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                            American Wrestling Alliance 
                                   Proudly Presents 
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the Crockett Coliseum
                                    Dallas, Texas
                                 March 12th, 2011
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "TWO WEEKS AGO" where MAMMOTH Mizusawa is kneeling in the center
of the ring with Juan Vasquez staring down at him.  Louis Matsui is a
few feet away, carrying on loudly.]

LM: What are you waiting for, Vasquez? You called him out; now you've
got him, so give him your best shot! Do it, Vasquez! Look the monster in
the eye and DO IT!

[Juan gives Matsui an incredulous look, before turning to the kneeling
Mizusawa and then staring out to the roaring crowd.]

GM:  Is he gonna do it?  Is the champion gonna take a free shot on the
#1 contender to his crown?!

BW:  The man's kneeling in front of him and he's still as tall as
Vasquez!

[Not quite as Juan Vasquez looks down and shakes his head slowly in
disbelief, mouthing the words, "Crazy bastard", before turning his
attention back to the giant...]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[...and hitting Mizusawa with a massive right cross!]

GM: OHHH! What a right hand from Juan Vasquez!

BW: But he's still up!  Mizusawa does not go down from the right hand!

[The force of the blow knocks Mizusawa snaps the giant's head back, as
he appears dazed for a moment, trying to maintain his balance. Vasquez
watches as the Japanese giant teeters...

...and shakes off the effects of the punch with a smile! Shocked pop!]

BW:  Mizusawa took it with a smile! The same punch that knocked out
Sweet Daddy Williams barely had any effect!

GM: Oh my stars!  Completely unbelievable!

[A somewhat startled Juan Vasquez looks around in shock, before trying
to uncork another right cross. However, this time he finds his fist
caught, enveloped by Mizusawa's gigantic left palm! Before the crowd can
even express their shock, MAMMOTH shoots out his right hand, goozling
the National champion!]

GM: He's got him by the throat! Mizusawa's going to chokeslam him!

[The giant quickly gets to his feet, glaring down at the struggling
Vasquez.]

GM:  He's got him hooked!  Juan Vasquez has no way out of this!  He
can't get free!

[The champion struggles to free himself, smashing his arm against the
giant's a few times...

...before Mizusawa simply shoves him away, sending him back into the
corner.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  He let him go!

[The shove doesn't floor Vasquez, simply firing him up more as he
prepares to launch himself at Mizusawa again, but Louis Matsui steps in
front of his charge, waving a warning finger at Vasquez.]

GM:  Can you believe it, Bucky? The giant is backing away!

BW:  He's backing down, Gordo... but not from this fight!  He had
Vasquez right where he wanted him and he let him go!  He could've put
the champion through the mat again but for some reason, he chose not to!
 He just had him dead to rights and he just let him go...

[With his eyes still locked on a somewhat confused Vasquez, MAMMOTH
Mizusawa steps over the top rope and heads back up the entrance ramp
towards the locker room.  Matsui scrambles out of the ring quickly after
his charge.]

GM:  What kind of mindgame is this, Bucky?

BW:  I think MAMMOTH Mizusawa just showed the entire world that he can
take out Juan Vasquez whenever he wants!  He just showed the entire
world that in one month's time, the National Title is coming home to the
Matsui Corporation, daddy!

[The shot holds on Mizusawa doing the "I want the belt" gesture as we
fade to black and fade to the sounds of Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Saturday Night
Special"

A large white map of the United States fills the screen as the music
plays.  The shot zooms through the map, different states "popping up"
into view as we race past them.  As we pull back from the map, it no
longer is white but rather made up of the Stars and Stripes.

The map goes into a spin, spinning round and round as we zoom all the
way into it, dissolving into a few slow motion shots of animated men
battling in a red, white, and blue ring.  The animation runs through
various wrestling moves from an atomic drop to a bodyslam to a
piledriver.

And as the blue animaniac applies a clawhold on the white animaniac, we
freeze and the AWA logo fills the screen.

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the interior
of the Crockett Coliseum where over 4,500 fans have jammed into the
building to watch their favorite AWA stars.

The ring sits in the middle of the oval-shaped seating area, surrounded
by a metal barricade on all sides.  The ringside seats are your standard
steel chairs while tall wood and metal bleachers are erected all around
the rear of the oval.

A long elevated entrance ramp runs from the entryway to the ring.  On
either side of the ramp stand two elevated platforms to be used for
interviews.  One of these platforms is the home of Todd Michaelson's
Money Pit, a "set" with fake walls and bags of money that is supposed to
look like everyone's vision of the inside of a bank vault.

As we cut to the ringside area, atop thin black mats that cover the
concrete floor of the former warehouse, we find two tables - one for the
timekeeper and one for the announce duo.

Speaking of which, the camera cuts from the cheering crowd to the
ringside area where we find the familiar faces of "No Descriptions
Needed" Gordon Myers alongside "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde - the best
announcers in the game.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome once again to another edition of AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling where you will see all the stars of the
American Wrestling Alliance, THE Major League of Professional Wrestling.
 I'm Gordon Myers and by my side, as always, is-

BW:  Say it, daddy, say it!

[Gordon audibly sighs.  Bucky's rockin' a eyeball-bursting orange jacket
and green dress shirt... and looks damn proud of that fact as he raises
a metal briefcase covered with silver glitter that reads "BIG BUCKS" on
the side.]

GM:  Fine.  I guess it's official... by my side is the man who is the
three-time Announcer of the Year, Bucky Wilde!  Congratulations, Bucky.

BW:  Thanks, Gordo!  The pleasure is all yours, I'm sure.  And this is
one of my favorite nights of the year, daddy... it's Awards Night!

GM:  It certainly is and I don't mind saying that the AWA did very well
this year in the awards.  I'm looking forward to seeing some of our
superstars out here throughout the night to accept their prizes... even
you, Bucky.

BW:  And I've got a special surprise for all my fans who voted for me
tonight.

GM:  Care to give us a hint?

BW:  Not on this one.  It's a big one, daddy.

GM:  Alright, just one more thing to look forward to on this night where
we stand two weeks away from the AWA's birthday party - The Main Event -
where we will see MAMMOTH Mizusawa challenge Juan Vasquez for the AWA
National Title.  But tonight, those two men got to pick each other's
opponents.  For the giant, he'll be facing arguably Vasquez' most hated
rival in Raphael Rhodes.  For the National Champion, Louis Matsui is
giving "Playboy" Johnny Casanova the chance of a lifetime here tonight
in Dallas, Bucky!

BW:  Both of those matches should be outstanding.  "Playboy" Johnny C is
hungry for the spotlight and if he can knock off the National Champion
here tonight, he instantly becomes a top challenger to that title!  And
as far as Raphael Rhodes is concerned, don't forget what he said several
weeks ago.  He says the giant wins the National Title over his dead
body.  Tonight, the giant hopes to make him live up to those words,
daddy!

GM:  Plus, just two weeks away from their final showdown inside the
always-dangerous steel cage, City Jack and Calisto Dufresne are on the
Money Pit!

BW:  Only the second one-on-one steel cage showdown in AWA history,
Gordo!  And I hope Jack gets to say goodbye to all his redneck fans
tonight because in two weeks time, the Ladykiller's gonna finish him
inside that cage once and for all!  

GM:  We've got that plus so much more here tonight so let's get things
started by heading right up to the ring where Phil Watson is standing in
for Melissa Cannon tonight!  Take it away, Phil!

[We crossfade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing in a black
tuxedo.]

PW:  Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... from  Sheneandoah, Pennsylvania... Mark Hoefner!

[Mark Hoefner jaws with a young fan at ringside for booing him, which
just gets  him an even larger smattering of boos.]

PW: And his opponent...

[The opening strains of Nonpoint's "Miracle" begins.  After a moment,
"The Bull" Bruno Dawson emerges from the entrance portal where a red
towel hangs from his neck loosely.]

PW: ... hailing from Huntington Beach, California... weighing in tonight
at three hundred-and-eleven pounds...

[Raising one huge hand, Bruno Dawson begins his walk to the ring, slowly
moving to let his opponent see exactly what he's stepping in the ring
with.  Reaching the apron, Bruno Dawson pauses to wipe his feet off,
then enters the ring through the top and middle ropes.  From there, "The
Bull" ascends the ropes, standing on the middle rope with one leg and on
the top with the other, and raises his hand once more, this time with
the towel around his neck in his hand.]

PW: ... "THE BULL" BRUNO DAWWWWWWWWSON!

[Bruno stares at the towel, and you can see the rage building within
him.  He drops from the top, and spins around to face his opponent. 
With a flick of the wrist, Bruno tosses the towel from the ring, and
points at his opponent...

... before sliding his thumb across his throat.]

GM: We're getting yet another look at "The Bull" Bruno Dawson tonight,
as he  looks to keep up his winning ways.

BW: I'm sure it doesn't hurt that the kid he's in the ring with looks
like he'd  only be an appetizer on Bruno's plate at the local Sizzler.

[It looks like Mark Hoefner wants to size up the much larger Bruno
Dawson, but  isn't given much time as "The Bull" shoots in with a
double-leg takedown, then  leaps into a side headlock.]

GM: Great wrestling on display by "The Bull", as his size doesn't tell
the story  of how technically gifted this man is.

BW: He'd probably be absolutely frightening if he was as interested in
working  out as he is in demolishing the buffet table.

GM: Mark Hoefner now working his way to his feet... shoots Bruno Dawson
off the  ropes... Bruno ducks under a leapfrog... AND CATCHES HOEFNER ON
HIS WAY DOWN!  What power!

BW: "The Bull" just snatched Hoefner out of the air and drove him down
to the  mat with a THUNDEROUS powerslam!  Run kid, run! Or you'll be
well done!

[Oddly enough, Mark Hoefner seems to be taking that advice, as he crawls
towards  the outside, trying to escape any more damage. But Bruno Dawson
is having none  of that, as he grabs Hoefner by the tights and drags him
back into the middle of  the ring, hauls him up into a rear
waistlock...]

GM: SUPLEX! Right on his head and neck!

BW: Big ol' released German suplex, Gordo! Mark Hoefner just got folded
like an  accordion.

GM: The big man isn't done yet!

[The near limp body of Hoefner is pulled up, and "The Bull" doesn't
waste  anymore time. He pulls him into position, and delivers the
Sit-Out Uranage  Slam... into an Anaconda Vice.]

GM: Red Cape Diver hits...

BW: ... and Mark Hoefner taps like he's Fred Astaire!

GM: Fred Astaire?

BW: I'm more cultured than you think, Gordo.

[Dawson quickly breaks the hold, taking a knee as Phil Watson makes it
official.]

PW: Your winner of this match by way of submission... "THE BULL" BRUNO
DAWSON!

[After the match, Bruno Dawson helps Mark Hoefner to his feet, grabs his
hand,  and shakes it. Mark Hoefner yanks his hand free in disgust, and
heads to the  back clutching his neck, while "The Bull" rolls to the
floor and heads over to  Gordon.]

GM: Another dominant performance by "The Bull" Bruno Dawson, who is
joining me  at this time. Congratulations, Bruno.

[The ring attendant tosses over Bruno's red towel on request, and before
 answering, he wipes the few beads of sweat on his brow.]

BD: Thanks, Gordon. But I've got something to say to the AWA match
makers in the  back.

[Dawson holds up his hand and displays the last three fingers.]

BD: That's number three. I've proven myself against three men, all three
of them  taken out in dominant fashion. I know the competition is
fiercer than this here.  I've watched Saturday Night Wrestling for
almost three years now, and have seen men with a tenth of my talent get
three times the challenges I've gotten thusfar. That tells me  one of
two things: either you're grossly underestimating my talents; or you
just don't want me to succeed. But every Saturday night I come out here,
and in front of these great AWA fans, I drive everyone put in front of
me into the ground.  You might not appreciate me in the back, coming in
here with a lot of indie hype, but these fans certainly do. Eventually,
you're going to have to listen to the fans. Eventually, you're going to
have to give me exactly what I demand; the best in the world, in that
ring.

GM: I've been here since the start, Bruno, and I can say without a
shadow of a  doubt, competition might not be handed to you, but it will
eventually take  notice of you. Keep dominating as you have, and I'm
sure someone will step up to  try and knock you off your perch.

BD: That's all I want, Gordon. I want to see just how good the talent is
here. I  want to see the best the AWA has put in front of me, to show
them that the  evolution is coming. Yesterday was their day in the sun.
Today the clouds are  gathering. Tomorrow, it's time to evolve.

GM: "The Bull" Bruno Dawson, everyone! Sure to become a fixture here in
the AWA.  And fans, since it's Awards Night here on Saturday Night
Wrestling, let's get that party started!

BW:  I can't believe you just said that.

GM:  Let's head over to Jason for the first award of the night!

[We crossfade to the interview area where Jason Dane is standing with
Chock Full, representative from Just The Facts.  In his hands is an
impressive-looking plaque.  Dane gets his cue and begins.]

JD: Thanks, Gordon!  And fans, as you are all aware, it's Awards Night
tonight and with me to deliver the first of _many_ awards received by
our great AWA competitors...

[Pop!]

JD: ...Is Chock Full; a representative from Just The Facts.  Without
further ado, the floor is yours, Mr. Full!

[The crowd applauds politely once again as Full smiles widely.]

CF: Thank you, Jason.  It's a pleasure to be back in front of these
great fans tonight here in Dallas!

[Cheap hometown pop!]

CF: Allow me to welcome our first award recipient tonight, though he
needs no introduction to you fans here and at home.  Ladies and
gentlemen... "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne!!

[All those pops just went in the complete opposite direction as ZZ Top's
"Sharp Dressed Man" comes blaring through the Crockett Coliseum
loudspeakers.  From the entrance portal emerges Dufresne, clad in a
black tuxedo and polished black shoes.  His blond hair is pulled back
into a tight pony tail.  He stands just outside of the curtain for a few
seconds before taking a bow and then looking over his shoulder.  The
curtain swings open again and from it emerge two gorgeous brunettes in
elegant black dresses.  The walk to either side of Dufresne, smiling as
he offers an arm to each of them.  The trio slowly make their way over
to Jason Dane and Chock Full as the music begins to die down along with
the boos.]

JD: Calisto Dufresne, welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling.  None of
us were sure if you'd be here tonight after the postcard you sent to
Bucky Wilde arrived two weeks ago indicating you were out of the
country.  I take it that the Championship Committee's threat to ban you
for life registered with you?

[Dufresne scoffs at the idea.]

CD: Dane, you know me better than that.  I'm already a millionaire.  I
stand to inherit a fortune from the family business down in Louisiana. 
I don't need the AWA so ole' Jim Watkins threat didn't even register as
a blip on my radar.  

JD: Then what brought you back here tonight?

CD: Simple, Dane.  I got a call saying that it was Awards Night tonight
so I packed my bags, grabbed Svetlana and Irina here - don't ask me how
we got them through customs, either...

[A Cheshire cat grin from the Ladykiller as he admires the two women
next to him.]

CD: ...and got back to Dallas as quick as I could to come accept my
award for Most Popular Wrestler in the world.  I wouldn't let my throngs
of adoring fans down like that by not being here to accept the award in
person!

[Dane rolls his eyes a bit as the crowd lets out a collective groan. 
Dufresne waves to both of his fans in the Coliseum as Dane swings the
microphone back towards Chock Full.]

CF: Umm... I'm not sure if there was a typo on the letter we sent to
you, but you didn't win the award for Most Popular Wrestler.

[Dufresne flinches a bit, cocking an eyebrow.]

CD: Well, what did I win?  Most Desired Wrestler?  Most Often Imitated,
But Never Duplicated Wrestler?  Most Talented Wrestler?

[Full looks down at the plaque.]

CF: Well, actually, it's the award for Most Hated Wrestler.

[The crowd pops as Dufresne looks as though he's been punched in the
gut.  He is silent, mouth agape for many moments before speaking.]

CD: Perhaps I didn't hear you correctly.  Did you say Most Hated
Wrestler?

[Full nods as the crowd cheers again.  The shock on Dufresne's face is
quickly turning to anger.]

CD: This is an _outrage!_  What kind of operation are you idiots running
over there at Just The Facts!?  Do you realize that I have legions of
fans all over the world!?  Women throw themselves at my feet as though I
were Jesus himself!  It's just simply not empirically possible for me to
be the Most Hated Wrestler.

[Dufresne shakes his head and almost laughs at the audacity of it all.]

CD: What are you going to tell me next, that City Jack is the most
popular?

[Full shakes his head and replies with a shrug.]

CF: Juan Vasquez, actually.

[Now _there's_ a pop!  Dufresne becomes visibly agitated once again.]

CD: _Juan Vasquez!?_  

[In case he hadn't heard right, the crowd confirms with another
thunderous pop for the champion!]

CD: That guy really thinks he's the cock of the walk right now, doesn't
he?  Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?

[Dufresne smirks ominously.]

CD: As for this...

[He snatches the award from Full.]

CD: ...It's not worth the plastic it's made out of.

[He tosses it like a Frisbee off the stage, much to the shock of Full
and Dane.]

CD: I'd tell you where to stick it, but you'd probably manage to screw
that up, too!  This isn't over!

["Sharp Dressed Man" kicks in once again as Dufresne turns on his heels
and storms back through the entrance portal in a huff.  Svetlana and
Irina quickly scurry after him, leaving Chock Full and Jason Dane
standing in the interview area, shocked.]

JD:  Mr. Full, I apologize for that.  

CF:  I'm... well, congratulations to Mr. Dufresne on behalf of Just The
Facts!  I... guess.

[Full shakes his head, walking off the stage as Dane throws it to
commercial.]

JD:  Fans, don't you dare go away 'cause we'll be right back with more
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!

[We hold on Dane for a moment before fading to black.

And then to a very long shot of the exterior of a pretty dingy looking
building.]

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

[Fade to a graphic that has all the info on the AWA Combat Corner.  We
freeze there for a moment and then fade back up to the interview
platform where Jason Dane is once again earning his pay.  This time,
it's Count Adrian Bathwaite and Sultan Azam Sharif that are standing up
there with him.

Bathwaite, a short, silver-haired man with an odd mix of European and
Asian features, is standing at the edge of the platform, trading insults
with the jeering fans.  He is wearing a button-up shirt with a pattern
that blends plum, beige, and peach colors... clearly designed by another
satisfied graduate of the Helen Keller School For The Blind.  The Count
also wears brown pants and black spats, and is shaking his hardwood cane
at the crowd.  Sharif is busily waving his enormous Iranian flag. 
Garbed in his reddish-brown bisht and white kaffiyeh with black agal,
the only thing you can really see of the Sultan is his face.  He is a
Persian man with a weatherbeaten visage, and a neatly groomed thin black
mustache.  A little bit of his short black hair can be seen from the
sides of the kaffiyeh.]

JD: Two weeks ago, Count Adrian Bathwaite, we saw that Supernova was not
alone anymore... OW.

[As always, the Angry Old Man Cane Jabbing(tm) interrupts Dane.]

CAB: Pipe down, you dirty peasant!  You don't get to tell these ignorant
serfs what happened two weeks ago, because you don't know yourself! 
I'll tell them, because they ought to be getting all of their learning
and instruction from the likes of me anyway!

What happened was the formulation of a common street gang!  That
painted-up hoodlum Supernova found another painted-up hoodlum in Corax,
and then they went and dug Tyler Lee out of some gutter somewhere, and
now they want to threaten my man and the Russians!  Well, those
streetwalking sewer rats will find out soon enough how empty those
threats are, when they have to face real live geniune athletes!

On behalf of my man, Sultan Azam Sharif, I accept your challenge,
Supernova!  But you really should have learned from last time, punk. 
Dane, did you see how easily Kolya Sudakov was destroying Supernova
before those other hoods ran in and attacked him?!

JD: That's not what happ... OW!

SAS: Mistair Jahsun Dan!  Vat choo think dot you talkin about ven you
call Mistair Count Batwaite, assalamu alaykum, a liar!  In Iran, deh
oldest country in deh vurld, ven somebody make wrong ockusations on an
honairable man, den ve cut out dot man's tongue!

JD: You saw it yourself, Sultan!

SAS: Mistair Count Batwaite, he vas vise man un say to me, "Sultan, you
don wanna get vurked up in angair by vatchin dot jahbronie Supairnova,
so you stay bockstage un I call you if dey gonna attock me again!"  So I
diddunt need to see deh motch, because my managair tell me vut hoppen. 
But den I saw vut dey say!  Un now ve got not only dot jahbronie
Supairnova who paint his face like did a child, but dot othair jahbronie
Cairvux or vatevah his name is vid dot bird!  Dot jahbronie bring a
bird, he bring a club, un he diddint even show he could wrostle!  Den
you got dot Tylair Lee, un he even say he only punch un he don know how
to wrostle!  If dey don know how to wrostle, vut dey doing in
wrostling?!

JD: Both Corax and Tyler Lee are tough customers, Sultan.

SAS: Mistair Jahsun Dan, dis is not deh street.  Dis is A-doubva-A, un
wrostling!  I am Pahlavn-e Keshvar, Varzesh-e Pahlavani!  I diddunt
close fist un break rules like did Supairnova, un like dese othah two
jahbronies gonna do an dey even say so!

JD: Wait, what?  You never break the rules?  We've seen you wrestle!

SAS: Dass right, Mistair Jahsun Dan, just like dot vat you say, deh
Sultan nevair break deh rules.  Mistair Count Batwaite, he coach me in
all deh rules of AmerEcun wrostling, un even dot I think some of deh
rules make no sense, I alvays follow dem.

JD: Oh, Count Bathwaite told you what the rules of the AWA are.  And
told you what happened last week.  And... I think I'm beginning to see
that... OW!

CAB: You shut your trap, you needle-necked serf!  You're unqualified to
think!  I'm sure you'd like to come up with a lot of lies about me and
about how I manage the Sultan, but we have no more time for a beggar
like you!  Sultan, let's go!

SAS: IRAN, NUMBAH VUN!

[Sharif starts waving his flag again, as the two men head down the
aisle.  "Saz O Avaz Mahdor" by Mohammed Reza Shajarian begins to play,
the loud Persian vocal opening drawing even more hate from the
not-really-culturally-sensitive fanbase.  Bathwaite points his cane
threateningly at some young kids, and Sharif marches his huge flag right
behind.  As always, the fans are ready to respond to the Iranian flag.]

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

GM: So now I'm starting to wonder how gullible this Sultan Azam Sharif
really is.

BW: Gordo, yer gonna start trouble!  Ya don't wanna start trouble with
Bathwaite, daddy.  He's vetted; a former World Champion.  He even has
wins over Hamilton Graham.  He can get ya fired just like that.

GM: Bathwaite had to cheat to get them, and that's my point here.  I
think Sultan Azam Sharif really does believe that he is always within
the rules!  Bathwaite has lied to him about... well... everything!

BW: Watch yer tongue, daddy!  Sharif said what they do ta people who
make wild accusations!

GM: This isn't Iran!

BW: But the Sultan follows sharia law, and he don't care WHERE he is, he
thinks it applies.

GM: ...true.

[Sharif is now in the ring, divesting himself of his bisht and kaffiyeh
to reveal his battlescarred but solid physique.  He wears a baggy white
sirwal loose pants) tucked into his shiny gold hooked boots.  A matching
gold sash is tied around his waist.  The crowd boos him.

