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                            American Wrestling Alliance 
                                   Proudly Presents 
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                 			   From The WKIK Studios
                                    Dallas, Texas
                                   July 16th, 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" and is the closing moments from Wrestlerock.  
The sounds of ZZ Top playing "Sharp Dressed Man" live to the Durham,
North Carolina crowd is heard as the camera comes to rest on a
spotlight-lit Calisto Dufresne, standing in the middle of the Hell that
the darkness has brought to the American Wrestling Alliance.  Dufresne
nods his head, quickly powerwalking up the aisle before anyone else can
come out of the locker room.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne has returned!

BW:  And you know what this means!

GM:  I don't... oh my stars, you don't think-

BW:  OF COURSE!

[Dufresne quickly enters the cage, looking around at the wretched hive
of scum and villainy surrounding him...

...and points to the corner.]

GM:  Who is he pointing at?

[The wrestlers near the corner step aside, revealing a cowering Michael
Meekly who isn't even looking at what's going on.  Dufresne waves and
Pedro Perez grabs Meekly, dragging him over...]

CD:  Needless to say... I have a title shot I'd like to use, good sir.

[Dufresne winks at a shocked Meekly who stands stoic until Waterson
shoves him from behind - "RING THE BELL, IDIOT!"  Meekly signals for the
bell as Dufresne grins, dragging Vasquez off the mat...

...and into a front facelock.]

GM:  NO!  There's no need for this!  If you want to, just pin the man
but don't add anything else on top of this!  Don't-

[Dufresne's face suddenly goes cold as he hoists Vasquez horizontal to
the mat, lifting him up...

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


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


BW:  WHAM, BAM, HELLO WORLD CHAMP!

GM:  I... not like this...

[Dufresne drops down to the mat, planting a single finger on the chest
of the motionless National Champion...

...and orders a shocked Meekly down to the canvas.]

BW:  COUNT, YOU IDIOT!

[Meekly raises his hand, slapping the mat once.]

GM:  Don't do it, Mike!

[He raises his hand again, slapping the mat a second time.]

GM:  Juan... come on, kid... come on...

[Meekly raises his hand a third time, looking around at the intimidating
face all around, closes his eyes...

...and SLAPS the canvas a third time, immediately rolling aside to call
for the bell.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  This can't be happening... it's like... this is some kind of
nightmare, right?

BW:  We ain't in Dallas, daddy!  THIS is reality!  We've got a new
National Champion, daddy!

GM:  No, no... it can't be true...

[Waterson picks up the mic again.]

ATTSBW:  I got a feeling no one else can do this justice, champ... lemme
take a crack at it...

After an epic encounter... one of the most grueling matches in AWA
history... 

[Laughs all around inside the ring.]

ATTSBW:  Here is your winner...

...and NEWWWWWWWW AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

CAAAAAAAAAALIIIIIIISTOOOOOO DUUUUUUUFRESNNNNNNNE!!!

[Outside the ring, Ivan Kostovich snatches the title belt off the
timekeeper's table, walking back into the ring...

...where he hands it over to the Ladykiller who eagerly accepts it.]

GM:  Calisto Dufresne... my god, fans... Calisto Dufresne is the new AWA
National Champion!

[The crowd falls to a hush for the most part, shocked and horrified by
what they just saw.  Calisto Dufresne looks down at the title belt for a
long moment, and then lifts it, hoisting it high into the air!]

GM:  That can't be his!  This whole thing - this just can't be
happening, Bucky!

BW:  Oh, it's happening, Gordo!  And it's the greatest night in AWA
history!  

GM:  This can't be!  This is impossible!

[The Ladykiller stands tall, soaking up the explosive jeers from the
Durham, North Carolina crowd, the title belt held above his head like
some kind of a statue as trash begins to fly even fiercer now.]

GM:  I can't believe it!  I can't believe any of this!  We've got a new
National Champion... and his name is Calisto Dufresne!  When this night
began, I never DREAMED we'd see this!  How can this have happened?!  How
can any of this have happened?  

BW:  Calisto Dufresne just became the most powerful man in professional
wrestling, Gordon Myers - and you'd better get used to it!

[The footage cuts to just moments later, footage marked "EXCLUSIVE
UNAIRED FOOTAGE" where the new National Champion, Calisto Dufresne,
jumps down off the middle turnbuckle as the crowd continue to pelt the
cage with debris.  He walks over to a grinning Ben Waterson, who hands
the microphone over to the new National Champion.  He walks to the
center of the ring, and looks around for long moments.  At the evil men
surrounding him, at the heroes laying at his feet.  Eventually he
speaks.]

CD: Damn, it feels good to be king.

[With that, the crowd explodes yet again with increased fervor.]

CD: Today marks the dawning of a new age in the AWA.  With my brothers
in arms next to me, we were able to vanquish anarchy...

[A glance at Supernova.]

CD:  ...selfishness...

[A disgusted look at Stevie Scott.]

CD: ...And tyranny.

[Finally, a long stare at the fallen Juan Vasquez.]

CD: Beginning tonight, we embark on a new course in the AWA.  A course
upon which true dedication to greatness, hard work and determination
shall be rewarded with glory.  Think about it for a second.  What has
Supernova done to earn a shot at the National Championship?  I toiled
for years, showing up in cities nobody has ever heard of to earn _my_
shot.  To earn _my_ chance at glory.  And when I got _my_ chance to make
those dreams come true, I fought tooth and nail' I used every ounce of
my energy and will... to become champion. 

[Dufresne pats the National Championship over his shoulder as the jeers
continue.]

CD: Stevie Scott is cheered by the masses; but for what?  Does nobody
remember the havoc he raised as a member of the Southern Syndicate?  I
stood by, helpless, while he brought carnage to this great company.

[Dufresne shakes his head ruefully.]

CD: And Juan Vasquez.  He's tried to end careers.  He's slain giants
that wanted nothing more than to work hard for their pay.  It took the
combined might of these great, honorable men beside me, and the
foresight of men like Louis, Percy and Ben to make this night possible.

[Dufresne once again looks at the cast of characters surrounding him.]

CD: You men can all rest assured that your actions this night' that your
actions that helped bring down this shroud of darkness that hovered over
the AWA... shall not be forgotten by _your_ champion.  I will lead the
charge as we look to cleanse this place of the unsavory characters that
plague its roster.  And there's nobody can stop us.  Especially not
these three.

[Dufresne looks down at the three fallen men in the cage.]

CD: Because these are the eyes of a champion.  And you...

[A kick to the fallen Supernova.]

CD: ...ain't...

[Followed by one to Vasquez.]

CD: ...got 'em.

[And finally, Stevie Scott.  Dufresne raises the National Title in the
air one last time as ZZ Top once again kicks in with 'Sharp Dressed
Man', almost drowned out by the jeers from the crowd.  The rulebreakers
in the ring begin to celebrate once again as we fade to a sight
long-remembered by AWA fans - the place that was the home of the AWA for
the first years of its life - the WKIK Studios in Dallas, Texas.

The old Saturday Night Wrestling set has been erected, a large flat
screen television the newest addition to it as it hangs between two men
seated at a very wide desk, plenty of room between them for the monitor.

On your left, the manager of champions and the three-time Announcer Of
The Year.  Clad in a glittering silver sequinned sportcoat over a black
dress shirt - somewhat subdued for him - is Buckthorn "Big Bucks" Wilde.

On your right, shaking his head at the fading image on the monitor
between them is "No Description Needed" Gordon Myers... who we'll
describe anyways as wearing a black sportscoat and white dress shirt
with a navy blue tie.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and when I say it's good to be home, I very
much mean it.  As you can see, we have returned to the WKIK Studios for
one night only for a very special edition of Saturday Night Wrestling. 
By my side, as always, Mr. Bucky Wilde.

BW:  You better believe it, Gordo!  Happy times are here again!  We've
got a new National Champion - someone we can all be proud of - and that
idiot Vasquez got wheeled out of here in a hearse last time I checked! 
And you, Gordo... I hope you've calmed down since the last time we were
on this network!

GM:  Wrestlerock was an extremely emotional night for all of us, fans. 
As Bucky just said, we do indeed have a new National Champion in the
"Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne as you saw moments ago.  Mr. Dufresne came
out of nowhere that night after one of the most brutal beatings I've
ever witnessed in my life - and he cashed in that "Anytime, Anywhere"
title shot he's been hanging onto since last Fall.

BW:  You know, a lot of people had criticized him for not taking that
shot earlier but... well, I think he showed the whole world that he knew
EXACTLY what he was doing, Gordo.

GM:  It's a controversial way to win a title for sure but the record
books and the Championship Committee have carved it in stone.  He IS the
new National Champion and I'm sure we'll have more on that throughout
the night as well as all the other happenings of Wrestlerock.  But
tonight, we've got a very special show for you as we'll be hitting up
some of the places that the AWA has visited on the road this summer -
some of which happened in the past two weeks - as well as getting
comments from all your favorite AWA superstars as to their thoughts
about what went down twelve nights ago in Durham.  So, to get this party
started, we're going out to our good friends Jason Dane and Colt
Patterson as they get set to call our opening match of the night. 

[Our two announcers turn towards the monitor which lights up with the
shot we're heading to as we crossfade into the arena, where a short,
thin young man with a cherub-like face and a blonde bowl haircut is
leaning over the ropes, yelling at the fans in the front row.]

PW: This next contest is scheduled for one fall, with a 10 minute time
limit. Introducing first, already in the ring from Paducah Kentucky,
weighing one hundred and ninety five pounds.. Alphonse Green!

[Green raises his arm in the air, continuing to talk trash to whoever
would listen. Suddenly, an altered version of LL Cool J's 'Round The Way
Girl' blasts over the PA, sans lyrics. The crowd starts to come alive!]

# YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

CP: Oh no.

JD: Oh yea, Colt! BC is in da HOUSE!

[Stepping out onto the aisle way is B.C. Da Mastah MC, doing a little
dancing down the aisle, despite not looking like he ought to be
dancing.]

BC: YO! WHAT HAPPENED AT WRESTLEROCK
       WAS NOTHIN' BUT AN UNFORTUNATE CROCK!
       Y'ALL JUMPED ME FROM BEHIND IN DA BACK
       AN' YA TOOK ME OUT WITH A CHEAP ATTACK!
 
[In the ring, Green is plugging his ears and telling the ref to turn off
his mic.]

CP: I wish someone was out here to take him out again!

BC: IF ANY OF YA PUNKS WANT A PIECE OF ME,
       WHY DON'T YA JUST STEP UP IN DA FACE OF GOOD OL' BC!
       
[BC climbs up onto the apron and looks out over the cheering crowd, as
Alphonse Green rolls out of the ring.]

BC: Y'ALL BEST BE GETTIN' OUT OF MY WAY
       B.C. AIN'T GONNA LET YA CONQUER THE AWA!!
      YO! YO! YO! YO! YO! YO!
      GO! GO! GO! GO! GO! GO!

CP: Only thing that needs to go is you, B.C.. Go on a diet, fatso!

JD: I swear, Colt, you don't have any soul in those bones of yours.

[B.C. steps into the ring, and takes off his coat. B.C. stretches in the
corner, as Alphonse Green has yet to return to the ring. The music dies
down as B.C. motions for Green to step into the ring.]

JD: Alphonse Green hesitant to step into the ring with B.C. Da. Mastah
MC. What can you tell us about Green, Colt?

CP: I've had a chance to check out some of the independents around here,
and all I can say about Alphonse Green is that he likes to eat.

JD: Is that it? Wait a minute, what's Green doing?

[Green is talking trash to a young fan and threatening him if he doesn't
hand over the ice cream bar in his hand.]

JD: Now this is not right, Colt. Green is harassing that young fan for
his ice cream bar.

CP: He's just trying to.. hey! What's B.C. doing? 

[B.C. rolls out of the ring and quickly looms over the much smaller
Green. The fan Green is harassing is pointing and smiling as Green
doesn't know that B.C. is standing right behind him, a less than jovial
mood on his face.]

JD: All right! Get him, B.C.!

[Suddenly, B.C. drives his head into the back of Green's head! The crowd
pops as Green staggers forward! B.C. highfives the young fan as he grabs
Green and throws him into the ring.]

CP: Someone stop this! He's going to take that kid's candy bar!

JD: B.C. would never do that and you know it!

[Green starts to shake the cobwebs as B.C. climbs onto the apron after
Green. B.C. steps over the ropes as Green scrambles to his feet, and
makes his escape out of the other side of the ring. B.C. lumbers over to
where Green left the ring, only for Green to grab B.C.'s ankle, sending
him to the mat!]

CP: There you go! What a smart move by Alphonse Green! I like this kid,
he's got a lot of moxie!

[Instead of climbing into the ring to take advantage of B.C.'s downed
state, Green turns to the crowd and starts to do a mock hip-hop style
dance. He then points to his head, indicating that he's outsmarted B.C.
B.C., however, quickly gets to his feet.]

JD: Green did outsmart, B.C, but not for long! B.C.'s making his way to
the ropes!

CP: Turn around!

AG (yelling): I got him! I'm smarter than that fat hippo! I'm gonn..
*ACK*

[Huge pop from the crowd as B.C. reaches through the ropes, grabbing
Green by the hair! B.C. powers Green up onto the apron as Green is
shouting for the ref to do something.]

CP: He's got him by the hair! That's not fair!

JD: You got a little bit of hip hop in you, Colt!

CP: Oh shut up!

[Another huge pop by the crowd as B.C. cracks Green across the sternum
with a forearm! B.C. then grabs Green by the back of the head and hurls
him ove  the ropes!]

JD: Green just got thrown over the ropes and landed right on his face!
B.C.. wait, don't tell me!

[B.C. with deceptive agility darts back to the opposite corner. Green
staggers to his feet and turns as B.C. runs across the ring, and with
one big leap, catches Green flush on the face with a huge dropkick to
the delight of the crowd!

CP: Okay, maybe he can throw a dropkick. I guess that's not too shabby.

JD: B.C. has deceptive agility for his size! B.C. drags Green to his
feet and shoves him into the corner!

[B.C. does a moonwalk back to the center of the ring, and then charges
towards Green!]

JD: BIG AVALANCHE!

CP: I think he just devoured Alphonse Green!

[Green staggers into the arms of B.C., who picks him up and falls
forward, crushing Green to the canvas! B.C. quickly gets to his feet,
steps out onto the apron near the corner, and starts to climb the
turnbuckles. With one wave of his hand, the music from earlier starts
playing!]

CP: I still don't get it! Why does his music play when he does this!
This is stupid!

JD: This isn't stupid! This... is... THE TURNTABLE!

[B.C. leaps off the top rope, crushing Green underneath his 366 lbs! The
ref counts as the crowd counts along! ONE! TWO! THREE!]

PW: Here is your winner.. B.C. DA MASTAH MC!

[B.C. raises his arms to the crowd, and then he motions for Jason Dane
to join him at ringside. B.C. rolls out of the ring as Dane steps up to
him, mic in hand.]

JD: Well, another impressive victory for this young man who continues to
impress the brass here in the AWA! You don't look all that happy,
though. You sounded pretty irate with what happened at Wrestlerock..

BC: Ya, that's right, Jay to da Dee

[You can hear Colt groan.]

BC: Ya see, I was gonna come out here an' show my interest in da
Stampede Cup so  I can help out da kids back home with all o' dat prize
money, but what happened at Wrestlerock was..

[BC spits at the ground.]

BC: A complete miscarriage of justice, if ya ask me, an' I couldn't do a
thing to help Juan Vasquez an' da other AWA stars who got laid out by a
bunch of no good cowards.  They betta' get da justice that they deserve,
and ya better believe that I will offer my help if anyone needs it.
Y'all wanna roll up to my hood an' jump me from behind cuz y'all got
none of 'em proverbial stones, I ain't havin' any o' dat, ya dig?

JD: Do you have any idea who attacked you?

BC: I do, as a matter of fact, an' I wanna challenge this punk to a
match at dis upcomin' Saturday Night show. Pedro Perez, ya were one of
th' punks that jumped me an' laid me out backstage at Wrestlerock, but
ya ain't gonna be doin' that when I get ya in da ring. I'm gonna flatten
ya like a pancake an' I'll show the rest of the AWA that ain't nobody
gonna mess with me!

JD: I'll be sure to pass it on to the front office.

[B.C. nods his head enthusiastically.]

JD: You did mention the Stampede Cup earlier, did you have anyone in
mind? We still need some teams, and it wouldn't hurt to have another
team in there.

BC: Not at da moment, Jay Dizzle.

[Colt groans, once again.]

BC: But if anyone wants me ta watch their backs, then I'll be more than
happy ta team up wit' 'em. We gonna roll into the Stampede Cup
tournament, and we gonna win dis like it ain't no thang. But first
things first, make sure I get that match wit' Perez, okay, dawg?

[BC slaps Dane on the shoulder as he turns to leave to the cheers of the
crowd.]

JD: There you have it, folks! B.C. wants Pedro Perez, and he wants in
the Stampede Cup! Good luck, B.C.!

[The shot fades back to the WKIK Studios to the announce team.]

GM:  Another impressive victory for that young man right there, Bucky. 
I know you're a big B.C. fan.

BW:  I'm a- you crazy or something, Gordo?  

GM:  I saw you shakin' your rhythm section to his music.

BW:  His music gives me seizures.  Ain't nothin' to joke about, Gordo.

GM:  He had quite the showing a few weeks back against Nenshou.  If a
few more breaks had gone his way, he might be the Longhorn Heritage
Champion right now.

BW:  Real winners make their own breaks, daddy - just like Percy and
Nenshou do.

GM:  Nevertheless, this young man certainly is one to watch here in the
AWA in the coming weeks and months and if he DOES manage to find a
partner for the Stampede Cup, he could go all the way.

BW:  All the way down the local buffet to fill his fat face.

GM:  Fans, we'll be announcing the ENTIRE roster of 24 teams for the
Stampede Cup later tonight - that'll be the AWA's next major event,
coming up over Labor Day Weekend in Atlanta, Georgia.  It's the one time
a year when the tag teams get center stage all to themselves and I can't
wait to see who walks out with the right to call themselves the greatest
tag team in the world.  We've gotta take a quick break but we'll be
right back with more action!

[Fade to black.

Cut 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 live action where we
find the Antons, Alex and Nick, in matching purple-and-white
Northwestern Wildcats letterman jackets, are standing by in front of a
generic AWA backdrop.]

AA: Moonshiners! At WrestleRock, you threw your lots in with the
so-called darkness, while we tried to do the right thing. Now, we have
no problem with that; we've all got to pick our sides. What we have a
problem with is being blindsided in the back. Yeah, maybe we should have
expected a sneak attack from lowlifes like you, but maybe it's just
because you are afraid to face the Antons head-on!

NA: Runt! Scamp! Whatever your names are, you rednecks want to play at
Deliverance? Well, you bring yourselves to the ring and my brother Alex
and I will take care of the rest! Whether it's at the next Saturday
Night Wrestling, on the road, or at the Stampede Cup, and you'd better
pray it's not at the Stampede Cup, because you can then kiss that
oversized check goodbye, you'll learn what a pair of Wildcats will do to
you two!

[We fade from the Antons back to the interior of the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  The Antons, just two of the wrestlers who found themselves the
victims of quite the orchestrated attack, Bucky.

BW:  It was brilliant!  A brilliant plan come to life!

GM:  And from what I gather, it was Louis Matsui who spearheaded this
whole thing with help from Percy Childes and Ben Waterson.  We're going
to be hearing some comments that Mr. Matsui had at one of our arena
events this week to try and explain why he did what he did.  To me,
there's no justifiable explanation - none at all.

BW:  You're just bent out of shape 'cause your so-called hero is laid up
in the hospital still.

GM:  The AWA is refusing to comment further on the condition of Juan
Vasquez, you know that, Bucky.  Mr. Vasquez is welcome to release that
information to the fans if he'd like but the AWA will not be doing so
without his permission.  We wish him the best of his luck in his
recovery though.

BW:  Speak for yourself.

GM:  Well, I WILL speak for myself - and I bet I can speak for more than
that.  I know for a fact that there's a lot of competitors here in the
AWA that are up in arms over what happened.  Matsui, Waterson, Childes -
all those guys may think that they accomplished something but I think
all they did was create a unified front against them!  A unified front
that features... oh, I don't know... how about the guy in our next
match?  I'm talkin' about Jeff Jagger!

[Bucky snorts loudly.]

BW:  One of Michaelson's Korner Kids?  How cute that you think he could
do something against someone like Dufresne or Marcus Broussard!  That's
just adorable, Gordo.  But don't let too many people hear you say that
or you might get locked away in an old folks' home.

GM:  Would you... fans, let's go back down to the ring...

[Both men turn towards the monitor as it lights up between them as we
fade from the WKIK Studios into the center of the ring where Phil Watson
is standing, microphone in hand.  He gets his cue and raises the mic to
his lips and begins.]

