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American Wrestling Alliance 
Proudly Presents 
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

Live from the Mitchell Center
Mobile, Alabama
August 28th, 2010
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "ONE WEEK AGO!"  The shot comes up to reveal a slightly-shaky
shot out what appears to be a window.  A few cars speed by, revealing
that it's actually a car windshield.  The voice of Ben Waterson can be
plainly heard.]

ATTSBW:  Are you rolling?  Is it-

[The cameraman replies.]

C:  Yes sir.

ATTSBW:  Good, good.  Keep it that way.  I don't want anyone to miss a-
is that him?

[Waterson pauses a moment, the camera focused on a warehouse-looking
building across the street.  A panning shot reveals a sign hanging over
the door that says "COMBAT CORNER."]

ATTSBW:  No, no... keep rollin' though.  It won't be long now.  It won't
be-

C:  Can you tell me what we're doing here?

ATTSBW:  Don't you worry about that.  I told you that if you keep that
camera rolling and you shoot what I tell you to shoot, you'll get a few
hundred bucks shoved in your pocket courtesy of the champ, right?

C:  Well, yeah, but-

ATTSBW:  Then just do what you're told and no one will get hurt.

[Waterson chuckles off-camera.]

ATTSBW:  Well, almost.  We're going to show the entire wrestling world
that when we say someth- wait a second... wait a second... zoom in over
there...

[The camera jerkily zooms in the hands of a nervous cameraman, spotting
a man walking out of the front doors, heading towards the parking lot
where a green Mustang is waiting.]

ATTSBW:  Here it is... here we go... here we go...

[The ignition fires up, Waterson quickly moving the car forward.  As he
does, the cameraman catches a shot of a second car creeping through the
parking lot towards the parked car.  A screech of tires follows as
Waterson's vehicle tears across the slow traffic street, pulling into
the driveway where the exiting man looks up confused...

...revealing Todd Michaelson, Head Trainer of the Combat Corner, for the
first time.  The car's brakes screech, pulling to a halt.]

ATTSBW:  Get out, get out now... keep that camera...

[Waterson's words trail off as he leaps out of the car alongside the
cameraman.  Michaelson starts to shout something in Waterson's direction
when the other car empties - revealing Brian Von Braun, Adrian Freeman,
Calisto Dufresne, and Stevie Scott - all in street clothes - as they
surge towards the exposed back of Michaelson.]

C:  Wait a second!  Don't do-

[The cameraman backs off as Michaelson tries to fight off the Southern
Syndicate attack but is overwhelmed by the numbers. Freeman is the first
to strike, tackling Michaelson around the waist, pulling him down to the
ground where Scott and Von Braun start delivering kicks to the ribs.

Waterson shouts encouragement to his men as the National Champion and
the Rocket City Badboy drag Michaelson to his feet, holding his arms
apart as Freeman throws punches to the ribs, pushing him back against
his own car trunk.

Freeman trades places with Scott, pinning an arm as Scott grabs
Michaelson around the throat.]

HSS:  Thought you boys could get the jump on us?  Thought you had all
the answers?

[A hard right hand to the jaw sends Stevie falling back, shaking his
hand from the punch as Waterson moves in, throwing a well-placed knee to
the groin that knocks Michaelson down to a knee with Freeman and Von
Braun still holding his arms.]

"Pick him up!"

[A shouted order from off-camera is revealed to be from Calisto Dufrense
as the Ladykiller walks into view, tire iron in hand. Michaelson winces
in pain as they drag him to his feet, then spits in the direction of
Dufresne.]

TM:  I... I'll kill you...

[Dufresne snickers before driving the tire iron into the ribcage of
Michaelson, doubling him up...

...and then taking a full-force overhead swing right into the legendary
injured back of Michaelson, knocking him flat on his face on the
asphalt.]

ATTSBW:  Again!  Do it again!

[Dufresne stands over Michaelson, looking down on the man who broke him
into the business...

...and takes another full-force swing, smashing the metal tire iron into
the injured back and sending a scream of pain up from Michaelson.]

HSS:  Get him up.

[Freeman kicks Michaelson in the ribs a few times before pulling him off
the concrete by his blonde ponytail.  Michaelson throws an elbow
backwards but it has no effect before Freeman violently throws
Michaelson backfirst into the side of his own car.  Scott opens the car
door as Freeman drags Michaelson chestfirst against the door frame...

...and allows the National Champion to SLAM the car door shut as the
shot freezes just before impact and 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 Mitchell Center in Mobila, Alabama where over 7,000 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 the
familiar face of "No Descriptions Needed" Gordon Myers. But instead of
sitting on a chair next to Bucky Wilde, Myers stands in the center of
the ring, microphone in hand and a very solemn look on his face.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling, the flagship program for the AWA, _the_ Major League of
Professional Wrestling, and the finest two hours of wrestling that
you'll find in the world today. Usually this program starts with Bucky
Wilde and myself at the announce desk, previewing the show and talking
about the big matches coming up. However, prior to this show I was asked
by Jim Watkins to start the program in the ring. And as you can see from
the men behind me, the subject matter should be fairly obvious.

[Behind, or around, Gordon stands the team of Marcus Broussard, Juan
Vasquez, Ron Houston and Kolya Sudakov. In a sight we thought we'd never
see, Houston and Sudakov stand side-by-side, both with grim expressions
on their faces. Vasquez is standing in front of Sudakov and beside
Broussard, dressed in a pinstripe dress shirt, vest and silver necktie.
Broussard is closest to Myers, in a grey suit with a blue shirt
underneath, and looks as if he's had a rough few days. The
uncharacteristic stubble and bags under his eyes give the look of a guy
who hasn't slept much.]

GM: Midway during this week, graphic footage was released of a cold
blooded attack on Todd Michaelson, perpetrated by the members of the
Southern Syndicate.  We just saw that footage once again at the top of
the show and I can now tell you that Todd Michaelson was rushed to an
emergency center and treated for undisclosed injuries and is still in
the hospital as we speak. Before we go any further, Marcus, do you have
any updates for us on Todd's condition?

[Broussard leans in slowly and shakes his head.]

MB: No, Gordon, I'm afraid I don't. I know that Todd spent the first
night in an intensive care unit and was moved out, but I haven't been
able to get a straight answer from anyone. I think it goes without
saying that he won't be participating at the Battle on the Bayou, and it
seems like he'll be out of action for quite some time.

GM: How are you going to deal with this, from a team standpoint? You're
one man short with the huge WarGames match quickly approaching.

MB: That was an act of desperation, Gordon Myers, plain and simple.
Those jackals are scared for their careers, so they hunted down a man
who laid it all on the line for the AWA, and they assaulted him. There's
no other way to put it. The stench of fear resonates off of men like
Dufresne,  Waterson, and Stevie Scott. 

But the bigger matter is that my friend is laid up in a hospital bed
eating through a tube right now. This has now gone way beyond the lines
of a professional matter, Gordon. It's no longer about business. If this
isn't personal, I'm not sure what is.

[A distraught Broussard shakes his head and looks down, deep in
thought.]

GM: This is most certainly a personal matter, gentlemen. However your
team now has a hole in it. Juan Vasquez, do you even have a replacement
in mind?

[No answer. Juan stares down with an uncertain look on his face.]

GM: Juan?

[At last, he looks up, biting down on his lower lip, shaking his head
slowly.]

JV: Nobody, Gordon...nobody.

[There's a bitter, angry edge to Juan's voice, but he doesn't let his
emotions betray him, remaining as composed as possible.]

JV: Everyone's been talking big names, secret partners and big
surprises... but you can't just call up anyone and expect them to be
able to fill Todd Michaelson's shoes. If anyone deserved to see those
cowards put to justice, if there was anyone I'd be willing to have
fighting by my side and going to war with... it was Todd. He understood
better than anyone else how important this match is... and that's just
something that nobody else can replace. I'd love to be able to tell you
that we've got a secret weapon waiting to be unleashed on the world at
Battle on the Bayou...

...but not this time. 

GM: So, you're saying that your team won't have a replacement for Todd
Michaelson?

JV: Right now, we just don't kn-

[Just then, Marcus places his hand on Juan's shoulder, interrupting
him.]

MB: Not necessarily.

[Marcus turns to Gordon Myers.]

MB: The Southern Syndicate has a long list of adversaries, Gordon. And
while we lament the condition of Todd Michaelson, we all know that Todd
isn't someone to take this lying down. He'll lick his wounds and recoup,
and he'll get his personal vengeance one day. But the Battle on the
Bayou is happening because _Todd_ willed it. His were the phone calls
that made me consider putting on the boots once more and defending what
I helped build.  He was the man who called this man...

[Broussard slaps Kolya Sudakov on the shoulder.]

MB:  ...and convinced him to come back to the AWA to be a part of all
this. He is the man who stuck his neck out first and inspired us all to
follow suit.

In short, we're not letting this drag us down. _I_ won't let this drag
us down.

We _will_ be the victors inside the cage, no matter the price we pay.
There's a lot of people with grudges against Waterson, Gordon. More than
just the people in this ring.

[Broussard looks at Juan, who's looking the other way.]

MB: I know one of them. We've got a phone call to make.

[Broussard turns to walk away but almost immediately, Juan turns Marcus
around, glaring at him with an angered look on his face, to the stunned
gasps of the crowd.]

GM: Wait, what's going on here...

[There's a staredown of sorts between the two, before Juan sighs and
quickly backs down.]

JV: Fine. [A dejected sigh.] Make the call.

[Marcus nods and the team exits the ring, with Vasquez, noticeably
walking three steps behind...shaking his head in disbelief.]

GM:  I don't know what in the world we just saw but apparently there is
a big difference of opinion on who should be the fifth man for this team
at WarGames, fans.  We'll stay on top of this story and hopefully before
this night is over, we can get back to you with news on just who the
final member of this team will be.  But for now, let's go back to the
locker room area where my colleague-

# REACH OUT AND TOUCH FAITH! #

[The crowd EXPLODES into jeers...

...but the jeers soon turn into confusion as the aisleway is not filled
with the Blonde Bombers.  Nor is it filled with Larry Doyle.  Instead,
it is filled by what appears to be a young man in a bellhop uniform.

As the young man makes his way down to ringside, Gordon Myers exits the
ring to join his partner, Bucky Wilde at ringside.]

BW:  Now that Gordo's done hoggin' all the spotlight for himself, maybe
I can get a few words in.  I am Buckthorn Wilde... Bucky if yer nasty...
and as the two-time Announcer Of The Year, I think I should've been
doin' that interview up there with the Dead Meat Squad.

GM:  What in the world are you going on about now?

BW:  The lack of respect I get from this company.

GM:  I see.  Can you try to focus for a bit and explain what... who is
coming down the aisle right now?

BW:  How should I know?

GM:  I thought you and Doyle were friends.

BW:  Maybe it's a surprise.

[The bellhop reaches ringside, offering up an envelope to Bucky Wilde.]

BW:  For me?  Aw, shucks.

[Bucky takes the envelope, pulling it apart.  He pulls out a sheet of
paper and then gestures for the house mic.]

BW:  Attention!  I have received a message from Larry Doyle!

[The crowd jeers.]

BW:  Mr. Doyle would like it known that he has decided that he - nor the
Blonde Bombers - will be in attendance here tonight!

[BIG CHEERS!  Bucky looks disgusted.]

BW:  He goes on to explain that they are hard at work preparing for
their showdown with those - and I quote - no-good teenage girl kissin'
fancy boys - the Rockstar Express at Battle On The Bayou.  He also says
that he has a special gift for the Rockstars at this time and would like
them to come out to ringside to receive it.

[There is a momentary pause - and then an eruption of cheers as Scotty
Storm and Marty Morgan, the Rockstar Express, emerge from the locker
room.  Both are in street clothes, which means a pair of jeans and
t-shirts with the sleeves cut out to show off their guns.  They slap the
outstretched hands all alongside the ring entry barricade, heading to
the ringside area.  As they get there, they exchange handshakes with
Gordon Myers, eyeing Bucky Wilde uneasily.]

BW:  Thank you, gentlemen.  Now I can continue.

[Bucky dramatically clears his throat.]

BW:  Because of these no-tooth havin', Keystone Light chuggin', nine to
five workin' nickel and dimers affection for you - and that's a direct
quote...

[More jeers.]

BW:  Mr. Doyle has elected to show his affection for you both as well.

[Bucky looks at the backside of the sheet of paper then shrugs.]

BW:  That's the end.

GM:  Well, I don't understan-

[Suddenly, the bellhop produces a second envelope, handing it to
Gordon.]

GM:  For me?  Well, okay...

[Gordon takes the envelope, opening it up.  He pulls the sheet out of it
and begins to read it...

...and then looks up with disgust.]

GM:  I'm not reading this.

BW:  Gordo, you don't have a choice!  You've gotta read-

GM:  I DO have a choice and this is one of the most disgusting things
I've ever read.  It's abusive to me... to the Rockstar Express... and
most importantly, to the fans of this company.  I am not about to read
this out loud, Larry Doyle...

[Gordon hands it over to the Rockstars who glance at it quickly before
tearing it up.  Marty Morgan leans over the mic.]

MM:  Larry Doyle talks a good game and apparently he also writes a good
game.  But anybody who's anybody knows he don't fight a good game, baby.
 The Rockstars are ready to jump, jive, and wail all over the Bombers
and if that no-good snake Doyle sticks his nose in our business, well,
Scotty and I might just knock it clear off.

[Big cheer!]

MM:  But in the meantime... I hope you were paid in advance, kid.

[Scotty surges forward, grabbing the bellhop by the head, knocking his
hat off in the process and hurls him under the ropes into the ring. 
Marty quickly gets in to join him.]

GM:  Uh oh!  This young man just made a big mistake being Larry Doyle's
errand boy!

BW:  But Gordo, what about the old saying?

GM:  Which one?

[The Rockstars fire the bellboy into the ropes with a double whip...]

BW:  Don't shoot the messenger!

[...and level him with a double dropkick right on the chin, knocking him
flat.  The crowd cheers as the Rockstars exit the ring, grabbing the mic
once more.]

SS:  It's just nine days away, baby!  The Rockstar Express is pullin'
out of Mobile, Alabama tonight and headin' straight down towards the
Bayou!  We're pullin' into town and we're bringin' all our dancing
shoes, Gordon!  It's gonna be a week-long party like only the Rockstar
Express can do and then... then on September the 6th... it's time for
Battle On The Bayou in the Bayfront Center.

MM:  That's right.  It's a sold-out crowd - the biggest crowd in AWA
history on the hottest night of the year and the Rockstar Express is
ready to show the entire 'rasslin world just what we're capable of,
Gordon.  All the people are talkin' 'bout WarGames - woooo!  But we're
ready to go to war too.  We might not be steppin' in a double cage but
we're steppin' into our own personal battleground with those Bombers and
Larry Doyle!  We're strappin' on our boots... we're gettin' our tanks
a'rollin' and when it's all said and done, we're STILL gonna be standin'
tall to rock and roll and strut and stroll like only we can do.

SS:  Nine days... Battle On The Bayou... we're comin' for ya, Bombers. 
Be ready and be wary because the Rockstars have got your number!

[And with that, the Rockstars exit.]

GM:  The Rockstar Express versus the Blonde Bombers - just one of the
big matches we'll be seeing in New Orleans in just nine days, fans! 
Don't go away 'cause we'll be right back with more Saturday Night
Wrestling!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

And then back up to live action where Melissa Cannon is standing inside
the ring.]

MC: Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a
ten-minute time limit. Introducing first, from Birmingham, Alabama,
weighing in at 230 pounds...

GLENN GARVEY!

[The athletically-built African-American mounts the corner and raises
his hands in the air to some cheers from the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent...

[Franz Von Suppe's "Light Cavalry Overture" starts to play over the
arena speakers and the crowd is abuzz as a wild-haired man in a
sequinned blue and silver robe and shades emerges from the entranceway
and makes a beeline for the ring. He is followed closely by a blond
woman dressed in blue jeans and a navy-blue cap-sleeved top.]

BW: Scott Mayhem is here, daddy!

GM: We saw this young man make his AWA debut two weeks ago in Atlanta,
Bucky, but with all the craziness taking place, it's going to take
something big for him to make his mark.

[As they make their way down the aisle, the man and woman slap hands
with and high-five the fans on either side.]

MC: Hailing from Jacksonville, Florida, weighing in at 237 pounds and
being accompanied to the ring by MISS AMANDA, he is SCOTT... MAYHEM!!!

[The name receives a decent-sized pop.]

BW: Well, he gets the chance to do just that, Gordo, when he steps into
the ring against "Playboy" Johnny Casanova at Battle on the Bayou.

GM: The question remains, however, has Scott Mayhem really turned over a
new leaf? Or is it simply a matter of time before he unleashes the
madness?

[Reaching the ringside area, Scott climbs the ring steps onto the ring
apron, followed by Miss Amanda. She holds the top and middle ropes apart
for him to step through. Entering the ring, Mayhem twirls around,
showing off the full majesty of his robe, then mounts the corner and
poses for the crowd with his arms spread out. He climbs off the ropes
and Amanda helps him out of his robe to reveal blue trunks, black knee
pads and black boots. 

Mayhem removes his shades, handing them over to her, as his wild eyes
look over his opponent. Either Garvey saw how the match started last
time or he's heard of Scott Mayhem, as he keeps his eyes trained on his
opponent. In fact, Garvey steps out of his corner and approaches Mayhem.
Mayhem steps forward to meet him.]

GM: Scott Mayhem reading Glenn Garvey the riot act, but Garvey does not
seem fazed-

"SMACK!"

BW: And Mayhem slaps Garvey right across the kisser!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM: And here we go as both men exchange rights in the middle of the
ring.

[Having helped Miss Amanda out of the ring, the referee tries to get
both men to go easy on the closed fists. Mayhem shoves Garvey away and
backs off.]

GM: Referee Mickey Meekly's trying to restore some semblance of order
and succeeding... Sucker punch by Mayhem from behind the referee's back!

[Grabbing two handfuls of hair, Scott Mayhem sends Glenn Garvey crashing
onto the back of his head. He backs off as the referee admonishes him
for the hair-pulling, all the while keeping an eye out on Garvey as he
tries to shake the cobwebs out of his head.]

GM: Running knee to the side of Garvey's head as the Alabama native was
getting to his feet!

BW: He had to shove the referee out of his way to get to him, but he
made it.

GM: Cover! Only two!

[Mayhem climbs to the top rope and motions for Garvey to get back to his
feet.]

GM: He might be thinking of a double axehandle from the top here,
Bucky...

[Instead, Garvey rolls to the side and tries to use the ropes to pull
himself to his feet. Scott Mayhem looks somewhat annoyed as he climbs
down onto the apron. He measures Glenn Garvey, whose upper body is
hanging onto the middle rope, and charges him...]

GM: Look out! No! Mayhem missed. Mayhem was going for another knee to
the side of Garvey's head, but Garvey had the wherewithal to draw his
head back.

BW: And now, both men are trading punches over the top rope. Mayhem's
getting the better of it, though.

GM: Front facelock. My God! He's going to try to suplex him right out of
the ring, Bucky! Garvey blocks! And now Garvey tries for a suplex-

BW: Blocked as well!

GM: He's biting him, Bucky! Come on, ref!

[Indeed, Mayhem is digging his teeth into Garvey's forehead. Keeping his
hold on Garvey's head, Mayhem drops to the floor, hanging Garvey out to
dry across the top rope. From the outside, Mayhem pulls Garvey towards
him, so that his head and chest are under the bottom rope.]

GM: Mayhem with those clubbing forearms across Garvey's chest... He hops
back onto the ring apron... Leg drop right across the throat of Garvey!

[Garvey rolls around the ring, clutching his throat. Mayhem, with a wild
look on his face, hops back onto the apron and climbs to the top rope.
He sees Garvey on his back in the middle of the ring, trying to catch
his breath, and leaps off with a...]

GM: TOP ROPE LEG DROP!!!

BW: JACKSONVILLE JAM, DADDY!!!

GM: Cover! One! Two!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC:  Here is your winner...

SCOTT MAYHEM!

[The "Light Cavalry Overture" starts to play as the referee raises
Mayhem's hand in victory. Mayhem bends over Glenn Garvey, waving a
finger in his face, as he has a few choice words for his fallen
opponent.]

BW: Another picture perfect Jacksonville Jam, another picture perfect
victory for Scott Mayhem!

GM: And here he comes, Bucky...

[Wild-haired and wild-eyed, Scott Mayhem approaches the announce
position. Gordon Myers, mic in hand, gets up to meet him.]

GM: Scott Mayhem, congratulations-

SM: Thank you, Gordon!

GM: Now, for someone who's claimed he's turned over a new leaf-

SM: New leaf, that's right, Gordon! Turn, turn, turn!

GM: For someone who's claimed he's turned over a new leaf, Scott, some
of your methods do not seem to have changed since your time in Florida.

SM: That's the nature of the sport, Gordon, oh yes! This isn't
playschool, Gordon. This isn't the romper room... This here is the
AWA... And this man here is the madness, the Mayhem... I'm Scott Mayhem
and one thing you can be certain of when you step into the ring with the
Mayhem, Gordon, oh yes, is the uncertainty. Oh yes, Gordon, you'll never
know what Scott Mayhem is going to do, right up to the point I drop the
Jacksonville Jam on you!  Ain't that right, babe?

[He draws Miss Amanda towards him, wraps his arm around her and plants a
kiss on her cheek. She looks a little uncomfortable, but doesn't push
him away.]

