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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                  			  The Stampede Cup

               From the Crockett Coliseum in Dallas, Texas
                            December 25th, 2010
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[We fade up from black to the studio filled with monitors that has
become known as the AWA Control Center.  Jason Dane is standing in front
of the monitors.]

JD:  Merry Christmas, AWA fans!  It is that special time of year that
can mean only one thing to professional wrestling fans - the Stampede
Cup!  Two big nights of tag team wrestling, a sixteen team tournament -
and at the end of it all, two men hold up a big gold cup and a check for
ONE!  MILLION!  DOLLARS!  Now, tonight, we're going to be seeing
highlights from Night One of the tournament that took place this
afternoon in Dallas.  Remember, this is the first time that the AWA
competitors have been in action since SuperClash II so they should be
fresh and ready for these two big nights of action.  It was a wild day
of action in downtown Dallas and I can't wait for you fans to see
exactly what went down in the Crockett Coliseum.  We're going to be
seeing highlights of all the matches plus hearing from some of your
favorite AWA superstars.  So, let's get right down to it... 

[A shot comes up with the Stampede Cup graphic.  On one side of the
shiny cup, we see Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman with a large
number one next to their faces.  On the other side, we see City Jack and
Tin Can Rust, Kentucky's Pride, with a large number eight next to them.]

JD:  It was set to be the opening match of the night and what a match it
was going to be.  The first match in the Fraternity Boys Bracket with
two former National Tag Team Champions and hated rivals colliding with
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman, the Southern Syndicate, taking on
Kentucky's Pride who would be teaming together for the first time in
over a year.  This was a Main Event on any other night but today, in
Dallas, it was Match #1...

[Dramatic pause.]

JD:  ...or so we thought.  First, we caught up with them arriving in the
building... and then we'll go right to their matchup.  Take a look...

[We fade in to the exterior of what appears to be the Crockett Coliseum.
Standing outside the entrance with an impatient look on his face is one
half of the number one seed in the Stampede Cup, "Subzero" Adrian
Freeman.  Freeman wears a blue polo shirt and jeans. The camera pans
over as a black Lincoln Towncar pulls up to the entrance and the driver
quickly hops out of the car, and opens the rear door.  Freeman's look
only becomes darker as he sees his partner in crime slowly climb out
from the back of the car with the help of the driver.  "The Ladykiller"
Calisto Dufresne is clad in a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans.  What
sticks out most, however, is the neck brace that Dufresne is wearing. 
Dufresne shuffles over to where his partner is standing, looking
incredulously at him.]

AF: What's with the brace?

CD: Did you not see the war I was in?  I had to battle that old redneck
all over Dallas at SuperClash.  He tried to cut my _face,_ for Christ's
sake!  That's like putting graffiti on the Statue of Liberty or
something.  Trashing a national treasure like that.  Blasphemous, I tell
you.

AF: We talked after the match and you said you were fine.  Hell, we went
out drinking last night and there was no brace.

[Dufresne looks around nervously, not wanting to meet Freeman's steely
gaze.]

CD: Sometimes neck injuries don't show up until the next day.  You know
how twisted necks can be, pal.  Hell, you dish them out enough, don't
you?

[Dufresne claps Freeman on the back good-naturedly.]

AF: You do realize we're facing Kentucky's Pride in the first round,
right?  I can outwrestle those two rednecks any day of the week, but
you've got them so agitated they might just bring a torch and pitchfork
down to the ring with them.

CD: Yeah... about that...

[Stormclouds begin to form on Freeman's brow.]

CD: The doctor won't clear me for the match, man.  I want to get out
there and run roughshod over those two crazed inbreds more than anybody,
you know that!  But if I can't get clearance, they're not going to let
me out there.

AF: Seriously?  You're doing this to me, tonight?

CD: Don't worry, my friend!  I've already got my replacement lined up. 
He's helped the Southern Syndicate in the past and he's here to help us
again.  _And_ I paid him out of my own pocket.  That way, when we...
well, you guys... win the Cup, he won't expect anything out of our 50/50
split.

[The look on the Australian's face shows exactly what he thinks of a
50/50 split.]

CD: Trust me, this is going to work out perfectly.

[Dufresne quickly reaches for the door, holding it open for his partner
as the two head into the builting, Freeman looking none too happy as we
crossfade to footage from earlier in the day with City Jack and Tin Can
Rust already standing in the ring, ready to take the fight to the Number
One Seed.  Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne are approaching the ring,
the sounds of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" still blasting over the PA. 
As they get there, Dufresne gestures for the music to be cut and then
signals to the back as the sounds of some kind of funky military march
starts to rock the PA...

...and the crowd groans as the Cuban Assassin #6 strides into view.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  Oh, Kentucky's Pride is in trouble now!

GM:  Are you kidding me?  Dufresne is bailing on this match and-

[An angry Freeman shouts in Dufresne's direction but the Ladykiller
simply grabs his neck, raising a hand in protest at his partner's
words.]

GM:  Kentucky's Pride was ready, Bucky.  There were ready to take
another shot at these two and now look what's happening!  Can you
imagine what must be going through City Jack's mind, Bucky?  

BW:  Not a lot.  It's kind of a wind tunnel in there.

GM:  Would you stop?  He came back to the AWA to get his hands on this
weasel!  This coward who stooped so low to try to put Jack and his
friends out of this business!  And now Dufresne's running away from it!

BW:  He's injured!  You heard it yourself.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky.  There's nothing wrong with him other than
a severe case of cowardice.

[Jack shouts over the ropes at Dufresne who shrugs his shoulders...

...and then visibly winces, grabbing his neck again.]

BW:  Look!  He can't even shrug without hurting himself!

[The Cuban Assassin arrives at ringside, getting welcome with a big
handshake from Dufresne and a scowl from Freeman as the Australian
climbs into the ring, still angry at his partner...

...and we crossfade ahead a few minutes into the match where a downed
Freeman is eating elbowdrop after elbowdrop from a fired-up City Jack.]

GM:  Big elbows!  Down over and over to the chest of Freeman!

[Outside the ring, Calisto Dufresne is shouting encouragement to his
partner while the Cuban Assassin screams for a tag.]

BW:  The Cuban wants in there!  He wants the tag!

GM:  But Freeman is wisely trying to avoid that.

BW:  Wisely?  He needs to get out of there.  He's getting pounded by
Kentucky's Pride!

GM:  You think the Assassin will fare better?

[Jack pulls Freeman off the mat by the hair...

...and HURLS him through the ropes, sending him crashing down in a heap
at the feet of Calisto Dufresne.  The fired-up Southerner makes a
beeline for the ropes, stepping out on the apron...]

GM:  He's coming out after Freeman!

[Dufresne moves quickly, getting out of Jack's reach as the big man hops
down off the apron.  He pulls Freeman up by the arm, swinging him
around, and HURLING him into the barricade!]

GM:  OHHH!  INTO THE STEEL HE GOES!!

[Freeman leans against the railing, his arms draped over the steel as we
crossfade to later in the match...

...where Rust and Jack are both in the ring, Freeman in the corner
trying to stay on his feet.  Rust rushes across the ring, landing a big
clothesline on the cornered Australian, then bounces back to grab his
partner by the arm...]

GM:  He's gonna whip him in... AAAAAVAAAALANCH-

[But Freeman lunges out of the way at the last moment, causing City Jack
to run chestfirst into the buckles.  He collapses to the mat, crawling
across the ring...

...where an excited Cuban Assassin reaches over the ropes, slapping his
shoulder!]

BW:  TAG!  GET HIM, ASSASSIN!

[The wild-bearded Assassin rushes into the ring, peppering the dazed
City Jack with jabs to the jaw in the corner.  He grabs the arm,
preparing for a whip...]

BW:  BIG WHI-

GM:  Reversed!

[Jack easily reverses the whip, sending the Assassin crashing chestfirst
into the corner where he stumbles out into the waiting arms of City Jack
who holds, waits, lifts, and twists before driving the Assassin into the
canvas!]

GM:  METROBOOM!  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!

[The bell rings as an angry City Jack gets to his feet, still staring
dead in the eyes of a nervous-looking Calisto Dufresne.  The Ladykiller
is ready to bolt at any moment as Jack retrieves the Louisville Slugger
from their corner, pointing straight at the Southern Syndicate member.]

GM:  And that's a very clear message, fans... City Jack's coming for
Calisto Dufresne.  It may not be tonight here in Dallas... but he's
coming for him... have no doubt about that.

[Tin Can Rust pats his partner on the back, raising an arm in triumph to
the cheers of the crowd before encouraging his partner to exit the ring,
walking back down the aisle towards the locker room.]

GM:  Kentucky's Pride, the #8 seed, is moving on to the second round
where they will meet either the Samoan Hit Squad or the trainer/student
duo of Todd Michaelson and Eric Preston.

[With the Assassin down, Calisto Dufresne rolls into the ring.  He leans
over the Cuban, patting him on the chest as he keeps his eyes locked on
the exiting City Jack, making sure he doesn't come back to the ring.]

GM:  Dufresne may have escaped this time, Bucky, but I don't think
he'll- hold on a sec...

[The crowd buzzes as Adrian Freeman rolls into the ring, yanking his
partner up to his feet, and jabbing an accusing finger into his chest.]

GM:  It looks like the Southern Syndicate is having even more problems
tonight here in the Crockett Coliseum, Bucky.

BW:  Come on, guys.  You gotta get back on the same page.  

[Freeman is verbally abusing Dufresne, screaming and shouting at the
Ladykiller...

...and then shoves him hard with both hands in the chest!]

GM:  This is getting ugly in a hurry.

[Freeman continues to shout at Dufresne who is turned slightly sideways
from the shove...

...and then spins back towards his partner, burying a boot in his
midsection.]

BW:  No!

[He quickly hooks a front facelock on the man he once held the National
Tag Team Titles with, hoisting him off the mat...

...and DRIVING him skullfirst into the canvas!]

GM:  Ohhh!  DDT!  He delivers the DDT on Adrian Freeman!

BW:  Hrm.  Neck didn't look too hurt there.

GM:  What a surprise.

[Dufresne rolls to his feet, spewing a few words down in the direction
of the unconscious Adrian Freeman.  He spits down onto the Australian's
chest before walking out, leaving him motionless.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne just delivered that thunderous DDT to Adrian
Freeman and he just walked out on him!  I think... is the Southern
Syndicate done?  Did the Southern Syndicate just die at the hands of one
of its' own?

BW:  Stevie Scott's gone.  Ben Waterson's gone.  Adrian Freeman just got
laid out.  Calisto Dufresne is the sole survivor... the lone wolf... the
last man standing!  Calisto Dufresne IS the Southern Syndicate!

[The camera holds on Dufresne's back, walking with purpose back up the
aisle towards the locker room, leaving his former partner behind as he
disappears through the curtain and we fade back to the Control Center
where Jason Dane is shaking his head.]

JD:  Calisto Dufresne gets out of having to face City Jack in the
ring... and ends up laying out his only ally in the AWA in the process. 
I don't know if that was the best idea but it appears as though Calisto
Dufresne walks alone, fans.  Regardless of that, Kentucky's Pride is
moving on the second round where they will face either the Samoans or
the team of Michaelson and Preston.  And speaking of that duo, I caught
up with them earlier today to see what was on their mind going into this
big tournament.  Take a look...

[Fade up on Jason Dane standing between two men who will be teaming
later in the night for the Stampede Cup.  Both are dressed in matching
green and white trunks and boots and are ready for action.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Joining me at this time is one of sixteen teams
fighting tonight for one million dollars - Todd Michaelson and Eric
Preston! Gentlemen, it's a big night of action here in Dallas, Texas but
you've got a very big obstacle standing in front of you in the form of
the Samoan Hit Squad.  Todd, your thoughts?

[Michaelson shakes his head, his blond ponytail swinging behind him.]

TM:  We'll get to the Samoans in a second, Jason.  But before that,
let's talk about why we're here tonight.  Tonight, more than any other
thing... more than being named the greatest tag team in the world...
more than winning a million dollars... this is about this young man
here.

