the Deep South, so they
must be stupid" bit. I didn't realize Vanderbilt, my alma mater, gave
degrees to just anybody. But, hey, apparently Calisto "Failed To Get His
GED For The 59th Time" Dufresne apparently knows better.

[Bo shrugs and laughs.]

CB: Whatever. It's not like a piece of paper can ever prepare you for
getting your teeth knocked right out of your mouth by an angry 6'9"
redneck.

[Bo hikes a thumb at Cletus Lee, who just stares at the camera.]

CB: So, go ahead, continue patting yourself on the back. Run your big
mouth. All you're doing is making that inevitable moment when we break
you that much sweeter. You can hide behind the points system all you
want, it doesn't matter. I really don't give a damn about the points.
Whine about it all you want, but you've got nobody to blame but
yourself. You set the precedent for worming your way through that
loophole. Don't go crying to the Championship Council when we rewrite
the rules again.

[Bucky apparently has some brass ones, as he actually steps forward and
points an accusatory finger at Bo. Duane Henry steps forward, but Bo
waves him off, wanting to hear what Bucky has to say.]

BW: Yeah, you're real tough now. You always like to talk like you're a
big man, but what's gonna happen when Ben Waterson and The  Southern
Syndicate beat you within an inch of your life?

[Bo looks at Bucky like he's insane.]

CB: Beat us? How can they beat us when they tuck tail and run? They
won't even stand up and face those new Samoan guys. What, you mean like
when they inevitably all get together and jump us from behind? Hey, let
them try. Better men have tried to beat us down and failed.

BW: Whatever. While I'm at it, what's with you playing it up to these
idiots in the crowd all of a sudden?

[Bucky points out at the fans, who boo, surprise surprise.]

CB: I don't know what the heck you're talking about, Buckthorne, but
we've never tried to please anybody. Anything we do, we do for
ourselves. Whether these people like it or not, we will continue cutting
our path to the top OUR way. They pay their money, they can react
however they want. I really don't care.

[Gordon looks at Bucky.]

GM: Honestly, I think the fans would cheer anybody if they managed to
wipe those smug looks off of Ben Waterson and his goons.

[The fans cheer this, of course, which in turn causes Bo to chuckle.]

CB: Then I guess there's going to be lots of happy fans in the weeks and
months to come. Whatever it takes, however long it takes, we will
personally see to it that the Southern Syndicate becomes a minor blurb
in the history books of the AWA. You can't run forever, Waterson.

[The fans cheer again.]

CB: And as far as the rest of you in the AWA go?

[Bo points to the watch he's wearing.]

CB: You just remember what I said two weeks ago. If you're looking to
collect Vasquez's money, you better act quick. Time is quickly running
out. We get our hands on the Southern Syndicate first? The only person
who's gonna be happier than us is Vasquez himself, 'cause he's gonna
stay a very rich man.

["Nothin' To Lose" kicks in one more time and The Bishop Boys head back
to the locker room, Bo showing off his watch the entire way.]

GM:  The Bishop Boys mean nothing but business, Bucky, and they've got
their eyes locked on the Southern Syndicate and those National Tag Team
Titles!

BW:  They're not the only ones either.

GM:  No, I should say not.  The tag team scene here in the AWA has never
been hotter with so many teams lining up to take their shot at the
National Tag Team Champions, Dufresne and Freeman.  Among those teams
are two men we saw for the very first time last time in that big brawl
but tonight, we'll see them in action for the first time inside the ring
- the Samoan Hit Squad!  Melissa, she's all yours!

[We fade to the ring where Melissa is ready to go.]

MC:  The following tag team match is scheduled for one fall with a
fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first, in the corner to my
right, from Parts Unkown - the team of Dr. X and The Shadow!

[The two masked men raise their arms to the boos of the crowd.]

MC:  And their opponents... they are accompanied to the ring by Werewolf
Gregorson and weigh in at a total combined weight of 520 pounds. From
the island of American Samoa in the South Pacific, they are Scola and
Mafu…

The Samoan Hit Squad!

[And the crowd comes to its feet as an intense Samoan drum beat begins
to blast out over the P.A.

Suddenly the WKIK Studios crowd roars to life as Scola and Mafu step out
onto the stage with their manager, Werewolf Gregorson, bringing up the
rear.

Dressed in knee length black tights with the word “Samoa” written down
the side of each leg, the two men make their way down the aisle to
ringside.]

GM:  The big Samoans are making their way down the aisle with Werewolf
Gregorson by their sides.  Scola's the big man, 6'6 and 285 pounds, of
the team.  Mafu's 6'1 and 245 but just as tough as the powerhouse.

[Mafu is the first one in the ring...

...and charges towards the two masked men, showing no fear and reckless
abandon.  Mafu throws a right hand to the skull, knocking Dr. X back
towards the corner.  Swinging to the side, Mafu snaps off a knife-edge
chop across the throat of The Shadow.  A few hard stomps sends the
Shadow rolling under the ropes to the floor before spinning back around
to throw a back elbow into the jaw of Dr. X!]

GM:  Mafu is all over both masked men!  This guy is a whirlwind of chops
and kicks and elbows, throwing every part of his body at anyone that
moves.

[Grabbing Dr. X by the wrist, Mafu fires him across the ring to the
opposite corner.  He backs to the corner, throwing himself into the
buckles with a loud "SAMOA!"...

...and charges across, throwing himself into a corner splash!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Stalking across the ring, Mafu slaps the hand of Scola, tagging him
into the fray.]

GM:  Both Samoans are in the ring now...

[The powerful Scola snatches Dr. X off the mat, pulling him into a
bearhug as Mafu leaps up to the midbuckle, letting loose a gutteral
shout before leaping off...

...and smashing his massive skull into the upper body of Dr. X, knocking
him down in a heap to the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice doubleteam by the-

[The Shadow charges in, trying to help his partner...

...and gets caught, hoisted up onto Scola's massive shoulders, powering
him back into a Samoan Drop!]

GM:  OHHH!  He flattened him with that!

[Scola lets loose a wild roar as he throws his arms apart to the roar of
the crowd.  Reaching down, he yanks Dr. X off the mat, firing him to the
closest ropes...

...and catches him around the waist in a bearhug, HURLING him up and
over in an overhead belly to belly throw!]

GM:  DOWN GOES DR. X!

[Scola turns away from Dr. X, snatching the Shadow up by the mask as he
reaches over, slapping the hand of Mafu.  The wilder of the two Samoans
steps in, grabbing the masked skull as well...

...and together, they DRIVE their heads into the skull of The Shadow,
knocking him off his feet and down to the mat!]

BW:  He's not even the legal man!

GM:  I'm not sure these Samoans much care about legality, Bucky.  They
like to fight - that much is obvious.

[Mafu leaps into the air, stomping down on the Shadow, again causing him
to roll under the ropes to the floor.  Spinning around, searching for
his other target, Mafu snatches Dr. X back to his feet, firing him to
the ropes.  He swings his arms around wildly before lashing out and
catching Dr. X under the chin with a thrust kick!]

GM:  Ohhh... that'll rearrange your dental work, Bucky.

BW:  If Dr. X even has any teeth.  I can't really tell with that mask on
him.

GM:  Mafu drags Dr. X up again...

[The screams from the masked man fill the air as Mafu sinks his teeth
into the exposed nose of the masked man!]

GM:  Ahhh!  He's biting him!

BW:  And I suppose you're okay with that too.

GM:  Well, it's a blatant violation of the rules but it's not exactly
disqualification-worthy, Bucky.

[Another hard slap of the hands brings Scola back into the ring as Mafu
fires Dr. X across to the ropes.]

GM:  Whip to the ropes...

[Mafu drops down into a backdrop, hoisting Dr. X up into the air,
flipping him backwards...

...where Scola is waiting, catching Dr. X in powerbomb position where he
DRIVES Dr. X down to the mat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  DID YOU SEE THAT?!

BW:  Of course I saw it!

GM:  And you can be sure that Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman saw it
as well, Bucky!  The National Tag Team Titles are in danger.  So many
good teams are shooting for the gold and the Southern Syndicate may not
even know what hit them when it comes down to it.

BW:  Look at this, Gordo.

[Another tag is made as Scola hops up to the top rope, sitting on the
buckle as Mafu starts to climb.  As Mafu steps to the middle rope, Scola
stands up, hooking a front facelock.  He promptly hoists Mafu up in a
superplex lift, getting him just beyond horizontal to the mat...

...and SHOVES Mafu off, sending him sailing through the air where he
crashes down onto a prone Dr. X!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  They call that SSS - the Samoan Super Splash!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!

[The Shadow makes a dash for it, trying to break up the pin but Scola
hurls himself from the middle rope, nearly ripping the masked man's head
off his shoulders with a flying clothesline as the referee counts to
three!]

GM:  They got it!


"DING!  DING!  DING!


MC:  Here are your winners... THE SAMOAN HIT SQUAD!

[The two Samoans meet in the middle of the ring, sharing an embrace
before exiting the ring to join their manager.  Gregorson and The
Samoans pause at the announce desk, the two big men each holding their
unlit fire sticks in hand.)

GREGORSON: Gordon.

Bucky.

Meet Scola...

and Mafu.

Your *future* AWA National Tag Team Champions!

[The crowd pops.]

GREGORSON: I know, I know. The Samoan Hit Squad has just barely wrestled
their first match in the AWA, so how is it that I'm calling them your
future tag team champions?

That's easy.

You see, Scola and Mafu are easily two of the most dominant wrestlers to
ever enter the tag team ranks in the AWA, as they proved two weeks ago
when they manhandled Adrian Freeman, Callisto Dufresne, *and* MAMMOTH
Mizusawa in the fracas at the end of the show.

And, while the giant Mizusawa managed to get back to his feet and
re-enter the fray, our reigning tag team champions saw fit to run and
hide like the cowards they have always been.

So, tonight, despite the warnings of the Championship Committee, I have
instructed The Samoan Hit Squad to do whatever it takes to put Freeman
and Dufresne out of commission if the opportunity presents itself.

And if that means I'll be writing Stephen Ross a check at the end of the
night, then so be it...because every dollar I spend will be money...
well... spent!!

[Bucky speaks up.]

BW: So you're suddenly above the law, is that what you're saying,
Gregorson?

[The two Samoans step in closer to Bucky as Gregorson smirks.]

GREGORSON: No, Bucky, no one is above the law.

But, until this war is won...

Until The Southern Syndicate is put in their place...

No simple ruling by Stephen Ross and the Championship Committee will be
worth the paper it's written on because Adrian Freeman, Callisto
Dufrense, and their associates in The Southern Syndicate have already
proven their disregard for the rules by their actions over the last few
months.

GM: In other words...

GREGORSON: In other words, Gordon Myers, the Committee be damned. We're
fighting fire with fire...

And when you play with fire around The Samoan Hit Squad, Adrian Freeman
and Callisto Dufrense...

You're going to get burned!

[The two big men both yell out "Samoa!!" as Gregorson hits the unlit
ends of their fire sticks with a lighter, causing them to erupt in flame
as the camera cuts to the locker room area where Sweet Daddy Williams is
standing alongside Jason Dane.]

JD:  Sweet Daddy Williams, tonight you are competing in the Lady Luck
Challenge against the young technician Pure X.  Now, it's no secret that
this match - and this series - is very important to you because you
would LOVE a shot at the National Champion, your former friend, Stevie
Scott.

[Sweet Daddy Williams is nodding his head through everything Jason says
when he suddeny throws back his head and lets loose a wild whoop.]

SDW:  WOOOOOOO!  Have mercy, baby!  Jason Dane, when you say this match
is important to the Sweet Daddy, you ain't a-pullin' the legs of the
people out there in TV Land, baby.

Stevie Scott and I - we's go a long way back and I want nothin' more
these days than to get my chance to pop my knuckles on the side of his
noggin, believe that.  And I'll do whatever it's gonna take to get that
shot.

JD:  Like beating Pure X?

SDW:  Like beating Pure X.  Like beating Simon Rhodes.  Raphael Rhodes. 
Any other ol' Rhodes that shows an interest.  I'll take on Dufresne and
Freeman at the same damn time if I gotta.  And don't even doubt for a
second what I'll do to that sneaky little rat Waterson.  I'd love to get
these paws around his throat for sure, Jason Dane.

JD:  But what about Pure X?

SDW:  What about Pure X?  Whaddya want me to say, baby?  Pure X ain't
got no interest in fightin' me.  He ain't never had no interest in
fightin' me.  You see, Pure X is what I like to call... a serious man.

He's a man who likes to get in that ring and rassle.  He likes to twist
a man.  He likes to tangle a man.  He likes to get in there and be what
they call... a ring technician.

And he don't be likin' a man like me.

[Williams grins a big ol' grin.]

SDW:  You see, Jason... I like to have fun.  Outside the ring, I'm the
life of the party and the king of the streets.  Every town we hit, every
hotel we're in... I'm in the bar havin' a good ol' time and findin' out
exactly who wants to sit on Sweet Daddy's lap tanight if you get my
meanin'.

JD:  I do.

SDW:  Inside the ring, I like to have a good ol' time as well.  I'm
shuckin' and jivin'... I'm shakin' and bakin'... I might even toss in a
lil' bump and grind, ya dig?

And Pure X... Pure X, he don't like none of that.  He thinks I'm an
embarrassment to the business.

Heck, he may be right, Jason... maybe I am.

[Williams drops his head a bit.]

SDW:  But what I also am is a man who's gonna stand in that there ring
and throw these fists at his inflated head until my knuckles get sore. 
I'm a man who won't back down from a wristlock and damn sure won't be
givin' up the fight.  So, if Pure X wants to tussle, let's tussle...

...but he don't wanna tussle, Jason.  He wants to rassle.

[The chubby fan favorite shrugs.]

SDW:  Who knows?  I might be able to do some of that too.

[He grins.]

SDW:  Let's find out together, baby.

[And with a clap of his hands, Sweet Daddy Williams walks away from
Jason Dane.]

JD:  Sweet Daddy Williams is ready for a fight... but will Pure X give
him one?  We'll find out in just a little while.  Fans, we'll be right
back with more of AWA's Saturday Night Wrestling!

[We fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action where the members of Rough N Ready
walk onto the set. Sarah Sharpe wears her usual jacket, white shirt and
jeans, Dave Cooper is dressed in a navy blue polo shirt and khakis and
Eric Matthew Somes wears an AWA T-shirt and jeans.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and now we are joined by Rough N Ready, who
were not here two weeks ago but undoubtedly witnesseed all that went
down... Dave and Eric, I know the two of you have your sights set on the
Southern Syndicate and we all saw what the prices placed on their heads,
as well as that of Juan Vasquez and those who stand with him, has led
to. What are your thoughts about what went down?

EMS: [cracking a grin] Gordon, it looks like they had a big party last
week and they forgot to invite us.

BW: Either that or you were too scared to show up knowing you could have
a price on your head!

[The smile on Eric's face goes away that quickly as he takes a step
toward Bucky, who is quick to backpedal.]

EMS: Don't you have an award to polish?

[And that remark doesn't make Bucky happy, although he's not about to
advance on Eric. The RnR member turns back to the camera.]

EMS: Seriously, Gordon, I really hope Ben Waterson is happy with
everything he's caused here in the AWA. He thought he was so smart when
he put a price on Juan Vasquez's head, that Juan was just gonna slink
away and never be heard from again. Well, as we know several weeks back,
that wasn't the case... Juan just decided to raise the stakes.

And now I hear Waterson has a problem with Juan putting a price on his
own head... he says he's not a wrestler and he has no way to defend
himself. Well, Waterson, all I have to say is that when you decided to
pull a trump card out of your sleeve, you better be prepared for
somebody else to do the same.

[Bucky suddenly steps forward.]

BW: Now wait a minute... are you saying you'd be willing to collect that
bounty?

[Eric turns to Bucky, not advancing on him this time.]

