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

Live from the Carolina First Arena
Charleston, South Carolina
July 31st, 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!" and is a shot of Ben Waterson and the National
Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott standing with Gordon Myers.]

ATTSBW:  You want to know our answer?  You want to know if we accept
Broussard's challenge for Labor Day?  You want to know if the most elite
force in professional wrestling is willing to step into two rings
surrounded by steel against three former National Champions, a former
World Champion, and a player to be named later?

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  The answer is clear, Gordon.

Oh.  Hell.  Yes.

[BIG CHEER!]

ATTSBW:  After months and months of putting up with Juan Vasquez, we
have the chance to end him in one night.  After months of hearing how
Marcus Broussard could save the AWA, we have the chance to end him in
one night.  After months of Todd Michaelson telling us his six minutes
with a World Title makes him worth a damn, we have the chance to end him
in one night.  And after months of people saying that we swindled
Sudakov out of the National Title and how he'd hand us our lunches on a
platter when he came back, we have the chance to end him in one night.

What possible other answer COULD we give, Gordon?

It's going to be rough.  It's going to be the fight of our lives. 
People are going to bleed.  People are going to get hurt.  

But at the end of it all, it's a chance to wipe out every single enemy
of the Southern Syndicate that is still standing in one night.

[The shot of a confident Waterson and Scott fades away 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 Carolina First Arena in Charleston, South Carolina 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!

BW:  Announcer of the Mid Year Bucky Wilde, daddy!  Stuff it, Slush.

GM:  Easy, Bucky.  On that note, we would like to congratulate all of
the AWA competitors who were runners-up or won awards in the recent Mid
Years - and a big congratlations goes out to the entire AWA for being
voted the Promotion of the Mid Year!

BW:  Ain't no stoppin' us now, Gordo.

GM:  It's certainly a big night here in Charleston as we already have
FOUR big matches lined up for tonight.  We'll see Mark Langseth in
action against the dangerous German, Baron Von Klauss!

BW:  We haven't see Langseth compete in months, Gordo.  Does the Hall of
Famer still have what it takes?

GM:  And his rival, the man he will meet in New Orleans in just over a
month, Shane Destiny will also be in action tonight.  His opponent?  A
man we have not seen in quite some time - the beast known as
Devastation!

BW:  The big man is back and Shane Destiny may have bitten off more than
he can chew here tonight in Charleston, daddy!

GM:  Plus, the Lady Luck Challenge continues when Jack Snyder collides
with Eric Preston.

BW:  Snyder's got three wins.  If he beats Preston tonight, he will be
one win away from a shot at the AWA National Champion, Stevie Scott. 
You better believe that Snyder will take this kid to his limits here
tonight, Gordo.

GM:  And if that's not enough, we've got a HUUUUGE Main Event.  The
National Tag Team Titles will be on the line when the Bishop Boys defend
the gold against the men they beat for the titles, Calisto Dufresne and
Adrian Freeman!

BW:  Freeman and Dufresne have yet to get a rematch - tonight, that
changes.  And it won't be the only thing that changes as the gold is
comin' home to the Southern Syndicate, daddy.

GM:  We'll have all of that plus much, much more but let's kick things
off up inside the ring with the Prince of Darkness!

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

MC:  Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit.  Introducing first... from Chicago, Illinois...
weighing in at 217 pounds... Steve Stone!

[A scrawny Stone waves an arm to some cheers.]

BW:  Holy cow, Gordo.  I hope someone notified this kid's next of kin.

[The sounds of shrill screams fills the air.]

GM:  What in the world...?

[After a moment, Anton Layton emerges from the shadows of the entryway,
flanked on all sides.  To his right stands Nenshou and Percy Childes. 
To his left is the hulking form of James Monosso.  And dead ahead is
Gino Moretti, the former Disco Machine.  Moretti has a collar around his
throat with chains leading off it...

Of course, the other end of those chains rests in the hand of Layton.]

MC:  From the Seventh Circle... he is the Prince Of Darkness... 

ANNNNNTON LAAAAYTONN!

[Layton pays no attention to the announcement or the booing fans that
follows it.  His head is covered with a black cloak.  He tugs at the
chains, shouting something unheard at Moretti as he forces him down the
aisle, the others all following behind.]

GM:  Now this is a frightening sight for anyone to see, Bucky.

BW:  We found out that there was an alliance between Layton, Childes,
and Nenshou back at Independence Day.  Two weeks ago, they added James
Monosso to this... this... freakshow!  

[The group reaches the ring swiftly.  Layton hands off the chains to
Percy Childes who smirks, smacking the floor with his crystal-orb topped
cane, forcing Moretti down to his knees while the other two take up
spots in the corner.]

GM:  We've talked many times about the Southern Syndicate being the most
awesome force in wrestling... but I just might be more afraid of these
guys!

BW:  It's because they're totally unstable!  You never know what they're
going to do!  Layton's crazy... Nenshou does whatever Childes tells him
to and Childes has been managing nutcases as long as I can remember...
and don't forget about Monosso in all that.  He's a psychopath!  At any
given moment, these guys could decide to put someone the shelf...
permanently.

[Layton whips off his hooded cloak, revealing black facepaint all around
his eyes...

...and charges across the ring, smashing a stunned Stone with a double
axehandle that sends him sprawling back into the corner.  Grabbing the
top rope, Layton lays in knee after knee after knee into the ribcage of
his victim as the referee tries to force him out.]

GM:  He's gotta get him out of there!  Come on, referee!

[At the count of four, Layton relents with the knees, dragging Stone out
of the corner by the hair...

...and SLAMS his face into the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Into the canvas he goes!

[Layton flips Stone onto his back, applying a cover.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!! 

[But Layton pulls Stone up by the hair at the count of two, cackling at
the official.  He gets up, dragging Stone up with him, grabbing him by
the wrist...

...and yanks him into a short-arm clothesline, knocking him flat!]

GM:  Down he goes again and-

[Layton balls up his fist, dropping down to slam his clenched fist into
Stone's windpipe.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Fistdrop to the throat!

BW:  That's not entirely legal.

GM:  Not ENTIRELY legal?  It's not legal at all, Bucky!

[With Stone gasping for air, Layton wraps his hands around the young
man's throat, throttling him back and forth as he squeals like a
maniac.]

GM:  What in the world is wrong with this man?

BW:  How much time do you have?

[Layton drags Stone off the mat by the throat and throws him through the
ropes to the floor.  He starts in after him but the referee steps in,
forcing Layton back...

...which allows an uncaged James Monosso to charge towards the downed
Stone, delivering a rib-cracking kick to the torso.  Nenshou springs
into action as well, lashing out with an axe-style kick to the sternum!]

GM:  Come on, referee!

[Out on the floor, Childes directs traffic as Monosso and Nenshou take
turns delivering kicks to the body.  At a barked order, Monosso drags
Stone off the floor, throwing him back into the ring where Layton pushes
past a protesting official to drag the limp form of Stone off the mat...

...and knocks him down once more with a standing clothesline.]

GM:  Stone's down... look out now...

[With a howl, Layton leaps up to stand on the second rope.  He grins
sadistically as Stone rolls to his back, clutching his neck...

...and then leaps off, burying both feet down into the ribcage in a
double stomp!]

GM:  Ohhh!  That'll do it!

[Layton drops into a cover as the referee quickly counts to three.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

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

ANNNNNTON LAYYYYYTON!

[Layton, still kneeling, simply grins an evil grin as he looks out over
the jeering crowd.]

GM:  Layton scores the win in impressive - and sadistic fashion - and
somewhere in the back, I would think Vernon Riley is a little nervous at
what he's seeing out here - this combined show of strength.

BW:  A little nervous?  If Riley's a smart man, he'd be- nah, you're
right.  He's a little nervous.

GM:  Let's take a look at the replay, Bucky.

[We fade into an instant replay, showing Layton deliver knee after knee
into the ribs of a stunned Stone.]

BW:  Anton Layton is absolutely relentless in there when he gets a
victim in his sights - look at those knees, trying to knock the wind out
of his sails over and over.

[Then to the fistdrop driven into the throat.]

BW:  An illegal blow to the throat there but Layton just doesn't care. 
The ref could have DQd him right there on the spot and I'm not sure it'd
bother Layton one bit.

[And finally, the leaping doublestomp off the middle rope into Stone's
prone midsection.]

BW:  And then the double stomp off the second rope.  I don't care if
you're Steve Stone, Vernon Riley, or even the National Champion, if
Anton Layton hits that doublestomp, your night is over, daddy.

GM:  It appears as though we're about to be joined by Anton Layton... oh
brother... we're being joined by all of his... what did you call them,
Bucky?  Freakshow?

BW:  Don't quote me on that.

[The camera cuts back to the ringside area where Gordon and Bucky find
themselves surrounded.]

GM:  Mr. Layton, congratulations on your victory.  I'm sure you're quite
happy with your win.

[Layton's eyes roll back in his head.]

AL:  DO NOT PRESUME YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT MOTIVATES ME! 

[A snarl follows which causes Gordon Myers to step back... right into
James Monosso.]

AL:  Gordon Myers, THIS is what motivates me.

[He gestures to the men he stands with.]

AL:  THIS is what the Master has called for.  He sent the message,
Gordon Myers.  I heard it.  Percy Childes heard it.  The Asian Assassin,
Nenshou, heard it.  And you...

[Layton's eyes rest on the hulking former mental patient.]

AL:  You heard it too.  Didn't you, James?

[Monosso nods.]

AL:  The Master put the plan in motion.  The Master put the pieces
together.  Ehehehehehe!

[Layton's unsettling cackle is followed by Gordon Myers trying to ask
another question.]

GM:  The plan?

AL:  THE PLAN!  THE PLAN!

GM:  Err.. what is-

[Layton grabs Myers by the jacket.]

AL:  Do you honestly believe you are WORTHY to know the plan?  Vernon
Riley... the pieces have come together and no matter how big your army
of heroes becomes... 

Brent Maverick...

Eric Preston...

[Monosso visibly twitches.]

AL:  They can not stop us, Riley.  YOU can not stop us, Riley.

[His eyes roll back again.]

AL:  The pieces are in place.  The plan is set.

[A sadistic smirk.]

AL:  Vernon Riley, you have a date with my Master.  

[Layton hooks a thumb towards Nenshou.]

AL:  Perhaps my friend here will make it... a blind date.

[Layton throws back his head, cackling loudly as the bizarre group makes
their way out of sight.]

GM:  A blind date?  Disgusting, Bucky.

BW:  I don't know.  It was kinda funny.

GM:  I have a feeling that Vernon Riley won't think so.  But we won't be
hearing from Big Vern til later tonight.  For now, let's go backstage
where Jason Dane has caught up with Ivan Kostovich!

[Crossfade to the locker room area where a stylishly-suited Ivan
Kostovich is standing alongside Jason Dane.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Mr. Kostovich, you made quite the impression on
the entire AWA when you first arrived back at Independence Day and made
it quite clear that you were most displeased with what we've seen out of
Vladimir Velikov in recent months.

[Kostovich shakes his head.]

IK:  Comrade Dane, for a journalist who was recently ranked amongst the
peak of your profession, you disappoint me.  It was not I who is
displeased with Velikov... not I alone.  The entire Russian government
is embarrassed, humiliated, and ashamed to have Velikov still in the
spotlight.  

The man has done nothing in over a year to make the Russian people proud
of him.  He has constantly failed at everything he has attempted.  And
he has brought the scorn of our people upon him.

[Dane nods.]

JD:  Two weeks ago, we saw he and Baron Von Klauss fail to defeat the
Rockstar Express.  Your thoughts?

IK:  My thoughts?  It is typical, Comrade Dane.  It is typical of
Velikov's continued failure and it is typical that even in the face of
pathetic American competition, he still can not prevail.

[Another shake of the head.]

IK:  The man treads on thin ice with me and with our people.

[Suddenly, Vladimir Velikov walks into view alongside Baron Von Klauss,
both in their wrestling gear.]

VV:  Comrade Kostovich, how can you say these things of a fellow
Russian?

[Kostovich glares at Velikov long and hard...

...and spits on the floor.]

IK:  You are no Russian in my eyes.

[Velikov bristles at this, moving towards Kostovich who doesn't flinch
one bit.]

VV:  I have talked to the people back home.  I have talked to our
liasons.  They tell me that you are here to help.  You are here to
restore the Russian name to professional wrestling.

Start with me, old friend.  

[Velikov gets a pleading look on his face.]

VV:  Raise me up.  Bring me back to what I once was.

[Kostovich glares at Velikov.]

VV:  Please, old friend.  Please hel-

IK:  Enough.

[The cold one word reply freezes Velikov in his tracks.]

IK:  You pathetic shell of a man.  I stand before you and tell you how
worthless you are and you come begging for my aid?

[Kostovich snorts.]

IK:  The situation is worse than I feared.  I have told you to regain
yourself as a warrior.  I have told you to cast aside this German fool.

[This time, it's Von Klauss who surges forward but is restrained by his
partner.]

IK:  Yet you stand before me weaker than you were the previous day.  It
is true that I was sent to help you.  But now I see you are beyond my
help, Velikov.

[Kostovich turns and walks away, leaving Velikov and Von Klauss behind. 
The Russian's head is bowed.]

JD:  Mr. Velikov?

[Velikov does not raise his hand, murmuring under his breath.]

VV:  He does not know what I am capable of.

But I will show him.  I will show him why he needs me.  Why Russia needs
me.

[Velikov nods to himself, walking off camera.]

JD:  Well, fans, there seems to be some political intrigue behind the
Iron Curtain.  Let's go back down to ringside for more action!

[We go up to the ring, where Melissa Cannon waits alongside a very tall
young man.  He's about 6'7", but is rather lanky... his build is more of
a normal person's build than a wrestler.  He has reddish-brown hair
which is trimmed in a slightly curly short hairstyle, and has a thin-cut
goatee and mustache.  He sports black trunks with large white triangular
patterns on each hip, running from waist to legline; his black-and-white
boots and kneepads match these.  He's calmly adjusting his white tape
wristbands as Melissa gives the intros.]

MC: The following contest is set for one fall, with a ten minute time
limit!  Introducing first, to my left.  From Cambridge, Massachusetts...
weighing two-hundred fifty-eight pounds... MATT GINN!

[Ginn does not even acknowledge the introduction, though he does scowl a
bit when he's booed.  The classic-rock translation of "The Good, The
Bad, and The Ugly" by Enrico Morricone drives the fans to cheer, though,
as Melissa continues.]

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

[The compact, muscular form of Brent Maverick hustles towards the ring
at a brisk power-walk.  Wearing his rust-red knee-length trunks with
Arizona Sun logo on the upper rear, as well as black cutoff gloves, red
leather laceless boots and vest, Maverick is ready to fight.  The man
with the short tousled dark-brown hair and stubble reaches a hand out to
slap the outstretched hands of fans on each side, but he's not really
focused on them at all.  He's glaring straight ahead, straight at his
opponent.  He rolls under the bottom rope... and bolts to his feet as
Ginn tries to attack him before the bell!  A brutal double axehandle to
the chest drives Ginn clean off of his feet as the running stomp is far
too slow.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM: Brent Maverick in our next matchup, here... and what a start for the
Arizonan!  Matt Ginn completely underestimated Maverick's speed!

BW: Yeah, Brent ain't a prototypical power wrestler.  He's small an'
fast... but a lot stronger than any other man his size that I know. But
one thing he ain't got, Gordo, that most guys his size do... is
technique.  I heard this Ginn was a champion wrestler at MIT.  

GM: MIT?  I wonder if he's chosen the right occupation.  Brent Maverick
pulls the tall youngster up, and hammering away on the midsection with
beefy rights and lefts.  There's not much mystery behind Brent
Maverick... he's going to throw you around, hit you, and keep on coming
until the bell rings.  More of a mystery is what might be going on
behind the scenes with him.  Ooh!

[The 'ooh' was in regards to Ginn attempting a hiptoss... Maverick
blocks and headbutts him in the face before drilling him with a
nasty-looking standing clothesline.]

BW: Yeah... ya got him, Vernon Riley, an' Eric Preston conspirin' ta fix
th' rankings.

GM: What?!  That's not the rumor, Bucky!  The rumor is that those three
are teaming up to take down this bizarre Anton Layton-Percy Childes
alliance that has involved James Monosso and Nenshou.  And who's to say
that they'd stop there?

BW: Never stop when ya got the momentum, Gordo.  An' look, Brent
Maverick just made that mistake!

[Maverick had whipped Ginn to the turnbuckles during that last exchange,
and attempted to catch Ginn bouncing out with a slam... but the
Massachusetts native used his reach to his advantage and thumbed
Maverick in the eye before he could be scooped.]

GM: Matt Ginn with an opening... tremendous side Russian leg sweep!  And
transitioning right into... what looks like a prone abdominal stretch of
some kind?  Using his leg for even more leverage!

[It's a prone Octopus hold, actually.  Ginn has Maverick's arm in his
grasp, has one leg hooking Maverick's leg and the other swung over
Brent's head to push it down.  The crowd oohs that painful-looking
hold.]

BW: This what I was sayin'.  This kid is real precise and technical.

GM: Perhaps, but he's also quite inexperienced.  Maverick easily able to
reach the ropes due to Ginn's inattention to ring position. But Ginn is
refusing to break!

BW: He's got a five count, Gordo, don't get upset.

GM: Well, there was a five count!  And he still hasn't let go!

BW: Okay, so get upset about it.  That ain't gonna do nothin' fer
Maverick!

[Finally, Ginn releases the hold, having negotiated himself a few extra
seconds of time by playing dumb and working the referee. He stands up,
and drops a knee into the midsection of Maverick.]

GM: Going for the ribs with his offense, it seems.  

BW: Sure!  A guy like Maverick is all power, but if ya take away a man's
breath, ya take away his power.  It's almost as good as goin' after his
leg.

GM: Maverick to his feet, and Ginn scoops him... gutbuster!  And now
he's going for a more conventional abdominal stretch... yes! He has the
hold applied perfectly... GOOD GRIEF!

[The crowd roars as Maverick immediately powers out of the abdominal
stretch by countering into a Biel throw... all the way across the ring!]

BW: WOW.  That wasn't yer usual hiptoss, Gordo.

GM: That was a Biel throw, and Maverick following in with a hard running
elbow!  Ginn staggering off the ropes... and a clean lift and powerslam!
 Maverick powerslamming the six-foot-seven Ginn with ease, and how
quickly the momentum has turned!

BW: Quick is right; he's all over him!

GM: Maverick with a thunderous double-axehandle across the shoulders of
a rising Ginn, doubling him over... gutwrench suplex! And now Maverick
off the ropes... DOWN WITH THE CORKSCREW ELBOWDROP!

BW: That spin ain't just for show; that adds more momentum to the
elbowdrop.  Ginn's feelin' it now.  Maverick's moves are one after
another, real fast!

GM: A bodyslam by Maverick as Bucky was talking, and the Arizonan
viciously kicking the MIT graduate in the ribs.  Perhaps Mr. Ginn should
have gone into engineering.

BW: Well, think of it this way: if somethin' happens to him, he's
probably got a fallback.

GM: One would hope.  Maverick hoisting up Ginn, locks the head and
arm... 

[HUGE POP!]

GM: ...AND A HANGMAN SUPLEX DRIVES YOUNG MATT GINN STRAIGHT ONTO HIS
HEAD!  That has to be over!

BW: I suspect Brent will make sure of it.

GM: Indeed he will!  He's picked Ginn up one more time, and has him in
the fireman's lift!  We know what comes next!  Three step dash... _ACEY
DEUCY_!

[The fans give a loud finisher cheer for Maverick's running Death Valley
Driver!  Following that, he transitions right into a pin... and an easy
three count.]

BW: Okay, NOW it's over.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

["The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly" in Southern rock format starts back
up as the fans cheer.  Maverick now diverts his focus to them, raising
his hand and saluting the crowd.]

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

GM: Matt Ginn got in some offense, but it was inadequate to stop Brent
maverick.  Once he gets going, he does not take long to finish a man. 
We'd like to get some comments from Brent on these rumors, but first,
let's take a look at the replay!  Take it away, Bucky Wilde.

[The first replay is the head-and-arm suplex which Maverick calls the
Hangman Suplex.  He snaps Ginn up over his head, and given the six inch
height differential, it's not long before Ginn's upper body hits the
canvas as his body goes tumbling head-over-heels.]

BW: Alright, here ya got the Hangman Suplex, Gordo.  Ginn was so tall
that he pretty much didn't have a chance ta rotate all the way onto his
back!  It was a great move ta use against a tall guy... normally if yer
gettin' suplexed, ya WANT ta flip all the way over so ya don't land on
yer skull.  It's why these suplexes work, daddy... once ya get lifted,
ya got no choice but ta go with it or else! Ginn got the "or else" right
here.

[Then the Acey Deucy... as soon as Brent gets Ginn up in the fireman's
carry, he takes three quick steps to get up to speed and jumps.  He goes
to his side as sharply as he can, drilling his unfortunate opponent
head-first to the canvas.]

BW: An' here's th' Acey Deucy.  What makes this move is that runnin'
start.  Because Maverick's quick, he gets a big boost in a real short
time.  Ya couldn't go off th' ropes holdin' a guy like that, but he
don't need to; three steps an' he's up ta speed.

[We cut back to the announce desk, and Gordon Myers is there with Brent
Maverick.  Myers starts it off...]

GM: Last week, Brent Maverick, we witnessed a series of attacks by a new
force that's forming here in the AWA.  Anton Layton and Percy Childes
have formed an unholy alliance, but it looks like a few good men have
banded together to stop them... or at least, that's the rumor.

BM: Rumors.  Don't trust rumors.

GM: Well, can you confirm or deny that you, Vernon Riley, and Eric
Preston have formed an alliance?

BM: I can deny.

[Awwww!  The crowd seems to be put off by that.]

BM: It's real simple.  I told ya from th' time I came in that I was out
for justice.  That fat-bellied weasel Layton is runnin' from Vern Riley,
an' throwin' every sucker in his way that he can get his grubby paws on.
 Now, I know Vern.  Hell, everybody knows Vern. He's a good man, always
has been, 'cause he's real.  What you see is who he is.  Now I see some
devil-worshippin' slob who don't rate on his own tryin' ta gang up on a
good man on account of he got jacked up ten years ago, an' it vexes me. 
I don't think I need ta tell ya what happens when I get vexed.  I do
somethin' about it.  

GM: But does that not mean that you've allied with, at least, Vernon
Riley?

BM: I talked ta him a bit this week, but there ain't no alliance.  I was
there ta stop Layton because he makes me ill.  He's a no account.  I've
taken dumps that were more threatenin' than Anton Layton, an' were
probably more intelligent besides.  An' he thinks he's just gonna suck
some idiots in an' jabber on about Satan, put out Vern Riley, an'
everyone would just LET HIM?  

It's real simple.  Layton's a weasel.  An' I'm declarin' Weasel Season. 
Vern's too upright ta deal with Layton how he ought ta be dealt with. 
But I got no compunction about goin' after a man.  Next time ya send out
yer troops, Layton... ya better make sure ya got a rear guard.  C-Y-A.

[At that, Brent walks off at a clip.  Gordon turns back to Bucky.]

GM: Brent Maverick apparently refuting the rumors, Bucky.  He says
there's no alliance.

BW: Then he's an idiot!  No surprise there, but c'mon!  Layton, Monosso,
and Nenshou?  Ya _better_ make an alliance if those three come for ya,
Gordo... or else yer next of kin'll be makin' other arrangements, if ya
know what I mean.

