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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the WKIK Studios 
Dallas, Texas 
May 8, 2010
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "TWO WEEKS AGO!"  Our shot comes up on Ron Houston speaking with
Michael Meekly inside the ring just before Meekly moves to talk to
Melissa Cannon.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... after conferring with outside-the-ring
enforcer Ron Houston, referee Michael Meekly has determined that the
Southern Syndicate made an ILLEGAL TAG EXCHANGE...

[The crowd starts to buzz.]

MC:  Therefore, Simon Rhodes MUST return to the ring...

[The buzz grows.]

MC:  And the match... MUST continue!

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  THE MATCH CONTINUES!

BW:  How?!  Why?!  Ron Houston has gone TOO far!

GM:  He's just doing his job, Bucky!

BW:  That's bull and you know it, Gordo!  Houston's got a personal
vendetta with the Southern Syndicate and he's abusing the power that the
Championship Committee has given him!

[From the aisle, Ben Waterson is complaining like crazy.  Raphael Rhodes
is shouting towards the ring where the referee has started a ten count.]

GM:  He's counting them out!  If the Southern Syndicate doesn't get back
in there, he's going to count them out!

BW:  This isn't fair, Gordo!

GM:  It's completely fair!  Thank the stars for Ron Houston tonight!

[An irate Simon Rhodes shoves his brother aside and charges towards the
ring, diving under the ropes where the entire fan favorite team is
waiting for him.  A haymaker from Jason Keening spins him towards Sweet
Daddy Williams who pops him with a double arm bell ringer clap...

...which spins him right into Michael Keening who deadleaps into the
air, hooking his head between his legs, and pulling him down into a
cradled rana!]

GM:  BOTH LEGS HOOKED!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEE!!!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[The crowd roars as the Keenings and Sweet Daddy Williams celebrate
their victory.  After a moment, Juan Vasquez hits the ring to join them,
shaking hands with the Keenings and raising Sweet Daddy Williams' arm as
Williams makes the "I want the belt!" gesture in the direction of Stevie
Scott...

...when suddenly MAMMOTH Mizusawa storms through the entrance curtain,
shoving his way through the entire Southern Syndicate team as he marches
towards the ring, stepping up on the apron, swinging his legs over the
ropes to get into the ring...

...and points right at Juan Vasquez.]

GM:  What in the world?

[Suddenly, the voice of Louis Matsui is heard.]

LM:  You can't avoid us forever, Vasquez!  You join the Rumble?  We join
the Rumble!  But we want our match!  

Or more importantly... HE DOES!

[Suddenly, the giant lunges forward, grabbing Vasquez by the throat with
both hands.  Sweet Daddy Williams is the first to act, throwing forearms
and haymakers at the head and mammoth back of the Asian giant...

...but Mizusawa does not break his grip.]

GM:  He won't let go!

[The Keenings join in, battering Mizusawa with all their limbs, throwing
hard and trying to break Vasquez free...

...but Mizusawa does not break his grip.]

BW:  Look at this, Gordo!  Six men are beating on Mizusawa and he won't
let go!  He won't let go!

[But Mizusawa does let go - lashing out to grab Williams head with his
right hand, smashing his skull into the Atlanta native and taking him
down.  He spins to the left, throwing a right hand that knocks Jason
Keening backwards a few steps as he grabs Keening with his left hand,
throwing him over the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Mizusawa takes out Michael Keening!

[Jason Keening charges back in...

...and runs right into a big boot that knocks him flat!]

BW:  That's a preview right there!  That's what'll happen to Keening in
two weeks at the Lady Luck Challenge!

[Spinning away from the Keenings, Mizusawa grabs the stunned Vasquez by
the throat again with his left hand, reaching down to hoist him high
with his right into a military press.]

GM:  HE'S GOT HIM UP!  HE'S GOT VASQUEZ UP!

[Mizusawa holds him high, making a full 360 with him...

...and then DRIVES him down in a crushing standing spinebuster!]

GM:  MAMMOTH SLAM!!  DEAR GOD!!!

[Mizusawa stands over the downed Vasquez, glaring down at him as the
fans jeer all over the WKIK Studios as we slowly fade 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 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.  I'm Gordon
Myers and with me as always is the two-time Announcer Of The Year, Bucky
Wilde.

BW:  And without me even proddin' ya?  What's up with you, Gordo?

GM:  Just giving credit where it's deserved.

BW:  I don't like it.  Something's up.

GM:  Fans, we have an exciting night of AWA action here for you tonight
in Dallas.  Tonight's Main Event will be a sneak preview of the Memorial
Day Rumble when we feature a Tag Team Battle Royal, Bucky!

BW:  I love Battle Royals!  All those arms and legs swingin' 'round,
takin' people down.  Flying over the top rope.  It's a fun thing to
watch and these fans are in for a real treat.

GM:  And in breaking news, we just received word from the Championship
Committee that whoever wins the Battle Royal tonight will receive their
title match against the Bishop Boys on the 4th of July!  Nearly two
months from tonight.  Of course, if the title changes hands before then,
tonight's winner will meet whoever the champions will be but that's
gotta add a little something to that Main Event, Bucky.

BW:  Knowing you get a title match at a date to be selected is one
thing.  Knowing the date of that match?  That turns up the heat.  If you
win the Battle Royal tonight, you realize you could be two months away
from being a champion in the Major League of professional wrestling,
daddy!

GM:  In addition, we've got the Lady Luck Challenge match with MAMMOTH
Mizusawa taking on Jason Keening!

BW:  Well, for months, Louis Matsui has been telling us that all
Mizusawa wants is competition.  In the past month, he's met El Corazon
Negro and Ebola Zaire - now Jason Keening?  I may not like the Boy Scout
but you can bet he'll have all the fight the giant can handle, Gordo.

GM:  He certainly will... and if Mizusawa somehow manages a victory, he
will be two wins away from a shot at the National Champion - whoever it
may be.  Plus, in what you'd have to call the third part of this big
three part Main Event here tonight, Todd Michaelson is going to get Ben
Waterson inside the ring!

BW:  That's not fair.  That's not right.  It's a tragedy and a complete
miscarriage of justice, Gordo.  Ben Waterson, contract or not, is NOT a
professional wrestler and he does NOT deserve to be forced into a ring
with Todd Michaelson.

GM:  Whether you think he deserves it or not - and I for one think he
does - it's gonna happen right here tonight and I can't wait for it! 
We've got all of that plus so much more.  Fans, let's go up to the ring
for our opening match!

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

MC: The following contest is a Handicap Match scheduled for one fall
with a fifteen minute time limit. Currently in the ring, weighing a
combined weight of Five hundred and Thirty Five pounds. Here is Denny &
Kenny- THE DEMARS BROTHERS!

[Denny and Kenny both wear generic white trunks, red knee pads and white
boots. Denny sports short blonde hair while Kenny has a sweet looking
mullet.]

MC: And their opponent...

["Riddles of Steel" begins as the crowd starts to show their disdain.]

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

DEVASTATION!!

GM: Ronnie Jamieson earlier in the day said he wanted to test
Devastation a little Bucky. Get him used to the idea of watching his
blind side for the big Rumble.

BW: Ronnie is a genius, Gordo!  Good gameplan by Ronnie to get his man
in perfect form for the Rumble.

["Riddle of Steel" continues to blare signaling the arrival of only one
man, Devastation. The crowds' boos gets louder as Ronnie Jamieson steps
out first. The short, porky manager is decked out in a top notch red
with white pinstriped suit while the little hair he has left on his head
is pulled back in a small ponytail. He smiles smugly at the crowd then
chuckles as the mammoth of a man known as Devastation steps out from the
curtains.]

BW: I still can't get over the size of this guy, Gordo!  He seems to get
bigger and bigger every time I see him.

GM: They say he is only 295 pounds, Bucky.  But I wouldn't be surprised
if he was over that three hundred pound mark.

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

GM: Just so the folks know at home. This is not a tag handicap match.
Devastation will be facing both Demars Brothers at the same time.

BW: Maybe Denny and Kenny should have brought more brothers...

[Once at ringside, Ronnie whispers in the monster’s ear who nods in
understanding. He walks up the steps, smacks his chest again and dips
between the second and top rope. The big man cranes back his neck and
yells again while flexing his whole upper body. He smacks his biceps
with opposite hands, getting the blood flowing before grabbing the top
rope and stretching. He paces back and forth in his corner. Twisting his
neck and rolling his massive shoulders.]

"DING! DING! DING!"

[Denny and Kenny talk amongst each other as Devastation walks to
mid-ring snarling at the two borthers. Denny and Kenny give each other a
small hug and pat on the back before breaking either way.]

BW: Awww, a farewell hug between brothers.

GM: The Demars brothers looking to surround Devastation here. I wouldn't
get to close though or...

[Devastation backs up not letting either man get around behind him.
Kenny, not paying attention gets a little too close. The big paw of
Devastation lashes out grabbing him by the throat. The big man picks him
up off his feet with both hands. Denny seeing his brother in dire
straits, starts hitting the big man with forearm smashes.]

GM: Kenny in big trouble here! Denny trying frantically to make the big
man let go!

BW: Be careful of what you wish for.

[Devastation drops Kenny to the mat and quickly turns his attention to
Denny. Denny backs off then comes forward with a big forearm across
Dev's chest. The big man shakes it off as Denny continues to throw
punches and chops while backpedaling. Devastation grabs him by the hair
and headbutts him, sending the Demars brother into the corner.]

GM: Not a good place to be against this man. The Demars Brothers have to
use their speed and agility. Being caught in the corner is not good.

"THWAAAAAP!"

BW: DID YOU HEAR THAT!

GM: How could i not!

[The sound of meat hitting the floor is Devastation's hand chopping
Denny across the bare chest. The young man cries out in pain but it's
muffled as Devastation grabs him by the face, pushes his head back and
delivers another big chop!]

"THWAAAAAP!"

GM: Look at Denny's chest from those chops Bucky! He's already welting
up!

BW: Those chops are echoing, Gordo.  Vicious, just vicious.

[Devastation smashes Denny with big right hands and elbows as he slowly
slumps in the corner. The crowd pops as Kenny screams and runs across
the ring; hands in the air looking for a double axe handle.....

GM: My goodness!

[... only to run into a back elbow from Devastation. The big man picks
both brothers up, screams in both their faces, tilts their heads back
and...]

"THWAAAAAP!"

BW: THE GOOD OLE DOUBLE NOGGIN KNOCKER, GORDO!  Classic!

GM: Did you hear the impact of their heads smashing together?

BW: Like two eggs hitting the floor.

[Devastation releases the brothers who fall to the canvas holding their
heads. Devastation grabs Kenny, picks him and delivers another headbutt
then scoops him up and delivers three backbreakers holding Kenny over
his knee on the third before rolling him off and onto the canvas. Denny
is now to his feet and stumbling around. He does a spin right into the
waiting paws of Devastation who picks him and plants him in the mat with
a double handed power bomb.]

BW: Devastation looking solid again tonight! This guy is going to be a
force in the Rumble!

GM: I have to agree, Bucky.  Ronnie Jamieson has his man in top form.

[The porky manager's voice can be heard screaming.]

"FINISH THEM OFF! FINISH THOSE TWO GOOFS OFF!"

[Devastation nods at his manager then picks up Denny, puts him on his
massive shoulders and raises him in the air in a Gorilla Press...]

GM: What power! I can't get over the power of Devastation.

BW: Unlimited strength, Gordon!  Ronnie told me this guy is down right
freakish in the strength department.

[Devastation presses him a couple of times then drops him on his
shoulders, and dumps him on his head with a Death Valley Driver.  The
big man looks for a cover before Jamieson's voice rings out again.]

"THROW HIM OVER THE TOP!  SHOW THESE IDIOTS WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO DO AT
THE RUMBLE!"

[Devastation complies as he grabs Denny by the hair and lifts the
unconscious youngster to his feet. Devastation grabs him by the throat,
hoists him up, walks over to the ropes and simply lifts him over the
ropes, releasing him to slump down to the apron and finally to the
floor.]

BW: There's one eliminated!  The Rumble is star packed, Gordo, but I
would have a hard time betting against this guy.

GM: I have to agree, Bucky.  If Devastation can keep his focus he could
do some serious damage in the Rumble.

[Devastation by now has picked up Kenny and has him hoisted in the
Gorilla Press position. Devastation presses him a couple times before
dropping him on his shoulders and driving him down with a Death Valley
Driver as well. Devastation stands over the youngster and puts a boot on
Kenny's chest. Devastation smashes his own chest as the ref slides into
position...]

GM:  After that move, it's all academic.  One.  Two.  Three.


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC: The winner of this match... DEVASTATION!

[Devastation quickly reaches down and grabs Kenny by the throat. The big
man whips Kenny off the ropes and follows knocking the youngster head
over heels and to the outside with a massive Yakuza kick. Devastation
screams and shakes the ropes as Ronnie claps in satisfaction on the
outside. Ronnie motions for the big man to follow him which Devastation
complies.]

BW: Here they come!

[Ronnie and Devastation join Bucky Wilde and Gordon Myers.]

GM:  We are only a few weeks away from the big thirty man Rumble and
your man, Devastation, looks ready!

[Ronnie, smug as usual, sneers as he begins...]

RJ: That is exactly right Gordon; Devastation is ready for the Rumble! 
I have had this big man training twelve hours a day, seven days a week! 
I have put him in several different situations that can happen in
Rumbles, covering every base, making sure there is no surprise that
Devastation can't overcome!  The only surprise that is going to shock
the world at the Rumble, Gordon, is when my man is standing tall after
he has thrown twenty nine other idiots over the top rope and won the
Rumble!  Bank on it!

BW: You know Ronnie, I’m a big fan of Devastation and I was just telling
Gordo how I think Devastation could win this Rumble!  But with the
Southern Syndicate, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Juan Vas-

[Ronnie interrupts.]

RJ: It doesn't matter who is in the Rumble, Bucky!  To tell you the
truth I’m sick and tired of that wannabe Ronnie Jamieson running his fat
mouth about how great his goof of a giant is in AWA!  I'm sick of
hearing this and that about the Southern Syndicate when Devastation
could walk over all of them!  These guys have acted like my big man
doesn't exist!  That is what people do when they are afraid of
something!  Well, at the Rumble they will have nowhere to run!  The
pretending he doesn't exist comes to a halt when he grabs them around
their scrawny little necks, lifts them to the Heavens, Bucky, and throws
them over the top rope!

GM: There are so many big names in the Rumble, Ronnie!  Juan-

RJ: Get over that punk and pay attention, Gordon!  Juan Vasquez has no
hope in you-know what of winning this Rumble.  That little boy ran his
mouth for months about the Syndicate and the big idiot MAMMOTH.  Now he
will have to deal with _ALL_ of them at the same time Gordon!  That boy
will be as flat as a pancake by the time they are done with him!  So get
over the Juan Express because it is going to be derailed before it even
gets started!

[Ronnie smirks as the boos rain down and a small Juan chant begins.
Devastation doesn't look too thrilled as he scowls at the crowd and
grits his teeth.]

RJ: Go ahead and cheer for that has-been!  We have no problem taking on
the under dog role and using it to our advantage!  Let the guys who
think they are important, eliminate themselves then my big man will rid
the ring of the scraps and have his arm raised in victory!  Then all of
you can get on your knees and kiss my-

GM: Whoa-whoa Ronnie take it easy!

RJ: Don't you ever interrupt me again Gordon or I’ll have my man
Devastation here wipe you off the planet!  The bottom line is this,
rodents.  Circle May 31st on your calendars!  Buy a ticket and watch in
awe as Devastation, the most underrated monster in the AWA, shocks the
whole industry by throwing out your precious Juan Vasquezs, Syndicates
and giants and wins the whole darn Rumble!  Then we'll see who will be
noticing who when he crushes whatever paper chump who happens to have
that National championship!

[Motions to Devastation.]

RJ:  Let's go big man; I’ve had enough of the stench in this place!

[Ronnie walks off screen with the snarling Devastation in tow. Gordon
Myers and Bucky watch them leave with a look of concern and fear.]

GM:  Well, that's one man who is certainly ready for the Memorial Day
Rumble, Bucky.

BW:  I'm calling it right now, Gordo - Devastation wins the Rumble!

GM:  We don't even know everyone in the match yet!  That's a bold
prediction.

BW:  I'm a bold man, Gordo.

GM:  Well, we won't argue that point for sure.  But speaking of odds on
favorites for the Rumble, let's go backstage where Jason Dane is
standing by with the Matsui Corporation!

[Cut backstage where Jason Dane is standing by with the dark-suited
Louis Matsui and his charge, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, who is dressed for his
match, in a black singlet, knee pads and boots. Matsui looks mighty
pleased with himself, maybe too damned pleased. Even Mizusawa has a
slight smile on his face.]

JD: Louis Matsui, at the end of last Saturday Night Wrestling, we saw
MAMMOTH Mizusawa push his way through the Southern Syndicate, take
down Sweet Daddy Williams, take out the Keenings, and deliver a
MAMMOTH Slam on Juan Vasquez. Would you care to explain your client's
actions?

LM: Is it not clear enough for you, Jason? I am sure I don't need to
explain my client's actions to the AWA fans. I'm sure I don't need to
spell it out for the rest of the boys in the locker room. And I am
certain Juan Vasquez knows damn well why my client did what he did two
weeks ago. Vasquez wants to ignore my client and the match that awaits
him somewhere in his future? We come right for him. Vasquez wants in
on the Memorial Day Rumble? My client will be in the Rumble right
there with him. What happened last SNW, Dane? Vasquez... Message
delivered.

JD: And what about the Syndicate? Have you negotiated any, um,
arrangements for their situation with Vasquez?

LM: There have been no negotiations, son, and there will not be any
negotiating. I've spelt out my offer plain and simple; the twenty-five
grand Ben Waterson placed on Vasquez's head to be paid when... WHEN
MAMMOTH Mizusawa DESTROYS Vasquez! Now, I know the money the National
champion will win at Memorial Day Mayhem will pretty much cover
Mizusawa's fee, ensuring that Juan Vasquez is funding his own demise,
but I also know that Mr. Waterson is a smart businessman and I know
the AWA suits will continue to drag Vasquez's final reckoning out for
as long as they possibly can, so I don't expect any deals to be made
now, since everything could change at Memorial Day Mayhem. Maybe
Mizusawa wins the Rumble, who knows? But, Ben, when the time comes and
you want us to deal with your Vasquez problem for good? You give me a
call and you confirm the hit and we will take him out... Easy. And you
know our price and YOU know where to find US!

JD: Championship Committee Chairman, James Watkins is also here
tonight and word is, Louis, he has got something to say about the
situation between Mizusawa and Juan Vasquez. Any idea what it could
be?

LM: No idea, Dane, but whatever it is, it had better be good, because
God knows, the AWA suits seem intent on treating my client like a
fresh-faced chump right out of Michaelson's Combat Corner. I suspect
we will hear more hemming and hawing from Jimmy-boy, but while he is
out there to protect the company's interests, I am here to protect my
client's. At SuperClash, my client earned the privilege of facing
whoever he wants in any match he wants and we have chosen Juan Vasquez
and we have laid out the rules of the Best Two out of Three Falls
Match... I Quit... Texas Bullrope... And a cage. Two weeks ago, after
all the ducking, we pretty much made it a match that the fans WANT to
see. The rest of it is, as they say, plain business and, as anybody
who has done business with the Matsui Corporation will tell you, we
are always above board in all our dealings. So, the way I see it, I
don't know what else there is for Watkins to discuss.

JD: Finally, Louis, tonight MAMMOTH Mizusawa faces possibly his most
accomplished opponent in the Lady Luck Challenge, the "Screaming
Drillbit" Jason Keening. Any words for Keening?

LM: You see, Jay-Dee, Vasquez might be busy playing hero around here,
but tonight, my client steps into the ring against wrestling's biggest
Boy Scout. Mizusawa's last opponent was a monster, but his next could
possibly represent all that is right in this sport... And right will
be proven wrong TONIGHT! Every time we see the do-gooders run in to
make the save, Gordon Myers gets excited about the arrival of the
cavalry... And I am getting darn sick of that word! Tonight, Keening,
there will be no cavalry! Tonight, Jason Keening, will be your
CALVARY... Only this time, the sacrificial lamb will not be rising
again...

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

MM: BANZAI!!!

[Louis Matsui flashes a wide grin, nods to Jason Dane and walks off,
followed by Mizusawa.]

JD:  Louis Matsui's got his man ready for... pretty much anything, I
think.  Fans, we'll be right back with more Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action where our announce team is standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to Saturday Night Wrestling.  As we've
mentioned, we've got a lot of big action in store for you all tonight
and right now, we've got-

[Any good mood the crowd might have been in is cut short by the opening
chords of "Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top.  Calisto Dufresne and Adrian
Freeman strut through the curtains.  Dufresne is clad in a crisp navy
blue three-piece suit with a polished pair of black wingtip shoes.  His
blonde hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail.  As usual, Freeman
has a scowl on his face, and tonight is wearing jeans and a too-tight
American Apparel shirt.  The former tag champs head to ringside.]

GM: Oh great.  It looks like we're about to be joined by Dufresne and
Freeman again.

BW: What you said, but not sarcastically.

[As soon as the two Southern Syndicate members reach the announce table
Bucky jumps up to interview them.]

BW: Calisto, Adrian, so glad that the two of you could join us tonight.

AF: It's always a pleasure, Bucky.

BW: So, how about that Tag Team Battle Royal tonight?  You guys could
win a chance to avenge what I thought was a huge injustice when the
Bishop Boys stole your titles a couple weeks ago.

GM: Gimme a break...

AF: We shouldn't have to do anything to get a rematch, and if by some
fluke we lose tonight we _still_ deserve to face the Bishop Boys in a
fair fight.  But we're going to win, of course.

CD: The only way the two of us lose is if we decide to _let_ some other
team have a crack at the Bishop Boys before we reclaim what's rightfully
ours.  Carrying a promotion on our back is tiring work, after all.  And
nobody could blame us if we took some time off, focusing our efforts on
getting ready to help the Southern Syndicate hold on to the big gold.

AF: This Battle Royal is going to be a nice warm-up for the big one on
Memorial Day.  To be honest it's more of a sparring session.  I mean,
look at some of these teams.  The Rockstar Express?  A couple of
overweight Samoans?  The Bishops haven't even been champs for a month
and you're already starting to see the tag division rot away.

GM: I don't really see what the Bishops have to do with-

CD: Take it from the greatest tag team champions to ever grace this
organization when we say that a champion is supposed to set an example. 
A champion sets the bar so high that the other teams have to give every
ounce of their beings to reach the mountain top.  But The Bishop Boys? 
They're setting the bar so low that people are tripping over it.  It's a
disgrace.  But the suits will reap what they sow and they'll soon
realize how tarnished the division has become without true champions
leading the way.

GM: You two really think that you're a lock to beat almost the entire
tag team division tonight?

AF: We're the rightful champs, Gordo.  It's what we do.

GM: Shifting gears for a minute... Calisto, on the last show we found
out that you'll be taking on Soup Bone Samson one on one at Memorial Day
Mayhem.

CD: Watkins and company knew that if they wanted people to tune in, they
were going to have to fill the card with as much Southern Syndicate as
humanly possible.  And being a company man and a true patriot, I don't
mind pulling double duty two weeks from now on the day we remember all
those who gave their lives so you fat pigs at home can sit on your couch
clogging your arteries day in, day out.  