EMS: Wow, Bucky, sometimes you can ask a truly hard hitting question...
but really, I could care less about any bounties. It may be added
incentive to take the Southern Syndicate down, but Dave and I had all
the incentive we needed... and I'm not talking about the title belts
around the waists of Adrian Freeman and Callisto Dufresne.

Seems as though ever since Freeman and Dufresne won those titles, they
want to make a habit out of ticking everyone off. And now I hear them
threatening to do what they did to City Jack, to anybody who dares to
step forward and put them in their places. Well, Freeman and Dufresne,
the only thing that happens every time you open your mouths is you make
that target on your backs bigger than before.

Although not big enough to hide the yellow streaks running down your
backs.

Regardless, the two of you have bitten off way more than you can chew.
And your buddies Stevie Scott, Raphael Rhoades and Ben Waterson aren't
going to be enough to cover for you... not when folks like Dave and I
around.

GM: Yet Dufresne and Freeman have already accepted a non-title challenge
from Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson. Plus a team the two of you are
quite familiar with, The Bishop Boys, have put the Southern Syndicate on
their list as well. The two of you have earned a National Tag Team Title
shot... what about these other teams who are stepping forward?

DC: Gordon, as I said previously, the main issue we have with Dufresne
and Freeman is not the title belts they wear... certainly, we want those
belts, but when you look at the trouble those two and their newfound
partners in crime, the Southern Syndicate, have been causing, it's not
the only thing on our minds.

But if Fitzgerald and Lawson want a shot at those two punks, we're more
than happy for them. The more people who are prepared to teach those
punks a lesson, the better.

As for the Bishop Boys... certainly there's no love lost between us and
Cousin Bo's men... but at least when we were settling our issues,
neither us nor they hid anything about intent. Waterson and his boys, on
the other hand, tried to pull the wool over their eyes. So I shouldn't
be surprised the Bishops want a piece of the Syndicate as well.

The way I see it, our three points we've accumulated simply means we get
a shot at the tag team champions at some point in the future, whoever
the champions may be. But regardless of who the champions are when our
shot finally comes, we still want a piece of Dufresne and Freeman,
simply for all the trouble they've caused and all the trouble their
buddies in the Syndicate have caused.

Because when it comes to the Southern Syndicate, it's not about the
bounties up for grabs. It's not about the title belts they wear. It's
about everything that has happened at their hands the past few months...
and that's all the incentive we need.

GM: While we have you here, we'd certainly like to address some other
issues... your offer you made to Tin Can Rust a few weeks ago, the
upcoming Anniversary show... so much more to discuss.

SS: Gordon, I'll take some of these issues... first of all, I understand
Tin Can Rust wants to go his own way, and we'll respect that.

But that being said, it's become apparent that we need to show a more
united front against the Southern Syndicate... against these bounty
hunters that keep showing up... against anybody who is out to cause
problems here in the AWA. And after watching what happened last week, I
think I have an answer.

I am making an offer to Stephen Ross for Dave and Eric to be part of a
special security team at the Anniversary show... and if he accepts, I
will then make an offer to anybody who is not booked for a match on the
Anniversary show to be part of that security team.

The situation with all the bounties on everyone's head, all those coming
to seek the bounties, anyone just coming out from the back to start
trouble... it has gone far enough. So I personally think it's time for
some of us here in AWA to take a stand and see to it at least some form
of order is restored... and who better to do it than the AWA wrestlers
themselves.

I will say this, though... we are only interested in people who have the
best interests of the AWA at heart, not their own selfish interests. So
needless to say, no Southern Syndicate member, no bounty hunters, no
Matsui Corporation representative and no man with the money need apply.

Mr. Ross, if you accept our offer, all you have to do is say the word...
and the same goes to anyone else who is fed up with what's happening
here.

[The members of Rough N Ready then depart the broadcast position.]

GM: Well, that's certainly quite the offer from Rough N Ready.

BW: Those two want to provide security? How can they be trusted to keep
things in order when they just said how much they want to get their
hands on the Southern Syndicate?

GM: They certainly do, but I think they can be trusted to simply keep
some order in store.

BW: More like use it as their chance to collect a bounty.

GM: I doubt that's their real motive, but the question is... will
Stephen Ross accept their help?  Perhaps we'll find out later tonight
but for now, let's go back to the locker room area where Jason Dane has
a very special guest!  Jason?

[We cut once again to the ever familiar Jason Dane.  He is standing
backstage, not in the midst of violence of chaos, but rather in the
presence of a single young man.  He is dressed in a simple, grey "AWA
COMBAT CORNER" t-shirt and dark track pants.  His auburn hair is worn in
the fashionable "messy" style, but still short.  He is clean shaven and
obviously athletic and tall.]

JD:  Ladies and gentlemen, I am here with the first graduate of Combat
Corner, "All American" Aaron Anderson.  It has been sometime since we
seen you here on AWA television, Aaron.

[Turning to give the mic to the visibly nervous youngster, Dane awaits. 
The former All American wrestler says nothing, looking down at the
ground.  It is not nervousness emanating from the young rookie though. 
Something else.  Palpably awkward.]

JD:  You MUST be here for the bounty, that has to be it.

AA:  No.

[Dane continues to hold the microphone up.]

AA:  No.  I am not here for the bounty.

[Yet to look up to the camera he continues in a quiet, almost dull
voice.]

AA:  I am not back for the bounty.  I didn't ask for this time to make a
challenge or ask for a title shot.  I didn't come here asking for a
chance.  I came here.  I came here...

[Pause.  Gulp.]

AA:  I came here...

[Another gulp.  A sigh.]

AA:  I came here to apologize.

[Admittance brings confidence, driving his chin up and brown eyes from
Dane to the camera.]

AA:  I came here to apologize for my performances since I graduated from
the Combat Corner.  I came here to apologize to the AWA.  I came here to
apologize to my opponents.  I came here to apologize to the front office
and the AWA Championship Committee.  I came here to apologize to any
fans I had.  I came here to apologize to my family.  I came here...

[His eyes are drawn downwards in shame, but with all the strength he can
muster he props them upwards.  Despite his large frame he seems to shake
under the effort]

AA:  ...to apologize to Todd Michaelson.  Sir, you saw promise in me
that I have yet to fulfill.  I have been surpassed by graduates from the
next class.  I have been surpassed by newcomers.  I have let every
promise I gave you go straight to hell.. sorry... again... I have let
every promise I gave you be thrown under a rug.

I apologize.

AA:  So, no, Jason Dane, I am not here for the bounty.  I am not here
for a challenge.  I won't ask for a title shot or even a match at all. 
All I asked is for the time to apologize and I did... in words.

Now, I live up to some promises I made and do so in actions.

[Anderson walks off screen, alone, Dane turning to the camera.]

JD:  Strong words from the All American, guys.  I can't help but think
we still haven't seen a thing from this kid.  Gordon, Buck-

[Dane's words get cut off as he glares off-camera.  Seconds later, two
recognizable (and equally detestable) figures storm on camera.  The AWA
National Tag Team Champions, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne and "Subzero"
Adrian Freeman still look irate from their earlier discussions with
Stephen Ross.]

CD: Where are they, Dane?

JD: Where are who?

AF: Don't play coy with us.  You know exactly who we mean.

JD: I... I really don't.

CD: Those two never-weres, Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson!

JD: Umm... I'm not sure I-

[Dane's collar is grabbed by Dufresne, showing how serious he is.  Dane
points off camera.]

JD: They, uhh... they went that way.  Towards the locker room.

[Dufresne releases Dane's collar.]

CD: They want to jump us from behind like cowards last week?  We'll see
how they like it.

[Freeman stabs his finger towards the camera.]

AF: You.  Come with us.  So the whole world can see what happens when
you cross us.

[Dufresne and Freeman creep up to the locker room doors, Freeman holding
up 1 finger, 2 fingers and... 3 fingers.  The two kick in the door like
and burst in like an episode of COPS and storm into the locker room,
passing a set of toilet stalls on the way, and pound their way into the
locker room and find...]

CD: Damnit!

[...Absolutely nothing.

Nobody is in the locker room and the champions stand, back turned to the
camera, their body language clearly telling the story.  The cameraman
begins to enter the locker room when sudden movement catches his
attention as the two bathroom stalls just inside the locker room
silently open, revealing none other than Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey
Lawson!  The crowd can be heard cheering from inside the WKIK Studios as
the two men creep behind the National Tag Team Champions and pause,
waiting for the men to turn around.  Which they finally do, and the look
on the champs faces are classic.]

AF: What the -

[Before Freeman can finish his sentence, Lawson and Fitzgerald land
simultaneous right hands to the jaws of Dufresne and Freeman, flooring
the two men!  Fitzgerald and Lawson laugh heartily and turn and walk
past the camera, leaving the AWA National Tag Team Champions on the
ground in the fetal position.  Cut back to ringside.]

GM:  Hehehe.

BW:  You liked that, did you, Gordo?

GM:  Well, you have to admit that Dufresne and Freeman got what was
coming to them right there, Bucky.  They were hunting down Fitzgerald
and Lawson and they paid the price for it.

BW:  Those two teams are gonna meet at the Second Anniversary Show in
two weeks and you can bet a pair of right hands aren't gonna put the
National Tag Team Champions down.  Fitzgerald and Lawson are going to be
exposed for the flukes they are.

GM:  We'll see about that in two weeks.  Fans, we'll be right back with
more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!

[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, fans, and over the past few months, we've seen a
nasty vendetta develop between the Rhodes brothers and the Keenings.

BW:  Nasty?  It hasn't even STARTED to get nasty yet.  The Keenings are
gonna get theirs!  It's inevitable!!

GM:  It all started back at SuperClash when Raphael Rhodes tricked Jason
Keening and the rest of us into thinking he wasn't going to join the
Southern Syndicate.  Then at the Stampede Cup, Jason tried to exact some
revenge by inserting the Ghost Dancers into the tournament only for both
the Keenings AND the Rhodes brothers to be eliminated due to a
time-expiration draw.  On the last Saturday Night Wrestling in January,
the Ghost Dancers and the Rhodes Brothers locked up once more but again
there was no definitive conclusion as both teams were disqualified.

BW:  The Keenings are ducking the Rhodes Brothers, it's obvious!  Once
Raphael and Simon get their hands on those overgrown Boy Scouts, they're
gonna find out just what it means to mess with the Southern Syndicate...
big time!

GM:  Coming out to speak with us tonight about this and other issues is
one-half of the Ghost Dancers... wrestling fans familiar with the scene
in Japan might remember him as "The Banshee" but he's none other than...
Michael Keening!

[At this introduction, "Indestructible" by Disturbed begins crunching
over the loudspeakers as the crowd responds with a warm cheer.  Through
the curtains steps a slender, muscular man whose long dark brown hair is
very straight and hangs below his shoulders.  Michael Keening waves as
he walks down the aisle dressed in black wrestling boots and skin-tight
buckskin pants with fringes running down the outside seam of each leg. 
A large colorful tattoo of a screaming woman's face can be seen on his
right upper chest as the older Keening brother walks over to the
announce position and shakes hands with Gordon Myers.]

GM:  Welcome, Michael, to Saturday Night Wrestling once again.

MK:  Thank you, Gordon.  It's always a pleasure to be out here with the
AWA and their fans.

BW:  Pfft!  Suck-up!!

MK:  Excuse me?

BW:  You and your brother, always with the same tired old shtick. 
Sucking up to the fans, pandering to the lowest common denominator. 
Mark my words, the Rhodes Brothers are going to send you and Jason
whimpering back into retirement and obscurity with your tails tucked
between your legs!

GM:  Bucky!  Show some respect!

MK:  It's all right, Gordon.  Mr. Wilde here is just demonstrating the
same attitude that the Rhodes seem to have in spades.  No respect at
all.  No respect for the fans.  No respect for their fellow wrestlers. 
Sometimes, that kind of attitude can't be changed through logic or
reason.  Sometimes you have to teach respect the old fashioned way... in
the ring!

[This sparks another cheer from the crowd but the cheers quickly turn to
booing as Raphael and Simon Rhodes walk into frame.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes!  Simon Rhodes!  What do you think you are doing out
here?

BW:  Hoo boy!  Things are about to get interesting!!

RR:  You ain't kiddin', Bucky.

[Raphael smirks as Keening clenches his fists, ready for a fight.]

RR:  So you want to teach me respect, do you?  Tell me somethin',
mate... what exactly does respect earn you?  Does it earn you a
paycheck?  Does it make you a champion?  Does it show the world that
you're tip-top?

[Raphael's smirk fades.]

RR:  Last time I checked, you ain't earnin' any of that by kissin' up to
people and sayin' how much you _respect_ them.  You earn it by gettin'
it done.  I've been through this song and dance before with Vasquez, and
if you want to go down this road... you're welcome to try.  But let me
make somethin' clear to you...

[Raphael points directly at Keening, who swats his hand away.]

RR:  You ain't ever goin' to be the same once I get done with you.  So
I'll tell you what... you're dressed to fight.  I've got my tights and
boots.  You track down a matchmaker, and you tell them you want me in
that ring tonight, and I'll be glad to show you just how little respect
means in wrestlin'.

[Raphael's smirk returns, as he and Simon walk away.  Keening watches
them leave, his teeth tightly clenched.]

GM:  Wow!  Raphael Rhodes laying out a challenge for Michael Keening to
face him one on one.  What do you say to that, Michael?

[Keening continues to glare up the aisle.]

MK:  I say let's do it!  Bring him on!

[The crowd cheers loudly at this as Keening walks out of view.]

GM:  Ohh my, this night just gets better and better!  Fans, let's go up
to the ring!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Washington D.C.... Jack Bartlett!

[A long-haired lanky pale tough guy raises both arms to zero reaction.]

MC:  And 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:  There's the bell and here we go!

[A fired-up Preston dashes out of the corner, bull-rushing Bartlett back
into the corner.  Balling up his fist, he throws a big haymaker right
hand, knocking Bartlett off his feet and down to the canvas!]

GM:  Ohh!  Down goes Bartlett!

[Preston yanks him back up, firing him into the ropes.  He races towards
Bartlett...

...and leaps up into the air, smashing his elbow back into the jaw of
the D.C. native!]

GM:  Down he goes again!  Eric Preston looks fired up here tonight,
Bucky.

BW:  That big mess that went down two weeks ago seems to have him on a
roll.

GM:  It certainly does.

[With the crowd cheering loudly, Preston pulls Bartlett up, hooking a
front facelock...

...and SNAPS Bartlett over in a bone-jarring suplex!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big time suplex by Preston!

[Hanging on to the front facelock, Preston rolls back to his feet,
pulling Bartlett up as well as he reaches down, hooking Bartlett's leg. 
He hoists Bartlett into the air, still holding the leg...

...and DROPPING Bartlett straight down on top of his head!]

GM:  GREENVILLE THUNDER!!

[Preston quickly applies a lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... ERIC PRESSSTON!

[Preston rolls from the ring, pumping a fist in celebration as he makes
his way over towards the announce area.]

GM:  Eric Preston, congratulations on another big win.

[Preston nods, accepting a handshake.]

EP:  Thank you, Mr. Myers.  I tell you the truth when I say that every
week that I come out here and compete in front of these great Texas fans
is the best week of my life, sir.

[Myers smiles at the young man.]

GM:  Now, while I'm sure you mean that, I'm also sure that two weeks
ago, when that big brawl broke out - there's no way that can be the best
week of your life.

[Preston laughs.]

EP:  Well, I'm a little banged up from all that but I made a highlight
reel, didn't I?

[Gordon nods at the young man's words, but his thoughtful, engaged gaze
suddenly darts from his interviewee to the area behind him.  Myers has
spotted someone coming, and to be honest, James Monosso isn't making any
attempt to be sneaky.  It is hard to miss a very tall, broadshouldered
man like Monosso anyway.  He's pointing at Preston and shouting
incoherently. ]

GM: James Monosso, what on earth are you doing?

BW: Careful, Gordo... I know this guy... you don't want his attention
right now.

EP: I'm not afraid of his attention Gordon, so don't sweat it. Have we
got a problem, Monosso?