SM: And at Battle on the Bayou, oh yes, one man is about to find out
exactly how-

[As he speaks, Mayhem is interrupted by Robert Palmer's "Addicted to
Love," announcing the arrival of the Playboy, Johnny Casanova, complete
with manager Big Mama. Casanova swaggers up to the announce table, Big
Mama by his side.  Mayhem keeps his arm wrapped around Miss Amanda,
trying to appear nonchalant, but his wild eyes dart between his opponent
at Battle on the Bayou and his female companion. The Playboy motions to
Gordon Myers to bring the mic closer to him.]

JC: Scotty Mayhem! How ya doing, Scotty? Haven't seen ya since Florida!

[The mic barely manages to picK up Mayhem's response, as he asks
Casanova, "What do you want?"]

JC: Isn't this great! I remember when I wrestled a few matches in
Florida, I always thought you could go far. And now here we both are in
the AWA.

[Scott Mayhem takes a step towards Johnny Casanova, telling him to get
to the point, as Amanda tries to pull Mayhem back.]

JC: Hey, hey. Just wanted to say how pleased I was ya got here, Scotty.
And I gotta admit, I liked watching ya out there. I was relieved. When I
heard ya talking two weeks ago, I was starting to think ya were going
soft. I thought you might really let that woman there change you. But
watching the way ya took that guy apart - yeah, that's Scotty Mayhem.

[Mayhem, now standing with his hands on his hips, stares at the Playboy,
unsure how to respond.]

JC: Because you see, Scotty, I was asking myself when I saw ya last
time. If that woman loves him - if she truly loves him - then why would
she want him to change? So if ya were just blowin' smoke, and she's
happy to watch you wrestle like that, sounds like she's the gal for ya,
Scott.

But if she was looking at ya out there and thinking that's not what she
wants in a man - and I don't want to be a tattletale, Scotty, but she
sure didn't look too pleased at that biting thing ya did - well, take
some advice from good ol' Johnny C. If a woman don't accept ya for who
ya really are - like my sweet little pumpkin here accepts me - then just
kick her aside.

[Mayhem takes a step forward to the mic, therefore taking one step
closer towards Casanova.] 

SM:  Now, look here, Johnny, what you've achieved in the past, I respect
that, oh yes. But that's not the way I do things these days. And make no
mistake about it, Johnny, Amanda here might keep me on the up-and-up, oh
yes, but Scott Mayhem is master of his own destiny! And in New Orleans,
Johnny, you'll get to see for yourself if the Mayhem's gone soft. And
Miss Amanda, oh yes, will be right there in my corner. Believe that!

JC: Okay, Scotty. I'll believe that for now. But at the Battle On The
Bayou, ya'll need more than Miss Amanda in your corner to take on me,
Big Mama, and all the Casaholics!  Now, excuse me, there's some chump
waiting to be put to sleep.

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

MC: The next match is scheduled for one fall with a ten-minute time
limit. Introducing first, from Dallas, Texas, weighing in at 240
pounds... 

ROGER COX!

[The stocky young competitor raises his hand to acknowledge some cheers
from the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent, from Hollywood, California! Accompanied by his
manager, Big Mama, and weighing in at 205 pounds...

'PLAYBOY' JOHNNY CASANOVA!

[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: What a woman, I'm glad to see her back this week, Gordo.

GM: You and Johnny C both, Bucky. Although you may be the only two.

[Casanova and Big Mama are about to smooch in the middle of the ring,
but Cox takes matters into his own hands, spinning Casanova round and
blasting him with a big right hand.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

BW: Look at that, Gordo! Sneak attack there from this Cox guy, he should
show the Playboy some respect!

GM: Cox certainly wasting no time here, and he may remember Casanova's
debut when the pre-match kiss he shared with Big Mama lasted a rather
long while, Bucky.

[Big Mama's scurried to safety, now, and Casanova is reeling from a
sustained assault as Cox throws hard rights and mixes in a few left
handed jabs as well. Casanova manages to get his arm up to block a shot,
though, and fights back with a trio of vicious haymakers which give him
the advantage.]

BW: Look at that, Gordo! Great power from Johnny C and he's staggered a
man who outweighs him by 35 pounds!

GM: Will you be serious?

BW: Hey, you heard the ring announcer!

[Cox is looking to fight back here, but as he tries for another big
punch, Casanova sidesteps and throws a knee to the gut, then gouges his
opponent's eyes. Assisted by a handful of hair, he throws Cox to the
corner then steamrolls in with a big running knee!]

GM: Rather unsavory tactics by Johnny Casanova there, Bucky.

BW: But they work, Gordo!

[Casanova's playing to the crowd, now, swivelling his hips before
unloading a big chop on his opponent. He repeats this a couple more
times as the fans boo, and after the third one Cox slides down to rest
with his back against the turnbuckles. Casanova goes for a kick to the
head, but Cox moves at the last second, and Cas nearly drives his foot
straight into the ringpost, pulling the kick just in time to barely
connect with it.]

GM: Casanova pointing to his head, telling the fans how smart he was
there, but I think he's wasting time here, Bucky!

[Indeed he is, as Cox scores with a punch to the inside of the knee,
then gets a takedown. Casanova is on the ground and Cox climbs to his
feet before dropping a knee on Casanova's stomach.]

GM: I think the Playboy's in trouble here, Bucky!

BW: Not even close, Gordo! He may be slower than he was in his prime,
but he won't have any problems with a scrub like Cox.

[Cox pulls Casanova to his feet and slaps him in the chest repeatedly,
sending Casanova back towards the corner nearest his manager Big Mama,
and as Cox tries to push the Playboy against the turnbuckles Cas
reverses. With Cox back in the corner one more, Casanova hits another
big chop, then a shoulder to the midsection, and as Cox slumps down
again Cas uses his boot to facewash him. ]

GM: Impressive here from Casanova, Bucky.

BW: I know - he's in total control, Gordo.

GM: I was thinking more of the way he's gone a good 90 seconds without
cheating.

[And that run comes to an end as Cas drapes his opponent's head over the
bottom rope and chokes him on it. The ref counts to 4 and Johnny C
eventually lets go, springing back - only for Big Mama to take advantage
of the referee admonishing her man to reach up from outside the ring and
do the same thing.]

BW: Look at the way Big Mama's looking after her man here, Gordo!

GM: I guess I spoke too soon about the cheating.

[Cas now pulls Cox up, and takes him straight back down with his
patented Playboy Plunge double underhook facebuster.]

BW: This one's over, Gordo!

[But instead of making the pin, the Playboy picks Cox up and locks on
the sleeperhold. The ref raises Cox's hand, and it drops once...]

GM: It may well be, Bucky. But I think you'll find that Scott Mayhem
will cause more of a problem for Casanova at Battle On The Bayou.

[Twice...]

BW: My money's on Casanova, Gordo. With Big Mama back in his corner,
there's nothing he can't do!

[Three times.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

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

[Casanova leaves the ring, and embraces Big Mama, before walking over to
the announce table to speak with Myers.]

GM: Johnny Casanova, we saw you come out here a few moments ago and
interrupt the man you'll be taking on at the Battle On The Bayou, Scott
Mayhem. I notice you didn't take the opportunity to tell us any more
about the offer you mentioned two weeks ago.

JC: Whoa there, Gordon! I know ya'll be excited as heck that you get a
chance to speak to the Playboy Johnny C, because these past two shows,
that honor's gone to your colleague Mark Stegglet - but ya ain't got no
cause to be poking your nose into my private business. An offer was
made, we're considering it. All ya got to know for now. I'll tell ya
what - Big Mama, my sweet little pumpkin here, will send ya a personal
e-mail if we feel ya need any update on that. Now, ask me about Scotty
Mayhem!

GM: (Sighs) After needing some dubious tactics to win your first three
matches here in the AWA, Johnny, do you think you can get past Scott
Mayhem?

JC: I sure can, Gordo! I got some news, so listen up Scotty, ya going
down to Playboy Johnny C! Ya may have been a big shot in Florida, but ya
never had to face me there. And ya may be happy with that purty lil Miss
Amanda, but she ain't gonna help ya against the Playboy and a real woman
like Big Mama. End of the day, Scotty - I'm gonna put ya to sleep!

Now, Gordo, we got some celebratin' to do. See ya in New Orleans!

[And with that, the couple take their leave.]

GM:  Let's go back up to Melissa!

[We cut 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 Havana, Cuba... THE CUBAN ASSASSIN #6!

[Everyone's favorite enhancement talent raises an arm.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Russia...

[The sounds of Metallica's "Creeping Death" starts up to a big
reaction!]

MC:  He is a former AWA National Champion... he is the Russian War
Machine...

KOLLLLLYAAAAA SUUUUUUDAKOV!

[The former Mixed Martial Artist walks through the curtain to more
cheers, eyes locked on the ring where the Cuban is standing.  He rolls
under the ropes...

...and gets caught with a kick to the ribs by the Cuban!]

GM:  He jumps Sudakov before the bell!

[The Cuban delivers kick after kick to the ribs as the referee starts
the match.]

GM:  This one's underway and the Cuban is all over him!

[A few more kicks land before the Assassin pulls Sudakov up to this
feet.  He pops Sudakov with a haymaker, knocking the Russian back into
the ropes.]

GM:  The Cuban Assassin grabs the arm... irish whip...

[Sudakov ducks under a wildly swung chop, bouncing off the far ropes...

...and BARRELS over the Cuban Assassin with a Russian Sickle!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[Sudakov promptly drops down to the mat, pressing both open palms down
on the chest of the Cuban, sticking out his tongue as the referee drops
down to count.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Sudakov immediately pops up to his feet, having his hand raised by the
referee before quickly making his exit.]

GM:  I'm gonna try-

[But before Gordon can even get a word out, Sudakov grabs the mic.]

KS:  я сделаю мой разговор в клетке

[Gordon looks puzzled.]

GM:  I don't speak-

[Sudakov interrupts.]

KS:  I'll do my talking in the cage.

[A curt nods punctuates his words as he walks back up the aisle towards
the locker room.]

GM:  He'll do his talking in the cage - I suppose he will, fans.  Let's
go backstage where our colleague Mark Stegglet is standing by.  Mark?

[Mark Stegglett is standing by backstage with Louis Matsui and MAMMOTH
Mizusawa, both dressed in dark suits. The bespectacled Matsui has a wide
grin on his face, wider perhaps than usual.]

MS: Louis Matsui, speculation is rampant as to who your opponents at
Battle on the Bayou might have as their replacement for Todd Michaelson,
if indeed they do have one. Your thoughts, please.

LM: Marcus Steggosaurus, you can speculate all you want, but considering
what my friends in the Southern Syndicate have done to Michaelson, and
that without assistance from my client, who in their right mind would
step into the cage against the full force of the Syndicate _AND_ MAMMOTH
Mizusawa? 

Every time the Syndicate and my client come together as a unit, someone
gets hurt! Just list out the individuals that have been taken out
through the combined effort of MAMMOTH Mizusawa and the Southern
Syndicate... Tumaffi? Gone! Gary Bright? Gone! The Rhodes brothers?
Gone! Very soon, Steggie Jackson, you can add these names to that list: 

[He counts them out on the fingers of his left hand as he lists them
out.] 

LM:  Ron Houston... Marcus Broussard... Kolya Sudakov... And Juan
Vasquez. And even my client can tell you that five...

[He holds up the five digits of his right hand.]

LM:  ...will always trump four, especially if the five are four members
of the Southern Syndicate... Plus one MAMMOTH Mizusawa.

[The camera closes in on the towering Mizusawa, who holds up his open
right hand which he brings closer to the camera until it engulfs the
shot in darkness and we cut back to the ring where Melissa Cannon stands
next to a tall young black man with short black hair in a bit of a
flattop afro. He's rather well-muscled and wears full length black
trunks with a red stripe down each side.]

MC:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit.  In the ring to my left, from Arlington, Virginia... weighing two
hundred and sixty-one pounds... Rashan Davidson!

[Davidson raises one hand, smiling proudly.  Then your ears explode.

...No, really.  You think I'm kidding?  Go to
http://www.tirip.com/album/2735.htm and listen to track 9.  That's what
you're hearing, at full blast through the PA.  The fans boo, because
they can figure out who this is going to be already.  A swoosh of
reddish-brown and white cloth through the entranceway, followed by a
swoosh of green, white, and red.  The bisht (robe) and keffeyeh
(headdress) are a dead giveaway; this is Sultan Azam Sharif.  The Sultan
begins to wave his huge Iranian flag as behind him walks his short
Eurasian manager, he of the Asian eyes and English teeth, Count Adrian
Bathwaite.]

MC:  And his opponent... making his in-ring debut... coming down to
ringside accompanied by his manager, Count Adrian Bathwaite... from
Shiraz, Iran... weighing two hundred and fifty-nine pounds...

SULTAN AZAM SHARIF!

[The instrumental portion of "Saz O Avaz Mahdor" by Mohammed Reza
Shajarian plays as the Sultan heads for the ring, holding up his index
finger to proclaim his opinion of himself.  He waves his Iranian flag,
and Bathwaite continually stops to lambaste some fan on bad manners,
personal hygiene, and/or lack of social standing.  Bathwaite is garbed
in a shiny grey dress shirt made of some reflective material that looks
like a cross between satin and plastic, with some rhinestone flowers
tacked on for good measure.]

GM: That... is rather unique entrance music.

BW: It's catchy!

GM: The opening is a bit much.

BW: Uncultured is what you are.  Adrian told me so himself.  That's
Count Bathwaite to you, though.  Now there is a man with class.

GM: Count Bathwaite's shirt looks like it was laminated at Kinko's.

BW: ...

[Stunned at Gordon's sudden dip into the Bucky Wilde playbook, our
erstwhile colorman has no response.  In the meantime, the Iranian climbs
the steps.  Flag in one hand and an upturned index finger on his other,
he enters the ring to the jeers of the crowd.  Bathwaite follows behing,
and immediately begins dressing down the referee for his sloppy dress
and shoddy preparation for the match.  Melissa exits as the Sultan waves
the Iranian flag in the middle of the ring.]

GM: Bathwaite's...

BW: COUNT Bathwaite!

GM: COUNT Bathwaite's horrible taste in clothing aside, I did some
research on this man this week, Bucky Wilde.  And what I learned shocked
me.

BW: Oh?  Do tell.

GM: Bathwaite wasn't lying... this man really is a world class freestyle
wrestler.  He really was an Olympian in 2004, and a silver medalist in
the Asian Games in 2002!  I thought that to be mere hype, but the Sultan
Azam Sharif walks into AWA with some of the best amateur credentials the
sport has ever seen!

BW: Of course!  You were calling Azam a liar!  I've known Mr. Sharif a
long time, and the man tells nothing but the truth!  In fact, I know all
about Azam Sharif.

GM: Such as the fact that "Azam Sharif" is not a name?  It's part of his
title, Bucky.  Azam means "Great" and "Sharif" means "Honorable".

BW: ...uhhh, yeah!  You passed my test, Gordo.  And would ya listen to
these no-class yahoos?

[During that exchange, Count Bathwaite gave his charge some instructions
as he disrobed, taking his sweet time.  Now we see his full body... the
Sultan has short black hair, a mustache, and beard; all of which are
neatly trimmed.  He wears loose white pants, known as sirwal in the
Middle East, with a shiny golden sash at the waist.  The sirwal are
tucked into his shiny gold boots... which are very, very unusual boots. 
The toes curl up and end in points.]

GM: He cannot be serious about wrestling in that footwear, Bucky Wilde.

BW: More cultural ignorance, Gordo.  Them are hook-boots they call, uh,
ahabalas.

GM: Galesh, Bucky.  Those are galesh, except most galesh are made of
cloth.  That's hard boot leather, and if he were to kick someone with
those...

BW: Oh, sure, impose your cultural values on the man.

GM: I may as well... he's taking FOREVER to get this match started.

[That is a lot of announcer banter, isn't it?  That's because the Sultan
has placed his kaffeyeh on the mat facing east, and is praying.  He is
prostate, face down towards Mecca.  Davidson wants to get at him, but
the referee won't allow it.  The fans are booing this stalling like mad.
 And they're probably more than a little culuturally insensitive to
boot.]

BW: Gordo!  Ya wanna get us sued?  I mean, the man has his religion!

GM: Islam has absolutely no specific requirement to pray _after_ you get
to the ring!  I am not quite as culturally ignorant as you think, Bucky.
 This is all Count Bathwaite, instructing the Sultan Azam Sharif to
stall for time at the start of the match!  Rashan Davidson is a rookie,
and he may well grow impatient and leave an unwise opening.

[And as the Sultan stands, gazing over the crowd with his weatherbeaten
visage, his eyes go wide as he hears something... something loud, and
directed squarely at him:

"U! S! A!  U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S!
A!"

Sultan Azam Sharif goes to each side of the ring, motioning frantically
for quiet.  This naturally encourages the crowd more.  Rashan Davidson
gets on the second rope, and leads the chant, pumping his fist with each
letter.]

BW: Is this any way to treat a guest in our country?!

GM: It is if... LOOK OUT!

[And all that noise ends real fast as Davidson spends more time leading
the chant than paying attention to his opponent.  Just as Gordon
predicted, he's left an opening... and a forearm to the back of the head
levels the young Virginian.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

BW: That's what you get for being an ugly American!  It's stuff like
that why all the other countries hate us, Gordo.

GM: Oh, brother.  Sharif now putting the boots to Davidson, and he's
using the points of those galesh!  Come on, referee, that HAS to be
illegal!

BW: Telling an Iranian he can't use his ahabalas is like telling a
German that he can't German Suplex somebody!  It's his heritage, Gordo!

GM: Davidson struggling to stand, and shooting in for a takedown... look
at this.  The young man completely outclassed in that category.

[What Myers is referring to is the Sultan's easy counter of Rashan
Davidson's takedown attempt, breaking him down with a half-nelson,
riding to a rear waistlock, hooking his opponent's leg with his own, and
transitioning directly into a chinlock.]

BW: Hello?  Olympian?!  I don't think ANYBODY wants to try matwrestling
Sharif.

GM: That would not be prudent.  The Sultan leaning into his man with the
chinlock, wearing him down... and the fans are at it again!

"U! S! A!   U! S! A!  U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S! A!   U! S!
A!"

[Sultan Azam Sharif shakes his head vehemently at the chant as Count
Adrian Bathwaite gets on the apron to shout at the crowd and demand
silence.  That works SO well...]

BW: I'm ashamed to be an American, Gordo.  These rude obnoxious tourists
are an embarrassment.

GM: TOURISTS?

BW: Yeah, you're right.  This is Alabama.  NOBODY visits here.

[Davidson fights his way to his feet, and elbows the Sultan in the ribs.
 A second elbow frees him!  A third elbow... the Sultan just takes it,
ignoring his opponent's offense in favor of moving to a side waistlock. 
From there, he sharply flips the 6'5" Rashan Davidson up an over with a
picture perfect side waistlock suplex that absolutely silences the
crowd!]

GM: WHAT A SUPLEX!

BW: He jack-knifed that kid, Gordo!  Woo, I bet they don't let ya do
THAT at the Olympics!

GM: The side waistlock suplex and I believe that will be the beginning
of the end for Mr. Davidson.  The Sultan getting instruction from
Bathwaite...

[The grouchy silver-haired manager makes a motion with his walking
stick... he wants the Sultan to lift his opponent up.  Dutifully, Sharif
obliges.]

GM: I don't know why he didn't go for a pin there... but a stunning
gutwrench suplex follows!  

BW: With ease, daddy!  With ease.

GM: And... now what is he doing here?!

[As Bathwaite locks his hands and makes some gesture, Sultan Azam nods
and reaches for Rashan's boots.  He spins Rashan around until he's
facing the way he wants, and then just lets him go.]

GM: I believe... is he facing him east?  That's the same direction he
was praying... and there can be no question what he's going for now!

[Like you didn't know?  The Sultan straddles Davidson's back, crouches
down and traps both of his arms between his thigh and elbow, and sits
way back with the Camel Clutch!]

BW: CAMEL CLUTCH!  Gordo, look how he does it!  He gets those arms
tucked away first... people just don't do that anymore!

GM: Indeed, the hold is perfectly executed, and once it's locked on...
there's no way to escape.  Only raw power could break out of this, and
even that would be a nearly superhuman effort.  And... OH MY WORD!

[The crowd tries to get behind Davidson, but are silenced by a quick
motion from the Sultan, as he jerks Davidson's neck to the side very
abruptly.  And then he repeats the motion to the other side!  And back. 
And forth.
Davidson submits in short order.]

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM: That did NOT take long.  Once all that stalling was done, Sultan
Azam Sharif picks up the win in quick and impressive fashion... AND
BREAK THE HOLD ALREADY!

[Sharif keeps the Camel Clutch locked until the referee threatens him
with a count, and which point he roughly shoves Davidson's face to the
mat and thrusts both index fingers up into the sky in a celebration of
victory.  Then Bathwaite comes in and berates the referee for his lousy
officiating job, and for making the Sultan break so quickly.  "Saz O
Avaz Mahdor" by Mohammed Reza Shajarian begins again with the opening
vocals, and the crowd boos vehemently.]

GM: Sultan Azam Sharif has already gleaned the venom of the fans, and as
we get set for the interview, Bucky, take it with the replay!