[Todd gestures to a beaming Preston.]

TM:  This is about getting him back on the right track.  This is about
him living up to the potential that I saw in him back in the Combat
Corner all those months that he was in the gym, lifting weights and
running laps.  All those months he was in that ring, getting welts from
running the ropes, smashing his back out of alignment from hitting the
mat.  This kid worked harder than anyone I've ever seen in that
building, Jason.

But what I've seen from him over the past few months?  Nothing like that
kid.

Tonight, we start changing that.  Tonight, we show the world what this
kid's made of.

Ain't that right?

[Michaelson claps Preston on the shoulder.]

EP: That's right Todd. The old saying is that you can't always get what
you want, but you always get what you need.

And I would love to be standing here right now calling myself the winner
of the Steal the Spotlight match, ready to challenge Juan Vasquez. I
_wanted_ to rise above and do something great, but what I needed is what
this man here has never been afraid to provide, and that's a kick in the
butt and a reality check.

The dictionary is the only place where success comes before hard work.
And I'm not saying that I slacked off, Jason, but what I am saying is
that I needed to rededicate myself to the fundamentals that this sport
is all about. One of those building blocks is mental toughness, which I
haven't been showing a whole lot of recently.

It's a matter of consistency, Jason, it's about putting the whole
package together every time the bell sounds, brother. The Stampede Cup
is an event where only the strong survive, baby, it's a place where
you've got to come correct or it's back to the showers.

[Preston cracks his knuckles, ever so slightly looking over his shoulder
for approval from Todd.]

EP: Me and Todd, we're fixin' not just to get yours truly on the right
track, we're aiming to lay our claim as a formidable team. Every year
there's a wild card, every year there's a team that catches lightning in
a bottle and does the little things right, and scorches some Earth in
the process.

Why not us?

[Michaelson nods.]

TM:  And that brings us to the Samoans.  Because when you talk about
someone being a formidable team, you're talking about Scola and Mafu...
and even that pesky rat James J. Dallas.  Together, they make one hell
of a unit, Jason.  And we know we're in for one hell of a fight when we
get in there with 'em.  We're gonna get smacked in the face.  We're
gonna get a headbutt or six to knock us silly.  We're probably even
gonna get bitten a time or two.

But we'll keep fighting.  

[An excited Preston jumps in.]

EP: Because that's all we know how to do. We fight, we survive. We keep
on keepin' on. We might have that old school/new school dynamic going
on, we might be the AWA odd couple, but the things that bind us together
are the things that make good teams great. We grind it out, Jason, we're
not afraid to roll up our sleeves and get the job done.

We might not be Samoan, we me night be able to knock holes in the wall
with our head, we don't have a manager or even a team name, but what we
do have is that fire in our belly to keep fightin' till the final bell.

Things haven't been easy for me, Jason, and you're talkin' to a man who
broke his back in the middle of a World title defense. Don't be fooled
by the good looks or the million dollar dimples, you're looking at two
men with a point to prove and a chip on their shoulder. You're looking
at two guys who know what it means to scrap and claw for anything and
everything. We might not have any experience as a team, but that's okay.
We speak the same language every day of our lives.

[An amused Todd pats his partner on the shoulder.]

TM: And when the smoke clears, I'm gonna hook someone's arms up and drop
'em with a Billion Dollar Bomb.  Eric's gonna jump off the top rope and
knock someone flat.

And maybe... just maybe... by the time New Year's rolls around, you're
going to find Eric and I a million dollars richer.

[Michaelson slaps Preston on the chest as Eric blurts out a final...]

EP: Why not us?

[...and the two men leave the interview area.]

JD:  Eric Preston is looking to get back on track here in the AWA right
here tonight in Dallas and Todd Michaelson's looking to help him do
exactly that.  But will the wild Samoans allow that to happen?  Let's
head down to ringside and find out!

[We crossfade to several minutes into the match where Eric Preston is
battering Mafu in the corner.]

GM:  Right hand!  Right hand!  And another right hand!  Preston's
beating the heck out of Mafu!

[The referee backs Preston off, forcing him to the middle of the ring...

...where he rushes right back in, throwing a big dropkick to the chin of
Mafu, knocking him down to his rear in the corner!]

GM:  Ohh!  Down goes Mafu!

[Scola comes in behind Preston, charging him...

...and Preston ducks underneath the running clothesline before throwing
a big discus punch that sends Scola falling back to the same corner
where Mafu is seated.]

GM:  Eric Preston says he's trying to get back on track and he's sure
doing it right now, Bucky!

BW:  It's still early, Gordo.

[With the crowd roaring, Preston leaps up on the second rope, holding up
a right hand to the screams of the fans, and begins throwing it down to
the temple of the Samoan big man.]

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TEN!"

[Preston leans down, grabbing the top rope with both hands, and kicks
away from the corner, swinging down at top speed and DRIVING both feet
squarely into Mafu's face!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Preston pops up to his feet, pumping a fist...

...and we crossfade to later in the match where Scola has Todd
Michaelson trapped in the corner, repeatedly driving shoulder tackles
into the lower back of the Combat Corner trainer.]

GM:  The Samoans are going to work on the oft-injured back of Todd
Michaelson.  You can hear James J. Dallas screaming at Scola, telling
him to hit Michaelson again... and again...

[Standing up, Scola drags Michaelson out of the corner by the ponytail,
wrapping his arms around the torso from the side.  He powers Michaelson
up for a belly-to-back suplex, sending him crashing down to the canvas.]

GM:  Ohh!  Right down on the back... and there's a tag to Mafu!

[The slightly-more-savage Samoan rushes into the ring, stomping and
kicking at Michaelson's ribs, forcing him to his back where Mafu
immediatey leaps into the air, dropping his head down on the lower
back!]

GM:  Leaping headbutt by Mafu!

[Pushing up to his knees, Mafu repeatedly hammers the lower back with
overhead forearms, throwing them with no technique but just sheer
brutality!]

GM:  Good grief, fans!  Mafu is just battering the lower back of
Michaelson!

[Mafu plants his knee in the lower back of Michaelson, grabbing the
ponytail to pull his head back, stretching his spine out...

...as we crossfade to later in the match where Michaelson has Mafu
trapped on the ropes, pummeling him with big forearms to the skull!]

GM:  Todd Michaelson throws some of the hardest forearms in the
business, Bucky!

BW:  Yeah, but Mafu's got one of the hardest heads in the world, Gordo!

[Shaking off the forearms, Mafu grabs Michaelson by the back of the
head, attempting a headbutt...

...but Michaelson brings up an arm, blocking the headbutt.  He breaks
free of the grip, does a full spin, and DRILLS Mafu with a rolling elbow
smash!]

GM:  OHHHH!  HE LAYS OUT MAFU!!

[Michaelson immediately dives into a lateral press, reaching back for a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THR-

[But James J. Dallas intervenes, reaching under the ropes to pull
Michaelson off of Mafu.  An angry Preston rushes down the apron,
throwing a kick at Dallas who barely avoids it.  Michaelson shakes his
head as he gets up, pointing Preston to get back to the corner...

...and we crossfade yet again, this time to Scola with Michaelson slung
over his shoulder, ready to powerslam him down to the mat.]

GM:  He's going for a powerslam out of the corner - a running powerslam!

[And as the big man stampedes out of the buckles, Michaelson slips free,
landing on his feet behind Scola...

...but gets FLIPPED inside and out with a big boot from the big Samoan!]

GM:  OHHHH!  DID YOU SEE THAT?!

[The crowd is roaring as we crossfade again...

...and come up with Scola slamming heavy double axehandles across the
lower back of Michaelson who suddenly breaks off his knees, throwing a
right hand to the midsection!]

GM:  Michaelson fires back!  A shot to the gut... and there's a second
one!

[Michaelson climbs to his feet, wincing as he does so... 

...and DRILLS Scola with a big forearm smash to the jaw!]

GM:  Big shot!  That one staggers Scola!

[A second forearm connects to the jaw as the big man stumbles back. 
Scola tries to shake it off, surging forward...

...and Michaelson ducks underneath, lunging towards his corner and
making a diving tag to a waiting Eric Preston!]

GM:  TAG!

[Preston immediately slingshots over the ropes into the ring, catching
Scola with a trio of right hands to the jaw before grabbing Scola by the
muscular arm, firing him into the ropes...]

GM:  Scola off the far side...

[Preston picks Scola up off the mat, tossing him high overhead and down
to the mat with a backdrop!]

GM:  BIG!  BACK!  BODYDROP!

[Mafu rushes in, catching a right hand to the jaw.  Preston quickly
hooks him around the head, snapping him over in a suplex!]

GM:  The Samoans are down!  James J. Dallas is totally irate - screaming
into the ring... get him down from there!

[The angry manager climbs up on the apron...

...and Preston rushes him, grabbing him by the jacket lapels!  Big
cheer!]

GM:  HE GOT HIM!  HE'S GOT DALLAS!!

[But a big running double axehandle to the back of the head by Scola
knocks Preston down to a knee, freeing James J. Dallas.  Scola promptly
pulls Preston up by the hair...

...and Preston slaps the arm away, throwing a right hand to the jaw!]

GM:  Preston with a right hand again!

[Grabbing the arm, Preston hurls Scola to the ropes.]

GM:  Clothesli- ducked by Scola!

[Preston leaps up to the second rope, springing off backwards to catch a
charging Scola on the chin!]

GM:  OHH!  DOWN GOES SCOLA!!

[Preston springs back to his feet, battering his own chest with his
fists.  He shouts to the fans, asking if they want to see more as Todd
Michaelson shouts at him from the apron, pointing at Scola.]

BW:  Michaelson's trying to keep the kid on focus... keep him on
Scola...

GM:  This kid is fired up!  Eric Preston is ready to win a million
dollars!

[Pulling Scola off the mat, Preston HURLS him over the ropes to the
floor!  He grabs a recovering Mafu by the wild hair, pulling him to his
feet.  He hooks a front facelock, reaching back to hook a leg...]

GM:  Look out here!

[Preston powers Mafu up off the mat, still holding the leg, and SLAMS
him down headfirst to the mat!]

GM:  GREENVILLE THUNDER!!

[Preston drops into a cover, grabbing a leg.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!  THREE!  FOUR!  COME ON, REF!!

[But the referee refuses to count, pointing out that Mafu is not the
legal man inside the ring.  Eric Preston climbs to his feet, shaking his
head in disbelief as he argues with the official...

...and we crossfade again.  This time, we find Todd Michaelson in one
corner battering Mafu as Preston does the same with Scola in the
opposite corner.  At a shout, each man grab an arm on the Samoans,
firing them towards the middle of the ring where they collide!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN GO THE SAMOANS!!

[Preston throws a big dropkick that sends Scola falling over the ropes
to the floor.  He gestures to Michaelson who nods as Preston exits the
ring.]

GM:  Preston's going up top and... what in the world...

[The crowd begins to buzz as Michaelson pulls Mafu up, leaning down
behind him...

...and hoisting Mafu up into the air in an electric chair lift!]

GM:  Wait a minute!  Wait a minute!  What are they doing here?

[Preston quickly steps up to the second rope, then to the top as
Michaelson approaches with Mafu up on his shoulders...

...when suddenly James J. Dallas begins screaming and shouting from the
floor.]

GM:  Dallas is trying to get- wait a second!

[An angry Preston shouts back at Dallas, turning his head slightly
towards him.]

GM:  James J. Dallas has got Preston turned towards him and-

[Seizing the moment, Scola leaps up on the apron...

...and SHOVES Preston clear off the top rope, sending him crashing down
to the barely-padded concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

[Mafu slips off the shoulders of a stunned Michaelson, powering
Michaelson up onto his own shoulders as Scola quickly scales the ropes,
towering up top...

...and leaps from his perch, connecting with a clothesline on
Michaelson, a blow that flips him inside out and DUMPS him on the
canvas!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[Scola flips the motionless Michaelson to his back, planting both fists
in the chest as the referee dives to the mat to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEE!!