And if Soup Bone Samson wants to get angry and beat up a garbage can to
try and defend the honor of the poor maiden City Jack, then so be it. 
Just don't expect the match to last very long.

AF: I just hope that ol' Samson realizes that his career is in jeopardy
when he steps in the ring with my partner here.  I mean, he's stupid
enough to do it anyway, but he should go into this with both eyes open.

[Freeman smirks at his own joke.]

AF: Get it?  Both eyes open?

[Dufresne and Freeman high-five.]

GM: You two are disgusting.

CD: Speaking of both eyes open, I figure now might be a good time to
mention...

[Dufresne reaches into the inner pocket of his suit, pulling out a few
sheets of paper stapled together.]

CD: ...this.  

[Dufresne waves the document around.]

CD: Samson, seeing as though you want to avenge what I did to City Jack,
I feel it's only fair that I warn you.  If you do this... If you truly
step forward to face The Ladykiller in two weeks... If you want to make
sure what happened to City Jack never happens to another person... 

[A smirk.]

CD: ...then you're going to have to risk the same thing happening to
you.  This is a little document my army of high-powered lawyers drew up.
 A waiver.  Relinquishing me of any liability should something...
happen... to you during our match.

You want revenge?  Sign the waiver.  

[Dufresne slaps the waiver against Myers' chest.]

CD: No signature?  No match.  How bad to you _really_ want to stick up
for your buddy?  Your call, pal.  

[With that, "Sharp Dressed Man" kicks in again, and the two
rule-breakers head to the back looking every bit as arrogant as when
they walked in.]

GM:  A waiver?  Are you kidding me?

BW:  Highly necessary.  We saw all the trouble Dufresne got in for what
he did to City Jack.  Calisto Dufresne is protecting himself and the
Southern Syndicate, Gordo.

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

[We cut to the ring where Melissa is standing next to a scrawny, pale
young man.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing firs-

[But the lovely announcer's words get cut off by an attacking "Prince Of
Darkness" Anton Layton.  Layton's running forearm to the back of the
neck knocks young Dale Lane to the mat where Layton immediately stomps
him repeatedly.  A leering gaze at Melissa Cannon has her running for
ringside before Layton drops a knee on the lower back of Lane.]

GM:  Ohh!  A brutal assault before the bell...

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM:  There's the bell!

BW:  Might as well ring it again cause this one's just about over.

GM:  Not yet it's not.

[Kneeling on the back of Lane, Layton grabs a handful of hair and yanks
back on Lane's head and neck, screaming at him as he tortures the young
man.]

GM:  Listen to this man... shouting about the darkness... what in the
world is wrong with this man?

BW:  I think it'd take some of Monosso's doctors to tell us that, Gordo.

GM:  The referee is ordering him to lay off the hair... three... four...

[Layton releases the hairpull at four, grinning as he gets up, leaping
into the air for a big stomp squarely in the middle of the kidneys.  A
few more standing stomps follow before Layton drags Lane off the mat by
the back of the trunks.  Hooking him around the waist, Layton hoists him
into the air, dropping him down on the back of his head and neck.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big time suplex by Layton!

[Layton drops to his knees, wrapping his hands around the throat of
Lane, screaming wildly as he does so.]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Get in there!

[The referee counts again and Layton breaks again at four.  He gets up
to his feet, glaring at the official before dragging Lane off the floor
by the hair.  He pulls him into a side headlock, turning away from the
official...

...and jabbing his thumb up into the throat!]

GM:  Ohh!

[Layton bodily throws a gasping Lane back to the corner where he puts
the boots to him - over and over to the gut.]

GM:  Layton's all over him, Bucky!

BW:  This guy is a machine in there.  There's nothing pretty or polished
- just pure hatred and violence.  

GM:  And he's nuts!

BW:  You gonna tell him that?

[Grabbing Lane by the arm, Layton fires him across the ring with a whip
before charging across himself...

...and scoring with a running sledge hammer blow across the chest!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big shot there in the corner!

[With Lane hurting, Layton winds up his right arm and takes the young
man down with a sloppily-thrown clothesline.]

GM:  Down goes Lane again... uh oh...

[Layton promptly hops up on the middle rope, pausing as his eyes roll
back in his head...

...and leaps off his perch, driving both feet down in a doublestomp into
the midsection of Lane!]

GM:  OHHHH!  That's it, Bucky!

[Layton collapses into a lateral press as the referee drops to count.]

GM:  One.  Two.  Three.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM:  Anton Layton with another victory here on Saturday Night Wrestling,
Bucky.

BW:  You sound surprised.

GM:  Not at all.  Layton is a very talented and tough competitor but
when Vernon Riley gets his hands on him... it's gonna be something else,
Bucky.  I promise you that.

BW:  Both men are in the Rumble.  Both men may get their chance at each
other that night in Houston, Gordo.

GM:  They very well could and-

[The crowd jeers as Layton pulls Lane off the mat, grabbing him by the
hair, and HURLS him over the top rope and out to the barely-padded
concrete floor!]

GM:  OUT TO THE FLOOR GOES LANE!

[And Layton snatches the house mic away from a shocked Melissa Cannon.]

AL:  RIIIIIILAAAAAAAY!

[Layton's gutteral cry is made worse as he suddenly drops to his knees,
crawling towards the ropes where hangs through the bottom and middle
ropes to address the camera.]

AL:  Vernon Riley... the golden child... listen close and listen
clear...

[Layton's eyes are cold and intense as they gaze into the camera lens.]

AL:  The time is approaching... the day draws near...

[He lunges through the ropes, grabbing the camera.]

AL:  YOU!!  YOU HAVE TORTURED MEEEE!  YOU HAVE HUMILIATED MEEE!  

[Layton goes silent.]

AL:  You abuse me, Riley.  For years and years, I have suffered
embarrassment at your hands and now the time has come to retribute upon
you!  

The pieces slowly fall in place... one... by one... by one...

I am here.  Your nightmare.  Your shadowy demon that walks your
unconscious self to the brinks of Hell every night...

[He giggles, like a school girl.]

AL:  And yet you still fight, Riley.  You do not turn and run like you
should.  You stand and fight... even at the sight of the Spike... the
holy Spike... you stand and fight...

[Layton shakes his head violently back and forth, shaking the ropes as
well.]

AL:  BUT YOUR DAY COMES, RILEY!  YOUR DAY COMES!

[The Prince of Darkness drags the camera closer...]

AL:  I can't wait, Riley... I can't wait to paint my face for waaaar...

WITH!  YOUR!  BLOOD!

[Layton shoves the camera backwards, sending the cameraman toppling down
on his rear.]

AL:  It comes for you, Riley... it comes for you...

All this has happened before... and it will happen again.  Over... and
over... and over... and over...

[He keeps babbling to himself, repeating "and over" until we abruptly
cut to black on him.

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 announcers at ringside.  "Gimme Back My
Bullets" by Lynyrd Skynyrd kicks in over the P.A., eliciting an instant
round of boos from the crowd. Of course, the response doesn't matter to
"Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson and the AWA National Champion,
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott, who are making their way to the announce table.
Both are wearing suits as usual, and Stevie carries the National Title
cradled in his left hand. Neither look too happy.]

GM: It seems that we have an unscheduled visit from the charter members
of the Southern Syndicate. Mr. Waterson, we are on a tight sched-

ATTSBW: Do you think I care about the schedule, Myers? The schedule
revolves, and will _continue_ to revolve, around the Southern Syndicate.
When we have something to say? By God, Gordon Myers, we're going to come
out here and _say_ it.

GM: Uhm... very well.

[Waterson shoots an annoyed glance to Myers before continuing.]

ATTSBW: Now... it seems that just about _everyone_ in the AWA wants to
stick their noses into Southern Syndicate business. Sweet Tooth
Williams, Bishops, Keenings, Snyder, Michaelson, etcetera, ad nauseum.
But those dregs can wait for a later time, because there is _one_ dreg
in particular
that the champ and I want to address here and now.

Ron. Houston.

[Big cheer for the Athens, Georgia Madman!]

ATTSBW: It seems to me, Mr. Houston, that you have yet to learn your
lesson. It wasn't that long ago that the Southern Syndicate put such a
serious beatdown on you that you had to leave the AWA to receive
extended medical attention.

But for some reason, like a dog returning to eat his own vomit, you've
come back. Of course, you can't _wrestle_ yet...and we all know why
_that_ is, don't we Ron?

[Ben flashes a cocky grin.]

ATTSBW: Yet that hasn't stopped you from sticking _your_ nose into _our_
business. AGAIN.

So here's what we're going to do, Houston. The champ and I have an offer
to make you. A peace offering, if you will. We would like to invite you
out here to further discuss this situation.

[Another big cheer goes up as the opening twangy guitar chords of Beck's
"Farewell Ride" stroll over the PA as all eyes in the arena turn towards
the entrance.  The curtains part, and standing before the AWA faithful
is none other than The Athens, Georgia Madman himself. Former National
Champion, Ron Houston. The big southern brawler strolls out towards the
announce area, measuring up and down Stevie Scott and Ben Waterson. Each
pace measured, as if prepared for anything.  He walks directly up to
Waterson and Scott, who puts the mic to his lips.]

ATTSBW: Now...Mr. Houston...two weeks ago, you once again decided to
take it upon yourself to interfere on behalf of our opponents. And yet
again, your illegal interference cost the Southern Syndicate a victory
and as a result, a somewhat significant amount of money.

It seems to us that you've been letting this whole "Special Enforcer"
business go to your head...make you think you have more authority, more
stroke than you actually have. And to be honest?

It's really starting to piss us off!

[Gordon cringes at the language as Waterson motions toward Stevie.]

ATTSBW: So here's the deal. The contract we have signed for Memorial Day
Mayhem and the match against Sweet Daddy Williams states...

[Ben reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a rolled-up sheet of
paper, which he unrolls and reads from.]

ATTSBW: ...that under no circumstances may Ron Houston be placed in the
match as the Special Enforcer. Further, if Ron Houston becomes involved
in the match in any fashion, including making a ringside appearance,
Sweet Daddy Williams will be disqualified and will lose his $50,000.

[The "Agent To The Stars" rolls the sheet back up and puts it back in
his jacket.]

ATTSBW: Now... we made the decision for you _easy_ for that match. We
made sure you wouldn't stick your nose in where it didn't belong. 
Consider that our gift to you. Now here's another: Should you get
involved in Southern Syndicate business again?

We will retire you _permanently_.

[Waterson smirks as he prepares to deliver his catchphrase.]

ATTSBW: Consider. Yourself. War-

[Houston snares the microphone out of Waterson's hand abruptly. 
Startling both the National Champ and Waterson.]

RH: Shut.

[Houston leans in close to Waterson and Scott, so close they can feel
the heat of his breath.]

RH: Yer god forsaken mouth.

The both of ya. The whole lot of ya, actually. Entire stinkin' Syndicate
fer that matter. Just lettin' the words bleed out from 'tween those lips
like yer getting paid by the minute. Each and every one of ya. Like yer
words'll catch fire if ya don't spit 'em out quick enough. Yer gonna
kill me.. them..

[Points out towards the crowd, who cheer approvingly. Before pointing
towards the camera.]

RH:  .. and the whole lot of 'em watchin' this winded, boring, veiled
threat from home.. death bah _boredom_.

[Houston scoffs.]

RH:  Not today, hombre.

[Houston holds out one of his hands and points an index finger into
Waterson's chest.]

RH:  Lemme let ya in on a little secret, _Ben_. And ah want ya to listen
rrealll good. Cause ah want ta make sure ya get it through yer thinnin'
hair, through yer thick skull, _all the way down_ ta that pea-sided
rotted brain ya got. And Stevie, ya might wanna listen up yerself, cause
the message applies to the whole lot of ya "Southern Syndicate" folks.

[Houston pauses, allowing Waterson the time Ron thinks is necessary to
pay attention. Stevie seethes.]

RH:  No matter what ya do.

No matter how many people ya intimidate, or threaten, or lay out.. no
matter how many goons ya throw at me, or the Bishops, Juan, or
Williams..

Ya.

Won't.

Win.

[Big cheer!]

RH:  Even if ya pick one of us off. Whether its me, Juan, or one of the
others. Even if ya pull another "Ron Houston" and end somebodies career,
and let me be frank since ya can't seem ta get it through yer ity bity
head.. Ron Houston _is_ retired. Ah ain't just on vacation, or layin'
undercover. Ah ain't biding mah time or waitin' fer ya to take yer eyes
off me. Mah retirement is absolute. S'far as the doctors have told me..
ah ain't _never_ gonna see me in the inside of one of these rings again.

[Houston regretfully smirks.]

RH:  At least.. not the way ah want ta be.

Ya can pat yerselves on the back for that one later.

[Houston catches his aside as Scott and Waterson eyeball the Georgian.]

RH:  BUT.. even if ya _do_ take one of us out. Ya can't win. Cause the
battle ya idiots are fightin' ain't one that can be won by talkin' more
than the rest of us.. or even by fightin' more. Ya spend so long with
yer stinkin' blinders on. So focused on bein' the best, or stayin' on
top, or just putting another sparkly watch on yer wrist.  Some fancy car
ta drive. Or party ta attend.

Ya spend so much time, obsessed, willin' ta do anything ta keep, but
unwillin' ta truly _see_, the reality that sits 'fore ya. But don't
worry, gents. Ah'm gonna enlighten ya _real_ soon.

[Houston reaches out and.. pats Waterson on the shoulder?!]

RH:  Ya don't gotta worry, guys.

Ah won't fight ya.

Have yer little match without me 'round.

[Houston's Athens blues dart from Waterson over to the champion. His
stare unflinching.]

RH:  'Sides.. ah already _got_ me a job at Memorial Day Mayhem.

[Big cheer! Waterson and Scott look concerned.]

RH:  Ya thought ya were so _clever_ didn't ya boys? Thought ya had this
whole thing figured out. Control the rumble, ya said? Enter the entire
dang Southern Syndicate, ya said? Keep the belt on Scott, ya said? Which
is all well and good except fer the fact..

[Houston's lips crease up, as if he's stifling laughter, or a secret.]

RH:  .. that ah'm the _Special Enforcer_ fer the flamin' thing.

[HUGE CHEER!!! Scott and Waterson absolutely lose their minds, their
eyes widening like saucers as Houston stares on obviously enjoying the
turnabout.]

RH:  And it'll be a cold.. day.. in..

[Big ol' Athens smile.]

RH:  .. well, ya know where.. before ya pull another one of your
jackpots
and steal ya another--

[Another voice rings out.]

BVB: ... Or yer gonna do what, cripple?

["Hot Stuff" Brian Von Braun isn't far behind his voice. He appears at
the entrance, clad in his ring attire and mic in hand. The crowd boos as
BVB starts his way down to the announce area.]

BVB: Ya gonna go against tha doctor's orders an' get back in tha ring?
Huh? Ya gonna give these fans one last hope ta ride on as ya beat all
the odds an' face Stevie Scott in a match fer tha National Championship?

[BVB gets to the ring and uses the steps to ascend to the ring apron.]

BVB: Tha Rocket City Badboy's gotta real bright idea, jus' a humdinger,
Ron. How 'bout ya jus' shut yer trap an' head back ta Georgia?

[More boos. BVB steps into the ring. He looks at the crowd and rolls his
eyes. He motions at Ron Houston to step back a bit and give him some
room by waving Ron back with his right hand.]

BVB: In all seriousness, why ya gotta be a special enforcer? Ta continue
cheatin' tha Southern Syndicate outta wins and belts?

[BVB looks over at Ben Waterson for a good, long second and then
shrugs.]

BVB: Ain't like it's any skin off my nose.

[He pauses and smirks.]

BVB: Ain't like "associates" get tha benefits full members do. We don't
get none of tha drawbacks neither.

[BVB looks back at Ben Waterson.]

BVB: Ain't that right, Ben?

[BVB looks at Waterson another second and then back at Ron Houston.]

BVB: By my figurin', I ain't got nothin' ta worry 'bout in tha Rumble. I
came out here, 'cause I wanted ta hear ya say it, Ron. I wanted ta see
it come from yer lips. Go ahead an' tell tha AWA faithful what yer gonna
do. Tell 'em how yer gonna ensure Juan Vasquez wins tha Rumble an'
Dufrense, Freeman, and tha guy with rotten teeth are gonna be tha first
ta go.

[Holding the mic in his left hand, BVB holds his right arm out and leans
his head in.]

BVB: Jus' say it, Ron.

[BVB holds the mic out to Ron Houston. Houston stands there, watching
BVB.]

BVB: Well, all right. I guess I need ta translate fer ya.

[BVB steps in a bit closer.]

BVB: Baaaww-cawk! Bawk, bawk, bawk, baaaaaaaw-cawk!

[Another round of boos from the crowd. Ron Houston can't help but
smile.]

BVB: Aha! See!?

[BVB looks out at the crowd, pointing at Ron Houston.]

BVB: See?! He understands what I jus' said.

[BVB smiles a bit and then lets the smile break out into a grin. He
slaps Houston on the shoulder.]

BVB: Why help Juan Vasquez? His goal ain't tha National Title, Ron. His
goal is tha Women's Title Erin McCoys made famous years ago.

[The crowd jeers wildly at that jab.]

BVB: An' it's what I love 'bout all y'all that claim yer doin' this fer
tha fans. It ain't cheatin' as far as yer concerned. It's "Fightin' Fire
with Fire."

[BVB snorts in disgust.]

BVB: An' ya know what I think 'bout hypocrites, Ron?

[BVB pauses as Ron Houston waits for the answer. A few solid seconds go
by as Ron crosses his arms over his chest.]

BVB: I'll let my fingers tell ya.

[SLAP!  The crowd explodes in boos as Houston is caught by surprise by
BVB's slap. Ron turns to face BVB, who is already backpedaling away from
the announce desk. Houston's eyes clench momentarily shut as a red welt
burns into the side of his face. BVB slowly paces backwards towards the
lockeroom, his eyes on the ring as Houston clenches his jaw.]
 
RH: Ya no good, dirty sunnuva--
 
[Houston drops the mic to a BIG CHEER before he slides out of the ring
and darts up the aisle towards BVB.. who disappears behind the curtain
with an irate Houston in pursuit. Leaving Scott and Waterson, smiling,
at ringside.]

ATTSBW:  Gentlemen, I believe that finishes our business for this eve-

[The crowd ERUPTS as Ennio Morricone's "Ecstacy Of Gold" starts up over
the PA system.]

GM:  Oh yeah?!

ATTSBW:  HIM?!  What's HE doing out here?!

[The curtain part violently as former World Champion and AWA Combat
Corner Head Trainer Todd Michaelson strides through the curtain.  He's
dressed for a fight - not a wrestling match, wearing a pair of blue
jeans and a Combat Corner t-shirt with the sleeves cut out.  He makes a
bee-line straight towards the announce desk where Waterson ducks behind
the National Champion who holds his ground, returning Michaelson's
stare.]

GM:  Todd, what in the world-

[Michaelson snatches the mic away from Gordon Myers, pointing a finger
right at Stevie Scott.]

TM:  My issue's not with you, champ.  Not tonight.

[The crowd cheers the implied threat.]

TM:  My issue is with that piece of garbage hiding behind your skirt.

"OHHHHHH!"

[Scott's expression doesn't change as he sizes up the former World
Champion.]

TM:  I suggest you stand aside and let this happen, Scott.

[But the National Champion doesn't budge, continuing to stare at
Michaelson.  Gordon grabs another mic to interject.]

GM:  Todd, this match is not scheduled to happen right now.

[Michaelson doesn't take his eyes off Scott.]

TM:  I know that, Gordon.  But I also know that if given the
opportunity, Waterson will run out of this building and I'll lose this
chance to get my hands on him.

[Waterson grabs Bucky, pulling him closer to use his mic.]

ATTSBW:  I'm not ready!  I'm not dressed for a wrestling match!  I'm...
I'm in a suit!

[The corners of Michaelson's mouth raise in a smile.]

TM:  I can see that.  But as you can see, I'm not dressed for a
wrestling match either.

[Pause.]

TM:  I'm dressed for a fight.

[BIG CHEER!]

TM:  So, Waterson... let's head up into that ring... have someone ring a
bell... and we'll settle this issue like men.  You and I.  One on one.

Otherwise...

[Michaelson steps forward, within easy reach of the National Champion
now.]

TM:  Your meal ticket and I are going to have a serious issue.

[BIG CHEER at the thought of Michaelson tangling with the Hotshot. 
Waterson grabs the suddenly-moving-forward Scott by the shoulder,
pulling him back.]

ATTSBW:  Alright, Michaelson... you want some of this?

[Waterson gestures to himself.]

ATTSBW:  You got some.

[The Agent To The Stars pulls off his suit jacket, gently placing it on
the announce desk...

...when Michaelson lunges forward, grabbing him around the head and neck
and dragging him towards the ring to the roar of the fans!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!  HERE WE GO!

[Michaelson HURLS Waterson under the ropes into the ring before rolling
under them himself.  He shouts "GET A REF!" to anyone in earshot as he
marches across the ring where Waterson is crawling towards the far side
of the ring, looking to make an exit...

...but Michaelson grabs him by the foot, holding him and preventing his
escape as he tries to drag himself out to the floor.  The crowd roars as
Michaelson drags Waterson off the canvas to his feet, winds up...]

GM:  Yes!  Yes!

[And a huge roar goes up as Michaelson uncorks a right hand, knocking
Waterson clear off his feet and back down to the mat!]

GM:  He knocked him flat, Bucky!

BW:  Give Waterson a second.  He's a former Mixed Martial Artist!  Give
him time to get his ring legs under him!

GM:  He may not have a second cause Michaelson's on top of him!

[The former World Champion quickly takes the MMA-style mount position on
Waterson, rearing back his right hand and letting it fly - once, twice,
three times before Mickey Meekly does a dash from the locker room,
diving under the ropes at full speed.  He immediately calls for a break
as he signals for the bell at the same time.]

GM:  The match, if you can call it that, is underway but Mickey Meekly
is dragging Michaelson off of Waterson!

[The referee physically pulls Michaelson off the manager, warning him
that he wants a fair start to the match...

...and gets shoved down to the mat by Michaelson who strides back in
towards the downed Waterson, leaning down to pick him up.]

GM:  Todd's gotta be careful.  He needs to make sure that his emotions
don't- ohh!

[The crowd groans alongside Myers as Waterson lashes upwards with his
leather-sole covered foot, catching Michaelson on the jaw and sending
him falling backwards towards the ropes.]

GM:  Waterson with those MMA skills - that upkick is straight out of an
Octagon, Bucky!

BW:  It certainly is.  And do you think Michaelson's regretting this
challenge yet?

GM:  After one kick?  After what the Southern Syndicate did to
Michaelson's students?  I don't think so!

[With the National Champion shouting encouragement from the floor,
Waterson scrambles up to his feet, looking across the ring at Michaelson
who is leaning against the ropes, shaking off the effects of the
upkick.]

GM:  That kick really shook up Michaelson.

BW:  You have to remember, Gordo, Michaelson hasn't wrestled in over two
years.  And it's been far, far longer since he was in the ring on a
regular basis.  He's no spring chicken in there.

GM:  Look at Waterson... look at him...

[The Agent To The Stars crouches a bit, moving side to side as he
approaches Michaelson.  The former World Champion moves off the
ropes...]