GM:  I do indeed.  Fans, we've got to take a short break but we'll be
right back so don't you dare go away!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

And then back up to live action where the announce team is standing at
ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to what has already been an exciting night of
AWA action and we're just getting started.  We've got four big feature
matches later tonight including the Lady Luck Challenge and the National
Tag Team Title showdown between the Bishop Boys and the Southern
Syndicate team of Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman.  That should be
one heck of a rematch, Buck-

["Threatened" by Michael Jackson plays as Joe Petrow emerges from the
back.]

GM:  Uh oh.  He's not scheduled to be out here.

BW:  As mad as he looks, I wouldn't want to be the one to tell him that.

[Though he's sporting a new suit from Michael's of Kansas City, he is
not styling and profiling as he angrily stalks to ringside with a cell
phone and microphone in each hand, deliberately walking up the stairs
and stepping into the ring, pausing briefly to survey the crowd before
speaking.]

JP: I've already told everyone about my past qualifications, so tonight
I'm going to summarize my accomplishments in my brief time in the AWA.
First, I made sure that Scotty Storm got his well-deserved victory. 
Next, I made sure that Calisto Dufresne got hisvictory, by any means
necessary. Finally, for my clients' involvement in the tag team title
match at Independence Day, I did exactly what I was asked, my clients
are no worse off than they were before, and maybe they also learned a
valuable lesson in the process.  In short, I have a 100% success rate in
all that I do, and my services should now be in high demand.

[Petrow confidently looks out over the crowd who responds with a mix of
cheers and boos.]

JP:  But on the last show, all I heard was person after person come out
here and talk about Joe Petrow in words that were nothing but hideous,
slanderous, LIES!  And I'm not gonna dignify any of them with a
response, except to say that I now realize that I underestimated the
fear factor. Instead of embracing the new opportunities, people are
afraid of the consequences. They don't want any of you to take the
control that is now available to you, so instead, they are trying to
make you believe that Joe Petrow is not a person that you can do
business with.

[Another mixed reaction for the Executive Consultant as he angrily
glares down the aisle in the direction of the locker room.]

JP:  Well, I could make a lot of money by taking all of those people to
court in defamation suits and shooting down their arguments one by one,
but I'm not gonna do that! As I've said before, I am a _professional_,
and I am here to help others, not myself. So I will be the bigger man,
and prove myself yet again. I know that all you in the back already have
my number, so right now, the very next person who calls will get my next
services at absolutely no charge!  You want to win a match, you want to
end a career, even if you just want a private conversation that nobody
will ever know about. Whatever it is, it's done for the next person who
makes this phone ring!

[Petrow stops, and waits. Five seconds... ten seconds... as the crowd
begins to get restless, and as even Petrow considers to give up in
disgrace...

...the mic picks up the "Threatened" ringtone from Petrow's cell phone.
He allows himself time for a satisfied grin before answering.]

JP: Petrow.  Yeah, I meant what I said.  Yeah.  Yeah, of course I can do
that. You're a smart man. I'll be right there. [hangs up and closes the
phone, as he allows his grin to expand further]

JP: Guys, understand one thing: the Executive Consultant is here to
stay!  And your success may well be determined by how quickly you
realize that.

[Petrow exits the ring to another confused reaction from the fans.]

GM:  I just don't get that man, Bucky.

BW:  What's not to get?

GM:  He said it himself - he helped Scotty Storm get a clean victory...
then he helped Calisto Dufresne get a disputed victory... then he
completely threw the National Tag Team Title match at Independence Day
off.  What is his endgame?

BW:  He's been very clear about it, Gordo.  He plays for the highest
bidder.  You want a clean match?  He provides it.  You want to cheat to
win?  He helps do that too.  He is the kingmaker of the AWA and the
sooner people understand that, the better off they will be.

GM:  So, who made the phone call tonight?

BW:  I guess we'll all find that out together, Gordo.

GM:  I guess we will.  Fans, let's go up to Melissa for the introduction
of a pro wrestling Hall of Famer!

[Crossfade to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Berlin, Germany... he is accompanied to the ring by Vladimir
Velikov...

BARON VONNNN KLAUSS!

[The lanky German steps out of the corner, throwing up his right hand in
the form of the Claw.]

MC:  And his opponent... he is a member of the professional wrestling
Hall of Fame...

MARRRRRRRK LAAAAANGSETH!

["Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward plays over the PA as the crowd
lets out a loud cheer for the only active Hall of Fame wrestler in the
AWA. Langseth - dressed in a black T-shirt, dark blue baggy track pants,
and black boots - strides out of the entrance, looking excited.]

GM: Mark Langseth makes his return to wrestling -

BW: Again -

GM: - for the first time since November last year at SuperClash. 

[Langseth makes his way down the aisle, acknowledging the fans as he
walks by. Before he gets in the ring, however, he makes his way towards
Gordon Myers. He quickly commandeers Gordon's microphone.]

ML: Gordon? Bucky? Everyone? Just want to make sure you're watching
cause, heh, I intend to impress out there right now...

[Langseth lets go of the microphone and makes his way back to the ring,
showing his exuberance for getting in the ring once again.]

GM:  Mark Langseth taking on Baron Von Klauss here in Charleston in
something Langseth called a tune-up match, getting ready for his
showdown with Shane Destiny in New Orleans.

BW:  I don't care how many tune-up matches he gets in the next month,
there's no way he'll be ready for Shane Destiny.  Langseth is about a
month away from the last match of his career - if he can even get past
the German here tonight.

GM:  Vladimir Velikov with some last words of strategy for his partner.

[The Russian drops down off the apron as the referee signals for the
bell to start the match.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

[Langseth quickly circles out of the corner, ducking down like he's
about to shoot for a takedown.  The German backs away, fists balled up
at the ready.]

GM:  Von Klauss will be looking to take this to a brawl.  Langseth
probably wants to keep it on the canvas. 

BW:  At the end of the day, Langseth has one goal - anklelock.  If he
slaps on the Greatness Personified, I don't care if you're Baron Von
Klauss, Shane Destiny, or the entire Hall of Fame, you're tapping out.

[The former two-time World Champion circles into a collar and elbow
tieup, promptly catching a knee to the midsection.]

GM:  Ohh!  Von Klauss goes to the midsection!

[A hard hammer blow knocks Langseth down to the mat.]

GM:  The German takes him down...

[A pair of kicks to the ribs sends Langseth under the ropes and onto the
apron.]

GM:  Von Klauss sends him out to the apron and the German is in total
control early on in this one.

BW:  Langseth said it himself.  He hasn't competed in a ring since
November, Gordo.  That's a lot of ring rust to try and work off
yourself.

GM:  It certainly is.

[Leaning on the ropes, Von Klauss plants his boot on the throat of
Langseth, choking him against the referee's count.]

GM:  The referee counts three... four... fiv- he breaks the choke just
in time and the ref is all over Von Klauss!

[But the berating of the German leaves Langseth vulnerable as Velikov
slams his forearm down on the throat of Langseth.  A second hammer blow
rolls Langseth to his chest where he's gasping for air.  But the Russian
is smart enough to back away before the referee turns around.]

GM:  Come on, ref.  You've gotta do a better job than that.

[Von Klauss drags Langseth by the foot back into the ring, reaching down
to pull him up by the back of the tights.  A hard forearm to the kidneys
connects, staggering the former two-time World Champion and knocking him
into the ropes.]

GM:  Langseth hanging onto the ropes...

[The lanky German winds up and delivers a crushing forearm blow across
the lower back, knocking Langseth down to a knee.]

GM:  He's got Langseth down on the mat again...

[Standing over him, Von Klauss raises both arms over his head, joining
the hands in a double axehandle...

...and swinging them violently down!]

GM:  DOUBLE AXEHAND-

[A big cheer goes up as Langseth fires a right hand to the gut to block
the heavy blow.]

GM:  He caught him with a right hand!

[Langseth gets to his feet, throwing another haymaker to the
midsection.]

GM:  Two shots to the gut...

[He follows up with a boot to the stomach as well.]

GM:  A third shot to the body!  Langseth's got him reeling!

[Grabbing Von Klauss by the back of his bald head, Langseth SMASHES him
facefirst into the top turnbuckle.  A second slam to the buckle knocks
Von Klauss down to a knee in the corner.]

GM:  The Hall of Famer is fighting back, Bucky!

BW:  And he's taking the fight right to Von Klauss!

[Outside the ring, Velikov is shouting instructions as Langseth backs
across the ring, charging across...

...and SMASHES his knee into the back of Von Klauss' head, driving the
German's face into the middle buckle!]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a shot by Langseth!

[Langseth promptly hauls Von Klauss up by the back of the tights,
hooking him in a side waistlock where he hoists the German up and drops
him down in a back suplex.]

GM:  Nice execution on the back suplex and Langseth may be a little bit
rusty but you can see the skill that made him a Hall of Famer shining
brightly through, Bucky.

[The Pittsburgh native rolls on top of Von Klauss as the referee drops
down to count.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  Ohh - out at two!

[Langseth nods his head, quickly regaining his feet without a word to
the official.  He promptly drops an elbow across the chest, applying a
second lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  But that's all.

[Langseth pushes up off of the downed German, driving a right hand into
the ribcage before climbing to his feet.  He delivers a pair of kicks to
the ribs, causing the German to roll under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Out to the floor goes Von Klauss and Langseth's going out after
him.  He drops down off the apron to the floor...

[He grabs Von Klauss by the back of the head, smashing his skull into
the ring apron.]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard to the apron!  Look out!

[As Velikov slips closer, Langseth spins and drills him with a right
hand, knocking him back.  The Hall of Famer promptly shoves Von Klauss
back into the ring, rolling under the ropes himself before Velikov can
recover.]

GM:  And a smart move there by Mark Langseth to get back into the ring
before Vladimir Velikov can get to him.

BW:  Langseth's been working with managers and bad guys his whole
career.  He knows exactly how that game is played.  

GM:  A good point.

[Back in the ring, Langseth hauls Von Klauss up off the mat, firing him
off to the ropes.]

GM:  Off the far side... boot to the gut...

[Langseth hits the nearest set of ropes, rebounding off and scoring with
a high knee lift to the jaw, sending the German sprawling down to the
canvas.]

GM:  Down goes the German.  Velikov's on the apro-

[Langseth spins around, charging across the ring to knock the Russian
down to the floor with a right hand.]

GM:  Down goes the Russian as well!

[The Pittsburgh native drags Von Klauss off the mat, driving a boot into
the gut, doubling him up.]

GM:  Langseth to the ropes and-

[Velikov grabs the former World Champion's ankle.]

GM:  Come on, referee!

[Langseth spins around, trying to extricate himself...

...and falls vulnerable to a double axehandle to the back of the head. 
He spins Langseth around, firing him to the ropes, and sending him high
into the air before crashing down to the canvas with a backdrop!]

GM:  OHHH!  BIG BACKDROP!!

[The crowd buzzes with concern as Von Klauss lifts his right hand into
the air, fingers clawing towards one another in position for the dreaded
clawhold.]

GM:  The German's calling for it!  He's calling for the Claw!

[Von Klauss highsteps around the ring, hand at the ready as a dazed
Langseth gets back to his feet...

...and lunges forward, hand aimed for the skull.]

GM:  CLA- 

[But Langseth drops down to the mat, taking Von Klauss down with a drop
toehold, rolling through to grab the German's foot...

...and twists his ankle!]

GM:  GREATNESS PERSONIFIED!  HE LOCKS IT IN!

[The lanky German claws at the canvas, screaming in pain...

...and quickly submits.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd cheers as Langseth immediately releases the hold, throwing
both arms up in the air in triumph.]

MC:  Here is your winner... MAAAAAAARRRK LAAAANGSETH!

[Langseth allows the referee to raise his hand one more time, grinning
widely as he approaches the ropes.]

GM:  Nice victory there for Langseth.  Let's take a look at how it
happened, Bucky.

[We fade into the replay, first seeing Langseth perfectly execute a back
suplex.]

BW:  There you see the suplex - perfect execution.  Langseth has
legendary ring skills and that's just part of it.

[Then the right hand to Velikov on the floor.]

BW:  And we see, of course, the ability to throw down when he needs to. 
Don't ever forget where Langseth's history in this business was forged. 
This man knows how to fight.

[And finally, the drop toehold into the anklelock.]

BW:  The Greatness Personified.  You can argue that it's the best
submission hold in the business... and Shane Destiny will argue harder
than anyone on Labor Day Weekend.

[The replay ends as we fade back to ringside where Mark Langseth walks
over towards Gordon Myers, who stands with microphone in hand as the
fans continue to cheer for Langseth.]

GM: A big win for Mark Langseth as he joins us here... Mark -

[Langseth lets out a big breath as he wipes the sweat off his brow.]

GM: How does it feel to be on the active list once again?

ML Phew, Gordon? It feels GREAT, alright? I mean, that return match at
SuperClash was nice, but I knew I still wasn't right. But...

[Mark pauses, catching his breath.]

ML: But tonight? That was awesome, Gordon. Just a great feeling to get
back in the ring and do what I came back to do. Not to sit on the
sidelines, not the wait and heal up anymore... 

[Langseth nods.]

ML: Get back and compete... Re-enter the hunt...

GM: So is this it? I know you said that you needed a tune-up before your
match with Shane Destiny on Labor Day, but -

[Mark shakes his head.]

ML: No, Gordon - no. I'm here to compete whenever possible... I need to
show I can take the workload. I need to prove I can still do it,
CONSISTENTLY. And most importantly? I need to be at my best when I face
Destiny.

[Langseth pauses.]

ML: So whenever Watkins needs someone to wrestle a match? My phone's
always on me, just let me know...

[Mark then stands back and shakes Myers' hand before turning back and
walking up the ramp as the fans cheer on.]

GM:  Mark Langseth says he'll compete whenever and wherever the AWA
wants him to.  What do you think about that, Bucky?

BW:  I'm never going to turn down a Hall of Famer on the active roster,
daddy.

GM:  Amen to that.  Well, fans, coming up-

BW:  Gordo... you may want to take a look at this...

[The camera quickly cuts inside the ring where Vladimir Velikov is
standing inside the ring, glaring at Baron Von Klauss who is leaning
against the ropes, having trouble standing.]

GM:  I'm not sure if-

[Suddenly, Velikov sends a string of angry Russian words in the
direction of his partner.]

BW:  What I'd give to speak Russian right now.

[The words seem to grow harsher in tone and louder in volume as Velikov
steps closer to Von Klauss.]

GM:  Von Klauss just had a hard fought match with- 

"OHHHHH!"

[The crowd reacts as Velikov lashes out with a kick to the back of the
leg, knocking the German down to the mat.  The Russian promptly pins
down Von Klauss' knee with one foot and repeatedly stomps the
now-injured ankle with the other.]

GM:  Velikov's just assaulted his own partner!

BW:  Is this what he meant, Gordo?

GM:  What are you-

BW:  He said that he was goin' to show Kostovich what he could do!

[A few more stomps land before Velikov breaks off the attack, dragging
the German to his feet...

...and uncorks a standing version of the Sickle, knocking the German
flat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  What a clothesline!

[Velikov stands over the motionless Von Klauss, soaking up the jeers of
the Charleston crowd...

...and then turns to grab his discarded metal chain from the corner.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  This is bad, Gordo.  Bad for Von Klauss!

GM:  Velikov's got that chain - that heavy Russian chain that we've seen
him put to absolutely brutal use for over two years now.

[Approaching the downed German, Velikov loops the links of the chain
around the throat of Von Klauss, pulling back on it!]

GM:  HE'S CHOKING HIM!  VELIKOV'S CHOKING THE GERMAN!

[With white knuckles and gritted teeth, Velikov strains his powerful
muscles as he tries to yank the air out of his presumably-former partner
and ally.]

GM:  Get some help out here!  Velikov's strangling the life out of Von
Klauss!

[Von Klauss tries to inch his fingers between the steel and his throat,
struggling against the stranglehold.]

GM:  For heavens' sake, someone help that man!  Velikov's trying to
permanently take him out!

[The big Russian firmly plants his knee between the shoulders of Von
Klauss, tightening the pull of the metal chain on the windpipe of his
former partner.]

GM:  We need help out here now!  This is- 

BW:  Here they come!

[A sea of AWA officials and arena security come pouring into view,
flooding the ring in an instant.  "Big" Jim Watkins brings up the rear
but quickly gets into the ring as well, shouting at Velikov to release
the chokehold.]

GM:  Jim Watkins is reading him the riot act!  Watkins wants him to let
go and-

[Velikov ignores the Chairman, now holding the choke on a limp Von
Klauss who is unmoving...

...until Watkins physically pulls Velikov off of Von Klauss, throwing
him back a few steps!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Uh oh!

BW:  Velikov didn't like that! 

GM:  These two men have a lot of history between them, Bucky!  This
could break down right here tonight in Charleston!

[But with a mass of AWA officials getting between Velikov and Watkins,
the angry Russian simply picks up his metal chain and walks away,
exiting the ring and slowly making his way back up the aisle.]

GM:  A brutal, vicious assault on his own partner!  What kind of a man
is Vladimir Velikov?

BW:  The kind that just sent Ivan Kostovich a clear message.  Kostovich
wants to see the old Velikov?  Well, we just saw him.

GM:  The old Vladimir Velikov has resurfaced and I don't believe that's
good news for anyone, fans.  We've got to get some medical assistance
out here for Baron Von Klauss and while we do, we're going to take a
quick break.  Don't go away.

[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 to the locker room area where Jason Dane is standing in
front of The Bishop Boys' locker room. Jason nods.]

JD:  I've tried on several occasions to get someone to answer the door.
Unfortunately, I haven't had much luck. I guess I'll try one more time.

[Jason knocks on the door, then stands well back, knowing how an
encounter with the Bishops can go south in a hurry. No answer. Jason
furrows his brow in frustration.]

JD: Well, I don't know what to tell you, fans. Very strange that Cousin
Bo would remain so silent, especially on the night of a title defense. I
guess I'll send it bac-

[Jason stops mid-sentence as he hears a commotion coming from the room.
He waves the camera forward, so that it can pick up what's being said.
The muffled, yet unmistakable voice of Cousin Bo yells out.]

CB: Oh, for crying out loud, I can't go five minutes around here without
someone bugging the hell out of me.

[Pause.]

CB: Well, go see who it is!

[A few seconds go by as heavy footsteps approach from the other side.]

JD: Uh oh.

[The cameraman turns to Jason, who takes a good ten steps back. The
camera turns back as the door flies open, and the large frame of Cletus
Lee Bishop fills the doorway. Cletus Lee stares Jason down, as if he's
asking "What do you want?"]

JD: Ah, oh, Cletus Lee. I was, uh, looking to see if I could get some
comment about tonight's match.

[Cletus Lee looks to the cameraman, who's right in his face. Wisely, he
moves way back. Cletus Lee rolls his eyes and turns back to the locker
room, hiking a thumb in the direction of the camera.]

CB: It's Dane, isn't it?

[Cletus Lee nods. Bo pokes his head out.]

CB: I'm in the middle of a damn strategy session. What is it?

JD: Er, sorry, Mr. Allen, but I'm looking to get some comments regarding
your cousins' match tonight.

[Bo looks miffed, but he steps out anyway. Before Jason has a chance to
ask him a question, Bo snatches the mic out of his hand.]

CB: I am not in the mood for games tonight. You can go now.

[Jason looks at Cletus Lee, who's still lurking in the doorway, and
decides that discretion is indeed the better part of valor, quickly
exiting the scene. Bo nods at Cletus Lee, who returns to the room. Bo
turns towards the cameraman.]

CB: So, The Bishop Boys and The Southern Syndicate meet again. Can't say
I'm surprised. Ever since the three point rule was abolished, I figured
we'd be meeting up with Dufresne and Freeman again. They won't shut up
about being the rightful champions.

[Bo chuckles.]

CB: At least we actually WON the titles in the first place. Face it.
Kentucky's Pride wiped the mat with you. Then, of course, when you
should've gotten to the back of the line, you whined and cried like a
couple of two year olds. And since City Jack never could stand the sound
of little girls, he caved in and gave you another chance. And what
happened then? You put on the match of a lifetime and got a hard-fought
win that established you as the number one tag team in the world?

[Bo shakes his head.]

CB: No, you didn't. You never pinned them. You never made them submit.
No, the way you became the "rightful champions" was by throwing a
fireball in City Jack's face. And damaging his eye so bad that he's
probably never going to get in the ring again, ensuring that he and Rust
would never get a rematch of their own.

[Bo blinks.]

CB: Yeah, you'll have to pardon me if I'm not really all that impressed.
How the hell you deserve a "rematch" when you never really won the
titles in the first place is beyond me. 

[Bo shakes his head.]

CB: But you know something? It doesn't really matter. Two weeks ago, I
told Rough N Ready that if they wanted to see the REAL Bishop Boys show
up, we'd be more than happy to accommodate them. Well, there's good news
and bad news. The good news is that you're not Rough N Ready.

[Bo grits his teeth.]

CB: The bad news? The threat is real. We're determined to defend our
titles against Rough N Ready again. Once again, I'm making one of my
famed promises. Check the records, kids. When I promise something, it
happens every single time. The promise I'm making tonight? You will be
an example.

[Bo points at the camera.]

CB: You will bleed. You will not be walking out of that ring on your own
two feet. And you damn sure will NOT be leaving the building the AWA
National Tag Team Champions!

[Bo turns back to the locker room. Just before he goes back in, he turns
back to the camera with a look that says "Ah, knew I forgot something."]

CB: Cooper? Somers? Petrow? Don't even try us tonight. If you want that
rematch, just don't bother. I've got no problem letting the boys destroy
two teams in one night.

[Bo drops the mic, giving off a sharp screech of feedback, walks back
into the locker room and slams the door.]

JD:  Let's go back to the ring for more action!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from St. Louis, Missouri... The Cardinal!

[A masked man clad in red from head to toe throws both arms in the air
to little reaction.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Russia... he is the Russian War Machine...

KOLLLLLYAAAA SUUUUDAKOV!

["Creeping Death" by Metallica starts up to a big reaction from the
crowd as the former National Champion storms into view.  He marches down
the aisle, ignoring the crowd as he approaches the ring.]

GM:  The former National Champion has hit the ring, fans.  If you
recall, Kolya Sudakov made his shocking return at Independence Day
standing alongside Marcus Broussard, Juan Vasquez, and Todd Michaelson.

BW:  Makes me sick.

GM:  What does?

BW:  The thought of a stone cold killer like Sudakov shaking hands with
those baby-kissin' Boy Scouts.  He should be standing against them,
knocking folks down with the Sickle like a hot knife through butter.

[Sudakov strides up the ringsteps, climbing into the squared circle to
more cheers.  The referee gives both men a few quick words before
calling for the bell.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM:  Here we go!

[Sudakov walks right across the ring like something out of a sci-fi
movie, not even flinching as the masked Cardinal throws rights and lefts
at him, trying to impede his path...

...until he gets two big hands wrapped around his throat from the big
Russian, powering him up into a massive double choke!]

GM:  Oh my!

[The referee frantically starts the count - reaching four before Sudakov
hurls the Cardinal back into the nearest corner.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky.  This man is as powerful as they come.

[Moving into the corner, Sudakov lashes out with a snapping roundhouse
kick to the body.  A second one follows before the Russian drags the
masked man out of the corner, powering him up into a scoop and slamming
him down in a thunderous slam.]

GM:  Big slam by the big man... 

[A few soccer kicks to the ribs follow, leaving the masked man gasping
for air as Sudakov drags him back to his feet.]

GM:  Irish whip by Sudakov... off the ropes...

[The crowd cheers as Sudakov powers the masked man up and sends him
crashing right back down spinefirst to the mat with a bone-rattling
angry man's spinebuster.]

GM:  What a spinebuster by Sudakov!  

[A huge cheer erupts as Sudakov raises his right arm, cocked at the
ready.]

GM:  Here it comes!  The masked man to a knee... staggering up...

[And the former National Champion bulldozes across the ring, flooring
the Cardinal with the Sickle!]