[The bulky Monosso is now close enough to be heard over the mic.  He
pulls some of his long, stringy, wet, matted black hair out of his face,
revealing a wild look in his eyes.  Monosso, who is wearing his
black-and-silver one-strap wrestling singlet under his pale lime-green
PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION T-Shirt, continues to point rather
rudely.  His voice betrays bitterness and anger, but it is not as sickly
as it was when last we heard him.  He's somewhat less pale, and seems to
be bulking back up to a more normal size (for him).]

JM: My problem!  You know my problem!  I live in a hole in the wall in
the sphincter of Dallas, and while beating up gangs, drug dealers, and
dodging stray gunfire is excellent training, the ridiculous fines
assessed by the AWA for something I allegedly did while not even under
contract means that after rent, I have enough to eat... on weekdays. 
Heat, power, transportation, clothes, furniture, and utilities, not so
much.  So I've been spending my nights curled up in the fetal position
on an ice-cold floor surrounded by rats, roaches, and empty Ramen noodle
wrappers, and you wonder what my problem is?

My problem is the AWA deciding that they were going to fine someone
double for collecting a bounty!  That's a time-tested tradition of
wrestling!  Bounties!  Excitement!  Look at all the useless slobs who
showed up to get underfoot last week... don't see them anymore, do ya? 
But I'm still here, Eric.  I'm still here because I have nowhere to go. 
And just as I was about to make my life tolerable... Vasquez didn't see
me coming, and I had a clear shot at his ACL, and a razor in my fist...

GM: You had WHAT?!

JM: I wasn't going to slit his throat!  I'm not INSANE!  I... hate
slitting throats.  The gurgling sound is... wait, I wasn't talking about
that.  I was talking about YOU!

[Monosso points at Preston again.]

JM: You cost me my one chance!  My only chance!  Juan Vasquez' career
was over!  OVER!  I would have severed his ACL, and even if he came back
after that, he'd never be the same!  He'd never be able to beat Stevie
Scott after what I was going to do... and you, you little buck-toothed
rat, you took it all from me!  That money would have gotten me out of
debt!  I could have ended the cycle of suffer-sleep-maybe eat-suffer
that I've been living out since before you underwent puberty!  That's my
problem, Eric.

And now it's your problem, too.

I won't go after Vasquez for free... that's stupid.  I'm not stupid! 
But you.  YOU!  No one would pay a dime for you, Eric.  I even asked
Waterson.  I asked him if the bounty extended to you.  He didn't even
recognize your name!  He just asked "is that the dumb kid who has been
hanging on Vasquez' jock strap?"  And when I told him it was, he said
you weren't even worth ten cents!  It seems like the only person who
wants you to suffer and die is ME.  I was climbing out of the pit that
life dug for me, and you kicked me back in, you ignorant lop-eared jerk!
 Why?!  For what?!  Were you paid?  Were you promised favors?  I bet the
AWA didn't fine you for attacking me from behind, did they?  It... it
all...

[James is getting too wound up now.  His fists clench as he cannot
complete that thought in coherent words.  That's hardly surprising, as
the thought wasn't real coherent to begin with.  He simply drops it and
moves on.]

JM: The only reason I didn't just come out here with a fire axe and put
out the fire in your eyes is because I can't afford any more fines!  But
your day is coming, Eric.  You stole from me the thing I needed to go
on.  I'm going to see to it that you learn exactly what that feels like!

[Preston looks at Monosso incredulously, not believing what he's
hearing.]

EP: I don't know what to tell you, James. You might have been going for
Juan's knee, but I was heading right for Waterson's head when we ran
into each other. That's just how it happens man, but for you to come out
here and shriek and yell about me costing you a living, brother, that's
just not true. _You_ are responsible for your choices, just like I'm
responsible for mine, and that means that you're responsible for where
your choices lead you.

I'm real sorry to hear about your situation James, but just because I
happened to stop you from taking out Vasquez doesn't mean that I helped
to create that situation. To blame that on me, man, is just not showing
a whole lot of accountability on your part.

JM: ACCOUNTABILITY?!

[Monosso cuts Preston off with an outburst.  He practically shrieks the
word in disgust.]

JM: You don't think I know about accountability?!  I know what it means,
Eric.  I just don't think you're seeing this from a very fair point of
view.  I think you're seeing this from a very selfish place, a place
like where these fans sit.  A place where you can all sit there in warm
comfy houses and JUDGE ME!  You judge me, and all I'm doing is trying to
survive!  Don't you know that?!  You all stuff your fat faces and sleep
in warm beds and you judge me for doing anything I have to do to get a
scrap of food and a pillow that isn't filled with cockroaches!  And you
talk about accountability?  WHO IS ACCOUNTABLE FOR ME, ERIC?  WHO DO I
BLAME FOR BEING THROWN IN AN ASYLUM FOR SIX YEARS?!  DID I CHECK MYSELF
IN?!  DID I AGREE FOR THEM TO TAKE EVERY PENNY I EVER EARNED FOR THE
RIGHT TO BE LOCKED IN A ROOM WEARING A STRAITJACKET?!  WHO'S
ACCOUNTABLE. ERIC?!

[Yeah, James has lost it... relatively speaking.  He stomps around,
screaming these words at everyone he can see, before finally coming to
face Preston again.]

JM: I'll show you accountability.  I'll show you.  I was going to
wrestle my match, win, and go 'home'.  Just like last time.  But now? 
ACCOUNTABILITY, ERIC PRESTON!  ACCOUNTABILITY!

[James marches towards the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

GM: It looks like James Monosso is heading directly to the ring for his
match.  Well, I can see that Eric Preston isn't leaving, and we'll get
the introductions from Melissa Cannon.

[In the ring, a tall young man with a good physique stands ready.  He's
got long brown curly hair, a large nose, and a clean-shaven face.  He is
wearing pale blue trunks and white boots.  Melissa is in the middle of
the ring to do the intros as Monosso climbs up onto the apron.]

MC: THIS MATCH IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL AND A TEN MINUTE TIME LIMIT! 
INTRODUCING FIR...AAAAH!

[I don't know who AAAAH is, but if that is the name of the wrestler
behind her, then James Monosso just charged and clobbered AAAAH with a
running front elbow smash!  Melissa bails out in a hurry as Monosso
whips his foe to the mat by his hair, leaps on him, and starts
pummelling him with lefts and rights!]

BW: Kids these days.  No sense.  Who is this kid, Gordo?

GM: His name is Tom Oswald, and he would have been well advised to put
his guard up the instant James Monosso came into the ring.

BW: He shoulda had his guard up the instant he came ta Dallas, daddy.

GM: Monosso ripping at Oswald's face!  This is illegal, and that
pre-match attack has to be broken up by the referee!  James Monosso is a
dirty fighter, to say the very least, and he could inflict some
permanent scars this way!

BW: Some wrestlers are handsome, Gordo.  You know how ta tell if they're
any good?

GM: How?

BW: That's a trick question; they're ALL good, 'cause otherwise ya get
your face mangled.  It's part o' life in the sport, daddy.

GM: Oswald struggling to get to his feet, as Monosso measuring him with
punches.  These fans letting the wildman have it, and a headbutt sends
Tom Oswald to the corner.  Monosso grabbing his man... and running his
forehead down the top rope!  Scraping that rough plastic covering and
steel cable into the skin of Oswald!  There is no call for that!  That
does not help you win a wrestling match, that's just spiteful!

BW: Doesn't help?!  Gordon, you ain't never wrestled a match in your
life!  An' sayin' that just shows it!

GM: Monosso scooping Tom Oswald, and slamming him in the center of the
ring!  Off the ropes comes the wildman... and he misses the elbow drop! 
Oswald with a chance here!

BW: A real good chance, too.

GM: You think that Monosso hurt himself that much?

BW: No, I think his big chance is ta run for it.  Run, kid!  This guy
was breakin' backs when you was in grade school!

GM: Oswald kicking Monosso in the chest!  Applies the headlock... and
Monosso lifting for the suplex!  But Tom Oswald floats over the back,
and a dropkick from behind!  MONOSSO IS DOWN!

[The fans cheer the turnabout, as Eric Preston claps and gives
encouragement.  Monosso gets up pretty much immediately.]

BW: Are you kiddin'?  Gordo, do you have any idea what it takes ta put
James Monosso down an' out?  We seen him screw up, we seen him do dumb
things; it's who he's always been.  But ya know what we ain't seen yet?

[Oswald pumps his fist excitedly, and Irish-whips the two-hundred eighty
pounder off the ropes.  He rebounds with a big flying forearm, and the
fans roar!  Monosso is felled, but is already getting up.]

GM: And what would that be?

BW: This.  Watch.

[The tall journeyman, who stands about 6' 4", manages to pick up the 6'
7" Monosso and hammer him hard to the mat with a scoop slam.  James gets
up, and Oswald hooks his head as he does.  A vertical suplex proceeds to
shake the ring, and the crowd cheers approval.  However, Monosso gets up
fairly soon after.  Tom's brow furrows in a bit of frustration, and he
winds up and strikes with a big haymaker.  The response?

Monosso sneers at him, and waves for more.]

GM: This offense not seeming to wear Monosso down as of yet.

BW: It won't.  You can beat on him all night.  Gordo, he's NUTS.  He
feels pain, but he just don't care.  Part of him likes it!  Oswald can't
win this way.  Nobody can win this way.  You gotta wrestle him, or else.

[A big windup kick to the head by Tom Oswald draws a derisive snort from
Monosso.  Oh, it staggers him to the ropes alright, but James barrels
off the ropes with a nasty swinging clubbing blow to the side of the
head that fells his younger prey in an instant.]

GM: Monosso with... that was half-lariat, half-haymaker.  All impact,
all brutality.  Tom Oswald is stunned, and Monosso kicking him in the
stomach, and sending him out to the floor!

BW: And forget fighting him on the floor.  Maybe one of the Bishops
could do it, or maybe a super-tough vet like Taylor or somebody.  But
not Tom Oswald, an' sure as heck not Eric Preston.

[James steps out onto the apron, runs down the length of the apron, and
plants a running boot right into Tom Oswald's head!  The stomp drives
Oswald down to the floor with a loud THUD.  The crowd boos loudly as
Monosso points at them and shouts incoherently.]

BW: Hee hee, I never get tired o' seeing that move.

GM: Monosso down on the floor now, and throwing his man back into the
ring.  That shot had to take the fight out of Tom Oswald, who put up a
good run earlier on.

BW: Uh, oh!  Preston's distracting him!  Hey, ref!  Run this nitwit
outta here!

[Indeed, Monosso is now pointing and yelling at Eric Preston again. 
Eric is shouting back, and the argument has the attention of the crowd. 
They are trying to egg Eric on to going after the madman, but thus far,
he is just standing several feet from the broadcast desk.]

GM: James Monosso is distracting himself, Bucky.  He cannot keep his
focus where it needs to be.

BW: That instigator Preston is makin' it happen!  Get back to the locker
room, if ya know what's good for ya, kid!  You got no idea what that man
is capable of!

[James' eyes flutter a bit, as something inside reminds him that he
needs to win the match in order to pay his rent.  He turns and climbs up
on the apron... but too late, as Tom Oswald has recovered enough to
throw a dropkick between the ropes!  The dropkick catches James in the
midsection, and he tumbles to the floor!  The fans cheer loudly as the
tables have turned.]

GM: OSWALD CAPITALIZES WITH A TREMENDOUS MANEUVER!

BW: Oswald better get Monosso in the ring real, real fast.  If he don't
follow up immediately, all he's just done is tick off a madman, I
promise you that.

[The referee admonishes Oswald, who obediently backs away from the
ropes.  Monosso peels himself from the concrete, and his eyes have
focused once again.  He clambers back up onto the apron, and this time,
when Oswald approaches, James reaches in and grabs him by the hair.]

GM: A handful of hair by Monosso, and running down the apron... smashes
Oswald's head into the top turnbuckle!  The young man from Colorado is
dazed, and what is Monosso doing now?

[He's pulling Oswald's head through the ropes, right next to the
ringpost.  As Tom's upper body is stretched between the top and middle
ropes, Monosso takes a step back, and boots him hard in the side of the
head... brutally sandwiching his prey's head between his foot and the
ringpost!  The crowd boos as Tom Oswald's body collapses back into the
ring with the grace of a sandbag.]

BW: What he's doin'?  Winnin', Gordo.

GM: We have seen him do that before, and that should be banned! 
Smashing his opponent's head into the ringpost with a kick... that is
not wrestling, that is not fair, and that is not what those ringposts
are there for!

BW: It is, it is, and it is, Gordo.  Everything's there ta be used when
there's money on the line, daddy!  Didja see that, Preston?  You got one
o' those in your future!

[Monosso re-enters the ring, as Oswald's movement consists of writhing
on the mat very slowly.  James scoops up the tall Coloradan, and hoists
him over his shoulders.  He points at Eric Preston, and runs to the
opposite corner of the ring with his man draped over his shoulders...]

GM: There's that Happy Valley Driver!  Ramming Tom Oswald face-first
into the turnbuckle, and using the momentum to flip him onto his back
with a hard fireman's carry reverse slam!

BW: You know why he calls it that, Gordo?

GM: Enlighten me.

BW: Happy Valley is the name of the asylum.  Happy Valley Psychiatric
Hospital.  I bet he learned that move by bouncin' interns off the walls.

GM: It wouldn't surprise me.  Tom Oswlad is out of it, and Monosso is...
oh, not this again.

[Yes, this again.  The wide-shouldered wildman lifts Oswald's barely
moving body up, hooks in a waistlock, and drills him head-first into the
canvas with a brutal backdrop driver!  This draws an 'oooh' from the
crowd, as the move just plain looks vicious.]

GM: DESCENT INTO MADNESS!  That will do it; Oswald is unconscious, as
most anyone would be after that!

BW: That would do it, if James was ready for it to be done.  Remember! 
Accountability!

[Monosso isn't going for a pin.  He stands up, points at Eric Preston,
and hoists Tom Oswald off the canvas once more.  Oswald is dead weight
as he wraps his arms around the overmatched journeyman's neck in front
facelock position, and turns him around.  With Oswald's neck now draped
over his shoulder, Monosso cups the chin and leans forward, hanging his
foe by the neck...]

GM: HANGMAN!  RING THE BELL!  THE MAN IS OUT!

[The referee wastes no time in doing just that.  Not that Monosso seems
to care.  He's glaring at Preston and yelling at him, still clutching
the Hangman on Oswald as the bell rings.  The fans stand and jeer as
Monosso refuses to release the hold.]


*DING*DING*DING*


BW: Take a look at it, Preston!  You're accountable for this!  You're
the one that made him mad!

GM: THAT IS RIDICULOUS!  MONOSSO IS TRYING TO BREAK TOM OSWALD'S NECK! 
AND ERIC PRESTON IS CHARGING THE RING!

[Preston leaps up onto the apron, darts into the ring, and charges
Monosso to tackle him down.  Monosso responds by turning around.]

GM: PRESTON TACKLES MONOSSO!

BW: Yeah?  Looked like he tackled Oswald to me!  I bet that impact
didn't help his neck any!  Pullin' a guy down when they're in a Hangman?
 I told you he was accountable!

GM: It broke the hold, and all three men down!  Preston going after
James Monosso!  Security is hitting the ring!  We have pandemonium,
fans!

BW: I guess Eric Preston isn't real big on bein' accountable either,
huh?  He can accuse people real good, but he sure couldn't take it,
could he?

GM: Are you mad?  James Monosso did this!  He chose to try and injure
Tom Oswald, and there is no logic on Earth that can justify him!

[Monosso stands up, and hammers Preston in the chest with a double
axehandle as security members try to get in between them!  Preston fires
back with a forearm under the chin that backs Monosso up, and both men
are pulled away by the assembled security forces.  Monosso throws one of
them aside and beelines for Preston, sending the entire group of people
holding Eric back with a big kick to the upper chest!]