BW:  Shooting for a takedown!

[Waterson lunges in, wrapping his arms around the legs of Michaelson...

...but a hard overhead elbow smash to the back of the neck stops him
short.  Holding Waterson by the hair, Michaelson delivers two hard knee
strikes to the face before throwing him back down to the mat.]

GM:  Michaelson avoided the takedown and he's got Waterson on the
defensive yet again...

[This time, the National Champion leaps up on the apron, protesting
loudly...

...which distracts the referee and gives Waterson the moment to reach
out and jab a thumb into the eye of Michaelson!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  Haha!  You don't hang around the Southern Syndicate all this time
and not learn a few things about bending the rules, daddy!

GM:  Bending?

[Scott hops down off the apron, pleased at his work as Waterson grabs
the blinded Michaelson by the hair, pulling him into a standing
headscissors...]

GM:  What the-?!

[Waterson points at the Hotshot, grinning widely.]

BW:  He's calling for the Piledriver!

GM:  He is!  He's gonna piledrive Todd Michaelson!

[Nah.  Michaelson simply stands up, backdropping Waterson up and over
and down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Michaelson with the counter!  He countered the very move that
Stevie Scott used to put his student on a stretcher and in the hospital!
 Pedro Perez Jr. may never wrestle again and it's all the fault of the
Southern Syndicate, Bucky!

BW:  I don't condone it, Gordo, but if you step into that ring, you're
stepping into the Southern Syndicate's house and all bets are off if you
spill a drink on their carpet, daddy!

[A fired-up Michaelson pulls Waterson up by the hair, lets loose a roar
to the crowd...

...and DRILLS Waterson with a forearm smash that sends Waterson falling
into the buckles.]

GM:  Waterson got rocked with that one and-

[The crowd roars as Michaelson grabs two hands full of Waterson's shirt
and tears it apart, revealing his bare chest...

...that Michaelson promptly lights up with a knife-edge chop!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big chop by Michaelson!

[And again, Stevie Scott is up on the apron, shouting at the referee...

...and this time, it's Todd Michaelson who moves over to get him down
off the apron.  The Hotshot shouts a few well-chosen words in
Michaelson's direction before dropping off the apron, taunting him from
the floor - a move that gives Waterson time to stumbles out of the
corner to the other side of the ring, clutching his rapidly-reddening
chest.]

GM:  Waterson escapes the corner but he's hurtin' for certain, Bucky.

BW:  Oh, that's real clever, Gordo.

[Michaelson glares at Scott again before turning away, striding across
the ring towards Waterson...]

GM:  But there's no rest for the weary as Michaelson's coming for him
again!

[The former World Champion approaches the corner where Waterson springs
out, throwing a Superman punch that catches Michaelson on the chin,
knocking him back a step...

...but when Waterson rushes forward with a flurry of punches, Michaelson
counters with a forearm smash to the jaw.  A second one knocks Waterson
a step back.  A third puts him back in the buckles yet again.]

GM:  Michaelson is just battering Waterson with those forearms!

[Grabbing Waterson under the arm and around the head...

...Michaelson sends him SAILING through the air and down to the mat with
a king-sized hiptoss!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Michaelson is still all serious as he slowly walks towards the downed
Waterson, shouting at him.]

GM:  Todd just said, "This is for Pedro!"  You know how personal this
fight is for him, Bucky.

[Reaching down, Michaelson hauls the retreating Waterson off the mat...

...and pulls him into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  OH YEAH!!

[Michaelson reaches under, hooking one arm but he never gets a chance to
hook the other as Stevie Scott hits the ring, title belt in hand...

...and BLASTS Michaelson in the small of the back with the gold belt!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  In the back!  Michaelson's legendary injured back just took fifteen
pounds of gold right to it, daddy!

[Michaelson crumples down to the canvas, falling in a heap as the
referee calls for the bell...

...and Scott waves towards the locker room, a gesture that brings out
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman!]

GM:  Dufresne!  Freeman!

BW:  The former tag champs are comin' for blood, daddy!

[Dufresne is the first one in, dropping a knee down on the lower back of
his former employer - the man who brought him into the world of
professional wrestling.  Freeman is close behind, kicking and stomping
the lower back as Dufresne kicks at the head and neck.]

GM:  This was a set up!  They got here too quickly - they HAD to be
waiting for the signal!

BW:  The Southern Syndicate never does ANYTHING without a plan, Gordo!

GM:  This is... well, it's a three on one on Todd Michaelson right now! 
Waterson's getting up and you can bet when he does... yep, here we go! 
A four on one assault on Todd Michaelson and-

[The attack doesn't last long before the locker room empties with a
charge of fan favorites - Juan Vasquez, the Keenings, Eric Preston,
Sweet Daddy Williams, Soup Bone Samson among others.  The Southern
Syndicate is quickly out of the ring, leaving the former World Champion
laid out on the canvas as they beat the retreat.]

GM:  The Southern Syndicate strikes again.  Thank the stars for the
cavalry... yes, Louis Matsui, I said the CAVALRY that just made the save
for Todd Michaelson!  Fans, we've got to take a quick break - we'll be
right back!

[And with that, 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!

[A scrolling list of dates and cities appears as the voiceover reads
along with it.]

May 31st - Memorial Day Mayhem - Houston, Texas
June 12th - Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
June 26th - Little Rock, Arkansas
July 5th - Memphis, Tennessee
July 17th - Charlotte, North Carolina
July 31st - Charleston, South Carolina
August 14th - Atlanta, Georgia
August 28th - Mobile, Alabama
September 6th - New Orleans, Louisiana

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

[And with that, we fade back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky
are standing.]

GM:  Fans, welcome back to Saturday-

[Suddenly, an angry Todd Michaelson walks onto the set, tearing the mic
out of Gordon's hand and facing the camera.  His face is red and soaked
with sweat.  He winces with much of his movements as he shouts into the
camera.]

TM:  WATERSON!

[Michaelson visibly winces, leaning over on the podium.]

TM:  Waterson, I know you were behind all that.  I know you had the plan
and damn it, you just love it when a plan comes together.  Freeman and
that ungrateful sadist Dufresne hiding in the shadows... biding their
time... 

[He nods.]

TM:  Yeah, you had a plan to get yourself out of that ring with me no
matter what the cost.  They told me I won the match by DQ...

[Michaelson grabs Bucky by the jacket, pulling him close by the lapels.]

TM:  DO I LOOK LIKE I WON ANYTHING?!

[Bucky begs off with a "No!  NO!"  Michaelson shoves him back, pointing
to the camera again.]

TM:  YOU THINK THIS IS OVER, WATERSON?!

[Michaelson shakes his head.]

TM:  This is FAR from over.  I made a mistake... that's clear to me now.
 I made a mistake thinking that if I got you into that ring, I could
take care of business without having to worry about all that... 

[Michaelson censors himself, turning his head for a moment.]

TM:  I was wrong.  I've been out of the ring for a long, long time...
and I was wrong.  I forgot what it was like, Gordon.  I forgot what it
was like to have to get inside that ring with men with NO character. 
With men who will do ANYTHING... not even to win the match... but to
hurt someone.

You want to hurt me, Waterson?  You want to put me out like you did all
the rest?

You get another chance.

[Michaelson nods.]

TM:  But so... do... I!

[Big cheer!]

TM:  Next Saturday Night Wrestling, I'm getting back inside that ring...
and I want Dufresne and Freeman in there on the other side of the ring! 


[Big cheer again!]

TM:  And this time... this time, Waterson, I'm not making the same
mistake.  This time, I know what you're willing to stoop to.  This time
I know EXACTLY what you're willing to do to put me out.

And this time, I'm bringing an old friend who is willing to do the
SAME... DAMN... THING!

[The crowd buzzes a bit.]

TM:  Don't worry, Ben.  I won't give you the time to come out here and
cry about me trying to spring a surprise on you and your boys.  I'm
gonna tell you right now who my partner is.

I brought this kid into the E when he had never wrestled on the big
stage before...

[The crowd buzzes more!]

TM:  And when this place started up, I made damn sure he was the first
man we inked to a contract!

[That buzz is growing louder!]

TM:  That gold, Scott... that gold you cling onto so proudly?  He was
the FIRST one to wear it!

[Big cheer!]

TM:  THE SAN JOSE SHARK... MARCUS BROUSSARD!  HE'S MY DAMN PARTNER!

[HUUUUUUUGE CHEER!  Michaelson shoves the mic into the chest of Bucky
Wilde, storming out of view.]

GM:  What the... Marcus Broussard?!  The first National Champion RETURNS
in two weeks?!

BW:  That can't be!  I heard he... he's never coming back, Gordo! 
Michaelson's gotta be bluffing!

GM:  I... I don't know, Bucky!  Michaelson and Broussard vs Dufresne and
Freeman... in two weeks?  Oh my stars!  Fans... let's head up to the
ring for some tag team action. The Bishop Boys are in action for the
first time since winning the AWA National Tag Team Titles, in this
special non-title match!

BW: Yeah, some fighting champions they are. Just ducking the REAL
champions.

GM: What?

BW: Dufresne and Freeman, daddy!

GM: Those two have a chance later on tonight in a special Tag Team
Battle Royal to get a rematch on the 4th of July.

BW: Why bother? They're the real champs, and the Bishops know it! They
have every right to exercise their rematch clause! It's a conspiracy, I
tell ya!

GM: Would you stop shouting at me?! Melissa, over to you.

[Cut to the ring.]

MC: Ladies and gentleman, this next match is a special non-title tag
team match, scheduled for one fall!

[The crowd pops for the expected arrival of the champs.]

MC: Introducing first, already in the ring at this time, the team of El
Demonio Blanco and Rey Maquina!

[Two beyond fat luchadores taunt the fans, one dressed all in white with
a screaming skull mask that barely fits his head, the other dressed in a
shiny black bodysuit with a mask that has bolts all over it.]

BW: So we've got The White Demon and his buddy, Machine King. Am I
right?

GM: Hey, those Spanish books on tape have been paying off.

BW: By the way, did you know Gordo means fat? HAH!

GM: Would you cut it out?

BW: It does!

[The voice of Melissa Cannon interrupts.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The fans come unglued as Rebel Meets Rebel's "Nothin' To Lose" fires
up.]

MC: ...at a combined weight of 568 lbs., and hailing from Kingsland,
Arkansas. Accompanied by Cousin Bo, they are the NEW AWA National Tag
Team Champions, Cletus Lee and Duane Henry...

THE BIIIIIIIIIIIISHOOOOOOOOOP BOOOOOOOOYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!

[Bo steps out first, a look of bewilderment on his face as he looks at
his cousins' opponents. He sighs and smacks himself in the face with his
newspaper. The champions follow, Duane Henry patting the belt around his
waist, Cletus Lee simply letting his belt dangle from his right hand.
They look at the ring, then at Bo. The camera catches an exchange of
comments between a confused Duane Henry and Bo.]

DHB: Man, are ya serious? These two are the best opponents ya could git?

CB: Hey, I'm not any happier than you about this. I tried to get you
real competition, but everybody else is already busy with that battle
royal.

[Duane Henry spits and looks at Cletus Lee, who doesn't take his eyes
off the ring.]

DHB: This stinks, bro, let's waste these hoochadores.

[Cletus Lee nods and charges the ring, dropping his belt as he goes. Bo
picks up the belt as Cletus Lee quickly strides over the top and greets
the oncoming opponents with a salvo of forearms. "Nothin' To Lose" cuts
out as Duane Henry removes his belt and hands it to Bo, before entering
himself. The bell rings as he enters.]

GM: Wow, The Bishop Boys not wasting any time here as they immediately
go to work on the masked duo!

[Cletus Lee elbows Rey Maquina into the corner, then hauls off and
smacks the taste right out of his mouth, drawing an awed pop.]

BW: Did he just bitch slap him?!

GM: Would you watch your tongue? In any case, yes, he did.

[Duane Henry waves El Demonio Blanco forward. The man in white looks
hesitant, but charges in anyway. Well, it's more like a waddle, but you
know what I mean.]

"WHAAP!"

"OHHHH!"

GM: Duane Henry with a vicious-sounding chop to the chest!

BW: I'm surprised Duane Henry didn't lose his hand in all that fat!

[Demonio holds his chest as his eyes go wide, his breathing getting
heavier.]

BW: Is that fat idiot having a heart attack in the ring?

[As the obese luchador turns his back, Duane Henry grabs him in a
waistlock. Kinda. See, Demonio's really fat.]

BW: What the heck does he think he's doing, Gordo?

GM: I don't really know. That's a lot of waist to try and grab.

BW: Who the heck's even LEGAL?!

GM: I...don't know that either. Mickey Meekly looks as confused as
everybody else.

BW: Hey, here comes Bo. Ask him what the deal is.

GM: Excuse me, Mr. Allan.

[Bo walks over to the table.]

GM: Your cousins don't look like they're in any mood to wrestle. What's
going on?

CB: They're tired of facing all of these nothing teams. So they made a
bet with me. If they can beat these guys in under 5 minutes, they each
get $800.

[Duane Henry finally gets a decent hold of El Demonio Blanco, and
proceeds to wow the fans by lifting him into an astounding Release
German Suplex. Huge pop for that, as Demonio rolls from the ring with a
loud thud.]

CB: And I think I'm about to lose.

GM: Good grief! El Demonio Blanco has to outweigh Duane Henry by at
least 100 pounds!

BW: Is it me or did the whole building just shake, Gordo?

[Duane Henry walks over to Cletus Lee, who's choking Rey Maquina out in
the corner with his huge boot, and smacks him lightly on the back. The
big man looks over without releasing the choke, as Duane Henry gives him
the throat-cutting gesture. Cletus Lee nods.]

BW: Are they gonna end this already?!

CB: Until a real team mans up and challenges us, why waste our time and
energy? This is ridiculous, making us face these nitwits who would be
better off facing the Arizona State Border Patrol over some doughnuts.

[Bucky actually kinda chuckles. Meanwhile, Duane Henry is trying his
best to lift Rey Maquina into the Argentine Backbreaker, but that's a
lot of dead weight to lift. Duane Henry puts him back down and
grimaces.]

GM: I think Duane Henry just strained his back.

CB: Nah, just overexerted himself a little. Time for Plan B.

BW: Plan B? What the heck's that?

CB: Just watch.

[Duane Henry tells Cletus Lee to lift Rey Maquina instead. Cletus Lee
does so. Easily.]

GM: Wow! Double choke on the easily 400-plus pound Rey Maquina!

BW: This man is insane! He just lifted him like some ol' rag doll!

[Duane Henry quickly climbs to the top turnbuckle. The crowd's on their
feet at this point in sheer awe.]

GM: What are they planni-

[Gordon doesn't get to finish his question as Duane Henry leaps off,
hitting a lariat, causing Cletus Lee to drop Maquina with a
chokebreaker. Huge pop for that impressive sight.]

GM: Good grief! This one is definitely over!

[Mickey Meekly quickly drops down as the crowd shouts along with the
count.]

"1"

"2"

"3"

"DING! DING! DING!"

["Nothin' To Lose" kicks back up as The Bishops ignore Mickey's attempt
to raise their hands and leave, joining Bo at ringside. Duane Henry
mimes to Bo to pay up. Bo nods.]

GM: Unbelievable. That may have been one of the quickest matches in AWA
history!

[Bo chuckles.]

CB: Just a little something for the rest of the AWA to chew on.

GM: Coming up a little later, we have that big tag team batt-

[Bo raises a hand and cuts Gordon off.]

CB: Yes, I know. Tag team battle royal. I said everything I had to say
regarding our future two weeks ago. And if there's one thing I hate
doing, it's repeating myself. We'll be back later to check out the
competition.

[Bo points towards the back, and he and The Bishop Boys simply leave.
Gordon is flabbergasted.]

GM: I...Wait...What? Bo usually has lots to say. What the heck has
gotten into him?

BW: You heard him. Enough with the scrubs. Let's see what The Bishop
Boys can do against a REAL team. Besides, he said he'd be back later.
I'm sure he'll be full of a lot of hot air then.

GM:  Whoa brother... what a night this is gonna be.  Fans, let's go to
Jason Dane in the Control Center!

[We fade to a shot of the Memorial Day Mayhem logo that holds for a
moment before spinning away to reveal Jason Dane sitting in front of a
bank of television monitors.]

JD:  Welcome to the Control Center, fans, your exclusive source for all
the big news about Memorial Day Mayhem - the AWA's next big event coming
up in just 23 days!

Let's go over what we know...

Eric Preston will tangle with James Monosso in a match that becomes more
and more personal every week... and more and more violent as well.  Just
two weeks ago, we heard Eric Preston demand that AWA Championship
Committee Chairman Big Jim Watkins make the match FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE! 
If that happens, that will be a first for the AWA and potentially as
violent as anything we've ever seen on AWA television.

Speaking of violent, you know that's exactly what we can expect when
Soup Bone Samson gets his hands on Calisto Dufresne in an attempt to
avenge the career-ending injury suffered at the hands of City Jack. 
Samson has been hot on Dufresne's trail for weeks and he'll finally get
him in the ring at Memorial Day Mayhem.  

Tag team action will be hot and heavy in Houston with two big tag team
grudge matches.  In one, we will see the Rhodes brothers, Simon and
Raphael, tangling up with the Keenings, Jason and Michael in a
long-awaited rematch.  And I understand that later tonight in the
Control Center, we will have a big announcement about that match.

As for the other tag team match, Brent Maverick and "The Outlaw" Bobby
Taylor will team up for the very first time to meet the challenge of
"Superstar" Kevin Slater and "Scorchin" Shane Taylor!  Now, we all know
that later tonight, Slater and Taylor will attempt to persuade Brent
Maverick from staying in that match...

...and now we can reveal he may have a little more reason to do exactly
that.  Just moments ago, it was confirmed that BRENT MAVERICK is the
21st man entered in the annual Rumble match!  Could that be the
motivation Maverick needs to step aside out of the tag match so he can
focus his efforts on the Rumble?  We'll all find out together later
tonight.

[Dane pauses.]

JD:  Now, let's talk Rumble a little bit more.  Maverick's in.  That
makes nine more spots to fill.  Well, I can tell you right now that
we're filling one of them with a young man from right deep in the heart
of Texas, Colt Daniels!  Let's meet young Colt!

[We cut to footage taped right in front of the proud AWA logo'd back
drop. Standing is the latest addition to the AWA Rumble, wrestling
sensation Colt Daniels. The dirty blonde superstar proudly displays his
burnt orange Longhorns t-shirt.]

CD: For over two years now I've been watching the sleeping giant known
as AWA. Traditional wrestling at it's finest. Amazing talent from guys
like Juan Vasquez, City Jack, Stevie Scott, and the list goes on and on.
Last year come Rumble time I was sidelined and up able to toss my hat
into things, but this year ... With wrestling reaching a new "boom"
worldwide, I tossed my name into the hat with hopes and dreams that ol'
Colt here will catch fire and make my new home the AWA.

[The blonde hair, blue eyed fan favorite flashes a smile.]

CD: On paper my name may not stack up against such greats. I have only
been in this industry for a few years. However there aren't many that
has had a crash course like I have. With already battles with a few of
this industries biggest names _ever_ I bring a package of experience and
athletics that not many can offer. And inside the AWA that I can only
build on that.

[Colt nods eagerly.]

CD: I may not be known for breaking guys legs like some in these parts,
but come Rumble time I will make my presence known and I will show that
ol' Colt here does belong inside the ring with the best wrestling has to
offer. It doesn't matter if I am the first guy to enter that ring or the
last. Like every time I step between those ropes I will put it all on
the line and in the end ...

[Playful shrug.]

CD: The AWA fans ... The boys in the back will know a new name around
these parts. A good ol' boy who was raised watching the greats in this
game. I am looking forward to it. Come Rumble time we are going to have
us one heck of a time!

[And with that we cut back to the Control Center.]

JD:  Alright.  Welcome, Colt Daniels, to the AWA and best of luck to
you, young man!  That makes twenty-two... eight spots to go.  And just
moments ago, we received word that the twenty-third spot will go to a
man who hasn't been heard from in over twelve years.  Scrappy luchador
El Super Gecko!  How 'bout that?

So, that makes twenty-three names in the Rumble - and in the end, what
are they all fighting for?

A shot at the AWA National Title.

[Dane grins.]

JD:  The same AWA National Title that will be on the line against fifty
thousand dollars when Stevie Scott defends the gold against his former
friend Sweet Daddy Williams!

I understand that we'll have both of those men back later to comment on
that big showdown and you will NOT want to miss that... just like you
won't want to miss Memorial Day Mayhem!  

It's one of the biggest nights of the year for the AWA, fans, so make
your plans now.  Have your barbecues during the day but that night, make
your plans to be in front of your television with WKIK blastin' to see
the very best that THE Major League of professional wrestling has to
offer!

From the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane.  Let's go back to ringside to
Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde!

[And we do indeed go back to ringside to the aforementioned gentlemen.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  Big news all around as we are counting
down the days to Memorial Day Mayhem - one of my favorite nights of the
year, Bucky.

BW:  Memorial Day Mayhem is always good for big news.  The first one saw
the first National Champion crowned in that historic eight-man
tournament.  The second one saw Stevie Scott win the Rumble in a
shocker.  Who knows what'll happen this year?

GM:  Whatever it is, you just know it's gonna kick off the annual summer
tour in a big, big way!  

BW:  And speaking of things that are big, big...

GM:  Would you stop?  Fans, let's go up to the ring to Vernon Riley in
action!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time from
Phoenix, Arizona... Willie White!

[White raises a hand to jeers just before Hank Williams Jr.'s version of
"You Can't Judge A Book By The Cover" blasts over the PA, bringing the
fans to their feet with a huge pop.  The pop continues as the fat man
himself, Vernon Riley, emerges into the entrance aisle.  He wears a
large brown cowboy hat, no shirt (which shows his fatness), black
tights, and red-and-white cowboy boots.  He raises his right hand into
the air and moves it like he's swinging a lasso, then proceeds around
the ringside area slapping hands with fans before climbing up on the
apron, stepping into the ring.]

GM:  Vernon Riley has certainly got a lot of problems on his hands with
Anton Layton and whoever that mysterious masked man was who assaulted
him last time out here, Bucky.

BW:  Layton's not gonna rest until Riley's CARRIED out of the AWA -
guaranteed.

GM:  I'd wager that Riley won't stop until that happens to Layton so
we've got quite the stalemate on our hands with this issue, Bucky.

BW:  Yeah but Layton's willing to do ANYTHING to make that happen.  I'm
not so sure Riley is.

GM:  Oh, you're mistaken.  I'll tell you that for sure.

[A focused Riley circles out of the corner at the bell, lunging into a
collar and elbow tieup.  He spins out of it into a wristlock, wrenching
up on the arm of White who grimaces against the pain.]

GM:  Very basic offense - the tieup to the wristlock...

[Holding the twisted arm by the wrist with his left hand, Riley winds
waaaaaay back and smashes an overhead elbow down across the arm, sending
White scampering away waving his arm back and forth to the cheers of the
crowd.]

GM:  Riley grabs the arm again...

[This time, he uses it to whip White across the ring...

...and somehow gets a big frame up and over the charging White with a
leapfrog as White hits the far ropes, rebounding back, and gets caught
on the chin with a surprising dropkick!]

GM:  Whoa!

BW:  How the heck did he get his flubber up that high?

