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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the Jack Stephens Center
Little Rock, Arkansas
June 26, 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!"  The shot is of the Southern Syndicate at the
end of the last SNW.  Ben Waterson, the Agent To The Stars, is out in
front with the mic.]

ATTSBW:  A six man tag on the 4th of July, huh?  I like it.  I really
do.  And you know WHY I like it?  Because thanks to Raph, the National
Champion just happens to have that night off.

[Stevie Scott laughs at this, slapping the title belt hanging over his
shoulder.]

ATTSBW:  The Rumble title shot for the 4th of July is dead and buried in
the Southern Syndicate's backyard so we'd be more than happy to accept
your challenge for the 4th of July...   So, Michaelson... Vasquez... and
whoever you manage to dig up to actually team with you...

...you're on.

[Big cheer!]

ATTSBW:  And since the champ doesn't have to defend the title, he'll be
more than happy to lead us to victory that night.  Ain't that right,
champ.

RR: No. That ain't right.

[The crowd audibly gasps, as everyone in the Southern Syndicate turns
their eyes to Rhodes.]

RR: I didn't spend over fifty minutes in that ring on a busted knee to
just let this chance go.  I ain't the kind of guy to say this, right? 
Stevie... I respect you.  I think you're a great champion.  But the
chance to be the National champ, well... the last time I got that, I
weren't in the building, was I?

[Rhodes smirks.]

RR: I'm sure we've got enough people to shut down Vasquez, the old man,
and the no-show.  On July 4th, Stevie... I'm gettin' me shot.

[Raphael Rhodes walks off to a... cheer?  Stevie Scott, belt suddenly
clutched to his chest, shouts off-mic at Ben Waterson who looks
absolutely puzzled as we 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 Jack Stephens Center in Little Rock, Arkansas where over 6,000
fans have jammed into this building to watch their favorite AWA stars.

The ring sits alone in the middle of the basketball court, thin blue
mats laid out around ringside.  There is a cheap looking metal barricade
set up to separate the fans from the ringside area as well.  Also at
ringside are a pair of tables - one for the timekeeper and one for our
announce duo.

Speaking of which, the camera cuts from the cheering crowd to our
announce team, two men on a mission.  Yo baby, yo baby, yo.

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 hot pink 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 am Gordon
Myers alongside my co-host each and every week, Bucky Wilde!  It's a big
night here in Arkansas, Bucky.

BW:  It certainly is!  This show is so big even my own mama had trouble
getting tickets for her podiatrist, Gordo.

GM:  One of the most star-studded editions of Saturday Night Wrestling
that I can recall.  We've got the Lady Luck Challenge with Jack Snyder
taking on Shane Destiny.  That's a Main Event anywhere in the world,
Bucky.

BW:  You better believe it... but it's not here tonight!

GM:  Scotty Storm, one-half of the Rockstar Express will take on
one-half of the Blonde Bombers in what should be an exciting showdown.

BW:  Those two teams have been on a collision course for weeks and
tonight, we get one more step towards that - and don't forget about
Larry Doyle, daddy!

GM:  How could I forget about Larry Doyle?  We've also got Calisto
Dufresne taking on Soup Bone Samson in a match for that unsanctioned
piece of gold hanging over Dufrense's shoulder.

BW:  Dufresne is the AWA Pacific Champion and no matter how much cryin'
you do, ain't nothin' gonna change that.

GM:  The National Tag Team Champions, the Bishop Boys, have laid down an
open challenge for right here in front of their hometown fans here
tonight in Little Rock!

BW:  There's some big, big teams in the locker room these days, Gordo. 
Cousin Bo may have made a mistake just as big tonight.  But what about
Broussard, Gordo?  He's here and tonight, we've got the moment of truth!

GM:  We have confirmation that Marcus Broussard IS in the building and
he'll be answering the question - will he team with Juan Vasquez and
Todd Michaelson in just eight days time on the 4th of July?  We find out
tonight.  The brand new fan-voted Top Ten rankings will be announced
here tonight as well.

BW:  Plus, the War Pigs are in action... we've got the debut of a new
competitor here in the AWA tonight too...

GM:  And perhaps bigger than all of that put together is what we just
saw footage of moments ago... Raphael Rhodes has made it very clear.  He
WILL be challenging "Hotshot" Stevie Scott for the AWA National Title on
the 4th of July.  We understand that Ben Waterson will be out here in
just a short while to address that situation.  It's gonna be an exciting
night of action, fans, so let's get things started by going right up to
the ring for our opening matchup!

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

MC: The following tag team contest is set for one fall.  Introducing
first, already in the ring, from West Hollywood,
California...accompanied by their manager Raoul, at a total combined
weight of 477 pounds...here are Lars and Billy Blaze...

PRETTY IN PINK!

[Heel pop for the pink-clad trio.  Raoul, the skinny manager, wears a
pink feathered boa.  He rubs the shoulders of his two men as Cannon
makes the intros.]

MC: And their opponents...

# GENERALS GATHERED IN THEIR MASSEEEEESSSSSS! #

[Yes indeed, the unique voice of Ozzy Osbourne blares out as Black
Sabbath's "War Pigs" starts up with the beginning of the Ozzman's
vocals.  BIG POP!]

# JUST LIKE WITCHES AT BLACK MASSEEEEEESSSSSSS! #

[And here they come again, in a dead sprint from the back, the
muscle-bound, face-painted, mohawk-sporting, black-leather clad Hammer
and Sabre followed by their manager, Richard E. Lee, wearing his usual
silk shirt and sunglasses.]

MC: Hailing from Detroit, Michigan...Hammer and Sabre...

THE WAAAAAAAAR PIIIIIIIIIIIIGS!

[Hammer and Sabre slide underneath the bottom rope, quickly get back on
their feet, and dash across the ring to attack their opponents before
the bell.  Raoul barely gets out of the ring, animatedly running away
before leaping through the ropes.]

GM: And here they are once again after making a surprise return two
weeks ago, the War Pigs, with a whole new attitude that you truly seem
to love, Bucky.

BW: Shut it, Myers.  These two guys obviously went soft during their
time in Japan.

[The Pigs have the PiPsters against the ropes, pounding away with kicks
and forearm shots before sending them both for the ride to the far
side...

...and nearly _decapitating_ them both on the rebound with vicious
running clotheslines!  POP!]

GM: Well, THAT didn't look too soft.

BW: That's because this Pink team is softer than a feather pillow.  I'd
like to see 'em try that on the Samoans, daddy!

[Lars rolls to the floor, leaving Sabre in the ring alone with Billy
Blaze as Hammer steps to the apron outside.]

GM: Sabre in by himself now, again sends Blaze for the ride...and a
BIIIIIIG boot to the face sends Blaze right back down to the canvas! 
Sabre over and makes the tag, now here comes the 290-pounder, Hammer.

[Hammer grabs Blaze by the hair, pulls him up and hoists him into the
air in a military press.  Once, twice, three times, four times, and five
times does Hammer push him up and down before SLAMMING him down to the
mat!]

GM: Big time press slam by Hammer!  He just military pressed Billy Blaze
like he weighed 50 pounds!

BW: He DOES weigh 50 pounds, Gordo.

GM: Hammer seems to have had enough of manhandling Blaze as he hurls him
towards his own corner...Lars tags in, though it's pretty clear he
doesn't want to.

[Lars slowly climbs into the ring, where Hammer stands back and motions
for him to come on.  Finally, Lars approaches the massive Hammer and
fires a couple of right hands into his abs.  Nothing.]

GM: Lars firing away into the mid-section of Hammer, but those punches
have no effect.  And now Hammer leaning over...inviting Lars to put on a
side headlock it seems.  Lars not sure if he- now he does.

[Predictably it doesn't work out too well, as Hammer immediately hoists
him into the air and drops him to the mat with a belly-to-back suplex. 
Pop!]

BW: The Pigs having their fun here, just toying with the Pink Boys, but
again...it ain't gonna be that easy once they get in the ring with
someone like the Samoan Hit Squad or the Blonde Bombers.

GM: That remains to be seen, Bucky.  Hammer pulls Lars up to his feet,
sends him for the ride...HUUUUUUGE powerslam!  Young Mr. Lars may be out
cold after that move.  Here's the tag to Sabre, and it looks like
they're setting up for the Weapon of Mass Destruction.

[Indeed they are, as Hammer grabs Lars legs and slingshots him into the
air, while Sabre leaps off the top rope...but this time instead of a
flying clothesline, he connects with a flying dropkick!  Huge pop!]

GM: And there it is, or something like it.  Perhaps a variation, but
either way this one is academic as Sabre makes the cover. 
One...two...three, and the War Pigs again victorious here on AWA
Saturday Night.

MC: Here are your winners in one minute and 47 seconds...

THE WAAAAAAAAR PIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGSSSSSSS!

[BIG POP!]

GM: So the War Pigs making the most of their return to the States and to
the AWA, destroying Pretty in Pink in their own AWA debut and making a
statement in the process.  In fact, here they come now.

[Right you are, Gordon, as the trio does indeed make their way into the
camera's eye at the announce table.]

GM: And Hammer, Sabre, and Richard E. Lee...another impressive victory
here tonight.

[The massive Hammer steps forward first.]

H: Impressive?  Nah.  That ain't no competition.  That ain't no
challenge.  Can't even call that a warm-up match because me and the
Sabre didn't even have to break a sweat.  We let 'em off easy.  Believe
me, if we were in the mood to be impressive?

All three of those flamers would'a been leaving here on _stretchers_!

GM: Be that as it may, following your return two weeks ago, you became
one of the more talked-about teams in the business not only because of
your return, but also because of the new attitude you seem to have
brought with you back from Japan.

H: Myers, we ain't much different than when we left, except we're a
helluva lot _better_ now, thanks to Richard Lee's extensive training
program.  We still like to _fight_...we still like to bust up some
_heads_...and we'll still plow right over _anyone_ who gets in our way,
whether it's the Samoan Hit Squad...the Blonde
Bombers...Rough-n-Ready...the Bishop Boys...it don't matter to us, just
as long as we get a chance to break some bones!  Tell 'em, Sabre!

[Hammer steps back, breaking into a bicep flex and then a tricep flex,
as Sabre moves up to the mic held by Myers.]

S: Gordon Myers, while we were dominating in Japan, a little birdie told
us that the AWA tag team division was the place to be.  Like we said two
weeks ago, we checked it out...we saw a bunch of little flit boys
runnin' their mouths and we didn't like it.  But what we didn't explain
is WHY we don't like it.

[Sabre pauses, looking at Myers who apparently doesn't know what to do
or say next.]

S: Go on, ask.

GM: O....K.  Why don't you like it?

[Sabre slaps him on the shoulder...maybe a little too hard as Myers
lurches forward a bit.]

S: Glad you asked that, Myers.  Bucky, take note of how a _real_
announcer does his job.

[Bi-weekly Bucky Burn pop!]

S: Why don't you fill 'em in, Richie?

[Sabre smirks in Wilde's general direction while Lee replaces him beside
Myers.]

REL: Gordon, I know you're a very knowledgeable, well-versed announcer. 
I'm sure you understand the Japanese culture when it comes to wrestling.
 

[Myers nods.]

REL: Well, we didn't.  Not until we got over there.  It took us a few
months, but we started learning and understanding what the idea of
respect meant.  The people in Japan taught us that very valuable lesson.
 We learned a lot about what it means to respect not just people...but
to respect the SPORT of professional wrestling.

So how does that tie into the AWA?  Like we said, we heard the tag
division here was booming.  We started watching on the internet, getting
DVDs from my connections in the States, finding out more about what was
going on.  And while we saw that yes, the AWA _is_ the place to be for
any tag team looking to make a name for themselves, we _also_ saw a lot
of BOYS parading around like MEN.

[Lee curls his lips in what looks like disgust.  Sabre nods in the
background.]

REL: We saw people like Larry Doyle, like Ronnie Jamieson, like James J.
Dallas, like Louis Matsui disrespecting the AWA and the sport of
professional wrestling by acting like a big collection of retards.  In
our court of law, Myers, we find them GUILTY of polluting our
profession, our business.  In our court of law, we find their clients
GUILTY for the exact same thing, for associating with those loud-mouthed
losers and keeping them around, further tarnishing our business.

We said we came back here to take out the trash, and we meant it.  And
when we finally get some of those teams in the ring, that ring is OUR
court and these two men right here...

[A thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Hammer and Sabre.]

REL: ...are the _judges_...they are the _jury_...and they are most
certainly the _executioners_ of the punishment that we deem necessary.

[With that, the trio walks away from the table and out of the camera
eye.]

GM:  Fans, the War Pigs are back and they are alllll business.  And
we'll be right back after this quick break!

[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 to our announce duo where a third man
has joined Gordon and Bucky.  It's Brent Maverick, wearing his to-ring
attire in preparation of his upcoming match.  Maverick, a
broad-shouldered man with tousled dark brown hair and a bestubbled
square jaw, has an intent expression on his face.  His rust-red
knee-length trunks with yellow Arizona Sun logo, red leather boots,
brown leather cutoff gloves, and brown leather vest indicate that he's
dressed for action.  The crowd cheers him.]

GM: With me at this time is Brent Maverick.  Brent, last week you had a
match, but didn't stop to speak with us.  So we've been waiting to hear
from you exactly what your reaction was to the events at Memorial Day
Mayhem.

BM: Not much ta say.  Jackass One showed his true colors, an' Jackass
Two took advantage of it.  Ya know how hard it is ta spill yer own
blood, Myers?  It ain't a trivial thing.  So they took advantage.  It
happens.

BW: Admittin' defeat?

BM: As it stands, I failed.  Not because of a match loss, but because of
a lost opportunity.  I wanted ta keep it one-on-one, an' I didn't do
that... they won on a double-team an' avoided settlin' the issue.  But
cryin' about it ain't gonna change nothin'.  If Gutless an' Nutless keep
tryin' ta double up on folk, I'll be there.  If one or both of 'em grow
a set, good.  A man needs ta handle his own business one ta one.  If ya
need two ta two, fine.  Three ta three, fine.  Four ta four, whatever...
I really don't judge what tactics a man uses so long as he fights his
own fight head on with even odds.  I failed this time, but a failure
don't mean ya give up.  It means ya git up an' try again.

GM: With that said, Brent, we've not heard from Bobby Taylor since
Memorial Day, either.  So what's next for you in the AWA?

BM: Had a talk with Watkins this mornin', an' he said he wants
competition.  There's a lotta talk about rankin's, about establishin'
clear contenders.  So what I aim ta do is compete, an' level it out.  If
we want to see who th' best is, th' only way ta do it is ta hook 'em up
an' find out.  I told Watkins I was gonna put in an open challenge for
July Four, for any man who wants ta fight man on an' prove himself. So
there it is.  

[Maverick turns to the camera to speak directly to it, rather than to
Gordon.]

BM: If you wanna show ya got somethin'?  I'll be in Memphis on July
Four.  Bring it all, because I have no patience for slack.  There's only
one gold belt in this company, an' I want it just as much as anyone.  I
got a family ta feed an' that gold belt brings checks that buy a lotta
groceries.  No clear contender outside of Rhodes, they say?  I say let's
scrap th' speculation an' decide it th' old-fashioned way: brutally.

[With those words, Brent heads to the ring as the fans cheer the
challenge.] 

BW: Tough talk from a loser.

GM: Brent Maverick is far from a loser, Bucky Wilde.  He's got a track
record that speaks for itself, and has not been defeated in singles
action in the AWA.

BW: Only because he ain't fought nobody.  That'll change soon enough,
just you watch.

GM: He's got somebody to fight right now, so let's go up to Melissa
Cannon!

[Melissa is in the ring, along with a masked wrestler wearing a
blue-and-white bodysuit, blue mask, and red beret.]

MC: This contest is set for one fall!  Already in the ring, from Parts
Unknown, France... Weight Unknown... MONSIEUR X!

[The crowd boos as the masked man makes dismissive gestures towards
them.]

MC: His opponent, about to enter the ring... from Tucson, Arizona...
weighing two-hundred fourty-two pounds... BRENT MAVERICK!

[Maverick steps through the ropes as the fans cheer.  Immediately,
Monsieur X rushes across the ring and hits him in the back with a
forearm shot!]

*DING*DING*DING*

GM: No time wasted, as Monsieur X runs towards Maverick with a big shot
to the back.  Monsieur X hoping a name change will suit him... he was
billed as Doctor, but there was a trademark violation involved.  Still
looking for his first big win in the AWA. 

BW: Hey, Maverick ran his mouth about that!  Step up and prove yourself,
he said.  Challenge me and decide who the contender is, he said.  Well,
forget July Four, Mon-soor X is challengin' him now!  Look at them chops
an' punches, daddy!

GM: The masked man taking it to Maverick... side headlock and a
takedown.  He attacked from the blind side, battered him, and now with
the technical wrestling.  Headlock applied on the mat, but Maverick is
too strong for this.  He's standing right up.

BW: The Mon-soor is tryin' ta use his weight ta drag him down, but that
won't do.  Maverick is only two-fourty, but as strong as a two hundred
ninety pounder!

GM: Much stronger than his size would indicate, yes.  Maverick shoving X
off... Monsieur X off the ropes and a shoulderblock... does not help his
cause.  Maverick, a former starting linebacker for Arizona State
University, easily absorbing that blow.  Monsieur X off the ropes
again... and this time his shoulderblock attempt is met by a
scintillating power slam!

[The fans pop for the impact, as Brent bounces the blue-and-white clad
masked man off the mat with the proverbial authority!]

BW: Oh, brother.  When Maverick slams ya, you stay slammed.  X can't
take too many impact moves from Maverick, or he'll be thinking he's
Swiss before this thing's done, Gordo.

GM: Maverick's explosiveness is uncanny.  He collects the masked man
from "Parts Unknown, France" from the canvas, and a European-style
uppercut from the Arizonan staggers him.  You would think Monsieur X
would be accustomed to that style of blow.

BW: You'd think a Scottish guy would be accustomed ta gettin' hit with a
golf club, but no, it'll drop him just the sa... wait, Gordo, were you
tryin' ta make a joke?  Hey!  Not that great, but glad ta see ya try!

GM: Uh... thanks.  Monsieur X hurled across the ring with a mighty Biel
Throw!  One of Maverick's favorite maneuvers, and he can send a man
skyrocketing with it.  X to his feet and eats a brutal clothesline to
the side of the head!  The Frenchman needs a rally very, very soon.

BW: I don't think he's really French, Gordo.  He ain't surrendered yet.

GM: Perhaps this moniker wasn't the best for him.  Maverick
straightening him up... atomic drop... no!  X floated behind, and
kneeing Maverick in the lower back!  A flash of offense!

BW: Definitely not French.  He likes ta sneak-attack from th'
backside... maybe he's Japanese.

GM: Highly unlikely.  Monsieur X with a big body slam, and now headed
for the ropes!

BW: See?  He is Japanese, he's goin' for that backflip splash like
Nenshou... oh, well, you know, if Maverick didn't just stand right up
before he even got to the corner.

GM: Monsieur X climbing the turnbuckle on the inside... he just looked
behind him and saw Maverick standing!

[The blue-and-white figure of Monsieur X stands with one foot on the top
turnbuckle and one on the second, as Brent Maverick stands in the middle
of the ring and waves him on.  "Jump!", Maverick yells.  "Gimme yer best
shot!"  The crowd loves a bold challenge, and they cheer.]

BW: Get down from there, Mon-soor!  That's a sucker's bet!  He'll either
move or cream ya!

GM: Monsieur X... TAKES THE CHALLENGE!

[* W H A M ! *]

[HUGE POP!]

BW: Too much guts, an' too few brains.  Maybe he's North Korean.

GM: MAVERICK CATCHES THE FLYING ELBOWSMASH ATTEMPT WITH A HANGMAN
SUPLEX!  INCREDIBLE!  X flew into his arms, and Maverick flung him
straight over his head and to the mat in a heap!  This one is all about
over... X weakly attempting to rise, and Maverick scooping him onto his
shoulders!  You know what this is!

BW: Acey Deucy... bone swar, Mon-soor.

[* B L A M ! *]

GM: Brent Maverick spiking his man with a running fireman's carry
brainbuster, and this one is over!

[The three-count is academic, and the referee calls for the bell as the
crowd cheers the impressive display.]

*DING*DING*DING*

MC: The winner of the match... BRENT MAVERICK!

[A southern-rock style instrumental begins to play, incorporating the
theme from "The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly" by Enrico Morricone. 
Maverick stands, and his hand is raised as he nods to the cheering fans.
 He then steps out of the ring, and proceeds to clap hands as he makes
his way out.]

GM: No problem there, as Brent Maverick making short work of the alleged
Frenchman.  Let's go back and take a look at how it was done, Bucky
Wilde.

[Instant replay time!  Monsieur X, with his back to the ring and one
foot on the top rope, steps up off the second rope and pushes off the
top turnbuckle... turning around into a straightforward elbowsmash.  But
Maverick steps into him, wrapping his arms around the head and arm of
the masked man as he falls in towards him... popping the hips and
exploding back into the head-and-arm suplex known as the Hangman
Suplex.]

BW: Here ya see why sane men do not play chicken.  Maverick called him
on, and he jumped right at him.  Right at a stong man who was ready for
him.  Dumb mistake, an' if he has any kind of serious competition on
July Four, they won't make that mistake, Gordo.

GM: Tremendous power shown there to Hangman Suplex a leaping opponent,
and here was the end, Bucky.

[Replay of Maverick's Acey Deucy.  Dipping his shoulder, he scoops
Monseiur X over into fireman's lift position, takes a three-step dash
and jumps into a running Death Valley Driver.]

BW: I can also assure ya if Maverick hits THIS on July Four, he'll beat
anybody he fights, daddy.  Ain't nobody gettin' up from that.  But
anybody worth anything has a great finishin' move, Gordo.  We'll see who
steps up to the challenge.  I got a feelin' that Brent Maverick might
have run his mouth too loose.  He challenged anybody in th' AWA... an'
"anybody" covers a lotta ground.

GM:  It certainly does and hopefully Jason Dane will have some news for
us later tonight in the Control Center about just who will be facing
Maverick in eight days.  Fans, throughout the night, we're going to
spend some time announcing the new title contender rankings - as voted
by you, the fans of the American Wrestling Alliance.  This voting has
been going on for a couple of weeks now and earlier today, the polls
were closed.  We received a lot of votes and the AWA would like to thank
you all for your participation.

BW:  Enough!  Who is it?

GM:  Ladies and gentlemen... let's look at who rounds out the bottom of
the rankings...

[A graphic comes up that shows an empty Top Five underneath a picture of
the Bishop Boys.]

GM:  First, the team that has been ranked the number five contender to
the Bishop Boys' National Tag Team Titles...

[Dramatic pause!  A picture fills the #5 slot to a big cheer!]

GM:  Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar Express!

BW:  You've gotta be kidding me.  These idiots voted for THOSE idiots?!

GM:  Democracy at its finest, Bucky.  Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan are
the number five contenders to the National Tag Team Titles.  Now, let's
see who checks in at number ten for the National Title... in fact, let's
welcome the new #10 contender to ringside right now... why don't you
step on in here...