GM:  SICKLE!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[Sudakov simply drops to a knee, pressing his hand into the chest of his
victim.]

GM:  There's one... two... and three.

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC:  Here is your winner... KOLLLLLYAAA SUUUUUDAKOV!

[The Russian War Machine rises to his feet, raising both arms to another
cheer.]

GM:  Sudakov with another impressive victory and how did it happen,
Bucky?

[Cut to replay footage of Sudakov powering up the Cardinal and driving
him down with a thunderous spinebuster.]

BW:  Two things spell victory for the Russian, daddy.  Pure power that
you see right there in that spinebuster slam.  Few men on the planet can
match this guy's power...

[And then to the Sickle, flooring The Cardinal.]

BW:  And the Russian Sickle.  One of the most deadly moves in the game
spells certain doom for the masked man.

GM:  Kolya Sudakov is your winner... and let's hear from him now...

[The Russian War Machine rolls under the ropes just as the camera cuts
back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Mr. Sudakov, another win for you on your comeback trail.

[Sudakov gives no response to Myers, simply looking off camera.]

GM:  Sir, would you care to explain to these AWA fans why you came back
to the AWA and more importantly, why you chose to stand beside Juan
Vasquez, Marcus Broussard, and Todd Michaelson when you did so?

[Still no response, Sudakov's eyes burning into the camera now.]

GM:  Mr. Sudakov, I think these fans would like an answer from-

[Without warning, Sudakov simply walks off camera again, making his way
back up the aisle.]

BW:  You certainly have a way with people, Gordo.

GM:  This man, Kolya Sudakov, just refuses to speak to us for the second
show in a row.  I don't know what's going on with him but you can bet
he'll talk to us when he's good and ready to, Bucky.  Now, we may not
know when Sudakov will speak to us but we DO know that we'll see him in
the ring on September 6th in New Orleans, Louisiana for an event we've
named "Battle On The Bayou."  And right now, Jason Dane is standing by
in the Control Center to talk about more action we'll be seeing in just
over a month's time in New Orleans.  

[We crossfade from ringside to the "AWA UPDATE" logo that is sharing the
screen with a Battle On The Bayou logo.  The two mix together and leave
Jason Dane sitting in front of a bank of monitors.]

JD:  Hello everyone and welcome to the Control Center.  As Gordon said,
we are just over a month away from Battle On The Bayou coming up on
September 6th in New Orleans.  We will be LIVE on that night from the
Lakefront Arena where we expect to draw an all-time attendance record
for the AWA.  Tickets are on sale now throughout New Orleans or at
awashop.com plus if you can't be there, you can see us LIVE on WKIK as
well.  It's going to be one for the ages that you will not want to miss.

Of course, the Main Event has been set.  It will be WarGames with the
Southern Syndicate meeting a team of Juan Vasquez, Marcus Broussard,
Todd Michaelson, Kolya Sudakov, and a fifth man still to be added to the
mix.  Now, there has been a lot of debate over who will comprise the
Southern Syndicate team but as of now, we believe it will be Stevie
Scott, Calisto Dufresne, Adrian Freeman, Brian Von Braun, and MAMMOTH
Mizusawa.  Those last two names have yet to be confirmed though.

Also, we heard the challenge made and answered two weeks ago - the
Blonde Bombers will meet the Rockstar Express in tag team action down on
the Bayou as well.

And of course, Hall of Famer Mark Langseth is set to go one-on-one with
the man who he has been on a collision course with for months - Shane
Destiny!

That's just three big matches already announced and we've got more still
to come.  We'll be back in the Control Center in the hours, days, and
weeks to come to bring you the announcements of ALL the big matches that
are just over one month away down on the Bayou.

For the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane - now let's go backstage to my
good friend, Mark Stegglet, who is standing by with a new member of the
AWA roster!

[We fade from the sea of television monitors to a podgy guy with
straggly blonde hair who may look vaguely familiar to longtime fans of
the territories.  On his arm is a chunky bottle blonde who, if anything,
looks like she can probably throw a harder punch than he can.]

MS: To all the AWA fans out there, I’d like to introduce you to-

Woman: Whoa there, honey. You ain’t got the class to introduce a man
like this. This is a job for Big Mama!

[The man nods approvingly and gives her a kiss.]

BM: Ladies… gentlemen… worthless hicks of all ages… prepare to be
dazzled by the one, the only, the really great cruiserweight…

‘PLLLLLLLAAAAAYYYYYYYBBBBOOOOOOYYYYYYY’

JOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHNNNNNNNNNNYYYYYYYYYYYYY

CAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOVVVVVVAAAAAAAAAAAA!

JC: That’s right baby! Johnny C is in the house! Float like a butterfly,
sting like a bee, there ain’t nobody who can hang with Johnny C!

[She rubs her hands over his body appreciatively. If she thinks this
guy’s a cruiserweight, then I worry about her eyesight.]

JC: Lemme give you a little history lesson, people. I know that many of
you will remember me from my stellar career… but I have to be honest,
there may be somebody out there who ain’t never seen good ol’ Johnny C
before. You see, I was the Playboy back when some of the AWA fans out
there were just itty bitty kids. I was loved, I was adored, and I was
worshipped by thousands of people every week – and a different woman
every night.

[His expression grows slightly sad.]

JC: And then it ended. Johnny C, the really great cruiserweight, was
left with a devastating knee injury by a sneak attack from… heck, I
ain’t even gonna give that animal the glory of a mention here in the
AWA. I was down and out, I could no longer fly so high I could reach the
sky, poor ol’ Johnny C was just a broke down shell of a man, mama!

BM: And then you met me, big poppa!

[He nods, and a wide grin breaks out over his face.]

JC: And then I met this wonderful woman here, my sweet baby doll Big
Mama! She took me from the bottom of the pile and - this amazing little
girl on my arm right now – she helped me see that I could be Johnny C
one more time! I could be the Playboy and I could fly that high once
again! She made me look at the guys right here in the AWA – men like
Shane Destiny, Kevin Slater, and James Monosso – and she made me see
that I could be better than each and every one of them.

BM: Not just could be, big poppa!  You were better than all of them –
and you will be again, especially with me cheering you on!

JC: You know it, honey. That was three years ago, and in those three
glorious years, I rebuilt myself. She helped me every day through every
step of the way – she watched me work out, she gave me massages, and she
held me through each and every bad times.

BM: Awww, big poppa! There weren’t many bad times – and there were so
many good times!

JC: That’s right, pumpkin. But you were there for the worst of them – do
you know, Mister Stegglet, I nearly lost a match once? I mean, it was a
one-on-three handicap match, and they were all twice my size, but this
was two and a half years into my winning streak and it shook me right
up.

[Stegglet is looking slightly disbelieving at the thought of this guy
having a two and a half year winning streak at anything except pie
eating contests, and Johnny C gives him a hard poke in the chest to get
him back focused.]

JC: Mister Stegglet, you may not realise it, but this is a historical
moment you’re getting to be part of. This is the AWA debut of the man
who’s gonna go out there and turn back the clock and show all of his
adoring fans – and a whole new generation of Casaholics – just why they
called me the man they couldn’t match.

[He flexes his muscles. A few years ago, this may have looked at least
slightly impressive, but there’s too much flab on them now to really
notice.]

JC: You see, I’m gonna fly round people, I’m gonna knock down people,
and with the almighty power hidden in these sleek, slim arms – I’m gonna
put them to sleep!

BM: Oh yeah, big poppa! I like that!

[He nods approvingly.]

JC: I think I smell a new catchphrase, cherry pie! Johnny C, the really
great cruiserweight, is gonna put you to sleep!

BM: And then take me to bed!

JC: Damn straight! Mister Stegglet, I’m sure it’s been a pleasure for
you to meet me!

[He kisses Big Mama one last time, and we cut to the ring where Melissa
Cannon is standing and where we see a short man in a blue mask with
white flashes on. He also has blue tights, with white stripes running
down each side.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall with a ten minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the
ring at this time... from Mexico City, Mexico… weighing in at 170
pounds… Thunder Misterioso!

[A small amount of applause for the wrestler awaiting his opponent.]

GM: After the debut last week of Pugnacio Supremo, there’s another
Mexican wrestler in the AWA, although Thunder Misterioso is less
well-known.

BW: Less well known than Pugnacio Supremo? Does that mean even his
parents don’t recognise him?

GM: Come on, Bucky. An excellent debut last week for Pugnacio, and I’m
sure Thunder will be happy if he can do just as well.

[Robert Palmer’s ‘Addicted To Love’ kicks in, and Johnny Casanova
strides out confidently, followed by Big Mama. As the pair get in the
ring, with the fans booing them slightly, Casanova sits on the second
rope to allow Mama to get in the ring.]

BW: Oh yeah, Gordo! Thunder Misterioso would kill for a draw with Johnny
C – but that’s not gonna happen! Casanova’s waited too long to get here
to throw this chance away now!

MC: And his opponent, from Hollywood, California! Accompanied by his
manager, Big Mama, and weighing in at 205 pounds… ‘Playboy’ Johnny
Casanova!

GM: 205 pounds? What scales are they using?

BW: You’re just jealous of his body, Gordo.

[Mama and Casanova share a long kiss in the middle of the ring, much to
the fans’ displeasure, as they wait for the match to get started.
Eventually, the luchador takes matters into his own hand and taps
Casanova on the shoulder.]

GM: Like our great fans here, Thunder Misterioso wants this one to get
underway!

BW: Please. All those fans, and the flippy freak there, are just jealous
of Casanova having a hot blonde girl.

[Casanova spins around and goes to take up a fighting stance, but
Misterioso holds out his hand for Johnny C to shake. The Playboy accepts
– and, as the bell rings, pulls the luchador towards him for a couple of
jabs!]

GM: Casanova’s first seconds in an AWA ring, and he’s cheating already!

BW: Cheating? There’s no rule saying you need to shake hands at the
start of a match, Gordo!

[The luchador staggers back, and Casanova immediately goes for his eyes,
gouging them.]

GM: Maybe not, but THAT’S clearly illegal!

[The ref seems to agree, warning Casanova that he needs to cut that out.
Casanova moves in on the Mexican and grabs him, sending him to the ropes
and ducking his head. He telegraphs the move, however, and Misterioso
leapfrogs him, then bounces off the other ropes and catches the Playboy
with a beautiful dropkick as Johnny turns around!]

BW: There’s cheating for you! Misterioso clearly did something to
Casanova as he jumped over the Playboy!

GM: What?

BW: I don’t know, but I’ll tell you when I’ve worked it out – he’s that
sneaky!

[Casanova is reeling after the dropkick, and Misterioso capitalizes,
hitting a cross-body block which gets a two count before Cas kicks out.
As the Playboy stumbles to his feet, the Mexican hits a couple of quick
kicks to the back of his knee, then a headbutt, which puts Casanova down
as if he’s been shot.]

GM: Casanova rolling right out of the ring there, and running for the
comfort of Big Mama.

BW: What kind of head has that guy got?

[That’s the question Big Mama seems to be asking the referee, as she’s
suggesting that there’s something fishy about the luchador’s mask. The
ref turns to Misterioso, who quickly protests his innocence, allowing
the official to feel his mask for anything untoward. Satisfied, the
referee turns around and starts to count Casanova out.]

GM: Did you see that! Casanova and Big Mama hugging there, and Big Mama
slipping her hands into his trunks – come on, we don’t want to see that
kind of thing here in the AWA.  This is a family show!

[As the ref reaches six, Casanova decides he’s rested enough, and comes
back into the ring, to be met by a slap to the chest from his opponent.
Casanova retaliates with one of his own, and they trade slaps for a bit,
before Cas hits a big haymaker.]

BW: Look at that, Gordo. Classic move from the Playboy there!

GM: Casanova certainly looking better there than he did at the start of
the match.

[Casanova follows it up with a running elbow drop, then covers
Misterioso for a two count, but the luchador kicks out.]

BW: End’s in sight, daddy. Trust me on this one, Casanova’s got far too
much for this guy.

GM: Is he pointing up top? Are you serious?

[Apparently so, as Johnny takes his opponent down with a hip toss, then
walks over to the corner, where he starts to climb the ropes. Slowly.]

BW: Johnny Casanova used to be one of the hottest young fliers in the
country, I’ll have you know!

GM: Bucky, you used to be slim and have neat hair.

[Taken aback by the sarcastic comment from Myers, Bucky is quiet for a
few seconds. Meanwhile, Casanova is still trying to get up top – and
Misterioso is up, and dives across and hits the ropes, crotching the
bigger man!]

GM: Oh my! Casanova just slipped, and hit himself on the ringpost, and
is now lying trapped as Misterioso scores with a few kicks! And now
Misterioso is going up top…

[And he comes down, with a magnificent flying fistdrop, before hooking
the leg! One… two… and the Playboy’s debut is nearly a losing one, but
Big Mama is there and hooks his leg over the ropes!]

GM: Oh please! The referee, rightly, not at all happy there.

BW: She was massaging his foot, Gordo! That’s all!

[Misterioso is shouting at Big Mama as Casanova gets to his feet, and
Casanova blindsides him with a standing double axhandle to the back,
then picks him up and drops him with a vicious inverted atomic drop. To
follow up, Casanova spits on his fist then hits a vicious uppercut.]

GM: Casanova is taking full advantage of the assist here, and Misterioso
must be kicking himself for letting Big Mama distract him there. 

[Speaking about distractions, Big Mama isn’t finished, as she climbs
onto the apron. The ref remonstrates with her…]

BW: That’s what I like, Gordo! A woman who gets involved. Especially one
who looks like Big Mama!

GM: Hey! 

[Myers has spotted what most of the crowd – but not the referee – have
seen, as Casanova reaches into his tights for something.]

GM: Discus punch! Misterioso turned around, and got hit by a huge discus
punch which looks to have knocked him out, but did you see that, Bucky?

BW: I sure did, Gordo! What incredible power for a man weighing just 205
pounds!

[Casanova pulls Misterioso up and gets him into position for his
signature double underhook facedriver.]

GM: I mean did you see what he did just before he hit that punch?

BW: I was busy watching Big Mama, Gordo. What a woman!

[And here it is, the Playboy Plunge, slamming Misterioso hard into the
mat.]

GM: I could’ve sworn that Casanova grabbed something out of his tights!
I think the Playboy just stole this one!

[Picking his opponent up once more, Casanova locks on a sleeper, and the
ref raises the Mexican’s hand. It drops once…

BW: The lights are out, Gordo – it’s good night Mexico!

[Twice…]

GM: You may be right, Bucky, but it’s not exactly an impressive debut
for the cheater here.

[And a third time. The bell rings.]

BW: You do what you have to do, Gordo. And I think the Playboy and Big
Mama will be happy with their day’s work today!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC:  Here is your winner... "PLAYBOY" JOHNNY CAAAAASANOOOVA!

[Casanova springs up into the air... just slightly... with a big fist
pump as he celebrates his victory.  He quickly rushes to the ropes where
Big Mama is waiting to give him a big hug and kiss.]

GM:  Ugh.  Can we go to the replay please?

[You heard the man.  First, we see a shot of Casanova reaching into his
tights with his back to the referee, pulling out a small steel chain
that he promptly wraps around his fist...

...and CRACKS the luchador on the jaw with it.]

GM:  There!  There's the weapon!  Some kind of a chain!

BW:  Must've missed that.  Moving on...

[Then to Casanova hooking the arms, driving the masked man down to the
mat with a facedriver.]

BW:  But I didn't miss that!  And neither did he!  The Playboy Plunge,
daddy!  Sixty percent of the time, it works everytime!  And when it
doesn't...

[Check out the flabby arms of Casanova wrapped around the head and neck
of the masked man.]

BW:  ...the sleeperhold will!  Lights out in little Mexico!  "Playboy"
Johnny C is your winner here tonight in Charleston in his debut.  And I
can't wait to see more of him... and Big Mama!

[The shot cuts back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Well, like him or not, Johnny Casanova scores a victory here in his
debut and there's been a lot of impressive talent debuting here in the
AWA as of late, Bucky.  The Talent Relations department seems to be
working overtime to bring in the best in the world - men like Violence
Unlimited, like Nenshou, like bringing back the War Pigs...

[Suddenly, a loud howl is heard off camera and three men burst into
view.  Those who watched Independence Day will recognize them as the
three men who violently assaulted The War Pigs on that night.  They are
dirty, unkempt, and have wild beards that would put ZZ Top to shame. 
They are Jug, Zeke, and Mange - the Moonshiners.]

GM:  Gentlemen, I don't know what you're-

[Mange, seemingly the leader of the group, runs a hand through his wild
greasy hair as he snatches the mic away.]

Mange:  Hush now.

[Myers looks uneasy as Mange leans close to him.]

Mange:  Ya don't know why we're out here?  Heh.

[Mange looks over to his boys, both equally wild-eyed.  Jug is tearing
at his own hair as he repeatedly kicks the announce table.]

Mange:  We're out here fer a fight, baw.  Heh heh... and we're out here
fer a fight now.

[Myers shakes his head.]

GM:  Look here, you're not scheduled for-

[Mange grabs Myers by the jacket.]

Mange:  TELL ME, BAW!!  TELL ME WHAT WE'RE NOT SCHEDULED FER!!  TELL ME
AND MY BOYS WILL TEAR YER DAMN THROAT OUT WITH THEIR TEETH!

[At this point, Myers wriggles free and backs off, leaving a wailing
Mange behind.]

Mange:  Ya have the stones ta come out here and tell the world that the
best in the world are comin' ta town and ya ain't gonna mention us?

[Mange shakes his head.]

Mange:  Ask them Pigs.  Ask them slop-suckin' hogs if we ain't the
toughest men 'round.  Ask 'em if they liked gettin' their melons split
when we smashed 'em up into a wall!  

Ask Lee.  

[The expressions on all three men's faces grow stern at the mention of
his name.]

Mange:  Ask 'im if he's forgotten what we done did to 'im all over the
South.  Ask 'im if he's forgotten the blood... the pain... the broken
bones.  Ask 'im to remind the world what the 'Shiners are capable of
doin', baw.

CAUSE!  IT'S!  ALL!  HAPPENIN'!  AGAIN!

[And with that, Jug and Zeke slide into the ring where two pour souls
are waiting.]

BW:  Gordo, you okay?

[A slightly-shaken Gordon Myers sits down to join his partner.]

GM:  I'm...

[Myers breathes heavily into the mic.]

GM:  Yes, I'm fine.  But these men aren't scheduled to be out here. 
This was supposed to be a tag team match for the War Pigs and these two
have-

[The crowd groans as Zeke slams the two young men's heads into each
other.  Jug dives down to the mat, frantically throwing clubbing fists
as fast as he can, forcing one of the men under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Out to the floor goes... yes, I believe that's Dale Strong...

[Jug rolls out after him, grabbing him by the hair and scooping him up
across his chest in a bodyslam position...

...and promptly SLAMMING him spinefirst into the ringpost!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Inside the ring, Zeke has hung the other man upside down in the corner
and is just repeatedly kicking him in the face.]

GM:  Come on!

BW:  Has this match even started yet?

GM:  This isn't a match!  This is a mugging!

[Outside the ring, Mange reaches under the ring, pulling out a toolbox
that he shoves under the ropes.]

GM:  Wait a second!

[Zeke grabs the toolbox, swinging it wildly around and chasing the
referee out of the ring.  Moving over to the corner, he places the metal
toolbox up against the young man's face...

...and delivers a full force soccer kick to the metal box, slamming it
into the face!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[Dropping to his knees, Zeke opens up the toolbox, pulling out a
screwdriver that he holds high.]

GM:  This guy is nuts!

[Out on the floor, Jug pulls Strong off the floor and promptly throws
him headfirst into the steel barricade!]

GM:  Come on!  This is out of control!

[With the other competitor pulled down from the corner and seated in
front of Zeke, Zeke drives the pointy end of the screwdriver into his
forehead!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The crowd screams in terror along with the young man who is crying out
in pain as a metal object is driven into his flesh.]

GM:  He's driving the screwdriver into his head!  We need help out here!
 We need to-

[Suddenly, the crowd ERUPTS!]

GM:  WAR PIGS!!

[Hammer and Sabre come tearing down the aisle, their manager trailing
behind them.  Both men slide headfirst under the ropes into the ring,
charging their rivals.  Jug re-joins the ring, seeing his partner in
trouble and gets caught with a right hand from Sabre.  Nearby, Hammer's
got Zeke in the corner and is driving right hands into his skull.]

GM:  We've got a fight on our hands now!

[Hammer drags Zeke out of the corner, firing him across the ring...

...and levels him with a leaping shoulderblock to a big cheer!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Down goes Zeke!

[Jug reaches up, raking the eye of Sabre to temporarily blind him.  He
grabs the toolbox off the mat, swinging it into the ribcage of the War
Pig!]

GM:  Ohh!  He hit him in the ribs with the toolbox!  With that metal
toolbox!

[With Sabre doubled up, Jug raises the toolbox above his head...

...and SLAMS it down across the back of Sabre, knocking him down to the
mat!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Seeing his partner in trouble, Hammer moves in on Jug, kicking him in
the gut before he can raise the toolbox again.  A second boot knocks Jug
back into the ropes and a charging clothesline takes him over the top
rope and down to the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  THE PIGS CLEANED HOUSE!!!

[Hammer helps his partner up off the mat as Mange drags Zeke under the
ropes to the floor and the three Moonshiners make their way back up the
aisle towards the locker room.]

GM:  The War Pigs have chased off the Moonshiners and payback is- well,
you know the saying!

[Inside the ring, Sabre is clutching his back as Hammer looks out down
the aisle, waving for the Moonshiners to get back in there.]

GM:  And maybe the Moonshiners don't like the odds as well when things
aren't stacked in their fav-

[Myers barely gets the words out before he and Bucky are nearly knocked
over by a still-pissed Hammer, Sabre and Richard E. Lee.  Hammer
snatches the microphone out of Gordon's hand, and the veteran
broadcaster wisely moves out of the way with no objection.]

H: HEY MOONSHINERS!

[Hammer pauses, scowling.  Scowling I say!]

H: Where you going, huh?  Why you runnin' away?  You ain't so tough when
you're not jumpin' us from behind, are ya?

We told you when we got our hands on you, it wasn't gonna be pretty, and
we wasn't just talkin' about your reflection in the mirror!  You
might've been able to avoid a butt-kickin' from us tonight, but next
time we ain't gonna let you off the hook so easy.  Tell 'em, Sabre!

[Hammer hands the microphone to his partner.]

S: WEEEEELLLLLL, Gordon Myers...I don't know if you saw what I did while
those fat slobs were high-tailin' it away from a tail-kickin'...but what
_I_ saw was three great...big...bright...shiny _yellow streaks_ runnin'
right down the middle of the Buttshiners' hairy backs!

[Pop!]

S: You see, boys, I know you're not the sharpest knives in the drawer,
so maybe you didn't realize on that fateful night in Memphis when you
left your third-shift factory jobs to jump us from behind that you
picked two of the meanest, strongest, baddest and most heartless men on
the _planet_ to piss off.  Even in your heyday back in...

[A glance toward his manager.]

S: When was it, Richie, 1974?  Anyway, whenever it was...even at your
best, you'd have had _no shot_ at takin' us out.  So all I can figure
is, you must've drank a whole lot of that liquid courage you claim to
brew up in the mountains and took a Greyhound to Memphis with the
intention of relivin' your glory days...

...but what you're gonna end up with is the worst damned beatin' of your
_lives_!  Tell 'em, Richie.

[Lee, much more collected than his charges, takes the microphone from
Sabre.]

REL: Mange, for all the years that've gone by since we tangled in
Memphis, there's at least two things about you that haven't changed.

One, you're still the fat, stinking, ugly slob you've always been...

[Pop for the face manager talking tough!]