PW: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit!  Introducing first, already in the ring, hailing from
Bonesteel, South Dakota, standing six feet, four inches tall and
weighing in at two hundred eighty pounds, please welcome'

'MADHOUSE MCWESSON!!!

[A smattering of boos come in from the crowd as the camera pans to
McWesson, who is standing in the corner, rubbing his hands together and
looking menacing.]

PW: And his opponent!  Hailing from Charlotte, North Carolina... He
stands five feet, eleven inches tall and weighs in at two hundred ten
pounds, please welcome... "CAROLINA CRUSHER"... 

JEFF... 

JAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGERRRRRR!!!

["Zero" by Smashing Pumpkins kicks in over the PA system and from the
entrance portal emerges young Jeff Jagger.  Clad in a long pair of
wrestling tights, royal blue in color with "CAROLINA" written down one
leg in white lettering and "CRUSHER" down the other.  White wrestling
boots with a blue "JJ" on them cover his feet, while his chest is bare. 
His medium-length brown hair is pulled back out of his eyes, revealing a
young and eager face that carries a huge smile.  The crowd provides a
modest face pop as Jagger quickly makes his way towards the ring,
slapping the outstretched hands of as many fans as he can reach.]

BW: Here comes this do-gooder again.  I was hoping if we just ignored
him he would go away.

GM: Come on, Bucky.  This young man is another bright young recruit out
of the Combat Corner who is looking to make an impact in our sport!

BW: Maybe James Monosso can do us all a favor and come show him a proper
AWA welcome.

[As Jagger reaches the ring apron he grabs the top rope, pulls back and
leaps over into the ring, quickly scampering over to a turnbuckle and
climbing up, reaching an arm into the air, his pinky finger, index
finger and thumb outstretched, signaling the crowd, eliciting a
favorable response.]

GM: Once again, Jagger shows his love for these fans.

BW: Good thing he's using sign language since most of these people are
deaf and dumb.

[Jagger's show of appreciation towards the crowd costs him, however, as
Madhouse McWesson crashes across the ring, landing a forearm across the
back of the young man from North Carolina which knocks him off the
second rope as the bell rings, beginning the match.]

BW: See what pandering to these idiots gets you, daddy?  Kid has a lot
to learn!

[McWesson spins Jagger around, lacing into him with stiff right hands. 
Jagger quickly composes himself, blocking the right hands and returning
with a few rights of his own before snapping McWesson's head back with a
European uppercut that forces the big brawler backwards.  Jagger boosts
himself back on to the middle rope and leaps off, delivering an
expertly-aimed dropkick directly to the knee of McWesson that sends him
down, eliciting a pop from the AWA faithful.]

GM: Nice move there by Jeff Jagger.  Say what you want about his
feelings towards the crowd, but Todd Michaelson sure taught this young
man the sweet science!

BW: Todd Michaelson won't be teaching much of anything after what
happened to him at Wrestlerock!

[Jagger wastes no time, yanking McWesson up by the mowhawk and then
whipping him to the ropes.  McWesson rebounds back and is met by a leg
lariat from the Carolina Crusher that sends him crashing right back down
to the mat.  Jagger goes for the quick cover' ONE!  TWO!!]

GM: Kickout by McWesson there.

BW: Kid needs to know that a few flashy moves ain't gonna keep guys down
for the count at this level.

[To Jagger's credit, he wastes no time in going back on the assault;
dropping two quick elbows onto the leg of Madhouse McWesson before
grabbing the legs of the South Dakota native and wrapping him into a
sharpshooter that has McWesson howling in pain and pounding the mat.
McWesson attempts to reach towards the ropes but can't quite get there.]

GM: Jagger calls that move Last Rites and he's got it locked in there
pretty well, Bucky!

BW: He is twisting him up like a pretzel, daddy, but let's see if the
kid has the killer instinct!

[After a long few seconds, McWesson does manage to reach over and grab
the ropes, prompting the referee to call for Jagger to break the hold,
which he immediately does.]

BW: See, Gordo?  He could have added five seconds of punishment to that
move without being disqualified, but instead he chose to just let him
off the hook.  Flat out stupid.

GM: If by stupid, you mean showing great sportsmanship, then so be it!

[Jagger reaches down, yanking McWesson up yet again by the mowhawk, but
as he does, McWesson reaches up and rakes the eyes of the young Combat
Corner graduate.  Jagger howls in pain and grabs at his eyes as McWesson
looks to go onto the offensive.  Madhouse begins lacing into the
youngster with rights and lefts, backing him into the corner before
pummeling him with left and right body shots.]

BW: See what I mean, daddy?  Maybe had he of put the pedal to the metal
a minute ago he wouldn't be on the receiving end of this!

GM: I'm sure Jagger has a plan out of this; Todd Michaelson and company
will have trained him well! 

[McWesson grabs the Carolina Crusher by the wrist and whips him across
the ring, smashing him into the opposite turnbuckles.  Madhouse rumbles
across the ring looking to smash Jagger with a forearm, but meets
nothing but leather as the young man lifts his legs up and kicks
McWesson square in the chops to a nice crowd pop!  McWesson stumbles
backwards out of the corner and Jagger dashes across and leaps into the
air with a running neckbreaker, followed by a quick cover!]

GM: One!  Two!  No, kickout by McWesson yet again!

[Jagger quickly scampers back to a vertical base, pulling McWesson with
him.  Just as quickly, he locks the South Dakota native in and tosses
him over with a stiff snap suplex.  Without wasting time, Jagger again
scoops up McWesson and then wraps his arms around his waist and tosses
him stiffly onto the mat with a gutwrench suplex!]

GM: Another crisp maneuver by the youngster from Charlotte, Bucky!

BW: Let's see what happens when he's in there against some real
competition.  Somebody like Dick Bass or Bruno Bradley would make short
work of this punk!

[Jagger drops a quick elbow to the sternum of McWesson before pulling
him back to his feet yet again.  Jagger attempts an Irish whip to the
ropes, but McWesson manages to reverse it!  Jagger bounces off the ropes
as Madhouse attempts a stiff lariat.  Jagger deftly ducks underneath it
an slides behind and locks in a sleeperhold as the crowd pops
excitedly!]

GM: There it is, Bucky, it's the Carolina Clutch!

BW: Real creative move there, Gordo.

[McWesson flails about trying to get out of the sleeperhold, but Jagger
has it locked in tight and fighting it is only actually making it worse
for Madhouse.  As McWesson begins to fade, the referee comes over and
lifts his arm once and releases it; watching it fall limply to his side.
 He does it again, and finally a third time before ringing the bell. 
Jagger releases the hold as Madhouse McWesson slumps to the mat as the
crowd cheers mightily.  Jagger grins at the fans as 'Zero' by Smashing
Pumpkins blasts across the PA system once again.  Phil Watkins' voice is
heard over the music']

PW: Here is your winner' 'CAROLINA CRUSHER'
JEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!

[Jagger quickly hops out of the ring and heads up the aisle, slapping
fans' hands on the way.  He reaches the interview area, where Jason Dane
is waiting.  The music dies down as Jagger approaches Dane.  Dane raises
the microphone to his lips and begins.]

JD: Another impressive performance tonight,  Jeff!

JJ: Thanks, Jason, 'preciate it!  It's an honor to be out in front of so
many of my friends and family here in North Carolina and I was fortunate
to come out of this one with a dubya.

JD: You've been absent over the past few weeks; what have you been up
to?

JJ: Well, let's be honest, my friend.  I'm the low man on the totem pole
'round these parts - for now, at least - and we've had a few pretty big
events.  My services were not requested, but they sure as heck were
needed!

JD: Are you referring to what happened at Wrestlerock?

[Jagger nods his head in frustration.]

JJ: You're darn right I am.  Had I of been in Durham that night, you can
best believe that I woulda been laid out next to Supernova, Stevie Scott
and Juan Vasquez.  Those two-bit cowards think they can come in the AWA
and just run roughshod over all of us? 

[Jagger's voice increases in volume.]

JJ: You boys wanna go for the jugular?  Trust me, I can go for the
jugular.  I'll bend each and every one of you into pretzels if I have
to.  It can be Pedro Perez all the way up to Calisto Dufresne; it
doesn't make one bit o' difference to me.  Somebody wants to fight, I'll
fight.  Consider this an open invite to every back-jumpin' piece o'
garbage in that locker room.  You wanna come out and come after somebody
two, three on one?  Well here I am!

[Pop!]

JJ: I don't care how many of you wanna take a crack at me.  You've gotta
respect this business and what happened on July 4th was one o' the most
heinous things I've ever seen and I've been 'round this business since I
was knee-high to a grasshopper.  And I'll be damned if I see this sport
disrespected like that again.  And if you boys don't think I'm worth the
time... that I'm not even a blip on your radar...

[A smirk.]

JJ: ...Well, that may just have to change. 

[Another pop as "Zero" kicks in once again and Jagger turns on his heel,
heading towards the entrance portal as we fade back to the WKIK
Studios.]

GM:  See what I mean, Bucky?  Another man ready to stand up against this
so-called Darkness. 

BW:  Another bulletstopper ready to have his lunch handed to him by
Anton Layton, Polemos, or the Russians, you mean?

GM:  I think I'd like to see that, Bucky.  Any of those matches in fact.

BW:  I think the only thing Jagger would be seeing if one of those
matches went down is the lights... or maybe the back of his eyelids.

GM:  You're too much.  Jeff Jagger with another win is starting to make
some noise here in the AWA.  But, one wrestler who has been making a LOT
of noise in the AWA lately has been the returning Raphael Rhodes.  Not
by his words, mind you, but by his actions.  While he did not appear on
the most recent televised events, he has been quite active on our arena
shows.

BW: Yeah, and he's really been showing the aggressive streak that made
him famous.

GM: That is correct, Bucky.  Mr. Rhodes has been surprisingly quiet
since returning to the AWA last month, refusing to speak with anyone. 
Not just on television, either, I have it on good authority that he has
yet to even speak with a single person in the AWA locker room.

BW: Apparently he's coming to the arena, finding a secluded area
somewhere in the arena, and only appearing when his match is scheduled. 
None of my snoops have gotten a single word out of him!

GM: For those of you who missed his return to action last month on
Saturday Night Wrestling, here is his return bout against a youngster
named Joey Jakubowski.

[We crossfade to taped footage, just as Raphael Rhodes rises to his feet
after sliding head-first into the ring...

DING DING DING!

"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"

... and immediately blitzes Jakubowski with a running forearm smash
right to the nose!]

GM: Oh my stars, Raphael Rhodes right out of the gates with a forearm!

[Jakubowski staggers back, holding his nose.  Rhodes ducks underneath of
the Chicagoan, grabbing the back of Jakubowski's left leg and pushing
him forward, causing Jakubowski to fall to the ground.]

GM: Rhodes has taken down the larger Jakubowski, looks like he's going
for a grounded switch...

BW: Rhodes isn't messin' around, daddy!

[Rhodes navigates to Jakubowski's shoulder, grabbing a chickenwing hold
while Jakubowski lies on the mat, then laces his forearm right across
Jakubowski's nose, which is now bleeding.]

GM: Rhodes going for a crossface chickenwing, and I believe that young
man's nose may have been broken.

BW: Not even back in the AWA for 30 seconds and he already broke a guy's
nose.  This is the Rhodes I remember!

[Jakubowski tries grabbing Rhodes' forearm to prevent pressure to his
nose, but Rhodes cinches in against the broken nose, places a knee
across Jakubowski's spine, and violently jerks Jakubowski's head and
neck back.]

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH!!  I GIVE!"

GM: Is that...

BW: I think it was...

[The referee signals for the bell, then tries to get Rhodes to release
the hold.  Rhodes doesn't release right away, instead grinding his
forearm into the bridge of Jakubowski's broken nose, a smile spreading
across his face before finally releasing We crossfade back to Gordon and
Bucky.]

GM: The news we received is that, in that short bout, Mr. Jakubowski
suffered a badly broken nose.  Since then, Mr. Rhodes has severely
injured multiple youngsters around the country.  We have had cameras at
the the arenas to tape footage, but obviously, some of this footage is
very graphic, so instead we opt to present still footage prior to
injuries incurred.

[A picture of Rhodes locking a young man, about 6'1" and 220 pounds,
wearing green trunks and black boots, into an armbar appears on the
screen.  Rhodes looks to be preparing to drive his exposed knee into the
young man's forearm.]

GM: In Tupelo, Mississippi, Rhodes broke the forearm of Kevin
Christopher with the kneedrop you see him about to administer.

[The picture crossfades to Rhodes about to slap a slightly larger local
wrestler, about 6'3" and 230 pounds, wearing maroon football pants and
white boots.]

GM: When the AWA was in Huntsville, Alabama, Rhodes ruptured the eardrum
of former college football star Scott Salisbury with this slap, then
immediately followed up by breaking the young man's jaw with a forearm
smash, forcing the referee to stop the bout.

[The picture then crossfades to Rhodes applying an anklelock to a
wrestler dressed in an orange singlet and white boots.]

GM: In Knoxville, Tennessee, Rhodes used this hold to break the ankle of
David Jackson, which occurred a mere second after Jackson had already
conceded the bout in submission.

[Crossfade to an outdoor show, where Rhodes is standing on the middle
rope, his knee against an opponent's shoulder, preparing to jump.]

GM: And with especially vicious hold in the bout prior to the televised
portion of WrestleRock, Rhodes dislocated the shoulder and broke the
clavicle of his former P*WIN contemporary Jayson Graham.

[We crossfade back to Gordon and Bucky, Gordon looking visibly
disturbed.]

BW: It's clear Rhodes has a mission and he's trying to prove a big point
to everyone here in the AWA, Gordon.  I just wanna know why!

GM: I think we all do, Gordon.  All attempts for comment to Mr. Rhodes
have been refused.  We tried reaching his brother, Simon, for comment
but Simon refused to speak as well.  While we were in Durham, we
attempted to speak with Raphael's uncle, Jeremy Rhodes.

[Crossfade to footage of the grizzled veteran, Jeremy Rhodes, standing
outside with Gordon Myers.  A graphic stating "ON LOCATION - RALEIGH,
NC" appears on the screen.]

JR: Raph's got a right big chip on his shoulder, yeah?  I used to be
that way when I was younger, so I understand what he's goin' through. 
But when I call him, he don't want to talk to me about wrestlin'.

GM: So you have spoken to him?

JR: Right, he's blood, but he ain't interested in talkin' about
wrestlin'.  The most I got out of him was that he wants to get back on
track.  I don't think this is the right way to go about it, but he's
grown now and neither me nor his dad can tell him how to handle his
business.

[Crossfade back to Gordon and Bucky.]

GM: So as you can see, quite the curious - albeit highly dangerous -
case of Raphael Rhodes.

BW: Yeah, and the scuttlebutt going around the locker room is that the
Championship Committee isn't too thrilled with Rhodes injuring people
and saying nothing.  If he keeps this up, they're going to want answers.
 And Raph, buddy?

[Bucky winks.]

BW: Any time you want an open platform to speak your mind, you just let
Bucky Wilde know and I'll gladly provide it.  Especially with Michaelson
on the shelf - the world needs a place to hear the truth!

GM:  I was told just moments ago that Raphael Rhodes will be in action
on the next edition of Saturday Night Wrestling when he goes one-on-one
with Violence Unlimited's Danny Morton!  That should be INTENSE, Bucky.

BW:  It should be a pile o' busted bones and bloodied faces.  The AWA
must have it out for VU to try and take Morton out of the Cup like that.

GM:  That could very well happen.  Raphael Rhodes is a very dangerous
man and anyone who climbs into the ring with him, considering his mood
as of late, may be taking their lives into their own hands.  But
speaking of the Stampede Cup, let's hear from yet another team already
confirmed to be in action on Labor Day Weekend - the Blonde Bombers!

[Crossfade to a common scene; the AWA banner, Jason Dane and a
microphone.  What we're missing here is a smile from the normally very
telegenic and cheery Dane.  Instead, he has the look of a haunted man
and the tone of an exasperated parent.]

JD: Ladies and gentlemen.  Jason Dane here with Larry Doyle.

LD: That's "Hollywood Man" Larry Doyle to peons like you.

[A deep sigh escapes from Dane as Doyle slides in to stand beside him. 
Sneering, you can just tell that Larry is testy as usual.]

LD: More passive aggressive behavior from a man who was never able to
make it as a professional wrestler.  That's the real story here, isn't
it?  You got into the business, couldn't hack it, but you could stand
there and make other people look good by lookin' so terrible yourself. 
Hey, don't look at me like that, that's lemons from lemonade Daaane. 
I'm paying you a compliment!

JD: Gee, thanks.

LD: Don't mention it.  Now onto this week's miscarriage of justice.

JD: Is that why you're here?

LD: Of course it is!  We lost the Wrestlerock Rumble!?  To who!?  Some
mish-mashed team that didn't even have a name.  Who were those guys
anyway?

JD: Fierro and Armstrong?

LD: Are those their names?  All I know is that they're not a tag team! 
Why the heck are they even in the Stampede tournament!?

JD: But ... they are a team.  They teamed up for the tournament ergo
they are a team.

LD: There you go again being contrary, Dane.  When are you going to
learn not to contradict your betters?

JD: My b--this is a free country, Doyle, and I--

LD: Was a free country!  The second the moneyed rich like myself became
able to buy politicians all bets were off, chumly. That is the real
travesty.  These two morons without the sense to realize that they're
two loners in a tourney for teams think they can stick their nose into
the territory of the greatest tag team to ever lace boots!?

[Taking a step back from the ever-louder Doyle, Dane bumps into
something; the massive form of the mysterious Masked Menace.]

LD: I _absolutely_ disagree with that, Daaane.  My boys get bumped from
the top seeded position in the tournament because of a stroke of luck? 
Because of a fluke?  There'll be hell to pay.  Menace!

MM: What's the score, bossman?

LD: Take a note of those names for me, will ya?  Start up a list.  I'm
afraid I might forget.

[Menace nods, then focuses on the newly intimidated Jason Dane.]

LD: We will _make_ people understand, Dane.  We are the talent.  We are
the attraction.  Without us there is no _show_ because we _are_ the AWA!

[Shouldering past Dane, Doyle exits the scene.  Nodding at Dane, Menace
departs as well.  Breathing hard, Dane clutches at his chest as we cut
to black.

We cut to the living room of a house, where two kids are playing with
plastic army men.  The little green army guys are spread out in attack
formations, with all kinds of objects being used as cover/sniping
positions/barricades/etc, but the kids don't seem real enthused.]

Kid #1: This is boring.  

Kid #2: I wish we had toys that could _really_ fight.

[Suddenly, a body is flung through the large front window with a loud
crash.  A hard-rock background track plays as the body gets to his
feet... wait, is that Calisto Dufrense?]

Kids: *gasp*

[And... is that Juan Vasquez running through the broken window to attack
him again?!]

Kids: Juan Vasquez!

[And... did James Monosso just kick down the front door to attack Alex
Martinez from behind while he was grappling with MAMMOTH Misuzawa in the
dining room for no apparent reason?!  And is that Nenshou leaping down
the staircase at Stevie Scott?  And why are Rough & Ready beating up the
mailman?  Oh, there's Violence Unlimited turning them around and
brawling with them on the lawn!]

Kids: WOAH!

[Yes, these two kids are about to have a very badly-acted simultaneous
cardiac arrest and orgasm.  It happens.  Especially when Supernova is
jumping off your kitchen cabinet to hit Sultan Azam Sharif with a flying
clothesline, Eric Preston is hiptossing Johnny Casanova across your
family room, and the Aces and First Family are brawling across your
driveway.  Joe Petrow takes a dish from the china cabinet and breaks it
across the back of Sweet Daddy Williams as he had Mark Langseth in a
headlock, Percy Childes and Count Adrian Bathwaite are in a shouting
match, Kolya Sudakov tries to Sickle Robert Donovan, who ducks... poor
Kolya hits the boys' father who was coming in to check out the noise. 
Then Anton Layton wanders by and double-stomps the poor guy.  Because he
can.]

AL: Ehehehehehehehe!

Kids: THIS IS AWESOME!

[And cue the sales pitch!] 

Announcer: And now you can bring the awesome home with new AWA action
figures from Hasbro!

[We cut to the product line, where action figures of all of our favorite
AWA characters stand in dramatic action figure poses~!]

Announcer: Relive the greatest matches!

[Stevie Scott Irish-Whips Juan Vasquez into the family entertainment
center!  Then we see the kids playing with the Scott and Vasquez action
figures.]

Announcer: Create new dream matches never before seen!

[Nenshou tries to blow mist at Calisto Dufrense, but he pulls the
kitchen door open to block!  Then we see the kids playing with the
Nenshou and Dufrense action figures.]

Announcer: Form brand new alliances and teams that you'd never see live!

[Danny Morton and Eric Cooper double-clothesline Vladimir Velikov in the
kitchen... then both grab for the paper towels to wipe off their hands
with disgusted 'yuck' expressions.  Then we see the kids playing with
these three action figures.]

Announcer: Perform the great signature moves of the AWA wrestlers, or
invent totally new ones!