[The crowd cheers as Vernon Riley steps into view.]

GM:  We're joined at this time by the "Working Man" Vernon Riley, the
new #10 contender to the National Title.  Mr. Riley, I'm sure you're
surprised by that news just as I'm sure that you were just as surprised
as the rest of us two weeks ago when you unmasked the man that had been
helping your old nemesis, Anton Layton.

[Riley shakes his head.]

VR:  Surprised ain't even the word to describe it, Gawdahn. 
Disappointeeeeed.  Unimpressssssed.  There's a lot of words I can come
up with, but I don't know how many of 'em can really get the point
across, Layton, of how much of a joke you've become.

Ten years ago, Layton, we ran up and down the Sunshine State.  We tore
up just about every arena, armory, and television studio we stepped in
to, daddy.  I shed buckets of blood. _You_ shed buckets of blood.  It
was one of the most violent, the most intense feuds that professional
wrestlin' has ever seen.

[The Working Man pauses, stopping his voice from the crescendo it
reached, and lowers it when he continues.]

VR: Then, you followed me to the AWA.  I thought I'd never see your face
in the same studio as me after what I did to you in Florida, but here
you were.  And I readied myself, Layton.  I readied myself for World War
III, you know what I'm sayin', Gawdahn?

[And the voice starts raising again.]

VR: I readied myself for the _blood_!  The _sweat_!  The _tears_!  I
prepared myself for the _pain_!  The _blues_! 
The..._ag-o-naaaaaaaay_...

[Pause, and down goes the voice.]

VR: ...that I went through ten years before.  You came here promising
revenge, guaranteeing retribution, Layton.  And so far, all you've done
is manage to stay away from me, number one...and convince some no-name,
bell-bottom wearin' reject from 'Saturday Night Fever' to become your
lackey.

[Riley shakes his head.]

VR: It's like I said two weeks ago, Gawdahn.  Layton's just come back to
waste my time when ol' Vern could be doin' bigger and better-

[Riley cuts off mid-sentence as his head, as well as those of Myers and
Wilde, turn off-camera.  Myers quickly jumps out of the way while Vernon
puts his hands on his hips and laughs.  Why?  Well, because walking into
the camera's view are "The Prince of Darkness" Anton Layton himself and
his recently unmasked lackey, Gino Moretti.  Both have their faces
painted with black streaks around the eyes and mouth.  Still laughing,
Riley takes the first verbal shot.]

VR: Well...look what the devil done dragged in.

AL: Laugh away, Working Man, laugh away.  Because in a few short weeks,
it is I who will have the last laugh!

[Apparently he's going to take that laugh now, because Layton starts
cackling like a madman.  Moretti pauses, then figures it's OK to join
in, so he does.  And once Layton realizes it, he slaps his henchman HARD
across the face.]

AL: SILENCE!  YOU HAVE FAILED ME!  YOU HAVE FAILED OUR MASTER!  You
should count yourself fortunate that you are still beside me and have
not been cast out into the pits of despair!

[Off-camera, Bucky can be heard.]

BW: Pits of...?

AL: Ask your broadcast collegue, Buckthorn.  He has seen them!  Oh yes,
Gordon Myers has seen them first-hand!

[Layton begins cackling again, while Myers looks quite puzzled. 
Finally, Riley ends this awkward moment.]

VR: You got somethin' to say that the rest of us can understand, Layton?
 Or you still intent on wastin' my time?

AL: Time.

[And now Layton stops, leaning back and rolling his eyes back into his
head.  Eww.]

AL: Tiiiiiiiiiiime!  Yes, it is almost time once again, Working Man! 
Remember the Mist!  Remember the Mist!  He shall complete the job that
my servant could not complete!

[Moretti senses another attack coming, but is too slow to fend it off as
Layton knocks him to the floor with a HARD right hand, then proceeds to
stomp a mudhole in his servant while Riley, Myers and Wilde look on in
semi-shock.]

AL: YOUR PUNISHMENT IS NOT YET COMPLETE, SERVANT!  OUR MASTER REQUIRES
HIS PENANCE!

[Layton stops his attack, returning his attention to Riley.]

AL: Yeeeeessssssss...YEEEEEEESSSSSSS!  The Mist!  The Mist comes for you
once more! HAHAHAHAHA!

[The "Prince of Darkness" abruptly stops his mad cackling almost as soon
as he started, reaching down and yanking up by the hair a still-beaten
Moretti, dragging him off-camera.]

GM: Well...interesting words there by Anton Layton.

VR: The Mist?  The Mist?  Is he really talkin' 'bout The Mist, Gawdahn?

[Shut yo' mouth!]

GM: I...suppose so, yes.

VR: Layton, you want to bring The Mist Angel?  Bring him on down to
Memphis on July 4th, daddy!  Pull his tired old carcass out of the
retirement home and bring him to the home of rhythm and blues, because
ol' Vern's got some rhythm and _bruise_ for him, jack!

GM: So you're issuing a challenge?

VR: Dang right, Gawdahn.  I'm done playin' games and wastin' time with
you, Layton.  Bring Moretti, bring The Mist Angel, bring yourself down
to Mempho next week, because we're endin' this once and for all.

[Riley starts to walk away, but pauses, shaking his head before adding:]

VR: Wastin' my time, Gawdahn.  Wastin' my time.

[Content with his final words, Big Vern goes off-camera.  Bucky,
meanwhile, raises an eyebrow toward Myers.]

BW: You wanna explain all this?

GM: I'll do my best.  We can only assume "The Mist" that Layton referred
to is an old ally of his from Florida that he brought into his war with
Riley, a man known only as The Mist Angel.  A very mysterious and
dangerous individual... he spent a very brief time by the side of Layton
in that feud, actually breaking the ribs of Sweet Daddy Williams before
Riley defeated him and sent him out of the territory.

BW:  He broke the fat man's ribs?  Sounds pretty dangerous.

GM:  He was.  But he was also dispatched by Riley fairly easily.  He was
chased out of Florida and to the best of my knowledge, he has spent the
past ten years bouncing from small promotions to smaller promotions.  If
this is Layton's big plan for Vernon Riley, he may indeed be wasting the
Working Man's time.  Fans, let's go back to the locker room area where
Jason Dane is standing by.  Jason?

[We fade to the locker room area where Jason Dane is standing alongside
Vladimir Velikov and Baron Von Klauss.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  As you can see, I am back here in the backstage
area with the Russian, Vladimir Velikov and his tag team partner, the
unorthodox Baron Von Klauss!  Mr. Velikov, you asked for this interview
time - would you mind explaining why?

[Velikov rolls his massive shoulders, his heavy Russian chain dangling
over his wide neck.]

VV:  Why?  Why?

[Velikov snorts.]

VV:  You have not heard the news, Comrade Dane?  

JD:  I'm not sure-

VV:  The news is that the AWA is... how you say... the place to be...
for tag team wrestling.  We have tag teams from all over the world
knocking down our doors.  The War Pigs are back.  Violence Unlimited,
arguably the best tag team in all of Japan, is here.  It seems like
every week a new tag team shows up and says they are the best.

[Velikov shakes his head.]

VV:  But we... the Baron and myself... we ARE the best, Jason Dane.

JD:  I see.  But you must know by now, you have NOT been ranked in the
Top Five tag-

VV:  I am aware of this miscarriage of justice by the AWA fans.  They do
not like the Russian people... they know the Russian people are superior
to them.  And most of all, they fear the Russian people.  So it only
makes sense that they would not vote for us.

But you can not deny that the Baron and myself are the true power in the
AWA tag team division.  

[Dane looks skeptical.]

JD:  No offense, Mr. Velikov, but you two haven't exactly racked up the
best record as of late.

[Velikov glares at Dane.]

VV:  I see your point, little man.

[Von Klauss inches closer to Dane, his hand slowly rising.]

VV:  The Baron... he sees your point as well.

Perhaps it is time... how you say... we show our stuff.

[Velikov chuckles with his gravelly voice.]

VV:  The 4th of July has not been kind to me here in the United States
in the past.  And Jim Watkins has seen fit not to schedule us for your
4th of July show.

[Velikov shakes his head.]

VV:  But it is time we show the American people exactly how much
business we mean.

[Dane looks cockeyed at the awkward wording.]

VV:  On the 4th of July, Vladimir Velikov and Baron Von Klauss are
coming to Memphis...

[Velikov sneers.]

VV:  And we are coming for whatever tag team thinks they can handle us.

[Von Klauss raises his Claw-hand up, showing it to the camera as Velikov
storms out of view.  The Baron quickly follows, leaving Dane behind.]

JD:  Fans, let's go back to ringside to Gordon and Bucky!

[We fade back to the ringside area.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  And things are heating up for the Fourth
of July, Bucky.

BW:  A lot of big matches getting signed for that one.  Challenges being
made.  The 4th of July in Memphis is gonna be red hot, daddy.

GM:  We already know that the National Tag Team Titles are going to be
on the line that night with The Bishop Boys defending the gold against
Rough N Ready... but what about who is next for the champs, whoever they
may be, after that night?

[The graphic emerges again of the tag team Top Five.]

GM:  We already know that the Rockstar Express are checking in at number
five.  But at number four?

[The name of the #4 team slides across the screen.]

GM:  The Blonde Bombers are number four!

BW:  You've got to- these fans are dumber than they look and that's
sayin' somethin', Gordo.  The Blonde Bombers are the ultimate force in
the AWA tag team division!  How in the world could three teams be ranked
higher than them?

GM:  Who have they beaten?

BW:  Are you serious?  The Blonde Bombers have beaten EVERYONE that's
gotten in their way so far!  And after tonight, they're gonna beat up
everyone that's ranked in front of them as well.  Guaranteed!

GM:  Well, since we're talking about the rankings...

[The Top Ten graphic emerges.]

GM:  Let's look at who landed in the number nine slot...

[And out slides a name to a decent sized cheer.]

GM:  Jack Snyder!  Snyder is number nine!  And you have to believe a big
chunk of that support comes from his victory over Shane Taylor last time
out in the Lady Luck Challenge, Bucky.

BW:  You're probably right.  But if he loses to Destiny tonight in the
LLC, how quickly will he plummet right back out of the Top 10?

GM:  That remains to be seen.  And speaking of Shane Destiny...

[Destiny's name slides out right above Snyder's, checking in at #8.]

GM:  Shane Destiny is the number eight contender!

BW:  This is a travesty.  I don't know if I can participate in something
like this, Gordo.  These men are being robbed by these morons in the
crowd.

GM:  So, it'll be a battle between #8 and #9 in the Lady Luck Challenge
later tonight when Destiny meets Snyder in a showdown that has taken on
much higher stakes as these two men try to battle their way up the
ladder.  Fans, we've got to take another break - we'll be right back
with more Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Fade to black...

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

JD:  You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular
over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel!

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to backstage where Jason Dane is standing by with
the self-proclaimed AWA Pacific Champion, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.
 Dufresne is clad in a pair of khaki slacks pressed to a "T" and a pink
Lacoste polo shirt.  His long blonde hair hangs down past his shoulders.
 The the most obvious item, however, is the PWR Pacific Championship
which Dufresne holds over a shoulder, smiling proudly at.]

JD: I'm here with Calisto Dufresne, who...

[Dufresne cuts Dane off mid-stream.]

CD: --That's AWA Pacific Champion, Calisto Dufresne to you, Dane.

JD: Jim Watkins and the AWA Championship Committee do not recognize that
belt as an AWA championship as you well know.

CD: They wouldn't recognize their own fathers, either... if they - or
their mothers - knew who they were.  But that's neither here nor there. 
The bottom line is that they're using Calisto Dufresne's status as a
worldwide icon, draw, and most importantly - champion, to sell tickets. 
So I would say they recognize this championship for what it is, wouldn't
you?

JD: I'm assuming you're referring to the fact that they booked you
tonight against Soup Bone Samson, whom you defeated last month at
Memorial Day Mayhem using underhanded tactics.

CD: Underhanded tactics?  Samson was the one trying to knock out ole'
Meekly with one of those haymakers so he could go circumvent the rules
to get a victory over me.  _I_ pinned his shoulders to the mat 1-2-3,
fair and square.  I did so with nothing more than true grit and a
warrior's spirit, and that's exactly what I plan to bring to the ring
with me again tonight as I defend my AWA Pacific Championship in front
of my throngs of adoring fans.

[Dufresne flashes a smile and a thumbs up to the camera.]

JD: And finally, any thoughts on the fact that your fellow Southern
Syndicate member Raphael Rhodes is going to be taking a crack at Stevie
Scott's National Championship in a week?  Is there dissension within the
ranks?

[Dufresne scoffs.]

CD:  Dissension?  Absolutely not.  A little stupidity, sure.  First
Rhodes takes a shot at yours truly, and now he wants to take on our
fearless leader?  Not a wise move, Raph.  I know you want to have a belt
around your waist like Stevie and I do, and sometimes you bite off a
little more than you can chew in this business.  And just like my friend
Soup Bone Samson tonight...

[A nod.  A wink. A smile.]

CD: ...you'll find that lesson a hard one to learn.

[With that, Dufresne pats his belt for good measure and walks off camera
as we fade back to the ringside area.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne will be taking on Soup Bone Samson later
tonight... but perhaps more importantly, he just sent a very clear
message towards Raphael Rhodes.  Does he speak for the entire Southern
Syndicate?

BW:  That's more important than the first defense of the AWA Pacific
Championship?

GM:  That is NOT an officially recognized title, Bucky, and you know it!

BW:  The AWA bought the title when they bought Pro Wrestling Revolution.
 Dufresne was the man wearing the title.  I think he's got every right
to wear it.

GM:  Of course you do.  But getting back to the Southern Syndicate, at
this time, I'd like to welcome the winner of the 2010 Memorial Day
Mayhem Rumble and a man who will be challenging his own Southern
Syndicate teammate, Stevie Scott, for the National title in just eight
days... Raphael Rhodes!

[Rhodes walks into the frame, his hair freshly shaved to a mohawk.  He
is wearing a Team England jersey and a pair of jeans, along with work
boots.  He walks with a slight limp, still feeling the effects of his
own brother's accidental slide tackle from Memorial Day Mayhem.]

GM: Mr. Rhodes, the first thing I must ask... what is the condition of
your knee?

RR: It ain't great shakes, mate, but it'll do for now.  Me brother
popped the knee out when we were fightin' the Keenings, but the medical
staff was able to get me back in there for the Rumble.  I wasn't goin'
to let that kind of a chance go by.

GM: Clearly, as you shocked the entire AWA by challenging Stevie Scott
to a title match.  That didn't seem like it was a part of the Southern
Syndicate's gameplan.

RR: Yeah, it weren't.  But let's be honest, Gordon... less than a year
ago, I took Juan Vasquez to his absolute limits inside a steel cage.  Me
name was on everyone's mind.  And ever since then, ever since I joined
up with the Southern Syndicate... I felt like I was gettin' cooled down
a bit.  It was supposed to be me, Stevie, and Simon.  We were supposed
to be the three men wreakin' almighty havoc in the ring and takin'
people out.  Then... then we got greedy.

GM: Howso?

RR: We added more numbers.  And yeah, Dufrense and Freeman were nice
add-ons, they brought the National tag belts with them... but me and
Simon could've gotten those belts once we got those three points.  Then
Ben started sayin' that Simon weren't a part of the group.  Then we
added that punk Von Braun.  I could see these guys weren't too up on me
and Simon bein' around.  And for almost a year, Gordon... me brother and
I did everything asked of us.

[Rhodes frowns.]

RR: Help Dufrense and Freeman win a battle royal?  Sure thing, Ben. 
We'll go out there and do that.  But once they dumped us out... me and
Simon knew where we stood in the Southern Syndicate.  So when the next
chance to came in, not only was I goin' to take it, but I was goin' to
make the most of it.  And you know what?  It's funny, since this all
happened, you know how many phone calls I've got from anyone?

[Rhodes motions "zero" with his hand.]

RR: See, this is how I see it... no matter whether it's Stevie's hand or
mine that gets raised in a couple of weeks, the belt's stayin' in the
Southern Syndicate.  Unlike Dufrense and Freeman and Von Braun, who I've
been told I have to get along with... I respect Stevie Scott.  But how
them other three have been actin', well, mate... pure jealousy's all it
is.

[And with that, Ben Waterson emerges from the locker room area, making a
beeline towards the ring.]

GM:  It looks like your manager, Ben Waterson, is about to join-

[Waterson snatches the mic away.]

ATTSBW:  Stay out of this, Myers.  Stop trying to stir things up.

[Waterson turns to Rhodes.]

ATTSBW:  Look, Raph... we need to get on the same page here.  This...

[Waterson gestures at Raph.]

ATTSBW:  This isn't what the Southern Syndicate is about.  You know
that.  You knew it when you signed on.  Your first night in the Southern
Syndicate, you walked down to that ring and you helped keep that
National Title around the champion's waist.

The Southern Syndicate is about exactly that.  Loyalty.  Loyalty towards
your brothers in crime.  If Stevie's the champ, you do whatever it takes
to make it stay that way.  If Calisto and Adrian are the champs, you do
whatever it takes to make it stay that way.

[Waterson shakes his head.]

ATTSBW:  And I don't know what you're thinking these days but this isn't
how we do things, Raph.  

You CAN'T challenge Stevie for the title... you just can't.

[Waterson lifts his hands.]

ATTSBW:  Look, all that other stuff?  We can discuss it all.  Your
problems with Calisto and Adrian.  The stuff with Von Braun.  Even the
Simon thing.  Heck, maybe we can find a spot for him.  I don't know. 
But we can discuss it all.

But first, you've gotta back out of the title match.

[A nod.]

ATTSBW:  So, come on, Raph... do the right thing here and tell everyone
you're stepping aside.  You're not taking the match.  You're gonna fall
in line and help that belt stay on the champ's waist.

[Rhodes looks at Waterson coldly...

...and simply shakes his head.  The crowd cheers.  Waterson looks
frustrated as all hell.]

ATTSBW:  Damn it, Raph.  Listen to me... I don't want it to be this way
but...

[He pauses.]

ATTSBW:  You know how this goes.  If you can't be a team player... if
you can't carry your weight...

You can be replaced.

[The crowd jeers.  This time, it's Rhodes' turn to shake his head,
smirking at Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  Now, like I said... I don't want to do that... but this is one
of those moments in time where you have to do the right thing.  You have
to look at what you're giving up for this title shot.

The private jets... the limos... the first class penthouse suites... the
beautiful women...

All of it... GONE!

[Waterson nods his head quickly at Rhodes.]

ATTSBW:  Just think about it, Raph.  Think about what you're doing.  And
do the right thing... 

Keep the title in the Syndicate.

[Waterson turns to walk away...

...but Rhodes grabs him by the shoulder, turning him back to face him as
he takes the mic away.]

RR: Well, let me remind you of somethin', mate... 

[Rhodes rears back as if he is going to slap Waterson, who cringes out
of instinct.  Rhodes smiles and pats his manager on the shoulder.]

RR: It don't matter who wins... the belt's stayin' with us.  Ain't
nothin' wrong with competition.

[Rhodes limps off to some cheers from the crowd as Waterson stares after
him.  He's silent for a moment, stunned into quiet as he watches.]

ATTSBW:  Rhodes...

[Raphael turns around about halfway down the aisle, turning to face
Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  You've got until the end of the night to change your mind.  If
you don't... there's going to be a problem.  And when there's a problem,
it's my job to find a way to solve it.

You understand?

[Waterson glares down the aisle at his charge...

...who gives a short nod, slowly turning to walk away as 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 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.]

July 4th - 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 backstage where we see
Jason Dane and Juan Vasquez standing in front of an AWA backdrop. Juan
is dressed in an AWA Combat Corner tshirt and black jeans, staring at
the camera with a serious look on his face. Just then, Dane begins to
speak.]

JD: Hi folks! I'm here with a man who will be teaming up with Todd
Michaelson and well...possibly Marcus Broussard in two weeks against the
Southern Syndicate...Juan Vasquez!

[A cheer from the audience.]

JD: Juan, on the last show, we saw you in a way that we never had before
when you confronted James Watkins. You went as far to _beg_ Watkins for
one last shot at Stevie Scott...can you explain what happened?

[Juan lowers his head and chuckles, seemingly embarassed.]

JV: Like I've said before...sometimes I'm just too damn proud and too
damn stubborn for my own good. 

[He shakes his head.]

JV: After the Rumble, I'll admit it...I got desperate. I lost my way.
Realizing that I wasn't ever gonna' ever get another shot at Stevie
Scott was a bitter pill to swallow...and I just couldn't stand it. But
when Todd Michaelson came to me for help...he reminded me what was
important...what should've always been my priority. 

[A serious expression appears on Juan's face.]

JV: Bringing an end to the Southern Syndicate.

[A cheer from the audience!]

JV: Those bastards are the reason why I've been fighting so hard in the
first place...not just Stevie and that belt...and somewhere along the
line, I lost sight of that. Instead of concentrating on what's
important, I let myself get distracted by the gold and I played right
into Waterson's hands.

[Juan shakes his head again at his own foolishness.]

JV: The AWA National title means a lot to me...I ain't ever gonna' deny
that...

[He looks up and stares right into the camera with a determined look.]

JV: ...but the AWA means even more!

[Another loud cheer can be heard from the crowd, but Juan ignores them,
continuing on.]

JV: When this whole mess started, I said I was gonna' save the AWA from
Waterson and his boys. I said I was gonna' bring an end to Stevie
Scott's reign of terror. I said I was gonna' run every single last one
of those bastards outta' this organization! 

And even if I can't do it myself, even if that means I gotta' watch
someone else pry that National title outta' Stevie's cold, dead hands?

Then so be it.

[A short pause, as Juan wants to make sure Ben Waterson, Stevie Scott
and the rest of the Syndicate hear him loud and clear.]

JV: I'm gonna' tear down the Southern Syndicate...

[Another pause. He wants them to understand just how bad he wants
this...]

JV: ...or _die_ trying.

[He stares long and hard at the camera, before turning to Jason Dane and
then back to the camera.]

JV: I'll see you boys on July 4th.

[Fade to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Wow!  Juan Vasquez is recommitting himself, Bucky.  The Southern
Syndicate will come to an end at his hands or he'll die trying.  What do
you think about that?

BW:  A lot of people have wondered just what in the world Juan Vasquez
was going to do here in the AWA since he can't get another National
Title shot against Stevie Scott.  Well, I think we just found out.

GM:  The 4th of July will be seeing a whole different kind of fireworks,
Bucky.  I can't wait for that six man tag.  But will Marcus Broussard be
one of his partners?  We'll find out later tonight but for now, let's go
up to the ring for more action!

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

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall!  Introducing first,
already in the ring, from Portland, Maine... weighing two-hundred
twenty-one pounds... CHRIS CHOISNET!

[The young man in the ring, wearing white trunks with blue-and-pink
highlights, raises his hands to the crowd.  He has short brown hair, a
very light mustache and goatee, and is in decent shape.  He's shedding a
white ring jacket with a blue collegiate letter M on the front.  His
white boots have "CC" etched on the side in blue.  Light blue kneepads
complete his attire.  Choisnet seems a little bit nervous, but making a
good effort to control it.]

