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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the WKIK Studios 
Dallas, Texas 
March 27, 2010
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "THE MAIN EVENT!" where we see the National Champion, "Hotshot"
Stevie Scott lash out with a Heatseeker superkick just as challenger
Juan Vasquez flattens out on the mat, causing Scott to superkick the
referee right under the chin.]

GM:  OHHHH!  HE CAUGHT THE REF!!  HE CAUGHT THE REF WITH THE SUPERKICK!!

[Michael Meekly immediately collapses to the canvas, flat out cold as
Stevie Scott looks down in disbelief.  Ever the opportunist, Ben
Waterson drops down, digging under the ring...

...and pulling out his weapon of choice!]

GM:  BRIEFCASE!!  HE'S GOT THE METAL BRIEFCASE!!  THIS IS HOW ALL THIS
GOT STARTED TO BEGIN WITH!!

[Waterson climbs up on the apron, shouting at his man, screaming at the
National Champion...

...and sends the briefcase flying through the air, landing in the
waiting hands of "Hotshot" Stevie Scott!]

GM:  Scott's got the metal briefcase!  He's got the-

[And as the blinded Vasquez gets to his feet, Scott takes a big swing
with the suitcase...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAACK!" "OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE GOT HIM!  WHAT A SHOT THAT WAS!!

BW:  COVER HIM!!

[The National Champion chucks the briefcase back to the floor, throwing
himself across the chest of the downed Vasquez.]

GM:  We've got a cover!  We've got-

BW:  WHERE'S THE REF?!

GM:  The referee is down!  The referee took that Heatseeker to the jaw
and- he's out!

BW:  Houston!  GET HOUSTON IN THERE TO COUNT!!

[An irate Hotshot gets up to his feet.  He looks around confused,
spotting the downed referee, and kicks the ropes in frustration.]


"STEVIESAULT!"


GM:  Did he-

BW:  He just called for the Steviesault!  He's going for-

GM:  He pulls Vasquez up off the mat... scoops him up and slams him-

[But before he can slam him down to the mat, Juan Vasquez catches him in
an inside cradle, rolling him up in a tight cradle...

...just as Ron Houston slides under the ropes!]

GM:  HOUSTON'S IN!

BW:  NO!!

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The Moody Coliseum crowd ERUPTS in one of the loudest reactions in AWA
history as Juan Vasquez breaks the cradle, rolling to his knees and
throwing his arms into the air!]

GM:  HE DID IT!!  HE DID IT!!  WE'VE GOT A NEW NATIONAL CHAMPION!!

[The roar is deafening as Vasquez falls forward, head in his arms as he
leans against the canvas, his upper body heaving as he breathes.]

MC:  HERE IS YOUR WINNER...

AND NEW AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

[THE ROAR GETS LOUDER!]

MC:  JUAAAAAAAAAN VASSSSSSSQUEZ!

[Vasquez throws his arms into the air again. celebrating his victory
along with the deafening crowd...

...and then he's handed the belt by Ron Houston.]

GM:  HE'S GOT THE BELT!

BW:  NO!  NO!  NO!

[Vasquez cradles the belt in his arms, embracing it like a newborn child
as Houston drags him up to his feet, lifitng his arm and pointing to him
to an even louder roar from the crowd!]

GM:  WE'VE GOT A NEW CHAMPION!

[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, the entire AWA is celebrating as we have a new National
Champion and his name is Juan Vasquez!

BW:  Speak for yourself, daddy.  I ain't celebratin' squat with that
punk holdin' the gold.  Stevie Scott was robbed, Gordon Myers, and you
know it!

GM:  Robbed?  We just saw the video and I can't see how-

BW:  Ron Houston is NOT a licensed official!  Ron Houston can NOT make a
legal three count!

GM:  He was the outside-the-ring enforcer for-

BW:  OUTSIDE THE RING!  Key word there, Gordo - OUTSIDE!

GM:  Well, the Championship Committee has let the decision stand.  We do
have a new National Champion in Juan Vasquez and while we have a lot
more to talk about here tonight, at this time, fans... it is my distinct
honor and privilege to bring out here... the NEW AWA National
Champion... JUAAAAAN VASQUEZ!

[The crowd EXPLODES with a massive cheer as the champion steps out from
behind the curtains. Juan is dressed stylishly in a tailored black suit
and white dress-shirt sans necktie, the jacket left unbuttoned to reveal
the AWA National Title strapped firmly around his waist. He walks with a
little extra spring in his step towards the table, looking as if he's
filled with all the confidence in the world. He unstraps the National
Title from his waist and holds it high into the air, drawing another
loud cheer from the crowd. Gordon Myers doesn't even get a word in,
before Juan brings the title and cradles it in his left arm and puts his
right around the shoulders of Myers. He holds the title up for Gordon to
see, all smiles for the first time in a long time.]

JV: Ain't this the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, Gordon? My
God, it's gorgeous!

GM: It certainly is...it certainly is. That title victory was one of the
most amazing moments in wrestling I've ever had the privilege to witness
in all my years of announcing, Juan Vasquez.

JV: For you and me both, Gordon.

[Juan looks down at the National Title with an awed expression on his
face.]

JV: I don't think I've ever had to fight harder or longer or had to
overcome so many dang odds just to win a title...I had to take one hell
of a beating along the way, but...

[A huge smile appears on his face as he shouts to the heavens.]

JV: WE DID IT! WE DID IT!

[This draws another huge cheer from the crowd, as a small chant of
"Juan!" breaks out.]

JV: I couldn't have done it without your support, people. I couldn't
have kept on fighting night after night, week after week, and month
after month without knowing that I had something worth fighting for. It
was _you_ people that kept me going. It was _you_ people that gave me
the strength to get right back up every time the Syndicate knocked me
down. So...thank you. Thankyouthankyou...THANK YOU!!!

[Juan does the "I'm not worthy!" bow towards the crowd as they let loose
with another roaring cheer.]

JV: But, even though I'm the champion now, there ain't no time to relax
just yet.  There's a lot of big challenges out there... MAMMOTH
Mizusawa.  That giant is on top of the list.

BW:  Plus, the champ gets a rematch!

JV: He does, he does.  The Southern Syndicate's reelin', I can see that
better and brighter tomorrow clearer every day...but Ben Waterson's been
screamin' and protestin' about the way I won this title from the moment
I pinned Stevie's sorry butt in the middle of this ring. And no matter
what happens, I know I ain't gonna' be able to enjoy this fully until I
get rid of the Syndicate and win this war once and for all.

[Juan looks serious...

...and then breaks into a grin.]

JV:  But tonight's for celebratin'!  We brought the champagne back from
The Main Event and we're gonna be partying in the locker room all night
long!

[Big cheer!]

JV:  And Gordon, I'm keeping the best bottle on ice for you.  Because it
ain't truly a party until Gordon Myers is there!

[Myers chuckles as Juan claps him on the shoulder, walking out of view
with the title belt slung over his shoulder.]

GM:  Fans, this is gonna be a fun night, I've got a feeling.  Let's go
up to the ring for our opening match!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing between two young
competitors.]

MC:  Our opening contest tonight is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit and it is a COMBAT CORNER SHOWCASE!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... from Tocula, Mexico... weighing in at 246
pounds...

PEDRO PEREZ JUUUUUUNIOR!

[Perez throws a white-wristbanded arm into the air to a cheer as he
shouts to the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent... in the corner to my left... weighing in at 205
pounds... from Los Angeles, California...

JACKSON MARRRRRTIN!

[Martin throws both arms to the air to some cheers.]

GM:  Fans, I've been looking forward to this one since earlier today
when we were told about it.  These are two youngsters currently
undergoing training at the AWA's Combat Corner.  We know that Aaron
Anderson has graduated from the Corner - he was the first.  Eric Preston
was the second.  And both of those guys have very bright futures in this
business.  But everyone is waiting to see who will be the third to
graduate from the Corner.

BW:  It could be one of these kids.  That's why they're here tonight. 
Todd Michaelson is giving them their final test as Head Trainer - to see
if they're ready to go to the next level.

GM:  There's the bell and we're-

[But before either rookie can get so much as a tie-up in...

...all hell breaks loose.]

BW:  SYNDICATE!

[The fans jeer wildly as Raphael Rhodes, Simon Rhodes, Calisto Dufresne,
Adrian Freeman, and Stevie Scott come charging down the aisle, storming
through the curtain to the ring...

...where they promptly attack both men.  The boos intensify as Ben
Waterson walks towards the announce table, glaring at the ring where the
Rhodes boys have knocked down Perez Jr. and are stomping the hell out of
him as Dufresne and Freeman corner Martin, throwing hooking blows to the
body.]

GM:  What are THEY doing out here, Bucky?

BW:  Taking care of business.  Vasquez thinks the Syndicate is reelin'? 
I hope he's watching this.

[Freeman whips Martin out of the corner into a Stevie Scott Heatseeker
that knocks the rookie flat.  On the other side of the ring, the barrage
from Simon and Raphael Rhodes have knocked Perez Jr. through the ropes
and out to the floor where Calisto Dufresne follows him, kicking the
downed Mexico native on the barely-padded concrete.]

GM:  Ben Waterson... Waterson's heading over here right now and- Ben
Waterson!  Explain yourself!  Explain what we're seeing out here right
now!  Explain what-

[Before Gordon Myers can react, the "Agent to the Stars" rips the
microphone out of his hand and points to the other end of the table.]

ATTSBW: Myers, you can take your biased rear end over there on the other
side of Bucky before I personally move you there myself.

[Myers pauses, but knowing that it's in his best interest to follow
Waterson's request, he does so.  Waterson's eyes follow the legendary
commentator until he gets to the assigned spot.]

ATTSBW: Now, I am about to speak, and I am about to speak uninterrupted
by ANYONE.  And that includes you, Bucky.  Keep your mouth shut for the
next five minutes.

[No arguments from Big Bucks, either.]

ATTSBW: What we saw happen at the second anniversary show was a
complete, absolute, total and utter FARCE!

[First a heel pop, but it quickly evolves into a chant of "JUAN BEAT
STE-VIE!"  Waterson pauses, then shakes his head.]

ATTSBW: No.  Juan Vasquez did NOT beat Stevie Scott.  I know it, Juan
knows it, hell...the entire wrestling WORLD knows it.  Juan Vasquez did
not beat Stevie Scott.  No.

It took Juan Vasquez...

[Index finger raised.]

ATTSBW: Stephen Ross...

[Middle finger raised.]

ATTSBW: AND Ron Houston...

[Ring finger raised.]

ATTSBW: ...to beat Stevie Scott.

Juan's been trying, unsuccessfully, for a long time.  Stephen Ross has
been trying, behind the scenes, unsuccessfully for a long time.  I have
it on VERY good authority that Ross and Vasquez have been working
together and concocting failed plan after failed plan after failed plan
to get the belt off of the Hotshot's waist.

But then, enter the big goof Ron Houston.  The man who's run crying from
the AWA twice in two years.

And by the way, Houston, since you stuck your nose in where it doesn't
belong?  We're soon going to make it three times... but I'll deal with
you later.

So what happens next is that Juan and Ross see their golden opportunity
to further misuse Ross's authority in the AWA, and they get Houston
involved.  "Special Guest Enforcer," Ross calls him.  It's a huge secret
to everyone.

Well, everyone except Juan Vasquez.

So the three of them came up with the plan...make sure the referee gets
knocked down and as soon as he does, Ross told Ron Houston to get in the
ring and become the new official.  Make a fast count if Juan gets lucky
and manages to get Stevie pinned.

And that's exactly how it went down.  The referee gets a little boo-boo,
and suddenly he can't do the job he's getting paid to do.  Then it's
Houston appointing himself as the referee, completely IGNORING Juan
Vasquez's use of a foreign object, and THEN makes a fast three-count to
steal the AWA National Title from Stevie Scott.

[Heel pop!  The fans don't seem to be buying this.]

ATTSBW: The evidence is clear.  Ross, there is no longer any hiding
behind the fact that you have had it out for Stevie Scott and Ben
Waterson from the moment we ended the reign of Kolya Sudakov.  You've
tried it all, but this time it is obvious to EVERYONE with a brain that
you have gone too far.  And I will not stand for it.

So here are our demands.

One: That Juan Vasquez be STRIPPED of the AWA National Title and that it
be awarded back to the rightful champion, Stevie Scott, who shoulders
were NOT counted out by a licensed AWA official.

Two: That you, Stephen Ross, be STRIPPED of your power in the AWA as it
is incredibly clear that you have abused it to our disadvantage for
nearly a year.

Three: That Ron Houston be BANNED from an AWA ring for 180 days since he
unlawfully took on the role of an official.

[Pause, while Ben points to the ring where the Southern Syndi members
still stand, pacing as if to beg someone to come from the back and try
to stop them.]

ATTSBW: Stephen Ross...I'm not kidding.  What happened to those two
clowns in there is JUST... THE... BEGINNING!

[Finally losing his poise, Waterson begins to turn red-faced.]

ATTSBW: You get out here RIGHT NOW and discuss our demands, or we WILL
continue to wreak havoc on this show tonight!  We've already got plenty
of money...we don't need what little bit of pocket change this show
would bring us.  But YOU, on the other hand...you've got a lot more at
stake in this business, don't you?  So save yourself the trouble and the
write-ups from your bosses and get out here!

You've got 15 seconds starting...now!

[Ben raises his right arm upward to look at his watch.  He stops
talking, leaving only the noise of the crowd to be heard as the seconds
tick by.

15 becomes 10...10 becomes 5...5 becomes 3, 2, and 1.

And no Stephen Ross.  This, obviously, does not please Waterson in the
least.]

ATTSBW: ROSS, I'VE HAD IT!  DO YOU NOT THINK I'M SERIOUS, YOU PIECE OF
SH-

[BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Oh yeah, the screen does dark, too.  For the next 30 seconds, that's all
we get.  A blacked-out screen and a long "bleep" to drown out what has
to be a profanity-laced tirade by Waterson.  After the 30 seconds, the
screen abruptly cuts to a commercial break.]

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action to the ringside announce area where
Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing, surrounded on all sides by
the Southern Syndicate.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to-

ATTSBW:  Don't even go into your long-winded hype, Myers.  We've still
got business to take care of out here.

GM:  Fans, on behalf of the AWA and WKIK, I would like to apologize for
what we just heard from this man, Ben Water-

ATTSBW:  Don't you DARE think of apologizing for me!  I told the world
exactly what they needed to hear.  I told them the truth!  The truth
about Ron Houston!  The truth about Juan Vasquez!  The truth about
Stephen Ross!

GM:  Speaking of which, Mr. Ross has declined your invitation to join
you out here at the broadcast position so I'm afraid it's time for you
gentlemen to leave so we can get on with our show.

ATTSBW:  I don't think so.

[Myers looks around to the other members of the Southern Syndicate - and
Simon Rhodes - all who return a cold gaze.]

GM:  Alright.  Have it your way.  Fans, our next match is the latest
encounter in the Lady Luck Challenge where we will see Sweet Daddy
Williams looking for his second win in the Challenge as he takes on
one-half of the #1 contenders for the National Tag Team Titles, Eric
Matthew Somers!  Let's go up to Melissa for what should be an
outstanding matchup!

[We cut up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing with the two
aforementioned grapplers.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is a matchup in the Lady Luck Challenge!

[Cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... in the corner to my right... from Atlanta,
Georgia... SWEET!  DADDY!  WILLLLLLIAMS!

[BIG CHEER!]

MC:  And his opponent... in the corner to my left... he is one-half of
Rough N Ready... ERIC!  MATTHEW!  SOMMMMERRRS!

[A wary Somers casts a gaze over towards the announce area as he raises
a meaty arm into the air.  Referee Mickey Meekly steps between the two
with a last minute batch of instructions before calling for the bell.]

GM:  And this one is underway!  These two fan favorites will be battling
it out in this Lady Luck Challenge matchup and... uh... Mr. Waterson,
will you be joining us on commentary for this one?

ATTSBW:  I'll be joining you all night if I have to, Myers.  I need to
get this issue settled and the sooner, the better.

GM:  I see.  Must your... friends... stay out here as well?

ATTSBW:  The Southern Syndicate goes wherever they want whenever they
want and you should know that by now, Myers.

[Inside the ring, Williams and Somers circle one another for a bit
before tying up in a collar and elbow.  The two fan favorites jockey for
position for a bit before Somers' massive size advantage comes into
play, backing Williams into the buckles.]

GM:  The Sweet Daddy's on the ropes...

[Somers breaks clean and then blasts Williams across the chest with an
overhead chop.  He backs away, grinning at the Atlanta native who is
fanning his reddening chest with both hands.]

GM:  Hehe... you've just gotta love Sweet Daddy Williams, fans.

BW:  Not me.

ATTSBW:  Or me.  That fat piece of unwashed trailer trash has been
hanging around this company... around this business... for far too long
if you ask me.  Stevie, we may need to take the chance to finish this
old fossil off soon.

[Off mic, we can hear the former National Champion chuckle in
agreement.]

GM:  I think I'd like to see you try, Mr. Scott.  Mr. Williams never did
get a one-on-one shot against you after your shocking betrayal of him
last year at Death Or Glory and-

ATTSBW:  What you call a shocking betrayal, we refer to as finally
seeing the light.

GM:  Nevertheless...

[Inside the ring, another tieup ends with Sweet Daddy Williams snapping
off a series of jabs before hitting the ropes and popping Somers with a
clothesline that doesn't floor the big man.]

GM:  A flurry of offense from the man from Hotlanta, Georgia and-

[Hitting the ropes again, Williams bounces off with another
clothesline...

...but still doesn't take Somers down.]

GM:  Still can't budge the big man.

ATTSBW:  With that flabby arm?  You sound surprised.

GM:  Bucky, you want to jump in here and do your job.

BW:  I think Ben's doin' a fine job, daddy!  Maybe I'll take the rest of
the night off.

ATTSBW:  You can do exactly that if that idiot Ross doesn't get out here
soon.

[Williams hits the ropes a third time...

...and runs full steam into a raised boot that floors the Atlanta fan
favorite!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Somers pauses for a moment then steps forward, leaping into the air...]

GM:  ELBOOOOOO-

[But Williams rolls to the side, causing Somers to crash down on the
mat.]

GM:  Ohh!   He missed it!  He missed the elbow and-

ATTSBW:  And I'm bored already.  Boys?

GM:  Wait a second... where are-

[The crowd jeers wildly as the two Rhodes brothers, the National Tag
Team Champions, and the former National Champion go racing towards the
ring, diving under the ropes where they immediately split apart,
breaking into an assault on both men.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  The referee just called for the bell and we've got- damn them,
Bucky!

BW:  They warned everyone!

ATTSBW:  That's exactly right.  Stephen Ross brought this all on
himself!

[With Simon Rhodes and Stevie Scott stomping and kicking Eric Matthew
Somers, Raphael Rhodes quickly scales the ropes, looking out over the
crowd...

...and swandives off the top, smashing his skull down on Somers!]

GM:  FLYING HEADBUTT!!  RHODES HIT ALL OF THAT!

[Nearby, Dufresne and Freeman are battering Sweet Daddy Williams in the
buckles.  Grabbing Williams by the wrist, Freeman fires him across the
ring...

...into a waiting superkick from Calisto Dufresne!]

GM:  OHHH!  Down goes Sweet Daddy!

[The five men in the ring continue the beatdown as the crowd jeers
wildly.]

GM:  This is out of control!  This is totally uncalled for!  Ben
Waterson, explain yourself!  Explain your men's actions here tonigh-

[Waterson abruptly interrupts.]

ATTSBW: It seems to me, Gordon Myers, that Mr. Stephen Ross must think
that I'm not serious about what I said earlier.  Maybe THAT-

[Waterson points to the ring where EMS and SDW both lay on the mat.]

ATTSBW: -will help convince him otherwise!

Ross, apparently you don't understand how serious a scenario that you've
created for yourself here.  So I want you to listen, and I want you to
listen good.

Until you get out here and rectify this situation, what you just
witnessed take place in that ring is going to happen AGAIN...and
AGAIN...and AGAIN... until you get it through your thick skull that
WE...MEAN...BUSINESS!

[Waterson slams his fist on the table with each of those last three
words.]

ATTSBW: So it's up to you, Ross, what happens from here on out.

Either you fix this little problem we have...

...or we create a much larger one for YOU.

[The camera cuts back to the ring where a sea of AWA security and
officials are trying to regain control as 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:  You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular
over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel!

MS:  Jason, that kind of news is so hot, it should be on the app!

[The two men laugh very awkwardly as a giant iPhone appears.]

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

[The iPhone speaks.  Yes.  Yes it does.]

iPhone:  Hello, Jason Dane.  Did you know that former AWA National
Champion Kolya Sudakov was a former Mixed Martial Artist?

JD:  Well, actually I did.

iPhone:  Mark Stegglet, did you know that Calisto Dufresne was the first
and only champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution?

MS(in his best Johnny Carson impression):  I did not know that!

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access Version 2.0!  This new
app contains a brand new TRIVIA mode where you can get all the details
on your favorite AWA superstars!  Plus, be the first to see our brand
new BEFORE THE AWA section where you can find matches from the best of
the AWA - before they were AWA!

AWA Access Version 2.0 - coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing
alongside a new individual in the picture at the announce table.

Stephen Ross.]

GM: Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, and we are finally
joined now by Stephen Ross, who-

[Yet again, Waterson snatches Myers' mic away from him.]

ATTSBW: Who has a LOT of explaining to do about this situation at hand!

[Waterson jabs a finger into the chest of Ross.]

ATTSBW: Look, front office boy...for MONTHS now it has been ridiculously
obvious to anyone that has a shred of common sense that you are abusing
your power in order to get the title off of Stevie Scott and bring down
the Southern Syndicate.

But after what happened at the Second Anniversary show?  That's dirty
pool for even YOU, Ross.

[Ben gives Ross another poke for emphasis before stepping back and out
of his personal space.]

ATTSBW: Ron Houston had NO BUSINESS making a one count, two count, three
count, ANY kind of count in that match.  He was there as an OUTSIDE the
ring enforcer...those are your own words, Ross, that is EXACTLY what you
called him.  He was NOT a licensed official and should never have
entered the ring, period.  You know it, I know it, Houston knows it,
Vasquez knows it, even Myers over there knows it.  How can you let
this...this farce, this travesty, this mockery of justice continue under
your watch?

[Finally, the exasperated Ross speaks up.  Loudly.]

SR: What do you want me to do about it, huh, Ben?  You want me to strip
the title off of Juan Vasquez?

ATTSBW: Good, so you _have_ been listening to us.

SR: Well, I'm not going to do that.

[Big cheer!  Except from Ben and Stevie, who are predictably furious.]

ATTSBW: Not going to do it?!?  NOT GOING TO DO IT?!?  Ross, this is the
last straw!  After we destroy every wrestler you send to the ring for
the rest of this show, I am going DIRECTLY to each of the big six and
DEMANDING your termination!  I'm going to-

[The crowd ERUPTS in cheers, something that startles Waterson who spins
to glare towards the entrance...

...where the new National Champion has arrived, gold belt slung over his
shoulder.  Vasquez approaches the announce area slowly, leaning over the
mic.]

JV:  I came out here earlier and said I couldn't full enjoy this title
until I finished this war with the Southern Syndicate.

[Juan pauses, almost as if he's having second thoughts about what he's
about to say, before a determined look appears on his face. Nodding to
himself, he continues on.]

JV: So tonight, I say we bring an end to this war.

[Shocked pop! Gordon Myers sputters with surprise.]

GM: Wha...what do you mean by that???

JV: I'm sayin', Juan Vasquez vs. Stevie Scott for the National
title...for the _final_ time.

[The reaction is one of shock, surprise, excitement, and apprehension.
But Juan smirks, almost as if he expected this sort of reaction.  Ben
Waterson looks stunned, looking over his shoulder at the former champ,
Stevie Scott, who looks just as surprised.]

ATTSBW: Wait...are you saying what I think you're saying?

JV:  Juan Vasquez versus Stevie Scott for the AWA National Title.  On
this show.  That's what I'm saying.