"DING!  DING!  DING"

[Scola and Mafu climb to their feet, celebrating their victory alongside
a thrilled James J. Dallas as Michaelson continues to lay motionless on
the canvas as we fade back to the Control Center.]

JD:  A tough loss for Todd Michaelson and Eric Preston who seemed like
they had the match won until Preston got distracted by James J. Dallas
up top.  He made a mistake - some might say a rookie mistake - and he
cost his team the match.  So, the Samoans are victorious and as a
result, they'll move on to the second round to face Kentucky's Pride in
what should be an outstanding matchup!

Now... our next match pitted two... well, quite interesting teams.  It
will see the international duo of Vladimir Velikov and Sultan Azam
Sharif taking on Ron Houston and Brian Von Braun.

[Dane smirks, shaking his head.]

JD:  What a volatile team that'll be.  That team was formed by Jim
Watkins earlier this week when he decided that with the competitve match
these two men had back at SuperClash, they just might be able to bring
the best out of each other in a tag team as well.  Will it work?  My
good friend, Mark Stegglet, tried to get some pre-match comments from
them.  Key word?  Tried.  Watch this.

[We crossfade to earlier in the day where Brian Von Braun and Ron
Houston are standing a few feet away from one another with Mark Stegglet
standing between the two.  Jim Watkins is standing behind Stegglet,
ready to keep the peace.]

MS:  I'm backstage at the Crockett Coliseum with two men who I NEVER
thought we'd see teaming up here tonight.  How in the world do you two
men expect to get along?

[Both men attempt to speak at the same time, then break off, eyeing one
another warily.]

MS:  Mr. Watkins... I have to wonder what in the world you were
thinking.

[Watkins grins.]

JW:  Did you see these two compete at SuperClash?

[Stegglet nods.]

JW:  Then you know what they're capable of doing to each other.  Just
imagine if they channel that fire up to use against another team.  I
just thought these two might be a sleeper in this thing and wanted to
give them that chance.

MS:  But they hate each other!

JW:  Some tag teams do.  Doesn't mean they can't be great.

[Von Braun grabs the mic, starting to speak before Houston pulls it
away.  Watkins steps between the two as they start towards one another,
holding them apart as they scream and shout and we fade to the parking
lot, where Jason Dane stands by with a microphone.  A limousine pulls
up... it flies diplomatic flags.  One is the flag of Iran, and the other
is the flag of Russia.]

JD: Fans, this is Jason Dane back in the wrestler's parking lot of the
Crockett Coliseum.  I was instructed by Count Adrian Bathwaite to wait
here for him, and I can only assume that this is him.

[Indeed it is.  The driver steps to the back, and holds the door open. 
The first man out is the rust-red robed, kaffiyeh-adorned figure of
Sultan Azam Sharif.  Behind the Persian grappler is the big Russian,
Vladimir Velikov, in a red and gold windbreaker and black pants.  Behind
them both is the Count himself, wearing a sparkling blackish-blue dress
shirt and white pants.  He wears a long thick short-fur jacket over
it... it's winter, after all.  And last of all is Ivan Kostovich,
impeccably dressed to the nines like he stepped out of a men's fashion
magazine.]

JD: Count Adrian Bathwaite, I'm here as you requested.  

CAB: Good, good!  You did something right for once, you needle-necked
serf.  I'm a busy man, and I don't have time to spend going to an
interview stand on your schedule.  We have a message, and you're going
to hold that microphone while we give it.

JD: Impressive ride.

CAB: What else would I ride in?  But this baby isn't mine.  This is a
diplomatic vehicle, reserved by Comrade Kostovich.  You see, men of our
statue are treated with class and dignity by the powers that be.  Power
recognizes power.  I have a standing invitation to Buckingham Palace as
well as the Kremlin, as well as the Diaoyutai State Guesthouse, and the
Grand Palace in Tehran.  And Comrade Kostovich is equally respected
worldwide.  Only here in America do the people not seem to be able to
recognize inherent superiority.  Tonight, the Sultan and Comrade Velikov
will teach you all a lesson you'll never forget.

JD: Well, speaking of Ivan Kostovich...

IK:  You speak of me as if you know me, Dane.  You speak as if you are
on my level.  You most certainly are not.  You see the dirt underneath
my shoe in this pathetic town?  That... that is you.  You refer to me
with respect or I will teach you respect.

[Dane nods.]

JD: Comrade Kostovich, sir.  Why have you forbidden Kolya Sudakov from
competing here tonight at the Stampede Cup?  Even if he is technically
back under the auspices of your government, wouldn't this opportunity to
win a major tournament be good for your country?

IK:  What has Kolya Sudakov done in the past year and a half to make you
believe he stood a chance to win this tournament?  Ever since he lost
the National Title, he has been a pathetic shell of himself.  He is
broken, Dane.  And it is up to Mother Russia to put him back together. 
Teaming with this... commoner Supernova?  It is not part of our
reconstruction plan for young Kolya.

JD: ...I see.

VV:  Do not speak to Comrade Kostovich in that tone!  You are no better
than my worthless nephew, Kolya.  Weak-willed, soft, cowardly.  

CAB: And as I said, men of our statue are treated with class and
dignity.  We are not to be _manhandled_ by painted-up thugs! Supernova! 
You listen good, you bottom-feeding sewer rodent!

[Bathwaite starts Angry Old Man Jabbing the air in front of him, in the
direction of the camera.]

CAB: You think you're something, punching a sixty-two year old man!  You
snot-nosed rat, I've been three times heavyweight champion of the world,
I've been in more main event matches than you've been in matches, and
you show your ignorance and lack of couth by putting your grubby hands
on me?!  The Adrian Bathwaite of twenty years ago would have broken
those hands off and fed them to you, but now?  Now the Sultan is going
to do that and more!  Tell him, Sultan!

JD: Oh no...

[Oh, yes.  Sultan Azam Sahrif angrily whips his kaffiyeh to the ground,
exposing his neatly groomed black hair and mustache... and a furious
look on his weatherbeaten face.  He starts ranting and raving in his
extremely thick accent.]

SAS: SUPAIRNOVA!  *ptui*  YOU NOT GONNA PUT YOUR HAND ON MY MANAGAIR,
MISTAIR COUNT BATWAITE!  HE IS OLD MAN UN YOU TINK YOU GONNA PUNCH A OLD
MAN VEN DEH SULTAN IS IN IRAN?!

[Sharif stands straight, calming down in body language and tone of
voice.  But not in the look in his eyes.  He's going from full boil to a
more suppressed rage.]

SAS: In my country, in Islam, nowthdhubillah, ven a man did like dot vat
you did to my managair, Supairnova, ve don' let dot hoppen.  Ve cut off
deh hands of deh man dot punch a eldairly man, un den ve teach him
humility!  Man svafar-a svofratan li aheeh-i waqaha feeha!

JD: Huh?

SAS: Dot mean dot he tought he was gonna be troubail for somevun, but he
make his own troubail!  Supairnova, you luck dot Mistair EEvan Kostovich
make sure you wasnt in deh Stompede Cup, or den I vould have got you
tonight.  But now, insha'llah, I gonna get you aftair Mistair Vladmir
Velkupff un I vin deh Stompede Cup!  Un we gonna show deh vurld dot
IRAN!  IRAN, NUMBAH VUN!  ROOSHA, NUMBAH VUN!  YA!

[The Sultan stomps off, followed by the rest of the contingent.  Jason
turns to the camera.]

JD: Well, it looks like Sharif and Velikov have axes to grind.  But will
they be sharp enough to handle the Cup tonight?  Back to you.

[Back to live action.]

BW: Me, I'm just tryin' ta figure out how Iran can be Number One _and_
Russia can be Number One at the same time.  What, was it a tie?

GM: They must have gone to the time limit draw.

[We crossfade ahead a few moments to find Von Braun tangled up with
Velikov in a collar and elbow.  Von Braun goes behind into a hammerlock,
pushing up on the bent arm.]

GM:  Hammerlock applied by Von Braun, maybe trying to take the Sickle
out of the arsenal of the Russian...

[Von Braun quickly breaks it, slipping in a side headlock.  He turns the
headlock away from the official...

...and jams his extended thumb up into the windpipe of the Russian,
forcing Velikov to stagger away, gasping for air.]

GM:  Ohh!  That looked like a cheap shot to me, Bucky.

BW:  Huh?  I didn't see nothin'!

GM:  But Ron Houston did!

[And the angry Athens, Georgia Madman begins shouting at the official,
pointing at Von Braun and showing the referee what he did.  The referee
turns to Von Braun, loudly asking if Von Braun thumbed him in the
throat...

...but he gets a denial before Von Braun lowers the boom with a running
back elbow on the dazed Velikov, knocking him down to a knee.]

GM:  Houston's telling the referee exactly what happened.

BW:  Why?  That idiot!

GM:  He's not gonna win like that, Bucky!

[An irate Von Braun glares at Houston, shouting "You shut your mouth!"
at him with a pointing finger before he lays in a few kicks to the
downed Velikov and we fade...

...to later in the match where Velikov and Sharif are taking turns
kicking Ron Houston in the buckles with a protesting official trying to
get one of them out of the ring.]

GM:  Kick after kick to the body...

[The official manages to get Velikov out of the ring.  Sharif smashes a
forearm across the wide chest of the East Coast Terror...

...and then eats a big haymaker!]

GM:  Big right hand!

[Houston winds up, throwing another big shot to the cheers of the crowd.
 He fires two more right hands, sending Sharif staggering backwards out
of the buckles.]

GM:  Sharif's dazed - in he comes!

[And catches a big boot on the jaw!]

GM:  HE LAYS OUT SHARIF!!

[Houston stumbles across the ring, lunging for the corner where he slaps
the hand of Brian Von Braun who rushes in.  He grabs a side headlock on
Sharif, throwing fist after fist to the skull.]

GM:  Those are closed fists, Bucky!

BW:  So were Houston's!

[Von Braun shoves Sharif back to the corner where the Alabama native
rushes in, throwing a knee to the midsection.  The Invader hooks a side
headlock, running from the corner and PLANTING Sharif facefirst into the
canvas!]

GM:  BULLDOG!!  HE HIT ALL OF THAT!!

[The Alabama native applies a lateral press...

...and slips his feet over the middle rope for leverage as the referee
dives down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[The crowd roars as Houston rushes down the apron, kicking Von Braun's
feet off the middle rope, breaking up the pin.  Von Braun springs to his
feet, pointing an accusing finger in Houston's face...

...who slaps it away!]

GM:  Are you kidding me?!  This team is about to blow up, Bucky!

[With the two partners shouting at each other, we fade to later in the
match where Vladimir Velikov is battering Von Braun in the corner,
laying in heavy forearm smashes across the shoulders and neck, knocking
the Invader down to a knee.  Velikov grabs him by the hair, crushing Von
Braun with a wind-up headbutt!]

GM:  Big headbutt by Velikov!

[The Russian pulls Von Braun up by the hair, shoving him back into the
corner.  He grabs the arm, firing Von Braun across the ring into the
other neutral corner...

...and comes charging in, arm outstretched!]

GM:  CLOTHESLI-  FEET UP!

[The crowd cheers as Velikov runs at full steam into Von Braun's raised
feet, sending the Russian falling backwards.  And as soon as Von Braun's
feet touch the mat, he charges from the corner, leaping into the air,
and hooking Velikov's head with a hooking lariat, smashing him into the
mat!]

GM:  DOWN GOES VELIKOV!!

[Von Braun rolls into a cover, scoring a two count before the Russian
gets his shoulder off the mat.  An angry Von Braun grabs the back of
Velikov's head, battering him with closed fists to the skull before
climbing up to his feet.  He reaches down, dragging the Russian to his
feet by the arm, and wheeling him into an Irish whip...]

GM:  Whip by Von Braun... reversal sends him to the corner!

[Velikov charges in...

...and again runs into both feet on the chin!]

GM:  He blocks the charge again!

[Reaching down, Von Braun sweeps the legs with a double leg takedown. 
He promptly jacknife cradles him, throwing his feet over the middle rope
again.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Von Braun springs to his feet, throwing up his arms in triumph. 
Houston glares at him before stepping into the ring.]