BW: What's his name?  Shwanay?

GM: Young Chris Choisnet coming all the way from Maine, but I hope he's
ready for this, or he'll be going home in an ambulance.

[The high-pitched piano piece that is "The Theme From Halloween" starts
up, and the crowd boos lustily.  The curtain parts, as the tall, wide
frame of James Monosso begins to stalk towards the ring.  Monosso has
stringy black hair, a big nose crinkled up into a nasty sneer,
complementing a wild wide-eyed expression.  He's wearing his pale green
"PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" T-Shirt over his black-and-silver
one-strap singlet.  Matching black-and-silver boots and kneepads and
electrical-tape wristbands (and taped fists) round out his garb. 
Monosso takes his time heading down the aisle... he's not moving well,
though that's not really uncommon these days.]

MC: And his opponent... from the State Of Confusion... weighing
two-hundred eighty-one pounds... JAMES MONOSSO!

GM: Here comes the madman.  I firmly believe the AWA made a major
mistake allowing this man into our ranks.  He may do something...
permanent someday.

BW: We can hope.  Ya notice somethin' though, Gordo?  New boots. 
Monosso's been wearin' his old boots from 2000 since he been here, but
looks like he finally got the cash ta spring for new ones.

GM: Yes, since his debut, he's slowly been regaining his health and
replacing his outda... LOOK OUT!

[As soon as Monosso hits the ring, he assaults Chris Choisnet, belting
him in the nose with a running punch and following immediately with a
headbutt.  The Maine native falls to one knee, and shoots for the legs.]

GM: Choisnet is in trouble if he can't use his amateur background from
the University Of Maine here.  He's executed a single-leg takedown.

BW: He's an idiot.

[Bucky's comment is probably due to Choisnet's attempt to float into a
front facelock, which brings him straight towards Monosso's upper body,
and exposes himself to another punch, and a techniqueless, violent grab
of his windpipe.]

GM: Monosso choking the young Black Bear alumnus, and getting back to
his feet.  We've seen that you can take Monosso down at will with
scientific and amateur techniques, but that does not accomplish much if
you do not follow up very cautiously.

[As Myers expounds, Monosso hoists Chris Choisnet up and blasts him flat
on his back with a shortened version of a choke slam... he didn't pick
him up far, preferring to spend his strength in driving him down hard.]

BW: OUCH!  Kinda a short chokeslam, but man, did he drill him with it,
daddy.

GM: Monosso continuing to choke.  Come on, referee!

[The poor exasperated referee counts to four and fifteen sixteenths
before Monosso asks him why he's counting.  The ref responds that
choking is illegal, and Monosso shrugs.]

GM: You can't tell me that Monosso FORGOT that choking was illegal!

BW: Are you kiddin'?  He probably forgot that he WAS chokin' the guy!

GM: Monosso with a stomp to the face, and this capacity crowd getting on
his case.  It's beginning to distract the lunatic from the State Of
Confusion.

BW: Best thing about that hometown?  He can see the whole world an'
never leave it. 

[James leans on the ropes, pointing and threatening some fans.  He
scowls at the referee, and then moves back in on his opponent... who has
recovered enough for a drop toehold.  The crowd cheers the underdog's
offense!]

GM: Drop toe hold by Chris Choisnet, who will need to use every ounce of
his technical acumen to have a chance.

BW: Chris Shwanay really oughta be usin' every ounce of his
intelligence, if he's a college graduate.  An' runnin'.

GM: Monosso stands... hip toss by Choisnet!  And... another one as the
psychotic rises again!  He's trying to tire his opponent out with
repeated takedowns.  A dropkick to the knees, one foot on each kneecap,
and Monosso falls again!

BW: On top of him.  Idiot!

GM: Monosso thrashing away at Choisnet, but the young man with a picture
perfect sitout and to his feet in a blink!  This may be a more
competitive match than we realized, Bucky.  Monosso up again... and a
running, twisting armdrag dumps him to the mat again!

BW: But he doesn't get tired!  You don't understand, Gordo... you can
tire out most big guys, but not Monosso!  He's like something out of a
horror movie!  He don't get tired, an' he don't wear down from damage! 
You gotta outwrestle him an' beat him like that! And unless this kid's
Shane Destiny Lite, I don't see that happenin'.

GM: Choisnet charging as Monosso stands in the corner... monkey flip...
NO!  Monosso held onto the ropes!  James Monosso is crazy, but is also a
longtime veteran of over twenty years.  Monosso grabbing Choisnet by the
hair, and a headbutt!  

BW: Sorry, kid.  Not gonna get it done that way.  Look at Monosso pick
him up like he's nothin'... POWER SLAM!  THAT'LL DO IT, DADDY!

GM: James Monosso with a brutal power slam, and now... he's ripping at
his mouth and nostrils!  Fishhooking the face of this young man, for
absolutely no reason!

[Monosso kneels, and then stands... while still holding his unfortunate
foe's face with both hands, pulling his nostrils and mouth apart with
his fingers.  Still clutching him, he drags the young man around the
ring... and starts to spin!  The fans boo this horrible tactic!]

BW: Ha ha!  He beat Preston with a Giant Swing... look, he's invented a
new version of it!

GM: THIS SHOULD BE A DISQUALIFICATION!  That is well over five
seconds... and finally Monosso lets go.  He was swinging the young man
around by his nose and mouth, trying to rip his face!  Horrible!

[Monosseo follows up by running off the ropes, jumping... and hammering
Choisnet in the face with a jumping kneedrop, getting as much height
with the jump and lift of the knee as he could.  The fans oooh at the
sheer impact of that one.]

GM: That's a King Kong Kneedrop, and I doubt very seriously that this
young man from Maine is going to be able to kick out of that.

BW: One, two... oh, he kicked out!  That's toughness!

GM: He didn't kick out!  Monosso picked him up!  

[James yells at the fans who boo his bloodlust, and then points at the
turnbuckle.]

GM: Uh, oh.  We've seen this before... he likes to drive his opponent
shoulderfirst to the post and then kick his head into the ringpost. 
There's no place in the sport for that... not when your opponent is
already beaten!

BW: Eric Preston, are you takin' notes?  You got off lucky once;
Monosso's gonna show you what's gonna happen next time!

GM: James Monosso should have been happy with his win.  He's backed up
Chris Choisnet to a corner, and punching away at him.  Kick to the
midsection... now he has him by the scruff of the neck and seat of the
pants!  He's going to ram him... NO!

[The crowd cheers, as Choisnet diverolls to the mat, avoiding being sent
through the ropes to the ringpost.  The young man gets to his feet in
the corner, and an irate Monosso charges... but nobody home!  Choisnet
runs off the far ropes as Monosso bounces out of the turnbuckle, and a
running dropkick blasts Monosso right back into the turnbuckle!]

BW: NO WAY!

GM: Running dropkick by Choisnet!  He has a chance!

BW: He shoulda rolled right on outta the ring, Gordo!  He's makin' it
worse on himself!

GM: Choisnet climbing the turnbuckle, to the second rope, and punching
away at Monosso!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!  FOUR!  FIVE! SIX!  SEVEN!  EIGHT! 
NINE!  TEN!

[The crowd, of course, counts along with Chris Choisnet and Gordon
Myers.  The young man hops back down from the turnbuckle and starts to
swing his arms out to the crowd, before noticing something:

Monosso isn't hurt.  At all.]

BW: You thought punching Monosso was gonna accomplish somethin'? 
Really?

GM: Monosso lunging from the corner, and connecting with an elbow shot! 
Choisnet is dazed, and slumping in the corner!  Here comes Monosso...
NOBODY HOME AGAIN!

[Monosso tried a big boot to the face, but Choisnet ducked... leaving
James to hang himself up on the top turnbuckle!  The fans are smelling
upset, standing on their feet and cheering!]

BW: OH NO!  Gordo... James just don't have any sense sometimes, ya know?

GM: THIS IS CHOISNET'S CHANCE!  He's pushing Monosso up on the top
turnbuckle... HE'S GOING FOR A SUPERPLEX!

BW: Hookin' the leg!  Goin' for a fisherman superplex!  I guess that's
his move!

[Maybe, but we'll never find out.  Choisnet tries to lift Monosso, but
James' free arm grabs the top rope, and his body doesn't budge. A second
lift fails.  Chris lets go and tries to salvage the situation by
switching maneuvers... but Monosso won't let him.  Grabbing between his
opponent's legs, Monosso lifts him in slam position, seated on the top
rope... lifts overhead, and drops him neck first onto the top rope! 
Choisnet's upper body slingshots back into the ring with a THUD!]

GM: WHAT A COUNTER!  CHOISNET HAS TO BE FINISHED AFTER THAT!

BW: Press drop on the rope off the top?  Uh, yeah.

[Monosso swings his legs back over the top, stands on the second
turnbuckle, and hops forward into an elbowdrop... but Choisnet's last
burst of energy allows him to roll away, and the improvised aerial
tactic fails!  The fans cheer again, as another spark of hope shoots
through them.]

GM: Monosso is absolutely out of his mind... he can't hit a flying move,
why would he even try one?!

BW: Askin' an' answerin' yer own questions, Gordo.

GM: Choisnet staggering up... and charging Monosso... oh no.  OH NO.

[Both men have peeled themselves up, but Choisnet seems on his last legs
while Monosso seems angry.  The rookie from Maine goes for a flying
cross-body, but Monosso lifts him overhead... dropping him down in a
fireman's carry...

...and charging into the corner, smashing the back of Choisnet's head
and neck into the buckles!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Monosso, still hanging on, steps away from the corner...

...and charges back in, smashing his head into the buckles again!]

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

[The madman slowly walks out to the middle of the ring again, holding a
limp Choisnet across his neck...

...and with a gutteral scream, charges in again!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[Choisnet's neck hits the buckles in a sickening angle.  The big man
walks out of the corner towards the ropes, glaring out at the crowd...

...and simply slings Choisnet over his head, sending him crashing down
on the barely-padded floor in an unmoving heap.]

GM: THAT SHOULD BE A DISQUALIFICATION!  THERE IS NEVER, EVER A CALL FOR
THAT!  HE COULD HAVE BROKEN CHRIS CHOISNET'S BACK OR NECK!

BW: Or both.  And he might have, yep.

GM: Monosso is pointing over here... 

BW: He heard you tellin' the ref that he oughta be disqualified!  What a
troublemaker you are, Gordo!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM: That's a countout, folks.  Chris Choisnet isn't moving.  

MC: THE WINNER OF THE MATCH, BY COUNTOUT... JAMES MONOSSO!

BW: See what I mean?  That Shwanay or whatever his name was... he could
wrestle.  But it didn't do no good, Gordo.  Lookit th' replay!

[We go to the instant replay.  Choisnet is going for the fisherman
superplex, but Monosso is blocking.  The rookie from Maine lets go and
seems to be about to attempt something different, but James scoops him
right up while seated on the top rope.  He lifts him up over his head,
pushes Choisnet's lower body out towards the ring while lining up his
neck and tossing him... straight down into a Hotshot-esque landing,
neck-first into the top rope!]

GM: Here you see on the replay a creative counter, Bucky.

BW: That's the one strength of his mental game, daddy... imagination. 
He's loony, loopy, an' all-around nuts.  He can't focus an' he can't
plan.  But he can make it up as he goes along with a killer instinct,
daddy.  Shwanay got a forearm in there, or that woulda been lights
out... even then, it pretty much was.

[The next replay is Choisnet's ill-advised charge.  He swings his arm
out for the clothesline, but Monosso's superior reach and strength make
the  lift very easy.  With little difficulty at all, he picks the young
man up, charging into the corner over and over again.]

GM: The young Black Bear showed great heart to get up from that move,
but for once I'll agree that he should have stayed down. He had nothing
left, and it was all too easy for Monosso at this point, who could have
just slammed him and pinned him, Bucky Wilde.

BW: Yeah, coulda.  But why?  Ya don't hafta bother with pins, no muss,
no fuss.  Eric Preston might suffer the same fate when Monosso gets
ahold of him.

[The replay ends, and the fans boo as Monosso is at the announce
position.  He brushes his stringy hair out of his face as Gordon stands
to ask the questions.]

GM: James Monosso... you had more competition than you might have
bargained for this week, but why on Earth did you resort to such
overkill?

JM: Myers, there's no such thing as overkill.  It's called "making
sure".  Also known as the Lizzy Borden Method.  They call me crazy, but
that's because they don't have the guts to accept reality.  In the real
world, nice guys don't finish last; they don't finish at all!

Eric Preston, pay attention.  I heard you talkin' about the top ten
list, about contending for titles.  Eric, I've held a prestigious World
Title in my hands.  I've held major championships in major federations. 
I know what it's like.  It's an illusion, Eric.  Stevie Scott has to
surround himself with people, you know why?  Because champions are hated
and envied by everyone, and people conspire against them and try to take
them apart all the time!  Eventually, they end up bitter and broken. 
Like me.  Like Michaelson.  But the smart ones see it in time and get
out, Eric.  Look at Waterson.  Look at Bucky.  They knew, Eric.  And
they can walk.  They don't need cortizone shots to stand up straight. 
They don't have screws holding their hips together.  They still have
their original kneecaps.  They knew the price was too high to pay.

You want to join the party, Eric?  So you can be a former champion when
you're old and everyone has forgotten you anyway?  You think that's
prestigious?  You think that anyone cares?!  Myers, not one time have
you told anyone that I'm a former World Champion.  Why not?

GM: Well...

JM: BECAUSE NOBODY CARES!  Your dreams are a fantasy, Eric, and whatever
you think championship glory will bring you is a lie.  Money.  All it is
is money, and you'll fritter it away like all the rest.  You'll buy
stupid watches and fragile cars, you'll buy women who will take your
money and leave you to go whore around with someone else, and you'll be
left with nothing but pain and emptyness when it's all done!  You're
better off with the pain and emptiness now.  Now, while you can still go
to school and figure out how to make money from a wheelchair!  That's
the best thing for you...

...so... you're welcome, Eric.  You're welcome.

[With that, Monosso wanders off to the boos of the crowd.]

GM: James Monosso making reference to Eric Preston's call for
consideration as a title contender, Bucky.  He's not impressed, and he's
not giving up on his quest to injure the young South Carolinan.

BW: Monosso has a point.  Ya know what it takes ta be a champion-level
wrestler an' walk away from it without bein' a broken-down wreck?

GM: It sounded to me like he was saying that was the real reason for the
Southern Syndicate.

BW: Ruthlessness.  Stevie's got it.  Preston don't.  And when he was
younger... Monosso didn't have it either!  He had to learn it the hard
way, an' it broke his mind, Gordo.  I was there!  I know what happened
ta that man!  He was always... off.  Always a bit nuts. But not like
this.  He's just tryin' ta save anyone else who can't hack it the
trouble.  A real humanitarian.

GM: DID YOU JUST CALL JAMES MONOSSO A HUMANITARIAN?

BW: He's lookin' out for the kids!

GM: He might be a humanitarian in the sort of vein that some people are
vegetarians, but that's about it.  We'll see if Eric Preston responds to
this challenge... but for now, let's take a look at the next batch of
the Top Ten rankings.

[The Top Ten graphic appears once more.]

GM:  Checking in at #7...

[A picture appears.]

GM:  Kevin Slater!

BW:  The Outlaw!

GM:  I don't think so.  But the former two-time World Champion has got
to be pleased at that ranking.  Let's see who's next...

[The next picture appears to a cheer from the crowd.]

GM:  Eric Preston is #6!  How about that?

BW:  The rookie has obviously made a big impression on the AWA fans as
he's right on the brink of the Top 5.  Close but no cigar.

GM:  So, who got the cigar?

[Another picture appears.]

GM:  James Monosso is #5!

BW:  And after what we just saw him do, can you really be surprised by
that news?

GM:  The madman checks in at #5.  We've still got the Final Four to go
plus the top three in the tag team rankings.  Fans, let's go right back
up to the ring for more action!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing beside a large,
slighty overweight man in a plain white t-shirt and plain black trunks.]

MC: The following match is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute
time limit. Already in the ring, weighing in at 315 pounds...BIG
BUUUFORD CHAMBERRRRS!

GM: Chambers is a local wrestler who has wrestled all around the
Arkansas and Texas area.

BW: He's a big boy for sure. I wonder if he can back it up in the ring
though. Doesn't exactly look like the the sharpest knife in the drawer
though.

[Chambers raises his arms to an almost non-existent pop.]

MC: And his opponent...

[The opening guitar riff of 'Defy You' by The Offspring hits as 'The
Last Good Man' Jesse Ewiak walks out to the entrance way. Jesse's an
OK-looking guy, but he has a weathered, older than his age look to him.
His dirty blonde hair usually is cut very short, highlighting a five
o'clock shadow and his piercing green eyes. Jesse has the normal tan of
somebody who has lived in Florida for most of his adult life.  He looks
at the ring with a concentrated look on his face before beginning to
walk down to ringside.]

MC: ...from Palm Bay Florida, weighing 267 pounds, he is 'THE LAST GOOD
MAN'...

JESSSSSSSSSEE EWIAKKKKKKKKKKK!

[Ewiak heads down to the ring, absent-mindely slapping hands, but
focused completely on the ring. As he walks up the steps, he takes off
his black leather jacket setting it down as he steps inside the ring.]

GM: Ewiak has wrestled all over the world, however, he's been largely
retired for almost the last six years -

BW: - because he's washed up. I'd say he's a has been, but you have to
be successful at one time in your life. So, I guess he's a never was.

GM: C'mon, Bucky. Jesse may have never headlined major PPV's, but he's a
well-respected veteran.

BW: Yup, respected because everybody knows they can kick his tail.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[Ewiak and Chambers square off for a moment before locking up. Ewiak
gets the immediate advantage and slaps on a headlock. Buford pushes
Ewiak off into the ropes, but 'The Last Good Man' bowls him over with a
big shoulderblock. Chambers gets right back up, but walks into one
forearm, then another that sends Big Buford into the corner. The referee
steps in to break things up and Ewiak backs up breaking the hold
cleanly.]

GM: Ewiak showing good sportsmanship here against Chambers.

BW: Of course he is. That's why he's stuck coming out of semi-retirement
after half a decade. Young wrestlers probably got tired of Ewiak
teaching them to be a 'good man.'

[Chambers comes out of the corner and immediately walks into a kick to
the gut. From the front facelock, Ewiak picks Chambers up and holds him
in a suplex position for a few seconds before dropping him into a...]

GM: ...BIG DELAYED SUPLEX by Ewiak! An impressive show of strength.

BW: So he can pick up a sloppy fat guy for a few seconds. Big deal.

['The Last Good Man' goes to pick Chambers up by his mat of slightly
mullet-like hair, but as Buford rises, he pokes Ewiak in the eye.]

BW: See, that's what you get for being a good man. An eyegouge from a
redneck.

[Big Buford hits several right hands which backs Ewiak into the corner.
After driving his elbow into Ewiak's head, the referee breaks it up.
Chambers spits quickly off into the ringside area, then sends Jesse into
the far corner. Big Buford slaps his belly, then charges into the corner
at a high speed (for him) and goes for a big avalanche but...]

GM:  EWIAK GOT OUT OF THE WAY! Chambers took too much time rushing 'The
Last Good Man.'

[Chambers stumbles backwards and Ewiak takes him up and over into a
spine-crushing German Suplex that dumps Buford right on his neck. As the
crowd cheers, Ewiak then climbs up to the top rope waiting for Chambers
to get back to his feet.]

GM: The big man from Florida taking a bit of a risk here going to the
top rope, but he probably believes he has the momentum.

BW: Crash 'n' burn, old man!

GM: He's still younger than you, Bucky.

[Ewiak flies off the top rope and drives Chambers right back into the
mat with a big top-rope clothesline. Buford almost does a complete flip
as he takes the clothesline.  Ewiak lands and then gets back to his feet
readjusting his knee brace. Buford gets back to a vertical base,
obviously a little glassy eyed and out of it and Ewiak grabs him right
into a urange, lifts Chambers up, then drops him right into a
powerbomb!]

GM: Ewiak calls that the Infinite Justice and that'll be the end of this
match! Jesse hooks the leg and there's one, two, and three. The ref
could've counted to twenty.

"DING! DING! DING!"

MC: The winner of the match at a time of three minutes and forty seven
seconds...'THE LAST GOOD MAN' JESSSSSSSSSEE EWIAKKKKKKKKKKK!

GM: An impressive debut for Ewiak here and he's heading for the ringside
area..

[Ewiak steps into frame as Myers stands beside him.]

GM: Welcome to the AWA, Jesse. That was a good first victory for you
here tonight. How's it feel to get back in the ring here in front of
these great Little Rock fans?

[Ewiak grimly smiles for a bit.]

JE: Well, it is good to be back in the ring in front of fans who don't
know me by name. As you know, outside of a few small appearances, I've
been retired for the last six years. But, you know us wrestlers Gordon,
we never really go away. I mean, look at Bucky after all. He should've
left a long time ago, but here he is, still annoying us every other
week.

BW: Hey, at least people know who I am!

GM: In his own way, my broadcast partner has a point. You've never been
a big star and when you've had success, it's been with your younger
brother. Do you think you have what it takes to hang with the big stars
of the AWA?

JE: That's what I'm here to find out. The truth is, I don't got a couple
of years to start at the bottom and work my way back through national
prominence. I've got one last shot and I realize it's a bit of cliché
Gordon, but I figure if I'm going to do it, why not take on the best
wrestlers in this nation.

GM: So, who are you looking forward to getting in the ring with?

JE: I'd be silly if I didn't say some of the top stars like Raphael
Rhodes or even ole' Stevie Scott. But, in the near term, I wouldn't mind
brawling with a lunatic like Monosso or your favortie devil worshipper
Anton Layton, trade holds with a wrestler like Riley, or even just get
into a fight with a tough roughneck like Jack Snyder. The thing is
though, I'm not gonna compromise on my principles. I'm going to stand up
for what must be done, not just what people want to do. I'm not afraid
to bleed a little bit, or break a bone or two. It's happened before. It
might even happen again. When the night is done though Gordon, whoever
takes me on will know they've been in a fight with the Last Good Man in
wrestling.

GM: Thank you for your time, Jesse. Good luck here in the AWA.

[Ewiak nods and walks away.]

BW: I still think he's a failure and about three weeks from getting
killed by Layton or Monosso.

GM:  Only time will tell if Jesse Ewiak has what it takes to succeed
here in the Major League of Professional Wrestling.  But for now, let's
go backstage where Jason Dane is standing by with one of the men who
will compete in tonight's Lady Luck Challenge, Jack Snyder!

[Jason Dane stands with "Dying Breed" Jack Snyder stands backstage in
front of an AWA banner.  Snyder chomps on a wad of chaw, its orange
juice bubbling out of his mouth and dripping down his chin.  The ugly
grappler stares straight at the camera; all business, no nonsense.  Dane
begins his interview.]

JD:  Jack, tonight you have the opportunity to move one step closer to
your goal:  a shot at the National title.  In order to do that you need
to defeat a man with an already legendary past, Shane Destiny.  Share
with us what you've done to get ready for this important contest.