GM: Monosso headed for another fine at this rate.

BW: Why?  Preston attacked him first!

GM: Preston seems willing to accede to security, while Monosso is out of
control!

BW: By 'accede ta security', ya really mean 'run away before he gets
hurt'.

[No, that's not it; Preston slams a hard backhand chop into Monosso's
chest, causing a loud THWACK that echoes in the WKIK Studios.  James
barely flinches as he headbutts Preston, then throws another security
guard down.]

BW: See, he ain't attackin' those guys, he's just movin' 'em aside. 
Eric Preston's the only one he's attackin'!

[Preston tries a kick to the knee, but that doesn't seem to slow Monosso
down as he grabs the young man by the head and tosses him over the top
rope!  Eric grabs the ropes on the way over and lands on his feet,
though his back slams into the apron and stuns him while James exits the
ring right next to him.  Monosso clubs him across the mouth with a meaty
forearm, scraping the forearm across his face as he swings his arm
past.]

GW: This has to be broken up!  We may need more security!

[Fortunately, James makes the tactical error they need, as he wanders
over to a folding chair, and bends down to pick it up.  He heads back to
the ring with chair in hand, but three security guards pretty much
pounce off the apron onto him, tackling him down as others pull Preston
away.]

BW: Awww.  Preston got lucky.

GM: Get this madman out of here!  James Monosso unable to control
himself!  Look at this!  He's still going wild!

[Monosso pushes his way past the guards, but by that time, his enemy is
gone.  He throws the chair through the air in a big looping arc, causing
it to bounce across the ring.  He storms about rambling at people, and
steps into the crowd.]

GM: OH, NO!  GET HIM OUT OF THERE!

[James takes an empty seat and chucks it over the into the ring, then
starts screaming in the faces of some booing fans.  He then stomps back
and rips up someone's hand-drawn sign declaring Eric Preston to be the
future of wrestling.]

GM: We have to go to commercial... fans, please remain calm!  Don't
antagonize him!

[Gordon's last comments, of course, were directed to the studio
audience.  They respond predictably; by antagonizing him.  We cut to
commercial as Monosso continues to rampage through the crowd.

...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.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... what a wild moment we just witnessed there. 
James Monosso is completely out of control!

BW:  Where in the world was the rest of Ross' security team during
that?!

GM:  I have no idea.  Luckily, all of the ringside fans seem to be okay
after Monosso just tore through the crowd.  That guy is... well, he's
not playing with an entire deck of cards, Bucky.

BW:  Oh jeez.

GM:  What?

BW:  You set me up there.  You wanted a "speaking of deck of cards..."
didn't you?

GM:  I'm not sure-

BW:  Yes you are!  You wanted me to talk about how Pure X tracked down
Langseth backstage during the break and how he's going to be in the Lady
Luck Challenge in just a few moments!

GM:  Bucky, you're far too suspicious.  Fans, Pure X DID finally catch
up with Mark Langseth moments ago so let's go back to the locker room
area and see what happened between those two.

[Shot comes to Jason Dane standing by backstage with Mark Langseth,
dressed in a royal blue button down and black slacks.]

JD: Jason Dane here with Mark Langseth, one show removed from Shane
Destiny accepting his challenge for a match at the Second Anniversary
Show. I have to ask, is that who you had in mind, Mark?

ML: I said anyone, Dane, and last I looked, Shane Destiny was anyone.
Now I can see the gears in your head turning and, no, I'm not afraid.

JD: Pardon?

ML: Your follow-up, Dane. I know it's going to be something like, "are
you concerned with what Shane Destiny had to say in reply" to my
challenge right?

[Dane sort of nods.]

ML: Well, look, I'm not afraid. I'm not concerned. Shane Destiny's a
quality wrestler, a former World Champion many times over. He's EXACTLY
the type of wrestler I have compete against to see if I really deserve
this comeback. If I can't hang with a person of Destiny's caliber in the
ring, there's no reason for me being here anymore.

JD: So you think you can beat him in the ring?

[Langseth laughs at the question.]

ML: Dane, come on, what kind of question is that? If I didn't think I
had a chance against him, why would I be here? Why I be here talking to
you now? I know what he can do in the ring. He's dangerous, he's
ruthless - what he said to me at the last show? About ending careers?

[The Hall of Famer shakes his head.]

ML: He wasn't lying. I've seen it, ok? I know he's willing and able to
end my career... But, yeah, I think I have enough skill and fight left
in the tank of this beaten down body of mine to withstand Destiny's
worst. And -

[Langseth suddenly stops as the figure of Pure X steps into the shot.
With a cold glare on his face, X pushes aside Dane and gets in the face
of the Langseth.]

PX: What do you think you're doing?

[Dane, in the background, lift his mic up.]

ML: Me? I think I'm trying to give an intervie-

PX: Don't take me for a fool. Answer the damned question. What the hell
do you think you're doing?

[Pure X narrows his eyes at Langseth.]

PX: Who do you think you're fooling?

ML: Look, KID, you better lose this attitude or I'll help you lose it!

[Pure X doesn't move, doesn't flinch, but rather continues his glare.]

ML: I've got some advice for you - from someone who's actually
accomplished something in this sport.

[X shakes his head at that slight.]

ML: Stop crying about me taking your match or your opportunity or your
place in the rankings or whatever it is that's gotten you acting like
some spoiled brat.

[X bites his lower lip as he starts to steam.]

PX: Spoiled brat?

ML: Yeah, spoiled brat. Hey, I'm not taking anything away from you, got
it? You can still face off against him AFTER I'm done with him at the
Second Anniversary Show. This is going to be MY proving ground! This is
going to be MY chance and I'm not going to step aside for you or anyone
else!

[Now it's Langseth who's the one who steps into Pure X's face.]

ML: And if you don't like that, you can either stew on about it or step
up and take the spot away from me!

[Langseth waits there for Pure X to react, boring a hole through X, but
ultimately pushes X aside as he starts to walk away.]

ML: Just like I thought...

[As Langseth leaves the shot, Pure X stands there looking with an
angered look before the shot cuts back to the Bucky and Gordon.]

GM:  A very interesting situation developing between Mark Langseth and
Pure X and you have to wonder just how focused Pure X will be later
tonight when he takes on Sweet Daddy Williams in the Lady Luck
Challenge.  But before we get to that, earlier tonight, we saw an angry
confrontation between Raphael Rhodes and Michael Keening.  Coming up
next, those two men will be stepping into the ring for what promises to
be a fierce battle!

BW:  He used to call himself The Banshee but now we're going to see this
moron REALLY scream once Raphael gets his hands on him.

GM:  Jason Keening has yet to arrive so hopefully his brother Michael
won't be stepping into the lion's den, so to speak, as he takes on a
member of the Southern Syndicate all by himself.

BW:  Lions den?  How about a lamb to the slaughter.  This is going to be
absolutely fantastic!

[The camera turns to face the ring where Melissa can be seen raising her
microphone to begin speaking.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... this next contest is scheduled for one
fall.  Introducing first...

[The distant wailing of an air raid siren begins to sound over the P.A.
loudspeakers as the crowd surges to its feet and begins to cheer in
recognition.  After a moment, Disturbed's "Indestructible" begins
playing with the deafening fury of crunching guitars.]

# Another mission, the powers have called me away. # # Another time to
carry the colors again. # # My motivation, an oath I've sworn to defend.
# # To win the honor of coming back home again. # # No explanation will
matter after we begin. # # Another dark destroyer that's buried within,
# # My true vocation, and now my unfortunate friend, # # You will
discover a war you're unable to win. #

MC:  ...hailing from Los Angeles, California...

[As David Draiman's guttural vocals transition into the chorus, Michael
Keening steps into view and the fans cheering grows louder.]

# I'll have you know that I've become... # # Indestructible. # #
Determination that is incorruptible. # # From the other side. # # A
terror to behold. # # Annihilation will be unavoidable. # # Every broken
enemy will know, # # That their opponent had to be invincible. # # Take
a last look around while you're alive, # # I'm an indestructible master
of war. #

MC: ...weighing in at 220 pounds, here is...

[Keening is wearing the same buckskin pants with leather fringes along
the outside of the legs that he wore earlier along with his black-dyed
tall moccasins.  A simple brown leather strap with Paiute beadwork sewn
onto it circles his forehead as long, straight hair cascades down around
his shoulders.  As the music continues, Keening acknowledges the
cheering crowd with a broad grin while he walks down the aisle.]

MC:  MICHAEL KEEEENING!

[The music begins to fade out as Keening reaches the ring and rolls
underneath the bottom rope.  Michael quickly mounts one of the
turnbuckles and pumps his fist in the air while the crowd cheers loudly.
 A broad grin is still on his face as he performs a backflip into the
center of the ring.]

GM:  Michael Keening demonstrating some of the agility that earned him
such a stellar reputation both here in North America as well as over in
Japan.

BW:  Ancient history!  Raphael Rhodes represents the new generation of
professional wrestling and tonight he's going to put this washed-up
never-was out to pasture!

MC:  And introducing his opponent...

[The piano introduction to "Chemistry" by UNKLE begins to play over the
P.A. system and the arena lights dim as the fans erupt in a chorus of
boos and jeers.  When the music launches into a heavy droning beat, a
pair of brilliant white spotlights shine down on the entrance curtains
where the Rhodes Brothers appear, their pale skin reflecting the light
with an almost blinding glare.]

MC:  ...hailing from Wigan, England...

[The music continues to thunder over the loudspeakers as Raphael Rhodes
ignores the booing crowd while glaring intently at the ring.  Behind
him, Simon Rhodes claps his brother on the shoulder as the two begin
marching down the aisle.]

GM:  Definitely no love lost between Raphael Rhodes and either one of
the Keening brothers.  Issues first came to a head between him and Jason
Keening but after their last tag team match and tonight's confrontation,
Raphael now has some serious problems with Michael Keening!

BW:  Jason, Michael, Mustafa, it doesn't matter which Keening is in
front of him, Raphael is going to knock them all down!!

MC:  ...weighing in at 201 pounds, here is...

[Both Rhodes brothers mount the steps to climb up into the ring, ducking
between the middle and top ropes as they continue to glare angrily at
Michael Keening.  Simon remains standing behind his brother as he leans
forward to whisper a few words into Raphael's ear.  Raphael nods in
acknowledgement but never takes his eyes off Keening as the arena lights
brighten once more.]

MC:  RAPHAEL RHODES!

[The referee steps between Rhodes and Keening who begin moving towards
each other.  As the two wrestlers exchange insults, the official
inspects Rhodes' hands, legs and boots for any hidden weapons.]

GM:  In their last tag team match, Raphael Rhodes knocked Jason Keening
for a loop with a hidden pair of brass knuckles so the referee is
checking to make sure he isn't carrying any illegal weapons this time.

BW:  He won't need any.  Not with Simon backing him up.

[Simon Rhodes begrudgingly exits the ring as he shoots a final glare at
Michael Keening.]

*DING*

GM:  And the match is officially underway as Keening and Rhodes begin
circling one another.

[As if on cue, the two men surge together in a collar-and-elbow tie-up
but almost immediately, Raphael Rhodes twists sideways and traps
Keening's head in a side headlock.  Keening uses his size and strength
advantage as he grabs Rhodes around the waist and lifts him up before
falling backward to drop the smaller man onto the back of his head and
shoulders.]

GM:  Backdrop suplex by Michael Keening as he escape from that side
headlock but now he's going for a headlock of his own while both men are
down on the mat.

[Neither man attempts to rise as they scramble on the canvas to maintain
control over the other.  Keening attempts to trap Rhodes' head in a
prone headlock but the smaller man ducks out of it and ends up behind
him as he tries to bend the Ghost Dancer's arm up behind his own
shoulderblades.  But Keening rolls sideways to evade the hammerlock as
he pulls Rhodes over top of himself, continuing the motion through so as
to end up on top of the Englishman.]

GM:  Nice demonstration of mat wrestling by both Keening and Rhodes as
Keening grabs for the legs to attempt some form of submission.

[But Rhodes is having none of that as he pulls his legs out of Keening's
hands and wraps them around the taller man's waist in a bodylock. 
Twisting sideways, the Englishman forces Keening down to the canvas
where the taller man twists to try and break out of the legs that are
squeezed tightly around his abdomen.  Keening ends up facedown on the
canvas with Rhodes lying on top of him, the smaller man's legs still
locked tightly around the Ghost Dancer's waist.  Rhodes grabs Keening's
head and pulls upward, exerting painful pressure on the bigger man's
lower back.]

GM:  Whoah!  And Rhodes with a textbook spinal crank locked on here as
he's caught Michael Keening in a deadly submission hold!

BW:  They don't call him the "Catch Thug" for nothing!  Keening may
think his uncle's wrestling school might give him the edge but when
you're down on the mat, my money's on Rhodes!

[The referee checks with Keening to see if he surrenders but the Ghost
Dancer grunts a negative response.  Unable to power out of the smaller
man's hold, Keening manages to extend his right arm sideways far enough
to grab onto the bottom rope.]

GM:  Keening reaches the ropes!  But Rhodes isn't letting go!

BW:  He's got a five-count!

[Rhodes snarls and ignores the referee who yells at him to release the
spine crank.  Keening yells in pain as Rhodes pulls back harder while
the official begins counting.  Just before the count reaches five,
Rhodes releases his grip and pushes himself upright where he yells
angrily at the referee.]

GM:  Rhodes finally lets go to avoid being disqualified... OH!  And a
stomp to the lower back adds insult to injury!

BW:  Looked like injury to injury to me.

[Keening rolls away, holding his lower back as he grimaces in pain. 
Rhodes follows after him and nails an elbowdrop again to the taller
man's lower back.]

GM:  Ouch!  And Raphael Rhodes may have picked a target here as he
drives the point of his elbow right down into Michael Keening's spine!

[When Keening pushes himself up onto his hands and knees, Rhodes takes
advantage of having gotten to his feet first by promptly kicking the
taller man in the side of the ribs.  But as Keening shifts sideways from
the force of the blow, he shoves himself upright and bowls over Rhodes
with an outstretched arm.]

GM:  Clothesline by Keening!

[Rhodes staggers backwards but bares his teeth and charges forward once
more.  Back on his feet, Keening turns into Rhodes' charge and sends the
smaller man flipping over onto his back with an armdrag takedown.  But
as Rhodes lands on his back, Keening maintains his grip on the
Englishman's arm as he drops down to wrap his legs around his victim's
upper body.]

GM:  Crucifix armbar!  And now it's Rhodes caught in a submission hold
by Keening!!

[The hold isn't on for long, however, as Rhodes is able to yank his
wrist out of Keening's grasp.  Grabbing onto the taller man's longer
legs, Rhodes manages to push himself up for a moment and then pivots
around as he attempts to trap one of Keening's legs between his own.]

GM:  Kneebar by Rhodes!  No!  Keening twists out of it!!

[Escaping from Rhodes' grasp, Keening backs away warily as both men are
already breathing heavily from their exertions.]

GM:  An excellent display of submission wrestling by both Raphael Rhodes
and Michael Keening.  And despite Keening's greater experience, Raphael
Rhodes is having no trouble whatsover keeping up with his opponent.

BW:  Keeping up with him?  Raphael's got him on the defensive!  If
Keening is going to try mat wrestling with Raphael Rhodes, he's going to
end up with several limbs twisted out of shape!

[Rhodes stands upright and shouts something rude at the Ghost Dancer but
Keening's only response is to leap up and knock the Englishman down by
slamming both feet into the smaller man's chest.]

GM:  Standing dropkick by Michael Keening and Rhodes goes down!

[With Rhodes on his back, Keening dives forward and performs a front
somersault on the mat to build up momentum.  As he rolls to his feet, he
leaps into the air and crashes down with his right leg across the face
and throat of Raphael Rhodes.]

GM:  And Keening follows up with a somersault legdrop!

[Grabbing an arm, Keening hauls Rhodes to his feet and sends the
Englishman into the ropes with an Irish whip.  As Rhodes bounces back,
Keening catches him with a powerful spinning leg lariat that slams into
the smaller man's chest.]