[The magic of blue-screen editing makes it look like Alex Martinez is
doing a double-somersault chokeslam to Johnny Casanova.  Well, his body
is doing flips in the air as if someone were just spinning the footage
around (because that's exactly what it is.  Then we see the kids do the
same 'move' with the action figures.]

Announcer: The base set comes with the Crockett Colisseum ring and four
of the top stars in the AWA!

[Cut to a posed shot of Sweet Daddy, Velikov, Preston, and MAMMOTH. 
See, you have to buy the ring, and you get some
reasonably-popular-but-not-first-choice guys (plus one who is, but he's
off TV right now so this keeps him in exposure!) and then you HAVE to
spend money to get the popular guys!  Clever!]

Announcer: AWA Action Figures... get them today!  Because it's the only
way to get this close to the action... AND SURVIVE.

[With that, we cut to the post-fight devastation of the house... it
looks like a tornado went through here.  And exploded.]

Announcer: Ages 8 and up!

[We fade from the commercial to the ring, where a black haired man
wearing white gi pants and a green cloth belt is seen leaning against
the turnbuckles.]

PW: This next contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time
limit! Introducing first, already in the ring, from Colorado Springs,
Colorado, weighing in at two hundred and thirty three pounds, here is
Albert Showens!

[A small pop for the judo expert from Colorado that subsides as Duran
Duran's "Save a Prayer" plays over the PA.]

PW: And his opponent..

[The curtain pulls back as the Beautiful One, the Pride of Sweden
himself, Jonas Olrikke, steps out into the aisle way. Olrikke stops as
soon as he steps out of the curtain and glances out over the crowd, with
his arms outstretched.]

PW: ..from Nynashamn, Sweden, weighing in tonight at two hundred and
fifty-four pounds..

JONAS OLRIKKE!!

[Olrikke shakes his head slowly as the crowd continues it's mixed
reaction, and makes his way down to the ringside, no longer
acknowledging the crowd. Olrikke is wearing blue pant length tights,
with convenient yellow stripes so the design on his tights looks like
the Swedish Flag. Olrikke is also wearing yellow knee length boots.] 

CP: I have a question.

JD: Fire away!

[Olrikke steps onto the apron, fixated on his opponent for this
evening.]

CP: Just where was Jonas Olrikke at Wrestlerock, anyway? I'm just
asking, that's all.

[Olrikke steps into the ring, and points to the bare feet of Showens.
Showens shrugs his shoulders and mouths something to Olrikke. Olrikke
narrows his eyes as he makes hisway to the opposing corner.]

JD: I can ask him after this match, apparently he had suffered a minor
ankle injury during his match with Anton Layton, and his doctor told him
to rest it before it gets worse.

CP: It sounds kind of convenient, eh, with what happened at the end of
the show.

[The referee motions for the timekeeper to ring the bell, and both men
circle each other.]

JD: And the bell rings, starting this match up! I guess this match will
test Olrikke's ankle. I don't think he's the type of guy to shy away
from action, Colt. He's not shying away from Showens right now, a collar
and elbow tie up!

[Showens gains the upper hand in the collar and elbow tie up, as he
takes Olrikke to the ropes. The referee asks for a clean break, and
Showen obliges. Olrikke nods his head. Both men make their way back to
the middle of the ring, and Showens seems to kick at Olrikke, but holds
up. This catches Olrikke off guard, and Showens moves in and takes him
to the mat to a pop!]

JD: Nice move by Showens! 

CP: Not often Olrikke is caught off guard like that! You don't see much
striking in Judo, and apparently Olrikke thought the same way!

[Olrikke makes his way back to his feet, and nods approvingly that
Showens got the better of him for the moment. Both men make their way
back to the ring, and lock up. Olrikke quickly takes advantage by
grabbing Showens in a side headlock, and takes him over! However,
Showens quickly maneuvers and reverses, catching Olrikke in a
headscissors! Olrikke, realizing Showens' feet are in his face, quickly
powers up, and scrambles back to his feet, wiping his face in disgust!]

CP: Looks like Olrikke got a face full of foot fungus there!

JD: ..eww..

[Showens makes his way back to his feet, getting ready to lock up with
Olrikke again, when Olrikke quickly slams his knee right into Showens'
midsection! Showens drops to his knees and Olrikke quickly grabs Showens
in a gutwrench and takes him over in a powerful gutwrench suplex!]

CP: That's a way to take offense to having someone wipe their feet in
your face!

[Showens rolls over and crawls to his hands and knees, and Olrikke
stands over him, smacking him in the back of the head as the crowd
starts booing in disapproval. Olrikke backs up a little bit, then rushes
forward and drives his left knee into the back of Showens' head!]

CP: So which ankle was it that Olrikke injured?

JD: I think it was his left.   

CP: He just drove the left knee into the back of Showens' head there,
Dane, and he doesn't seem any worse for wear. 

[Olrikke quickly grabs Showens' head, and starts slamming his elbow into
the back of the head. Olrikke then brings Showens to the center of the
ring, and starts hooking his arms.]

JD: Well, it was a minor injur.. hold on a sec!

[The crowd pops as Showens starts to power out of the underhook Olrikke
was about to lock in! Showens makes his way back to a standing position
and takes him over with a Tai Otoshi! Showens quickly drops into a
cover!]

JD: ONE! TWO! THR..NO! Olrikke gets the shoulder up at the last minute!

CP: When Olrikke made his return, he admitted to having a case of ring
rust! It showed at the Rumble and in his match with Anton Layton!
Olrikke's been careless since his return!

JD: You might be right! Olrikke's in trouble! Showens has Olrikke up and
it looks like..

NO!

[Just when Showens had Olrikke ready for another one of his judo throws,
Olrikke puts the breaks on it and quickly drives him to the mat with a
vicious T-Bone suplex!]

CP: ..and just like that, Dane! Just when I thought he was being
careless, he turned it around and nailed the Mirror Image out of
nowhere!

JD: Olrikke was surprised by that throw to the point where he wants to
finish this right now! Olrikke scoops up Showens... and drives him to
the mat with a Catwalk!

[Olrikke quickly wastes no time and goes for the cover and gets the
three count! Olrikke pulls himself up off of Showens, and looks down at
him, nodding in approval. He seems to point at Showens' feet and
mentions something about investing in a pair of boots.]

JD: I'm about to get a word with Olrikke about Wrestlerock..

CP: Be sure to ask him about that ankle!

JD: I will, don't worry!

[Olrikke climbs out to the apron and drops to the floor, seemingly with
no ill effect. Dane approaches Olrikke, mic in hand. Olrikke, however,
decides he needs to get the first word here.]

JO: Bare feet in a wrestling ring.. how vile. That man really needs to
invest in some good footwear or else someone with less tact than myself
will break them. Who knows where those things have been, Mr. Dane.

JD: It's a judo thing.

[Olrikke sneers in disapproval.]
 
JO: Is 'not washing your feet' some sort of secret judo technique? What
a gross martial art those people practice.

JD: I'm pretty sure he takes good care of his feet. Anyway, I'm out here
to ask you if your ankle is back at 100%? You weren't at Wrestlerock,
and apparently word is that you had rolled your ankle in your match with
Anton Layton.

[Olrikke nods his head.]

JO: I don't think I need to produce a note from my doctor about my
ankle. I don't need to prove myself to you or anyone. I've heard the
rumors since Wrestlerock about why I wasn't at the show, that I was
making an excuse for not being there. I thought the concept of combining
wrestling and lame rock and roll music is rather droll. 

[Olrikke clears his throat and looks into the eyes of Dane.]

JO: Mr. Dane, My doctor told me to rest up after I twisted my ankle in
that match with Mr. Anton Layton. It was bothering me and was swelling
up, so I went home and rested. It's not an issue that should be picked
at further. I hope everything is perfectly clear, lying is an ugly
thing, Mr. Dane. If I'm looking you right in the eyes and say that I
hurt my ankle, then I hurt my ankle.

[Dane nods his head.]

JD: I suppose you're right. Going back to Wrestlerock, don't you think
that you could have been able to at least even the odds?

JO: I do regret not being there, yes. Sadly, Wrestlerock was just
another case of the inmates running the asylum.

[Olrikke sighs, then turns and points to the ring behind him.]

JO: In case nobody was aware, that is a wrestling ring. It is for
wrestling. It is not a crime scene. The W in the AWA stands for
Wrestling. It's not some sort of upside down M where the M stands for
'Mugging' that so many people seem to think it's stood for for as long
as anyone can remember.

[Olrikke turns with a disgusted look on his face.]

JO: What happened at the end of Wrestlerock was a perfect example of
what I've been trying to do throughout my career. Nothing resembling the
'sport' of wrestling occurred at the end of that show. A man.. an
undeserving man, won the National title without even wrestling a match.
Calisto Dufrense being on top of the AWA is an example of what is wrong
with the wrestling world right now, and it's time for it to change back
into an actual sport. People like the Unholy Alliance, the Russians..
and a fitting champion like Dufrense are why this sport is a laughing
stock.

My ankle is fine, Mr. Dane, and I assure you and everyone else that
doubts me that I am committed to cleaning up this sport. I think it's
high time I show everyone how committed I am. 

[As Dane goes to ask Olrikke one more question, Olrikke quickly turns
and leaves the ringside area. Dane then turns his head back to the
camera and shrugs his shoulders as we fade back to the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Another victory for Jonas Olrikke and what do you think he means by
showing everyone how committed he is, Bucky?

BW:  If Dane was worth his salt as a reporter, he would have found out. 
Instead, I gotta sit here and listen to you ask me about it.

GM:  Do you believe him about his ankle?

BW:  Jonas Olrikke does not strike me as the untruthful type, Gordo. 
Are you calling the man a liar?

GM:  I certainly am not.  But I do think it's a bit of a coincidence. 
The proof is in the pudding, my mother used to say... and I think Mr.
Olrikke needs to dish out a few bowlfuls of pudding to the fans of the
AWA before they buy into what he's sellin'.  

BW:  You just don't trust anyone.  Admit it!

GM:  It is getting difficult to trust people around here, Bucky.  Think
about Marcus Broussard!  The man who was the first AWA National Champion
seemed to completely change his ways when he came back to the AWA last
summer to help fight the Southern Syndicate.  I never would have DREAMED
he was the man under the mask of the West Memphis Assassin.  I never
would have dreamed he'd be involved with that plot.

BW:  Then you never really knew the man.  Look, Marcus and I were close
a long time ago.  I know him better than most do.  And I know that the
Marcus Broussard we saw last summer wasn't him.  It wasn't the REAL him,
Gordo.  What we saw at Wrestlerock?  That was the REAL Marcus Broussard.
 The San Jose Shark is back and he smells blood in the water!

GM:  Our cameras caught Mr. Broussard speaking to the AWA fans at a live
event this past week.  Take a look at the so-called REAL Marcus
Broussard...

[Crossfade to Marcus Broussard, standing mid-ring at an AWA live event.
Dressed to the nines in a dark green suit, looking like the Marcus of
old with a sleek hair cut and clean shaven face, the San Jose Shark
speaks.]

MB: The reasons are simple. Throughout the years, the fans have always
been vocal. The internet boards have made it clear.

"The AWA just isn't the same without Marcus Broussard."

And I would tend to agree.

[Broussard points at himself, nodding in agreement.]

MB: You can shake a tree, and ten Stevie Scotts or Juan Vasquez's fall
out. Go to the local trash collection center, and you'll find a handful
of Supernovas or Ron Houstons. Same applies for your Sudakovs and your
Martinezes. They're common. Easy to find. They provide no traction, they
create no waves.

But a Marcus Broussard is one in a million. One in ten million. Only I
could have strapped the cart to my back and led the AWA to
respectability. Only I could have been the pillar and the foundation of
what is unquestionably the finest wrestling organization in the world.
But believe me, it was not always like that. Time was, the AWA was
filled with debris like Rick Marley and Buddy Lambert, and that one kid
who didn't wear shoes.

The rings of the AWA were clogged with pieces of human cholesterol like
Mark Shaw and Kevin Slater, Ricky Royal and Paul Driscoll. And through
it all, like a beacon of excellence in a sea of mediocrity, stood Marcus
Broussard. Standing tall, standing proud, showing the AWA and the
_world_ how a master of his craft goes about his business. Showing _all_
of you how it was done. I made each of your lives a little bit better,
because you were able to turn on your TV or even scrape together the
cash and come to the arena and see how a man who was in control
operated.

[The fans just boo the Shark relentlessly.]

MB: Want proof? When the AWA first got rolling, Stevie Scott was a
reject in a Hawaiian shirt. Goofing around for petty laughs and not much
else. He was a jackass for you to bray at.

But once yours truly decided to bring the excellence elsewhere, Stevie
stole my look, he stole my mannerisms, he stole my style. And lo and
behold, open your record books and you will see Stevie Scott, two times
the AWA National champion. Two times, the holder of the belt I made
famous.

[Broussard looks into the camera and waves a finger.]

MB: For a moment I was flattered, Steve, but now I'm just irritated.
You're welcome for the example, but amateur hour is nothing compared to
the mint original. Hence why I returned to destroy the Syndicate in
WarGames. Imitation just won't do.

Even Calisto Dufresne, the man whom I handed the AWA National title, was
nothing but a side show act in a tag team when the AWA started. And
sure, he grew into a champion, but I'm sure he would admit that he
watched and he learned from Marcus Broussard, he learned how a champion
carries himself from watching me at a distance.

But it all comes back... to Juan Vasquez. The Departed.

[Broussard smiles proudly.]

MB: I came out of retirement to assist Juan Vasquez in destroying the
Southern Syndicate. Selflessly, admirably, wanting nothing for my
efforts but satisfaction. And after the tower came crumbling own, when
all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty Dumpty
back together again, I decided that it was time to reclaim my prize.
Fairly, like a man. And Juan Vasquez agreed to my face, but behind my
back he reneged. He managed to get held up as MAMMOTH Mizusawa injured
my ribs. I held my tongue, because frankly there were more important
matters at hand, but the days and weeks went by and it started to make
sense. Juan Vasquez was a master of the late save, he was brilliant at
hanging the people who enabled him out to dry.

Juan Vasquez pulled the wool over my eyes, and all of yours. The hard
work and integrity he preached was a facade for a man who used and
abused every person he came in contact with, and WrestleRock proved it.
Literally a dozen men came out of the woodwork to give that cockroach
what he truly deserved, and I'm proud to be the man who stood in the
ring at the point.

Enjoy traction, Juan. Enjoy the fruits of your labor. And enjoy knowing
that there are five times as many people who would have loved to be in
the position I was in.

[Marcus holds up a finger as if to pause in mid-thought.]

MB: Further proof, I might add, that when it comes to the AWA, accept no
substitute.

At my feet, the Southern Syndicate crumbled. And by my hand, Juan
Vasquez was pushed into obscurity. The AWA just isn't the same without
the San Jose Shark, truer words have _never_ been spoken.

In Japan, they call him the Ace. In America, they call him Franchise.
But in the AWA, they call him Marcus. There can be only one, and you're
looking at the genuine article. Learn to like it, learn to love it, but
you _will_ live with it.

Daddy's home. All is well.

[Broussard looks from side to side, at the jeering crowd and nods to
himself.]

MB: Good to be back.

[And with the crowd booing their hearts out, we fade to black.

And then back up on an animated Jason Dane... no, he's not just moving a
lot.  He's LITERALLY animated - like Porky Pig style.]

JD:  They say I'm the man with all the answers.

[A cut to a different angle of animated Dane.]

JD:  They say I'm the man who gets all the scoops.

[Another cut.  Another angle.]

JD:  They say I'm- is all this really necessary?  It's not like I'm
Geraldo, guys.

[A voice off camera shouts "CUT!" and animated Jason Dane walks off a
green screen set through a crowded studio.]

JD:  I'm not the "most feared man in America," fans.  What I am is a
pretty good reporter who has an eye for the stories you're gonna want to
know about.  That's why AWA Access has been one of the most downloaded
apps ever and that's why the AWA gave me permission to start my own
website!

I'll be bringing you the hot news, the big stories, and the stuff not
fit to air.

[Animated Dane strokes his animated chin.]

JD:  Maybe I AM the most feared man in America!

[A "BZZZ!" sound of electricity is heard as animated Jason Dane fades
away and a title graphic appears.]

"JASON DANE - COMING TO A BROWSER NEAR YOU!"

[Fade to black.

Words appear on the screen: "AFTER WRESTLEROCK."

Fade in: To the locker room where we find Supernova, still dressed in
his wrestling attire and seated on a bench. The paint that normally
adorns his face is nearly gone, much of it having come off after his
grueling Tower of Doom match, and sweat is apparent on his brow. He is
bent over, his elbows propped up on his knees and his head resting
against his hands.]

S: Just when I thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

[He takes a deep breath.]

S: I was riding on a high after winning the Tower of Doom match, knowing
the Foreign Legion had been taken down... I felt pretty good to see
Koyla Sudakov finally stand up for himself... even if I didn't
understand what was going through Stevie Scott's mind what with all that
went down.

Still... it felt good to stand side by side with Jim Watkins, knowing
we'd done well.

And then...

[He slowly shakes his head.]

S: To see what happened to Juan Vasquez... the stunt that Louis Matsui,
Marcus Broussard and all the rest pulled... and then to find out it was
all to the benefit of Ben Waterson and Calisto Dufresne...

[Another deep breath.]

S: I tried... I really did. But when they bring a whole army into the
ring... including guys who don't even work in the AWA... it makes me
wonder... was it really all worth it?

[A long pause... then Supernova slowly raises his head.]

S: Was it really worth it, Calisto Dufresne...

[He now gets a wild look in his eyes.]

S: ...to know that your National title win was nothing but a sham?

Hey, some people may fault Stevie Scott for the way he won the title...
but at least he won it in the ring in a hard-fought match and didn't
just run into hiding, then ask somebody else to come do his dirty work
for him so he wouldn't have to actually fight for it.

[He then balls up one hand into a fist, smacking it into the other in
anger.]

S: No, Calisto, that's not the way a real man gets it done. You may be
the National title holder, but you are no champion. And believe me, if
you think you're just going to continue to waltz your way around the AWA
without actually having to work for it, you've got another thing coming.

Because I have a National title shot as well... and believe me that,
sooner or later... 

[And his face is now more intense than it has ever been.]

S: YOU'RE GONNA FEEL THE HEAT!

[He then suddenly rises to his feet, cups his hands to his mouth and
lets loose his trademark howl. Fade out to the WKIK Studios where Gordon
is grinning from ear to ear.]

GM:  That!  That right there is what Calisto Dufresne, Louis Matsui, Ben
Waterson, and all the rest - Broussard, the Russians, the Alliance, all
of 'em - that's what they've done, Bucky!  They've got men like
Supernova ready to come right for 'em!  He's right!  He's got a shot at
the National Title in his back pocket and Calisto Dufresne's in a for a
bad, bad night when Supernova decides to cash it in!

BW:  If you're pinning your hopes on the likes of boys like Jeff Jagger
and Supernova, you're in for a disappointing time, Gordo.  These punks
ain't got nothin' worth standing up and shoutin' for.  You really give
Supernova a shot against Calisto Dufresne?

GM:  Absolutely!

BW:  Well, you're dumber than I thought... and that's sayin' something.

GM:  During that interview, Supernova mentioned a couple of situations
that we also wanted to address here tonight.  First, he talked about
Kolya Sudakov... and I hear you have news about that, Bucky.

BW:  That's right!  With Michaelson banged up, the AWA asked me if I
would host The Call Of The Wilde on the next Saturday Night Wrestling
with special guest Kolya Sudakov... and I graciously accepted.  So, if
you want to know what's next for the former National Champion, tune in
two weeks from tonight to find out with the rest of the world.

GM:  Also, he mentioned Jim Watkins.  "Big" Jim, we're told... will ALSO
be in the building two weeks from tonight where he will address his
future here in the AWA.  Those two big interviews plus the showdown
between Danny Morton and Raphael Rhodes that we already talked about
earlier.  That's shaping up to be one heck of a show, fans.  But this
one ain't too shabby either!  Todd Michaelson and the Combat Corner have
produced some great, young wrestlers; Men like Eric Preston and Ricky
Armstrong are just a few of the young stars that are alumni of the
Combat Corner...

BW: Just how far are we lowering the bar these days, Gordo?  Those guys
are "stars?"

GM: As I was saying...the Combat Corner has introduced quality talent to
the wrestling world and the young man featured in our next match is no
different. Here he is, taking on Troy DeMang, the newest graduate of the
Combat  Corner...Skywalker Jones!

BW:  Not so fast, Gordo!  My sources tell me this kid didn't even
graduate from the Corner!

GM:  What are you talking about now?

BW:  A little birdie told me that someone from the office plucked this
kid out of there when they saw him in action a few weeks ago.  But I
understand that Michaelson hasn't officially graduated him yet.

GM:  Well, that's a story for another time but right now, let's take a
look at this matchup that is already underway!