JS:   When you're always ready, you don't have to get ready.  Now just
give me the stick and let me say my piece.

[Snyder snatches the microphone from Dane's hands and speaks with a
stern voice.]  

JS:  'Bout to head out there for my second fight in the Lady Luck
challenge, and only one thing's for sure:  Lady Luck ain't smilin' down
on me.

Nope.  For starters she's got one of the biggest, angriest, strongest
goons in the world chasin' me down, tryin' to settle an old score. 
While I'm out there tryin' to keep this streak alive and earn my shot at
the National Title, my head's gotta be on a swivel 'cause I never know
when that tortured, lost soul's gonna sneak up behind me and try to drop
me on my head.   

[Spits.]

JS:  As if that weren't enough?

Tonight Lady Luck's got me grapplin' with Shane Destiny, one of the best
that's ever laced 'em up.  Didn't need to look up the scouting report. 
Didn't need a history lesson.  Already knew both.  Everyone does.  This
is a man with a legacy.  This is a man who's a former World Champ and a
future Hall of Famer.  This is a man succeeding in proving that he's
every bit as capable as he's ever been.  And this is a man, lately,
who's been gettin' his kicks puttin' other men out of business with his
crippling strangle hold.  

And as Lady Luck would have it...

[Sticks his thumb to his chest.]

JS:  _This_ man you're lookin' at right here's got an injured neck and
shoulder.  I'm prime pickin' for that strangle hold.  Might as well put
a big bulls-eye on me, 'cause there ain't no use tryin' to hide it any
longer.  Everyone in the world's done seen it... I'm fightin' through
injury.  

Yep.  Sure does seem the deck's stacked against me, don't it?

[Pause.]

JS:  I asked you a question, Dane.

JD:  Oh! Yes.  Yes, you face tough odds tonight Jack.  One might even
say th-

JS:  Well, it's a good thing I've never relied on luck a day in my life.
 

Luck is for those who don't do their homework.  Luck is for those who
rely on their past accolades to see them through.  Luck is for those
without the mental toughness to persevere through hardship.  Luck is for
those who don't have the attributes that _I_ have:

A steel chin.

An iron will.

The biggest, hairiest sack of cojones in the AWA.

Ya see, it's weak men who rely on luck.  Strong men?  Real men like me? 
We rely on cause and effect.  And because tonight I'm gonna go out there
and dig a little bit deeper, move a little bit faster, bite a little bit
harder, play a little bit dirtier, and use every damn object I can get
my hands on to bash in Shane Destiny's brain... I'm gonna have my hand
raised in victory.

[Jack drops the microphone on the floor.  A bit perturbed, Dane reaches
down to pick it up as the shot cuts back to ringside.]

GM:  There's a man who is certainly ready for his dance with Lady Luck
later tonight.  Snyder was victorious last time out in the Challenge but
remember, it takes five wins to earn the National Title shot that every
man in the AWA is so desperately seeking.  But coming up next-

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#

["Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode shoots throughout the arena and the
crowd immediately breaks into jeers. Through the curtains.. stroll The
Blonde Bombers. Baldwin and Nova. The Blonde Gods. They're in red
sparkling robes that read "Bombers down the back in glitzy gold
lettering. The platnium adonis' turn back towards the entrance and the
entire arena explodes.

"Hollywood" Larry Doyle.

Living up to his nickname. 

"Hollywoodin" it up. 

Doyle is slumped over in a golden wheelchair. His arms hunched on the
rails as his head hangs low, attempting to hide a cheshire like grin.
Pushing the wheelchair into view is the massive Crusher Glenn. The
Bombers walk down towards ringside as Crusher pushes Doyle in the
wheelchair. The Bombers mockingly throwing backhands as Doyle cackles
his Bomber cackle. They reach Bucky and Gordon.]

BW: Oh no. No no no! Larry.. what _happened_?! 

GM: He's obviously fak--

[Doyle leaps out of the chair and lands on his feet. He pats Bucky on
the shoulders.]

LD: MY.. _OH_.. MY!

[BOOS! Lots and lots of boos.]

LD:  Fear not, my good friend, Buck. Buckaroo. Buck diggity doo! Larry
Doyle and the rest of da bombaaahh are fit as some frickin' fiddles! 

_THIS_..

[Doyle points at the golden wheelchair sitting behind him.]

LD:  .. _this_ is nothing more than The Bombers fulfilling a promise.
Because when one of _us_ makes a promise.. we live up to it, Bucky.
Unlike those good-for-nothing.. two bit.. _punks_.. Storm and Morgan..
The Rockstar Express!

[HUGE ROCKSTAR POP!]

LD:  Aww.. save yourselves the _trouble_ of rooting for those two
cripples. I'm sorry.. one cripple and one oh so sooooonnn to be cripple.
I'M TALKIN' ABOUT _YOU_, SCOTTY STORM!

[Doyle points to the wheelchair as Nova and Baldwin smirk.]

LD:  It doesn't matter which Bomber you choose. Nova.. Baldwin.. Heck..
Crusher.. or even Larry "Hi falutin'" Doyle himself! The result is gonna
be the same. 

[Doyle cuffs his hands together and looks up imagining the beauty that
is to come.]

LD:  By the end of tonight.. you _WILL_ be sitting in this here
wheelchair..

[Doyle's face reddens.]

LD:  .. PERMANENTLY!

Or my name isn't Larry Doyle. 

And then.. and tttthhheennn.. after we've crushed you. After we've taken
all that you have left, and sit it down in this chair. After you and
Morgan have to do your dancing hugs from the swively confines of these
metal apparatuses together. After aallll of that.. the soon to be number
one ranked tag team is going to take the shot we've _earned_..

[Doyle sits down in the chair and swivels around between Baldwin and
Nova. The crowd boos the notions of the Bombers having earned anything
other than their disdain.]

LD:  And Baldwin and Nova here are going to _destroy_ whomever survives
the July 4th title match. Rough N Ready.. Bishop Boys.. it doesn't
matter. We're gonna take those hunks of tins.. and we're going to put
'em on the waist of a couple of _rreaaall_ champs here. 

[Doyle smiles and pats Baldwin and Nova.]

LD:  Then.. if you're lucky, Rockstars. When you're wheelin' yourselves
home from watching the Bombers glorious, dignified.. and _poignant_
championship celebration.. we might stop by and let you look at the
titles. 

Cause that's just the kinda guys we are!

Heck.. we bought you this wheelchair.

[Doyle whirls his hand above his head.]

LD:  ON DA HOUSE~!

See you jerkholes later! 

Crusher.. get the chair!

[But before Depeche Mode can start up once more, the sounds of Kiss'
"Rock And Roll All Nite" kicks in to a big cheer!]

GM:  IT'S THE ROCKSTAR EXPRESS!!

[Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan do indeed burst through the curtain to an
even louder cheer...

...oh, and Scotty's dressed to wrestle.]

GM:  Here they come!  Fans, it's showtime but we've gotta take a quick
break!

[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...

Cut back to ringside where Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan have joined
Gordon Myers.  Inside the ring, the Bombers are ready for action.]

GM:  Fans, welcome back!  And Scotty Storm, those two men are waiting
for your decision.

[Scotty, dressed in a Warrant tank top with red bandanas tied around
each wrist is full of energy as he speaks.]

SS:  Well, you know, Gordon... it don't matter one lick of nothin' to
the Rockstar Express who I get in there with tonight.  Whoever it is is
gonna find out first hand what it's like to try to sneak past the
bouncer to keep up with the Rockstars.  

Marty and myself know that these great fans of Little Rock...

[Big cheer!]

SS:  ...are ready to rock and roll, strut and stroll with the hottest
tag team in the game.  Oh, and the last time I checked... our rider says
no turkey.

[Scotty points at Larry Doyle who promptly throws a tantrum.]

SS:  Let's do this...

[Scotty promptly grabs the middle rope, pulling himself up on the
apron...

...where "Love Machine" Johnny Nova drills him with a right hand,
knocking him down to a knee.  The referee calls for the bell as
"Beautiful" Bobby Baldwin steps out to the apron, dropping down to the
floor to join Crusher Glenn and Larry Doyle outside the ring.]

GM:  Johnny Nova's not wasting a moment, Bucky.

BW:  Larry's taught them well.

[Hanging onto the top rope, Nova delivers kick after kick to the lower
back of Storm, knocking him down to the floor.  Referee Mickey Meekly
steps right in, forcing Storm back...

...which allows "Beautiful" Bobby to slip around the corner, driving a
hard kick into the chest of Storm, flattening him on the floor as Marty
Morgan races to his partner's side, shouting at Baldwin who slinks away
towards Glenn and Doyle.]

GM:  Look at that!  What a cheap shot!

BW:  Hey, they're a team, Gordo.  Even in a singles match, the Blonde
Bombers are a team.

GM:  This is not a tag team match.  He's got no right to put his hands
on Scotty Storm!

[Johnny Nova reaches over the ropes, hauling Storm off the apron to his
feet where he buries a right hand into the cheek, causing Storm to cling
to the ropes to stay on his feet.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big hooking right hand from Nova...

[Hooking a front facelock and slinging Storm's arm over his neck, Nova
hoists him up in a vertical suplex...

...but Storm wriggles free, landing on his feet behind Nova and
immediately scoring with a dropkick to the back of the head that sends
the "Love Machine" sailing through the ropes to the floor!  Big cheer!]

GM:  What a dropkick from Storm and- 

[The crowd cheers again as Storm immediately rolls out to the floor,
pursuing Nova who is stumbling away towards his partner, manager, and
bodyguard.  He grabs Nova by the back of the trunks, yanking him back
into a right hand as Marty Morgan cheers from the other side of the
ring.  A second haymaker sends Nova staggering into the timekeeper's
table, sending Melissa Cannon and the timekeeper scurrying.]

GM:  Storm is working him over- look out!

[A big cheer goes up as Storm smahses Nova's face into the wooden
timekeeper's table.  A second smash into the wood sends Nova falling
back to his rear on the floor...

...and a threatened haymaker in the direction of an approaching
"Beautiful" Bobby draws another cheer.]

GM:  Baldwin better stay back or Scotty'll knock his teeth out too.

BW:  Scotty.  Sheesh.

GM:  What's wrong now?

BW:  What kind of a grown man calls himself "Scotty?"

GM:  What kind of a grown man calls himself "Bucky?"

[Storm drags Nova back to his feet, firing him under the ropes into the
ring.  Storm steps up on the apron...

...and as Crusher Glenn steps up on the other side of the ring, drawing
the referee's attention, Baldwin grabs Storm by the leg, preventing him
from getting into the ring.]

GM:  He's stopping him!  He's hanging onto the leg and-

[A rushing Nova drives his knee into the body of the trapped Storm.  He
quickly follows with a few kicks before dragging Storm through the ropes
into the ring where he promptly fires him into the ropes...

...and floors him with a back elbow up under the chin.  Larry Doyle
shouts to the nearest cameraman.]

"YOU SEE THAT?  SMOOTH AS SILK AND TWICE AS PRICEY, BABY!"

[Nova pulls Storm off the mat, quickly burying a boot to the gut.  He
quickly hooks a front facelock again, this time reaching down to scoop
him up, slamming him down with a bodyslam.  Outside the ring, Marty
Morgan screams encouragement to his partner as Nova wiggles his hips a
bit to some cheers from the females in the crowd.]

GM:  Johnny Nova is a talented individual but just not a very nice guy,
Bucky.

BW:  A nice guy?  Since when do we care if he's a nice guy?

[Nova leaps up, driving a boot down into the chest of the downed Storm. 
He points at the clapping Morgan.]

"You want some of this?"

[Morgan looks like he does, climbing up on the apron as the referee
races to stop him...

...and Crusher Glenn reaches under the ropes, using his power to yank
Storm torso under them as well where he smashes an elbow down into the
the throat of Storm.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  You trying to tell me the Rockstars didn't know what they were
getting into tonight?  When you face one of the Bombers, you face 'em
both.  When you face 'em both, you get Hollywood and the Crusher to
boot, daddy!

GM:  I can't believe you're trying to defend these guys.

BW:  Guys after my own heart, Gordo.

[Marty Morgan gets down, protesting all the while as Johnny Nova grabs
the legs of his partner, smirking to the crowd before falling back in a
catapult, smashing Storm's throat into the bottom rope!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Brutal move right there by Johnny Nova!

[Nova brushes off the referee's reprimand as he drags Storm into the
middle of the ring by the legs, promptly flipping over into a double leg
cradle.]

GM:  There's one!  There's a two!  There's- no, shoulder up at two.

BW:  What?  Isn't Storm's head in the second row after that catapult?

GM:  Obviously not.  Wait a second!

[The crowd begins to buzz as another individual appears from the locker
room, quickly making his way down the aisle.  He is dressed in a stylish
Armani suit and is the AWA's newest holder of a manager's license, Joe
Petrow.]

GM:  What's Joe Petrow doing out here?

BW:  Maybe he's scouting.  But the Bombers already have a manager.

GM:  Maybe he's scouting the Rockstar Express.

BW:  Good one, Gordo.  You've got potential as a comedian yet.

[As Petrow reaches ringside, he ignores the questions of Larry Doyle as
he stands behind the announce table.]

GM:  Mr. Petrow?  Can you explaing what you're doing here?

[Petrow leans over, speaking just loud enough so that we can hear him
through Gordon's headset.]

JP: You know, since my appearance on the last show, people have been
wondering exactly what Joe Petrow is going to do with an AWA Manager's
License.  As this little card gives me the freedom to be here at
ringside, I thought I'd take this opportunity to show everyone a sample
of what I have in mind.
 
GM:  How do you intend- Mr. Petrow?  Mr. Petrow?

[But Joe Petrow has already walked away.]

BW:  Nice job, Gordo.  My gardener's better at digging stuff up than you
are.

[Nova drags Storm back to his feet again, reaching over to slap him
across the face.  He shouts in Storm's face before slapping him again...

...and getting a big haymaker in response!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big shot there!

[Storm throws a second haymaker... then a third to send Nova staggering
back into the ropes.  Grabbing the wrist, Storm attempts a whip...]

GM:  Irish- reversed by Nova!

[Nova drops his head, ready for a backdrop but Storm clears it easily
with a leapfrog, racing to the opposite ropes...

...and knocks Nova flat with a high cross body!]

GM:  CROSS BODY TAKES 'IM DOWN FOR ONE!!  FOR TWO!!  FOR-

[The crowd jeers as "Beautiful" Bobby Baldwin reaches under the ropes,
yanking Storm off of Nova...

...and promptly gets CREAMED by an oncoming Marty Morgan!  BIG CHEER!]

GM:  OHHH YEAH!

[Storm pulls Nova up, chopping him across the chest back to the corner. 
Grabbing the wrist, he fires Nova across...]

GM:  Big whip to the corner... here comes Storm...

[Scotty Storm rampages across the ring, looking to strike...

...but Nova ducks down, backdropping Storm over the top rope where the
Rockstar lands on the apron!]

GM:  He saves himself!  He pulled himself onto the apron!

[Nova spins around, taking a big swing at Storm who ducks down, slinging
himself forward to smash his shoulder into the midsection of Nova.  With
the Love Machine doubled up, Storm slingshots himself over the ropes,
hooking Nova around the upper legs.]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP!!

BW:  FIGHT IT!!  FIGHT IT!!

[Nova does exactly that, grabbing the top rope with both hands as Storm
trying to take him down.

"Beautiful" Bobby jumps up on the opposite side of the ring, trying to
distract the official.]

GM:  Come on, ref!

[The referee's focus turns which allows Crusher Glenn to pull himself on
the apron, grabbing the arms of Nova to prevent the takedown...

...until Joe Petrow leaps up on the apron, rearing way back and kicking
the arms of Glenn, causing him to let go of Nova, falling back down to
the floor as Nova falls back in the sunset flip!]

GM:  HE GOT HIM DOWN!!  

BW:  WHAT IS PETROW DOING?!

GM:  HE GOT NOVA DOWN!!

[And the referee spins around, diving to the mat.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner... SCOTTY STORRRRRM!

[Storm promptly rolls out of the ring just before "Beautiful" Bobby
Baldwin gets in there to lay in the beatdown.  Marty Morgan meets his
partner out on the floor and together, they back down the aisle as they
point at the furious Baldwin and Nova.]

GM:  Scotty Storm with the win and that gets the Rockstar Express a bit
of payback after the injury that Marty Morgan suffered a few weeks ago,
Bucky.

BW:  But one look at those boys in the ring and at Larry Doyle will tell
you this isn't over, Gordo.  I just want to know what in the world Joe
Petrow is thinking.  Surely, he doesn't want to manage those two twits!

GM:  He's out of here just as quickly as he got here, Bucky.  Who knows
what Joe Petrow wants to do?  He's never been known as the most stable
of individuals.  Fans, Scotty Storm with a big win here for the
Rockstars and let's go backstage where Jason Dane is standing by! 
Jason?

[We cut to the backstage area in front of an AWA backdrop.]

JD: Hi folks, Jason Dane here at the AWA Interview Center, and with just
a few days until the huge July 4 extravaganza, the card is starting to
stack up, Earlier tonight Brent Maverick laid out an open challenge for
that day, and it didn't take long until someone answered the challenge.

[Dane looks off screen and within moments, Eric Preston walks into the
shot. The fans cheer loudly as Preston slaps Dane on the back, wearing a
black Combat Corner t-shirt and blue jeans, with a thick studded black
belt. The South Carolina native pumps his fist to the fans and bounces
on his toes idly as Jason prepares to talk.]

JD:  Earlier in the broadcast, we heard a challenge from Brent Maverick,
who laid an open contract on the table for anyone to fill on July 4. As
I understand it, _you_ have answered the call.

EP: You're absolutely right, Jason. I signed that contract a few minutes
ago for July 4 against Brent Maverick, and I'm psyched about it. Brent
Maverick is one of the all time greats that this sport has ever seen.
He's won every tag title there is to hold, he's been awarded every
accolade you can find. That man is a sure fire, first ballot Hall of
Famer. And I can't think of a better way to move my way up the Top Ten
list then to defeat a man with his pedigree.

JS: So this isn't a personal issue?

[Preston shakes his head from side to side.]

EP: Not in the least, Jason. It's an honor and a privilege to be in the
same ring with someone like Brent Maverick, and I'm excited for it from
a competitive point of view. This sport always has been and always will
be about two guys gettin' in the squared circle and bangin' heads until
there's a winner, he knows that and so do I. This isn't personal, this
is strictly to find a better man. We'll shake hands to start and we'll
shake hands when it's over.

JD: So you're going to take it easy on each other?

EP: Take it easy?

Have you met Brent Maverick? Have you met me, for that matter?

Listen Jason, I believe in a fair fight, and so does he. We're gonna
find out who the better man is and we're gonna do it on fair terms, but
that's a far cry from taking it easy. The winner of this match climbs a
few rungs on the ladder, brother, this isn't for fun and games. I'm
going to Memphis to win a match, Jason, so that I can continue on up the
list and earn my crack at the title. That's the goal of every man who
hangs his boots in the locker room, it's the reason we're all here, to
be the best.

A win over Brent Maverick keeps me on that path, my man, so if you're
asking me will I take it easy?

You gotta be out of your damn mind, Jason. That's gonna be the most
intense match on the card, because it's two men fighting for survival.
Two men who are desperate to be the best. Two men lighting each other up
on our nation's birthday to take one more step to the top. Oh, it'll be
a fair fight alright, and I respect Maverick, but I respect him enough
to want to knock him out in the middle of the ring, because I know
anything less just won't do.

JD: Do you think he respects you?

EP: When you're a young guy like me, every match is a chance to prove
something. Every time that bell rings, I'm trying to earn the respect of
the guy across from me. Just so happens, the best way to earn someone's
respect is to pin their shoulders, one two three. If Brent Maverick
doesn't respect me, I guarantee you he will after the match is over.
There's gonna be parties and cookouts all day on July 4, but in Memphis,
Tennessee Eric Preston is gonna supply the fireworks.

[Preston nods his head to signify he's done talking and slaps Dane on
the arm as he leaves, to the cheers of the crowd.]

JD: There you have it, fans, Eric Preston will square off against Brent
Maverick on July 4th, and they're both fixin' to tear the house down! 
Back to ringside to Gordon and Bucky!

[We cut back to the ringside area to our announce duo.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  And how about that news, Bucky?  Brent Maverick
will meet Eric Preston on the 4th of July!

BW:  That's good.  I'm excited about that.

GM:  Really?

BW:  Sure.  I might need to take a break to run to the bathroom.

GM:  Would you stop?  Fans, we're going to have the rest of the 4th of
July lineup before we go off the air tonight but right now, let's go up
to the ring for our next match!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit... and although not an officially sanctioned title, it is for
the Pro Wrestling Revolution Pacific Championship!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  Ten minutes?

BW:  I checked with Calisto.  He said all of his title defenses will
only be ten minute time limts.

GM:  His title defenses?  It's not even a recognized title!

BW:  I recognize it.  Big leather strap.  Gold, silver.  Good stuff.

[Melissa continues.]

MC:  Introducing first... 

["Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J starts up to a large cheer.]

MC:  From Deeeeeeeetroit, Michigan... 

SOUP!  BONE!  SAAAAAAMSON!

[A big cheer goes up for the veteran as he walks into the Jack Stephens
Center.  He's dressed in black mid-length trunks and carries a heavy
silver chain across his neck.  The man is all business as he slowly
makes his way towards the ring.]

GM:  Here comes Soup Bone Samson!

BW:  The failure.

GM:  What?

BW:  He's a failure.  He came out here for weeks and made people cry and
whine about City Jack and how he was going to avenge him.  But in the
end?  Calisto Dufresne was standing tall and Samson was down on the mat
like the old dog that he is.

GM:  You fail to mention that Dufresne used some less than clean methods
to win that match, Bucky.

BW:  A win's a win no matter how you want to whine about it.

GM:  I see.  Well, tonight may be a very different story.  

[Samson hits the ring, yanking the heavy chain off his shoulders and
holding it high in the air to the cheering crowd as his music fades out
and is replaced by ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man."]

MC:  And his opponent... from Avery Island, Louisiana... he carries the
Pacific Title and is accompanied to the ring by his manager, Ben
Waterson...

He is the Ladykiller...

CAAAAAALIIISTO DUFRESNE!

[The jeers increase as Dufresne and Waterson make their way into view. 
Dufresne's got the PWR Pacific Title slung over his shoulder as a
less-than-happy Ben Waterson is walking right behind him.]

GM:  Here comes- never mind.

BW:  Go ahead.  You can say it.  Here comes the champ, daddy!

GM:  He is NOT the champion.

BW:  Then why does he have a belt?

GM:  He WAS a champion in Pro Wrestling Revolution several years ago. 
He thinks that makes him an AWA champion but I think - as does the
Championship Committee - that he's wrong, Bucky.

BW:  Semantics.

[Dufresne steps up the ring stairs in a hurry, handing his belt over to
Ben Waterson...

...and gets rushed by Samson as the referee frantically calls for the
bell!]

GM:  HERE WE GO!!  HERE WE GO!!

[Samson promptly throws Dufresne back into the nearest corner, balling
up his fist and taking a boxing stance as he throws hooking blows to the
ribcage of the shocked Ladykiller.]