GM:  Keening in control and... what's this?  Ben Waterson is coming down
to ringside!

[The Southern Syndicate's manager is greeted with jeers and boos from
the crowd but he ignores them as he saunters down to ringside.  In the
ring, Michael Keening has climbed up onto the top turnbuckle with
Raphael Rhodes still flat on his back in the middle of the canvas.  But
the man once known as The Banshee spots the self-proclaimed "Agent To
The Stars" as he is greeted warmly at ringside by Simon Rhodes.  Keening
hesitates and yells a warning down.]

GM:  Ben Waterson here at ringside and Michael Keening's got to be
concerned about that.

BW:  What did he expect?  This is Southern Syndicate business and Ben
has every right to be out here!

[Turning his attention back towards the middle of the ring, Keening
launches himself into the air but as he attempts to execute a flying
elbowdrop, Raphael Rhodes rolls out of the way so that the Ghost Dancer
slams down into nothing but canvas.]

*WHAM!*

GM:  Oooh!  And Keening misses a top-rope elbowdrop!

[Rhodes rises to his feet and pounces on the dazed Keening, kneeling
over top of him as he unloads a barrage of punches to the head and face
of the Ghost Dancer.  Keening covers up as best he can but suffers a
number of powerful blows before Rhodes grabs a handfull of hair and
pulls him up to his feet.]

GM:  Rhodes in control now as he doubles Keening over with a powerful
kick to the belly.

[Scooping the larger man upside down onto his shoulders, Rhodes jogs
foward several steps before jumping up and falling forward to hammer
Keening down into the mat.]

*WHUMP!*

GM:  RUNNING POWERSLAM!  Rhodes is giving up about twenty pounds to
Michael Keening but he was still strong enough to nail that impressive
maneuver!  He's going for the pin...   One!  Two!  Thr--SHOULDER UP!!

BW:  Hurt him some more, Raphael

GM:  Raphael Rhodes demonstrating his strength but it's still not quite
enough to put Michael Keening away.

BW:  Only delaying the inevitable, Gordo.  Only delaying the inevitable.

[Rhodes yells angrily at the referee as he grabs Keening's hair once
more and pulls the taller man to his feet.  A kneelift to the chest
forces the Ghost Dancer upright but when Rhodes attempts a punch, he's
surprised to find it blocked as Keening fires back with a punch of his
own.  The surprise turns quickly into anger as Keening grabs an arm and
sends the Englishman crashing into the nearest corner turnbuckles with a
powerful Irish whip.]

GM:  Keening fighting back and the momentum has switched once more!

[Grimacing in pain, Rhodes slumps slightly in the corner with his back
to the turnbuckles as Keening charges toward him.  Keening jumps up and
lands with his feet on Rhodes' upper legs as he grabs the smaller man
around the neck and falls backward.  Rhodes is pulled out of the corner
and sent flying halfway across the ring where he crashes painfully down
onto his back.]

GM:  Monkey flip by Michael Keening and did you see the elevation he got
out of Raphael Rhodes!

[Baring his teeth in a wordless snarl, Keening crouches in the corner
and gestures at Rhodes to get up.  At ringside, both Simon Rhodes and
Ben Waterson shout warnings at Raphael but the Englishman doesn't hear
them as he rolls to his feet.  Turning to locate Keening, Rhodes is
caught off guard as the Ghost Dancer races out of the corner and jumps
up to wrap his legs around the Englishman's head.  Falling backward,
Keening flips Rhodes over and onto the top of his head with a
devastating impact.]

*WHAM!*

GM:  Head scissors takeover!  WHAT AN AMAZING MANEUVER BY MICHAEL
KEENING!

[Rhodes is visibly dazed as Keening pounces on top of him and hooks one
of the smaller man's legs.]

GM:  Keening with the cover!  One!  Two!  Three!  Wait a minute...
where's the referee!

[Keening continues to hold onto Rhodes' leg but no count is made as the
official is completely out of position, over at the side of the ring
where he is arguing loudly with Ben Waterson who has climbed up onto the
apron.]

GM:  What is Ben Waterson doing?

BW:  He's taking care of Southern Syndicate business!

[The crowd roars its disapproval as Keening releases his grip and rolls
to his feet to confront Waterson.  As both Keening and the official
argue with Waterson, Raphael Rhodes rolls over to the side of the ring
where his brother can be seen surreptitiously handing something to him.]

GM:  I don't like the looks of this, folks.  Michael Keening had this
match well in hand until Ben Waterson stuck his nose into it!

BW:  He's a fully licensed manager who has every right to look after the
best interests of his clients!

[Yelling protests, Waterson continues to hold the attention of the
referee as Michael Keening turns back toward Raphael Rhodes.  But as the
Ghost Dancer reaches down to pull the Englishman up to his feet, Rhodes
strikes viciously with a deadly punch to the jaw that knocks Keening
flat onto his back.  Keening's body is stiff and his eyes glazed as
Rhodes quickly stuffs something metallic into the waistband of the
taller man's trunks.]

GM:  KNUCKLEDUSTER PUNCH!  And again Raphael Rhodes uses a pair of brass
knuckles to assault one of the Keenings!

BW:  I love it!

[Ben Waterson drops down off the apron and yells at the referee who
turns back toward the middle of the ring.  There, Raphael Rhodes drapes
himself across Michael Keening and hooks a leg.]

GM:  No!  No!  Not again!  Michael Keening has been knocked out cold by
a pair of brass knuckles and the referee didn't even see a thing! 
Here's the pin... One!  Two!  Three!  What a travesty of justice!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner...

RAPHAEL RHOOOOODES!

[Booing and jeering fills the air as Raphael Rhodes rises to his feet
with a smirk while his brother Simon and Ben Waterson climb into the
ring to congratulate him.  The suspicious referee demands to see Rhodes'
hands but the smiling Englishman opens his fingers and sarcastically
proclaims his innocence.]

GM:  Once again Raphael Rhodes uses brass knuckles against a Keening
brother but this time, it cost Michael Keening the match!

BW:  You mess with the Southern Syndicate and that's what you get!  A
one-way ticket to unconsciousness!

[Ben Waterson says something to the Rhodes brothers and they agree as
the "Agent To The Stars" grabs the referee and pulls him out of the way.
 Still flat on his back, Michael Keening is helpless as the two Rhodes
brothers begin stomping on him mercilessly.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  This is unnecessary...

[Suddenly, the arena erupts in cheers.]

GM:  ...HERE COMES JASON KEENING!!

[Racing down the aisle at top speed, Jason Keening charges down to
ringside and slides underneath the bottom rope but the Southern
Syndicate members choose to back away.  Waterson rolls out of the ring
on the opposite side as Raphael and Simon Rhodes taunt Jason Keening
before leisurely exiting the ring themselves.]

GM:  Thank goodness Jason arrived in time to keep his brother from being
seriously injured as you can be sure that absolutely nothing has been
settled between these two tag teams!

BW:  What do you mean nothing's been settled?  This is the first
conclusive finish to a match between the Rhodes and the Keenings and who
won?  Raphael Rhodes did, that's who!

[Yelling back at the Rhodes brothers who continue to taunt him as they
saunter up the aisle in Ben Waterson's wake, Jason Keening helps his
brother to his feet.  Michael seems confused for a moment and then angry
as he reaches into the waistband of his tights to pull out a pair of
brass knuckles.]

GM:  There's the difference maker, folks.  One of Raphael Rhodes'
favorite tools as he used a pair of knuckledusters to knock out Michael
Keening.  We'll be right back right after this break!

[With a stunned Michael Keening glaring at the brass knuckles, 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 Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, it's now my honor to welcome back Tin Can
Rust!

[The crowd cheers as Rust - dressed in a pair of black boot, dark blue
jeans, and an untucked flannel shirt - appears through the entrance. He
looks just as worn and weary as before, even with the months of lay off
from active competition. His eyes show a red strain as well as having
bags under them; his usual scruff is now more of a peppered beard. He
moves to the announcer area slowly, but prepared as he holds a
microphone in his right fist.]

GM: Mr. Rust, good to see you again after your break from AWA.

[Rust doesn't smile as his heavy eyes slowly look at Myers.]

TCR: Break, Mr. Myers? Or more like ban?

[Myers nods.]

GM: Yes, a ban, but in any regard, it is good to have you back.

TCR: Thanks.

GM: Now, as I understand, you didn't come back to wrestle tonight, but
rather you had some news regarding City Jack you wished to announce?

[Tin Can Rust slowly nods in affirmation as he brings the mic back up.]

TCR: First, I just wanted to relay Jack's appreciation and my
appreciation for all the support that you fans have -

[The fans applaud, cutting off Rust as he holds up his arm.]

TCR: Thank you... Thank you... I just wanted to pass that along to all
you fans. The letters, e-mails, phone calls - it's really helped Jack in
this time.

[The fans clap once again as Rust pauses.]

TCR: And I want to thank everyone out there who's kept Jack in their
thoughts and prayers. Every time I visit Jack, it seems like with every
piece of support he gets from you fans and some of the wrestlers in the
back and around the community... It seems like it helps a little bit on
his, uh...

[Rust clears his throat, sounding out a small sigh before continuing.]

TCR: Helps his recovery. And City Jack would love to be here to, uh...
To thank you all in person and... Update himself to you all...

[Rust nods.]

TCR: So that's why at the Second Anniversary Show, City Jack will be on
hand to thank each and every one of you -

[The fans let out a huge cheer, cutting off Rust again. He stands by and
waits for the fans to subside, which they do after a couple of moments.]

TCR: He'll be here to talk to you all, in person... Thank you...

[Rust nods, hands his microphone to Gordon Myers, and makes his way to
the exit as the fans applaud loudly again.]

GM:  Well, fans... that just adds one more thing to the anniversary
show.  It's going to be a huge night of celebration and a huge night of
AWA action.  Of course, two weeks ago, we heard the announcement that
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman will meet Bailey Fitzgerald and
Corey Lawson in a non-title tag team matchup.  Tonight, we were shocked
by the announcement that Juan Vasquez will be getting his rematch... he
will be challenging Stevie Scott for the National Title.  Plus, we've
got Shane Destiny and Mark Langseth going one on one as well.  And now,
we know that City Jack will also be in the house to address his fans. 
What a night it's gonna be, Bucky.

BW:  Oh, and that's not all, Gordo.

GM:  Well, I understand we do have a match or two more to add but-

BW:  No, no, no... I'm talking bigger.

GM:  What is it that you're referring to?

BW:  I'm referring to the return of The Call Of The Wilde, daddy!

GM:  Oh brother.

BW:  The Call Of The Wilde - the biggest segment in professional
wrestling - is coming back to AWA television with another big
announcement!  It's the place where we first saw Shane Destiny in the
AWA.  The place where Kevin Slater returned to the AWA.  And the place
where Mark Langseth returned to pro wrestling!  You know it's gonna be
big if it's on the Call, daddy, and this one's gonna be no different.

GM:  Well, you certainly do have a strong track record so I'm looking
forward to that.  Fans, it'll be an exciting night of action in two
weeks' time but we're not done here yet.  Speaking of being done, after
the showdown we saw a couple weeks ago with Vernon Riley and Clayton
Shaw beating Vladimir Velikov and Baron Von Klauss, I'm sure this man is
quite happy to be done with Velikov and the German.  At this time,
please welcome in one half of the team that defeated Vladimir Velikov
and Baron Von Klauss on the last edition of AWA Saturday Night and a
native son of Texas, "Working Man" Vernon Riley.

[And here he is, his curly blond hair uncovered today.  He again wears a
dark blue Dallas Cowboys jacket, jeans, and boots as he comes into the
view of the camera.]

GM: Vernon, you and Clayton Shaw scored a big win two weeks ago over
Velikov and Von Klauss and I know that, given your slow start when you
arrived in the AWA, that win had to be very big for you in particular.

VR: Ya know, Gawdaaaaaahn...that _was_ a big win for the Workin' Man and
all his Workin' Fans out there in Dallas, Texas, and beyond.

[Smallish pop from his Workin' Fans.  Not too many of them yet, but
there are some.]

VR: Two weeks ago, I started to show the AWA and those who might not
be...familiar with the history of Vernon Riley and what I've done all
across the globe...I started to show y'all who the Workin' Man is...and
what he is all about.

But lemme tell ya, Gawdahn...this is just the beginnin'.

Ya see, ol' Vern here...ol' Vern is just gettin' started.  And we gonna
get on this train and start ridin' it to bigger and better things in the
AWA.  We started takin' out the trash two weeks ago when me and Clayton
put a muzzle on Velikov and Von Klauss.  But there's plenty more trash
out there that's gotta be dealt with, Gawdahn.

Everybody knows what the Southern Syndicate is runnin' 'round here
doing.  And Gawdahn, you and I...we go back a loooong time, daddy.  And
if there's one thing you gotta know about Vernon Riley, it's that he
don't deal too kindly with bullies.

[Myers nods in agreement.]

VR: Then ya got-

[And Riley never gets to finish his next threat.  Why?  Well, largely
because he just got blindsided by someone who has not been seen before
in the AWA.  But judging by the look on Gordon Myers' face as he quickly
jumps out of the way, it's someone that he knows well.

This newcomer rivals Riley in out-of-shapeness.  Not as big but is still
more pudgy than muscular, he also had stringy blond hair with a receding
hair line.  He also has an edge on Riley now, having nailed him in the
side of the head.  As Riley lays in the floor, this newcomer stomps away
with his short black boots.]

GM: I... I can't believe what I'm seeing!

[Pulling Riley to his feet, the newcomer RAMS his head into the
broadcast table, sending the Working Man back to the floor in a heap and
allowing more kicks and stomps to come his way.]

BW: Wait, do you know who this guy is, Myers?

GM: Bucky, that's Anton Layton.  He calls himself the "Prince of
Darkness."

BW: So why's he attacking Riley?  Not that I'm upset, but that's kind of
random isn't it?

GM: Not at all, Bucky.  These two have quite a history in Florida.

[Layton again pulls Riley to his feet, this time dragging him toward the
ring and slamming his head into a ringpost.  He then climbs up on the
apron as Riley again lays unprotected on the floor.]

BW: Doesn't look like they got along too well.  Hey, didn't you use to
broadcast down in Florida?

GM: I did.

[Gordon continues with his short answers, clearly not telling everything
he knows - which is odd for Myers.  Meanwhile, Layton leaps off the
apron and lands in the mid-section of Riley with a brutal double stomp! 
Finally, some of the faces led by Clayton Shaw make their way to
ringside to help Riley, prompting Layton to step away and over to the
table with Myers.]

"POD"AL: Gordon Myers... the circle is now complete.  Vernon Riley...it
is all coming to pass as it has been foretold.

[Layton pauses, staring out into...well, nothing in particular.  Almost
as if he's seeing something that no one else does.]

"POD"AL: Did you think your past would not find you?  Did you believe
your past would not haunt you, child of light?  Oh, but it has!  It has!
 And it will continue, Vernon Riley!  IT!  WILL!  CONTINUE!

[Evil laugh, as he stops and watches Shaw and company help Riley to the
back.]

"POD"AL: The pain, Vernon Riley!  The pain will come to you as it has
been decreed by my Master!  You cannot run from your past, Vernon Riley!
 You cannot hide from OUR past, Working Man!

[Layton again pauses, staring off toward nothing.  His breathing is
heavy but he lowers the volume of his voice as he continues to speak in
his first AWA appearance.]

"POD"AL: Soon, you will be mine.  Soon, you will understand once again
the true meaning of darkness, lest you have forgotten.  Soon, you will
once again feel the pain that the blackness of night brings to you.  You
are no longer a king, Vernon Riley, no longer a king.  This is not your
kingdom.

And you will not be delivered away from the vengeance that I and my
Master shall bring forth to you.

[Layton immediately exits the scene, leaving a freaked-out Wilde and a
very concerned-looking Myers behind.]