GM:  Vernon Riley is full of surprises, Bucky!

[A shocked White scampers out to the floor...

...and then gets moving as Riley exits the ring, coming out after him!]

GM:  Riley's comin' for him!

[The crowd cheers as Riley is in hot pursuit of Willie White around the
ring.  White rolls back into the ring, scrambling to his feet as Riley
rolls back in...

...and gets cracked with a diving elbowsmash from White to the back of
the head!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  White caught him coming in!  Riley let his emotions rule him and he
paid for it with that elbow to the noggin.  Come on, Willie!

GM:  Willie White is stomping away on Vernon Riley...

[Reaching down, White hauls Riley up by the hair, drilling him with a
haymaker that knocks him back to the ropes.  Grabbing the wrist, White
fires Riley into the ropes.  The rebounding Riley ducks under a standing
clothesline attempt, hitting the brakes, spinning around to pop White
with a jab to the jaw.]

GM:  Nice jab by Riley!

[With the crowd cheering, Riley snaps off jab after jab to the jaw of
the stunned Riley...

...and spins his arms around in a flourish before smashing him with a
right cross that knocks him off his feet!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Vernon Riley bringin' out the big guns tonight!

BW:  What in the world are you talking about, Gordo?  He's doing the
same fat man dancin' offense that he always does!

GM:  White back up...

[But Riley is waiting for him, scooping him up, and slamming him down
before immediately dropping back to the ropes, bouncing off them...

...and leaping high to drop a big elbowdrop across the chest!]

GM:  OHHH!  Lots of impact there!

[Riley rolls over into a lateral press that scores him a two count
before White throws a shoulder off the mat just before the three count. 
A fired-up Riley questions the ref on the count before dragging White
off the mat, grabbing him by the arm to fire him back to the buckles.]

GM:  White hits the corner... Riley coming in after him...

[The big Texan reaches up to hook a side headlock, throwing his arm
around like he's tossing a lasso before charging out of the corner,
leaping into the air, and SMASHING White facefirst into the canvas!]

GM:  RILEY ROUNDUP!!  He hit all of that!

[Riley rolls him onto his back, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner... VERNON RIIIIIIIILEY!!

[Cue all hell to break loose as a masked man comes sprinting from the
backstage area, hitting the ring where he promptly drills Riley in the
back of the head with a forearm smash, knocking Riley into the ropes
where the masked man promptly keeps up the attack, kicking Riley in the
ribs as he leans over the ropes.]

GM:  Another sneak attack!  Anton Layton strikes again!

BW:  That's not Layton!

GM:  No, it's not - but you can bet he's got something to do with him!

[The masked man leans on Riley's wide back, pushing his throat into the
middle rope!]

GM:  He's choking him!  This masked man is choking Riley on the ropes!

[Taking a step back, the masked man lunges forward with a knee to the
back of Riley's neck, shoving it violently into the rope again.  He
grabs Riley by the hair, dragging him off the ropes...

...when Riley suddenly slaps his hand away, drilling the masked man with
a right hand!]

GM:  Ohh!

[The crowd roars as Riley throws right after right after right, forcing
the masked man back into the ropes where he whips him across...

...and floors him with an overhead elbow smash!]

GM:  DOWN GOES THE MASKED MAN!!

[Riley pumps a fist to the cheering crowd as he moves in on the downed
masked man.  He mimics taking off the mask to the crowd who cheers
wildly...

...but as Riley moves to do the act, the masked man rolls from the ring
and gets the heck out of town to the jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  He wasted too much time, Gordo.  Riley had his chance but he blew
it because he was sucking up to these idiots in the crowd!

GM:  Well... you may be right about the wasting time part.  Vernon Riley
with another win but once again, his past is coming back to haunt him
thanks to Anton Layton.  Fans, I'm gonna try and get Vernon over here
for some comments but we've got to take a break.  We'll be right back!

[A fired-up Vernon Riley is still in the ring, shouting at the
retreating masked man as we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

Back from commercial, Gordon and Bucky are joined by the fat man who
just fended off another attack, Vernon Riley.]

GM: Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night, fans, and we just witnesses
before the break _another_ attack on Vernon Riley by a man clad in all
black.

VR: Well, ya know, Gawdahn, it's like they say.  It's deja vu all over
again.  We played this whole thing out ten years ago, and Layton wants
to play the game again.  Maybe he's hoping that this time, there'll be a
different outcome.

But what I'm wondering is why he didn't learn his lesson the first time.

[Riley pauses, visibly fighting to remain calm.]

VR: I don't know why you think it's gonna be any different this time
around, Layton.  It don't look like time has been too good to you, you
know what I'm saying?  There's a little more...siiiiize around your
stomach...a little less hair on top of your head...a little more flab on
your arms, Layton.

So am I worried, Gawdahn?  Am I...afraaaaid of this crazy lunatic?  He's
been warning me, been telling me of the conflict that is to come.  Been
telling me to be afraid, to be scared of what he's gonna bring this time
around.

[Riley shakes his head.]

VR: There ain't enough of you left to be scared of, Layton.

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, Gawdahn, and that's what
we're seeing with Layton already.  Pulling the same old crap he pulled
ten years ago.  The Spike.  Masked men wearing all black.  The threats. 
Ain't none of it new, Myers.  And ain't none of it spooky, creepy or
scary either.

So you want to do this over...and over...and over...and over...again,
Layton?

As long as you're game for the beatings, I'm game for giving them.

[And with a whoop, Riley walks off camera, leaving the announce team
behind.]

GM:  Vernon Riley is ready for a war!  Fans, let's go backstage with
Jason Dane!

[We cut to the backstage area where we see Jason Dane standing by with
Juan Vasquez. The former National Champion is dressed in a blue and
white striped dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and
a pair of khaki slacks. He shows no signs of injury from the attack he
sustained two weeks ago, but he doesn't look to be all that happy,
either. Just then, Dane begins to speak.]

JD: Hi there, folks! Jason Dane here, with Juan Vasquez! Juan, two weeks
ago, you were laid out by MAMMOTH Mizusawa. The beast from Japan's been
gunning for you ever since he and his manager, Louis Matsui announced
their intentions to face you one-on-one in the ring. Your thoughts?

JV: My thoughts?

[A slight grin.]

JV: I think that MAMMOTH Slam he gave me hurt like hell.

[He sighs.]

JV: Ain't no denying that much, Jason...but it didn't hurt me as much as
it hurt the thing most important to me.

My _pride._

[He scratches his cheek, looking a bit annoyed.]

JV: I don't live in a cave shut off from the world, people. I know what
they've been sayin'. I've heard the whispers...I've heard the chatter...

...people think I'm duckin' MAMMOTH Mizusawa.

[His eyes move briefly to Jason Dane, giving off an intense glare,
before focusing back on the camera.]

JV: They say I'm ignoring him. They think that I'm trying to put the
match off long as long as possible, hoping that it'll just go away. But
ya' know what that implies to me?

[A chuckle.]

JV: They think I'm scared.

[A slight shake of his head. He can't seem to believe anyone would
actually think that.]

JV: I ain't scared of no man, folks. I think I've proven that enough
times already.

JD: But Mizusawa's left behind a trail of battered bodies and broken
bones. He banished Tumaffi from the AWA. He defeated the dreaded Ebola
Zaire with _ease._ What makes you think you'll fair any better?

JV: MAMMOTH might be twenty feet tall, he might be able to bodyslam
Godzilla and he might've damn near put me through the ring two weeks
ago...but he's still just a man, Dane.

Men still get tired.

Men still get hurt.

Men still _bleed._

[He stares into the camera as he finishes that last statment, the growl
in his voice making it very much a threat.]

JV: MAMMOTH Mizusawa's been callin' me out for a while now. He's been
hoping and begging for me to look his way. He wants to put me out like
he did Tumaffi. He wants to take that #1 spot in the rankings. He wants
his opportunity to show the world just how much of a monster he really
is.

[Juan places his hands on his hips and stares up with a sigh.]

JV: Well, kiddo...be careful what ya' wish for. 'Cause now?

[He lowers his head and stares straight into the camera with a
determined look.]

JV: You've got my full attention.

[A pause as his eyes narrow just ever so slightly...]

JV: And when we step into that ring?

[...as a dangerous smirk crosses his lips.]

JV: I'll show you exactly what being a monster's all about.

[We fade to another part of the backstage area where Mark Stegglet is
standing between the two members of The Ghost Dancers.  Michael Keening
is wearing street clothes and appears fairly relaxed while Jason Keening
is in his wrestling gear and shifts from foot to foot, visibly
containing pent-up energy.]

MS:  I'm here with Jason Keening who is scheduled to take on MAMMOTH
Mizusawa later this evening in a Lady Luck Challenge match.  Jason,
before we get to that, I understand that you have a bit of an
announcement to make?

[Stegglet moves his microphone over in front of the younger Keening
brother.]

JK: That's right.  But first, I want to address some questions I've been
hearing about my brother and I helping out Juan Vasquez in his war
against the Southern Syndicate.  Some people think we haven't been doing
enough... some people wonder why we're doing anything at all.  And I
have to be honest with everyone, we are not all that particularly close
to Juan.

MS: You're not?  But... you've come out to help him in the past when
he's gotten outnumbered.

JK: Yep, and we intend to keep on doing that.  But I wanted to clarify
our motivations because you see... Michael and I aren't helping out
Vasquez because he's a friend of ours.  We're helping out because he's
fighting the good fight.  He's taking on the Southern Syndicate
single-handed and... he deserves our support in that.

MS: All right but... what does this have to do with an announcement?

JK: I just want to be clear about why I'm formally declaring that I'll
be taking part in the 30-man Rumble match at Memorial Day Mayhem!

MS: Really?  But does it really matter why you're signing up?  I mean,
it is for a shot at the National title after all.

JK: I'm not after the title, Jason.  I won't deny that I'll take a shot
at it if I get the chance but... I'm signing up for the Rumble because I
don't want Juan Vasquez to be in that match without at least one person
watching his back.  The whole Syndicate's gonna be there so we need to
even up the numbers a little bit.

MS: So you're announcing that not only are you going to be in the Rumble
but that you'll also be helping out Juan Vasquez as well?

JK: That's why I'm in it.  If it comes down to just Juan and I at the
very end, we'll let the cards fall where they may but until that point,
he's up against some daunting numbers so he can use all the help he can
get.

MS: All right!  An interesting perspective on that match.  But before
Memorial Day Mayhem, you've got a big obstacle in front of you tonight
as you're stepping into the ring with a man who's not only seven feet
tall and 420 pounds but also one who's on a winning streak lately. 
You've got to be a little concerned?

JK: Concerned?  Sure, anytime you face an opponent with that much
physical strength, you have to be a little concerned.  But this isn't
the first time I've taken on a seven-footer before and my track record
against bigger guys speaks for itself.  But there's more to this match
than just the Lady Luck Challenge...

[The younger Keening brother turns to face the camera and his expression
hardens.]

JK: Mizusawa... as far as I'm concerned, you and your manager are yet
more examples of exactly what's wrong with the AWA today!  You think you
can waltz into the ring and manhandle my brother and I and just get away
with it?  NOT ON MY WATCH, PUKE!!

[Keening pauses to catch his breath, his skin darkening as his emotions
run higher.]

JK: When I was invited to come watch SuperClash in person, I was happily
retired... content to stay away from the business and be a spectator and
not a participant.  Raphael Rhodes and his behavior changed my mind
about that.  But you and Matsui are cut from the exact same cloth!  My
brother and I have been fighting that sort of crap for years and
tonight... I don't care what people are predicting about our match.  I
don't care that people think that I'm just cannon fodder being fed to
the unstoppable giant that is MAMMOTH Misuzawa... tonight... I take a
stand.  I take a stand for all of the guys in this business that don't
cheat and lie and steal to get ahead.  I take a stand for all the blood,
sweat and tears that wrestlers have been sacrificing for years without
selling their souls to snakes like Matsui and Waterson.  I'm taking a
stand...

[Keening steps forward to get closer to the camera.]

JK: ...AGAINST YOU!

[And with that, Keening walks out of view with his brother trailing in
his wake as Mark Stegglet watches the Ghost Dancers leave.]

MS: Jason Keening throwing his name into the ring for the Rumble match
as a stated ally of Juan Vasquez but he's not overlooking MAMMOTH
Misuzawa either!  Back to you, Gordon and Bucky!

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

GM:  Thanks, Mark.  Some big news right there as wrestling superstar
Jason Keening - someone who has wrestled in big matches all over the
globe - he's entering the Rumble!

BW:  But isn't this just the best example of what a friggin' Boy Scout
Keening is?

GM:  What do you mean?

BW:  He's entered the Rumble.  He was one of thirty men who have the
chance of a lifetime - a chance to earn a National Title match - and
he's more concerned with someone else's chances in the match. 
Unbelievable.

GM:  Jason Keening has pledged to watch Juan Vasquez' back and to stand
side-by-side inside the ring with him at Memorial Day Mayhem to battle
the Southern Syndicate... but don't think for a second that if the
opportunity presents itself, he won't go for the win, Bucky.  Jason
Keening knows how prestigious that National Title is and he knows he'd
love a shot at it - whether it's against Sweet Daddy Williams or Stevie
Scott.

BW:  It's cute that you think Williams actually stands a chance.

GM:  You don't?

BW:  He stands the same shot that a Twinkie in his pantry stands of
surviving the night, Gordo.

GM:  Give me a break.  Fans, coming up nex-

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#

[BOOM! IMMEDIATE BOOS!]

BW: WOOOOO! 

["Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode kicks into gear. The curtains part and
out saunters none other than "Hollywood" Larry Doyle.. he pauses a
moment in the entrance and surveys the audience. His surly mood just
_oozes_ off his body. Which.. by the way.. in case ya were wondering..
is adorn in a beautiful orange tuxedo. His feet, ya ask? Well one orange
loafer and an orange boot obviously! Doyle stands in the entrance and
stares incredulously at the audience that is boo'ing the everylovin'
hell out of "Da Man wit Da Plan". Doyle pulls his own mic out of his
pocket. Why? Cause AWA spares no expense for Da Bombahs bay-bee!]

LD: No. No. No. No. _NO_!

[Doyle shakes his head furiously from side to side.]

LD:  Uh uh. 

_NOT_ happenin' tonight!

[Doyle wags a furious finger at those in attendance unfortunate enough
to be witnessing his soon-to-come lecture.]

LD:  You can aaalllll thank The Rockstar Express. Thanks to _them_!
Thanks to their ridiculous.. atrocious.. unfathomable.. _assault_...

[Rockstar POP!]

LD:  .. oh.. will you all please.. _CRAM IT_!

[BOO!]

LD:  Thanks to those two _twits_.. Bomberfest 2010.. the bikini contest
extravaganza.._our_ gift to _you_.. has been _CANCELLED_! Thanks to
them, the bevy of beauties I had scheduled to brighten the day for you
slovenly ingrates will _not_ be in attendance tonight. That's right,
baby, a _BEVY_ of beauties! Slipped right through your stubby little
fingers thanks to the actions of those two men!

Thanks to them, you're stuck looking at women like.. women like.. um..
women like _her_!

[Doyle points to an.. um.. a big boned woman sitting in attendance. She
stares uncomfortably at the camera.]

LD:  Congratulations, idiots! 

[Doyle mockingly applauds.]

LD:  You have the _audacity_ to interrupt the Greatest. Dang. Buffet.
The weerrrlllddd has eeevvvaaaarrrrr seen! The wonderful _gift_ that the
AWA gave to Da Bombers for actually sprinkling a touch of class across
this joint. You had the _nerve_ to interrupt it, to assault us, and to
ruin all that beautiful food that I.. err.. that the AWA provided!

Well.. congratulations, boys! You've made it onto..

[Drumroll please.. Doyle digs into his seemingly infinite pockets and
yanks a piece of paper out. He shoves the dang thing _hhiiigghh_ up into
the air for all to see.]

LD:  .. the _LIST_!

[Another list?! Who is this guy?!]

LD:  This little piece of paper.. is your death warrant. Read the
letters, _Rockstars_.. you've just been declared Da Bombers..

[Doyle points at the two words on the top of the list. Dotting between
the three.]

LD:  Mortal. _ENEMIES_!
 
[Doyle puts microphone on the ground for a moment and whips a big magic
marker out his apartment sized pocket. He scribbles two huge words
across the page. It reads "Rockstar Express". He picks the microphone up
and holds the paper up for all to see.]

LD:  ROCKSTAR EXPRESS, BABY! THEY BE _DEAD MEN_!

[Doyle does a little awkward strut that can't be described.. really.. it
was that bad.] 

LD:  Listen to me, and listen to me good. You, two sirs, have crossed da
lliinnnnnneeee! And now.. _now_.. well, now your going to have to pay
for your actions two weeks ago. Your going to have to _pay_ for
destroying the sure fire _classic_ that was to be Bomberfest 2010! 

And it'll start tonight when Da Bombers win them that little "Battle
Royal" as it was so incorrectly termed. Incorrect because.. A. There
will be no battle to it.. Da Bombers are _obviously_ the clear cut
winners-to-be! And B. Because the only _royalish_ thing that'll be in
this arena for _that_ match is gonna be me.. Baldwin and Nova!

[Doyle cackles at his bad jokes.]

LD:  You two men.. well, destroying your lives is just going to be
_gravy_!

GRAVY I SAY! 

[Doyle paces backwards.]

LD:  We'll see you two chumps later tonight!

I'm out, idiots!

[The fans relentlessly jeer Larry Doyle as he makes his exit from the
ringside area, leaving Gordon and Bucky behind.]

BW: No buxom beauties, Gordo!  Can you believe it?

GM:  A small price to pay for seeing him falling around in food last
time, I'd say, Bucky.

BW:  You... I... I can't even talk to you now, Gordo!

GM:  Another miracle!  Fans, let's go up to the ring for the Lady Luck
Challenge!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... the reigning LLC winner... 

[Tomoyasu Hotei’s “Battle Without Honor or Humanity” starts to play over
the speakers. Louis Matsui emerges with a smirk from the entranceway. He
is followed closely by the scowling seven-footer, MAMMOTH Mizusawa,
dressed in a black singlet, black knee pads and a pair of black boots.
Matsui points with his thumb over his shoulders at Mizusawa, who raises
both his arms in the air. Both men start to make their way down the
aisle.]

MC: Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420 pounds and being
accompanied to the ring by LOUIS MATSUI, he is MAMMOTH . . .
MIZUSAWA!!!

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

Reaching the ringside area, MAMMOTH Mizusawa grabs the top rope and
pulls himself onto the ring apron, then steps over the ropes and into
the ring. He heads to his corner, where he is joined by Matsui, who has
climbed onto the ring apron but staying on the outside as the music
fades.]

MC:  And his opponent...

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

MC:  From Los Angeles, California... weighing in at 272 pounds, here
is...

[The brawny figure is wearing buckskin pants with leather fringes along
the outside of the legs along with black-dyed tall moccasins. A simple
brown leather strap with Paiute beadwork sewn into it circles his head
as long, straight black hair cascades down around his shoulders.  It is
the former "Screaming Drillbit" Jason Keening. Keening acknowledges the
cheering crowd with a grin and a wave but the smile vanishes as he looks
toward the ring and begins marching down the aisle with a purposeful
gait.]

MC:  JAAAAASON KEEEEENING!

[The music begins to fade out as Keening rolls underneath the bottom
rope into the ring and quickly mounts one of the turnbuckles where he
pumps his fist into the air while the crowd cheers loudly...

...and MAMMOTH Mizusawa comes stampeding across the ring towards his
exposed back!]

GM:  LOOK OUT!!

[Mizusawa's attempt to blindside Keening comes up short as the younger
Keening brother spins around, leaping off the middle rope to catch the
Asian giant on the chin with a dropkick that staggers the big man!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Where did THAT come from?

GM:  Jason's taking a page out of his big brother's playbook!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  The referee has started the match but these two started it without
him!

[With the giant stumbled, Keening tries to take advantage of the
opportunity, throwing everything but the kitchen sink at the big man -
punches, kicks, elbows, chops - all designed to topple the giant down to
the canvas.]

GM:  He's trying to take the big man down!  Remember, Keening's 290
pounds on his own - he's not a small man by any means at all, Bucky!

BW:  No, he's certainly not but it'd be a mistake to try to match power
with Mizusawa.

[Keening ducks down, throwing his shoulder into the midsection of the
stunned giant and somehow manages to get enough momentum to bullrush him
back into the buckles.]

GM:  Look at that!  

BW:  I don't know if Mizusawa has tangled with someone with the power of
Keening yet - other than Tumaffi obviously...

[With the giant backed down, Keening grabs the middle rope and slams his
shoulder into the ample midsection of the big man.]

GM:  Keening, trying to knock some of the wind out of the giant's
sails...

[An intense Keening throws shoulder after shoulder - four in total -
into the ribcage of Mizusawa as the referee starts a count for being in
the corner.  Breaking the attack, Keening grabs Mizusawa by the wrist.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed!


"OHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd groans as Mizusawa seems to reverse the whip with ease before
taking Keening down with a big short-arm clothesline.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky.

BW:  He absorbed everything Keening dished out early and just shrugged
it off!  Tell me this guy is not the most awesome force in the entire
AWA, Gordo!

GM:  He certainly is awe-inspiring.  You just have to wonder what in the
world is going to happen when he and Juan Vasquez finally collide in
that Two Out Of Three Falls showdown.

BW:  I want to know what's gonna happen with him in the Rumble!  Who can
throw him over the top?  No one!  That's who!  I'm going on record right
now and picking Mizusawa to win the Rumble!

GM:  Wait a second - I thought you picked Devastation!

BW:  Huh?  No, turn up your hearing aid - I just picked the giant!

GM:  But earlier you... oh, forget it.  

[Mizusawa slowly reaches down, pulling Keening up off the mat...

...when Keening erupts with a right hand to the midsection.  A haymaker
right hand to the skull follows up, knocking the giant back a couple of
steps.]

GM:  Look at that!  Keening's blows are having an effect on the big man!
 He's just big enough and strong enough for his firepower to have an
effect on the giant!

[With the giant stunned again, Keening attempts to wrap his massive arms
around the more-massive torso of the giant.]

GM:  What the-?  A belly-to-belly!

[Keening plants his feet, ready to attempt the throw...

...but the giant scores with a headbutt to the skull, sending Keening
stumbling away, clutching his forehead.]

GM:  Good grief!  What a headbutt by the giant!

[Grabbing Keening by the wrist, the giant hurls him into the corner
where he quickly approaches, pushing Keening's face back...

...and SMASHING down across the chest with a frying pan-like overhand
chop!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  You could hear that one down in Mexico, daddy!

GM:  What a shot by Mizusawa and Louis Matsui is screaming orders to him
from outside the ring, trying to make sure the giant stays focused on
the task at hand.

BW:  And don't forget, these Lady Luck Challenge matches only have ten
minute time limits.  Mizusawa can't take too much time for anything in
there. 

GM:  This is the giant's third Lady Luck Challenge match - two more wins
and he'll be in a spot where he could win a shot at the National Title.

BW:  No one's been this deep into the LLC yet either, Gordo.

GM:  They certainly haven't.  Mizusawa pulling Keening up off the mat
now...

[Pushing him back into the corner again, Mizusawa unleashes another
skin-blistering chop to the chest.]

GM:  Goodness.

BW:  How'd you like to be on the receiving end of one of those, Gordo?