Then "Philadelphia Freedom" by Elton John starts up, mid-chorus, and the
fans cheer as a pudgy man with unwashed black hair and a stubbled face
marches from the back.]

BW: Speaking of guys like Tyler Lee who can't wrestle... it's the South
Philly Phighter!

GM: "Can't wrestle"?!  We'll see about that!

BW: Okay, that was a little harsh.

GM: I think so.

BW: The Phighter is a way better wrestler than Tyler Lee.  Sorry,
Phighter.

GM: That is NOT what I meant!

[The South Philly Phighter steps through the ropes.  As always, he's
dressed like a slob in his old, faded red Phillies T-shirt, jeans with
holes in them, and ragged black boots.  He's sporting a cheap World
Series pinky-ring replica, a leather jacket, and an unlit cigar upon
which he's chomping.  The Sultan's eyes bulge out at this sight, and he
gestures to his opponent as if to say "I have to wrestle this?!".  Count
Bathwaite marches across the ring to berate the Phighter for coming to a
match with such poor personal hygiene as Phil Watson gives the
introductions.]

PW: The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit!

Introducing first, to my left... from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania...
weighing two-hundred fourty-three pounds...

  ...THE SOUTH PHILLY PHIGHTER !

[A rare outbreak of cheers for the Phighter, who is jawing back at
Bathwaite.  Bathwaite keeps jabbing him with the cane.  Sharif's
expression registers disbelief and dismay.]

GM: I don't recall the Phighter ever getting cheered.

BW: He's had about as many cheers as showers in the past few years.

PW: His opponent... introducing first the manager, COUNT ADRIAN
BATHWAITE!

He represents... hailing from Shiraz, Iran... weighing two-hundred
fifty-three pounds...

   ...SULTAN AZAM SHARIF !

[The crowd starts in on one of their least favorite AWA competitors.]

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

[Sharif looks around at the crowd, and gestures for them to hold it
down.  Between the chant and the prospect of having to wrestle a grubby
individual, he seems totally out of sorts.]

GM: The Sultan was taken aback on his last appearance here by an
opponent who wrestled while wearing a T-Shirt... THIS has to be complete
culture shock for him.

BW: About the only chance the Phighter has against an Olympian... is if
the culture shock outright electrocutes him.

[*DING*DING*]

[The bell rings, and the Phighter has had enough of being jabbed by the
cane.  He snatches it from Bathwaite, and the crowd roars! The South
Philly Phighter winds up with the cane...]

BW: YOU BETTER NOT!

GM: THE PHIGHTER IS GOING TO TAKE IT TO BATHWAITE!

"WHAAAAAAAAACK!"

BW: THE PHIGHTER IS GOING TO TAKE IT TO TH' DENTIST, DADDY!

GM: Sharif with a big kick right to the face of the Phighter!  That
sharp hooked boot, which might even be loaded!

BW: Oh, you made him mad now, dummy!

GM: The Sultan is infuriated!  He's stomping away, driving the point of
those horrible boots into the ribs and back of the South Philly
Phighter!

[The fans jeer bitterly as the Sultan indeed has an enraged look on his
face.  Bathwaite is still in the ring, spitting on the Phighter and
increasing the level of verbal abuse.]

GM: Meekly has to get Bathwaite out of there!

BW: He hasn't laid a finger on the man.  And if I know Bathwaite, he'd
rather die than touch him.

GM: Bathwaite just distracting the official, and Sharif is brutalizing
the South Philly Phighter with those illegal boots!

BW: Kickin' ain't illegal!

GM: HIS boots ought to be illegal!

BW: But they ain't.  He got a cultural exemption.

GM: He's STILL kicking him!  It's been a minute!  And Sharif is just
kicking him over and over!  I don't care if it's technically legal, this
is brutality!  Where's the 'wrestling' in this?!  Sharif was so proud of
his wrestling skill, and so dismissive of Supernova, Corax, and Tyler
Lee... and look at this!

BW: This ain't a wrestling match anymore, Gordo.  The Phighter was gonna
hit Bathwaite with his own cane.  That turned this from a match into a
statement.

[Finally, Sharif relents, and the Phighter scrambles to his feet.  He
has some small lacerations on his chest and back, and the faded red of
his Phillies jersey is being joined by some brighter red...]

GM: The South Philly Phighter is up, and it will take more than a
stomping to keep him d-

[The crowd gasps as Sharif hooks a full nelson on the weakened
competitor, flipping him overhead and down on the back of the head and
neck with a suplex!]

BW: That'll keep him down!  That'd keep the Terminator down, daddy! 
Whoo!

GM: FULL NELSON SUPLEX!  THE SULTAN FLIPPED THE PHIGHTER PRACTICALLY
ONTO 
HIS HEAD WITH A FULL NELSON SUPLEX!

BW: And I think Sharif's officially done playing around.

GM: He could pin him after that for sure!  But he's facing him east, and
we know what that means!

[That means he's setting up for... the double chest slap and sweat wipe,
which sets up for a little prayer, which sets up for some spitting,
which sets up for the Camel Clutch.]

BW: He's got those arms tucked in tight!  Even if he didn't just drop
the punk on his head, it'd be over.

[*DING*DING*DING*]

GM: The referee calling for the bell immediately, and rightfully so! 
Sharif may be trying to injure this man!  And how can he think this is
"obeying the rules"?!  He's keeping the hold on!

[Virulent boos fill the air as the Sultan shows no sign of relenting. 
He proceeds to jerk the Phighter's neck back and forth, using sudden
motions, to increase the damage.  Count Adrian intercepts the referee to
complain about something or other, delaying his count.]

BW: Simple... the Sultan's probably been told that it ain't illegal till
the count hits five!

GM: I can't believe Bathwaite would manipulate a man's mind that way!

BW: Gordo, it really AIN'T illegal till the count hits five as far as I
see it.

GM: Finally, the count begins... yes, Sharif releases at four. 
Disgusting!

BW: You're tellin' me.  Sharif is gonna need two showers after that.  he
won't even let the ref touch his hand to raise it because he doesn't
want to get the man dirty.  That's respect!

GM: Where is the respect in what we just saw?!

BW: He was about to swing a cane at Bathwaite.  The Phighter should
respect the fact that th' Sultan let him get off breathin'.

GM: Adrian Bathwaite is manipulating this man into being his personal
weapon!  And I'm sure that we will see Sultan Azam Sharif in the ring
with Supernova soon enough.  We'll see if that skewed sense of the rules
does him any favors.  Fans, let's go back up to Jason who... oh brother.

[Up to Jason Dane at the interview platform.  Oh, poor Dane.  He's
really outnumbered now.]

JD: With me at this time-

[Dane is cut off by two hands wrapped around his jacket lapels, yanking
him closer.  Oh, yes, it's everyone's favorite pseudo-satanic madman,
"The Prince Of Darkness" Anton Layton.  And tonight, the entire Unholy
Alliance is with him.]

AL:  SILENCE, DANE!  Tonight is the time for your childish ramblings
that hold no importance to those who stand before you.  Tonight, the
Unholy Alliance has serious business to discuss.

[Layton shoves Dane back a step, throwing back his hood that used to
cover his balding head.  He grins a demonic sneer as he looks over the
men standing around him.  Standing immediately behind Layton is the
massive beast known as Polemos, his mask covering his face as his
animal-skin cloak rests across his broad shoulders.  He is slowly
rubbing his glove-covered hands together as he stares at the camera.

To his left is the black-and-red robed figure of Nenshou, dwarfed in
size but not in presence, his visage clouded by the decorative hood he
wears over his head.  Nenshou stands in a meditative stance, seemingly
focusing on his hands, which are in an odd symbolic formation with two
fingers pointing upwards.  

To the right is the wide-shouldered, burly shape of James Monosso... the
one man who may be crazier than Layton. Monosso wears his typical
pale-green cutoff T-Shirt which reads "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL
INSTITUTION", and under that his black one-strap singlet with silver
trim.  Black-and-silver boots and electric-tape wristbands complete his
wrestling gear; a big wide smile inhabits his flat, wide face which is
ringed with long black stringy hair.  

In the foreground, alongside Anton Layton, is the bald, round-bodied
"Collector Of Oddities" Percy Childes.  Percy is losing weight, but
still could stand to lose about fifty pounds or so. Under one arm, he
holds the Longhorn Heritage Championship belt... shined and still
looking brand new.  He's wearing a dark blue knit sweater and black
jeans, as if dressed for a night of reading rather than activity.  Even
so, he still carries his crystal-topped cane... in fact, his dark
mustache-and-Van Dyke goatee are reflected in it as he holds it up to
his face, peering in with a self-satisfied smirk.]

AL:  Tonight is a special night for the entirety of the world, Dane.  It
is not every night that the Darkness comes together!  It is not every
night that the Master sees fit to unleash the entirety of his gathered
dark AWA army on the world.

JD:  His AWA army?!  Are you saying-

AL:  More of us?  Of course, there's more of us!  The Darkness knows no
limits, Dane!  The Darkness knows no bounds!  When the Master calls, the
forces of Darkness rise up to answer his commands.  We have stepped
forward as his warriors... his servants... but to imagine that we are
just some of many... 

[Layton turns a gaze to the nearby James Monosso and lowers his voice
dramatically.]

AL:  You'd have to be insane to think otherwise.

[Layton continues to glare at Monosso as an obviously uncomfortable Dane
turns his attention to Percy Childes who guides the mic towards him.]

PC: Jason Dane, Anton and I don't appear together every week.  In fact,
we all have our own individual goals, our individual grudges, and our
individual projects.  But that's why we're an "Alliance".  That's why
we're still here when the others have fallen. We're not stepping all
over each other's toes, holding each other back, or competing with one
another for the spotlight.  BUT!

[Layton yanks Dane's arm towards him.]

AL:  But when the Darkness needs to spread over the entire AWA... when
someone challenges the Darkness... 

[Childes nods emphatically, shouting into the mic.]

PC: Yes!  When we find ourselves against a common foe, threatened by a
common enemy, in pursuit of a common goal, or even when we just plain
feel like it... that's when you will be reminded.  That is when you will
be reminded that we are effectively one. When you jump on Anton Layton's
back, Nenshou will strike from the shadows, Polemos will crush your
bones, and James Monosso will ruin your life.  When you think to ambush
Polemos, James Monosso will do the same to you, Nenshou will blind you,
and Anton Layton will fill your lungs with your own blood.  When you
dare to assault the mad Monosso, Anton Layton will burn your flesh,
Nenshou will flay that flesh from your body, and Polemos will bury you
alive.  And when you try to elminate Nenshou... hear me Brian Von
Braun...

AL: Anton Layton will arrive to make you wish your days on this physical
plane were over.  Polemos will come forth to crush your very soul within
his massive palms.  And James Monosso... the so-called Madman...

[Layton turns his stare onto Monosso again, glaring at him.]

AL:  I wonder...

[Childes ignores the obvious tension, pulling the mic to him again.]

PC: And when you put your hands on me?  You think because I'm a manager,
that you can do what you want to me?  Oh, no... that's the worst of all,
Von Braun.  Wrestlers, you see... they tend to forget their vendettas. 
Because they're always at war with someone, the battle lines can dim in
their memories.  All the names of all the people they have battled start
to blend together.

But not me.  NEVER me.  You just don't understand... I will _never_
stop.  I will have my lawyers take your home from you when you're
fifty-five and retired.  I will send investigators to have your
marriages destroyed with photographs and lies... if they even NEED to
lie.  I will have the IRS audit you regularly.  And it will never stop. 
Do you think you're the first?  Do you think I don't know how to ruin a
life?  

But what I will do, Von Braun, is what I always do... I will give you a
chance to stop.  If you want a championship match against my Nenshou? 
Granted!  I freely admit you are quality competition and worthy of a
shot at my Longhorn Heritage Championship.  But you will NEVER strike me
again.  Because if you do...what these four men do to you will be
horrific.  It will be disturbing.  It will be career-ending.

And it will only be the beginning.

[Layton's face twists into a warped smile at the thought of ending Brian
Von Braun's career and slowly, a cackle develops.]

AL:  Ehehehehe... ehehehehehehehe.... EHEHEHEHEHHEHEHE!

JD: Well, that is-

[Layton violently grabs Dane by the arm, swinging him aside and out of
his way as he stalks forward, reaching up...]


"SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


[Everyone in the arena, Percy Childes included, does the slow turn to
Anton Layton with an expression of disbelief.  The crowd makes an
"OOOOOOOOOOH" sound as Layton slaps Monosso, and you can hear Bucky
Wilde do one of those slow "did-he-REALLY-just-do-that" gasps that
people make when witnessing potentially suicidal stupidity.  Even
Polemos doesn't seem to know if he should prepare to defend Layton.

Monosso's grin just gets wider.]

AL:  TELL ME, MADMAN!!  TELL ME WHO YOUR MASTER IS!!  TELL ME WHOSE
ORDERS YOU FOLLOW FROM THIS MINION AND HIS DRAGON!  WHO?!  WHO IS YOUR
DRAGON?!

[Monosso's face doesn't change from the simple grin on his face.]

JM: I'd tell you.  But then you know what I'd have to do.

[And now it's Layton's turn to smile, almost amused.]

AL:  Are you threatening me, Madman?  You threaten to kill a man who can
not be killed?  My Master will have your-

[Monosso grabs Dane's mic arm, jerking it towards him.]

JM: Not kill you... bill you!  

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

JM:  I'm getting a twenty grand bonus to NOT tell anyone who the Dragon
is!  You gonna outbid that?  Because last I checked, Layton, your Master
was paying for my loyalty in cash.  And the cash is still coming... so
slap all you want, I don't care. But if you want names, you better be
slapping me with a briefcase full of money!

[Layton spits on the interview platform.]

AL:  Money?  You do this for money?  

[Layton turns his gaze on Childes.]

AL:  You buy his loyalty for OUR Master and OUR causes?

[Childes doesn't seem prepared to answer that.]

AL:  You hold your tongue, Madman.  Your secrets matter nothing to me...
nor to my Master.  My Master sees all, Madman!  He sees who hides behind
your Dragon!  He sees what hides behind your chest...

[A hard stabbing finger point to the sternum of Monosso.]

AL:  He knows what demons lurk in us all... and he's comfortable with
that knowledge.  

But a word of warning, Madman... do not think yourself immortal because
you stand in the embrace of the Darkness... do not fool yourself into
thinking you are not disposable in the eyes of my Master...

You are a rotting piece of meat who serves no purpose other than
carrying out OUR commands.

Do not forget that, Madman... 

[Layton tilts his head, appraising Monosso for a moment...

...and then lashes out again!  Because he can!]


"SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


JD: That's enough of that!  For heaven's-

AL:  Do not speak to me of your heavens, Dane!  They matter not to me...
to my Master... to the Unholy Alliance... because Hell comes for the
entire AWA...

[A smirk.]

AL:  Hell comes for Brian Von Braun... very, very soon... and any who
dare stand beside him.

I implore you, Von Braun.  Come.  See for yourself later tonight what
awaits you.

[Layton throws his head back in his trademark demonic cackle, bringing a
smile to the face of Percy Childes as well as Dane struggles to end the
segment.]

JD:  Fans, I- oh for pete's sake... we'll be right back.

[Fade to black.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

And then back up to live action where we find Mark Stegglet, standing by
in the interview area, looking none-too-pleased with his present
company. Next to him, in a dark blue suit, lavender shirt and red tie,
is the smirking, bespectacled Louis Matsui. Looming large behind them,
dressed to compete in a black singlet, is the scowling seven-footer,
MAMMOTH Mizusawa. Standing on the other side of Stegglet is the straggly
haired playboy, Johnny Casanova, along with his sweet little pumpkin
herself - wearing a very expensive black dress - Big Mama.]

MS: Louis Matsui, two weeks ago, the National champion and the number
one contender were both given the opportunity to pick each other's
opponents for tonight, two weeks before MAMMOTH Mizusawa challenges Juan
Vasquez for the title at The Main Event. The champ, as you well know,
selected Raphael Rhodes, but some of the guys in the back and many of
our AWA fans are quite surprised by your choice...

[Oh, you know who the fans are booing, as Casanova scowls at the
suggestion he's a less than stellar competitor, while Big Mama moves
towards Stegglet menacingly. Louis Matsui holds up his hand and steps up
to the mic before an annoyed Casanova, or Big Mama, can slap the taste
out of Mark Stegglet's mouth for his impertinence.]

LM: What have the boys in the back been saying, huh, Mark? What have
these crossed-eyed, vasquez-worshipping idealists been saying? More
importantly, what has the National Champion been saying about MY
decision to reward my friend here, Johnny Casanova, for his help in
getting my client to this point, by giving him this chance to step into
the ring against the National Champion

[More boos as Casanova breaks out into a smug smile and gives Matsui a
thumbs up.]

LM: Let me guess, the boys have been asking why, why would a fair,
generous, magnanimous man like Mr. Matsui pick the Playboy over so many
other deserving men to face the top dog in the locker room? I know why
and Mr. Casanova knows why. As for the unwashed, uneducated masses, they
must be wondering why a strategic genius like Louis Matsui would be so
silly as to pick the Playboy to face the champ two weeks before the big
match. After all, Vasquez picked Raphael Rhodes, as tough an opponent
for MAMMOTH Mizusawa as they come; couldn't Mr.
Matsui have picked someone bigger, tougher, meaner to soften up the
champ prior to the championship match? Well, Mark, I know better and the
Playboy knows better. And if there is anyone undeserving in this
arrangement, it's not Johnny Casanova, because he damn well deserves the
spotlight! No, it's these people, these people are the undeserving ones!
You don't deserve a match as big as Johnny Vasquez versus "Playboy"
Johnny Casanova!

[MASSIVE HEEL POP!  Casanova smirks, surveying the crowd, as Big Mama
pats him on the back.]

LM: And John-boy, I'm guessing, has probably been questioning my use of
the word "reward." After all, is it really a reward to face an irate,
enraged, fired-up Johnny Vasquez? Is it really a gesture of goodwill and
friendship when Louis Matsui sends you into the lion's den to face an
angry, cornered beast with very few options? And my answer to that, Mr.
Casanova, is this: anytime you step into the ring against the champ,
even if it's non-title, you're in the Main Event and I have no doubt
that you, sir, will put up a stellar performance befitting your
"Playboy" moniker! A strong showing against the National Champion and
you make a pretty strong claim for a shot at the title. Do that tonight,
Playboy, and if, no, WHEN my client becomes the National Champion, we
would be glad and honored to offer you that shot. Like I said, Louis
Matsui remembers the people who've helped him and if you somehow manage
to soften Vasquez up before The Main Event, that just sweetens the deal
further.

[Matsui looks right at the Playboy as he delivers his clincher. Cas
smiles back at Louis and flexes what passes for a bicep on his right
arm.]

LM: As for you, Rhodes, you said my client would challenge for the title
over your dead body. Well, Ralphy, be careful what you wish for. We'll
see you in that ring later, but right now, all you idiots need to shut
up because the Playboy has got something to say!

[A chorus of jeers rises from the crowd as Matsui motions towards Johnny
Casanova with a flourish...]

JC: Thank you, Louis! Ya know something, Steggles?

[He sneers at Stegglet.]

JC: I've been saying for months that I won in that Steal the Spotlight
match, and people have been arguing with me. They've been saying that I,
Johnny C, was just blowing smoke. They said that MAMMOTH here was the
winner and that I was an also-ran.

They were half right. Because while my good friend MAMMOTH was the last
man standing and got his well deserved shot out of that match, I won
something just as important as any wrestling match. I won the respect,
loyalty, and friendship, of two of the very best the AWA had to offer,
in Louis Matsui and MAMMOTH Mizusawa. I knew that by stepping in the
ring at this man's side...

[He pats MAMMOTH on the back. The giant actually raises an eyebrow and
shoots a sideways glance at Casanova, but the Playboy seems to not
notice.]

JC: ... that I was making the most important move of my wrestling
career. And I had faith in both of these men. I hadn't heard from Louis
for a few months after that match, until a couple of weeks ago, in fact,
but did that bother me? No! Because I knew that Louis was a true friend
who would find a way to repay me for my help - and he sure as shooting
has with this chance! Yeah, I've heard the fans saying that taking on
John-boy Vasquez is a poisoned chalice... no way,
Steggles!

I keep telling ya, ya see, I look good in gold. So the chance to go up
against the National champion, even in a non-title match - that's just
something that good ol' Johnny C just can't turn down! And ya gotta
believe it, when I beat Johnny Vasquez out there tonight, when I pick
him up and put him down with the Playboy Plunge, when I put him to sleep
with some of the most powerful arms in the business... then I'm gonna be
having title opportunities coming outta my ears. And for Louis here to
say that it'll be my passport to a shot at the National belt itself when
MAMMOTH steamrolls the champion at The Main Event... you, my friend, are
a stand-up guy!

[He claps Matsui on the back.]

JC: Best of luck tonight, guys. Now if ya'll excuse me, my baby doll
here and I are gonna go get prepared for this shot.

[Louis Matsui holds out a hand, which Johnny Casanova shakes, as we
crossfade back down to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW: The following contest is scheduled for one fall... introducing
first, already in the ring at this time... here is CUBAN ASSASSIN #6!

[And everyone's favorite Assassin is jawing at ringside fans as he
raises his arms in the air.

As he does this, Ram Jam's version of "Black Betty" kicks in over the
speakers and out comes the man we saw toward the end of the last
Saturday Night Wrestling. We'll just let Phil Watson give the
introduction.]

PW: His opponent hails from Louisville, Kentucky, and he weighs 270
pounds... this is "LOUISVILLE SLUGGER" TYLER LEE!

[Tyler Lee is dressed in a pair of black trunks with white kneepads
andwrestling boots. He holds aloft a Louisville Slugger baseball bat,
marching down the aisle toward the ring.]

GM: And tonight we'll get our first look at what Tyler Lee can do in the
ring.

BW: If I'm Tyler Lee, I'm keeping one eye looking over my shoulder... he
had no business getting involved in Adrian Bathwaite and Sultan Azam
Sharif's business!

[As Lee approaches the ring, he lowers his Slugger and then bangs it a
couple of times on the steel steps, before ascending them.]

GM: Bucky, this man agreed to provide backup for Supernova, and
honestly, I couldn't think of a better man to fill that role.

BW: You mean a dumber man, Gordon.

GM: Bucky, you know that Lee's father has history with Ivan Kostovich,
and with Bathwaite and Sharif having cast their lot with him and
Vladimir Velikov, it should be no surprised Tyler Lee stepped up to the
plate.

BW: Well, then Lee is even dumber than I thought. Kostovich told me all
about how he humiliated Tyler's father into retirement.

GM: Why am I not surprised you buy every word that comes out of
Kostovich's mouth?

BW: He's a gentleman, just like me, Gordon. Gentlemen always trust each
other's words.

GM: [sarcastically] I see.

[Lee has already entered the ring, having set his ball bat on the ring
apron, as the referee calls for the bell.]

GM: This one's underway... Lee and the Assassin now locking up in the
center of the ring, and it's Lee pushing the Assassin back to the
corner.