[The first replay is the Saito suplex.  As Rashan Davidson throws a back
elbow, the Sultan sets his feet.  Not bothering to protect himself, he
eats the elbow... and it's clear that it hurts him; he doesn't shrug it
off like it was a mosquito bite... but takes it in order to get the side
waistlock.  In one neat motion, he flips Rashan over his head, folding
him over with the side waistlock suplex.]

BW: Alright, daddy.  Take a good look.  Sultan Azam Sharif is a tough
man, takin' a shot in order ta get set for the suplex.  They don't do
this kind of suplex much these days.  That's because it's hard ta do,
daddy.  That's an expert's kind of suplex.

[Then we cut to the Camel Clutch.  Davidson's eyes are bugging from the
pain, while Sharif grits his teeth with focus and effort.  Then he
starts yanking poor Rashan's head back and forth, straining that
neck...]

BW: An' look here!  The Iranian National Finishin' Move!  The Sultan
added his own little... twist to it!  Get it, Gordo?!  His own twist! 
Namely, he twists this dumb rook's head off until he has the sense to
tap.  If his arms could reach anything TO tap, that is.  Your winner,
Sultan Azam Sharif, an' Gordo's standin' by with him and the Count!

[We cut to Gordon Myers standing by with Count Adrian Bathwaite, and a
bone dry Sultan Azam Sharif, who is waving his Iranian flag.  The music
dies down, and Gordon begins.]

GM: Count Adrian Bathwaite, I have to give credit where it is due.  Your
man is very impressive... OW!

[As if the compliment was going to save Gordon from some righteous Angry
Old Man Cane Jabbing(tm).  Bathwaite smiles a mean-spirited smile as he
answers the non-question.]

CAB: Of course he is, you needle-necked serf!  I told you that he was,
but the American people, like much of the world, has forgotten how to
take the word of their betters as law.  And in the AWA, the Sultan Azam
Sharif is law!  He's an Olympic champion, the greatest wrestler of his
generation, and now he will administer an object lesson in humility to
the blowhards here in the AWA!  Tell them, Great and Honorable Sultan!

GM: Oh, bro-

[Sorry, Gordon.  He's already talking in his wild semicomprehensible
accent.]

SAS: Mistair Count Batway, assalamu alaykum, you know dot vat is you
said, DANK YOU!  Mistair Gordon Mayers, deh Sultan is ready!  I didunt
come here to deh AWA to vaste time like dot vat did you just saw!  Dass
vhy I gonna shallunge anybody in deh AWA dot think dey can wrestle, vid
a Pahlavn-e Keshvar, Varzesh-e Pahlavani!  I gonna shallunge dot Mexican
Jew-an Vus-quez, dot fat Vernon Riley, dot Mar-coos Brusvar-vatevah his
name is, un dot so-call legun Mark Lon-set!  Ya!  Un I gonna shallenge
dot bum Jack Snyda, dot hick Brunt Ma-wear-ick, dot slob Subone Samson,
un dot traitor bockstabbah Koolya Sudokupff!  Vun by vun, all deh top
stars, dey gonna get put in deh Camail Clutch, an dey not gonna get out
until dey say, "IRAN!  IRAN!  IRAN NUMBAH WON!" 

[The Sultan waves his flag proudly as Count Bathwaite moves in to close
it out.]

CAB: We're taking all comers.  Bring your pride.  We'll take it, and
leave you a respectful, humbled... but better man.  Broken... but
better.

[The two men exit stage left as Gordon shakes his head.]

GM: Bucky, did you understand a word that man just said?

BW: Yeah, I mean, Adrian's got a funny accent but he's from Hong Kong,
Gordo.  He said they were takin' all comers an'...

GM: I meant the Sultan!

BW: Of course!  I speak Iranian!  But... well, it'd take too long ta
explain.  We'll be back after these commericals!  BUY STUFF!

[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...

[Fade in on the backstage area where, standing before a plain concrete
wall, the massive form of the Masked Menace is waiting to speak. 
Looking up at Menace from an uncomfortably close vantage, the camera
makes him into a larger-than-life titan; less human than monument.  The
watermarked skull printed on his black mask shimmers in the artificial
lighting as he looks down at the camera with a contrived (and mostly
covered in a mask)look of pure intimidation.]

MM: Y'all should've known this was step two.  Step two's my favorite
step of them all; the sure thing.  Got me a trip to the pay window, win
or lose.  Win nets me more of course and if I hit the grand slam ...
well, then, that Dog guy got some competition for the title of "Bounty
Hunter".

[Overpoweringly bright; the lights overhead polarize the image of the
Menace as he lowers his head even more; his eyes and nose disappearing
in deep shadow.  His deep, drawling voice combined with this visual
makes the Menace seem like some sort of deep south reaper.]

MM: Ask ya something there, Shane; why you think big brother wants your
hide?  I don't pretend to know your family business, but where I'm from,
family wants your hide it's usually for your own good.  Take your
switchin', learn your lesson, be a better man for it. Again, I ain't
your family.  Hell, I ain't even what the courts would call an
interested party. Boy ... I'm the switch...

[Cockin' his head to one side, Menace points to his temple and, perhaps
by proxy, his brain.  Please note that he flexes his huge bicep to make
it even larger and the trick of perspective makes it look truly
ridiculous.]

MM: Think about it.  Think for once in your miserable life.  My God,
boy, why didn't you see me comin'?  I bet you walk the railroad tracks
too without ever checkin' over your shoulder for a freight train.  I
make no bones about it; I'm huge.  I done trained my over-tall frame to
be somethin' special and, frankly, if you don't see me comin' when I get
ready to run ya down, well then, I'm offended, and you sure as shootin'
deserve what you get.

[The Menace crosses his arms again, raising his chin to seem above it
all.]

MM: Now hey 'though, don't take it personal.  I ain't one to be
vindictive and those who are I don't much cotton to 'em.  The Menace is
all about the bottom line, stayin' in the black, y'know--

[As he speaks the following, the words he speaks appear on the screen in
the form of a stylized logo.]

MM/Text: TCB.  Takin' Care o' Business.

[Those words remain for 5 seconds before slowly fading away.]

MM: The business world is a vicious place.  Corporations buy and sell
people every day while passin' it off as takeovers, hirings, firings ...
killings.

Ever hear of a "Private Contracting Firm"?  Crews like Blackwater get
traded on the stock market and fight whole wars for this or that person
or place.  All for a trip to the pay window.  If the enemy puts down his
gun, all is well, and the war is won without blood. On the other hand if
they decide to fight, well, those boys don't have a country.  They're
there to kill, win, and live large.  We're talkin' war crimes with no
tribunal to regulate 'em.

Do you get it yet son?  If you do then do yourself and everybody else a
favor tonight; take your switchin' so I can get that bounty, be a better
man and never speak of it again.  You decide to fight me, well, I'm
gonna bleed you.  Hell, honestly, the little chunk of change AWA's
payin' me for the match?  Compare that to the bounty and it's night and
day.  We're talkin' out in the sun gettin' a tan day.  Maybe I won't
even try to win the match.  Maybe ... maybe I'll just take the switch to
ya and call it a day.

[Cut to Mark Stegglet who is standing between Kevin Slater on his left
and Shane Taylor with Kandi Kane on his right.]

MS:  Shane Taylor, we just heard from the man that you are moments away
from facing inside the ring - a man who has made it no secret that he
has nothing against you other than you stand between him and a rather
large payday at the hands of your brother, Bobby.  Your thoughts?

[Shane Taylor looks nervous as all hell.]

SST:  I'm tired of this, Stegglet.  I'm sick and tired of this.

MS:  What do you mean?

SST:  I'm sick of running.  I'm sick of hiding.  I'm sick of having to
look over my shoulder when I get off the airplane, while I'm calling a
taxi, when I get out of the shower... all of it!

And it's all... your... fault!

[Shane points at Kevin Slater.  Slater looks shocked, lifting up both
hands and shaking his head.]

KS:  Wait, wait, wait...

SST:  Nah, I ain't waitin' for nothin', Kev.  You got me into this.  You
wanted to play some game with Bobby.  You wanted to make him jump
through hoops to get a match with you.  I was fine with all that.  But
now?  You've put me through hell... and I want it ended.

KS:  What exactly do you want me to do?

SST:  Take the match.  Take the match with Bobby.

[Mark Stegglet's eyes go wide.]

KS:  Not a chance, kid.  That's not the arrangement we worked out.

SST:  We also didn't agree to me being a piece of meat for a bunch of
animals to fight over.  Do you even get this?  Do you get what you're
putting me through - what you're putting Kandi through?

[Kandi nods, rubbing her man's shoulders.]

KS:  Look... we can talk about this, Shane.  We can... I promise.  But
for now?  You've got to get out there and fight this guy.

SST:  Why?  Why do I have to fight some nutcase who thinks he was here
two years ago when everyone can see he's a totally different guy?  He's
crazy, Kev!  He's nuts!  There's no telling what he might do to me!  He
can have the winner's purse.  I'll just step aside.  I'll call Bobby
right now and tell him that I'll step asi-

KS:  NO!

[Taylor goes silent, glaring at his now-angry tag team partner.]

KS:  I got you into this, kid.  

SST:  That's right.  You did-

KS:  Nah, you don't get me.  I got you into the AWA.  Sure, they let you
come in every once in a while when Bobby needed you... but I kept you
here.  And I gave you a reason to be here.  I gave them a reason to put
you on television.  You're NOTHING without me!

[It's Taylor's turn to look angry.]

KS:  You do what I say... when I say it... or you've outlived your
usefulness to me, kid.  Ya dig?

[Taylor looks down at the ground for a long, long while...

...and then nods his head.]

KS:  Good.  Now get out there and fight this guy.  We'll discuss this
later.

[Slater simply turns around and walks away.]

MS:  Shane.. how can you-?

SST:  He's right, you know.

MS:  What are you-

SST:  No one wanted me here until Kev made it happen.  Not the front
office, not the fans, not even my own brother.  I owe everything to him.
 

[Taylor nods.]

SST:  And if I have to take one more beating to help him out... then
that's what I have to do.

[Taylor walks off camera, dragging Kandi by the wrist behind him.]

MS:  Shane Taylor apparently feels some kind of a... debt... to Kevin
Slater.  And as a result, he's headed to the ring to take... well,
whatever the Masked Menace has in store for him.  Let's go back up to
Melissa!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

[James Hetfield's distinctive voice rings out as "Some Kind of Monster"
by Metallica plays.  From the back emerges a tall and thick gorilla of a
man dressed in long black trunks, boots and studded leather bracers. 
Instead of a head, atop his neck is a black mask patterned with a
reflective black skull design in the front, and the letters "MM" in the
back.]

BW:  Look at the size of this man, Gordo.

GM:  He certainly is a beast of a man, isn't he?

[Adjusting his bracer, this great beast saunters to the ring.  He seems
unaffected by the fans around him who all reach out, clamoring for his
attention.]

MC: He hails from Parts Unknown and weighs in tonight at 330 pounds... 
Ladies and gentlemen this is THE MASKED MENACE!!!

[Climbing the ringsteps in a very low-key fashion, the Masked Menace
moves not to a corner, but to the center of the ring and stands, arms
folded, facing the entrance aisle and waiting for his opponent.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer starts up to a big explosion of jeers.]

MC:  From Phoenix, Arizona... weighing in at 225 pounds and accompanied
to the ring by Kandi Kane...

"SCORCHIN" SHAAAAAAANE TAYYYYLOR!

[Taylor and Kane make their way through the curtain to even more boos. 
Kane, clad in a short denim mini-skirt and tank top cut low enough to
expose most of her assets.  Taylor in a pair of full-length orange
tights with "SCORCHIN" written across the rear in white.  A cigarette
dangles unlit from his lips as he approaches the ring, shaking his head
as he walks the aisle.]

GM:  Shane Taylor is on his way out here - but he doesn't look happy
about it, Bucky.

BW:  He's not.  We know he's not, Gordo.  He made no secret of it in the
back just now but he also feels like he owes Kevin Slater something.

GM:  Do you agree?

BW:  It's hard to argue the kid didn't get a shot until Kevin Slater
came along.  Slater might have pulled the strings, opened the doors,
greased the wheels - ya dig?

GM:  Oh, I think I get it.

[Taylor steps up on the apron, flicking the cigarette harmlessly to the
floor as he glares at the Masked Menace...

...who rushes forward towards the ropes, coming up empty as Taylor drops
off the apron, shaking his head.]

GM:  The big monster - 6'6, 330 pounds... he wants to rip Taylor's head
off his body.

BW:  And remember, Bobby Taylor is standing around somewhere in the back
with a blank check if someone can take Shane out.  Bobby needs Shane
cleared out of his path to get at Kevin Slater and he's willing to pay
for it to happen.  Money?  Title matches?  Whatever you want, Taylor's
willing to cough it up and that's a tough thing to pass up, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly is.  We've seen a lot of people shooting for that
bounty and the Masked Menace is just the most recent to go for it.

[Shane Taylor paces around the ringside area, looking up at the ring
where the big masked man is waving him in.  The referee is ordering
Shane to do the same...

...and then signals for the bell to force him in.]

GM:  There's the bell - and Shane Taylor's got ten seconds to get inside
the ring now.

BW:  Just take the countout, kid.

GM:  I think he'd like to do exactly that but he thinks he needs to
fight the Menace for Slater.  I don't know what in the world- ohhh!

[Just as Taylor gets up on the apron again, the Menace pops him with a
haymaker that sends him sailing off the apron, crashing down to the
floor!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[The Menace steps through the ropes onto the apron, dropping off onto
the floor.  He casts a cold gaze in Kandi Kane's direction as he slowly
approaches the downed Taylor...

...and then drops the 330 pounds across the chest with a falling
elbowdrop.]

GM:  Ohh!  High impact elbowdrop!

BW:  The man didn't even jump on that, Gordo.  He just fell on him.  No
effort wasted but all sorts of impact, daddy!

GM:  The Menace drags Shane off the mat by the hair...

[And uncorks another haymaker, this one knocks Shane back into the ring
apron.  Shane promptly grabs the middle rope, pulling himself through
the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Shane making a run for it.  

BW:  Smart move.  I don't think the floor's a safe place to fight the
Menace.

GM:  The Menace up on the apron now as well...

[Shane Taylor rushes forward, catching the Menace with a right hand of
his own.  Grabbing the masked man by the back of the head, Taylor throws
punch after punch after punch to the skull.  He reaches up, hooking a
three-quarter nelson...

...and drops down to his back, snapping the Menace's throat down on the
top rope!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The crowd gasps as the Menace sails off the apron, smashing down on the
thinly-padded concrete floor.]

GM:  Did you see that?!

BW:  A great move by Shane Taylor - some would say a desperation move -
and now it's the Menace who is laid out on the floor.  Looks like a
beached whale out there, Gordo.

GM:  Shane's out on the apron... measuring his man...

[And Shane leaps off the apron, driving a fist down into the masked
skull of the big man.]

GM:  The fistdrop off the apron... Shane rolls back in...

[The referee starts a count at the order of Shane Taylor.]

GM:  We've got a count on that 330 pound beast out on the floor.  Two
big offensive moves by Taylor but will that be enough to keep the Masked
Menace out on the floor for a ten count?

[The count reaches four as Shane Taylor shouts at the referee to count
faster.]

GM:  The count to five now... up to six...

[But the Masked Menace will not be beaten that easily, dragging himself
to his feet using the ring apron...

...which sends Shane Taylor rushing forward, attempting a baseball slide
dropkick.]

GM:  Baseball slid- 

[The Menace sidesteps the baseball slide, grabbing Shane around the
waist, yanking him out of the ring...

...and DRIVING him down on a bent knee!]

GM:  OHHHH!  WHAT A BACKBREAKER!!

[A fired-up Menace hauls Shane Taylor off the mat, hurling him under the
ropes before rolling back in himself.]

GM:  The Menace is back in... 

[And as Shane Taylor stumbles up to his feet, the Menace rushes forwards
and DRILLS Taylor with a spear tackle!]

GM:  Good grief!  He may have split him in half!  He may have broken
Shane Taylor in half, fans!

[The Menace pushes up to his knees, glaring down at Taylor.]

"YA DONE?!"

[A hard right hand punctuates the question.]

"YA GOT ANYTHING LEFT?!"

[Another right hand to the jaw.  The Menace pushes off the mat, reaching
down to haul Shane up by the hair.  He shoves Taylor back into the
closest set of buckles, methodically approaching.]

GM:  Well, the Menace isn't about to break any speed records inside that
ring.  He certainly takes his time in there, Bucky.

BW:  Maybe he gets paid by the hour.

[The Menace pushes Taylor's head back, exposing his chest...

...and SLAPS him down hard across the chest with an overhead slap!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Taylor crumples down to a knee, a red palm-print in the middle of his
chest now.]

"WHAT ELSE YA GOT?"

[A hard kick to the chest follows up, knocking Taylor flat down in the
buckles.  A second kick follows, knocking the wind out of the younger
Taylor brother.  The Menace grabs him by the hair, hauling him up to his
feet...

...and then hoists him off the mat, slinging him over his shoulder.]

GM:  The Menace has him up!  What's he gonna do with him?

[The Masked Menace walks around the ring, the full distance with Taylor
slung over his shoulder, before backing into a corner...

...and then charges out of the corner, leaping up, and DRIVING Taylor
down in a thunderous running spinebuster!]

GM:  RUNNING SPINEBUSTER!!

[The Menace rolls into a lateral press, barking an order at the ref to
count.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!  THR-

[But the Menace pushes off the downed Taylor, dragging him off the mat
by the hair.  He shakes his head at the protesting referee, climbing up
to his feet.  The masked man reaches down, dragging Taylor up to his
feet again.]

"PAY THE MAN!!  PAY THE MAN!!"

[He pulls the Scorchin' One into a standing position.  He slaps Taylor
across the face a couple of times, and then tears off towards the ropes,
rebounding back...

...and LEAPS up with a lariat, catching Taylor on the jaw, flipping
Taylor backwards and in a somersault before crashing back down to the
mat.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  He calls that one the Unmasker, daddy!

GM:  This one's academic, fans.  One.  Two.  And there's three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  The Masked Menace with a big win here over Shane Taylor and- wait a
second...

BW:  It's time to get paid, daddy!

GM:  The Menace isn't done!  He's pulling Taylor off the mat again!

[A stiff left jab connects to the jaw, knocking Shane back into the
corner.]

GM:  The Menace is all over him... right hands... chops... 

[A big overhead chop connects, knocking Shane down to a knee.  Grabbing
a handful of hair, the Menace drags him off the mat.  He flings Shane
from corner to corner before rushing across...

...and connecting with a huge clothesline in the corner!]

GM:  Good grief!  Another running clothesline by the Menace!

[Suddenly, the crowd breaks into cheers!]

GM:  THE WEST MEMPHIS ASSASSIN!

[The masked man comes charging down the aisle, diving under the bottom
rope...

...and POPPING the Masked Menace with a right hand that stumbles the big
man!]

GM:  WHOA!  What a shot!

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

GM:  The Menace is stumbled and-

[The Assassin throws a few forearms to the jaw, knocking the Menace back
against the ropes.  Grabbing the arm, he fires the Menace across the
ring...]

GM:  Off the ropes...

[And the Assassin sidesteps the rebounding Menace, grabbing him by the
back of the mask and HURLING him through the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  HE CLEARS OUT THE MENACE!!  THE ASSASSIN CLEARS OUT THE MENACE!

BW:  But why?

GM:  I'm not- wait a second!

[The crowd ERUPTS as the West Memphis Assassin jumps on top of the
still-downed Shane Taylor, battering him with right hands on the
canvas.]

GM:  He's all over Taylor!  He's going for the bounty!

BW:  He sure is!

[The Assassin delivers right hand after right hand after right hand to
the skull of Shane Taylor before hauling him off the mat.  He throws him
down into a seated position in the corner.]

GM:  What's he gonna do here?

[Grabbing the top rope, the Assassin throws a big knee into the face of
Shane Taylor.  A second knee connects... then a third... then a
fourth... then a fifth before he peels away, rushing to the other side
of the ring, sprinting across the ring at top speed...

...and DRIVING his knee into the face of the seated Taylor!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  Wait a second...

GM:  He may have CAVED in Taylor's face with that!

BW:  That looked kinda like-

GM:  He hauls him off the mat...

[Kandi Kane leaps up on the apron, screaming and shouting at the West
Memphis Assassin...]

GM:  Get her down from there!

[The masked man turns to face the approaching woman...

...which gives the Masked Menace a chance to reach under the bottom
rope, grabbing the Assassin's ankle and taking him off his feet, hauling
him out to the floor!]

GM:  We've got a fight!  We've got two masked men fighting out on the
floor!

[The camera cuts to the floor where the Menace and the Assassin are
hammering each other...

...while Kandi Kane drags Shane Taylor under the ropes to the floor,
escaping up the aisle to the jeers of the crowd as the two men hammer
one another outside the ring!]

GM:  We've got a fight!  We've got a brawl!  Fans, we've gotta take a
break!

[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 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 live action where Mark Stegglet is standing
with a man who will be in the ring later this evening as he "defends"
his AWA Pacific Championship against the West Memphis Assassin.  "The
Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne  stares at the camera, smiling broadly,
clad in a pair of blue jeans and a navy blue plaid chambray shirt with
the sleeves rolled to the elbow.  The PWR Pacific Championship is
polished to a high shine and rests over his right shoulder.  Stegglet
looks at the camera and begins.]