BUT...

This is it.

No more rematches.  You lose tonight?  I don't want you coming out here,
whining and moaning and throwing your little temper tantrums.

[Scott moves in, grabbing a mic.]

HSS: But if I win...

[Yes, the former champion finally speaks up.]

HSS: If I win...that's it for YOU?  You get no more shots at the title
you've never actually won, right?

[Vasquez nods as Stephen Ross looks surprised.]

SR: Wa...wait just a minute, Juan! Think about what you're saying!

JV: I know it's a gamble, I know it's a risk, but I didn't become a
champion by playin' it safe. I'm offering Stevie Scott a rematch tonight
under _one_ condition. The same condition I gave him the first time we
ever stepped into a ring together:

The loser _NEVER_ asks for a shot at the National Title as long as the
winner's got it wrapped around their waist.

[If you think the crowd is worried, you better believe it.]

GM: Are you sure about this? You've got time on your side now! You've
finally become the champion! You even have a match with MAMMOTH Mizusawa
lined up already!

JV: I ain't ever been as sure about something as I am right now, Gordon.
Things are still chaotic around here, we've still got bounties, Calisto
Dufrense might have just blinded a man for life and the Syndicate's
still as dangerous as it's ever been. There's still a lot of work to be
done, but if I can just take Stevie outta' the title picture, if I can
just put an end to _that_ thorn in my side, then it's just a matter of
time before we win this war!

[Juan sighs.]

JV: And I know MAMMOTH Mizusawa's supposed to be next in line, but the
kid can wait his turn. I'll call off the bounty on him. I'll face him
any time after this mess is over with. But right now? No offense to Mr.
Matsui, but... I've got bigger fish to fry.

[A confident grin appears on Juan's face as he stares right at the
camera.]

JV: So whatta' you say, Stevie? All you gotta' do is accept these
terms...and you'll have your title shot tonight.

[Smirk.]

JV: And when's all said and done...you ain't ever gonna' have one ever
again.

[Juan proceeds to turn and give Gordon Myers a reassuring pat on the
back, mouthing an audible "It's gonna' be alright!" as Waterson whispers
something to Stevie, who returns the favor.  The duo then nod and turn
back.]

ATTSBW: You've got a deal, Vasquez.

Oh, and Ross... no Ron Houston at ringside this time.  That's OUR
condition.

[Stephen Ross looks at the new champion and the new challenger.  He
pauses for a moment, sighing deeply...]

SR:  Fine.

[BIG CHEER!]

SR:  Juan Vasquez vs Stevie Scott for the National Title tonight - and
there will be NO!  MORE!  REMATCHES!

[Another big cheer!]

SR:  And Ron Houston will be BARRED from ringside!  Gentlemen, I'd
suggest you get to your locker rooms to get ready for the Main Event.

[With a grin, Vasquez slaps the title belt and heads off camera as the
Southern Syndicate huddles up, discussing what just went down.]

GM:  Well, fans... this is a big gamble by Juan Vasquez and I just hope
that Lady Luck is on his side tonight, Bucky.

BW:  This could be the biggest Main Event in Saturday Night Wrestling
history, Gordo!

GM:  It very well could be.  Fans, the tag team division here in the AWA
has never been hotter with teams lining up to take their shot at
Dufresne and Freeman, the champs.  And while everyone wanted their shot
BEFORE what happened with City Jack two weeks ago, now everyone in the
entire BUSINESS wants their shot at them.  It was absolutely disgusting
what we saw Dufresne do to City Jack, Bucky.

BW:  Well, I won't condone it.  But I'd say that City Jack brought it
all on himself.

GM:  He... how can you say that?!  I tell you now - Calisto Dufresne's
day is coming.  Meanwhile, fans, City Jack is still in a hospital here
in Dallas and we've been told you can visit Jack on Wednesday from noon
to 5 PM at the Dallas Memorial Hospital.  He's so excited to have his
fans come to visit him and pay their best wishes... and we're happy to
be able to tell you about that so if you're a fan of Jack, make sure you
make it out there and show him your support in this tough, tough times.

BW:  Are we going to see any wrestling here tonight?

GM:  Well, now that the Southern Syndicate has vacated ringside, maybe
we actually will.  Fans, let's go up to the ring for tag team action!

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

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is a tag team match
scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, at a total combined weight of
457 pounds, the team of Alex Redcap and Josh Palmer!!

[The crowd pops for the two local boys already in the ring.]

MC: And their opponents...from the island of American Samoa in the South
Pacific and weighing in at 530 pounds, 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. and The Samoan Hit Squad steps through the
curtains accompanied by their manager, Werewolf Gregorson. Dressed in
knee length black tights with the word "Samoa" written down the side of
each leg, the two big men charge the ring, sliding under the bottom rope
as Gregorson takes a chair at the announce desk alongside Gordon Myers
and Bucky Wilde.]

BW: Oh, no, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening, Gordon Myers.  I am
NOT working with an amateur!

GM: After what I had to put up with earlier, I didn't think I needed
your permission.  Welcome, Werewolf, to the broadcast desk.

WG: Thank you, Gordon, and don't worry, Bucky. I won't step on your
toes.

[The referee finishes searching the two big Samoans and calls for the
bell as the 6'6" Scola locks up with the journeyman Alex Redcap.]

GM: And this match is underway, ladies and gentlemen, as...oh!! What a
big hammering forearm across the back of the neck by the man-monster,
Scola!

BW: Scola is a big man, Gordon, you can't deny that. What I'd like to
know is how someone like you ended up as their manager, Gregorson!

WG: That's easy, Bucky. You see, back when I was first starting out, two
of my closest friends in the business were the ORIGINAL Samoan Hit Squad
and when they heard that I was wrestling in the AWA, they called me out
to Samoa to take a look at these two youngsters. When I saw the
potential for Scola and Mafu to be AWA Tag Team Champions, I took them
under my wing and brought them back to Texas. The rest, as they say, is
history!

GM: And so is Alex Redcap if he doesn't make a tag, Werewolf. The big
man, Scola, showing no mercy as he drills Redcap down to the mat with a
DEVASTATING vertical suplex!!

WG: Scola and Mafu are as finely tuned a tag team as I've ever seen,
Gordon, and that's what impressed me about them. They've trained
together since they were old enough to walk and it shows when they move
together in the ring.

BW: Yes, it shows alright, Gregorson, but it also shows that these two
don't need a manager like you to get the job done. So what are you to
them, a glorified mouthpiece?

GM: Bucky! You forget that Werewolf is our guest out here tonight.
He...OH!! Scola with a tag in to Mafu...and there's a thrust kick to
right under the chin of Alex Redcap!! Redcap is done right there
unless...what's this? Mafu literally TOSSING Redcap back into his own
corner and signaling for Josh Palmer to tag himself in!

BW: You see? That's not a move that you taught them, Gregorson. You've
got too much honor to play with your food the way these two are!

[Josh Palmer takes the tag and tries to hit Mafu with a clothesline but
the bigger man ducks under and...]

GM: Goodness! Mafu clamping down on the arm of Josh Palmer with some
sort of nerve hold and...BITING THE ARM OF PALMER!!

BW: You see, these guys I could grow to like if they got rid of YOU,
Gregorson, but, as long as you have some kind of hold over them in the
form of a shot at the AWA National Tag Team Champions, they'll never
learn!

WG: Bucky Wilde, after what Callisto Dufrense did to City Jack two weeks
ago, it's only a matter of time until SOMEONE, whether it's Rough N'
Ready, The Bishops, or my Samoan Hit Squad, takes those titles away from
the Southern Syndicate and puts them in their places once and for all.

BW: And that, my big hairy amateur of a broadcast colleague, is what
will be your downfall. You should be out here selling your Samoans, not
talking about that has-been, City Jack!

GM: Again, Bucky, how dare you belittle the career of a performer like
City Jack. He...OH!! Mafu with a face first faceslam on young Josh
Palmer...and now he's pointing to his partner as Scola takes a seat on
the top turnbuckle!

WG: They call this move the Samoan Super Splash, Gordon, and, if Mafu
hits it, it's all over for Josh Palmer and Alex Redcap!!

GM: Mafu climbing the corner turnbuckles to face his partner...and Scola
LIFTS!

[Scola powers Mafu up into the air, holding him vertical for a moment
before lowering him into a horizontal position and letting go, sending
Mafu SMASHING down onto the semiconscious form of Josh Palmer!]

BW: Mafu with a cover...and an EASY three-count!! Mark my words,
Gregorson. Those two Samoans of yours barely broke a sweat out there
today while you were down here chatting with my colleague, Gordon Myers.
 It won't be long before they don't even miss you being at ringside and,
when that happens, my friend, I hope you remember that you heard it here
first!

GM: And we'll be right back with more wrestling action after this!

[With the Samoans celebrating, we fade to black.

And then quickly back up on a shot of the AWA logo.  A voiceover
begins.]

"Fans, it's that time of year again!  As the AWA hits the summer months,
we're going on the road!  No longer staying in the Lone Star State, the
months of May, June, July, August, and September are your chances to see
the AWA all over the Southern states!

That's right!  You heard me right!

This year, the AWA will be in Oklahoma, Louisiana, Tennessee, and
Alabama with more to be announced!

Get your tickets now by calling your local ticket outlet or by visiting
AWAShop.com!"

[And with that, we fade back up to the backstage area where Jason Dane
is standing by with the dark-suited Louis Matsui, smiling, as usual, and
his charge, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, who is also dressed in a suit. Four more
dark-suited men, all wearing sunglasses, can be seen standing behind
them, members of Matsui's personal security detail, courtesy of the
Matsui Corporation.]

JD: [Sneaking wary glances at the men behind him.] Louis Matsui, I don't
know if you saw what went down at the Second Anniversary show bu-

LM: [Interrupting.] What a stupid remark, Dane-o; of course I saw what
went down! How could I not have seen what went down when I was watching
the second anniversary show very closely... Not only because my client
and the Matsui Corporation had a vested interest in the outcome of the
Main Event, no, but also because it was the second anniversary
celebration of the company which we are so happy to be a part of. So, I
want to congratulate our new National champion, Juan Vasquez, and we
wish him a good reign as champion...

Because, when my client faces Vasquez in the Two out of Three Falls
match... Now with the American Wrestling Alliance National Title on the
line, we don't want to walk away with a belt sullied by poor
sportsmanship and dishonorable conduct. You see, Vasquez, going into the
match, my client has got nothing to lose and _EVERYTHING_ to gain... The
title... The twenty-five grand that, I am guessing, the Southern
Syndicate still has hanging over your head... And doing the one thing
that the Syndicate has failed to do... Destroy Juan Vasquez!

See, Benny-boy there made a mistake when he was listing the names of all
those men the Syndicate had knocked off. It wasn't the Syndicate that
sent the [Air quotes.] "mighty" Tumaffi packing from the AWA... That
punk kid Rhodes was nowhere near the ring when my giant flattened Too
Tubby... The former National champion, Stevie Scott, was not the one who
got hit with a Polynesian Burial and kicked out! Sure, that dead weight,
Gary Bright, with the gimp wing, swung a metal briefcase for a bit, but
he wouldn't have been able to blindside the Samoan had Waterson not
first reached into his deep pockets and acquired the services of MAMMOTH
Mizusawa from the Matsui Corporation at SuperClash.

My client was never offered a spot in the Syndicate, so, no, the
Syndicate did not run Tumaffi out of the AWA... That's the unfortunate
truth, but that's just the way we do it in the Corporation. This time
around, it won't be any different; when my client destroys Juan Vasquez,
Ben-o, I'm sure we can expect no lesser payment than the bounty that you
oh-so-cleverly placed on his head. Vasquez might have blamed the
Syndicate for starting the whole mess with the bounties, but this man
here [Indicating Mizusawa.] is going to be the one to end him...

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa grabs hold of Dane's hand, stooping slightly to reach
the mic.]

MM: BANZAI!!!

[A beaming Louis Matsui shrugs and walks off, followed by Mizusawa,
flanked on either side by members of Matsui's personal security detail.

Cut back to the announce position, where Bucky Wilde and Gordon Myers
stand.]

GM:  MAMMOTH Mizusawa and Louis Matsui seem to be looking past tonight's
Main Event.

BW:  I don't know about that, Gordo.  Matsui had words for Vasquez AND
the Southern Syndicate.  That's a man without a country and without any
allies.  Of course, Mizusawa is big enough to be a country of his own.

GM:  The Japanese giant is really looking to make a big impact on the
title scene... and speaking of men from Japan looking to make an impact,
tonight, we've got a debut that we've been strongly anticipating.

BW: This is a match that I've been waitin' to see for weeks, Daddy!

GM: All the buzz backstage has been leading up to this moment,
Bucky...the moment when the mysterious Nenshou makes his debut here in
AWA!  What we've heard is that he's one of the most dangerous
competitors to ever come out of the Orient...his manager Percy Childes
has described him as a Silent Assasain, the Walking Enigma and about a
half dozen other hyperboles.  If he's half as good as Percy Childes is
saying, we're in for a real treat tonight.

BW: I don't know if he's as good as advertised, but there's something
about Percy Childes that just says 'trust me'.

GM: Like a used car salesman...let's go to the ring with Melissa.

[Fade to the ring where Melissa Cannon stands with mic in hand.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall and has a fifteen
minute time limit.

Introducing first, already in the ring, hailing from El Paso Texas and
weighing in at two hundred and sixty six pounds...here is:

"Wild" Bill Waters!

[The crowd cheers politely for the journeyman in his black cowboy hat
and matching trunks with western style boots as he raises an arm in
recognition.]

GM: 'Wild' Bill Waters has been around the block several times, Bucky. 
He's a dangerous, wily veteran who's been through the wars and knows all
the tricks, Bucky.

BW: Well, Gordo, we'll see if Nenshou brings any new tricks to the table
to maybe throw the big boy a curve ball.

MC: And his opponent:

Accompanied to the ring by his manager Percy Childes, hailing from Parts
Unknown and weighing in at two hundred and fifty three pounds...he
is...NENSHOU!

[The crowd doesn't boo...they don't cheer either...they crane their
necks to see the debuting Japanese star that they've been hearing about
for the past several weeks...

The lights dim and a light mist rolls out from the entryway as "Raijin's
Drums by George Sakalis begins to play over the PA System.  After a
moment, the mysterious Nenshou appears, wearing a long black robe with
the hood pulled down over his painted face.  Pausing at the entrance, he
begins to walk smoothly and unhurriedly down towards the ring, his
steely gaze locked on the squared circle.  Behind him comes his manager
Percy Childes... overweight and sweating, the piece of filth is as loud
as his charge is silent, jawing at fans and threating to brain them with
his crystal orb topped cane.  As the enigmatic Nenshou silently slides
into the ring, Percy Childes waddles over to the announce table, where
he puts on a spare headset (uninvited).]

PC: And NOW you finally get some real entertainment!

GM: No no...by all means, please join us, Percy Childes.

BW: Don't mind him Percy, Gordo just gets worried 'bout job security
sometimes.

[Nenshou 's eyes remain locked on Waters as he removes his robe and
reaches over to the ring rope, stetching. Nenshou is a lanky, well toned
Asian man with his dark black hair cut in a classic bowl cut.  He's
wearing a pair of  loose long black pants with red wrestling boots and
white wrist tape... but the most striking thing about him is the face
paint...his face completely covered with red paint with black Japanese
script written from forehead to chin, giving him a nightmarish
appearance.  Waters takes a step back, pointing at him as the bell
rings.]

GM: And we're underway in Nenshou's debut here in AWA.

PC: You will never be the same.

BW: As much as I like the hype, your guy just standing there isn't gonna
set anyone on fire, daddy.

[Nenshou stands motionless in the ring as Waters approaches and offers
him his hand.  The Asian man's eyes slide down to the hand and back up
to Waters, but he otherwise remains perfectly still...right up until
Waters shrugs and looks at the ref, who motions for him to start.  The
big Texan winds up and fires a right at Nenshou, who blocks and fires
back with a martial arts thrust to the throat, staggering the big man
and drawing both a warning from the ref and boos from the crowd.]

GM: Now that's uncalled for, Percy Childes!  Waters looking to show some
sportsmanship and your client just basically spit in his eye.

BW: They ain't in there to shake hands, Daddy...Nenshou did just what he
should have.

GM: The fans disagree...they're really letting the Japanese Import know
about it.

PC: It may sound like they're booing, but they're really saying
'Nenshou!  Nenshou!'

GM: You're delusional.

[Nenshou follows Waters as he staggers away, stalking him like a cat. 
As the bigger man turns, he's caught with a quick series of martial arts
strikes that stagger him into the ropes.  Nenshou sends him in for a
ride, but Waters reverses.  Nenshou reaches the far ropes, does a
handstand right before hitting them, bounces his legs off the ropes and
jumps backwards, hitting a textbook handspring back elbow on Waters.]

BW: Great Googly Moogly!  Didn't see that one coming.

GM: Nenshou showing he's not all hype with that move, Percy Childes!

PC: Waters should just lay down now...not that it'd stop Nenshou from
hurting him.  He's the type of guy that if you run away: you just die
tired.

[Nenshou is quickly over to Waters, hitting him in the face with a
layout dropkick as Waters tries to come to his feet.  He picks Waters
back up, then hits a snap mare followed by kick to the back followed by
running low dropkick to the face that leaves Waters down and dazed.]

PC: And he's not even warmed up yet.

GM: Impressive chain wrestling from the newcomer that has Waters in
dream street.

BW: That sorta combo'll send you to the dentist in a hurry, let me tell
you...

[Nenshou pulls Waters up and hits another martial arts strike that
staggers him and sends him stumbling to the ropes, which he grabs for
support.  Nenshou stalks in, but Waters grabs the front of his trunks at
the last second and pulls, sending the Japanese grappler to the floor
and giving Waters a breather.]

GM: We're seeing desperation from Bill Waters, Bucky... I think he knows
he's in trouble in the ring, so he'll try to change venues.

BW: From the look of things he'll need to change zip codes if he hopes
to change this match up, daddy.

PC: He's only delaying the inevitable...Nenshou's scented blood...he's
like a shark out there.  He's silent, deadly and inescapable.

BW: Like you after taco night, Gordo!

[Waters shakes his head as he hops out of the ring to approach Nenshou,
who has his face in his hands right in front of the announce position. 
As Waters gets to him, he turns Nenshou, who looks up at the big Texan
and catches him in the windpipe with a martial arts thrust!  Waters
immediately stumbles backwards and turns as Nenshou stands and lunges
forward and grabs him, hitting a belly to back suplex on the
barely-padded concrete!]

GM:  The throat!  That blow was in the throat!

PC: Nenshou lured the rube in and let him have it...genius!  The man is
like a serpent...always ready to strike.

[Nenshou picks Waters up and tosses him into the ring, then silently
slides in behind him...stalking him once again as he tries to come to
his feet.  Waters shakes his head, blinking and trying to clear his eyes
and the cobwebs...but misses Nenshou who takes two quick steps, then up
onto Waters's knee...]

PC: SHINING WIZARD!

BW: Sweet baby Jesus!  He nearly knocked Bill Waters' head off with that
kick!

GM: Waters is down and probably not getting up...what's Nenshou doing?

[As soon as he landed the kick, Nenshou was in motion, moving to the
corner and hopping onto the top turnbuckle in one clean motion, pausing
for a split second, the leaping off backwards in a picture perfect
moonsault that crushes down onto the prone Bill Waters.]

GM: Good grief!  Backflip splash from Nenshou after that knee to the
head and this is purely a formality... one... two... and there's the
three.

BW: I think he could have counted to fifty, Daddy.  Bill Waters is
O-U-T... out.

PC: The first of many, gentlemen...now if you'll excuse me, I need to
congratulate my client...

*thump*

MC: The winner of this match in 5:47...NENSHOU!

[Percy Childes steps into the ring, raising his client's hand into the
air to the jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  An impressive victory for Nenshou here in his debut and... well, I
can only imagine we'll be seeing a lot more of Nenshou in the future,
Bucky.

BW:  You can bet on that.

GM:  Fans, just moments ago, we were informed by the Championship
Committee that due to the assault by the Southern Syndicate on Eric
Matthew Somers and Sweet Daddy Williams - that match was thrown out!  A
double DQ!

BW:  Which means...?

GM:  It means that we need to draw two new names for the next Lady Luck
Challenge!  So, without further adieu...

[Myers holds up the deck to Bucky.]

GM:  If you'll do the honors, Bucky.

[The flamboyant color commentator snatches a card with a flourish.]

GM:  The Jack of Diamonds... MAMMOTH MIZUSAWA!

[Big reaction from the crowd!]

GM:  And his opponent will be...

[Bucky grabs another card, handing it to Gordon.]

GM:  The 8 of Spades... the first of our wrapped cards!

[Myers pulls at the wrapping, tearing it away.]

GM:  From SouthWest Lucha Libre... in fact, he's the OWNER of SWLL...
one of the most famed luchadors throughout all of Mexico... EL CORAZON
NEGRO!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  That should be a very, very interesting encounter, Bucky.

BW:  It would be if ECN was in a situation where he could the hardcore
style that he built his name on but in the AWA, all that's off limits. 
Here, he's just another flying bug for Mizusawa to squash, daddy.

GM:  We'll see about that in two weeks' time.  But for now, fans, let's
go back up to the ring for more tag team action!

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH!#

[The opening chords of Depeche Mode's "Personal Jesus" begin to strum
over the PA. Through the curtains, two well tanned, good looking, golden
haired goliaths of men step out. Their arms on their hips as they slowly
peruse the arena before turning to each other and nodding in agreement.

They begin to walk towards the ring, stopping to shake hands and high
five the occasional fan on their way down towards ringside.

Their matching attire consists of a pair of crimson full length trunks
with flashy silver and gold "explosions" covering the surace. Both men
have the words "Blonde Bombers" scribed down their pantless in pure.
Solid. Gold, baby!]

MC: Coming to the ring... weighing in at a combined total of two hundred
and seventy nine pounds... from The Edge of Night... they are...

"LOVE MACHINE" JOHNNY NOVA..

"BEAUTIFUL" BOBBY BALWIN..

THE BLONDE BOMBERS!

[POP!]

[The Bombers slide into the ring under the bottom ropes and rise up
instancely meeting for a pre-match high five in the middle of the ring.
They circle around the ring, surveying their opponents. Buddy Elms and
Terry Strock stand anxiously in the corner.]

GM: So it'll be the new AWA tag team, The Blonde Bombers, taking on none
other than Buddy Elms and Terry Strock.

BW: There's a super alliance if I've ever heard of one, Gordon.

GM:  I sense your sarcasm, Bucky, and this crowd is really going nuts
for The Blonde Bombers out here.

BW: Just cause they're a bunch of pretty boys.. let's see _them_ in
another twenty years.

GM: Don't have to wait that long as we'll be seeing them right here,
right now, tonight!

[Ding. Ding. Ding.]

BW: Looks like we're going to have Johnny Nova and Buddy Elms starting
this match of.  Aw shucks... look at this atrocity!

[The atrocity he's referring to is Johnny Nova holding his hand out for
Buddy Elms. Who readily shakes it.]

GM: That "atrocity" that my partner is referring to us no more than a
sign of sportsmanship from The Blonde Bombers. The two men circle..
collar and elbow tie up in the middle of the ring.

BW: Nova's frees his arms and grabs onto the right arm of Buddy Elm with
an arm wringer.

[Elms reaches out with his free hand and grabs the ropes. Starting the
count.]

GM: Nova immediately lets go of the hold.

BW: At least keep that puppy locked in the cage for a few seconds ya
idiot!

GM: No accounting for taste in my partner here tonight.

[Elms shakes his shoulder and locks back up with Nova who slides
underneath and wraps his arms around Elms waist and locking them
together.]

BW: HUGE BELLY TO BACK SUPLEX!

GM: Nova with the quick tag to Bobby Baldwin, Nova grabs the legs of
Elms while Baldwin stands above waiting.

[Nova falls back, catapulting Elms towards a waiting Baldwin who blasts
Elms with a standing lariat.]

BW: Slingshot right into a dang lariat!