GM:  No thank you.

[Mizusawa whips Keening from corner to corner before rushing across...

...and catching both of Keening's feet in the face as Keening kicks up
in the corner!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The giant stumbles back out of the corner as Keening regroups, rushing
forward...

...and BLASTING Mizusawa with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Big clothesline by Keening!

BW:  But it didn't take him down, Gordo!  All the power that Keening's
got behind those clothesline and it didn't take him off his feet! 
That's incredible!

GM:  Keening to the ropes...

[A back elbow catches the incoming Keening on the chin, sending him
falling back to the ropes.]

GM:  The giant caught him!  Keening might have been thinking about
another one of those clotheslines but Mizusawa saw it coming and had the
counter waiting for him...

[Which gives Mizusawa the chance to rush towards Keening, arm extended.]

GM:  CLOTHESLI- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon's shout as Keening drops down, taking the top
rope with him, and causes Mizusawa to stumble over the ropes, crashing
down to the floor in a heap!]

GM:  What a move by Keening!  What a counter!

BW:  And I think we just saw EXACTLY how you might have to eliminate
MAMMOTH Mizusawa from the Rumble!  

GM:  Jason Keening's on a knee... the referee's counting Mizusawa!  A
countout's as good as a pinfall in this one.  If the giant is counted
out, he loses the match and Keening's in the next Lady Luck Challenge
match!

[But Keening doesn't want a win that way, rolling out to the floor,
trying to pull the giant off the floor.]

GM:  Keening went out to the floor after him...

BW:  Big mistake.  Take the countout, idiot.

GM:  Keening doesn't want the countout!  He wants that pinfall.  He
wants to be the first to pin the giant in the AWA!

[Keening drags the giant off the mat by the arm, pushing him under the
ropes back into the ring.  He rolls under the ropes himself, grabbing a
side headlock on the kneeling giant...

...and leaps up, smashing his face into the mat with a modifed bulldog!]

GM:  Whoa!  

[Keening muscles the giant over onto his back, reaching back to hook a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[But the big man powers out, throwing Keening off of him with a press.]

GM:  Good grief!  What a kickout!

[The Native American doesn't flince, popping back up to his feet, and
meeting the giant just as he gets up...]

GM:  Big forearm smash by Keening!  Another one!  He's got the giant
reeling again!

[Grabbing the giant by the back of the head, Keening crouches down...

...and EXPLODES upwards with a huuuuuge European uppercut to the jaw,
snapping the giant's head back!]

GM:  Have you EVER seen anything like-

[Keening shocks the crowd by dipping down, looking for the scoop slam.]

GM:  HE'S GONNA SLAM HIM!  HE'S GONNA-

[But the giant's having none of that, delivering a hard elbow down to
the exposed ribcage to break the attempt.  As Keening stumbles back, the
giant grabs him by the head...

...and CRUSHES him with another mammoth headbutt, knocking Keening down
to a knee.]

GM:  Good lord!

[With Keening kneeling in front of him, the giant rains down a heavy
forearm smash to the back of the neck, knocking Keening flat on his face
down on the canvas...]

GM:  Listen to Matsui!

"DROP IT!"

[A nod from Mizusawa confirms the order as he moves to the ropes, slowly
bouncing off...

...and DROPPING a 420 pound legdrop squarely on the back of the neck!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  I think these fans here in the WKIK Studios said it all right
there, Bucky!

BW:  Keening will be lucky to MAKE IT to Memorial Day Mayhem if this
keeps up, Gordo.

GM:  Mizusawa rolls him to his back - there's a cover for one... for
two... for thr-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  He kicked out!  Keening kicked out!

BW:  I don't know how he did that.  I thought this one was all over,
daddy!

GM:  Jason Keening showing incredible drive and determination to kick
out of that... pardon the pun... but that mammoth legdrop from Mizusawa
to the back of the neck!

[An angry giant reaches down, yanking Keening up to his feet in one lift
by the head...

...and wraps both hands around his throat!]

GM:  TUSK CRUSHER!  LOOK OUT!!

[The giant hoists Keening up with both hands around the throat, looking
to drive him down to the canvas...

...but at the peak of the lift, Keening slams a knee squarely into the
giant's face, stunning him.  Mizusawa's grip breaks as Keening falls,
hooking a front facelock!]


"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"


GM:  DDT!  DDT OUT OF THE TUSK CRUSHER!!  MY GOD IN HEAVEN!!

[With the giant motionless after having his head SPIKED into the mat,
Keening muscles him over onto his shoulders, throwing his body across
the big man as Matsui SCREAMS from the floor!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- 


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP!!  WE WERE SO CLOSE!  SO CLOSE TO SEEING
MIZUSAWA BROUGHT DOWN RIGHT THERE!!  

BW:  It was an awesome counter by Keening and it almost cost him
everything!

GM:  Matsui looks like he needs an oxygen tank out there.  He can't
believe what he just saw either.  MAMMOTH Mizusawa's undefeated streak
almost came to a big time crashing halt right there, Bucky.

BW:  It sure did.

GM:  We're past the five minute mark in this one - already more than
halfway to the time limit.  Keening and Mizusawa have done some damage
to each other but now's the time to kick it to another level.  Now's the
time to finish things off.

[With the giant down, Keening grabs the arm of the big man, scissoring
it between his legs...

...and falling back into a cross armbreaker!]

GM:  Armbar!  Look at that!

[The crowd roars as the giant screams out in pain.]

GM:  Keening's going for a different approach!  Trying to submit the
giant!

BW:  I don't think anyone's done that yet, Gordo.  

GM:  Neither do I and I think Jason Keening's doing a favor for Juan
Vasquez tonight as well!  Vasquez is seeing Mizusawa made vulnerable for
perhaps the first time and he might be learning a few things from
Keening's approach in this matchup, Bucky.

BW:  That's absolutely right.

GM:  Mizusawa's got his hands locked - fighting off the armbar.  Keening
has to break his grip for that armbar to be fully effective and right
now the giant's hands are locked together tight as a vise.

[The giant rolls to his knees, still holding the grip as Keening tries
to crank back on the armbar...

...and then rises to his feet, still holding.]

GM:  Oh no!

[With a shout, Mizusawa hoists Keening off the canvas still in the
armbar, hoisting him as high as he can...

...and then DRIVES him down to the canvas with a thunderous powerbomb!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  That's it.

GM:  I think so too.  

[The giant stands over the downed Keening, glaring down at him as Matsui
shouts instructions from the floor.]

GM:  Mizusawa... there's the cover but he sure took his time, Bucky...

[The referee drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- 

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  AGAIN!  AGAIN KEENING KICKS OUT!!  Amazing!

BW:  The timekeeper just told me we're past the seven minute mark. 
We've got less than three minutes to go in the time limit for this
match, daddy!

GM:  What's it gonna take?  What's it gonna take to put Keening down for
a three count?

[A seemingly-furious Mizusawa reaches down, grabbing Keening by the
throat, yanking him up to his feet...]

BW:  This.

[And grabbing with the other hand, the giant powers Keening up into a
military press, holding him high above the ring...]

GM:  Oh my stars.

BW:  Hope you enjoy the view, Keening!

GM:  Mizusawa's got him up!  He's got him high!  He's got him-

[He spins Keening a bit and THROWS him down to violent impact with the
MAMMOTH Slam!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Nighty night, Boy Scout!

[The giant immediately drops down this time, even going so far as to
hook a leg as the referee starts the count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner, moving on in the Lady
Luck Challenge...

MAMMOTH... MIZUUUUSAAAWAAAA!

[The crowd jeers as Louis Matsui jumps up and down outside the ring,
celebrating the win for his charge...

...and then screaming at the downed Keening.]

GM:  Matsui's such a poor winner.  His man won the match and now he's
laying the badmouth on Jason Keening.  Unbelievable.

[Climbing into the ring, Matsui continues to shout at Keening...

...and then draws the ire of the fans as he buries a boot into the
ribcage of the downed Keening!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  There's no call for that!

[Matsui is still running his mouth as he lays in another stiff kick to
the ribs...

...when suddenly the crowd lights up at the sight of Michael Keening and
Juan Vasquez charging out of the locker room, diving into the ring where
Louis Matsui has exited.

But Mizusawa has not.]

GM:  Uh oh.

[Michael Keening drops to a knee next to his brother, checking his
condition.  Vasquez does the same, keeping an eye on the giant who is
glaring right at him.]

GM:  This could get ugly in a hurry.  This could- now what do YOU want?!

[A ranting and raving Louis Matsui approaches the desk.]

LM:  I WANNA DRAW THE CARD!  I WANNA SEE WHO'S NEXT!

GM:  Alright, fine... draw the card...

[But before Matsui can do that, the Chairman, Big Jim Watkins makes his
appearance in the aisle to some cheers from the crowd.  Looking at the
action in the ring, he shakes his head as he approaches the desk.]

GM:  Mr. Watkins, I don't think you're scheduled to be-

JW:  I know, I know, Gordon.  But heck, I saw all this fighting go on
out here and I just couldn't resist.  This is a heck of a show we've got
goin' on!

GM:  Well, yes, it is but-

LM:  BUT it's time for me to draw our next card so if you'd please
excuse-

[Watkins shakes his head, placing one of his paw-like hands over the
deck of cars.]

JW:  No, no... I'm afraid I can't let you do that.

[Matsui is fit to be tied at this point.]

LM:  AND WHY NOT?!  We won the match!  We get to pick-

[Watkins raises a large hand.]

JW:  Yes, you won.  And yes, you do get to pick the next card...

...usually.

[The crowd starts to buzz.]

JW:  But you know the way Big Jim thinks, right?  When people want to
fight?  We let 'em fight.  And when people want to SEE people fight, we
REALLY let 'em fight.

The last time I checked - those two boys standing up in the ring... they
want to fight.

[Cheer!]

JW:  And correct me if I'm wrong, Dallas... but I think you want to SEE
them fight!

[BIG CHEER!  Watkins nods and thumbs through the deck of cards.]

JW:  Lessee... ah yeah, here we go...

[Watkins pulls out a card and slaps it down on the desk.]

JW:  Nine of hearts.  Juan Vasquez.  

[Watkins grins at the crowd's roar.]

JW:  Let's hook 'em up.

[Matsui eyes Watkins up and down... and then slowly nods his head.]

JW:  Good.  We're in agreement.  But we do have some changes to make to
the match.

LM:  Wait a second!  I didn't agree to-

[Watkins raises the big hand again.]

JW:  These changes are being forced by WKIK.  I have been informed by
building management that they will not allow a steel cage match to
happen here in the Studios due to size issues.

Therefore, the steel cage portion of the match will not happen.

[The crowd boos a bit at this news.]

JW:  So, here's what I got for ya...

Two out of three falls works for me.  First fall, Texas Bullrope... I
like it.

[Watkins holds up a second finger.]

JW:  Second fall will be a Street Fight.  Anything goes.

[And finally, a third.]

JW:  And the third, you get your I Quit match.

[Watkins extends his hand to Matsui.]

JW:  We got a deal?

[Matsui eyes Watkins for a moment...

...and then shakes his hand.]

LM:  Deal.

[The camera cuts to the ring where Juan Vasquez and MAMMOTH Mizusawa are
standing in the ring, glaring at one another from across the ring 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 fade back up on the announcers where Gordon and Bucky are
standing alongside Soup Bone Samson who is clutching a sheet of paper in
his hand.]

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans, and at this time,
we've been joined by the man who will face Calisto Dufresne one on one
at Memorial Day Mayhem - Soup Bone Samson!

[There are cheers from the crowd - cheers that Samson doesn't
acknowledge.]

GM:  Samson, I know this match in a few weeks means a lot to you. 
There's been so much talk about people lining up to get their chance to
avenge City Jack.  But you are the first one to get that chance... to
get Dufresne one on one inside the ring.  What's on your mind right now?

[Samson looks quizzically at Gordon.]

SBS:  On my mind?  You want to know what's on my mind?  Gordon, if we
want this show to stay family friendly, it's best if I keep what's on my
mind to myself, ya hear?

[Gordon nods.]

GM:  Certainly.  I'm sure you have a lot of anger towards Dufresne as
many of us do.

SBS:  This isn't about anger, Gordon.  This is about what's right.

When we sign on to be a part of this sport, we recognize certain risks. 
We recognize that I could throw a right hand and shatter every bone in
it.  We recognize that I could run off the ropes and rip my knee to
shreds.

Broken bones.  Torn muscles.  Concussions.

The kind of things that shorten careers and potentially end careers.

[Samson nods.]

SBS:  We step into the ring knowing that there's a certain level of
trust involved.  We have to beat up someone to win a match - that's how
it works.  We beat people up to win.  

But there's the trust there.  The trust that if I don't try to put you
on the shelf forever, you don't try to do the same thing to me.  It's a
code that we live by in this business.

Win.  Hurt.  But don't cripple.  Don't maim.  Don't try to take away
someone's livelihood.

[The big burly black man glares into the camera.]

SBS:  Most of us play by those rules every night.  Some don't.  Some men
like Stevie Scott drop people on their heads with a piledriver that has
no purpose other than to try and end someone's career.  That's not 'bout
winning a match... that's personal.

And then there's Calisto Dufresne.

[Samson intertwines his fingers, cracking his knuckles.]

SBS:  Dufresne is a whole other beast, Gordon.  Dufresne isn't happy
with trying to end a career in the ring with his best move.  He goes
further than that.

He brings in weapons.  He can't use his hands to do it so he brings in
weapons.  Brass knuckles.  Chains.  

[Pause.]

SBS:  Fire.

That's the kind of man he is.  The kind of man who'd throw fire into a
man's eye to try to get the best of him.

And then?  When that man comes to say goodbye to his fans, he attacks
him again.

That's the kind of snake Dufresne is... the kind who would try to take
away a man's sight to get a few more dollars in his pocket.

[Samson nods, digging into his jeans pocket and pulling out his wallet. 
He reaches into the wallet, withdrawing a small pile of cash, throwing
it down on the podium.]

SBS:  Here's my money, Dufresne.

Come take my eye.

[Samson grabs the money, throwing it at the camera.]

SBS:  COME TAKE IT, YOU SON OF A BITCH!

[Grabbing a pen from a stunned Gorodn Myers, Samson signs the waiver
Dufresne put down earlier and slams it down before he shoves over the
announce podium, storming out of view as a shocked Gordon and Bucky
watch.]

GM:  I... wow.  

BW:  Calisto Dufresne needs to find a way out of that match and he needs
to do it now.

GM:  He can't!  The match is signed.  The waiver is signed.  Dufresne vs
Samson is on and it's on in just 23 days time!  Goodness, I just can't
wait, Bucky.

BW:  This is... my god... what in the world is Samson gonna do to him?

GM:  We'll all find out together at Memorial Day Mayhem!  Let's go up to
the ring for our next match!

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

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit.  Introducing first... from the Carolinas... Jack Barr!

[No reaction for Barr who looks like a pretty grizzled veteran.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[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.]

MC:  He is accompanied to the ring by the collector of oddities... Percy
Childes... from Parts Unknown... 

NENSHOOOOOU!

[The hooded man's head pops up at the sound of his name, looking around
at the jeering fans before rolling under the ropes, immediately coming
up to a knee.  He quickly pulls off his robe, tossing it over the ropes
as his painted face is exposed.]

GM:  Nenshou has not entered the Rumble, Bucky.  A surprise to many.

BW:  I was told by Percy Childes that he considers the Rumble to be
beneath Nenshou's talent level.  He thinks Nenshou can earn a title shot
by beating competitors shoulders to the mat - not through over-the-rope
shenanigans.  His words.

GM:  An interesting point of view and one that could potentially cost
him a shot at the National Title...

[The bell rings as Nenshou comes out of his kneeling stance, moving
towards Barr who seems reluctant to engage the painted-face warrior.]

GM:  The man from the- ohh!

[A full extension push kick to the gut catches Barr off-guard, doubling
him up for a brutal axe kick to the back of the neck.  Nenshou drops to
a knee again, tilting his head to the side like he's listening to
something in the air.  Reaching down, he grabs Barr off the mat, pulling
him up into a three-quarter nelson before snapmaring him down to the mat
where he promptly drills Barr between the shoulderblades with a stiff
kick before hitting the ropes.]

GM:  Nenshou is so fluid in his movements, Bucky... like a- ohhh!

[A low seated dropkick creams Barr, knocking him backwards to his back. 
Nenshou pops up to a knee again, nodding his head in an offbeat fashion
as he slowly rises...

...and snaps off a quick elbowdrop to the sternum!]

GM:  Ohh... that'll knock the wind out of someone.

[Grabbing Barr by the hair again, Nenshou drags him up, lashing out with
a knife-edge chop across the chest.  A second chop sends Barr falling
back to the corner where Nenshou approaches, leaping into the air, and
snapping his leg back in a kick to the torso.  The blow stuns Barr long
enough to let Nenshou whip him across the ring.]

GM:  Watch this!

[With a cry from Childes, Nenshou breaks into a dash, handspringing
across the ring and DRIVING his elbow into the heart of the stunned
Barr.  Barr stumbles out of the corner into the waiting arms of Nenshou
who scoops him up, dropping him across his knee in a backbreaker before
quickly moving to the ropes where he climbs them in two steps before
gracefully backflipping off the top, crashing down across the chest of
the prone Barr.]

GM:  One.  Two.  And there's the three.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[Nenshou again pushes up to a knee, looking down at the motionless Barr
as an applauding Childes joins him in the ring, patting him on the
shoulder as he holds his crystal topped cane high for all to see as we
fade back to the announce desk where we see that there is a third man
standing alongside Gordon and Bucky.  The broad-shouldered form of Brent
Maverick dominates the left half of the screen.  Maverick is wearing a
brown leather vest draped over a white cotton work shirt, dark blue
suspenders, and blue jeans.  His tousled dark-brown hair and
nine-o'clock shadow look like they could use a comb and a razor, but
that's the way he always looks.  He has an untrimmed brown mustache, and
a serious expression on his square-jawed face.]

GM: An impressive victory for Nenshou right there but joining us here at
ringside is a man who has been called out, so to speak.  Brent Maverick,
if I can get a word...

BM: Ya got all night for words, Mr. Myers.  I didn't come out here ta
talk ta nobody but Shane Taylor or Kevin Slater.  I ain't a hard man ta
find, so if they gots somethin' ta say, they can come say it.  If they
wantsta do other'n talk, we can do that too.  It ain't like I push
pencils for a livin'.

BW: That's good, because ya need math in office jobs, daddy.  An' I can
see ya don't count real well.  ONE of you, TWO of them.

BM: Wilde, I know howta subtract certain things.

BW: So?

BM: Things like teeth.

[Bucky wisely concedes the point and raises no further issue.  Maverick
continues.]

BM: But I didn't come out here ta wise-talk an announcer.  I came out
here... there.  There they are.

[Shane Taylor and Kandi Kane lead the way as Kevin Slater brings up the
rear.  He's rocking a black Stetson cowboy hat that he tips at random to
ringside fans on the way out there.  The trio makes their way to the
announce area where Maverick is already standing.]

BM: Ya wanted me here, here I am.  Spit it out an' let's get on with it.
 If ya don't already know what I'm gonna say, ya just don't pay enough
attention.

[Slater raises a hand in protest.]

KS:  That's not how you want to start a negotiation, Brent.  That's a
hardline stance and that's just not gonna get things done you, buddy.

[Maverick mouths something off-mic that sounds particularly nasty. 
Shane Taylor starts towards him when Slater puts an arm across his chest
to hold him back.]

KS:  Easy, Shane.  Brent's just a little bit feisty.  I would be too...
hell, I WAS when I had to team with Bobby.  You were too, right?

[Shane nods.]

KS:  It's a tough spot to be in.  And Brent, I know you're new to the
AWA.  You've been around this business for a long time... just like I
have.  But you're new around here and you don't know the way things
work.  You don't know the way Bobby Taylor works.

He's a user, Brent.

[Slater pauses as the crowd cheers.]

KS:  He's a user.  He uses people and spits them out.  He finds people
that will get him where he wants to be and he takes advantage of it. 
And hey, Brent... we're not judging here.  We both fell for it.  So did
so many others.  Chris Myers, Luke Steele, Simon Ezra... hell, even the
Syndicate fell for Taylor's act.  Lau's a friggin' genius and he fell
for it.

So, it's easy to understand how you got sucked into it... how you found
yourself in this match with us on Memorial Day...

[Slater grins as he holds up a checkbook.]

KS:  Fortunately for you, it's also easy for you to get out of it.  

[More boos.]

KS:  Like I said, Brent... I know you're new around here.  I know you
may not have heard but there's a reason they call me The Man With The
Money around these parts, Brent.

I may not be the most-respected former World Champion ever... but I used
those two World Title reigns to make a whooooole lot of money, cowboy.

[A smirk from the former two-time World Champ.]

KS:  And a nice chunk of that money can be yours right now if you agree
to step aside and let Shane and I handle our business with his brother
at Memorial Day Mayhem.  

Come on, Brent... name your price....

[Maverick glares a hole through Slater who is waving his pen in his
direction.]

BM: Ya wanna price?  Fine.  My price is that one o' you steps out, too. 
Ya want me gone, ya gotta make it one on one.  I tol' ya what I came
for.  Justice.  I could care less about either one of ya.  I could care
less about what ya think Bobby Taylor deserves.  I could care less about
what ya think o' me.  An' I could care less about th' past.  I got my
own wrongs ta account for someday... but not ta you.  I ain't said word
one to Bobby Taylor or vice versa for a month, because there ain't
nothin' that needs sayin'.  I'm here because no one else will be.  I'm
here because I been where Bobby Taylor is before.  I know how it is ta
have fam'ly double-cross ya fer nothin' other than money.  

An' ya think money's gonna get me ta follow suit?  You got a better
chance o' bribin' gravity. 

[Shane Taylor has some words for Maverick, spitting them at him off-mic.
 Slater again tries to settle Shane down, putting a hand on his
shoulder.]

KS:  Easy, kid.  We agreed that I'd handle this.  Okay, fine... you've
got your pride... I get that.  But you know what else I get, Brent?  I
get some buzz backstage that says your company... your business that was
paying your bills without busting your skull?  I know the economy killed
it, Brent.  I know you're back inside this ring because your business
went under and you couldn't put food on the table for your family
anymore without it.  That's why you're back in the ring... on the
road... breaking your body and your spirit for a buck...

And I know I can fix it, Brent.

[Slater smirks.]

KS:  I know I can write you a check that will let you go home to your
family... to your wife, to your kids...

[The former "Wild Thing" starts to write in the checkbook.]

KS:  Let's try.... oh, how's this for an opening bid?

[Slater tears the check out, handing it over to Bucky Wilde whose eyes
go crazy wide as he sees the amount on it before handing it over to
Maverick... who looks at it.  His facial expression doesn't change...
but he's looking.  An awfully long time.  And Slater knows what that
means... the smirk turns into a grin.]

BM: This would set some problems to an end.

KS:  You wouldn't have to be in the tag match.  Hell, you wouldn't even
have to be in the Rumble, Brent.  You could walk backstage right now and
tell the suits to stick it.  You could go home to your family tonight
and never look back.

[Slater grins.]

KS:  In fact, I think you'd be betraying your own family if you DIDN'T
take the money and run.

[The crowd "oooohs" at that.  But Maverick holds firm, nodding his
head.]