BW: I'll give Lee this: He's got the advantage in the strength
department against the Assassin... but I doubt that's going to mean much
when he faces someone like Vladimir Velikov or Kolya Sudakov, who can
match strength with him.

[The referee orders a break, to which Lee slowly backs off...

...but the Assassin isn't about to let it be a clean break.]

GM: Thumb to the eye by the Assassin!

BW: That goes to show you how dumb Lee is, giving the Assassin that
opening.

GM: The Assassin now hammering away on Tyler Lee... a kick to the
midsection doubles him over... he now grabs him by the hair... face
first into the turnbuckle!

[But did it work?

Given that Lee is turning to the Assassin with a hard stare, it's safe
to say it didn't.]

GM: No effect on Lee!

BW: Well, of course not... you can't hit Lee in the head and expect him
to feel anything.

GM: Another ram into the turnbuckle by Assassin... still no effect!

BW: How can it have effect when Lee has nothing but empty space between
his ears?

GM: And it's Lee grabbing Assassin by the head... he rams into the
buckles!

BW: And that has effect because Assassin has a brain up there!

GM: He's not using it very well at the moment, is he, Bucky?

BW: Don't you get smart with me, Gordon!

[Meanwhile, Tyler Lee has grabbed the Assassin by the arm and whips him
to the opposite corner.]

GM: And it's Lee taking control... back body drop as Assassin stumbles
out of the corner!

[Lee then turns to the crowd for a moment to deliver a salute.]

BW: Look how dumb Lee is.

GM: What are you talking about?

BW: He thinks he's in the army instead of the AWA.

GM: He's acknowledging the fans because he loves them, Bucky! And Lee
back on the assault... Asssassin getting up but Lee hammering away on
him!

[As Lee pummels the Assassin, dazing his opponent, he then rears back
with one arm and spins around.]

GM: And there's that patented discus punch, the Slugger! Assassin goes
down!

BW: An illegal punch, I might add! That was a closed fist!

GM: Assassin rolling underneath the ropes... Lee is going out after him!

[As the Assassin tries to regroup, Lee gives him no opportunity to do
so, grabbing him by the hair.]

GM: He has the Assassin... face first into the ring apron!

BW: And now Marty Meekly is warning him... why doesn't he disqualify
Lee?

GM: He's using his discretion, Bucky.

BW: In other words, he's letting him break the rules!

GM: You mean, the same way people like Ivan Kostovich used to do inside
that ring?

BW: Ivan Kostovich has never broken a rule!  He used to wrestle under
Russian rules, you know that!

GM:  Russian rules... give me a break.

[Lee argue momentarily with the official, then grabs the Asssassin by
the hair, but then gets a fist to the midsection.]

GM: And the Assassin with a shot to the gut... now raking the eyes
again.

BW: Serves Lee right for taking this outside the ring.

GM: Assassin now whipping Lee toward the barricade... no, a reversal!
And into the barricade goes Assassin!

BW: Lee is turning this into a street fight!

GM: We know Lee can play rough with the best of them... now he goes
after Assassin, sending him under the ropes... now he follows him back
in. Now maybe we'll see some wrestling.

BW: From Tyler Lee? The day he learns about wrestling is the day pigs
fly... all he does is brawl!

[Lee drags Assassin up, sending him into the corner, before following
him in and mounting the second turnbuckle.]

GM: Lee has the Assassin trapped in the corner!

BW: Why isn't Meekly doing anything about this?

[He's warning Lee, but Lee, who holds his right hand up in the air,
isn't paying attention. Instead, he rains down blows as the crowd counts
along.]

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

[After which Lee comes down from the second turnbuckle, taking two
handfuls of the Assassin hair and face slamming him to the canvas.]

BW: Like I said, Gordon, Lee knows nothing about wrestling... he
couldn't tell the difference between a wrestling hold and a caller on
hold.

GM: But it's effective, Bucky, as Lee remains in control... he drags
Assassin up onto his shoulder... runs out of the corner... vicious
running powerslam!

[As Lee rises, he holds up his hand once again as he walks to the
corner, turns around and sizes up the Assassin.]

GM: Assassin getting to his feet... running spear tackle by Lee takes
him right off his feet!

BW: I'll admit it, Gordo, even I felt that impact!

GM: That's the Louisville Lunge! A cover... one... two... three!

[Lee rises to his feet, saluting the crowd as the decision is
announced.]

PW: Here is your winner... "LOUISVILLE SLUGGER" TYLER LEE!

[The referee raises Lee's arm, after which the big brawler goes to the
corner to retrieve his ball bat and then exit the ring.]

GM: And Lee with a victory in his first match here in the AWA... I'm
sure, though, that Ivan Kostovich will be keeping an eye on him.

BW: Well, if Lee wants to pick a fight with Ivan Kostovich, he'd better
be careful... especially since Kostovich has Vladimir Velikov AND Kolya
Sudakov at the ready for him!

GM: I don't think Sudakov wants to do any of Kostovich's bidding!

BW: Number one, he doesn't have a choice, and number two, you saw Lee
taking a shot at him and you heard what he said last Saturday Night... I
wouldn't be surprised if Sudakov takes out some frustration on Lee...
and maybe Supernova now that the face-painted moron brought Lee into the
AWA.

GM: That may be true... but right now, we'll take you to Jason Dane who
will look to get a few words from Lee.

[We go to the interview position at which Lee strolls to, Dane already
there with the mic in hand.]

JD: First of all, Tyler Lee, let me formally welcome you to the AWA!

TL: Jason, it's good to be here... and given what's been going down, I
came not a moment too soon!

JD: You've already called out Ivan Kostovich... what exactly was it that
went down between him and your father?

TL: Jason, if I went into great detail about everything, we'd be here
for a long time... let's just say that my father hates Kostovich's guts
and I feel the same way! And the same goes for those who want to
associate themselves with him... so Velikov, Bathwaite and that Sultan
of Salami, you better understand this: I'm here not just to watch
Supernova's back, but I'm here to finish the job my father thought was
finished, but evidently isn't, given that Kostovich is still showing his
ugly face around this great country of ours!

JD: Where is Supernova, if I may ask?

TL: He wanted to be here tonight, trust me on that, but he also knew he
needed time to let his hand heal... but believe me, he'll be back, and
when he does, he'll be right by my side to kick the butts of those
Russians and that Sultan creep!

JD: What about Corax... Supernova isn't talking much about him. What do
you know about him?

TL: I personally don't know the man, but I will say that he's got the
right idea of bringing an equalizer to take care of the riff-raff that's
all over the AWA! With guys like Kostovich and his crew, you have to do
things the hard way... and my version of the hard way is taking my
Louisville Slugger and using it to knock some sense into people.
Although with Kostovich, it might take a number of instances to knock
any sense into that thick skull of his.

JD: Ivan Kostovich is long retired, Tyler... and currently, he's got
Vladimir Velikov and Kolya Sudakov doing his dirty work for him!

TL: If Kostovich wants to send Sudakov to face me, I'm not backing down
from him, former AWA National Champion or not. And if I have to go
through Sudakov, Velikov, the Sultan or even that no good Bathwaite
himself to get to Kostovich, then that's exactly what I'm gonna do,
because I'm not going to stop until the job my father started is
finished, and this time, for good... big boy!

[With that, Lee raises his Louisville Slugger to the cheeering crowd and
then departs.]

JD:  Fans, I don't know what to think about that.  It sounds like Tyler
Lee wants a shot at the RETIRED Ivan Kostovich!  What in the world will
Kostovich have to say about that?  I, for one, can't wait to find out. 
Now, I'm being told that my broadcast colleague Mark Stegglet is
standing by with a very special guest in the backstage area.  Mark?

[Cut to the backstage area. Microphone in hand, Mark Stegglet stands in
front of Alex Martinez, the larger man looming over the interviewer,
Stegglet comically small in comparison to the massive frame of Martinez.
Martinez wears his usual black leather jacket, this time over a red
t-shirt with the words “MARTINEZ DON’T TEXT” written in black letters
across the chest, as well as a pair of blue jeans. As always, a pair of
mirrored sunglasses cover his eyes.]

MS: Mr. Martinez, you’re not scheduled to wrestle tonight. But you asked
for this time. Can I ask why?

AM: Two things. The first has to do with what tonight is. So tell
everyone what’s happenin’ tonight, Stegglet? What’s the big event
everyone is waitin’ for?

MS: Do you mean that tonight is Awards Night?

[Martinez nods.]

AM: That’s exactly what I mean. And how many awards are goin’ to yours
truly?

MS: Uh...

[Stegglet’s face has gone white.]

AM: S’okay. Tell ‘em. How many awards am I gettin’? Is there a Hall of
Fame ring waitin’ for me? How about a trophy for Wrestler of the Year
with my name on it?

MS: None... Mr. Martinez. None.

AM: That’s right. None at all.

[Perhaps without even realizing it, Mark Stegglet has been slowly
backing away from Martinez during this line of questioning.]

AM: Where ya goin’ Mark? Get your butt back here.

[With a smirk, Martinez grips Stegglet by the wrist, pulling him
closer.]

AM: I know what you’re thinkin’ Stegglet. Time was, I was an angry,
bitter man. I couldn’t stand to see someone else gettin’ somethin’ I
wasn’t. Time was, if someone told me I wasn’t winnin’, well, I woulda
killed the messenger.

[This doesn’t seem to make Stegglet any more comfortable.]

AM: But I’m tryin’ Stegglet, I’m tryin’ real hard not to be that guy
anymore. And I can honestly say, that tonight, I ain’t jealous, and I
ain’t bitter.

See... it really bothered me, what Marky Langseth said. He shoved that
ring in my face, and he said that I was bein’ eaten up by jealousy. I
had to listen to him tell the whole world that pack of lies.

Now, listen. I won’t lie. Do I wanna be in the Hall of Fame? You bet
your butt I do. I’ve been down a lotta long roads, and I’ve shed a lotta
blood in my career. I’d love to be recognized. I’d love to have one of
those rings. I’d love to be the first active wrestler ever put in the
Hall of Fame. But does it eat me up to know that I ain’t?

Not one bit.

Because I know that sooner or later, the Hall of Fame will come. I know
I’ll get a ring. I know I’ll be recognized, because I’m confident in who
I am. I’m Alex Martinez. And for fifteen years, I’ve been kickin’ butt
and takin’ names. And that is the difference between you and me Marky. I
got the self confidence you lack. You need to remind everyone what
you’ve earned, because deep down inside, you’re afraid that if you don’t
spend every minute screamin’ about how great ya are that you’ll be
forgotten.

I _know_ I’ll get recognized. And when I do? I’ll take my ring and
that’ll be the last time anyone sees it. I don’t gotta flaunt it. I
don’t gotta prove that I’m the greatest by tellin’ everyone I see. My
actions do that for me. So jealous? Nah... I ain’t jealous. You’re the
one that’s jealous.

Tonight, another man gets honored. Our National Champion, Juan Vasquez.
He is, accordin’ to everyone, the best wrestler in the world. And
frankly? That’s accordin’ to me too. Vasquez earned that gold belt he’s
got around his waist. And he deserves to be called number one. As for
me? I don’t plan on doin’ nothin’ about that except puttin’ my hands
together and applaudin’ the man.

So I ain’t jealous or bitter. But there’s one thing that I am.

MS: And what is that, Mr. Martinez.

AM: I’m angry...

[And whatever confidence Stegglet had that he was safe evaporates.]

AM: Ya might be wonderin’ why I ain’t scheduled to have a match tonight.
Its because of what happened two weeks ago. And what’s been happenin’
every time I set foot in an AWA ring.

Two weeks ago, I was feelin’ good, after givin’ Marky Langseth and his
little sidekick Petrow what they had comin’ to ‘em. But then, next thing
I know, I’m walkin’ outta the Crockett Coliseum, seein’ double and
havin’ a hard time rememberin’ where I parked.

Every I poke my head up, there’s James Monosso, lookin’ to crack it
open.

[Stegglet shudders at the mention of the madman.]

AM: Well, I am sick and tired of it. Do you hear me, Stegglet?

I... HAVE... HAD... ENOUGH!!

[Martinez yanks off his sunglasses, and glares into the camera.]

AM: I am not goin’ out to wrestle anyone until I get my hands on James
Monosso. And not in no parkin’ lot, not brawlin’ in the aisle. Because
every time that happens, here comes security breakin’ things up just
when its startin’ to get good.

I want a match, because I don’t want no one stoppin’ me until its over.
I don’t want anyone tellin’ me I gotta stop, until I’ve put Monosso down
for three seconds. I want a match.

And I want this to end.

I know Watkins is somewhere in the Coliseum. And I know wherever he is,
he’s either listenin’ right now, or someone’s gonna tell him real soon.
You got somethin’ called The Main Event comin’ up. And what’s a Main
Event without Alex  Martinez?

Give me Monosso, Watkins, and let’s put an end to this once and for all.

And Minion? I’d like to invite you down to the ring. I’d like for you to
sit, right there, by the timekeeper and watch. Watch everythin’ and take
some notes. And when you’re done, you go back to your master, the
Dragon, and you tell him what you saw.

You tell him that you watched as Alex Martinez got fed up with what was
happenin’ to him, and you saw him destroy a man. And you tell him that
he’s next. Tell him that the moment I’ve left Monosso for dead, I’m
comin’ for him. And you tell him that when I get my hands on him, he’s
gonna get...

[Oh yeah, here it comes.]

AM: BURNED!!!

MS: There you have it, a challenge laid out by Alex Martinez. Will
Monosso accept? Will Jim Watkins sign the match? I’d hate to find out
what Alex Martinez will do if either answer is “no.”  Fans, we'll be
right back with more of Awards Night here on Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Fade to black.

The black screen is filled with white text that reads "THREE YEARS
AGO!"]

"They said it couldn't work."

[The words fade out and are then replaced with "TWO YEARS AGO!"]

"They said it wouldn't last."

[The words fade out and are replaced with "ONE YEAR AGO!"]

"They're too old fashioned.  They can't keep up with the times.  Nobody
wants to watch that stuff."

[The words fade out and are replaced with "THEY WERE WRONG!"  The text
fades again and comes back to reveal, "March 26th, 2011 - The Main Event
- The Third Anniversary Show."

And then fades back out to black before returning to live action
backstage... yes, again.  Two in one night?!  Shocking!

In nearly the same spot in which he spoke with Alex Martinez, Mark
Stegglet now stands next to the psychotic known as James Monosso. 
Although Monosso does not dwarf Stegglet to the same extent as which
Martinez did, Mark looks decidedly more nervous.  Monosso has a wide
grin on his clean-shaven, flat-cheeked, big-nosed face.  His stringy
black hair is pulled to either side, running down onto the shoulders of
his pale green "PROPERTY OF STATE MENTAL INSTITUTION" cutoff T-Shirt. 
Under the shirt is a black-and-silver single-strap singlet.  

Stegglet begins in a hurry, because he clearly wants to get this over
with.]

MS: James Monosso, moments ago we heard from Alex Martinez.  He says
that he is sick and tired of you attacking him, and he wants a match
with you at The Main Event to finish it once and for all!  Your
response?

JM: He's sick and tired of it?

[The smile drops.  Dramatically.  This concept seems vexing to Monosso,
for some reason.]

JM: HE'S sick and tired of being attacked?!

[Monosso looks at Stegglet, waiting for an answer to that.  Stegglet is
understandably quite plussed about that.]

MS: Uh, yes.  Wouldn't you be?

JM: Would I BE?  I AM!  I'm sick and tired of attacking you week after
week,  Martinez!

[Monosso points at the camera, apparently quite angry with Alex Martinez
for  being attacked by him weekly.  Stegglet's eyes bulge in the same
sort of way as 
most people's do when confronted with inexplicable insane troll logic. 
James  may as well have claimed that he was going to eat Zimbabwe
because purple is a letter; it would make as much sense to him.]

JM: Time after time, I have had to hunt you down and smash your
overinflated swelled porcine head in, and I've had it!  Enough is
enough!  Finally, you seem to understand what you've put me through!

MS: Wait, he put YOU... huh... WHAAAT?

JM: Shut up and hold the stick, you useless phlegmwad!  Alex Martinez, I
heard  you mumbling about a Hall Of Fame.  Well, my credentials are as
good as anyone  in there.  But the only Hall I got put into was Hall D
at the Happy Valley  State Psychiatric Institution!  Oh, poor you!  You
don't want to be forgotten? 

Let me ask you, then.  Does anyone remember Angelo Ventresca?  Does
anyone 
remember Lou Saveo?  Does anyone remember Sylvester Landeau?  Does
anyone 
remember ME?!

No!  No one will remember you in twenty years, Martinez!  No one will
remember you, or Langseth, or Petrow, or Vasquez, or anyone you people
think is great!  They'll have their brand new set of idiots running
around claiming to be the greatest wrestlers there ever was, and they'll
be so high on themselves that they'll get a great idea: why don't we
build a wrestling Hall Of Fame?!  No one has ever done that before!  And
it will make perfect sense to them, because that rathole you call a Hall
Of Fame will be shut down and forgotten just like the rest of you!

Just like it happened to Ventresca, and Saveo, and Landeau, and me!  Let
your big, fat, overblown ego get a grip on THAT!  And you think you're
going to destroy ME?  Have you been paying ANY ATTENTION AT ALL?!  I'VE
ALREADY BEEN DESTROYED!  I ALREADY AM DESTROYED!  All you can do at this
point is finish the job, and if you don't do it today, it'll happen all
by itself tomorrow!  Your threats are useless, just like your entire
wrestling career... just like the entire wrestling industry!  

We were all sucked in, we were all lied to, and we'll all be cast to the
curb with nothing but the broken shells that used to be our bodies and
that special feeling inside that a man has when he realizes that his
stomach is growling and he can't afford to eat!

[Monosso is all worked up now, pacing back and forth, clenching fists in
a  directionless rage, and looking for all the world like he wants to
lash out at  something and make it suffer a horrible death for his
frustrations.  Mark Stegglet remains very, very still.]

JM: So I accept, obviously.  I have a paycheck to earn.  I don't have
the time in my life to keep having to attack you until you figure out
that I have to keep attacking you.  At The Main Event, one match is all
I'll need.  And no, Martinez... I don't promise to finish you.  I don't
promise to destroy you.  I don't even promise to beat you.  Because
that's not what I have to do.  Oh, no... all I have to do is take a
_piece_.

Just one.  Just one chunk.  To rip one hole in you.  That's all.  I
don't have to take you apart... and believe it, I can... but there's a
hungry dragon who wants that honor himself.  All I need to do is start
the process.  All I need is one piece of Alex Martinez.  Enough so that
you, if no one else, will remember James Monosso.  When you look down,
maybe at the empty space where there used to be a patella... if you even
still have those.  Maybe it will be that sharp pain you'll have in the
lower back every time you take a step... if you don't already have that.

But you will have a permanent reminder of what I did, and when you
remember me,  Martinez, there's one other thing I want you to remember
in your cold, homeless,  dementia pugilistica-induced haze...

...I told you so.

And you'd have to be INSANE to think otherwise!

[With that parting remark, Monosso stomps off.  Mark Stegglet exhales,
relieved that this is over.]

MS: James Monosso, somehow still allowed to wrestle (let alone walk the
streets  freely), accepts the challenge of Alex Martinez for the Main
Event!  Back to you, Gordon and Bucky.

[We crossfade back to ringside where our announce team is standing. 
Gordon Myers is shaking his head.]

GM:  Alex Martinez versus James Monosso at The Main Event?  Katie bar
the door, that'll be a pier six brawl for the ages, Bucky.

BW:  I don't... good lord, Gordo... I don't even know if I want to be at
ringside if that goes down.

GM:  Jim Watkins still needs to make it official.  We'll be joined by
the Chairman of the Championship Committee later tonight to talk about
The Main Event for sure... actually, I understand we'll have a few words
from here very shortly but before we do... we've got tag team action
ready up inside the ring featuring the Rockstar Express!  Take it away,
Phil!

[Crossfade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing, a pair of
competitors already in the ring alongside him.]

PW:  The following contest is a tag team match set for one fall with a
fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at
this time... at a total combined weight of 531 pounds... the team of
James Reed and Rashan Hill!

[A decent reaction for the two grapplers.  Reed, a spunky guy for a big
man, hops up on the middle rope, shouting "Come on!" to the fans and
clapping his hands together.  Rashan Hill is a little more sedated,
tugging on the ropes in the corner to loosen up.]

PW:  And their opponents...

[The sounds of KISS' "Rock And Roll All Nite" kicks in to a huge
reaction!]

PW:  From Rock and Roll City, USA... weighing in at a combined 450
pounds... Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan...

THE ROOOOOCKSTAAAAAR EXPRESSSSS!

[The two fan favorites burst through the curtains to a big cheer. 
They're clad in long black tights with red bandanas tied off around the
right knee.  A big high five occurs before the two men start jogging
down the aisle towards the ring.]

GM:  Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar Express, are two of the most popular
men in the entire AWA as you can hear from the reaction of these fans,
Bucky.

BW:  Two of the most popular men... but they ain't winnin' awards
tonight!

GM:  No awards but you know they've got their sights set on the National
Tag Team Titles currently being held by Rough N Ready.

BW:  Yeah right.  They've gotta get past the First Family.. uhh...
first!

GM:  Not to mention The Aces.  The Aces AND The First Family are both
looking to tangle with the Rockstars again.  The Aces laid down a
challenge to the Rockstar Express two weeks ago for The Main Event but
we've yet to hear a response.  Maybe we'll get one after this match
ends.

[Scotty Storm slingshots over the ropes as Marty Morgan dashes up to the
midbuckle, waving an arm to the cheers of the crowd before leaping off
into the ring.  Another big high five brings more cheers as the referee
tries to get two men in and two men out.]

GM:  It looks like Scotty Storm will be starting things off for the
Rockstars and the big man, James Reed, coming in for the other side.

BW:  Big man's no lie, Gordo.  He looks to be about 270 pounds by my
guess.

GM:  I'd say that's a good guess.

[The Pittsburgh native with dark brown hair and full-length forest green
tights under black trunks claps his hands together as the bell rings,
immediately going into a quick circle, looking for an opening to charge
in.  Scotty Storm cracks a grin at the big man's enthusiasm...

...and into the tieup they go.]

GM:  And we're off and running in this one...

[Reed tries to muscle Storm backwards...

...but Storm uses the big man's size against him, dragging him down to
the canvas by the limb.]

GM:  Armdrag by Scotty Storm!

[And Storm immediately is back to his feet, fists at the ready for an
attack that doesn't come.  Reed slowly gets up, nodding his head as he
shakes out his arm...

...and then lunges into another tieup.]

GM:  Storm and Reed grappling in the middle... Reed backing him down
now...

[The referee calls for a break as the two men reach the corner.  Reed
suddenly drops back, arm swinging backwards...

...but Storm deftly avoids the big right hand, front rolling to the
safety of the middle of the ring as Reed hits nothing but buckles.  The
crowd cheers as Reed slaps the top turnbuckle, spinning to glare at
Scotty Storm.]

GM:  James Reed doesn't look as good-natured now, Bucky.

BW:  Storm's trying to embarrass the man out there!

GM:  He is not!