[Baldwin pats Nova on the shoulder and climbs to the second rope
quickly. Leaping into the air.]

GM: Flying fist drop by Bobby Baldwin. Nice work early by The Blonde
Bombers.  Baldwin drives a few boots into the chest of Elms before
yanking him back up to his feet.

[Baldwin scoops up Elms and slams him into the mat before immediately
hitting the ropes and leaping up with a flying elbow drop.]

GM: That'll make you second guess your career choice. One heckuva flying
elbow by Baldwin. The cover... One! Two! Thr-- NO! KICKOUT!

BW: Baldwin doesn't seem happy with the count!

[A wide eyed Baldwin stares at the mat in frustration. Which is odd
since it was barely a two, and he's put barely any effort in up until
this point. But regardless, he kicks the bottom rope and tags Nova back
in, but not before grabbing Elms off the mat and holding him in a front
facelock.]

GM: Nova with a strong kick to the stomach of the doubled over Elms.

[Nova tussles his long blonde hair... right before dropping a double axe
handle across the back of Elms head, driving him face first into the
mat.]

GM: Nova picks Elms back up and drives him right back down with a
backbreaker... he holds the move... he pulls him back up... backbreaker
again!... and again! AND AGAIN!

BW: _Five_ backbreakers consecutively by Johnny Nova and that most
certainly has to be it.

GM: The cover... One! Two! Thre- LAST SECOND KICKOUT!

[Stunned, Nova simply sits up and stares at the mat for a moment. He
pulls Elms' carcass off the mat and irish whips him into the ropes,
lowering his head.. perhaps a bit too early.]

GM: ELMS CATCHES NOVA WITH A KICK TO THE HEAD!

BW: That may have been all this kid had in the tank though.

[Elms immediately collapses and begins the crawl towards his corner
where Terry Strock eagerly awaits the tag.]

GM: Can he get to the corner before Nova can stop him?!

BW: I don't think so. He's awfully slow... if you know what I mean...

[As Nova approaches a slight sound can be heard.]

GM: ELMS MADE THE TAG!

[Strock races into the ring, flooring Nova with a running clothesline
and then taking an incoming Baldwin down with a back elbow.  He pumps
his fist to the cheers of the crowd.  Meanwhile, an oddly dressed man
appears in the entrance. His ecclectic attire consists of a Neon Green
Sportscoat, a pair of gold shades shaped like stars, Neon Green slacks
and a piano key neck tie.

As if this weren't awkward enough... he also has two completely
different shoes. One is a fine black dress shoe. The other is a big
black boot. He slowly strolls down towards ringside.]

BW: Who.. er... what is that?

GM: I have no idea, Bucky, it appears that a deluded fan has made his
way out here, I'm sure security will take care of the situation
accordingly. But back to the action in the ring and Strock has been
taking it to BOTH member of The Blonde Bombers.

BW: Double headbutt in the corner!

[Baldwin falls backwards, rolling through the second ropes and landing
on the floor in front of the oddly dressed man. Meanwhile, Strock turns
his attention back towards Johnny Nova, who lays face down, grabbing at
his most valuable asset.]

GM: Baldwin is rolling around, right in front of this mysterious
stranger.

BW: Mysterious is one word for this freak show, Gordo.

[Nova staggers back away from Strock, crawling out of the ring to the
solace of the ringside area.]

GM: Is he just going to take the count out? Or is he buying some time?

BW: Technically... couldn't he be doing both?

GM: What's he doing up there!? The oddly dressed man is on the apron!

BW: Look at you, Mr. Fashion Police!

[Strock turns his attention towards the man on the apron and approaches
him. The flamboyant man immediately begins jawing before commiting one
of the ultimate cultural taboos.]

BW: YES! Haha!

GM: Did he just.. just.. _spit_ in the face of Terry Strock?!

[The flamboyant man immediately hops off the apron and begins to fiddle
with one of his shoes. Meanwhile, an irate Terry Strock steps down in
front of him.]

BW: Bobby Baldwin from behind. He spins Strock around and fires a
right... BLOCKED! Strock returns fire and _nails_ Bobby Baldwin who
crumples back to the mat.

[Strock turns around and is not expecting the site he gets... the
underside of a boot.]


"WHAAAAAAAAAACK!"


GM: THE MYSTERY MAN JUST TOOK OFF HIS OWN DANG BOOT AND NAILED TERRY
STROCK SQUARE IN THE TEMPLE WITH IT!!! WHERE IS THE REFEREE?!

[An excellent question by Gordon, one which is quickly answered when we
see that he's been counting out Johnny Nova the entire time. At "9" Nova
quickly rolls back into the ring.]

BW: The question is... did either of the Bombers even _see_ what this
man did?!

[The man pulls Strock off the thin mats and rolls him into the ring.
Nova immediately notices and rushes across the ring... dropping down on
top of Strock, who's partner is still down in the corner.]

GM:  There's one... there's two... and there's three, Bucky!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  HERE ARE YOUR WINNERS... "LOVE MACHINE" JOHNNY NOVA & "BEAUTIFUL"
BOBBY BALDWIN... THEY ARE...

... THE BLONDE BOMBERS!

[The Bombers celebrate in the middle of the ring as the mysterious man
makes his way over towards Gordy and Bucky. He just roughly shoves his
way closer to a mic as he leans over their table.]

MAN: Allow me to introduce myself, gentlemen. You are talking to the
_mmaaannnnnn_ with da _pplllannnnnn_.

"Hollywood"

Larry

Holy bejebus!

Doyle!

[Anti-pop!]

LD:  And I'm here tonight to introduce not _just_ myself to you
dingbats, dimwits, half breeds and trailer park dweebs.

[BOOS]

LD:  Oh trust me.. the feeling is well and far _beeeyyoonndd_ mutual. If
I could do this via video from a production room somewhere exotic and
worth my time.. then I would. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure the
"technicians" in this hillbilly town wouldn't have the wherewithal to
figure out even the most simple of modern technologies.

I think I saw a few folks in the back counting up ticket sales on an
abacus for cryin' out loud. An abacus!

[Indignant scoff.]

LD:  Duh... hello... it's called a calculator _idiots_ check it out
sometime. It'll blloowwww youuurrr minnndddssss.

[As Doyle's irrelevant diatribe continues he fails to notice the quickly
approaching Nova and Baldwin, who stand behind him momentarily waiting
for him to notice their sudden intrusion.]

LD:  Or I should say...

[Smiles.]

LD:  ... if any of you pigs had minds to be blown in the first place.

OOHHHH ZZZINNNNGGGG!!!

[Doyle struts and gives himself a high five, swivelling mid five and
stopping dead in his tracks when he sees The Blonde Bombers standing
before him. Nova steps forward and rips the mic out of Doyle's hand as
Bucky and Gordon start on.. unsure of what to make of the situation.]

JN: What in the _world_ do you think you're doing?

[Doyle's eyes widen like saucers. Uh. Oh.]

JN:  We were expecting you out here wayyyy sooner!

[His eyes narrow as he smiles and hugs both Nova and Baldwin.]

LD: My beautiful boys! These two guys.. huh?!

[Points at them both while staring at Bucky and Gordon.]

LD:  Had ya going there, didn't they? Phew, had me going for a moment
myself!

_These two men_. Are the _future_ of this sport. They _ARE_ the greatest
tag team in the entire world. Not just Hillbilly, New Mexico... or
wherever the heck it is that we've been _draaagggeddd_ to tonight.

And over the next several weeks and months me and my boys will be
proving it to the entire world.

[Sly smirk from all three men.]

LD:  Just so long as our demands are met.

[Gordon leans in, curiosity having killed the cat.]

GM: What demands are you talking about?! You're making little to no
sense!

LD: Woah.. look at the time!

[Larry looks at a ficticious watch that most definitely does not rest on
his wrist.]

LD:  You can't afford to pay my boys overtime. We'll see you next show
and go over our *ahem* demands in a bit more detail.

Let's go, gents.

["Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode kicks back on and The Blonde Bombers
backpedal out of the scene while Larry Doyle holds that boot above the
head like a championship trophy. Aaannnddd ... they're gone.]

GM:  Well, fans... the Blonde Bombers are apparently not quite who we
thought they were along with this... what was his name again?

BW:  "Hollywood" Larry Doyle!  I like that guy, Gordo!

GM:  You would.  Fans, we'll be right back with-

[The crowd buzzes as someone charges out of the ringside bleaches,
racing across the ringside area towards the announce area.  Security is
on the scene instantly, cutting off the path of the interloper, grabbing
him by the arms.]

GM:  I'm sorry, fans... we've got a little bit of a disturbance here in
the WKIK Studios.  Security is here... they are taking care of-

BW:  Wait a second!  Don't you know who that is?

GM:  I don't-

[Gordon squints and then a shocked look of recognition crosses his
face.]

GM:  I can't believe...

BW:  Let him go!  Let him go!

GM:  I have to agree with Bucky.  Security, please let this gentleman
go.  I know he's not scheduled to be here and he, well, he certainly
doesn't WORK here but...

[Security indeed releases the intruder but stick around close in case
they are needed.  For the first time, a young man appears on camera. 
He's dressed in a pair of flat-front black dress slacks, a black
t-shirt, and a green button-down shirt left open with the sleeves rolled
up to his forearms.  His hair is long and tied back into a loose
ponytail.  He comes over to Myers and Wilde, snatching the mic closer to
him.]

Man:  [interrupting Myers] Raphael Rhodes, ya just brought down a
reckonin' on yerself by puttin' yer hands on Scott Von Braun.  'Cause
now y'all gotta deal with...

[Double thumb hook at himself.]

BVB:  ... Brian Von Braun.

[The crowd roars with recognition at the name and at the man in front of
them.]

GM:  Brian Von Braun... I am shocked.  What in the world are- are you
here to collect on the bounty like your father tried to do at the Main
Event?

[BVB looks at Gordon Myers, anger evident on his face.  He inhales
sharply, the mic picking up the sound.]

BVB:  This ain't about no bounties, Gordon.  This is 'bout payin' what
ya owe.  Right now?  Raphael Rhodes and Simon Rhodes owe me some blood.

[BVB turns back to the camera.]

BVB:  Stand back-to-back, Rhodes brothers.  Y'all need ta keep watch
over yer backs.  Ain't no tellin' when I'm gonna strike.  Rest assured,
it's comin'... the reckonin' is comin'.

[Von Braun appears about to leave at this point when Gordon puts a hand
on his shoulder.]

GM:  Brian, are you... have you joined the AWA?

[BVB turns and faces Gordon Myers.]

BVB:  Does it really matter?  I'll rip a page right outta Waterson's
book tanight.  Rhodes will make this match happen.  If he don't?  Tha
Rocket City Badboy's gonna jus' keep on showin' up an' whoopin' the
Rhodes boys.

GM:  There has been an increase in security... we have a tightly
scheduled show... we can't just-

BVB:  [interrupting Myers again] Then lemme offer Ross a resolution. 
Seems Juan Vasquez has ta defend his belt against Stevie Scott tonight. 
Anyone with a brain knows the Rhodes boys are gonna be showin' up to
that.

[BVB turns to the camera.]

BVB:  Let ol' Hot Stuff be the special enforcer for that match, Ross.  I
ain't gonna try ta interfere an' cost no one the match.  I ain't got
beef with the Southern Syndicate, just the Rhodes boys.  You can bet
your life, I ain't gonna let no one interfere.  An' if the Southern
Syndicate, 'specially the Rhodes, wanna interfere?

[BVB forces a grin as he holds up a lighter.]

BVB:  They'll have ta learn a lesson... a trial by fire, if ya will.

[BVB turns and walks away from the announcer table back towards his
ringside seat.]

GM:  What in the world is going on here tonight?  Fans, Brian Von Braun
has shown up here on Saturday Night Wrestling out of nowhere... out of
the crowd!  And he has DEMANDED to be named the special outside-the-ring
enforcer for the National Title match later tonight.

BW:  I don't like the sound of that.  Not one bit.

GM:  Nevertheless, the offer is on the table... but will the
Championship Committee accept?  Perhaps we'll find out after this quick
break!  Don't you dare go away!

[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 Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and we have yet to hear from the Championship
Committee on whether or not they will grant Brian Von Braun's request to
be the Enforcer later tonight but we're told that Stephen Ross is
currently considering the situation and we'll have an answer shortly. 
But for now, let's talk about the Second Anniversary show.  The Main
Event shook up the entire AWA, Bucky, and the shake-up we're going to
talk about right now was your Call Of The Wilde segment.

BW: Which was darn near ruined by Zip-Lips Taylor.  I thought he had
some big announcement!  I thought he was gonna spill some dirt about
what's goin' down behind closed doors at headquarters!  But no, he just
wanted ta stand there quiet for three minutes, an' then call out Kevin
Slater.

GM: That is something that has been building since Day One.

BW: Do it on your own time!  My show is for-

GM: Well, another man made an appearance to help Bobby Taylor against a
double-team from his own brother Shane as well as Slater, and joining us
at this time is that very man.  Brent Maverick, I guess this is a more
official welcome to the AWA as a competitor, isn't it?

[As Gordon introduces him, the broad-shouldered Maverick steps into
view.  He's wearing a long-sleeved dark blue cotton button-up shirt,
black suspenders, blue jeans, and a narrow-eyed expression of focus. 
Maverick has tousled short dark-brown hair, rough mustache and a couple
of days of stubble resting on his square jaw.  He answers with a gruff
voice, tinged with a Southwestern accent.]

BM: I reckon it is.

BW: And you!

[Bucky points a finger at Maverick's chest.  Brent looks down at his
outstretched hand with a mix of disinterest and disdain.]

BW: You shoulda been arrested, comin' outta the crowd like you did! 
What business did you have stickin' your nose in Bobby Taylor's family
business.

BM: None.

BW: You think because y... wait.  Gordo, did he just agree with me?

GM: That's going to require an explanation, Mr. Maverick.  If you concur
that you had no business doing what you did at the Main Event, then why
did you jump the railing and fend off Slater and Shane Taylor?

[Maverick shakes his head at Gordon's sentence, his lips tightening in
mild aggravation.]

BM: Ya didn't hear what I said, Myers.  I said I had no business
interferin' with Taylor's family business.  An' neither does Kevin
Slater. But he did.  Likewise, I got no business interferin' with that
there whole Bobby Taylor-Kevin Slater mess.  But Shane Taylor did.  An'
so what happens?  Everyone inna AWA collectively puts their head inna
sand.

GM: What do you mean by that?

BM: This: was that the first numbers job we saw that night?

GM: Er, no.  No, before that the Southern Syndicate jumped Bailey
Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson.

BW: Ya weren't so brave then, were ya?  Why didn't ya jump the railing
then?  Oh, right, because the Southern Syndi-

BM: Because within seconds, half th' locker room came runnin' down on
'em.  The "special security force", remember?  Now here's my question:
where were they when Slater an' Shane decided ta try an' put a man out? 
I sure didn't see nobody move a muscle, did you?

GM: Now that you mention it...

BM: Now that I mention it, Bobby Taylor ain't a popular guy.  He ain't
got no friends back there, on account of he ain't one of th' boys no
more.  Wrestlers watch after their own, most of th' time.  But they don'
generally spare no effort for a suit.  Taylor stepped over that line
when he signed up ta help run this place.  An' I been there.  I know how
that is.

GM: You do?  Oh, yes, I remember.  You were a vice-president in the New
York territory years ago, weren't you?

BM: An' th' locker room got cold real fast.  REAL fast.  I had a big
target put on my back on account of that, an' I remember it very well.
So I ain't lookin' ta stick my nose in other people's personal business.
 I'm lookin' ta do fer somebody what others did for me long ago.
Everybody knows one-on-one personal business don't git settled... truly
SETTLED... in a tag match.  But what does happen is th' damn fools who
use numbers as a crutch, thinkin' they kin avoid settlin' up like a man?
 They learn.  They learn that it only ends one way.  All I mean ta do
Memorial Day is see justice git done.

That's it in one word.  Justice.  Ya kin either cry about how there
ain't no justice inna world, or ya kin git up an' go do somethin' about
it.

BW: Ha.  You talk about justice like Bobby Taylor deserves any.  Don't
you know what he's done in his career?

BM: Don't you know what I done in mine?  Broke a cinderblock over a
man's knee an' ended his career.  Drove a man off an entrance ramp with
a powerbomb, ended his career.  Smashed a man's throat with a chair,
ended his career.  Where was justice fer me?

BW: Exactly...

BM: I'll tell ya where.  It's lookin' my nine-year old son inna eye an'
explainin' why his daddy crippled a man.

[That stops Bucky short, and there is a brief silence as that line hangs
in the air.]

BM: We live two lives, Wilde.  It can be no other way.  As for whether
Bobby Taylor 'deserves' justice?  That's between him an' the Lord.  All
I know about him is he's man enough to keep his appointments even when
his own kin stabs him inna back.  That's enough for me.  I'll be there
at Memorial Day come hell or high water.  An' if I gotta explain
somethin' more ta my son on account of what I hafta do, then so be it.

[With that, Brent walks off.]

GM:  Wow.  We're going to see Kevin Slater in action later tonight but
you have to wonder... you just have to wonder if he and Shane Taylor
realize what they've done.  The Outlaw and one-half of the Outlaws...
standing to fight together against Slater and Shane.  That's gonna be
something else.

BW:  After what Taylor did on The Call, I hope they take him out on
Memorial Day, daddy.

GM:  I'm sure you do.  Fans, let's go up to the ring for our next match!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing between two men
familiar to AWA fans as Baron Von Klauss and "The All-American" Aaron
Anderson.  She is about to begin the introduction when suddenly the
crowd explodes into boos!]

GM:  DEVASTATION!

[Wearing loose fitting black jeans and a black t-shirt, Devastation
comes tearing out of the locker room area, dashing towards the ring as
his manager, Ronnie Jamieson, waddles over to the announce area as his
man goes after the two inside the ring.]

GM:  What is he- OHHHH!

[A giant Yakuza-style kick to the jaw sends Baron Von Klauss toppling
through the ropes and out to the floor.  Spinning around, he spots Aaron
Anderson shooting in, attempting a double leg takedown...

...and getting smashed with a double axehandle to the back that stops
him short.  A few more double-handed smashes follow up before
Devastation yanks Anderson up into a gutwrench, hoisting him over his
shoulder in a backbreaker.]

GM:  Look at the power!

BW:  Aaron Anderson is NOT a small guy, Gordo!

GM:  He certainly isn't and Devastation powered him up like he was
nothing!  Right up over his shoulder in a backbreaker!

[The big man uses his powerful arms to bend Anderson's spine across his
shoulder for several seconds before stepping out, slamming Anderson down
to the mat in a makeshift powerbomb!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Ronnie Jamieson, what is the meaning of this?!

[Ronnie sneers]

RJ: You just keep that trap of yours shut Gordon and listen up!  In
fact,  all of you people in the audience and in the back listen up! 
You're right Gordon, we don't have a match tonight and it's a good thing
because somebody ELSE would have been heading out of here on a
stretcher!  By the way, call a meat wagon for that kid Anderson!

[Devastation exits the ring, moving to join his manager at the announce
area as several AWA officials hit the ring.]

RJ: We are sick of being overlooked here in the AWA. Week after week
since we arrived here, we have put out the challenges. Week after week
we have made demands that have seemed to have fallen on deaf ears.

GM: You mean the bounties on both Juan Vasquez and the Syndicate?

RJ: That's right Gordon. We told them all that they had a week to answer
or bodies would start piling up! We told both sides that it was all
about money. But nobody Gordon, _NOBODY_ had the class to respond back
to us! So i think it's time for everybody in the AWA to pay the piper so
to speak.

GM: I don't think we understand...

RJ: And you wouldn't Gordon, and neither would these imbecile fans. The
fact is we feel slighted here in AWA. I just don't think people are
taking us seriously. It seems to me the morons in the back might be
thinking we are some kind of joke or something- or possibly just plain
scared.

GM: Whoa wait a minute Ronnie, I don't-

[Ronnie talks over him.]

RJ: You wait a minute Gordon! The truth is that Vasquez, that paper
champion and the Syndicate look to be playing 'Ring around the Rosie'
when it comes to the title. They seem to think they are the only ones
who have the right to fight for the gold and everyone else is happy to
just step aside and let them. I talked to the Championship Committee,
Gordon.  I laid out the facts, I showed them what Devastation has done
since coming here and they said their hands were tied. They said
Devastation was ranked too low to even be considered for a shot at the
champion!

[The crowd cheers. Devastation scans the crowd, brows wrinkled in a
scowl with a snarl on his face. Ronnie looks disgusted.]

RJ: Yeah, you idiots, protect your marshmallow champion! But that is why
[points at temple] I have one of the sharpest minds in the business. I
swallowed the junk the Committee fed me. I swallowed the lies to protect
the champion from this man behind me, but came up with an idea.

Since the AWA does not want the champion within twenty feet of this
monster because they know what would happen to him... we are going to go
about getting our shot at the title a different way. We're not going to
work our way up the [mocking tone] 'rankings' to get a title shot, were
going to bust down the door and take it!

GM: What are you going to do?  What have you got planned?

RJ: It's simple Gordon. Since the AWA does not want to take us
seriously... what better way to show them just how serious we are then
by entering the 30 man Rumble and throwing every piece of trash over the
top?

[The crowd reacts in a negative way as Ronnie smirks and the big man
grins with evil intentions, rubbing his massive paws together.]

RJ: Devastation is going to be in the Rumble! This man right here is
going to throw twenty-nine other men over the top rope! Then when his
arm is raised in victory there will be nowhere for the champion to run!
There will be nowhere for the champion to hide because Devastation will
have a _guaranteed_ title shot in the palm of his hand [chuckles] and
when he gets into that ring with whoever is the champion... [cackles] at
the end of the carnage you will be looking at the _NEW_ National
Champion- DEVASTATION! Let's go big man.

[Ronnie motions with his hand for Devastation to follow him. The big man
scowls at Gordon and Bucky before turning and following his manager.]

GM: Well, you heard it folks!  Ronnie Jamieson has declared that
Devastation is the first man in the 2010 Memorial Day Rumble!

BW: I'll tell ya Gordo, I would be hard pressed to bet against him. 
He's mean, he's lean and he is focused.  He wants that title!

GM:  And we'll be right back, fans!

[And 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 we find our announcers have
been joined by Rough N Ready.  Eric Matthew Somers is still dressed in
his wrestling attire, an angry look on his face. Dave Cooper is dressed
in blue jeans and a white polo shirt, looking upset as well. Sarah
Sharpe is dressed her usual attire and doing her best to look calm.]

GW: Rough N Ready are now joining us... Eric, we saw earlier what
happened in your Lady Luck Challenge match against Sweet Daddy
Williams... I take it you are-

[Gordon doesn't get to finish his sentence as Eric interrupts him.]

EMS: As a famous man once said... that's all I can stands, I can't
stands no more!

[He takes a deep breath before continuing.]

EMS: Gordon, my apologies for cutting you off... but I have just about
had enough of Dufresne and Freeman and their desire to stick their noses
in everybody's business! There were Sweet Daddy and I, having a grand
old time of wanting to prove who was the better man... and then the
Southern Syndicate... and those two punks in particular show up all in
the name of stealing the spotlight!

BW: Hey now... you and Dave were the ones who put their noses where they
didn't belong when Callisto Dufresne just wanted a simple admission from
City Jack and-

[This time it's Dave who interrupts... also pointing a menacing finger
at Bucky, who is quick to back away.]

DC: Bucky, I'm warning you... don't you _even_ try to compare what we
did at The Main Event to what Dufresne and Freeman did!  I don't care
what Dufresne says, thinks or believes... he had no right to do what he
did to City Jack! It wasn't enough for him to just win the tag team
titles... it wasn't enough for him to know that City Jack would likely
never wrestle again. Oh no... Dufresne needs his damn ego put on the
highest pedestal possible, be the center of attention whever he goes,
and when he doesn't get his way, it's not enough for him that somebody's
career is over... he wants to destroy his entire livelihood!

And then when somebody intervenes, there's Freeman to ride along on
Dufresne's coattails... and before you know it, the two of them are
running away likes thieves.