GM:  He's got Dufresne trapped in the corner!  Body shots to the ribs! 
Trying to knock some of the wind out of his sails!

[With Waterson screaming instructions, Samson grabs Dufrense by the
wrist, firing him across the ring...

...and DRILLING the Ladykiller with a rushing clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot that was!

[Grabbing the dazed Dufresne by the wrist, Samson fires him across the
ring again.]

GM:  He goes corner to corner again... here he comes!

[A second rushing clothesline finds the mark, nearly knocking Dufresne
off his feet but Samson grabs him by the hair, shaking his head at his
rival as he refuses to let him fall.]

BW:  Can the referee get Samson off him?!

GM:  He could but why should he?

[Samson holds Dufresne by the hair with his left hand, throwing big
right hands into the gut that double up the Ladykiller.  A hard kneelift
snaps him back, causing him to grab the top rope.]

GM:  Dufresne's in trouble, Bucky!

BW:  He is not!

[Grabbing the wrist again, he fires Dufresne across where he smashes
against the buckles, bouncing out and charging towards Samson...

...who scoops him off the mat, rotating, and DRIVING Dufresne down into
the mat!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  OHH, WHAT A POWERSLAM!!

[Samson screams in triumph as he throws himself across Dufresne,
reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!   THREE- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon's cry as Ben Waterson clutches his own chest
out on the floor.]

GM:  I thought he had him there!  I thought it was over!

BW:  We almost had a new champion!

GM:  Would you stop it?  He's not a champion but that belt IS on the
line!  If Samson wins this match, he'll take Dufresne's most prized
posession, Bucky, and what a blow that would be for the Ladykiller.

BW:  His ego might take a slight hit.

[Samson rolls over, grabbing two hands full of Dufresne's hair...

...and SMASHES the back of the Ladykiller's skull into the mat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

BW:  He's got the hair!  Ref, he's got the hair!

[Still holding the hair, Samson smashes the back of his head into the
mat again.]

GM:  He's beating the heck out of him, Bucky!

BW:  Somebody do something!

[Samson drags Dufresne off the mat by the hair, pulling him into a
standing headscissors...]

GM:  He's going for the Detroit Tiger Driver!

[As the veteran reaches down to hook an arm, Ben Waterson throws himself
up on the apron, causing Samson to throw Dufresne aside, rearing back to
knock the wily manager into the middle of next week...

...but Waterson ducks down, allowing Dufresne to pull himself up to a
knee on the mat.]

GM:  Samson's coming back after Dufresne...

[Dufresne springs up off the mat, jabbing a thumb into Samson's eye. 
With the veteran blinded, he yanks him into a front facelock.]

BW:  WHAM!  BAM!  THANK YOU MAAAAAAAA-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  BACKDROP!  HE COUNTERED THE DDT!!

[Samson pops back up to his feet, throwing his arms wide with a roar to
the fans before popping himself in the face with a couple short punches.
 He spins around, right arm cocked back as he waits for Dufresne to
rise...]

GM:  He's ready!  He's set!

BW:  NO!  NO!  NO!

[The Ladykiller staggers up to his feet, pulling himself up with the top
rope, slowly turning...

...and Samson lashes out with a right hook, catching Dufresne square on
the jaw, knocking him flat!]

GM:  RIGHT HAND!!  HE'S OUT!!!

[Samson throws himself down onto Dufresne.]

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

[But the referee leaps up holding up two fingers.]

GM:  What?!

BW:  It's a two!  It's only a two!  Dufresne got his foot on the ropes!

GM:  I wonder how!

[Samson, kneeling on the mat, looks shocked at the referee...

...and then turns his gaze towards Ben Waterson who is at ringside, not
surprisingly close to the foot of Calisto Dufresne which now sits on the
bottom rope.]

GM:  The referee knows it!  Samson knows it!  The whole world knows it!

[Deciding to abandon any effort at being sneaky, Waterson grabs Dufresne
by the arm, yanking him under the ropes to the floor.  Grabbing the dead
weight of the unconscious Dufresne, Waterson starts dragging him down
the aisle...

...and keeps right on going as a stunned Samson stands, hands on hips as
the referee counts.]

GM:  The count's to seven... eight... nine...


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner via countout...

SOUP!  BONE!  SAAAAAAAMSON!

[Samson shakes his head at the official who tries to raise his hand.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson is your winner... but he doesn't look happy about
it, Bucky.  This is certainly not how he wanted to win this thing.  He
wanted a pinfall... maybe a knockout... you know that.

BW:  Well, a win's a win like I said earlier but Samson sure don't look
like a winner to me, daddy.

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back.

[And we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back to live action where "The Washington Post" by John
Philip Sousa, as performed by the United States Marine Band, starts to
play over the arena speakers. The crowd breaks into a murmur as the Jack
Stephens Center audience knows who is about to make his entrance, but is
not sure if it's okay to jeer when a patriotic march is playing. As
expected, the seven-foot tall MAMMOTH Mizusawa emerges from the
entranceway, a big smile on his face and waving an American flag on a
pole. 

He is dressed to compete in a black singlet, with the Japanese flag
emblazoned on the outside of the right thigh and the flag of the United
States of America on the outside of the left thigh, black knee pads and
black boots. Mizusawa is soon joined by the smiling, bespectacled Louis
Matsui, who has ditched his usual suit for a white-and-blue Team USA
tracksuit. He is also carrying a pile of white bundles. Mizusawa picks
up one of the bundles, unravels it and holds up a T-shirt, with the
American flag printed on its left and, as Mizusawa flips it around, the
words, printed in black on the back: "MATSUI," a large "4" beneath it
and "TEAM USA" beneath that.]

BW: Matsui 4 Team USA! I like it, Gordo!

GM: I don't think Louis Matsui's interested in anybody but Team Matsui,
Bucky. This makes me sick!

[Mizusawa balls up the T-shirt in his hand and chucks it towards the
audience. It unravels in mid-air and flutters down onto an unsuspecting
member of the audience. He picks up another bundle and lobs it into the
audience. We don't get to see if it is caught.]

BW: Normally, those bundles require a T-shirt gun, but the big man is
just launching them like you would a football... Well, not you
personally, of course, Gordo...

[Mizusawa throws another T-shirt into the audience. A fat, dowdy woman,
who looks like she'd grab any freebie thrown at her, makes a lunge for
it, and jumps up and down excitedly when she catches it.]

BW: Louis Matsui, exemplifying the true spirit of giving, tossing out
free tchotchkes to these vastly undeserving crowd... Hey, do you want
one, Gordo? I'm sure you do-

GM: No! Not really...

BW: Oh, don't be shy, Gordo! Hey! Hey, Louis! Hey!

GM: Ssshhh!!! Bucky!!!

BW: Hey, Louis! Save one for Gordon Myers here!

GM:  Oh, you've done it now, Bucky...

[With only two T-shirts left in his hands, Matsui hears Wilde calling
and saunters over with a smile towards the announce position. He is
followed by his client, who is waving the flag enthusiastically, while
yelling, "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!"]

LM: [Handing one of the bundles over to Myers] Here you are, Myers. 
[Tosses the other one over to Wilde.] And one for the Buckmeister,
too!

GM: Gee... Thanks... I guess... And I assume this is all part of
MAMMOTH Mizusawa's All-American Tour, your road to Independence Day?

LM: Yes and no, Gordo, yes and no. You see, Gordo, thanks to the power
of DVR, I was able to watch the last SNW... Which was probably the
only way I would have heard the Glory Hogs's, because that's what they
are with their little attempt at publicity, comments about my client
and me. That should give you an indication, Gordon, of their
significance on the list of MAMMOTH Mizusawa's and Louis Matsui's
priorities. 

How dare those three crybabies who packed up and ran to
Japan when things weren't going their way here lecture us about what
being REAL MEN is about? Ebola Zaire, the Botswanan Beast, is as
rough... As tough... As mean... As bad... And as strong as you two
come, but my client beat him. I might have called Jason Keening a Boy
Scout, but he's a REAL MAN... Well, barely, and Mizusawa beat him.
Juan Vasquez will tell you how much of a MAN he is, dubious though his
character may be, and my client PUT HIM THROUGH A FRIGGIN' WALL! So,
no, next to those men, you swine aren't worth giving the time of day
to. What I'll do is throw the ball right back in your court. You say
you aren't too hard to find? Well, if you have a problem with my
client and you're done whining about it, you just look for the
seven-footer proudly waving the Red, the White and the Blue!

[MAMMOTH Mizusawa waves the American flag enthusiastically, while
yelling, "U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!"]

LM: Or, you know, the Fourth of July show is in just over a week... We
certainly plan on being there to celebrate this great country's
Independence Day and since I last checked, America's friend and mine,
MAMMOTH Mizusawa, has not been booked in a match, yet. Maybe if Dickie
Lee goes to talk to Jimmy Watkins or one of the other AWA suits, he
could get either Porky or Babe a match against my client. Then,
whoever it is can find out for himself how much of a REAL MAN this
giant is. But I'll give them this, Gordon: the three little pigs have
got one thing straight; there're too many managers in this joint, and
only two who really matter. One of them is Ben Waterson... And the other
represents the true spirit of generosity, enterprise and
determination... Yours truly, Louis Matsui... And if that ain't
American, Gordon, I don't know what is. Maestro, hit MY music!

[But instead of music, we get the appearance of the managerial mind
behind the Southern Syndicate, Ben Waterson at the top of the aisle,
microphone in hand.]

ATTSBW:  Mr. Matsui...

[The crowd buzzes at Waterson actually showing some respect.]

ATTSBW:  You and I have not always seen eye to eye on things.  We both
have similar goals in this company - total domination - and at some
point, our two goals may collide in rather spectacular... and brutal...
fashion.

But from time to time, we have seen fit to pool our collective talents
and put them to good use.

The time has come for that once more.

[Matsui looks slightly intrigued.]

ATTSBW:  As you may have heard, the Southern Syndicate has been
challenged to a six man tag team match in just over a week at the 4th of
July event.  And as you may also have heard... there are...

[Waterson chooses his next phrase carefully.]

ATTSBW:  ...issues... with filling out our squad currently.  Just
moments ago, I was informed by the Championship Committee's lapdog
Watkins that my man, Calisto Dufresne, will be forced to once again put
his championship on the line on the 4th of July against Soup Bone
Samson.

[The crowd cheers while Waterson looks around with disgust.]

ATTSBW:  With Mr. Dufresne and the National Champion apparently occupied
next weekend, I find myself in an awkward position.

A position where I must come out here in front of this crowd...

[Waterson pauses.]

ATTSBW:  And make you the offer of a lifetime, Mr. Matsui.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

ATTSBW:  This is your opportunity - your opportunity for MAMMOTH
Mizusawa to cement his claim to a spot at the top of this promotion.  In
one night, he'll have the chance to END the careers of men like Juan
Vasquez and Todd Michaelson and make sure everyone knows his name.

Who knows?  With time, perhaps Mr. Mizusawa might even find himself in
line for a spot with the most elite group in this industry.

[More buzzing - this time with concern at the idea of Mizusawa in the
Southern Syndicate.]

ATTSBW:  If it's cash you need, it's yours.  If it's a match with
someone, it's yours.  If it's...

[Waterson stops short, looking a bit uneasy.]

ATTSBW:  Well, you get the idea.  Mr. Matsui, Mr. Mizusawa... the
decision is yours.

[And with that, Waterson turns to walk away as Matsui and Mizusawa
huddle up inside the ring, discussing what they just heard...

...as we fade back to a bank of monitors in the area known as the AWA
Control Center.  Jason Dane stands before them.]

JD:  Hello, fans, and welcome to the Control Center!

We are just eight days away from our big 4th of July event - an event
that will now be known as Independence Day which will be coming to you
live from FedEx Park - an outdoor baseball stadium.  There will be over
four thousand fans on hand for this big night which somehow just keeps
getting bigger.

Moments ago, we heard that Eric Preston will be taking on Brent Maverick
in a match that should have major implications for the Top Ten Rankings.

It's a match that will be no countout when Calisto Dufresne who I can
now announce has been named the #4 contender to the AWA National Title
will meet Soup Bone Samson in one on one action.

Anton Layton continues to try and get at Vernon Riley and this time, he
says "the mist" is coming for the Working Man.  What does that mean? 
We'll find out next weekend.

Vladimir Velikov will team with Baron Von Klauss in an Open Challenge -
any tag team in the industry is dared to accept.

How about the National Tag Team Title match?  The Bishop Boys defend the
gold against their top challenger Rough N Ready!

It'll be one of the biggest six man tags in AWA history when the
Southern Syndicate - a team we still don't know who will be a part of it
- takes on the trio of Juan Vasquez, Todd Michaelson, and....?  Who will
it be?  Perhaps we'll know in just a short while when Marcus Broussard
addresses the entire wrestling world!

And in our Main Event, the AWA National Title is on the line when
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott defends the gold against the man who won the
Memorial Day Rumble, Raphael Rhodes!

Plus, Bucky Wilde will have an edition of The Call Of The Wilde when he
will interview "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor.  What does Taylor have to say
after his shocking loss at Memorial Day Mayhem?  Find out in just over a
week!  For the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane and let's go back down to
ringside to Gordon and Bucky! 

[That's exactly where we go, fading out of the Control Center to
ringside.  More precisely, we're inside the ring with both of our
announcers.]

GM:  A star-studded lineup for Independence Day, Bucky, for sure.

BW:  Seven big matches out under the stars in Memphis.  It's going to be
a night that no AWA fan is going to want to miss.

GM:  And speaking of things that no AWA fan is going to want to miss...
ladies and gentlemen, at this time, would you please welcome the AWA
National Tag Team Champions...

[Enormous "blow the roof off the building" pop.]

GM: Along with their manager, Cousin Bo...

[Another huge pop for the brains of the operation.]

GM: They are Cletus Lee and Duane Henry...

[Even bigger pop! Gordon now has to shout to be heard over the fans.]

GM: THEY ARE ARKANSAS'S OWN!

[Biggest pop yet for the cheap mention of the state.]

GM: THE BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

[And with that, the crowd loses their freaking minds as Rebel Meets
Rebel's "Nothin' To Lose" cranks up. Bo steps out from behind the
curtain with a huge smile on his face, gesturing out to the rabid crowd
with his newspaper. He nods and turns around, pointing to the entryway.
Duane Henry comes charging out, raising his arms to the raucous crowd.
He looks around and gestures for the crowd to get louder, if that's
possible. He claps his hands and walks over to Bo, patting him on the
shoulder. And then, sure enough, it actually gets louder! Because "The
Razorback Roughneck" himself, Cletus Lee, lumbers through the curtain,
staring wide-eyed at the enormous crowd actually cheering for him.

Cletus Lee refuses to show any emotion whatsoever, but he does raise his
title as the crowd continues to cheer. Cletus Lee slowly makes his way
to the ring, as Bo and Duane Henry have already entered the ring. Bo
shakes Gordon's hand, and Duane Henry climbs the turnbuckle, pointing
out to the crowd. As Cletus Lee strides into the ring, Duane Henry jumps
down and slaps his brother on the back. Cletus Lee gives him a slight
nod, and both men take up their usual position behind Bo as their theme
dies down and Gordon raises the mic once more.]

GM: Mr. Allen, how about the reception here for you and your cousins?

[Before Bo can even answer, the crowd goes crazy one more time, and a
chant starts up.

"BISH-OP BOYS!"

"BISH-OP BOYS!"

"BISH-OP BOYS!"

Even Bo looks astounded by the appreciation shown by the home crowd.]

CB: Man, I've gotta tell you, Gordon. We've been at this for a while
now, and I've never felt such a rush. There's only one thing I can
possibly say.

[Bo pauses.]

CB: GOOD GOD, IT'S GREAT TO BE HOME!

["Hooray, he likes us!" pop.]

CB: I see a lot of friends and family out there. People who've supported
us no matter what. And that confidence in us has paid off. Because now
we get to come back home as the most dominant tag team in wrestling
today.

[Applause for Bo's respect.]

CB: And even though we don't get the chance to actually defend these
titles tonight, we just knew we couldn't possibly come home and not put
on a show for all of these people!
 
That's why the challenge was put out there. I don't know who it is. I
don't care who it is. Whether they're already in the AWA or somebody
just looking for an opportunity to get their foot in the door, we will
face them and we WILL come out victorious later on tonight.

GM: I know everybody's looking forward to that, but I would be remiss if
I didn't mention your upcoming title defense against your old rivals,
Rough N Ready.

[HUGE boos from the Little Rock fans. Bo looks at Jason and shrugs his
shoulders.]

CB: Well, we know where the people stand.

GM: As for you?

[Bo sighs.]

CB: Y'know something? I don't really know what to think of Rough N Ready
lately.

They've always been the guys claiming to fight for what's right. They've
always talked the good talk about fighting clean and getting rid of the
likes of the Southern Syndicate. But, lately, it seems like things have
changed. I've said it before and I'll say it again. They have every
reason not to trust us. I can understand them being apprehensive.

[Bo pauses to think.]

CB: But it seems like ever since they missed the chance to be the ones
to unseat Dufresne and Freeman, they've let it get to them. After what
we saw on the last Saturday Night Wrestling, it feels like a whole new
ballgame. I don't know what the deal is with Sarah Sharpe, but for her
to walk out on them, there's gotta be some serious problems going on in
their camp.

[And speak of the devil, here comes Rough N Ready. This draws boos from
the Arkansas crowd. Dave Cooper appears to be a big agitated at the
booing, while Eric Matthew Somers doesn’t show much emotion.]

GM: Hold on… we have company.

[Dave and Eric both climb through the ropes into the ring. Cletus Lee
still shows no emotion, while Duane Henry cautiously eyes both men.
Cousin Bo, however, signals for his men to wait.]

GM: Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers… you know about the offer Cousin
Bo has made… what about it?

DC: What about it, Gordon?

[He shakes his head.]

DC: I never though I’d see the day the Bishops get cheered like this… I
guess they had more family members than we realized.

[Was it an insult? The crowd may not know or care… they just know whose
side they take as they boo.]

DC: Regardless, as far as what happened to Sarah… that’s none of your
business. She made her decision to leave and we are moving forward.

But as far as your offer is concerned… you don’t like us, we don’t like
you, so you should easily figure that we have our doubts about your
offer.

[Eric just slowly nods his head.]

DC: Honestly, I see a way this could be easily remedied… let’s just get
this match on right now.

[He then advances as now Duane Henry steps forward, expecting Dave to
jump right into action. But as Dave does step forward, Eric puts his
hand on Dave’s shoulder.]

EMS: Hold on, man… let’s not get too hasty.

DC: What the hell are you talking about?

[EMS pulls Dave aside and the two turn away and whisper to each other.
Duane Henry eyes Rough N Ready suspiciously, Cletus Lee still shows no
emotion and Cousin Bo just folds his arms.]

GM: I don’t know what Dave and Eric are discussing, but…

[Before Gordon can finish his sentence, Eric turns to the Bishop Boys.]

EMS: All right… you want to us watch your backs in tonight’s match, and
you’ll watch ours as well… you got it.

[Dave nods to Eric’s remark.]

EMS: But there’s something you better keep in the back of your minds…
we’ve had problems in the past and it’s in your best interest that there
not be any more problems again.

So if there are any problems tonight from the three of you… you won’t
like what the end result will be.

And we’ll leave it at that.
 
[And with that, Dave and Eric then depart the ring. The Bishop Boys
don’t move as Rough N Ready turns back to look up to the ring, Dave
mouthing to them “you heard what he said” as then they turn away and
return to the back.]

GM: Well, Mr. Allen, what about what we just heard?

[Bo looks back out at the aisleway, a puzzled look on his face. He turns
to Myers.]

CB: I...

[Bo looks to his cousins, who look as confused as him.]

CB: Well...

[Bo looks down at the mat.]

CB: I think that they just need t...

[Bo stops in his tracks. He throws his hands up in the air.]

CB: Y'know what? I don't know WHAT to think.

[The crowd is silenced as the man who has a response to everything is at
a loss for words. Bo shakes his head.]

CB: We...um...

[Bo looks at the mic for a second and surprisingly walks away, leaving
his cousins behind in the ring. Jason looks at Duane Henry, wondering if
he has anything to add, but Duane Henry just shrugs in confusion. Cletus
Lee looks... utterly unaffected, as usual.]

GM:  Uhh... I guess that's a... a no comment?  A lot of confusion out
here in the ring right now and fans, don't go away - we'll be right back
with more AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!

[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...

We fade back up to Gordon Myers standing ringside with a mic. Next to
him is Brian Von Braun, arms crossed. BVB has his hair pulled back into
a ponytail and is wearing a black t-shirt with a green, short-sleeve
button-down left open.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and with me right now is Brian Von Braun.

[Myers turns towards BVB.]

GM: You said you had an announcement to make during the commercial
break.

[BVB looks at Myers and nods.]

BVB: Fourth of July show in Memphis?

[BVB grins.]

BVB: I'll be one person representin' tha Southern Syndicate.

GM: You're going to be-

BVB: [interrupting] An' Vasquez, Michaelson, an' whoever else they got
better watch out that night. Ya know, Gordon? Come ta think of it, this
six-man tag match ain't really fair. I mean, ya got a cripple, a choke
artist, an'... hell, even THEY don't know who else is on their team.

[BVB motions over at Bucky Wilde.]

BVB: Bucky over there wouldn't have a problem takin' on that team by
hisself in a handicap match. Surely, those three are gonna need a
miracle in order ta even have a prayer of winnin' tha-

[A big ol' figure lumbers in from off camera. His head is topped with a
black cowboy hat and his broad shoulders are covered in his traditional
tan "Confederate Flag" trenchcoat. The figure is noneother than the
former National Champion, himself, "The Athens Georgia Madman".. Ron
Houston. Von Braun eyes The East Coast Terror up and down as Houston
just stands in front of him.. his gaze unrelenting. Finally, after
several moments of tension.. the Madman speaks through gritted teeth.]

RH: Ah'm gettin' pretty sick of ya, Von Braun.

[Jabs a big ol' Athens index finger in BVB's chest.]

RH:  At first it was cute. Ya comin' out here like the one trick pony
that ya are. Makin' yer name at somebody else's expense. First it was
yer own flamin' father. Then, when ya realized that ain't none of us
'round here _care_ much 'bout yer father. Then.. well.. then ya climbed
up the mountain and took yer shot at the former champ. 

[Houston turns that same index finger into his own chest and buries it
there a few times.]

RH:  Week in and out.. ya come out here.. chest pushed out.. head held
high. Crumby false sense of bravado pourin' off yer skin. Come out here
braggin' 'bout the whole lotta nothin' that ya've done. Whinin' 'bout
the whole lotta nothin' that's been happenin' ta ya. 

Yer _entire_ claim ta fame.. yer _entire_ claim ta glory.. is stickin'
yer hand loosely upside mah head. 

[Houston smiles.]

RH:  Yet ya come out here like ya entering the six man ain't gonna be a
_sweat_ at all. Like the "great" Brian Von Braun's worth a lick, or got
the stroke, got the _ability_.. ta wipe the ring with three of the
greatest wrestlers this industry's ever seen. 