REL: ...and two, you're still dumb as a sack of rocks.

You want to start a war?  Well, rule number one before starting a war is
to know your opponent.  I can only assume that you're either the world's
biggest _moron_ or that your eyesight's shot, because if you take a look
at _your_ men...who're just larger, fatter versions of you...

[Lee turns at points at the Pigs.]

REL: ...and then you take a look at _my_ men, nearly 600 pounds of
chiseled stone and bad to the bone...it doesn't take a rocket scientist
to figure out whose favor the odds are in.

So Mange... Jug... Zeke... from the bottom of our hearts, we say to
you...

We can't _wait_ to see you again.

[And with that, the War Pigs storm out of sight, leaving the announce
team behind with Gordon Myers shaking his head.]

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back with more Saturday Night Wrestling!

[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 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.]

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!"

[We fade to black.

And then come back up to backstage where Mark Stegglet is standing in
between perhaps the most hated duo in AWA history, "Subzero" Adrian
Freeman and "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Dufresne is clad in a pink
dress shirt and a pair of beige slacks, both impeccably pressed.  His
long blonde hair spills over his shoulders, one of which is being used
to hold up the PWR Pacific Championship, which Dufresne lovingly pats
while smiling at the camera.  Adrian Freeman is wearing a blue T-shirt
and his wrestling trunks, smirking at the camera.  Stegglet looks
straight at the camera and begins.]

MS: Welcome back, fans.  I stand here next to the former AWA National
Tag Team Champions, Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne who in tonight's
main event will get the chance to reclaim those titles in their first
tag team match since losing those titles to the Bishop Boys.  What are
your thoughts heading into tonight's main event?

AF: My thoughts are that it's the first decent decision Jim Watkins has
made.  Anyone with half a brain in their head knows that we got screwed
out of those belts.  It's been fun, hasn't it Cletus and Duane, playing
champion?  But tonight, those belts are a cage for you.  No more
switcheroos, no more element of surprise... just you, us, and twenty
pounds of gold that belong around our waist.  I just hope you two oafs
haven't stretched them out too much... they used to fit just perfectly
around our waists.

[Stegglet swings the microphone over to Dufresne.]

CD: My thoughts are that finally, we are being given our opportunity to
bring the gold back home to the Southern Syndicate and it's about time
that it happened!  Between Stevie and myself, we've already got the two
singles titles locked up and thrown away the key and a little later this
evening, Adrian and I will get back to doing what we do best - running
roughshod over inbred rednecks who don't know when to quit. 

[Dufresne's voice begins to increase in volume.]

CD: Those titles were stolen from us in a complete miscarriage of
justice and tonight, the two of us have a chance to set things right. 
To make sure all is right in the world again.  And that's _exactly_ what
we plan to do.

[Dufresne emphasizes this with a curt nod.]

MS: Are you going to be able to be focused on the match tonight with one
eye on Labor Day and the hugely anticipated War Games match?  You're not
even sure who your partners are going to be at this point.

CD: Our focus is razor sharp, Stegglet.  We have no concerns about War
Games.  It doesn't matter who Ben gets to go to battle alongside the
Southern Syndicate.  I don't care if it's Brian or MAMMOTH or 3 on 5, it
doesn't make a difference.  You're going to have the three best
wrestlers on the planet in that ring at the same time.  What surrounds
us won't matter.  Think of us like the Miami Heat if you will.  The
stars come together for one reason - to win.  And that's what we're
going to do on Labor Day and it's what we're going to do tonight.

AF: To be honest, the prospect of getting into a cage with Juan Vasquez
and the Ghosts of AWA Past doesn't really scare me.  If anything, it
just makes me more excited.  Tonight, we get our belts back, and in a
month's time we get payback for losing by blatant interference back at
Independence Day.  It's a good time to be in the Southern Syndicate.

MS: Any thoughts on Raphael Rhodes' proclamation that he will be aiming
for you three no matter what the consequences are?

AF: All Raphael needs to worry about now is aiming for his bedpan.

[Dufresne snorts in derision.]

CD: Raph should know better than anybody what a mistake that would be. 
Sweet Daddy Williams, City Jack, Gary Bright, his own damn brother for
Christ's sake.  The list goes on and on.  These are men who crossed the
Southern Syndicate and haven't been heard from since.  And if he wants
to get thrown onto that funeral pyre, far be it for me to suggest
otherwise.  But, just a friendly reminder to you, Raph, even though you
know this better than anybody.  When you decide you want to play with
the Southern Syndicate, there's one important thing to remember...

[A nod, a wink and a smile.]

CD: ...we play for keeps.

[And with that, the duo walks off camera, leaving Stegglet staring
solemnly into the camera as we fade back to ringside.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman are on a mission here tonight
and for them, that mission can only end with them regaining the AWA
National Tag Team Titles.

BW:  It's gonna happen, Gordo!  When the Southern Syndicate steps into
that double cage in New Orleans, it's gonna be a golden team, daddy!

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, let's go up to the ring for more
action!

[Fade to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

[Suddenly, "Gimme Back My Bullets" kicks in over the PA to a shower of
boos.]

GM:  Wait a second here... that's the music of the Southern Syndicate...

BW:  Very observant.

GM:  What are they doing out here?

[But it's not "they"... it's "him."  Yep, Ben Waterson is on his way to
the ringside area...

More specifically, he's on his way to the ring.]

GM:  Waterson is heading right inside the squared circle and-

[The Agent To The Stars rips the mic out of Melissa's hand.]

ATTSBW:  Pardon me, missy... but I'm sure what I have to say is more
important than any little showdown between nine to fivers that you could
possibly have to tell us about.

[An annoyed Melissa backs off as Waterson takes center stage.]

ATTSBW:  The wrestling world is talking about Battle On The Bayou.  The
entire wrestling world is talking about WarGames when the final battle
between the Southern Syndicate and Juan Vasquez with his merry men is
waged.  When that night is over, there will be a winner... and there
will be a loser.  

And it means more than just a notch in the record books.

[He paces a bit.]

ATTSBW:  It means money, fame, glory... it means being the very best at
what you do.  It means making Juan Vasquez scream for his mother and
give up in the middle of a warzone.

[He grins as the fans jeer.]

ATTSBW:  But to make it happen, it takes a team.  It takes a team that
is unified in spirit... unified in goals... unified in every way
possible.  It takes a team!

And that's exactly what the Southern Syndicate is.  We may have had our
bumps in the road over the past year but the Southern Syndicate is,
beyond all others, the strongest unit in the sport.

And when you add someone like MAMMOTH Mizusawa, a giant like Mizusawa,
to our ranks for one night... it becomes even stronger.

[Waterson smirks.]

GM:  I think he's a bit ahead of himself, isn't he?  Von Braun AND
Mizusawa are both question marks on that team right now.  What is he
going to do to get them on board?

[Waterson continues.]

ATTSBW:  But on the other side...

[A grin.]

ATTSBW:  How in the world could anyone call that a team?

[Waterson chuckles.]

ATTSBW:  You've got Juan Vasquez - the gloryhog who doesn't give a damn
about anyone or anything other than himself and the National Title that
he'll never get his hands on again.  You've got Todd Michaelson - a weak
link if there ever was one... one hard shot away from a wheelchair. 
You've got Marcus Broussard who had to be dragged out of his living room
to fight this war.  He doesn't like anyone.  He doesn't trust anyone. 
His own best friend didn't trust him!

And then there's Sudakov...

[Waterson bristles a bit.]

ATTSBW:  You should have let things lie, Kolya.  I got the better of
you.  You should have let it go.  But no... you couldn't do it.  You had
to come back.  You had to ally yourself against us.  You had to stand
with those... those...

[He spits.]

ATTSBW:  But you don't like it, do you?  I know you don't, Kolya.  I
know you don't like any of them.  And they don't like you.  And even
better, they don't TRUST you.  You heard Ron Houston two weeks ago. 
They all think you're going to bury the blade in their backs.

And they're right, aren't they?

They're all right. 

[He pauses.]

ATTSBW:  NONE of you can be trusted!  NONE of you can be counted on -
relied on!  At any point, any one of you could turn on the others.  Do
any of you think Vasquez won't want the glory for himself?  Do any of
you really think he'd let someone else try to win this thing?

[He grins.]

ATTSBW:  What about Broussard?  Can you trust a man who stooped to the
lowest levels possible to become the National Champion two years ago and
then stooped even lower to keep it?  You all sit on your high horse and
talk about how the Southern Syndicate bends the rules - Broussard puts
us to shame!

And then there's Michaelson.  Michaelson, the hero of the people.  The
so-called legend.  The man who spends his hours trying to train the next
generation of AWA superstars.

And the man who knows that with a snap of my fingers, he'll go into the
hospital... maybe permanently this time.  How does he not have
motivation to make a deal to get himself out of this?

[Another smirk.]

ATTSBW:  And Kolya... the mad Russian... the Russian War Machine.  My
old friend.  My old protege.  Maybe he's already mine.  Maybe the man is
already in my pocket.  Maybe he's the greatest sleeper agent of all
time.  All it takes is one word and - BOOM!  Sickle!  Down goes
Vasquez... or Broussard... or Michaelson.

The fifth man?  You think I don't know your next move before you do?  I
know exactly who the fifth man is... and I know more than ever that if
there was ever a man I can buy lock, stock, and barrel - it's him.

[A chuckle.]

ATTSBW:  It's a real tough army you boys have assembled.  A Dream Team
many would call it.

And I'd call it that too.

Because it's a dream come true... for ME!  For the Southern Syndicate!  

WarGames is a tough night for anyone... but it becomes even tougher when
you're in a handicap match.

[Now THAT'S an ominous smile.]

ATTSBW:  Consider.  Yourselves.  Warned.

[And Waterson throws the mic to Melissa Cannon, walking out of the ring
and heading back up the aisle as we fade backstage as a "recorded
earlier" graphic appears on the screen.  Jason Dane is standing next to
Shane Destiny, who is wearing a black sports coat over a grey T-shirt
along with jeans.  Destiny's hair is starting to look shaggy, as he
clearly hasn't had a haircut in a few months.  He also doesn't appear to
have shaved recently, sporting a slight beard.]

JD: Shane Destiny, tonight, Jim Watkins said you wouldn't like who you
got to face, and many believe that he was right... tonight, you face
Devastation.

SD: Let me ask you something, Jason.  Do you believe that lummox was
right?

JD: About wh-...

SD: Actually, scratch that.  It doesn't matter what you believe. 
Watkins... did you think putting Devastation across the ring from me
would make me scared?  Nervous?  How about angry?  I mean, after all,
he's not exactly in the top ten, is he?

[Dane goes to answer, but Destiny merely holds a hand up.]

SD: Do you know what I did this morning?  I woke up in my hotel, I had
breakfast, I read the newspaper... and the thought of wrestling
Devastation didn't even cross my mind.  And do you know why that is,
Jason?

JD: No, I...

SD: ... of course you don't, because you're inconsequential and
spineless.  Because, Big Jim, I've wrestled Devastation before.  Oh,
sure, maybe not this specific variant of Devastation, but I've wrestled
lots of men with one-word names who stake their claim on being big.  And
really, you're counting on this guy finishing me off, aren't you,
Watkins?  You've got your star hitched to this guy.  You think this
guy's going to be the wave of the future here in the AWA, and what
better way to make this guy look big than by having him beat me?

[Destiny scoffs.]

SD: For years, I've seen what people like you do to people like me,
Watkins.  You're jealous because you never made it to the heights I did,
and you think I'm nothing more than a stepping stone for your stars of
tomorrow.  It'd be pretty big news if Devastation were to put my
shoulders down for a three-count, right?  His round mound of sound
excuse for a manager might just wet himself out of glee.  Mark Langseth
wouldn't have to fake having a stroke, or whatever bogus injury he'll
come up with to chicken out this time on Labor Day  Why, I'd have to
tuck my tail and leave, defeated and saddened.  And that'd make everyone
here in the AWA happy, wouldn't it, Jason?

JD: I wouldn't say that.

SD: Of course not.  And even if it would, it's not going to happen.  Let
me ask a few pressing questions, Devastation... do you really think
you're ready for Shane Destiny?  Do you really think you can hang in the
ring with a former World Champion two times over?  Do you really think I
don't have a strategy to counteract your one big asset... your size? 
Here, actually, let me just ask this one question.  It sums it up pretty
well.

[Destiny stares right into the camera.]

SD: Do you know just who I am?

[Destiny looks back to Dane.]

SD: Because, let me make this clear to you, Jason, and to Watkins, and
to that stumblebum I'll be watching trip over himself trying to make
himself look important before he wrestles me... I've never been more
ready for a match than I am tonight.  I need this more than I need air
to breathe.  I need this more than you need to stop starring in
commercials with anthropomorphized iPhones.  I need to be the National
Heavyweight Champion.  And Devastation... you're standing in my way.  So
you have two choices... forfeit now...

[Destiny clenches his hands together.]

SD: ... or submit later.

[Fade to the backstage area where Mark Stegglet stands with the the
porky litle manager, Ronnie Jamieson. Ronnie has that slimy 'used car
man' smile spread across his face as he adjusts his bright red tie.]

MS: Ronnie, it has been since Memorial Day Mayhem that we have seen you
or Devastation. Where have you been?

[Ronnie snickers]

RJ: Why... did you miss me Mark?

MS: [stammering] No... well... I...

RJ: Well it doesn't matter if you did or not Mark, because the truth of
the matter is we never went anywhere. After the Rumble, we had to stand
back and decide _exactly_ what our goal was in AWA. You had Juan running
around crying about a title shot. You had the Syndicate, the great
stable they are Mark, monopolizing the National Title and you had
everybody else on the outside looking in.

But now [chuckles] well you have Juan out of the picture, hopefully for
good! The Syndicate is crumbling from within and with those guys not all
working a cohesive unit- that National title is open for the taking
Mark!

MS: So what is the goal with Devastation?

RJ: Why don't you ask him yourself?

[On cue the big man known as Devastation steps into view looking to be
in tremendous shape. No longer sporting a mohawk, his hair is jet black
and lays flat and wet on his head. A biker style beard covers his face
though he is still decked out in the usual attire. He stands beside Mark
Stegglet, who looks very uncomfortable.]

RJ: It seems AWA and the peons that watch it have this notion that Dev
can't talk on his own or something.

[smacks Devastation on the shoulder]

So why don't _you_ tell them what the goal is!

[Devastation engulfs Mark's hand as he raises the mic up to his height.]

Dev: The goal has always been same!

[Dev's voice is rough and deep.]

Dev:  Since I first stepped into the AWA, I wanted to be the National
Champion! I knew that if I had a fair opportunity, I could take that
title away from anybody! But the line-up was a little long, Mark. The
Championship Committee tried to tell me I had to start at the bottom
[smirks] but I've never been much of a listener, so I bulled my way into
the top ten. I challenged everybody and anybody to climb into the ring
with me! Ronnie tried to pick fights with _every_ single man in AWA but
it fell on deaf ears.

But you want to know why that was, Mark?

[stares at Mark who is terrified and shrugs. Devastation turns back to
the camera.]

Dev: It's because the risk wasn't worth the reward. If they accepted the
challenge and won [shrugs his massive shoulders] the reward for such a
feat would maybe be a top ten low ranking. But if they lost, and they
knew it was a big possibility, then there precious reputation would be
tarnished, and none of the pretty boys around here would want that.

MS: Well tonight you have Shane Destiny...

Dev: I have a match against Shane Destiny only because the AWA is making
him face me or otherwise I'd still be looking for an opponent. But I'm
glad for this opportunity. I want Shane Destiny to think he will walk
right over me. I want the fans to tihnk that as well because nothing
will be sweeter then when I grab that little weasel by his throat, I see
the fear in his eyes as they bulge out of his head [wrings his hands]
and I break his neck like a chicken! There will be nothing more
satisfying, Mark, when I have Shane Destiny on his knees begging me for
his pathetic little life after I have beaten him all over that ring. The
difference between me and the rest of the AWA it seems, is that I don't
care what the reward is, all I want to do is WIN against whoever has the
guts to step up.

So tonight, in front of all these fans [snarls] I am going to DESTROY
Shane Destiny. I am going to show _everyone_ that Devastation is better
then ever. But more importantly then that [smirks] I don't think Mark
Langseth will have to worry about Destiny after tonight.. and no Mark,
you don't have to thank me because if I see your face, I just may end
you too!

[Devastation flexes his upper body, laughs then spits on the floor
before the big man and Ronnie trot off screen leaving Mark looking
shaken.]

MS:  Let's... uh... let's go back down to Melissa...

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

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

[But before Melissa can finish, the beast known as Devastation marches
to the ring, grabbing the mic away from her.]

"DESTINY!!  NOOOOOW!"

[He spikes the mic, pointing down the aisle with a muscular arm as his
manage, Ronnie Jamison, waddles to ringside to join his charge.]

GM:  The man wants Shane Destiny!

BW:  I hate to say it but I have to admire James Watkins for making a
match like this.  You've got two men who the fans aren't big fans of but
Watkins doesn't care.  He thinks it'll be a tough fight for both men so
he's hooked 'em up. 

GM:  Devastation is walking back and forth inside that ring like some
kind of a caged animal and-

["True Faith" by New Order starts up to a loud explosion of jeers. 
After a moment, Shane Destiny walks into view, hands on hips as he
stares down the aisle where a muscular Devastation is pacing back and
forth, waiting for the fight.]

GM:  There he is - the man who will face Mark Langseth in just over a
month's time at Battle On The Bayou.  He is the number eight contender
to the National Title and you know he's hoping a win here tonight will
bump him up a notch or two.

[Destiny wastes no time, walking down the aisle towards the ring where
Devastation now has turned, leaning over as he waves for Destiny to get
into the fray...

...and comes barreling across the ring towards him as he climbs into the
ring.]

GM:  CLOTHESLI-

[Destiny quickly sidesteps, hurling Devastation chestfirst into the
corner.]

GM:  Ohh!  

[The big man stumbles backwards out of the corner, falling victim to a
running clothesline from Destiny to the back of the head and neck,
knocking him down to the canvas!]

GM:  Good grief!  Destiny knocked him flat right there!

[Grabbing the top rope, Destiny starts stomping the back of
Devastation's neck, drawing jeers from the crowd and complaints to the
official from Jamison...

...which causes Destiny to kick the bottom rope near Jamison, pointing a
warning finger at him.]

GM:  Whoa!  Destiny showing he's not above kicking Ronnie Jamison in the
mush too if the manager gets in his way.

[Destiny drags the big man off the mat by the back of the tights,
pulling him up to his feet.  He grabs the muscular arm, firing him off
to the ropes.]

GM:  Big whip by Destiny...

[But a backdrop attempt comes up short when Devastation pulls up,
smashing his forearm across the back of Destiny's head.  He steps
forward, grabbing Destiny around the waist.]

GM:  Look out!  Look out!

[Devastation powers Destiny up into the air, looking to powerbomb him
down to the mat...

...but Destiny promptly goes to the eyes, forcing the big man to release
him.  Destiny lands on his feet in front of Devastation.]

GM:  Destiny blocks the powerbomb with a shot to the eyes and-

[The crowd jeers as Destiny jabs a thumb into the eye once more.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[With Devastation completely blinded, the big man staggers over to the
ropes...

...and Destiny upends him, tossing him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OVER THE TOP!!

BW:  If this was a battle royal, Devastation would be eliminated!

[Destiny immediately drops to the mat, rolling out to the floor.  He
delivers a pair of stomps to the downed Devastation before pointing a
finger at the approaching Jamison again.]

GM:  Ronnie Jamison needs to watch out, Bucky.  He's playing with fire.

BW:  And he's gonna get burned if he gets too close to the sun, daddy!

[Destiny delivers a bone-cracking kick to the ribs of Devastation out on
the floor before dragging him up to his feet by his wet hair...

...and then HURLS Devastation backwards, whipping his head and neck back
into the railing!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Did you HEAR that?!  His head and neck got snapped like he was in a
wreck!

GM:  And you know from seeing something like that that Shane Destiny has
one thing on his mind - the Destiny Strangle.  

BW:  And if he locks it on, I don't care how big and strong Devastation
is - he's giving up.

GM:  We may find out.

[Destiny drags him up by the hair again, firing him under the ropes into
the ring.  But as soon as Destiny steps up on the apron, Ronnie Jamison
grabs him around the leg.]

GM:  Look at that!  Destiny's being blocked by Jamison!

[But a hard kick to the jowls of the plump manager sends him falling
backwards to the floor.  An angry Destiny drops down off the apron.]

GM:  Uh oh - he's going after Jamison!

[Grabbing Jamison by the hair, Destiny yanks him to his feet...

...and uncorks a BRUTAL standing lariat!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[The manager topples over to the mat motionless as a cold-blooded
Destiny kneels next to him, glaring down as the referee starts a count
from inside the ring.]

GM:  Shane Destiny just laid out Ronnie Jamison!

[Destiny rolls under the ropes into the ring, climbing up...

...and gets drilled with a forearm to the jaw from Devastation!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[Two more forearms connect, knocking Destiny back to the corner.  The
big man grabs him by the arm, firing him hard across the ring where he
slams into the buckles.]

GM:  Hard to the corner... here he comes!

[The rampaging powerhouse connects with a running clothesline in the
corner, crushing him into the buckles.  Devastation grabs him by the
back of the head, shoving him from the corner to the middle of the
ring.]

GM:  Destiny's in trouble here...

[The big man charges out of the corner, lashing out with a big powerful
boot to the jaw!]

GM:  BIG KICK!!  BIG KICK TO THE JAW!!

[Devastation throws his arms apart, howling in triumph as Destiny
crumples to the canvas.  He looks down at Destiny for a moment...

...and then turns to the corner, stepping through the ropes.]

GM:  He's going up top!  Devastation is going up top!

[The big man reaches the top rope quickly, looking out over the jeering
crowd...]

GM:  HE LEAPS!!

[But the flying headbutt attempt fails miserably, crashing and burning
as Destiny rolls to the side, allowing Devastation to crash into the
mat.]

GM:  OHHHHH!  HE MISSED THE HEADBUTT!!

[And with Devastation down, Destiny rolls over, hooking him around the
head and neck...

...and sits down on the back!]

GM:  DESTINY STRANGLE!!  HE'S GOT IT ON!!

[Devastation immediately starts flailing, clawing at the canvas, looking
for a way to escape the devastation submission hold.]

GM:  The head and neck are being bent backwards against the grain as the
big man tries to battle free from this.  

BW:  He needs to get to the ropes but he's in the center of the ring!

GM:  He's trapped!  He's got nowhere to run!  Nowhere to go and-

[The crowd actually cheers a bit as Devastation frantically slaps his
hand on the canvas.]

GM:  He tapped out!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC:  Here is your winner by submission... SHAAAAAANE DESSSTINY!

[Destiny pops up to his feet, staring down at the defeated Devastation,
a smug look on his face.]

GM:  Like him or not, that's an impressive victory, Bucky.

BW:  He just made a powerhouse - an absolute beast of a man - submit in
the middle of the ring to the Destiny Strangle, Gordo.  Unbelievable.

GM:  Let's take a look at how it happened.

[We go to the replay of Destiny using Devastation's hair to hurl him
backwards into the steel barricade.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Even seeing the replay makes my back hurt, Gordo.  Put my
chiropractor on retainer cause lawd have mercy, that had to hurt.  The
back of the head... the neck... Devastation was hurtin' for certain
after that one.

[And then on to Devastation missing the headbutt off the top just before
Destiny locks on the Strangle.]

BW:  And there's the Strangle - deadly as it gets.  The big man fought
it.  He tried to hang on.  But in the end?  Tap, tap, tap, daddy.

[We fade back to live action where Destiny is now standing out on the
apron, looking out over the jeering crowd as we fade back to the locker
room area where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD: Jason Dane here with -

[Dane takes a moment to look up at the monsterous Grant Stone, who looks
down at Dane with narrowed eyes.]