Well, I'm tired of watching Dufresne and Freeman get away with
everything they do... the best way to get those punks in the ring is to
do what we should have done some time ago... we are gonna cash in our
three points earned and demand a title shot for the next show!

[Dave then walks off the set, clearly frustrated. Eric doesn't
immediately follow him, though.]

EMS: You see that, Gordon? Dave is usually the calming presence on this
team, and now that he's mad as hell and not going to take it any more...
what do you think that means for Dufresne and Freeman once we get our
hands on them? Mark my words... we will NOT let what happened to City
Jack go unanswered... and we will see to it that not just the tag team
titles come into our possession, but that Dufresne truly pays the piper
for all he's done!

[He then walks off after Dave. Sarah Sharpe remains behind at the
commentator's position.]

GM: Sarah, it looks like the tag team you represent is very upset about
what has transpired.

SS: Gordon, can you blame them? What Callisto Dufresne did to City Jack
can never be forgiven. I know there are plenty of people in the back who
want a shot at him... but the way I see it, he and Freeman have title
defenses to fulfill. Seeing as how Dave and Eric have the points needed
for that shot, it's time they get that opportunity.

[She sighs.]

SS: Of course, now it's up to me to get them to calm down at least a
little bit... the last thing Dave and Eric need is to not have focus
when it comes time to get that title shot.

Now, if you'll excuse me... I have business to attend to with the
Championship Committee.

[She then walks off the set as well, leaving the announcers behind.]

GM:  Rough N Ready have made the challenge!  Two weeks from now, they
want to cash in their three points and they want the shot at Dufresne
and Freeman!  Now all that's left is to find out if they'll get it!  We
still haven't heard from the Committee on the Brian Von Braun situation
and now we've got this one hanging overhead as well.  The Championship
Committee, and specifically Stephen Ross, have some decisions to make. 
Fans, let's go up to the ring for our next match!

[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 Houston, Texas... Lee Sawyer!

[Some minor cheers for the Texan.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[Suddenly, a buxom young lady comes bouncing through the announce
curtain and quickly enters the ring, snatching the mic out of Melissa's
hand with a sneer on her face.  This is, of course, Kandi Kane.]

KK:  Why don't you hustle on back to your street corner and let me take
care of this?

[Cannon looks fit to be tied as she glares at Kane, refusing to back
away as Kane speaks.]

KK:  And his opponent... from Boston, Massachusetts... he is a former
two-time World Champion...

He is...

[Kane smirks.]

KK:  THE OUTLAW...

KEVVVVVVIN SLAAAAAAAATER!

[The crowd explodes into jeers as Pat Benatar's "Outlaw Blues" starts up
over the PA system.]

GM:  The Outlaw?  Did I miss a memo?

[Slater bursts into view through the curtain, sporting a white Stetson
hat as well as a red leather duster with "SUPERSTAR" bedazzled across
the back.  His partner-in-crime, "Scorchin" Shane Taylor is a few feet
behind him, applauding as he heads down the aisle.]

GM:  You've got to be kidding me.

BW:  Hehehe... I love it.

[Slater pauses near the cameraman, tipping the cap slightly to look into
the camera with a mocking "tough guy" gaze.  He can't hold it long
though before he breaks into a cackle, walking the rest of the way
towards the ring where he hops up on the apron, stepping through the
ropes.  Slater pulls the hat off, handing it over to Kandi Kane who
embraces him before exiting the ring to take a spot next to her man...

...and then Slater sprints across the ring, assaulting Sawyer with a
barrage of rights and lefts, knocking him back to the corner.  The
referee quickly calls for the bell to start the match as Slater lights
up Sawyer with chops to the chest.]

GM:  And of course, Slater attacks him before the bell.  Figures.

BW:  You just don't like the Outlaw, do you?

GM:  Be careful, Bucky.

BW:  What?  You think Taylor will run out here and Cattlebuster me on
the floor?

GM:  I wouldn't put it past the man and I've known him a long time.

[Slater grabs his opponent by the wrist, firing him across the ring.  As
Sawyer staggers out of the buckles, Slater takes flight, throwing
himself into a flying lariat that smacks across the throat of Sawyer,
taking him down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice clothesline - leaping clothesline by the Superstar.

BW:  The Outlaw, daddy.  Get it right.

GM:  I refuse to call him that.  John Wesley Hardin, wherever he is,
would be physically ill at the idea of this idiot running around calling
himself the Outlaw.

[Slater stomps Sawyer a few times to the jeers of the crowd before
hauling him up to his feet, tugging him into a front facelock.]

GM:  Already?

[The crowd boos wildly as Slater hoists him horizontal off the mat,
SPIKING him skullfirst into the canvas with the move commonly known
throughout the wrestling world as the CattleBuster DDT!]

GM:  Disgusting.

[Slater rolls over into a lateral press.]

GM:  One.  Two.  Three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... KEVIN SLAAAATER!

[Slater pops back up to his feet, throwing his arms into the air.  He
celebrates his victory for a moment before heading towards the ropes,
dropping down to the floor alongside his cohorts.]

GM:  It looks like Slater's on his way over here to join us.  I'm sure
you're happy about that, Bucky.

[The trio reaches the announce position, Slater slinging an arm across a
reluctant Gordon Myers' shoulders.]

KS:  Gordon Myers, tell me something...

[Slater grins.]

KS:  How does it FEEL to be in the presence of the Outlaw of
Professional Wrestling?

[Taylor and Kane chuckle wildly.]

KS:  The one, true, Outlaw, baby!

[Myers shakes his head with disgust.]

GM:  Kevin Slater, I am appalled at nearly everything you do these days
but this one may be going too far.  Do you realize how much that name
means to Bobby Taylor?  How hard he fought to get it and how much he's
sacrificed to keep it?

KS:  Of course I do, Gordon Myers!

[Slater gets real serious, real fast.]

KS:  Because unlike you, Myers, I was THERE when he won it.  My good
friend, my running buddy, my training partner, the guy I traveled up and
down countless roads with... I was right THERE when he took on Hardin
with that name on the line.

And I was right there when Hardin walked out and HANDED it to him.

[Slater grins.]

KS:  Don't ever forget that, Myers.  Don't ever forget that John Wesley
Hardin GAVE that name to Taylor... he didn't win it.  He didn't earn it.
 He didn't beat the name off of Hardin.  None of that happened, Myers,
and I can speak to that because I was there for it.

But it seems to me, Myers... I seem to remember something about Taylor
trying to get out from under the name...

[Slater scratches his head.]

KS:  Do you remember that, Shane?  Kandi?

[They both nod.]

KS:  I know I do.  I remember Bobby Taylor coming out here on this very
show and crying some damn sob story about how hard life for him is as
the Outlaw.  How he lost his family... how he lost his friends like that
junkie Ezra...

[Slater spits on the ground.]

KS:  He wants to get out from under it.  He wants someone else to be the
Outlaw.

[Slater spreads his arms wide.]

KS:  One final favor between old friends, Bobby.

GM:  Okay, okay... but what about Memorial Day Mayhem?  What about the
tag match-

[Shane Taylor speaks up.]

SST:  Brent Maverick!  You had no business getting involved in what
happened two weeks ago!  You had no business sticking your nose in OUR
business.

GM:  He admitted that earlier tonight.

SST:  Well, good.  'Cause that makes it that much easier when we END him
on Memorial Day.  Tell Holliday to start lookin' for a new partner
because come June 1st, he's gonna need it.

[Slater jumps back in.]

KS:  And as far as Bobby's concerned, well, Memorial Day is the night
when the entire wrestling world finds out what I've known for years.

[A smirk.]

KS:  Bobby Taylor's not the Outlaw.  Not anymore.

[Slater grabs the mic, pulling it closer before making his exit.]

KS:  Oh, and Bobby?

[His voice drops to a whisper.]

KS:  You're welcome.

[And with that, the threesome makes their exit.]

GM:  And if you ask me, those three are playing with fire, Bucky Wilde.

BW:  We'll see about that in two months' time, Gordo.

GM:  We certainly will.  Fans, we'll be right back.

[Fade out on the announcers.

And then fade back up a moment later on video of the first Memorial Day
Mayhem event.  We see Mark Shaw hoisting Marcus Broussard high into the
air for a crucifix powerbomb, walking out of the corner when his knee
buckles, allowing Broussard to drop down to the canvas behind him.
Seizing the moment, Broussard hooks him in a waistlock, charging
forward, smashing Shaw's face into an exposed metal turnbuckle, and
rolling back into a reverse rolling cradle, throwing himself into a
picture-perfect bridge as the referee dives to the mat, slapping the
canvas three times.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... after twenty-eight minutes and six seconds
of hard-fought action... your winner of the match...

And the FIRST AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

MAAAAAARRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSARRRRRRD!

[The shot freezes on Broussard with the title belt held high, confetti
falling from the sky as a voiceover sounds out.]

"The first year saw the crowning of a champion."

[The footage picks back up as we see a shot of Ron Houston standing on
the ring apron, reaching over the ropes to hoist Adam Rogers upon his
shoulders for a Fade To Black...

...when suddenly Stevie Scott lashes out with the Heatseeker, catching
Houston squarely on the chin, knocking both men off the apron to the
floor.]

GM:  OH MY STARS!  STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!  STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!
STEVIE SCOTT HAS DONE IT!

[The Hotshot falls to his knees in the middle of the ring, pumping both
fists in triumph as he lets loose a wail of victory with the crowd
roaring in celebration as the shot holds and a voiceover picks up
again.]

"The second year saw the start of a new era."

[The footage fades out to a Memorial Day Mayhem logo.]

"On May 31st, 2010, the AWA does it again.

Memorial Day Mayhem is coming.

But what will this year bring?"

[The logo and voice fade out together.

And then we fade back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  It's been an
exciting night of action here so far tonight and it's only going to get
better.  We still have that big National Title rematch with Juan Vasquez
making his first title defense against the former champion, Stevie
Scott.  And you heard the stipulation - this is it, Bucky - no more
rematches for either man.  This will be the last time the AWA will put
these two men against one another in a National Title match.

BW:  That's huge, Gordo.  I said earlier that this may be the biggest
match we've ever had on this show... and I'm not wrong!

GM:  Well, that match just got a little more interesting as well.  Brian
Von Braun, who made a surprise appearance earlier tonight... Stephen
Ross has named him, at his request, the outside-the-ring enforcer for
tonight's title match!

BW:  I'm still not sure about that one, Gordo.  There's some history
there.  Some common accquaintances.  This... this is going to be
interesting.

GM:  AND... this just in... in two weeks' time, the National Tag Team
Titles will be on the line... Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman will
defend the titles against Rough N Ready and that one is a long time in
coming.

BW:  It certainly is.  Rough N Ready, like 'em or not, has taken on and
defeated anyone that the AWA has put against them in two years... but
next time out, they've gotta beat the champs.  And I just don't think
they can do it, Gordo.

GM:  We'll find out in two weeks... but the tag team scene here in the
AWA is hotter than ever.  So many teams competing... so many teams
looking to challenge for the National Tag Team Titles that no matter who
wins that big title showdown, they've got a line of challengers waiting
for them.  Speaking of which... I'd like to bring out the two men who
once again tasted victory over the current tag team champions at The
Main Event... ladies and gentlemen... here are Bailey Fitzgerald and
Corey Lawson!!

[Gingerly emerging from the curtain are the two upstarts, Lawson clearly
the more battered of the two, still wearing a large bandage over his
eyebrow after The Main Event.  Fitzgerald is no spring chicken himself,
sporting a noticeable hitch in his step as he inches toward Gordon and
Bucky.  An array of battle scars decorate his otherwise clean-cut mug,
sweat already noticeably glistening across his brow.  Having reached
their destination now, the pairing appear rather uneasy as Lawson
grimaces because of a pain in his neck and Fitzgerald fidgets with his
right tricep muscle as Myers drops in.]

GM: Guys, congratulations are certainly in order.  I know it may not
have been the outcome you were necessarily looking for, but that match
with Dufresne and Freeman had to be your hardest fought battle to date. 
And no matter how you look at it, guys, a win's a win...

[Bailey interjects.]

BF: It may be a win, Gordon.  But you and I both know it's not one that
tastes good going down.

[Myers offers somewhat of a peculiar expression.]

BF: Not after what happened to Jack.

[At the mention of the event in seemingly everyone's minds, Fitzgerald
immediately stops toying with the back of his arm and emphatically
throws his hands upon his hips in frustration.]

BF: What went on at the Main Event was wrong on so many different levels
I'm not even sure if I'm even able to find the words.  It's put things
in perspective, that's for sure.  At first thought, I'll be honest, it
made all the sense in the world to boast and brag about the fact we'd
now beaten the best tag team in the land on two separate occasions.

[Clearly dejected in his own right, Lawson subtly nods in agreement.]

BF: But now I just can't find the sense, nor the energy in pleading our
case to the higher-ups that we're inclined to a third round with
Dufresne and Freeman, this time with the belts on the line.  Every bit
of it would be for naught, Gordon.  After what Dufresne pulled, I can't
even fathom it.  Somebody is gonna have to explain to me how I'm
supposed to step in the ring with a guy like that.  With a man who would
do the things he did out there.

[Fitzgerald angrily gestures toward the squared circle.]

BF: We're all here for different reasons - I get that.  You've got guys
like me who are here to earn a living.  There are guys like Monosso who
are here because it beats a padded five-by-ten.  And then you've got
your Stevie Scotts, who are here to continually stroke their inflated
egos.  But regardless of the intentions, every last one of us is here
because we have such a great appreciation for this _sport_.  We break
our backs and stick our necks out every night we step between those
ropes and we do it because we have an actual love for what we do.

[A small pop, but Bailey fails to acknowledge before continuing.]

BF: We know all about the risks involved, but each and every one of us
in that dressing room are willing to take the good with every bit of
bad.  There just has to come a point where enough is enough.  And there
has to be a line even the most maniacal of guys wouldn't think of ever
crossing.  But Dufresne?

[He scoffs, throwing up his arms in a show of disbelief.]

BF: He didn't just cross that line.  He long-jumped the damn thing.

CL: Let me tell you somethin'... we know what we get into when we put on
our tights and boots and step into the ring.  We know what to expect...
this is a sport, it's hard-hittin' action.  But we all know you don't go
after someone's well-bein'... you go to get your hand raised, you don't
go to bust up someone so bad you cause permanent damage.  You want to
bust me open?  Okay, fine... I got stitches, I'll heal.  But there ain't
no excuse for what happened out there with City Jack.  Dufrense, you
better hope and pray they suspend you... that they strip you of the
belts and you go home before someone decides to follow that ol' code...

[Lawson glares at the camera, an intense stare uncommon for him.]

CL: ... an eye for an eye.

[We hear slow clapping from off-camera, as "Agent to the Stars" Ben
Waterson, backed up by Raphael and Simon Rhodes, walks into frame.]

ATTSBW: Isn't that nice, one hick standing up for his fellow hick.  Very
touching, I must admit.

[Waterson feigns wiping away a tear.]

ATTSBW: But business is business, boys, and I'm getting pretty sick of
you guys getting your noses in on our business.  So I'll tell you
what... if you guys want Dufrense so bad, if you want Freeman, you want
the belts?  You want to get your third point?

[Waterson stands back, clearing the path between Fitzgerald and Lawson
and the Rhodes brothers.]

ATTSBW: Then get your tights on and wrestle Raphael and Simon Rhodes
_tonight_.

GM: With all due respect, Mr. Waterson, neither one of these men are
really in the condition to compete...

[Lawson snatches the microphone.]

CL: Like hell we ain't!

[The crowd pops for Lawson's anger, clearly not expecting this side of
him.]

CL: We already beat two tea-sippin' sissies and ran them out of the AWA!
 We'll be glad to do the same to these two!  And you know what?

[Lawson looks back to Fitzgerald, who smiles and nods.]

CL: We don't even need our tights and boots.

[Lawson takes his shirt off and walks over to the ring, with his partner
following.]

GM: Now hold on just a minute, this wasn't what we had planned...

ATTSBW: Hey, if these two want it, let's give it to them!  Go get them!

[Raphael and Simon both charge the ring, as a wild brawl breaks out!]

GM: Hang on a minute, we don't even have a referee!  There's no referee!

BW: We don't need a referee!  Let these two teams go!

[Security swarms the ring, trying to pry apart Fitzgerald and Lawson
from the Rhodes brothers, with Ben Waterson screaming to let them
fight.]

GM: Fans, we need to take a commercial break and break this up!  We'll
take a break and get this under control.

BW: No!  Let 'em fight!

GM: We'll be right back, the tape machines are rolling in case anything
happens during the break!

...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: Wrestling fans, these last three minutes have been absolutely
amazing to see, and we are so glad we had those tape machines going. 
Let's take you back in time to what you missed if you weren't here in
the studio today.

[We crossfade to a shot of referee Michael Meekly rushing into the ring
and signaling to ring the bell, as a "moments ago..." graphic appears on
the screen.]

GM: Here we see, Michael Meekly must've been on an order to start this
match...

[As Meekly tries to split both teams apart, suddenly Simon Rhodes grabs
Corey Lawson by the hair and RAMS Lawson's head into his own brother
Raphael's head!]

GM: And there was an absolutely disgusting show by Simon Rhodes, who
sacrificed his own brother there...

BW: Hey, look, Simon's trying to earn his spot in the Syndicate, and
that very easily could've eliminated Lawson from the match, especially
with that head wound!

GM: Raphael does have a hard head, but it certainly didn't please Ben
Waterson....

[We see Ben Waterson jumping on the apron, screaming at Simon and
demanding to know what he just did.]

BW: He's just trying to protect his investment, Gordon, Raphael Rhodes
didn't come cheap to the Southern Syndicate, and Simon was being a
little bit reckless, I have to admit.

[Simon is seen trying to plead his case to Waterson, but... ]

GM: Especially since Bailey Fitzgerald never left the ring and, really,
was still legal!

[We see Fitzgerald leap into the air, planting a dropkick between the
shoulder blades of Simon Rhodes... ]

BW: And this stupid, biased referee just let this travesty stand!

[... sending Simon careening into Waterson, causing the two to collide
with a sickening thud and sending Waterson to the ground...

... as Fitzgerald uses a schoolboy rollup on Simon!]

GM:  A quick rollup for one... for two... and for three!

[And, just as soon as Fitzgerald records the pin, he scrambles out of
the ring, grasping Lawson by the wrist to pull his partner to safety.]

MC: Here are your winners, securing their third point... BAILEY
FITZGERALD AND COREY LAWSON!

GM: And there you have it, fans, Fitzgerald and Lawson took advantage of
miscommunication in the Syndicate and now, they too have qualified for a
title shot!

BW: You better watch it, there was no miscommunication between Syndicate
members.  Simon Rhodes went rogue, and he's definitely not a Syndicate
member!

GM: Associate, member, or whatever you'd like to call it, Bucky, Bailey
Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson have their third point and, with two wins
over the reigning National Tag Team Champions, they have to feel like
the third time will be the charm for them to take the belts home!  Fans,
let's-

[Pure X enters the scene, dressed in a pair of jeans, blue T-shirt, and
a black jacket. His attitude could be summed up easily by "pissed off".]

GM: Pure X, I wasn't expecting you to be-

PX: Look, Myers, I'm not here to talk to you, alright? I don't have the
time and really just don't have the patience to have any sort of
conversation with you right now.

[Myers raises his eyebrows before continuing on.]

GM: Well, if you don't mind, I still would like to know your status.
Last we heard, you sustained an injury due to your match with Shane
Destiny.

[Pure X looks away, shaking his head.]

PX: Get this straight, ok? I'm not injured. I've NEVER missed a day in
the ring in my life because I wasn't healthy enough. I've always been
cleared to wrestle and always will be!

GM: But we heard before the show that the doctors haven't actually
cleared you to wrestle - for a number of weeks, in fact.

[Pure X gets in Myers' face.]

PX: Look! I'm healthy enough to get in that ring tonight and wrestle
whoever I wanted! In fact? In fact...

[X nods.]

PX: In fact, I came out here to right the wrong set at the Second
Anniversary Show. I'm here tonight to get a match that should have NEVER
been ended. Tonight, I want Destiny in that ring for a rematch to -

GM: Hold on, hold on - you're challenging Shane Destiny, tonight?

PX: Yeah, I am. I know I could have broken the Destiny Strangle and if
it wasn't for that misguided Mark Langseth? I would have gotten out and
made Destiny tap to out to ME! I know it in my heart and I know that I
can do it - tonight!

GM: I don't know that you can w-

[Gordon Myers is suddenly cut off as the fans in attendance cheer the
entering Mark Langseth. Pure X immediately gives Langseth a menacing
glare as Langseth walks over to the other side of Myers.]

ML: You want to fight Shane Destiny tonight?

PX: Why are you out here? What is your deal, huh? This is MY business
and MY time! So please, go back the locker room, go back to resting on
your laurels and duping everyone to thinking you still have anything
left in the tank.

[The crowd, obviously, doesn't appreciate X's comment. Langseth sort of
shakes his head but doesn't show any offense taken.]

ML: Look, I know you're angry and I know you want to do the irrational
thing and go back in the ring for seconds against Destiny, but... You
need to start thinking with your head. Just let me handle it -

PX: Are you kidding me right now? When did I ever ask you for your help,
huh? Who asked you to throw in the towel in my match? Who asked you to
come out here and talk to me about how to think, huh?

[Langseth nods.]

ML: I'm just trying to make sure you don't ruin your career.

PX: Ruin my career? This from a man who shredded years off his LIFE in
some of the riskiest matches made? You're giving me career advice?

GM: Hold on, let me get in here. Mark, I have to ask, why did you throw
in the towel at the Pure X-Shane Destiny match?

[Pure X bores a hole through Langseth as Myers sticks the mic out in his
direction.]

ML: I... I just don't want to see a promising career shortened. I see a
good deal in him what I was like when I was starting out.

[X rolls his eyes.]

ML: And I know what Destiny can do - he's a destructive person who takes
pride in ending people's careers. Destiny, when he gets that look about
him? You can tell he's out not to win a match, but end a career. And at
the Second Anniversary Show, whether it was me, Pure X, or anyone else,
Destiny was set to end someone's career that night.

PX: And I'm telling you, I could have beaten him! Just because YOU don't
have the ability to escape the hold doesn't mean I can't. And tonight, I
WILL prove that I can beat him, no matter what Destiny throws at me!

[This time, Langseth steps up towards X and looks straight at him.]

ML: No, X, no you won't.

GM: Mark, I kind of get why you threw in the towel, but it still doesn't
make sense to me why you're so insistent here. If Pure X feels he can
fight, why can't he?

[Langseth looks back at Gordon Myers... then back at Pure X, who shows
no sign of backing off from his stance of fighting tonight. The Hall of
Famer then looks down for a moment as he pauses...]

ML: Because I don't want to see my nephew get broken in half.

[Gordon Myers looks back at Bucky for a moment to ask him if what he
heard was right while Pure X look goes from one of shock of the
revelation... to one of pure anger.]

GM: Did you just say "nephew"?

ML: I -

[Before Langseth can answer, Pure X storms off the scene. Langseth puts
a hand to his forehead, knowing he did something he didn't want to do.]

GM: Excuse me, did you say Pure X is your nephew?

[Mark turns to Myers, gives a somewhat sheepish nod, before exiting
himself.  A stunned Gordon looks at Bucky who shrugs as we fade to
black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back to live action where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.  Gordon is shaking his head.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, where we are still reeling from what we just
heard.  Mark Langseth is Pure X's uncle?  Did you know that, Bucky?

BW:  There have always been rumors that they were connected somehow
but... no, no idea.

GM:  Well, we're going to need to try and get more on that but... wow. 
This night has been crazy and we're nowhere near done yet.

[The rhythmic opening twangs of Beck's "Farewell Ride" begin to throb
over the PA and recourse thoughout the arena. The fans clamour towards
the aisle, anxious to fill their hearts with nostaglic euphoria...
anxious to see their hero. Even if Bucky Wilde isn't.]

BW: One night wasn't enough?