[The match is joined in progress inside a darkly lit arena, with Jason
Dane and Colt Patterson on commentary, as we see the athletically-built
Jones, in black, red, and silver wrestling trunks, kneepads, and
kickpads, sending DeMang to the canvas with a monkey flip. DeMang is
quick to his feet, but Jones is there, leaping up and seating himself
onto DeMang's shoulders. He stays there for a moment, before twisting
around and taking DeMang down with a spinning headscissors!]

JD: OH! And down goes DeMang again! 

CP: DeMang looks lost out there. Jones is just too quick and athletic
for him to handle. The kid's just making DeMang look foolish. He's doing
whatever he wants to DeMang and there's not a dang thing he can do to
stop him.

[Jones taunts DeMang, sticking out his chin and daring the journeyman
wrestler to hit him. DeMang throws a looping haymaker that Jones easily
sidesteps. Another telegraphed punch misses by a wide margin. An
increasingly infuriated DeMang throws another punch, that Jones sways
way back to avoid...before suddenly lunging forward, smashing DeMang
with a leaping punch!]

JD: OH! A Superman punch by Jones!

[The punch catches DeMang right on the button, stopping him dead in his
tracks as his knees get wobbly. He stumbles forward a few feet...then
backwards, with Jones following his every movement. Jones then stops and
points to a spot on the canvas...the _exact_ spot where DeMang finally
falls!]

CP: Hahaha! That's great, kid! Have some fun out there!

[Jones brushes some imaginary dirt off his shoulder before he suddenly
deadleaps high into the air, smashing an elbow right into DeMang's
chest!]

JD: Jones tried to jump out of the building with that elbowdrop! There's
one, there's two...no!

[DeMang manages to roll the shoulder right before three, as an annoyed
expression forms on Jones' face. The rookie tries to whip DeMang into
the ropes, but the bigger man reverses it. DeMang tries to take Jones
over with a backdrop...]

JD: No! Jones lands on his feet!



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



JD: And almost takes DeMang's head off with that leaping sidekick!

CP: It looks like he's headed up top!

[Dragging DeMang towards the nearest corner, Jones grabs onto the top
rope and slingshots himself onto the top turnbuckle. He spreads his arms
out wide, imploring the crowd to cheer louder, before standing straight
up and backflipping off the top rope in a moonsault...

...and over-rotating right into a legdrop! The crowd goes wild!]

CP: Holy cow! What the heck was that!?

JD: A moonsault legdrop! I heard him talking about this earlier
tonight...he calls it "Shoot the Moon!" 

CP: Whatever he calls it, it just got him the win!

[Jones gets to his feet and takes a bow, clearly enjoying the cheers
he's getting from the crowd as we fade back to Gordon and Bucky in the
studio.]

BW: Man, that kid's something else. Almost makes me wanna' get back to
managing! I could make a killing off talent like that!

GM: That was indeed an impressive display by Skywalker Jones, but he
also had some ummm...controversial statements later on when Jason Dane
caught up with him, as you'll see here...

[We open to a shot of Skywalker Jones standing with Jason Dane. The
young high-flyer looks WAY overdressed in a pinstripe suit and designer
sunglasses. His mini-fro and goatee are perfectly maintained and a big,
million-dollar smile is plastered on his face. He removes the sunglasses
and places them in his shirt pocket, before slapping hands with Dane and
going through an elaborate fist-pound exchange that Jason manages to get
through fairly well.]

JD: That was one heck of a match you just had. 

[A smiling Jones nods his head approvingly.]

JD: Now that you've graduated from the Combat Corner, I guess the
question on everyone's mind is, "When are we going to see Skywalker
Jones in action on Saturday Night Wrestling?"

[Jones shrugs.]

Jones: I can't really say. The contract's with my lawyer, but right now
I'm just weighing my options.

[A confused look appears on Dane's face.]

JD: Your "options?"

Jones: Hey...Todd Michaelson and Bill Masterson aren't the only people
Skywalker Jones has impressed out there! After that match with Rojo, my
voicemail and text started blowin' up! Skywalker's been giving everyone
a free sneak peek and now everyone's lining up to see the entire show!
Well, I'm telling you right now...the price of admission isn't cheap!

[You can sense whatever good will Jones had with Dane is quickly
beginning to disappear.]

Jones: I'm telling you right now...I've got offers from all over the
place! I'm talking about Phoenix! Toronto! And Sin City itself, Las
Vegas! 

JD: Are you telling us that there's a possibility that you _won't_ be
wrestling for the AWA?

[Jones shrugs.]

Jones: That's up to the AWA. If they want Skywalker Jones to bring his
talents to an AWA ring, then they just need to show Skywalker Jones how
much they *appreciate* his talents.

[He holds up his hand and rubs his thumb and fingers together, making
the universal sign for money. Dane has a conflicted look on his face,
something that doesn't go unnoticed by Jones.]

Jones: Hey. Look...no offense to anyone. The AWA's a great place and
all, but I'm just looking at this from all sides. The AWA came up with a
pretty generous offer, but I want to be fair to everybody and approach
this the right way. At the end of the day, Skywalker Jones and his team
are going to sit down and decide to do what's best...

[He reaches into his shirt pocket and puts his sunglasses back on,
flashing that big smile for the camera once more.]

Jones: ...for Skywalker Jones.

[With that, the Combat Corner rookie swaggers out of view as we fade
back into the studio.]

GM: Skywalker Jones is declaring himself a free agent? Wow...I don't
even know what to say.

BW:  I say that's the smartest kid to ever come outta' the Combat
Corner! The name of the game is money, Gordo...and you might as well
make as much of it while you have two good knees. Just ask James
Monosso!

GM:  I'd rather not.  Controversial statements may be the theme of the
night after what we've heard here on this special edition of Saturday
Night Wrestling - and it's not going to get any easier.  Fans, remember
back to Wrestlerock where Corax was a part of that team that was
victorious inside the Tower Of Doom.  All seemed well - all seemed good
for the AWA's Dark Avenger... but now... now, I'm not so sure... let's
listen to some comments from the mysterious Corax...

[Camera cuts to Corax, standing in front of an AWA backdrop.  The face
painted vigilante stands calmly as Gordon Myers regards him, microphone
in hand.  The dark haired grappler cuts a creepy figure (as always). 
His black and white face paint, dark hair, black trenchcoat...and the
crow Azrael sitting on his shoulder, balefully staring at AWA's
announcer.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, I'm here with part of Team Supernova, Corax.

[The face painted wrestler simply nods as Azrael flaps his wings and
'caws' loudluy, eliciting a flinch from Gordon before he starts in on
his questions, at which point he glares right back.]

GM : ..a man who, to the shock of many, did absolutely nothing to assist
while Juan Vasquez was being beaten to a bloody pulp!  After all the
talk about justice and revenge, it's proving to be just that...talk! 
What do you have to say for yourself, Corax.

[Corax stares at him for a long moment, then shrugs.]

Corax: Simple, Gordon...justice was served.

[Gordon stares gape-mouthed at the vigilante.]

GM: Justice was SERVED?  How can you figure that?

Corax: Because while it was evil men carrying it out, Vasquez certainly
was deserving of the retribution he faced at Wrestlerock...or did you
think that all of the trespasses he's committed in the past got washed
away in the light of his conversion here in AWA?  The man is filthy with
wrongdoing.  He's absolutely lousy with innocent blood that he's spilt
over the years.

Some of his blood hit the canvas?

Justice will demand more some day.  That's just a downpayment.

But for now there are other, more immediate concerns than one fallen
anti-hero...and me and Azrael?

We'll be watching.

[Without another word, Corax simply turns and walks off camera.]

GM: I simply have no idea what goes on in that man's head...

[We fade away from Gordon to... well, Gordon.  This Gordon is the one
inside the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  See what I mean, Bucky?

BW:  Oh, I see what you mean.  I told you all along that this guy was
playing with a Lucky Charms box that's short some purple horseshoes,
daddy.  

GM:  I'm beginning to think you may be righ-

BW:  But at the same time... what he just said... it makes a lot of
sense, Gordo!

GM:  It what?!

BW:  It makes sense!  Vasquez WAS deserving of what he got!  Justice WAS
served!

GM:  You're as crazy as he is!  And we got a further glimpse into just
how crazy Corax truly is when we saw him in action later that same
night... let's take a look...

[Crossfade back into an arena somewhere onto Phil Watson.]

PW: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall, with a ten minute time limit.

Already in the ring, hailing from Apple Springs, Texas and weighing in
at 250 pounds...he is Rick Scott!

[The crowd gives a mild cheer to the man in the ring, sporting a black
mullet and goatee and wearing silver thigh length trunks with triangular
navy blue segments running from the legs to hip, with navy blue elbow
pads.]

PW: And his opponent...hailing from New Orleans, Louisiana and weighing
in at 236 pounds...he is...

CORAX!

[The lights dim and the sound of birds' wings flapping pumps out of the
PA system.  A mist starts to pour out of the back as a lonely church
bell tolls...the beginning of Concrete Blond's "Vampire Song".  As the
baseline picks up, a long figure appears and the entryway: His head
tipped forward, and the "Crow" style face paint is partially obscured by
his long dark hair that hangs down in front of his face.  He's wearing a
long black trench coat, a black long legged singlet with matching
gloves, boots, knee, and elbow pads...and on his shoulder sits a raven,
its raucous 'caw' audible over the cheers of the audience.

After a moment, Corax moves, stalking towards the ring, not quickly, but
not dawldling as the crowd offers a mixed reaction.  He moves at his own
pace, and with a purpose, his eyes locked on the squared circle.  As the
face painted vigilante arrives, he walks around once, placing the raven
on a roost near the time keeper, then sliding under the bottom rope and
removing his trenchcoat.]

GM: After what Corax had to say earlier, I'm just not sure what to make
of him anymore, Bucky.

BW: Neither am I, Daddy.  I was convinced that he's a complete idiot
before...but now he showed that maybe he's got half a brain behind that
paint.  He didn't buy into Vasquez's act.

[The bell rings, and Scott treats it like a starter's pistol in a race,
charging at Corax as he removes his trench coat.  The Texan takes it to
the face painted vigilante, launching a fast series of right hands as
the crowd cheers.]

GM: Rick Scott's wasting no time here as he immediately goes on the
offense against the Enigmatic One.

BW: It's a good strategy.  Always better to throw a punch than to take
one.

[Scott is a house of fire, forcing Corax back into the ropes and sending
him in with an irish whip and going off the ropes himself, charging and
going for a big lariat, which is ducked by Corax.  Both men rebound and
Corax goes to the air, hitting a flying clothesline that takes the Texan
down to the canvas...and finally gives him the chance to take off his
trench coat, which he throws down on top of Scott before laying the
boots to him.]

GM: Corax seems to be taking a bit of a shortcut here, Bucky...using
that coat to tangle Scott up on the canvas while he kicks the man. Not
exactly the actions of someone interested in justice, are they?

BW: Sure they are, daddy.  Scott jumped him from behind, now Corax has
to show him what happens when you try to cheat that way.  By any means
necessary.

GM: That's dubious even for you, Bucky.

[Mickey Meekly backs Corax off and clears the trench coat out of the
ring, issuing a warning to the face painted wrestler in the process.
Corax stands stoically, ignoring him...then moves in once again on Rick
Scott.  The bigger man is brough to his knees with a tug of the hair
(drawning a warning from Meekly)...but fires a series of punches into
Corax's mid section to try to derail his offense.  Unfortunately Corax
returns fire, and has significantly more leverage as he hits him in the
forehead twice before bringing him to his feet, then hoists him up and
throws him down with a military press slam.]

GM: Ohhhh my!  Corax with a ring shaking slam on Rick Scott!

BW: That was a display of power there, Daddy!

[Rick Scott is quickly back to his feet and charges, but Corax is ready
with an arm drag takedown.  Scott is quickly back to his feet again, but
this time Corax puts him down with a hip toss.  Scott is up a third
time, but again, Corax is waiting and he hits a smooth drop toe hold
that he follows up with an elbowdrop to the small of Scott's back.]

GM: Scott's aggressiveness is admirable, but Corax is taking advantage,
biding his time and striking when there's an opening...

BW: Scott's like a lemming running off a cliff in there, Daddy.  He
needs to dial the throttle back.

[Corax moves up after the elbow drop and applies a reverse chin lock,
torquing back on Scott's neck.  Meekly is right there, checking to make
sure his hands aren't choking...and checking for a submission.]

GM: Corax is showing some moves we haven't seen from him before, Bucky. 
So much of his action has been in with Supernova and Lee against Shariff
and the Russians that a lot of his technical repetoire...

BW: We just saw a lot of him being a goon and going after old men with
baseball bats.

[As Scott screamed in pain, shaking his head to Meekly's questions about
submission, Corax continued to wrench back, but Scott stretched,
reaching the corner and forcing Corax to break...which he did after
delaying to a 4 count.  Becoming frustrated Corax released the hold and
stalked to the center of the ring as Rick Scott pulled himself to the
corner to try to re-attain his vertical base...only to have Corax rush
in and nail a running knee strike to the back of his head as he started
the climb.]

GM: Oh my stars!  What an impact, Bucky!

BW: Any brains that Rick Scott had in his head are leaking out of his
nose now, Daddy.  That was a vicious hit, no doubt about it.

[Corax moves in calmly and pulls Scott to his feet sends him to the
ropes, then nails a nasty spinebuster.  Coming back to his feet, he
looks down at Scott for a moment, the spits on his downed form before
grabbing his legs and flipping him over into a Boston Crab...]

GM: That's just disgusting...there no call for...Raven's Claw!  He's
locked on the Raven's Claw!

BW: I don't know what's gotten into Corax today, but I like the new
attitude, Daddy.

GM: I have to wonder how Supernova and Tyler Lee will feel about their
sometimes ally's actions...

[Scott holds out as best he can, but the damage that Corax has done to
his back and the way he's situated in the middle of the ring offer no
chance of escape...he taps out and Mickey Meekly calls for the bell...

And again when Corax won't release the hold...then Meekly comes over and
starts a count on Corax, reaching 4 1/2 before the vigilante drops the
Raven's Claw.]

GM: I really have to wonder...

PW: Your winner in a time of 6:42...CORAX!

[As Corax raises a victorious hand, we fade back into the WKIK Studios
where Gordon Myers is shaking his head.]

BW:  What's your problem now, Gordo?

GM:  My problem is that in a time where the AWA is plagued with this
darkness everywhere you turn, we really can't afford to be losing
soldiers of the RIGHT side of this battle, Bucky.  Corax was one of
those men - the Dark Avenger as we called him earlier - and now he seems
to be slipping away.  What makes him any better than a man like Anton
Layton or Rex Summers now?!

BW:  Or Royalty.

GM:  Exactly - or Royal- oh, I get it.  That's your segue into the
Royalty interview.  Fine.  Run it.

[A beaming, styling Joe Petrow stands outside of a door with a large
gold star underneath, a Gothic script ROYALTY label, and a large,
silent, sunglasses wearing guard on either side, and Petrow speaks
directly to the camera]

JP: After a job well done, the men are in an especially good mood
tonight, so we've decided to give you peasants a special treat;  a
glimpse into the gilded, post-match private life of the greatest
wrestlers in wrestling, Royalty!

[Petrow pushes the door open and exposes the gaudy, plush interior of
their VIP room, waving the cameraman inside.]

JP: As the locals already know, there is no place for men of our stature
to party in Durham, so we have brought the party to us.

Oh, look!  It's the National Tag Team Champions!

[Petrow pulls to a stop, pointing the cameraman to the side where we
find Rough N Ready.  Dave Cooper is dressed in a three-piece suit and
wears RayBan shades, while Eric Matthew Somers is dressed more casually
in blue jeans and a black polo shirt, but also wears shades.  A bottle
of beer rests in his hand as he gestures to the camera.  Cooper nods,
starting to speak.]

DC: Once again, Violence Unlimited goes down in defeat in our hands and
learns it's not nice to fool with Royalty. Believe me, Haynes and
Morton, you paid the price for what you did to the King's throne, and
now, we have once again forced you to the back of the line of those
teams wanting a shot at our belts! You want another shot at us... it
will come on our terms, believe me!

[Dave then pulls his shades off, showing the hardened look in his eyes.]

DC: And now we approach the Stampede Cup... and this time around, the
greatest tag team in wrestling is not going to let that prize slip by us
again! They can bring in teams from all corners of the globe, from all
eras of days gone by, from whatever rock they happen to find them
under...

[That last remark draws a brief smirk from Eric.]

DC: ...but it doesn't matter, because Eric and I will not be denied,
will win that cup and the money, and will prove to everyone beyond a
shadow of a doubt that there isn't a team out there who can measure up
to us!

JP:  That's right!  The Lords Of The Ring WILL be the Stampede Cup
winners and will prove to the entire world that they are the best thing
running in this business when it comes to tag team wrestling!

[As Petrow continues to yammer away, in the background one can notice
that The King of Wrestling, Mark Langseth, sitting in a gaudy looking
plush throne. His face is aghast as he watches the proceedings of the
Wrestlerock main event.]

ML: Joe, you oughta come see this!

[Petrow puts up his hand for a moment as he continues addressing the
camera.]

JP: The bottom line is, I promised all of these guys all of the respect
and attention that they deserve.  And -

ML: JOE! This isn't good!

JP: - after combining all of our efforts, I have finally delivered! 

[The strains of ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" start playing in the
background, causing King Langseth's eyes to bulge with a mixture of fear
and anger.] 

ML: What the...

JP: With Violence Limited vanquished for good, and Juan Vasquez hiding
from us at every turn, there can be no doubt in _anyone's_ minds that
ROYALTY are the alpha males of the A...what the...

[The sound of familiar music has taken Petrow's attention from his
closing speech, as turns around to watch the television.  It takes a few
seconds for things to start to register...]

JP: ZZ TOP!? The concert hasn't started yet!  I paid big money for an
exclusive deal tonight! What is...what the...Calisto DuFRESNE!?

ML: WHAT IS THIS?!? WHO IS THIS?!?

[Petrow watches Dufresne power walk into the ring, and only now begins
to realize what is happening outside of Royalty's castle.  Petrow sees
Louis Matsui.  He sees Ben Waterson.  He sees a destroyed Juan Vasquez,
and bunch of other men who appear to be making THEMSELVES out to be the
alpha males]

JP: Those backstabbing sons of...

[Petrow's voice trails off, as he watches Dufresne claim his title
match, DDT Vasquez, and then claim the AWA National Championship.
Langseth looks like he's about to faint.]

GM (from television):  That can't be his!  This whole thing - this just
can't be happening, Bucky!

BW (from television):  Oh, it's happening, Gordo!  And it's the greatest
night in AWA history!

JP (screaming at television): BUCKY WILDE!? YOU SPEAK FOR _ROYALTY_! YOU
MUTINOUS CREEP!

[Petrow watches the rest of the action with mouth agape, watching
everyone steal Royalty's thunder in one fell swoop.]

BW (from television):  THE ERA OF THE LADYKILLER HAS BEGUN!!

GM (from television):  May the heavens help us all.  Good night,
everybody.

[Petrow HURLS his wine glass at the television, sending sparks flying.]

JP: (inaudible)!

[It is assumed that post-production has muted Joe Petrow's expletive.
But there's no need to assume the anger in Petrow's eyes as he turns and
storms out of the shot, to do who knows what...]

ML: That's supposed to me, Joe! Royalty!

[The slamming of the door can be heard as Langseth gets up, looking at
the destroyed TV.]

ML: That's supposed to be us...

[The shot fades on this King as he slowly slumps his shoulders and we
fade to back to the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  A very interesting response from the Royalty camp, Bucky.

BW:  Look, first... can I apologize here?

GM:  For what?

BW:  I want to apologize to Royalty - especially to Misters Langseth and
Petrow.  I think I spoke out of turn when I said-

GM:  Didn't get your bribe from them this week?

BW:  BRIBE?!  How dare you, sir!  How dare you besmirch the name of
Buckthorn Wilde?!

GM:  Give me a break.  Fans, we'll be right back after these quick
messages.

BW:  Wait... lemme explain to Joe what happened!  It was all an honest
mistake!  I swear that I didn't mean to...

[The shot fades on Bucky as he still speaks...

We fade 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 a darkened arena. A
myriad of strobe lights.  Two VERY colorful young gentlemen strutting
down the aisle to the Beastie Boys "So What'cha Want?"  Not the kind of
spectacle they see in Texas everyday...or anywhere else for that
matter.]

PW: The following contest is a tag team match, set for one fall and a
fifteen minute time limit!

Introducing first, making their way down the aisle, from New Seattle, in
the year 2032... at a total combined weight of three-hundred ninety-two
pounds...

...JERBY JEZZ and SHIZZ DAWG OG...  THE RAVE!

JD: Greetings everyone, we are here with this special match, and Colt,
we have what should be a very interesting encounter to bring the fans
tonight!

CP: WHAT!? I can't hear a thing over this music!

JD: Jerby Jezz and...Shizz Dawg?  OG...two unusual gentlemen, with the
ever more unusual claim to be from the FUTURE!  2032 in fact!