[Reed points an accusing finger, striding out of the corner to the
middle of the ring, and shouts, "Come on, old man!  Hit those ropes and
come at me!"  He slaps his chest hard for emphasis, leaving a red mark
as Storm looks at the ropes.]

GM:  James Reed is challenging Scotty Storm to hit him with.. what?  A
shoulder tackle?

BW:  That'd be my guess.

[Obliging with a nod, Storm dashes to the ropes, bouncing off...

...and bounces off the chest of the big man, falling down to the canvas
with a thud.  Reed laughs loudly, smashing his arms into his broad chest
as his partner applauds from the apron.  The Pittsburgh native shouts
again, "Get up, old timer!  I'll give you another shot!"]

GM:  James Reed sure does seem fond of trash talking Scotty Storm.

BW:  Storm's an idiot if he does this again.

GM:  It looks like he's gonna try.

[Scotty Storm hits the ropes, rebounding off...

...and at the last moment, he leaves his feet, dropping into a baseball
slide that takes him past a surprised James Reed.  The big man quickly
turns and gets caught with a dropkick on the chin!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Dropkick by Storm!

[Storm pops up to his feet, throwing a second dropkick that knocks Reed
clear off his feet to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Down goes the big man...

[Storm springs up again, fists balled up as Reed gets up...

...and marches to his corner where he slaps the hand of Rashan Hill who
slingshots over the ropes to a bit of a cheer.  He runs a hand over his
flat-top covered head before grabbing another tieup with Storm...]

GM:  Back to the collar and elb-

[Hill spins Storm around, pushing him back to the buckles.  He promptly
straightens up, driving a knee up into the midsection.  Pushing Storm
back against the corner, Hill snaps off a knife-edge chop across the
chest!]

GM:  Big chop!  Whoo boy!

[Grabbing the arm of Storm, Hill fires him across...]

GM:  Storm hits the corner... here comes Hill!

[And runs headlong right into two raised feet!]

GM:  Ohh!  Hill got caught coming in!

[Storm immediately drops into another front rolling somersault,
springing out of it to slap the extended hand of Marty Morgan who
promptly scales the buckles, leaping off with a crossbody that knocks
Hill down off his feet!]

GM:  Whoa my!  High crossbody off the top for one!  For two!

[But Hill isn't about to be kept down yet, kicking out at two.  Morgan
springs up, grabbing Hill by the wrist to haul him to his feet, swinging
him around into the ropes with an Irish whip...]

GM:  Off the ropes... Morgan catches him with a right hand to the
breadbasket!

[And promptly hits the ropes, bouncing off to smash a kneelift into the
jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big kneelift by Morgan puts Rashan Hill down on the canvas!

[Grabbing the foot of Hill, Morgan drags him across the ring and slaps
the hand of Scotty Storm who scales the ropes as Morgan pulls Hill into
a front facelock...

...and Storm leaps off the perch, smashing a double axehandle down
across the back!]

GM:  Doubleteam put on perfectly by the Rockstars...

[Morgan steps back out to the apron as Storm pushes Hill back to the
ropes, reaching over to slap Morgan's hand again.]

GM:  Another quick tag and the Rockstars are rollin' now...

[A double whip by the Express sends Hill across the ring...

...and a double backdrop sends him sailing through the air before he
crashes down to the mat with a big noise.]

GM:  Double backdrop on target and... look out here... they're measuring
him...

[And as he rises, a double dropkick catches Hill on the chin, knocking
him flat!]

GM:  Double dropkick!  Perfection!

[Morgan applies a lateral press as Storm catches the incoming James Reed
with a running waistlock, dragging him back to the corner as the referee
counts to three.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


PW:  Here are your winners... Scotty and Marty... THE ROOOOOCKSTAR
EXPRESS!

[Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan spring to their feet, falling into an
embrace before mounting opposite corners to salute their cheering fans.]

GM:  A nice win for the Rockstars as they try to fight their way up the
ladder of contention to face the National Tag Team Champions - whether
that'll be Rough N Ready or Violence Unlimited in two weeks' time, I
would not hazard a guess, Bucky.

BW:  That's gonna be a tough one to call.  Four really big, tough dudes
in there.

GM:  But right now, let's take a look at the closing moments of this one
in WKIK and KFC's Double Down Double Team Of the Week...

[We cut to the slo-mo replay of what we just saw as the Rockstar Express
sent Rashan Hill up and over with the double backdrop before measuring
their man...]

BW:  First, it was the double backdrop to take him down...

[...and then connecting with the double dropkick that knocks him flat
for the pinfall!]

BW:  ...and then the double dropkick to PUT him down!  Nice work by
Scotty and Marty, the Rockstar Express, Gordo.

GM:  And Jason Dane has got them standing with him at the interview
position.  Jason?

[We crossfade to Jason Dane who indeed is standing between a
pleased-looking Scotty Storm and Marty Morgan.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon!  Gentlemen, another notch in your belts here
tonight with that win.

SS:  That's right, JD.  The Rockstars rolled right into Dallas in front
of all these great fans and we put on a show like only we can do.  Ain't
that right, people?

[A big cheer goes up!]

MM:  But we ain't all fun and games here tonight, JD.

JD:  No?

MM:  Not a chance.  Because if you've been glued to your televisions
every other Saturday night lately, you know the Rockstar Express has
been having some problems with a couple of other teams here in the AWA. 


JD:  And you'd be speaking of the First Family as well as the Aces.

SS:  That's a fact, jack.  See, the Rockstars would LOVE to be able to
just run on past those two, get our shots at the gold, and give all
these people National Tag Team Champions they can be proud of!  We
haven't forgotten about Rough N Ready either, baby.

MM:  But we can't do that, JD.  We can't leave business unsettled and
right now, there's a big ol' chunk of business unsettled that goes all
the way back to Christmas day and the Stampede Cup when we went to that
time limit draw with the Aces.  We've had a couple shots at it now and
we can't beat them and they can't seem to beat us either.  Some teams
would be okay with that and move on.

SS:  But that ain't us, baby.  We ain't gonna be done with the Aces
until we pin their shoulders to the mat one-two-three... and last I
checked, they were thinkin' the exact same thing 'bout us.  Ain't that
right, Marty?

MM:  I think I heard somethin' about a challenge for The Main Event. 
You hear that, JD?

JD:  I'm sure I did.  The Aces HAVE challenged you for The Main Event...
one more time.

[Morgan nods.]

MM:  I thought so.  Well, Scotty, I checked my schedule for two weeks
from tonight and I look free as a bird - how 'bout you?

[Scotty Storm nods his head as well.]

SS:  I do believe I'm free that night as well, Marty.  So, Stevie,
Danny... we'll be in the Crockett Coliseum two weeks from tonight inside
that ring with ya and-

[Dane holds up a hand.]

JD:  Wait a second, guys... aren't you forgetting something?

MM:  What's that, JD?

JD:  The First Family.

SS:  We haven't forgotten them, JD.  In fact, we remember 'em real well.
 We remember them interrupting our last match with the Aces and kickin'
our tails, ain't that right, Marty?

MM:  That's a fact for sure.  And you know what else I remember, JD?  I
remember us comin' out here two weeks ago and tellin' the world that
they were trying to rob, cheat, and steal a win away from the Aces.  In
fact, I remember the referee listening to us, restarting the match, and
actually counting to three when the Aces beat them!  Do you remember
that, JD?

[Dane cracks a grin, nodding.]

JD:  I do, I do.

MM:  Me too.  And I'm bettin' the First Family remembers it too.  But
here's the facts, Adam, Eve, and whoever else from the Holy Bible you
got stuffed in there with ya... we ain't done with ya... but The Main
Event is the time for us and the Aces to tear the roof off the joint. 
It ain't your night, it ain't your time.

SS:  That's right.  It's the AWA's birthday party and we aim to give
these great people of Dallas a birthday gift from us and the Aces! 
We're gonna rock 'em, roll 'em, chill 'em, and thrill 'em all over the
Crockett Coliseum like only the Rockstar Express can do.

And then?  When we've beaten the Aces and tossed that particular monkey
off our backs?

[Storm gets a deadly serious look on his face.]

SS:  Then we're comin' for the First Family... and when this train
starts a-comin'?  We just don't stop 'til we reach our final
destination...

JD:  The National Tag Team Titles?

[Storm breaks into a grin, clapping Jason on the shoulder.]

SS:  Now you're talkin', JD.  Now you're talkin'.

[And with a high five, the Rockstar Express makes their exit to the
cheers of the fans in Dallas.]

JD:  The Rockstar Express have accepted the challenge of the Aces for
two weeks from tonight at The Main Event!  But what in the world will
the First Family think of being SNUBBED by the Rockstars?  I have a
feeling we might find out very soon.  Fans, we'll be right back with
more Saturday Night Wrestling so don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on Jason Dane for a moment before fading to black...

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

"You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!"

[A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.]

"You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last
Stampede!"

[Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging
over his shoulder.]

"You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!"

[A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air.]

"And now, it can be yours!"

[A final shot of Juan Vasquez, battered yet triumphant with the gold
belt held in both hands fades into a shot of a young fan doing the
same.]

"Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA
National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA
superstars have held!"

[A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black...

...and then we come back up to Jason Dane who stands backstage at an AWA
backdrop with a smiling Jim Watkins]

JD:  Welcome back, fans, and at this time, it is my distinct pleasure to
be standing here with the AWA Championship Committee Chairman, "Big" Jim
Watkins!  Mr. Watkins, I understand you have some exciting announcements
for our fans!

[Watkins nods as he leans over the mic.]

JW:  That's right, Jason.  We've got a couple big announcements.  First,
we've got a couple matches to add to The Main Event.  Just moments ago,
we heard the Rockstar Express accept the challenge from the Aces for two
weeks from tonight and it gives me great pleasure to announce that match
as official... oh, and the First Family has been BANNED from ringside
for the duration of that match!

[Watkins grins at the roar from inside the Crockett Coliseum.]

JW:  Also, you heard Alex Martinez make a challenge earlier tonight...
and you heard James Monosso answer that challenge.  So, now we can also
make that match official.  At The Main Event, Alex Martinez will do
battle with James Monosso in a match that... well, it makes me plenty
nervous.  I'll be keeping a close eye on that one to make sure it
doesn't get TOO out of control, Jason.
 
JD:  Two HUGE matches added to the show for sure... but I believe
there's something else you wanted to announce.

JW:  There is, there is... as some of our fans already know, the
Crockett Coliseum is completely sold out for our Anniversary show, and
we thank you from the bottom of our hearts for your support!  But we're
still getting calls from fans, wondering if there is some other way that
they might be able to be a part of history.

After consulting with our television partners at WKIK, I am pleased to
announce that we'll have our old digs back for one more night, and we
will be holding a special big screen live showing of The Main Event for
500 people in our old studios down at WKIK!  Before the show, we will
have entertainment from some very talented local bands, and some big AWA
stars will be on hand to meet and greet with the fans!  Tickets will go
on sale tomorrow for $20 apiece, and all proceeds will go to the
Children's Memorial Hospital in Dallas.

JD: Alright, there you have it, another chance for the fans to get in on
the action, and to help out the community as well!

JW: Whether you're at the Colisuem, at the studio, or in the comfort of
your own home, it's gonna be a great night, so...[something catches
Watkins' eye off camera]...aw, now, this oughta be good!

[Entering the shot is one subdued, unhappy Joe Petrow, whose usual
stylish attire is offset by a huge white neck brace, and whose bravado
is replaced by a thick layer of sarcastic humility.]

JP: Mr. Watkins, since the Championship Committee is not willing to meet
with me, might I trouble you with one simple question?  Why is it that
Alex Martinez is not fired, suspended, or punished in _any_ fashion, for
putting his hands on the Hall of Fame Legend Mark Langseth, yet I
receive a five _thousand_ dollar fine for doing something to somebody
that _nobody_ cares about?

JW: Well Mr. Petrow, as I recall, Alex Martinez was being threatened and
assaulted by two men...

JP: We never assaulted Alex Martinez!

JW: Did you touch him?

JP: Well, I...I touched him with one finger, but...

JW: As I was saying, Alex Martinez was being threatened and assaulted by
two men, and he defended himself.  I find no fault with that.  And this
is a physical business, so I ain't gonna go too hard on guys who've got
a problem with each other get a little physical. You, on the other hand,
blindsided an innocent man on the rampway, and injured him to the point
where he can barely walk, not to mention that you caused a scheduled
match to be canceled. So I think it's more than appropriate that you
contribute to that man's recovery and lost income. And your punishment
would have been far worse if Alex Martinez hadn't gotten to you first.

JP: You are actually trying to tell me that the threat of serious injury
to your only Hall of Fame superstar is not on the same level as
collateral damage to some Boring Goof guy?

JW: His _name_ is Bobby Goo-

JP: IT DOESN'T MATT-

[Petrow winces before finishing that thought, grabbing the back of his
neck.]

JW: Look, I'm gonna take a page from your book and make things real
simple for ya. I don't know what kind of sales pitch you've made to Mark
Langseth, but this is the AWA. And if you're competing in the AWA, then
I don't care if you're Mark Langseth or President Obama.  The respect
that you get will be the respect that you earn for yourself out there in
an AWA ring. Nothing more, nothing less!  You got it?

[Petrow glares at Watkins for several seconds, re-composing himself
before speaking.]
 
JP: Yeah.  I get it.  We get it.  The only respect you get in the AWA,
is the respect that you go out in that ring and take for yourself. 
That's what you said, right?  Well then, those are the rules that I, Mr.
Langseth, and the others that believe in the old-school concepts of
honor and respect, are going to abide by.  And you, and everyone else,
are going to accept the consequences.

[Petrow finishes with the stink-eye of doom before walking out of the
shot, as Watkins heaves a heavy sigh and turns to Jason.]
 
JW: Well, that's still not as bad as dealing with your sister.
 
JD: Um... well... er... back to you, Mark!

[We crossfade back to the interview platform where Mark Stegglet is now
standing alongside Chock Full from Just The Facts!]

MS:  Thanks, Jason... and as you can see, fans, I've been joined by Mr.
Full from the Just The Facts! website as he prepares to give out the
second award of the night here on Awards Night.  

[Cheers!]

MS:  Mr. Full, if you please...

[Chock Full steps up to the mic.]

CF:  Thank you, Mark.  In a lot of ways, many have said the AWA has led
a renaissance in the world of tag team wrestling!  The AWA's tag team
division is jammed with some of the best talent in the world and to us
at JTF, it's only fitting that the Best Tag Team of 2010 come out of
that division.  This team struggled long and hard over the past nearly
three years now to become recognized not only as the best tag team in
the world but also as the AWA National Tag Team Champions... in 2010, we
believe they accomplished BOTH of those goals.  Ladies and gentlemen...
your 2010 Tag Team Of The Year...

ROUGH N READY!

[The crowd responds with a mixed reaction as Dave Cooper and Eric
Matthew Somers, the members of Rough N Ready, now walk out to the
interview stage. Dave wears blue jeans a white button-down shirt and
Eric wears a black polo shirt and blue jeans. Each of them has a
National tag title strap draped over his shoulder.]

MS: Rough N Ready, congratulations on being recognized as the Tag Team
of the Year.

[Dave and Eric each accept the plaques from the waiting Chock Full.]

DC: Mark, it's good to see that the voters recognize just who is the
best tag team in wrestling today... and at The Main Event, we aim to
prove that we still are.
 
MS: And at The Main Event, you'll face the Stampede Cup champions,
Violence Unlimited - a team that with the win in that tournament EARNED
the right to call themselves the greatest tag team in the world.

DC: Well, Mark, Violence Unlimited got what they wanted... they got
things set up to ensure themselves that they would be the tag team to
face Eric and I for our tag team straps. So to Jackson Haynes and Danny
Morton, I leave you with this message: You got what you wanted, you got
it set up so you would get what you want... now at The Main Event, you
will be prepared to deal with the consequences of your actions. Just as
we ultimately took care of business against every other tag team who got
on our bad side, so we will take care of business with you.

[Before Mark can ask a follow-up question, Dave motions to Eric, who
nods, and both men depart.]

MS:  Well, there you have it, fans... the Tag Team of the Year for 2010
and your reigning National Tag Team Champions, Rough N Ready!

[Another mixed reaction for the champs who are long gone at this point.]

MS:  And speaking of tag teams, let's head down to the ring to Phil
Watson for more tag team action!

[Crossfade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing alongside two
familiar faces.]

PW:  The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall with a
fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at
this time... they are the team of Eric Preston and Kendall Stanton!

[A decent-sized cheer for the underdog duo.]

GM:  Kendall Stanton is fresh off a major upset when he knocked off
"Gentleman" Jack Holland two weeks ago and Eric Preston... well, Eric
Preston...

BW:  Is clinging to the bottom of the toilet bowl as the water tries to
wash him out to sea?

GM:  I was not going to say that!

BW:  I was.  This kid's on a losing streak longer than... well, longer
than my streak of consecutive Announcer Of The Year trophies!

[Watson continues.]

PW:  And their opponents...

[The most stereotypical backwoods hillbilly banjo music you could
imagine starts to play over the PA system, sending the crowd into
jeers.]

PW:  From Bald Knob, Arkansas... being accompanied to the ring by
Mange... they are Jug and Zeke...

THE MOOOOOONSHIIIINERS!

[The hillbilly trio makes their way into view.  Jug and Zeke both wear
tattered, ripped up "blue" jeans that are really more a combination of
faded blue and dirt/mud brown.  Neither are EVER seen in a shirt, and
that is not a good thing because, well...the only "gym" they're familiar
with is Jim Beam.  Jug is a bit stockier than Zeke, broad-shouldered and
barrel-chested, but his rather large gut quite noticeably hangs over his
beltline.  Zeke is slightly taller and not QUITE as fat, though his
build is very similar.  Zeke also sports a tattoo of a wolf's head on
his back just below his neck.  Both have various tats on their arms.

Both men's hair is bleached to the point where it's almost white, as are
their shaggy, unkempt beards.  They both wear standard black boots with
white laces, black elbowpads and black kneepads.  Aside from the height
difference and Zeke's tattoo, it's hard to differentiate between the two
and groggy, disoriented and/or stupid referees have been known to not
notice illegal switches during matches.]

GM:  It's been several weeks since we've seen the Moonshiners in action,
Bucky.

BW:  The last time I can recall seeing them was when they took Rough N
Ready to the limit.  They almost won the National Tag Team Titles in one
heck of a fight, Gordo.

GM:  It was one of the most brutal fights I've seen in all my years and
the Moonshiners made it clear that they're NOT over the hill, they're
NOT to be overlooked, and they're on the path to perhaps one day become
the National Tag Team Champions.

[Mange huddles up with his boys for a moment just beyond the ropes...

...and then bails out as Eric Preston sprints across the ring, hurling
himself over the ropes and onto the Moonshiners!]

GM:  OHHHHHH YEAH!

[The crowd roars to life as Preston pops up to his feet, pumping a fist
in celebration.  Preston slams his hands down on the ramp, pointing a
warning finger at Mange who backs further away, shaking his head.]

GM:  Now THAT'S how you get this thing started, Bucky!

BW:  That's illegal!  Preston's trying to cheat his way into breaking
his winning streak.

[Preston leans down, hauling Jug up by his wild blonde hair, and HURLS
him over the ropes into the ring where the referee signals for the bell
to start the match.  Preston waves for his partner to start things off
as Preston stays out on the ramp, battering Zeke on the ramp with right
hands.]

GM:  Eric Preston knows the Moonshiners!  He knows that if he and
Kendall Stanton want to stand a chance to win this thing, they need to
take the fight to these two mountain men!  And that's exactly what
they're doing, Bucky!

BW:  You call it fighting, I call it cheating.

[Stanton drags Jug up by the wild hair, throwing a stiff uppercut to the
chin that sends Jug falling back into the buckles.  He throws a big
cowboy boot into the midsection to keep him there before grabbing the
brawler by the arm.]

GM:  The hometown boy is on a roll and he wants to keep it that way!

[Stanton flings Jug across the ring to the opposite corner...

...and then barrels across the ring after him, leaping at the last
moment to lash out with a leg lariat under the chin of the wild-eyed
Arkansas native!]

GM:  OHH!  A modified dropkick up under the chin!

[The camera cuts outside the ring where Preston has dragged Zeke up to
his feet and is throwing big right hands to the jaw.  Grabbing him by
the arm, Preston attempts a whip but the big brawler reverses, sending
Preston into the ropes, where he rebounds off on the ramp...

...and gets propelled overhead and down HARD on the elevated ramp!]

GM:  GAAAAAH!  

BW:  And some fool's sitting at home saying "Don't worry, he knows how
to fall!"

GM:  There's no way to fall on a solid wooden platform on your spine,
fans, believe me!

[Leaving a writhing-in-pain Preston behind, Zeke steps into the ring,
blasting a rising Kendall Stanton with a double axehandle to the back of
the head.  Grabbing the arms of Stanton, Zeke yanks them back to expose
the hometown boy's upper body and allowing Jug to bury a heavy boot into
the midsection!]

GM:  Ohh!  He got him good there!

[Zeke throws another big double axehandle hammer, knocking Stanton down
to a knee.  Jug takes his turn with a double axehandle, smashing Stanton
down to both knees.]

GM:  The Moonshiners are hammerin' this kid into the canvas!

[The two brawlers take turns slamming double axehandles down on the back
of Stanton, battering him all the way down to the mat.]

GM:  Good grief, the Moonshiners are bringing the thunder here tonight
all over Kendall Stanton.  

[From outside the ring, Mange shouts "Get 'im up!" as the Moonshiners
oblige, dragging Stanton off the canvas.  Jug hoists him up for a slam,
tangling his legs to hang him upside down in the corner in the tree of
woe...]

GM:  Uh oh... he's in trouble now...

[Zeke rushes forward, smashing his knee into the torso of the trapped
Stanton.  The official steps in, shouting at both men, who promptly
ignore him as they take turns throwing heavy boots to the chest of
Stanton.  Out on the ramp, Eric Preston stumbles to his feet, trying to
shake the effects of the backdrop on the wooden platform as he moves
towards the ring...

...and eats a wild haymaker to the jaw by Jug, knocking Preston down to
a knee on the ramp as Zeke drags Stanton down out of the buckles.]

GM:  Both men are down and the Moonshiners are all over them here in
Dallas tonight.  They're making a statement, Bucky.

BW:  Nah, Gordo.  This is them on a typical Saturday night.  If it ain't
in the ring, it's in the local tavern.  Kick their teeth in, have a
beer, wait for the cops to show up.  That's the Moonshiners!

[Jug drags Stanton to his feet, hoisting his 230 pounds into the air,
and violently slamming him down to the canvas before Zeke leaps up,
dropping a leg across the chest!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Jug kneels down, wrapping his hands around the throat of Stanton!]

GM:  He's choking him!  He's choking the life out of him!  Come on, ref!

[A dazed Eric Preston slips through the ropes into the ring, burying a
hard boot into the temple of Jug, knocking him to the side.  Spinning
away from the downed Jug, he nails Zeke with a right hand!]

GM:  Preston's fighting back!  Trying to get his partner out of danger!

[Grabbing Zeke's wild mane with two hands, Preston SLAMS him facefirst
into the top turnbuckle!]

