********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** American Wrestling Alliance Proudly Presents AWA Saturday Night Wrestling Live from the Jack Stephens Center Little Rock, Arkansas June 26, 2010 ********************************************************** ********************************************************** ********************************************************** [As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando Wilson show as the shot starts to fade. It is replaced with footage marked "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.]