CP: Ridiculous!  Listening to this music so loud all the the time has
obviously turned their minds to mush!

JD: Well, the crowd doesn't seem to know quite what to make of them
either. But their unorthodox style really turned some heads last month
on Saturday Night Wrestling, where they almost defeated the much larger
team of Mark II.

CP: They don't have to worry about being outsized tonight!

JD: Indeed, they'll be taking on another light-weight, fast-moving team
in The Hive.  And...uh, one of the Rave has the mic!

[A colorful member of The Rave, similar to but different to his partner,
soon clears things up for everyone.]

JJ: JERBY JEZZ IN THE HAZZABY!

[Another mixed response, bordering more on boos than their previous
appearance]

JJ: You know we're here on a very important mission!  There are still a
few spots open in the Stampede Cup Double Wildstyling Genetic Relay
Series, and we're looking to, how's that really old saying go, throw our
ring in the hat!

SDOG: It seems our opponents know a thing or two about our kind of
wildstyling, but it doesn't matter who you are, because The Rave is
putting you down for the double count!

JJ & SDOG: RAVE, RAVE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE BORSCHT!

[Jerby Jezz flips the mic back to the announcer, and they do
some...unusual calisthenics to warm up]

CP: Double count?

JD: The Rave seemed intent on going for a countout win on their last
appearance, I guess that's the goal of wildstyling?

CP: Now don't YOU start talking that nonsense Dane!

PW: And their opponents!

[The sound of bees, or perhaps vuvuzela, buzzes through the expo, as a
masked woman with frizzy red hair and ample tracts of land leads the
equally masked Yellow Jacket and Bumble Bee to the ring.  Their brand of
colorfulness and demeanor seems to be a little more accessible to kids,
who are receptive to their slapping hands around ringside]

PW: Lead to ringside by The Queen Bee, from Parts Unknown, weighing in
at a total combined weight of three hundred thirty eight pounds...

...BUMBLE BEE and YELLOW JACKET, THE HIVE!

[Both of these men are covered from head to toe. Bumble Bee wears yellow
full-length tights that also cover his entire torso. The color is broken
up here and there with a few streaks of black. His face is covered in a
yellow mask with black 'antennae' coming off the top.

Yellow Jacket is in similarly colored attire but with alternating yellow
and black stripes covering him from head to toe. The two outfits are
different but similar enough to be confusing to opponents... and
officials... at times.]

JD: Here come The Hive, actually giving up over 50 pounds to The Rave,
but they did beat a much larger team the last time we saw these two
gentlemen in action.

CP: Gentlemen?  They're walking popsicles!  And can we stop that buzzing
already!

JD: The Hive, diving under the bottom ready to...oh, and The Rave right
there to meet them!

CP: Not even waiting for the

[DING! DING!]

CP: -bell.  Wuit making me look bad!

JD: All four men slugging it out in the middle of the ring!

[Jerby Jezz rakes the eyes of...Yellow Jacket?  Bumble Bee?  It's
awfully hard to tell...anyway, Jerby Jezz uses the opportunity to bounce
off the ropes to do something, but the other Hive member breaks free of
Shizz Dawg OG and]

JD: Running high knee on Jerby Jezz by that Hive member...Yellow Jacket
I think!

CP: Yeah, let's go with that!

JD: But don't forget about Shizz Dawg OG, he just clipped Yellow Jacket
from behind!  Referee trying to get some _what_ a spin kick by Bumble
Bee! Ref trying to get some control of this match, but all these guys
are moving too fast to catch!

[Having temporarily isolated Jerby Jezz, Bumble Bee picks him up in a
fireman's carry, and _drops_ him down across the quickly exposed knee of
Yellow Jacket...who has left himself exposed to a running Shining Wizard
by Shizz Dawg OG...who leaves himself open to another spin kick by
Bumble Bee but, having seen that before, ducks and uses the leverage to
Dragon Screw leg whip him on top of the fallen Yellow Jacket!  Mild
cheer from the fans in spite of themselves!]

JD: Fans I apologize, these guys are going two moves faster than I can
call!  The ref is trying to get Shizz Dawg OG out of the ring...

CP: Why pick on him?  We have never _have_ established who's supposed to
be legal in this match yet!

JD: Anyway, Shizz Dawg OG is having none of that, he and Jerby Jezz now
sizing up Yellow Jacket I believe for a double vertical suplex.

[Both Ravers get the slightly larger of the Hivers up in the air...but
unknown to them, Bumble Bee has gotten behind all of them, and guides
his partner safely down to his feet as Jerby Jezz and S.D.O.G. fall to
the mat empty handed!]

JD: Bumble Bee with the save and...about to powerbomb his own partner!?

CP: Is he already sick of him too?

[Before Jerby Jezz can get off of his back, he ends up squashed under
the back of the powerbombed Yellow Jacket!  Perhaps giving up trying to
gain control, the referee makes the count]

JD: ONE...and Shizz Dawg with a _low_ dropkick knocking Yellow Jacket
off of Jezz and rolling him clear over to the ring apron!

CP: How can the ref be counting covers without a legal man?

JD: This is not one of the officials we normally see on
television...perhaps some inexperience coming into play?  Yellow Jacket
dragging himself up to his feet on the apron and OH MY GOD!!

[Jerby Jezz and Shizz Dawg took off for their patented double running
clothesline over the ropes...even more dangerous as their opponent was
already on the apron.  But a quick thinking Queen Bee jumps and grabs
onto the torso of Yellow Jacket, pulling him and the top rope down,
allowing the momentum of BOTH onrushing Rave members to flip over the
top rope, and over Yellow Jacket, and crash to the floor empty handed! 
The crowd responds with a mixture of shock and cheers.]

JD: The Rave looking to do some _serious_ damage to Yellow Jacket, but 
The Queen Bee has changed the tide of this matchup in a big way!

CP: The other one...Bumble Bee I guess, is pointing to Yellow Jacket for
something.

JD: Indeed, Bumble Bee comes over to grab the top rope...AND YELLOW
JACKET SLINGSHOTS HIS OWN PARTNER OVER THE TOP ROPE TO THE FLOOR!

CP: That's okay, Jerby Jezz and Shizz Dawg OG broke their fall.

JD: That's certainly _not_ OK for The Rave!  Usually they do that
slingshot _into_ the ring, but the bees are pulling out all the stops
tonight!

[The Rave had almost gotten to their feet, but the incoming Bumble Bee
sends both Ravers crashing back first into the guardrail!  Quicker than
a cat (because he's a bee) Yellow Jacket runs to the top rope, leaps
with a half twist, and comes down with a "single axe handle" to the
heads of Jezz and Dawg!  The crowd is firmly behind the bees now!]

JD: The Hive coming at The Rave from all angles now!  And Yellow Jacket
and Bumble Bee spinning their..stingers?

CP: ARMS Dane!  Keep it real!

JD: And now...what in the _world_!?

[In a scene that may never have been seen before outside of a Cirque du
Soleil show, Yellow Jacket runs, leaps to the apron, leaps onto the
middle rope, and moonsaults with a half twist into a double axe handle
down onto Jerby Jezz...immediately followed by Bumble Bee doing the same
thing unto Shizz Dawg...immediately followed by Yellow Jacket flipping
again onto Jezz, and Bumble Bee flipping again onto to Shizz Dawg...over
and over, even Queen Bee getting into the act, to a huge roar of
appreciation from the crown!]

JD: I've heard of this!  The Swarm!  The speed is incredible...I swear
they've hit The Rave about 15 times in 10 seconds Colt!

CP: Slow down!  Slow down dammit!

[The Hive have worked the crowd into a frenzy, and The Rave into chopped
liver, both men slumped nearly lifeless against the guardrail.  Yellow
Jacket grabs Shizz Dawg OG, Bumble Bee picks up Jerby Jezz, and both are
thrown hard under the ropes, the momentum rolling them all the way into
the middle of the ring.  The Hive look to the crowd for approval, and
then...]

JD: Yellow Jacket and Bumble Bee running to opposite sides of the ring!

[Both men mount the top rope, pause briefly to synchronize their
movements, and leap!  Both men moonsaulting, with their knees SQUASHING
into The Rave members!]

JD: Modified Bees Knees!  Yellow Jacket and Bumble Bee _both_ make the
cover!

[DING! DING! DING!]

[Yellow Jacket and Bumble Bee rise and raise their hands in triumph,
Queen Bee rolling into the ring to meet them in a happy embrace!]

JD: What a wild win for The Hive!

CP: Wait a minute!  I didn't see the referee make a three count!

JD: Come to think of it...our ring announcer has the mic and is about to
announce the decision.

PW: The winners of this match, as a result of a countout...THE RAVE!

[Massive boos from the crowd, as an enraged Hive swarm around the
official in protest.]

JD: Fans, I'm told we have another camera angle available, let's see if
we can't see what happened here!

[This camera view is from the aisleway, from which we get another view
of The Hive swarming over The Rave onto the guardrail with multiple
twist moonsaults axehandles.  But indeed, the official is standing in
the ring, slowly, deliberately counting the entire time.]

JD: There we see the official holding nine fingers in the air, and right
there The Hive has thrown both Ravers back into the ring...and as they
are climbing the top rope, that's the ten count right there!

CP: That guy didn't have any control of things the entire time, and he
calls an end to the match like _that_!?

[The referee has left the ring and walks back down the aisle, an angry
Hive stalking behind him, still pleading their case.

Having heard the result, the Rave's faces, previously etched with pain.
instantly change to visions of unabashed joy!  Jerby Jezz rolls over
near his partner and screams "Double count! We're the most dominant
wildstylers in the AWA!"]

CP: Well, I guess we know what a "double count" is now.  At this rate,
I sure hope I'm not still around in 2032!

JD: Well, I for one would like to see a rematch between these teams with
a referee that is able to handle these guys and bring about a definitive
conclusion!  Nonetheless, it goes down in the books as a win for The
Rave, and only time will tell if that was impressive enough to get them
a birth into the Stampede Cup.

[We crossfade back inside the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  An absolutely wild affair right there, Bucky, between two VERY
unique tag teams.

BW:  Neither of which make the Stampede Cup tournament, I hope.

GM:  We're going to find out in just a short while now exactly who made
the cut to be part of the twenty-four teams that will be heading to
Atlanta with visions of one million dollars and the Stampede Cup
championship trophy in their hands.  But we already know about some of
the teams who will be participating - like this duo from Japan's Tiger
Paw Pro, the team of Mad Hayashi and Asama Inoue!

[Fade to a big, wide, gleaming white smile.  Now pull back and zoom
away.  The smile remains, plastered across a man's face, framed within a
near orange tanned face.  His black hair is slicked back... heavily.  He
wears a silver tie over a  green shirt, a matching green suit jacket
capping that.

But mostly... that smile.  Used car salesman at it's finest.]

MAN:  Ladies and gentlemen, fans of the AWA and of the entire wrestling
world... my name is William Payne.

[A broad smile... and you swear, a twinkle.]

WP:  But we are not here... today... to talk about me.  Noooooooooooooo
sirree, Bob.  We are here to talk about a little event this fine company
has coming up called the Stampede Cup.  Teams from around the world,
daddy.  Teams from Puerto Rico and Africa.  Teams of boob tube fame and
teams from wayyyyyyyyyy back.  The AWA champions, Rough and Ready, are
in it.   ChampEENS from other companies are even jumpin ingo the pool
and vying to win the whole dang thing.  Every great tag team in the
world wants in.  They want to unseat the current reigning champs,
Violence Unlimited...

[Was that someone spitting in disgust in the background?!]

WP:  ...but all those people?  The Lynches?  The Russians?  The Bombers?
 the Rockstar Express?  Sweet Sensation?  All those old geezers dropping
their walkers, strapping on knee braces and Depends and calling the
handibus to come get them so they can relive some glory no one cared
about in the first place?   None of them are going to win, baby!  

[A highly affirmative, and exaggerated, nod.]

WP:  Why you ask?  Because... we are.

[The camera pans out a bit further and a bit wider to show just who "we"
are.  Two rather large, rather intimidating Japanese men stand to either
side of Mr. Payne, the proud Rising Sun hanging in the background, a
Tiger Paw Pro banner in orange and black below that.   

The man on the left is a large, rotund man of no meager girth or
appetite.  His very, very thick torso is swathed in a gaudy hawaiian
shirt of blue and red, his scarred head topped in a straw hat.  From the
corner of his mouth sticks... a blade of wheat?!  The hell?!  His
fearsome visage belies his odd choice in caricature to say the least.

His partner, however?  Purely and obviously built to fight. He sports a
thick neck and wide chest/back with arms sticking out to his side. 
Every part of him looks strong, a vein protruding across his shaven
head.  He is dressed in dark pants, going topless, an orange towel in
one hand.]

WP:  Now, before I continue with the introductions, let me do a little
magic trick for you and see into theeeeeee
fuuuuuttuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...

[With a flourish he pulls out a card, closing his eyes and holding it to
his forehead.]

WP:  Mad Hayashi and Asama Inoue.

[He pulls the card down, scanning it and reeling back with a super
exaggerated, wide eyed look of shock.]

WP:  Who is coming to the Stampede Cup and winning the whole darn
shebang?

[He tosses the card over his shoulder, Hayashi (the "fat" one) watching
it fall with an ever so slight grin.]

WP:  My friends, there is a lot of talent in the Stampede Cup, I will
NOT doubt that!  HOWEVER... however... they are not these two men.  Men
I have flown to Japan... on the AWA's dime I might add... to see and
recruit and bring back to the good ole YOU ESS OF AY to dominate tag
team wrestling and it's most prestigious event.  Men built on Japanese
engineering... you know, the kind that doesn't break down the day after
it's warranty expires... men who have fought in the tradition of the
great sport of professional wrestling here in Japan.

Men WHO...

[Finger up for notation.]

WP:  ...have already... already... ALREADY!... won a tournament just to
get here.  

Kiddos, say what you want about your favorite teams.  The Moonshiners or
the Wild Cards or the Antons or whatever stellar team is in this E-vent.
 They may be stellar but baby... they ain't these two men.

[Nope he says with a shake of his head.  Hayashi switches the wheat to
the other side of his mouth, wiping away some spittle with a ham hock of
a hand.  Inoue, still, just stands there.]

WP:  Let's put it this way.  Who's got two thumbs and is drinking some
sake from the Stampede Cup?

[His hands fly up.  A giant smile blinds everyone.]

WP:  THESE GUYS!

[His smile is overtaken with a giant bout of laughter, a cacckling that
gets louder and louder.]

WP:  THESE GUYS, BABY!  STAMPEDE CUP!  HERE WE COME!

[With Payne still cackling, we crossfade back to the WKIK Studios
interior.]

GM:  Well, Mr. William Payne seems quite confident in the team from the
Land of the Rising Sun, Bucky.

BW:  I don't know much about rasslin' in Japan but these two guys are
double tough from what I hear.

GM:  Perhaps we can get Jason Dane to give us some more details about
this dangerous duo later tonight.  But for now, we're going to get right
back into the action with the debut of a man we've been waiting for for
a while now - "Big Bad" Bruno Bradley!

BW: Quadruple B, Gordo! I can hardly wait. 

GM: And his opponent, Johnny "Flash" Gordon is already in the ring and
ready to take on the AWA newcomer. 

[Sure enough.. as we crossfade, we find that "Flash" Gordon is standing
on the far side of the ring. He's an average looking man. Nothing
spectacular.. pale with a blonde mullet perm and white wrestling trunks.
He stands waiting.. unassuming as always.]

BW: Pulled out the top talent for this one, hey Gordo?

[The opening guitar riff of Metallica's "Ride the Lightning" practically
shoots out of the PA.. ripping through the entire arena.]

PW: Introducing at this time.. 

[A large bear of a man barrels through the curtains. He stops suddenly
and juts his head back and forth at the audience.. a menacing glare that
leers around the arena. His bald head is covered in an ornate spiderweb
tattoo. His left arm has six crosses inked across it.. each with a name
haunting it. His right.. a burning flame that runs up the arm. He's in a
sleeveless spandex top that meshes into a pair of black spandex bottoms.
The word on the front bleeds off the black attire..

"Big Bad"

He turns.. jutting his thumbs over the back at the words across it..

"Bruno Bradley".]

PW:  Hailing from the Sin City.. Las Vegas, Nevada.. standing six feet
three inches and weighing in at three hundred and _fourty_ pounds.. he
is.. 

[The figure turns, smiling at the now "shakin' in his boots" Johnny
Gordon. Maybe because of the size of the man. Maybe because this is the
largest stage of his life. Or maybe, just _maybe_, it's got something to
do with the toothless smile that creeps out from underneath Bradley's
lips.]

PW: "BIG BAD" BRUNNOOO BRADDDLLEEEYYYY!

[Mixed reaction. The crowd isn't quite sure what to make of the massive
man. Bradley, however, doesn't seem to care. He strolls down to the ring
and slides into the ring effortlessly. He rises..]

GM: OOOOOhhhhh.. Bradley just charged Gordon and clobbered him with a
vicious double axehandle to the gut. 

BW: My momma always told me, Gordo... don't get into a street fight with
a man missing his two front teeth. Get outta there, "Flash"!

GM: Flash has _nowhere_ to go, Bucky. This mountain of a man is just
pummeling him with rights and lefts. 

[Sure enough Bradley drives the much smaller Johnny Gordon into the
corner with a series of rights and lefts.. just about the same time the
opening bell finally rings. Bradley grabs the arm of Gordon and irish
whips him to the other pillar.]

BW: The ring must have moved a FOOT there, Gordo!

GM: Make no mistake about it, Bruno Bradley is a powerhouse of a man. 

"OOOOHHHHHHHH!"

BW: HUGE SPLASH! 

GM: That's three hundred and fourty pounds of beast that just landed
across the chest of Johnny Gordon!

BW: Gordon stumbles out of the corner.. Bradley spins him around and
lifts him up in a Gorilla Press!

GM: And dumps him down on his back in the center of the ring!

BW: I'm _really_ starting to like this guy, Gordo. He's a monster!

[Bradley hits the ropes with remarkable fluidity.. he leaps upon return
and drives his head into the skull of the downed Gordon with a leaping
headbutt. Bradley climbs to all fours over Gordon and grins a toothless
grin.]

GM: Bruno Bradley is really enjoying the beating he's putting on Johnny
Gordon, Bucky.

BW: As would you if you were in there with a permed mullet man.

GM: Bradley climbs up to his feet and hits the ropes again.. big legdrop
across the skull of Gordon. 

BW: Flash.. ahh ahh.. he's a corpse! Hahaha!

GM: Grow up.

[Bruno Bradley sees red.. and a man like Bruno Bradley knows exactly
what to do in situations like these. He hoists Gordon up on his
shoulders and charges across the ring.]

"TTTTTHHUUDDDDD!"

BW: HUGE POWERSLAM!

GM: And Bradley is.. Bradley is.. exiting the ring?!

BW: He's going up top, baby!

GM: Six feet three inches.. three hundred and fourty pounds.. and Bruno
Bradley is scaling the ropes! This is _not_ good news for Johnny Gordon!

BW: That's "Flash" Gordon to you, Gordo!

["Big Bad" Bruno Bradley crouches perched on the top turnbuckle. Like
the biggest damned vulture you've ever seen. He measures the distance
between himself and Gordon and leaps.. flipping midair.. his back
crushes down on the chest of Johnny Gordon.]

"OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!"

GM: BIG BAD DAY!

BW: Somersault Senton from the big man! This one is _over_!

GM: Bradley with the cover.. one.. two.. three!

[Ding! Ding! Ding!]

PW: The winner of this match.. "Big Bad".. 

BRUUNNOOOOOO BRADDLLEEEYYYYY!

[Meekly tentatively raises the Sin City Monster's tattooed right arm
above his head as Bradley grins at his work. Gordon rolling on the mat
clutching as his chest like it's about to explode. He throws in a couple
of extra boots for good measure, much to the chagrin of Meekly who
scolds the big man. Bradley responds by pulling his arm back and
threatening to backhand the AWA's senior official.]

BW: They're really letting Bradley have it now, Gordo!

GM: I guess his true colors came out.

[As Bradley celebrates his victory, we fade to black.

A voiceover comes from the blackness.

"The following announcement has been paid for by Royalty."

[Cut to a backstage AWA backdrop, and an all-to-familiar manager...]

JP: Greetings humanoids, this is the Eternal World Champion and founder
of Royalty Joe Petrow, here to introduce the latest Royalty goods,
available on awashop dot com!

[Petrow snaps his fingers, and a cute blonde with a poofed up 80's style
hairdo walks into the shot wearing an oversized dark blue t-shirt]

JP: Let the world know that you are a loyal follower of King Langseth
with this all-new Royalty t-shirt!

[The smiling woman faces the camera, allowing us to get a good look at
the air-brushed visage of King Langseth, arrogantly sitting on a throne
with his royal robe and crown, flanked on either side by the tag-belt
wearing, Rayban glaring Rough 'n Ready members, a smiling Joe Petrow
behind them all, spreading his arms out to encompass his charge, and the
large old-English script word ROYALTY written underneath.]