BW:  Has there even been a tag in this thing?!

GM:  I don't think there's even been a legal man yet!  This one's been
out of control since the very beginning, Bucky!

[Preston grabs the arm of Zeke, hurling him into the rising Jug,
knocking both men flat on their backs on the mat.  Preston pumps a fist
again before hauling Zeke up by the hair, throwing a trio of haymakers
to knock him back into the buckles.]

GM:  Preston's throwing some heavy right hands in there!

[Kendall Stanton staggers to his feet, shaking the cobwebs, throwing a
big snapping right hand to the jaw as he approaches.  The two fan
favorites each grab an arm, whipping Zeke across the ring...

...and flooring him with a double flying tackle to the cheers of the
crowd!]

GM:  Preston and Stanton are looking good in there as a tag team.

BW:  A tag team?  A tag team?!  How the heck can you call them a tag
team when they haven't even made a tag?

GM:  Zeke rolls out to the floor...

[The South Carolina native charges across the ring, dropping down into a
baseball slide that sends Zeke sailing backwards HARD into the steel
barricade!]

GM:  What a physical, brutal matchup this is here on Saturday Night
Wrestling!

[Preston turns his attention to the rising Jug, catching him under the
chin with a kneelift as he rises, snapping his head back and sending him
staggering back to the corner.]

GM:  Eric Preston really looks good here tonight in this one, Bucky.

BW:  He usually does until he makes some boneheaded mistake and costs
himself the match.  It's just about time for it, I think.

GM:  Maybe not.  Maybe tonight is Eric Preston's night!  Maybe tonight
is when he's gonna get right back on that horse and get on the winning
trail!

BW:  And maybe you're as delusional as you look, Gordo.  This kid's done
for.

[Spinning Jug around in the corner, Preston grabs two hands full of his
blonde hair and SLAMS his head into the buckles!]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard shot in the corner!

[Pulling Jug's head back, Preston slams it home again getting a loud
"TWO!" from the crowd for his efforts.  With a grin, the Combat Corner
graduate repeats the process, slamming Jug's skull into the top
turnbuckle over and over and over as the crowd counts along to ten.  At
the ten count, Preston allows Jug to stumble out of the buckles,
spinning around, and plummeting facefirst to the canvas!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Listen to these fans, Bucky!  They're really rallying
behind this kid!  They want to see him get back on track here tonight on
Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Out on the floor, Kendall Stanton has turned his attention to Zeke,
hammering him with right hands while holding a loose side headlock...]

GM:  Stanton's working over Zeke on the floor!  Preston's working over
Jug inside the ring!

[A fired-up Preston rolls Jug onto his shoulders, diving across the
chest.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd jeers as Jug fires a shoulder up before the three count comes
down.  Taking the mount, Preston grabs Jug by the hair, letting loose a
war cry before he starts hammering the wild mountain man in the skull
with haymakers.]

GM:  Preston's all over him!  Get him, kid!

[But with the South Carolina native distracted, Zeke waves over his
manager, Mange, who slams home a forearm to the back of the neck,
knocking Stanton to a knee.  Zeke quickly recovers, each man grabbing an
arm and turning Stanton around...]


"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE HIT THE POST!!  THEY WHIPPED STANTON INTO THE POST!!

[Kendall Stanton, having cracked his skull against the steel ringpost,
collapses in a heap on the floor.  His arms immediately shoot up to
cover his head as an ever-dangerous Zeke starts stomping the head
repeatedly...

...which brings Eric Preston out to the floor!]

GM:  HERE COMES PRESTON!!

[The bell sounds as Preston starts throwing heavy right hands at first
Zeke and then the nearby Mange.  From inside the ring, Jug rolls out
behind him...

...and as Preston turns, Jug runs him over with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Ohh!  Down goes Preston as well!

[All three Moonshiners take a moment to batter the downed Preston with
stomps and kicks as the official calls for the bell to sound again.]

GM:  Come on!  The match is over!

BW:  How is the match over?!

GM:  How do you think?  The manager, Mange, got in there and helped them
throw Kendall Stanton headfirst into the danged steel ringpost, Bucky! 
The kid went down like he'd been shot!

BW:  That's a surefire concussion, daddy.  Nobody's getting up from
that!

GM:  And now they're all over Eric Preston too!  Can we get some help
out here?  Get these guys out of here!  They're a menace, I tell you...
an absolute menace to the entire AWA!  Let's... do we have something to
go to?  Great.  Jason Dane is standing by!

[Cut to Jason Dane standing on the interview stage.  Next to him stands
"The Invader" Brian Von Braun.  BVB's decked out in a pair of black
jeans, black leather boots, and a black t-shirt with a design of a
skeletal Godzilla breathing fire on a futuristic looking Tokyo.  BVB's
hair is slicked back and pulled into a loose ponytail.  His silver,
skull-headed cane is in his left hand.

To BVB's left stands a woman with long dark, brown shoulder-length hair.
 She's wearing a pair of black slacks and a black button-down shirt. 
Her arms are folded in front of her across just under her chest.  Her
right hand grabs her left elbow, while her left hand grabs her right
bicep.]

JD:  With me right now is Brian Von Braun, the "Invader."

[Dane looks over at BVB.]

JD:  Two weeks ago, we saw you attack Neshou and lock him in the Von
Braun Leglock.  You narrowly escaped getting his infamous Mist.  You
also narrowly avoided a similar fate to Ron Houston at the hands of the
Unholy Alliance.  Tonight, Anton Layton and Neshou team up in a match to
send you a message.

[BVB's's frown turns into a scowl.]

BVB:  Neshou ain't had ta contend with a fireball, Jason.  Tha ol'
Invader wants ta see how tha kabuki character's gonna dance 'round that.

[BVB looks over at Dane.]

BVB:  'Cause I bet ya he ain't gonna be able ta do that.

JD:  What about the comments from Percy Childes?  You leave business
unfinished and making a direct reference to Ben Waterson and your
association with the Southern Syndicate?

BVB:  He wasn't payin' no attention, Jason.  He never heard what tha
Rocket City Badboy had ta say 'bout Ben Waterson.  Percy mentioned an
understandin' 'tween him an' Anton Layton.  When Neshou an' Percy needed
backup, sure 'nough as the sun rises, the Unholy Alliance showed up.

[BVB snorts.]

BVB:  Ben Waterson?  The Southern Syndicate was never 'bout what we
could do as a tandem.  The un-stated understandin' is you do for Ben
Waterson an' Stevie Scott.  Ol' Bee Vee Bee ain't in it unless
everyone's willin' ta risk it ta win it.  Since Percy Childes is a
history buff, ask him 'bout my past an' history.  Leavin' unfinished
business don't define my career.

JD:  I have to ask one thing, Brian.  We saw a look of concern on your
face as you stood in the crowd two weeks ago.  Has "the Invader" bitten
off more than he can chew?

BVB:  Every other person in tha locker room will answer your question
like this, Jason.  "Yes, Brian Von Braun has jumped inta tha shark tank.
 He's one-man goin' 'gainst an alliance who has shown tha ENTIRE
rasslin' world they'll eliminate anyone in their path."

JD:  Why continue?

BVB:  I want ta send a clear message ta Percy Childes.  He talks about
entitlement issues.

[He shakes his head.]

BVB:  Bzzzt.  Wrong answer, ghost rider.  That pattern's full.  Ya stuck
yer nose where it didn't belong, Percy.  You.  Layton.  Neshou. Asylum
Poster-Child.  An' tha rest.  Had ya softened up Houston, waved me out,
an' said, "We softened 'im up for ya.  We figured ya'd want tha final
punch."  Know what I woulda done, Jason?

[Dane shakes his head.]

BVB:  I woulda let Percy waddle his way up ta tha McCounter, slapped a
twenty down, an ordered twenty ninety-nine cent double cheeseburgers to
say "thank you."  Then, I woulda let him squeeze himself inta one of
them booths an' let tha man tell me the woes of his life as he downed
them double stacks an' washed it down with a diet Coke.  'Cause Percy
Childes knows failure better than anyone else.  Doc Holiday pointed it
out.  An' Percy calls his failures "my rasslin' career."

[Bit of a cheer from the crowd.]

BVB:  Ta prove I ain't a complete monster, I even woulda paid fer tha
gallon of butter ta let Percy squeeze 'isself outta tha booth or even
stuck 'round 'til tha jaws o life showed up ta yank him out.  That ain't
what happened, Jason.  Instead of exercising discretion 'bout endin'
someone else's business, tha Unholy Alliance put Houston on tha shelf. 
Now?  Now they're gonna learn tha price fer gettin' in my way. Know how
ya do that, Jason?  Know how ya prove a point to someone as desperate,
hollow, empty, an' bitter as Percy Childes?

JD:  You take the Longhorn Heritage title?

BVB:  Bingo.  Ya take what they value most.

JD:  We see this woman with you.  Who is she?  What's her purpose?

BVB:  I ain't got eyes in tha back of my head.  I ain't exactly got
friends 'round these parts, neither.  Jim Watkins ain't exactly kosher
with handing out contracts ta every Von Braun who passes through Dallas.
 Megan's tha eyes in tha back of my head.  If Layton or his boys decide
ta show up, I'm gonna get an advanced warnin'.  If Percy was half...
[chuckle]... half tha man his brother was, he'd square this up 'tween me
an' him, 'tween a Childes an' a Von Braun.  I don't blame him fer
gettin' Layton involved.  He knows how tha story of his
brother ended.

[BVB and Megan turn and leave the interview area.]

JD:  Fans, don't go away... we'll be right back with more Saturday Night
Wrestling!

[Fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

And then come up backstage at the AWA backdrop position, the dutiful
interviewer Jason Dane stands alone for the moment.]

JD:  Fans, I'm here backstage where I had an interview scheduled with
"Gentleman" Jack Holland but...

[Dane looks around quizzically, then shrugs his shoulders.]

JD: Mr. Holland seems to be missing. As you know, he's been having his
problems as of late, stemming from that emergency he had several weeks
ago, and--well speak of the...

[Jack Holland strolls into the camera shot. He looks as if he's just
woken up. That is, if he went to sleep in his wrestling gear. He's
without his leather jacket or shades tonight. Holland nods at Dane.]

GJH: Dane-o.

JD: Nice of you to join me, Mr. Holland.

GJH: Let's just get on with it, huh, Dane-o?

[Dane's nose crinkles up.]

JD: Mr. Holland... is that... alcohol on your breath?

GJH: What? ... no, Jesus, Dane-o. You become my momma or somethin'?

JD: That is! It smells like you just dunked your head in a barrel of
whiskey!

[Holland grabs Dane by the collar. His rheumy just-out-of-bed glaze is
replaced now with an angered glare.]

GJH: You shut your mouth! I don't need to get all riled up before I go
out there for my match!

JD: Mr. Holland, please! I can't let you go out there like this!

[Holland pulls Dane in close, nose to nose.]

GJH: Just try and stop me.

[Holland shoves Dane aside and marches off camera. Dane looks around
frantically.]

JD: Somebody get Jim Watkins!

[The camera cuts to the ring where Phil Watson is joined by a stout,
strong-built Caucasian with a black mullet. The wrestler slaps his
biceps and steps back and forth, obviously very ready for his upcoming
match-up.]

GM: I'm not sure what to say about what just transpired, Bucky. I don't
even know if there's gonna be a match!

BW: There is if Jack Holland has anything to say about it!

[Phil Watson, unaware of what just went down, begins.]

PW: This next match is set for one fall! Presently in the ring, he
fights out of Apple Springs, Texas!

[Hometown pop! The wrestler raises his fist and shakes it in
appreciation.]

PW: He weighs in tonight at 250 pounds! He--

GM: Look at this!

[Just then, Jack Holland storms down the ramp in a most ungentlemanly
manner. He points at the ring. The wrestler in the ring approaches the
ropes.]

BW: Jack Holland's not waiting, daddy, he's gonna take the fight right
to him!

[Before Holland can get halfway to the ring, referees swarm out past the
curtain. They surround him, blocking his progress, holding up their
hands and pleading for him to head to the back.]

GM: I guess Jim Watkins is not about to let an inebriated wrestler get
in the ring tonight.

BW: Why not!?

GM: He's a danger to this young man Rick Scott!

BW: As if he wasn't already.

[Holland continuously tries to get past the referees. They budge, but
not enough to let him through. He paces along their line, scrubbing his
face with his hand and cursing them to hell and back. Then out of
nowhere--!]

GM: OH MY STARS! He just LEVELED one of the referees with a right hand!

BW: Better let him through! One of these guys is gonna be next!

[The referees don't give in so easily, though, closing ranks and
continuing their pleas. Holland plants his hands on his hips and glares.
Finally, he shakes his head and turns around, heading back up the ramp.
A smattering of jeers follow Holland to the back.  Phil Watson confers
with a ring attendant before returning to the center of the ring.]

PW: The winner of this match due to forfeit... RICK SCOTT!

[Scott lifts his hand again, somewhat dejected at the manner of his
victory.]

GM: Well, that was certainly disappointing, and something I had never
thought I'd see out of Jack Holland.

BW: World's a strange place, daddy, and we are just players in it.

GM: I... think you've got that a little bit mixed up, Bucky.  I don't
know what in the world just got into Jack Holland but... well, hopefully
we can get some word later - you know there's going to be trouble for
what we just saw, Bucky.

BW:  I'd imagine so.  Fines, suspensions, maybe worse.

GM:  Exactly.  Well, fans... coming off of that... Eric Preston, come on
in here... just moments ago, we saw a heinous assault on Kendall Stanton
by the Moonshiners, which erupted into a wild scene here at ringside
when Eric Preston tried to defend his partner.  Eric, what's on your
mind? 

[Preston stands next to Myers, still in his wrestling gear with a grey
South Carolina XXL 'Cocks shirt on over top and a towel around his
neck.] 

EP: Gordon, we all know that things haven't exactly been great for me
these past few weeks and months. I haven't been able to do much of
anything right. I've been taking matches, any matches, just to stay in
the ring, just to get a chance to figure out what's wrong. I'm not a tag
team wrestler, but I signed up to team with Kendall Stanton just because
you never know. 

And the Moonshiners, not only did they take that chance away from me,
but they went out and tried to hurt my partner. They stepped over the
line, Gordon. Which is why I'm out here, on behalf of Kendall Stanton
and myself, to challenge them to a _rematch_ at The Main Event. It's
pretty easy to pick apart a couple of guys who were thrown together, but
you give me and Kendall a few weeks to brainstorm, baby, and we'll be
bouncin' our fists off their head 'til the white meat comes out. 

I'm throwin' it out there, Moonshiners, waddya say? 

[An emphatic Preston pumps his fist to the crowd with a scowl, as the
crowd cheers him on for the first time in what feels like forever. But
Gordon Myers holds up his hand for quiet, and presses his earpiece.] 

GM: Ok, alright, Eric, I'm getting word from the back that Jim Watkins
has agreed to your request... 

EP: Yes! Alright! 

[A low fist pump from Preston.] 

GM: ...but that Kendall Stanton will _NOT_ be able to compete at the
Main Event. 

[Preston’s eyebrows go up as it looks like he is about to shout out in
anger, but he dejectedly deflates instead.] 

GM: It’s a shame, I know Eric, but he suffered a possible concussion,
and you know how serious they can be. But Jim Watkins also said that if
you can find a partner, the match will still be on at the Main Event! 

BW: (off air) Who in the world would team with _him_? 

EP: Well… if that’s what it’s going to take, then that’s what I’m gonna
do. 

[Preston nods his head, talking himself into it.] 

EP: I’m gonna find me a partner. And I’ll _be_ at The Main Event. And
Moonshiners… you know what they say about revenge.

[Preston claps Gordon on the back before striding out of view.]

GM:  Just one more exciting match-up being added to the already
fantastic lineup of action that we'll be seeing in two weeks' time at
The Main Event.  Eric Preston and a partner of his choice taking on the
Moonshiners!  I can't wait to see that one.  Speaking of The Main Event,
let's talk about one of the matches already signed for that show. 
Conspicuous by her absence this week is our usual ring announcer,
Melissa Cannon.  Well, fans, Melissa is deep in training this week as
she prepares to make history inside that ring in two weeks' time for the
first EVER AWA Women's match!

BW:  Ahh, but she ain't the only one, daddy.  Lori Dane just happens to
be in training as well preparing for her return to the ring for the
first time in several years.

GM:  This one has been brewing for months and should be something else
when it goes down on The Main Event.  Earlier this week, we checked in
with both of these women to get their thoughts - and to sneak a peek
into their training techniques - just days before the big showdown. 
Let's take a look...

[We crossfade to a black screen with white lettering.]

"Expectations."

[The voice of Lori Dane is heard over footage of Melissa Cannon
announcing.]

LD:  This isn't what I wanted for her.  This isn't what I expected for
her.  It's difficult to make it in this business as a wrestler if you're
a woman, I know this.  I am a former Women's World Champion and I STILL
can't get respect inside the ring.  For years, I went to every promoter
I came across and begged for an opportunity to showcase what I could do
inside the ring for a major league promotion and for years, I got turned
down.

[Footage of Cannon in glamour photo shoots for AWA promotional
materials.]

LD:  That's exactly what I told her the first day she came to that
disgusting garage Todd used to train in in Los Angeles.  She begged him
for the chance.  He turned her down cold.  My husband's views on women's
wrestling are well-known.  It's one of the many things we disagree on.  

So, _I_ took her in... but I told her it would be a long, hard road. 
That the men in this business would ask her to do things she didn't want
to do... and I don't just mean announcing or managing or posing for
swimsuit calendars or that kind of crap.  But she wanted it...

...at least, she said she did.

[The voice of Dane's fades to be replaced by Melissa Cannon's.  The
black screen returns with the white lettering.]

"Hypocrisy."

[This time, we see old EMWC footage of Lori Dane at ringside calling
matches as Melissa Cannon's voice is heard.]

MC:  I know what she expected of me... I know what she wanted for me. 
And I appreciate everything that Lori's ever done for me.  But sometimes
in life, your goals change... your reality changes... and expectations
need to change with that.  I love what I do... I'm happy doing what I
do.  Being a ring announcer has allowed me to see the world as part of
this crazy business and I've gotten to make a career in the business
that I've loved since I was a little girl.  

[The footage shifts to earlier in Dane's career, her actually
wrestling.]

MC:  Who the heck does she think she is?  She had her shot at wrestling.
 She tries to tell everyone she's been trying for years to get back into
wrestling - what a load of... there's a bunch of women's promotions out
there!  In Canada, they've been promoting women's wrestling for years as
a major attraction.  So, for her to show up, constantly interrupt me and
harass me, and try to make me feel bad for not being a wrestler?  That's
just hypocrisy to me.

So what if I'm not wrestling?  Do I regret that?  Maybe a little but I
love my job.  I love being out there every week in front of these fans. 
I love being a part of the AWA just like I loved being part of PWR and
the EMWC too.  She can't take that away from me... and heck, she
shouldn't WANT to!

[The black screen appears once more with the white lettering.]

"History."

[A black and white closeup of Lori Dane.]

LD:  Of course it's important to me.  To be a part of the first women's
match in AWA history?  It's a big deal.  Hell, with the way women's
wrestling is treated in most places, it may be the first, last, and ONLY
women's match in AWA history for all I know.  That's a lot of
pressure... but it's also a great opportunity to show exactly what the
women in this business who WANT to wrestle can do.

[The shot changes to the same angle, same black and white - only this
time, it's Melissa Cannon.]

MC:  She's right in some ways.  I DID get into this business wanting to
be a wrestler.  I DID train in that dirty, stinky Dojo for two years
before I got my first match.  I had visions of being a champion, having
my hand raised as a big ol' gold belt was wrapped around my waist.  I
won't lie.  That was my dream... maybe still is sometimes.  So yeah,
this is a big deal to me too.  Just because you give up on something
doesn't mean it isn't still a dream, you know?

[The black and white shot fades to Lori Dane standing in the middle of a
wrestling ring.  She is surrounded by a handful of women in ring gear. 
She barks a command as one of them charges at her, wildly flailing with
a right hand.  Dane deftly ducks down, backdropping her to the mat. 
Dane's voice goes over this action.]

LD:  She doesn't know what she's getting herself into.  I know, I goaded
her into this... but honestly, I wasn't sure she'd ever go for it.  I
mean, I'm a former Women's Champion.  I've had more matches in the ring
than she's even seen sitting at ringside all these years.  She's still a
rookie in a lot of ways.

[A second woman charges Dane, running right into a boot to the
midsection.  Dane pummels her down with a double axehandle across the
back of the neck before charging forward and throwing a Yakuza Kick to
the face of a woman standing in the corner.  The final woman charges her
exposed back, leaping up onto her with a sleeperhold.  Dane struggles
for a moment before twisting her body and whipping her over to the
canvas before leaping up and driving her knee down into the forehead. 
Her voiceover continues over the action.]

LD:  Melissa's a good girl.  She's a nice girl.  She doesn't know what
it's like to get into the trenches and have to rake, claw, bite, and
battle your way out.  I come from the land of Extreme... we played for
keeps there.  This isn't going to be some pretty catch-as-catch-can
classic.  I wanted her in this ring... now I'm going to make her
understand what it takes to stay there.  I want to push her, drive her,
make her dig deep.  I want her to have to dig so deep into her heart and
soul to beat me, that she'll never want to lose that match because it
would break her heart.

[We fade from Lori's training footage to Melissa's.  She's alone inside
a ring, having orders shouted at her from outside the ring by someone we
can't see.  She hits the ropes hard, time after time, sprinting across
the ring until her chest is heaving and sweat is pouring from her body.]

MC:  Yeah, I'm a little bit behind in the game when it comes to this
one.  I haven't wrestled in a long, long while... and I really don't
have that many matches under my belt to begin with.  Certainly not as
many as she does.  So, when she says I'm still a rookie, she's right. 
But what I do have is something she doesn't - desperation.  She's been a
World Champion - she'll tell you that.  I never have.  And there's a
damn good chance I never will.  So, for me, this may be the biggest
match of my life... and I'm not going down without a fight.

[Cannon slams down to the canvas from a backdrop from her training
partner who barks "AGAIN!" as she pops back to her feet, hitting the
ropes again, and gets sailed through the air and down to the mat with
another backdrop.  The drill repeats with Cannon getting up over and
over to take backdrop after backdrop.]

MC:  She thinks I'm a good girl?  She really doesn't know me at all then
'cause this one got personal for me around the time she had that son of
a [BLEEP!] spit that mist in my eyes.  You think I liked sitting around
the house for months because of her?  You think I liked wondering if I'd
be able to see my new baby nephew?  You think I liked missing the
biggest payday of the year - SuperClash - while she sat back and
laughed?  You'd be wrong.  She'd be wrong.  But nowhere near as wrong as
she when she thinks I'm looking for a mat classic.  She wants a fight? 
She's gonna get one in two weeks.

[The screen splits, showing the two women in their workouts.]

LD/MC:  At The Main Event, history will be made.  And _I'm_ gonna be the
last woman standing.

[The shot freezes, showing both women with a determined look on her
face...

...and we fade back up to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... at a total combined weight of 493 pounds... the team of the
Sicilian Stud and Hugh Jenner!