MS: Fans, I'm backstage with the self-proclaimed AWA Pacific Champion,
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne, who is a mere 9 days away from pulling
double duty at Battle On the Bayou as he will face longtime nemesis Tin
Can Rust and also will compete in the WarGames match in the Main Event. 
Calisto, with all this on your mind, will you be able to focus on your
match tonight against the West Memphis Assassin?

CD: Of course I will, Stegglet.  Calisto Dufresne is a fighting
champion.  He has a warrior's heart.  And while he certainly has a lot
on his plate in the next few weeks, his priority is to his wonderful
fans out there who have paid their hard earned - and when I say hard
earned, I mean welfare checks - money to see him compete.  Tonight, I'm
going to have to face the second hottest wrestler on the planet - the
first being yours truly, of course... both figuratively and literally.

[Dufresne looks himself up and down, admiring the view.]

CD: But tonight, the West Memphis Assassin's 15 minutes are up.  He may
have scored a few shocking victories over lesser opponents like Kevin
Slater and Shane Taylor, but tonight he faces the very best this
industry has to offer.  And that's not something that some nobody from
Memphis can really compete with.  I mean, have you ever been to West
Memphis, Dane?

[A scoff from the Ladykiller.]

CD: It's almost as bad as Mobile, Alabama!

[The boos can be heard from inside the Mitchell Center.]

MS: And what about your heinous attack on Todd Michaelson this week? 
The brutal assault has left him unable to compete in WarGames.

[Dufresne nods solemnly.]

CD: It's truly very sad.  Todd Michaelson was the man who trained me to
get in this business and I was undoubtedly looking forward to being able
to lock horns with my mentor inside the squared circle like two
gladiators in the Colosseum.  It's a tragedy what happened; what with
Michaelson being brutalized by those unknown assailants, but what can we
do as competitors?  We'll go in there and do our very best to make Todd
proud, that's for sure.

[Stegglet shakes his head at Dufresne but continues.]

MS: And Tin Can Rust?  He has agreed to put his career on the line a
mere 9 days from now to get revenge for what you did to his best friend,
City Jack.

[Storm clouds begin to form on Dufresne's brow as Rust is brought up.]

CD: Battle On the Bayou will be an opportunity for Calisto Dufresne to
start a new chapter in his great wrestling career.  In one night the
Southern Syndicate will finally rid itself of all of its enemies in one
fell swoop _and_ I will finally be rid of those two overweight rednecks
City Jack and Tin Can Rust once and for all.  I'm tired of my career
being dragged down by those two hacks and since I already retired one of
them, I'll be more than happy to finish the job in my adopted hometown
of New Orleans.

MS: There are some rumors that Tin Can Rust will exact his revenge on
you twice and take Todd Michaelson's spot in WarGames.  Do you think we
should lend any credence to these rumors?

[Dufresne laughs.]

CD: Considering his career will be over about an hour before that match
starts, I should think not.

[Stegglet turns back to the camera as Dufresne smiles broadly for all of
his beloved fans at home.]

MS: Calisto Dufresne, confident as ever here tonight in Mobile!  Gordon,
back to you!

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

GM: Thanks for that, Mark.  And up next we've got a big return, Bucky.
And when I say big, I mean BIG.  Former National Champion big.

BW: Ugh. That can only mean one thing. Houston. Can we get the Southern
Syndicate out here to slam "The Madman's" arm in a car door?

GM: Classy, Bucky.

BW: Hey those fine gentlemen taught me a _lot_ in that little parking
lot video. 

GM: A video that Ron Houston was none too happy to see earlier tonight
when he came out here with his WarGames teammates. 

BW: Wah wah.. cry me a river. 

[The camera focuses on the ring where standing in it is none other than
The Executioner. He's wearing a black mask, black tights, and have on a
pair of black boots. He loosesn his arms as he stares down towards the
entrance way.]

GM: While on paper this might not be interesting, Bucky.. I can assure
you it most certainly is. 

BW: Why's that? 

GM: A bit of trivia, Buck. Who was Ron Houston's opponent on the very
first Saturday Night Wrestling?

[Bucky taps his jaw.. pondering for a moment.]

BW: Beats me. I've been trying to block that guy out of my head for
years. 

GM: Well.. the answer is _that_ man standing in the ring. The
Executioner. 

BW: Ha! I still think it'd be tough to get a flight with that name. 

[The opening chords of "Farewell Ride" by Beck twang their way over the
PA as the Madmen in attendance turn towards the entrance. They
immediately catch sight of the big man from Athens himself. 

Ron Houston.

Former National Champ. 

Houston tosses his traditional "Confederate Flag" trenchcoast to the
ground and tosses his cowboy had to the side as well. His eyes are
focused on the ring, oblvious to all else on this night. The events of
the past week obviously wearing on what should be his triumphant return
to active duty. 

Houston slowly pulls himself up the steps and climbs into the ring. A
little bit thicker from the time away from action. He's adorn in a pair
of black wrestling trunks, black boots and black knee pads. The Athens
Georgia Madman paces back and forth waiting for the bell.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled fo-

[Houston is immediately in front of Melissa Cannon.]

RH: Just ring the damn bell. 

[A weary Melissa backs out and exits the ring as Houston watches on. A
scowl burrowed down deep.]

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

GM: Ron Houston is _heated_ tonight, Bucky.

BW: Man knows he's walking, putting a blindfold on, lighting a
cigarette, and letting the firing squad end his career in just nine
days' time. Of course he's salty. 

GM: In a rematch that's been over _two_ years in the making. We'll have
The Executioner vs. Ron Houston. All I can say is that I hope that The
Executioner learned a thing or two from their last encounter. 

[The two men circle each other and lock up in the center of the ring.
Houston uses his power to manuever into a side headlock.]

BW: Nice headlock, Ron. Glad you came back to woo the fans with your
death defying act.

GM: The Executioner leans Houston against the ropes and shoves.. Houston
goes flying across the ring and bounces off the ropes.. OOHHHHH! Big
charging shoulderblock by Houston!

[The Executioner rolls out of the ring grabbing at his left arm. But he
doesn't get very far.]

BW: Look out, Ex! 

GM: I've been saying that to the women of your life for years!

BW: Ha! Flippin'. Ha!

GM: Houston reaches through the ropes and grabs the Executioner by the
mask and pulls hims back up onto the apron. Houston hooks the head. Big
suplex back into the ring. 

[POP!]

BW: Gah, it's been a year since I've had to hear those hideous cheers.
Madmen.. gimme a break. 

GM: Houston scoops The Executioner up and slams him down hard with a
body slam. Houston hits the ropes and..

BW: Hahaha! Got Exe! Executioner moved and Houston landed right on that
same arm that The Syndicate crushed almost a year ago! Maybe the
Executioner'll do their job for them!

[Houston rolls on the mat grabbing his arm in pain as The Executioner
rises and lays a series of boots into the chest and back of the former
National Champion.]

GM: The Executioner is really laying into Ron Houston here.. and.. and..
he's calling for it!

[Shocked pop!]

BW: Calling for what?! I don't think this guy's ever won before!

GM: He's calling for his vaunted claw!

BW: I heard that if anybody ever actually was put in it, that it would
be game over. Unfortunately nobody's ever seen it!

GM: Plenty have seen it and it looks like The Athens Georgia Madman
might be seeing it real soon!

[The Executioner holds the claw out away from his body as Houston
staggers to his feet and turns.]

BW: THE CLAW! HE'S GOT IT CINCHED IN THERE, GORDO!

GM: Ron Houston's return was supposed to be a night of celebration, but
it is turning into a nightmare for the former champ!

[Houston grimaces in pain as The Executioner tightens the vice grip on
the big Georgian's head. Houston's eyes open wide.. he sees his
opportunity. He cranks his right fist back.]

BW: You don't think...

[HUGE POP!]

GM: HOUSTON CAUGHT HIM WITH THE PULSEKILLER!

BW: I guess that's one way to get out of the clawhold. 

[The Executioner's knee's buckle and he falls to his knees. Houston
takes a full head of steam and hits the ropes.. diving downward on his
return.]

GM: SWEET ALMIGHTY! HOUSTON WITH THE LARIAT ON A KNEELING EXECUTIONER!

BW: He clunked that down across the side of his skull, Gordo.

[Houston rises, fumes practically billowing out from his quite reddened
face. He immediately grabs The Executioner's lifeless body off the mat
and hoists him up into a fireman's carry. Effortlessly, he slings him
out.. right towards his fate.. his end.]

GM: FADE TO BLACK!

[HUGE FINISHER POP!]

BW: Deja vu, Gorster. 

GM: Houston with the quick cover. One! Two! Three! That's it this one is
over, Bucky!

"Ding! Ding! Ding!"

[Houston rolls off as Melissa carefully reenters the ring. Houston wants
no part, his focuse solely on the match ahead. The night ahead. He wears
the Syndicate's comeuppance like a weight on his shoulders. He drops
down and rolls out of the ring, beginning to walk towards the back.]

MC: The winner of this match.. ROOONNNNN HOOOUUUSTTTTOONN!!

[Huge pop!]

GM: I'm getting to the bottom of this, Bucky. I'll be right back.

[There is a moment of commotion as Gordon Myers unclasps his mic and
follows down the aisle after The East Coast Terror. He catches up to him
and cuts him off.]

GM: Ron! Woah woah woah, hold on there a second. 

[Houston freezes in his place. Staring down at his old friend.]

GM: You shocked the world two weeks ago. You announce not just your
return to AWA but also your spot as the fifth man in War Games. You're
siding with two men who, for the lack of a better term, are your
_enemies_. One of your teammates has already been assaulted by the
Syndicate.. and not just a beating.. they took him _out_ for War Games. 
Nobody knows who you're fifth man is going to be.   And you come out
here and don't say a single world earlier. 

[Gordon shoves an index finger in the big man from Athens' chest.]

GM:  You don't say a single word now.  Come on, Ron.  After all that's
happened.. what's going through your mind?

[Houston.. for the first time tonight.. loosens the stealy stare. His
body language softens. And he simply looks at Gordon.]

RH: Gordon.. yer mah friend. So ah'm gonna handle this as best as ah
can. 

[Houston looks around at the fans.]

RH:  Ah'm sorry. Sorry ta the lot of ya.  But.. 

After all these months. After all this time. After all those men have
done to me, and Todd, and Juan, and Marcus, and Kolya, and anybody else
ya wanna mention. After all of that.. after all their sins..

[Houston puts his hands on his hips.]

RH:  Ah'm done talkin'.  Next time ya'll hear this sweet southern
drawl.. it's gonna be when ah'm standing over one of 'em slimeballs and
sticking mah boot on his throat. 

They say WarGames is nine days away but..

[Houston cracks a slight grin.]

RH:  .. why do ah feel like ah'm already in one. 

GM: Two questions, Ron.. then I'll be out of your hair. First, what's it
like to be teaming with two men who have always and forever been known
as your enemies? And on that.. who will you guys be choosing for your
replacement for Michaelson.

[Houston's eyes narrow again.]

RH: Ah _forgave_ 'em, Gordon. Ah forgave 'em because ah don't got it in
me none ta spend the rest of mah life lickin' mah old wounds.  What's
done.. is done.  The past is the past. 

And at War Games?  That past includes the Syndicate. 

[Houston pats Gordon on the shoulder.. less as a friend and more to move
him out of the way.]

RH:  Now if ya'll excuse me. Ah got somewhere ta be. 

[Houston walks off leaving Gordon with more questions than answers.]

GM:  And we STILL don't know who will be the fifth man at Battle On The
Bayou!  It quite literally could be ANYONE.  

BW:  Maybe it's you.

GM:  No, it's certainly not.  But you...?

BW:  Nope.

GM:  Well, that's two people out of the way.  But the question remains,
who WILL stand in for Todd Michaelson in WarGames in just nine days? 
Hopefully we will find out before the night is over.  Now, fans, I've
just gotten word that we've been able to obtain an exclusive interview
backstage with The West Memphis Assassin!

BW: That's huge, Gordo. The Assassin's been undefeated ever since he
stepped into the AWA, Gordo...and he hasn't said a dang word to anybody!

GM: Indeed. Our fans have made it known they want to know more about
this mysterious competitor, especially after his shocking upset over
Kevin Slater two weeks ago. Lets go backstage, where Jason Dane is
standing by with The West Memphis Assassin!

[We fade into a shot of Jason Dane in the backstage interview area, with
an AWA logo backdrop. Standing beside him is the West Memphis Assassin,
dressed in a black business suit and wearing his now familiar black mask
with a red faceplate.]

JD: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm joined at this time by a man who's made
quite an impact in the AWA since his debut back on July 4th...The West
Memphis Assassin.

[Dane turns to the masked man.]

JD: You've turned quite a few heads with your recent winning streak, but
tonight you face your toughest challenge yet in the form of Calisto
Dufrense. Your thoughts?

WMA: Calisto Dufrense is irrelevent.

[The Assassin's response draws a look of surprise from Jason Dane.]

JD: Are we talking about the same Calisto Dufrense, here? He's proven
time and time again to be one of the most dangerous competitors in the
AWA. He's blinded City Jack, defeated Soup Bone Samson, is a member of
the Southern Syndicate and has been part of one of the best tag teams in
the world. You have to at least be aware of the type of danger he poses
to you.

[The Assassin stares long and hard at Dane, before answering in a cold,
emotionless tone.]

WMA: His past accomplishments have nothing to do with me.

[He shakes his head.]

WMA: His dead title is _meaningless_ to me.

[He waves his hand dismissively.]

WMA: Calisto Dufrense is simply another opponent. Another stepping
stone. Another obstacle standing in the way of my goal.

JD: Your... "goal"?

WMA: I only have interest in one thing and one thing _only_, Jason Dane.

[He looks up, staring into the camera with cold, dead eyes.]

WMA: The National title.

[With that, the West Memphis Assassin turns and walks away, leaving
behind a somewhat shocked Jason Dane as we fade back to ringside.]

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

[Ennio Morricone's theme to A Fistful Of Dollars starts up to cheers
from the crowd.]

MC:  From West Memphis, Tennessee... he is...

THE WEST MEMPHIS ASSASSIN!

[The masked man walks through the curtain to a few more cheers, raising
a covered arm to salute the crowd before walking steadily down the aisle
towards the ring.  He doesn't shake hands with the fans - doesn't even
acknlowedge them really after the raise of the arm - as he approaches
the ringside area.  The Assassin rolls under the ropes, popping up to a
knee and staring out over the crowd as the music starts to fade.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top kicks in to a big explosion of jeers.]

MC:  From Avery Island, Louisiana... representing the Southern
Syndicate... he is the Ladykiller...

CALISTOOOOO DUUUUFRESNE!

[The camera cuts to the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal
one of the AWA's most despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller"
Calisto Dufresne.  Dufresne is clad in a black three-piece suit, his
flowing blonde hair cascading down past his shoulders.  He stands at the
head of the  entryway for many moments, soaking in all of the boos. 
With a smirk, he slaps the golden PWR Pacific Championship belt slung
over his shoulder and starts walking down the aisle.]

GM:  One of the most dastardly men I've ever encountered in all my years
in this business, Bucky.

BW:  He doesn't play nice and he's proud of it.

[Upon reaching the ring, Dufresne removes the three piece suit, handing
it off to a ringside attendant.  He does the same thing with the Pacific
Title belt before walking over to Melissa, stopping her before she exits
the ring.  He says a few words to her off-mic.]

GM:  Oh, come on.  Leave her alone!

BW:  He just wants to make sure that the fans are properly informed,
Gordo.

[Dufresne points to the mic, then to the title belt.  Melissa mounts a
defense and then shrugs, raising the mic.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Dufresne has requested that I remind all
of the fans here tonight that this match is a Pacific Title match!

[Dufresne nods confidently.]

MC:  And the AWA has requested that I remind all of the fans here
tonight that the Pacific Title is NOT officially recognized by the-

[Dufresne jerks the mic away from Melissa, throwing it from the ring and
jabbing a threatening finger in her face...

...until the West Memphis Assassin blitzes him from behind, drilling him
with a forearm smash to the back of the head that sends Dufresne
stumbling into the corner as Melissa makes her escape and referee
Michael Meekly calls for the bell to start the match.]

GM:  Here we go!  Fans, don't forget - the West Memphis Assassin is
ranked number ten in the Top Ten Contenders list while Dufresne checks
in at number four so this match certainly could have Top Ten
implications.

[With Dufresne backed into the corner, the Assassin winds up...]

"WHAAAAAP!"

GM:  Whoa!  Big chop across the chest from the Assassin!

[Grabbing the wrist of Dufresne, the Assassin sends him sailing across
the ring at top speed, smashing into the far corner...]

GM:  Dufresne out of the corner...

[Hopping up to the middle rope, the Assassin stands tall for a moment
before leaping off his perch, grabbing the back of Dufresne's head, and
SMASHING it into the mat with a bulldog!]

GM:  BULLDOG!  BULLDOG OFF THE MIDDLE ROPE!

[The Assassin quickly flips Dufresne onto his back, reaching back to
hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[But the Ladykiller just barely throws his shoulder up off the mat.]

GM:  He almost got him!  What an upset that would have been!

BW:  A king-sized upset.  The kind of upset that MAKES a career, Gordo! 
The Aasassin was a half count away from being a National Title top
contender in the eyes of the world!

[The Assassin wastes no time to stay on the attack, pursuing Dufresne
who rolls under the ropes to the apron.]

GM:  The masked man reaches over the ropes, hauling Dufresne up...

[But the Ladykiller seizes a moment to throw himself forward, smashing
his shoulder into the gut of the Assassin.]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught him!

[Dufresne grabs the masked man by the head, pulling his upper body
between the top and middle ropes...

...and BLASTS the masked man with a kneelift to the jaw that snaps his
head back.  The Ladykiller grabs the masked man by the head, throwing
him the rest of the way through the ropes and out to the floor.]

GM:  Dufresne caught him with the knee and then tossed him out to the
floor!  Nicely done there by the Ladykiller!

[Still standing on the apron, Dufresne does the "belt gesture" and
shouts out "THAT'S WHY I'M THE CHAMP!" before dropping off the apron to
continue the attack.]

GM:  Dufresne's out on the floor now... hauling the masked man up by the
head...

[And SLAMS his masked face into the ring apron before shoving him under
the ropes into the ring.  Dufresne rolls back in as well, applying a
lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  But the Assassin's out at two and- wait a second!

[The crowd buzzes with a mixed reaction as Joe Petrow, Executive
Consultant, walks through the curtain holding his trademark cellphone
and wearing a pair of sunglasses.]

GM:  What in the world is HE doing out here?

BW:  Do you have to ask?  Obviously, someone has wisely secured his
services.  The question now is - who?

GM:  Joe Petrow is walking down the aisle - the fans don't know what to
make of him.  Heck, neither do I, Bucky.  

BW:  I'm not sure anyone does.  We know what he's saying but we also
know that Joe Petrow is rarely what he seems to be.

GM:  That's putting it lightly.

[Dufresne hauls the Assassin off the mat, pasting him with a right hand
and knocking him back into the ropes.]

GM:  Back into the ropes... irish whi- reversed!

[And as Dufresne gets an arm's length away, the Assassin pulls him right
back in...

...and right INTO a Yakuza kick under the chin!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Short-armed Yakuza kick!  I've never seen that befor... wait, yes I
have actually.  Once.  

GM:  What a shot!

[The Assassin dives atop Dufresne again, ordering a count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd jeers as Dufresne fires a shoulder up...

...and the Assassin rolls into a mount, battering Dufresne over and over
with right hands to the jaw.]

GM:  Man, he's really pasting him with those punches, Bucky.

BW:  He sure is... is it just me or does the Assassin seem to REALLY not
like Dufresne?

GM:  He does seem to be putting a little something extra on those right
hands.

[The Assassin pops up to his feet, dragging Dufresne up by the arm,
whipping him into the nearest corner.  The masked man rushes forward,
throwing an elbow back into the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  Shot to the jaw!

[And as Dufresne staggers out, the Assassin reaches back to hook a
three-quarter nelson...]

GM:  Wait a second!

BW:  Is he going for...?

[The Assassin leaps up, looking to drive Dufresne's skull into the
canvas with an Ace Crusher...

...but Dufresne is ready for him, using the leap to power the Assassin
up, and DROP him down on the back of his head on the mat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Belly to back on the money!

[Dufresne staggers back to the corner, leaning against the buckles.  He
looks confused at the downed Assassin...

...and then mimes taking the mask off.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  Yeah!  Take it off him!

GM:  Dufresne's going to take the mask off of the West Memphis Assassin!

[The Ladykiller approaches the downed Assassin, pulling him up into a
seated position on the mat...

...and then digs the fingers on both hands under the mask!]

GM:  He's trying to get the mask off!  He's going to unmask him!

[But the Assassin, feeling the mask start to lift, starts to flail back
and forth, trying to free himself from Dufresne's grasp.]

GM:  The Assassin's fighting it!  Trying to break free!

[Dufresne leans over, trying to get a better grip...

...and the Assassin lashes out with a kick to the head!]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught him!

[The Assassin promptly rolls away, pulling his mask back into position
as he stares across the ring at the Ladykiller who is stumbled...

...and then charges towards him, leaping up to drive both knees squarely
into the chest!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught him in the chest!

[With the Ladykiller stumbled, the Assassin hooks him around the head
and legs...

...and HURLS him up and over with an Exploder Suplex!]

GM:  WHOOOOA!!

BW:  What a suple- wait a second!