JD: Here with Grant Stone and... Uh... And I have ask, with the events
of the last Saturday Night Wrestling, what do you think of tonight's
Lady Luck Challenge match between Eric Preston -

[Stone nods slowly.]

JD: ...and the man you've targeted from the moment you returned to AWA,
Jack Snyder?

GS: Snyder, he will be out there?

JD: Uh, yeah, he's in the match.

GS: Then you have your answer.

[Stone goes to walk off, but the ever diligent Dane speaks up.]

JD: But what about James Monosso? Are you going to answer what Eric
Preston did to you last time?

[Stone stops... and turns. He forcibly grabs the hand of Dane that holds
the microphone.]

GS: Are those MAGGOTS named JACK SNYDER?!?

JD: Uh... No- No, they're not...

[Stone lets go of Dane's hand and walks away, leaving the backstage
reporter to let out a big sigh 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 we come back up live inside the Carolina First Arena where
we find James J. Dallas alongside Scola and Mafu, the Samoan Hit Squad. 
Oh yeah, Gordon and Bucky are still there too but Dallas has the mic.]

JJD:  I say now... welcome back, y'all, to another fine edition of
Saturday Night Rasslin'.  Now, you may be askin' yourself why in the
world myself and these fine gentlemen beside me are standin' in front of
ya.

[Dallas tugs at the lapels of his jacket as Gordon is forced to hold the
mic for him.]

JJD:  I am here to tell you all that you are operatin' under the most
incorrect of presumptions, ya hear?

GM:  What are you referring to, Mr. Dallas?

JJD:  If ya hold on to your horses, dear sir, you will find out exactly
what I am referrin' to.  The AWA's tag team division is the best in our
fine sport, is it not, Gordon Myers?

GM:  I believe it is, yes.

JJD:  And you believe it is because of teams like the Bishop Boys...
like Dufresne and Freeman... like Rough N Ready...?

GM:  Among others, yes.

JJD:  Do you believe it is because of the presence of the Samoan Hit
Squad?

[Gordon freezes for a moment.]

GM:  Of course... of course, yes.

JJD:  I see.  My dear sir, do you believe that my men, Scola and Mafu,
are the toughest tag team in the entire AWA?

[Myers again freezes.]

GM:  Well, there are several tough tag teams in the AWA.

JJD:  Name one.

GM:  The War Pigs.

JJD:  Mmmhmm... I see.  Name another.

GM:  The Bishop Boys.

JJD:  Right, right.  How 'bout one more?

GM:  Violence Unlimited.

[Dallas claps his hands together.]

JJD:  There we go, Gordon Myers!  There we go.  It is this fallacy that
I am here to correct.  You see, two weeks ago... Violence Unlimited,
those two overmuscled goofs had the unmitigated gall, you see, to put
their hands on my Samoans.

GM:  To be fair, your Samoans came after-

JJD:  Tsk tsk, now.  Let's not speak out of turn.  Gordon Myers, I am to
understand that Violence Unlimited are NOT in the building here
tonight... is that correct?

GM:  It is.

JJD:  I see.  So, these rough and tough boys who have spent the last few
years throwin' around men who eat rice, egg rolls, and raw fish throw
themselves into our business... and then run for their lives.  Is that
right?

GM:  Not exactly.

JJD:  Oh, it is most exactly right, Gordon Myers.  Do not be mistaken,
my good sir.  When you rest your eyes on the Samoan Hit Squad, you are
lookin' at THE toughest tag team in the entire rasslin' business!  It is
not the Bishops... it is not the War Pigs... it is not the
Moonshiners... and it is most certainly NOT Violence Unlimited.  It is
Scola.  It is Mafu.  It is SAMOA!

[Scola and Mafu slap each other hard across the chest at this, making
Bucky take a few steps back.]

JJD:  Y'all best remember that, Gordon Myers.

[Dallas snaps his fingers and the Samoans follow behind him, heading
back up the aisle towards the locker room.]

GM:  The Samoans seem to think they're the toughest team on the block
but I have a feeling there are several other teams who will take umbrage
at that, Bucky.

BW:  Hey, we've seen the Samoans send top competitors out on stretchers,
never to return.  What have we seen Violence Unlimited do?

GM:  Their resume from Japan is-

BW:  Right!  In Japan!  Who knows what kind of competition they're
facin' there?  We know they're not facin' guys like we've got here,
daddy.

GM:  I see.  Well, when Violence Unlimited is back in two weeks, I'm
sure they'll have plenty to say about what we just heard.  And now,
let's go back to the locker room area where I'm told Mark Stegglet is
standing by with a man with a price on his head, "Scorchin' Shane
Taylor!  Jason?

[We cut back to the locker room area where Shane Taylor is indeed
standing alongside Mark Stegglet - looking quite nervous.  He has a
cigarette clenched between his lips, smoking fevereshly as Kandi Kane
rubs his shoulders exposed by his dingy wifebeater tanktop.]

MS:  Thanks, Gordon.  At this time, Shane Taylor - you are the Han Solo
of the AWA.  How does that feel?

[Taylor looks over his shoulder, then does a doubletake in Stegglet's
direction.]

SST:  I'm the... what?

MS:  Han Solo.  You know.  He had a bounty on his head.  You see, he was
flying a cargo of spice for Jabba The Hutt and-

SST:  Forget it!  Forget I asked.  Fine.  What do you want?

MS:  Well, I'm wondering how it feels to have to look over your shoulder
everywhere you go.

SST:  Oh, it's just great, Stegglet!  I love walking into an arena with
my fists at the ready.  I love renting a car and wondering if someone's
gonna pop out of the trunk and bust my skull.  It's fantastic!  Ain't
it, babe?

[Kandi Kane looks disdainfully at Stegglet as she continues to rub
Taylor's shoulders.]

MS:  And you have your brother to thank for it.

SST:  Don't I know it.  Dear ol' Bobby.  My big brother.  The guy who
was supposed to watch out for me growin' up.  The guy who is supposed to
always be there for me.  Always protect me.

MS:  Don't you think you threw that away when you betrayed him for-

SST:  That was business!  It wasn't personal!

MS:  Wasn't personal?!  How can you say-

SST:  Oh, I can say!  I never did anything to Bobby other than put him
down and try to make a name for myself.  It was about my place in this
company - in this business.  It was about money and making a better life
for me and my squeeze.  It wasn't about nothin' else, Stegglet.

MS:  Apparently your brother doesn't see it that way.  He thinks that
you're standing between him and a shot at Kevin Slater.

[Taylor waves off the suggestion.]

SST:  That's just an excuse.  That's my big brother tryin' to get out of
fightin' Kev.  He knows what Kev can do to him.  He knows that he's been
lucky to avoid Kev so far 'cause when Kev finally does get his hands on
him, he's gonna end him once and for all.

MS:  So, you're saying Kevin Slater wants a match with him?

SST:  I didn't- I ain't- listen, Stegglet, you're startin' to get on my
last good nerve.  Bobby wants him?  He knows what he has to do.

MS:  Take you out.

SST:  That's- wait a second.  You're gettin' me all confused, Stegglet. 
I can't- I'm out of here!

[Frantically looking over his shoulder, Taylor and Kane walk out of view
leaving a smirking Stegglet behind.]

MS:  A death mark's not an easy thing to live with.  Back to ringside.

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Memphis, Tennessee... the West Memphis Assassin!

[The masked man throws up an arm to a scattering of cheers.]

MC:  And his opponent... 

["Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer starts up to a shower of boos.]

MC:  From Phoenix, Arizona... being accompanied to the ring by Kandi
Kane... he is...

"SCORCHIN" SHAAAAAAANE TAAAAAYLOR!

[Shane Taylor and Kandi Kane emerge from the locker room... where Taylor
is immediately looking over his shoulder.  Kandi tries to comfort him,
running her hand over his arm.  Taylor's head is on a swivel, moving
back and forth as he heads down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  Hehehe.

BW:  You're enjoying this?

GM:  Seeing Shane Taylor scared to walk in public?  A little bit, yes.

BW:  This isn't funny!  His brother put a death mark on his head!

GM:  Not exactly.  Bobby Taylor has offered to owe a favor - let me
rephrase... a high-level member of AWA management has offered to owe a
favor to whoever puts Shane Taylor on the shelf with an injury and
clears his path at Kevin Slater.  That sound about right?

BW:  How can he do that?  How can he do that to his own flesh and blood?

GM:  He couldn't hurt him himself... so he outsourced it.  Sounds like
good management to me.

BW:  I can't believe you, Gordo!  How can you think this is funny?

[As they reach the ringside area, Kandi Kane gets an earful from a
now-familiar young blonde at ringside who is screaming and hollering.]

GM:  There's that young lady again.  We've seen her several shows in a
row now, always screaming and shouting at some of the rulebreakers on
the roster.

BW:  She'd better back off or Kandi'll claw her eyes out, Gordo.

GM:  She'd better not lay a finger on one of our fans or she'll be
looking for a new job.

BW:  I can think of plenty of bars that would like Kandi to work as a
strip- err, waitress!

GM:  Uh huh, I'll bet.

[Shane Taylor rolls under the ropes, looking around nervously as he
climbs to a knee, still smoking the cigarette.  The referee moves over
to speak to him, ordering him to throw out the lit cigarette.  Taylor
flicks it through the ropes to the floor, waving for the masked man to
"bring it on" as the referee calls for the bell.]

GM:  Here we go!

[Taylor rushes across the ring, trying to bullrush the masked man...

...who uses the distracted Taylor's momentum against him, spinning him
back into the corner and pasting him with a right hand!  A second one
rallies the crowd as Taylor gets knocked back to the buckles.]

GM:  Whoa!  A pair of big rights from the Assassin!

[The masked man grabs the wrist of Taylor to send him sailing across the
ring.]

GM:  Corner to corner whip... here he comes...

[A rushing clothesline connects squarely on the chin of Taylor, knocking
him down to a knee.  The West Memphis Assassin promptly hooks him around
the head with both hands, pulling his head down into a rising knee to
the face!]

GM:  Ohh!  Muay Thai style knee strike from the Assassin!

[Pulling Taylor up, the masked man grabs the top rope, snapping off a
pair of roundhouse kicks into the ribcage.  He throws a hard chop across
the chest, then follows up with a forearm to the jaw.  The masked man
repeats the process - chop, forearm, chop, forearm, chop, forearm.]

GM:  IT'S A VIOLENCE PARTY IN THE CORNER FOR TAYLOR!!

BW:  Good lawd have mercy!  The Assassin may cash in the bounty!

[With Taylor out on his feet in the corner, the masked man hauls him out
by the hair, flinging him down to the mat.]

GM:  Taylor can't even stand!

[A screaming Kandi Kane smashes her hands into the mat over and over as
Taylor pushes up to a knee...

...and gets absolutely CREEEEEAMED with a Shining Wizard!]

GM:  SPRINGING KNEE TO THE FACE!!  HE LAYS OUT TAYLOR!!

[The masked man promptly goes for a cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[But Taylor's foot gets draped over the bottom rope by Kandi Kane just
before the three count comes down.  The crowd jeers Kane, screaming at
the official.  The masked man slowly gets to his feet, pointing a
warning finger at Kandi Kane who backs away, shaking her head while the
vocal young lady at ringside tears into her once more.]

GM:  This match was over, I think, Bucky.  I think it was over right
there.  

BW:  That knee caught him solidly on the jaw and knocked him absolutely
flat.  He still hasn't moved, Gordo!  Taylor shouldn't even be in there!
 He's too distracted!

[The masked man hauls him off the mat, hooking a front facelock, slowly
turning him over...]

GM:  What's he-

[Kandi Kane leaps up on the apron, screaming at the referee who moves to
get her down...

...and Taylor mulekicks backwards, catching the masked man squarely in
the groin!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  LOW BLOW BY TAYLOR!!!

[With the masked man stunned, Taylor hooks a front facelock and DRIVES
him skullfirst into the mat with a DDT!]

GM:  DDT!  He drives him down to the mat!

[Taylor promptly attempts a lateral press as Kandi Kane hops down off
the apron, pointing out the pin attempt.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[But the masked man's shoulder pops off the mat before the three count.]

GM:  He got the shoulder up just in time!

[An irate Taylor pushes up to his knees, grabbing the masked man's head
and driving fist after fist after fist into his skull.  He angrily gets
to his feet, leaping up to drive another fist down on the masked head!]

GM:  Ohhh - big fistdrop by Taylor!

[He throws himself on the masked man again, attempting another pin.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[But the masked man kicks out again!  The crowd cheers in response!]

GM:  The West Memphis Assassin gets the shoulder up at two and the fans
are starting to rally behind him.  Shane Taylor is completely out of his
mind, screaming at the referee now.

[The camera catches Taylor screaming and hollering at the official...

...and then sees his eyes go wide as he looks down the aisle.]

GM:  Wait a second!

[The camera shot cuts to the aisle, revealing a trio heading towards
him.]

GM:  Percy Childes is leading Nenshou and James Monosso out here!  What
in the world...?

[Taylor points them out to the official, eyes wide as can be as he
readies himself for a fight...

...and suddenly finds a gloved thumb shoved into his throat!]

GM:  SPIKE!!  THE ASSASSIN'S GOT THE SPIKE!!

[The pressure of the thumb in the throat from the West Memphis Assassin
manages to drag Taylor off his feet to the middle of the ring, his feet
flailing and kicking as he tries to get free...

...and then gives it up!]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match... THE WEST MEMPH-

[But before Melissa can finish, Nenshou dives headfirst under the bottom
rope.  He takes a knee, grabbing at his own throat.]

GM:  The mist!  Look out for the mist!

[Kandi Kane, feeling braver than we'd ever imagine, hops up on the
apron, screaming at Nenshou...

...who simply reaches out and grabs her by the hair!]

GM:  WAIT A SECOND!!  WAIT A SECOND!!  DON'T DO THIS-

[Nenshou appears ready to unleash the blinding mist into the eyes of
Kandi Kane...

...when suddenly the masked man tackles Nenshou off his feet!]

GM:  THE ASSASSIN TAKES HIM DOWN!!

[The crowd roars for the masked man as he throws right hand after right
hand after right hand into the skull of Nenshou, battering the Asian
Assassin.]

GM:  The West Memphis Assassin just saved Kandi Kane! 

[Outside the ring, Childes barks an order, jabbing James Monosso in the
chest with his crystal-topped cane...

...and the madman rolls under the ropes, charging across the ring to
deliver a hard stomp to the masked skull!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Monosso caught the masked man!

[The former mental patient throws the masked man aside, pulling him off
the downed Nenshou.  The Asian Assassin rolls to his feet, glaring at
the downed masked man...

...and lashes out with a kick to the sternum.  Monosso joins in on the
attack, the two men stomping the masked man into the canvas.]

GM:  And look at Shane Taylor!  That son of a gun just slid out of there
like a thief in the night while the man who saved his girlfriend is
taking a beating for him!

[Taylor hustles up the aisle, looking over his shoulder to see if he's
being followed, dragging Kandi Kane by the wrist with him.]

GM:  What a coward that guy is!  A complete coward!

[Monosso and Nenshou continue to work over the masked man inside the
ring as Shane Taylor makes his escape.  The madman pushes Nenshou away
as he takes a two step jog, leaps into the air, and crushes the masked
man with a monstrous kneedrop!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  The Assassin just ate a kneedrop from Monosso and that
might be all for him.

[Outside the ring, Percy Childes applauds the actions of his two men,
waving them from the ring out to the floor.]

GM:  Well, it looks like that's over but... oh dear, they're coming this
way.

[We do a quick camera cut to find James Monosso, Nenshou, and Percy
Childes all standing at ringside.  James Monosso is wearing his pale
green "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" T-Shirt and black jeans. 
Gordon and Bucky are suitably nervous.]

GM: Fans, we're being joined by James Monosso, Nenshou, and Percy
Childes.  Thankfully, perhaps, they are not joined by Anton Layton who
is the final piece of that... that... freakshow...

JM: I don't like that word.

GM: ...that unholy alliance.  Monosso, why on Earth have you sold out
to-

JM: Like talking to a wall.

[Monosso's interruption is laden with frustration.  He doesn't seem
angry, but he does grit his teeth and shake his head slowly.]

JM: I talked to walls for years!  They were all I had to talk to in the
asylum.  I'd be left in my cell for days, sometimes getting fed,
sometimes not, and the walls were the only things that kept me from
going crazy for real sometimes!  But they never remembered anything I
said, really.  You had to explain everything, because they're not very
smart... in fact, they're probably only twice as smart as Vernon Riley. 
Are you sure you're not a wall, Myers?  Because I'm pretty sure I keep
repeating myself with you.

GM: You've never addressed this topic once!

JM: Imbecile.

GM: Are you going to answer the question?

JM: You're lucky they don't have asylums for stupid people, Myers. 
You'd be locked up along with this whole state!  ...come to think of it,
maybe this IS an asylum for the stupid.  At least you'll have a short
drive home.

[The fans boo Monosso's somewhat uncharacteristic insults.]

JM: I haven't addressed the topic?  I'VE ADDRESSED THE TOPIC THE WHOLE
TIME!  Why did the guy who spent months telling you that he was dead
broke and had no way to make money because the crooks running the
wrestling promotions who made thousands and millions off him years ago
wouldn't let him cripple people for money... why did this guy SELL OUT? 
HELLO!

GM: You got so far on your own, though.  Why Layton?

JM: I... on my... oh, you really are like a wall.  Hoo boy.  Wilde, I'm
done talking to walls.  Tell him.

BW: He was in this the whole time, Gordo.  Since he came to the AWA.

GM: Wait, what?  Bucky, how do you...?

BW: Think about it.  He suddenly got hired when some lawyers showed up
at the AWA offices.  He's gotten fines lowered, suspensions cleared...
all because of legal counsel.  Now who do you think did that?

GM: That doesn't seem like Anton Layton's style.

PC: It isn't.  It's mine.

[Bucky and Gordon both turn to Percy Childes who looks quite arrogant
with the Asian Assassin standing behind him, looking perfectly calm but
ready to strike at a moment's notice.

And now Gordon Myers gets it.  All of it.]

GM: That's why!  It was never about revenge for... for stopping your
attack on Juan Vasquez, never about your hatred for the sport, never
about Memorial Day... you've been trying to take out Eric Preston...
because...

[Childes smirks.]

PC:  Because _I_ manage the hottest young commodity in the sport.  And
it's staying that way.

[Childes taps his cane on the shoulder of Nenshou who has no reaction to
being labeled "the hottest young commodity in the sport."]

JM: But if it makes you feel better to be ignorant, Myers... it was all
those other things too.  I meant everything I said!  I just never told
you the other reason... the other reason why Eric Preston has to be
crippled.

PC: Because James really does have a condition.  Don't you, James?

[Monosso seizes up for a moment.  His eyes gaze out into space, and he
speaks in a small, weak voice...]

JM: I see dead people...

[And the parody of the Sixth Sense turns into a nasty, mirthless grin as
Childes holds a wad of bills in front of his face.]

JM: ...and they're all Presidents!

[The crowd jeers Monosso as Gordon looks on in shock.]

GM: Oh, for the love of... you're just a mercenary!

BW: Which is exactly what he said the first time he showed up.

JM: Like I said.  Talking to a wall.  C'mon, Percy.  I hear there are
some doors and windows in the back.  Now THAT'S where the conversation
is!

[Monosso, Childes, and Nenshou head off, leaving Gordon to shake his
head sadly.  Bucky, proud of his deductive abilities, grins widely.]

BW: The problem ain't that yer dumb, Gordon.  The problem is, yer naive.
 Just like a certain Eric Preston... who's gonna find out later on that
Lady Luck ain't on his side... ifyaknowwhatImean.

GM:  This night gets worse and worse all the time.  Fans, we'll be right
back - don't go away.

[And we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky are
standing at ringisde.]

GM: Fans, we're back here on Saturday Night Wrestling, and we're joined
out here by one of South Carolina's very own -- Eric Preston.

[The shot switches to the right of Gordon, where Eric Preston stands in
his wrestling gear. His ovation is louder than usual, and he pumps one
fist in the air at the crowd, and tries to withhold a grin at the
applause.]

GM: Eric, what a big, big night for you here in Charleston, South
Carolina. You've gone on record as saying that you intended to climb up
the Top Ten rankings, and you've been true to your word. But standing
across the ring from you tonight will be a man in Jack Snyder who is
getting close to winning the Lady Luck Challenge.

EP: You know Gordon, the Lord works in mysterious ways. I've been saying
for weeks that all I needed was an opportunity, and this opportunity
tonight was handed to me on a silver platter. I get a fair chance to end
Jack Snyder's run in the Lady Luck Challenge and climb up one more rung
on the ladder, and I've got the home field advantage. 

Y'know Gordon-

[The hometown fans cheer at the mention, causing Eric to pause.]

EP: Y'know Gordon, I grew up in the great state of South Carolina,
dreamed about playing ball in South Carolina and I knew that one day I
would come back home on a national stage. Wrestling in front of your
friends and your family is a great thrill, it's something that gives ya
goose bumps. But the stakes that are one the line tonight, that just ups
the ante. That makes the adrenaline pump like something I've never felt
before. And I know that when the going gets tough, and I need to dig
deep for that something extra, I know there's an arena full of my
closest friends and family members to draw on. 

I know that I would never, _ever_ want to disappoint in front of my Dad,
the great John Preston, and I know-

[Eric's interrupted by Bucky Wilde, who butts his head in.]

BW: What I know is that the only reason you got this match is because
James Monosso picked your card out personally and threw you in the
match. What's that about?

[Preston shoots a glare at Bucky, but Gordon is actually nodding his
head.]

GM: He's actually got a fair point, Eric. James Monosso played a huge
part in your involvement in this match, and that's after you've been
trying to keep your distance from him. How do you respond to that?

EP: How do I respond? I dunno, Gordon. If anyone can figure out what
that nutcase is up to, they could be making millions of dollars as we
speak. And now that he's aligned himself with Layton and Childes, he's
even more of a wild card. I don't know why he did what he did two weeks
ago, I don't know why he rifled through those cards and picked my name,
but like I said a moment ago. The Lord works in mysterious ways, and
while I know Monosso ain't on that particular payroll, I know that he
served me up a great opportunity to score a big win here tonight. 

GM: Speaking of Anton Layton, you ran to the rescue of Vernon Riley a
few weeks ago when he was being overwhelmed by Layton's minions. Is
there anything to that?

EP: Once and done, Gordon, simple as that. Riley's a good man who was in
a bad way, and it was obvious he could use a hand. It's not something I
do on a regular basis, but when it comes down to it, you can be a part
of the problem or part of the solution. I choose to be part of the
solution.

And Jack Snyder, let's leave it at this -- I know you're a tough guy.
You can't spit in the Syndicate's eye and not be. And I know that you're
getting pretty close to winning this Lady Luck Challenge and cashing in
the reward, so you're smelling blood. I respect everything about you and
I know it's not gonna be easy. But know this -- things happen for a
reason. My card could have been picked at any time, at any place. But
against all odds, my card was picked to wrestle you here tonight, hours
from where I grew up. Wrestling in a place I visited a thousand times.
And with my Dad watching from the stands, and my Mom watching from
above, I'm telling you that it's going to take a damn natural disaster
to stop me tonight because ain't it obvious... Lady Luck is already on
my side tonight. 

Bring your lunch, Jack.

[Preston raises an arm to the cheering crowd before walking off camera
and back up the aisle, slapping hands with the ringside fans as he makes
his way down to the locker room area.]

GM:  Now that young man is ready to compete, Bucky.

BW:  It's a touching story.  It really is.  So sweet.  I think I'll
pitch the movie rights.

GM:  You're a cold, soulless human being, Bucky Wilde.