JP: These shirts are made with 10% cotton, and are sold right here in
the good old U S of A!

[Petrow twirls his finger, imploring the woman to turn around, upon
which we see that the back of the shirt has three words, all with
old-English capitalization:

Hustle.

Royalty.

Respect.]

JP: These shirts come in American sizes of double, triple, and quadruple
XL for the low low price of $29.99!  And all proceeds go directly into
the pockets of Royalty! [quiet aside] alright, beat it toots!

[The lady's painted smile turns into a disgusted scowl as she stalks out
of the shot.  Petrow continues his shill, holding up a small thin box
with many pictures of Mark Langseth in action.]

JP: And coming soon on DVD, The Definitive AWA Mark Langseth Collection,
containing every winning moment of King Langseth's two decades of AWA
dominance, all overdubbed with special commentary by the King himself!

[Cut to a shot of match footage. A hard stomp to the shoulder forces
Martinez to roll to his stomach, wincing in pain and cradling the
injured arm.  Langseth stands above him, his feet by the head of his
downed rival.]

ML: That's it!  Crawl, crawl at my feet you worthless scum!  Apologize
to the greatest wrestler of all time, and your better in every way!  I
am King Langseth!  ALL HAIL KING LANGSETH!

[Cut back to a smiling Petrow, who finishes off the hard sell]

JP: So show your pride, your appreciation, and your dollars to Royalty
by visiting awashop dot com slash royalty today!  And ALL HAIL KING
LANGSETH!!

[Pause on Petrow's cheesy grin for an uncomfortable number of seconds
before fading out...

...and back to live action where the lights dim and a light mist rolls
out from the entryway as "Raijin's Drums" by George Sakalis begins to
play over the PA System.  After a moment, the mysterious Nenshou
appears, wearing a long black robe with the hood pulled down over his
painted face.  Pausing at the entrance, he begins to walk smoothly and
unhurriedly down towards the ring, his steely gaze locked on the squared
circle.  Behind him comes his manager Percy Childes... overweight and
sweating, the bald-headed manager is as loud as his charge is silent,
jawing at fans and threating to brain them with his crystal orb topped
cane.]

GM: And here comes the Longhorn Heritage Champion, Bucky.

BW: Yep, but when this match was filmed, the Championship Committee
hadn't decided whether ta give him his title back or not.  It was still
held up here!

GM: Indeed it was, and you can see the stark difference in disposition
that Percy Childes has here.

[Childes is wearing a dark brown sweater vest (in summer) and a light
grey dress shirt, dark grey pants, and dress shoes.  And he is indeed
much more animated than he has been in some time.  He spits on a fan
with a sign that says "ROBERT DONOVAN IS THE REAL LONGHORN CHAMPION", as
Nenshou power-marches to the ring.  Even the Asian Assassin is
movingwith more impetus than normal, as he hops onto the apron and
enters the ring, where a rugged-looking hillbilly with ragged overalls
and bare feet... one of which is quite deformed.  He is balding and
showing the laugh lines and wrinkles of his age.]

GM: Nenshou to take on Clubfoot Jenkins here.  Jenkins is a veteran
journeyman, whose family has been in the sport since the early
sixties...

BW: They ain't exactly the James Clan or the Keening Family, Gordo.  Or
even the Lynches for that matter!  The Jenkinses are a bunch of local
yokels from the backwoods who are popular in Arkansas and Mississippi,
but not because they ever had any star talent.

GM: They had charisma.

BW: They had body odor!  Plus the vocal mannerisms an' social skills of
a broken tuba.  They reminded the people of themselves.

[As the commentators discuss the history of the Jenkinses, Nenshou
disrobes.  He is wearing white long baggy pants, white boots, and white
face paint with red kanji on it.  His brushcut hair has the kanji for
"Darkness" shaved into it.  The fans boo mercilessly, even after
"Raijin's Drums" die down.  Percy is still lividly berating fans.]

PW: The following contest is set for one fall, with a twenty minute time
limit.  Introducing first, from Hell, Arkansas... weighing two hundred
sixty-five pounds...

    ...CLUBFOOT JENKINS!

[Jenkins swings his arms around and gives a loud "YEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAWWW"
to the crowd, who cheers for him.]

BW: ...don't lose my lunch... don't lose my lunch... c'mon Bucky, hold
together...

PW: His opponent is the former Longhorn Herita...

[Percy, who has entered the ring by now, marches right up to Watson and
snatches the microphone from him.  The crowd boos this vehemently.]

PC: You will not EVER refer to Nenshou as a FORMER anything!  He is
still the just and proper Longhorn Heritage Champion!  He is the present
of this sport.  He is the future of this sport.  At WrestleRock, he was
the point man, the one who jumped out in front of the crusade to rid us
of the baggage of the past!

[BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!  The volume just doubled.]

PC: That man would never have set foot in a ring with Nenshou of his own
volition.  But the heroic efforts of Matsui and Broussard changed
everything.  This is a new day, and a great day!  The last few remnants
of the failures of the past... the biggest one is gone!  And my Nenshou
was there to personally usher him out and start a new trend... a NEW
thing in professional wrestling that none of you rednecks have ever
seen: SUCCESS!	

This time, it will be the greatest living warrior on the planet... my
Nenshou... who leads a wrestling company to glory and solvency.  And if
the AWA Championship Committee wants it to be THEIR company... they will
do the right thing and restore our Longhorn Heritage Championship to us
immediately!

Crowd: "DON-O-VAN!   DON-O-VAN!   DON-O-VAN!   DON-O-VAN!   DON-O-VAN!  
DON-O-VAN!"

PC: That is another relic of the past who we will eradicate, just like
we did to that unnamed ex-champion at WrestleRock!  They'll all go out
to pasture, either gracefully or by force!  Only those few who actually
still retain talent, such as the new King, should be anywhere near this
ring.  Robert Donovan will be put in his place.

Just like THIS fat relic.

[Percy turns and points at Clubfoot Jenkins.  Jenkins confusedly points
at himself.]

PC: This old man is the last of a line of "wrestling hillbillies".  The
last one.  That whole cavalade of stupid yokels with no talent,
"scufflin'" with roster spots they didn't deserve, all because you
hillbilly fans wanted to cheer your bretheren on!  You wanted to point
at the TV and say "hey, that's my cousin and my uncle".  Well... wave
goodbye to your cousin and your uncle, folks.  He'll be visiting your
ex-champion... tonight.

Because his opponent tonight is accompanied to the ring by the manager
of champions, "The Collector" Percy Childes.  He hails from The Land Of
The Rising Sun, weighs in at precisely two-hundred thirty-six and
three-quarters pounds, and is the REIGNING Longhorn Heritage Champion...

...the one true Ace of this company...

...NENSHOU!

[The fans boo Percy's introduction for his man.  Nenshou is already in
his meditative stance, focusing on hisoutstretched hand, oblivious to
the crowd.  Percy hand Watson back the mic with an audible "That is how
you do it."

GM: How arrogant can you get?!

BW: Tell me one thing he said that isn't true.

GM: At the time of that match, Nenshou was not the Longhorn Heritage
Champion!

BW: But it turned out that he was, Gordo!  The championship was
restored; technically, he never lost it and so he really was still the
champion.

[*DING*DING*DING*]

[The opening bell rings.  Clubfoot lumbers out into mid-ring, and sees
Nenshou... still unmoving, still meditating.  He seems confused about an
opponent who does not move, so he turns to the crowd, points out at
them, cups his hands around his mouth, and bellows with an extremely
loud trademark battle cry:]


CJ:"
CCCLLLLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUBBBBFFF
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTT  *pause*
ah-
JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNKKKIIIIIIINNNNNN
NNNNNNNSSSSSSSS!"

[HUGE POP!]

[Jenkins then rushes Nenshou... who hits him clean in the forehead with
a jumping back crescent kick that lays him out flat!]

BW: HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!  AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!  That was classic!

GM: Clubfoot Jenkins with his famous battle cry, but Nenshou was just
far too fast.

BW: Nenshou picks him up... backbreaker!  ...ALREADY?!

GM: Yes, already!  Nenshou up top... THE MOONSAULT!  THIS HAS TO BE A
RECORD!

[*DING*DING*DING*]

[The fans are stunned into silence, as Nenshou has just pinned Clubfoot
Jenkins in ten seconds flat.  Not counting the battle cry.]

BW: It literally... LITERALLY... took Nenshou about as long to beat
Clubfoot as it did for Clubfoot to say his own name!

GM: Well, about twice as long, really, but the point stands.  Nenshou
clearly far too much for... STOP THIS!  WHAT IS THIS?!

BW: This is Nenshou filling Percy's promise!  Clubfoot is gonna join
Vasquez tonight!

GM: NENSHOU CONTINUING THE ASSAULT!  He's stomping away... Jenkins
getting up, but he's dazed.

PC: Sweep the leg.

GM: What did Childes just say... OH!  THAT WAS VICIOUS!

[Nenshou dropped into a spinning leg sweep to the front of Jenkins'
knee, hitting it at a 45 degree angle and possibly hyperextending it
backwards!  Jenkins drops in a heap with a loud cry!]

BW: HA HA HA!  Percy told me about that.  Percy calls it the Cobra Kai
Leg Sweep... that's a pop culture reference, you wouldn't get it.

GM: That's a deliberate attempt to injure a man, is what it is!

BW: Uh, yeah.  "Strike first, strike hard, no mercy."  That's why he
named it that.

GM: Jenkins trying to stand on that leg, but he can't get up to more
than one knee... the SHINING WIZARD!  Absolutely crushing blow to the...
NO!  HE WAS DOWN!  WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!

["That"?  Was the mist, of course.  Red mist, this time.  Jenkins
screams in agony as it burns!]

BW: Well, the relics of the past aren't looking too good.  First
Vasquez, now Clubfoot!  I wouldn't want to be Robert Donovan!

GM: Nenshou applying the bridging deathlock to the man's club foot leg! 
Someone has to stop this!  PERCY CHILDES JUST HIT HIM IN THE KNEECAP
WITH THAT CRYSTAL TIPPED CANE!

BW: Say hi to Juan for us... aw, darnit.

[The fans roar as a familiar figure fills the aisle, hustling towards
the ring!]

GM: HERE COMES DONOVAN!

BW: And there goes Percy and Nenshou.  We ain't gonna see that fight for
free, Gordo!

GM: But we will see it, Bucky!  With the stipulations of Robert
Donovan's choice!  That was the OTHER part of the Championship
Committee's decision!

BW: Of course they'd only get it half right!

[The footage ends with the dastardly duo exiting while Donovan checks on
Jenkins.  Back in the studio now, and Myers is clearly disturbed.]

GM: Clubfoot Jenkins is over fifty years old, Bucky.  They don't know if
he'll ever be able to get in a ring after that.  A younger man, yes,
would recover.

BW: But an old hillbilly with neither talent nor teeth, not so much.  Ha
ha!

GM: He beat you in a match some fifteen ye...

BW: CHANGETHESUBJECT...so!  How about that Nenshou, huh?

GM: Percy Childes clearly wants to maneuver Nenshou into the main event.
 But Robert Donovan has a great deal to say about whether Nenshou will,
in fact, even make it to the autumn, let alone the main event scene. 
Now, you heard Percy Childes paying some tribute there to Louis Matsui -
the man who apparently was the source of this plan to destroy Juan
Vasquez.  Obviously, he had a lot of help but Matsui was the mastermind
and... well, let's let him tell the story.  It was in the middle of our
show this week in Raleigh when Mr. Matsui made an unexpected - and I
might add, uninvited - appearance.  Let's take a look...

[We crossfade back into the arena in Raleigh where the crowd is buzzing
about what they just saw when suddenly they erupt into jeers.]

GM: What's HE doing here?

[We see why the crowd is booing, as the bespectacled Louis Matsui,
dressed in a dark blue suit, with his characteristic smirk on his face,
stands at the top of the entrance ramp. As he makes his way down the
ramp, however, the crowd reaction seems to get to him, and the smirk is
quickly replaced by a frown.]

BW: I don't know, but he's headed this way. Maybe you can ask him.

GM: This... Isn't in the program... I hope he isn't planning on
hijacking the show and taking up more time than he deserves. Not after
what he did.

BW: How about you just do your job and ask him about Wrestlerock?

GM: The fans are really letting Matsui know what they think of him and
can you blame them?

BW: I think these fans and Juan Vasquez have nobody to blame but Vasquez
himself.

GM: I'm not even going to try to make sense of that logic, Bucky.

[Matsui approaches the announce position, staring daggers at Myers, as
if the contempt from the crowd was emanating from him. He holds up a
hand to signal for the music to be cut, but it does nothing to silent
the fans. He motions for a mic from a ringside technician and soldiers
on nonetheless.]

LM: Shut up! I've got a very important question to ask Gordon Myers, so
show the AWA's second premier announcer some respect and shut up so he
can hear me!

[The jeers soften slightly, but the buzz amongst the fans is palpable.]

LM: Now, Gordon, tell me and tell it truly, you were ready to write me
off, weren't you?

[Gordon actually looks slightly flustered, either from the question, or
from Matsui's unbreaking stare.]

GM: No, um, Louis. It's just that, we hadn't seen MAMMOTH Mizusawa for
weeks and we were just wondering...

LM: It's always about MAMMOTH, isn't it? Isn't it? Well, Mizusawa isn't
here! I'm here! Louis Matsui's here! And you know who else isn't here?
[To the fans.] Huh? Do you?

[A "Juan Vasquez" chant starts up, softly, and slowly spreading through
the arena. Louis Matsui approaches a boy sitting at ringside, who
shrinks back from him. The adult accompanying him, however, has no
problems chanting Vasquez's name in Matsui's face.]

LM: Hey, kid, you know who isn't here? Can you hear them shouting his
name? Can you hear your dad? Well, I can't. That's right, I can't hear
you! Why don't you join in the chanting, kid? Shout his name! Maybe if
you shout loud enough and wish hard enough, he'll show up. Shout, kid!
Do it! Shout!

[A white-haired woman catches Matsui's eye. She is waving a fist in the
air in time to the chants. Matsui approaches.]

LM: How about you, grandma? Do you know who isn't here? Can you whisper-
What the...

[Some cursing is bleeped out, as Matsui failed to pay attention and very
nearly got caught when the old woman took a swing at him with her cane.
Having tripped on his own feet trying to avoid the hit, Matsui finds
himself on his butt. Some of the fans laugh, but most just keep on
chanting.]

"JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ!

JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ!

JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ!

JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ!

JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ! JUAN VAS-QUEZ!"

LM: [Getting up and dusting himself.] It's not easy being a manager,
even for someone with my intelligence. MAMMOTH Mizusawa would have
gotten nowhere without my guidance and all you can ask is, "Where's
MAMMOTH?" All you see when you look at people like me is a hanger-on, a
mouthpiece, someone to run interference at best, an unwanted nuisance at
worst, and occasionally someone to take a shot for their client... I
took a hit to the head with the ring bell once, courtesy of that man
whose name you are chanting; I should have had them cave his skull right
in at WrestleRock!

[MASSIVE HEEL POP!]

LM: Well, I'm still standing! You may choose to look past me, but here I
am, while your hero? He's not here. His title reign is OVER! He's gone!
Dead! BURIED! While I'M STILL STANDING! So, for those of you for whom
reality has yet to set in, I want you to give yourself a pinch and tell
me if you're having a nightmare. Chant yourself hoarse; Juan Vasquez is
not showing up here tonight... Or the week after next... Or next
month... All you have to do is open your eyes and look!

[The chant seems to be fading somewhat, the momentum from Matsui's
goading disappearing. Matsui is happy to wait it out.]

LM: See?

[A few fans are still chanting, a smattering of cheers for Stevie Scott
and Supernova mixed in, as if willing for someone to show up, anyone, to
do something. Louis Matsui's smirk returns, growing as the chants
weaken.]

LM: No Juan Vasquez... Just me, Louis Matsui... And I'm. Still.
Standing.

[With that, he places the mic on the announce table, giving Gordon Myers
a long, hard look, before making his way up the ramp to the sound of
Tomoyasu Hotei's "Battle Without Honor or Humanity" as we crossfade back
to the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Louis Matsui did this... because he had been written off by
everyone?!

BW:  And why not?  Louis Matsui is a genius!  He's a mastermind!  And
for everyone to ignore him because his monster Mizusawa was out of the
picture is a travesty, Gordo!  You did that!  You ignored him!  You
wrote him off!

GM:  He's a manager without a client, Bucky!  Why WOULDN'T you forget
about him?

BW:  Ain't no one forgetting about him now, Gordo.

GM:  That's for sure.  And you can bet that there's a long list of men
in the AWA who won't be forgetting about him either.  Matsui's days are
numbered - I tell you that right now.  Fans, I know we've spent a lot of
time tonight talking about Matsui and what he led that night in Durham
but that's not the only thing that happened.  Who could forget that wild
brawl that broke out between Jeff Matthews and Alex Martinez?  Now, just
days ago, it was announced that Alex Martinez has been BANNED from
appearing at ANY AWA event until he's been medically cleared by the
AWA's lead medicial team member, Dr. Bob Ponavitch.  But... well, the
big man had other ideas, Bucky.

BW:  It just seems natural for Martinez to try and show the world that
the rules don't apply to him.  Maybe other places would let you do
whatever you wanted, Martinez - but not here!  Not the AWA!  You're not
the centerpiece of this place, jack!

GM:  Fans, we're about to show you a clip of some footage sent to us,
not by the AWA offices, but by a fan who captured the scene on his cell
phone.  I apologize in advance if the video quality is less than what
you're used to.

BW:  Stegglet's really breakin' the bank on production values here.

GM:  Will you stop.  Let's see what took place in the parking lot at the
Hanahan Recreation Gymnasium, in Hanahan, South Carolina.

[Cut to grainy footage of a parking lot.  A large figure steps out of
the driver's side of a black SUV.  The shaking and shuddering of the
footage is quease inducing, but eventually, the person taking the
footage gets close enough to catch the tall form of Alex Martinez.
Martinez wears a black t-shirt and blue jeans.  His hand is still
heavily wrapped, and his leg is held steady by a heavy black brace.   As
he reaches into the backseat to grab a gym back, a familiar voice makes
him stop.]

"You're not going in there Alex."

[Martinez and the "cameraman" both turn, just in time to see Jon
Stegglet standing beside him, arms crossed over his chest.]

AM:  Outta the way, Steggy.  I know he's in there.  And if he's in
there, then I'm goin' in there .

JS:  You'll do no such thing.  You're not doing anything AWA related
unless and until you're cleared medically.  Period.

AM: This is not somethin' you wanna be doin'.  Gettin' between me and
someone I'm after.

JS:  You're threatening me now, Alex?  I've known you too long.  I'm the
the one that got you here in the first place.  And now you're
threatening me?  Why don't you ask Eric Preston how that works out?

Look, I had no doubt you could get past me.  But even you're not getting
past all the security guards the AWA has hired specifically to protect
you from yourself.

Walk away now, heal yourself.  Get better, and I promise you, the minute
you're cleared, I'll give you Matthews.  You have my word on that.

AM: Now you listen here...

VOICE: OH BLAH BLAH BLAH....

[Stepping into the scene from off camera is the Hall of Famer, Jeff
"Madfox" Matthews... clad in his black Redemption cut off shirt,
revealing all of the ink that runs down both arms... and a pair of worn
out blue jeans and laced up black boots. Jeff walks up right between
Stegglet and Martinez.... Martinez just chomping at the bit...]

JMM: You don't have to give me to him, Steggs. I'm right here. I'm not
the one hiding. I'm not the one running. I'm right here. If this what
you call "man", would step up to the plate and take his beating... then
we wouldn't be having these meetings in a parking lot. A parking lot? I
feel like a hoodlum because of two things.

A... Martinez is too much of a weakling to compete with his injuries....
and

B... You won't allow him to be here. So quite frankly I don't know who
to blame anymore. Do I blame Alex for being a coward or do I blame you
for being stupid? I just haven't decided quite yet.

[Martinez narrows his eyes, his good hand clenched in a fist.  Sensing
the danger, Stegglet steps between the men.]

JS:  You... [he faces Martinez]  Walk away.  Right. Now.  Get in your
car and drive off.  Or I'll make sure you never get your hands on
Matthews.  I'll keep you on the bench forever, if I have to.

And you... [turning to Matthews] since you're so eager to actually
compete.  I'll give you your chance.  In two weeks, you'll be wrestling
your first official match in the AWA.  And just wait until you see who I
have in store for you.

[Martinez continues to glare at Matthews as he steps back, away from the
showdown.]

AM:  This isn't over.  And I ain't forget what you did.  Or, what you
did either, Jon.  That's a promise.

[After one final glare, Martinez finally relents, and reluctantly enters
his car.]