GM:  Von Braun stole this one for his team but... look at Ron Houston...

[An angry Houston shouts at the official, kicking the rope where Von
Braun rested his feet for the victory.  He points at the Invader who
tries to exit the ring...

...but gets stopped by the official.]

GM:  The ref stopped him!  The ref's asking him what he did!

[Von Braun vehemately protests, raising both hands and shaking his head
wildly back and forth.]

GM:  He's lying through his teeth but-

[The referee waves his arms, swinging them towards the two teams and
waving to the timekeeper for the bell.]

GM:  The ref says the match has to continue!  It has to keep going!

[An angry Von Braun kicks the ropes, spinning around...

...and EATS a Pulse Killer right to the heart!]

GM:  PULSE KILLER BY HOUSTON!!

[The blow sends Von Braun stumbling towards Velikov who UNLOADS with a
Russian Sickle!]

GM:  OHHH!  SICKLE!!

[Velikov collapes on top of the downed Von Braun as the referee hits the
mat once, twice, and finally for a third time before the bell rings.]

GM:  Velikov and Sharif win it!  Von Braun cheated once too many times
and Ron Houston made him pay for it! 

BW:  Houston walked out on him!  What a jerk!

GM:  If you thought Ron Houston could REALLY stand and team with a
scumbag like Von Braun, I've got some bridges to sell ya.  

[As the Iranian and the Russian celebrate their victory, a furious Von
Braun rolls from the ring, slowly moving back up the aisle, shouting for
Houston as he pursues his now-former partner and we fade back to the
Control Center.]

JD:  So, as expected, the Von Braun/Houston team was unable to co-exist
and fell apart in dramatic fashion, leaving Brian Von Braun as easy
pickings for Vladimir Velikov's Sickle.  That means that Velikov and
Sultan Azam Sharif will be moving on to the second round where they will
take on either Violence Unlimited or PAIN.  That's our final match in
the first round for the Fraternity Boys bracket.  And as you saw earlier
this week, PAIN is quite the... unusual... duo.  We learned that even
more when we heard from them earlier today in Dallas.

[We cut over to the interview platform, where Jason Dane stands
alongside an unusual cast of characters.

He is presently flanked by the towering, bulky frame of Dr. Mal Practice
MD and the lithe, athletic form of Dr. Ohno Ow.  Together, the
Physicians Advocating Innovative Neoprocedures (no wonder most people
only call them PAIN) form quite an eccentric duo. Both men wear white
lab coats, and white full-length trunks.  Mal has a Red Cross symbol on
his right leg and a blue caudecus symbol on his left... Ohno has the
same symbols with inverted colors.  

Mal is a massive wall of humanity, three-fourty-seven of muscle, fat,
and bone... he runs six-eight, and has a bizarre flattop salt-and-pepper
hairstyle that hasn't been in since the fifties. He's wearing a
headmirror on his forehead, a stethoscope around his neck, and is toting
a black leather bag in one hand with a copy of his book in the other. 
The word "phony" doesn't even begin to describe the huge grin on his
face.  

Dr. Ow is a Chinese man of indeterminate age; his short black brushcut
shows hints of grey here and there.  He wears a green smock to go with
his trunks, as well as his distinctive black eyepatch.  Ohno is showing
off for the crowd with some overly flamboyant martial arts poses.]

JD: Alright, with me tonight is a tag team whose unexpected entry into
the Stampede Cup has sent shockwaves through the AWA! Dr. Mal Practice
MD, Dr. Ohno Ow... tonight, you have to go through three top tag teams
to reach your goal of the one million dollars, but your comments have
been dismissive to say the least.  After all of that denegration of the
AWA, don't you realize how bad you'll look if you lose?

DMP: Greetings once again to all of our devoted Practisites and
Owaphiliacs.  And even to you, Joseph Dane.

JD: JASON.

DMP: Of course, of course it is, Julian.  That ridiculous question
doesn't even bear answering, because it presumes the impossible.  You
may as well ask, "wouldn't you feel foolish if your left arm transformed
into a banana"?  It doesn't bear comment. No, what bears comment tonight
is our imminent victory over the Violin Salesmen.  I understand that
Terry Jackson and Morton Williams speak English, making them amongst the
most intelligent persons here.  Therefore, my erudite tag team partner
will describe for them the revolutionary tracheal infection treatment we
have in store for them tonight.

[Ohno picks up in his badly broken English.]

DOO: We, know THAT... these TRAIT-ors live, in *spit* JAPAN for, years
BE-cause NOT good e-NOUGH to make, in REAL coun-try.  So WE have, cure
for... that.  It in-VOLVE, make in-cis-ion in SIDE, of NECK.  Then BURN
in-side of, THROAT with, FIRE.  That KILL all, in-FEC-tion.  Then, put
out FIRE with, large BLUNT object.  We do, TWICE each to, make SURE they
cured.

JD: You really have no clue what you're in for down here, do you?

DMP: I should ask you the same thing, Jonas.

JD: JASON!  And what makes you so special, anyway?!  You're dressed like
doctors!

DMP: AM a doctor.  Northwestern, '91.

DOO: RED Army, MED-cal top, CERT-fication.  Year... is NONE of,
BUS-iness.

JD: Your goofy patter about 'healing' and 'humanitarian work', your
selling books... it's just a front!  Maybe we're not quite as dumb as
you think in Texas, Dr. Herbert...

[Oooh, real-name drop!  Mal suddenly stops grinning and turns to glare
at Dane with a squint in his eyes.  Ohno stops with the showboating
poses and subtly adopts a more legitimate combat stance.]

JD: ...but down here?  We don't play doctor and we don't do standup
routines.  We _wrestle_!

[The crowd cheers Jason standing up to PAIN... until Ohno grips the back
of his neck with a nervehold.  It's not anything severe, just enough to
get Jason hunched down, with an expression of pain on his face.  The
fans boo this act loudly.]

DOO: You, WRES-tle?  No, you, not KNOW what... TALK about.  WE WRES-TLE.
 You hold, MIC-ro-phone. Not ev-en do, that RIGHT.

DMP: So... _Jason_.  You want serious?  We came here for two reasons. 
Number one, the million.  And number two, we came down here to 
Texas because our manager has something to say to you.

JD: ...manager?

[The boos intensify as another man joins them on stage.  Waddling
towards Jason Dane is Todd Johnstone. Instead of his usual horrific
wardrobe, Todd is wearing a salmon colored polo shirt, khakis, mirrored
sunglasses on his balding black head and a black belt from the now
merged with Macy's Bon Marche. Todd is drinking from a pink soda can.
Ohno lets Dane go with a small shove as Johnstone takes the microphone.]

TJ: Well now, if it isn't the embodiment of being number two, right
here, front and center; holding a microphone like a heaping helping of
number two would. Seriously Dane, ease up on your daddy's cologne; you
smell like a cheap piece of Eurotrash. Anyhow, Dane and the rest of you
hairy backed plebes that toil away here in Texas, "Big Time" Teddy
Johnstone has elected to grace you not only with his presence but also
with the presence of the finest set of minds the medical and wrestling
world has to offer. I doubt any of you can appreciate the gift you are
about to receive because it did not come from the fancy Wal-Mart down
the street like most of your belongings. Oh no, you folks down here in
this hole called the Blunderdome or what ever, you aren't used to seeing
grade A, #1s. Seems to me, when your best managerial minds had to go up
against the Big Time, they came in at number 2. The way I see it, the
AWA is just a coiled little collection of #2s. 

[Todd isn't cursing up a storm, which is amazing.]

TJ: Oh, I know you folks don't like being reminded of your place in this
sick, sad world. I know you folks, like great Dane over here, don't like
to be reminded that the best minds in the AWA are a few ladder rungs
below Toddy J and his charges. Your former National Champion? #2. His
brain dead agent? #2 before he ran away a failure. Your tag teams?
That's a whole mess of #2s in deeds and actions. Heck, even this state
is a giant piece of second best. Second largest state in the union, part
of the losing side in the Confederacy. Your little federation here? It's
just the embodiment of being the runner up, the also ran. Don't get
angry because my boys Mal and Ow are classying up the joint. We're
trying our best but even a manager of the year and the #1 tag team in
this tournament... excuse me, in the darn WORLD, can make an outhouse
full of #2 into the penthouse that winners like us are used to since we,
you know, actually win something. Go back to your welfare checks and put
some of that stolen government money down on PAIN. Maybe then you can
buy a case of fancy name brand soda you worthless plebes.

DMP: So, Jason.  Are you happy now?  Did that fill your heart with glee,
standing up to the 'goofy doctors'?  Well, how do you like hearing about
yourself?

DOO: NEXT, time you... watch, TOUNGE.  Or maybe we, come BACK, cure you
SPEECH dis-ORDER.  Disorder is, that YOU can SPEAK.

DMP: Enough talk.  The doctors are in!

[With that, the altered-lyric version of Rick Derringer's "Real
American" that accompanies PAIN to the ring for most of their matches
kicks up.  The boos continue as Mal, Ohno, and Todd head down the aisle.
 PAIN is already back in the showmanship mode, as if that entire
conversation never happened... Mal is waving to the fans with that big
cheesy fake grin on his face, while Ohno is making overly dramatic
martial arts poses for any fans with cameras.  Todd?  He's still Todd...
waddling down the aisle berating anything that moves.]

MUSIC:  #When it comes crashing down and it hurts inside..
      #Just give Mal a call and you'll be alright...
      #If you hurt your head and you hurt your spine...
      #Mal will fix it up and it'll all be fine...

BW: Todd Johnstone?!  I can't believe he showed his fat face!

GM: Mr. Johnstone is one of the most reknowned managers of the past
decade...

BW: Don't kiss up, Gordo!  You heard what he said?

GM: Somebody in this building has to stay professional.  And to be fair,
Johnstone is very, very successful.  And believe me, I take his presence
here very, very seriously.

BW: Probably came to try and steal away our talent!

[PAIN reaches the ring, but instead of entering the ring they descend
the ramp steps and start moving around ringside.  Mal is trying to sell
copies of his book with no success, while Ohno is handing out business
cards... most of which get thrown back at him. Todd marches up the steps
in order to get some high-quality badmouthing in on the referee before
the match starts.  The crowd continues to jeer as the music continues to
play:]

      (chorus)

      #MAL IS A HU-MAN-I-TARIAN!!
      #Ending the pain of every man!
      #MAL IS A HU-MAN-I-TARIAN!!
      #Doing what's right, to save your life!

GM: Be that as it may, PAIN has a very, very daunting task ahead of
them.  They may be former World Champions, but Violence Unlimited is one
of the hottest teams in the world today.

BW: Good for them.  As much as I hate Johnstone, daddy, PAIN's resume is
about a million times longer than the Violin Salesmen. Ha, I think I
like that name.

GM: As long as they're not in earshot.

BW: Exactly.

[Mal and Ohno roll into the ring and continue showboating, even as their
music dies down and we crossfade back to the ring where the sounds of
Motley Crue's "Shout At The Devil" has the crowd worked into a frenzy as
Danny Morton and Jackson Haynes come rushing down the aisle, slapping
the occasional hand as they head towards the ring where their confident
opponents await them...

...and step through the ring, fists a-flyin'!]

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

[The official calls for the bell as the four men tangle up, the manager
leaping from the ring as the physicality kicks in.]

GM:  I think Morton and Haynes were none too pleased with the
badmouthing that these three men put on VU, on the AWA, and on the great
state of Texas for heaven's sake!

[Morton powers Ohno back into the corner where he begins throwing heavy
knife-edge chops across the chest that echo through the entire building.
 Across the ring, Haynes is trying to batter Mal back to the corner as
well but he's having less success as the 6'9, 347 pounder holds his
ground with some haymakers of his own.  The crowd roars at the brawl as
Todd Johnstone shouts at his men from the floor.]

GM:  We've got a standoff!

[Not for long as Morton yanks Ohno out of the corner, throwing him up
into a military press...