GM: That music can only mean one thing... and one man! Ron Houston
returned at The Main Event as the Special Ringside Enforcer for the
National Championship matc..

BW: He came back exclusively to hoooosssseeeee Stevie Scott!

GM: Gimme a break, Bucky.

[The southern strained music ambles on for another moment or two before
the arena erupts. The curtains part and standing before the "Madmen" in
attendance is a noneother than a former National Champion... a former
Rumble Winner... a familiar tan trenchcoat accompanied by a black cowboy
hat that hangs low on the sunken head of the beast that stares at the
ground before him. The large figure looms in the entrance and cocks his
neck back and forth before removing his cowboy hat and throwing it like
a black discus into the sea of onlookers who scramble frantically to get
a piece of the "Madman".

The beast draws in a resigned sigh, and removes the trenchcoat as well,
draping it over the guardrail nearest him, where it's quickly engulfed
by an anxious fan at ringside. Slowly a chant grows that catches the
former National Champion's attention.]


"HOUSTON! HOUSTON! HOUSTON!"


BW: Please tell me he isn't coming this way.

[Houston grins a big ol' Athens grin and slowly walks towards Gordon and
Bucky. He beats his heart with a big paw of a hand in appreciation of
the raucous crowd. Smacking it right off the words "Houston's Law"
etched across the chest of his plain black t-shirt. His attire is
rounded out by a pair of blue jeans and black boots. The Athens Georgia
Madman reaches Bucky and Gordon and both men rise before him.]

GM: Ron, on behalf of the AWA, the fans, and heck... probably on behalf
of Juan Vasquez.. _welcome_.. _back_!

[POP!]

[Houston leans into the mic as Bucky furrows his brow in the backround.]

RH: Ah wish ah could say that it's good ta be back..

[Houston looks down at his boots, kicking the invsibible dust in front
of him.]

RH:  ... ah wish ah could say that The Main Event was mah triumphant
return ta active duty here in mah good ol' home, The AWA. The place ah
made my name. Place ah won me a Rumble... place ah won me a
Championship. Place ah sold mah soul ta the devil just ta be a part of..

[Houston looks back up at Gordon. Looking him directly in the eyes.]

RH:  But ah'd be lyin'.

[What?! The crowds filled with about as much confusion as Gordon's face,
which is saying a whole heckuva lot.]

RH:  Ya see. As much as it punishes me ta say this.. ah _ain't_ been
cleared yet ta come back ta nothin'.

Ron Houston _was_.

Is.

And may always be.

[Houston pauses, his eyes flicking from side to side as he soaks in the
confusion of the crowd.. a twinge of angst fills his Athens blues.]

RH:  _Retired_.

[Gordon can't help but interrupt. Meanwhile, a smirk slithers onto
Bucky's face in the background as he nods approvingly.]

GM: Then what are you doing here, Ron?

[Houston smiles slightly.]

RH: What ah'm doin' here, Gordon.. is ah'm here ta restore some order.
See, Stephen Ross came knockin' on mah door a little while back. What
with all the bounties goin' round.. with ya'll puttin' a price on each
other's heads and so forth. Well, ya can imagine that that would weigh
on a man like Stephen Ross quite dearly.

So what ah'm here for is _assurance_.

Ya'll want ta treat this beautiful landscape like the wild west?

[Houston jabs an index finger in his own chest.]

RH:  Then consider me the sheriff of this town cause the Championship
Committee has found it in the best interest fer _everybody_ ta have The
Athens Georgia Madman 'round as a permanent _Special Enforcer_.

[POP!]

RH:  So ah'm puttin' the entire roster on notice. We ain't playin' by
the same set of rules anymore. Ya can't run out here and do what ya
want, when ya want, ta who ya want. Yer gonna have to answer fer yer
sins..

[Slight chuckle.]

RH:  .. and unfortunately fer ya'll.

[Houston grits his teeth.]

RH:  Ah'm the man yer gonna have to answer ta.

GM: So I take it that this is retroactive to The Main Event. More
importantly, and what I'm trying to get at Ron, is whether what we saw
at The Main Event is a sign of things to come? And what are your
thoughts on the events that transpired?

RH: And ah'd be lyin' if ah said ah took no satisfaction in puttin' mah
hand into the chest of Raphael Rhodes.

[POP!]

RH:  Or in puttin' mah hand ta the mat fer three little seconds and
pullin' the rug out from underneath the Southern Syndicate. Fer gettin'
ta play even the smallest of parts in their comeuppance and Juan
Vasquez's triumph.

[Houston grins a big Athens grin.]

RH:  Ta see the look on Stevie Scott's face.. lookin' up at me like he'd
just seen him a ghost.. after all these months.. after all that time..
after what the man had done ta me..  well.. well that was just...

[And that's all it took to get the _entire_ Southern Syndicate's
attention as the party of six makes its way down to the announce where
Houston awaits.  Wilde scrambles out of the way, and even Myers steps
toward Houston, still extending the microphone.  But Waterson, as he
reaches the table, holds up his hand and shakes his head.]

ATTSBW:  No need to run for cover, Gordon.  We didn't come out here to
take a large price out of Ron Houston's hide for the sins he committed
against the Southern Syndicate.

_Yet_.

[Waterson, certainly a bit braver with Scott, Freeman, Dufresne and the
Rhodes brothers standing behind him, pokes a finger in the chest of
Houston.  Heel pop!]

ATTSBW:  Now you listen to me, and you listen to me good, you old
washed-up never was.

First of all, I should probably thank you.

[Huh?]

ATTSBW:  Because you just got done confirming what I have already said
happened...that Stephen Ross _paid_ you and _instructed_ you to make
sure the Hotshot lost the title to Juan Vasquez.

[Houston shrugs, keeping his eyes more on the five men behind Waterson
than on the manager himself.]

ATTSBW:  You know, Houston, I'm sure you're feeling really good about
yourself right about now.  Had a hand in the biggest obstruction and
miscarriage of justice in the history of the AWA.  If that makes you
feel good, by the way, you probably should do a self-examination of your
manhood...see if you find anything bigger than a couple of inches.

GM: Mr. Waterson, that was highly uncalled for.

[Waterson pauses, turning his head to Myers.]

ATTSBW:  Uncalled for?  UNCALLED FOR?  After what _this_ man was a part
of, you want to call what _I_ said uncalled for?  I'd suggest you keep
your mouth shut for the rest of this discussion, Myers, because judging
by the numbers here?  I don't think there's much this, ahem, "special
enforcer" would be able to do about it.

Especially considering the fact that he's looking at the crew who
RETIRED his sorry butt.

[Heel pop!]

ATTSBW: Trust me, big man.  If you think ANY of the Southern Syndicate
is afraid of you, take a minute and think again.

If you know what's good for you.

[Apparently unable to hold back any longer, the former champion himself
steps up beside Waterson, almost chest-to-chest with Houston...or as
close as he can get, what with giving up seven inches of height.]

HSS:  It's funny you said that I looked like I saw a ghost after you
made that three count, Houston.  Because after what we did to you last
time?  I was _sure_ you were a dead man.

[The Hotshot pauses, eyeing Houston up and down.]

HSS:  Looks like you've come back to let us finish the job.

Because...otherwise...you wouldn't have been _stupid_ enough to stick
your nose in where it didn't belong.  You wouldn't have been _idiotic_
enough to get in the way of the most dangerous outfit in professional
wrestling.  You wouldn't have been _dumb_ enough to take something from
me that didn't belong to _you_ and hand it to someone else that it
_sure_ as hell didn't belong to.

So now, Houston...we have a problem.

[Ooh, punny!]

HSS:  And do you know what the Southern Syndicate does with its
problems?

We _eliminate_ them.

I don't give a good damn whether or not you're _retired_...whether
you're the special _enforcer_...whether you're Stephen Ross's
_lapdog_...as far as I'm concerned?

You're _done_.

[A hard shove to the chest punctuates Scott's comment, causing Houston
to rear back his fist...

...but before he can throw it, a frantic-looking Stephen Ross comes
charging into view, wedging himself between the two men.]

SR:  NO!  NO!  NO!  NO!  NOOOOO!

[Ross jabs a finger in the chest of Houston.]

SR:  Remember the deal!  We had a deal, right?

[Houston glares at Ross, slowly nodding his head as he relaxes his fist.
 Ross turns to the Southern Syndicate.]

SR:  Mr. Scott, I believe you have a match to get ready for.

[A smirking Hotshot pats his manager on the shoulder and they lead the
rest of the troops out of the announce area and back through the curtain
which leaves Ross talking to Houston.]

SR:  Ron, you know the deal.  You know the agreement we came to.  The
Championship Committee, myself included, were very pleased with what you
did at the Second Anniversary Show.  And as a result, we DID offer you
the chance to stay on as a fully licensed troubleshooting official which
you accepted.

[Houston nods.]

SR:  But after what happened with Raphael Rhodes, you know the deal.  If
you attack... if you lay your hands on ANY member of the AWA roster
without it being self-defense... you will be FIRED as an official.  Do
you understand that?

[Another nod.]

SR:  Ron, I need you to say it.

[Houston looks up.]

RH:  Ah won't throw 'less someone else does first.

[Ross nods, shaking Houston's hand.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring!

[Melissa raises the mic as two men warm up behind her.]

MC: The following match is a tag team contest, scheduled for one fall.
First, already in the ring at this time, from Davenport, Iowa, Frankie
Vitello!

[A balding, scarred man with a large gut and faded tattoos reacts to the
crowd's boos with a dismissive wave of his right hand. He's wearing
hideous brown tights and khaki boots.]

BW: Vitello with a bit of a reputation here in the WKIK studios, huh,
Gordo?

GM: Indeed, Bucky. Vitello's a veteran of the Southwest wrestling scene,
widely feared for his big right fist he calls "The Kiss Of Death".

BW: I think I'm more afraid of his attire. Who dresses him, Ronnie
Milsap?

GM: Wow, that's rich, coming from you.

BW: Huh?

MC: And his partner, hailing from Lafayette, Indiana, he is "Hoosier
Daddy" Jimmy Cook!

[A man with peroxide blonde hair in a flowing blue-sequined cape with
"Hoosier Daddy" in white on the back laughs and spins around in a circle
before taking a knee and kissing his right bicep. He bounces back to his
feet, removing the robe and throwing it over Mickey Meekly's head.
Meekly quickly removes it and tosses it to the outside, before turning
to scowl at Cook. Cook wears blue tights with his nickname on the back
and two red stars on the front. His blue boots also have red stars on
them.]

GM: Well, certainly a flashy individual.

BW: Now, this guy I like. He's got some serious style, daddy!

MC: And their opponents...

[The choppy distorted guitar of Rebel Meets Rebel's "Nothin' To Lose"
cranks up over the PA, immediately sending the crowd to its feet. An
increasingly large portion of the crowd cheers wildly.]

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. Bo follows, looking at his now
ever-present watch with a bit of concern. He shakes his head, takes the
rolled-up newspaper he's carrying, and taps his cousins on the back.
Both nod and quickly make their way toward the ring. Duane Henry runs,
sliding in under the bottom rope, which sends the opposing team fleeing
from the ring.]

BW: Smartest thing any team's ever done against these two crazy
rednecks.

GM: True, but they have to get in the ring with the Bishops sooner or
later.

[Cletus Lee grabs the top rope, steps up to the apron, and strides over,
one tree-trunk of a leg at a time. He snarls at the opposition, who
appear to be talking over strategy on the outside. A rather animated
Cook seems to be insisting that Vitello start the match. Vitello waves
him off, and steps up to take his place in his team's corner. Cook looks
peeved by this, but enters the ring slowly anyway. As he does, Cletus
Lee points a thumb at himself, indicating he wants to start the match.
Duane Henry smiles a bit and nods, stepping out to the apron.]

GM: Well, Mr. Cook, time to see what you've got.

BW: Just tag your partner in and run, daddy.

GM: I don't think running away would be good for his career, Bucky.

BW: Forget his career. I don't think trying to fight Cletus Lee Bishop
is good for his health, Gordo.

[Bo gives some last-minute pointers to Cletus Lee, who nods. The bell
rings, and the massive Razorback turns around, walking to the center of
the ring and waving the "Hoosier Daddy" forward. Cook looks around
nervously, as if he's considering what Bucky just said. He looks to the
sky, sighs, and dives at the big man's knees. Cletus Lee just takes a
step back and swats him away like a gnat. Cook quickly scampers to the
corner, and runs a hand through his hair.]

GM: The young man from Indiana seems to be having a problem with
strategy.

BW: Strategy? The heck with that, just try to get a quick hit in and
then get out of the way. Annoy him into coming after you. That's about
the only thing that's gonna work against this sideshow freak.

GM: That might be the smartest advice you've ever given.

BW: Of course, if it were one of our National Tag Team Champs, they
wouldn't need to worry about that.

GM: No. They'd just hit him with a briefcase. Again.

[Cook steps forward cautiously, staying just out of reach. He fakes a
charge, getting Cletus Lee to step forward just a bit, enough for Cook
to slide around and try to get a waistlock on the much larger Bishop.]

BW: Well, that's just dumb.

[Bucky is correct, as Cletus Lee simply elbows him off. As Cook holds
his stomach, Cletus Lee lashes out, causing the crowd to cry out in
amazement, just at the same time as Gordon.]

GM: OHHH!!! Cletus Lee Bishop sends Jimmy Cook flying over backwards
with a simple backfist!

BW: Good grief, did you hear the impact of that?! I thought maybe Cook's
heart was gonna stop!

GM: We've seen some big men unleash some pretty nasty backfists over the
years, but the sound on that was so loud, I could swear the whole
building shook! Good lord almighty.

[Cook, crying out in pain, crawls as fast as humanly possible to his
corner, and tags his partner in. Vitello enters the ring, scoffing at
his partner.]

GM: Well, now Frankie Vitello gets a shot. Let's see if he fares any
better.

BW: He certainly looks like a tough customer. Much bigger than his
partner.

GM: Indeed. Don't forget that big right hand. He's knocked out many
opponents over the years with it. Will we see him try it against Cletus
Lee?

[Vitello yells out at him, shaking said fist. He charges in, hitting
Cletus Lee with a big forearm. Vitello opens his arms wide, yelling out
at the crowd.]

FV: 'Ey, how about that?!

[The crowd pops in response, confusing Frankie a bit. Turning around, he
sees why, as Cletus Lee just stares at him.]

BW: That freak did not budge. Not one single bit.

[Cletus Lee simply brushes his hair out of his face and points to the
ropes, almost begging him to try again. Vitello obliges.]

GM: Frankie Vitello now with a BIG elbow to the jaw, right on target.
And Cletus... I don't believe it. He STILL has not moved.

BW: Oh, come on! This guy is a living foreign object, Gordo! How in the
world do you phase him?!

[Cletus Lee rolls his neck and snorts a bit. He points at Vitello's
right hand, then his own face.]

BW: Is he daring him to hit him with the big fist?

GM: It looks that way. I don't know if this is the smartest thing Cletus
Lee has ever done.

[ Vitello shrugs, as if to say "If you insist". He kisses his fist, runs
to the ropes, and connects on the rebound, actually causing Cletus Lee's
head to turn sideways, spit flying from his mouth. Cletus Lee takes a
couple of steps backwards, surprised by the impact. Vitello knows a good
opportunity when he sees one, and stays on the attack.]

GM: Frankie Vitello has Cletus Lee Bishop stunned! A quick barrage of
elbows, and he actually has control of the big man!

BW: That's it! Stay on him, Frankie! You've got that hick right where
you want him!

[Another fist to the face, the left one this time, and Cletus Lee is now
backed into the corner. The burly Iowan sees an opportunity, and hustles
to the opposite corner.]

BW: No! What are you doing?! You're giving him time to recover!

[Vitello gets a full head of steam, and charges back in, looking to
avalanche splash Cletus Lee.]

GM: He's got Cletus Lee reeling, here he comes! And a BIG...

*WHAM!*

"OHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

GM: LARIAT! DEAR GOD! Cletus Lee comes charging out at the last second
and absolutely FLOORS Frankie Vitello with a monstrous lariat!

BW: What did I say?! NEVER give Cletus Lee any breathing room! Now
Vitello's rolling around on the mat like a beached whale.

[Cletus Lee roars, pounds his chest, and flicks his sweat at the downed
opponent. The part of the crowd cheering the Bishops pops like crazy.
Cletus Lee looks up, stomps over to his own corner, and tags Duane Henry
in. Bo nods at Cletus Lee in approval as he steps out.]

GM: And here comes Duane Henry Bishop, the "little" brother.

BW: When a guy is 6'2" and weighs 240 lbs. and he's the smaller guy, you
know you drew the shortest straw when you step in the ring with them,
daddy. What was it that Bo's been calling these two lately?

GM: He's dubbed them "The Redneck Wrecking Crew".

BW: Never been a more apt nickname in wrestling.

[Duane Henry grabs Vitello, hauls him back up by the arm, and hits a
nice double-arm DDT.]

GM: Duane Henry going for the cover.  One!  Two!

BW: No! Vitello kicks out before the three count!

GM: Frankie Vitello obviously a much tougher customer than most of the
other opponents The Bishops have had lately. Despite what Cletus Lee's
aready hit him with, Duane Henry is obviously going to have to do much
more to keep the veteran down.

[Duane Henry sits Vitello up, and holds his head from behind, then leaps
in the air.]

GM: And a nasty knee to Vitello's back. The impact all on his spine with
that one.

[Vitello rolls around, clutching his spine. Duane Henry runs forward,
looking for a senton, but the wily vet moves out of the way.]

BW: He missed him! Now it's Duane Henry that's clutching his spine.

[Vitello slowly gets up, and slaps the smaller Bishop in the face while
he's downed.]

GM: Now Vitello has a chance to take control again. He's hoisting Duane
Henry back up off the mat. Shoots him to the ropes, and a hard
spinebuster on the rebound!

BW: Nice. All impact there. And a boot scrape to the face for good
measure. Ha!

[The crowd boos as Vitello stomps Duane Henry repeatedly while holding
on to the ropes. Mickey Meekly puts the 5 count on the surly vet, who
breaks at 4. Vitello gestures for Meekly to back off, then turns the
crowd to give them the ol' "Sicilian salute", flipping his fingers out
from under his chin. Not surprisingly, they boo this even louder.]

GM: Not a lot of respect being shown here by Frankie Vitello.

BW: So what? Respect ain't gonna win you a match.

[Vitello picks Duane Henry back up, and fires him towards the turnbuckle
nearest his team's corner. Vitello argues with the referee, leaving his
back turned so he doesn't see Jimmy Cook choking Duane Henry out with
the tag rope. The fans boo as Cletus Lee storms in, Vitello spinning
Meekly around so that he sees him, and as Mickey tries desperately to
get Cletus Lee back outside, Vitello rushes over and kicks Duane Henry
repeatedly, Cook still choking him.]

GM: Oh, come on, Mickey! That's the oldest trick in the book!

BW: And it still works like a charm. Look at that big dumb hick costing
his brother precious time.

[Bo yells out at Cletus Lee, demanding he return to the corner. The
taller Bishop looks incensed, but does as Bo says and steps back out. As
Meekly turns back around, Cook lets go and walks away, whistling to
himself. Mickey warns him, but Jimmy raises his arms in the air,
feigning shock that he would ever be accused of such a thing.]

BW: Can we book these guys every week? Now this is wrasslin'.

GM: Are you kidding me? This is a complete mockery is what this is.

BW: Eh, tomato, tomahto.

[Gordon grumbles as Vitello gives Duane Henry a solid chop to the chest,
which the crowd does not "Woo!" with. He turns to Cook, sarcastically
asking if he wants in now.]

BW: Oh, he's ready, daddy! Look at him rub those hands together. He's
chomping at the bit.

[Cook exaggeratedly reaches in for a tag, yelling "Come on, daddy!"]

BW: Hey, don't steal my lines, daddy!

[Vitello chuckles and tags his partner. Cook leaps over the top,
seemingly recovered from his earlier encounter with Cletus Lee. He holds
his hands out in front of him, spits in them, then dances forward.]

BW: Oh! Sweet jab to the midsection. And a left hook.

[Cook comically winds up as if he's about to pitch a baseball, then
chops Duane Henry right across the chest. He gives out a loud "Woo!" of
his own, but nobody else joins in.]

GM: Is this guy for real? Look at him bobbing his head around in there.

BW: There's always time for gloatin' when you're the man in charge,
Gordo.

GM: Please.

[Cook irish whips Duane Henry to the opposite corner, pumps a fist, then
runs in with a leaping knee to the face, smashing Duane Henry's head
into the back of the turnbuckle. Cletus Lee starts to walk towards him,
but the ref points at him, warning him to back off. Jimmy waves Cletus
Lee off with a smirk.]

GM: This guy is really full of himself, isn't he?

[Cook kicks Duane Henry square in the chest a couple of times before
leaping to the middle turnbuckle, spreading his arms wide, and yelling
out what one would assume is his catchphrase.]

"HOOSIER DADDY!!!"

[The crowd groans.]

GM: Really? Look, I'm as old-fashioned as they come, but even I could
tell him that wasn't even clever ten years ago!

BW: Aw, quit your bellyachin', Gordo. This kid's got finesse. He's on
top of the world right now.

[Oh, spoke too soon, Bucky. Duane Henry wraps his arms around Cook's
midsection and steps forward as Cook screams in panic, waving his arms
in the air. Duane Henry drops backwards, smashing Jimmy Cook's face off
the top turnbuckle, drawing a pop.]

GM: Modified hotshot by Duane Henry! Cook is out!

BW: No! Get up, kid!

[Duane Henry pulls himself to his feet and reaches out to tag Cletus Lee
back in, causing the crowd to pop again.]

GM: Now look what his gloating got him.

[Vitello rushes back into the ring but is met by a double shoulderblock
that sends him rolling back out.]

BW: Oh, no. Come on, kid. Fight it!

[Cletus Lee wildly gestures for Duane Henry to lift Cook, getting the
crowd back on their feet as they know exactly what's next.]

BW: Somebody sa- oh, forget it, he's dead.

[Bucky sighs as Duane Henry hoists Cook up in the Argentine Backbreaker.
Bo raises his arms with a smile. Cletus Lee bounces off the far ropes,
and nails the Charging Big Boot to Cook's head from behind, seemingly
extra forceful this week. Duane Henry hangs on and swivels forward,
hitting the seated powerbomb. The crowd counts along with the ref for
the academic three count.]

GM: One simple mistake, and Doc Allan's Miracle Headache Elixir polishes
off another one!

[Bo pumps his fist in triumph as "Nothin' To Lose" kicks back up over
the speakers.]

MC: Here are your winners, THE BISHOP BOYS!

[More and more fans are cheering now as Duane Henry looks out and raises
three fingers.]

GM: And just like that, The Bishop Boys now have the three points
necessary to challenge for the titles!

BW: This is a conspiracy, daddy. Everybody has it in for The Southern
Syndicate!

GM: You just remember the old saying, Bucky. You reap what you sow.

BW: Ah, can it with the old sayings, Gordo.

[The Bishops roll out, and follow Bo to the announce position, fire in
their eyes. Bo smiles and points at his cousins.]

CB: This, Myers? This is the dawning of a golden age. I promised you
after the Stampede Cup, that you were going to see a more focused and
much more dangerous Bishop Boys. Now, tell me, have I delivered?

GM: Well, I have to admit, The Bishop Boys are looking stronger by the
minute.

[Bo nods.]

CB: Indeed. I always, ALWAYS follow through on my promises. You know the
old cliché about people entering their second years, Myers? Everyone
always says that year two is the dreaded "sophomore slump".

[Bo shakes his head.]

CB: That holds no water with me. See, we have no place to go but up. Oh
sure, we busted some heads, turned others. But we never could come
through in the clutch. And at the end of the year, we were left with
NOTHING! No points, no alliance, no Stampede Cup. Well, it's just like
the song says.

[Bo turns to the camera and recites the chorus to the Bishop Boys'
theme.]

CB: "A man with nothin' ain't got nothin' to lose."

[Duane Henry nods his head in the background sharply.]