BM: That's one way ta look at it.  I couldn't judge anyone who thought
so.

[Slater grins wider, sensing the closing of a deal.]

KS:  So, you'll take the deal?  You're out of the match?

[Maverick continues to speak.]

BM: Yer right about one thing.  My business crashed.  Lost my hide in
the recession.  I had ta come back.  It's why I went up ta Canada with
Holliday two years ago... but they don't book as frequent as I need. 
That's why I wanted th' million in the Stampede Cup. 

[Slater chuckles a bit.]

KS:  Well, Brent... I'm sure I don't have to remind you that YOU'RE the
reason you boys lost the million in the Cup.  YOU were the one who
wanted justice on Dufresne and Freeman and in the end, it cost you.  You
tried to be the stand-up guy and it burned ya.

But tonight?  Tonight, you've got the chance to make all that right with
one move.  You shake my hand, we make a deal... and everyone wins.

Except Bobby Taylor but deep down, you don't give a damn about him
anyways.

Whaddya say?

[Maverick rubs his chin, considering Slater's words.]

BM: All told, I really only do have one choice.  Put out yer hand.

[The crowd is in shock as Shane and Slater celebrate with a high-five
and a smug laugh.  Slater puts the hand out for the handshake.]

BM: Good... I wouldn't want anyone pickin' up these pieces an' gettin'
yer account number.

"RIIIIIIIP!"

[The fans explode as Maverick tears the check in two and plants it in
Slater's hand.  Slater stares blankly at the torn up check in his palm,
looking on in disbelief.]

BM: Ya know what would be betrayin' my fam'ly, Slater?  Teachin' my boys
ta take bribes an' stand by while others suffer for their decisions! 
Teachin' my kids ta be weasels... ta solve problems by runnin' away from
'em!  Teachin' my kids ta back off yer word, ta discredit yerself by
empty talk!  That ain't worth no amount o' money!  I gave a man my word
that I would be there at Memorial Day, an' when I give my word that I
will do somethin', I will walk through hell itself ta see it done!  

They say money talks... an' they're right.  It's sayin' "Kevin Slater
ain't man enough ta handle his own business with his own hands."  I'll
be damned before my money says the same about me!

[Slater drops the remains of the check, glaring a hole through
Maverick.]

KS:  You know what, Maverick?  A punk like you?  I don't need to handle
that business with MY hands!

[With that, Shane Taylor throws the blindside punch.  But it's not like
Maverick wasn't expecting it... he blocks it and retaliates, smashing
Shane in the side of the head with a right hook.  Slater goes for a
clothesline, but Brent ducks it and elbows him in the head.  The fans
cheer as they hope against hope that Brent can beat both men... he
erupts into a flurry of blows on both Shane Taylor and Kevin Slater. 
For a moment, it looks as if the Arizonan will indeed prevail.

But only for a moment.  Slater interrupts an attempted scoop-slam on
Shane with a knee to the ribs, and it's Shane who thus ends up slamming
Maverick... on the cold, unforgiving concrete.  And from there, there's
nowhere to go to avoid the torrential downpour of shoe leather as both
assailants stomp furiously on the man who has intruded on their plans.

The announcers scamper away, fleeing the scene as Shane Taylor and Kevin
Slater continue to stomp and kick the downed Maverick.  A cackling Kandi
Kane calls for Taylor to pick him up.  Pulling Maverick up, Taylor hooks
his arms behind him...

...which allows Kandi to rear back and slap Maverick across the face!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  We need some help out here!

BW:  Where's Bobby Taylor?

GM:  I don't even know if Bobby Taylor is HERE tonight, Bucky!

[Kandi drops back, leaving the two men to batter Maverick relentlessly. 
With Taylor holding the arms, Slater drives punch after punch after
punch into the body of the cowboy.  Slater shouts something to Taylor
who shoves Maverick into a waiting front facelock.]


"THIS is a CattleBuster!"


[But thankfully, before Slater can deliver the killshot, a small group
of AWA fan favorites led by Clayton Shaw and Colt Patterson send Slater
and Taylor scurrying away.]

GM:  Thank heavens for the arrival of these men to help Brent Maverick. 
If they hadn't arrived when they had, Slater was going to deliver that
CattleBuster DDT on the concrete floor... 

BW:  One way or another, Slater intended to take Brent Maverick OUT of
the tag team match at Memorial Day Mayhem here tonight.

GM:  You're certainly right about that but you know what?  He failed. 
And when Brent Maverick gets those two in the ring on May 31st in
Houston, Texas after what we just saw... well, Bobby Taylor may be the
least of their worries!  Fans, we've gotta take a quick break!

[Fade to black...

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 fade back up to the announce area where Gordon and Bucky are
standing alongside Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan, the Rockstar Express,
who are drawing some big cheers - especially from the female fans in the
crowd - as they join the announcers.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and a special welcome to Scotty and Marty, the
Rockstar Express!  

[A big high-five between the two celebrates... well, being welcomed, I
guess.]

GM:  Boys, it was just two weeks ago that you had a... shall we say...
little run-in with the Blonde Bombers and Larry Doyle.  Would you care
to explain what got you involved with that?

SS:  Absolutely, Gordon Myers, absolutely.  First though, we want to
thank all these wonderful fans here in Dallas, Texas, for all their
support but we also want to tell the great fans out in Oklahoma,
Louisiana, Tennessee, and everywhere else the AWA is going this summer
to be on the lookout, baby!  The Rockstar Express is goin' on a big tour
this summer right alongside the AWA and we're gonna be rockin' and
rollin' everywhere you look all over the mighty South, ain't that right,
Marty?

MM:  The tour bus is gassed up, the refreshments are packed, and come
Memorial Day, we're rollin' out for the best summer of our lives.  You
know, Gordon, Scotty and I have already been in front of a lot of the
fans we'll be seeing this summer and we just know they're waiting for an
encore performance like only we can deliver, jack.

[Another big cheer from the ladies.]

SS:  But you want to know about the Blonde Bombers, Gordon?  So do we.

GM:  I'm not sure I understand.

SS:  We want to know who in the heck the Blonde Bombers and especially
that fashion disaster Larry Doyle think they are!  They're out here like
they're god's gift to tag team wrestling, demanding things from the AWA
front office like some kind of... well, rock stars.

[Big cheer as Storm cracks a grin.]

SS:  We were sittin' in the back after our match and someone came by to
tell us there was a big walrus out here runnin' his mouth and causin' a
big ol' disturbance.

MM:  Then we saw it for ourselves and we knew what we had to do.  It
turned out that Doyle was fixin' to create a famine right here in
Dallas, Texas, with all the food he was shovelin' down his gullet!

[Another cheer!]

SS:  And we just couldn't allow that to happen to all these fans.  So,
we came out here and we looked at that big buffet table they were
feasting on.  There was... what was there, Marty?

MM:  Shrimp, lobster, cheese, prime rib...

SS:  Mmmm mmmm mmmm.  So good.  But what we didn't see, Gordon... is we
didn't see any dessert?

BW:  There WAS dessert!  There was a-

MM:  No, no... there wasn't any dessert to be seen at all.

SS:  And it just didn't seem right to us that they'd have all that great
food with no dessert.  So, we decided to dish some up.  A big ol'
serving of Humble Pie.

[Big cheer!]

SS:  Served up Rockstar Express style which might not taste quite right
for someone like Larry Doyle and his two goons.  But mmm mmm mmm... to
our fans, it hits the spot every time, baby.

[More cheers from the girls.]

SS:  But I'll tell ya what, Doyle.  We heard you out here earlier
runnin' us down.  So, you name the time... you name the place... and
we'll be more than happy to climb off our tour bus and serve up a nice
big second helping of that Humble Pie for y'all real soon.

MM:  Deal with that, jack.  Woooo!

[And another high-five between the duo happens before they walk off
camera together.]

GM:  I didn't even get to ask about the Battle Royal but you can bet
that they'll be ready if the Blonde Bombers have something up their
sleeves for them later tonight, Bucky.

BW:  But there was a cake!  I don't get it!

GM:  Oh brother.  Fans, let's go up to the ring for Jack Snyder!

[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... in the corner to my right... weighing
in at 270 pounds... from Parts Unknown... The Shadow!

[A bulky masked man raises both arms to jeers from the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["No Quarter" by Led Zeppelin starts up to a big reaction from the
Dallas crowd.]

MC:  He hails from Bullhead City, Arizona... weighing in at 255
pounds...

"DYING BREED" JAAAAAAACK SNYYYYYYDER!

[Snyder wastes no time in making his way quickly through the curtain and
to the ring, rolling in under the bottom rope.  Immediately upon
reaching his feet, he barrels across the ring, throwing himself into a
spear-like tackle into the gut of the masked man.]

GM:  Ohhh!  

BW:  A big ol' tackle but what did it get him?  Nothin'!

[The masked man absorbs the tackle, barely dropping back a step before
throwing a few elbows down into the back of the tackling Snyder.  A
swinging haymaker sends Snyder falling back into the ropes from the
impact.  Grabbing Snyder by the wrist, The Shadow fires him across the
ring.]

GM:  Big whip by the masked man...

[A wildly swung chop is ducked easily by Snyder who rebounds off the far
side, bouncing back and taking flight, wrapping his legs around the
waist of the Shadow and promptly battering him with right hands from the
position until the masked man topples over to the mat.]

GM:  JACK ATTACK!  JACK ATTACK!

[Once down on the mat, Snyder continues the assault, this time throwing
both rights and lefts to the face until the referee's count hits four
and he pops up out of the mount position.]

GM:  Snyder's up and he looks fired up, Bucky!

BW:  I'd rather not look at his busted up face, Gordo.

GM:  Nobody ever said that Jack Snyder's the prettiest dog in the fight
but he just might be the toughest.

BW:  We'll see about that at the Rumble when the entire Southern
Syndicate is gunnin' for him.  He thinks he can embarrass Ben Waterson
like he did and get away with it?  Silly boy.

[Snyder promptly hops up on the middle rope, lets loose a war whoop, and
hops off the middle rope, dropping an elbow firmly down on the chest of
the masked man.  He quickly flips to a lateral press, reaching back to
hook a leg but only get a two count.]

GM:  Two count only for Snyder there.

[With a shake of his head, Snyder hauls the Shadow up off the mat,
firing him towards the ropes...

...and catches him on the rebound, hoisting him up by the upper thighs,
spinning with him and DRIVING him into the canvas!]

GM:  JACKBREAKER!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[Snyder applies the lateral press again, hooking both legs tightly.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Snyder slowly gets up off his opponent, raising both arms in triumph.]

GM:  A big win for Jack Snyder as he must be eagerly anticipating
getting into the ring with twenty-nine others at Memorial Day Mayhem in
the Rumble, Bucky.

BW:  Eagerly anticipating?  This clown's got the entire Southern
Syndicate gunning for him PLUS his reputation makes him a target.  And
don't forget Ben Waterson's surprise for him.

GM:  How could we forget that?  The Rumble's going to be one of the
highlights of the AWA year as always as we're boasting a star-studded
lineup of some of the best in our sport - men like Juan Vasquez, Jason
Keening, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Vernon Riley, Brent Maver-

"WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA!"

[And just like that, Shane Destiny interrupts Gordon Myers, dressed in a
black T-shirt and khaki slacks.]

SD: Hang on, you can't talk about the Rumble and not mention me, Gordon
Myers.

GM: Well, Mr. Destiny, you haven't exactly been... shall we say,
"present" lately.

SD: Present?  Of course I haven't been present!  Not as long as that
lunatic Mark Langseth's running around!  The last time I was out here, I
was minding my own business, discussing current events, when Uncle Mark
came out here, swinging fists and trying to break my face _totally_
unprovoked!  I've got a Rumble to win, after all.  I have to stay
healthy!

GM: I don't understand how you can say that Mark Langseth attacking you
was unprovoked, Mr. Destiny.  You were clearly antagonizing his family.

SD: No, I was discussing _current events_, like Pure X tucking his tail
between his legs and getting out of the AWA.  And you know what, Uncle
Mark?  That's a good idea.  Be like your nephew, pack your bags, and get
out of the AWA.  You may get away with jumping me once or twice, but
pretty soon, I'm going to get tired of toying with you, and I will
destroy you.

[Destiny chuckles.]

SD: You _know_ you can't beat me, Langseth.  You used that old broke
back excuse to get out of our match at The Main Event, because you
_knew_ I was going to take you out.  I took your nephew out instead, and
you can't deal with the fact that _your_ selfishness and _your_
cowardice got _your_ nephew destroyed.  So you think you can jump me?

[Destiny shakes his head.]

SD: Uh uh.  You want me in the ring?  You go see that washed-up hick
Watkins, and you tell him you want me in a match, but until then?  Don't
waste my time because you can't cope with your regrets.  And Myers? 
Don't you _ever_ talk about the Rumble again without pointing out the
fact that I, the biggest star in the AWA, the man of the hour, Mr. #1,
Shane Destiny, will be in the match.  Oh, and I forgot... "likely
winner".  Don't forget that in your copy, you hack.

[Destiny walks off to a hailstorm of boos.]

GM:  Well, Bucky, your thoughts on Shane Destiny's chances in the
Rumble.

BW:  Shane Destiny has GOT to be one of the odds on favorite to win the
Rumble.  His resume speaks for itself - former World Champion, the new
Legend Killer, more bodies carried out than some coroners.  And if he
has to?  He can go the distance to win it.  To top it all off, he
already holds a victory over the current National Champion, Stevie
Scott.

GM:  Thirty men stepping into that ring in Houston, all with the chance
to win a National Title match against the champ.  It's gonna be
something else.  Fans, we'll be right back with more action after this!

[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 the WKIK Studios, some time earlier in the week
as the ring hasn't been set and the studio is mostly dark and empty save
for the broadcast area that Mark Stegglet currently sits at.

As the shot widens out, we can see the figure of the Hall of Fame member
and former multi-time World Champion, Mark Langseth, step into the
frame.]

MS: Welcome, Mark, and thank you for dropping by for this interview

[Langseth nods as he takes his seat opposite Stegglet and puts his
microphone on the lapel of his dress shirt.]

MS: Since your attack on Shane Destiny last month, you've been quiet. No
one has heard from you and you haven't visited any of the AWA shows or
events. 

[Langseth, settle in, nods and "mm-hmm"'s in agreement.]

MS: I know that the departure of your nephew Pure X has hit you hard,
but is that the reason for your own time away? Or -

ML: Hold on.

MS: Or was it Shane Destiny's declaration that he would get even with
you for your attack?

[Langseth holds his hands up for a moment.]

ML: First off, let me be clear. The last time I appeared on AWA
television? I didn't just attack Shane Destiny. I ambushed him.

MS: Excuse me?

ML: I let him, his words and his actions, get to me so much that I went
out there and tried to take him out right there. And that's just not how
it's done for someone of my experience and my reputation.

[Langseth pauses, sighing.]

ML: That week? That was easily the lowest point in my whole career. And
that action was just the breaking point for me. I... I couldn't face
myself coming back...

[Langseth stops himself, flustered.]

ML: From the way I acted that night to the show before where I betrayed
the trust of my nephew, I just couldn't do it Stegglet... 

[The Hall of Famer goes silent for a moment as he looks away.]

ML: You know my reason to come back to wrestling?

MS: For one last run, right?

[Langseth shakes his head.]

ML: No, not just that. Sure, I had the itch, but... I felt I had one
last chance in the ring, but not just for the thrill of it. Not just for
the sake of being in the ring again.

[Langseth shakes his head.]

ML: No, I came back for one specific purpose: to become the champion
again. To be that man that stood atop this industry when your uncle was
calling my matches. I mean... 

[Mark leans forward in his chair.]

ML: All my career, I've either been a champion or been vying for a
championship. I've been a cruiserweight champion, a tag team champion,
and a World Champion. I was on the top of this sport and a pillar of
arguably the greatest wrestling organization of all time.

[Langseth sits back, a disgusted look on his face.]

ML: But look at me now, Stegglet. LOOK AT ME NOW!

[Langseth's eyes widen as he breathes heavily.]

ML: I came back here and barely won my first and ONLY match in seven
months. And I get injured DURING that match. No chairs, no tables, no
ladders - nothing violent or extreme at all to that match. Then I come
out here and week after week, talk... All I do is talk...

MS: Surely you didn't think with the time off from the ring that you
could just jump back in, two feet firmly set like you never left?

[Langseth sounds out an exasperated chuckle.]

ML: I did! Look, I'm not going to pretend I don't value myself highly or
that I'm not proud of my career. I am. I thought I could just return and
be the same wrestler I used to be. I thought that I come back, have a
match or two and take a shot at the National Title. I thought it would
be that easy...

And now...

[Langseth shakes his head.]

ML: And now I'm sitting here, explaining why I went missing for weeks in
the face of a man who's willing make me an invalid. I'm sitting here,
trying to explain why I RUINED my own nephew's chances here in the
AWA...

MS: You can't take the blame for Pure X's departure. That was on him.

ML: Was it? Or was it that I never gave him a chance? I betrayed the
trust he had in me all to protect him. And from what, Stegglet? The
Destiny Strangle?

[Langseth's shoulders slump slightly.]

ML: When I saw him locked in there and I threw in the towel, it flashed
me back to when Chris Courtade injured me. That sight made me remember
how Courtade ruined me for years, up until today. But, Gordon, Pure X
isn't me! I never even gave him a chance...

MS: You said it yourself before - Shane Destiny is a dangerous man. It's
only natural to  fear for -

[Just as Mark Stegglet said the word "fear", Langseth's eyes widen and
lit up with the first sign of life in this interview.]

ML: Fear him? Fear Shane Destiny?

MS: Isn't that what you were going to say? What you were leading to?

[Langseth goes to say something, but stops himself... and nods.]

ML: You know, I was... I was going to sit here and admit that Shane
Destiny got me. That he forced my hand, put me in a corner, made me
break my trust with my nephew, and... And force me out of AWA.

[A shocked looked comes about Stegglet.]

MS: You were going to quit?

[Langseth nods.]

ML: Just now, actually. I was about to say that I couldn't stand what
I've become and what I've done. I was going to run...

[Langseth shakes his head.]

ML: I was going to run...

MS: But now, Mark? 

[Langseth gets up from the chair, muttering to himself again.]

ML: I was going to run away, Gordon... Run right away...

[Langseth takes off the microphone, letting it drop to the floor as he
walks past a confused Mark Stegglet.  Stegglet looks after Langseth for
a long moment before we fade back to live action.]

GM:  Wow.  An obviously emotionally twisted Mark Langseth right there,
fans.  Bucky, he just doesn't know which way is up right now.  He just
admitted that he was thinking of quitting - of giving up!  He was going
to let Shane Destiny chase him out of the AWA once and for all.

BW:  He should, Gordo.  Let's be honest here.  I'm a big Mark Langseth
fan.  I've been one of his biggest fans for over ten years.  He's one of
the best wrestlers that this business has ever known.

Or should I say "was."

[The crowd jeers Bucky.]

BW:  These people can think whatever they want but we can all see it...
Mark Langseth is a shell of a man.  And he's a shell of the wrestler
that he was.  With every day he comes out here, he just tarnishes his
legacy and makes people wonder WHY he's a Hall of Famer to begin with. 
He should go home, Gordo.  He should hang 'em up for good.  And he
should do it before Shane Destiny does it FOR him.

GM:  Strong words, Bucky.  Very strong words.

BW:  I tell it like it is, Gordo.

GM:  Fans, coming up next... we've got Eric Preston in action, and we've
seen this young man grow from literally his first match, and I can't
imagine he would have thought his career would go in this direction.

BW: You can't tell the future, Gordo, if you did we'd be havin' this
conversation from a yacht. James Monosso has descended on this poor boy
like a plague, and instead of bein' wise and picking his fights, he took
it on full bore. Now it's past the point of no return.

GM: If what he said after that brawl was true, then I believe you might
be right.

[Switch to Melissa in the ring.]

MC: The following match is scheduled for one fall, and has a fifteen
minute time limit! Introducing first, from Vero Beach, Florida, weighing
220 pounds... 

BRAD STEWART!

[Brad squats down low and leaps up, throwing his hands in the air and
causing his Farrah hair to bounce nicely. He snaps the straps on his
black and gold singlet and rubs his hands together.]

MC: His opponent, from Greenville, South Carolina... weighing 248
pounds...

ERIC PRESTOOOOOOOOOON!

[The beginning to "Show Me How To Live" by Audioslave begins to play as
the fans rise to their feet in cheers. But instead of what usually
happens next, they are greeted with Eric Preston running down to the
ring in a dead sprint and jumping onto the apron!]

GM: Preston wasting little time- to the top rope!

[Preston steadies himself and then leaps off the top rope as the fans
erupt, hitting a picture perfect cross body block as Stewart turns
around!]

GM: This could- cover! One! Two! Kickout by Stew-

[The Venerable One can't even finish his call, as Preston races off the
canvas and backs into the corner, then measures Stewart for a moment
before sprinting forward and drilling the bent over Stewart with a
leaping knee lift that sounds like a shot and drops Stewart like one.]

GM: Good Lord, did you hear that? One, two, three, this one's a wrap. 

BW: He ain't gettin' paid by the hour, Gordo. That's totally unlike the
Boy Wonder, he's usually not about gettin' down to business.

[Gordon quickly ducks into the ring as Preston waits for him, and wipes
himself off with a towel thrown in by a ringside attendant.]

GM: Eric Preston, that was very uncharacteristic for you. I don't think
I've seen you win a match that quickly or that assertively.

EP: A sense of urgency does many things to a man, and I got that match
over in a hurry because I've got something to say and I couldn't wait to
get it off my chest. 

James Monosso...

[Preston stabs his finger at the camera, already aggravated.]

EP: I just want you to know that I've seen through your facade, brother.
You talk a big game, but when it comes down to lookin' me in the eyes
and fightin' like a man, you run like the yellow dog you are. 

You insult me and these people every chance you get, you jumped me in
the dang Combat Corner and hit me with a dumbbell and when it came down
to plantin' your feet in the  ground and proving your salt, you ran.

You ran!

[Preston turns and spits to show his disgust.]

EP: But you just don't get that after all of this, I'll do damn near
anything to get a piece of you. I'll chase you through alleys, gutters
or garages. I'll walk through _Hell_ to kick your stinkin' teeth down
your throat!

[The crowd erupts at the fired up Preston, who is nearly cutting off
Gordon Myers' circulation because he's squeezing his hand so tight.]

EP: So I'm asking for Mr. Watkins to come down here right now and sign
the match to be a Falls Count Anywhere match. If that crackpot wants to
run like the coward he is, I'm willing to chase him!

Mr. Watkins, I know you know who I am and I know that you're not
somebody who-

[Preston gets his wish as Jim Watkins makes his way to the ring, taking
his time even though he is probably in a rush. Watkins shakes the hand
of Gordon Myers and then produces his own microphone. Watkins offers
Preston his hand and Eric shakes it, but neither man appears to be in a
rush to speak.]

GW: Well, Jim Watkins, what is your response to his request?

JW: Gordon, I would sign this match in a heartbeat-

[POP!]

JW: -if I thought that the participants knew what they were getting
into. Now Monosso, he's been around the circuit a few times, nothin's
gonna surprise him at this stage of the game. But Eric Preston? Eric
Preston, son, your old man and I cracked heads a few times, and I don't
mind tellin' ya that I came out on top most of the time.