...and HURLING him at his own partner!]

GM:  OHHH!

[The crowd gasps as Mal catches Ohno in his arms, quickly setting him
down on his feet...

...when a rushing double clothesline from Morton and Haynes takes Mal
over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!  MORTON AND HAYNES WITH THE DOUBLE CLOTHESLINE!!

[With the big man out of the ring, Haynes turns his attention to Ohno,
battering him with heavy forearms, knocking him down to a knee where the
two men take turns throwing overhead forearms down onto the neck,
pummeling him all the way down to the mat.  The crowd roars as Morton
calls for the Backdrop Driver.]

GM:  Whoa!  Did you hear that?

BW:  VU's looking to end this one right here and now!

[Reaching down, Morton yanks Ohno to his feet by the back of the trunks,
pulling him into a side waistlock...]

GM:  He's got him set!  He's gonna power him up and throw him on his
head!

[But before he can, Todd Johnston reaches in under the ropes, grabbing
Morton around the ankle to block the lift...

...and gets his hand stomped by an angry Jackson Haynes!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  

[The momentary distraction allowed Ohno to slip out of Morton's grasp
for a moment though...

...and he leaps into the air with a backflip, smashing his foot squarely
down on the top of Morton's skull and taking him down to the mat!]

GM:  Whoa!  Where did THAT come from?!

BW:  Make no mistake, Gordo.  These two may look like idiots and may
sound like idiots but they're a very talented tag team.  It's only
because they've never competed in the AWA before that they pulled a #8
seed this year but this is a very tough first round match for Violence
Unlimited.

[From the floor, Dr. Mal Practice reaches in to grab Haynes around the
ankle, yanking him off his feet and dragging him under the ropes to the
floor.]

GM:  Haynes pulled to the floor...

[And as soon as he hits the floor, Haynes is leveled with a hard thrown
lariat that knocks him down in a heap!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  BIG LARIAT ON THE FLOOR!!

[Inside the ring, Ohno lays into a dazed Danny Morton with martial arts
strikes and kicks in the corner as we crossfade to later in the match...

...where we find Ohno also laying into a dazed Danny Morton with martial
arts strikes and kicks in the corner.  Grabbing an arm, he whips
Professor Pain from corner to corner.]

GM:  Morton hits the buckles hard... here comes Ohno!

[The 221 pound Ohno sprints across the ring, leaping up for a corner
splash...

...and gets caught around the waist in a big bearhug!]

GM:  CAUGHT!!  Look at the power on the American Murder Machine!

[Morton marches out of the corner to the middle of the ring, still
holding Ohno off the mat in the bearhug...

...and then LAUNCHES him up and over with an overhead belly to belly!]

GM:  SHEER!  POWER!

BW:  That was impressive, Gordo.  From the moment he caught the man in
the corner, he never even let his feet touch the ground.  Danny Morton
is a freak of nature in the ring with his power game.  He may be the
strongest man in the entire AWA.

[Up to a knee, Morton tries to shake the cobwebs as he eyes Ohno pulling
himself to his feet in the buckles.  Morton surges forward, trying to
advance...

...but Ohno grabs the top rope with both hands, pushing himself up into
the air and lashing out with a thrust kick to the chest that knocks
Morton a step back.  Moving forward, Ohno grabs Morton around the head
and neck, using his right leg to sweep out Morton's legs and SLAM the
back of his head into the canvas!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

BW:  STO!!

[Ohno throws himself across Morton's chest, reaching back to hook a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH- 

[But the crowd roars as Danny Morton continues to show off his power,
military pressing Ohno off of him to break the pin and tossing him a few
feet away!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Ohno scrambles to his feet, standing over Morton and BLASTING him with
a palm strike to the face that knocks the rising Morton back down to the
mat.  Still standing over him, he throws repeated palm strikes to the
chest, keeping Morton down as Jackson Haynes screams encouragement to
his partner from the floor and we crossfade to later in the match...

...where Ohno again has Morton trapped in the corner, this time
dangerously close to Dr. Mal Practice.  The Asian competitor is holding
the top rope, snapping off kicks to the body before he slaps the hand of
the big man.]

GM:  There's a tag to Dr. Mal Practice...

[The big man steps into the ring, pulling Morton from the corner.  He
spins him around, grabbing him around the waist...]

"THIS IS HOW IT'S DONE!"

[Morton, feeling a Backdrop Driver coming, desperately drives his elbow
down into the back of Mal's neck, breaking the hold.]

GM:  Morton elbows out!  He knew what was coming and-

[As the Oklahoma native spins around, he gets Mal's big arms wrapped
around his head and neck, powering him up...

...and DRIVING him down in a thunderous uranage slam!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!!

[A quick tag to Ohno has him slingshot over the ropes, dropping a knee
across the skull of Morton!]

BW:  Hey!  PAIN just hit their own version of Rough Housing!

GM:  Perhaps sending a message to the National Tag Team Champions, Rough
N Ready.

[Ohno applies another quick cover, earning a two count before Morton
kicks out... a little less authority this time.  He sits up as Ohno
moves back to plan his next move...

...and then rushes forward, grabbing Morton's head and SLAMMING the back
of his skull into the mat!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Brutal move right there!

BW:  Ohno uses a variation of that move that he calls "Seeing Stars."

GM:  Appropriately named because I'm sure that Danny Morton is seeing
stars right now.  

BW:  Some tweety birds too, I'd imagine.  Maybe pink little fairies with
a death wish.

GM:  Huh?

[With another quick tag, Ohno brings Dr. Mal Practice back into the
ring.  They pull Morton off the mat together.  Mal hoists Morton up,
dropping him across his knee with a side backbreaker as Ohno hits the
ropes, rebounding off, leaping into the air...

...and SMASHING the back of his leg into the face of Morton with a
brutal scissors kick, flipping Morton over onto his chest!]

GM:  A vicious doubleteam there and- what's this?  What's he doing now?

[The crowd buzzes as Mal hooks on a crossface submission!]

GM:  CROSSFACE!  HE HOOKS IT!!

[But Ohno doesn't even wait to see if Danny Morton plans to submit,
immediately getting into position, and DRILLING him with a hard thrust
kick to the face!]

GM:  Good god!

BW:  They call this one Shock Therapy!

GM:  Another kick to the face!  Come on, referee!  Get that little
pipsqueak out of there!

[The official tries to do exactly that, shouting at Ohno as Todd
Johnstone shouts at the official creating a triangle of yelling...

...and allowing Jackson Haynes to rush into the ring behind the
official's back and DRILL Dr. Mal Practice with a boot to the back of
the head that breaks the hold.]

GM:  Haynes makes the save for his partner!

[And with Johnstone yelling at the referee to yell at Haynes, we
crossfade to later in the match...

...where Dr. Mal Practice is laying in heavy forearm smashes to the
chest of an exhausted Danny Morton in the corner.]

GM:  Has Morton been in the ring for the entire match, Bucky?

BW:  It certainly seems like it.  Professor Pain has been through the
wringer with a bunch of doubleteams from these two as well.  This can't
be going the way that Violence Unlimited planned.

[Pulling Morton from the corner, the 6'9 Mal hooks in a full nelson,
holding it for a moment...

...and then powers Morton into the air before viciously slamming him
down!]

GM:  FULL!  NELSON!  SLAM!!

[Mal drops into a lateral press, reaching back for a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd roars as Jackson Haynes makes a diving save, breaking the pin
attempt.]

GM:  Big save there!

BW:  Huge save.  I think this one was over if he didn't get there,
Gordo.

[Dr. Mal looks quite angry as he gets back to his feet, pointing a
finger of warning at Jackson Haynes who shouts in response, "Come and
get me, you nut!"]

BW:  Uh oh.

[Katie bar the door because that drives Dr. Mal Practice over the edge
as he throws Morton aside, rushing Haynes.  He grabs Haynes by the hair,
throwing a wild right hand to the skull.  The referee tries to intervene
as Haynes and Dr. Mal batter one another in the corner and Todd
Johnstone tries to get his man back in focus.]

GM:  Look at this!  Look at Ohno trying to take advantage of this!

[The 221 pounder quickly scales the ropes, looking down at the
motionless Morton...

...and HURLS himself off the top rope for a big splash!]

GM:  SPLAAAAAAAA- huh?

[Despite the fact that Danny Morton didn't move an inch, Ohno finds
himself smashing into the canvas, coming up way short on the big dive.]

GM:  He missed!  Ohno missed the splash by... what?  Three feet?

BW:  At least!

GM:  Danny Morton didn't even budge!  What the heck just happened?

[But now Danny Morton's getting up.  The American Murder Machine climbs
to his feet, smirking at the downed Ohno.  He uses the trunks to pull
him to his feet, dragging him right into the big waistlock...

...and OBLITERATES him with a Backdrop Driver!]

GM:  BACKDROP DRIIIIIIIVER!

[Ohno rolls from the ring as Morton gets to his feet, looking on with
his hands on his hips at Dr. Mal Practice and his partner beating the
hell out of each other.  A well-placed haymaker between the eyes by
Haynes sends Dr. Mal spinning away...

...and into the waiting arms of Danny Morton who scoops him up, spins
around, and SLAMS him down to the roars of the crowd!]

GM:  HE SLAMMED HIM!!  HE SLAMMED THE 347 POUNDER!

[Morton collapses back to the corner where he slaps the hand of Jackson
Haynes who rushes into the ring, dropping an elbow on the rising Dr. Mal
Practice.  He quickly takes a mount on him, battering him with right
hands to the skull.  As the referee's count hits four, Haynes peels off,
throwing his arms out with a loud roar to the crowd!]

GM:  The crowd's been whipped into a frenzy by VU!

[Pulling Dr. Mal off the mat by the arm, Haynes slings him into the
buckles...

...and rushes the corner, connecting with a big running clothesline!]

GM:  The Express connects in the corner!

[Grabbing the arm, Haynes whips him across again, and again charges
across, connecting with a clothesline!]

GM:  The Express makes another stop in the corner right upside Dr. Mal
Practice's skull!

[Outside the ring, Todd Johnstone is losing his mind as Dr. Mal Practice
gets whipped across the ring one more time...

...and EATS a running boot to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  HE CAUGHT HIM WITH ALL OF THAT!!

[Practice staggers out of the corner into the waiting arms of Jackson
Haynes who powers him up off the mat...

...and THROWS him down to the mat with an angry man's spinebuster!]

GM:  OHH YEAH!!  The Hammer is being laid down on PAIN here at the
Stampede Cup!

[A quick tag brings Danny Morton back into the ring, the two members of
Violence Unlimited backing to opposite ropes as they wait for Dr. Mal
Practice to stagger to his feet.  The two big men rush towards the
middle, passing up the 6'9 Mal and hitting the far ropes, rebounding
off...

...and SANDWICHING Dr. Mal Practice in the middle of the ring with a
pair of lariats!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!  GOOD GRIEF!!

[The big man collapses, allowing Danny Morton to throw himself into a
lateral press as the referee dives to the mat to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  THEY DID IT!!  VIOLENCE UNLIMITED HAS TOPPLED PAIN AND THEY'RE
MOVING ON TO THE SECOND ROUND!!

[And as Haynes and Morton celebrate their win, we fade back to the
Control Center.]

JD:  A very tough first round victory for Violence Unlimited.  PAIN
really took them to the limit but in the end, Haynes and Morton were
able to squeak out a victory.  But you have to wonder if having that
tough of a first round match will affect the rest of their run in the
Stampede Cup, fans.  So, the Fraternity Boys Bracket has the first round
come to an end with Kentucky's Pride, the Samoan Hit Squad, Vladimir
Velikov and Sultan Azam Sharif, and Violence Unlimited all advancing to
the second round.  Four very tough teams.  But what about the other side
of the bracket?  The Epitome Of Cool Bracket features the National Tag
Team Champions, Rough N Ready, along with some strong contenders as
well.  And speaking of the National Tag Team Champions, they were the
first ones out of the gate in the EOC Bracket as they took on newcomers
The First Family.  Let's take a look...