BW:  Aww, you're making me blush.

GM:  Fans, coming up nex-

[Five sneaky little words.]

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#

[The curtains part. Doyle. Glenn. Baldwin. Nova. The Blonde Bombers..
standing before our very eyes. Well.. all except Doyle who's sitting
firmly in the gold coated wheelchair that they've reserved for the
Rockstar Express. Doyle slowly begins to wheel himmself out towards the
ring as Crusher follows nonchalantly.]

BW: Bombahs, bay-bee!

GM: These four men look elated that the Rockstar Express accepted their
challenge last week to meet at Battle On The Bayou!

BW: Of course they're elated, it's Bomberfest 2010, Gordo! 

[Nova and Baldwin however are unable to pull themselves away from their
throngs of fans. Or, more appropriately.. the verbal abuse they're
laying on them. After a few moments they bristle away and adjust their
red robes as they follow in pursuit of Doyle and Glenn down towards
ringside. Doyle is dressed in formal attire. Which on this evening
consists of a baby blue polo shirt.. a white sportscoat.. and a pair of
khaki pants. Oh yeah.. he's got a loaded boot and loafer on his right
and left foot respectively. Doyle hops out of the chair and the four men
climb into the ring.. taking center stage. Gordon and Bucky join them in
the ring, where as per usual Doyle rips the mic out of Gordon's hand.]

LD: OOHHHHH YEEAAHH, BAAYYYBBEEE!!

[BOO!]

LD:  I _ssaiiiddd_.. OOHHHHHH YEEEAAHHH, BAAAYYYBEEE!!

[More Boos!]

LD:  It's _time_! It's _time_! It's Buh-buh-Bombah time!

[Doyle cackles as he galavants around the ring.]

LD:  I'm sure you fools are askin' yourselves right now. "But Larry,
isn't it time for Bomberfest 2010?". "Larry, didn't you promise that if
the Rockstar Express accepted your challenge that we'd have the party of
the decad.. _NAY_.. the _century_.. this week?". "But Larry, where are
the buxomous babes we expected.. where is the decadent feast?"

[Doyle jabs a finger out in the direction of each and every member of
the audience.. circling to make it so.]

LD:  Well.. it's quite simple, folks.

You simple don't _deserve_, Bomberfest 2010. 

[What?! Boo!]

LD:  You don't deserve it.. because you _ingrates_ continue to cheer
those two bufoons on each and every week. You know who I'm talkin'
about.. Storm and Morgan.. the RockClown Express. 

[Pop for the Rockstars! Doyle continues over the cheers.]

LD:  Because you continue to support a federation that _undermines_ the
very integrity of it's _OWN_ ranking system by continuing to rank The
Bombahs as the _fourth_ best tag team in the sport. When it's
common.._knowledge_.. that we're _easily_.. by and faaarrr.. the
greatest dang tag team this sport has eevvvarrr seen and may _ever_ see.


You don't deserve Bomberfest 2010 because you're just.. too.. stupid.
And because.. you're just.. plain.. ugly. And because.. well.. because
quite simply.

We.

Don't.

Like.

You.

[More boos!]

LD:  But fear not, people we detest! Bomberfest 2010 is not, and shallnt
be cancelled. It'll simply be celebrated in private by yours truly,
"Hollywood" Larry Doyle.. "Beautiful" Bobby Baldwin.. "Love Machine"
Johnny Nova.. and our main man.. Crusher Glenn. 

_Bombers style!_ 

Which means lots and lots and lots of chicks. Lots of hot tubbin'. Lots
of winin' and dinin' and.. 

None.

Of.

_YOU!_

[Doyle cackles.. slapping his knee despite it not being a knee slapper.
Gordon looks out of place. Bucky is eating up every second of it. And
uncharactaristically "Beautiful" Bobby Baldwin steps forward and Doyle
hands him the mic.]

BBB: And after we're done partyin' our night away. After we're done with
the.. as Larry would put it.. "bevy of busty babes".. that we have
waiting in the back. We'll get back to the gym. Back to ring. And back
to kicking Storm and Morgan's teeth down their throat. 

Because at Battle On The Bayou.. we're _ending_ this once and for all.
All the gawdy showboating and hugging. All the Rockstar fun and games..
they're all coming to an end. 

[Nova leans in.. confidently smirking.]

JN: Once..

[Inhales momentarily before exhaling. His blonde hair falling over his
shoulder so perfectly.]

JN:  .. and for all. 

[Baldwin hands the mic back to Doyle as both he and Nova exit the ring.
Crusher following right behind. Doyle looks around..]

LD: You heard it from my sweet sweet boys! And while you all aren't
invited to Bomberfest 2010 afterall.. consider yourselves _cordially_
invited to the retirement of The Rockstars Express at Battle On The
Bayou. And consider that the _last_ time you see us without gold around
our waists. 

Because after Battle On The Bayou.. we're coming after whomever Da
Champs may be. 

[Doyle smirks and nods to Bucky.. ignoring Gordon.]

LD:  Bucky, it was a pleasure to see you as always. As for the rest of
ya.. we'll see you jerkholes later.   

#REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH#

[Doyle exits the ring and hops in the golden wheelchair. He points to
the back and Crusher pushes him up the aisle in pursuit of Baldwin and
Nova who've already left for the night 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...

Fade back into live action, where Myers and Wilde stand at the broadcast
table alongside the big frame of "Working Man" Vernon Riley.  Today,
Riley wears a burnt orange Texas Longhorns t-shirt, jeans, and cowboy
boots.  He smirks a little as Myers brings it back from the break.]

GM: Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, and as you can see, we
are joined at this time by the "Working Man" himself, Vernon Riley.  We
heard earlier from Eric Preston regarding the melee that involved both
you and him on the same side of the battle.  He, as you surely heard,
said there is no type of alliance among yourself, him and Brent Maverick
who also got involved at the end.  I'd like to get your thoughts on this
situation.

[And that's all the lead-in the veteran needs, as he adjusts his
mesh-backed David Allan Coe baseball cap and sidles in beside Myers and
the microphone.  Before talking, though, he smiles.]

VR: That Eric Preston's a good kid, ain't he?

GM: He seems to be, yes.

[Riley nods.]

VR: I like him.  Good kid, scrappy, lotsa heart, tries to do things the
right way.  He's gonna go a long way in this business.  You know what
else I like about him?

[Myers says nothing, correctly assuming the question is rhetorical.]

VR: Kid tells the truth.

What happened over in Charlotte, Nawth Car-O-Liiiii-Na...was simply a
matter of circumstance, Gawdahn.  But it's good to know that there are
guys back there who've got my back when I need it.

And I hope that sent a little message to you, Layton.  Wasn't too long
ago when you claimed there was a long line of guys wantin' to take a
crack at me.  Maybe it's true, maybe it ain't.  Comin' from your mouth,
I'd believe it as much as I'd believe a politician's promise.  But what
_is_ a fact, is that there are guys back there like Eric Preston and
Brent Maverick who've got _my_ back too.

Ain't no doubt there's strength in numbers, daddy, and it seems you been
strengthenin' up to take care of the job you ain't man enough to take
care of yourself.  But what you gotta realize, Layton, is this one
simple fact.

[Riley pauses, pointing at the camera.]

VR: What all this still boils down to...is a strong dislike, dare I even
say it, Gawdahn...a _hatred_ that runs deep between two men.  And it
don't matter if you involve a guy who ain't done nothin' in this sport
to be your lackey...it don't matter if you recruit a guy who's got more
screws loose than _you_ do...it don't matter if you make a deal with a
face-painted freak from the Orient and his Penguin look-a-like manager. 
It still comes down to _you_...

[And then he turns the finger around, pointing at himself.]

VR: ...and _me_.

Don't forget that, Layton.  Because somewhere...some place...some time
down the line...you gotta step into that ring and stand across from me. 
I don't care if it's in Charleston, South Carolina...

[Hometown pop!]

VR: Atlanta, Georgia...Dallas, Texas...Tokyo, Japan...or right down
beside the River Styx, daddy.  You're gonna have to deal with me,
one-on-one, man-to-man.  And if you think you're gonna break me, batter
me, bruise me, before that day to make your path easier?  You better
stop listenin' to your master and start listenin' to a little common
sense!

[Pop!]

VR: You oughta know me well enough to know I ain't a tree that's chopped
down easily.  And I can _gay-ron-TEE_ you that it's gonna take more than
your crew of misfits to bring _me_ down.

[Riley claps his hands together, slapping Gordon on the back before he
strides out of view.]

GM:  You heard the man.  Let's go up to Melissa for the Lady Luck
Challenge!

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

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

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... 

["No Quarter" by Led Zeppelin starts up to a big cheer.]

MC:  From Bullhead City, Arizona... weighing in at 255 pounds...

"DYING BREED"
JAAAAAAACK SNYYYYYYYDER!

[Snyder walks through the curtain to another big cheer.  He nods to the
crowd before smacking a fist into his open hand and starting the walk
down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  Jack Snyder is defending here in the Lady Luck Challenge.  We said
it before but a victory here tonight against Eric Preston in his own
hometown will put Snyder just one win away from a shot at the AWA
National Title and that's what this Lady Luck Challenge is all about.

BW:  It's an amazing thing.  Snyder's ranked #9 in the Top 10 - probably
away off from a shot at the gold.  But if he strings together just two
more wins, he gets a guaranteed shot at the champion.  And when you get
that shot, who knows what'll happen?

GM:  We know what Jack Snyder HOPES will happen - that's for sure.

[Snyder pulls himself up on the apron, ducking through the ropes into
the ring as the music starts to fade.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[Audioslave's "Show Me How To Live" kicks in to a HUGE HOMETOWN CHEER!]

MC: From Greenvile, South Carolina... weighing 248 pounds... 

ERIC PREEESSTTOOOOOOONNNN!!

[The cheers only get louder as Preston walks through the curtain,
beaming from ear to ear as he soaks up the roaring cheers of the fans. 
He puts his hands on his hips, grinning as he shakes his head at the
deafening crowd before starting to trot down the aisle.]

GM:  This young man has been waiting for months for this night, Bucky. 
Ever since the AWA announced they'd be coming to Charleston during the
summer tour, Eric Preston has been counting down the days until this
night.

BW:  It's a hell of a thing to perform in front of your hometown fans. 
It's a real special thing.

GM:  Preston taking his time, shaking hands, high-fives all around, some
hugs.  He's got a lot of family and friends in attendance here tonight
and- NO!

[The crowd gasps as James Monosso emerges from the locker room,
barreling over Preston from behind, knocking him down in the aisle on
the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  James Monosso is- get some help out here!

[Right behind Monosso comes Anton Layton and Nenshou, looking on as
Monosso buries boot after boot into the ribs of the downed Preston!]

GM:  Come on, damn it!  This isn't right!

[The madman reaches down, hauling Preston up by the hair...

...where Preston fires off a right hand to the jaw to a big cheer!]

GM:  Yeah!  Get him, kid!

[A second right hand connects before Monosso returns fire, throwing a
knee into the gut of Preston to double him up.  With Preston dazed,
Monosso scoops him up, gorilla pressing him high overhead...]

GM:  What's he doing?! 

[Monosso inches closer to the railing, pushing Preston as high as he can
over his head.]

GM:  NO!  NO!!  STOP HIM!!

[And suddenly, Monosso steps out from under Preston, allowing him to
plummet some nine feet straight down, his exposed throat SLAMMING into
the edge of the steel barricade!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The shock of the crowd sends the fans into silence as Monosso stands
over Preston who is grabbing his throat, clutching his windpipe and
coughing violently as he rolls around on the floor.]

GM:  He dropped him... good lord...

[The crowd ERUPTS as Brent Maverick and Vernon Riley come tearing down
the aisle towards the ring, meeting the trio in the aisleway.]

GM:  We've got a fight!  We've got a fight on our hands!

[With Preston gasping for air, Riley and Maverick put the fists to the
skulls of the hated trio... 

...and within a few moments, Anton Layton is pulling his troops out of
the fire, backing down the aisle as Riley and Maverick drop down
alongside Preston.]

GM:  They got... they got them away but we need... can we get some
medical help out here for Preston?

[The camera zooms in on Preston, now turning a rapidly-reddening shade
of purple as he clutches his own throat, still coughing.  Riley puts a
hand on the young man, trying to steady him as Maverick can be heard
yelling, "GET A DOCTOR!"]

GM:  We'll be... fans, don't go away...

[The shot stays on the scene in the aisle for a long moment, watching as
an AWA medical team and stretcher approaches the downed Preston before
fading 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 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.]

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!"

[We fade back to black.

And then back up to live action to where Gordon and Bucky are standing
in front of a fairly quiet crowd.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to a near-silent Carolina First Arena and after
what we just witnessed, who can blame them, Bucky?

BW:  You mean, their hero Preston getting wheeled out of here and
heading for the meat wagon?

GM:  That's exactly what I mean.  James Monosso, once again, has
brutally assaulted Eric Preston.  He smashed his throat into the steel
barricade and as a result, Preston had to be taken from the arena on a
stretcher.  How can you justify that?

BW:  I'm not even gonna try, Gordo, but we all knew something was up. 
We knew there was a reason that Monosso wanted Preston in that Lady Luck
Challenge match tonight and now we all know what it was.  He wanted the
chance to hurt him, to embarrass him, to have him wheeled out of here on
a stretcher in front of his family and friends.  For God's sake,
Preston's father was in the crowd tonight!  Imagine how he's feeling.

GM:  I'd rather not.  This is a horrible situation with Monosso and
something's got to be done about it, Bucky.  He deserves to be fined...
to be suspended... heck, he deserves to be fired for something like
that!  That was a deliberate attempt to end a man's career!

[The camera cuts to the ring where Jack Snyder is pacing back and
forth.]

GM:  And the AWA fans have been deprived of seeing Eric Preston compete
here in the Lady Luck Challenge.  What happens to that?

BW:  I'm assuming it's a forfeit.

GM:  So, Jack Snyder advances to the final match in the challenge
without beating Eric Preston?  I'm sure he's no happier about that news
than I am or these fans are, Bucky.

BW:  He's an idiot if he's not!  He should be doing friggin' cartwheels
in there that he's one win away from a shot at the National Title.  He
should be-

[Suddenly, the voice of Jim Watkins interrupts Bucky.]

JW:  Sorry, gentlemen.

GM:  Not a problem, Mr. Watkins.  I'm assuming you're out here because
of what we just saw.

JW:  You're absolutely right, Gordon.  I don't know what got into James
Monosso and his little band of friends and I don't know that I right
care at the moment.  What I do care about is two things - first, is the
status of Eric Preston.

GM:  Which is?

JW:  He's hurt, Gordon.  He's hurt bad.  Dr. Ponavitch had him rushed to
a local urgent care facility and we'll have more news on that throughout
the night.  

GM:  You've got to tell me that Monosso will be punished in some fashion
for that.

JW:  There's been a lot of crap going on around here lately that I'm not
real fond of seeing go down.  The Southern Syndicate... Velikov... now
this.  The Championship Committee will be meeting this week to discuss
what we just saw but with any luck, yes, Monosso will be punished for
this.

GM:  You mentioned two things you care about.

JW:  The other is the Lady Luck Challenge.  Now, I know Jack Snyder. 
And I know he likes to fight... to earn his keep.  Jack, can you hear me
up there?

[Snyder nods.]

JW:  I know you don't wanna win this way but that's where we're at. 
Now, I can't get you another opponent tonight.  But... well, if you've
only got one match left to win before you get a shot at the title, I say
we might as well make it a good one.

[The crowd starts to buzz.]

JW:  In two weeks' time, you're gonna step in there to fight for a shot
at the National Title...

...and you're gonna do it against Grant Stone!

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  Stone vs Snyder... Lady Luck Challenge... let's hook 'em up!

[Another big cheer goes up for Watkins as he pats Gordon on the shoulder
and walks out of sight.  Jack Snyder quickly exits the ring as well as
another wrestler trots down the aisle, stepping into the ring.]

GM:  Oh my!  Grant Stone vs Jack Snyder with Snyder's shot at the
National Title on the line!  And that's in two weeks?!

BW:  Grant Stone back inside an AWA ring legally?  Is Watkins crazy?

GM:  That's gonna be a fight for the ages in Atlanta, fans!  Jack Snyder
taking on Grant Stone and-

[Suddenly, Gordon's voice trails off as he looks off-camera.  The camera
nudges over a bit to reveal Brian Von Braun.  BVB is decked out in a
pair of black jeans, black workman boots, and a black t-shirt with
silver skull printed on the front of hit. BVB is still sporting the
neckbrace from two weeks ago.  He also is carrying his silver
skull-headed cane with him.]

GM:  Brian Von Braun, what are you doing out here?

BVB:  Do I really need a reason?

GM:  Apparently you've got something to say.

[Von Braun simply glares at Myers.]

GM:  Alright, fine.  I've got something to say.  You've made more
enemies in the last month with your actions.  The world saw what
happened to Raphael Rhodes and Simon Rhodes at the hands of yourself and
the rest of the Southern Syndicate. Gary Bright, Marcus Broussard, and
Ron Houston are three more examples.  Why add your name to that list,
Brian?

BVB: I ain't on that list. And if Adrian, Calisto, and Stevie were
paying attention to what I said two weeks ago, they've done some soul
searching, Gordon. My problem ain't with them. My problem ain't with the
rules. My problem is with Ben Waterson believing he ain't gotta play by
the same rules we all do.

GM: What about Luis Matsui and MAMMOTH Mizusawa? Is it wise to upset a
monster of that caliber?

BVB: So the old boy wants an apology? He can hold his breath and see if
he passes out first or the apology comes first. I was making a point.
Mizusawa, the [quotation marks finger gesture] monster wants to come
after me? We'll see how long it takes a fat man to burn. If I didn't
have this injured neck, Luis wouldn't be so boastful. We both know that.

GM: Ron Houston?

BVB: As far as I'm concerned, I'm done with Ron Houston. He put me on
the sidelines for three months and Jim Watkins ain't done nothing about
it. Revenge is only my game where it involves family. That's why Raphael
and Simon got what was coming to them. For the next three months, I'm
going to sit home and heal from the unwarranted assault at the hands of
Ron Houston.

[The camera pans back as we see the wrestler in the ring hop out and
make his way over to ringside. Gordon Myers looks a bit surprised at the
added company.]

GM: Chad Reid has joined us here at ringside from the ring. Chad, I'm a
bit surprised by you joining us right now.

CR: Well, Gordon. I'm supposed to have a match right now.

[Reid motions over at BVB.]

CR: This windbag is out here like it's a game of dodge ball with how
much he's ducking and weaving to avoid people.

[The crowd cheers a bit.]

CR: And if a punch to the face can hurt a man for three months? Then
either Ron Houston has one heck of a punch. Or... [pause] or Brian Von
Braun is a sissy.

[More crowd cheers as BVB glares at the rookie.]

CR: I'm supposed to have a match, but you're cutting into _my_ time.  So
go take your three months off and do the world a favor. Don't come back.

[More cheers as BVB grabs Gordon's hand and the mic and pulls it closer.
He lets go and points a finger at Chad Reid.]

BVB: Shut your mouth.

[Chad Reid steps a bit closer.]

CR: Or what? Am I going to break a rib if I kick you in the chest? Its
men like Ron Houston. men like Todd Michaelson. Men like Juan Vasquez.

[Pop for the name drop.]

CR: Men like Marcus Broussard that made me want to follow in my family's
footsteps and become a wrestler. It's guys like [points at BVB] _you_
that have done nothing but tarnished the reputation of this business.
_And_ your family.

[Crowd cheers. BVB's nostrils flare. He finally rears back and slaps
Chad Reid across the face. Chad takes a step back, his face still turned
as he looks out at the crowd. BVB steps closer and points a finger right
in Chad's face as Chad turns his head to face BVB.]

BVB: Don't go looking for trouble...

[BVB is interrupted as Chad Reid rears back and answers the slap with a
slap of his own. The crowd cheers as BVB's head whips to the right, and
he takes a step that direction. BVB reaches down and touches his cheek,
his eyes wide. He finally reaches and grabs his neck, wincing in pain.
Chad Reid stands, hands balled into fists. BVB puts his hand up,
gesturing for Reid to halt his attack.]

BVB: [caught by the mic] I'm injured! I'm injured! Don't make it worse.

[Reid rolls his eyes and looks at BVB in disgust. Reid turns his back on
BVB. The look of pain quickly fades. Sensing the danger, Gordon Myers
quickly exits back to the announce table. BVB raises up his walking
stick and bashes the skull into the back of Reid's head.]

BW:  Ohh!  He got him, daddy!  He got him good!

[Sounds of Myers getting his headset on are heard.]

GM:  I can't believe it!  What in the world is going on here tonight?!

BW:  Von Braun's gonna teach this punk a lesson!  How dare he interrupt
the Rocket City Badboy, daddy?!

[Von Braun brings the skull portion of his walking stick crashing into
the back of Reid's head again. Von Braun tosses the walking stick aside
and rips the neckbrace off. He glares down at Chad Reid. The official
tries to reason with Von Braun to leave the ring area.]

GM:  Come on!  Leave the kid alone!  He's out here for his first match
with the AWA and-

BW:  And nothin', Gordo!  If he'd stayed in the ring and stayed OUT of
BVB's business, he wouldn't be on the bottom side of a world-class
beatdown right now!  This is on his head!

[Von Braun points at the official and can be heard through the camera,
"Ring the bell. I'm his opponent." The official continues to argue with
Von Braun, who grabs Reid and pulls him up to a vertical base.  Von
Braun puts his head under Reid's arm and grabs Reid's knee. He lifts
Reid up for a kneebreaker, but brings Reid's knee crashing down on the
wooden steps.]

BW:  Ohhh!  Now he's gonna put the kid in a hospital bed just like they
did to the Rhodes boys!

GM:  Von Braun is sick!  He's out of his damn mind, Bucky!

BW:  You wanna tell him that?

[Von Braun's eyes are wild, fully open as he looks down at Chad Reid
clutching his knee. Von Braun removes some of the ringside padding,
exposing the floor.]

BW:  Uh oh... you seein' this, Gordo?

GM:  How could I miss it?  This lunatic just exposed the floor here in
the Carolina First Arena!  He's got the mats pulled back - those
protective mats!

[Von Braun grabs Reid's knee and steps into the bend in the knee with
his right foot. Von Braun lifts Reid's leg up and then stomps Reid's
knee down into the exposed floor. The crowd boos!]

GM:  That son of a... he's no better than Monosso!  If Monosso's getting
fined, this jackal should too!  Von Braun has snapped, Bucky!

BW:  This kid crossed the wrong line tonight.

[Von Braun repeats the knee stomp into the exposed floor. The boos
quickly change to cheers as Ron Houston charges down the aisle. Von
Braun spots Houston and quickly picks Reid up and rolls him back into
the ring.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Here comes Ron Houston!

BW:  Oh joy.

GM:  You keep your mouth shut, Bucky!

[Ron Houston stops as he and Von Braun square up. Von Braun says
something to Houston. Houston keeps an eye on Von Braun as he walks to
Melissa Cannon. Houston says something to Cannon.]

GM:  What's going on now?

BW:  I have no idea.

[Melissa begins to speak.]

MC: This match will be scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time
limit.

[The crowd buzzes.]

GM:  Are you serious?  We're actually going to call this a match!

BW:  Why not?  The kid wanted his first match, right?  Now he's got it!

[Brian Von Braun looks at Ron Houston, his cheshire cat-like grin on his
face.]

MC: AND Ron Houston will be the Special Enforcer for this match!

[The crowd cheers as Ron Houston lets a smile break through his glare at
Von Braun. Von Braun mouths off to Houston while climbing into the
ring.]

BW:  WHAT?!  Isn't he still under review by the Championship Committee? 
He can't do this!  He's not legally allowed to do this!