But I got a lot of respect for that man, and I got a lot of respect for
you. You came up the right way, you've been takin' your lumps like a man
and the whole world knows that you've got the world at your feet.

But I also know that if you jump into this match without knowin' what's
in store for ya, you might not have the world by the short and hairies
for very long. You might need to go in the back there and think about
this long and hard, because this is a dangerous, dangerous affair. In
fact, the AWA has never seen a Falls Count Anywhere match and I for one
think that's a good thing. We have a standard of excellence here that I
aim to preserve, not to mention the fact that this match is going to be
on live television. There's going to be parents watching this with their
families, with their young children, and this is the type of match that
young children don't need to see.

[Watkins finishes and looks at Preston, who nods in understanding.]

EP: With all due respect Mr. Watkins, I've had plenty of time to think
about it. When I was laid up with badly bruised ribs because someone
rammed a dumbbell into them, I thought about this match. When I tried to
settle up in the ring, like a man, and ended up in a marathon, I thought
all about this match. I know the dangers, and I know the potential risks
involved.

And I'm asking you, Mr. Watkins, _we're_ asking you...

[Preston turns around to point at the audience, who start to rally
behind him.]

EP: ...to make this match, so that when he runs and hides from me, I can
hunt him down like the animal he is.

[Watkins considers as Preston lets go of the microphone and puts his
hands on his hips. Jim ponders for a few moments, looking at Preston and
scratching his chin, until Myers interrupts again.]

GM: Well Jim, what'll it be?

JW: Eric, if you want it...

[Watkins points a finger at him.]

JW: ...then you got it.  Let's hook 'em up.

[The crowd cheers loudly as Preston pumps a fist.]

JW: I'll make the match as soon as I get back to my office. But I just
want you to know that I'm gonna have to slap a warning on this thing,
and that I'm sticking my neck out for ya. This better be real important
to ya.

But I know that it is. Good luck, youngin'.

[Watkins leaves the ring as Preston nods at him, hands on hips and
staring into space.]

GM: Well there it is, Eric Preston, the first Falls Count Anywhere match
in AWA history and it'll be you and James Monosso squaring off in it at
Memorial Day Mayhem. 

EP: This is not something I thought I'd ever see, Mr. Myers, but you
gotta roll with the punches. James Monosso won't stand and fight, so
I'll bring the fight to him. For all his bluster and all of his
lectures, James Monosso is just another guy who had big dreams and
couldn't back them up. He can use all the scare tactics he wants, but
I've seen 'em enough to see through them.

This is why you hate the sport, James, because you won't ever stand and
fight. You never stood and fought for what you wanted. You were a snake
then, and you're a snake now.

But you're out of luck, brother, because I'm not afraid of snakes, I'm
not afraid of this match and I'm not afraid of you. 

The only thing I'm afraid of?

[Eric looks at Gordon, then at the people.]

EP: What you're gonna look like when the match ends. You keep
underestimating me, you keep talking down to me like I'm some child, but
after Memorial Day, you'll be singing a whole new tune.

You'll be INSANE to think otherwise.

[Preston claps Gordon on the back and makes his exit as...]

GM:  Let's go to good ol' Jay Dee in the Control Center!

[Indeed, off we go to the Control Center we saw earlier in the night,
Jason Dane standing in front of a bank of monitors and seems to be
mouthing "good ol' Jay Dee?" before the audio goes live.]

JD:  Welcome everyone to the Control Center once again and boy oh boy,
do we have news for you!

We just heard it... the entire world just heard it... that big singles
showdown betwen Eric Preston and James Monosso is now a FALLS COUNT
ANYWHERE match!

[Pause for cheers!]

JD:  It'll be the first one ever in the history of the AWA and I have to
say, parents be advised because this one could get ugly and ugly fast.

But that's not the only stipulation to announce here tonight.  In the
first Control Center of the night, I said that we'd have big news about
the Rhodes brothers vs Keenings tag team showdown and we do indeed have
that news.

After the events of the last Saturday Night Wrestling, Raphael Rhodes
went to Jim Watkins and told him that it wasn't enough to beat one
Keening at Memorial Day Mayhem - he wants to beat 'em both!  Therefore,
that match has now been declared an ELIMINATION MATCH!  To win the
match, you must defeat BOTH of your opponents!  And that just takes that
showdown to a whole new level, fans.

[Dane grins.]

JD:  Now, let's talk Rumble.

We ended the last Control Center with twenty-three names entered into
the Rumble.  Since then, Jason Keening has announced his entrance into
the Rumble and his very special reason for being there - to watch the
back of Juan Vasquez!

So, that makes twenty-four... here's a few more for ya...

[A shot appears of both James Monosso and Eric Preston.]

JD:  If there's anything left of 'em after Falls Count Anywhere, these
two will be pulling double duty as both men have been entered into the
Rumble!

Twenty-six men in the match.

And the next one... well, this is someone taking advantage of the Open
Door policy at its finest...

Take a look...

[The camera cuts to the reddened face of The Athens, Georgia Madman. Ron
Houston stands before us, a very ticked off former National Champion.
His right cheek a red, welted, mess. His blue Georgian eyes burns with
an anger he is very obviously attempting to quell. He looks into the
camera. His southern drawl even comforting himself.]

RH: Ah ain't got a single solitary thing ta say right now 'bout that
stooge who put his hand ta mah face.

[Houston pauses.]

Truth be told.. it would do the man ah'm 'bout ta introduce a
disservice. 

Ya see.. he's been known as so many things in his career. So many, many
things. Some of which were good..

[Houston shrugs.. the camera having tracked back to show his black
t-shirt.. which reads "Southern Comfort" on the front in cursive.]

RH:  .. some of which _ain't_. 

But, like they say, time has a way of catchin' up with ya.. and of
healing all wounds too. Ah'd like ta thing that this man's had enough
time ta drown out some of the horrible things he's done. Droppin' Jeff
Matthews on the pavement of Rome.. just ta see him bounce. Puttin' Caleb
Temple through a ladder.. just ta make himself a name. Just ta print him
a few "Templekiller" t-shirts. Or even breakin' the back of a "Crippler"
just fer ruining his streak. These are all things he _regrets_. Things
he's spent years in the bottom of a bottle tryin' ta forget he's down.

And now he's here.. with me.. tonight.

[Houston looks off camera. Talking to somebody.]

RH:  Here ta give us all his one final goodbye. 

Back ta the beginnin', ah suppose.. I guess that's the best way to end
it, ain't it Rob? Bring this bad boy back 'round full circle?

[Houston smiles.]

RH:  Like ah said ta start.. he's been known as so many things over the
years..

Villian.

Hero.

Monster.

Legend.

But ta me.. most imporantly.. he's been known as mah _friend_. Which, as
anybody in this industry knows, ain't that easy of a thing ta find. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, mah friend, Rob Magnum.

[The camera turns away from Houston, towards his left, towards the
person he was talking with. It stops quickly on the Man with No Worries.
The 7'1 beast. A Champion the world over. His face having aged a million
years since last seen. Crooked bags hang deep below his eyes. His face a
ragged brown beard that hides the years of wear and tear that a man of
his nature endures. He looks off camera towards Houston and nods, before
turning back to the camera.]

RM: I'll keep this brief.

[Magnum chuckles softly.]

RM:  Something I was _never_ capable of doing.

But fear not, fans..

[Magnum flashes his trademark grin.]

RM:  .. I'm sure I'll have _plenty_ more to say later.

["No Worries" face growns stern. The sadness creeping through.]

RM:  But not tonight.. truth be told.. tonight's probably the toughest
night of my career.

[Magnum puts it bluntly.]

RM:  I'm retiring. 

I can't do this anymore. 

I can't fight anymore. 

I can't live with the faces of all those people I've hurt haunting me.
The wounded and damned that follow me around like a plague. That hang
around my head like a noose. 

[Magnum runs his right hand across his weary face.]

RM:  I can't forgive myself for the things I've done. The terrible,
terrible, things I've done. So now it's time.. one final hurrah.. one
potential fleeting glimpse of glory as I throw myself out the door. 

Memorial Day Mayhem. 

[Rob's eyes close as he breathes in deeply.]

RM:  My _final_ night in this industry.

Put me in the Rumble.

[Magnum's head slumps over.]

RM:  So I can say goodbye.

[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 our announce duo has been
joined by the man who will defend the National Title at Memorial Day
Mayhem, Stevie Scott.  The Hotshot wears the same suit as he did earlier
in the show, again toting the AWA National Title folded up in his left
hand.  He also seems to have shaken off the earlier confrontation with
Ron Houston, as the STEVIESMIRK~! has returned to his grill.  He sets
the title belt down on the table, still grinning as he begins to talk.]

HSS: It's been an eventful night, Gordon, but never forget...it's always
an eventful night when the Southern Syndicate is in the house.

Now...the Hotshot is ready to get right down to business tonight, so
let's start with the man who doesn't know when to quit but could stand
to learn a thing or two from Juan Vasquez.  I'm talking about that
overgrown windbag, the Athens, Georgia Moron himself.

Houston, pal, I don't know if you've looked around recently, but in case
you are indeed as dumb as I think you are, I want you to take a good
look...

[Mid-speech, Stevie picks up the National Title off the table and holds
it up toward the camera in his left hand.]

HSS: ...at this.

You see, _big man_...you can open your mouth all you want...you can say
that the Southern Syndicate won't win...that the Southern Syndicate's
days are numbered...but when you look at what _I've_ got.

[He taps the front face plate.]

HSS: And what you _don't_...and I'm talking about your _career_...we'll
let the facts speak for themselves, won't we?

You said it yourself.  The doctors won't let you back in a ring.  They
say you're retired, but you and everyone else in the studio tonight and
watching at home on their television sets need to remember is _who_
retired you.  You need to remember who turned you from an AWA National
Champion...

[STEVIEGRIN~!]

HSS: ...to a guy whose career now consists of yelling, drooling, and
interfering in matches because he thinks he's some sort of vigilante of
justice.

You know what happens to vigilantes, Houston?

They get _shot_.

[Pause.  Yes, he needs to breathe.]

HSS: And in case you _forgot_...the Southern Syndicate is still holding
the guns.  The Southern Syndicate isn't just about winning
_titles_...the Southern Syndicate isn't just about making
_money_...though we do both extrememly well.  But the Southern Syndicate
is also about ending _careers_.

Marcus Broussard.  City Jack.  Adam Rogers.  Kolya Sudakov.

[Steviesmirk~!]

HSS: Ron Houston.

And in three weeks, we're going to add Sweet Daddy Williams to that
list.

Sweet Daddy Williams.

[The Hotshot pauses, then starts laughing.]

HSS: Sweet.  Daddy.  Williams.

Talk about needing to know when to leave well enough alone.

Listen to me, Sweet Daddy.  I don't have a problem with you.  I really
don't.  We ran together for six months and, while I did carry you on my
coattails to the best six months of your entire career, I don't harbor
any grudges or ill will against you.

Because you're not worth my time.

[HEEL POP!]

HSS: But...your 50 grand is.

[Stevie chuckles.]

HSS: Or Juan Vasquez's 50 grand is, anyway.

Ever since Juan decided to piss that money away and we got your name on
the contract, Sweet Daddy, I've been thinking.  I've been thinking about
what I would do with that money after I beat you.

Tell me, Gordon, what should I spend that money on?

[Of course, Stevie doesn't give Myers a chance to answer.]

HSS: Maybe another Rolex watch?  A couple of jet skis?  A Harley?  A hot
tub?  I mean, the possibilities are many, Gordon, even if 50 G's isn't
exactly a ton of money to a man with my resources, you know what I'm
saying?  But I certainly won't turn down a chance to add to my toy
collection...especially when it's being funded by Juan Vasquez at the
expense of Sweet Daddy Williams' fat butt.

[More heel heat's a-comin'.]

HSS: Look, Sweet Daddy...we gave you a chance.  We gave you an out to
escape what's sure to be the most humiliating beating you've ever taken
inside a wrestling ring...and God knows, you've had plenty of them.  Ben
and I knew there was _no way_ you'd be able to come up with five
thousand dollars, much less 50.

But you didn't walk away when you should have.  When Juan Vasquez, who
has been beaten by us at _every turn_, showed up and offered to fund it
for you, you should have stopped and thought.  You should have looked at
the man offering to pay for your embarrassment and asked yourself what
kind of luck _he's_ had against us.

And yet...there he is...ready and willing to pay for your ticket to a
permanent vacation.

[Stevie shakes his head in mock disappointment.]

HSS: Still can't choose your friends too well, can you, Sweet Daddy?

But because I'm a nice guy and because I have a few fond memories of our
six months teaming up, I'm making an offer to you right now.

Hand the money over to me.

And walk away.

[Heel pop again!]

HSS: You can't beat me, Sweet Daddy.  You know it, I know it, Juan knows
it, hell...the whole wrestling world knows it.  All you're going to get
is _beaten_..._embarrassed_..._humiliated_...and _hurt_.  So please,
Williams...save the few shreds left of your dignity and call it off.

We'll be awaiting your answer.

[The crowd ROARS to life as Sweet Daddy Williams, face etched in
determination and eyes flared with fire, storms out of the locker room
area, dressed in street clothes.  He marches directly over the announce
desk, grabbing the mic as a surprised Stevie Scott takes two steps
back.]

SDW:  YOU WANT MY ANSWER?!

[Williams' angry tone seems to even shock the crowd a bit - not used to
seeing him like this.]

SDW:  My answer is that you and your whole damn pack of dogs can go
straight to hell!

[Big cheer!  Stevie slinks backwards a few more steps, patting the gold
title belt over his shoulder.]

SDW:  You hold onto that belt.  You cling to that belt.  When you get
home tonight, you sleep with that belt!  You've got three weeks,
champ... three weeks to love that belt to death because come Memorial
Day Mayhem?  

Ya ain't never gonna get your hands on it again!

[Another big cheer!]

SDW:  You're out here talkin' 'bout what you're gonna do with fifty
thousand dollars.  Talkin' 'bout fancy watches, big motorcycles, hot
tubs - ya make me sick.  

Ya make me embarrassed that I ever considered you a friend.

[Williams shakes his head.]

SDW:  I always knew you liked the high life.  I always knew you wanted
the big houses, the fancy cars, the beautiful women, the hand-tailored
suits... that was you.  That's what ya dreamed of. 

You know what I call that?  

Greed.  

[Cheer!]

SDW:  It's greed that you need all that when these people work nine to
five and pay their hard-earned money to come here to see you wrestle.

[Big cheer!]

SDW:  It's greed that makes you come out here and talk about fifty
thousand dollars buyin' you a new watch.  

[Williams shakes his head again.]

SDW:  You just don't get it.  You never will.

You want it all.  The big cars, the fancy houses, the stylish clothes. 
You want it all.  It makes you feel like a man.

[The Atlanta fan favorite points to the fans.]

SDW:  You know what those people want?  They want to be able to put food
on the table for their families.

[Cheer!]

SDW:  They want to wake up tomorrow morning and NOT be one of the ten
percent of people in this country not getting a paycheck that week.

They want to be able to give their kids the lives they didn't have.

That's what they want.  That's what drives them.

[Williams gets worked up, shaking his finger in Scott's direction.]

SDW:  You want a watch?  They want somewhere to live.  You want a
motorcycle?  They want four tires and an engine that won't blow out on
the way to drop the kids off at school.  You want a hot tub?  They want
to buy the kids a pizza on Friday night.

You just don't get it.

[Williams slams a fist on the table.]

SDW:  The people of this country are strugglin'.  They's fightin' each
day to make ends meet and to survive in the world.  They get up every
mornin' knowin' the day may be harder than the day before and yet they
still keep gettin' up.

They got mortgages to pay.  They got credit cards bustin' at the seams
to cover.  They got college educations to buy.

And you?  You want fifty thousand dollars for a watch.

[The fan favorite spits on the ground.]

SDW:  And that's why I'm comin' for ya, champ.  That's exactly why. 
Forget 'bout what happened to us.  Forget 'bout the blade you buried
handle-deep in my back.  Forget 'bout the briefcase to the head.

That don't matter.

These people?  These people matter.

[HUGE CHEER!]

SDW:  These people drive me, champ.  They make me get up and go to the
gym harder than I ever have before.  They make me try to learn some
new-fangled 'rasslin move that I never thought I'd know.

All to get at you.  All to get at that belt.

And all to MAKE you understand that these people are what matters,
champ.  Not the money.  Not the fame.  Not the glory.  Not yo' pack of
dogs.  And not even that shiny belt.

The people, champ.  The people.

[Williams glares at the champion who is speechless.]

SDW:  But you ain't never gonna understand... not 'til someone MAKES you
understand.

[A nod.]

SDW:  That's me, champ.  I'll make you understand.  I'll step in there
with you and fight you 'til I can't even walk... 'til I can't even
stand...

'TIL I CAN'T EVEN BREATHE IF THAT'S WHAT IT TAKES!

I'll make you understand.

[And with that, Williams turns his back on his former friend and walks
away, leaving a stunned Stevie Scott alongside Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde.]

GM:  Wow.  

BW:  I have to admit right now, Gordo.  I've NEVER seen Sweet Daddy
Williams like that.  The knock against him for most of his career was
that he couldn't focus - that he couldn't stay serious when he needed
to.  That may have changed.

GM:  And if it has, Stevie Scott's National Title just may in more
jeopardy than anyone thought in just three weeks' time.  Fans, it's Main
Event time here on Saturday Night Wrestling.  A huge eight team Battle
Royal with a shot at the tag champs on the 4th of July hanging in the
balance.  We caught up with a few of tonight's teams earlier tonight -
let's take a look at what's on their minds!

[We cut to footage taped earlier backstage where Jason Dane is standing
in front of an AWA backdrop. Next to him is Sarah Sharpe, the manager of
Rough N Ready.]

JD: Sarah, Rough N Ready will participate in a Battle Royal tonight for
a chance at a tag team title shot in the coming months... first of all,
I have to ask, where are Dave and Eric?

SS: [shaking her head] Jason... Dave and Eric just don't want to talk to
anyone... I know they are upset about missing out on their last title
shot... and now comes this.

JD: Would you not see this... and thus they not see this... as an
opportunity to claim the title shot they missed out on?

SS: The way Dave and Eric see things, Jason... they believe they should
be awarded that title shot in the first place. The way they see things,
they've been here in the AWA for a long time, faced the best the company
has to offer and never once complained. And then you know how many
months they had issues with the Bishop Boys, how the point system meant
they could hardly wrestle at all as they waited to get that third
point... and when they finally do get it, how they ended up losing out
on that shot, and then the Bishop Boys get the title shot instead.

JD: You do know that the Bishops have offered to defend the titles
against Rough N Ready at any time.

SS: I am aware of that... but you have to understand how hard it is for
Dave and Eric to see two men they had a bitter rivalry with, end up
getting awarded a title shot when the whole point of that last match
they had with the Bishops was to determine who would secure the final
point for such a shot.

JD: You also do realize that Jim Watkins has said he is not a fan of the
point system, correct?

SS: I'm aware of that... and I've spoken to Watkins and he simply said
he had no choice in the matter. He didn't want to disappoint the fans
who wanted to see a tag team title match and I understand. It's just...
how shall I say... a little difficult to get Dave and Eric to understand
that after all the obstacles that went into their path, as they sought
to secure a title shot.

JD: Then what about tonight's match... it's their opportunity to prove
they deserve to challenge the champs.

SS: I don't dispute that... but the way Dave and Eric see it, they've
already earned that right. Now, if you'll excuse me... I need to get
them focused...

[She sighs.]

SS: Well, as focused as I can... right now, their mindset just isn't
where it needs to be.

[She walks off camera as we cut to...

...footage taped early in the night before the show started.  We are
ringside as an intense Samoan drum beat begins to blast out over the
P.A. and Scola and Mafu - The Samoan Hit Squad - step out out from the
curtain with their manager, Col. James J. Dallas. Dressed in knee length
black tights with the word "Samoa" written down the side of each leg,
the two big Samoans begin beating their chests and yelling in Samoan as
the curious threesome makes their way down the aisle to ringside.]

GM: Oh, this can't be good.

BW: It can't? Gordon, for the first time since these two gorillas showed
up here in the AWA, I'm actually happy to see them.

GM: Are you serious, Bucky? After what they did to Werewolf Gregorson...
with all the things he's done for them...how can you even say that?

BW: Like this.

[Bucky waits for Dallas and The Samoans to approach the announce desk
and then hold out his hand in greeting.]

BW: Colonel, let me be the first to congratulate you on...

[Dallas ignores the offered hand and takes Bucky's microphone without a
second glance.]

JJD: Gordon Myers, I respect you, you know that?

But, in order for you and me to get along, you're gonna have to realize
somethin' right here and now.

The Samoan Hit Squad? These two boys, they asked for me. They may not
have a lot to say but they know a good thing when they see it.

I'm a sixteen time tag team champion, Gordon, and Scola and Mafu, they
realized that I have certain...insights...into the business that their
*former* manager couldn't provide.

GM: Their former manager? James J. Dallas, I did my homework on you
after what you and your Samoan Hit Squad did to Werewolf Gregorson two
weeks ago and do you know what I found out?

BW: Gordon...

GM: I found out that, yes, in fact, you are a sixteen time tag team
champion but every one of those title reigns was tainted in some way.
Are you telling me that Scola and Mafu would rather have a tainted title
reign as AWA champions than a title reign earned on merit alone?

JJD: You know, Gordon, you really are an idealistic sumbitch, aren't
you? You think merit alone is gonna get my boys a title here in the AWA?
Hell, no!! It's who you know, Gordon, and that's how it's always been.

But if Scola and Mafu are not seen by the right people as bein'
"championship material," the only way they'll ever make it around here
is by eliminatin' the competition, something that your friend, Mr.
Gregorson, was also too idealistic to admit.

So, tonight, in the AWA's first ever tag team battle royal, The Samoan
Hit Squad is gonna show their real worth to the powers that be by doin'
to the former champions and anybody else who gets in their way exactly
what they did to Gregorson.

GM: I wouldn't be so smug if I were you, Colonel. After all, he may have
been beaten down but you still can't count him out.

JJD: Oh yes I can, Gordon Myers. The Samoan Hit Squad, they're mine now,
and, if I tell them to beat that boy till he can't get up again, they'll
do it. I-

[The arena goes dark and the solitary howl of wolf begins to echo over
the P.A.]

GM: You were saying?

JJD: I...this interview is *over*, Gordon Myers, but you just watch.
Colonel James J. Dallas is not a man to trifled with. Boys?

[Dallas turns to Scola and Mafu and the two men both start pounding
their chest and screaming "Samoa!! as the scene cuts to...

...one final piece of footage, this one also at ringside where Simon
Rhodes calmly walks into frame, dressed in a light blue leg-length
singlet, along with black kneepads and boots.  His brother, Raphael, is
sporting a red leg-length singlet with the straps down as well as white
kneepads and boots, and instead of walking over to Myers, he instead
paces angrily behind Myers and his brothers.]

GM: Mr. Rhodes, your brother doesn't seem too happy about something.

SR: He ain't happy, yeah.  He ain't happy that we can't seem to get the
Keenings off our backs, and he ain't happy about tonight's battle
royale.  Let's get it all out on the table, Gordon... Raphael and I have
been given a mission.  We know what we're out there to do... we're out
there to make sure Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman get their
rematch.

GM: What?!  You two are going to pass up a shot at-...