[Cut to the backstage area. An unfamiliar couple stands in front of the
camera. The man is a handsome caucasian in his early thirties. His blond
hair is carfully parted on the right side of his head. Blue eyes, boyish
features and a well-toned body complete the Mid-Western looks. He is
wearing ring attire that consists of plain white wrestling boots and
white spandex shorts. His most striking feature is utterly serene and
content smile.]

A : I greet you, brothers and sisters. My name is … Adam.

E : REJOICE!

[The young woman screams from behind Adam in a shrill voice. She is
dressed in a white blouse and a black miniskirt, with high-heeled shoes
completing her outfit.. Her platinum blonde hair is tied into a strict
bun. Adam seems to be oblivious to his companion interrupting him.]

A : We have come to the AWA for one single, important reason … to save
your souls.

E : REJOICE!

A : I was named after the very First Man. As you can see, I follow in
the footsteps of our biblical progenitor ...

[He taps on the temple with the index finger.]

A : ... a perfect mind ...

[Adam proceedes to point at his chest.]

A : ... in a flawless body. God our Lord gave me those gifts because he
knows me. He knows that I am pure, righteous and _good_ . You people on
the other hand ...

[Adam directs his finger at the camera.]

A : ... the Lord finds you lacking and so do I. All I see are slobs and
sinners, undeserving of having been made in His image, with no chance at
all to regain our place in the Garden of Eden!

But there is still hope. Let us be your role models, your paragons …
your leaders. Eve and me, we will show you the error of your ways. Do
not be blinded by our radiant perfection but accept our words … and His.

Tonight, be ready to witness your first taste of your future!

E : REJOICE!

A : Eve, me and one more member of our family … the First Family … will
rechristen the Stampede Cup the new Genesis of tag-team wrestling. You
are not ready …

E : NOT READY!

A : You are not prepared … but you better get ready to accept our new
gospel …

E : … or you will suffer the Fall.

A : Amen.

[We zoom in on Adam's smile that has not wavered one inch before we cut
back to ringside where the National Tag Team Champions, Rough N Ready,
are already in the ring waiting for their opponent, the #8 seed in the
EOC Bracket when suddenly “John the Revelator“ by Curtis Stigers and the
Forest Rangers comes up over the PA system.  After a moment, the two
that we saw moments ago, Adam and Eve, walk into view.  They stride
several feet down the rampway before pausing.]

GM:  The First Family, huh?

BW:  Is she going to be in this match?

GM:  I highly doubt that.  This guy, Adam, better have one heck of a
surprise up his sleeve though if he hopes to compete with the National
Tag Team Champions here tonight in Dallas, Texas, Bucky.

BW:  He certainly- whoa!

[The crowd buzzes as well as Adam and Eve turn to gesture down the ramp
at the behemoth of a man walking into view.]

BW:  Look at the size of that guy!

GM:  I see him, I see him.

[A heavily muscled beast of a man, the 6'8, 280 pounder walking down the
aisle has a body chiseled to perfection.  His left arm is heavily
tattooed, featuring a devil and skeleton angel wrestling amongst several
other religious symbols.  His head is covered in a white hood, almost
like an executioner as he moves to join his partners.]

BW:  Well, you said he needed a heck of a surprise.  I think he's got
one, Gordo.

GM:  Perhaps but they're still going against the National Tag Team
Champions in there, Bucky.  Arguably the best tag team in the world
today.

BW:  The Stampede Cup is their chance to take "arguably" out of that
sentence, Gordo.  This is the event where Somers and Cooper can show the
world that they're the best... period.

GM:  And it all starts here with the debuting First Family.

[As Adam, Eve, and as a camera's mic picks up Adam's rantings, the beast
known as Brother Cain, step into the squared circle, we crossfade a few
minutes into the match...

...where a well-placed thumb to the eye by Adam has Dave Cooper
stumbling into the ropes.]

GM:  Cheapshot by Adam... so much for all that "perfect" talk, Bucky.

BW:  Why?  Because the man knows how to take advantage of the rules?

GM:  If he was as perfect as he claims, he wouldn't need to stoop to
tactics like that.

[Hands raised at the ready, Adam approaches the exposed back of Cooper
and RAKES his fingers down the skin!]

GM:  Ohh!  Backrake by Adam!  Another cheapshot!

[Grabbing Cooper around the head and neck, Adam pushes his throat down
on the top rope, strangling the air out of him.]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Get in there!

[Adam breaks the choke at four, stepping back with his hands raised as
the official reads him the riot act and we fade to action later in the
match...

...where Adam is dragging Cooper by the arm to the corner, pausing to
slap the hand of the massive Brother Cain who steps through the ropes
with a noticeable buzz in the air.]

GM:  Look at the size of this monster...

[With Adam holding Cooper's arms, Brother Cain tees off with picture
perfect shots to the kidneys.]

GM:  Big punches, body blows to the lower back of Dave Cooper... those
are dead-on target, Bucky.

BW:  If I had to guess, this big masked man has some boxing in his
background because he's on the money and deadly precise with these shots
to the lower back.

[Shoving Cooper to Brother Cain, Adam exits the ring as Cain throws
Cooper back to the corner, continuing the assault with closed fists
blows to the ribs and stomach.]

GM:  Get in there, referee!

[The official steps in, forcing the massive Brother Cain away from the
buckles...

...and when Dave Cooper lunges forward, Cain greets him by hooking him
around the throat!]

GM:  Ohh!  He's got him, fans!  He's got him by the throat!

[He yanks Cooper out to the middle of the ring, seemingly ready to drive
him through the mat...

...but as he gestures to the crowd, Cooper slips a boot into the gut.  A
second one breaks the grip to a few cheers from the crowd as Cooper
throws an on-target haymaker between the eyes, sending Brother Cain
stumbling backwards.]

GM:  He caught him good there!  Cain looks dazed!

[And Cooper takes advantage of it, dropping down on all fours, crawling
between the big man's legs...

...and making a lunging tag to Eric Matthew Somers!]

GM:  Uh oh!  Try picking on someone your own size, Brother Cain!

[Somers marches into the ring, striding out to the center with Brother
Cain is waiting...

...and the two men go eye-to-eye, glaring at each other in the middle of
the squared circle.  Somers says a few words before lunging forward,
scoring with a headbutt between the masked man's eyes!]

GM:  Ohh!  Somers rocks him with a headbutt!

[Grabbing the masked man by the back of the head, Somers promptly hurls
him through the ropes to the floor before heading out after him.]

GM:  We're going out to the floor!

[The bigger half of the National Tag Team Champions pulls Brother Cain
up, slamming his masked face into the ring apron as we crossfade...

...to later in the match where Brother Cain has Somers down on the mat
in the corner, driving kick after kick into the chest before planting
his boot on the windpipe, strangling the air out of Somers.]

GM:  He's choking the life out of Eric Matthew Somers in the corner -
and I'll tell you, neither member of this First Family has any respect
for the rulebook, Bucky.

BW:  Who can blame 'em?  If they can win this match, they knock off the
National Tag Team Champions!  Do you know what that does for ANY team
let alone one debuting here tonight?  They'd be instant top challengers,
Gordo!  If I were them, I'd be cheating a heckuva lot more!

[Cain relents, dragging Somers off the mat by the arm.  He uses the arm
to fire Somers into the ropes, catching him in a bearhug on the
rebound.]

GM:  Ohh!  Bearhug applied!

BW:  Not quite.

[Popping his hips, Brother Cain pivots and DRIVES Somers down to the
canvas with a belly-to-belly suplex!]

GM:  Big suplex... and there's a cover!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd buzzes as Dave Cooper is forced to make a diving save to
avoid his partner's pinfall.]

BW:  Look at that, Gordo!  The First Family had the National Tag Team
Champions a half count away from losing this first round match!  These
guys are supposed to be the best tag team in the world and they almost
got defeated by two guys I've never heard of before tonight! 
Incredible!

GM:  Dave Cooper is starting to look a little concerned as Brother Cain
pulls Somers off the mat... ohh!  Right hook to the jaw knocks Somers
down to a knee...

[Backing to the corner, Cain steps up to the second rope, slowly
extending his arm to his side, shaking it as Somers staggers up to his
feet...]

GM:  CAIN!

[The flying clothesline comes sailing towards Somers who somehow turns
his body, catching the big man in mid-air, pivoting, and DRIVING him
into the mat with a powerslam!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  POWERSLAM!!

[A dazed Somers rolls out of position for any kind of pin attempt,
breathing heavily as Cooper slaps the turnbuckle in the corner, trying
to inspire him to make the tag.]

GM:  Cooper wants the tag!  Cooper NEEDS the tag!

BW:  So does Adam!  Brother Cain got rocked with that powerslam and-

[The crowd buzzes as Adam tags in first, rushing towards the crawling
Somers...

...who surges forward to slap his partner's hand!]

GM:  TAG!

[The crowd roars as both Cooper and Adam rush one another, throwing
haymakers as quickly as they can.]

GM:  The fists are flying here in Dallas!

[Cooper buries a knee to the gut, doubling up Adam.  Cooper quickly
grabs the arm, firing him into the ropes...

...and watches him duck under a running clothesline attempt.]

GM:  Adam ducks the clothesline... off the far side...

[Cooper picks the rebounding Adam up by the upper thighs, rotating...

...and DRIVING him into the canvas!]

GM:  SPINEBUSTER!!  SPINEBUSTER!!

[Dropping down to the mat, Cooper rolls into a cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[A decent sized cheer goes up as the announcer makes it official.]

GM:  Rough N Ready have advanced!  They squeak out a victory over the
First Family and that means Somers and Cooper are heading for the second
round to face either The Rockstar Express or the Aces!  

[We crossfade from the celebrating National Tag Team Champions to the
Control Center where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  You just saw highlights of a hard fought victory for the champs as
Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers narrowly defeat the debuting First
Family who proved to be a tough test for the champs.  But now they're
moving on the second round as well.  Now, before we find out who will
face the champs in the second round, let's take a look at something
different.  It was about one month ago now at SuperClash II where Juan
Vasquez defeated Stevie Scott to become the AWA National Champion and a
match that was not short on controversy.  In the weeks that have
followed, there have been a lot of questions directed towards the new
champion and earlier today, he chose to address some of those questions
in front of the Crockett Coliseum crowd.  Let's take a look...

["They Reminisce over You" by Pete Rock and CL Smooth begins to play
over the PA system as the crowd ROARS with cheers. Emerging from behind
the curtain to a hero's welcome is the brand-new AWA National champion,
Juan Vasquez. The champ is wearing a tailored black suit and cradles the
title belt in his right arm. He makes his way over to the guardrails,
embracing the love of his adoring public before making his way to the
ring, doing a full lap around the ring to slap hands with the fans. He
finally steps up onto the ring apron, but turns one more time and raises
the title over his head to another big roar from the crowd! He finally
enters the ring and is handed a house mic, waiting for the cheering to
die down. There's a big smile on his face as he begins to speak...]

JV: Merry Christmas, people.

[A big grin.]

JV: I dunno about the rest of you, but I'm just lovin' my present!

[The crowd cheers as Juan slaps the AWA National title resting on his
shoulder.]

JV: Now, I know everyone's been wondering and everyone's been asking
about it since Thanksgiving.

"Just what the hell did I see out there!?"

[A sheepish grin forms on Juan's face.]

JV: A homage to Brody Thunder and JW Hardin.

[He chuckles as someone in the crowd yells, "JAY DUB!"]

JV: What you SAW was a man keepin' a promise he made to you all. What
you saw was a man willing to do anything and everything in his power to
win a war. And believe me people...I did absolutely anything and
_everything_ in my power to pull this off.

[A bittersweet look appears on his face, because this isn't going to be
easy to say.]

JV: Like Ben Waterson said...we had a deal.

[The crowd jeers Juan. Not out of hatred, but in a "What the hell were
you thinking!?" sort of way. The champ winces a bit.]

JV: Yeah, I know...I deserve that.

[He shrugs.]