[The Assassin quickly grabs a leg on the Ladykiller, trying to tie it
up.]

GM:  He's going for an STF!

BW:  This all looks very familiar to me.

[But Dufresne rolls to his back, lashing out with an upkick to the jaw
that sends the Assassin falling back into the corner.  Dufresne quickly
recovers, rushing forward with a big boot to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHHH!  He caught all of that!

[With the Assassin dazed, Dufresne yanks him into a standing front
facelock.]

GM:  He's got him hooked!  He's got him set!

[Dufresne shouts out...]

"WHAM!  BAM!"

[But before he can finish it, he gets hoisted up over the shoulder of
the Assassin who reaches back, hooking Dufresne's head with his free
hand.]

GM:  He blocked the DDT!  He countered the DDT and-

BW:  Damn it, Gordon!  I know that move!

[With Dufresne dangling over his shoulder, the Assassin charges across
the ring, leaping up into the air...

...and SMASHING the back of the Ladykiller's head into the mat!]

GM:  HE GOT IT!!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

BW:  Call the move, Gordo!  Call it!

GM:  Well, it looked iike...

BW:  Don't give me that!  You know exactly what it was!

[The Assassin throws himself over the downed Dufresne, reaching back to
hook a leg...]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THRE-

[The crowd gasps in shock as the Masked Menace YANKS the official out of
the ring!]

GM:  The Masked Menace!  He pulled out the ref!

BW:  Payback is hell, Gordo!

GM:  The Menace pulled the ref out of the ring and that may have just
cost the West Memphis Assassin the match!

[The Assassin pushes up off the downed Dufresne, walking over to the
ropes and pointing over them at the Menace who is now standing outside
the ring, glaring back at him...

...and failing to notice Tin Can Rust leaping over the ringside
barricade in street clothes, diving under the bottom rope, and leaping
up on the downed Dufresne!]

GM:  TIN CAN RUST!  TIN CAN RUST!

[The crowd roars as Rust delivers right hand after right hand after
right hand to the jaw as Dufresne throws his limp arms up, trying to
cover up from the assault...

...as a stunned referee looks up and calls for the bell.]

GM:  What?

[The referee huddles up quickly with Melissa as Dufresne rolls out to
the floor, trying to avoid Tin Can Rust who comes out after him.  The
Ladykiller is stumbling back up the aisle as Rust pursues him.]

GM:  Dufresne's trying to get out of here!  Rust is right on his tail!

BW:  What's the decision?

GM:  I think we're about to find out.

[Melissa raises the mic.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... referee Michael Meekly has ruled that
Calisto Dufresne has been DISQUALIFIED due to outside interference from
the Masked Menace.  Therefore, your winner as a result of a
disqualification...

THE WEST MEMPHIS ASSASSIN!

[The Assassin raises a triumphant hand, still glaring at the Masked
Menace who has opted to back down the aisle rather than fight the man
head on.  An angry Tin Can Rust passes the Menace on his way back
towards the ring where Gordon Myers grabs him.]

GM:  Tin Can Rust, tonight you might have gotten one over on Calisto
Dufresne, but have you given thought that in two weeks, you may have
wrestled your last match in an AWA ring?

[Rust, agitated, shakes his head.]

TCR: Honestly, Myers? The only thing I'm thinking going into Battle at
the Bayou is how I'm to do my friend, City Jack, proud! That's all
that's on my mind now!

[The crowd cheers for the fired up Rust.]

GM: Calisto Dufresne has sent away many competitors over the past year,
including City Jack. Can you be sure you can be the one to exact
revenge?

TCR: You didn't see him running away just at the sight of me? The boy's
a born coward, Myers! 

[Rust pauses.]

TCR: He knows I've put all my cards down on the table. He knows he's not
in for any "warm up" before his WarGames match, cause for me? My match
with that scared mutt IS the war!

[The crowd cheers again for Rust's inspired words.]

TCR: Dufresne, you made me put my career on the line, but I'll be damned
before I let you get away without denting in your face! By the end of
the night it'll be YOU - not me - who'll be considering a permanent
career change!

[Rust stops and turns to the cheering crowd, walking away from the
broadcast area and to the back, still fired up 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 fades back up to backstage where Mark Stegglet is standing
with "Executive Consultant" Joe Petrow. Petrow's string of shows in a
good mood is broken at one, as his agitated form pacing back and forth
in front of Stegglet and the podium causes him no small manner of
distraction.]

MS: Alright Joe Petrow, we just saw you out for another match, what were
you doing, or rather what were you _not_ doing out there tonight?

[Petrow stops to the left of Stegglet and spins around to face him.]

JP: What I was NOT doing was advising a client, because I didn't have
one.  What I WAS doing was sending a message to Calisto Dufresne, and
anybody else who thinks that they can intimidate me from doing my job
for my clients.  Dufresne, you disappoint me!  You better than anyone
else should know the value of my consultation!  But there I stood,
working for nobody, watching you fail to get a win over a _virtual_
nobody, going into one of the biggest nights of your career.  

Why do I suffer you fools!?  Why do I have to stand back and watch as
Jack Snyder is cheated out of the biggest match of his career, or watch
as Aaron Anderson gets himself a title match and then allows himself to
become a permanent cripple!?  Why hasn't Ben Waterson called me yet to
secure things for the biggest night in Southern Syndicate history? I've
proven myself time and time again, yet you all still allow yourselves to
be made fools of by your foolish decision to not call for my help when
you need it!

[Petrow whips off his sunglasses and places them on the podium, and
starts to let his adrenalin rush carry him away.]

JP: Well next week at Battle on the Bayou, I'm gonna prove myself one
more time, and I'm gonna prove it in a big way!  Tag team titles on the
line, NO disqualifications, a match of MY making!  It might be called a
no disqualification match, but what this match really is, is a no
EXCUSES match!  

[Petrow reaches down to unbutton his suit] 

JP:  There'll be NO more crying by Rough 'n Ready that they never get a
fair shot!  

[Petrow reaches back to remove his suit coat] 

JP:  There'll be NO more crying by the Bishop Boys that they never have
the chance to finish the job!  There'll be NO...

[Petrow slams his suit down on the podium] 

JP:  ...more excuses!  Because on Labor Day, anything goes!  Anything's
legal!  And that means my client's have the advantage, because NOBODY
knows more about chaos than me!

MS: For the last time Joe, who ARE your clients?

JP: You wanna know who my clients are!  Fine, I'll tell ya!  My clients
are gonna walk down that aisle in New Orleans on September 6th with a
look of supreme confidence on their faces, like the class egghead
walking into his final KNOWING that he has his material down cold! 
People say that there is no "E" in "AWA", but on that night my clients
are going to find it!  And on that night, a night of NO excuses, my
clients are gonna be walking out of those rings with the AWA National
Tag Team Championship belts, the proof that they are the greatest tag
team around!

[Petrow reaches down to put his sunglasses back on, and calms himself
down for the finish.]

JP: And for the rest of the AWA...there will no more excuses for your
failures...ever...AGAIN!

[Petrow jerks his coat off the podium and stalks away.]

MS: There you have it fans, Joe Petrow making a statement by doing
nothing at all, and vowing to be the force that guides his clients to
the tag team championship...whomever they might be!  Back to- hold on...

[Suddenly, a deep, voice booms from off-camera.]

"OH MAN, IT WAS HORRIBLE!"

[And then, Jackson Haynes and Danny Morton step into the shot. The duo
are in their street clothes, but as always, looking ready for a
fight...or like they've just been in one. Haynes whips off his black
stetson and waves himself off with it, speaking frantically.]

JH: It was terrible, Mark Stegglet! Blood everywhere! Bodies lyin' all
over the place! 

MS: Violence Unlimited! You two aren't supposed to be here...w-what are
you guys talking about!?

[Morton grabs Stegglet by the shirt, pointing to the doors.]

DM: Right outside, Stegglet! Take a look!

[Stegglet stares at the duo for a second, before taking a quick peek
behind the door and quickly recoiling in shock. We never see what
Stegglet saw, but the flashing red and blue lights that appeared once
Stegglet opened that door indicate that it wasn't pretty.]

MS: Holy cow...what happened out there?!?

[Just then, a sly grin appears on the weather-beaten face of Jackson
Haynes.]

JH: A horrible accident, Mark Stegglet. A horrible, horrific, terrible
accident.

DM: It just wasn't their night. It just wasn't their night... 

[The Professor shakes his head sadly. Whether it's genuine or mock
concern, we're not entirely certain. Meanwhile, Mark Stegglet seems to
begin to understand what exactly happened... and he goes pale.]

JH: But the real tragedy here is that we heard those two poor souls out
there were supposed to be the Samoans' opponents for tonight. But now,
they're in no condition to fight, Stegglet! 

DM: A real tearjerker, Stegglet. Cut down in the prime of their lives!

[Haynes nods his head sadly in agreement.]

JH: It left Mr. Watkins in a real bind. I mean, here he is, advertisin'
the Samoans in action and suddenly he doesn't even have any opponents
for the dumb bastards!

DM: So guess who volunteered?

[There's a blood-thirsty glint in Danny Morton's eye when he asks that
question, making Mark almost afraid to even answer that.]

MS: Y-you? 

DM: That's right, little buddy! 

[Morton playfully punches Stegglet in the shoulder...a glancing blow
that damn near knocks him off his feet. The two walk off cackling, as
Stegglet turns to the camera with a shocked look on his face.]

MS: The Samoan Hit Squad takes on Violence Unlimited...tonight!  I-I
can't even begin to think how wild that one's going to be but we're
about to find out.  Let's go down to Melissa for the introductions!

[Crossfade 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... from the Isle of
Samoa... being accompanied to the ring by their manager James J.
Dallas... 

SCOLA!
MAFU!

THE SAMOAN HIT SQUAAAAAAD!

[The sounds of tribal drum beats fills the air as the two massive
Samoans are led through the curtain by their lean and tall manager.  He
chomps on the end of an unlit cigar, looking out over the jeering crowd
as they enter the arena...

...and get swarmed from behind by Violence Unlimited!]

GM:  They're not gonna wait til they get to the ring!

[Jackson Haynes and Danny Morton are relentless in their attack,
knocking both Samoans down to the concrete floor where they begin to lay
in the shoe leather.  Haynes is down on a knee, holding Mafu's wild hair
with his left hand and delivering clubbing blow after blow to the skull.
 Morton pulls Scola off the floor by the arm, dragging him into a
whip...

...that the powerful Scola promptly reverses, sending Morton CRASHING
into the ringside barricade with a clang!]

GM:  Ohh!  Into the steel goes Morton!

[Scola moves in on Morton, his arms slung over the railing, and delivers
kick after kick to the torso.  Nearby, James J. Dallas gets involved in
the fray, pulling Haynes off of Mafu with two hands full of hair...

...and then gets violently shoved down to the floor by Haynes.]

GM:  OH!  DOWN GOES DALLAS!!

[Across the aisle, Scola has both hands wrapped around the throat of
Morton, strangling the air out of him while a wild-eyed Haynes
approaches from behind, clubbing Scola across his broad back with a
double axehandle blow.  He spins the powerful Scola around, throwing a
wild haymaker to the side of the head that knocks Scola back into the
railing...

...and a rushing clothesline takes both Scola and Haynes over the
railing and into the front row of seats!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Clear!  Get 'em out of there!  They're in the cheap seats, daddy!

[Mafu drags himself off the floor during the melee, throwing a side kick
to the ribs of the rising Morton.  Holding Morton by the back of the
head, Mafu drives straightened fingers into the windpipe, knocking
Morton back into the railing again.

Suddenly, a sea of officials and security rush the battling teams,
trying to settle the battle.  Mafu and Morton stand and fight, throwing
blows at one another as the officials try to wedge themselves between
the two battling brawlers.]

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

[In the stands, Jackson Haynes yanks a chair out from under a fan,
taking a wild swing at Scola and coming up empty.  He swings back the
other way but misses again, Scola narrowly avoiding it.  Haynes keeps
pursuing, swinging the steel chair back and forth like a wild man,
trying to catch Scola with it but the big Samoan keeps on backing away,
avoiding the blow...

...until one big swing leaves Haynes off balance, allowing Scola to
throw a big boot to the jaw, knocking him flat!]

GM:  Big boot!  He caught him!

[Scola stands over Haynes, bellowing loudly.  The camera cuts back to
the aisleway where Mafu delivers a headbutt to an AWA official before
turning back to Morton who dispatches two security guards with two
well-placed forearm smashes.  Mafu lunges forward, trying to wrap his
hands around Morton's throat but Morton catches him with an elbow on the
jaw.  Grabbing the wild hair, Morton slams a knee up into his face
before two security guards grab his right arm, pulling him away from the
Samoan.]

GM:  They're trying to get some control - trying to get these four men
under control.

BW:  Good luck.

GM:  Morton's trying to break free of those guards... they've got his
right arm tangled up and-

[That allows Mafu to catch him with a chop to the side of the throat,
knocking him back against the railing.  Mafu wraps both hands around the
neck, choking Morton with a loud yell.  The camera cuts back to Scola
who is battering Haynes on the floor in the middle of the crowd.  AWA
officials have formed a ring, trying to keep the fans back as Scola gets
up, grabbing a chair...

...but a big overhead swing misses badly as Haynes rolls to the side,
smashing it down into the floor, dropping it from the impact!]

GM:  Neither man can connect with that chair and that's a good thing,
Bucky!

BW:  It's a good thing but you almost get the feeling this fight's gonna
continue until one of them is able to do it.

[Haynes battles up off the floor...

...and gets swarmed by security desperate to keep him down.  The big man
is screaming and shouting at Scola, trying to push his way up from under
a half dozen security officers as the Samoan gets held back by the same
numbers.]

GM:  We've... I think we've got things under control... almost anyways. 
Fans, we need... let's take a break.

[With a sea of officials and security guards trying to restore order, 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 backstage where Jason Dane is standing in
front of an AWA backdrop, alongside a person we haven't seen in a
while... the former manager of Rough N Ready, Sarah Sharpe, who is
dressed in a blue blouse and white slacks.]

JD: I'm here with Sarah Sharpe, who just a few months ago stepped down
as the manager of Rough N Ready, but as I undestand it, has found a new
position here in the AWA. Sarah, can you tell us about it?

SS: Jason, I've been hired as a member of talent relations... Jim
Watkins hired me to scout some of the young talent that is out there in
the wrestling world to see who might be a good addition to the AWA. I'm
happy Mr. Watkins gave me the chance to stay involved with wrestling in
another capacity.

JD: Before we talk more about your position, I do have one thing to ask
you... what are your thoughts about what Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew
Somers have been involved with recently?

SS: Jason, with all due respect, I'm not going to talk about that. They
made their decisions and those are decisions they are going to have to
learn to live with.

JD: [nodding] I understand... so tell me, how have things been going
with your new position in talent relations?

SS: Very well so far... in fact, I'm ready to announce the first talent
that I've found who will now be coming to the AWA.

JD: Really? What can you tell us about this new wrestler?

SS: If you recall, Jason, back in late 2008, I arranged a tryout match
for a young man by the name of "Streetwise" Jimmy Barnett. I spotted him
competing in the Southern California Wrestling promotion and thought he
had a great future... but as you'll recall, The Glamour Boyz jumped him
before his tryout match even began.. and after that, he told me while he
appreciated the offer, he felt it was better to stick with the SCW.

JD: So did you bring Barnett back to AWA then?

SS: I did make the offer to him, but he turned it down because he had
already received an offer from Japan.

But that being said, there was another wrestler I was able to contact
through him... and that would be an opponent of his from the matches
that I watched of Barnett.

JD: And I assume you made the offer to that opponent... is that correct?

SS: Yes... and he accepted. I have to say that this talent I found is
just as promising as Barnett was... and on top of that, the years of
experience this talent gained in SCW should help him be prepared for the
deeper talent pool here in the AWA.

JD: So tell us about this newcomer... and who is he?

SS: I've arranged to have a video package to air at Battle on the Bayou
to give more details to the fans, but I can say that this wrestler
brings a great combination of talent and ability, he's very enthusiastic
about wrestling and, most of all, he enjoys performing for the fans and
considers making them happy a top priority.

As for his name, he simply calls himself...

...Supernova.

JD: Interesting... anything else you can clue us into regarding what
Supernova is like?

SS: All I can add is for fans to tune into the first Saturday Night
Wrestling after Battle on the Bayou... that's when Supernova will make
his debut. But anything else, Jason, would probably be giving away too
much.
 
JD: Well... thank you, Sarah, for your time... and there you have it, a
new talent from Southern California Wrestling is set to debut in AWA...
Supernova. Let's head back down to the ring to Melissa!

[Crossfade 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... currently in the ring and hailing from
Sarasota, Florida... Darryl Drover!

[Darryl Drover jaws at the crowd and raises his arm. The middle aged
wrestler wears simple green trunks, white knee pads and white boots.]

MC: And his opponent... hailing from Corpus Christi, Texas.  He stands
six feet, six inches tall and weighs in at two hundred and forty-five
pounds... 

WAAAAAAADE KENNEDY!

["Country Boy" by Alan Jackson begins to blare bringing the crowd to
their feet. Moments later, the curtains part and out walks the youngster
Wade Kennedy wearing blue standard wrestling trunks, blue knee pads and
blue and white 'Cowboy style' wrestling boots.  The young man has blond
locks that are long on the sides and back, but short in front. Wade
walks down the aisle, smiling as he smacks outstretched hands.  Once he
hits ringside, he climbs up the steps, dips through the ropes then pumps
his fist at the crowd before taking off his black leather vest. He gives
his vest to a ringside attendant and then stretches in his corner.]

GM: Wade Kennedy is about to make his in-ring debut and I would be lying
if I didn’t say I was more then a little excited to see what this
youngster has in store for us.

BW: I’m still not impressed about that hug, Gordo. I still can’t get his
stench off my thousand dollar suit, daddy.

[As the bell sounds, Wade Kennedy and Darryl Drover circle each other
then lock up.  Drover drives Kennedy back into the corner as the ref
intervenes, telling them to break.]

GM:  The ref steps in, calling for a break...

[Drover holds up his hands, stepping back for a clean break and promptly
goes for a quick jab that Kennedy ducks with both men reversing
positions.]

GM:  Kennedy ducks the jab in the corner...

[Kennedy snaps his opponent's head back with three left jabs, then a
booming overhand right that makes Drover slump in the corner.]

GM: Drover going for the cheap shot but Wade saw it coming and dropped
him with his own big right hand!

BW: Why is it okay when a guy you like cheats but when somebody like
Darry Drover does it, it's a crime, Gordo?

GM: I’m all about fair play, Bucky.  Drover went for a cheap shot and he
paid the price.

BW: Good, I don’t want to hear you crying later on tonight if one of
your boys "pays the price."

[Kennedy tries to step back in on the downed Drover but the referee
moves between the two, shaking his head as he moves Kennedy back to the
middle of the ring where the Texan motions for Drover to "come on."]

GM:  Kennedy, this fired-up youngster, just really wants to take it to
Darryl Drover here tonight, Bucky.

BW:  He'd better keep that youthful enthusiasm in check before he makes
a mistake.

[Drover slowly gets up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand
before charging towards Kennedy who sidesteps and takes him down with a
big hiptoss before dropping right down to cinch in an armbar.]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice hiptoss and he quickly moves into the armbar.  This kid
is showing some nice fundamentals here tonight in Mobile.

BW:  He hasn't shown me nothin' yet, Gordo.

[Trying to increase the pressure, Kennedy puts a knee into Drover's
shoulder blade.  Fighting the hold, Drover battles up to his feet where
Kennedy grabs the wrist and twists the arm.  Drover bounces up to his
tiptoes, hopping back and forth from foot to foot in pain.  He cranks
back his right hand to battle out...

...but Kennedy turns up the pressure, forcing a loud yelp from Drover
before he armdrags the Sarasota native down to the mat, applying the
armbar again.]

GM:  Kennedy staying on the arm - like I said, a good fundamental base
for this rookie.

[Drover slaps the mat in pain as Kennedy drives his knee into the
shoulder blade again, turning up the pressure.]

GM: Wade Kennedy frustrating Drover here by picking a body part and
working it over.

BW:  Alright, Gordo, I’ll give credit where credit is due. The kid is
wrestling smart. Making Drover wrestle the type of match that Kennedy
wants to wrestle.  And working over a body part is never a bad idea,
daddy.

GM:  Can I assume you’re warming up to Wade Kennedy?

BW:  Don’t assume nothin', Gordo. I’m just trying to give my
professional opinion here.

[Drover again battles up to his feet while trapped in the armbar, trying
to find a way out...

...and as soon as the ref gets out of position, Drover finds a way out
by yanking Kennedy's long blonde locks, taking him down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on, ref!

BW:  Just a few minutes ago it was okay for Wade Kennedy to illegally
punch Drover between the eyes, and now you’re going to whine about a
little hair pull?

GM: He was defending himself!

BW: So was Drover!

GM: Give me a break!

[With a loud bark, Drover leaps high into the air, attempting a
legdrop...

...but Kennedy rolls aside, causing to Drover to crash down on his
tailbone to cheers from the crowd.  He scampers back up, clutching his
rear, and turns right into a dropkick by the waiting Kennedy who catches
him right under the chin.]

GM:  Perfect execution on the dropkick!

[Kennedy scrambles up as well, twirling a finger in the air as Drover
recovers.  The Texan promptly pulls Drover into a standing front
facelock, snapping him over in a suplex, floating over into a lateral
press.]