Ah've _been_ in the ring with Marcus Broussard.

Ah've _been_ in the ring with Juan Vasquez. 

Ah've flamin' beaten 'em at that.

[Houston pauses, eyeing Von Braun up and down.]

RH:  Ya ain't _nothin'_, kid. 

[Houston continues to eye BVB up and down.]

RH:  Yer worse than nothin', associate. Yer a dead man. 

And ah'll be right there at ringside ta watch as those three men put ya
in yer place. Put ya on the mat. And put yer spineless back down fer
three seconds. 

[Another southern smile.]

RH:  That's right.._associate_. Ah'm the Special Enforcer for the dang
thing.   

[BVB's eyes narrow as he looks at Ron Houston. He points at Houston,
taking care not to touch the Special Enforcer.]

BVB: Take heed of yer where abouts durin' tha match, Ron. When a
official or a Special Enforcer are in tha wrong place at tha wrong
time... 

[BVB pauses for a moment.] 

BVB:  ...accidents can happen. I'd hate ta see ya end up tha unfortunate
victim of an accident.

[BVB backs away from Myers and Houston, backing up the aisle, his eyes
locked on Ron Houston.]

GM:  Wow!  Two huge announcements right there for Independence Day! 
Brian Von Braun has joined the Southern Syndicate's team for that night
in that big six man tag and Ron Houston's going to be the Special
Enforcer for that match!  What a night it's gonna be in eight days time,
Bucky!

BW:  And Houston seems awfully confident that Marcus Broussard is going
to team with Vasquez and Michaelson.  Personally, I think they're going
to end up with some Combat Corner scrub.

GM:  We're still going to hear from Marcus Broussard later tonight but
coming up next, we've got the Lady Luck Challenge pitting Shane Destiny
versus Jack Snyder.  We heard earlier tonight from Mr. Snyder so let's
go back to Jason Dane who is standing by with Shane Destiny!  Jason?

[We cut back to the locker room area where Jason Dane is indeed standing
by with Shane Destiny.  Destiny is already dressed out in blue wrestling
trunks, blue kneepads, and white boots, along with a black T-shirt.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Mr. Des-

SD: Yeah, yeah, it's your pleasure to interview me, I got it.  Look,
there's been a lot on my mind, so let me make something clear to a
casual observer... old Uncle Mark.

[Destiny waves, a grin spreading across his face.]

SD: How you doing, buddy?  How's life on the sidelines treating you?  I
bet you think you got in my head, causing to me get eliminated.  And I
bet you think you're so suave, coming out here and acting like I'm the
only person that took a couple of shortcuts in pro wrestling.  So let me
clear some stuff up.

[Destiny pauses to take a small breath, almost as if he's ready to make
a revelation.]

SD: Did I cut weight to make it down to junior heavyweight to make my
name?  Absolutely!  Did I do some things I'm not proud of?  Did I
cheap-shot a couple of guys on the way to the top?  Sure!  Do I have any
regrets about anything that's happened inside a wrestling ring?  Not one
bit... and I'd do it all over again.  Let me make something clear to
you, Uncle Mark... all the things you accused me of, you did too.  And
there's been a lot of talk about how I've been "overlooked".  How I've
been "forgotten".

[Destiny's grin returns.]

SD: That's the way I like it, because the moment you take your eyes off
Shane Destiny is the moment you're beaten.  And hey, Uncle Mark, while
you're sitting there, throwing stones from your glass house, I'm doing
something that even the Southern Syndicate is afraid to do... step in
the ring with Jack Snyder.  Jack Snyder, the guy that calls himself a
"Dying Breed"... hey, Jack, how's the shoulder, huh?  How's that neck? 
You think you're up for trying to fight off the Destiny Strangle?

[Destiny chuckles.]

SD: Don't think I didn't see your match with Shane Taylor last week,
Jack.  Don't think I didn't see the desperation in your eyes when you
used that cradle.  Don't think I don't know _exactly_ what kind of pain
you're in.  Because, you see, this match is a bit of a misnomer for
you... "Lady Luck Challenge"?

[Destiny looks at Dane.]

SD: Someone's luck just ran out, Dane.

[Destiny walks out of the frame.]

JD: That match is coming up right now so let's go up to Melissa!

[We cut from the backstage area to the ring where Melissa Cannon is
standing.]

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

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first...

["True Faith" by New Order kicks in to a huge negative reaction.]

MC:  Currently residing in Las Vegas, Nevada... weighing in at 252
pounds...

SHAAAAAAANE DESSSSTINY!

[The curtain parts as Shane Destiny walks into view.  The former World
Champion is completely focused as he makes his way down the aisle
towards the ring.]

GM:  Shane Destiny is all business here tonight.  More than anything
else, every person in this sport wants a shot at the AWA National Title
and this is one way to get it.  Five wins in a row gets you a shot at
the gold, Bucky.

BW:  No one's done it yet.  The Lady Luck Challenge is without a doubt
one of the toughest challenges in the sport.  To win five matches in a
row against top flight competition is not easy... and to do so in ten
minute matches is even harder.  But if one man can do it, it's Shane
Destiny, Gordo.

[Destiny climbs the steps, moving through the ropes.  He mounts the
second rope, gesturing to all the ringside fans as the music starts to
fade and is quickly replaced by "No Quarter."]

MC:  And his opponent... from Bullhead City, Arizona... weighing in at
255 pounds...

He is the "Dying Breed"...

JAAAAAAACK SNYYYYYYYYYYDERRRR!

[The crowd cheers as Snyder tears through the curtain, immediately
pointing to the ring with a "I'm comin' for ya, punk!"  He nods his head
to the cheering crowd, pausing once to look over his shoulder at the
curtain before making his way down the aisle.]

GM:  Jack Snyder, obviously keeping an eye out for Grant Stone.

BW:  Can you blame him?

GM:  I certainly can not.  Grant Stone is a monster of a man and cruel
as a rattlesnake.  He'll strike and strike hard when you least expect it
and leave broken bones and careers in his wake.  So yes, if I were Jack
Snyder, a man who Stone has been DYING to get his hands on for years,
I'd be looking over my shoulder as well.

[Snyder reaches the ring, using the middle rope to pull himself up.  He
steps through the curtain, throwing an arm into the air for a big cheer
before slowly lowering it, glaring across the squared circle at a
waiting Shane Destiny.]

GM:  I've been looking forward to this one for two weeks, Bucky.

BW:  Two of the hardest hitting men... two of the toughest men... two of
the most well-respected in-ring competitors in our entire industry are
about to throw down for the whole world to see.  This is gonna be
something else, Gordo.

[Snyder backs into the corner, wincing a bit as he swings his arm,
torquing his injured shoulder and neck.  He tugs at the ropes, gritting
his teeth as the referee gives some last minute instructions to both men
before calling for the bell.]

GM:  The bell rings and here we go!

[Snyder rushes from the corner, wasting no time and perhaps catching
Shane Destiny by surprise with a barrage of heavy punches in the corner.
 The crowd is instantly roaring as Snyder grabs the wrist, firing
Destiny from corner to corner...

...and lighting him up with a running clothesline in the corner!  Snyder
pops back out of the buckles, smacking himself across the chest.]

GM:  Man!  Jack Snyder is fired up tonight!

BW:  The man is four victories away from a shot at the National Title. 
If he wasn't fired up, I'd say he was a dead man inside, Gordo.

[Grabbing Destiny by the hair, Snyder charges from corner to corner...

...but Destiny slams an elbow back into the ribs, breaking Snyder's grip
on the hair.  The former World Champion grabs Snyder by the hair,
driving kick after kick into the midsection.  He quickly switches to the
knees, slamming those up into the ribcage of Snyder.]

GM:  And now it's Destiny who is lighting up Snyder!

[With Snyder doubled up, Destiny strikes hard with an overhead elbow
smash, crashing down on the back of Snyder's neck, knocking him down to
the canvas.]

GM:  Ohh!  Right to the injured neck!

BW:  Shane Destiny is one of the best technical wrestlers in the world,
Gordo.  If you or the rest of these idiots didn't expect him to go right
the neck and shoulder, you're dumber than I thought.

[Destiny stands over the downed Snyder now, glaring out at the jeering
crowd...

...and leaps up, dropping his leg across the back of Snyder's neck!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Good grief!

[The former World Champion scrambles to his feet, sliding into a
straddle on the back of Snyder.  He grabs Snyder by the hair, pulling
him violently backwards.]

GM:  HE'S GOING FOR THE STRANGLE!!

[Snyder starts flailing violently, trying to shake free...

...and manages to do exactly that, crawling to the ropes and flinging
himself at them to break Destiny's dreaded submission hold.]

GM:  Whoa... close one there.

BW:  The Destiny Strangle is arguably the most feared submission hold in
the entire wrestling business.  And with Snyder's injured neck and
shoulder, if Destiny gets that hold on, you know damn well this match is
over.

GM:  Snyder got to the ropes, hanging onto them...

[The "Dying Breed" rolls under the ropes to the floor, immediately
grabbing at his neck.]

GM:  Destiny's screaming at Snyder... demanding he get back into the
ring...

BW:  There's only ten minutes, Gordo.  He needs every second of it and
he doesn't have time for Jack Snyder to stall out there on the floor.

GM:  He's not stalling!  He's trying to recover!

[An angry Destiny leans over the ropes, shouting at Snyder to get into
the ring...

...and Snyder responds by reaching up, grabbing Destiny by the pointing
arm and YANKS him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[Snyder leaps on top of a downed Destiny, pounding him over and over
with right hands to the skull.  He pulls Destiny off the floor by the
hair, snapping off a chop to the chest that knocks Destiny back into the
ring apron.]

GM:  We've got a fight out on the floor now!

[Grabbing Destiny by the hair, Snyder HURLS him onto the timekeeper's
table!]

GM:  WHOA!

[With a handful of hair, Snyder DRIVES Destiny's face into the wooden
table to the roar of the crowd.  He does it a second time, despite the
referee's protests from inside the ring.]

GM:  This is getting rough and tumble out here.  Shane Destiny is in a
fight!

BW:  He knew he would be.  Snyder's come to fight for that win.  It
would mean so much to his career to knock Shane Destiny off his perch,
daddy.

GM:  Remember, fans, this is the #8 and #9 contenders in the Top Ten
rankings so this match has more impact than just the Lady Luck
Challenge.

[Snyder drags Destiny by the hair off the timekeeper's table, firing him
under the ropes into the ring.  He rolls in after him, popping back up
to his feet.  The referee meets him, shouting and screaming, but Snyder
ignores him, pulling Destiny back to his feet...

...and lets loose a brutal chop across the chest!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Snyder's giving Destiny a little of his own medicine!

[Following the staggering Destiny, Snyder lets loose another fierce
knife-edge chop across the chest that echoes through the entire
building, sending Destiny falling back into the corner.]

GM:  He drives Destiny back to the buckles...

[Snyder steps up again, throwing another chop that leaves a rapidly
reddening welt on the chest of Shane Destiny.  Snyder shouts "YEAAAH!"
as he snaps off another... and another... and another... and another...]

GM:  FOUR MORE CHOPS TO THE CHEST!!

[The Arizona native grabs Destiny by the wrist, firing him from corner
to corner.  Destiny bounces out of the corner, trying to get a charge
going...

...and gets flattened from another chop to the chest!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  I'm not sure if Shane Destiny's EVER been hit this hard and he's
been in the ring with some tough, tough men, Gordo.

GM:  Destiny's crawling away... trying to get out of here...

[Reaching the corner, Destiny flings himself back into the buckles in a
seated position, raising his hands to beg for mercy...

...but Snyder rampages across the ring, SLAMMING both knees squarely
into Destiny's face to a huge roar of the crowd!]

GM:  OHHHH MY STARS!!

BW:  Destiny might need reconstructive surgery after that!  Two charging
knees into the face and Destiny is out!  He may be unconscious!

GM:  Snyder brings him back to his feet...

[He whips Destiny across the ring to the ropes...

...but a desperate Destiny grabs the top rope, trying to prevent the
rebound.]

GM:  Destiny hangs on and-  OHHHHHH!

[The crowd roars again as Snyder connects with a rushing clothesline
that sends Destiny over the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  DESTINY GOES ALL THE WAY OVER THE TOP TO THE FLOOR!!  GOOD GRIEF!

[Snyder doesn't waste any time in dropping down to the mat, rolling
under the ropes to the floor.  He paces across the barely-padded floor,
walking towards a downed Shane Destiny...

...when suddenly the crowd starts to buzz.]

GM:  Snyder's moving in on Destiny and- ohhh no.

BW:  Oh yes!  NOW things are gettin' real interesting, daddy!

GM:  Get him out of here!

[The buzz and the announcers' concern is all because of Grant Stone, the
massively cruel powerhouse walking through the curtain, eyes locked on
Jack Snyder as he walks towards the ring...

...and Snyder's eyes catch Stone as well, freezing him in his tracks.]

GM:  Stone's got his eyes on Snyder and Snyder sees Stone as well! 
What's gonna happen here?  Fans, we've gotta take a quick break!  We'll
be right back!

[With Stone slowly approaching, 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 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.]

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 Shane Destiny has
Jack Snyder down on his chest.  Destiny is standing over him, stomping
his shoulder over and over again as Grant Stone stands outside the ring,
staring emotionlessly into the ring.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and as you can see, the arrival of Grant Stone
to ringside has changed the complexion of this match.  Shane Destiny has
regained the advantage and he's really taking it to Jack Snyder right
now, going after that injured shoulder.

BW:  During the break, we passed the five minute mark in the match as
well, Gordo, so we're halfway there.

GM:  Five minutes gone - well, more than five minutes at this point. 
These men are going to have to pick things up if they want to finish
this match in time.

[Destiny reaches down, hauling Snyder up to his feet by the injured
limb.  He slings Snyder's arm over his neck, hoisting him high into the
air, bringing him crashing down with a vertical suplex.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big suplex by Destiny... and there's a cover!

[The referee dives down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  NO!  Out at two!

[Destiny promptly springs to his feet, leaping straight up into the air,
and dropping a knee down on the injured shoulder, causing Snyder to
scream out in pain!]

GM:  Kneedrop down on the shoulder!  Look at that pressure on the arm!

[Still kneeling on the shoulder, Destiny grabs the arm, yanking it
against the grain, digging his knee back and forth on the joint.  After
a few moments, he stands up, dragging Snyder up by the arm with him...

...but Snyder fights back, slamming his skull into Destiny's, knocking
him back a step!]

GM:  Oh!  Headbutt!

[With Destiny stunned, Snyder snaps off a jab into the jaw of the former
World Champion.]

GM:  Right hand!

[Snyder squares up, snapping another jab... another jab... another
jab... another jab...]

GM:  Snyder's got him rocked!  Those snapping jabs right on the chin!

[With Destiny staggered, Snyder leans forward and sinks his teeth into
the forehead of his opponent.]

GM:  AHHHH!  HE'S BITING HIM!!!

[The referee immediately forces a break, causing Snyder to shove Destiny
away into the ropes where Destiny stumbles off and gets floored with a
hard clothesline!]

GM:  Snyder knocks him flat again!  We've passed the six minute mark! 
We're getting close to the waning moments of this one and these two men
are giving it as hard as they can!

[Snyder drags Destiny away from the ropes, putting him near the buckles.
 With a shout, Snyder heads to the corner, hopping up to the middle
rope.]

GM:  Snyder's on the middle rope!  He's up- 

[The "Dying Breed" leaps off the second rope, cocking the arm, and
DRIVING his elbow down into the heart of Destiny!  Snyder promptly
throws himself across the downed Destiny, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-  

"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM:  SHOULDER UP!!  THE SHOULDER WENT UP JUST IN TIME!!


"SEVEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!!  THREE MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  You heard it there.  Three minutes to go.  One hundred and eighty
seconds to notch one more win on the belt of the Lady Luck Challenge. 
Can either of these men get it done?

[A frustrated Snyder slowly gets up off the mat, glaring at Grant Stone
at ringside who is still unmoving.  He drags Destiny up by the hair,
grabbing him by the arm.]

GM:  He's calling for the JackBreaker!

BW:  He couldn't do it against Taylor!

GM:  Can he manage to do it against Destiny?  Irish whi- reversed!

[Destiny manages to reverse the distracted Snyder's Irish whip, sending
him to the ropes...

...but Snyder grabs the top rope, blocking the rebound.  He quickly
spins around, staring at Stone who within reach of his leg.]

GM:  Whoa!  Did Stone grab him?

BW:  No!  Snyder's just being paranoid!

GM:  He's glaring at Stone!  He's staring him dead in the eye and-

[Destiny seizes the moment to blast Snyder with a forearm smash to the
back of the head and neck.  With Snyder stunned, Destiny hooks him in a
front facelock, slowly turning him over, Snyder's injured neck braced
against his shoulder...

...and DROPS down to his rear, snapping the neck against his shoulder!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[Destiny crawls over the downed Snyder, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE- 

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  FOOT ON THE ROPES!!  SNYDER GOT A FOOT ON THE ROPES!!

[Destiny rises up, shouting at the ref.]

GM:  Destiny thinks it was a three but it was only a two!

[A furious Destiny gets to his feet, grabbing the ref by the shirt and
shoving three fingers in his face.]

GM:  It was a two count only!  Get your hands off that official, Shane
Destiny!

BW:  I think it was a slow count!

GM:  It was not!


"EIGHT MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TWO MINUTES REMAIN!"


[The call of Melissa Cannon seems to refocus Destiny as he shoves the
official aside, reaching down to grab Snyder...

...who plucks him into a small package!]

GM:  ROLLUP!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHHH!

[The crowd sighs in frustration as Destiny just barely gets free of the
inside cradle before the three count comes down.  He scrambles to his
feet as Snyder attempts the same...

...and DRILLS Snyder with an elbowsmash to the back of the neck,
knocking him down to a knee.]

GM:  Destiny's got him down and-

[Grabbing a front facelock on the kneeling Snyder, Destiny SPIKES him
with a DDT!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  That's it!  That's gotta be it!

[Destiny quickly gets to his feet, moving to the far side of the ring
and shouting out, "STRANGLE!"]

GM:  He's calling for it!  He's calling for the Destiny Strangle!

BW:  Slap it on him, Shane!

GM:  Is he going to- wait a second!

[The crowd explodes in a shocked reaction as Grant Stone reaches under
the bottom rope, yanking Jack Snyder under the ropes by the ankle...

...and LEVELS him with a standing clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Shane Destiny's head whips around at the sound of the bell and his eyes
rest on the floor where Grant Stone is standing over the downed Jack
Snyder, glaring up at Destiny.  Destiny throws his arms out with a "What
are you doing?!" but gets no answer from Stone.]

GM:  What did we just see here?  What just happened here?

[The referee leans between the ropes to talk to Melissa.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... due to outside interference from Grant
Stone... Shane Destiny has been DISQUALIFIED!

[BIG CHEER!]

MC:  Therefore, your winner and moving on in the Lady Luck Challenge...

JAAAAAAACK SNYYYYYYYDER!

[Destiny shakes his head in disbelief, burying his face in his hands as
the crowd continues to cheer.  Stone stands over Snyder, not moving to
attack any further.  He slowly reaches down, grabbing Snyder by the
throat, pulling him up to his feet...

...and pushes him softly back against the ringpost, leaning close.]

"Any... time... I... want."

[And then punctuates it by shoving him a little harder into the post
before walking away from Snyder.  A protesting Destiny leans over the
ropes, shouting at Stone who looks up at him.]

"He's MINE to end!"

[And simply walking away, leaving a stunned Shane Destiny behind.]

GM:  We can't say for sure but-

BW:  Yes we can!  Shane Destiny just got ROBBED!  He had Snyder beat! 
He was gonna slap on the Strangle and NO ONE escapes the Destiny
Strangle!  This match was as good as over and Shane Destiny just got
robbed out of a chance to win a National Title shot, Gordo!

GM:  You could theorize that but- hold on a second... it looks like-

[Destiny storms out of the ring, and the camera follows him over to the
announcer's position, where he starts unraveling his wrist tape angrily.
 Myers points a microphone at Destiny, who seems to already be muttering
to himself.]

SD: ... one full year I've been here and nothing's changed!  Nothing's
changed at all!

[Destiny flings off a ball of wrist tape at the camera.]

SD: All that's happened to me since I got here is get sidetracked! 
Tumaffi!  Pure X!  Now Langseth!  And now, two chances at a title shot
in a month, and it goes down the damn drain!

[Destiny kicks the announcer's desk angrily, startling Myers.]

SD: I'm the best wrestler in the AWA, but do I have anything to show for
it?  Huh?  There's no belt around my waist and all these people think
I'm a washed-up joke!  I've got the most dangerous, unbeatable
submission hold in the AWA, and is anyone scared of me?  HUH?!

[Destiny grabs the desk and turns it over, then grabs Myers by the
lapels and lifts him into the air as Bucky Wilde runs off.]

SD: What do I have to do, huh?  Do I need to smack you around, Myers? 
Will you tell people how dangerous I am then?!

[Myers stammers, but Destiny doesn't give him a chance to answer.]

SD: You do me a favor, Myers... next time you see Langseth, tell him I
don't give a damn about him, and I don't care if he wants to fight me
anymore.  Beating him is useless.  From here on out, Shane Destiny's
going to break every single person that gets in his path until the
National title is where it belongs!  You got that?  You think you can
pass that along?

GM: I... I believe I can, yes.

SD: Good.  You tell these people that Shane Destiny's done playing
games.  From here on out, people are going to the hospital.  Period.

[Destiny shoves Myers back and turns away when suddenly the crowd bursts
into cheers as the Hall of Famer, Mark Langseth, walks into view.
Destiny, remembering the last time Langseth interrupted one of his
promos, gets into a defensive stance.]

ML: Look, I'm not out here to take a cheapshot at you or attack you or
anything like that, so just relax...

[Destiny stands down, only slightly.]

ML: I came out here tonight for one reason - I can't let this...

[Langseth points to Destiny and then himself quickly.]

ML: ...continue. I can't accept just letting it lay. You ran my nephew
out of here... You've called me a coward and that I'm hiding behind
doctors from you... And you've called me out because you wanted to end
my career...

[Langseth flashes a grin.]

ML: Again. And now you want to move on?

[Langseth sort of nods.]

ML: Alright, alright... If you want that... BUT I need that closure,
Destiny. I need to prove to myself, to the people in the back, and to
these fans that I still have what it takes in the ring. And to do
that...

[Langseth digs into his jeans pocket.]

ML: I need to prove YOU wrong too...

[Mark pulls up a folded piece of paper, which he tosses over to
Destiny.]

ML: Right there, Destiny, is an open contract - signed by Watkins and
myself. One on one match, anytime, anywhere. All you have to do to put
me "past" you is sign your name to the paper and pick a date.

[Langseth pauses.]

ML: And win, lose, or draw, Destiny? You go your way and I go my way. So
what do you say?

[Destiny unfolds the paper, looking long and hard at it...

...and starts laughing.  He just keeps laughing, staring right at Mark
Langseth's face as he does so.]

ML:  Something funny?

[Destiny shakes his head, still chuckling as he drops the contract on
the floor...

...and walks away.]