[A few cheers for the overmatched duo.]

PW:  And their opponents...

[The sounds of screaming women fill the air - loudly and without
warning.]

GM:  Here comes trouble...

[After a moment, the screams are swallowed by a demonic laugh that fades
right into "Bitores Mendes" from the Resident Evil 4 video game
soundtrack.]

PW:  From the Darkness... they are accompanied to the ring by Percy
Childes and James Monosso... at a combined weight of 495 pounds... the
team of the Longhorn Heritage Champion, Nenshou... and the Prince of
Darkness, Anton Layton... 

THE UNHOOOOOLY ALLIIIIIIIANCE!

[Nenshou and Layton are moving quickly down the aisle, both men with
their heads covered by their respective cloth coverings.  Percy Childes
is shouting in the direction of the ring, gesturing wildly with his
crystal-topped cane.  James Monosso seems surprisingly calm as he brings
up the rear of the pack.]

GM:  Pure evil on the way to the ring right now, Bucky.

BW:  You've got that right... but where's Polemos?

GM:  A good question.  I'm sure he's lurking about somewhere.

[Layton hits the ring hard, rushing a surprised Sicilian Stud with a
clubbing forearm to the neck as the bell rings.  Throwing the Stud into
the corner, Layton drives a knee up into the midsection before wrapping
his hands around the man's throat.]

GM:  Come on, ref!  That's a blatant choke!

[The ref's count hits four before Layton breaks it...

...and promptly re-applies it!]

GM:  Another one.  Layton has absolutely no regard for the rules, Bucky.

BW:  He doesn't.  He just wants to hurt people.  And tonight, they want
to send Brian Von Braun a message.

GM:  Well, you heard Von Braun earlier tonight.  He's made no secret of
the fact that he's coming after that Longhorn Heritage Title and he
wants to hurt Percy Childes by taking that belt - the thing Childes
treasures most in the world.

[Layton hauls the Stud out of the corner by the hair, dragging him
across the ring where he fires him into the buckles before slapping
Nenshou's hand.]

GM:  In comes the Longhorn Heritage Champion...

[Nenshou quickly steps in, grabbing the top rope to throw kicks into the
body of the Stud.  He squares up, blasting him across the chest with a
knife-edge chop that staggers the Stud.  Dropping to a knee, he slams an
elbow into the midsection, doubling up the Stud who quickly gets
snapmared down into a seated position on the mat...

...and gets DRILLED with a hard kick to the spine!]

GM:  Ohhh!  You could hear that one out on the street, Bucky!

[In a quick motion, Nenshou dashes across the ring...

...and SMASHES Hugh Jenner with a right hand, knocking him off the apron
to the floor.  He turns around, sprinting back towards his own corner
where he CREAMS the Stud with a running low dropkick to the face!]

GM:  Good grief!  I bet they could end this thing right now.

BW:  Maybe but I don't expect that they will and...

[The crowd roars to life as Brian Von Braun slowly strides out onto the
entrance ramp, making his way about halfway down the ramp before
stopping.  Anton Layton throws back his head with a cackle, waving Von
Braun to come closer but a cautious Invader holds his ground.]

GM:  Brian Von Braun is heading out here!  They said they've got a
message for him and well, he's here to receive it personally!

BW:  This guy's dumber than I thought, Gordo.

[Nenshou drags the Stud off the mat by the hair, taking a moment to cast
a glance at Von Braun...

...which gives the Stud a chance to throw a right hand into the body to
a cheer!]

GM:  The Sicilian Stud's fighting back!

[A big haymaker to the jaw sends Nenshou spiraling backwards towards the
ropes where the Stud grabs his wrist, flinging him across the ring...]

GM:  Irish whip... 

[As Nenshou comes off the ropes, he finds the Stud doubled up for a
backdrop attempt...

...but Nenshou instead stops dead in his tracks, grabbing a handful of
the Stud's hair, and leaps straight up, smashing his face into the
canvas!]

GM:  Ohhhh.  The Stud had rallied for a moment there but...

[Nenshou climbs to his feet, slapping the hand of Anton Layton who
rushes back in, leaping into the air, and DRIVING both feet down into
the midsection of the downed Stud!]

GM:  Ohh!  Double stomp to the gut!

BW:  That'll knock the wind out of ya... or last night's spaghetti
dinner!

[Layton immediately drops to his knees, again wrapping his hands around
the throat of the Stud for a blatant choke.  The referee's count reaches
four again before Layton breaks it, pointing a finger at Von Braun.]

GM:  Anton Layton is telling Brian Von Braun that this is the kind of
beating he has to look forward to if he continues to harass Nenshou,
Percy Childes, and the Unholy Alliance, Bucky.

BW:  Think it's enough to convince Von Braun?

GM:  Convince him to leave them alone?  No.

[Layton hauls the Stud up off the mat by the hair, hurling him bodily
into the corner where he slaps the hand of the obviously-worried Hugh
Jenner.  Jenner rushes in fast though, throwing fists...

...and getting a knee buried into the gut for his efforts.  Winding up,
Layton smashes an overhead elbow down on the back of the neck, knocking
Jenner flat on his face.]

GM:  Layton puts down Hugh Jenner as well!

[A twisted grin from Layton sees him throw back his head, howling
"VONNNNN BRAAAAAAUN!" before leaping up and driving a knee down in the
back of the head, smashing Jenner's face into the mat.]

GM:  Goodness.  Anton Layton seems especially vicious here tonight!

[Layton grabs Jenner by the foot, dragging his limp form across the ring
where he slaps the hand of Nenshou who slides through the ropes and
drops a quick elbow on the back of the skull!]

GM:  Nenshou back in and continues the assault on the overmatched duo of
the Stud and Jenner...

[The Longhorn Heritage Champion pulls Jenner off the mat, wrapping his
arms around the waist where he takes him up...

...and drops him down on the back of the head with a belly to back
suplex!]

GM:  Oof!  Nenshou with a cover!

[The referee's count hits two before Nenshou pulls Jenner up by the
hair, shaking his head.  Outside the ring, Percy Childes can be heard
shouting, "YES!  YES!  GOOD!" to the jeers of the fans.]

GM:  Percy Childes is encouraging this, Bucky.

BW:  As well he should.  Von Braun's gotten too big for his britches and
they're showing him what he's got in store for him.  Look at him, Gordo.
 He looks like he may need to CHANGE his britches after seeing this.

[Von Braun does look the slightest bit concerned as he watches Layton
and Nenshou maul their opposition.]

GM:  Nenshou dragging Jenner into the neutral corner now... whip
across...

[Nenshou backs into the corner, breaking into a cartwheel, then a
handspring, and rocketing himself backwards into an elbowsmash on the
jaw!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Handspring elbow and a beauty!

BW:  This guy is like watching poetry in motion, daddy.  I tell ya, this
kid is the biggest sensation in the entire AWA!

[Nenshou spins around on the elbow, throwing a tape-covered finger
thrust into the throat.  A gasping Jenner stumbles out of the corner,
falling to a knee where Nenshou slaps the hand of Anton Layton once
more.  Layton growls as he comes into the ring, marching over to grab
the head of the kneeling Jenner, pulling it back...

...and sinking his fingers into the corners of Jenner's mouth, ripping
and tearing apart!]

GM:  AHHH!  He's fish hooking the man!  

[The official immediately leaps in, screaming at Layton who is screaming
just as loudly as he pulls Jenner's face apart.  At the four count,
Layton breaks his grip, shoving Jenner down to the mat, and drops a
well-placed elbow to the back of the skull.  He grabs Jenner with two
hands full of hair, hauling him back to his feet where he slams Jenner's
face into the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  Layton's just savaging his opponent tonight.  It's been a while
since we've seen Layton quite this vicious.

[Spinning him out of the corner, Layton picks him up, marching across
the ring, and slams him down hard into the Unholy Alliance corner.  He
slams down three hard stomps to the chest, forcing Jenner to roll under
the ropes.  The referee steps in, forcing Layton back...

...which allows Percy Childes to use his cane to strangle the life out
of Jenner!]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Do your job in there!

BW:  He's trying, Gordo.  The man doesn't have eyes in the back of his
head.  He didn't see any of that that just went down.  Percy's a
brilliant man.  You think he does that when the ref can see him?

GM:  If he thinks he can get away with it, yes I do.

[Stepping back in, Layton grabs the legs of Jenner whose upper body is
still under the bottom rope.]

GM:  Uh oh.  I don't like the looks of- THIS!

[Gordon's shout punctuates the sight of Layton falling back, propelling
Jenner's throat into the bottom rope!]

GM:  Gaaaaah.  This is getting difficult to watch, fans.

[Another quick tag brings Nenshou back into the match, dragging Jenner's
limp body back inside the ring where he pulls him up to his feet,
scooping him off the mat, and dropping him down in a backbreaker.]

GM: Uh oh... you know what comes after that, fans...

[Nenshou shoves Jenner off his knee, quickly moving to the ropes where
he deftly scales them, blinding leaping off the top with a breathtaking
backflip, and CRASHES down across Jenner's chest with a picture-perfect
moonsault!]

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

BW:  It's over, Gordo!

GM:  Is it?

[Nenshou doesn't even attempt a cover off the moonsault, instead
slapping the waiting hand of Anton Layton who steps in, hops up to the
middle rope, points a finger at Brian Von Braun, and leaps off...

...pulling his legs up, and DRIVING them down into the midsection of
Hugh Jenner with a brutal double stomp off the middle rope!]

GM:  Good grief!

[Layton bounces off Jenner...

...and sprints across the ring to knock the Stud off the apron with a
running forearm as Nenshou applies a lateral press.  The referee shows
mercy for Jenner and makes the count with an illegal man covering him
for the easy three.]

GM:  Thank the stars that's over, fans.  A legal mugging is what we just
witnessed.

BW:  What we witnessed, Gordo, was a message to that man right there!

[Brian Von Braun continues to look on, nodding his head at the three men
taunting him from inside the ring...

...and then James Monosso joins the group, stalking towards the downed
Hugh Jenner.]

GM:  No, no, no!  Get Monosso out of there!

[Without a thought, Monosso leaps high into the air and drops the King
Kong kneedrop into the chest of Jenner!  Jenner's entire body convulses
from the blow as Monosso continues to kneel on the chest, pressing his
near three hundred pounds down on the sternum.  The official screams at
Monosso, trying to get him off the downed man...

...and suddenly, Brian Von Braun produces his cane, ready to take the
fight to the men in the ring.]

GM:  Is he crazy?!

BW:  Yes.

GM:  Von Braun's heading for the ring and-

[Monosso peels off Jenner at a bark from Childes and joins Layton and
Nenshou in awaiting Von Braun...

...who pulls up short as the official gets Jenner to the relative safety
of the floor!]

GM:  Maybe he's not so crazy after all, Bucky.  He helped distract them
long enough to get Hugh Jenner out of the ring but...

BW:  Uh oh!

[The crowd begins to buzz as the massive masked man known as Polemos
comes striding out of the locker room, approaching the backing up Von
Braun who is still using his cane to threaten the Unholy Alliance...]

GM:  Look out, Brian!  Look out for-

BW:  The God of War?

GM:  I can't believe they even-

[Suddenly, Von Braun runs out of real estate.  He turns quickly, cane at
the ready...

...but Polemos wraps his hand around the Invader's throat, forcing him
to drop the cane!]

GM:  Polemos has got Von Braun!  This gigantic masked beast has got Von
Braun by the throat!

[Inside the ring, Anton Layton cackles with evil glee before shouting
instructions to his mammoth ally.]

GM:  He's gonna chokeslam him on the ramp!

BW:  Or is he gonna chokeslam him on the FLOOR?!

GM:  Oh no!  He can't do that, Bucky!  He can't do that!

[But Polemos edges Von Braun closer to where the ramp ends, looking to
do exactly that!]

GM:  He'll kill him!  He'll kill the man!

BW:  You think the Prince of Darkness cares?!

GM:  Anton Layton is a sick man!  Percy Childes and Nenshou are sick
men!  But even they can't- NO!

[Polemos lifts Von Braun into the air...

...when suddenly Robert Donovan, a seven footer in his own rights, comes
tearing from the locker room!]

GM:  DONOVAN!!  DONOVAN!!

[Donovan comes fast down the ramp and DRILLS Polemos with a heavy
forearm to the back of the neck, forcing him to drop Von Braun safe onto
the wooden ramp.]

GM:  Robert Donovan just saved Brian Von Braun!  He saved the Invader!

[And as Polemos slowly turns, he cocks his head, appraising the
approaching Donovan...]

GM:  We've got two seven footers eye to eye out on the ramp!  What in
the world is gonna happen here?

[We may never know as the floodgates open with a sea of AWA officials
and enhancement talent hitting the ramp, pushing themselves between the
two physically impressive giants.]

BW:  Oh, come on!  Let 'em fight!

GM:  We've got security out here!  We've got AWA officials!  We've got
some of the guys from the locker room!  They're all trying to regain
control of this situation but... my stars, Robert Donovan just saved
Brian Von Braun from the violent hands of Polemos, fans!  Who would have
thought we'd see that here tonight?

BW:  Donovan may have just made the biggest mistake of his life, Gordo. 
He thinks he's faced big, dangerous, violent men before who wanted to
end his career?  He's never faced the Unholy Alliance before!

GM:  Fans, we need to get some control out here!  We'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Polemos and Robert Donovan in a massive staredown
over a sea of people as we fade to black...

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

And we fade back up to the interview platform where Jason Dane is
standing alongside Chock Full and the Chairman of the Championship
Committee, "Big" Jim Watkins.]

JD:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans, where it's Awards
Night here on WKIK!  And without anything further, Mr. Full... the next
batch of awards if you please...

[Chock Full produces two awards, one in each arm, as Dane extends the
mic to him.]

CF:  Thanks, Jason... and the next two awards we have here tonight will
be going to the AWA itself!

[Big cheer!]

CF:  This one here is for the best regular show of the year... of
course, going to Saturday Night Wrestling.

[Another cheer!]

CF:  And this one is for the best Event of the Year... going to
SuperClash II!

[Big cheer!]

JD:  Here to accept these awards on behalf of the American Wrestling
Alliance is Jim Watkins.  Jim?

[Watkins steps forward, grinning as he shakes the hand of Chock Full and
takes the two plaques from him.]

JW:  Thank you, Mr. Full... and thanks to all you great fans out there
who helped us get to this spot.  2010 was a heck of a year for us...
some would say our best year ever... but I think 2011's gonna be one
heck of a ride as well.  And to say thank ya to all you fans out
there... and to all those wrestlers in the back... that helped us win
these two awards, I've got a special treat in store for The Main Event.

It's March, Jason... and that means Memorial Day Mayhem is just around
the corner.

[BIG CHEER!  Watkins grins.]

JW:  And more importantly, it means that the annual Memorial Day Rumble
is just around the corner as well!

[Another big cheer!]

JW:  So, as a thank you gift to all of our fans and all of the boys in
the locker room, the Championship Committee has signed an open
invitational Battle Royal for two weeks from tonight!  And to the
winner?  The #30 spot in the Rumble!

[BIG CHEER!]

JD:  Open invitational?  Anyone can join it?

[Watkins gets serious for a moment.]

JW:  Anyone EXCEPT Jack Holland.  Effectively immediately, Jack Holland
is suspended for two weeks... just enough to shelve him for The Main
Event.  He can be in the building that night but I don't wanna see him
wrestle, Jason.

JD:  Perfectly understandable.  So, another big announcement here
tonight about The Main Event... and Mr. Full, I understand you have a
couple more awards to present right now...

[Full steps back into view with two plaques in hand.]

CF: Thank you, Mr. Dane. It is with great pleasure that I award these
plaques to the man that the fans on Just The Facts have voted as the
Most Popular Wrestler of the Year and the man who was also the victor in
the Feud of the Year...your National Champion...Juan Vasquez!

[The crowd goes wild as Juan Vasquez appears on the scene. He's dressed
in his usual white-and-black tracksuit warm-ups, with the front
partially unzipped to reveal an old school "Ego MAX" t-shirt underneath.
He cradles the AWA National title in his left arm, extending his right
arm and shaking Chock Full's hand.]

CF: Mr. Vasquez, it's my pleasure to present you with the plaques for
Most Popular Wrestler and Feud of the Year!

[Juan accepts the two plaques, but it appears he had his hands full.
Jason Dane lends him a hand, holding the microphone up to his mouth.]

JV: Man...this is a lot of hardware.

[He chuckles and sets the plaques down.]

JV: Well...where do I even begin? Thank you to all the fans out there
that took the time to vote for me...none of this would've been possible
without your support!

[Pop!]

JV: And lemme just say right now that this award for Feud of the Year
doesn't just belong to me. It belongs to every last one of the boys in
the back that stood by my side all throughout the last year against the
Southern Syndicate! Even if some of you aren't here in the AWA anymore,
we're not just gonna' forget what you did! I'm talkin' about guys like
Sweet Daddy Williams [Pop!] The Keenings! [Pop!] Todd Michaelson! [Pop!]
Marcus Broussard! [Pop!] Ron Houston! [Pop!] Kolya Sudakov! [Pop!] Soup
Bone Samson! [Pop!] Tin Can Rust! [Pop!] Adam Rogers! [Pop!] Raph-...

[Juan is about to rattle off a few more names, but cuts himself off,
before smiling and shaking his head.]

JV: Well...I could go on, but we'll probably be here all night if I did.
Seriously though...this was only possible because of you guys. Thank you
for standing by this crazy fool's side. We did it, guys! We finally got
rid of those bas-

[Suddenly, the opening riffs of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" reverberate
off of the Crockett Coliseum walls as the crowd immediately begins to
boo.  Vasquez turns his head in annoyance as from the entrance portal
emerges "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne, still dressed in his tuxedo from
earlier in the evening.  He looks none too happy as he approaches the
group in the interview area.  Jason Dane is the first to speak.]

JD: Now, Calisto Dufresne, you already had your chan-

[He's cut off as Dufresne snatches the microphone from his hand, eyes
locked on the champion.  Or perhaps more specifically, the National
Title.]

CD: Shut up, Dane.

[Dufresne steps closer to Vasquez, who doesn't look the least bit
concerned.]

CD: Juan, Juan, Juan.  It's been a while since you and I have run into
each other.  If the fact that thanks to some clerical error you're out
here accepting _my_ award for Most Popular Wrestler award isn't enough,
you're out here accepting an award for the supposed _destruction_ of the
Southern Syndicate.

[Big pop from the Dallas faithful as Dufresne shakes his head with
disdain.]

CD: Well, my friend, while you might have removed the spines of men like
Brian Von Braun and Raphael Rhodes...While you may have found a way to
rid yourself of lesser men like Stevie Scott and Adrian Freeman...While
you may have outsmarted men like Ben Waterson - which is like saying you
won a game of Marco Polo against Helen Keller...

[Dufresne steps closer to Vasquez who still doesn't look worried.]

CD: ...I'm here to remind you that you haven't gotten rid of all of us.
The pillar of that group still stands strong.

[Dufresne smirks a bit.]

CD: And while I'm not happy about you walking out of here with my award,
I can let that go. But there's something else of mine that you happen to
be holding.

[Dufresne's eyes flicker to the National Title.]

CD: And _that_ I'm not going to stand for.

[Juan is stonefaced, before holding out his hand to Dufresne, motioning
for the microphone. Dufresne looks at Dane, who shrugs his shoulders,
before Dufresne reluctantly slaps it into the champ's hand. Juan slowly
brings the microphone to his lips, as a dangerous-looking smile forms on
his face.]

JV: I might've heard you wrong, but was that...a challenge?

[The fans roar, as they seem to sense where Juan is going with this.]

JV: Because if you've got a problem with me holding the National
title...if you wanna' carry the flag of the Southern Syndicate one last
time...if you wanna' give me the opportunity to rid the wrestling world
of your sorry two-bit operation once and for all...I guarantee you that
tonight'll be the last we'll ever hear about Calisto Dufresne or The
Southern Syndicate, ever again.

[The crowd pops as Juan points to the wrestling ring.]

JV: You wanna' step into that ring with me? Then by all means, go ahead
and cash in on that title shot right now, amigo.

[And with that, Juan tosses the microphone back to Dufresne as the crowd
explodes at the thought of their champion giving Dufresne his just
desserts. Dufresne however, doesn't answer immediately, as storm clouds
come together on his brow and his fists clench. But after a few tense
moments, he smirks and steps back away from the champion.]

CD: Soon, Juan. Soon. I've got a fat redneck to dispose of first. But
don't forget, _champ_...

[Another hard look at the National Title.]

CD: Anytime. Anywhere. I'd suggest that you learn a lesson that I've
been forced to teach once before:

[A nod, a wink and a smile.]

CD: How to sleep with one eye open.

[And on that note, Dufresne turns on his heel and walks back through the
entrance portal leaving Vasquez with his hands on his hips, shaking his
head at his retreating rival.]

JD:  Well, that certainly got interesting.

[Dane looks for comments from someone... gets none... and shrugs.]

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

[Crossfade to the ring where Phil Watson is standing.]

PW:  The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit and is an OPEN CHALLENGE!

[Pro-Pain's "One Man Army" suddenly starts up, and Robert Donovan
emerges from the back, his long stride carrying him down the aisle
pretty quickly.  He's dressed to fight -- fists taped, black jeans,
black boots, blood-red double-strapped singlet.]

PW:  Introducing first... weighing in at 345 pounds... from Pensacola,
Florida...

ROOOOOOBERRRRT DONNNNNNOVAN!

[Reaching the ring, Donovan steps over the top rope, quickly striding
over and gesturing for a microphone.  Once he has it, he walks over to a
corner of the ring and leans against it, staring down at the entrance
ramp.]

RD:  Most of y'all probably figure I talked enough last week...

[Donovan chuckles briefly.]

RD:  ...An' I happen to agree with ya.  This ain't a night for talkin',
so I'll say what I gotta say quick.  Lot of times, open challenges tend
to go real bad for the person who makes 'em -- somebody decides it's a
good way to make a return after a long absence, or maybe a debut, or you
get some young pup lookin' to make a name for himself and he comes out
full of vinegar, and next thing you know, you're on your back lookin' up
at the lights.

[Donovan's eyes narrow, and he steps out of the corner.]

RD:  That said, I issued an open challenge, and I don't care who decides
to sign that dotted line.  Whoever it is, whatever their cause, just
lemme say this...

This ain't the night.  You've been warned.

[Donovan throws the mic back out to the ring attendant and stands in the
center of the ring, clenching and unclenching his fists in
anticipation.]

GM:  Who's it gonna be, Bucky?

BW:  Not a lot of guys in the back looking to tangle with a seven foot,
345 pound monster who used to call himself the God of the Deathmatch,
I'd wager.

GM:  Donovan's pacing back and forth, watching... waiting...

[When suddenly... the lights go out!]

GM:  What the... what's going on here?

BW:  The lights are out in the Crockett Coliseum, daddy!  I can't see a
thing!

[In the midst of blasting flash-bulbs, we hear the horrific screaming
that usually means the arrival of one man...

...but as the lights come up, we see this time it means two.  Anton
Layton who is standing on the entrance ramp, screaming, shouting, and
carrying on towards Robert Donovan whose eyes are locked on him and then
there's...]