GM:  Beautiful suplex and he floats right into a cover!

[The referee's count hits two before Drover kicks out.  Kennedy shakes
off the near fall, climbing to his feet where he hauls Drover off the
canvas.  Holding Drover by the back of the head, Kennedy smashes him
between the eyes with a right hand before scooping him into the air and
slamming him down to the mat.]

GM:  He only got a two count off the suplex but that doesn't seem to
bother him.  Wade Kennedy is showing remarkable poise for a young man
here tonight.  Off the ropes he comes...

[A picture perfect kneedrop connects with the forehead of Drover before
Kennedy clamps on a chinlock.]

GM:  Kennedy showing some fine technical skills, keeping Drover where he
wants him as he works on the neck and arm.

BW:  Technical like the illegal punches to the face?

GM:  Oh, come on, Bucky.  You know that's not what I meant.

BW:  This guy is a cheater and you and the ref are the only ones who
can't see it!

[Drover again fights to his feet before Kennedy applies a side headlock.
 Drover throws a pair of blows to the ribs to loosen the hold before
throwing Kennedy off to the ropes.]

GM:  Kennedy off the far side... ducks a clothesline by Drover...

[Kennedy pulls up short, slamming on the brakes to deliver a boot to the
midsection of a surprised Drover.  With Drover doubled-up, Kennedy hooks
him around the waist, powering him up and down to the mat in a suplex.]

GM:  Whoo!  Nice execution on that one as well!

[Kennedy pops back up, measures his man, and drops a big leaping
elbowdrop across the chest before throwing himself into a lateral
press.]

GM:  Another cover for one... for two... but Drover's up at two again. 
I'm impressed by what we're seeing from this youngster though.

BW:  Let's see what he can do against REAL competition before we start
getting the parade ready for him, daddy.

[Kennedy stays on the mat on his knees for a moment, hands on hips with
a look of surprise on his face before climbing up, hauling Drover up by
the hair.  He pulls him into another front facelock before snapping him
down to the canvas with a swinging neckbreaker.  Drover kicks at the
air, clutching the back of his neck as Kennedy gets up, motioning to the
crowd with a whirl of his fist.]

GM:  What are we gonna see here?

BW:  Your guess is as good as mine, Gordo.

[Wade waits patiently for Drover to get to his feet.  He grabs him by
the arm and whips him into the ropes then simultaneously bounces off the
opposite ones and…]

GM: MY STARS! WHAT A LARIAT!

[The impact of which flips Drover head over heels before Kennedy crawls
over, applying a lateral press, and hooking a leg as the referee drops
down to the mat.]

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

[The referee promptly raises Kennedy's hand who smiles, nodding at the
cheering crowd.  He quickly exits the ring, heading over to the announce
position where Gordon and Bucky are ready to greet him.]

GM: Wade Kennedy, congratulations on your win tonight!

[Wade smiles and gently smacks a hand on Gordon’s shoulder.]

WK: Thanks a lot Gordon. I would be lying if I didn’t say I had
butterflies fluttering in my stomach all day. But once I got in that
ring [smiles and nods his head] and Darryl Drover was one tough hombre,
but once I got in there Gordon, I just let my skills take over and
prayed I wouldn’t look the fool here in Mobile, Alabama!

[The crowd give a pop at the mention of their home state.  Wade nods at
the crowd with a grin.]

GM: What is next for Wade Kennedy?

WK: Whatever the AWA and these fans want me to do Gordon!

[Not surprisingly, the fans cheer that.  Kennedy smiles and continues.]

WK:  I plan on working my way up the ladder one rung at a time till I
have my shot at the National title. That is my goal Gordon, to be the
best that I can be and someday have that big piece of gold around my
waist!

[Buck snorts.]

BW: You’re not serious, are you?  Take a look around, rookie.  The AWA
is stacked from top to bottom.  The chances of you winning that title is
as about as much as Juan Vasquez has with Stevie Scott wearing the title
- NONE!

[Bucky cackles as Kennedy stares at him for a moment.  Then, with a sly
grin, he puts an around around the unsuspecting Wilde who quickly rips
the arm off of him and adjusts his suit.  Kennedy grins as Gordon
chuckles as well.]

WK:  Speaking of the Southern Syndicate, I would like to touch on one
last thing, Gordon.  I'm not the kind of a guy who sticks his nose in
other people's business - but in this instance here, I have to make an
exception.

[Wade shakes his head in disgust.]

WK: What the Southern Syndicate did to Todd Michaelson, was downright
criminal Gordon. How far are things going to go before these guys take
it one step to far? To watch that footage [pauses and shakes his head.]
it shook me to the core. I'm not best friends with anybody here but what
happened to Todd Michaelson was disgusting.

[He shakes his head again.]

WK:  Now don't get it wrong. I'm a little too new in this federation to
be sounding off on some revenge mission or anything like that.  Like I
said, I walk my own path and keep my nose out of other people’s
business.  But you can bet I’ll be watching Battle at the Bayou, Gordon.
 I’ll be watching just like the thousands upon thousands of other people
when the Southern Syndicate are going to have to get into that ring and
pay for their sins.  

[Kennedy nods.]

WK:  I mean wrestling is wrestling and you do what you have to do but I
would hate to be in the Syndicate’s boots come Battle at the Bayou, I’ll
tell you that right now.

GM:  Congratulations on your debut victory, Wade, and we look forward to
seeing more of you in the future.

[Kennedy shakes hands with Gordon before he acknowledges the cheering
crowd and walks out of view to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Let's go backstage to Mark Stegglet!

[Shot cuts to the back where Mark Stegglet stands by with the
ragged-looking Grant Stone. The big Kentuckian - dressed in jeans and a
T-shirt - still shows the wounds of his battle with Jack Snyder. The
semi-healed gash on his forehead's fully exposed, showing that Stone
never bothered with stitches.]

MS: Grant Stone here with me right now and I think the fans of AWA would
like know just what happened on the last Saturday Night Wrestling?

[Stone looks down at Stegglet... and then looks back up, away from him.]

MS: Why did you seem to wrestle only to not win?

[Again, Stone gives Stegglet a glancing look down.]

MS: Well... Is this now over between you and Jack Snyder? Have things
been resolv-

[Instead of a quick look down, Stone's busted up face looks down
intently with a fire in his eyes. Stegglet's eyebrows raise for a
moment, wondering what triggered Stone.]

GS: "Resolved"? RESOLVED?

[Stone slowly shakes his head.]

GS: Taking away that filthy maggot's chance at glory wasn't the end
game... It only bruised his ego.

MS: Then... what will beating him a-

GS: NO! 

[Stone's emphatic, shouted reply takes Stegglet back a bit.]

GS: I think I've made it clear that I don't give a damn about winning
here. Pinning him down for three seconds won't change anything. A lost
chance won't make things right. And a win won't satiate my bloodlust...

[Stone takes a long pause, still looking down at Stegglet.]

GS: There's still a long, LONG road ahead for Jack Snyder. I didn't come
back to just break your hope... I came back to make sure he
understood...

[Stone grits his teeth.]

GS: See, all Jack Snyder knows is being this larger than life person...
Always trying to a hero... Always... trying. He doesn't see HIS world
for what it is and yet he calls me the coward? He tells me I'm... I'm
not seeing...

[Stone closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get ahold of himself.
After about fifteen second, Mark speaks up, a little concerned.]

MS: Grant?

[A small tear form and streams down Stone's face before he shoot his
eyes open, full of fire.]

GS: NO! No Snyder! YOU don't know a damned thing! You don't see the hell
I'm about to put you through! No, you're not done with me!

[Stone snears.]

GS: Jack Snyder, the only way this ends - the only way anything's
getting "resolved" is when you stop fighting... And when you leave my
sight as a broken, bloodied, hallowed out man with NOTHING left to live
for!

[With that said, Stone slowly exits, past Stegglet.]

MS:  Let's go back down to the ring!  It's all yours, Melissa!

[We crossfade back to ringside where Melissa is standing and ready to
go.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... from Mobile, Alabama... Keith
Patterson!

[A decent-sized cheer for the home town Patterson.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Las Vegas, Nevada... weighing in at 252
pounds...

SHAAAAANE DESSSTINY!

["True Faith" by New Order kicks in to jeers from the AWA faithful. 
Destiny is completely focused on the ring as he marches down the aisle,
rolling under the ropes, popping up to his feet, and stampeding across
the ring where he catches Patterson under the chin with a back elbow
smash, knocking him back to the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  


"DING! DING! DING!"


GM:  The referee calls for the bell to start the- good grief!

[The crowd reacts the same way as Destiny lights up the chest of his
opponent with a backhand chop.]

BW:  Shane Destiny don't care if the bell's rung or not, daddy, he's
gonna take it right to the man.

GM:  Destiny has been on a serious roll as of late, Bucky.  He's
currently the number five contender to the AWA National Title and has
constantly been in the discussions over who will get the next shot at
"Hotshot" and the big, big gold.

BW:  And when he beats Langseth at Battle On The Bayou, that title shot
is a lock, Gordo.

GM:  We'll see about that.

[Destiny uncorks another brutal chop across the chest before hauling
Patterson out of the corner by the hair, earning the ire of the referee
who Destiny completely ignores as he smashes Patterson over the crown of
the skull with an elbowsmash.]

GM:  Big elow takes Patterson down... Destiny measuring his man...

[The Nevada native leaps up into the air, bringing his knee down across
the sternum of Patterson.]

GM:  Oh my!  What a kneedrop!

[Destiny throws himself into a lateral press, reaching back to hook a
leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  

[Patterson kicks out at two, breaking the pin and causing an annoyed
Destiny to smash him with a pair of right hands to the jaw before
getting back to his feet.]

GM:  Shane Destiny is just physically dominating this young man here
tonight in his hometown.  He hauls him back up by the hair once more... 

[Grabbing Patterson by the wrist, Destiny flings him across the ring in
an Irish whip...

...and plants him to the mat with a spinning powerslam!]

GM:  What impact!  One!!  Two!!  Thr- wait a second... he pulled him up!

[More accurately, he pulled him out of the cover, flipping him to his
stomach.  He quickly applies an inverted facelock on Patterson, sitting
down on the back.]

BW:  THE STRANGLE!!

GM:  The Destiny Strangle is applied and it won't be long now until...

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

GM:  And there it is.

[Destiny holds the painful submission hold for a post-match four count
until he releases it, a steely gaze on his face as he glares at the
official.  The referee reluctantly lifts Destiny's hand in victory
before the rulebreaker steps through the ropes to the apron, dropping
down to the floor.]

GM:  Shane Destiny is your winner and he's heading over here to us
now...

[Destiny walks over to the announcer's table, where he immediately
snatches the handheld microphone from the rising Gordon Myers.]

SD: Mark Langseth, you look at what just happened in that ring.  You
look at what just happened, right?  You see that man in the ring, beaten
and broken... do you see your future?  Because I sure do, Mark.  You
see, I want you to look at that man, and I want you to look at yourself
in the mirror, and I want you to ask yourself a question.  Simple in
delivery but complex in meaning, I want you to ask yourself this
question...

[Destiny looks right at the camera, as if he were talking to Langseth.]

SD: ... "is this what I want to end up as?"  Because Mark Langseth, I've
warned you.  I warned your pithy little nephew... I've warned the whole
AWA.  I'm done playing games.  I'm done messing around.  I'm done
flaunting what I've done in this business... from here on out, it's all
about what I'm going to be _doing_.  And I guarantee you, I swear to God
himself...

[Destiny slams his hand on the table.]

SD: ... you get in that ring with me and you go home either on a
stretcher or in a box.  Your whole family has done nothing but be a
minor annoyance, a prickly little thorn in my side.  When we get to the
Bayou... I'm extracting that thorn.  So you ask yourself, Langseth...
just how much is your pride worth to you?  Because if it's worth getting
beaten to a pulp, sent home to your crying family an unrecognizable
mess, and still not able to say you beat Shane Destiny... then you're
even dumber than I thought you were.

[Destiny tosses the microphone back at Myers and walks away.]

GM:  A very serious Shane Destiny with a message - a clear message -
being sent to Mark Langseth who we will see in the ring in action...
right after this!

[Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And now, it can be yours!"

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

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

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

...and then comes back up to live action where we find Gordon and Bucky
standing alongside the National Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie Scott,
dressed in a stylish suit with the gold title belt secured around his
waist.  Next to him stands "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson also in a
suit with a big grin on his face.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and as you can see-

ATTSBW:  As they can see, you have been given the distinct honor of
standing alongside the greatest managerial mind in the world of
professional wrestling and the greatest professional athlete walking the
Earth today, Myers.

GM:  Erm, yes... I suppose.

ATTSBW:  There is no supposition to be had, Gordon Myers.  That's a
fact.

GM:  Okay, well... you gentlemen have a lot to answer for.  

ATTSBW:  Like what?

GM:  Like what?  Like the brutal assault on Todd Michaelson for one!

ATTSBW:  Talk to 'em, champ.

[Waterson hands off the interview with a grin to Stevie Scott who is
smiling from ear to ear as he leans into the mic.]

HSS: Once again, when the Southern Syndicate speaks...things happen.

We issued warnings, and they went unheeded.  We said, point blank, that
we were going to put a quick end to this fragile, makeshift alliance
that Todd Michaelson threw together in order to stop the Southern
Syndicate.

But yet again, as we've done for over a year now...when we say
something's going to happen?  It always does.  So
Houston...Vasquez...Broussard...and you too, Sudakov...let this be a
reminder about what you've got to deal with heading down to Louisiana.

[Stevie pauses, no smirk, no grin.  All business.]

HSS: And as for you, Michaelson, as you're sitting at home on your
couch, or laying in your bed, nursing your injuries and licking your
wounds...you ought to be thanking us.

Because what we did outside of the Combat Corner was a humanitarian
mission.

[Heel pop!]

HSS: You see, with your neck...with your back...if you climbed into that
cage at Battle on the Bayou...if you got into the middle of war...

...there wouldn't have been enough left of you to send home to your
locker-room-loving wife.

[Whoo!  Cheap heat!]

HSS: Believe me, pal, all we did was save you from a lifetime of
paralysis.

Now, Gordon Myers...I didn't come out here tonight to gloat.  The damage
is done, and Michaelson is just another casualty of the war between Juan
Vasquez and the Southern Syndicate.  I don't care to gloat about it, 
because it was simply one of many strategic moves that we've been making
ever since this whole WarGames business got started.

No, I come out here tonight to simply say this.

[The champ again pauses, and oddly, the crowd goes near-silent with
him.]

HSS: Vasquez...Broussard...Sudakov...Houston.  Four former AWA National
Champions.  I may not like you...and believe me, I don't...but I do
respect each and every one of you.  Which is why I'm laying down this
final warning.

Get out.

Get out now, while you still can.

[OK, the crowd?  Not as silent now.  The, shall we call it,
"disagreement" with Stevie's directive grows in volume as the champion
continues.]

HSS: Take a minute to think it over.  Three of you have all been sent
packing from the AWA by the Southern Syndicate, and the other?  Well,
you're just too stupid and too arrogant to know when to quit.  But the
point I'm making here is a simple one.

If we've done it to you before...you better believe we'll do it again.

And if you're having doubts?

Go ask Todd how serious we are.

[They start to leave...]

GM:  Well, fans, WarGames is going to be-

[Waterson pops back in, shaking his head at Myers.]

ATTSBW:  You'll never learn.

[Waterson points a finger of warning at the camera with a cold stare.]

ATTSBW:  Consider.  Yourselves.  Warned.

[And then he makes his exit.]

GM:  Consider yourselves warned indeed.  The Southern Syndicate seems to
be ready for war, Bucky.

BW:  Was there ever any doubt?  Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne, Adrian
Freeman, Brian Von Braun, and the giant, MAMMOTH Mizusawa?  I can't
imagine anyone wanting to step into a cage with those five men.  

GM:  Well, we know exactly who plans to step into that double cage with
those two men... well, almost.  We still don't know who the fifth man
will be and I'm starting to lose faith we'll find out here tonight,
Bucky.

BW:  We've still got quite a bit of show to go, Gordo.  You never know
what'll happen.

GM:  You can say that again.  Let's go up to the ring for Mark Langseth
in action!

[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, from here in Mobile, Alabama at a weight
of two hundred and forty-eight pounds, Lou Le Moyne!

[The crowd gives the local guy a bit of a polite applause as Le Moyne
gives the fans a finger-pointing salute.]

GM: Lou Le Moyne from right here in Mobile getting his big chance
tonight in front of these AWA fans.

[Le Moyne - a little bit doughy of a physique and dressed in a pair of
blue and yellow wrestling rights - smiles as he paces around his corner
of the ring.]

MC: And his opponent...

[Stabbing Westward's "Save Yourself" starts, bringing about a health
cheer from the crowd.]

MC: Weighing in at two hundred and thirty three pounds, hailing from
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania...

[The crowd pops as the Hall of Famer steps out of the entrance to greet
the Mobile crowd.]

MC: MARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK LAAAAAAAAAAANGSETH!

[Langseth - dressed in his normal black T-shirt, track pants, and black
boots - walks down the aisle with a determined look on his face. When he
gets to the ring, he stands at the base of the steps and looks up for a
moment before walking up and into the ring.]

GM: Mark Langseth enters the ring again, all in preparation for his big
match against Shane Destiny at Battle on the Bayou.

BW: That match will be a big attraction, Gordo - Hall of Fame wrestling
wizard against a certain Hall of Fame wrestling master. All the kids at
the Combat Center should be watching that match, daddy!

GM: I'd imagine they could learn a thing or two from the thirty to forty
years of experience, combined. But Langseth first has to deal with Lou
Le Moyne tonight.

[Bucky's laughter is very audible.]

"DING! DING! DING!"

GM: There's the bell as Langseth and Le Moyne meet in the ring. Le Moyne
holding his hand up and he wants to challenge Langseth's strength!

[Langseth immediately meets Le Moyne's hand up in the air and quickly
transitions it behind into a hammerlock. Le Moyne tries to reach back,
but Langseth trips up the Mobile native's right leg and pushes down.]

GM: Langseth drives Le Moyne face first, down on the mat hard! 

BW: That might've put this guy on dream street, Gordo.

[A quick close up on the face of Le Moyne shows his eyes sort of glaze
over. Langseth floats over and grabs the right ankle of Le Moyne,
placing his knee to the ankle and drives it down to the mat.]

GM: Immediately the Hall of Famer targets Le Moyne's knee.

BW: You have to think, with the way Langseth's gone after everyone's
ankle in these matches leading up to -

[Langseth again drive down on Le Moyne's ankle with his knee, causing
the local to groan in agony.]

BW: - his match with Destiny, you got to think that he's sending a
message to Destiny that Langseth's going to try to lock him in the
Greatness Personified.

GM: I think there's nothing more that he wants than to slap that
anklelock onto Shane Destiny, Bucky. Langseth again drops puts the knee
to Le Moyne's ankle, driving it into the joint!

[Langseth stands and puts his heel to the ankle, grinding it down before
stomping away at the joint.]

GM: Langseth ruthlessly attacking Le Moyne's ankle!

[Satisfied with the damage inflicted, Langseth grabs the right foot up
into his arm pit and rips back, causing Le Moyne to thrive about in pain
as the crowd cheers for the move.]

GM: THERE IT IS! GREATNESS PERSONIFIED APPLIED!

[Le Moyne looks around for an avenue of escape, but not for long as the
pain takes its toll as he slaps the mat furiously to a chorus of
cheers.]

"DING! DING! DING!"

MC: Here is your winner of the match, by submission...
MARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRK LAAAAAAAAAAANGSETH!

[Langseth lets go of the hold and allows the ref to raise his hand as
the crowd continues to cheer.]

GM: A quick win for Mark Langseth tonight and you'd have to say that all
signs show that any rust he had has been shaken off.

BW: Maybe, Gordo, but Langseth wasn't in the ring with some of the best
of wrestling. We don't know yet if he's really ready for Destiny - who,
I might add, HAS been in the ring with some of the best recent.

GM: That is true, Bucky, but if Langseth can create an avenue to apply
his submission hold, it may not matter who's more ready.

BW: If he gets it on, it MAY be over... but that will be one tall task
against a wrestling great like Shane Destiny.

[Langseth exits the ring and makes his way over to Wilde and Myers.]

GM: Mark, another show and another win - and this time, it looked much
easier out there for you. Is this a sign that you're ready for your
match at the Battle on the Bayou?

[Langseth - who doesn't look to be that worked up - lets out a slight
grin at the question.]

ML: Gordon, tonight was... well, it just shows that I've been putting in
my time for my match in New Orleans. But am I ready?

[Mark looks back to the ring, where Le Moyne has just limped his way
out. Mark turns back, full grin.]

ML: Let's just say that for once? I'll let my actions in the ring
tonight speak on if I'm ready. But Destiny?

[Langseth looks into the camera, grin subsiding for a more serious
look.]

ML: I've put in my work to make sure I'm ready for this match. I've
taken on this match to be the most important event in my career in a
long, long, LONG while! 

[Mark nods as the crowd cheers on for Langseth's enthusiasm.]

ML: So you can be sure that when I enter that ring in New Orleans? I'm
going to be ready. That's not to be shrugged off, I'll tell you that.
And Gordon?

[Langseth pauses, turning towards Myers for a moment.]

ML: I'm prepared not just to fight Shane Destiny or try to match him in
the ring... I want my hand raised at the end of that match and I'm
prepared to anything and everything to make that happen. So Gordon?