CB: So now, here we are, year two. We've had three matches. We have
three victories. There's just one thing left to do to put an exclamation
point on the year, and we're only three months in.

[Now Cletus Lee holds up the three fingers.]

CB: And Myers? I think you know full well by now what that is.

[Gordon nods.]

GM: The titles.

CB: And not just that. To make things even sweeter? We're gonna prove
that Dufresne and Freeman are the paper champions we've been claiming
them to be all along.

[Bo laughs.]

CB: Ben, Ben, Ben, I told you the very moment you crossed us that this
wasn't going to end well for you. And considering our track record since
then? There's no reason for you to believe otherwise.

GM: Well, that's nice and all, but aren't you forgetting something?

[Bo looks confused.]

GM: Rough N Ready already has three points. And now Fitzgerald and
Lawson have them too.

CB: Nah, I didn't forget. We already crossed paths with the upset kids
once before. They're tough, but we proved they can be beaten. And Rough
N Ready?

[Bo sighs.]

CB: Yeah, we know all about them. Believe me, I don't have a short
memory. I remember all too well how that ended up. That third point came
at our expense. But there's one thing going in our favor that doesn't
bode well for their chances. We're a different team. We're hungry. While
they're content to sit back and pick their spots, we're not. We've heard
all their bluster about being those heroes you've been clamoring for,
Myers. But y'know something? Heroes don't sit back and wait for good
things to happen. Part of being a hero is stepping forward and staring
injustice right in the face. Being a hero? It's about righting a wrong.
It...wait.

GM: What?

[Bo raises a hand.]

CB: Bear with me a second.

[Bo looks around, as if he's expecting something.]

CB: Myers, do you hear that?

[Gordon looks around too.]

GM: I'm not sure what you're talking about. The fans?

[Bo shakes his head.]

CB: No.

GM: Well then, I have to say no, I don't hear "it", whatever that is.

[Bo holds his wrist up to his ear. He appears to be listening to the
watch. He nods and shows the watch's face to the camera. It's no longer
working.]

CB: Exactly. Nothing. You know what that means?

[Gordon shakes his head. Bo removes the watch and sets it on the table.]

CB: You remember what I've been saying every week about how time has
been running out? That whole thing about people collecting bounties and
whatnot?

[Gordon nods.]

CB: Well, according to this watch...

[Bo brings a clenched fist down hard on the watch, shattering the face
with a loud CRACK. Gordon and Bucky look on in shock. Bo holds the watch
back up to the camera, the pieces falling away to the ground. Bo
smiles.]

CB: ...time's up.

[Bo tosses it to the ground.]

CB: You boys in the back can just forget it. Vasquez keeps his money.
And the title, for that matter. Because The Southern Syndicate and those
National Tag Team Championships? They belong to us.

[Bo smirks.]

CB: Ben? I want ya to lean in REAL close to that TV screen in the back,
so you understand what I have to say to you loud and clear.

[Bo gets in close himself, so that his face fills the screen.]

CB: Consider.

Yourself.

DEAD.

[Bo laughs and backs away slowly, letting that sink in.]

BW: You idiot! That watch could've been fixed! Do you know how much
money you just wasted?

[Bo shrugs.]

CB: Hell if I know. It was just sitting around the Southern Syndicate's
locker room back when we worked for them.

[Bo smirks and walks off, The Bishop Boys confidently following him.
Bucky's jaw about hits the floor.]

GM: Wow. The Southern Syndicate's really in deep this time, huh, Bucky?
Uh, Bucky?

[Bucky stares at the destroyed watch in shock.]

GM: Somebody get the smelling salts!  Dufresne and Freeman have Rough N
Ready on their plates in two weeks' time and if they survive that, both
the Bishops and Fitzgerald and Lawson are waiting with three points! 
And the Samoans aren't far behind with two!  Their days as the champions
may be numbered, Bucky.

[Still no response.]

GM:  Bucky?

[Nope.]

GM:  Fans, I'm going to try and wake up my partner but for now, we're
going to take a quick break!

[Fade to black.

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

JD:  You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular
over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel!

MS:  Jason, that kind of news is so hot, it should be on the app!

[The two men laugh very awkwardly as a giant iPhone appears.]

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

[The iPhone speaks.  Yes.  Yes it does.]

iPhone:  Hello, Jason Dane.  Did you know that former AWA National
Champion Kolya Sudakov was a former Mixed Martial Artist?

JD:  Well, actually I did.

iPhone:  Mark Stegglet, did you know that Calisto Dufresne was the first
and only champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution?

MS(in his best Johnny Carson impression):  I did not know that!

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access Version 2.0!  This new
app contains a brand new TRIVIA mode where you can get all the details
on your favorite AWA superstars!  Plus, be the first to see our brand
new BEFORE THE AWA section where you can find matches from the best of
the AWA - before they were AWA!

AWA Access Version 2.0 - coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

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

GM:  We are LIVE here in the WKIK Studios in Dallas, Texas, for another
edition of AWA Saturday Night Wrestling and with the crazy kind of night
we're having, you know it's gotta be a Saturday in Dallas, Bucky!

BW:  I don't even know if it's possible to recap everything we've seen
here tonight.  We might need an extra half hour just to talk about it.

GM:  And like we've said all night, we're nowhere near done yet because
in our Main Event... perhaps the biggest Main Event in Saturday Night
Wrestling history... Juan Vasquez will defend his newly-won National
Title against Stevie Scott.  And the stipulation was added - this is it!
 No more rematches after tonight for either man.  There is SO much
riding on the line in this one and the AWA has assigned Brian Von Braun,
who made a shocking appearance in his own right, as the outside-the-ring
enforcer for that one.  Whew boy... this is going to be huge.

BW:  It is, it is.  But we're not even there yet!  We've still got Jack
Snyder in action... we're going to hear from the National Tag Team
Champions as well and-

GM:  And at this time, we're going to play a clip from something that
took place one month ago on AWA Saturday Night.  Roll the clip.

[And we cut to the announce table where Vernon Riley stands in an
interview with Gordon Myers.  A graphic on the screen reads "AWA
SATURDAY NIGHT - FEBRUARY 27, 2010]

VR: 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...and then we cut back to the
studio, where Riley is now in the picture and at the announce table
between Myers and Wilde.

The big Texan wears a red flannel shirt and a Texas Rangers baseball
cap, and looks as somber as he's looked since his arrival in the AWA. 
Myers, for that matter, shares in the somber look.]

GM: And we're now joined by Vernon Riley, who asked for that footage to
be shown and for a few minutes to talk about what has transpired since
then.

VR: Thank ya, Gawdahn.  It hasn't been a very good last few weeks...for
the Workin' Man Vernon Riley.  And Gawdahn, you were there in Florida
back when all this went down the first time, so you know as well as
anybody why this ain't been a picnic since Anton Layton showed up here
one month ago.

[Myers nods, reflexively.]

VR: Some of the people out there may already know...some of 'em may have
taken the time to go find out...they may already know who this loony
Layton is.  Or they think they do.

As you know good and well, Gawdahn...you don't truly _know_ how evil,
how vicious, how ruthless of a man that Anton Layton is...until you're
standin' across the ring from him, lookin' the devil himself right into
the eye and knowin' that there ain't no soul behind those eyes starin'
back at you.

[Beside Riley, Myers visibly shudders.]

VR: And now, I gotta deal with him again.  But Gawdahn, I knew I would. 
I knew...this day would come.

Which means I'm ready...for another war.

[Myers appears ready to interject, but says nothing after opening his
mouth.]

VR: Last time I went to war with Layton, it was the eight hardest months
of my life.  The blood shed, the muscles strained, the bones
broken...that was just the beginning of it.  Our war, Gawdahn, as you
know...went far beyond the physical.  It was mental.  It
was...emotional.

It was hell.

But that's the thing 'bout the Workin' Man that you seem to have
forgotten, Anton.

I ain't afraid to go through hell again.

[Riley pauses, perhaps instinctively looking around before continuing.]

VR: But before this new war begins, Gawdahn...I gotta let these fans out
here know something.

[Riley now turns to talk directly to the studio audience.]

VR: You people need to know...this is gonna get ugly.  It's gonna get
brutal.  It's gonna be unlike anything you've seen before in the AWA. 
Mommas and Daddies, you might wanna keep your children away from the TV
set and the arenas until I send Layton packing again, just like I did in
Florida.  They don't need to see the physical and emotional violence
that's gonna take place.

As for you, Layton, I ain't forgotten.  A wacko like you, I don't tend
to forget that too easily.  But if you want to bring the war to
Texas...if you want to bring it to my back yard...and want to try to
defeat the one man that's had your number from day one...then bring the
war to Texas, daddy!

[And finally, Riley is getting fired up.]

VR:  'Cause the Workin' Maaaaan...answers to no law in the ring.  And
that makes me your most _dangerous_ adversary, you understand?  It
means...anything you throw at me...I'm gonna bounce right back from and
bring the fight back to you.  It means that if Vernon Riley's gotta play
dirty?  He's gonna play dirty.

GM: Vernon...are you...are you sure you want to do this?

VR: I'm gonna do more than do this, Gawdahn.  I'm going to _end_ this. 
Right here in Texas.  I don't care if it takes more bloodshed than the
Alamo...I'm going to end it.

GM:  Well, Vernon... we knew you were coming out here right now and I
was informed by the production team that earlier today, we received a
video from Anton Layton, the Prince of Darkness, himself.  He's not in
the building tonight - I can assure you of that but he did want this
video played so please... if you will...

[Gordon gestures to the television behind them.

And we cut to a dark background.  Or mostly dark, as a large circle of
lit candles surrounds a man in the middle that we can assume to be
Layton.  Clad in a purple robe with the hood over his head, Layton looks
down at the ground as he begins to speak.]

"POD"AL: The time is nigh, Vernon Riley.  The time is nigh.

For years, the memory of you haunted my soul, my very being.  My
failures against you shamed my Master and brought him much pain. 
Brought _me_ much pain, for I failed in the task with which my Master
entrusted me.

Ten long years ago, Vernon Riley, you defeated me.  You were the better
man.  I cannot deny that fact.  You banished me into purgatory and kept
me from the destiny, the reward that waited for me!  For ten long years,
I suffered in silence!  I suffered in fear!  I suffered in ways that
most mere mortals cannot begin to imagine!

[Layton finally looks up, the candles burning brightly enough to show
his face which is painted in quadrants of alternating black and white. 
And those eyes...those crazy-looking eyes stare right into the camera.]

"POD"AL: But now, I have risen.  I have risen from the depths of Hell,
immersed there in the River Styx, over and over and over until the
Master had finally washed free my failures, my transgressions against
him.

I have risen, Vernon Riley, stronger than ever before!  I have risen,
Vernon Riley, with the power of my Master instilled in me to levels that
you have seen not!  And soon, Working Man, soon...you shall understand
how deep and how strong that power runs.

[Layton pauses, rolling his eyes back.  Intentionally, we hope.  OK,
eyes back down.]

"POD"AL: You may be at home, Vernon Riley, but here, in the AWA, you are
no king.  Here, you are not protected.  Here, you are vulnerable.  Here,
you are but a mere COMMONER!

[Pause.  More crazy eyes.]

"POD"AL: And now, as it has been written, so shall it come to pass.

Everything you did to me, Vernon Riley.  All the pain you caused me, it
shall be returned unto you TEN!  FOLD!

So prepare yourself the best you can, Working Man.  Gird your loins with
whatever protection you can find.  Because your sins have now found you.

And they will soon be covered...

[Evil grin, complete with evil cackle.]

"POD"AL: ...by BLOOD!

[More evil cackling as we fade back to the announce table, where both
Myers and Wilde appear rather freaked out.  Vernon Riley shakes his head
slowly and simply walks away.]

BW:  Holy Mary, now I see why you were freaked out by him showin' up,
Gordo.  This guy's a turkey sandwich short of a sack lunch, daddy!

GM:  He certainly is and unfortunately, I think we've just seen the
beginning of it.  Vernon Riley wanted no more of seeing Anton Layton and
just what in the world is going to happen when those two are back in the
same ring- heck, the same building together?

BW:  I'm not sure I want to be in the building when that happens.

GM:  Me neither but you can bet we will be.  Fans, it was about a month
ago now that Jack Snyder made his AWA debut after weeks of Ben Waterson
hyping his arrival.  Of course, Waterson had told us all that Snyder
would be joining the Southern Syndicate... but that wasn't exactly what
happened.  Let's go back and take a look...

[We fade to taped footage marked "FEBRUARY 27, 2010" where Jack Snyder,
Ben Waterson, and Gordon Myers are at ringside following Snyder's AWA
in-ring debut.]

ATTSBW:  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!

[And with that, we fade back to live action where Melissa Cannon is
standing inside the ring.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall and has a 10 minute time limit.  Introducing first, already in the
ring, weighing 210 lbs. and hailing from Manchester, England...

Sir Eldred Rottingham!!

[A proper British gentleman with perfect posture, Rottingham bows to the
audience exuding a delicate grace and an air of arrogance.   Small,
heel-ish pop.  He removes his blue robe, revealing full-length blue
tights with white stars down the side of each leg.  The
never-seen-before grappler backs into one corner and stands patiently,
his nose in the air, awaiting the announcement of his evening's foe.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The low rumble of "No Quarter" by Led Zeppelin begins to hum over the
PA.  Pop!]

MC:  ... from Bullhead City, Arizona... he weighs 255 lbs... ladies and
gentlemen...

"DYING BREED"  JACK SNYDER!!

[The crowd shares a hearty pop as the entrance curtain is swiped aside
by the hairy arm of Jack Snyder.  Perhaps the ugliest man in wrestling,
he walks to the ring, failing to pay the fans any attention.  While he
chomps on a wad of tobacco, his focus is on the ring, his gaze on his
opponent.  The "Dying Breed" walks at a steady, moderate pace, a
no-nonsense look on his face.  He rolls his neck, then slaps his bicep,
before climbing the steps into the squared circle.  After entering
through the ropes, he removes his plain white - albeit worn and
yellow-stained - t-shirt, leaving him on his ring attire.  Black trunks.
 Black boots.  Finally, he reaches back out of the ring through the
ropes and motions for the ring attendant to hand him a microphone.

As he leans out of the ring, Rottingham charges him!]

GM:  The Brit attacking before the bell!

[But before he even gets within a few feet of Snyder, Jack turns with a
fist poised in the air.  Attempting to stop in his tracks, Rottingham
stumbles, then falls on his rear end to a mild pop and chuckle from the
crowd.  As the music fades, Jack stares his opponent down, centers
himself in the ring and brings the microphone to his lips.]

GM:  Ha!  He wants no piece of that right hand Snyder's got in the air. 
Let's hear what Jack has to say.

BW:  For his sake, I hope it's an apology to Ben Waterson.

JS:  Rottingham, we'll start this darned fight when I'm good and ready.

[Eldred cowers into his own corner. Jack turns his attention to the
portal leading backstage.

JS:  Anyone in this world that knows me, knows I ain't one to come out
here and blather on 'bout my personal gripes... or 'bout anything for
that matter.  Nope.  Don't say nothin' 'bout talkin' in my motto.

Fight!  Fight!  Fight!  Fight!  Fight!

That's all it says.

[No red-faced anger.  No cunning smile.  No emotion at all.  Matter of
fact.]

JS:  Business is business, and I keep my eye on the prize.  But truth
is, I also ain't one to let a direct threat go idly by.

Ya got "big plans" for me, do ya Ben?  I hope that means you've
purchased some kind of nuclear warhead or somethin', cause quite
frankly? If I wanted to spend my time dilly-dallyin' with nancy-boys
like the ones in your crew, I would've joined my mother-in-law's book
club.

[Pop.]

JS:  I just simply don't have time for that, though.  Too much
hide-kickin' to do.

What I did in Michigan a few years back?  That was the beginning.  That
was a taste.  That was where I made my name.  _This_ is where I
immortalize it.

[Pop.  Jack still hasn't moved a muscle.]

JS:  And if you think I'll be nothin' without the rest of my old gang,
you got a whole new world to awaken to, Ben.  That gang... my gang?  I
created it.  I gave the orders.  And _we_ made it to the top of the
mountain because _I_ willed us there.

With this...

[He raises his right fist, the knuckles taped and swollen from years of
battery.]

JS:  And this.

[He raises his equally deformed left paw.]

JS:  And those are the only gang members I need.

[Without blinking an eye, Jack spits some stanky orange tobacco juice
onto the canvas and continues.]

JS:  There are a lot of tough-guys out there, Ben.  I'm tougher.

There are a lot of smart wrestlers out there, Ben.  I'm smarter.

There are a lot of dirty fighters in the world.  And Ben?  I'm the
dirtiest.

[Pop!]

JS:  Don't get me wrong.  I don't cheat behind my opponent's back.  That
ain't the job of a wrestler.  The job of a wrestler is to look a man
square in the eye and pummel 'im 'til he can't fight no more.  I've been
doin' that since the day I was born, and I'll keep at it 'til the day I
die.

Now you ready, Rottingham?  'Cause I'm done talkin.'

[The microphone hits the mat and Snyder charges his opponent with a full
head of steam.]

GM:  And he's off!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[The dainty Rottingham, with a look of horror on his face, slides under
the ropes and out of the ring.  Like a wild bear, Snyder makes chase. 
Finally catching up with his out-sized opponent, Jack grabs him by the
scruff of the neck, whirls him around and stuffs a big boot in his gut. 
Then he hammers him across the back of the head with a vicious forearm.]

GM:  Snyder not wasting any time, now rolling Rottingham back into the
ring.

BW:  This one's not gonna be pretty.

[Jack slides in close behind, waits for Eldred to rise and then
pounces...]

GM:  Jack Attack!!

[With his legs straddling Rottingham's waist, Snyder ambushes his
opponent with a barrage of rights and lefts that push him back into the
corner and eventually back down.  The flurry of blows continues with
wild fury.]

GM:  Right!  Left!  Right!  Left!  He's like an animal, and the crowd
certainly approves!

[Indeed, the crowd roars.  Snyder finally backs off, but not for long. 
He grabs Rottingham with one hand on his wrist and the other around the
back of the neck and leads him to the center of the ring.  Snyder spits
out his nasty wad of tobacco onto the canvas, then delivers a facebuster
right onto it!  Pop.]

BW:  That's disgusting.  I'd like to try and see him do that against a
member of the Southern Syndicate.

[Snyder once again drags Rottingham to his feet.  Squares him up...
headbutt!  Another!  After a third headbutt, Jack sends Rottingham for
the ride..]

GM:  No, he holds onto the wrist, and...

BW:  Ooph!!

GM:  Short-arm clothesline.  What torque he got on that!  Where's he
going now.  He perches himself steadily on the middle turnbuckle.

[.. and he makes a short hop down...

... dropping a knee across the sternum of Eldred Rottingham.]

GM:  Not a moment of offense from Eldred Rottingham thus far, who is
proving to be no match for the "Dying Breed."  Snyder looking to dish
out more punishment...

[Jack, having stood his opponent up, with an irish whip.  Rottingham
rebounds off the ropes and...]

GM:  JACKBREAKER!!

[Snyder delivers his patented Spinebuster and hooks the leg.

GM:  It's academic, folks.  One.  Two.  And there's the three.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[Snyder stands and climbs out of the ring, without rejoicing, without
waiting for his hand to be raised, without acknowledging crowd's
celebration.]

MC:  Here is your winner... JAAAAACK SNYYYYYDER!

[Snyder continues to make his way towards the entryway as the
announcement echoes behind him and we fade back to the ringside announce
area where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  An impressive victory there for Jack Snyder but you just have to
wonder, Bucky... what does Ben Waterson have in store for Snyder?

BW:  I don't know what it is but you can bet it's good.  Waterson is not
about to let a punk like Snyder put his hands on him and get away with
it for long.  It may not be tonight or tomorrow night or next week but
soon enough, Ben Waterson will get even with Jack Snyder.  Bank on it.

GM:  Fans, coming up next-

[Suddenly, the opening riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" come
blaring over the WKIK loudspeakers and the place absolutely explodes
with jeers as the AWA National Tag Team Champions emerge through the
entrance portal.  Dufresne is clad in a very crisp, charcoal gray suit,
his championship belt hanging over one shoulder.  There is no cocky grin
on his face like usual.  Not today.  His face is a stoic mask.  Freeman
seems set on out-glooming him even now, a scowl etched into his
features.  Freeman wears his belt around his waist, over a plain black
shirt.  But the champions are not alone.  Flanking them on both sides
are six large security guards, dressed in near riot gear.  The champions
head towards our announcers as Gordon Myers stands up, awaiting the
champions.  As they arrive, Myers is quite abrupt.]

GM: What do you two want?

AF: What do we want?  What, no hi, how are you doing?  We're the
National Tag Team Champions, and if we want to say something you make
time for it.  Bump Aaron Anderson or someone off the broadcast if you
need to.  First off, for the past two weeks Calisto and I have received
more angry letters, incoherent e-mails, and death threats than the
entire federal government.  And that's a lot of hate mail.  I just want
to say to the mongoloids writing these things... please stop.  At first
they were funny, but after a while it just gets tedious.

GM: It's not just the fans you have to worry about.  Rough N Ready
called you two out earlier this evening.  They're ready to cash in their
three points for a crack at you two and avenge what you two have done
week after week, especially to City Jack.

AF: Who asked Rough N Ready to avenge them?  Seriously, who is pinning
their dreams of our comeuppance on two guys who probably wear dentures?

GM: Somers and Cooper are veterans--

AF: --of what, the Civil War?  If you ask me they're just trying to get
more eyes on the biggest match they'll ever be in.  What, do people
think that if Rough N Ready win the titles City Jack will magically
regain his depth perception?  Eric and Dave, tell you what: we're on a
tight schedule so we're just going to plow through you, leave you with
only a couple of broken bones, and finish the match quickly so that we
can get on to facing whatever two chumps have decided to "avenge" City
Jack next.

GM: You've got every tag team in the organization out for blood.  Your
blood.  The organization has been forced to provide you round-the-clock
security.  You've even got fans cheering the Bishop Boys because of your
actions week in and week out.

AF: Do you think I care who your rubes cheer?  We've got every team
after us because we've got the gold, Gordon.  We've got the bullseye on
the back.  And everyone with two brain cells to rub together, plus the
Samoans, have decided that if they go after us en masse they might have
a slight chance of victory.

GM: You struck one of our fans two weeks ago.  What do you have to say
to that?

AF: The crowd should stay on their side of the barrier.  You're telling
me that fan wasn't planning to attack me or Calisto?  But I do have one
thing to say about that.. Gordon, I have many fine attributes, but a
great right hand isn't really one of them.  What kind of wimps do you
breed here in the South that go down with one of my punches?  If it had
been Raphael in my place that guy would probably be in a coma right now.

[This goes over with the crowd as well as you would think.]

GM: Despicable.  Calisto Dufresne, do you have anything to say?

[Dufresne, who hasn't moved or said a word the entire interview slowly
turns to face Myers, looking as serious as a heart attack.]

CD: What is there to say?

GM: I don't know, maybe explaining your actions against City Jack two
weeks ago!

CD: What is there to explain, Myers?  All I asked for was the truth.  A
simple request, wouldn't you say?  I asked that City Jack finally admit
what he's known in his heart for seven years.  That Calisto Dufresne is
the better man.  The superior specimen.  I've beaten him time and time
again and done it so thoroughly that the man was ready to pack up and
head back to whatever hole he crawled out of.  And despite all of that,
he wouldn't face facts and just tell the world what they wanted to hear.

GM: You blinded the man!  He can't see out of that eye!  I've never seen
such callousness in my entire life!

[Dufresne responds calmly.]

CD: Maybe you should get out more.

GM: When is enough, enough?

[Dufresne's voice raises as he seems upset by the question.]

CD: When City Jack is out of this industry _forever!_  I don't want him
thinking that he can show up five years down the road when the industry
is aligned under the Calisto Dufresne banner and try and get some
payback.  He's tried that already once.  So I'm merely making sure I
finish the job this time.

GM: I would certainly say that blinding a man would qualify as finishing
the job.