GM:  POLEMOS!  POLEMOS IS IN THE RING!!

BW:  Donovan doesn't see him!  

GM:  Layton's distracting Donovan but Polemos is right behind him!

[He certainly is.  All seven feet of his masked monstrous self, standing
silent.  He tugs at one of the long black gloves on his hands,
waiting...

...and wrapping that hand around the throat of Robert Donovan as the big
man turns around!]

GM:  Choke!  Polemos has got Donovan by the throat!

[Outside the ring, a cackling Von Braun cheers his monster on as he
squeezes the throat of Donovan, ripping oxygen from his body as the big
man struggles against his equally-big attacker...

...when suddenly the crowd bursts into cheers!]

GM:  VON BRAUN!  VON BRAUN!!

[The Invader sprints down the aisle, steel-topped cane in hand...

...and WHAPS Layton across the lower back with it, knocking the Prince
of Darkness down to his knees as Von Braun slips into the ring, winds up
as far back as he can...]

GM:  Do it, Brian!  Do it!


"CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"


[A full-forced swing comes crashing down across the wide back of
Polemos.  Polemos instantly breaks the chokehold, throwing Donovan
backwards into the buckles...

...and slowly turns to face Brian Von Braun who is now clutching the
smaller half of a broken wooden cane!]

GM:  He broke it!  He broke the cane across the back of Polemos!

BW:  But the monster didn't feel it!  This guy ain't human, Gordo!  He
really is a God of War!

[Polemos tilts his head, appraising Von Braun who tosses the splintered
cane aside, balling up his fists and waving the big man towards him.]

GM:  Von Braun wants the giant!  He wants to throw down with the giant!

BW:  Is he crazy?!

GM:  Perhaps he is!  The giant is coming for Brian Von Braun!

[A slow right hand comes up empty as Von Braun easily avoids it, quickly
turning to throw hooking rights and lefts to the midsection of the
masked monster.]

GM:  Von Braun's lighting up Polemos with those punches!

BW:  I can't believe what I'm seeing here!

GM:  Polemos is-

[The crowd reacts with shock as the monster absorbs the blows, reaching
out to grab Von Braun around the throat!]

GM:  For the second time tonight, Polemos has got Von Braun by the
throat!  For the second time tonight, the monster is getting ready to-

[Charging forward, Donovan throws a massive big boot under the chin of
Polemos, sending him falling backwards where he staggers over the
ropes...

...and lands on his feet at ringside, glaring up at the big man and the
Invader who stand united against him!]

GM:  Donovan saved Von Braun again!  For the second time tonight,
Donovan saved Brian Von Braun from the grasp of Polemos!  And those two
stand tall in the ring as... look at Layton!  Layton wants no part of
this... he's trying to get Polemos out of here!

BW:  But Polemos wants more!  Polemos wants to get back in there with
TWO guys!  This guy is... he's a God of War!

GM:  Stop saying that!  Bucky, what are we seeing?  Is Brian Von Braun
no longer alone in his battle with the Unholy Alliance?!

BW:  It looks that way, Gordo.  And if I needed an ally against those
crazy nutballs, I'd sure like to have a seven foot deathmatch God on my
side, daddy!

GM:  Me too!  Fans, we are just moments away from the first half of our
Double Main Event here tonight with Juan Vasquez, the AWA National
Champion, taking on "Playboy" Johnny Casanova.  But before we do that, I
understand we've got some more awards to give out... on the set of the
Money Pit!  Todd Michaelson, take it away!

[The O'Jays' "For the Love of Money" blasts through the Crockett
Coliseum and all heads turn to the section of the interview area that is
now set up for The Money Pit.  A deep voice cuts over the top of the
classic track...]

"Ladies and gentlemen...

TODD MICHAELSON!"

[The camera cuts to a "set" made of wooden walls that are painted and
dressed to be a mockup of a bank vault.  There are also various stacks
of (presumably) fake money and bags of money all over the ground.  
Picture what you've always imagined Scrooge McDuck's vault to look like
and you've got a great mental image.  Sitting in the middle of it on a
wooden stool, Todd Michaelson is dressed to the nines, a smile plastered
across his face.]

TM: Welcome to The Money Pit!

[Big cheer from the Dallas faithful.]

TM:  Now, we've got a few special guests tonight.  First, as you all
know, tonight is Awards Night here in the Crockett Coliseum!

[Big cheer!]

TM:  We've had our friend from Just The Facts!, Chock Full, here all
night to present some hardware to the AWA's finest and now I understand
that we've got a couple more to give out.  So, Mr. Full... as you
please...

[Chock Full strides onto the set, two awards in hand.  He shakes Todd's
hand before leaning over the mic.]

CF:  Thanks, Todd.  I've got two more awards to give out right now.  The
first one... I don't think it comes as any surprise since he spoiled it
for the world two weeks ago...

[Full looks slightly annoyed.]

CF:  But you have to respect the man who for the third time is taking
home this plaque.  Ladies and gentlemen, the three-time winner of
Announcer Of The Year...
Bucky Wilde!

[The crowd erupts in mixed reaction as Bucky Wilde walks onto the set of
the Money Pit, seemingly intentionally kicking over a "money bag" on the
floor as he grabs the award...

...and the mic.]

BW:  I just want to take a moment to thank the one person without which
this wouldn't be possible...

[Dramatic pause.]

BW:  Me!

[The crowd boos this one!]

BW:  'Cause let's face it... an award like this can only be earned by
the man himself... and I've had no help in becoming the superstar that I
am today.  It's no thanks to you people... it's no thanks to the AWA
front office... it's certainly no thanks to that ungrateful co-host of
mine, Gordon Myers.  This award is all mine!  Mine!  Mine!  Mine!

[Bucky clutches the award to his chest as Chock Full starts to
continue.]

CF:  Okay... congrats, Bucky.  Now, for the next award of the nigh-

[Bucky interrupts.]

BW:  Hang on there, cowboy.  I wasn't finished.

CF:  I'm sorry.

BW:  You certainly are.  You see, as much as I want to thank myself for
winning this thing... I also think I might owe a little bit of it to the
fans.

[Big cheer!  Bucky nods.]

BW:  I mean, you guys all voted and such... so I owe ya a little
something I think.  And I plan to deliver that little something at The
Main Event.

[The crowd begins to buzz.]

BW:  I know how hard it's been for the past month or so for your people
to have to sit there at home on your couches, turning to Saturday Night
Wrestling to see me entertain as only I can...

...and be subjected to this!

[Wilde gestures at Todd Michaelson and the Money Pit.]

BW:  The Money Pit.  Some worthless, classless, talentless hack trying
to rip off Bucky Wilde... that's what I call this joint.  And I know you
people feel the same way!

[From the jeers of the crowd, I'd guess they don't.]

BW:  So, I'm going to make it up to you in two weeks 'cause at The Main
Event... that's right, daddy.. it's back.  It's going to be a very
special episode of The Call Of The Wilde!

[A pretty decent-sized cheer!]

BW:  And you know when Bucky promises something special, it's gonna be
big!  This one's huge, people!  Huge!  After you watch the Call of the
Wilde on The Main Event, you'll never want to watch Michaelson's swill
show ever again... you got me, Todd?

[Wilde points a finger at Michaelson.]

BW:  You want to take my show?  You want to rip me off?  You're playin'
with the big boys now and I intend to show you who rules the damn roost
around here.  In two weeks, consider yourself cancelled!

[Wilde turns away, storming off the set of the Money Pit as Chock Full
picks up the fallen mic.]

CF:  Umm... well, I do have another award to give out.

[Michaelson is glaring at the retreating Wilde as Full continues.]

CF:  This award, Mr. Michaelson, goes to the ENTIRE AWA - the wrestlers,
the announcers, the referees, the front office, the fans, everyone
involved with this company... as it is for the Promotion of the Year! 
The AWA is your 2010 Promotion Of The Year!  Let's hear it, fans!

[A really big cheer goes up as a grinning Michaelson takes the award,
nodding his head to Chock Full as he shakes his hand.]

TM:  On behalf of everyone you mentioned... and more... I proudly accept
this award and I hope that we here at the AWA can continue to bring you
the very best action in the world... and I hope we're right back here
next year to accept this same award again!

[Another big cheer!]

TM:  Mr. Full will be back later tonight for one more award but for us,
it's time to kick things up a notch here on The Money Pit with our
special guests for tonight... it's been a huge night here for us tonight
on Saturday Night Wrestling as we continue to get ready for The Main
Event.  And during that show, we're going to have a gigantic co-Main
Event... a match that will see the settlement of a rivalry that's been
going on the better part of the past seven years.  City Jack.  Calisto
Dufresne.  And a steel cage!

[Thunderous pop!]

TM: Tonight though, we're going to see these two men come nose to nose
one last time before they go blow for blow in two weeks.  So, without
further ado, let's bring them out here.  First off, City Jack!

[As Chet Atkins' version of "Classical Gas" plays, the crowd lets out a
huge cheer for the beleaguered City Jack. The Liberty native - dressed
in a pair of jeans, a black "Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death" t-shirt,
and work boots - walks down the aisle with only a bit of acknowledgement
to the supportive people. Noticeable, of course, is the eye patch on
Jack's affected eye and the bat he carries in his hand. Once up the
steel steps, Jack looks on the crowd for a moment with not a sign of
happiness or joy that we all knew of him.]

TM: Welcome, City Jack to the Money Pit!

[City Jack merely gives Todd a curt nod as Jack locks his vision on the
entrance portal.]

TM: Alright then.  Let's not waste anymore time with pleasantries.  The
man who I hope gets destroyed by City Jack inside that cage...
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne!

[ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" comes across the loudspeakers yet again
tonight as Calisto Dufresne struts out into view, clad in his black
tuxedo.  He eyes Jack warily before approaching The Money Pit area,
receiving glares from both Jack and Michaelson.]

TM: Let's get right down to business.  Calisto, two weeks ago you sent a
postcard to Bucky Wilde saying that you were out of the country and
weren't going to be anywhere near Dallas for The Main Event and your
date with this man right next to me.  What changed things?

CD: Simple, Todd.  I realized how much my adoring fans wanted me to
finish the job I started a year ago.  I've got tons of letters that
people wrote explaining how much me standing up for myself against this
slob meant to them.  They waxed poetic about the audacity of City Jack
not being willing to admit I'm the better man and forcing my hand.  I
couldn't let those people down.  

[A collective groan from the Dallas faithful.]

CD: So I left millions on the table in business deals to come back and
finish this once and for all.  Not because of any ego on my part or
because of some ultimatum from Jim Watkins and his cronies.  But because
it was the right thing to do.  And as we all know, that is of paramount
importance to Calisto Dufresne.

[Michaelson almost laughs at that.]

TM: So how do you plan on surviving this match?  This man...

[Michaelson waves a hand towards City Jack, who continues to stare into
Dufresne.]

TM:...is almost rabid in his desire to wrap his hands around your throat
and you're going to be encased in steel with nowhere to go.

[Dufresne turns towards City Jack.]

CD: Look at him, Todd.  The shape he's in is embarrassing.  Even if he
had two good eyes, when was the last time he saw his feet?  Calisto
Dufresne is in peak physical condition.  

[Dufresne looks himself up and down, then glares at City Jack with a
look of disgust.]

CD: You used the word 'rabid'.  I think that's a fitting adjective for
ole' Jack.  He's a rabid dog that needs to be put down in the worst way.
 And in two weeks time, the Ladykiller is going to be the one with the
.45 in hand and that steel cage is going to be the woodshed behind which
that dog gets _buried._

[City Jack continues to stare stoically at Dufresne, a blank and yet
somehow dangerous look on his face.]

TM: Seven years in the making, coming to a culmination in fourteen days.
 Is there anything you want to say to Jack?

[Dufresne nods as he walks towards City Jack, coming nose to nose with
his hated rival, who doesn't back away or react at all.]

CD: Jack, in two weeks time, it's all going to be over.  And it's going
to hurt me more than it is you to end your worthless career.  I've grown
somewhat fond of watching you learn braille, changing out your eye patch
and stumbling around aimlessly when Tin Can Rust isn't around to lead
you from point A to point B.

But I'm _tired_...

[Dufresne jabs a finger into the chest of Jack.]

CD: ...of you riding my coattails.  I'm _tired_...

[Again.]

CD: ...of you standing in the way of my ascendance to the top of this
industry.  And I'm _tired_...

[And again, this time more forcefully.]

CD: ...of seeing you walk around upright.  And at The Main Event, I'm
going to bring all of that to an end.  And I'm going to bring _you_ to
an end in the process.

[Heel pop from the crowd as Dufresne continues to stare at Jack, hoping
to set the Kentucky native off.  Michaelson looks at Jack, who has been
silent this entire time.]

TM: What do you say to that, Jack?

[Jack remains silent, breathing heavily as he looks on with a controlled
anger just waiting to go unbottled.]

CJ: All my time, I never had to see this before. I never wanted to go
here, but you? Cal-is-to Du-fresne, you? 

[Jack pauses, keep his eye on his tormentor.]

CJ: At The Main Event... I'm gonna make you beg! I'm gonna make you cry
for death!

[Huge pop from the Dallas crowd!  Dufresne's Adam's apple bobs up and
down as he takes a big gulp.  He backs away from City Jack slowly, who
continues to stare a hole through the Ladykiller.]

TM: The time for talk is over according to City Jack!  All that's left
is to settle the score in two weeks!

[The camera focuses once more on the looks on the two men's faces as we
fade to commercial.

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

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

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

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

JD:  Hello, Mr. iPhone.

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

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

JD:  Well, actually I did.

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

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

[Thankfully, a voiceover starts.]

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

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back to live action where Phil Watson is inside the ring.]

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

[Robert Palmer's "Addicted To Love" starts up to a big negative reaction
from the AWA crowd.]

PW:  Being accompanied to the ring by his main squeeze, Big Mama... he
weighs in tonight at a self-proclaimed 222 pounds... currently residing
at his winter home in Fort Lauderdale, Florida...

"PLAAAAAYBOY" JOHNNY CAAAAASAAAANOOOOVAAA!

[The music picks up as Casanova struts through the curtain, clad in a
pair of powder blue trunks with a feather boa to match.  On his arm is
Big Mama as they make their way down the elevated ramp towards the ring.
 Casanova pauses a few steps down the ramp and does a hip swivel in the
direction of the crowd to draw more jeers.]

GM:  One of the AWA superstars that I find very EASY to dislike, Bucky. 
This man is just not a nice guy.

BW:  Are you serious, Gordo?  He's not a nice guy?  That's your problem
with him?  Who cares if he's a nice guy?  He's got the shot of a
lifetime here to knock off the AWA National Champion!

GM:  That he does.  But can he do it?  We're about to find out.

[The music fades and is replaced by the sounds of "They Reminisce Over
You" by Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth as it begins to play over the PA
system.]

PW:  And his opponent... he hails from Los Angeles, California...
weighing in at 238 pounds... he is the AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

JUUUUUAAAAAAAANNNNNN VAAASSSSSSQQQUUUUEEEZZZZ!!!!

[Vasquez bursts through the curtain to a huge roar from the AWA crowd! 
He's clad in his usual tracksuit style attire, jogging down the aisle as
he leans over and slaps the hands of the ringside fans.]

GM:  There he is, Bucky, the AWA National Champion!

BW:  For two more weeks.

GM:  That remains to be seen.  But tonight, the title is not on the
line.  This is a non-title showdown but there's so much at stake.  We're
talking about momentum for Juan Vasquez.  We're talking about Vasquez
trying to avoid injury.  And you can bet there'll be a nice bonus in
this from Louis Matsui if Casanova can injure the champ here tonight.

[Vasquez tears off the tracksuit, stepping through the ropes...

...where Casanova rushes forward, kicking the middle rope up into the
groin of Juan Vasquez!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  Oh, come on!  That's it right there.  Casanova just blew his chance
on a cheapshot and he'll be disqualified for it!

BW:  The heck he will!  The bell hadn't rang yet!

[The referee leaps up in the face of Johnny Casanova, screaming at the
veteran who is all grins as he backs off, holding his hands back and
shaking his head.]

GM:  I think... I think you're right, Bucky!  The referee looks
frustrated but... I think he has to start this match with Vasquez at a
SERIOUS disadvantage!

[As the referee turns to talk to the timekeeper, Johnny Casanova rushes
past him to bury a kick into the ribcage of Vasquez, forcing him to roll
under the ropes onto the ramp.]

GM:  Casanova's on the attack!

[Stepping out to the entrance ramp, Casanova delivers a series of big
stomps to the upper body before leaning down to drag the National
Champion up to his feet.]

GM:  The Playboy drags him up...

[A big knife-edge chop blasts across the chest of the champion, sending
him falling back against the ropes.  The Playboy moves in, winding up,
and popping him across the chest again!]

GM:  Two big chops to the chest... big, heavy chops...

[Casanova drags him into a side headlock, balling up his fist to slam it
into the skull.]

GM:  The referee STILL hasn't called for the bell in this one...

[With Vasquez leaning against the ropes, Casanova uncorks a standing
clothesline that takes the champion over the ropes back into the ring. 
Out on the floor, Big Mama shouts her encouragement as the Playboy steps
through the ropes, shouting at the referee who reluctantly calls for the
bell.]

GM:  This one's officially underway and-

[Casanova balls up his fist, holding it high in the air...

...and drops down, burying the clenched fist into the skull of the
champion!]

GM:  Fistdrop!

BW:  And a beauty, daddy!

GM:  Juan Vasquez has been at a disadvantage in this one since the first
moment where Casanova kicked the middle rope into his groin.  How could
the referee ring the bell on this one to start it while Vasquez is still
down from the low blow?  This is ridiculous!

BW:  Marty Meekly knew this match had to get started and he made a
decision.  You gonna rip him for it?

GM:  I just think it's a bad decision, Bucky.  That's all.

[Casanova drags the champion to his feet, hooking a side headlock and
dragging him to the ropes where he slips Vasquez' throat over the top
rope, switching his grip to pull down on the back of the neck!]

GM:  He's choking him!  He's using the top rope to choke the champion!

[The referee's count hits four before Casanova breaks it.  He grabs the
top rope, tugging on it to snap Vasquez back down to the canvas.  A
smirking Casanova ignores the official as he approaches the downed
Vasquez and drops a big elbow across the chest!]

GM:  Big elbow drop!  310 pounds down across the chest!

BW:  He's 205 if he's an ounce, daddy!

GM:  He lies and you swear to it!

[Casanova climbs back to his feet, lifting his arm to drop another big
elbow across the chest.]

GM:  A second big elbow connects... and Casanova's going for more...

[The Playboy swings his right arm around and round and round...

...and drops another big elbow down across the chest.  He rolls to the
side, applying a lateral press.]

GM:  Cover for one!  For two!  

[The crowd cheers as Vasquez gets the shoulder up at two.]

GM:  Just a two count there.  The National Champion's not going down for
three off an elbow drop.

BW:  Depends who's droppin' it, daddy.  If it's the giant in two weeks,
Vasquez might not be able to get out from under that.  

GM:  You really think Juan Vasquez can't beat the giant?

BW:  I really don't, Gordo.  And I think you're foolin' yourself if you
do.  We're going to have a new National Champion in fourteen days...
bank on it.

GM:  The entire world will find out in fourteen days.

[Casanova kneels down, dragging Vasquez' head slightly off the mat,
battering his skull with right hands...

...and then SLAMS the back of his head into the canvas!]

GM:  Ohh!  He drives his head into the mat!

[Casanova throws himself into another press, reaching back for a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  But again, Vasquez is out at two.

[The Playboy pushes up off the mat, climbing to his feet.  He glares
down at Vasquez for a few moments, hands on his hips...

...and buries a boot into the ribcage!]

GM:  Casanova's really working him over.  He's really taking advantage
of that quick start off the low blow, Bucky.

BW:  As he should!  He's got Vasquez down and down hard.  This is his
chance to pin the AWA National Champion.  Do you know what that means,
Gordo?  Do you even understand what it means to beat the top guy, the
top dog, the National Champion?  Johnny Casanova could MAKE his AWA
career here tonight!

[Casanova leans over to drag Vasquez off the mat, hurling him into the
nearest set of buckles and catching him under the chin with a back elbow
on the rebound.]

GM:  He takes him off his feet again!  

[Big Mama slams her hands into the apron, shouting encouragement to
Casanova who nods his head, pointing at her with a "This one's for you,
baby!" as he strides towards the corner.]

GM:  Casanova backs to the corner...

["Playboy" Johnny C pushes himself up onto the middle rope, standing
tall for a moment as the National Champion starts to get back off the
mat, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs...]

GM:  Casanova's on the middle rope... Johnny C's gonna fly!

[And as the veteran leaps off the second rope with an overhead elbow
aimed at the skull of his opponent...

...and gets POPPED in the jaw with a right hand from Vasquez that
buckles the knees of Casanova!]

GM:  Ohh!  He got caught!  The champion caught him on the jaw!

[With Casanova on his knees, Vasquez dashes to the ropes, rebounding
off...

...and BURYING both feet into the face of the kneeling Playboy with a
dropkick to the face!]

GM:  OHHHH!  HE KNOCKS CASANOVA FLAT!!

[Sensing the tide turning, Casanova rolls under the ropes to the
floor...

...but Vasquez isn't done with him, grabbing the top rope, and
slingshotting himself over the ropes onto the stunned Casanova!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHH!  JUAN VASQUEZ IS ON FIRE!!

[The National Champion pops up to his feet, throwing up a clenched fist
to the cheers of the fans as the fired-up National Champion looks down
at the floored Casanova.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is putting together a rally, Bucky... he's getting a
second wind!

BW:  And Vasquez' offense is just too explosive.  Casanova needs to stop
him or at least slow him down.  He can't take blow after blow from
Vasquez because he'll just wear you out.

[Reaching down, Vasquez hauls the Playboy off the floor, hurling him
under the ropes into the ring...

...and heads for the high rent district!]

GM:  Are you kidding me?  Juan Vasquez is heading up top!

BW:  He wants to end this one right now, Gordo.  He doesn't want to stay
out here and risk an injury or something.

GM:  Vasquez to the second rope and- get her down from there!

[The crowd jeers as Big Mama hops up on the apron, shaking her ample
assets in the direction of Marty Meekly who tries to get her down off
the apron.]

GM:  Vasquez is shouting at her too!  He's trying to get her down off
the apron!  He knows this is a dangerous situa-

[Seizing the opportunity, Casanova rushes the corner and buries a
haymaker into the temple of the National Champion, causing him to slip
and straddle the top turnbuckle...

...which gives Casanova the chance to climb the ropes himself.]

GM:  Wait a second here... Casanova's heading to the top... 

[Up on the middle rope, Casanova hooks a front facelock on the champ,
slinging Vasquez' arm over the Playboy's neck.]

GM:  He's going for a superplex!  Casanova is going for a superplex!

[The National Champion ain't goin' out like that though, throwing a trio
of right hands into the ribcage of Casanova.]

GM:  He's fighting back!  

BW:  So is Johnny though!

[Casanova throws a big right hand that sends a loud "SMAAACK!"
throughout the building...

...but Vasquez fires back, grabbing the hair of the Playboy, and crowns
him with a headbutt that sends the Playboy falling flat on his back in
the middle of the ring!]