[Once again, that smirk grows on Mark's face.]

ML: I think the question you need to ask is to Destiny - if he's ready
to take ME on at the Battle on the Bayou!

[With that statement laid down, Langseth walks off to a cheering crowd.]

GM:  Mark Langseth vs Shane Destiny - that would headline Pay Per Views
all over the world for most promotions, Bucky.

BW:  I think a certain land of Extreme would've had that one front and
center, daddy.

GM:  It's going to be an incredible showdown and it's something I can
wait to-

[Gordon is interrupted as the crowd starts to buzz.]

GM: Well now, hold on a second. We're not scheduled for an interview
right now, but I imagine that doesn't matter to the man who's about to
join us.

[Cousin Bo, manager of the National Tag Team Champions, The Bishop Boys,
storms into the shot, looking like he hasn't slept or shaved in ages. He
manages to look both angry and tired.]

GM: Mr. Allen, you've been strangely quiet lately. To what do we ow-

[Gordon is cut off again, this time by Bo speaking.]

CB: Myers. Myers. Just...for the love of all that's holy, just be quiet
and let me speak. I really am not in the mood for any questions right
now.

[Gordon looks a bit perturbed at Bo's curtness, but nods anyway.]

GM: Go ahead.

[Bo cringes, holding his head in pain.]

CB: Joe Petrow. JOE PETROW! Are...are you serious? I knew it, I knew
that conceited...

[Bo stops for a second, shaking his head, trying to find the words to
convey how angry he is. Bo points at Gordon.]

CB: I knew that punk was gonna show his face around here one day.

BW: Yeah, because you paid him to-

CB: WILDE, SHUT YOUR DAMN HOLE! I'm in even less of a mood for you, boy.
The boys may not be here with me this week, but you are NOT getting off
easy. You understand me?!

[Bucky, looking a bit sheepish, holds his hands up and slinks into the
background. Bo turns back to the camera, with an almost crazed look in
his eyes.]

CB: Petrow, that slimeball, he can't resist trying to destroy any place
he goes. Myers, you know I used to wrestle, right?

[Gordon nods.]

CB: Up in Memphis for a bit in the mid-'90s. Don't think I've ever
mentioned it on TV, but I did. Things were wonderful. Packed houses. Hot
crowds. Great gig if you could get it. You know who else came to Memphis
for a little while?

[Gordon shrugs, as if to say "You told me to be quiet. Besides, you're
gonna tell me anyway".]

CB: Joe Petrow. Yes, kids, Joe Petrow came to town. And true to form,
what happens when he shows up? Chaos. The shows went right down the
toilet. People found other ways to spend their time and money. The one
place you were absolutely guaranteed to make some decent money in this
business, and he damn near kills it.

[Bo shakes his head in amazement.]

CB: So imagine my surprise when that virus shows up here in the AWA of
all places, and starts inserting himself into MY business.

[Bo looks fit to be tied by now.]

CB: Yes, happy days for me. I'm now bound to hear endless stories about
kiwis, his predilection for teaming with prelim bums, and whatever other
assorted madness he's bringing. I guarantee you one thing, if Joe Petrow
gets his hooks deep enough into this company, he's gonna poison it with
the same trash he's always brought with him. If you people running the
company don't watch it, he WILL kill the company. I don't know what the
hell he's holding over your heads, but it's gotta be pretty big to let
him anywhere near the AWA.

[Oh man, he's really rambling now.]

CB: Y'know, the way I always understood it, when a guy gets a manager's
license, he has to actually have his client LISTED on his license. It's
ridiculous that he's going around here feeding you all a bunch of drivel
with this "My services are for sale" baloney. And to think that SOME of
you...

[Bo eyes Bucky angrily.]

CB ...are actually buying into his bunk. Why the HELL would I trust this
idiot after the Ben Waterson debacle? Are you really THAT dense, you
porky Dukes of Hazzard reject?!

[Bo finally blows his top.]

CB:  I HATE JOE PETROW!  I HATE THE SON OF A BITCH!

[The crowd and the announcers gasp.  Luckily, Bo gets a hold of himself
and raises his hands.]

CB:  Jim Watkins... I know you're back there... I know you're
listening...
I have a proposition for you. 

I don't know how Petrow snuck that No DQ bit in there, but I'm fine with
it. I'm less thrilled with the fact that he somehow influences opinions
around here already. So, as someone who's been shooting straight with
you from day one, here's MY idea for Battle On The Bayou.

[Bo half-smiles.]

CB: You want this war between us and Rough N Ready to definitively end?
Ban Joe Petrow from the show. If he shows up, fire him. Easy as that. We
can easily throw down with RNR without his influence. You should be fine
with that, huh, RNR? After all, if I'm paying him like you think I am,
he can't possibly influence the match. Sounds fair to me. And you boys
are all about fairness, right?

[Bo lets that sarcastic line sink in and walks off, satisfied he's
gotten things off of his chest.]

GM:  I'm a bit speechless here, Bucky.

BW:  He wants Joe Petrow banned from ringside?  In a no DQ match?

GM:  But does he REALLY want him banned?  Or is it all mindgames with
the number one contender, Rough N Ready?

BW:  I'm getting a headache, Gordo.

GM:  Me too.  Let's go to Jason Dane in the Control Center!

[We cut back to the now-familiar logo for the Control Center that
quickly spins away to reveal Jason Dane standing in front of the bank of
monitors.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  We are just nine days away now, fans.  Nine days
away from the hottest event of the summer - Battle On The Bayou! 
September 6th in the Bayfront Center in New Orleans, Louisiana where we
expect an all-time attendance record for the AWA to be in the house for
what should be a historic night of action. 

Let's run down the lineup one more time...

WarGames.

[Dane shrugs.]

JD:  Do I need to say anything else? 

[The graphic changes.]

JD:  The National Tag Team Titles will be on the line with the Bishop
Boys taking on Rough N Ready in a No Disqualification Match.  You just
heard Cousin Bo ask that Joe Petrow be banned from ringside but from
what I understand, Joe Petrow has SWORN to be at ringside in a neutral
corner to make sure his client's needs are well-served.

In what could be a show stealer, Mark Langseth, the Hall of Famer, will
meet Shane Destiny.  That one could Main Event anywhere in the country,
fans, and you will not want to miss it.

Calisto Dufresne will take on Tin Can Rust in what should be a brutal
grudge match... and if Tin Can Rust loses, he will retire from the
professional wrestling business!  The stakes have never been higher than
they are in this one.

There will be more tag team action when the Blonde Bombers meet the
Rockstar Express!

Plus, in a match announced earlier this week, two newcomers will collide
when "Playboy" Johnny Casanova takes on Scott Mayhem.

Also, there will be a twenty man $50,000 battle royal featuring
Devastation, Grant Stone, Jack Snyder, Jesse Ewiak, Kevin Slater, the
Masked Menace, Pugnacio Supremo, Shane Taylor, Sultan Azam Sharif,
Vladimir Velikov, Wade Kennedy, the West Memphis Assassin, the
Moonshiners, the Samoan Hit Squad, Violence Unlimited, and the War Pigs!

Plus, you heard the announcement earlier this week - a member of AWA
management, Lori Dane-Michaelson will be in New Orleans with a very
special message for a member of the AWA roster!

All of that plus much, much more!  

Get your tickets now or make your plans to be with us LIVE on WKIK next
weekend for the hottest event of the summer - it's Battle On The Bayou
and you will NOT want to miss it!

[We fade away from Jason Dane 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 back up to live action where we find the number one contenders to
the AWA National Tag Team Titles, Rough N Ready, standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and now we are joined by Rough N Ready, who in
just two weeks time, will get one more crack at the Bishop Boys and the
National Tag Team Titles... gentlemen, by now, you know this will be a
no disqualification bout.

DC: No DQ bout... and who do you suppose this benefits more?

GM: Well... I would say it's a benefit to both teams as there has to be
a winner and-

DC: You know who has the history of bending or outright breaking the
rules, right?

GM: Well... OK, so the Bishops have done that in the past, but now, I...

DC: The Bishops have done it in the past... that's all I needed to hear!

[He then turns to the camera.]

DC: Duane Henry, Cletus Lee and Cousin Bo... once again, we meet up. But
this time around, regardless of how much you've been trying to stack the
deck against us, there will be no doubts after Battle on the Bayou as to
who is the better team. And if you remember, Gordon, it wasn't that long
ago we won a match against the Bishops in which there had to be a
winner... that was the match that netted us the top contender spot for
the tag team titles.

And since then, we watched as the Bishops ended up taking a title match
right out from under our noses, and then have to jump through hoops just
to get to this point. Well, let me make one thing clear... we are done
with jumping through hoops, and while they put another one for us to
jump through at Battle on the Bayou, we are not going to be denied what
we have been working hard to get to for too long!

GM: But it was Joe Petrow who got the no DQ stipulation added... not the
Bishop Boys.

[Eric Matthew Somers taps Gordon on his shoulder.]

EMS: Gordon, one question... how do you not know the Bishops pushed Joe
to get it on there?

GM: Well... I don't know that...

EMS: Be honest, Gordon... Cousin Bo isn't exactly the sharpest knife in
the drawer. He's not what I would call the best at negotiating
anything... heck, if you remember, it was our manager at the time that
got the stipulation added to that match Dave referred to.

BW: He... he's got a point, Gordon.

[Somers turns to Bucky, who backs up a step... but Somers makes no
moves.]

EMS: Thank you for playing, Bucky... and that will be all.

[With that, Somers walks off. Cooper remains behind for a moment.]

DC: The only other thing I have to say is this... we've tired of the
wait and we are not going to be denied at the Battle of the Bayou! No
matter what the Bishops try to do, we're walking out with the titles,
and you can take that to the bank!

[He then walks off after Somers.]

GM:  Dave Cooper says those titles are goin' home with Rough N Ready in
just nine days time.  After over two long years of chasing the gold,
will September the 6th FINALLY be their night?

BW:  That all depends, Gordo.

GM:  On what?

BW:  On if they coughed up the cash for Joe Petrow's services.

GM:  You may be right, Bucky.  You may be right.  And speaking of top
contenders to the National Tag Team Titles...

[Gordon gestures off camera.  The camera shot zooms back to reveal
Hammer, Sabre, and Richard E. Lee. - the War Pigs.]

GM:  Richard, it's good to see you recovered from that vicious attack at
the hands of the Moonshiners a few weeks ago.

[Instead of Lee answering, though, Hammer - the larger of the Pigs -
steps toward Myers and interrupts.]

H: Gordon Myers, I know that Richie here can speak for himself.  He
don't need us sayin' his words for him, but with that said...me and the
Sabre got a few words of our own for the Moonshiners!

[Turning away from Myers, the massive Hammer faces the camera.]

H: I don't know what made you think it'd be a good idea to quit your
third-shift jobs at the tire factory to show up in the AWA and try to
settle an old grudge with our manager, but if you ain't gettin' the
picture yet, let me make it real nice and clear for you.

[Hammer pauses for a brief moment, scowling.  Scowl!  Scowl!]

H: We're _done_ playin' games with you boys.  We ain't got time to screw
around with two old men who belong in the nursin' home, not in an AWA
ring with me and Sabre.  So we're gonna take care of this quickly...and
we're gonna take care of this painfully.  If it's a fight you boys want,
believe me...it's a fight you're gonna get.  

But I can promise you, it ain't gonna be the kind of fight you bargained
for.  Tell 'em, Sabre!

S: WEEELLLLLLL, Gordon Myers...I don't know if you are a religious man
or not, but I would imagine most everyone's heard that command from the
law of Moses, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.  Now that was a
long time ago, if you believe in that sort of thing, and the world has
changed since that time.  As far as we're concerned, Moonshiners, the
moment you attacked us in Memphis, you placed yourself under a different
jurisdiction.

_OURS!_

[Yay for angry, face-painted muscle guys pop!]

S: And you see, under the law of the War Pigs, we say an eye for an
_eye_...a tooth for a _tooth_...and a _manager_ for a _manager_!

You attack ours?  You bloody ours up?  Fine with us.  Because we're
gonna be the ones who carry out our _own_ brand of justice.

And I can guarantee you punks that you ain't gonna like the taste of it
one bit.

GM: Some strong comments from your team here, Richard E. Lee.

REL: That's the beauty of this whole situation, Gordon.  You see, I
don't have to be concerned...I don't have to worry...I don't have to be
afraid of what might happen next.  All you've got to do is take a look
at these two men...

[Lee thumbs at Hammer and Sabre.]

REL: ...and a look at _those_ fat, old, out-of-shape clowns that drug
themselves out of retirement to realize one thing.

This isn't a battle.  This isn't a war.  This isn't settling old scores.

This is a massacre waiting to happen.

[They storm out of view in unison.]

GM:  The War Pigs will be part of that big twenty man battle royal for
$50,000 and so will the Moonshiners, Bucky.

BW:  They may throw the other sixteen men out just so they have the ring
to themselves to beat the heck out of each other.

GM:  I wouldn't be surprised in the least.  Fans, we are just moments
away from our Main Event here tonight on Saturday Night Wrestling so
let's go backstage where Brent Maverick is standing by!

[We cut back to the locker room where Jason Dane is standing alongside
Brent Maverick.  Brent is wearing his usual reddish leather vest,
rust-red knee-length trunks with Arizona Sun design, and laceless
reddish leather boots. Okay, you can't actually SEE the boots in this
shot, but I didn't want to have to mention them later.  They're there. 
About the only change in his normal attire is that instead of gloves,
he's sporting heavily taped hands.]

JD:  Brent Maverick, tonight you will compete against the mysterious and
undefeated Nenshou.  Brent, with all that has gone on with yourself,
Vernon Riley, and Eric Preston against the entire unholy alliance of
Anton Layton, James Monosso, and Nenshou, one thing we really have yet
to see is a straightforward one on one match!  Tonight you have that,
but are you prepared for the incredible, unorthodox style of Nenshou?

[Maverick nods.  His tousled dark brown hair and rough mustache give him
the look of a man who doesn't pretty himself up for TV, but the scars on
his brow tell us that he's been here many times, indeed.  The look in
his eye is all business as he addresses the camera in his gruff voice.]

BM: Yeah, I seen him.  He's good.  Real good.  Don't need ta be wastin'
his life fer Layton an' Childes.  But he is, an' that's all I need ta
know ta take issue with th' man.  Tanight I'm gonna learn him what ta
expect when ya give yerself ta Satan: it don't ever end well.  But ya
ask about his style?  Dane, he learnt his style wrasslin' in Japan.  But
I wrassled more matches in Japan than he's wrassled matches in his life!
 

I've seen it, Nenshou.  Seen th' handspring.  Seen th' moonsault.  Seen
th' mist.  Hell, I used mist once ta take somebody off guard. But they
tell me th' kind you use is a secret... it ain't some green slop that
jus' blinds a man, it's poison.  A poison that gits in a man's system
through his eyesockets.  Affects th' nerves behind th' eye.  That's what
they told me when I made calls this week.  Seems you ain't all so
mysterious ta a man who's got contacts in Tokyo.  

JD: Is- is that true?  His mist could inflict PERMANENT damage?

BM: Different colors, different effects... but it could.  Two things ya
need ta recognize, Dane.  Number one, I been trainin' down in Phoenix
all week.  With a man ya know; name o' Holliday.  He been usin' pieces
o' that same Japanese style since Nenshou was gittin' slapped with a
ruler fer spittin' in class.  We brought in kids from Japan thet're here
tryin' ta learn our style an' take it over there. I'm ready fer Nenshou.
 Undefeated, sure.  Unbeatable?  Kid, _please_.

JD: And the second thing?

BM: People wanna lose sleep over how Nenshou could damage their optic
nerves an' blind 'em?  Turns out I got a weapon that'll do th' same damn
thing.

JD: You do?  What is that?

[Maverick holds one of those taped fists right up to the camera.]

BM: Punk, ya even think ta spit yer slop at me, an' I'll show ya how ta
spew red mist... outta yer _whole damn face_!

[With that, Brent marches off presumably in the direction of the
entrance as we fade back to ringside where "Big" Jim Watkins has joined
the announce duo.]

GM:  Moments away from the Main Event now but before that, Mr. Watkins,
you requested a few moments to address the crowd.

JW:  I did, I did, Gordon.  I've got a few things on my mind that I need
to get out there before we head on down to New Orleans.  Three things
that directly affect that show to be precise.

[Watkins pauses, holding up a finger.]

JW:  First, Violence Unlimited and the Samoans beat the holy heck out of
each other out here earlier tonight.  I like that.

[Watkins cracks a grin.]

JW:  But they did it in a way that put out fans in danger.  I don't like
that.  And the Committee don't like it neither, hear?  So, they've
decided that y'all can't be in the Battle Royal at Battle On The Bayou
cause all four of you are SUSPENDED for two weeks!

[The crowd buzzes at the news, some booing.]

JW:  So, you're out of the Bayou Battle Royal.  BUT... I like seein' the
four of ya beat each other up.  So, at AWA Homecoming, right back home
in Dallas, Texas, we're gonna have ourselves a little tag team match. 
In fact... we're gonna have ourselves a BIG OL' tag team match cause
there's another two teams that I wanna see hook 'em up.

At Homecoming, it's gonna be Violence Unlimited and the War Pigs takin'
on the Samoans and the Moonshiners!

[BIG CHEER!]

JW:  That's one.  Number two - I heard y'all out here talkin' about the
roll that Shane Destiny's been on lately and how if he beats Langseth,
he might earn a title shot.

[Watkins nods.]

JW:  We agree.  So, we're gonna make it official.  If Shane Destiny
beats Mark Langseth next weekend in New Orleans, we will be giving him a
shot at the AWA National Title!

[The crowd slightly cheers - more at the idea of Stevie Scott getting
beaten up by Shane Destiny than seeing Destiny get a title shot.]

JW:  Alright, that's two.  Now, this last one?  

For a long, long time now, the AWA has been considering adding another
piece of gold for our boys to tussle over.

[The crowd cheers!]

JW:  So, we've decided with the roster bigger and better than ever,
now's the time to do it.  We will be introducing a second singles title
to the AWA in the very near future - possibly as soon as next weekend.

GM:  Mr. Watkins, if you already know the details about the title, why
not announce it now?

[Watkins grimaces.]

JW:  I can't go into details because there are some... legal issues...
facing it.

[Gordon looks confused.]

JW:  Like I said, I can't go into details right now.  But Gordon, as
soon as we have it locked down, we'll let you know.  The reason I wanted
to announce that tonight - before Battle On The Bayou - is that so the
boys in the locker room know just how important it is for them to win in
New Orleans.  A new title... a new chance to step up... it's more
important than ever to bring your best every night out of the chute,
Gordon.

GM:  Well, we're about see two men compete... two men who I would
imagine would be considered top contenders to that second title, Mr.
Watkins.

JW:  I would say so.

GM:  And at this time, let's go over to Bucky who is with the other half
of tonight's Main Event!

[We cut a few feet away where an uncomfortable-looking Bucky Wilde is
holding the microphone for a pair of visitors.

Percy Childes and James Monosso are here, awaiting Bucky's questioning. 
Childes stands in an ill-fitting blue suit that drapes his pudgy frame
and looks vaguely like he slept in it.  The "Collector of Oddities"
clutches his trademark cane in his left hand, his piggy eyes darting
about the arena as if he were looking for someone that owed him money. 
Standing behind him is the mysterious Nenshou, cloaked in a black loose
fitting mask that just reveals his eyes.  His upper body is bare, a
streak of red paint dragged across it like a long scratch.  He stands
with his arms crossed, his taped fingers interlocked as he stares at his
manager's crystal-topped cane.

This contrasts with the six-foot-seven, two-hundred eighty-eight pound
broadshouldered powerhouse that is James Monosso.  For his part, Monosso
is wearing his "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" pale green cutoff
T-Shirt, as well as black jeans.  The wildeyed maniac has stringy
shoulder-length black hair, a wide-cheeked cleanshaven face, and a
slightly hunched posture.  There is something in his hand, matching the
pale green color of his shirt.]

BW: Well, since Gordo thinks he was threatened last time...

JM: He got something right then, because he did get threatened last
time.  And if he thinks a table between me and him would keep him from
being threatened this time, then I got something for him!

[James unfolds the pale green cloth in his hand, to reveal anouther
"PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" T-Shirt.  He throws it over
Gordon's head.]

JM: Here... you're crazier than I am, Myers.  Crazy to think that you're
safe.  Crazy to think that Eric Preston should come back.

BW: I do gotta ask, Mister Monosso.  You called him finished once
before.  Ya said he wouldn't never come back after ya dropped that big
weight on his ribs.  But he did!  Don'tcha think he'll come back for
more, even after ya crushed his windpipe?  A thing of beauty, by the
way.

JM: Stop kissing up, Wilde.  I don't care what you or any of these
mealy-mouthed zombies booing me thinks about what I did to Eric Preston.

[So the mealy-mouthed zombies boo him more, naturally.]

JM: You people make me sick... sanity is determined by how easy you are
to brainwash!  And you're all brainwashed to believe that the 'hero'
wins in the end!  But Eric Preston, your acts of heroism have gotten you
nothing but a stack of useless sympathy cards and a world of hurt.  A
whole world of hurt, and you've barely even left town when it comes to
what I can do to you.  And if you're still so stupid, still so naive,
still so gullible to come back again, then let the world tour commence!