BW: Alright Myers, you aren't telling us what you know.  What's this all
about?

GM: I... there's a lot of history between these two, Bucky.

BW: Yeah, you said that already.  You look like you've seen a ghost,
Gordon.  You alright?

GM: Let's... let's go to a break.  We'll be back with more AWA Saturday
Night after this.

[With a haunted Gordon Myers looking on blankly, 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 come back to live action where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit and is part of the LADY LUCK CHALLENGE!  Introducing first..
attempting to gain his second victory in the series...

PUUUUUUURE X!

["The Thing I Hate" by Stabbing Westward plays over the PA as the crowd
gives a decent sized pop to the technical guru known as Pure X. He's
dressed in his typical ring gear as he steps into the WKIK studios once
again. As before, he's still wearing a rather bitter face over his
situation regarding the Destiny/Langseth match. Once in the ring, X
stays in his corner to await his opponent.]

MC:  And his opponent...

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

MC:  SWEET DADDY WILLLLLLLIAMS!

[The tubby fan favorite barrels through the curtain with a big fist pump
that gets him big cheers from the crowd.  Williams points a finger to
the ring at Pure X, turning around to slap his rear.]

GM:  Heheh... the fans may be cheering both of these men but I'd say
there's no love lost in this one.

BW:  For once, I'm not sure I can fault Williams for that.  Pure X
obviously has disdain for him and what he represents.  It's hard to get
offended by something like that.

GM:  It certainly is.

[Williams slaps a few hands at ringside before rolling under the ropes
into the ring, popping up to a knee to glare across the ring at his
opponent.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams looks more focused than I've seen him...
perhaps ever.

BW:  You'd have to go back to the old Southern Championship Wrestling
days to see him more serious than he is right now.  Even a goof like
Williams realizes how this Lady Luck Challenge could benefit him.  You
get enough of these wins, you get your shot at the National Title... and
for Williams, a shot at Stevie Scott may be more valuable than a title
shot at the moment, Gordo.

GM:  You may be right.  There's a lot of bad blood there and you can bet
the Sweet Daddy wants his shot to get his hands on his former friend in
the worst possible way.

[Williams backs to the corner, tugging on the ropes as Pure X glares
across the ring at him.  Referee Mickey Meekly steps forward, calling
for the bell to sound.]

GM:  And here we go!

[Pure X marches out of the corner to the center of the ring, shouting
"Come on!" at the fan favorite.]

GM:  Pure X wants to get right at it.  He beat Corey Lawson last time
out which puts him in this match with Sweet Daddy Williams.  A win here
and he's got three more to go before he'd earn a shot at the National
Champion.

[Williams wastes no time in meeting the challenge, charging out of the
corner to the middle of the ring, locking up in a collar and elbow. 
Pure X quickly takes the advantage, applying an overhand wristlock,
pushing Williams backwards.]

GM:  Pure X is one heck of a technician, Bucky.  And that'll be what
he'll have to use to keep Williams down for a three count.

BW:  Three count?  I'm guessing X wants the tapout, daddy.

[With a quick back kick, Pure X sweeps a leg out, knocking Williams down
to a seated position on the mat, and keeps on pushing, pinning Williams'
back to the mat.  The referee drops down for a quick two count before
the fan favorite rolls to his side.]

GM:  Off his shoulders... two count only...

[Pure X promptly gets to his feet, driving a boot into the ribcage of
the Atlanta native before stepping back, glaring at the referee who
warns him off.]

GM:  The Pittsburgh native is getting some heat from the referee.  Pure
X is backing off - not pushing the advantage...

[Sweet Daddy Williams rolls to his knees, pushing up off the mat.  He
grabs at his ribs, wincing as he looks at Pure X.  He nods his head at
the referee, moving back towards Pure X who hooks him in a collar and
elbow tieup again...

...and quickly flips Williams over in a snap mare down into a seated
position on the mat before driving home a kick to the spine of the man
from Hotlanta!]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard kick to the spine there!

[Williams winces again, rolling away from Pure X who stays on the
attack, dragging him off the mat...

...and getting popped on the jaw with a right hand!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big right hand by Sweet Daddy Williams!

[Pure X falls back from the impact which allows Williams to get back to
his feet.]

GM:  Williams back up...

[The technician stumbles back in...

...and gets caught with another right hand!]

GM:  He got him again, Bucky!

[Williams promptly grabs Pure X by the back of the head, hurling him
towards the ropes, and sending him out to the floor to some cheers from
the crowd!]

GM:  Down to the floor he goes... and Williams is going out after him!

[Ever ready to thrill the fans, Williams pumps a fist as he drops down
off the apron, grabbing Pure X by the arm, dragging him off the floor...

...and FIRING him spinefirst into the ring apron!]

GM:  Ohh!  That'll take a lot out of him!

BW:  And Pure X isn't used to this, Gordo.  He doesn't fight on the
floor.  He doesn't send people into ringposts and ring aprons and all
that jazz.  This is untread ground for Pure X!

GM:  Williams grabs him by the hair, firing him through the ropes...

[The fan favorite climbs back up on the apron and with a wild whoop, he
steps up on the turnbuckle.]

GM:  Wait a second!  Where's he going?

[Williams steps up with one foot on the top rope, hanging on to the top
rope precariously.  He nods his head at the cheering crowd, waiting as
Pure X gets to his feet...

...and HURLS himself into the air!]

GM:  CROSS BODY!

BW:  FLY, FATTY, FLY!

[But Pure X bottoms out, causing Williams to plummet chestfirst down to
the canvas!  The technician seizes the moment, dropping an elbow across
the back of Williams' head and neck.  With the fan favorite down on the
mat, Pure X hooks an arm, snaking his hand behind the neck of Williams
and hooking his fingers together.]

GM:  Half nelson locked in by Pure X on the mat!  Look at him pulling
back on the arm!

[With Williams down on the mat, Pure X snares his opponent's arms in a
double arm submission, yanking back on both limbs...

...and then brings his left elbow down on the temple of Williams!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[Keeping the crucifix applied, Pure X drives elbow after elbow into the
skull of Williams, shouting for the referee to check him for a
submission.]

GM:  Williams said he'd never quit, Bucky.

BW:  I don't think he anticipated having an elbow smashed into his skull
over and over again.

GM:  Probably not but... wait a second!

[The crowd begins to buzz as Williams works his legs underneath him,
getting a knee down on the mat...

...and climbing all the way up to his feet, Pure X still clinging across
his back, now trying to pull the fan favorite down in a crucifix
takedown.]

GM:  He's trying to pull Williams down!  He's trying to-

[Williams stops fighting it, throwing himself backwards...

...and SMASHES Pure X spinefirst into the canvas with a Samoan Drop!]

GM:  Oh my!  He flattened him with that!

BW:  Some three hundred pounds came crashing down on the gut of Pure X
and that'll knock the wind out of him for sure, Gordo.

GM:  Williams sits up... shaking his head... those elbows may have rang
his bell, Bucky.

[With Pure X flattened out on the canvas, Williams rolls to a knee,
still holding the right side of his head as he gets to his feet,
staggering over to the ropes as he rises.]

GM:  The Sweet Daddy's barely able to stand... hanging onto the ropes to
stay on his feet...

[Williams leans against the ropes, replying to the referee who asks if
he can continue...

...and walks away from the ropes, taking a big leap in the air, and
drops an elbow down on the chest of Pure X!]

GM:  ELLLLBOW!  ONE!!  TWO!!

[But Pure X fires the shoulder off the mat at two, breaking the pin
attempt.]

GM:  Out at two.  And look at this!

[Williams promptly rolls into a mount, balling up his fist and slamming
it down over and over and over into the dazed Pure X.]

GM:  The referee's trying to get Williams off of Pure X!  I'm not even
sure he knows what he's doing right now, Bucky.

BW:  Of course he does!  This guy's always been a cheater, Gordo.

[Meekly finally physically intervenes, wrapping himself around Williams'
torso and dragging him off of X.]

GM:  He breaks it up!  Meekly's SCREAMING at Williams, trying to get him
under control and-

[Getting back to his feet, Williams pushes past the ref, grabbing Pure X
from off the mat...

...and getting rolled up in a small package!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  Shoulder up!  Shoulder up!

BW:  That was close.  Pure X almost won his second match in the Lady
Luck Challenge!

GM:  He certainly did.  Sweet Daddy Williams let his anger at the
referee distract him and he almost got beat.

[Both men scramble to their feet, each trying to get there before the
other manages to...]

GM:  Who can get to their feet first?

[Pure X is the one who manages to get there, popping Williams with a
forearm smash to the side of the head, knocking him back into the
ropes.]

GM:  Irish whip by X...

[A rebounding Williams gets caught with a boot to the gut just before X
races to the side ropes, rebounding back...]

GM:  SWINGING NECKBRE-

[But Williams keeps on spinning through it, working all the way back
around to pop Pure X with another right hand, turning him around where
he promptly grabs X by the back of the head, hauling him to the nearest
set of turnbuckles...

...and SMASHES Pure X's face into the buckles!]

GM:  Ohh!  Facefirst to the top turnbuckle!

[Pure X rebounds back, staggering out to the middle of the ring where
Williams approaches, grabbing the back of the head again, and SMASHES
him into the buckles again!]

GM:  Into another set of buckles!  Williams is all over him!


"FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  FIVE MINUTES!"


GM:  We're at the halfway point in this one as Sweet Daddy Williams is
smacking Pure X around from pillar to post.

[Grabbing X by the arm, Williams fires him across the ring into the
turnbuckles.]

GM:  X in the buckles... here he comes!

[The three hundred pounder rapidly approaches the corner...

...and smashes gutfirst into the buckles as Pure X lunges to the side!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE HITS HARD!!

[With Williams stunned, Pure X slips in behind him, hooking a full
nelson.]

GM:  Pure Impact!  He's going for it!

BW:  That bridging Dragon Suplex!  If he hits this, it's over, daddy!

GM:  Can he get a three hundred pounder off the mat though?  That's the
question.

[Pure X struggles and strains, pulling hard in an attempt to hoist the
big man into the air...

...but it's all for naught as Williams spins around and drives
backwards, smashing Pure X into the buckles.]

GM:  No!  He couldn't do it!

BW:  It's the size, Gordo.  Williams is too big for Pure X to throw
around that ring.

GM:  I don't think this match is going the way Pure X hoped it would. 
And you have to wonder if he's lost some focus on tonight's match
thinking about Mark Langseth and Shane Destiny!

[With X dazed in the corner, Williams fires him from corner to corner
again, charging in behind him...

...and CRUNCHING X in the buckles with an avalanche splash!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  He got him with all of that, daddy!

GM:  That might do it!  If he covers him, that might do it!

[But Williams doesn't go for the cover, instead hopping up on the middle
rope and letting loose a war whoop as he balls up his fist, driving it
down on the temple of Pure X.]

GM:  Ohhh!

"ONE!" "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!"
"TEN!"

[Williams hops down off the buckles after landing the tenth punch,
shoving a dazed Pure X out of the corner.  He slaps his arm as he waits
for Pure X to turn and then barrels out of the buckles towards him.]

GM:  CLOTHESLI-

[But Pure X ducks the clothesline attempt, snaring Williams as he races
past, and snapping him down to the mat with a side Russian legsweep!]

GM:  Ohh!

[X falls back, rolling to the side instead of on top of Williams.]

GM:  He didn't cover him, Bucky!  I think he might have had him if he
had covered him.

BW:  I don't know about that but now we'll never know.  Both men are
down.  Both men are banged up.  And both men are-

GM:  What the-?!

[The crowd begins to jeer as Shane Destiny walks through the curtain
into the view of the AWA fans.]

GM:  What's HE doing out here, Bucky?

BW:  The #5 contender can go wherever he wants whenever he wants, daddy!

GM:  I beg to differ on that note.  He's got no business out here at
all!

[Destiny slowly saunters out to ringside, making no move towards the
ring, saying not a single word, completely ignoring the jeering crowd as
well as the protesting referee as he steps near the corner, eyeing the
action inside the ring.]

BW:  There!  You see?  He's not doing a thing, Gordo.

GM:  I think the key word here is "yet", Bucky.  He hasn't done a thing
yet.

[Inside the ring, Pure X rolls to his stomach, working his arms
underneath him as Sweet Daddy Williams lies on his back, breathing
heavily nearby.]


"SEVEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  THREE MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  You heard Melissa right there.  Only three minutes left to go.

[Having heard the announcement, Pure X pushes himself to his knees,
stopping for a moment before climbing the rest of the way up to his
feet.  He wobbles across the ring, failing to notice Shane Destiny as he
reaches down to drag Williams off the mat.]

GM:  He pulls the Atlanta native back up... ohhh!  Big chop there!  And
a second one knocks Williams back into the ropes.

[Wearily grabbing the arm, X fires Williams across the ring, springing
off the ropes himself...

...and floors the Sweet Daddy with a well-placed high knee to the face!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big knee to the face - and there's a cover!  We've got one! 
We've got two!  We've got-

[But Williams fires the shoulder off the mat before the three count
falls, bringing some cheers from the crowd.]

GM:  Shoulder up... just barely up...

[X rolls out of the lateral press down to the legs of Williams, reaching
for a foot.]

GM:  THE X!  THE X!

[But before he can apply the anklelock, Williams draws his legs back and
kicks off, shoving Pure X away towards the ropes.  The technician falls
to a knee near the ropes where a shout from Shane Destiny gets his
attention.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  The kid can't lose his focus here.

GM:  Too late for that!

[An outraged Pure X points at Destiny, shouting at him, and then
shouting at the referee who shrugs his shoulders in response.]

GM:  Mickey Meekly doesn't know what to do.  Destiny hasn't done
anything yet so he didn't try to eject him from ringside but Pure X is
irate!  He's snapped!

[X continues to point over the ropes, gesturing at Destiny.]

GM:  Williams to his knees, crawling towards Pure X...

BW:  Who is not even paying attention!

[The Pittsburgh native continues to focus on Destiny...

...and gets pulled down in a schoolboy!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHH!

[Pure X springs out of the failed pin attempt, driving an elbow down to
the back of Williams' neck.  He grabs Williams by his balding head,
smashing a few fists into the skull before shoving him back down to the
mat.]

GM:  Good grief!

[X backs off for a moment, taking a quick glance at Destiny before
measuring Sweet Daddy Williams who is trying to get back to his feet.]

GM:  X yanks him up... boot to the gut...

[The Pittsburgh native charges to the ropes, apparently attempting
another swinging neckbreaker...

...but has his foot grabbed by Shane Destiny on the rebound!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[An angry Pure X spins around, pointing at Destiny...

...who gets blindsided by a charging Mark Langseth!]

GM:  WHOA!  WHERE DID HE COME FROM?!

BW:  Mark Langseth just came running out of the locker room and nailed
Shane Destiny!  We're getting a preview of the Second Anniversary Show
right now, daddy!

[Langseth tees off on Destiny, blasting him with right hand after right
hand while a stunned Pure X looks on.]

GM:  Pure X can't believe it!  He's got no idea what's going on out
here!

[Langseth's barrage of blows manages to knock Destiny back into the
ringpost where Langseth promptly charges...

...and SMASHES himself right into the steel pole!]

GM:  OHHH!  LANGSETH HITS THE STEEL!!

[The Hall of Famer crumples to the barely-padded concrete floor,
clutching his shoulder as he does so.  A dazed Shane Destiny kneels
down, shaking the cobwebs...

...as a distracted Pure X gets grabbed by a dazed Williams, again
getting pulled down into a rollup!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[And again X breaks out of the rollup, this time delivering a quick boot
to the side of Williams' head before spinning away...

...just in time to see Shane Destiny slap on the Destiny Strangle!]

GM:  NO!!

BW:  This is it, Gordo!  The last hurrah for Mark Langseth!

[The crowd roars with shock and horror as Destiny applies the inverted
facelock, yanking back as he sits down in a camel clutch type hold,
screaming at Langseth as he does so.]