[Dufresne looks at Gordon, a corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a
slight, cryptic smirk.]

CD: We'll see, Myers.  We'll see.

GM: What's that supposed to mean?

CD: It means that if anybody... Tin Can Rust, Rough N Ready, or any of
those other clowns in the back that want to defend that fat slob's
honor... If they want to try and take what Adrian and I have worked our
entire careers to get...

[Dufresne pats the title over his shoulder.]

CD: ...they're going to end up sharing a hospital room with him.  You
can quote me on that.

[And without pomp and circumstance, a haggard-looking Soup Bone Samson
walks into view.  Dufresne and Freeman quickly back up into their group
of security officers, ready for a fight if needed.  Samson shakes his
head as he approaches the announce table.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson... I'm not sure why-

[Samson raises a hand.]

SBS:  I know, Gordon.  I'm not supposed to be out here right now... and
usually, I'm not the guy who likes to show up unannounced to run my
mouth.  You know that.

So why am I here then...

[Samson's raised hand turns into a pointing finger, aimed right at
Calisto Dufresne.]

SBS:  That son of a bitch right there.

[Big cheer!]

SBS:  I look like hell... I know that.  But you know why I look like
hell, Gordon?  Because for the past two weeks, I've spent nearly every
waking hour in a Dallas hospital with my good friend, City Jack.

[Another big cheer.]

SBS:  A hospital YOU put him in.

[Dufresne smirks.]

SBS:  Laugh it up... have a good ol' time... but the fact is, Dufresne,
you've crossed a line that you can't go back behind.  You've gone too
far and I have a slight belief that you know it.

[Samson glares at Dufresne.]

SBS:  I think deep down, you know you made a mistake.  You sit in the
back and you hear men like Bailey Fitzgerald and Corey Lawson... like
Werewolf Gregorson... like Juan Vasquez... you hear all of them calling
you on the carpet for what you've done to City Jack.

And deep down, you know you screwed up.  And Freeman here, he knows it
too.  He knows that you just cost him his spot as one-half of the tag
team champions but he just doesn't know when the end will come.

[Samson shakes his head at Freeman.]

SBS:  Don't worry, kid.  I'm not after your belts.

I'm after HIS blood.

[Big cheer!]

SBS:  My friend City Jack is in a hospital bed facing the very real
possibility that he will NEVER see out of that injured eye again and
with his good eye, he has to see you runnin' 'round like you own the
joint.

Not on my watch.

[Samson takes a step closer as the armed security echoes his movement.]

SBS:  Heh.  You're covered tonight.  I get it.  Now, I could start
throwin' these ol' soupbone fists of mine and see how many of these
guards can stop me before I tear your throat out of your heartless
body...

[The crowd roars as Samson watches the guards draw closer.]

SBS:  But I think I'll wait.

I'll wait 'til the time is right.  I'll wait 'til YOU aren't ready for
it.  And then... and only then... I'll come for ya, ya piece of trash.

But I won't be comin' with a lighter... and I won't be comin' with a
ringbell... or a tire iron... or any of that stuff you boys usually run
with.

[Samson holds up his fists.]

SBS:  These are the only weapons I need to bring.  And they're lookin'
real forward to meetin' ya... real soon.

[And with that, Samson turns and walks away, leaving a nervous-looking
Dufresne behind...

...as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and some of you may be looking at your clock
right now in a bit of a panic.  We are indeed very close to the two hour
mark for tonight's show but WKIK realizes the importance of our Main
Event and they will be delaying tonight's airing of Perfect Strangers
for just a while so that we can bring you the National Title match in
its entirety so our thanks to them for that.  But before that, in a few
moments we're going to have Eric Preston out to talk with us Bucky, as
his showdown with James Monosso at Memorial Day Mayhem approaches. What
do you think about that matchup, Mr. Wilde?

BW: Boy Gordo, that's a tough one to look ahead to. We know that Preston
is evolving every day, daddy, he brings out something new to every
match. I'm still not sure if he's ready for prime time, and I know for
dang sure that he's got a problem with his mouth writin' checks that he
can't cash... but James Monosso, he's nuttier than one of Mama's
fruitcakes. Tryin' to predict what he's gonna do, that's just a waste of
time, baby.

GM: Well, let's bring out Eric Preston and get his thoughts on the
matter.

["Show Me How To Live" by Audioslave blares on the loudspeakers as Eric
Preston walks out to the announce table, to a large cheer from the
crowd. He ambles for a moment, playing to the crowd and then he shakes
Gordon's hand and exchanges glances with Bucky.]

GM: Eric, you heard Bucky's analysis, what are YOUR thoughts on your
upcoming match with James Monosso?

EP: Probably the first time I'll ever say this, but Bucky's right on.
There's no use trying to plan for James Monosso, because that guy is
slippery. He never does the same thing twice, Gordon, you can't get a
bead on him. So what I've got to do leading up to Mayhem is make sure
I'm at my best, and make sure I'm prepared for whatever he throws at me.

GM: How do you plan on doing that? You just said there's no way to
prepare for him.

EP: The way _I've_ got to prepare is by taking my training even more
serious, by doing right by my body and going into this knowing that it's
the biggest match I've been in. Physically, I need to be in top shape.
And mentally, I've got to be tough up top, brother. No one knows what
James Monosso is going to do, least of all him, so I've got to be ready
adapt to him and be better than _him_ at whatever _he_ does.

GM: That's a tall, tall order for someone in your position, Eric, so let
me ask you this... why are you so intent on getting the best of James
Monosso?

[Preston looks down for a moment, now deadly serious.]

EP: James Monosso hasn't said or done a decent thing since he's come to
the AWA. All he's done is try to bully and intimidate people, blame
everyone else for his sorrows and most recently drag our country's name
through the mud, along with our troops.

I was brought up the hard way, Gordon. I was taught that you have to
earn every thing you get, and when you don't succeed you take your
medicine and come back stronger. You come back better. And God forbid I
ever blamed someone else for not getting the job done, because the line
to beat that attitude out of me was a mile long. James Monosso lives by
the exact opposite philosophy.

"Poor me, pity me. It's your fault Eric, it's everyone else's fault. I'm
a victim!"

I didn't stop you from claiming the bounty, James, you did. I didn't put
you in the poorhouse, or the nuthouse, or the outhouse. That was your
own doing, buddy, but if you wanna sing the blues 'cause you think I'm
out to get you, fine. I've got broad shoulders, I can take it.

But when you disrespect our country and the brave men and women fighting
for it, on top of the whining, the complaining, the bullying, the scare
tactics...

[Preston looks into the camera.]

EP: ...that's where I draw the line. I can stand here week after week
and complain about what a menace James Monosso is, or I can do something
about it.

I choose to do something about it, Gordon. And until Memorial Day Mayhem
comes, I'm going to be out here on Saturday Night Wrestling challenging
myself with a variety of different wrestlers and styles, so that when I
get my chance I make the most of. Now if you'll excuse me...

[Preston leaves the announce position and heads toward the ring, as
Melissa Cannon makes introductions.]

MC: This next match is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time
limit... already in the ring, from the Everglades... weighing 280
pounds...

"GATOR" CHAD TRISTAN!

[Tristan raises his hands in the air, looking more impressive than usual
for someone without an entrance. He is a tall figure with a barrel chest
and a scultped physique, sporting bushy black Farrah hair and a
pornstache. His yellow tights have the outline of an alligator on the
back.]

GM: I must say, Chad Tristan is an impressive looking specimen, Bucky.
He actually comes highly regarded from the Tampa area.

BW: Well, little Boy Wonder Preston said he was looking to get the best
competition to sharpen his skills. I suppose we'll see.

[Back to Melissa.]

MC: His opponent, from Greenville, South Carolina... weighing 248
pounds...

ERIC PRESTON!

[Preston raises both hands to the fans to big cheers from the crowd. The
chiseled Preston wears royal blue tights with a black and white diamond
pattern on the waistband, with white boots that have his initials in
cursive script on the outside corners. He backs into a corner and let's
the referee pat him down, as Melissa gets out of the ring.]

GM: This young man has gained a following that grows with every match,
Bucky, and he is getting better and better before our eyes.

BW: I'm gonna be skeptical of this kid until I see that he can let loose
and get after someone. Following the rules is a great way to make a nice
living and have a nice life, but if you wanna be somebody, baby, you
gotta take matters into your own hands.

GM: I couldn't disagree more, Bucky.

BW: Oh. Drat.

[The bell rings as Preston comes out of the corner and walks toward a
waiting Tristan. As Preston gets closer, he looks at the crowd and then
looks back at Tristan, raising his hand behind to the audience and
waving them on. The crowd begins to cheer and clap as both men begin to
circle, ready for action...]

GM: The audience showing a little bit of life as the match begins,
getting behind Eric Preston...

[Who gets bumrushed by the much larger Tristan into the corner, where he
smothers Preston with rights and lefts!]

BW: Haha! That's what you get for asking the crowd for help, Preston!

GM: Chad Tristan on the attack, taking the fight right to Eric Preston.
Hard rights and lefts in the corner, and now a big headbutt.


"OOOHHHHHHHH!"


GM: Jeez, that can't feel good.

BW: The Gator's got a tremendous noggin, daddy, those headbutts can
crack walnuts.

GM: Tristan sends Preston for the ride and follows him into the
corner... nobody home!

[The crowd cheers as Preston dodges the running avalanche and unleashes
some rights and lefts of his own, rocking the face and jaw of the Gator.
A driving back elbow snaps the Farrah hair of Tristan back, and Preston
grabs the Gator by the wrist and goes for a cross corner whip, then
pivots and throws Chad Tristan back into the corner he was just in.]

GM: Tristan hits hard in the corner and- oh my, Tristan rebounds out of
the corner with a clothesline that nearly took off Preston's head.

[Tristan peels Preston off the mat and hurls him into the corner, then
opens up with a huge haymaker that snaps Preston's head back. The Gator
takes a step back and deposits a boot into the gut of Eric, then brings
him out and sends him for the ride...]

GM: Preston off the far side... baseball slide between the legs! Tristan
turns around- big dropkick to the chin! Picture perfect dropkick to the
kisser, and that staggers the big man.

BW: I've seen a bunch of dropkicks and that wasn't no picture perfect
one, Gordo.

GM: Well then it was near mint condition perfect. Preston now bouncing
off the far rope... and he clips the knee of Tristan. That'll cut
Tristan down to size!

[As the fans cheer him on, Preston goes outside and climbs to the top
rope just as Chad Tristan gets to his feet. Eric leaps off for the
double axehandle... but gets a fist right to the gut, making him flip in
midair and putting him at the mercy of the Gator.]

GM: Chad Tristan in control now, big scoop and he slams Preston to the
mat! Tristan measures, oh! Sharp boot right to the face, and a second
boot stands Eric up in the corner.


"WHAAACK!"


BW: Big elbow across the back of the head baby, not too bad if I say so
myself.

[Tristan brings Preston out of the corner as the audience voices their
concern, and lifts him up for a suplex... but Eric Preston shifts his
weight and slides down the back of Chad. "Gator" turns around and
Preston grabs him by the head and drops for a jawbreaker, staggering the
big man...]

GM: Preston navigated himself out of trouble, and now he hits a big
clothesline to keep Tristan against the ropes.

[Eric pulls Chad Tristan out from the ropes and hurls him into the
corner, then runs to the ropes and times up Tristan's rebound, grabbing
his head as the Gator stumbles out from the corner for a bulldog... that
Tristan immediately recognizes and counters, using Preston's momentum to
throw him into the center of the ring.]

GM: Preston gets thrown but races up, here comes Tristan with the
clothesline... ducked!


"WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAA!"


GM: Belly to belly suplex! He threw him right overhead! That's fast
becoming an Eric Preston trademark, and Chad Tristan is no small man,
Bucky!

BW: He's one of mama's meatloaf away from three bills daddy, and the
youngin' threw him like a sack of trash. That's impressive every time I
see it!

GM: The fans love it too, and Chad Tristan is all sorts of
discombobulated! Eric Preston up top now at his favorite perch!

[The South Carolinian raises both hands in the air as if for preparing
for a dive, and then _leaps_ half way across the ring, flinging himself
at the Gator and connecting with a massive cross body block! The crowd
erupts as both men land and Preston neatly hooks the leg!]

GM: ONE! TWO! THREE! Put this one in the books for Eric Preston, Bucky
Wilde!

BW: And you can put Eric Preston in the books too, Gordon!

GM: MONOSSO!

[Indeed, as the referee raises Preston's hand, the six-foot-seven frame
of James Monosso looms behind him, having rushed to ringside during the
pinfall.  Monosso's wide-shouldered frame barrels into Preston,
flattening him with a nasty big boot to the base of the skull.  The fans
boo wildly!

BW: You shoulda stayed home, kid!

GM: Monosso hoisting up Preston... good grief!

[The wildman with the stringy black hair sets Preston in slam position,
and pushes his legs out over the top rope!  Preston's upper body falls
onto the top rope, and slingshots him backward to the shock of the
crowd... back-first to the floor with a sickening SPLAT!]

BW: DID YOU SEE THAT, GORDO?!

GM: THAT WAS A COLD-BLOODED ATTEMPT TO CRIPPLE ERIC PRESTON!

BW: Nah, that was just setting up for the cold-blooded attempt to
cripple Eric Preston.  Watch this!  This is where it ends!

GM: HE HAS A STEEL CHAIR!  SOMEONE HAS TO STOP THIS!

[With eyes opened wide, James Monosso advances on Eric Preston with a
steel folding chair.  Screaming and booing fills the arena as Monosso
lifts the chair...





...and opens it.  Then sets it down next to Preston, and sits in it.]

BW: What?  I... I said he was unpredictable but... what's he DOING?

GM: He's sitting and speaking to Preston!  Eric is getting up,
thankfully it didn't seem that that horrendous spill was as bad as it
could have been.  What is Monosso saying?!

[Well, let's find out.  A hand-held camera operator gets close enough to
pick it out, rant already in progress.]

James Monosso: ...want you to remember, Eric!  I had you!  I could have
murdered you, could have maimed you, could have carved my name in your
colon, could have done anything I wanted.  But I'm saving it all, Eric. 
Saving it for Memorial Day!  Saving it because I want people to
remember!  I want them to remember what happens when you take from me! 
I want them to...

[The rant is cut off as a hurt and outraged Eric Preston tackles Monosso
out of the chair.  The two men begin trading punches on the floor,
rolling and fighting on the ground like animals. Security finally
arrives, and when they intercede, Monosso gets up and walks away...
though Preston still wants to fight!]

GM: I don't know what James Monosso is trying to prove, but he just sent
a message to Eric Preston!

BW: He's been tellin' us for months what he wants to prove, daddy.  Life
sucks an' then you die.  That's about the size of it.  Eric Preston
better get the message sooner than later.

GM: I think it's Monosso who should observe this message!  Eric Preston
is not backing down!  He's not afraid, he's not intimidated, and he is
more than willing to take the fight to the veteran!

BW: Willing and able are two different things, Gordo.

GM:  Fans, it's time for our final commercial break and we'll be right
back with our Main Event!

[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 Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... it is now time for your MAIN EVENT of the
evening!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  It is scheduled for one fall with a sixty minute time limit and is
for the AWA National Title!

[Another big cheer!]

MC:  At this time, please allow me to welcome to ringside the man who
will serve as the outside-the-ring enforcer for this matchup... BRIAN! 
VON!  BRAUUUUUUN!

[The man known as BVB enters the ringside area to little fanfare but
quite a mixed reaction from the crowd as he settles near a neutral
corner, signaling to Senior Official Michael Meekly that he's ready to
do his job.]

MC:  And now... introducing first... he is the challenger...

[The sweet sounds of Freddie Mercury's voice fills the air as the sounds
of Queen's "We Are The Champions" starts to play over the PA system.]

MC:  He hails from St. Louis, Missouri... standing 5'11 and weighing in
at 228 pounds... he is accompanied to the ring by his manager, Ben
Waterson... representing the Southern Syndicate...

"HOTSHOT" STEEEEEEEVIE SCOTT!

[The crowd jeers wildly as the Hotshot walks through the curtain
alongside Ben Waterson.  Absent is the flashy robe from The Main Event
with a very determined-looking former champion ignoring the fans and
walking straight to the ring.  He casts a suspicious gaze in the
direction of Brian Von Braun as well before stepping through the ropes
to even more boos.  Waterson immediately calls him to the corner, going
over strategy as Melissa continues.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The WKIK Studios roars to life  as the opening horns of "They Reminisce
Over You" by Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth begins to play over the PA system,
bringing the crowd into a frenzy.]

MC:  He hails from Los Angeles, California...standing 6'2 and weighing
in at 238 pounds... he is the AWA National Champion...

JUUUUUAAAAAAAANNNNNN

VAAASSSSSSQQQUUUUEEEZZZZ!!!!

[Vasquez bursts through the curtain to a huge roar from the AWA crowd.
He's clad in his usual tracksuit style attire, the gold title belt slung
over his left shoulder.  He pauses just beyond the entrance way,
pointing to the cheering fans, spinning to the side as he points to the
entire bleachers...

...and then dashes towards the ring, diving under the ropes into the
ring.  He pops up to his feet, fists at the ready in case the Hotshot
attempts a sneak attack.  Vasquez quickly mounts the middle rope,
holding the title belt high in the air before jumping back down to the
canvas.  He hands the title belt over to the official, removing the
track suit to reveal his wrestling tights as the referee gives both men
some last words.]

GM:  This is it, fans.  One more match between these two men.  The
National Title on the line between these two for the final time. 
Vasquez wanted it that way, the Hotshot agreed, Stephen Ross made the
match and here we are.  A sixty minute time limit with WKIK staying with
us as long as we need to decide a winner.

BW:  A lot of pressure on Michael Meekly, the AWA's Senior Official
tonight.  There's so much on the line.

GM:  And some of that pressure is on Brian Von Braun as well.  He needs
to keep the interference from the Southern Syndicate out of the match. 
He'll have one eye on Ben Waterson the whole night you would have to
assume.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  And here we go!

[Scott immediately hits the ropes, bouncing off and pulling up short
before attacking Vasquez.  He smirks at the National Champion, running
his fingers through his hair as he slowly circles his rival.]

GM:  A little bit of mind games played right off the bat by the
challenger - and yes, it's a unique situation to call Stevie Scott the
challenger after eight long months with the gold.

[Vasquez circles for a moment, eyeing the challenger before lunging into
a collar and elbow tieup.  It's the Hotshot who starts quickly, backing
Vasquez up into the ropes...

...and breaking cleanly to the surprise of many.]

GM:  The Hotshot with a clean break... I can't imagine why...

BW:  You're always going on about your precious sportsmanship and you
can't imagine why?

GM:  Not from Stevie Scott, no.  He's never shown an interest in that
kind of thing.

[The two men tie up once more, this time Vasquez taking a quick edge
with an armdrag takedown.  Both men quickly scramble to their feet, each
looking for an advantage.  Seeing none, they both back off, circling one
another once more.]

GM:  Back to the collar and elbow and quickly to a side headlock by the
challenger...

[Wrapping his arms around the waist, Vasquez fires the Hotshot off to
the ropes.  On the rebound, Scott knocks Vasquez down to the mat with a
shoulderblock and hits the nearest ropes.]

GM:  Off the ropes- dropdown by Vasquez...

[And as the Hotshot comes back, Vasquez hooks him under the arm,
throwing him down to the mat with a thunderous hiptoss!]

GM:  Ohh!  He tosses him down!

[At a shout of "UP!  UP!" from Waterson, Scott scrambles to his feet
again, again getting taken down with an armdrag - one that this time
quickly turns into an armbar.]

GM:  Armbar applied by the champ... but Scott rollls right out of it,
back to his feet...

[The Hotshot backs Vasquez into the corner turnbuckles, forcing him to
release the armbar...

...and then slaps him squarely across the face!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[A fired-up Vasquez returns the favor with a slap so hard, it takes
Scott right off his feet and down to the mat.  On his rear, the Hotshot
scoots backwards away from an approaching Vasquez who gets cut off by
referee Michael Meekly.]

GM:  The Hotshot rolls back up to his feet...and Waterson's right there
in the corner shouting to him...

BW:  Ben Waterson is very active outside on the floor so far.  He knows
the stakes in this one better than anyone and this is not the kind of
match where you can let your man work his way through the downstretches.
 No Phil Jackson coaching style here tonight for Waterson.

[On a knee in the corner, Scott nods at his manager and then climbs back
to his feet as Vasquez approaches.  The referee orders Scott out of the
corner before he'll let Vasquez near him...

...and then again tie up in a collar and elbow just outside of the
buckles where Scott spins Vasquez around, pushing him back to the
corner.]

GM:  The referee's calling for a break... two... three... four...

[On the break, Scott throws a forearm into the left ribcage of Vasquez. 
Straightening up, he lets the chop fly, smashing across the chest of the
stunned champion!]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice chop there by the challenger...

[A second chop connects as well, leaving a wincing Vasquez grabbing onto
the top rope.  Grabbing Vasquez by the hair, Stevie doubles up his right
hand and drills him with a straight right to the face that draws an
admonition from the referee.  The momentary pause that's caused by
Stevie arguing gives Vasquez enough time to retaliate with a chop of his
own.]

GM:  Ohh!  The champ fires back!

[Stevie winds up and connects with another chop...

...and gets hit with another one as well.  A second chop from Vasquez
knocks Stevie back out of the corner, stumbling back across the ring
towards the adjacent corner.  A third chop connects and Vasquez grabs
Stevie by the hair, smashing him with a European uppercut that sends the
challenger falling back into the buckles.]

GM:  Vasquez with a whip...

[And as the challenger staggers out, Vasquez elevates him up and over
with a bone-rattling back drop!]

GM:  HIIIIIIIGH BACK BODY DROP!!

[Upon hitting the mat, the challenger promptly rolls under the ropes to
the floor where Ben Waterson quickly arrives, shouting words of
encouragement and strategy to his man...

...only to flee in the other direction when Juan Vasquez steps out to
the apron, leaping off with a forearm smash over the skull of the former
champion!]

GM:  He crowned him there!  Down goes the challenger to the
barely-padded floors...

[Vasquez grabs a handful of his opponent's hair before smashing him with
a straight right hand of his own that draws the referee's ire from
inside the ring.  Pulling him off the floor, Vasquez SLAMS Stevie
facefirst into the ring apron to the cheers of the crowd.  A shove sends
Stevie under the ropes back into the ring while Vasquez pulls himself up
on the apron using the ropes.]

GM:  Stevie's back in, Juan back up on-

BW:  WATERSON!

[The Agent To The Stars rushes forward, ready to grab or strike Juan
Vasquez...

...but an approaching Brian Von Braun with his fists balled up at the
ready gives Waterson pauses, forcing him to retreat while shouting,
"YOU'VE GOT NO RIGHT!" at BVB.]

GM:  Haha!  You know, I'm really starting to enjoy this outside-the-ring
enforcer stuff, Bucky.

BW:  You would.  Von Braun's got no right getting in Ben Waterson's way
just like Ron Houston had no right getting in the ring to make that
three count.

GM:  The Championship Committee sees things very differently.

BW:  Obviously when they're being run by that crook Ross.

[Vasquez steps through the ropes into the ring where Stevie Scott is
again back-pedaling away from him, wandering all the way back into the
buckles where he finds himself cornered...

...but lashes out at the incoming Vasquez with a thumb to the eye!]

GM:  Ohh!  Eyegouge by the challenger!

[Grabbing the blinded Vasquez by the hair, Scott SLAMS him facefirst
into the turnbuckles.]

GM:  The cheapshot by the challenger turns things in his favor...

[With Vasquez against the buckles, Scott throws kick after kick after
kick into the ribs of the champion.  The referee counts to four, then
steps in, forcing Scott back...

...which just allows him to get a running start when he smashes his
shoulder into the midsection!]

GM:  To the ribs!  Shoulderfirst to the ribs by the Hotshot!

[Waterson shouts "AGAIN!" from the floor to which Scott nods, gripping
the middle rope before driving his shoulder into the body of the
National Champion.]