PC: And we all know why he's going to come back, don't we Bucky?

BW: Back to fight HIM?  He's out of his mind!

PC: No, remember what James just said?  "Sanity is determined by how
easy you are to brainwash".  Society imposes standards.  If you choose
not to accept those standards, they call you insane.  Eric Preston is
quite sane, by that count.  In fact, he's listening to all of the
voices.  The AWA wants him to come back, because they think he's going
to be some meal-ticket big star who can make them a lot of money...
instead of looking at the obvious future of this sport.  Todd Michaelson
wants him to come back, because he wants to feel like his Combat Corner
is a big success... since he's consumed with jealousy at who's in
control of the true number one prospect in wrestling.  And the fans want
him to come back, because they want their instant gratification and
don't care about whether he gets hurt... and their xenophobia blinds
them to the man they're really looking for.

JM: So you want to be a hero, Eric Preston?  You want to be a good role
model?  Then stay home.  Show the kids that society isn't always right,
and that you should think for yourself!  Show them not to grow up to be
like these ignorant lemmings, who'd jump off a cliff if the lemming in
front of them did it first!  Or you can come back, follow Riley and
Maverick, and guess where those two lemmings will be leading you?  Right
into the role model message this society wants you to teach:

   "Hey kids, look at meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee..."

[Monosso pantomimes falling off of a cliff as Childes laughs... a cruel
laugh, at that.]

PC: They're dead men...especially when you have a guy like James
Monosso...or the mysterious Nenshou on the other side of the equation. 
Haven't you learned by now, Myers?  My proteges can't be beaten!  Just
when you think you've won, they change the rules of the game on
you...and it becomes about survival.

Do YOU think they'll survive?  Do you think then CAN?

[With a gesture of his cane, Childes sends Nenshou towards the ring.  He
rolls under the ropes into the ring, taking a knee as he rips off his
mask to reveal crimson red facepaint punctuated by small kanji
characters all over the place.  He spews a blast of green mist into the
air, leaving a green liquid residue dripping from the corner of his
mouth as he flings his mask to the floor, pacing back and forth across
the ring as Melissa begins to speak.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... from Japan... he is accompanied to the ring by James Monosso and
his manager, the Collector of Oddities, Percy Childes...

NENNNNSHOUUUUU!

[The crowd jeers Nenshou - a gesture that's lost on the face-painted
warrior who continues to stalk back and forth across the ring.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The opening chords of an a slow-paced, Southern rock-style theme begins
to play over the PA.  It's forceful, full of 70's-era-sounding electric
guitars and piano, and incorporates "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly"
theme into something more modern.]

MC:  From Tucson, Arizona... weighing in at 240 pounds...

BRENNNNNT MAAAAAVERICK!

[Brent Maverick emerges from the back, and the fans roar.  He wears
rust-red colored knee-length trunks with a small golden Arizona Sun logo
on the upper right-hand side.  His footwear of choice is reddish brown
leather 'western' style boots with an engraved eagle motif along the
front sides.  A reddish-brown leather vest and wrist tape completes his
attire.   Maverick storms down the aisle towards the ring.  His eyes
lock on the ring and do not waver, as he bee-lines for ringside at a
pretty good clip.]

GM:  Maverick's on his way to the ring and-

[But as he draws near, Nenshou grabs the top rope, slingshotting over
the ropes and wiping out Maverick with a crossbody to the shock of the
crowd!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  A daredevil dive by Nenshou!

[Childes shouts "Ring the bell!  Ring the bell!" to the referee who does
exactly that, starting a ten count as Nenshou gets to his feet on the
floor, delivering snapping kicks to the torso of the downed Maverick.]

GM:  He's lighting up the ribs of the man from Tucson, Arizona with
those kicks!

[Nenshou reaches down, hauling Maverick up by the arm, grabbing the
wrist...

...and firing him into the closest ringside barricade!]

GM:  Ohhh!  His back gets thrown into the steel railing!

[With Maverick draped back over the railing, his arms hanging over it,
Nenshou leaps into the air, snapping back a heel kick into the torso of
Maverick.]

BW:  This guy's a lethal weapon inside the ring, Gordo.  Dives, kicks,
strikes.  This guy can do it all.

GM:  And don't forget that top rope backflip dive... he's even got the
high flying down.

[At a shout from Childes, Nenshou shoves Maverick back under the ropes
into the ring.  He pulls himself up on the apron using the ropes,
waiting for Maverick to rise.]

GM:  What's he got in mind here, Bucky?

BW:  If I knew, I'd make a mint in selling a scouting report.

GM:  Maverick up to a knee...

[Nenshou reaches over the ropes, grabbing Maverick by the head and
pulling him into a front facelock, pushing Maverick's windpipe down on
the top rope.]

GM:  He's choking him!  He's choking Brent Maverick!

[The crowd jeers as Nenshou leans on the back of Maverick's neck,
forcing the air out of his body as the referee reprimands him.]

GM:  The count's up to three... to four...

[Nenshou releases at a barked order from Childes, allowing Maverick to
slump down to the mat, dropping to his knees.  Nenshou quickly pulls
Maverick's torso between the middle and bottom ropes...

...and delivers a bone-rattling kick to the sternum!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Dropping off to the floor, Nenshou grabs Maverick by the head and drags
him out to the thinly-padded concrete.  An overhead chop to the neck
puts Maverick facefirst on the mat before Nenshou rolls into the ring. 
The referee immediately moves in to reprimand him...

...which allows Monosso to move in, stomping Maverick over and over into
the mats on the floor.  He violently yanks Maverick up, shoving him
under the ropes just as the referee turns around.]

GM:  A blatant assault by James Monosso out on the floor.  Brent
Maverick's out here all by himself and we've got both Childes and
Monosso in the corner of Nenshou.

BW:  That's right!  Where's that fat idiot Vernon Riley now?  Where he
at, daddy?

GM:  I have no idea.  Riley and Maverick have had no choice but to align
themselves with each other in recent weeks due to this... this... unholy
alliance.

BW:  You were going to call them a freakshow again, weren't you?

[Nenshou hauls Maverick off the mat again, connecting with a knife-edge
chop dangerously close to the throat that sends Maverick falling back
into the turnbuckles.]

GM:  Maverick backed to the buckles...

[Grabbing Maverick around the head and neck, Nenshou snapmares him down
to the mat...

...and shakes his spine with a hard kick to the back!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[A few more stomps puts Maverick flat on his back again as Nenshou
stands over him.  Percy Childes smacks his cane on the ring apron,
shouting something in Japanese.]

GM:  Childes speaks Japanese?

BW:  How else do you think he communicates with Nenshou?

GM:  It hadn't really occured to me, I suppose.

[A leaping kneedrop to the chest by Nenshou puts Maverick down as the
Japanese star reaches back to hook a leg.]

GM:  Here's a cover for one... for two... 

[Maverick fires a shoulder up at two to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  That's not enough to keep him down, Bucky.

BW:  It's still early, Gordo.  Nenshou has plenty of weapons left in the
war chest.

[Nenshou rolls back to the middle of the ring, grabbing at his throat.]

GM:  Wait a second!  What's he doing?

BW:  We've seen this before!  He does this right before he-

[But Maverick sees it coming, going into a front roll before Nenshou can
let the mist fly.  He pops up behind Nenshou, slipping his left hand
over the painted mouth, and JAMMING his left thumb into the throat of
Nenshou!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[The crowd roars as Nenshou stumbles forward, clutching his throat!]

GM:  He might have just swallowed that mist!  If he had something in his
mouth, it might be down his throat right now, Bucky!

[With Nenshou struggling for air, clutching his throat with both hands,
Maverick tears his left arm away from his throat, firing him across the
ring...

...and drilling him with a clothesline!]

GM:  Another shot to the throat!  Maverick's going after the throat of
Nenshou!

[Proving Gordon to be correct, Maverick leaves his feet with a high
leaping legdrop across the throat!]

GM:  OHHH!  Nicely done!

[And this time, it's Maverick's turn to apply a lateral press, grabbing
a leg.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  We've got- no!  Shoulder up!

[Grabbing the jet black hair of Nenshou, Maverick delivers a trio of
hard right hands to the jaw.  He climbs to his feet, hauling Nenshou up
as well by the wrist.]

GM:  Irish whi- OHHH!  HARD CHESTFIRST TO THE CORNER!!

[And as Nenshou stumbles backwards from the corner, Maverick charges him
from behind...

...and DRILLS Nenshou in the back of the head with another running
clothesline!]

GM:  Yeah!  He got him again!

[Maverick pops out of the corner, throwing his arms apart with a
"YEAAAAAH!"...

...and then sees James Monosso jump up on the apron!]

GM:  Monosso's on the apron and-

[The crowd ROARS as Maverick scores with a running double axehandle to
the face, a blow that sends Monosso sailing off the apron and down to
the floor!]

GM:  HE FLOORS MONOSSO!  BRENT MAVERICK IS STANDING TALL!

[Suddenly, the crowd starts to buzz as two men appear in the aisle.]

GM:  Wait a second, fans... we've got- yes, that's Anton Layton and Gino
Moretti coming down the aisle!

[Or more accurately, it's Layton screaming and shouting towards the ring
as he drags Moretti by the hair down the aisle.]

BW:  This can't be good news for Maverick.

GM:  It certainly can't.  It's going to be-

[With Layton at ringside, screaming up at Maverick, the Arizona native
grabs the top rope, slingshotting over them...

...and completely wiping out Gino Moretti who Layton hurled in front of
him for protection!]

GM:  OHH!  Down goes the former Disco Machine!

[Maverick pops up to his feet, staring dead in the eye of Anton Layton
who simply rolls his eyes back in his head, throwing his arms apart and
starts screaming in gibberish at Maverick...

...who simply rears back and POPS Layton on the jaw to the cheers of the
fans!]

GM:  MAVERICK TAKES DOWN LAYTON AS WELL!!

BW:  He's going to regret taking a shot at Layton - Monosso too, Gordo.

GM:  Perhaps but right now he's on fire.  Maverick's back in the ring,
pulling Nenshou off the mat...

[Maverick flings Nenshou into the ropes, catching him on the rebound
around the waist...

...and takes him over with an overhead Northern Lights style throw!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Hard down to the mat once more!

[Maverick hits a running kick to the ribs, a blow that sends Nenshou out
to the apron.  He reaches over the ropes, hauling Nenshou to his feet. 
He slings Nenshou's arm over his neck, looking to hoist him up in a
suplex...

...where Layton hooks the ankle, causing Maverick to fall back down to
the mat with Nenshou on top of him!]

GM:  LAYTON'S HOLDING THE ANKLE!!

[The referee's hand goes up and down once... twice... and is on the way
down for the third time when suddenly Maverick's legs are free and he's
able to kick out.

Why are they free?

Because Vernon Riley's presence has suddenly become known.]

GM:  RILEY's IN THE FRONT ROW!!  RILEY'S IN THE FRONT ROW!!

[A street-clothes wearing Vernon Riley with a sweatshirt hood suddenly
pulled back has reached over the rail, grabbing Layton by the hair, and
yanking him into the crowd!  BIG ROAR!]

GM:  HE'S GOT LAYTON!!  HE'S GOT LAYTON!!

[Riley throws Layton down on the floor, pounding him with right hands to
the skull.  A shocked Percy Childes begins shouting at James Monosso,
pointing wildly with his cane in that direction..

...which allows Maverick to roll under the ropes to the floor and DRILL
Childes with a right hand to the jaw!]

GM:  HE KNOCKS CHILDES FLAT TOO!

[An upset Nenshou sees his manager floored and immediately grabs at his
throat, waiting for Maverick to rise...]

GM:  LOOK OUT, BRENT!  LOOK OUT FOR THE-

BW:  MIST!!

[But the spray of green liquid flying towards Brent Maverick comes up
empty as Maverick raises his tape-covered hands, blocking the spray!]

GM:  HE BLOCKS IT!!

[Reaching out with mist-covered hands, Maverick RAKES the eyes of the
shocked Nenshou!]

GM:  He caught him!  He raked the eyes and-

[The crowd roars as Maverick steps back into the ring, hoisting the
blinded Nenshou up across his shoulders...

...and charges out to the middle of the ring, leaping into the air to
DRIVE Nenshou's skull into the canvas!]

GM:  ACEY DEUCY!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Maverick dives into a lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars for the Maverick victory... and then roars louder as
Vernon Riley, narrowly escaping an attack from James Monosso rolls
himself under the ropes to join Maverick in celebrating his win.]

GM:  Brent Maverick with a big win over the formerly undefeated Nenshou!

[An irate Percy Childes is screaming at Nenshou on the floor as a
slightly-roughed up Layton stalks back and forth, kicking over the
ringsteps, turning over the timekeeper's table.]

GM:  Look out... look out for Layton... he's lost it!

BW:  I'm gettin' out of here, Gordo!

GM:  You stay right there!

[Layton stalks over to the announce table, ripping the house mic out of
the hands of Gordon Myers.]

AL:  RIIIIILEEEEEEY!

[Layton throws back his head, letting loose an anguished scream.]

AL:  RIIIIIILLLLLLLEEEEEEEY!

[Vernon sits on the middle rope, inviting Layton to continue the fight.]

AL:  You'd like that, wouldn't you?  You'd like me to expose myself to a
fight with you on your terms... in your ring... in your rules... NO! 
NOOO!  WE'VE ALREADY PLAYED THAT GAME, RILEY!!  In Florida, we played by
your rules.  In Florida, you called the shots.

But here... now... THE MASTER CALLS THE SHOTS!!  EHEHEHEHEHHE!

[Riley shakes his head, saying something unheard to Maverick as Layton
proceeds to get even nuttier.]

AL:  The darkness is coming for you, Vernon Riley.  It has engulfed Eric
Preston!  And now, you... you, Maverick.. you have cast your lot in with
cursed men.  You face the darkness now as well.

Vernon Riley, if you want me in the ring...

[He smirks.]

AL:  THEN MAVERICK MUST DO YOUR DIRTY WORK!!

[Riley looks confused.  Maverick balls up his fists, shouting, "BRING IT
ON, YOU PSYCHO!" as Layton shakes his head slowly.]

AL:  No, no... not now... now here... not like this...

[Layton snaps his head up.]

AL:  New Orleans.

[BIG CHEER!]

AL:  The AWA wants to see blood!  They want to see carnage!  They want
to see the souls of their fans broken and spit upon while the Bayou
fills with the sweet, sweet crimson tribute to my master!

They shall see exactly that, Riley.

[Layton rubs his hand all over his face and then slaps himself across
the cheek.]

AL:  MAVERICK!  Tonight, you beat one of my men... tonight, you beat one
of the master's servants...

But there?  

There, you must beat them all.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as Maverick shakes his head, pointing
at Layton.]

AL:  No, no... not me.  If Riley wants me in the ring... you must do his
dirty work.

You beat them all... you beat them all in one match...

YOU FACE THE DARKNESS!

[A sick grin crosses his face.]

AL:  And Riley can name his rules once more.

ENTER THE DARKNESS, MAVERICK!!  ENTER THE DARKNESS!

EHEHEHEHHEHEHEHHHEHE!

[Layton spikes the mic to the floor, gesturing for his men to follow him
out of the ringside area as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back up to live action where Gordon and Bucky are
standing at ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - a wild scene we saw there before the break but
during that commercial, we got some clarification from backstage just to
what Anton Layton was ranting about.  A gauntlet match, Bucky!

BW:  That's right - the Enter The Darkness challenge.  Brent Maverick
has to defeat Gino Moretti, Nenshou, and James Monosso one by one in one
match.  If he does, Riley gets to pick the time and place and RULES for
when he faces Anton Layton one on one.

GM:  And if he fails?

BW:  Then at AWA Homecoming, a steel cage will be erected for Vernon
Riley to face the entire Unholy Alliance for five minutes with Brent
Maverick forced to watch at ringside.

GM:  And there's one more wrinkle to it, Bucky.

BW:  At Battle On The Bayou, Vernon Riley will be handcuffed to the
ringpost so that he can not intervene.

GM:  Anton Layton is a nutjob, Bucky!

BW:  He may be but Maverick has accepted the challenge!  Who's crazy
now?

GM:  The final piece to the Battle On The Bayou puzzled and... whew. 
That's gonna be something else, fans.  What a night it's gonna be in
just nine days.  I think it might be the best night of the year so far,
Bucky.

BW:  Some big matches, some huge matches really... it's gonna be
something else and I can't wait.

GM:  New Orleans, we're on our way but before we say our farewells for
tonight, we've still got one pressing issue to deal with... gentlemen?

[The camera pulls back to reveal the four men set to take on the
Southern Syndicate inside WarGames in nine days.]

GM:  As I understand, a replacement for Todd Michaelson has been found.
Marcus Broussard...is this true? Have you found your fifth man?

MB: We have indeed, Gordon. No one can replace his will to defend AWA
and his love for the people who make it up, so we didn't try. We need a
warrior, Gordon, someone comfortable in the chaos that is WarGames. It
was a hard decision, but it's the right one. 

[In the back, a disgruntled-looking Juan Vasquez stands there with his
arms folded, staring at the ground. His anger doesn't go unnoticed.] 

BW: Now, wait just a minute... you've been standing around looking like
someone shot your dog ever since Broussard said he was going to make the
call, Vasquez! What's the deal?

[Juan stares at Bucky for a brief moment, before dropping his head and
chuckling softly, holding up his hands.]

JV: Ya' got me, Bucky...ya' got me.

[He shakes his head.]

JV: I ain't even gonna' try to hide it. I ain't happy 'bout this
decision at all. 

[He shoots a quick glance to Broussard, who begrudgingly nods in the
affirmative.]

JV: If ya' asked me who I would've chosen to replace Todd, this guy
wouldn't even have made the list. It's the last person in the world I'd
ever want to stand by my side. These guys don't know him like I do.
Bottom line: I don't trust him. I don't respect him. And as far as I'm
concerned? 

[He pauses, pointing a finger and making sure Marcus gets the message
loud and clear.]

JV: We _don't_ need him.

[The crowd murmurs with confusion as Juan steps back in line.]

GM: Well then, don't keep us in suspense...who is it?

[A voice booms out over the PA.]

"Yes, who is it?"

[The crowd jeers wildly as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson emerges
from the entryway, mic in hand.]

ATTSBW:  Who is it, Vasquez?  Who in the world would be stupid enough to
saddle up on your dead horse?

[Waterson has a big grin splashed across his despite the fact he's
getting booed out of his boots by the Mobile crowd.]

ATTSBW:  You don't have to answer the question, Juan.  'Cause I already
know the answer.

[A smirk.]

ATTSBW:  NO ONE!  NO ONE WOULD DO IT!!  All this talk out here about how
you don't trust the man you picked... all this garbage about the
replacement you've got going on.  It's all a show - a farce!  You're
trying to get us rattled about some kind of mystery partner or
something.  You're trying to make the people think there's actually
someone else who would step up to stand beside the four of you against
us.

But the truth is, Vasquez - no one would do it!

[Another shower of jeers.]

ATTSBW:  No one would be stupid enough to get in there with the four of
you and put themselves in a position to end up on the list of men that
the Southern Syndicate and MAMMOTH Mizusawa have sent running out of the
AWA.  It's a long ol' list, I know... but I'm pretty sure there's no one
else looking to join it... besides the four of you that is.

[A big grin.]

ATTSBW:  Face it, boys... there's no one who wants to end up like Adam
Rogers, begging for crumbs up in Canada because that's all he can manage
to do after we finished him off.  Or maybe Gary Bright.  Has anyone even
HEARD from Gary Bright after we sent him packin'?

[A chuckle.]

ATTSBW:  Oooh, how 'bout the big, bad mighty Tumaffi?  The unstoppable
force AND the immovable object all in one.  But when he ran into the
TRUE unstoppable force in the world of professional wrestling, he ran
off with his bellowing tail between his treetrunk legs!  Sweet Daddy
Williams and his busted up leg.  Simon Rhodes and his broken down neck. 
Raphael Rhodes and his torn up knee...

No one!  You've got no one!  You've got no-

[Marcus Broussard interrupts.]

MB: I'm sorry Waterson, go over that list again. I didn't hear that
right.

[Waterson looks confused.]

ATTSBW:  Don't go feigning deafness to get out of this match, Broussard.
 You're gonna wish you never crawled out of your wife's lap and got back
in the ring with real men.  You know exactly what I said - you people
are gonna end up just like the others.  That's why no one will team with
you! They'd end up just like Rogers, Bright, Tumaffi, Williams, Simon
Rhodes, Raphael Rho...

[Waterson suddenly freezes, snapping his head back and forth.]

ATTSBW:  No.

[The crowd ROARS!]

ATTSBW:  NO!  IT CAN'T BE!  WE LAID HIM UP!!  WE PUT HIM OUT!!  HE'S
DONE!!

[The crowd is going absolutely nuts now as Broussard cracks a grin.]

MB:  We'll see you in New Orleans, Ben...

[A pause.]

MB:  ...all of us.

[Off-mic, Waterson is throwing the biggest tantrum we've ever seen from
him.]

GM:  I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!  RAPHAEL RHODES IS THE FIFTH MAN!!  RAPHAEL
RHODES WILL BE IN WARGAMES!!

BW:  How... what... how?!

GM:  OH MY STARS AND GARTERS!!  FANS, WE'LL SEE YOU IN NEW ORLEANS!!

[The camera holds on Ben Waterson throwing the biggest tantrum of his
life...

...and we fade to black.]