GM:  You wanna tell him that?

[Von Braun grabs Reid's leg and pulls him to the middle of the ring. 
Von Braun jumps forward over Reid's body, holding the Reid's leg
performing a hamstring pull. Reid grabs his knee as Von Braun gets to
his knees and then to his feet. Von Braun moves back over to Reid and
grabs the damaged knee. He drives an elbow down into the knee and gets
back to his feet. He repeats driving his elbow into Reid's knee.  Reid
grabs at his knee. Von Braun keeps hold and fires a third elbowdrop into
Reid's knee.]

GM:  Somebody needs to stop this.  Von Braun's trying to rip this kid's
knee apart!

BW:  Trying?  

[Von Braun grabs Reid by his leg and pulls Reid over towards the side of
the ring. Von Braun applies a spinning toe-hold before falling back and
locking in a figure-four leglock.]

GM:  VON BRAUN LOCK!

BW:  This might do it right here and now, daddy!

[The reason for ring positioning becomes clear as Von Braun reaches up
and grabs the middle rope, adding leverage to the move.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Like he needs more leverage on this!  He's ripping
the kid's knee apart and now he's cheating to make the hold even more
effective!

[Von Braun's eyes go wide as he starts bouncing around, not hiding the
fact he's grabbing the ropes for added leverage.  Mickey Meekly notices
the cheating and demands Von Braun let go of the ropes. Von Braun
continues to grab the ropes, Reid grabbing at his leg, pain etched on
his face.]

GM:  Ring the bell, Mickey!  Stop this thing!

BW:  Hey, BVB's got a five count to break it.

GM:  The hold or his leg?!

BW:  Whatever comes first!

[Meekly administers a five count, and Von Braun still holds onto the
ropes. Frantically, Meekly calls for the bell.]

GM:  It's about time!

[Meekly quickly leans over to speak to Melissa who makes it official.]

MC: The winner of the match via disqualification... CHAD REID!

[Von Braun still refuses to let go of the middle rope. The official is
unable to get Von Braun to break. The boos from the crowd turn into
cheers as Ron Houston gets into the ring. Seeing Houston, Von Braun
releases the ropes, releases the hold, and quickly rolls out of the ring
before the Athens Madman can get his hands on the Rocket City Badboy.]

GM:  And Von Braun gets the heck out of town when he sees Ron Houston
comin' for him!

BW:  Houston's got no business in there, Gordo!  I'm tellin' ya.  You
want to talk about fines and suspensions?  This guy is no longer an AWA
official and yet he's forcing his way into matches as one!  HE should be
fined!  HE should be suspended!

[Von Braun points at Chad Reid, who is clutching at his knee, and mouths
something not heard by the camera. Von Braun grabs his walking stick and
stops in the aisleway. The Athens Georgia Madman comes over and checks
on Reid. His Athens blues narrowed in concern as he leans over the
fallen Chad Reid. A man who in no way, shape, or form deserved the
assault he was just dealt. Houston motions for Gordon to enter the ring
with a mic.. which he readily does. Houston's eyes dart between the
fallen Reid and Von Braun.]

RH: Von Braun..

[Houston pauses. Trying to calm the agony of Chad Reid. A man who looks
up to the hero now standing above him.]

RH:  .. ah'll keep this short 'cause this fine young man needs him some
medical attention.. 

.. thanks to _YOU_. 

[BOO! BVB eats it up!]

RH:  And as part of mah duties.. ah've gotta help him. 

[Reid screams in pain.]

RH:  Don't worry, kid. Yer pain'll subside soon enough. 

But _you_, Von Braun...

[Houston rises and turns towards our vicious onlooker.]

RH:  .. yer in fer a world of it that this kid can't even imagine. Heck,
even after what ya did ta him. 

In two weeks.. in MAH HOME.. in the great state of _Georgia_.. 

[Houston's lips curl up into a menacing smile.]

RH:  ... ah've got the mother of all surprises. 

Just fer ya.

Cause.. hell.. ya've _earned_ it. 

[Houston turns his attention back towards Reid... muttering his final
words.]

RH:  Matter of fact, ain't none of you Syndicate folks gonna like what
ah've got comin' ta ya. 

Come on.. let's get him out of here. 

[Several officials help Chad Reid up to his feet. His face contorted
into a look of agony. Our stern former National Champ steps in and puts
his arm around Reid's waist... allowing the injured newcomer the
opportunity to lean directly on Houston's massive shoulders. They slowly
make their way towards the ropes and we cut to commercial.

...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 back from commercial we come as Myers and Wilde are joined at the
broadcast table by a suit-wearing "Hotshot" Stevie Scott.]

GM: We're now joined by none other than the AWA National Heavyweight
Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott.  Stevie, you no doubt heard the words
that your agent Ben Waterson had to say at the beginning of the show,
and-

[The Hotshot interrupts Myers by placing his right hand over the veteran
broadcaster's mouth while holding up the index finger on his left hand.]

HSS: Of course I heard what Ben said, Myers.  I know that's what the
people in your business call a segue...

...but it's what people like ME call an extremely stupid statement.

[The champ removes his hand covering Myers' mouth and brushes off the
shoulders of his sports coat.]

HSS: Yes, I heard Ben.  And even if I hadn't, it's not like we've been
avoiding the subject in our day-to-day conversation.  How could we, when
the end of Juan Vasquez's futile and rather hilarious attempt to bring
down the Southern Syndicate is just a few short weeks away?

[A confident smirk, followed by a nod.]

HSS: I don't see much reason in rehashing what Ben so eloquently covered
already, so I will simply say this: of the men on the other side of the
ring, how many had already once been put out of wrestling by the
Southern Syndicate?  Houston...Broussard...Sudakov...all three men who
at one time were considered to be unstoppable forces.

[And a pause for effect.]

HSS: And as it just so happens, all three men who put down and out by
the Southern Syndicate.

As Ben said, boys, if you can't learn how to play nice and get along? 
You don't stand a chance at the Battle of the Bayou.  Beating the
Southern Syndicate is hard enough when you're at your best, but if you
all are treating each other like a bunch of women on the rag?  You might
as well buy your tickets out of town now and get the early bird
discount, brother, because we'll be sending you running with your tails
between your legs.

GM: Speaking of dissension, there is one thing that Ben didn't truly
cover, though, and that is the possible issues with YOUR team, which as
of now has just three members.

[Stevie pauses, as if he is pondering how to answer the question.]

HSS: Look, Myers, Ben's already said he's got that under control.  I'd
think you've seen enough of how the Southern Syndicate operates to
realize that when we say something's under control, it's under by-God
control.  Ben Waterson's the absolute best at what he does, if you
haven't already figured that out.  He knows how to take all the pieces
of the puzzle and make them fit together perfectly.

[The cocky smirk returns.]

HSS: And besides, I think when it all comes down to brass tacks,
everyone will be able to lay aside any issues or differences they might
have based on the simple fact of how badly we ALL want to kick the crap
out of the five men that'll be across the ring from us.

As for them, like Ben said, there'll be too much distrust.  Too many
egos.  And too many men wanting to get their hands...

[The champ holds up the AWA National Title toward the camera.]

HSS: ...on THIS.

Vasquez, Broussard, Houston and Sudakov.  Three former, and remember the
key word here...FORMER...National Champions.  Tell me, Myers, how badly
do you think they'd like to put this baby back around their waists?  And
if it means double-crossing their own teammates to get that chance,
every last one of 'em would do it in a heartbeat.

GM: Is that what Ben Waterson was referring to?  Offering a title shot
to whoever betrays his team?

[Stevie simply shrugs and smiles.  Whoa, alliteration!]

HSS: Deduce what you want, Sherlock.  Deduce what you want.

[The National Champion simply walks away, leaving us to in fact, deduce
what we want.]

GM:  Well, now that makes for quite an interesting speculation, Bucky.

BW:  A shot at the National Title for the man who betrays his team at
Battle On The Bayou?  Are you kidding me?

GM:  It wasn't exactly clear if... I just don't know.  Things maye have
just gotten a lot more interesting for one month away in New Orleans. 
Let's go up to the ring for more action!

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

MC:  The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall
with a fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first, already in the
ring at this time, from Parts Unknown at a combined weight of 520
pounds...

THE EXECUTIONERS!

[Two men clad in black from head to toe, including masks, bellow at the
fans to some jeering.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The opening to "They Reminisce Over You" by Pete Rock and CL Smooth
begins to play over the PA system, drawing an absolutely HUMONGOUS POP!
from the crowd!]

MC: At a total combined weight of 490 pounds...they are the team of
MARCUS BROUSSARD and JUAAAAAAN VASSSQUEZZZ!

[HUGE FACE POP! Marcus Broussard and Juan Vasquez emerge from the
entrance and make their way down the aisle to the rabid cheers of the
fans. Broussard is wearing a nice little matching ensemble of blue
wrestling tights with a shark drawn on the backside in gold, blue knee
pads and boots, with gold tassles. He also wears a white button up ring
jacket that he's left open. Vasquez is dressed in his trademark white
tracksuit w/ black trim, straggling behind Broussard as he slaps hands
with the fans.]

GM: There they are, Juan Vasquez and Marcus Broussard, two former
National champions and the two men leading the charge against the
Southern Syndicate! Can you believe the reaction these two are getting?

BW: These fans are just getting their hopes up for nothing, daddy! You
heard Ben Waterson earlier and Stevie Scott moments ago... these two are
on a sinking ship and they don't even know it! That fifth man is as good
as bought!

GM: That remains to be seen. We're not even sure who that fifth man is.

BW: I'm sure Waterson can give you a few clues if you ask nice enough.


"DING! DING! DING!"


GM: And here we go! 

[Vasquez starts off the match against the masked Executioner #1. They
lock up into a collar and elbow tieup, which Vasquez quickly slips out
of, moving behind Executioner #1 and wrenching his right arm with a
hammerlock. However, the masked man is only trapped momentarily, before
catching the former National champion with a back elbow to the jaw!]

GM: Oh! An elbow from Executioner #1 catches the mark!

[Executioner #1 proceeds to go after Vasquez, who quickly recover and
sends him toppling to the canvas with a drop toehold. As the masked man
gets back to a kneeling position, Vasquez is quick to capitalize with an
elbowdrop, sending Executioner #1 right back into the canvas!]

GM: Juan Vasquez usually likes to follow up that elbowdrop with about
two or three more, but he got back up looking like he was favoring his
back.

BW: He's gone through some crazy battles this year, Gordo...it wouldn't
surprise me if all those injuries are catching up to him now.

[Pulling Executioner #1 back to his feet, Vasquez cinches in a front
facelock, before driving his right knee into the masked man's
midsection! He then drives his left knee up into Executioner #1's body.
He repeats this motion, hitting another set of alternating kneelifts
into Executioner #1's body and he then pauses, keeping a hold of
Executioner #1's mask and taking a step back, before dramatically
cocking his right leg back...]


"SMAAAACK!"


GM: OH! A big kneelift right into the face of Executioner #1 and he
might be out cold!

BW: How can you even tell? He's got a mask on!

[Still looking like he may have tweaked something, Vasquez makes his way
over to the corner and tags in Marcus Broussard. Big Pop!]

GM: Listen to this ovation for Marcus Broussard, making his first
in-ring appearance on AWA Saturday Night in nearly a year!

BW: Broussard could've been one of the all-time greats, Gordo. Now he's
catering to these mouthbreathers and it's no thanks to the influence of
that mook Todd Michaelson and Vasquez!

GM: I'm sure he sees it differently, Bucky...nevertheless, Broussard in
the ring now...oh! A big European uppercut rocks Executioner #1! And
another! 

[Heel pop!]

GM: But a rake of the eyes puts a stop to that! Executioner #1
scrambling to his corner and here comes Executioner #2!

[Executioner #2 runs right at Marcus, who straightens up and catches him
in a bearhug. He then pops the hips and hurls him overhead...]

GM: OHHHH! Big suplex!

BW: Eric Preston oughta take notes, daddy! That belly-to-belly was as
smooth as silk.

GM: Broussard with the cover...no! Kickout at two!

[Dragging the masked man back to his feet, Broussard sets him up in the
corner, before lighting him up with a series of knife edge chops, each
one eliciting a sympathetic "OH!" from the crowd. He then grabs
Executioner #2 by the back of the head and throws him down to the
canvas. Hopping onto the second rope, Broussard holds up a fist into the
air and measures up his opponent...]

GM: A big fistdrop right between the eyes! One, two...no! Executioner #1
breaks it up with a double axhandle to the back!

BW: With both of those guys in the ring, it might get confusing!

GM: Executioner #1 pulling Marcus Broussard off his tag team partner and
he looks to do more damage...but Broussard with the go-behind...

[Big Pop!]

GM: OHHHH! And he shoves Executioner #1 right into that big right hand
of Juan Vasquez!  

BW: That's one of the hardest punches in wrestling, daddy! Maybe not
quite at a Dufrense-ian level, but it's good enough for government work!

GM: "Dufrense-ian"??? Come on now!

[Floored by Vasquez's punch from the apron, Executioner #1 rolls out of
the ring as Broussard turns his attention back to Executioner #2,
booting him in the gut and then lifting him up for a back suplex.
However, he places the masked man's legs onto the top rope, before
pulling him parallel to the mat, facing out towards the crowd...]

BW: We've seen this before!

[...and driving Executioner #2 into the canvas with a neckbreaker!]

GM: OHHHH! What a manuever!

BW: A neckbreaker from that position is just plain nasty! That's gotta'
be it!

GM: Wait, Marcus just tagged in Vasquez!

[Wasting no time, Juan quickly climbs to the top turnbuckle from his own
corner and turns to the crowd. He points to the fans, before taking
flight, crashing down onto the prone Executioner #2 with a moonsault!
Big pop!]

GM: BACKFLIP SPLASH FROM VASQUEZ! And there's the cover! One, two,
three!


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC: YOUR WINNERS...MARCUS BROUSSARD AND JUAN VASQUEZ!

[Big pop!]

BW: Tagging in Vasquez was unnecessary. Waterson was right, maybe he is
just a glory hog!

GM: Bucky, not everything is a conspiracy. 

BW: When it's from the golden tongue of Ben Waterson, I'm taking it at
face value!

GM: Nice tag team victory there for what you'd have to call a Dream Team
here in the AWA - Juan Vasquez and Marcus Broussard - and now, let's
take a look how it happened!

[We fade into a replay of Broussard taking a foe up and over with a
belly to belly suplex.]

BW:  Brilliant execution on the belly-to-belly - that's vintage
Broussard right there.

[The jaw-rattling kneelift from Juan Vasquez.]

BW:  Good lawd have mercy.  The only person happy about that is the
Executioners' dentist, daddy.

[And then finally, the Vasquez moonsault off the top.]

BW:  Glory hog or not, the man knows how to fly.  The moonsault off the
top rope and it was all academic from there for the one, two, and three.

[We fade back from the replay.]

GM:  And right now, I have with me, two men who we just saw in action,
Juan Vasquez and Marcus Broussard!  Congratulations on your tag team
victory right there, gentlemen, but I'm sure you heard Ben Waterson's
words earlier tonight. Your thoughts?

[Juan lowers his head and sighs.]

JV: It's a joke, Gordon. A complete and total joke. Waterson can go on
and on flappin' his gums about our team, but that ain't nothing more
than a bunch of insecure words from an insecure man. If he thinks we're
the ones in trouble, he really is dreamin'!

[A chuckle.]

JV: Question our team? Amigo...you ain't even got a team! Last I
checked...you're _still_ two men short. 

[He shakes his head and laughs.]

JV: But he is right about one thing...to succeed in WarGames, you need a
group of men unified with one common goal, one common bond...and there
ain't no goal or bond stronger than the one we already share!

[He looks up with a confident smirk on his face.]

JV: Tearing down the Southern Syndicate!

[Face pop!]

JV: And you know it, Waterson. That's why you're stirrin' the pot,
that's why you're spreading the lies, that's why you're whisperin' sweet
nuthins into Stevie's ear at night so your coward of a champion doesn't
go runnin' off in the dead of night...

[Juan stares into the camera, making "spooky fingers".]

JV: ...'cause you're scared.

[A big grin forms on the former national champion's face.]

JV: You ain't got a team. You ain't got a hope. And you ain't got a
prayer.

[He shakes his head.]

JV: You _know_ you're in trouble. That's why you gotta' lie to yourself
and your boys. All you got to hold onto right now is that silly little
"dream"...and amigo?

I guarantee we're gonna' turn that into your biggest nightmare.

[The crowd erupts as Juan nods to Gordon Myers, and then to the crowd.
Juan turns to the crowd and moves away from Gordon, who takes a step
toward Broussard.]

GM: Marcus, your thoughts on Ben Waterson and his claims.

MB: Let me elaborate a bit on my partner's point, Gordon. Ben Waterson
knows that there's no going back now, we're past the point of no return.
Nothing he can say or do is going to distract us from our goal... and
that's to tear down the Syndicate until there's nothing left but
Waterson's bloody carcass at our feet.

He can say he knows our partners, he can claim to have the inside track
on our team... the only thing he's got going for him is the fear of
desperation. He better _hope_ he can figure out who our partners are, he
damn well better keep his ear to the ground and figure out who we're
bringing to the Battle On the Bayou. 

Because that's the only way his boys have a prayer of not ending up in
the ICU.

[The crowd cheers at Marcus's strong words.]

MB: I was listening to you back there, Waterson, I heard your assertions
that anything your charges have done pales in comparison to what I did
when I defended the AWA National title. 

You know what?

You couldn't be more right. I _told_ you that when I came back, the old
Marcus Broussard was back to settle some scores. Freeman, DuFresne, I
haven't forgotten about you. Stevie, Waterson, you've got the death mark
on your heads. Because aside from _this_ man...

[Broussard points to Juan.]

MB: ...and the rest of the free world coming for their pound of flesh,
the dirtiest, smartest, most ruthless man to ever set foot in an AWA
ring is out for blood. There are no rules inside the cage, Stevie,
there's nothing I can't do and nothing I won't do to make sure that your
own mothers don't recognize you when the night is over.

You tried and came so very close to bringing the AWA crumbling to it's
knees. But we survived.

And now we're going to take yours out.

[Vasquez and Broussard exchange a high five and make their exit, leaving
the announce duo behind.]

GM:  WarGames is comin' up in just about a month, fans, and with what
we've heard from both sides tonight - who knows what we're gonna see go
down in New Orleans?  Fans, we've gotta take a quick break but when we
come back, it's Main Event time!

[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...

We come back up to live action backstage where Jason Dane is standing
alongside the man formerly known as the Outlaw, Bobby Taylor.  Taylor's
dressed for business in a black sportscoat over a white AWA t-shirt.]

JD:  Welcome back, fans.  Bobby, you saw what happened earlier tonight
with your brother.

[Taylor nods.]

JD:  Your thoughts?

BT:  My thoughts are that I'm disappointed.  This was supposed to be the
easy part, Jason.  The hard part was deciding that I was willing to put
out a damn bounty on my own brother.  The easy part was supposed to be
watching someone cash it in.  

[He shakes his head.]

BT:  Violence Unlimited tried two weeks ago.  The Samoans tried two
weeks ago.  Nenshou and Monosso tried tonight.  But he just keeps
getting out of there.  He just keeps wriggling off the hook, Jason.

JD:  What are you going to do?

[He shrugs.]

BT:  What can I do?  I'm going to sit and wait.  I'm going to wait for
someone to step up and put my brother on the shelf so I have a clear
path at Kevin Slater.

If it happens tonight... tomorrow night... next week... next month...
next year... I'll be waiting.

But in case there are people out there that are doubting my word...

[Taylor produces a sheet of paper.]

BT:  I had AWA legal draw this up.  

JD:  What is it?

BT:  It's a legally binding document that says that whoever manages to
put my brother on the injured list and clears my path... I will grant
them one favor of their choice.  Money.  Dream match.  Title shot.

There's a lot of guys out there who would like a guaranteed title
shot... I know there are.

This is your chance, boys.

[Taylor holds the sheet of paper up so everyone can see the official AWA
logo at the top and his signature at the bottom...

...and walks away, leaving Jason Dane behind.]

JD:  A guaranteed favor from the boss?  Heck, I might even try to cash
that one in.  Let's kick this one back to the ring where it's Main Event
time!

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

MC:  The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall
with a twenty minute time limit and it is for the AWA National Tag Team
Titles!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... they are the challengers...

["Gimme Back My Bullets" starts up to a HUGE eruption of jeers from the
crowd.]

MC:  They are the former AWA National Tag Team Champions... being
accompanied to the ring by their manager, Ben Waterson... they are the
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne and "Subzero" Adrian Freeman...

THE SOUTHERN SYNDICATE!

[The boos intensify as Freeman, Dufresne, and Waterson stride out of the
entryway.  They pause just beyond the entryway, looking out at the
crowd.  Dufresne pats the PWR Pacific Title slung over his shoulder with
an arrogant grin on his face.  Freeman is ice cold (no pun intended) as
he stands stoic at the top of the aisle.  Waterson is behind his men, a
big grin on his face as he applauds them.]

GM:  Arguably the most hated tag team in the entire wrestling world,
Bucky.

BW:  Those people are just jealous.

GM:  I highly doubt that.  The body count that these two have racked up
together as part of the Southern Syndicate is enormous and almost every
name on that list is a top AWA fan favorite.

BW:  Let's not forget though - these two are former National Tag Team
Champions who never got a rematch for the gold.  Tonight that changes
and I'm predicting they take the belts back.

[Dufresne, Freeman, and Waterson head to the ring, climbing the steel
steps and moving through the ropes to more jeers from the crowd. 
Dufresne takes a moment to taunt some ringside fans as Freeman tugs on
the ropes, getting ready for action.  Waterson stands nearby in the
corner, looking on with pride at his duo as the music fades.]

MC:  And their opponents...

["Nothin' To Lose" roars to life over the PA, sending the Charleston
crowd into an equally-loud roar!]

MC:  They are the AWA National Tag Team Champ-

[But Melissa gets cut off as Duane Henry and Cletus Lee Bishop come
tearing down the aisle, belts hanging from their hands as they sprint
down the aisle, both men diving headfirst under the ropes into the ring.
 The referee, Michael Meekly, quickly calls for the bell as Melissa
Cannon and Ben Waterson scamper out of the ring.]

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

[Calisto Dufresne rushes forward, catching Duane Henry Bishop with a
boot to the midsection.  Nearby, Cletus Lee throws Adrian Freeman back
into the corner and starts hammering him with forearms across the chest.
 The crowd is going nuts for the Bishops as Waterson screams at Meekly.]

GM:  This is out of control already!

[Dufresne slips a knee into the gut of Duane Henry before pasting him
with a haymaker to the jaw.  Grabbing the back of Duane Henry's head, he
goes to smash him into the buckles...

...but the tag team champion raises his foot to the buckles to block
it.]

GM:  Blocked!

[A hard back elbow breaks Dufresne's grip and allows Duane Henry to grab
his long blonde hair and smash his face into the top turnbuckle
instead!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Into the buckles he goes!

[Duane Henry Bishop grabs the wrist of Dufresne, shouting across at his
brother who does the same to Freeman.]

GM:  Double whip...

[And the crowd ERUPTS as Freeman and Dufresne collide in the center of
the ring, both men falling to the canvas in a heap.  The Bishops
celebrate their offensive strike which allows a shout from Waterson to
get his two men out to the floor to regroup...]

GM:  Dufresne and Freeman have fled out to the floor!  They're in
trouble in the early moments of this one and they know it, Bucky!

BW:  Of course they know it!  And of course they're in trouble!  That's
not how you start a match!  These Bishops are absolutely crazy and- what
the heck are they doing now?!

[The crowd roars as Cletus Lee picks Duane Henry up off the mat,
pressing him high overhead...