GM:  Another shot to the body there... Stevie Scott may be trying to
take some of the wind out of the sails of Juan Vasquez with those blows
to the ribs and chest...

BW:  It'd be a sound strategy.  Vasquez has tremendous stamina so
anything you can do to take some of that out of him would be incredibly
useful.

[A third shoulder-drive to the midsection connects before the referee
forces Scott to back out again.  The Hotshot does so before lashing out
with another kick to the ribcage.  Grabbing two hands full of hair,
Scott hauls Vasquez out of the buckles to the middle of the ropes.]

GM:  Irish whip by the challenger...

[And a running knee to the midsection sends Vasquez toppling down to the
mat, clutching his ribs.  Scott is all grins as he approaches his downed
opponent...

...and leaps up, dropping a knee down on the exposed ribcage before
reaching back to hook the leg.]

GM:  We've got a cover for one!  For two!  But that's all.  No three
count there for the challenger.

[Scott pushes up out of the lateral press, grabbing a handful of hair
and POPPING Vasquez in the jaw with a right hand to the referee's
dismay.  The Hotshot gets back up, hauling Vasquez up by the hair again,
approaching the corner...]

GM:  He's dragging him to the corner again... facefirs- BLOCKED!

[The crowd cheers as Vasquez brings up the boot against the buckles,
blocking the faceslam...

...and then smashing Scott's face into the buckles himself!]

GM:  Vasquez turns it around on him!

[Grabbing Scott by the arm, Vasquez fires him across the ring with
force, slamming Scott's spine into the buckles...

...and breaks into a sprint, smashing Scott in the buckles with a
running clothesline!]

GM:  OHHH!

[He immediately grabs the arm again, firing Scott across with enough
force to knock him off his feet into a seated position in the corner...

...and charges across once more, leaping into the air, and DRIVING both
feet into the face of Scott with a dropkick!]

GM:  HE GOT ALL OF THAT, BUCKY!

BW:  And this match just turned into the beginning of their match two
weeks ago when Vasquez was a house of fire in the opening moments, just
tearing the Hotshot apart...

GM:  Scott rolls out to the apron... Waterson's right there to talk to-
whoa!

[Vasquez approaches, kicking the ropes hard enough to send Waterson
scrambling away as the champion reaches over the ropes, grabbing Scott
by the hair, and hauling him into a front facelock.]

GM:  Vasquez is gonna bring him in the hard way...

[Hoisting Scott high into the air with a vertical suplex, Vasquez pauses
for a moment before bringing the challenger crashing down to the
canvas!]

GM:  Hard suplex by the champion...

[Vasquez regains his feet, pointing a threatening finger in the
direction of Ben Waterson as he reaches down to pull up the Hotshot...

...and gets pulled into a snapshot inside cradle!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief as Vasquez kicks out
just before the count of three.]

GM:  That was very close, Bucky.

BW:  That idiot Vasquez lost focus on his opponent and nearly paid the
price right there.

[Both men scramble to their feet, trying to beat their opponent up...]

GM:  Both men up... chop by Vasquez!  Another chop!

[But before a third can land, Scott lands a knee to the ribs to stun
him.  Grabbing a handful of hair, the Hotshot HURLS Vasquez over the
ropes and down to the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN TO THE FLOOR GOES THE CHAMPION!!!

[Scott drops to a knee, breathing deeply as he waves for the referee to
count.]

GM:  I don't understand this at all.  Why would he want the ref to count
Juan Vasquez out?  Why would he-

[Outside the ring, Waterson is SCREAMING at the challenger, trying to
break through his daze.]

BW:  Waterson's telling him the same thing!  STEVIE!  STEVIE, LISTEN TO
HIM!

[At the count of five, Stevie Scott slowly gets to his feet, looking at
his manager...

...and then grabs the referee by the arm, waving off the count as he
exits the ring himself.]

GM:  I think Stevie Scott forgot he wasn't the champion, Bucky.  I think
he was going on gut instinct and his instinct was to use the champion's
advantage.  But he's got no champion's advantage tonight.  For the first
time since July the 4th of 2009, if Stevie Scott allows Vasquez to get
counted out... if he allows him to get disqualified... he wins the match
but not the title!

[Out on the floor, Scott grabs Vasquez off a knee to his feet, grabbing
him by the wrist...

...and WHIPS him into the steel ringpost, knocking Vasquez down to the
floor in a heap!]

GM:  OHHH!  TO THE STEEL GOES THE CHAMPION!!

[Waterson shouts approval from around the corner as the Hotshot slowly
approaches the downed champion.  A few well-placed stomps land, causing
Vasquez to roll closer to the ringside fans in the bleachers.  Dropping
down to the floor, Scott straddles the torso of Vasquez, connecting with
right hand after right hand to the side of the head as the referee
shouts admonishment from inside the ring.]

GM:  He's all over him out on the floor like a rabid dog, Bucky.

BW:  Scott knows this is his last chance.  He needs to do whatever it
takes to win this thing and worry about what he had to do to do it some
other day.

GM:  The challenger dragging the champion back to his feet out on the
floor...

[With a shout and wave of his arms, Scott manages to get the fans to
scatter a bit in the bleachers, leaving the wooden benches exposed. 
Scott muscles Vasquez up over his head into a fireman's carry.  He holds
him, walking to the bleachers...

...and powers Vasquez up and overhead, sending him crashing facefirst
down on the bench!]

GM:  OHHHH!  A version of the gutbuster down on the benches!

[Scott drops down to a knee near his victim, breathing heavily as
Vasquez lies motionless facefirst on the bench.  The referee is
screaming at Scott from outside the ring as Waterson approaches...

...but gets cut off by Brian Von Braun who shakes his head at Waterson.]

GM:  BVB keeps Waterson at bay but it may not matter.  What a move by
the Hotshot.  The challenger took Vasquez down hard on that bench and
Vasquez' ribs were already hurting.  What must they feel like now?

[Scott pushes up to his feet, nodding to the jeering crowd as he reaches
down, grabbing Vasquez by the arm and dragging him off the bleachers
towards the ring, firing him under the ropes.]

GM:  Vasquez back in... Scott climbs the apron, steps back in...

[With a smirk, the Hotshot gets a running start, leaping into the air as
he tucks his arms and legs...

...and smashes backfirst down on the torso of the champion!]

GM:  Backsplash!

BW:  Shades of Tommy Stephens!

GM:  I don't know about that but- there's a cover!

[The referee dives to the mat as Scott reaches back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  TH-

[Big cheer!]

GM:  And again the champion is out at two!

[Scott rolls into a mount again, pummeling Vasquez with rights and lefts
to the skull.  The referee counts to four when Scott stops punching...

...and starts choking!]

GM:  Choke!  He's strangling the air out of the champion!

[The count starts again - and again, causes the hold to break at four
when Scott slowly gets back to his feet.]

GM:  The Hotshot's back up... in total control of the match at this
point...

[Dragging Vasquez up by the hair, Scott pulls him up into a fireman's
carry just as he did moments ago.  He walks out to the middle of the
ring with the champion across his shoulders...

...when suddenly Vasquez starts throwing his right elbow repeatedly into
the skull, knocking Scott off-balance, and hauling him down into a
crucifix pin!]

GM:  CRUCIFIX!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHHHH!

[The crowd roars with disbelief as Meekly shows two fingers to one and
all.]

GM:  So close!  Vasquez almost stole that one right there and-

[Getting back up to his feet quickly, Scott DRILLS Vasquez with a boot
to the ribcage.  A second kick connects as well, knocking the champion
over onto his back.]

GM:  Two hard kicks to the body and- another kick!

[The third one causes Vasquez to roll, roll, roll under the ropes to the
ring apron where Stevie Scott measures him...

...and charges across the ring, connecting with a baseball slide
dropkick to the ribs that knocks the champion out to the floor!]

GM:  Vasquez hits the floor again!


"TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TEN MINUTES!"


[The Hotshot steps out to the apron, looking out at the jeering crowd as
he measures the downed Vasquez...

...and leaps off, driving his knee down into the torso off the apron!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Stevie Scott rolls through the kneedrop, taking a knee at ringside
where he waves for the fans to get louder as they boo the hell out of
him.  Nearby, Brian Von Braun circles around the ring, taking up a
blocking spot near Juan Vasquez.  The Hotshot slowly gets to his feet,
glaring at Von Braun.]


"You want a piece of this?  I'll kick your ass like Rhodes did to your
old man, you piece of-"


[The camera cuts away before we catch the end of that statement as Von
Braun points a warning finger at the Hotshot who ignores him, shoving
past him to drag Vasquez up to his feet off the floor.]

GM:  He's got the champion up again...


"WHAAAAAP!"


GM:  Ohh!  Juan with a chop!

[The chop stuns the Hotshot who backs off a bit but then moves back in,
fists balled up...

...and eats another big chop!]

GM:  Vasquez is fighting back!  He's fighting back out on the floor!

[Grabbing Scott by the hair, Vasquez throws him down to the floor,
leaping on top of him and pounding him with rights and lefts to the
skull.  The crowd roars as the count nears seven...

...and a frantic Vasquez gets up, throwing himself under the ropes at
eight.]

GM:  The count's at eight!  Stevie Scott's still outside the ring and-

[The crowd jeers as the Hotshot breaks the count at nine, just before
the ten count.]

GM:  We almost saw a countout right there.  And that would have kept the
title belt around the waist of Juan Vasquez.

BW:  I think that's what Vasquez was trying to do!  I think he knows The
Main Event was a fluke.  I think he knows that he can't pin him again
and he damn sure can't make him submit.  The next thing you know,
Vasquez will be trying to get himself DQd.

GM:  No way.  No way we'll see that, Bucky.

[Vasquez grabs the dazed Hotshot by the hair, pulling him to his feet...

...and promptly pummels him with a series of overhead forearms to the
back of the head and neck, knocking the Hotshot down to a knee.]

GM:  Scott down to a knee...

[The National Champion balls up his right hand, kissing it, and UNCORKS
a hard right hand to the jaw of the challenger, knocking him flat...

...and promptly applies a cover.]

GM:  A closed fist right cross... but there's a cover!  ONE!!  TWO!! 
THR-

[The crowd jeers as the Hotshot fires the shoulder off the mat.]

GM:  Shoulder up just in time and-

[Vasquez promptly grabs Scott by the hair, slamming his fist over and
over and over into the skull of the Hotshot.  Still holding the hair,
Vasquez rolls Scott over...

...and SMASHES his face into the canvas!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Getting back up, Vasquez grabs two hands full of hair...

...and drops down to the mat, smashing his face into the ring again!]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky!

BW:  Juan Vasquez has thrown all of his ring skills out the window.  To
him, this is a fight!  He called it a war earlier tonight and that's
exactly what it looks like right now.

GM:  He hauls Scott up off the mat...

[Another Irish whip sends the challenger into the ropes, rebounding
off...]

GM:  SLEEPER!

[The crowd roars as Vasquez applies a sleeperhold, trying to hook his
arm on the neck of the challenger to block the flow of blood to the
brain!]

GM:  He's got the sleeper locked in and-

[Grabbing the top rope, Scott pulls hard on it, forcing the referee to
call for a break.]

GM:  We need a break here!

BW:  VASQUEZ WON'T BREAK THE SLEEPER!

[The referee moves in, trying to pull the arms free...

...and completely misses a mule kick that catches Vasquez squarely in
the groin!]

GM:  OHHHH!  LOW BLOW BY THE CHALLENGER!!

[Outside the ring, Brian Von Braun is screaming to the official, telling
Michael Meekly exactly what happened...

...but Meekly saw nothing, shaking his head at Von Braun as an injured
Vasquez tries to crawl away from the Hotshot who is creeping towards him
again.]

GM:  The Hotshot drags Vasquez off the mat...

[Hooking a front facelock, Scott hoists Vasquez up into the air for a
suplex...

...but only takes him horizontal before DROPPING him facefirst to the
mat!]

GM:  GOURDBUSTER!!!  GOURDBUSTER BY SCOTT!!

[Flipping Vasquez to his back, the Hotshot applies a lateral press...]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[Vasquez again fires a shoulder off the mat before the three count can
fall, earning more cheers from the AWA faithful.]

GM:  What a battle this has been - what a war in the words of Juan
Vasquez!

[With Vasquez down on the mat, Scott delivers a trio of hard stomps to
the ribs...

...and points the corner.]

GM:  He's calling for the Steviesault!

BW:  This hasn't worked out too well for him lately, Gordo.

GM:  It hasn't but if he hits it, we may have a new National Champion...

[The crowd is buzzing as Scott approaches the corner, slowly stepping up
to the middle rope where he takes a moment to taunt the ringside fans. 
Waterson is screaming at his man, trying to get him to act faster as he
slowly steps to the top...

...and backflips from his perch!]

GM:  STEEEEVIESAULLLLLL-


"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"


GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!

[A dazed Juan Vasquez just barely rolled out from under the Steviesault
in time, staying on the mat on his stomach breathing heavily as his
opponent rolls to his back, clutching his ribcage.]

GM:  Both men are down!  Stevie missed the Steviesault and-

[Grabbing the ropes, Vasquez pulls himself to his feet...

...and takes a short running start, leaping into the air, tucking his
arms and legs to crash down backfirst across the midsection!]

GM:  SHADES OF TOMMY STEPHENS!!

[A hurting Vasquez rolls over, hooking a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHHHHH!

[This time, it's the Hotshot who fires a shoulder off the mat just
before the three count falls.  An exasperated Vasquez rolls to his
knees, slamming his fists into the canvas in frustration as he looks
over at the hurting Hotshot.]

GM:  Vasquez has got him down... but what can he do to finish him off?

[As the champion slowly gets to his feet, the crowd is buzzing as he
reaches down, hauling Scott a little closer to the buckles.]

GM:  He's putting him near the ropes... what's he doing, Bucky?

BW:  I think he's going up but for what?

[With Scott in the right position, Vasquez steps up to the bottom rope,
and flips backwards in essentially a standing moonsault.  He pushes up
off of Scott, clutching his ribs in pain.]

GM:  A backflip splash of his own, Bucky!

BW:  I know what he's going for but I haven't seen this from Vasquez in
years!

GM:  Back to his feet... where's he- again?

[This time, Vasquez steps up to the middle rope.  He takes a deep
breath, clutching his ribcage before taking flight once more, smashing
down across the chest of Scott again.]

GM:  Middle rope backflip splash!  ONE!!  TWO - wait, he broke the pin
attempt on his own.

[Wincing with every movement, Vasquez pushes himself off the downed
Hotshot and walks towards the ropes once more.  He steps up to the
middle rope...

...and then steps up to the top rope, the crowd buzzing for the
desperation move.]

GM:  TOP ROPE!  HE'S GONNA FLY!

[And fly he does, Vasquez backflipping through the air in a third
moonsault aimed squarely at the chest of the Hotshot...

...but before he can connect, Ben Waterson snakes an arm under the
bottom rope, dragging the Hotshot out of the way!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!

GM:  HE MISSED BECAUSE OF WATERSON!!

[But the referee missed it, his eyes up watching the moonsault...

...but Brian Von Braun didn't, sprinting alongside the ring apron!]

GM:  Von Braun saw it!  Von Braun-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  HE NAILED WATERSON!  HE POPPED WATERSON WITH A RIGHT HAND!

[The crowd roars as Waterson falls down to the floor, clutching his jaw
as Von Braun stands over him with a fired-up gaze, ready to throw
another haymaker if he must!]

GM:  Vasquez is down!  Scott is down!  And now, Waterson is down too!

BW:  Vasquez - he used to call that the Moonsault Trilogy - but he paid
the price in going for it this time.  Both of these men have put their
bodies through the wringer just two weeks after they did it for the
title already!  They've gotta be running low on gas, daddy!

GM:  Both men are down - the referee is counting both men.  We're over
fifteen minutes into this matchup and both of these men are hurting,
Bucky.  Vasquez' ribs were a wreck before he missed that moonsault and
now just imagine how they must feel!

[Stevie Scott is the first to his feet, using the ropes to drag himself
up to a standing position.  He staggers over the downed Vasquez who is
on all fours...

...and pulls him into a standing headscissors!]

GM:  NO!

BW:  He's going for the piledriver!  He's going for-

[But Vasquez yanks the legs out from under him, leaping forward into a
double leg cradle!]

GM:  CRAAAADLE!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHHHH!

[The Hotshot just barely escaped the tight cradle before the three count
came down.  Both men attempt to scramble up...

...and a big chop from Vasquez sends Scott falling back into the
corner.]

GM:  Vasquez puts him into the corner...

[Big cheer as Vasquez mounts the midbuckle!]

"ONE"! "TWO!" "THREE!" "FOUR!" "FIVE!" "SIX!" "SEVEN!" "EIGHT!" "NINE!"
"TEN!"

[Vasquez hops down off the ropes, connecting with an uppercut that
knocks Stevie down to a knee...

...where he rips Vasquez' legs out from under him, pushing him down into
a jacknife cradle where he puts his legs on the middle rope for
leverage!]

BW:  COUNT!  COUNT!!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  VON BRAUN KNOCKED HIS LEGS OFF THE ROPES!!  VON BRAUN JUST SAVED
THE NATIONAL TITLE!!

BW:  And Stevie Scott is LIVID!

[The Hotshot is quickly to his feet, shouting and screaming at Von Braun
who is grinning like a madman at the reaction...

...and as Stevie turns around...]

GM:  SUPERKICK!!  JUAN CAUGHT ALL OF THAT!!

[And when the Hotshot staggers out of the corner, Juan hoists him up
over his shoulder.]

GM:  CITY OF ANGELS!  JUAN'S GOT HIM UP!

[Juan positions Stevie with his head between the challenger's legs,
reaching up to hook one leg with his right arm...

...but when he swings him around, the left leg catches Michael Meekly in
the head!]

GM:  OHHH!  THE REF GOES DOWN!!

[Reaching back with his left arm to hook the head of the Hotshot,
Vasquez charges out of the corner...

...and leaps into the air, SMASHING the back of Scott's head into the
mat!]

GM:  CITY!  OF!  ANGELS!!

[The crowd is roaring as Juan rolls over onto the downed challenger,
reaching back to hook the leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!  THREE!  FOUR!  FIVE!

BW:  You can count to a hundred but there's no referee to count!

GM:  The referee is down!  Where is Ron Houston when you need him?!

BW:  Houston was barred from ringside tonight!

[The crowd is roaring, trying to get a referee in the ring...

...when suddenly a chant starts up, "B-V-B!"  "B-V-B!"  "B-V-B!"]

GM:  The crowd wants Von Braun in there!  This is just like what
happened at The Main Event!

BW:  He can't do that!

GM:  Why not?!  Houston did it!

[Vasquez gets up off the mat, looking around exasperated while Von Braun
looks around puzzled at the crowd...

...and then slides headfirst under the ropes to the roar of the crowd! 
He shouts for the match to continue!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  We've got a ref now, fans!

BW:  THIS ISN'T FAIR!

GM:  Vasquez has got the Hotshot in trouble - and he's going up again!

[The Los Angeles native exits the ring, stepping up to the middle rope. 
He looks down at the ring where a dazed Stevie Scott is trying to get to
his feet - his manager SCREAMING warnings from outside the ring.  As the
Hotshot regains his feet, Vasquez steps up to the top rope, pausing for
a moment...

...and HURLS himself into a flying cross body press!]

GM:  CROSSBODY OFF THE TOP!!

[The crossbody lands fully across the chest of Scott, knocking him down
to the mat...

...but the wily Hotshot rolls through it using Vasquez' momentum against
him, rolling him onto his own shoulders!]

GM:  HE ROLLS THROUGH IT!

[And secures a handful of tights just as Von Braun drops down to count.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  You've gotta be kidding me!  Fans, we've got... I can't believe...

BW:  We've got a new National Champion!  YES!

GM:  Stevie Scott has regained the AWA National Title right here on
Saturday Night Wrestling just two weeks after he lost it!  Juan
Vasquez... he had the match in hand but...

BW:  But Stevie got the best of him again!

GM:  There was a handful of tights involved in there!  I don't think
Brian Von Braun was able to see it but we saw it as clear as day! 
Stevie Scott with a great counter but it was the handful of tights that
made him a two-time National Champion!

BW:  The FIRST two-time National Champion!  Stick that in your pipe and
smoke it, Broussard!

GM:  We've got a new National Champion and... fans, I am in shock.  Juan
Vasquez is... he's beside himself, fans.

[He certainly is.  Vasquez is kneeling on the canvas, a look of total
shock on his face as he stares at the canvas.]

BW:  Of course he is!  He just lost any chance he'll ever have of
wearing that title belt again!  No more rematches!

GM:  My stars, you're right.  In the heat of the moment, I forgot all
about that.  Juan Vasquez made his bed and now he must lie in it... Juan
Vasquez will NEVER get another shot at the National Title sanctioned by
the American Wrestling Alliance as long as Stevie Scott is holding it! 
This is unbelievable!

[The crowd jeers as Brian Von Braun hands the title belt to an overjoyed
Stevie Scott who is celebrating with Ben Waterson in the corner.  Scott
snatches the title belt out of Von Braun's hands, shouting at him.]

GM:  The Hotshot, the new National Champion is just giving it to Von
Braun.  I have no idea why.  The man just won the National Title and
he's already trying to make new enemies?

BW:  Scott's letting Von Braun have it.  He's telling him he's the man
around these parts and if Von Braun wants a shot at being the man, he
needs to get in the back of the line, daddy!

GM:  Von Braun wants a shot at the Rhodes' brothers.  He wants no part
of- oh, come on!

[Scott shoves the title belt up in the face of Von Braun, still verbally
giving it to him as the crowd jeers.  Finally, Juan Vasquez has seen
enough and gets back to his feet, moving over towards the corner to
intervene.]

GM:  Thankfully, here comes Vasquez to settle this down and-

[Suddenly, Von Braun SHOVES the new champion aside, rushing forward to
clothesline Vasquez out of his boots!]

GM:  WHAT THE-?!

[A quick camera shot of Waterson and Scott show them to be just as
surprised as Gordon Myers and the entire WKIK Studios audience.]

GM:  What in the world is-

[The crowd's stunned silence turns to jeers as Von Braun stomps and
kicks the downed Vasquez...

...and then embraces a still-surprised Stevie Scott!]

GM:  Was this all a set-up?!

BW:  If it was, I don't think the Hotshot was in it!

[Moving away from the new champion, Von Braun high-fives a
surprised-looking Waterson as well...

...and then the trio moves together, stomping and kicking Vasquez down
to the canvas!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  This is a mugging!  A three-on-one - you already
stole the damned title, what more do you want from this man?!

[The three men continue to stomp and kick the downed Vasquez until
Waterson shouts something, dragging Vasquez up with the help of Von
Braun.  Each man holds an arm as the new champion winds up...

...and SMASHES Vasquez over the head with the title belt, knocking him
flat!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Von Braun grabs the leg of the downed Vasquez, wrapping him up in a
Texas Cloverleaf and flipping him onto his stomach.]

GM:  Texas Cloverleaf applied by Von Braun!

[Grabbing a handful of hair, Waterson yanks Vasquez' head back so he can
see in front of him...

...where Stevie Scott is lying on the mat, shoving the title belt into
Vasquez' face!]

"GET A GOOD LOOK!  GET A REAL GOOD LOOK!  THIS IS THE CLOSEST YOU'LL
EVER GET TO IT AGAIN!"

[And with that, the dastardly trio abandons the ring at the sight of
Eric Preston, Rough N Ready, Soup Bone Samson, Sweet Daddy Williams, and
some others on their way down the aisle.

The camera cuts to the aisleway where Stevie Scott, Ben Waterson, and
Brian Von Braun are beating a retreat, title belt in hand.]

GM:  Fans, we're out of time - our thanks to WKIK for letting us go long
to show you this incredible Main Event where Stevie Scott has regained
the National Title... and has prevented Juan Vasquez from EVER getting
another shot at the gold as long as the Hotshot holds it.  For Bucky
Wilde and Jason Dane, I'm Gordon Myers... unbelievable.  So long, fans!

[And with a closeup of the first two-time National Champion gripping the
title belt...

...we fade to black.]