JMM: Yea you get into that car, big boy. You hide... you run away. Just
like you've done ever since Summer Dreams. I made you, boy... and I
swear to high heaven I will break you. You will pay for your betrayal...
you will atone for your sins.... and come hell or high water... you will
repent... for God as my witness.. I will not allow you to walk out
alive....  believe you me... its a promise...

[With the Hall of Famer glaring at his leaving rival, we fade to black.

And then back up on an animated Jason Dane... no, he's not just moving a
lot.  He's LITERALLY animated - like Porky Pig style.]

JD:  They say I'm the man with all the answers.

[A cut to a different angle of animated Dane.]

JD:  They say I'm the man who gets all the scoops.

[Another cut.  Another angle.]

JD:  They say I'm- is all this really necessary?  It's not like I'm
Geraldo, guys.

[A voice off camera shouts "CUT!" and animated Jason Dane walks off a
green screen set through a crowded studio.]

JD:  I'm not the "most feared man in America," fans.  What I am is a
pretty good reporter who has an eye for the stories you're gonna want to
know about.  That's why AWA Access has been one of the most downloaded
apps ever and that's why the AWA gave me permission to start my own
website!

I'll be bringing you the hot news, the big stories, and the stuff not
fit to air.

[Animated Dane strokes his animated chin.]

JD:  Maybe I AM the most feared man in America!

[A "BZZZ!" sound of electricity is heard as animated Jason Dane fades
away and a title graphic appears.]

"JASON DANE - COMING TO A BROWSER NEAR YOU!"

[Fade to black.

[The camera fades back in on a green band preview header.  This preview
is approved for all audiences.  This feature is rated R.

The green fades, replaced by a black screen with red lettering fading
into view "AWA Pictures Presents..." as a soft drumming sound plays in
the background.]

Voice: Ten-HUT!  Eyes FORWARD!

[The screen cuts to a shot of a group of Combat Corner wrestlers,
standing in army fatigues at the bottom of a grassy hill, near the
entrance to a large tunnel.  A large blood splatter filled with text
spashes up against the screen (partially obscuring it)]

Text: Once upon a time...

[The splatter runs off...only to be replaced by another as the soldiers
stand at attention while strings join the drums]

Text: When the forces of darkness seized control of AWA...

[The splatter runs off once again...a spotlight kicks in from inside of
the tunnel, washing out the features of the figure that strides out. 
The figure stops at the entrance... standing just under six feet tall,
and with an athletic build.  It places its hands behind its back.

Figure: Mah name ain't important.

[Bloodsplatter hits the screen once again...]

Text: Activate

Figure: ...but Ah'm here fer a purpose.

[The splatter runs off once more, to be replaced by another.]

Text: Infiltrate

[The splatter runs off once more and the figure begins pacing...]

Figure: Ah'm gonna be showin' up thar in AWA, dressed up all purty lahk
in mah normal clothes...an I'm gonna be doin' one thang and one thang
only:

[Bloodsplatter...]

Text: Exterminate

Figure: Takin' down the bad guys.

Combat Corner Students: YES SIR!

[As the figure talks, the screen cuts to shots of the beating that the
faces received at Wrestlerock...pausing at each impact and flashing the
screen red as the voiceover continues from the figure.]

Figure: These bad guys have taken over AWA through intimidation, group
warfare an' murder.

Combat Corner Student: I think Vasquez will live...

Figure: ...an' that's exactly what Ah'm gonna do ta them.  I will be
cruel to them.  And through my cruelty, they will know who Ah am.  They
will fahnd the evidence of mah cruelty in their disembowled,
dismembered, disfigured bodies of their fella bad guys, and they will
not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty that their
fella bad guys endured at mah hands...

[New blood splatter...]

Text: You haven't seen war...

Figure: They will be sickened bah us...

[once again runs off...to be replaced by another...]

Text: Till you've seen it through the eyes...

Figure: They will talk about me...and they will fear me...

[...once again runs off...and is replaced by a new splatter.]

Text: There are no crimes...

Figure: They ain't GOT no humanity.

[run off...replaced by another]

Text: ...behind enemy lines...

Figure: And they need to be DEEstroyed.

[Coming soon...an Inglorious Basterd.

Fade to the countdown clock that now reads: 62:10:24:17 with the latter
number ticking down one second at a time.

And then fade back to live action.]

GM:  The countdown continues, fans.  To who or what, we don't know but
that countdown should end, if my calculations are correct, on September
17th at AWA Homecoming - our first show back in the Crockett Coliseum
after this big summer tour concludes.  That's gonna be an exciting
night, Bucky.

BW:  Do we really have to come back to Texas?

GM:  There's no place like home - no matter how much fun we've been
having on the road over the past couple of months.  Of course, our
summer on the road will end on Labor Day Weekend in Atlanta for the
Stampede Cup and we are just moments away from finding out exactly who
has made the exclusive field of 24 teams.  But before we do that, let's
head back down to ringside for some more tag team action!  One of the
great shows we ran recently was in Athens, Georgia.  The hometown of
former National Champion Ron Houston, the fans in the Classic City got
to see a classic tag team encounter.  A young team who would love to
punch a ticket to the Stampede Cup... Scott Street and Sam Striker, The
Southern Guns... took on another young team that has already done so...
Mark Workman and Mark Carney, Mark II.  We pick this up in progress!

[We open to a very small arena.  It looks like an armory or such, but it
is filled to capacity with about two thousand fans.  The camera work is
a bit rougher than normal, as there wasn't quite room for the
professional-grade cameras we see in the Crockett Colosseum.  But that
does make the atmosphere a bit more intimate; a bit more charged.

The Southern Guns look very similar.  They have brown hair, brown eyes,
and athletic builds.  Their ring attire consists of standard trunks that
are designed to look like the Confederate battle flag. There are black
pistols on the rear of their trunks. Their kneepads are black and their
boots are Condederate battle flag design with a black pistol on the
outside of each boot. Street wears a black elbow pad on his right elbow.
Both wear jackets which look to be designed after the Confederate
jackets worn by the military and Confederate military hats. 

While not as individually similar, Mark II also follow a basic
appearance and attire theme.  Mark Carney is a well-built young man with
knee-length shiny sapphire-blue trunks with a marble pattern, and blue
wrestling boots.  He has short black hair in a Caesar haircut, is
clean-shaven, and wears athletic tape around his wrists.  Mark Workman
sports full-length royal blue trunks, with dark blue kneepads, blue
wrestling boots, taped wrists, and black short hair.

In the middle of the ring, Scott Street has a reverse chinlock on Mark
Workman.  In case we couldn't figure it out, we get chryon that says
"ALREADY IN PROGRESS".]

GM: Bucky, we're picking up about ten minutes into the match.  In the
early going, both teams came out firing on all cylinders, but it was
Mark II that gained control.  They used some quick exchanges, but were
unable to isolate a single Gun.  Eventually, the Guns used a nice
double-team move to gain control.  Mark Workman is in some trouble here,
as the Guns are wearing him out.

BW: Yeah, he's leanin' his weight on Workman in that chinlock.  This is
a real good hold for cuttin' off a man's wind while recoverin' yourself.
 Which is why I don't like it in tag matches, because you can tag out to
do that.  These Guns need some direction.  Maybe a good manager.  And
Street needs a personal trainer, because he's a bit soft in the gut. 
That's the best way to tell the Southern Guns apart.

GM: And if anyone would have expertise on a soft gut requiring one to
seek opportunities to recover his wind, it would be "Big Bucks" Bucky
Wilde, ladies and gentlemen.

BW: Hey!  What's that supposed ta mean?!

GM: It means I remember your short wrestling career.

[While this banter has gone on, Workman has fought up to his feet with
the crowd behind him.  He fires an elbow into the midsection of Street,
and a second one gets him free!]

BW: *ahem* Workman got out, daddy!

GM: He did indeed, and now off the ropes... shoulderblock connects.  He
is making a mistake by not tagging out immediately!  Off the ropes on
the other side... and a knee to the back from Sam Striker!  

BW: Got him just as he was comin' off the ropes!  The Guns have
potential, Gordo.  Both teams do.  It's stuff like that they gotta take
hold of an' embrace ta make it big.  Those smart tactics.

GM: Those cheap shots.  Normally, Street and Striker are very
well-mannered and personable, and the fans appreciate them.  But here in
Athens, something about them rubs this crowd the wrong way.  I believe
they invited that when they said that Athens "wasn't a real Southern
town" in their opening promo.  Because of the college students from all
over the country, it does have a different feel.  I suspect they just
worded that poorly, but the fans have booed them since, and maybe it has
affected their mindset here.

[Again, the commentators are discussing the teams more than describing
the action right now.  Street plants a knee into the back of a
now-kneeling Workman as well, and then tags Striker.  The Southern Guns
whip the New Hampshire native off the ropes and nail him coming back
with a big double back elbow.  Street exits, and Striker scoops up
Workman... hooking his waist and driving him down with a big gut wrench
suplex!]

BW: Follow up, kid!

GM: The Southern Guns are more experienced than Mark II, having been a
team for five years.  But as you can see, they're still a bit
mistake-prone.  Sam Striker should be going for a cover, but instead he
is yelling at this crowd for 'turning their backs' on him.

BW: Well, he's right!  Athens really ain't Southern.  Heck, I wonder if
Houston really is from here.  I wonder if anyone really is from here, or
whether they just come to school here and then go home.

GM: Striker with a vicious stomp, and I think the unusual reaction of
the fans is grating on him.  Picking up Workman now, and an abdominal
stretch.  Reaching over and making a tag while locking Workman in the
stretch... Scott Street is up on the top rope!

BW: This could be the finish, Gordo!

GM: Off the top... AND WORKMAN REVERSED OUT OF THE HOLD!  Street drilled
Striker accidentally with the double axehandle!

[The fans cheer that miscue loudly, and Workman starts crawling towards
his corner!]

BW: Stop apologizin', Street!  It's your partner's fault for not lockin'
that hold right!  Go stop the tag!

[Too late.  The hot tag is made, and the fans are cheering as Carney
rushes in with a big running forearm, plowing down a still-apologizing
Street!]

BW: Well, maybe now you should be sorry!

GM: Mark Carney running in, and he's ready to take on both men if he has
to!  Sam Striker is dazed, and a big biel throw is not going to do him
any favors!  Striker up quickly, and Carney... floating over... OH MY!

[The Iowan rushes past Striker, hooking his arm as he goes.  He floats
over the back as if for a crucifix rollup, but comes all the way over
back in front of his man, using all that rotational momentum to lay into
Striker with a vicious European Uppercut!  The loud SMACK echoes across
the arena, and the Southern Gun is flattened!]

GM: He calls that Around The World, and I don't think Sam Striker knows
exactly where on that world he is presently located!

[Standing Striker up, Carney hooks in his left leg, as if going for the
dragonscrew legwhip.  He then ducks in with the leg still hooked, and
explodes back into a picture perfect bridging Northern Lights Suplex
with Striker's left leg still hooked in a cradle!]

GM: CARNEYPLEX!  That will be all!

BW: Woulda been, but Street in at the last minute!

GM: Mark Carney hit his move too close to the opposition corner, and
Street arrived before Workman!  Now all four men are in the ring... no,
the referee forcing Mark Workman out!

BW: Let 'em go, ref!  Let them all have at it, an' we'll see who is
willin' to do what they got to do to win.

GM: Carney blasting Street with a punch, and turning back to Striker. 
Snapmare on Striker... off the ropes... STREET HELD THE TOP ROPE DOWN!

[The crowd boos as Mark Carney topples up and over the top rope, all the
way to the floor!  Scott Street, who rolled under the bottom rope after
Carney decked him, pulls himself up via the top rope... with a grin that
tells us that was not an accident.]

BW: Ha ha!

GM: Carney out on the floor, after that nasty fall, and this could be a
countout!

BW: It's 2032 all over again!

GM: That's not funny!  Carney up... drags himself in the ring, and Sam
Striker is waiting!  Big kick to the head!  Tag is made, and can the
Southern Guns put it away?

[*WHACK*]

BW: DOUBLE SUPERKICK!  I would say the answer is yes.

GM: Street with the cover as Striker cuts off Workman...

BW: Whoa!

GM: Carney kicks out!  Even after that horrendous fall and the double
superkick!  Scott Street can't believe it!  

BW: Well, we'll see if he can take another one!

GM: Street with a vertical suplex as Striker gets back in his corner. 
There is the tag!  Street sending Carney off the ropes, and the Southern
Guns are waiting...

[The Confederate-flag-wearing tandem grabs for Carney as he comes off
the rope, looking for the flapjack.  But he pushes off and goes over the
top of both men!]

BW: Carney escaped that one!

GM: Mark Carney whips Striker into his corner... but Street catches him
in the back with a double axehandle... and a Russian legsweep sends him
to the mat!

BW: And look at Workman!  When Striker ran into the corner, he caught
him in the face with his foot!

GM: Mark II fighting fire with fire!  Street floats over for the cover,
but he's not the legal man!  the legal man is in Mark II's corner, and
Workman just dragged him out of the ring!

BW: They are fightin' fire with fire, Gordo... I didn't think these kids
were that smart!

GM: No attack by Workman, just getting Striker out of position... he's
up and in the ring, but Carney has made the tag!

[Workman grasps the ropes with both hands, and slingshots himself over
the ropes into the ring, landing on his feet.  He doesn't let go of the
ropes, but uses the momentum of the first slingshot to pull WAY back on
the top rope, catapulting him into a SECOND slingshot over the top rope
to the outside, smashing right into the chest of Sam Striker!  the fans
explode for that impressive-looking move!]

GM: WHAT A MOVE!  Mark Workman used his entry into the ring to produce
incredible momentum to dive back out of the ring and hit Striker hard
with the... was that a plansha or a topey?

BW: Uh, stick with 'cross bodyblock', Gordo.  You weren't cut out for
speakin' Mexican.

GM: That flying cross bodyblock with the slingshot just took all the air
out of Sam Striker; a high risk move that paid huge dividends! 

[Workman shoots Striker back into the ring, and rolls in after him.  He
heads to the center of the ring, and points out over the crowd, who
respond with cheers!  he then runs towards the corner... hops up on the
second rope, and jumps back as if doing the old bodypress counter of a
corner whip.  But he lands with a big flying elbowdrop instead!  The
spectacular move hits like a ton of bricks, and Striker's feet kick and
flop as the impact shakes his body.]

BW: Holy cats, Gordo... that's gotta be it!

GM: The U-Turn Elbowdrop by Workman, and he is pinning his man!  One,
two... Street with the save!

BW: Striker in trouble, big time!  He's been finished off basically
twice now!

GM: Workman gets up, but Street exiting the ring.  Maybe spending too
much time worrying about the illegal man!  Tag made to Carney, and
Workman rams Striker's head into the boot of Carney!  There is the
transition... Workman sends Striker to the far ropes...

[* B L A P *]

GM: ...WHAT A DROPKICK BY MARK CARNEY!

BW: I swear he's gonna break somebody's jaw with that thing.  He calls
that the Restaurant Quality Dropkick!

GM: He should cover his man right now!  But Mark Carney taking the extra
time to show off!  

BW: Dumb kids, what can you say?

GM: I think this is more of a case of overconfidence.  Carney is
definitely the cockier Mark.  He scoops up Striker... face rake! 
Striker with a desperation move, and a very uncharacteristic one at
that!

BW: Hey, they want a win to make a case for a Stampede Cup spot!  They
should be going lower than THAT, Gordo.

GM: Tag is made, and Scott Street is in... diving clothesline takes down
Carney!  Street threw himself into that one!  He's up, and picking up
Carney!  Backbreaker!

BW: Taggin' Striker already?

GM: Maybe too soon, but yes!  Striker climbing up over onto the second
rope, and a big fist drop onto Mark Carney as Street drops an elbow on
him!  What a double team!

BW: Cover!  Could be... nope!

GM: Carney kicking out at two.  Striker with an immediate tag back to
Street... and he's got Carney up in a bearhug!  This could be it! 
Street is climbing the ropes, possibly looking for the flying elbow! 
Their big move!

BW: Gonna try and jack his jaw with that one!

GM: Street is all the way up to the top!  Carney is up in Striker's
grasp... but Workman breaks it up!

[Mark Workman dropkicks his partner in the back, sending him down on top
of Striker!  Street thus aims for Workman.  The Southern Gun  twists in
mid-air, trying to connect with a back elbow off the top.  But Workman
ducks down and back body drops him out of the air!  And since Street was
turned around for a _back_ elbow...]

BW: ALL THE WAY ON HIS FACE, GORDO!

GM: MARK WORKMAN FLIPPED SCOTT STREET ALL THE WAY OVER!  WHAT A COUNTER
TO THE FLYING ELBOW!

BW: He just did more flips in the air than Juan Vasquez' medical
insurance provider after watchin' WrestleRock, daddy!

GM: Striker getting up, Carney getting up... double high knee to the
face of Striker, and he spills out of the ring!  Mark II in there with
Scott Street, and I think Mr. Street is about to be on Dream Street!

[The fans cheer in anticipation as Mark II hoists up Street for a high
double body slam, almost a press slam... and when they flip him over,
Workman slams his knee into the back of Street's head while Street's
lower back lands right on Carney's knee!]

BW: BECKBREAKER!

GM: If they hit that at the Stampede Cup, they're going to advance...
and they've advanced past the Southern Guns here!  There's the three!

*DING*DING*DING*

PW: THE WINNERS OF THIS MATCH... IN FIFTEEN MINUTES AND FIFTY-SEVEN
SECONDS... MARK II!

[Workman and Carney celebrate with a jumping high five, and they start
working up the crowd in celebratory fashion.  Street is flat out, and
Striker rolls slowly into the ring to check on his partner.]

GM: A big win against a tag team which had both youth and seasoning on
its side, Bucky.  Mark II is a legitimate dark horse in the Stampede
Cup!

BW: I definitely think you can't look past 'em.  

GM: Carney and Workman not officially on the AWA roster, but they are
touring with us... a smart move on their part, as they're getting to
scout a lot of the talent they'll be matched up against at the Cup.

BW: You better believe that they'll get handed a contract if they put on
a good showin' on Labor Day weekend.  They probably could get signed
now, but if they have at least one major win there, they'll get some
more zeroes on that contract.  They're smarter than we think, Gordo.

GM: Let's take a look at the replay!

[Instant replay of the Beckbreaker ensues, as we hear "Rocket" by Def
Leppard start to play over the PA.  Bucky gives his analysis...]

BW: Ya know, Gordo, I think I figured out that Beckbreaker.  The
backbreaker part hurts like, well, a gorilla press backbreaker.  But
that's just for starters.  But it also keeps the guy's butt from
basically droppin' past the knee to the head.  Without that, that knee
would hurt, but the guy's weight would just kinda flip him over it.  But
with the knee stoppin' him, he gets the full impact plus all that
momentum!  That's the knockout blow right there... and when you combine
it with the nasty backbreaker from way up high, this move is all kinds
of bad news.  Look, Street don't even know where he is! 

[Back to the arena.  Workman and Carney are slapping hands on their way
out, while Striker is trying to rouse a semiconscious Street.]

GM: Indeed, that is the great equalizer, should they be able to execute
that even on the likes of Rough and Ready, Violence Unlimited, the Wild
Cards, or Dynasty.  We will see where this young team gets seeded.

[We crossfade from the shot inside the arena to a graphic of the
Stampede Cup logo... which gets joined by words saying "CONTROL CENTER."
 After a moment, those fade and we find Jason Dane standing in front of
a bank of television monitors - all showing various AWA action.]

JD:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to the first Stampede Cup Control
Center!  For the first time ever, twenty-four teams will be coming to
Atlanta, Georgia over Labor Day Weekend and they'll all be looking to
walk out with one million dollars, the Stampede Cup trophy, and the
right to call themselves the greatest tag team in the world.

First, let's look at the teams who've been signed on to compete
already...

[A graphic appears.]

JD:  The first two teams entered into the tournament are the current AWA
National Tag Team Champions, Rough N Ready, as well as the current and
reigning Stampede Cup Champions, Violence Unlimited!  Now, remember, if
VU happens to face the RNRs or WHOEVER the National Tag Team Champions
are on that weekend, then that match will be for the gold.  It could be
an absolutely huge weekend in Atlanta for both the champions as well as
their top contenders.

[That graphic fades to be replaced by two more teams.]

JD:  Two teams with no love for one another at all have made the field -
the Blonde Bombers led by Larry Doyle and the Rockstar Express.  These
two teams have had more than their fair share of battles over the past
year or so but no match between them would be more intense than if they
meet in this year's tournament.

[A different graphic shows up.]

JD:  The Stampede Cup has always been about bringing back legendary tag
teams from the past as well and this year will be no exception.  We've
got the former PVW World Tag Team Champions - The Wild Cards.  In
addition, we've got Dynasty.  The former EMWC World Tag Team Champions
have entered the Stampede Cup after five years apart to try to win the
big prize.  In their time, they were one of the greatest tag-teams in
the world.  They took on all comers, and beat some of the biggest names
the sport had to offer during their record setting World Tag Team Title
reign.  I have no doubt in my mind that they will do well in the
tournament.  Gordon Myers spoke with this duo earlier this week - let's
see what's on their minds...