SR: It ain't passin' up a shot, mate.  We're doin' the right thing for
the team.  What happened to Dufresne and Freeman weren't right at all. 
They were told they had to face three different teams, constantly
changin' throughout the night, and they never got a chance to prepare
properly... and James Watkins ain't givin' them what's right and fair,
so Ben Waterson has asked us to make sure we get them to that title
shot.

GM: With all due respect, Mr. Rhodes, that hardly seems fair.

SR: Hey... it ain't about fair.  It's about me havin' a job.  We may not
be gettin' to strap them belts around our waist, but that ain't what
we're in the Syndicate for.

[Suddenly, Raphael stops pacing.]

RR: NO!  No no no no NO!

[Raphael walks over to the microphone snatching it out of Myers' hands,
and gets in close for the camera.]

RR: I ain't signed up to be no common thug!  You ain't even let Simon in
the bleedin' Southern Syndicate, Ben!  We've got the Keenings at
Memorial Day Mayhem, and as far as I'm bloody well concerned, _we're_
goin' out there to take the shot by winnin' this match!  Dufrense and
Freeman had their chance!

SR [muffled]: Raph, settle do-...

RR: I ain't settlin' down, and I ain't bein' muzzled!  Yeah, we'll help
keep Dufrense and Freeman in the bloody thing, but if it comes down to
them and us... bet the flat on us.

[Raphael throws the microphone at Simon, who fumbles with it before
dropping it, and storms off-screen.  Simon stoops down to get the
microphone, clearly flustered.]

SR: Pride's funny, mate.  I'm goin' to do what I was asked to do, that's
all there is to it.

[Simon hands the microphone back to Myers with a mock salute, and walks
off.]

GM: Well, dissension in the ranks perhaps?  We'll see in that battle
royale...

[And with that, we cut back to live action - more specifically to the
ring where we see Calisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman, Bailey Fitzgerald,
Corey Lawson, the Blonde Bombers, the Rockstar Express, the Rhodes
Brothers, Rough N Ready, the Samoans, and Simply The Best.]

GM:  Alright, fans... as you can see, the ring is full and we're ready
to go!  Once again, we're in overtime here on Saturday Night Wrestling
and our thanks to WKIK for letting us bring you this match without
interruption.  We'll stay with it as long as we can so-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The sixteen men inside the ring erupt in a mess of brawling.  Fists are
flying all over the squared circle as all the competitors struggle
against one another.]

GM:  Here we go, fans!  And during that series of interviews, we've been
joined out here at ringside by the National Tag Team Champions, The
Bishop Boys, along with Cousin Bo.  Welcome, gentlemen.

CB:  The pleasure is all yours, I'm sure, Gordon.

GM:  Obviously, you and your cousins want to get a closeup view at the
eight teams fighting for a shot at your titles on the 4th of July.

CB:  Of course we do.  While we're very confident in our skills as the
champs, we'd be idiots if we didn't want to do a little scouting of what
breaks down to basically EVERY team in the AWA in one ring.

GM:  This is, of course, a very different kind of match though.  To be
eliminated from this one, you must go all the way over the top rope and
have both feet touch the floor.  And being a tag team Battle Royal, if
your partner is eliminated, so are you.

BW:  Which makes the ideal strategy is to keep your partner as close to
you as possible throughout the match.  It helps you on offense to have a
two-on-one but it also helps on defense to avoid going over the top and
having your team eliminated from the whole thing.

GM:  For some of these men, this will be a tune-up for the Rumble in
just three weeks.  Eight of the men in this match - half the field -
will also be in the Rumble so this might give them a head start on the
field of 30.

[The camera cuts to showing Eric Matthew Somers driving his shoulder
into the ribcage of a cornerned Bling Bling Beaumont.  Shannon Stokes
approaches from behind, connecting with a double axehandle blow to the
massive back of Somers, trying to break up the assault on his partner.]

GM:  The returning Simply The Best - first time we've seen them in
action in quite a while, Bo.

CB:  I like those guys, Gordon.  They work well as a team and I think a
lot of teams in this thing might overlook them.  They could surprise
some folks in there.

BW:  But their trademark is that high flying, high risk offense.  You
won't be seeing any of that in here.

GM:  Not until that ring empties out a bit.  That's for sure.

[A cut of the camera reveals Larry Doyle on the floor, covering his eyes
as "Love Machine" Johnny Nova is being pushed perilously over the ropes
by a spunky Corey Lawson who is trying to grab a leg for leverage.]

GM:  The Bombers looking to be in some trouble there!

BW:  No!  Larry Doyle will guide them through it!

CB:  Who?

BW:  Larry Doyle.  The Blonde Bombers' manager.

CB:  Ah, that blowhard Hollywood moron?

BW:  I'm gonna tell him you said that.

[Doyle breathes a sign of relief as Nova goes to the eyes, temporarily
blinding Lawson and manages to get back on his feet.  He waves over a
nearby Adrian Freeman who joins Nova in pounding Lawson in the corner.]

GM:  The Southern Syndicate working alongside the Blonde Bombers. 
That's interesting.

BW:  You'll see a lot of people working together in this one.

CB:  Until the end.  Then all hell breaks loose.

[Another quick cut shows Stokes and Beaumont throwing kicks into the
ample midsection of Eric Matthew Somers...

...when an angry-looking Dave Cooper grabs Beaumont from behind by the
afro, chucking him over the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Ohh!  There goes Bling Bling Beaumont!  And we've got one team
eliminated already!

BW:  Boy, Cooper's lookin' hot under the collar, daddy.

[Cooper glares at Stokes, pointing a finger at him and ordering him out
of the ring...

...just before a nearby Mafu throws a big double axehandle into the back
of Cooper's head, knocking him down to a knee.  Scola quickly joins his
partner as the duo rains down double axehandles in tandem, battering
Cooper all the way down to the mat.]

GM:  Look at the vicious doubleteam by the Samoans!

CB:  Now those two, I think I'd like to see win this thing.

GM:  Really?

CB:  Two big, tough guys who can throw down with the best of 'em?  Yeah,
I think Cletus Lee and Duane Henry would enjoy that quite a bit, Myers.

[The two Samoans get Cooper laid out and let loose a loud "SAAAAMOA!"...

...just before getting barreled over by a running double clothesline
from Eric Matthew Somers!  The crowd cheers loudly for the big offensive
move but Somers doesn't respond at all, simply looking around the ring
for his next victim.]

GM:  Bailey Fitzgerald's got Dufresne in the corner...

[A big chop across the chest from Fitzgerald leaves a red welt as
Dufresne clutches at his pectorals.  Fitzgerald dips down, lifting both
of Dufresne's legs off the mat, trying to leverage him up...

...when suddenly both Rhodes brothers attack from behind, knocking
Fitzgerald off his feet and helping Dufresne back to his.]

GM:  And there's that Southern Syndicate teamwork we talked about
earlier.  We heard the Rhodes brothers discussing it.  They've been
given their orders.  Waterson wants Freeman and Dufresne to land their
rematch and he's willing to sacrifice the Rhodes' chances at victory to
get it.

BW:  It makes sense, Gordo.  I mean, Simon Rhodes isn't even IN the
Southern Syndicate yet!  Of course Waterson's not going to sacrifice
Dufresne and Freeman's rematch for someone not even part of the group.

GM:  Now, we've got a three on one on Bailey Fitzgerald.  And as upset
as Rough N Ready are about losing their title opportunity, Fitzgerald
seems pretty okay with it.

CB:  Those two shouldn't even be in this match - Fitzgerald and Lawson.

GM:  Why is that?

CB:  In my opinion, those two have earned their shot.  All they gotta do
is ask for it.  Win, lose, or draw here tonight, we'll give them a shot
whenever they want it.

[The three-on-one quickly gets broken up though as the Rockstar Express
enters the fray, throwing blows at anyone in their sights.  Out on the
floor, Larry Doyle draws attention to himself by smashing his hands into
the mat repeatedly, screaming instructions into the ring.

On the other side of the ring, the Bombers hear those instructions,
getting Mafu of the Samoan Hit Squad pushed into the ropes with Baldwin
dropping down to grab a leg.]

GM:  The Bombers are going for the Samoans now...

[And on the other side of the ring, Col. James J. Dallas is shouting at
the Samoans.]

GM:  We've got Dallas and Doyle both screaming at their teams now.

CB:  Two loudmouths battling it out.

BW:  You resemble that remark.

CB:  Watch yourself, Buckthorn.

BW:  Only my mama calls me Buckthorn!

CB:  You want to know what your mama calls me?

GM:  Easy, gentlemen.  Let's try to keep this civil.

[Inside the ring, Scola makes the save for his partner, battering Nova
with a heavy forearm smash before driving a boot into the gut of
Baldwin.  With a loud whoop, Corey Lawson charges across the ring,
throwing himself with a flurry of fists at Scola who absorbs them all...

...and then levels Lawson with a standing clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  Lawson got creamed right there!

[At Dallas' shouted instructions, Scola pulls Lawson off the mat.  Mafu
grabs a handful of hair as well and with a loud shout, the two Samoans
deliver a crushing double headbutt that sends Lawson sailing over the
ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  THERE GOES COREY LAWSON!  Lawson and Fitzgerald are eliminated and
that's gotta be considered a major upset, Bucky!

BW:  Not to me.  Get those punks out of there so some real talent stands
a chance.

CB:  My offer stands.  The Samoans may have gotten the better of them
tonight but they get a title shot any night they want it, Gordon.

GM:  I'm sure that'll soothe the loss but right now, we're down to six
teams.  The Rockstars, the Bombers, the Samoans, Rough N Ready, the
Rhodes brothers, and the former tag team champs.

CB:  I almost hope they win it too.  I'd like another shot at them.

BW:  Are you willing to give them their rematch?!

[Cousin Bo snorts.]

CB:  I don't think so.  If they win tonight, sure.  If they lose?  They
can go right to the back of the line and earn three points.  Last time I
checked, Kentucky's Pride never got a rematch.

GM:  Well, those are obviously very different circumstances.

CB:  Not to me.

[With twelve men in the ring, things start to clear up a little bit as
Mafu gets right back into it with Dave Cooper who throws hooking blows
to the body in the corner.  Nearby, Scola has Scotty Storm in the
corner, driving his shoulder into the body.]

GM:  The Samoans are looking good in there so far.  Six teams left as we
said.  

[We spot Calisto Dufrsene down on the mat, being choked by Nova until
Simon Rhodes delivers a kidney punch to break up the chokehold.  Rhodes
grabs Nova by the hair with both hands, dragging him away from the
downed Dufresne.  A headbutt to the back of the skull stuns Nova as
Doyle continues to shout to his men.]

GM:  Look at the Rockstars!

[The crowd roars as Scotty Storm battles out from behind Scola with the
help of his partner and the duo throw big haymakers to the skull of the
big Samoan, dizzying him.]

GM:  These fans are solidly behind the Rockstars in there right now! 
Storm and Morgan are working beautifully in tandem and-

[A big cheer goes up as they throw a double dropkick that sends Scola
over the ropes...

...but he crashes down on the ring apron, saving himself just barely. 
The Rockstars spot him, measuring him for a second, waving for him to
get up...]

GM:  The Rockstars are going for another!  They're gonna knock-

[But the distracted Rockstars fail to notice the Blonde Bombers approach
in unison, grabbing them from behind...

...and CHUCKING them over the top rope!]

BW:  GONE!  THEY'RE GONE!

GM:  NOT YET!

[The crowd roars as both Storm and Morgan grab the top rope, hanging
with their feet just barely above the floor...

...and pull themselves in unison back over the ropes, landing on their
feet where the Bombers charge!]

GM:  DOUBLE CLOTHESLI-

[HUGE CHEER!]

GM:  AND A DOUBLE BACKDROP SENDS THE BOMBERS TO THE FLOOR!  OH YEAH!

[The crowd roars for the double elimination of the Bombers and for Larry
Doyle losing his mind out on the floor, screaming at the Rockstar
Express from out on the floor!]

GM:  Larry Doyle and the Blonde Bombers have been humiliated by the
Rockstar Express two shows in a row, Bucky!

BW:  This isn't right!  They were eliminated!

GM:  We said it at the start.  Both feet have to touch the floor and
they avoided that - just barely but they avoided it.

BW:  I think Larry Doyle should file an official protest with the front
office.

CB:  Of course you do.

GM:  We're down to ten men!  Dufresne, Freeman, the Rockstars, Simon and
Raphael Rhodes, Rough N Ready, and those big, nasty Samoans!  One of
these five teams will challenge the Bishops on the 4th of July for the
National Tag Team Titles!

[The Rockstars exchange a leaping high five before turning their
attention to Raphael Rhodes is down on a knee near the ropes.]

GM:  What do you think of the Rockstars, Bo?

CB:  A couple of 80s rejects don't impress me.  What's with them always
hugging each other anyways?  What the hell's that all about?

GM:  They're tag team specialists.

CB:  Uh huh.

[Pulling Rhodes off the mat, Storm and Morgan each execute an armtwist
before throwing him across the ring, sending him sailing with a double
backdrop!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Big doubleteam by the Rockstar Express!

[Across the ring, Mafu is chopping Eric Matthew Somers in the corner,
trying to cut the big man down to size while his partner Scola batters
Adrian Freeman with forearms against the ropes.]

GM:  Scola's all over Freeman... forearm.. another... another...

[Seizing the moment, Simon Rhodes creeps up behind the distracted
Scola...

...and upends the big man, sending him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  The Samoans are gone!

CB:  Damn shame.

GM:  Simon Rhodes lived up to the gameplan right there and he just saved
Adrian Freeman from further assault.  He potentially saved the former
champ from elimination right there, Bucky.

BW:  It's a perfect gameplan and this is exactly what we can expect to
see in the Rumble.  Five members of the Southern Syndicate - associates
and all - working as one to protect the National Title.

GM:  But what if Scott loses the title?  What happens then?

CB:  The dogs turn on each other.

GM:  I would imagine so.  We're down to four teams!  Eight men in there
still battling it out.

[Simon Rhodes helps steady Freeman before turning his attention to the
Rockstars who have continued to work over his brother.  A rushing Simon
catches Storm in the upper back with a high knee, knocking him through
the ropes but not over them.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot there!

CB:  He didn't go over the top though.  He can't be eliminated there.

[Rhodes reaches over the ropes, grabbing Storm by the long blonde hair
to drag him off the apron.  Simon hooks a front facelock, hoisting Storm
up over the ropes for a suplex.  But while holding him vertical, Morgan
catches him in the ribs with a right hand, forcing him to put Storm back
down.]

BW:  Wait a second!  He just went over the top!

GM:  That's subject to the referee's discretion, I think.  He went up
and back down but did he cross the plane of the ropes to do-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd's roar comes thanks to Larry Doyle and the Blonde Bombers who
emerged from the back and DRILLED Storm in the side of the knee with the
cowboy boot, causing him to fall from the apron and down to the floor!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  Yes!  The Bombers strike hard!

GM:  Larry Doyle strikes hard!  Or at least that boot does!  The Bombers
were out of here but they came back out here just to cost the Rockstar
Express the match!  Unbelievable!

[And the Bombers beat a quick retreat along with their one-shoe-wearing
manager as Morgan and Storm huddle up on the floor, wondering what just
happened.]

GM:  The Rockstars are eliminated and we're down to three!  The former
National Tag Team Champions, Dufresne and Freeman, Raphael and Simon
Rhodes, and Rough N Ready!

BW:  And wherever he is, Ben Waterson is grinning ear to ear.

GM:  You'd better believe it.  We talked about this Battle Royal
possibly being a preview of the Rumble - well, with the five Southern
Syndicate entries into the Rumble, we'd better hope not because this is
EXACTLY what we might see!

CB:  Not if my boys have anything to say about it.

BW:  Your BOYS better enjoy those belts while they can because the REAL
champs are coming to reclaim them.

CB:  They're welcome to try.  

GM:  And look at this... the four Southern Syndicate members on one side
of the ring... Rough N Ready on the other... this is horrible.  

[Oddly, Cooper and Somers don't seem to flinch though, waiting for the
onrushing attack...

...which is quick to come, an out-of-control Raphael Rhodes leading the
charge as he leaps in the air, throwing a forearm to the jaw of Dave
Cooper, knocking him back to the corner where the two men start
exchanging strikes.  Eric Matthew Somers seems ready to intervene on his
partner's behalf when Simon Rhodes cuts off the charge, throwing his
body in front of his brother.]

GM:  The Rhodes brothers are after Rough N Ready... and look at the
other two!

BW:  Just sitting and watching.  I love it!

CB:  If those two win this title shot by standing there, I'm going to
let the boys loose on 'em right now.

[Simon Rhodes is no match physically for Somers though as the big man
drills Somers with an elbowsmash before driving home a headbutt that
puts Rhodes down on the mat.  He continues his march, grabbing Raphael
Rhodes by the back of the head, dragging him off of Cooper...

...when Dufresne and Freeman rush forward, throwing blows at the wide
back of Somers!]

GM:  This is a four-on-two and it's making me sick!

CB:  I'm all in favor of a good numbers game but these guys are out of
control.

GM:  Dufresne and Freeman have got Somers up against the ropes,
battering him with kicks to the body...

[Raphael Rhodes quickly gets into the fight, shoving Freeman aside to
throw blows to the upper body.  Grabbing Somers by the head, Rhodes
blasts him with a European uppercut.  Freeman glares at Rhodes for a
moment before turning away and pulling Dave Cooper out of the corner.]

GM:  Freeman with a chop to Cooper... whip...

[Freeman catches Cooper with a back elbow under the chin, knocking the
veteran down to the canvas.  Freeman quickly starts stomping the downed
Cooper and soon, Calisto Dufresne has joined him, working over the elder
member of Rough N Ready as Raphael Rhodes continues to pound on Somers,
knocking him down to a knee.]

GM:  Simon Rhodes up on the middle rope...

[He leaps from his perch, crashing a double axehandle over the skull of
Somers and knocking him down to the canvas where Raphael buries a few
more stomps in.]

GM:  This is getting hard to watch, fans.

BW:  Not for me!

GM:  We've got two people beating on Somers... two people beating on
Cooper...

[With the four on two assault still going, Dufresne drags Cooper off the
mat by the head, pulling him into a front facelock.]

GM:  No, no... not this...

[Freeman drops to a knee, pointing to his partner as the crowd jeers. 
The Ladykiller hoists Cooper up off the mat, almost completely
horizontal to the canvas before driving his skull down into it!]

BW:  WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU MA'AM!

GM:  Good grief.

CB:  That's gotta be it for Cooper.  The old man's got guts and he'll
put up a fight with the best of 'em but eventually, that fight's going
South for him.

GM:  Dufresne's gloating to these fans in the WKIK Studios.  What a
jerk!

[Dufresne shouts to Simon Rhodes, "Toss this trash!"]

GM:  Do it yourself!

[Simon Rhodes looks a little irritated as he pulls Cooper off the mat by
the hair...

...and then turns in shock as Eric Matthew Somers angrily hoists Raphael
off the mat and PLANTS him with a uranage slam!]

GM:  WHOA!

BW:  Where did THAT come from?

CB:  The big man's angry.  I've seen that look before.  It's not good
news for anyone in that ring.  I'll tell you that for sure.

[With a roar, Somers barrels away from the ropes, taking Simon Rhodes
down with a big clothesline.  He turns around as Adrian Freeman strikes,
throwing chops and kicks...

...and grabs him around the throat!]

GM:  He's got him hooked!

[Somers powers Freeman off the mat, driving him down with a chokeslam to
the roar of the crowd.]

GM:  And look at Dufresne!  Look at the coward now!

[The Ladykiller is backing off, hands up as he begs for mercy from the
slowly-approaching Somers who is stalking towards him, a furious glare
on his face.]

GM:  Dufresne's trapped!  Dufresne's got no one to help him now!

[But it's Simon Rhodes who helps him, dragging himself off the mat and
leaping onto the back of the distracted Somers, trying to drag him
down.]

GM:  Simon Rhodes is on the back... battering away...

[Somers turns around, Rhodes still on his back...

...and DROPS straight back, sandwiching Simon Rhodes on the canvas!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

CB:  Good god.  You might need a spatula to pick him up.

BW:  We need some help out here for the Southern Syndicate!

GM:  Help?!  They've got a four on two!

BW:  Not right now they don't!

[And again, Somers slowly gets up, looking towards Calisto Dufresne who
has backed himself into the corner, glancing around with a look of panic
on his face.]

GM:  Dufresne is all alone again!  This is exactly what it's gonna be
like for him at Memorial Day Mayhem against Soup Bone Samson!  And we
know that Somers and Cooper have a close relationship with City Jack as
well!  We know they'd like to avenge their friend too!

CB:  This isn't the time for that.  This is the time to win a shot at
the gold, Gordon.

GM:  You're absolutely right!

[Somers approaches the corner, slowly but surely...

...a little too slowly as Raphael Rhodes crawls across the ring behind
Somers, pauses...]

GM:  LOOK OUT!

[And SLAMS his arm up into the groin of Somers!]

GM:  OHHH!  LOW BLOW!!

[Somers doubles up, clutching his nether regions as Rhodes staggers up
to his feet.  Dufresne shouts something from the corner and Rhodes nods,
grabbing Somers' arms and holding them behind him.]

GM:  How can he hang on to those massive arms?  Rhodes has nowhere near
the size to do-

[Dufresne winds up a big right hand and lets it fly...

...right into the skull of Raphael Rhodes as Somers breaks free,
dropping to a knee!]

GM:  HE HIT RHODES!  HE HIT RHODES!

BW:  Not on purpose!

[But Raphael Rhodes doesn't seem to care if it was on purpose, glaring
at his stablemate with an ice cold gaze...]

BW:  Uh oh.


"SLAAAAAAAAAP!"
"OHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd roars as Rhodes slaps Dufresne across the face, causing the
Ladykiller to recoil from the blow...

...but allowing Adrian Freeman the chance to charge the exposed back of
Rhodes, hooking a handful of tights, and THROWS him over the ropes to
the floor!]

GM:  THE RHODES BROTHERS ARE GONE!!  THEY'RE ELIMINATED!!

[Freeman glares over the ropes at the downed Raphael Rhodes as a
disappointed Simon Rhodes simply shakes his head, rolling under the
ropes to go help his brother.  The arrogant Dufresne shouts a few words
at the ousted Rhodes brothers before turning around...

...and finding himself face to face with Eric Matthew Somers who CRUSHES
him with a running boot to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Freeman spins around, ready for a fight...

...but a rushing Somers connects with a big clothesline that takes
Freeman over the top to the floor!]

GM:  HE'S GONE!  HE'S GONE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  ROUGH N READY WINS!!

[The crowd roars as Somers stands tall, glaring at the fallen opposition
before moving to help his partner off the mat.]

GM:  Rough N Ready have won a shot at the National Tag Team Titles and
they'll get that shot on the 4th of July, Bo!

CB:  Some things never change, Myers.  

[Cousin Bo drops the mic, gesturing for his boys to follow him to
ringside where Somers and Cooper are now standing, staring down at the
men who used their shot to become the champions.]

GM:  Rough N Ready win the Battle Royal, win the title shot for the 4th
of July... and now all they have to do is wait to cash that shot in. 
And man oh man, I can't wait to see what happens when they challenge for
the titles.  Fans, we're way overtime, we've gotta go!  We'll see you
next time... at the matches!

[And with the staredown ongoing...

...we fade to black.]