JV: But I saw the cracks in the foundation...I think we all did. Stevie
Scott was the Southern Syndicate's crown jewel; but after what went down
at War Games and with the West Memphis Assassin, he was losing his
shine. And Waterson? He was losing faith in his golden boy.

When I approached him, what Ben Waterson saw was a desperate man. A
broken man. A selfish man willing to throw away his pride and dignity to
save his own career.

In other words...Ben Waterson saw another Stevie Scott.

[Juan rolls his eyes.]

JV: Does that sound like Juan Vasquez to any of you?

[A resounding "NO!" can be heard from the crowd, bringing a smile to
Juan's face.]

JV: But Ben Waterson...self-proclaimed greatest mind in all of
wrestling...he fell for it hook, line and sinker.

[A chuckle.]

JV: You say I broke our deal, Ben?

[Juan shakes his head.]

JV: I promised you that I would take out Stevie Scott.

And I did.

[A big pop for the demise of Stevie Scott. Juan looks down at the
National title...]

JV: I promised you that I would take his title.

[...and holds it up.]

And I did.

[Another cheer from the crowd. Juan nods approvingly to himself.]

JV: And I promised you that I would be your newest client.

And I was.

[A smirk.]

JV: For three minutes.

[Big pop! That smirk soon turns into a huge grin.]

JV: I shook the hand of the Devil, but he did the stupidest thing he
possibly could.

He shook mine.

[Juan laughs and shakes his head at Waterson's naivety.]

JV: What did I say when all this started? What did I say all year long?

"Whatever it takes."

[The expression on his face is serious now, as he repeats his mantra.]

JV: "Even if I had to sell my soul to the devil, himself..."

Whatever. It. Takes.

[A frustrated sigh.]

JV: So, you really can't say I stabbed you in the back, Ben. After
all...

[Juan smiles as he says this.]

JV:  ...you were warned.

[Needless to say, that draws a HUGE POP from the crowd.]

JV: And then there's Stevie Scott.

[The former National champion's name draws a huge round of boos from the
crowd.]

JV: I was as good as my word, amigo.

One of us didn't come back.

[The smile has all but disappeared from Juan's face now. His animosity
towards Stevie hasn't faded one bit.]

JV: Some people have asked me if I regret what I did to you...and
sometimes, I think I do.

[For a brief second, the anger subsides...only for that scowl to quickly
return.]

JV: But then I remember Pedro Perez. Sweet Daddy Williams. Tumaffi. Adam
Rogers. Gary Bright. Simon Rhodes...the list goes on and on. I remember
what you and the Southern Syndicate did to each and every single one of
those men and I know deep in my heart, I ain't sorry at all.

[This draws a cheer from the more bloodthirsty portion of the crowd.]

JV: Do I regret taking away one career to save a hundred others?

[He smiles and laughs, as if that's the stupidest question in world.]

JV: Not one damn bit.

[Big pop!]

JV: The Southern Syndicate is dead and we finally have our better and
brighter tomorrow. A brand new day is upon us, AWA...

[Juan raises the AWA National title high into the air to a massive roar
from the crowd.]

JV:  ...and it's gonna' be glorious.

[Fade out and back to the Control Center.]

JD:  A brand new day, indeed... and to start living up to his word, Juan
Vasquez has pledged to be the most fighting National Champion ever.  Up
first?  Tomorrow night will see a blind draw defense of the National
Title with ten contenders selected by Jim Watkins entered into a drawing
to see who will face the champ.  You won't want to miss that one.  Now,
let's get back to the Stampede Cup with two high-risk, fast-paced tag
teams going head to head... but before we do, let's hear from The Aces
who made their debut today in Dallas, Texas!

[Cut to the interview stage where Jason Dane is standing.  The Aces
stand on either side.  To Dane's left stands "Sweet", his muscle shirt
being a powder blue with "Sweet" written in white.  To Dane's right is
"Delicious", his muscle shirt being a purple color and "Delicious"
written across the front in white.  Most of the cheers from the crowd
are from the female contingent.]

JD:  Tonight, I have "Sweet" Stevie Childes and "Delicious" Danny Tyler,
the Aces, joining me.

[Dane looks over at Childes, who's grinning from ear to ear.]

JD:  We've seen the video packages, but you've joined us tonight in
person stepping foot inside the AWA for the first time.  You've created
the buzz, but can you parlay the buzz into success at the Stampede Cup?

SC:  That is the million dollar question isn't it, Jay?  Can the Aces, a
Cinderella team, go all the way and win the Stampede Cup?

[Childes' grin gets even bigger.  He looks over at Tyler and reaches
over, giving a casual back-hand slap to Tyler's arm.  Tyler looks over
at Dane.]

DT:  Impressions don't have to be made by coming out and boasting about
being the best or predicting we're going to win the whole Cup, Jason. 
We've got fifteen other teams to compete against.  I'll let those teams
predict winning the entire Cup.

SC:  Fifteen other teams.  Whooooo boy!

[Childes puts his hands on his hips.  He looks at his partner.]

SC:  What's that mean, Delish?

DT:  It means the Aces have a long night ahead of them, Stevie.  

[Tyler looks back at Dane.]

DT:  How do you make an impression, Jason?

JD:  By going out there and winning the Stampede Cup.

DT:  That's making an impression with bragging rights, but not the only
way to make that first impression.  

[Tyler looks at the camera.  Childes continues to grin, turning his
attention from his partner to the camera.]  

DT:  The Aces are going to head into the Cup and go wide open, baby. 
Even if we lose our first match and get taken out of the Cup, we're
going to hit the other team so hard they won't forget they stepped into
the squared circle with us.  And then we'll keep that momentum going by
coming out each Saturday Jim Watkins will let us, and continue to go
wide open with everything we got.  The Aces will have set backs, but
never will we be our own set back.  Tell 'em, Stevie.

SC:  Two pretty guys looking to have a good time at the Stampede Cup and
do what we do best.  Sound dangerous, Jay?

JD:  Maybe?

SC:  The Stampede Cup is the place where tag teams get to showcase their
stuff.  We get to strut and show our feathers like the peacocks we are,
daddy.  That's why the Aces came to Texas all the way from Japan!  Ha
haaa!  The Aces are here to play, and we're here to stay.  Tonight, we
get to showcase ourselves in the major leagues, daddy.  Tonight, it's
all about the tag teams.  Where else would the Aces be _but_ the AWA?

[Childes looks back at Dane.]

SC:  Jay?  The Aces are already making plans for after the Stampede Cup.
 What tag team worth their weight would head into a tag team tournament
blind?  Not us, daddy.

DT:  Not a chance.

SC:  We're not looking past the Stampede Cup, brother.  We get to take
on the Rockstar Express in the first round, Jay.  Do you know what that
means?

[Stevie doesn't wait for Jason Dane to answer.]

SC:  You have two good-looking guys who enjoy a good time just as much
as Danny and myself, Jay.  Their female fan base may be younger than
what the Aces like, but that's a-okay, my man.  Marty Morgan and Scotty
Storm, brother, I've got all the respect in the world for you.  You've
got a reputation that proceeds you as tag team specialists, and that's a
scary thought when you're our first round team.  

DT:  That also makes us dangerous, guys.  The Aces beating the Rockstar
Express would be a great way to start our AWA run.  You can bet the Aces
are hungry for the win.

SC:  Keep an eye out on the Aces, Jay.  We're here to play, and we're
here to stay, daddy.

DT:  AWA?  Just keep an eye out on the Aces tonight.  See that first
impression.

[The Aces walk off the stage as we crossfade to the ring where the match
is a few minutes deep with Stevie Childes lighting up Scotty Storm with
kicks to the chest that drives Storm back into the Aces' corner. 
Childes quickly slaps the hand of "Delicious" Danny Tyler to bring him
into the ring.]

GM:  Back to the doubleteam... double whip...

[The crowd cheers as the Aces snap off a double overhead armdrag that
takes Storm down and down hard.  They double kip up back to their feet,
trading a high five...

...and then charging the corner where they let loose a double dropkick
that knocks Marty Morgan down to the floor!]

GM:  Ohh!  They take out BOTH members of the Rockstar Express!

[Childes quickly grabs the top rope, waiting a moment for Morgan to
stagger up...

...and slingshots over the ropes, wiping out Marty Morgan to a big cheer
as we fade deeper into the match where Morgan and Storm are battering
Tyler with haymakers in the corner.]

GM:  The Rockstar Express is showing a little frustration at being in
there with someone quicker than them...

[A double whip sends Tyler from corner to corner where his back slams
hard into the buckles.  Grabbing his own partner's arm, Marty Morgan
whips Scotty Storm across the ring where he leaps into the air, catching
Tyler under the chin with a leg lariat.  He scampers from the corner,
dropping down on all fours...]

GM:  Look out here!

[Marty Morgan follows his partner by charging across the ring, springing
off the back of Storm...

...and SMASHES his forearm into the jaw of Tyler!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big forearm in the buckles!

[Storm retakes his feet, each grabbing a handful of Tyler's hair as they
rush out of the buckles, leaping into the air, and SMASHING Tyler
facefirst into the canvas!]

GM:  DOUBLE FACESLAM!!

[Storm rolls Tyler onto his back, attempting a press as Morgan stands
guard, preventing Childes from helping his partner as the referee counts
a two count only...

...and we fade a little deeper into the match where a dazed Morgan
stands between the two Aces.  Tyler hooks him around the neck, slipping
his leg through Morgan's as he sets for a Russian legsweep.  Childes
approaches from the front, grabbing Morgan's head and neck with his
right arm...]

GM:  What in the world are they...?


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd reacts as the two men act in unison, Childes performing an
STO just as Tyler executes the Russian legsweep, SMASHING Morgan's skull
into the canvas!]

GM:  I've never seen that done before!

[Childes applies the lateral press, earning a two count before a diving
Scotty Storm breaks up the pin attempt.  An upset Tyler drags him to his
feet, popping him with a right hand on the jaw that sends Storm
staggering away as Childes quickly scales the ropes, stepping up top...

...and snapping off a breathtaking moonsault, smashing down across the
chest of the downed Morgan!]

GM:  BACKFLIP SPLASH!!  HE GOT IT ALL!!!

[Another pin attempt has the referee down on the mat as Storm struggles
against Tyler's grip...

...and is able to get free, breaking up the pin at two!]

BW:  You can FEEL the desperation seeping out of the Rockstars, Gordo. 
They can see their night ending at the hands of the Aces and their
high-impact explosive offense!

[Childes turns his attention to Storm, catching him with a thrust kick
to the gut... and a second... and then snaps off one under the chin,
sending Storm falling back into the corner as Tyler moves in on him,
throwing another big haymaker to the jaw before leaning down to set
Storm up on the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  Tyler's putting him up top!

[The Delicious One climbs up to the top alongside Storm, slinging his
arm over his neck.]

GM:  He's setting up for a superplex!

[But Storm's not done fighting, throwing a few right hands to the ribs
to break the grip of Tyler...

...and then connects solidly with a right hand to the jaw, sending Tyler
sailing off the top where the back of his head smashes into the mat!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Tyler hits the mat hard!

[Storm quickly gets up to his feet, pausing as Childes turns around to
face him...

...and leaps off the top, knocking Childes flat with a crossbody off the
top!]

GM:  The referee's waving it off!  He says Storm's not the legal man!

[Scotty Storm is arguing with the official as he's escorted out of the
ring and we fade...

...to later in the match where Storm and Morgan fire Tyler into the
ropes, connecting with a double dropkick that sends the crowd into a
frenzy!]

GM:  Double dropkick on Tyler!  The Rockstars drilled him!

[A cover by Morgan has Storm ready to celebrate, counting along with the
official...

...but only reaching two before a sailing Stevie Childes comes
springboarding off the ropes, crashing down with a senton across the
covering Morgan!]

GM:  HIGH RISK BREAKUP OF THE PIN!!

BW:  Stevie Childes did what he had to do to save his partner there! 
Unbelievable!

[Childes pulls Morgan off the mat, shoving him back to the corner...

...and gets grabbed from behind by Storm who hooks both arms, pulling
them behind Childes to expose him.]