GM:  Langseth's trapped in the Strangle!  He's trapped in the Strangle!

[A shocked Pure X looks on in disbelief...]


"ONE MINUTE REMAINS!  ONE MINUTE!"


GM:  SIXTY SECONDS LEFT!

[Pure X spins away from the scene outside the ring, pulling Williams
quickly to a knee...

...and then pauses.]

GM:  What's he doing?

[X measures Williams for a right hand...

...and then spins away, heading towards the ropes near Destiny and a
screaming Mark Langseth!]

GM:  He's going to help him!  He's gonna help Langseth!

[But as X nears the ropes, Sweet Daddy Williams rushes forward, leaping
into the air and smashing his hind quarters into the back of Pure X's
head and neck, snapping his head in whiplash-type motion as the
technician's chest hits the ropes, causing him to fall back...

...right into one more schoolboy!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd responds with a mixed reaction - happy for the Sweet Daddy
Williams victory but fearing for Mark Langseth outside the ring.  Sweet
Daddy Williams springs to his feet, pumping a fist in the air...

...and then spots Shane Destiny out on the floor!]

GM:  Here comes the Sweet Daddy!

[An outraged Sweet Daddy Williams charges through the ropes, fists
balled up as he stomps towards Shane Destiny...

...who withdraws himself from the Strangle, backing away as an angry
Williams approaches.]

GM:  Look at him!  Look at him run away like a thief in the night,
Bucky.

BW:  If he's a thief, I know what he just stole, daddy.

GM:  What's that?

BW:  Mark Langseth's career!

[Williams stands over Langseth for a moment, making sure that Destiny's
not going to come back after him, and then drops to a knee next to him. 
He frantically waves towards the locker room as a handful of AWA
officials - including Mickey Meekly - join Williams on the floor.]

GM:  We need to get some help out here for Mark Langseth.  He got
trapped in that Destiny Strangle and... well, we all know what kind of
damage that hold can do and how quickly it can do it, fans.

[Slowly getting off the mat, Pure X clutches the back of his head as he
rolls under the ropes, quickly moving to join the crowd around the
downed Mark Langseth.  He's visibly concerned as he can be heard asking
the first official he comes upon, "Is he alright?"  Williams immediately
gets up, clearing room for the medical team members now on the scene.]

GM:  Fans... we're... yes, we're going to take a quick break.  We'll be
right back.

[The camera holds on the crowd around Mark Langseth for a moment before
fading to black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back to live action where a solemn Gordon Myers is standing
next to an upset Sweet Daddy Williams.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and during the break, Mark Langseth was
helped out of here by AWA medical team members including our ringside
doctor, Dr. Bob Ponavitch.  This is a bad situation.  Very bad.  Sweet
Daddy, you were right there... what can you tell us?

[Williams is very serious as he speaks.]

SDW:  He was hurt, Gordon.  I don't know what else to say.  He was hurt,
he was hurtin' bad.  And it's all because of that no-good snake in the
grass, Shane Destiny.

[Williams shakes his head.]

SDW:  I didn't know, Gordon... I swear I didn't.

GM:  Didn't know what?

SDW:  I had no idea that was going on.  I NEVER would have taken
advantage of the situation like that.  You know that, Gordon.  That's
not me.  That's not what the Sweet Daddy's all about.  I saw X with his
back turned... I took my shot.  I didn't know... I swear...

[He continues to shake his head.]

GM:  It's obviously not the way you wanted to win but... well, the fact
is, you won, Sweet Daddy.  And now it's time to pull the next card for
the Lady Luck Challenge.

SDW:  I don't deserve to pull no card, Gordon.  I didn't want-

GM:  I know.  But a win's a win, my friend.

[Myers extends the deck of cards.]

GM:  Please.  Choose.

[An upset Williams is still shaking his head, hands on hips as he glares
at the deck of cards before finally reaching in.  He yanks out a card,
slapping it facedown on the desk, and stomping away without saying
another word.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is obviously very upset about how this went
down.  He didn't want to-

BW:  Stop making excuses for him, Gordo.  He knew what he was doing.

GM:  I doubt that very much.  But now, it's time to find out who he has
selected for his next match in the Lady Luck Challenge... and... it...
is...

[Gordon picks up the card, turning it over.]

GM:  The Four Of Clubs... from Rough N Ready... ERIC MATTHEW SOMERS!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  What a matchup that will be!  And we'll just have to wait and see
whether that match will happen at the Second Anniversary Show or if
we'll have to wait until the next edition of Saturday Night Wrestling to
see that go down.  Now,  I'd like to introduce the man who will in two
weeks time, face Stevie Scott for the AWA National title... Juan
Vasquez!

[And with that, we see the number one contender, Juan Vasquez step out
from the back, joining Gordon Myers inside the ring. Juan is dressed in
a black hoodie, left zipped up slightly, but still open wide enough to
see the dress shirt and necktie underneath. His face is bruised and
scratched, a result of that horrific brawl at the end of the last
edition of Saturday Night Wrestling. Also noticeable, are several
bandages on his hands and face.]

GM: Juan, you've heard the announcement earlier tonight...in just a few
short weeks your second chance at the National title and Stevie Scott
will be happening at the AWA's 2nd Anniversary show. What are your
thoughts heading into the match?

JV: "My thoughts", Gordon?

[Juan lowers his head and laughs, before looking up with a serious
expression on his face.]

JV: You were here two weeks ago, weren't you?

[Myers hesitantly nods, the memories of the near riot still fresh and
raw in his head.]

JV: Two weeks ago...we witnessed the most unpredictable night in AWA
history...watched me smash my "Wrestler of the Year" award over Stevie
Scott's head, start the craziest, wildest brawl the AWA's ever
seen...bloody Stevie Scott like he's never been bloodied before...and
then saw me put him through a wall, bring down part of this building and
damn near kill the both of us in the process.

[Oddly enough, this gets a huge cheer from the crowd. Juan appears to be
a bit puzzled by their reaction, but continues on.]

JV: So what are my thoughts after going through that?

I think Mr. Ross was right.

Things _have_ gotten outta' control 'round here.

[He sighs.]

JV: For months, I've been beaten, bloodied, and whipped like a dog by
the Southern Syndicate. I've had a bounty placed on my head and I've
been chased to the ends of the Earth by every greedy scumbag in this
industry willing to do anything to make a quick buck. I've had to watch
good men like Eric Preston be dragged into this mess because of me. And
in return? I've had to be every bit the lowdown, dirty snakes the
Southern Syndicate are...I've had to turn the AWA into a lawless,
chaotic mess just to survive.

[He scratches the bandage on his cheek, looking a bit remorseful about
his recent actions.]

JV: I ain't exactly proud of everything I've done to get this rematch,
but the bounties, the beatings...this _war_ that's been consumin' the
AWA...it's all been leading up to this. I can't say if what I've done
since "SuperClash" was right or wrong, I can't ever thank all those boys
in the back enough for watchin' out for me when things with the
Syndicate got tough, I can't tell you when or how this thing between me
and the Syndicate is gonna' end or if it ever will, but...

...I *can* tell you this.

[Juan pauses for a brief moment to survey the audience, before holding
up his left arm, pointing a bandaged finger towards the crowd.]

JV: In two weeks...I'm gonna' get the opportunity to show my
appreciation to everyone that's supported me, cheered me on, had my back
and didn't give up on this foolish man, that's just too stubborn to quit
and too proud to just lay down and die for a pack of cowards.

I know I promised you this before, but cross my heart, hope to die...I'm
keeping my promise this time!

[As he's saying this, Juan does just that, making the sign of the
cross.]

JV: I know you've had your hearts set on finding a hero, guys...but I
think I'll do ya' one better.

[He turns to Gordon for a split second with a grin, before turning his
attention back to the crowd.]

JV: In two weeks, I'm gonna' give this organization the greatest
birthday present I can possibly think of...I'm gonna' give you something
you've wanted for a long, long time now...on the AWA's 2nd anniversary,
in front of God, country and world, I'm giving the AWA...

[A pause, as a big smile forms on his face.]

JV: ...a new champion.

[HUGE POP!]

JV: And Stevie?

You can take _that_ to the bank.

[Vasquez walks off the set, leaving Gordon and Bucky behind.]

GM:  A very confident Juan Vasquez...

BW:  Seems like we've said that before.

GM:  Perhaps.  But in two weeks' time, maybe everything will be
different this time.  Now, fans... for weeks, we've been hearing Ben
Waterson say-

[And on cue, Mr. Waterson emerges from the locker room area, joining the
announce team.]

ATTSBW:  You've been hearing me say that Jack Snyder... the last of a
Dying Breed... was coming to the AWA.  And what more, you've been
hearing me say that he was coming to the Southern Syndicate!  Is that
what you were going to say, Myers?

GM:  Yes it was.

ATTSBW:  I thought so.  Well, fasten your seatbelts, AWA fans... because
after this long wait, Jack Snyder is here!  Jack Snyder has arrived! 
The man is mean... he's tough.  When he grew up, he lived in the part of
town where the further down the block you went, the tougher the kids
were.  Well, this man lived in the last damn house before you crossed
the city limits, Gordon Myers!

GM:  I-

ATTSBW:  Don't interrupt me when I'm talking.  Ladies and gentlemen...
without further adieu... I present to you the man who is set to take the
AWA by storm.  The man who is set to stand side by side with the elite
force in professional wrestling.  The man who was BORN to be Southern
Syndicate.

"DYING BREED"...

JACK!

SNYDER!

["No Quarter" by Led Zeppelin starts to play over the PA as the fans
give a mixed reaction.  After a moment, the man known as Dying Breed,
Jack Snyder, walks into view.  He's an ugly son of a bitch.  He looks
like he got his physique from pulling trees out of the ground and
working with his hands rather than lifting weights in the gym. Hairy
chest and back. Just one look at him and you know he could pummel you to
death.  His ring attire is very simple. Plain black wrestling trunks and
black wrestling boots. His fingers are taped up with white medical tape.
No padding.]

ATTSBW:  There he is, baby!  The man who is gonna make sure no one
messes with the Southern Syndicate ever again!  If you even look the
wrong way towards us, this guy's gonna make your eyes go crooked with
one right hand!

GM:  I can't believe this guy is working for you.

ATTSBW:  Why not?  We've got the money.  We've got the power.  We've got
the big cars and the mansions.  We've got the beautiful women hangin'
around the champ.  Who WOULDN'T want to be with us, Gordon Myers?

BW:  That's right, Gordo.  Don't be jealous just cause you can't hang
with the Southern Syndicate!

GM:  And I suppose you have.

BW:  San Antonio Hyatt.  Penthouse.  Remind me to show you the video
some time, daddy.

GM:  Please don't.

[Snyder storms towards the ring, not wasting a moment as young Karl
Martin looks stunned.  The bell rings as Snyder leaps into the air,
tackling him down to the mat with a vertical press.  Down on the mat,
Snyder straddles the upper body, throwing right hand after right hand
down to the skull of Martin!]

ATTSBW:  JACK ATTACK!  JACK ATTACK!

[After a few more blows, Snyder breaks off the attack, popping up to his
feet with a big roar to another mixed reaction.  He reaches down,
hauling Martin off the mat by the hair, drilling him with another right
hand that knocks the youngster back to the corner.]

GM:  Snyder's got young Karl Martin on the run early in this one.

BW:  Kid shoulda brought his track shoes.

GM:  Snyder moving in on him...

[And promptly sinks his teeth into the forehead of Martin, sending a
scream into the air as the referee orders a break.  At the count of
four, Snyder breaks the hold, grabbing a wrist to fire his opponent
across the ring...

...and fire he does, sending him SMASHING spinefirst into the buckles,
falling down to the mat in a heap!]

ATTSBW:  Ohhhh baby!  I think the ring moved on that one, boys!

GM:  I've rarely heard you this happy.

ATTSBW:  Considering the night I've had, this is the perfect way to wrap
it up.  We've got Snyder kickin' tail and takin' names in his debut. 
Look at him, boys.  He's just dripping money.  God, I love this sport.

[Snyder wastes no time in moving across the ring, grabbing the crawling
Martin by the hair and jerking him back to his feet.  A series of short
jabs to the face backs Martin into the ropes where Snyder fires him
across the ring.]

GM:  Irish whip again...

ATTSBW:  Watch this.

[And as Martin rebounds, Snyder picks him up around the upper thighs,
rotating quickly...

...and DRIVING Martin down in the most spine-shattering spinebuster
you've ever seen!]

GM:  SPINEBUSTER!!  OHHH MY!

ATTSBW:  No, no, no, Gordon Myers.  THAT... is the JackBreaker!

GM:  Whatever it is, it's effective and... one... two... it's academic.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... JACK SNYYYYYDER!

[Snyder exits the ring without even having broken a sweat.  He spits on
the arena floor as he meets Gordon Myers in front of the broadcast
table.  As Myers begins his interview, Snyder stares straight ahead,
all-business, as though he was about to step in the ring for another
match.]

GM:  Well Jack, it doesn't look like you've lost a single step since
your last stint in Michigan.  Quite an impressive display.

[Myers places the microphone in front of the Dying Breed's lips, but
Snyder simply nods, his gaze unwavering.]

GM:  Would you please share a comment about your debut match?

JS:  Ain't here in AWA to flap my yapper for ya, Myers.

[He spits.  Myers is a bit disarmed.]

GM:  Fair enough.  We all know what _has_ brought you here.  Ben
Waterson has been touting you as the final piece of the ultimate puzzle.
 How did he convince you to end your short hiatus from action and to
join his services?

JS:  Ben Waterson is one savvy businessman.  Ain't no doubt 'bout that,
but let me s-

[Suddenly, the Agent To The Stars rushes forward, sticking his face in
over the mic.]

ATTSBW:  Gooood ooollll' Jack-y Boy!  You've finally arrived, and I do
have to say: you look splendid!

[Snyder's focus remains unchanged.]

ATTSBW:  Granted the buffoon you faced tonight isn't fit to lace your
boots, but everyone needs a warm-up to rid himself of the rust.  That's
what we gave you tonight, but, heh... there isn't any rust to speak of. 
Is there?

[Snyder is silent for a moment.  Then...]

JS:  I believe Gordo here had asked me a question.

ATTSBW:  He did indeed, but he clearly wasn't listening to you.  You
said you weren't here to talk and you're right.  You're here to plant
people on their backs with that JackBreaker of yours.  So just let me do
the talking.

JS:  I think the fans of AWA have heard enough out of you the past few
weeks, Ben.  I have too!

[Pop!]

ATTSBW:  Haha!  Let me shake your hand, you kidder.

[Snyder doesn't budge.]

ATTSBW:  If I didn't know you for the smart man you are, Jacky Boy, I
might mistake that sarcasm for stupidity.

JS:  For the last few weeks I've heard ya call me your boy.  Heard ya
say I was gonna make your little clique unstoppable.  Heard ya praise my
name... and I liked it.

ATTSBW:  That's the man I've been waiting to s-

JS:  I liked it a lot.  Then?  Then I heard ya say I was the man who'd
help ya keep the golden belt strapped round Stevie Scott's waist.  You
know what I heard after that?

ATTSBW:  Cha-ching?!  I'm making you a rich man, Jack.

[Silence.]

ATTSBW:  How the heck am I supposed to know what you heard?

JS:  I didn't hear a damn thing 'cept the sound of my own footsteps...
walking closer and closer to this arena to tell you one thing.

_I'm out._

[Pop!  Snyder brushes past Waterson and begins to walk back stage.]

GM:  Does this mean th-

ATTSBW:  Shut your damn mouth, Myers!

[Waterson trails Snyder who walks at a slow and steady pace.]

ATTSBW:  Don't make the biggest mistake of your life, Snyder.  Don't
cross me.

[Jack keeps on keeping on.]

ATTSBW:  I'm warning you, you walk outta here right now and you're a
dead man here in AWA.  A dead man!  Are you listening to me?!

[Nothing.]