GM:  Well, Mr. Langseth, I'm not sure what to make of-

[Langseth silently kneels down, picking up the contract.  He stares at
it blankly before looking up with burning eyes at the back of the
exiting Destiny...]

GM:  Fans, we'll be... we'll be right back.  Mark?

[Langseth doesn't reply - his eyes locked on Destiny as we fade to
black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  In just a few moments, we've got a very
special appearance but before that, let's take a look at some more of
the AWA title contender rankings.

[The Top Five tag team graphic shows up.]

GM:  We already know that the Rockstar Express and the Blonde Bombers
are checked in at #5 and #4... and now, the number 3 contender...

[A photo of the Samoan Hit Squad shows up.]

GM:  The Samoans are #3!  But who will be #2?

[A pause...

...and a photo!]

GM:  The former National Tag Team Champions, Adrian Freeman and Calisto
Dufresne, are the number two contenders to the titles.

BW:  The titles that they've yet to get a rematch for by the way.

GM:  You are correct about that.  And that only leaves the Number One
contenders to the National Tag Team Titles which I'm sure is rather
obvious by now but...

[A new photo slides in.]

GM:  Rough N Ready!  Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers are the number
one contenders to the National Tag Team Titles!  And we'll see if they
can parlay that status into becoming the next National Tag Team
Champions coming up at Independence Day in eight days' time, Bucky.

BW:  Their first shot at the gold held by their former hated rivals.  I
don't even like Cooper and Somers and I'm looking forward to seeing that
one go down in Memphis.

GM:  And speaking of what might go down in Memphis... in a few moments
we're scheduled to see Marcus Broussard in an AWA ring for the first
time in nine months, and the wrestling world is buzzing about what he's
going to say.

BW: All my contacts have no leads, Gordo, the streets are quiet for
once. It would seem to me like Marcus is trying to walk away gracefully,
but people like Todd Michaelson just won't have it. They keep dragging
his name up.

GM: It's been since August 1, 2009 that Broussard has been in the ring.

BW: And why, Gordo? Because the Southern Syndicate took him out! Marcus
is a smart man, and staying away is a smart decision.

GM: He's also a very proud man, Bucky. But I guess we'll see what he has
to say.

[Cut to Melissa Cannon in the ring.]

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome...


MARCUUUS BROOOOOOOUUSSSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRD!


[The dramatic opening to "You Know My Name" by Chris Cornell starts to
play as the fans rise to their feet, and moments later they are greeted
with the sight of the returning San Jose Shark, Marcus Broussard.
Broussard is dressed in a dark blue suit, with a white shirt and
shimmering gold tie. His hair is shorter than it was before, but the
clean shaven, sharp executive look is still there. He stops for a moment
to take in the crowd and visibly breathes a sigh of relief, and then
slowly walks to the ring. He keeps his eyes focused on the ring as
always, and walks up the ring steps, wiping his shoes on the apron
before ducking in. Melissa Cannon dutifully gives him the microphone as
the music dies down, but not the fans.]

GM: There he is Bucky, in the flesh! Marcus Broussard is back in an AWA,
and listen to the fans!

BW: Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Gordo. These people love their
own, and Marcus Broussard is one of their own.

[The announcers quiet down as the fans chant "MAR-CUS!" and even the
usually stoic Broussard breaks into a grin. Finally, he waves for the
fans to quiet down and the follow suit.]

MB: A few minutes ago, just as I was about to walk out here, Jim Watkins
asked me what I was gonna say. And I told him, straight out... I didn't
know. I don't know. There's so much to be said and an extremely
difficult decision to be made. Now, I've known Jim Watkins for all of
ten minutes, but as a historian of the sport, as someone who loves it
and studies it, I know that Jim Watkins is someone who's been through
adversity. He's someone with experience when it comes to making
difficult decisions.

And he told me, "Marcus, you'll know. When you're back in the ring, when
you see the people, when you FEEL the people, you'll know."

[Broussard looks down and scratches his head, betraying slight nerves.]

MB: Nine months ago, I got hurt. I got hurt badly, in fact.

My arm was torn to shreds by the men who would go on to call themselves
the Southern Syndicate. My shoulder needed surgery, and I had a slight
tear in my tricep. The timetable for my return was up in the air, and
there was a long road of intense, rigorous, almost tortorous rehab
staring me dead in the eye.

I embarked on that ambitious rehabilitation plan, and I was left with
many empty nights to consider where my career was headed. Where my life
was headed.

The decision is a simple one, when you look at it objectively. I've
saved enough money and made enough good investments to bid the AWA a
fond farewell and move on with my life.

[The fans instantly boo that statement.]

MB: I would be able to walk away from the business with my health and my
mental faculties intact, with a heart filled with memories and head held
high.

_That_ is the smart decision, and I've made a career, and a reputation,
on breaking things down and finding the best way to go forth. I've made
a career on smart decisions. And every morning I wake up, and look at
the scar on my shoulder, and I'm reminded of all the reasons I need to
leave the sport in the rear view mirror.

The Southern Syndicate-

[The crowd boos at the mention, and Broussard bristles.]

MB: The Southern Syndicate- you know what, I'll revisit that topic in a
moment.

Do you know what I was doing during the time I was out? Since August,
I've been out rehabbing the shoulder and the arm, and getting myself to
a point where I can at least live a normal life. Let alone to a point
where I can compete athletically. But it's not like my arm was
amputated, or anything, it's been fine for a while now.

And do you know how I filled my days for the past few months?

By giving back. To the AWA. Whether you care to believe it or not, I'm a
man of honor and pride. I'm a man who remembers where he came from, who
remembers where he is and does not take things for granted. So these
past few months, I've been doing what I thought was my part to give back
to the AWA, without being on camera.

Everyone knows that Todd Michaelson runs the AWA Combat Corner, and that
he does a phenomenal job with it. But as someone involved with the day
to day operations of the AWA, Todd can't always be there to ensure that
the young men are being properly instructed. So for the past few months
_I_ have been helping to run the Combat Corner.

BW: What?

[Broussard tenses up and his brow begins to furrow.]

MB: I've tried to give back to the organization that helped me reach my
potential by ensuring that the young men who will debut in the coming
weeks and months are physically, mentally and emotionally ready. Men
like Eric Preston and Aaron Anderson, young men like Pedro Perez Jr. and
Jackson Martin.

And I _saw_ what you did to them. Each and every one of you, I saw how
you backjumped and attacked those young men. No honor, no class, no
dignity.

None.

[Broussard snaps his hand shut.]

MB: When Todd Michaelson named me as his partner, I did not show up. But
not for lack of want, not for lack of motivation. My travel bag sat next
to my door for a week, waiting to be put back into action

I didn't show to back Todd because I didn't know if I wanted to rejoin
the lifestyle that lead to a bad shoulder and a distant homelife. I'm
not the man who comes to work, collects his paycheck and goes home. If
Marcus Broussard is involved with something, it's one hundred percent,
to the fullest extent of my abilities.

And I didn't know if I could give that. But every morning I wake up, and
I look at the scar on my shoulder, and I'm reminded of the pain and
agony I was put through. For a moment.

And that's followed by the memory of holding the most coveted prize in
the wrestling industry. Of winning and defending the AWA National
Heavyweight title, when it was just a slab of metal on a piece of
leather. And I'm reminded, over and over, of the hard work and
dedication it took to build this title, and this organization, into
_the_ singular figure in wrestling today.

The blood, sweat and tears that I put in are the same blood, sweat and
tears that the Combat Corner extracts from those young men. That I
demanded of those young men. Young men who _you_ robbed of a chance to
make the AWA even greater.

[Marcus jabs a finger at the camera.]

MB: Todd Michaelson doesn't need me to have his back. A myriad of people
are just a phone call away for him. And I truly believe that Juan
Vasquez can handle his own problems and take care of his business.

He did train with me after all.

But when I got a phone call from Pedro Perez Jr, telling me his
wrestling career is over before it began, that he's got a bulging disc
in his back that's going to require not just surgery but a lifestyle
change... that's when it became crystal clear. Todd wasn't asking for me
to have _his_ back.

He was asking for me to have all of _your_ back...

[Marcus turns in a semi-circle, pointing to the crowd.]

MB: ...and to have the AWA's back. As a man who put too much work in,
too much effort in, too much damn time into making the AWA take off, he
knew that I couldn't sit back and watch a bunch of punk hooligans take
it apart.

And Todd, I know you're listening, I'm gonna give you three words I know
you like to hear.

You. Were. Right.

[The crowd erupts as Broussard starts to bounce on his toes.]

MB: There's not a chance that I'm going to sit back and watch as the AWA
unravels at the feet of that bunch of mongrels. There's not a chance
that I won't defend everything that I helped to build.

You were right, Jim Watkins, because as soon as I stepped into the ring,
I knew the answer. I knew that I NEEDED to be here again. So sign the
contract and send it to me, Jim, you know the address.  As of right this
moment I am _back_ in active competition, and I _will_ be there on July
4 in Memphis, Tennessee to stand alongside Juan Vasquez and Todd
Michaelson, and we _will_ take out the Southern Syndicate!

GM: OH MY STARS! ARE WE REALLY HEARING THIS?!

[The crowd explodes as Marcus lets loose a feral grin.]

MB: I _bleed_ AWA, men, it's in my mind, it's in my heart, it's on the
shirts that I wear. It's been too long since someone struck a blow and
made a move against them. And fellas, you're not getting kind hearted,
play nice Marcus.

You're getting Marcus Broussard, the San Jose Shark, the dirtiest, the
smartest, the most vicious man to ever set foot in the AWA. You're
getting the man who put the AWA on the map, and by God, you're getting
the man who's going to wipe you off of it!

Write it down, boys, because on July 4th... We. Strike. BACK!

[And the crowd ERUPTS as Broussard slams the mic down on the canvas,
climbing to the middle rope to soak up the cheers of the AWA faithful. 
The camera stays on him for an extended period of time...

...and fades 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 to the locker room where Jason Dane is standing
alongside a grinning Todd Michaelson.]

JD:  Fans, we are back in the locker room area in Little Rock, Arkansas,
and Todd Michaelson, from the look on your face, I'd say you are a very
happy man tonight.

[Michaelson nods.]

TM:  You're absolutely right, Jason.  I couldn't be happier.

[He snaps his fingers.]

TM:  Correction.  I WILL be happier in eight days when myself, Juan
Vasquez, and Marcus Broussard step into that ring and beat the living
HELL out of whoever Waterson manages to scrape together into a team.

Oh, and Ben... I know you pretty well, I think.  And I'm sure you're
going to be awake seven nights in a row trying to come up with someway
to turn the odds back in your favor.

I'm sure you'll be thinking of a way to pull a surprise.

[Michaelson grins.]

TM:  But I've made a phone call.

And this time?  If you try anything funny?

_I'LL_ have a surprise for you!

See you in Memphis.

[And with that, Michaelson walks away leaving Dane behind...

...and we fade back to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is a non-title tag team contest scheduled for
one fall with a twenty minute time limit and is your MAIN EVENT of the
evening!

[BIG CHEER!]

MC:  Introducing first...

From Kingsland, Arkansas...

[DEAFENING CHEER!  "Nothin' To Lose" starts up, just barely audible over
the ear-splitting screaming crowd.]

MC:  They are the AWA National Tag Team Champions.  Accompanied to the
ring by Cousin Bo...

DUANE HENRY...

CLETUS LEE...

THE BISHOP BOOOOOOOOYS!

[The Redneck Wrecking Crew comes through the curtain to the loudest
cheers of the night.  Cousin Bo slaps both of his brothers on the chest
with his rolled-up newspaper and in unison, the three men begin walking
down the aisle to the ring.]

GM:  Can you believe this reaction for the Bishop Boys?  

BW:  I wish I couldn't, Gordo.  But these three have turned into real
pansies since the Stampede Cup.  They're not the stone cold killers they
were when they first showed up in the AWA.  Now they're soft... they're
weak... and they're sucking up to these inbred idiots in the crowd.

GM:  Wow.  Tell us how you really feel.

[The three men climb into the ring.  Duane Henry immediately climbs up
on the middle rope as Cousin Bo stands behind Cletus Lee, trying to fire
up the big man who stands stoically in the middle of the ring.]

GM:  The Bishops are in... but who will their opponents be?

[The music starts to fade...

...and is replaced by a barrage of drumming.]

GM:  Oh my!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Scola and Mafu emerge from the locker room
alongside Colonel James J Dallas.]

GM:  The Samoan Hit Squad has taken the Open Challenge!  The number
three contenders, as voted by the AWA fans, has accepted the challenge
from the Bishop Boys.

[Dallas stands grinning with his men...

...and with an order, Scola and Mafu go dashing down the aisle to the
ring, diving headfirst under the ropes where Cousin Bo clears out as
Scola goes for Cletus Lee and Mafu goes after Duane Henry!  Senior
official Michael Meekly calls for the bell to start the match.]

GM:  Here we go!  Here we go!

[The crowd is on their feet as there is brawling on both sides of the
ring,  Scola overwhelms Duane Henry, knocking him back into the corner
with clubbing forearms to the head and neck.  Duane Henry battles back
with short right hands to the jaw.

On the other side of the ring, Cletus Lee gets knocked back into the
ropes with a well-placed forearm to the jaw from Scola.  Grabbing the
redneck by the arm, Scola fires him into the ropes.]

GM:  Whip by Scola... clothesli- ducked by Cletus Lee!

[Bouncing off the far side, the big redneck leaves his feet, flooring
Scola with a leaping shoulder block takedown!]

GM:  OHHHH MY!  What a tackle from Cletus Lee!

[Cletus Lee leaps up to his feet, throwing his arms apart in triumph as
Scola rolls out to the floor.  Nearby, Duane Henry fires Mafu into the
ropes.]

GM:  And now it's the other Samoan that gets sent into the ropes...

[And a picture perfect dropkick from Duane Henry catches the rebounding
Mafu under the chin, knocking him flat to the mat where he also rolls
out ot the floor.]

GM:  Oh yeah!

[The crowd is roaring as the Bishops stand alone in the ring, Duane
Henry promptly shouting at the Samoans, ordering them back into the
ring.  The two Samoans pace around the ringside area, the Colonel in hot
pursuit to try and get them to regroup...

...but they don't regroup, simply rolling back into the ring instead. 
They promptly get up, rushing the Bishop Boys.]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands!  The Samoans aren't backing down
one bit from the Bishop Boys!

[Mafu catches the edge on Duane Henry with a kneelift to the gut that
catches him by surprise.  Grabbing Duane Henry by the head, Mafu
delivers a crushing headbutt to the back of the skull, knocking Duane
Henry down to his knees.

On the other side of the ring, Scola is teeing off on the wide chest of
Cletus Lee, delivering forearm after forearm across the big man.]

GM:  The Samoans seem to be getting a bit of an edge now on the
champions.

BW:  The Samoan Hit Squad has been red hot ever since they dumped
Gregorson.  Just ask Fitzgerald and Lawson if they're being allowed
visitors in the hospital yet.

GM:  Oh, that's hysterical, Bucky.

[Scola takes a step back, throwing a big clothesliish looking forearm...

...but Cletus Lee ducks down, backdropping the big man over the ropes to
the floor just as Mafu goes for a whip but has it reversed, sending the
Samoan into the ropes where a spinning leg lariat catches him across the
chest, knocking him flat once more.]

GM:  The Bishops knock 'em down again!  The Samoans keep on comin' but
the Bishops keep on fighting them off!  These fans are going absolutely
crazy here in Little Rock, Arkansas for these hometown Bishop Boys!

[Out on the floor, Mafu goes a little crazy, throwing over the
timekeeper's chair...

...with the timekeeper still in it.]

GM:  Whoa!  Look out, fans!

[Mafu races over to the ringside barricade, violently shaking it to the
fright of the front row fans.  Scola shoves down a nearby cameraman as
well as James J. Dallas again tries to settle down his men.]

GM:  This is out of control!  The Samoans are frustrated and they're
taking it out on anyone standing out here at ringside!

BW:  Luckily, the Colonel and I have a very good relationship.  He'll
keep me safe.

GM:  I don't even know if the Samoans are listening to Dallas right now.
 James J. Dallas seems to have no control over these wild Samoans at the
moment.

[After a bit more screaming and shouting, the Samoans huddle up, glaring
into the ring where both Bishops are still standing despite the
referee's orders to get down to a one on one.]

GM:  James J. Dallas is giving them some orders out here at ringside -
was that a "You go and you stay?"

BW:  It looks like it.

GM:  Cletus Lee looks like he'll be starting it off with... oh my, he's
starting it off with Scola!

[Scola slowly climbs up on the apron, ducking through the ropes into the
ring.  And just as he does so, the fans begin to buzz at ringside.]

GM:  Wait a second... here comes Rough N Ready!

[The crowd is all over the number one contenders to the National Tag
Team Titles as they emerge through the curtain, slowly making their way
down the aisle as Scola and Cletus Lee tie up in the middle of the ring,
the Samoan immediately going to the eyes of the big redneck.]

GM:  Ohh!  Cheapshot by Scola!

[Scola connects with a big clubbing forearm smash to the back of the
neck of Cletus Lee.  A second one sends the bigger Bishop into the ropes
where Scola promptly grabs an arm, firing Cletus Lee across the ring.]

GM:  Irish whip... clothesline... ducked by Cletus Lee...

[And as Cletus Lee comes off the far side, he connects with a
clothesline of his own, knocking Scola down to the mat.  The camera
quickly cuts out to the floor where Cooper points to the ring, leaning
over to whisper to Eric Matthew Somers.]

GM:  Dave Cooper must have seen something there and it looks like Rough
N Ready are using this match to get a little scouting in for their title
match in eight days time.

BW:  They'd be idiots not to.  Not only are the men they're facing for
the gold in a week in the ring but one of the other top contenders to
the titles are in there as well.  

[The shot cuts back into the ring where Cletus Lee rushes to the
ropes...

...and has his leg grabbed by James J. Dallas!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[The momentary distraction allows Mafu to rush down the apron, blasting
Cletus Lee with a running chop to the skull, sending him staggering back
into a waiting Scola who drills Cletus Lee with a double axehandle blow
across the back of the head and neck, knocking Cletus Lee over into the
ropes.]

GM:  Nice shot there by Scola... and these Samoans work very well
together.

[Cousin Bo protests from outside the ring to which the referee shrugs it
away as Scola batters Cletus Lee with heavy forearm blows repeatedly
across the back.]

GM:  The big Samoan Scola is pounding on Cletus Lee - and once again, we
have to thank WKIK for allowing us to go overtime!  We are past are
allotted time period but WKIK wants you, the fans, to see the end of
this show as much as we do so we will be right here with all the action
until the night is over.

[Scola spins Cletus Lee around against the ropes, grabbing the big man
by the arm and firing him into the ropes...]

GM:  Irish whip by Scola...

[And the big powerhouse shocks the Arkansas crowd by scooping Cletus Lee
up off the mat, pivoting...

...and DRIVING Cletus Lee Bishop down to the canvas with a ring-shaking
powerslam!]

GM:  WHOOOA!

BW:  Are you KIDDING me?!  Did you SEE that, Gordo?!

GM:  Incredible show of power by Scola!  The big Samoan just hoisted up
Cletus Lee Bishop and drove him down with that powerslam.  Simply
awesome.

[Scola bursts up to his feet, throwing his arms out and shouting in a
gutteral roar of Samoan.  James J. Dallas is applauding proudly as Mafu
calls for a tag.]

GM:  There's the exchange.

BW:  I'm surprised there was no cover after the powerslam, Gordo.

[Mafu slips into the ring, helping Scola pull Cletus Lee up by the arms.
 Each man grabs the big man by the head...

...and SMASHES him with a double headbutt, knocking him down to a knee!]

GM:  Goodness!  What a doubleteam that is.

[The rabid wildman of the Samoan Hit Squad dances around the kneeling
Cletus Lee, barking and howling at him.  Outside the ring, Duane Henry
is shouting for his brother to fight back as Cousin Bo tries to rally
the ringside fans.  

A quick cut of the camera shows Cooper and Somers huddled up again,
whispering to one another.]

GM:  Those two men are eight days away from challenging these Bishops
for the National Tag Team Titles and you have to think they like what
they're seeing right now, Bucky.

[Cletus Lee suddenly reaches out, grabbing Mafu around the throat,
rising to his feet...

...and Mafu slaps the hand away, reaching out with a cross-armed thrust
into the throat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Right to the throat!

[Mafu backs off and throws a thrust kick into the chest of Cletus Lee,
knocking him back into the ropes.  A nodding Mafu approaches quickly,
grabbing Cletus Lee by the hair, and hurling him across with an Irish
whip.]

GM:  Big whip... another thrust kick!

[But Cletus Lee easily catches the thrown kick, stopping short in the
center of the ring.  Mafu struggles, trying to escape but Cletus Lee
uses the trapped leg to spin Mafu around...

...and nearly removes his head from his body with a lunging
clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Cletus Lee uses the moment to stumble across the ring, slapping the
hand of Duane Henry Bishop who races into the ring, making a bee-line
for the corner...

...and connects with a flying forearm smash that knocks Scola off the
apron to the floor!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Duane Henry's on fire!

[The smaller Bishop Boy climbs back to his feet, quickly hopping up to
the middle rope as Mafu stumbles back up...

...and nearly takes his head off with a flying clothesline from the
middle rope!]

GM:  DOWN GOES MAFU!!

[Duane Henry quickly gets back up again, slamming his fists into his
chest as he pulls Mafu off the canvas, pulling his head down as he slams
his forearm into the Samoan's jaw!]

GM:  European uppercut!  What a shot!

[The blow staggers Mafu back, knocking him into the corner where Duane
Henry pursues.]

GM:  Side kick to the ribs!

[Duane Henry does a full turn, leaping up and snapping a boot back into
the ribs.]

GM:  Leaping spin kick to the body!  

[Grabbing him by the wrist, Duane Henry drags him out to the middle of
the ropes.  A few more blows to the ribs keeps Mafu sucking wind and
allows for a big whip across the ring...

...where James J. Dallas grabs his man by the back of the trunks,
blocking the rebound!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Duane Henry breaks into a full sprint, aimed squarely at Mafu...

...who James J. Dallas YANKS out of the way, causing Duane Henry's spear
tackle attempt to whiff completely, sending him sailing through the
ropes and down onto the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon's response...

...and then starts to buzz with concern as they realize that Duane Henry
Bishop landed right between Eric Matthew Somers and Dave Cooper.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  What's gonna happen here?

[Both Cooper and Somers slowly inch towards the downed Duane Henry...

...but before they can get any closer, Cletus Lee Bishop rushes around
the ring, shoving Cooper aside to stand over his brother.]

GM:  Uh oh... this could get ugly in a hurry...

[Cooper looks a little annoyed at having been manhandled.  The number
one contenders don't make an aggressive move but hold their ground,
glaring at both of the National Tag Team Champions as the crowd
continues to boo them.]

GM:  Fans, we need to regain some control here.  We're going to take a
quick break!  We'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the showdown at ringside before 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 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.]

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 to live action where Mafu and Scola are
double whipping Duane Henry accross the ring...