GM:  Down goes Casanova!  One of those trademark headbutts from the
champ and- he's up top!

[The crowd roars as Vasquez stands tall on the top rope, looking out
over the cheering crowd...

...and hurls himself off the top rope with a giant splash!]

GM:  SPLAAAAAAAAAS-


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED!!  CASANOVA ROLLED ASIDE AND VASQUEZ MISSED
THE SPLASH!

[Vasquez immediately clutches at his ribs, rolling to his back as a
dazed Casanova rolls to the ropes, using them to pull himself to a knee.
 Big Mama rushes to his side, shouting words of encouragement as the
Playboy leans against the ropes.]

GM:  Vasquez missed the splash but I don't think Casanova can take
advantage of it!  He got shaken up by that headbutt and the fall to the
mat.  Somehow he got out of the way of the splash... otherwise, I think
this one would be over.

BW:  There's no doubt about it to me, Gordo.  Johnny C just barely got
out of there and saved himself.

[Casanova drags himself to his feet using the ropes, sucking wind
heavily for a moment.  He stumbles forward, pulling the now-kneeling
Vasquez up to his feet into a front facelock...]

GM:  He's got Vasquez hooked... hold on now...

[The Playboy slowly turns him over, bracing Vasquez' neck against his
shoulder...

...and starts swiveling his hips around and round.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[Suddenly, Vasquez reaches back with both arms, dragging Casanova's
shoulders down to the mat.]

GM:  BACKSLIDE!  BACKSLIDE!!  

[The referee dives to the canvas, slapping the canvas.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Vasquez promptly bails out, rolling to the floor where he's visibly
wincing as he clutches his ribcage.]

PW:  Here is your winner...

JUAAAAAAAAAN VAAAAAAASSSQUEZ!

[The National Champion gingerly lifts an arm, still wincing as he does
so, and starts back up the aisle towards the back.]

BW:  Look at 'im, Gordo!  Look at 'im!

GM:  What?

BW:  The ribs!  Vasquez hurt the ribs!  Johnny Casanova may not have won
the match but he did exactly what he was supposed to do in the eyes of
Louis Matsui!  Matsui wanted a piece taken out of Vasquez and those ribs
got smashed!  Imagine what a giant can do to those ribs - heck, ask
Marcus Broussard what a giant can do to those ribs!

GM:  You may be right, Bucky.  Can we get our camera on...

[The camera follows Vasquez as he makes his way back up the ramp, his
right hand clutched to his ribcage.]

GM:  I think so.  I think you're right, Bucky.  Juan Vasquez is
certainly holding onto those ribs.  He's certainly suffering in pain as
he heads back up the ramp.  What does that mean?  What does that do to
Juan Vasquez as he heads into The Main Event?

BW:  If you're a betting man, put your money on the giant, daddy!

GM:  And speaking of the giant... fans, we're obviously over our usual
time slot but we've got one more match to go.  And WKIK wants that match
to start right now!  But before we kick things back over to Phil Watson,
let's take a look at some footage that our own Jason Dane got for us
earlier today.

[We crossfade to an interview stamped with "earlier today" on the bottom
right hand side.  Jason Dane sits with Raphael Rhodes, who is slowly
taping his wrist with white athletic tape.]

JD: Raphael Rhodes, you've asked for the man, and tonight... you get
MAMMOTH Mizusawa.

[Rhodes continues taping his wrists, not even looking at Dane.]

RR: Right.  Yeah, I do, don't I?  I get the man who cost me a title shot
about eight months ago.  I get the man who took advantage of me being in
a downed situation back at Steal the Spotlight.  I get the man who
nobody says can be beat.

[Rhodes scoffs.]

RR: See, Mizusawa, I ain't afraid of you, not a tiny bit.  I ain't
afraid of what your little lapdog Matsui says.  I ain't afraid of what
havoc you think you can wreak.  You and me, mate, we got a long and
windin' road of history.  And you think you're goin' to just stampede
through me like all the others, don't you?

[Rhodes finally looks up.]

RR: Ain't nobody takin' Vasquez's title but _me_.  And if you want it,
if you want that shot?  You're goin' to have to take me out.  I ain't
talkin' about just pinnin' me, Mizusawa.  You're goin' to have to break
me.  And if Vasquez couldn't do it?

[Rhodes tears the tape and slaps his fist.]

RR: There ain't nobody that can.

[We fade away from the focused Raphael Rhodes to the smiling face of
Phil Watson.]

PW:  This is your MAIN EVENT of the evening!

[BIG CHEER!]

PW:  It is set for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit. 
Introducing first...

["Irish Blood, English Heart" by Morrissey starts up to a big cheer from
the AWA faithful.]

PW:  From Wigan, Greater Manchester, England... weighing in at 201
pounds... he is...

RAAAAAAAAAPHAEL RHOOOOOOOODES!

[The cheers intensify as Rhodes strides into view.  His hair is shaved
close to the head.  He stops, staring out at the cheering fans.  With a
nod, Rhodes strides down the aisle with purpose, dripping with
intensity.  Sporting a set of blue full-length tights with matching
boots, Rhodes slips through the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes is not generally a man who plays around on his way
to the ring but there's something different about him tonight, Bucky - a
greater focus, a look of determination.

BW:  I haven't seen Rhodes look this focused since the cage match with
Vasquez, Gordo.  That's what we're seeing right now.  The same level of
intensity.

GM:  But will it be enough to fell the giant who has been on such a
tremendous roll for all these weeks and months?

[Rhodes backs into the corner, tugging at the ropes as the music changes
drastically to the opening sounds of "Battle Without Honor Or Humanity"
which can only mean the arrival of... well, two men.]

PW:  And his opponent...

[Louis Matsui emerges with a smirk from the entranceway. He is followed
closely by the scowling seven-footer, MAMMOTH Mizusawa, dressed in a
black singlet, black knee pads and a pair of black boots. Matsui points
with his thumb over his shoulders at Mizusawa, who raises both his arms
in the air. Both men start to
make their way down the aisle.]

PW: Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420 pounds and being
accompanied to the ring by LOUIS MATSUI, he is...

MAMMOTH MIIIIIZUUUUUUSAAAAAWAAAAAAA!!!

[As Matsui walks to the ring, he pays little attention to the fans
sitting on either side of the aisle, although he is still smirking.  The
towering Mizusawa, on the other hand, walks slowly behind his manager,
glaring at the crowd.

Reaching the ringside area, MAMMOTH Mizusawa steps over the ropes and
into the ring...

...where Raphael Rhodes charges him!]

GM:  Whoa!  Whoa!  Whoa!

[Rhodes immediately tears into Mizusawa with a series of kicks to the
side of the giant's knee as the referee calls for the bell.]

GM:  Michael Meekly says this one's underway!  Raphael Rhodes is wasting
no time in taking the fight to the giant.

BW:  And it ain't every day you see someone charge a seven footer.  You
know this guy's up for any kind of fight the big man can throw at him.

[With Rhodes kicking the leg and then battering the upper body with
forearms across the back, Mizusawa simply reaches out and shoves Rhodes
backwards, knocking him off-balance and down to the mat.]

GM:  The giant just treats him like a small child, shoving him away...

[But Rhodes gets right back up to his feet, charging back in, and
leaving his feet with a sliding kick to the side of the knee that seems
to hobble the giant a bit, causing him to fall back against the ropes.]

GM:  A well-placed kick by Rhodes and-

[Staying on his knees, Rhodes batters the side of the knee with rights
and lefts, punching the area around the knee repeatedly...

...but a giant (pun intended) overhead forearm smash from Mizusawa puts
a stop to the attack for the moment, knocking Rhodes down to the
canvas.]

GM:  And just like that... one well-placed forearm smash puts a tough,
tough competitor like Raphael Rhodes flat on his back...

[But as the giant leans over to grab him, Rhodes lashes out with his
legs, kicking at the left knee again.]

GM:  Rhodes is really going after the knee!

[With the giant straightening up with a wince, Rhodes crawls to wrap
himself around the leg.  He holds onto the leg with one arm while
continuing to batter it with the other...]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes knows if he can take the seven footer down, he'll
break down the size and take away a major advantage from the giant.  But
can he do it?  That's the question.

BW:  Matsui is screaming orders to his man.  He knows that if Rhodes is
able to do this, it'll go a long way to providing Juan Vasquez with a
strategy to use in fourteen days at The Main Event, Gordo.

GM:  You're absolutely right about that as well.

[The giant reaches down to grab Rhodes but the short hair avoids any
type of hair pull.  He swings his arm again, swatting at the pesky Brit
who clings to his leg, battering it with short right hands.]

GM:  I've never seen anyone attack a leg with the kind of determination
that Rapahel Rhodes is showing here.  He's literally hanging on to the
leg for dear life, staying close enough to avoid the offense of the big
man and- ohhh!  I spoke too soon!

[The crowd groans as an open hand catches Rhodes in the ear, sending him
sprawling back.]

GM:  That open-hand slap... taking a page out of Rhodes' own book,
Bucky.

BW:  We saw him break Adrian Freeman's jaw with that slap several weeks
ago and now it's the giant using it on him.  A taste of his own
medicine, I guess you can say.

GM:  Matsui's shouting at him, telling him to stay on Rhodes...

[But as the giant approaches, Rhodes rolls under the ropes to the
relative safety of the floor.  An angry giant kicks the ropes, pointing
a finger at Rhodes who paces around the ring, shaking his head back and
forth to clear the ringing in his ear.  Matsui keeps pace, trying to
stay away from Rhodes who hops up on the apron at the count of seven...]

GM:  Rhodes on the apron, the giant moving in...

[As Mizusawa draws near, Rhodes steps up on the bottom rope, throwing a
full-swinging right forearm that pops the giant on the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!  The 5 foot 9 inch Raphael Rhodes just caught
the seven footer square with that one!

BW:  Look at the size difference, Gordo.  Rhodes looks like a small
child compared to the giant!

[Reaching out, Rhodes grabs the giant by the back of the head, throwing
three more jaw-rattling forearms!]

GM:  Rhodes is fighting back!  He's standing on the bottom rope just
wailing away on the giant and-

[Grabbing Rhodes by the front of the tights, Mizusawa pulls hard,
yanking him over the ropes and sending him crashing onto his back on the
canvas.]

GM:  And just like that... such a simple move... but it drastically
changes the complexion of a match in the hands of the giant.  The slap
to the ear... the yank over the ropes... nothing fancy there.

[With Rhodes flat on his back, the giant simply steps up on his chest,
putting the entirety of his 420 pounds squarely on the chest of the
Wigan native...

...and then steps off as the crowd boos him loudly.]

GM:  The giant with no wasted motion.  Again, a very simple move but so,
so effective.

[Matsui shouts in Japanese to Mizusawa who nods, leaning over to grab
Rhodes by the arm, and hauling him up to his feet...

...where he nearly separates Rhodes' head from his body with a short-arm
clothesline!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  He yanked him brutally into that clothesline... and Rhodes is down
hard after that one, Gordo.

GM:  That's the kind of move that could turn someone's lights out in a
hurry.

[A sneering Mizusawa nods his head at the downed Rhodes as he backs up,
his back hitting the ropes, stalking forward...

...and leaping up, dropping all of his weight down in a legdrop across
the chest!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

BW:  That might do it, Gordo!

GM:  It certainly might.  Mizusawa spins into a cover...

[Michael Meekly hits the mat, ready to count.]

GM:  We've got one!  We've got two!  We've got-

[The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relief as Rhodes fires a
shoulder up.]

GM:  Two count!  Just a two count.  But that legdrop just took some
serious wind out of the sails of Raphael Rhodes, I guarantee you that.

[The giant leans down, hauling Rhodes up by the arm once more, flinging
him into the nearest set of buckles.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  This look familiar to you, Gordo?

GM:  It certainly does!  This is the set-up for the avalanche!

[But Rhodes staggers out of the corner, not staying in the corner...

...but walking right into Mizusawa who wraps his massive arms around the
torso of Rhodes, lifting him up off the canvas.]

GM:  Bearhug!  Oh my!

BW:  This is brilliant, Gordo!  Absolutely brilliant!  He can take some
more of the wind out of Rhodes while conserving his own energy.  This is
a grueling hold to be trapped in - especially against a man the size of
MAMMOTH Mizusawa.

GM:  Rhodes is in serious trouble here.  What does this hold do to a
man, Bucky?

BW:  If you watch closely, you'll see why this is such a dangerous hold.
 The initial shock of being trapped in the airtight grip of a guy like
Mizusawa is one thing.  If you can get past the initial pain, you won't
submit right away.  But look at this... Rhodes' chest is pressed right
up against Mizusawa's.  Every time that Rhodes inhales, the giant needs
to crank up that pressure.  And what that does is that it makes it
incredibly difficult for Rhodes to exhale.  He can't get a full breath. 
And if you're a fan of Karate Kid 3 - and who isn't - you know that if a
man can't breathe, he can't fight.

GM:  Karate Kid... huh?  Regardless, as you see the arms of Raphael
Rhodes start to go limp, you realize that Mizusawa is doing EXACTLY what
you're saying, Bucky.  The arms start to drop... the energy starts to
leave the body... and the giant just might make him pass out inside this
bearhug.

[Michael Meekly is checking for exactly that happening as he moves
around the hold, looking at Rhodes' anguished face that is rapidly
showing signs of unconsciousness.]

GM:  Rhodes looks like he's fading, Bucky.  He's doing exactly what you
said he would.

[The arms fall to his sides, forcing Michael Meekly to step in to lift
an arm.]

GM:  Michael Meekly, the AWA's Senior Official, is right in there to
check the arm.

BW:  If that arm falls three times, it's over, Gordo.

GM:  Meekly lifts it once...

[And the arm falls.]

GM:  Remember, it has to fall three times as Bucky says.

BW:  That's once.  

GM:  Michael Meekly checking the arm again...

[And Meekly turns to the timekeeper, holding up two fingers as the arm
falls for the second time.]

GM:  One more time.  If the arm falls one more time, this match is over.

[The arm is lifted for the final time...

...but does not fall as Rhodes simply digs his fingers into the nostrils
of the giant, ripping and tearing at them!]

GM:  Ahhh!  

[The crowd roars as Mizusawa releases the hold, dropping Rhodes down to
a knee as he stumbles away, hand over his face.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes dipped into his pub-fighting roots there to break
the hold...

[Rhodes pushes up to his feet, eyeing the giant as he slowly turns
around...]


"SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The open-handed slap of Raphael Rhodes SNAPS Mizusawa's head back and
to the right, spinning him around away from his opponent.]

GM:  What a shot that was! 

BW:  That's what broke Freeman's jaw!

[Rhodes grabs the giant by the head, pulling his face down within
striking distance where Rhodes tees off with a series of forearm shots,
shoving the giant so he stumbles back into the corner as it ends.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes is one of the hardest hitters in this business and
he's really doing a number on MAMMOTH Mizusawa right now, fans...

[With the giant leaning in the buckles, Rhodes steps up to the middle
rope, grabbing the head to deliver a few overhead elbowsmashes to the
bridge of the nose.  Dropping down off the ropes, Rhodes lights him up
with a series of brutal chops that leave bright red welts behind on the
chest of the big man.]

GM:  Rhodes is all over him!  Raphael Rhodes is like a man posessed!

[Grabbing the big man by the arm, Rhodes attempts an Irish whip but the
gutsy Brit soon finds it easily reversed, sending him crashing into the
corner...]

GM:  Rhodes hits the buckles... AAAAAVVVVVAAAAALAAAAANCHE!

[But the stampeding seven footer comes up empty as Rhodes dives out of
the way, causing Mizusawa to slam into the buckles on his own.  A
fired-up Rhodes rushes to the now-empty corner, exiting the ring to
scale the ropes...]

GM:  Where's he going?!  Raphael Rhodes is heading up to the high risk
area!

[Rhodes steps up to the middle rope, then to the top where he measures
his man for a moment before leaping off, driving both feet into the
face!]

GM:  DROPKICK OFF THE TOP!!!

BW:  He staggers the giant but he didn't bring him down, Gordo!

[The dazed giant stumbles back near the corner...

...and Rhodes seizes the moment to mount the middle rope in that corner,
leaping off to wrap his arms around the big man's neck!]

GM:  SLEEPER!!  RHODES IS ON THE BACK OF THE GIANT AND HE'S GOT THE
SLEEPER HOOKED IN!!

[Louis Matsui loses his mind at the sight of this, screaming and
shouting at his man who is dazed and now windmilling his arms, trying to
find a way out of the sleeperhold.]

GM:  The giant's in trouble!  It may be time for the giant to go to
sleep!

[But at a shout from Matsui, Mizusawa simply LUNGES backwards,
sandwiching Rhodes between the giant and the buckles!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


BW:  We may need a spatula to scrape Rhodes off the buckles after that!

[Turning around with Rhodes squished, the giant grabs the arm, flinging
him into the opposite corner...

...and then charges across, SMASHING him against the buckles!]

GM:  AVALANCHE!!  AVALANCHE!!

[Rhodes absorbs the 420 pounds being driven into him in the buckles,
stumbling out...

...into the waiting double grip of the giant who hooks both hands around
the throat before hoisting Rhodes high into the air, and DRIVING him
down into the canvas!]

GM:  TUSK CRUSHER!!  That's it, fans!

[The giant drops to a knee, slamming an open palm down on the chest.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  He did it!  The giant beat Raphael Rhodes!

BW:  Rhodes put up a heck of a fight but the giant just showed the world
one more reason why he'll be the National Champion in fourteen days.

[Louis Matsui climbs into the ring, shoving the referee aside to lift
the hand of the giant high into the air.]

GM:  Matsui's joined Mizusawa in the ring.  It's a big celebration and-
wait a second!

[At a barked order from Louis Matsui, Mizusawa reaches down to pull
Raphael Rhodes off the mat, hurling his limp form into the nearest set
of buckles.  Matsui nods his head, shouting at Rhodes as the giant backs
across the ring, pointing a finger...

...and with a loud bellow, he stampedes across the ring, throwing all of
his weight into a second avalanche!]

GM:  AVALANCHE!!  AGAIN, TO THE BUCKLES!!

[Rhodes is slumped in the corner, arms draped over the top rope to stay
on his feet as the giant continues his assault, grabbing Rhodes by the
throat.  He physically yanks him from the corner, using one hand to keep
Rhodes' dead weight from falling to the mat...

...and then powers him high into the air before HURLING him down to the
mat with a thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  Chokeslam!  Chokeslam by Mizusawa!

[Rhodes' body bounces off the hard canvas before settling back down on
the mat, the crowd jeering wildly as Matsui continues to scream.]

"SHOW THE WORLD WHY YOU'RE GONNA BE THE CHAMP!  SHOW 'EM ALL!"

[Mizusawa backs into the ropes again, slowly bouncing off, stalking
across the ring...

...and LEAPING into the air, bringing all 420 pounds down in a splash!]

GM:  OHHHH GOD!   Oh my stars, fans!  What in the world is this sadist
doing?!

[The giant pushes up to his knees, a cold glare on his face as he kneels
next to the motionless Raphael Rhodes...

...who now has a slight trickle of blood coming out of the side of his
mouth.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes may have just suffered the same fate as Marcus
Broussard did!  We may have seen the last of-

[The crowd ERUPTS as Juan Vasquez comes charging out of the locker
room.]

GM:  HERE COMES THE CHAMP!!

[At the top of the ramp, Jim Watkins and Chock Full are waiting with one
big giant gold trophy.]

GM:  They're waiting with the Wrestler of the Year trophy!  That trophy
was supposed to go to Vasquez after this match and-

[Shoving past both men, Vasquez continues stalking down the aisle...

...with the trophy in hand!]

GM:  HERE COMES VASQUEZ!!

BW:  Why's he bringing the trophy with him?

GM:  I think you know why, Bucky!

[The National Champion hits the ring, trophy in hand, winding up with
it...

...but an ever-present Louis Matsui grabs the trophy with both hands,
preventing Vasquez from swinging it at the #1 contender!]

GM:  MATSUI!  MATSUI STOPPED HIM!!

[Vasquez spins on his heels...

...and DROPS Matsui with a right hand!]

GM:  He drilled him!  Vasquez floors Matsui!  

[The manager crawls away, trying to avoid further punishment as Vasquez
stalks him towards the corner...

...and leaves his back completely exposed as Mizusawa charges in!]

GM:  NO, NO, NOOOOO!


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  AVALANCHE!!  

BW:  What an idiot!  Vasquez turned his back on the giant and he just
paid the price!

[Vasquez falls out of the corner, clutching the ribs he'd injured
earlier in the night and just had smashed between 420 pounds of angry,
ambitious giant and the turnbuckles!]

GM:  The ribs!  The ribs just got hit again!

BW:  And that's not the end of it, I bet!

[The giant reaches down, hauling Vasquez up by the hair.  He spins him,
throwing him chestfirst into the corner where a dazed Louis Matsui is on
the apron, grabbing the arms of Vasquez.]

GM:  By god, this is what they did to Broussard!  They're gonna take the
National Champion out like they did to Marcus Broussard!  Juan Vasquez
is in serious trouble here, fans!

[Backing all the way across the ring, Mizusawa slaps himself across the
chest with two meaty paws, letting loose a mighty bellow as he barrels
across the ring...

...and SLAMS into the exposed back once more, smashing the injured ribs
into the corner!]

GM:  ANOTHER ONE!!  HE HITS ANOTHER AVALANCHE!!!

[From outside the ring, a cackling Matsui shouts "AGAIN!!  HIT HIM
AGAIN!"  An obliging Mizusawa backs up once more...]

GM:  No, no... somebody's gotta stop this!  We need some help out here
for Juan Vasquez!  We need-

[Suddenly, the crowd ERUPTS into cheers!]

GM:  HERE COMES THE CAVALRY!!

[Sweet Daddy Williams, the Rockstar Express, Eric Preston, and Tyler Lee
come barreling down the aisle to the ring, stepping in to get between
MAMMOTH Mizusawa and the trapped Juan Vasquez.  Louis Matsui quickly
releases Vasquez, bailing out as the fan favorites get Vasquez out on
the ramp to safety.]

GM:  They got him out of there... they got him out, thank the stars.

BW:  But was it in time?  Vasquez took two avalanches to those injured
ribs!  We may have just seen the final blow to Juan Vasquez' chances of
retaining the National Title at The Main Event, Gordo!

GM:  You could be right and-

[With a roar, Mizusawa picks up Vasquez' discarded trophy and SLAMS it
down to the mat, breaking it in pieces in the process.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  That's the Wrestler of the Year trophy!  This
monstrous son of a gun just shattered the Wrestler of the Year trophy! 
He destroyed the thing!  There's absolutely no call for that, Bucky!

BW:  It's just adding a little insult to injury!  MAMMOTH Mizusawa has
taken Juan Vasquez' health, he's taken his trophy, and in fourteen days,
he's taking the National Title, daddy!

GM:  Fans, we're out of time!  We've gotta go!  We'll see you at The
Main Event!

[With the fan favorites tending to Vasquez on the ramp, Mizusawa throws
up both arms into a mighty roar once more as a grinning Louis Matsui
looks on...

...and we fade to black.]