ATTSBW [now screaming in Snyder's ear]:  You'll pay for this, Jack. 
You'll pay for this dearly, and the price is you stuck in a freakin'
wheel chair for the rest of your days!

[Now standing just before the entrance curtain, Syder stops dead in his
tracks.  He turns and looks at Waterson.  The crowd is hushed.  After a
brief staredown, Jack sharply and aggressively grabs the microphone from
Ben's hand.]

JS:  Well, if I'm gonna pay, I better get my money's worth.






*SMACK!*





[Huge pop!  Snyder flattens Waterson with a big right hand...



*THUD!*


... then drops the microphone to the concrete floor.  Snyder raises his
arm to the crowd to another sizable pop, then parts the curtain and
walks backstage.]

GM:  OH MY!  JACK SNYDER JUST... HE JUST FLOORED WATERSON!

BW:  Wait... what the... what the hell is going on around here, Gordo?!

GM:  Jack Snyder had heard enough and will wonders never cease... he
just shut Waterson up!

[A stunned Waterson lies on the floor, his cheek rapidly reddening from
the big blow.]

GM:  Waterson got laid out... this is great!

BW:  Oh yeah... fantastic.  Who the hell does this ingrate Snyder think
he is?

GM:  He's the guy who just coldcocked Ben Waterson... on his first
night!  I love it!  Fans, don't go away, it's Main Event time after this
break!

[The camera zooms in on the still-floored Waterson who responds by
shoving the camera lens away before 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 are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and joining us now will be the two young men
who have certainly taken everyone here in the WKIK Studios by absolute
storm these last few weeks.  Why I'm referring to none other than Bailey
Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson...

[Gordon pauses, turning his attention to the entryway.  Hearing their
names mentioned, the tandem of Fitzgerald and Lawson step through the
curtain and on cue; both men fully clad in their wrestling garb. 
Fitzgerald sports a pair of black wrestling tights with a fluorescent
green and blue design cascading down each pant leg.  Clutching the ends
of a white sport towel that rests around his already perspiring neck,
Fitzgerald eagerly approaches the AWA announce team.  Lawson is wearing
a pair of beaten up lime green tights with black bandannas tied around
his knees and wrists, as well as silver wrestling boots.  Also quite
noticeable, in spite of trying to disguise it with bandannas, is a cloth
bandage around Lawson's knee.  Myers continues with the duo's
introduction.]

GM: ...yes fans, these two upstarts struck pay dirt back at the Stampede
Cup when they defeated the AWA National Tag Team Champions, Calisto Duf
--

[Fitzgerald immediately interjects, adamantly lifting his hand and
motioning to Myers to go no further.]

BF: Sorry to stop you short, Gordon, but as we said before, we're not
gonna take it there.  The fact is, you won't hear Corey or I say a word
about who we've beaten, what we've accomplished or what we think we're
entitled to.  The plain simple fact is that under these lights...

[Bailey peers upward, referencing to the arena's beaming house lights.]

BF: ...in front of _these_ fans...

[He proudly looks about the arena now, Myers following his lead.]

BF: ...in _that_ ring...

[Fitzgerald defiantly points a finger toward the squared circle and
pauses, choosing to casually wipe his brow with his sport towel before
continuing.]

BF: ...we haven't done squat.

CL: And heck, I ain't even that young!

[Lawson laughs.]

CL: Look, the more we look at what we did in the past, the more likely
it is that a big ol' truck's goin' to run his down.  Every single night,
Bailey and I, we're fixin' to prove ourselves all over again like it's
the first time we've teamed.

GM: That brings me to my next point, then.  The two of you are slated to
once again step in the ring with the National Tag Team Champions,
Freeman and Dufresne, in two weeks time.  With that match looming ahead,
how have the two of you been able to remain focused on tonight's
encounter with the Right Proper Thugs?

BF: We're not naive enough to say we've been able to block everything
out and focus all our attention on the Thugs, Gordon.  It's just not
feasible.  We know those two canaries - Adrian and Calisto - we know
they'll be watching tonight.  If history tells us anything, it's that
they'll be looking to do far more than just that.  Like most anybody
whose been employed here, we've come to expect it.

[Fitzgerald offers a simple shrug of his shoulders.]

CL: One thing I've learned in my time travellin' all through this great
country is that you can't take nothin' at face value.  We know just what
those dirty Southern Syndicate boys are all about.  And we also know
where them Thugs are from... they're from that tea-sippin' sissy factory
in England, just like them Rhodes boys are from.  There's a mighty big
connection there, and I sure ain't dumb enough to overlook it.  Bailey
and I can only do so much... we need each and every one of you great
fans out there with us, cheerin' us on!

[And the fans respond with a resounding roar, making Lawson smile
widely.]

BF: But it's not just the Thugs and Freeman and Dufresne that we've got
to worry about now, Gordon.  And I don't mean the rest of the Southern
Syndicate neither.

[Myers raises a perplexed eyebrow.  Corey Lawson does the same, sharing
Myers' sentiment.]

BF: We've got to be mindful of the position we find ourselves in. 
Standing up to the Southern Syndicate the way we did?  That meant
something, Gordon.  It was a week before I was walking right again, but
it was worth every ache and every pain.  That night was special.  But
there was something about it I couldn't shake.  And it took me a couple
days 'till I finally wrapped my head around exactly what it was.  And I
realized it was a look I got from Duane Henry Bishop.  And one I saw
again in the tumblers of Cletus Lee.

[Cracking his neck side-to-side, Fitzgerald pauses.]

BF: The look your old man gives you when he comes home from a long day's
work and you're in his favorite chair.  And I don't know about you,
Corey, but I'm not the least bit ready to scooch over.

[Pop!]

CL: Heck no man.

BF: We're fully aware of the fact half the locker room still don't have
our names down and we're no more memorable than the clerk at the corner
store.  But Freeman and Dufresne showed us last week they fully
recognize who _we_ are the moment they jumped Corey from behind... like
the cowards they are!

CL: Let me tell these fine folks out here somethin', a little life
lesson if you'll indulge me... if you believe in somethin', you better
be ready to fight for it.  And the honeymoon of me just happy to be here
in the AWA, well... shucks, man, it's over.  Now, I know what I want,
and it's somethin' I know Bailey and I can get, and that's those
National Tag Team straps.  We're goin' to fight, and kick, and scratch,
and claw through _any_ team that wants to try us until we get them
belts!  We may not win them all, but when you get in the ring with
Fitzgerald and Lawson, you best be ready for the dadgummedest fight
you've ever been in.

BF: Most any other team in our position would be busy griping about the
fact Waterson made it a point to keep his cherry pickers' titles out of
the mix...

[Fitzgerald dismissively bats his hand to the side.]

BF: No matter.  We don't deserve 'em anyway.  But the Thugs?  Barrett
and Marcus will no doubt tell anyone who'll listen what they've done to
earn a shot at the top dogs.  How they beat this team, laid the wood to
that team, so on and so forth.  As for tonight, guys?  Any fears you two
have of there being a question of just which team should be given the
opportunity to shine at the Second Anniversary Show --

CL: We'll lay those those fears to rest.

[And with a high-five between the two, they head for the ring...

...where Marcus Moore and Barrett Topps appear out of nowhere,
assaulting both Fitzgerald and Lawson from behind!]

GM:  Ohh!  Sneak attack by the Brits!

BW:  It's just like the War of 1812, daddy!

[Moore throws Lawson under the ropes as Topps and Fitzgerald continue to
brawl at ringside.]

GM:  Conspicuous by her absence is Lady Victoria, Bucky.

BW:  There's a story there for sure.

[Inside the ring, Moore rolls under the ropes, climbing to his feet and
catching a big haymaker from Corey Lawson!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot that was!

[As Lawson continues to pepper Moore with right hands, we cut outside
the ring where Barrett Topps has just slammed Bailey Fitzgerald's head
into the ring apron!]

GM:  We've got a fight all over the ring and ringside area... and here
comes Michael Meekly!

[Michael Meekly waves for the bell to start the match as Lawson gets
hurled into the ropes by Moore, leaping into the air to score with a
flying forearm smash on the rebound.]

GM:  Down goes Marcus Moore!

BW:  We've overtime again, Gordo!

GM:  We certainly are!  We'd like to thank WKIK for sticking with- ohhh!

[The crowd roars as Corey Lawson leaves his feet again, this time
sending both feet squarely into the face of Barrett Topps, sending him
sprawling backwards into the front row at ringside.]

GM:  Lawson clears out Barrett Topps!

[And gets DRILLED from behind by Marcus Moore!]

GM:  Ohh!  Moore caught him!  He drilled him with that forearm!

[Moore delivers stomp after stomp to the downed Corey Lawson, working
him over on the mat.  He drags Lawson up to his feet by the hair,
delivering a bone-rattling standing lariat that knocks Lawson back down
to the canvas!]

GM:  What a shot that was!

[An angry Moore snatches Lawson off the mat again, tugging him into a
standing headscissors.]

GM:  What's he-


"MANCHESTER MAUL!"


[The crowd buzzes as Moore calls for his running powerbomb.]

GM:  Oh my stars... if he hits this, it might be over right then and
there!

[Moore bends over, wrapping his arms around the waist of Corey Lawson...

...and hoists him up!]

GM:  HE'S GOT HIM UP!

[But at the peak of the lift, Lawson starts throwing fist after fist
after fist after fist...

...ultimately breaking Moore's grip, landing on his feet in front of
him.  Lawson immediately drops down on all fours and crawls through his
open legs.]

GM:  Through the wickets goes Lawson and-

[And suddenly, Bailey Fitzgerald comes SAILING off the top rope,
catching a doubled up Moore, taking him down in a flying sunset flip
just as Lawson dives out of the way!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!!"


GM:  THEY DID IT!  THEY DID IT AGAIN!  THEY DID IT AGAIN, BUCKY!

BW:  He wasn't legal!  Fitzgerald wasn't legal!

[Lawson and Fitzgerald spring to their feet, rushing to embrace as the
referee raises their hands in victory.]

GM:  Corey Lawson and Bailey Fitzgerald... can we get a time on that? 
72 seconds!  Lawson and Fitzgerald have beaten the Right Proper Thugs in
72 seconds!  My stars and garters!

BW:  HE WASN'T LEGAL!

GM:  You may be right, Bucky, but these two young men are on a roll! 
They are on-

[BIG EXPLOSION OF BOOS!]

GM:  SYNDICATE!

[The jeers intensify as the ring quickly fills - first with the National
Tag Team Champions, Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, then with the
rough housing Brits, Raphael and Simon Rhodes, and finally, with the
National Champion himself, Stevie Scott!]

GM:  THE ENTIRE SOUTHERN SYNDICATE HITS THE RING!

[Fitzgerald and Lawson put up a valiant fight, throwing fists as quickly
as they can throw them but they're quickly outnumbered and overwhelmed,
knocked down to the canvas where all five men are stomping and kicking
them on the mat.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  What's the cause of this?

BW:  Stephen Ross!  Juan Vasquez!  Fitzgerald!  Lawson!  The Keenings! 
Jack Snyder!  The Samoans!  You name it, Gordo!  The entire AWA has
pushed the Southern Syndicate too far!

[The crowd gasps as a Heatseeker superkick erupts, catching Corey Lawson
squarely on the jaw, knocking him flat as Dufresne and Freeman stomp and
kick Fitzgerald in the corner.]

GM:  This is awful!

[The Rhodes brothers go to work on the downed Lawson, stomping him over
and over and then switching to trading off kneedrops on him as Freeman
drags Fitzgerald out of the corner by the hair, throwing him towards a
waiting Dufresne who snags him in a front facelock.]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  Oh yeah!  Wham Bam Thank You Ma'am!  Comin' right up!

[But perhaps predictably, Dufresne pauses to gloat at Fitzgerald...

...which gives just enough time for reinforcements to arrive!]

GM:  THE BISHOPS!

BW:  AND THE SAMOANS?!?

[Cletus Lee, Duane Henry, Scola, and Mafu are suddenly in the WKIK
Studios, heading for the ring...

...when suddenly, armed AWA security is on the move, getting squarely
between the four men and the ring!]

GM:  Wait a second!  Don't stop-

[The crowd jeers as Dufresne seizes the moment to finish what he
started, hoisting Fitzgerald horizontal off the mat...

...and PLANTING him skullfirst with the implant DDT!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  GOOD GOD!!

[Suddenly, the crowd breaks into cheers again, this time for the sight
of Jason and Michael Keening charging into view!]

GM:  THE KEENINGS!!

[Raphael Rhodes peels off the beating of Corey Lawson, turning to mock
the two Keening brothers as the security team blocks their path as well.
 The camera wades into the fray, seeing that the presence of weapons
seems to be the only thing keeping Cletus Lee from ripping the nearest
man's head off his shoulders.]

GM:  Let 'em through!  Somebody's gotta stop-

[The crowd begins to buzz as Stevie Scott yanks Corey Lawson off the
mat, tugging him into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  NO!

BW:  I told you, Gordo!  I told you that you all pushed them too far! 
The Southern Syndicate has snapped!  They're-

[Suddenly, a body emerges from the chaos at ringside...

...and scales the nearest set of ring ropes!]

GM:  Wait a second!  Wait a second!

[The crowd roars at the sight of Michael Keening atop the ropes...

...and then roars even louder as he throws himself into a somersault
dive, right into the pile of security guards, sending bodies flying.]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!

[The move opens the floodgates, allowing Mafu and Duane Henry to break
through a hole, diving under the ropes where the Rhodes brothers quickly
move to intercept, trying to hold them at bay while Stevie Scott tries
to get Lawson up in the piledriver!]

GM:  It's not enough!  It's not- ohhh!

[The crowd roars as Jason Keening climbs up on the ring apron, smashing
a fist into the face of Adrian Freeman before grabbing him by the hair,
yanking him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[A nervous Calisto Dufresne spots his partner on the floor and makes a
move for the ropes...

...only to find Cletus Lee Bishop standing right in his path.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Get him!  Get him!

BW:  Now YOU'RE cheering the Bishops?!  What in the world is-

[Dufresne is frantically looking around, trying to find another way out
when suddenly Scola grabs his ankle from outside the ring, dragging him
out to the floor where he's engulfed between the big Samoan and the
massive redneck to the roars of the crowd!]

GM:  We've got a brawl breaking loose again!  Lockdown or not, these men
just want to tear one another apart!

[Stevie Scott shoves Lawson aside, directing traffic as the Rhodes
brothers try to keep anyone from getting at the National Champion...

...which gets sidetracked when a headbutt from Mafu knocks Simon Rhodes
through the ropes to the floor!  The wild Samoan jumps from the ring,
going after the Brit as Raphael Rhodes tries to hold off a wild-eyed
Duane Henry Bishop!]

GM:  Rhodes and Duane Henry are trading blows and-

[From out of nowhere, Scott lashes out with another Heatseeker, catching
Duane Henry on the ear and sending him out to the floor.  With Rhodes as
his backup, Scott gestures back to the downed Corey Lawson, dragging him
back to his feet and into the standing headscissors yet again...

...when the crowd EXPLODES at the sight of a sprinting Juan Vasquez who
rushes through the ringside carnage, diving headfirst under the bottom
rope, popping up to his feet.]

GM:  Uh oh!

[And coming face to face with his long-time rival and the man who cost
him the National Title at SuperClash, Raphael Rhodes!]

GM:  Listen to this crowd!  They want to see this so badly!  They want
to see-

[HUGE CHEER!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!  HERE WE GO!

[The crowd explodes as the two men start throwing heavy blows at one
another, each trying to topple the other.  Vasquez scores with a big
right hand, spinning Rhodes around...

...and right into a running clothesline from Jason Keening that drags
both men over the top rope and out to the floor!]

GM:  OUT GOES RHODES!!

[And the WKIK Studio crowd comes completely UNGLUED as they see who is
left inside the ring.]

GM:  VASQUEZ!  STEVIE!  HERE WE GO!!

[The challenger and champion, set to do battle in two weeks' time, start
trading right hands in the middle of the ring...

...as we fade to black.]