...and taking him out with a double big boot to the jaw!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Welcome back, fans, and as you can see, the Samoans are back
in control of this one, completely working over Duane Henry Bishop.  A
pair of boots to the jaw has Duane Henry reeling and down on the canvas.
 Again, this is a non-title match but earlier tonight, we found out that
the Samoans are now the number three contenders to the National Tag Team
Titles.  If they win this one, they just might skyrocket past everyone
else.

[James J. Dallas jumps on the apron, drawing the referee's focus as
Scola and Mafu begin stomping Duane Henry into the canvas to the jeers
of the crowd.]

GM:  Come on, referee!

[Cousin Bo races alongside the apron, turning the corner to where Dallas
is standing...

...and Bo yanks James J. Dallas down, rearing back a right hand to
threaten the Colonel who beats a quick retreat.]

GM:  Whoa!  We almost had a fight on the floor too!

[Inside the ring, Cletus Lee has joined the fray, pushing past the
official to drill Mafu with a right hand, knocking him away from his
brother.  A second right hand clears out Scola...

...but Michael Meekly rushes in, forcing Cletus Lee back to the corner
which allows the Samoans to haul Duane Henry off the mat, knocking him
back to the ropes with a double chop across the chest.]

GM:  Another doubleteam attack!  This one is out of control!

[A double whip sends Duane Henry into the ropes.  As the smaller Bishop
rebounds, Scola scoops him up in a bearhug...

...and Mafu leaps off the middle rope, smashing his skull into Duane
Henry's with a crossbody-like leaping headbutt!]

GM:  Mafu with the cover!  We've got one!  We've got two!  We've got-

[Cletus Lee buries a boot in the ribs of Mafu, pointing a finger of
warning at Scola as he backs to the ropes, exiting the ring.]

GM:  Cletus Lee just saved his brother right there in my opinion.  I
think this one might have been over if it hadn't been for that.  Fans,
we are rapidly approaching the ten minute mark in this twenty minute
time limit.  This one is just getting going and-

[Mafu drags Duane Henry off the mat, smacking him with a clubbing
forearm smash that knocks the Bishop to the corner where Scola hits a
forearm smash of his own, causing Duane Henry to grab the top rope to
stay on his feet.]

GM:  Mafu grabs his arm... big whip...

[But a wildly thrown chop is easily ducked by Duane Henry Bishop who
rebounds off the far side...

...and ducks a wildly-thrown clothesline as well, hitting the ropes
again.]

GM:  Off the ropes again!

[Duane Henry throws himself into a vertical bodypress, knocking Mafu
down to the mat where he starts throwing heavy right hands to the skull.
 The crowd roars at the pounding that Duane Henry is delivering.]

GM:  He's all over Mafu!  Duane Henry's all over him!

[The Arkansas native pops up to his feet, pointing out to the cheering
hometown fans as he dashes to the ropes...

...and stops short as he spots Eric Matthew Somers slowly moving into a
spot right where Duane Henry would be hitting the ropes.  Duane Henry
points an accusing finger at Somers who raises his hands, shaking his
head at the referee's questioning.]

GM:  Well, I don't know what's going on there.

BW:  Somers tried to hook 'im!

GM:  That did not happen for sure.

BW:  You're calling Duane Henry paranoid?

GM:  That might be an accurate description right now.

[With Duane Henry distracted, Mafu makes a tag to Scola who comes in,
standing behind his opponent.]

GM:  Look out, Duane Henry!

[But as soon as the tag team champion turns around, Scola grabs him
under the armpits, powering him up into the air...

...and DRIVING him down across a bent knee!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!  What power from Scola!

[Scola pops back up, glaring dead in the eyes of Cletus Lee.  He slaps
himself across the chest with a clenched fist, pointing right at the big
man...

...and rushes forward, throwing a big fist to the side of the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!

[Cletus Lee grabs Scola around the neck, throwing a fist of his own. 
The crowd roars as the two big men tangle up, throwing blows as fast as
they can.  The referee rushes over to intervene...

...which allows James J. Dallas to hop up on the apron, throwing
something to an incoming Mafu.]

GM:  Mafu's got... what is that?  Some kind of an object in his hand!

[Mafu pulls Duane Henry up off the mat, rearing back...]

GM:  Wait a second!  Dave Cooper's up on the apron as well!

[Cooper is shouting at the referee, drawing to get his attention on the
weapon in the hand of Mafu.  The referee turns around, just as Mafu
throws the weapon back to Dallas.  An angry Mafu stomps over towards
Cooper, grabbing him around the neck.]

GM:  Mafu's going after Dave Cooper!  What in the world is going on
here?

[Cletus Lee connects with a series of blows on Scola, battling his way
into the ring where he floors Scola with a forearm smash...

...and turns towards the exposed back of Mafu!]

GM:  CLETUS LEE!!

[The Charging Big Boot is aimed right at the back of Mafu's head...

...but a right hand from Cooper knocks Mafu to the side, causing the big
boot to catch Cooper squarely in the face, sending him sailing off the
apron and down to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  CLETUS LEE KICKED THE OLD FOSSIL!

GM:  That was an accident!

BW:  Was it?!

[From the look on Cletus Lee's face, it'd be hard to say it was an
accident as he doesn't look the slightest bit upset about what he did to
Cooper...

...until Eric Matthew Somers rolls into the ring, tackling Cletus Lee
and knocking him back to the corner!]

GM:  Ohhh!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars with disappointment as the bell rings, shouting
encouragement to Cletus Lee Bishop as Somers tees off on him in the
corner.]

GM:  Somers is all over him!  Look at Somers!

[The big man throws fist after fist into the skull of Cletus Lee.  After
a bit, he leans over, grabbing the middle rope and lunging forward to
drive his shoulder into the ribcage of Bishop.  The crowd is all over
Somers as he drives shoulder after shoulder into the torso of the bigger
Bishop brother.]

GM:  The referee has stopped the match.  This is a DQ win for the
Bishops.  The Samoans have been disqualified for the interference by
Eric Matthew Somers and-

[Duane Henry climbs back to his feet, trying to get at Somers...

...but that just ain't happening as both Samoans swarm Duane Henry
Bishop, knocking him down to the mat, both men battering him
relentlessly down on the canvas.]

GM:  Both members of the National Tag Team Champions are being hammered
right now!  Cletus Lee by Somers!  Duane Henry by the Samoans!

[Somers straightens up, throwing a huge haymaker into the jaw of Cletus
Lee, knocking the big man back.  The larger member of Rough N Ready
turns away from the corner, his eyes coming to rest on Duane Henry being
pummeled...

...and turns back away, continuing to batter Cletus Lee!]

BW:  Did you see that?  Somers saw it!  He saw the Samoans beating down
Duane Henry and he chose to ignore it!  He's staying on Cletus Lee and-

[The crowd EXPLODES in a mixed reaction as Dave Cooper rolls back into
the ring, steel chair in hand.]

GM:  COOPER'S GOT A CHAIR!!

[The veteran rears back with the chair, charging towards the Samoans. 
Scola is the first to bail out at the screamed warnings from James J.
Dallas.  A wild swing by Cooper nearly catches Mafu who drops down to
the mat, rolling under the ropes.

Across the ring, Cousin Bo has used the moment to roll into the ring,
shouting at Somers to back off of Cletus Lee.]

GM:  Cousin Bo's in there as well!

[The manager of the champions tries to save his cousin, leaping onto
Somers' wide back.]

GM:  HE'S ON HIS BACK!!  HE'S ON HIS BACK!!

[Bo slips an arm around the throat of Somers, trying to drag him away
from Cletus Lee Bishop...

...and as Dave Cooper turns around, he spots Cousin Bo on the back of
his partner.  A furious-looking Cooper throws his chair down to the mat,
rushing across the ring.]

GM:  Look out!

[Grabbing Bo by the hair, Cooper yanks him down off of Somers' back,
spinning him around...

...with his fist cocked and at the ready.]

GM:  Wait a second!  Don't do it, Dave!  Don't do it!

[Cousin Bo's hands are raised - part in defense, part begging for mercy,
part trying to explain what he was doing...

...but before we can see what will happen with Cooper, Duane Henry
Bishop drags himself off the mat, throwing himself into a full body
tackle of Dave Cooper, knocking him down to the mat!]

GM:  OHHH!  WE GOT A FIGHT!  WE GOT A FIGHT!!

[Duane Henry batters Cooper on the mat while Somers does the same to
Cletus Lee in the corner...

...and the ring fills with AWA security as we fade to black.

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

JD:  You know, Mark... the AWA Access iPhone app has been so popular
over the past year, I hear we're making a sequel!

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up at ringside where the chaos of the tag team match
has been settled.  Gordon and Bucky are the only ones at ringside and
they are on their feet to wrap up the show.]

GM:  Well, fans, we are back here in the Jack Stephens Center in Little
Rock, Arkansas.  It's been one heck of a night and to wrap things up, we
wanted to make sure we announced the rest of the Top Ten rankings.

[The graphic comes back up showing the Top Ten so far: 
$10 - Vernon Riley
#9 - Jack Snyder
#8 - Shane Destiny
#7 - Kevin Slater
#6 - Eric Preston
#5 - James Monosso
#4 - Calisto Dufresne

And then adds a new name.]

GM:  MAMMOTH Mizusawa is number three!

BW:  And that puts him in an excellent position - not only in the
rankings but to negotiate with Ben Waterson over joining the Southern
Syndicate in that six man tag in eight days' time.

GM:  A good point.  Let's see who landed #2...

[The graphic changes to a big cheer!]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is the number two contender to the National Title! 
And you know what that means...

[After a moment, the Top Ten is complete.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes, the winner of the Memorial Day Rumble, is the
number one contender to the AWA National Title and-

[Suddenly, "Gimme Back My Bullets" by Lynyrd Skynyrd plays for a moment
as the curtain parts and the entire Southern Syndicate emerges...

...well, almost.]

GM:  Ben Waterson, Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman, and
Brian Von Braun are on their way to the ring, Bucky... and this can't be
good news for Raphael Rhodes.

BW:  It is if he's made the right decision, Gordo.

GM:  Earlier tonight, Ben Waterson laid down an ultimatum.  He gave
Raphael Rhodes until the end of tonight to change his mind about
challenging Stevie Scott in eight days for the National Title.  He told
him that if he didn't, there would be a problem... and that it would be
his job to solve it.  What do you think he meant by that?

BW:  I think it was pretty clear, Gordo.  Rhodes has a choice to make:
the biggest choice of his life.  Either he backs out of his title shot
or he's out of the Southern Syndicate.  And we all remember what
happened to the last guy who got the boot from the Southern Syndicate,
daddy!

GM:  We certainly do.

[Reaching the ringside area, Waterson barks an order at Gordon Myers,
pointing to the ring.]

GM:  Apparently I've been summoned to the ring to conduct this
interview.  Excuse me, fans.

[Myers grabs a house mic, walking up the ringsteps.  Soon, he's joined
by Waterson, Scott, Freeman, Dufresne, and Von Braun inside the ring. 
Dufresne, the Pacific Title over his shoulder, takes a moment to flirt
with a young blond at ringside from inside the ring.  Waterson takes a
spot next to Myers.]

GM:  Mr. Waterson, I'm assuming you have asked me to join you because of
your ultimatum to Raphael Rhodes earlier tonight.

ATTSBW:  You catch on quick, Myers.

GM:  There has been talk over the last several weeks of dissent within
the ranks of the Southern Syndicate, and it seems very apparent that
there ARE problems given how our show ended two weeks ago.  Mr.
Waterson, how-

[A clearly irritated Waterson interrupts before Myers can continue
expounding on the situation.]

ATTSBW: The problem we have, Gordon Myers, is that EVERYONE that is part
of the Southern Syndicate should first be aware of, and second execute
their roles, their jobs within this group.  That's what being a part of
the Southern Syndicate means.  Everyone from the champ here to Dufresne
to Freeman to Von Braun...and yes, to you, Raphael Rhodes...has a job to
do.

Now to be fair to Rhodes, he did his job - eventually - at Memorial Day
Mayhem.  He redeemed his and Simon's embarrassing loss to the Ghost
Dancers by going out and winning the Rumble.

But then he once again forgot what his role was.

[Stevie stands behind expressionless, while Waterson starts to get a bit
more red in the face as he continues ranting.]

ATTSBW: Two weeks ago, Raphael decided to put HIMSELF before the TEAM. 
He apparently came to the conclusion that HE should be the man who
drives the Southern Syndicate.  And so he says he's going to cash in his
title shot on July 5th in Memphis, Tennessee.

[The "Agent to the Stars" shakes his head.]

ATTSBW: Raphael Rhodes, you are one UNGRATEFUL son of a b-

[Waterson cuts himself off just before dropping the bomb.]

ATTSBW: We brought you into the Southern Syndicate because you were
Southern Syndicate quality.  But then, you asked us to let your weak
little brother in.  I said no.  Then you begged...you BEGGED me to give
Simon Rhodes a chance.  Finally, against my better judgment and as a
favor to you, Raphael...I let him be an associate.  I said he could have
a chance to prove himself worthy of being a part of the greatest
collection of wrestlers in the business today.

And you know what he did?

He EMBARRASSED us.

Loss after loss, failure after failure, Simon proved himself unworthy to
be a part of the Southern Syndicate.  

[Waterson shakes his head, fuming with anger.  He waves off Myers,
allowing Stevie to step up to the mic.]

HSS: I don't have much to say here, Gordo.  Raphael, brother...I
understand the drive you have. I get the competitive fire, the belief
that you need to take your shot at the top when you have it sitting in
your back pocket.  I don't fault you for that.  You said you respect me,
and I respect you as well.

BUT...

[Stevie pauses, lifting his index finger.]

HSS: As Ben said, we all have our roles within the group, and that is
why we have enjoyed the amount of success we've had for nearly a year. 
You see, for the Southern Syndicate, the sum of the parts greater than
the whole.  We are a well-oiled machine that needs all its parts to
function at full capacity in order to be the force we are.

And when one of those parts stops functioning in its role?  

It's got to be removed.

We've done it before...ask Gary Bright about that...and if we have to? 
We'll do it again.

[The mic is handed back to Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  Raph, earlier tonight, I made it very clear to you that you
have a decision to make.  You have a choice in front of you.

And it's time for you to make that choice.

[The crowd buzzes.]

ATTSBW:  Raphael, come out here to the ring and make that choice.

[The crowd's reaction grows as Raphael Rhodes walks out from behind the
curtain...

...but he's not alone.  Simon Rhodes is walking a few steps behind his
brother, carrying a metal tire iron over his shoulder.]

ATTSBW:  Now, wait... wait just a second... Raph, Simon was NOT invited
to be a part of this.  He was not supposed to come out here with you
but...

[Waterson loosens his collar.]

ATTSBW:  It's fine!  It's fine.  Let him join you.  But that tire iron? 
That's not part of this, Simon.  That's not what this is about.  This is
a peaceful business meeting.

[The two Rhodes brothers step into the ring, Simon not moving the tire
iron off his shoulder.  Brian Von Braun shouts something in Simon's
direction that is thankfully unheard by the cameras.  Dufresne and
Freeman huddle up, whispering to one another as the National Champion
stands behind his manager who is pointing at Simon Rhodes as well.]

ATTSBW:  Come on, Raph.  I'm not negotiating with a gun to my head.  Get
your brother to put the tire iron down.

[Raph turns, saying something to Simon who slowly nods his head, setting
the tire iron down on the mat behind him in the corner.  The two Rhodes
brothers stand across the ring from their allies, glaring at them.]

ATTSBW:  Thank you.  I take that as a show of good faith and I
appreciate it.  Now... Raph... I trust you've had time to think about my
offer.

[Raphael Rhodes nods.]

ATTSBW:  I trust that you've had time to consider your decision...
carefully.

[Rhodes nods again.]

ATTSBW:  And I trust that you've come to a decision.

[Rhodes nods one more time.]

ATTSBW:  Well, let's hear it...

[The Number One contender slowly walks out to the middle of the ring,
standing just a foot or so away from a waiting Ben Waterson with Gordon
Myers standing, holding the mic between them.]

RR:  I have made my decision.

[Rhodes pauses, building the drama.]

RR:  And I'll see ya on the 4th.

[The crowd EXPLODES in cheers...

...but just for a moment as Brian Von Braun scoops up the tire iron off
the canvas and SLAMS it into the back of Raphael Rhodes' injured knee!

Rhodes collapses to the mat, screaming in pain as he grabs at his limb. 
Simon tries to intervene but Dufresne and Freeman rush forward, not
attacking but simply restraining as they push him back to the corner. 
Gordon discards the mic, making a run for it as Stevie Scott leaps into
action, stomping the kneecap of Rhodes.

Waterson scoops up the fallen mic.]

ATTSBW:  I told you, you son of a...

[Waterson delivers a kick of his own into the ribs.]

ATTSBW:  I WARNED YOU!  You knew this would happen!

[Another kick to the ribs as Scott continues to stomp the injured leg. 
The camera cuts to Simon Rhodes, fighting against the grip of Dufresne
and Freeman with all he's got.  Von Braun arrogantly faces down Simon
Rhodes, holding the tire iron in his hand.]

ATTSBW:  Nice work, Brian.  Now finish this.

[Von Braun winds up again, smashing the tire iron down across the knee. 
The Hotshot grabs the injured leg, twisting the injured leg around his
own, and falls back into a figure four leglock!

We hear a "CLUNK!" as Gordon apparently arrives back at the desk.]

GM:  Figure four!  I'm back, fans, but the National Champion's got a
figure four locked on Raphael Rhodes!

[Von Braun drives stomp after stomp onto the injured leg as Waterson
continues to shout.]

ATTSBW:  You think you can beat the Syndicate?  You think you can
survive without us?  This is your worst nightmare, Rhodes!  You've
crossed a line and now you've got us to deal with!  Now you've got-

[The crowd EXPLODES in a nervous buzz as MAMMOTH Mizusawa appears in the
aisle, slowly making his way towards the ring as the Southern Syndicate
continues to assault the leg of Raphael Rhodes.  Upon reaching the ring,
Mizusawa steps over the ropes just as the Hotshot releases the figure
four, scrambling to his feet...

...and with a loud bellow, Mizusawa leaves his feet, dropping a massive
leg down across the throat of Rhodes!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  MIZUSAWA HAS HELPED THE SOUTHERN SYNDICATE!!

BW:  He's accepted the offer!  Louis Matsui has accepted the offer!

[Mizusawa, Scott, and Von Braun take turns stomping and kicking Rhodes
as the former tag team champions continue to restrain Simon Rhodes,
making him watch the beating.]

HSS:  Get him up!

[Scott's order has Von Braun and Mizusawa drag Raphael Rhodes off the
canvas, each holding an arm.  The National Champion moves in, glaring
hatefully at the dangling Rhodes.]

HSS:  I hope you have Gary Bright on speed dial, you piece of trash. 
'Cause you'll need him to give you directions straight down the road to
obscurity when we're done with you.

[Scott reaches out and slaps Rhodes hard across the face.  Simon shouts
out something that catches Scott's attention.]

HSS:  Simon Rhodes... I almost forgot about you.

[The Hotshot holds out his hand to Brian Von Braun who happily slaps the
tire iron into it.  Scott points the tire iron at Simon Rhodes.]

HSS:  I'm willing to give you one chance, Simon.  You may not have had
the most success in the ring but you played your role well for us.  You
knew your spot.  You knew your job unlike your ungrateful brother.

You get one chance, Simon.

All you've ever wanted is to be Southern Syndicate - to ride in the
stretch limos, to fly first class, to eat in the finest places, to enjoy
the company of the most beautiful women.

[Scott grins.]

HSS:  Tonight, you get that chance.

One chance, Simon.  You take this tire iron from my hand.

[And he points the tire iron to the dangling Raphael Rhodes.]

HSS:  And you make sure he never walks again.

[The crowd jeers wildly as Scott grins, holding the tire iron out to
Simon Rhodes once more who stops struggling against Freeman and
Dufresne.]

HSS:  Take it.  Do what your brother couldn't.

[Von Braun can be heard shouting at Scott but the National Champion
ignores him, still offering the weapon.]

HSS:  Let him go, boys.

[Dufresne and Freeman reluctantly let Rhodes go, allowing him to take a
few steps out of the corner...

...and grab the tire iron in his hand.]

HSS:  This is it, Simon.  This is your chance...

[Simon looks at his trapped brother... then looks at the tire iron in
his hand...]

HSS:  Unfortunately... we both know what you're going to choose.

[Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman assault Simon from behind, knocking
him down to the mat where they start stomping and kicking him.  Scott
scoops up the fallen tire iron...

...and takes a full force swing at the exposed back of Simon Rhodes,
knocking him flat.]

HSS:  You Rhodes boys make me sick.  Oh so predictable.  I told you,
Ben.  I told you neither of them would be able to put the team before
themselves.

[An angry Waterson nods his head at the champ who stands over Simon
Rhodes.]

HSS:  Raph, you let your own blood come between us.  Then you let your
own greed come between us.

I think you need to pay for both of those right now.

[Without warning, Scott yanks the downed Simon Rhodes off the mat,
pulling him into a standing headscissors.  A shout sends Dufresne and
Freeman up to the second rope.]

GM:  Wait a second!  Wait a second!

[The crowd buzzes with concern and the battered Raphael Rhodes starts to
struggle hard against the grip of Von Braun and Mizusawa who continue to
hold him.  Waterson grabs two hands full of Rhodes' hair, pulling his
head back.]

"WATCH!  WATCH WHAT YOU'VE CAUSED!!"

[Scott hoists Simon Rhodes up in position for the piledriver...]

GM:  Oh my god.

[Dufresne and Freeman each grab a leg of the trapped Simon Rhodes,
leaping from the middle rope just as Scott drops down...

...and SPIKES Simon Rhodes' head and neck into the mat with a
spine-crushing piledriver!

The crowd and the announcers fall to a stunned hush at the sight of the
spike piledriver which drove Simon's head and neck into the canvas at a
sickening impact.

Scott slowly gets up off the mat, looking down at the motionless Simon
Rhodes as Raphael screams at Scott.  

The National Champion slowly turns to face Rhodes, glaring at him.  He
slowly drags a thumb across his throat.]


"Finish him."


[Mizusawa yanks Raphael Rhodes the rest of the way up to his feet,
grabbing him around the throat with both hands, powering him straight up
into the air...

...and DRIVING Rhodes into the canvas with a thunderous Tusk Crusher!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[With Rhodes laid out on the mat, Scott shouts again at his
partners-in-crime.  Grabbing the National Title belt off the mat,
Dufresne rears back overhead with it...

...and SLAMS it down onto the injured knee of Rhodes!  

Freeman quickly grabs the injured leg, turning Rhodes onto his stomach,
bending the leg back at a sickening angle in a half Boston Crab while
the rest of the group takes turns stomping and kicking Rhodes' head and
neck.

Scott drops down to the mat, grabbing his title.]


"YOU WANTED THIS?  YOU WANTED THIS?  LOOK WHAT IT GOT YOU!"


[Scott gets back to his feet, walking away from Rhodes as the Southern
Syndicate and Mizusawa continue to pummel Rhodes into the canvas...

...as we fade to black.]