GM:  Childes is trapped!  Storm's got him hooked and-

[The crowd roars as Morgan rushes forward with a superkick...

...and Childes manages to get free, causing Morgan to superkick his own
partner in the chin!]

GM:  OHHH!  STEVIE MOVED AND MORGAN KICKED STORM!!

[A dazed Storm staggers backwards.  Childes rushes him, leaping into the
air to scissor his head, and rips him over to the canvas with a tight
double leg cradle!]

GM:  HEADSCISSORS CRADLE!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

"OHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

[A snap kick to the face of Childes breaks the pin attempt, snapping him
backwards into a Storm sunset flip.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[But this time, it's Danny Tyler with the lunging save to help his
partner!]

GM:  And once again, one of these teams was less than a second away from
winning this thing.  That was so close, I thought it was over, Bucky.

[We fade a little deeper into the match with Stevie Childes up on one
turnbuckle as Tyler climbs up to the other, slinging Scotty Storm's over
his neck...]

GM:  We're under thirty seconds to go, Bucky!

BW:  Less than that by my count!

[Tyler steps to the top rope, grabbing a handful of Storm's trunks,
trying to power him up...

...and does exactly that, taking Storm into the air, and laying him out
with a big superplex just as Childes leaps high into the air, sailing
through the sky, and SMASHES down with a splash on the chest of Storm
who had just hit the canvas!]

GM:  GOOD GRIEF!!  

[Childes bounces off of Storm, clutching his ribs for a moment, and then
throws himself into a sloppy cover.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd roars but quickly quiets as the referee waves his arms back
and forth, kneeling to speak to an official.]

GM:  Did he get him in time?  I think he had Scotty Storm pinned there
but I don't know if he got him in time.  The referee is speaking with
the timekeeper and... well, it looks like we have a decision.

[The ring announcer makes it official.]

PW:  After twenty minutes of action, this match has been declared a TIME
LIMIT DRAW!

[Both teams slowly climb to their feet, both looking disheartened and
disappointed as they slowly shake hands with their opponents.]

GM:  A nice show of sportsmanship there... but both of these teams have
to be a bit disappointed, Bucky.

BW:  A bit?  They just lost a chance at a million dollars!

GM:  And what does this mean for Rough N Ready?  They were supposed to
face the winners of this match in the second round.  Do they get a bye? 
That could be HUGE, Bucky!

BW:  It could.  It could make the difference between winning and losing
this whole thing.

[And with that, we fade back to the Control Center where Jason Dane is
standing in front of a display that has the full brackets for the
tournament.]

JD:  So, we see a time limit draw in the first round and as we play a
little bracketology, we see that Gordon Myers is correct.  That DOES
give a bye in the second round to the National Tag Team Champions, Rough
N Ready, who now will move straight into the semifinals of this
tournament.  But who will they face?  There will be four teams looking
to get there to the semifinals to meet the champs.  Could it be those
wild brawlers, the Moonshiners?  Maybe the dark horse team of the field,
P*WIN's champs Parker and Morimoto?  Or could it be one of the teams
that we're about to see in action - the Unholy Alliance or Robert
Donovan and Brent Maverick?  Let's head down to the ring and find out!

[We crossfade to the ring where the bell is frantically ringing.  Brent
Maverick is trading blows with Anton Layton as Robert Donovan does the
same with James Monosso.]

GM:  It's breaking down here in Dallas!

[Layton immediately gouges the eyes of Maverick before hurling him
through the ropes to the floor.  The Prince of Darkness moves quickly in
pursuit, grabbing Maverick by the back of the head and SMASHING his
skull into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN GOES MAVERICK!!

[Layton rolls back into the ring, raising both arms overhead and
smashing a running double axehandle across the wide back of Robert
Donovan to knock him to a knee.  Both Layton and Monosso are battering
the downed Donovan now as the referee steps in...

...and gets HURLED to the canvas by Layton!]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


BW:  No!  That can't happen!

[The referee rolls to the floor, waving his arms back and forth.  The
brawl continues inside the ring as the official moves to the ring
announcer's side.]

PW:  The referee has DISQUALIFIED the Unholy Alliance for a blatant and
intentional assault on an AWA official!

[Big cheer!  The fight continues as we fade back to Jason Dane.]

JD:  James Monosso and Anton Layton are unable to control their tempers
and as a result, Robert Donovan and Brent Maverick are moving on to the
second round where they will face the winner of tonight's final first
round matchup - the Moonshiners versus the P*WIN tag team champions,
"Luscious" Landon Parker and Slayer Morimoto!  This should be something
else.  Fans, let's head back down to ringside for tonight's Main Event!

[And down to the ring we go where the Moonshiners are waiting...

...and Slayer Morimoto stomps into view, swinging a steel chair around
and round his head to the roars of the crowd!]

GM:  Look at this maniac!  He's already got a chair!

[The camera cuts to the Moonshiners who look equally amused and
encouraged by this display, waving Parker and Morimoto to the ring. 
Parker, looking sleazy as can be, edges out of the entrance curtain
behind his maniacal partner.]

GM:  Landon Parker looks like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world,
Bucky.

BW:  He can't be happy about having drawn the Moonshiners in the first
round.  If there are guys who like to fight more than his partner, it
just might be them.

[Inside the ring, Zeke and Jug are waving Morimoto to the ring...

...and that's exactly where the brawler is heading, still swinging the
chair around wildly, making AWA officials all over the building quite
nervous.  Upon reaching the ring, he flings it over the ropes towards
the Moonshiners who sidesteps and let it fly by them out to the floor.]

GM:  Well, at least that's out of the way...

[Not wasting a moment, Slayer Morimoto steps through the ropes...

...and charges both members of the Moonshiners!]

GM:  Are you kidding me?  This guy's popped his cork a week early,
Bucky!

[The crowd roars for Morimoto's lack of fear as he grabs a hold of Jug's
wild hair with his left hand and starts throwing haymakers to the skull
with his right!]

GM:  He's going after Jug!

[But the assault doesn't last long as Zeke buries a double axehandle
into the back of the neck...

...which causes Morimoto to spin around, grabbing Zeke by the beard with
both hands, and jerking him close enough for him to sink his teeth
around the nose of Zeke!]

GM:  AHHHHH!

[The crowd roars as Morimoto shoves Zeke away, spitting something down
on the mat.]

GM:  What in the world...?

BW:  I think that was a chunk of skin.

GM:  I'm going to be sick.

[And in true madman fashion, Morimoto throws himself at the stunned Zeke
in a cross body that takes both men over the ropes to the floor where
Morimoto's back SLAMS into the ring apron before they slump to the
thinly-padded concrete.  An angry Jug gets up, looking to rejoin the
fight...

...which gives Landon Parker the opportunity to roll into the ring,
kicking the middle rope up into Jug's groin!]

GM:  OHHH!  Low blow by Parker!

[With the groin assault, Parker pulls Jug into a schoolboy rollup,
pausing to throw his feet over the middle rope for leverage as the
referee drops to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[But Jug kicks out with ease... despite the feet on the ropes.]

GM:  He kicks out!  Jug kicked out with Parker's feet on the ropes!

[Parker looks stunned, pausing to argue with the official as Jug retakes
his feet, stalking towards Parker who spins around...

...and promptly drops to his knees, lifting his hands to beg for mercy
as Jug approaches and buries a big boot into the mush of Parker.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big kick to the face!

[Jug grabs Parker by the hair, marching him to the corner where he
smashes his face into the buckles!]

BW:  You hear that, Gordo?

GM:  What?

BW:  It was a million ladies fainting all at once from Parker gettin'
hit in the face!

GM:  It was not!  Give me a break, Bucky!

[With Jug continuing to stomp and kick Parker in the corner, we fade to
later in the match...

...where we find Parker down on the mat as Jug and Zeke rain down double
axehandles across his back.  After flattening him out, Jug leaves the
ring as Zeke drags him up by the hair, throwing him into the nearest set
of turnbuckles.]

GM:  Landon Parker can barely stand at this point, Bucky.

BW:  He's taking a pounding from both of the Moonshiners.  They've been
able to tag in and out with ease while Parker can't even get Slayer
Morimoto into this match legally yet.

[In the corner, the wild-eyed Morimoto paces back and forth down the
aisle, looking for a tag as Zeke buries a right hand into the gut,
knocking Parker down to a knee.  Yanking him to his feet, Zeke flings
him to the ropes where he bounces off...

...and gets thrown through the air, crashing down to the mat thanks to a
big backdrop!]

GM:  Down goes Parker!

[And a running boot to the ribs does nothing to help him to his feet as
he rolls out to the floor seeking a place to regroup.]

GM:  Parker went to the floor but Zeke's going after him...

[But as soon as Zeke sticks his head through the ropes, Morimoto rushes
forward with a big kick to the head.  He grabs Zeke in a front facelock,
dragging him through the ropes to the apron where a few wildly-thrown
right hands land to the head and neck, knocking Zeke's torso over the
top rope...

...which allows Morimoto to suddenly tug the top rope back, snapping
Zeke off the ropes and sending him plummeting backfirst on the
thinly-padded concrete!]

GM:  GOOD GOD!!!

[With Zeke down on the floor, Morimoto turns to shout some encouragement
to Parker who is just starting to drag himself to his feet in the
buckles...

...and then Morimoto races down the apron, leaping off to drop his
entire weight down in a splash!]

GM:  OHH!  241 pounds come sailing off the apron, right down on the
chest of Zeke!

[Rolling off the downed Zeke, clutching his ribs, Morimoto cackles
wildly as Landon Parker, dazed and confused, steps through the ropes to
the apron...

...and leaps off, driving a knee down into the injured ribs of Zeke!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Come on!

BW:  Come on what?

GM:  There's no call for that, Bucky!  You know that!

BW:  The Moonshiners would do it if they got the chance.

GM:  That's not the point.

[Parker pulls Zeke off the floor, firing him under the ropes as we fade
to later action...

...where Jug has just levelled Parker with a running clothesline!  The
Luscious One rolls to the apron, trying to avoid a pin attempt...]

GM:  Landon Parker just bailed out again!

BW:  You say that like it's a bad thing.

GM:  How many times can a man escape the ring to avoid what he's got
coming to him, Bucky?

BW:  What he's got coming to him?  What the heck does that mean?

[Zeke moves in, reaching over the ropes...

...and a dazed Morimoto grabs Zeke by the ankle from the floor...]

GM:  Zeke got hooked!  Morimoto's got him hooked and

[With the referee shouting at Morimoto, he fails to notice Landon Parker
pull a set of brass knuckles from his boot...

...and COLDCOCK Zeke flat!]

GM:  OHHH!  Zeke got floored but... that had to be a weapon of some
kind!

BW:  I didn't see a weapon.

GM:  Of course you didn't.

[Soon, Morimoto pulls Jug down to the floor, throwing him into the steel
ringpost as the referee stops to count...]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!

[The crowd roars for the upset as Landon Parker leaps to his feet,
jumping up and down and pumping his fists like he just won the National
Tag Team Titles!]

GM:  Morimoto and Parker are your winners... they're moving on to the
semifinals where Robert Donovan and Brent Maverick are waiting for them.

[As the upset kids celebrate their win, we fade back to the Control
Center where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  And there it is, fans.  The Moonshiners suffer a huge upset and the
P*WIN tag team champions are moving into the second round.  So, let's
look at this bracket one more time...

[The bracket appears.]

JD:  Here's your second round of action... Kentucky's Pride vs the
Samoan Hit Squad, Vladimir Velikov and Sultan Azam Sharif taking on
Violence Unlimited, the National Tag Team Champions Rough N Ready have
earned a bye through Round 2, and the veteran duo of Robert Donovan and
Brent Maverick meet Landon Parker and Slayer Morimoto!  It's going to be
an exciting night of action tomorrow in Dallas, Texas, for Night 2 of
the Stampede Cup!  For Gordon Myers, Bucky Wilde, and Mark Stegglet,
we'll see you next time on Access!

[Dane grins in front of his bank of monitors before it fades to black.]