...and HURLING him over the top rope and down onto the three men at
ringside!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  THEY WIPED OUT ALL THREE OF THE SOUTHERN SYNDICATE!!  OH MY!!

[The crowd's roar echoes through the air with Waterson, Dufresne, and
Freeman laid out at ringside, Duane Henry Bishop regaining his feet just
a few steps away.  He rolls back into the ring, celebrating with his
much larger brother as Cousin Bo arrives at ringside, grinning like a
cheshire cat.]

GM:  Cousin Bo finally arrives out here and he has to like what he's
seeing as well, Bucky!  The Bishop Boys, the champions, are in total
control of this one so far!

[Out on the floor, Freeman slowly gets to his feet, kicking the nearby
railing in frustration before leaning over to help Waterson back to his
feet.  An irate Waterson is fuming as he talks to Freeman and then
Dufresne when he gets up.  Freeman nods at his manager's instructions,
rolling back into the ring...

...and promptly raising both hands.  He shakes his head at the official,
pointing at the two men inside the ring already.]

GM:  Freeman's telling Meekly he needs to get one of them out of there.

BW:  Does the AWA's Senior Official really need to be told that? 
Obviously he does!  Maybe Meekly's the one who should be facing a fine
and a suspension for gross incompetence!

[Meekly holds firm, forcing Cletus Lee Bishop to exit the ring as Duane
Henry glares across at the Australian.]

GM:  And we've got this down to a one-on-one with Adrian Freeman
squaring off with Duane Henry Bishop.  This should be very interesting.

BW:  This is what the challengers need to do, Gordo.  Keep things calm. 
Play to their tempo.  It's like an NBA team trying to grind down the
tempo to a very deliberate pace.  You can't allow the other team to fast
break you to death and that's what the Bishops like to do... bring that
blitzkrieg offense and shove it down your throats.

[The two men slide to the middle of the ring, tangling up in a collar
and elbow that Freeman promptly turns into an overhand wristlock,
slipping his leg behind Duane Henry's to push him back down to the mat.]

GM:  Freeman, showing the technicial skills that make him so valuable to
the Southern Syndicate, takes Duane Henry clean off his feet, pushing
him down to the canvas...

[With both men down on the mat, Freeman increases the pressure on the
arm, bending the whole limb backwards...

...and then driving his knee into the ribs of Duane Henry!]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard knee to the torso!

[A second knee connects which softens up Duane Henry's defenses,
allowing Freeman to pin the right arm to the mat, pushing up into the
air and coming down with a knee on the bicep!]

GM:  All his weight comes crashing down on the right arm!  Freeman is a
master on the mat and that's what we're seeing right now.

[Climbing to his feet, Freeman steps on the wrist with his left foot and
then stomps the bicep with his right foot.  A second stomp follows as
Freeman keeps the arm pinned to the mat.]

GM:  Well, this is certainly one way to keep the lightning strike
offense of the Bishops under control.  Ground them, grind them down,
wear them out.

BW:  It's brilliant strategy and it must belong to Ben Waterson, the
Agent To The Stars out there.

GM:  I'm sure.  Fans, it seems like a good time to mention that if you
haven't noticed, we are once again in overtime and we'd like to thank
the fine folks back at WKIK for allowing us to bring you this match in
its entirety.

[With the arm pinned, Freeman leaps into the air...

...and has his knee hit the canvas when Duane Henry rolls aside!]

GM:  He missed!  He missed the kneedrop on the arm!

[And Duane Henry promptly tries to crawl for the corner...

...but a wise Freeman grabs his ankle with both arms, holding on for
dear life to prevent the tag to a waiting Cletus Lee Bishop.]

GM:  Freeman cuts off the tag!

[Duane Henry battles against him, throwing hard kicks from his side into
the face of Freeman, trying to free himself...

...but somehow Freeman absorbs them, pushing off the mat, and dropping
an elbow on the skull of Duane Henry to break up his rally.  And
promptly spits in the direction of Cletus Lee Bishop!]

GM:  Oh!  Are you kidding me?!

[The crowd roars as the big man of the Bishops steps into the ring,
looking to forcibly remove Freeman's head from his body...

...but Meekly bravely steps in the way, trying to prevent him from
coming in as Calisto Dufresne rushes in behind his back.  Together, the
challengers fire Duane Henry across the ring.]

GM:  Illegal doubleteam coming up here...

[As Duane Henry rebounds, the Southern Syndicate delivers a double back
elbow that knocks him clear off his feet and back down to the mat.  The
Ladykiller quickly slips out of the ring, leaving Freeman to be stomping
Duane Henry when the referee turns around.  Cousin Bo screams a protest
in the direction of the official who shrugs his shoulders, having seen
nothing.]

GM:  They got away with that one, Bucky.

BW:  Of course they did.  They're the best in the world at what they do.
 Even the fans recognize that, Gordo.  They were voted the best tag team
of the mid-year!

GM:  That's certainly an arguable point, for sure.

[Freeman pulls Duane Henry up off the mat by the wrist, twisting it
around into an armtwist...

...and lashing out with a kick to the twisted bicep!]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!

BW:  There's nothing illegal about that!

GM:  Immoral perhaps.

[Grabbing the arm again and holding it under his own arm, Freeman slaps
the hand of his partner, bringing in the Ladykiller who pops up to the
middle rope, leaping off to smash an overhead elbow down on the weakened
limb!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Nice doubleteam there by the challengers.

BW:  Now you're gettin' it, Gordo.  There's plenty of room on the
bandwagon!

GM:  I don't think so.

[Down on the mat, Duane Henry tries crawling across the ring to the
corner once again...]


"FIVE MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  FIFTEEN MINUTES REMAIN!"


[A smirking Dufresne slowly walks behind Duane Henry, watching him crawl
across the ring towards the waiting outstretched hand of Cletus Lee
Bishop.]

GM:  He's trying to get to that corner - he's trying to make the tag...

[But as soon as Duane Henry gets a few feet away, Dufresne grabs him by
the ankle, blocking the tag attempt.  The champion struggles up to his
feet with the Ladykiller still holding the ankle...

...and then deadleaps up, lashing out with his good leg to kick Dufresne
right in the skull!  Big cheer!]

GM:  HEAD KICK!!

BW:  Duane Henry hits the enzugiri and-

[BIGGER CHEER!]

GM:  TAG!!

BW:  Here comes trouble!

[The big man steps into the ring...

...and stampedes across, flooring an incoming Adrian Freeman with a
running clothesline!]

GM:  DOWN GOES FREEMAN!!

[Cletus Lee pulls Dufresne up off the mat, uncorking a vicious chop that
sends Dufresne falling back into the corner, a red mark slowly starting
to form on his chest.]

GM:  Good grief!  What a chop!

BW:  You could hear that down the road in Charlotte!  The big man put a
little something extra on that one, Gordo!

[With Dufresne trapped in the corner, Cletus Lee Bishop uncorks a
forearm shot to the jaw that induces cringing all over the arena.  He
promptly grabs both of Dufresne's arms under his own, delivering
headbutt after headbutt after headbutt to a trapped Ladykiller!]

GM:  He's got the Ladykiller in No Man's Land!

[A dazed Dufresne slumps back to the corner, raising his arms, begging
for mercy...

...and eating another big chop to the chest, knocking him off his feet
and down to a seated position in the corner!]

GM:  Goodness!

[A nervous Adrian Freeman charges across the ring, leaping up on the
wide back of Cletus Lee Bishop, trying to wrench his arms around his
neck and hook on a sleeperhold...

...but the big man just turns around.]

GM:  What's he-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd's reaction comes as Cletus Lee propels himself backwards,
smashing Freeman into Dufresne and driving them both into the buckles!]

GM:  DID I JUST SEE THAT?!

[Cletus Lee turns around, grabbing both Southern Syndicate members by
the hair, dragging them out of the corner...

...and wrapping a hand around both men's throats!]

GM:  HE'S GOT 'EM HOOKED!  HE'S GOING FOR THE CHOKESLAM!!

[Sensing trouble, Ben Waterson climbs up on the apron!]

GM:  WATERSON'S ON THE APRON!!

[And Cletus Lee immediately throws his two opponents aside, rushing
towards the man who betrayed them back in December, grabbing him by the
throat!]

GM:  HE'S GOT WATERSON!!  CLETUS LEE HAS GOT WATERSON!!

[But with their manager in trouble, Dufresne and Freeman rush into
action, each ducking down to grab a leg of the distracted Cletus Lee
Bishop, upending him over the ropes and down to the floor as Waterson
pulls down the top rope!]

GM:  OHHHH!  COME ON, REFEREE!!

BW:  Hey!  Cletus Lee brought all of that on himself!  He had them where
he wanted them and he's too stupid to realize that Waterson's trying to
save his men!  He's too much of a cornfed hick to know what they're
trying to do to him!  He paid the price and rightfully so.  Moron.

GM:  You'd better hope the Bishops don't own a DVR, Bucky.

[With Cletus Lee sprawled out on the floor, Dufresne steps out to the
apron, leaping off to go after his opponent...

...and the crowd begins to buzz as another figure emerges from the
entryway.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  The Executive Consultant is in the house!

[The crowd responds with a mix of cheers and boos as Joe Petrow slowly
walks down the aisle, still wearing his stylish suit we saw earlier in
the night.  He's got his cell phone in hand, eyeing the action in and
out of the ring as he approaches.]

GM:  What is he doing out here?

BW:  Business.  Doin' deals.

GM:  He's got no business out here!  He's got no relationship with
either of these teams!

BW:  That you know of.

[Out on the floor, Dufresne pulls Cletus Lee off the floor, grabbing him
by the arm...

...and FIRING him into the steel barricade with an Irish whip!]

GM:  OHHHH!  INTO THE STEEL GOES CLETUS LEE!!

[With the big man leaning back against the railing, his arms slung over
it, Dufresne delivers kick after kick to the body, continuing the
working over of one-half of the tag team champions.  Grabbing Cletus Lee
around the head, Dufresne delivers a trio of hard closed fist punches to
the skull with the referee reprimanding him from inside the ring.]

GM:  The referee wants to get this back inside the ring.

BW:  And even though the Ladykiller's got the edge out there right now,
he'd be well-suited to get this back into the ring when he can, Gordo.

GM:  I agree with that.

[Pulling Cletus Lee off the railing by the hair, Dufresne rolls him
under the ropes back into the squared circle.  He rolls under the ropes
himself, crawling into a lateral press.]

GM:  We've got a cover for one!  Two!  

[But Cletus Lee kicks out with some power at two, throwing Dufresne off
of him...

...but the Ladykiller dives back on him, peppering him with short right
hands to the skull once again.  Grabbing the hair, he SMASHES the back
of Cletus Lee's skull into the canvas!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Dufrense gets to his feet, dragging Cletus Lee to the corner where he
slaps the hand of Adrian Freeman.  Freeman promptly steps in, leaping up
for a legdrop across the chest and then rolls right into a lateral
press.]

GM:  Cover for one!  For two!  Again, he kicks out!  Just a two count!

BW:  But you can tell from the look on Cousin Bo's face that it's
nervous time in the camp of the champions!  He knows that the titles may
be slipping away before his very eyes.  Maybe he should give Joe Petrow
a call... or maybe he already has.

GM:  Would you stop?

[Joe Petrow has reached ringside though and has firmly planted himself
in a neutral corner, looking on with interest at the action going on
inside the ring.]

GM:  Freeman drags Cletus Lee back to their corner again... and another
tag to Dufresne...

[The Ladykiller comes in, helping Freeman get Cletus Lee up off the
mat.]

GM:  Each man grabs an arm... double whip...

[A running double clothesline attempt fails as Cletus Lee simply
bulldozes them both with a double clothesline of his own!  BIG CHEER!]

GM:  CLETUS LEE TAKES 'EM DOWN!!  HE PICKS UP THE SPARE!!

BW:  Oh, very funny!

[Cletus Lee, down on a knee after delivering the double clothesline,
turns to his corner, reaching out his hand but there is half the ring
between he and a waiting Duane Henry.]

GM:  He's gotta get across the ring!

[The big man stumbles up to his feet, taking a step closer to the corner
where his brother waits for him.  The crowd is roaring, trying to cheer
the big man on.]

GM:  Step by step, Cletus Lee is making his way across the ring!

[A dazed Dufresne gets up, grabbing Cletus Lee around the left leg...

...but the big man reaches down, hauling Dufresne to his feet by the
hair, and DRILLS him with a straight right hand that knocks Dufresne
back to the ropes.  When he rebounds back, he gets a boot to the gut.]

GM:  Ohh - Dufresne got caught in the midsection!

[Cletus Lee takes a deep breath and leaps straight up, snapping his
right leg down on the back of the neck of the Ladykiller!]

GM:  AXE KICK!!

BW:  He didn't get all of it!  He usually gets a running start on that
but he didn't have it in him.  A deadleap axe kick isn't going to carry
the same amount of impact, Gordo.

GM:  But it carried enough!  Dufresne is down and-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  TAG!!

[Duane Henry Bishop leaps over the ropes into the ring, sprinting across
towards a recovering Adrian Freeman...

...and CONNECTS with his signature spinning leg lariat, knocking Freeman
through the ropes and out to the apron!]

GM:  OHHH YEAH!


"TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TEN MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  We've got ten minutes to go in this one but look at Duane Henry!  I
don't think he needs ten minutes!

[Dragging the Ladykiller off the mat by the hair, Duane Henry hooks in a
side headlock, charging across the ring...

...and DRIVING Dufresne's face into the mat!]

GM:  BULLDOG!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

BW:  No!  Not his face!  You son of a-

GM:  Duane Henry's right back up!  Look at the energy in this kid!

[He dashes to the ropes, rebounding off, and leaping sky high in the
air, tucking his legs...

...and SMASHES backfirst down across a stunned Dufresne!]

GM:  SKY HIGH BACKSPLASH!!

[Duane Henry promptly rolls Dufresne onto his back, grabbing a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHH!  

BW:  FREEMAN JUST SAVED THE MATCH!!

GM:  A diving save by Adrian Freeman just bailed out his partner!

[The camera outside the ring catches a glimpse of a nervous Ben Waterson
shouting instructions to his men.  Inside the ring, Freeman hauls Duane
Henry off the mat to his feet.]

GM:  Freeman pulls him off the mat...

[The Australian hooks in a half nelson, looking for his backbreaker...

...but Duane Henry spins free of it, hoisting up the technician in a
fireman's carry!]

GM:  He's got him up!

[He holds him there for a moment...

...and then shoves him up and over, bringing Freeman crashing down onto
a bent knee!]

GM:  GUTBUSTER!!

[And with Freeman stunned, Duane Henry hooks him around the head and
neck, sweeping out his legs as he DRIVES him back down to the canvas!]

BW:  STO!  A legsweep takedown by Duane Henry!  Where the heck did he
learn to do that?!

GM:  God bless the Internet!

[With Freeman down, Dufresne staggers back up to his feet, completely
dazed from the senton...

...when Duane Henry leaps up behind him, grabbing him by the back of the
head as he raises both legs, and PULLS Dufresne down onto his knees!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  LUNGBLOWER BY DUANE HENRY BISHOP!!

[Duane Henry throws himself across Dufresne, waving for the
slightly-out-of-position official.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE- OHHHHH!  

BW:  FREEMAN BREAKS IT UP AGAIN!!!

[A woozy Freeman just barely threw himself on top of Duane Henry Bishop
to break up the pinfall attempt.  Reaching over the ropes, Cletus Lee
slaps the hand of his brother.]

GM:  In comes the big man!

[He promptly pulls Adrian Freeman off the mat by the hair...

...and HURLS him over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OUT GOES FREEMAN!!

[Pulling his brother off the mat, Cletus Lee shakes him, pointing at
Freeman.  With a nod, Duane Henry runs from the middle of the ring to
the ropes opposite Freeman, rebounding off as fast as he can (which is
surprisingly pretty fast)...

...and HURLS himself through the top and middle ropes with a suicide
dive that sends both men sailing backwards and crashing into the metal
barricade!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  OH MY GOD!!  WHAT A DIVE!!  WHAT A DIVE BY DUANE HENRY!!

BW:  He took 'em both out!  He took himself out with that dive too!

GM:  But it may not matter because look inside the ring!

[The crowd roars as Dufresne staggers up to his feet...

...and catches a hand around his throat from Cletus Lee Bishop!]

GM:  CLETUS LEE HAS GOT HIM!!  HE'S GOT HIM GOOZLED!!

[With great power and great responsibility, Cletus Lee powers him up off
the mat...

...and DRIVES him down with a thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  CHOKESLAM!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[The big man applies the cover as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- WHAT THE-?!

[The crowd jeers as Ben Waterson reaches a hand under the bottom rope,
pulling Cletus Lee Bishop off of Dufresne!]

GM:  He pulled him off!  He pulled Cletus Lee off of Dufresne!

[A smug-looking Waterson pleads innocence...

...and then gets tackled down to the floor by Cousin Bo who is throwing
fists as fast as he can manage!]

GM:  COUSIN BO'S ALL OVER WATERSON!!  LISTEN TO THIS CROWD!!

[The crowd is absolutely roaring for every blow thrown by the Bishops'
manager!]

GM:  Cletus Lee Bishop is back to his feet, looking on...

[But while Cletus Lee is watching his cousin batter Waterson on the
floor, Dufresne crawls over to the corner...

...and grabs his own Pacific Title belt.]

GM:  Wait a second!  He's got the belt!  He's got the Pacific Title
belt!

BW:  Cletus Lee doesn't see him!

[The big man turns around as the referee slides to the floor, trying to
break up the manager's brawl.  He approaches the downed Dufresne who has
the belt clutched in his hands...]

GM:  No, no, no!  Not like this!

[Suddenly, Joe Petrow leaps up on the ring apron just as Dufresne rises,
rearing back with the title belt...

...and the Executive Consultant grabs the title belt, blocking the
swing!]

GM:  WHAT THE-?!

[The crowd roars as Petrow and Dufresne struggle over the belt, each
trying to yank it free from the other man's grip...

...and suddenly, Petrow lets go, causing Dufresne to spin around blindly
- RIGHT into a Charging Big Boot from Cletus Lee Bishop!]

GM:  BIG BOOT!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[The big man dives upon the downed Dufresne, the referee sliding back in
at the sight of it.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  THEY DID IT!!  THE BISHOPS DID IT!!

BW:  What in the HELL is going on with Joe Petrow?!

GM:  I don't know but he just saved the gold for the Bishop Boys!

[The referee grabs the title belts, handing them back to Cletus Lee
Bishop who is standing tall in the middle of the ring.]

MC:  Your winners of the match... and STILL AWA National Tag Team
Champions...

THE BISSSSSSSHOP BOOOOOOYS!!

[The crowd roars for Cletus Lee as he steps through the ropes, dropping
out to the floor to check on his brother and leaving Calisto Dufresne
behind.]

GM:  Dufresne is down in the ring but the Bishop Boys are on top of the
world!  Still the champions, Duane Henry and Cletus Lee Bishop and
listen to this crowd here in Charleston!

[Suddenly, the roaring crowd starts to buzz at the sight of someone
coming through the crowd, hurdling the barricade, and sliding into the
ring...

...where he promptly dives on top of Dufresne, throwing rights and lefts
as quickly as he can!]

GM:  What the-?!  What the-?!

[He pulls Dufresne off the mat, shoving him back into the corner,
pasting him over and over with right hands to the jaw.  Outside the
ring, Ben Waterson is screaming for help!  Adrian Freeman, still dazed
from the dive into the railing, rolls into the ring, charging to help
his partner...

...and eats a right hand of his own, knocking him flat!]

GM:  Freeman gets knocked down as well!

[The man dives on top of Freeman, balling up his fist and raining down
hammerfists into the face, smashing his hand into Freeman's face over
and over and over.  He promptly yanks Freeman off the mat, reaching down
to pull his own belt off...

...and LASHES Freeman across the back with it, sending the Australian
tumbling through the ropes and out to the floor!]

GM:  Oh my stars!

[Turning around, he spots Dufresne down on the mat, begging for mercy...

...and delivers a bone-crunching stomp right to the face!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[He pulls Dufresne to his knees, looping the leather belt around his
throat and tightening it!]

GM:  HE'S CHOKING DUFRESNE!!  HE'S GOT THE BELT AROUND HIS THROAT!!

[Having seen this earlier, AWA officials and arena security waste no
time in hitting the ring, flooding it, and flat-out tackling the
attacker off his feet, knocking him down to the mat and allowing
Dufresne to roll from the ring, the leather belt still hanging around
his neck as he flees alongside his Southern Syndicate
partners-in-crime.]

GM:  Dufresne's running for his life!  

[And after a few moments of being held down, the attacker rises to his
feet so one and all can see him for the first time...

...in a long, long time.]

GM:  TIN CAN RUST!!  TIN CAN RUST IS IN THE RING!!

[Not for long as Rust bails from the ring, approaching the announcers
who rise to meet him.]

GM:  I can not believe it... Tin Can Rust has been missing from the AWA
for months!  This man has been gone ever since his good friend and tag
team partner City Jack went out of wrestling with his eye injury.

BW: More like bailed than missing.

[Tin Can Rust finally approaches the booth area, still breathing heavily
from his brawl and showing signs that he took a couple good shots during
the struggle as well.]

TCR: DUFRESNE!

[The crowd continues to cheer as Rust, allowing him to take a moment to
recover.]

TCR: You're wonderin'... who's going to step up... to fight you next?

[Rust, eyes wide with rage, stares into the camera.]

TCR: You're looking at him... RIGHT HERE!

[The crowd lets out another huge cheer as Rust continues to his glare.]

TCR: Every time you've come on here over the past six months, you've
cracked jokes about taking Jack's eye out... You come here and prance
around like some big man. You took his career! Damnit, Dufresne, you
nearly took away his whole sight!

[Rust shakes his head as he continues to huff and puff.]

TCR: And me? I've been by Jack's side every day. I've had to look into
his face... I've had to look into the face of a man who's lost it all
cause some little SOB's pride couldn't take no for an answer. I've had
to make sure that Jack's not watching TV on Saturday just so he avoids
thinking about not doing what he loves anymore...

[Rust pauses.]

TCR: And every night when I come back to my home and I watch the
tapes... And I see you, Dufresne, CONTINUE to act and talk like you
are... It burns me up, Myers...

[TCR runs his hand over his head, frustratedly.]

GM: So let me get this straight - you're going to be the next one in
line to fight Calisto Dufresne?

[Rust nods to Myers before going back to the camera.]

TCR: Dufresne, you think you can't be touched? You don't think I can't
hurt you? You don't think I can't do some damage to you? Ask your buddy
Stevie Scott what I can do when I'm pissed off, huh? Ask your partner
there Adrian Freeman how his face feels in a couple hours when it's all
swollen up.

[Rust pauses again, letting the images linger.]

TCR: Myers? Labor Day, it'll be Calisto Dufresne and me in that ring... 

[The crowd lets out another cheer at the date being set.]

TCR: And let me just make one thing clear - I don't care about my health
or my future or my career. This isn't about a ranking or a title match
or anything like that. This is about one thing and one thing only...
Righting a wrong.

[Rust nods.]

TCR: It may not be much in return, but if I paint that mat with
Dufresne's blood?

[Rust nods again.]

TCR: Just a LITTLE bit of justice will have been served. Trust me on
this, Dufresne - You better bring out all the stops cause I'm going to
take more away from you than you can even imagine!

[And Rust shoves Bucky hard in the chest as he storms off out of sight.]

GM:  My god, fans... Tin Can Rust is back!  And he wants Dufresne at
Battle On The Bayou!  What a night!  We've gotta go!  We'll see you in
Atlanta!

[The camera holds on the back of Tin Can Rust as he strides back up the
aisle towards the locker room...

...and we fade to black.]