[Camera cuts to Gordon Myers, who is standing with "Incredible" Idol
Austin and "High Society" Eugene Robinson, better known as Dynasty.  The
men stand on each side of Myers.]

GM:  Fans, as you can see, I am here with one of the entries in this
year's Stampede Cup Tournament, Dynasty.  Guys, to say the announcement
of your entry into this tournament was a surprise to many in and around
wrestling would be an understatement.  What made you two decide to gun
for the Stampede Cup?

[Eugene Robinson leans in to answer.]

ER:  Let me tell you something, Gordon Myers.  Our entry shouldn't have
been a surprise to you or anyone else.  The Stampede Cup has become the
biggest date on the wrestling calendar for fans of tag team wrestling. 
The winner walks away with a million bucks, and bragging rights. 
Winning the Cup proves that you are head and shoulders above your peers;
that you are the true Kings, and everyone else is just a pretender to
your throne.  Anyone who knows anything about the Dynasty knows that we
have succeeded everywhere we've been.  Sometimes, even defying
expectations while doing so.  

But for too long now, we've sat by and watched as people rattled off the
names of the best tag teams of all time.  And you see names like The
Harlequins, The Outlaws, Team Canada, Strictly Business, The Fraternity
Boys, Epitome of Cool, and The Perfectly Perfect Duo.  

[Robinson smiles and winks at the camera.]

ER:  Actually, I'm just joking about PPD.  No one takes them seriously. 
But you notice that no one EVER mentions Dynasty?  It's as if everything
we've ever accomplished means nothing.  And that just will not do.

[Robinson pauses, collecting his thoughts before he continues.]

ER:  You asked why we decided to gun for the Stampede Cup?  Simple.  To
show the world, once again, that we are the best thing going in the
business.  To beat the best that tag team wrestling has to offer today. 
And to reclaim once and for all our place at the top of the mountain,
and in wrestling history.

GM:  But, it's been five years since you last teamed.  Aren't you
worried that the layoff might have a negative effect on you two at all?

[Austin puts his hand out, grabbing the microphone arm to answer.]

IA:  Let me answer your question with a question, Mr. Myers.  Do we look
worried?

[Myers looks at the two men and shakes his head "no."]

IA:  It's because we're not.  Yes, it's been five years, but I would
dare say we can still hold our own against anyone.

[Austin begins to unbutton his shirt.]

IA:  After all, I am still in shape, and ready to go at a moment's
notice.  Isn't that right, ladies?

[Austin smirks as the ladies in the audience respond to his question and
continues.]

IA:  I look at the field that's going to be competing in the Stampede
Cup, and I see some pretty impressive names.  You have your AWA National
Tag Team Champions Rough N' Ready, with Joe Petrow.  You have last
year's Stampede Cup winners, Violence Unlimited.  You have the Rockstar
Express, the Blonde Bombers, The Moonshiners, The Wild Cards.  The list
goes on, and on.  Every team has proven themselves in that ring over
there, and in other rings around the world.  Tough competitors, arguably
among the best this sport has to offer.  But, they aren't now, nor will
they ever be, the two of us.

[Austin and Robinson fist bump.]

IA:  Sure, we haven't been in a match as a team in a few years.  But
we've known each other thirteen years and we're as close as brothers. 
We know what the other is thinking, and no layoff can disrupt that kind
of symmetry.  We're going to bring our best, and we expect the best in
return from our opponents, whoever they may be.  We don't want to hear
any crying when it's all over, and we're standing at the top of the
heap.  When we're on, and we always are, there is no one who can beat us
except ourselves.  There are some things in this world that will always
be great, and those things are ...

[Austin puts up his hand and begins a count.

One.]

IA: ... Leather Jackets.

[Two.]

IA: ... Sports Cars.

[Three.]

IA: ... Fine Wine.

[Four, and a smirk.]

IA: ... "Riding the Matterhorn".

[Five, while putting his other hand on Robinson's shoulder.]

IA: ... and Dynasty.

[Austin and Robinson turn and walk out of the interview area as we fade
back to Dane in the Control Center.]

JD:  Dynasty will be looking to have a major impact on the happenings at
the Stampede Cup in a month and a half.  But what about two teams of
brothers?

[The graphic changes.]

JD:  We will see Jack and James, part of the legendary Lynch family in
action as they look to bring home a big prize to the ranch.  And don't
forget about Nick and Alex, the Antons - the young men out of
Northwestern University.

[Another graphic switch.]

JD:  You want to talk about the Stampede Cup being a worldwide
sensation?  We've got THREE teams coming in from other parts of the
world to compete in this tournament this year.  From Japan, we've got
the Tiger Paw Pro representatives of Asama Inoue and Mad Hayashi who
will be joined by the boisterous William Payne.  From Puerto Rico, we
will see the legendary Carlos Sanchez and his partner, Hurricane Ramirez
come in to compete.  And don't forget about the high flying and
mysterious Pharohs, the Egyptian tag team champions!

[The graphic slides off screen to be replaced.]

JD:  Tin Can Rust has told the world that he WILL be in the Stampede
Cup... but who will he be teaming with?  City Jack has left some large
shoes to fill in Kentucky's Pride.  And how about the team we just saw
in action moments ago - Mark II!  We caught up with Mark II a few days
ago to get their comments on the Stampede Cup tournament!

[We cut to an AWA backdrop.  Carney and Workman are standing here, side
by side.  Carney is wearing the Official Stampede Cup T-Shirt(tm), a
dark red T-Shirt with burnt orange trim, and a white Stampede Cup logo. 
Workman is wearing the Official AWA T-Shirt(tm), black with a royal-blue
and grey logo and trim.  The two young men have very serious demeanors
and expressions.]

MC: The hands of the clock spin round and round... and we're approaching
destiny.  Mark II didn't come here to be a doormat for the big boys; we
came here to take that step up and join their ranks.  We hear a lot of
big bad talk from the top seeds, and what we've noticed is that there's
an awful lot of overconfidence.  Everyone's locked in on their big
rival; the one team they're sure is the only obstacle between them and
their glory.  Everyone's got tunnel vision.  And let me be the first to
apologize to any of of them that are listening... your tunnel is going
to be caving in a lot sooner than you think.  Tell 'em, Mark.

MW: You got that straight, Mark.  For years, we just went around just
happy to be there.  And we found out real hard and real fast that "just
happy to be here" is the first sign that you won't be happy... or
there... for long.  The time has come to take what we want.  You can't
swing a big name at us, and you can't swing a reputation at us.  The
only things you got that can hurt us...

[Both Marks hold up both fists.]

MW: ...we got 'em too, and we use 'em as good as anybody!  

MC: Nobody's talking about us but us.  That means we've got everyone
where we want them... all lined up for the headshot they'll never see
coming.  No excuses, no whining, no shortcuts, and no subterfuge.  The
hands on the clock are going round and round, and every tick brings the
Stampede Cup that much closer.  And every tick brings us closer to
making the first impression on each and every one of you tag teams, the
first impression that you never wanted to see made.  Looking up at the
lights, and realizing that the future is here.

MW: And it came flying in... at Mark II!

[We cut back to the studio.]

JD:  We'll also see some men who normally compete in singles competition
joining forces to try and win this tournament.  How about the duo of
Johnny Casanova and his employee, Jack Holland?  Or perhaps the team who
shocked the world by winning a seed at Wrestlerock, Tommy Fierro and
Ricky Armstrong?  Both teams will have nothing to lose in the Cup.

[Another graphic switch.]

JD:  One of the newest teams in the AWA, the Southern Stallions, have
been added to the field.  Kenny Stanton and Brad Jacobs will be looking
to take the whole thing on Labor Day Weekend.  Or what about the PCW
World Tag Team Champions, Sweet Sensation, as they attempt to make a
major impact and perhaps win a permanent role in the American Wrestling
Alliance?

[Yes, another one.]

JD:  Or how about the rough and tumble Moonshiners?  These legendary
brawlers will be bringing their street-fighting tactics to Atlanta to
try and outbrawl their way to glory.  And the last of the announced
teams... the Russians.  Now, after the actions of Kolya Sudakov at
Wrestlerock, we do not know the state of the Russians' participation in
the Stampede Cup tournament.  However, they remain in the field... for
now.

That's nineteen teams, fans.  That means there are five spots left to
complete the field of twenty-four.

[The graphic changes.]

JD:  Another member of the AWA's tag team division - The First Family -
has entered the tournament.  We have not heard much from the First
Family as of late but the always-dangerous Brother Cain makes them a
force to be watched in this tournament.

[Another change.]

JD:  Another outside entry - the Privateers have entered the tournament!
 The will be the twenty-first team in the tournament!

[Another change.]

JD:  How about this one - the team of Supernova and Tyler Lee!  The
Louisville Slugger and the young lion will be a strong force for ANY
team to try and contend with.

[One more change.]

JD:  And the final two teams in the tournament - two teams who both have
worked very hard in AWA arena events to try and earn their invititation
to compete in this enormous tournament... The Hive and The Rave!

[Dane grins as the graphic changes to one that shows all twenty-four
teams that have been entered into the tournament.]

JD:  Twenty-four teams - all with one goal - to be the Stampede Cup
champions.  Now, remember, eight teams will receive a bye to the second
round of action.  The seedings will be announced in the weeks to come
but we do know that Fierro and Armstrong have earned one of those spots
and will not be forced to compete in the first round of action.

It's going to be a wild weekend of action in Atlanta - plus we will see
several non-tournament matches that will be announced in the weeks to
come as well.  Tickets are on sale now at your local Ticketmaster outlet
or online so make your plans now to be in Atlanta when the world's
greatest tag team is crowned!

For the Control Center, I'm Jason Dane.  Good night everybody.

[We crossfade from the Control Center back to inside the WKIK Studios
where we find Gordon and Bucky seated.]

GM:  The Stampede Cup tournament - bigger, badder, and better than ever,
Bucky.  I can't wait to be in Atlanta for Labor Day Weekend!

BW:  Back in our old stomping grounds, daddy!  

GM:  That's right.  Now, while we look ahead to the Cup, we've also
gotta be looking back at Wrestlerock and one of the big confrontations
at WrestleRock which undoubtedly was worth the price of admission alone
was the Tower Of Doom, Bucky Wilde.

BW: I'll give it that. I wasn't happy about who won, but it was
somethin' else ta see. You had a big brawl, we got ta see Watkins an'
Kostovich in the ring one last time, we got ta see the Mercenary in
action, we got ta see Supernova an' Sharif settle up, an' we got ta see
Kolya Sudakov make the bad decision everyone's been waitin' for.

GM: There is a great deal of fallout from that contest, but one bit of
fallout that went under the radar is the physical condition of one Count
Adrian Bathwaite. Supernova's attack required the veteran to return to
Hong Kong to recover. That means that, for a short time, Sultan Azam
Sharif is flying solo... which provides an interesting opportunity.

BW: Opportunity? Whaddya mean by that, Gordo? You don't mean you're
gonna fill Sharif's head with crazy ideas without his manager here
looking out for his interests!

GM: It has become crystal-clear that Adrian Bathwaite has been heavily
"filtering" information to Sharif, and without that filter, we have an
opportunity to find out more about who Sultan Azam Sharif is. The night
after Wrestlerock, Jason Dane had a sit-down interview with the Sultan,
and it was very interesting to say the least...

[We cut to a backstage area. There is a white wall with some wooden
shelves, containing training equipment and trainer's supplies. Two
folding chairs are here, facing diagnonally at the camera. Over a small
table in between the chairs is draped the Iranian flag. In the left
chair sits Jason dane, wearing his interviewer attire. On the right is
Sultan Azam Sharif. The Sultan is in his wrestling attire, having
already competed that night... his loose white sirwal with shiny gold
sash, shiny gold hooked boots, and wrist tape. He has put his white
kaffiyeh and black agal back on his head to absorb some of the moisture
from the sweat. His face, a weatherbeaten complexion with a neatly
trimmed black mustache and Van Dyke, conveys a serious expression.]

JD: Thank you for agreeing to this, Sultan. It must be difficult without
Count Adrian Bathwaite handling you business affairs.

SAS: Shokram, Mistair Jahsun Dan, kaifa haloka, how are you?

JD: I'm fine, but what I am actually here to ask about is how you are
doing. Count Bathwaite will be away from the country for a couple of
weeks, as he refused to go to an American hospital. If I may, I'd like
to get a little insight on how he's been managing your career.

SAS: Vell you know, Mistair Jahsun Dan, everyvhere I go, all deh
peepell, all AmerEcun peepell osk me vhy I hod Mistair Count Batwaite as
my managaire. Un I alvays tell dem vat I tell you: he is good managaire,
formair vurld champwon, un shampwon all ovair deh vurld, all diffairunt
country un territory. He take good care of me, he do all my
arrangemunts, hotel, travail, food, un dot let me focus on deh
wrastling. I know dot many peepell, dey don't like Mistair Count
Batwaite because he is count, he is nobailman. I think dey are jealous
of dot... il-qanaa'a kinz. 

JD: Have you ever looked in to see if anything he's told you wasn't
true?

SAS: Now vhy Vould I hof to do dot? I trust my managaire, dot is vhy he
is my managaire. Sometimes he tell me to do something un I tell him dot
I vill not do dot. Like he did vid Mistair Lewus Mahtsui.

JD: Wait... you were supposed to be in on that?

SAS: Mistair Mahtsui, he osk me, "Sultan, I vant dot you come to ring un
put dot Mexicun jehbronie Jewan Vuzquez in Camail Clutch, dot you break
his bock un make him humbail for vat he do to me." But Mistair Matsui, I
tell him "Aasef, but I diddunt hof no reason to ottock Jewan Vuzquez. I
vant dot belt, but dot is not reason to do dis." Un he say, "Sultan, I
know dot Supairnova, who you hate, he is gunna come out to stop us. You
could ottock him on concrete floor un finash him, un ve both get vat ve
wanted." But I say top him, "Aasef, aasef, but dis thing dot you do, vid
all dese peepell, dot is not deh vay to rastore honair. No, dis is
dishonoraible, because you diddunt do your own vurk. You are managaire,
vut you gotta do is get a good wrasslair un do it in deh ring, face to
face. Like did Mistair Count Batwaite ven dot punk Supairnova hit him."
Ven my Roosia friends help me, it vas because he hit Mistair EEvon
Kostovich too. 'Arri Tiizak lid-dababiir wi-huul ya rabb, inta hadiir!
Dot mean, "don't complain ven you own shtupiduty get you in troubail!"
But ve diddunt try to crupple him den, ve did it so I could wrastail him
un beat him in deh ring. Face to face. Vat honair is it to attock from
behind? Dot doesn't settail anything! 

JD: That didn't work out for you, did it?

SAS: Supairnova did not pin me, he did not make me submit, un dot
jehbronie Supairnova nevair could do dot because I am Pahlavn-e Keshvar,
Varzesh-e Pahlavani, un he is punk who think dot his paint on his face
make him special! He nevair vus Olympic shampwon, Ahsun Game shampwon
like was deh Sultan! But today, Mistair Jun Stagglet tell me dot I vas
out of motches against Supairnova, so I can't even get to pay him bock
for beating up old man again! Again! Un deh peepell still cheer him,
because dey are not good peepell, not ontollEgunt AmerEcun like deh
peepell dot cheer for deh Sultan. BUT REMEMBAH! Illi tizra3u tuHSudu!
Dot day vill come ven Allah vill judge Supairnova for dot vat he do. I
vus not able to make him pay, but I am not gunna be like Il-ghargan
yitt-allag bil-shabou... not gunna make no ox-cuses! 

But vat dey do to Jewan Vusquez, not even dot punk Supairnova should
have got dot because all dose peepell, dey vasn't out for justice! If
you vanted justice, you should have do like deh Sultan vould have done.
I vould have got in deh ring and beat dot ovairatud Mexicun un take his
belt fair! Den he vould have know dot I beat him! But now he is in
hospitail, un all he think is dot Mistair Mahtsui is punk dot cannot do
his own vurk? Vat ravenge is dot? If you vant to beat a man... BEAT a
man! Un if you cain't, den you diddunt daserve to! I diddunt beat
Supairnova, he diddunt beat me, so none of us daserve to win. All he do
at WrestleRock is run out of a cage. Dot is not a win! 

JD: But Bathwaite wanted you to help Matsui?

SAS: Na'am. Yes. But I vasn't going to lose honair. I am SHARIF! Dot
mean honair!

JD: Do you know that some of the things Bathwaite has told you are
honorable really are not?

SAS: Mistair Jahsun Dan, you bettair votch your tounge to say dot about
Mistair Count Batwaite! All Iranian peepell know dot he is a man of
honair, un he tell me how in deh United States, how honair is shown.
Like ven I lock on Camail Clutch, un deh man give up... if I let go
right avay, dot show dot I think my opponent is vurthless un veak
because he cannot take deh pain. But keep deh hold four seconds until
refairee count, un dot show I think he is tough man who can handail
pain, un vurthy of raspect.

JD: ...no! That's not right at all! Sultan, he made that up to...

SAS: I tell you to votch out, Jashun Dan! I vould not attock a man like
you, but lisaanak huSaanak, in Sonto Sanak! Now dis ontairview is ovair.
But I got only vun more thing to say.

[Sharif turns away from Dane, and addresses the camera directly.] 

SAS: Mistair Culista Defrense! I see how you vun deh shampwonship! Dot
is vhy I am sad for you, Mistair Culista Defrense, because you are good
wrastlair un diddunt need all dot to beat Jewan Vuzquez! Now all deh
peepell say dot you are cowaird, un it is because Lewus Mahtsui diddunt
do right ven he do dot. 

Dot is vhy I shallunge you to shampwonship motch! Den you can show dot
you are no cowaird ven you face Olympic shampwon, Ashun game shampwon,
Pahlavn-e Keshvar, Varzesh-e Pahlavani! I am deh best wrestlair in deh
vurld, un now nobody vill call you cowaird ven you face me! CAMARAMAN,
ZOOM!

[The cameraman zooms in on Sharif's bicep, and we cut back to the
studio.]

GM:  How about that, Bucky?  That's a challenge to the National
Champion!

BW:  That Jason Dane is a no-good troublemaker, Gordo!  How DARE he get
in there and try to fill Sharif's head with... with...

GM:  Thoughts?

BW:  Exactly!  Wait, no!

[Gordon chuckles.]

BW:  You know exactly what Dane is up to.  He's trying to turn Sharif
against Adrian Bathwaite!  He's trying to spread some lies about the
Count when he's not here to speak up to defend himself!

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky.  I think we all know exactly who is
spreading lies around here and that's Mr. Bathwaite.  But you didn't
answer my question, how about that challenge to Calisto Dufresne for the
National Title?

BW:  Uhh... well... I'm sure.... look, it'll be a good match.  Sharif is
a top flight competitor and in my opinion, he deserves a shot at the
National Title.  But not like this.

GM:  Like what?

BW:  He's challenging Calisto Dufresne!  What happened to a unified
front?!  What happened to standing together?!

GM:  Sharif doesn't owe anything to Calisto Dufresne from where I'm
sitting, Bucky.  And he's right!  Dufresne did not win that title in a
honorable fashion but if he starts accepting some challenges, he might
be able to make himself a honorable champion yet.

BW:  You just want to see Calisto locked in that Camel Clutch!

GM:  Boy, that'd be something, wouldn't it?  Fans, we've got to take one
final break and we'll be right back with one more piece of footage here
tonight so stick around...

[We can still hear Bucky saying something about the National Title to
Gordon Myers as we fade to black.

And then back up on an animated Jason Dane... no, he's not just moving a
lot.  He's LITERALLY animated - like Porky Pig style.]

JD:  They say I'm the man with all the answers.

[A cut to a different angle of animated Dane.]

JD:  They say I'm the man who gets all the scoops.

[Another cut.  Another angle.]

JD:  They say I'm- is all this really necessary?  It's not like I'm
Geraldo, guys.

[A voice off camera shouts "CUT!" and animated Jason Dane walks off a
green screen set through a crowded studio.]

JD:  I'm not the "most feared man in America," fans.  What I am is a
pretty good reporter who has an eye for the stories you're gonna want to
know about.  That's why AWA Access has been one of the most downloaded
apps ever and that's why the AWA gave me permission to start my own
website!

I'll be bringing you the hot news, the big stories, and the stuff not
fit to air.

[Animated Dane strokes his animated chin.]

JD:  Maybe I AM the most feared man in America!

[A "BZZZ!" sound of electricity is heard as animated Jason Dane fades
away and a title graphic appears.]

"JASON DANE - COMING TO A BROWSER NEAR YOU!"

[Fade to black.

And back up on the interior of the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Well, fans, it's been a heck of a night here in Dallas as we ran
down a lot of the events that have taken place over the past couple of
weeks here in the AWA.  Now, don't forget, we'll be right back here in
two weeks for our normal format of Saturday Night Wrestling from
Norfolk, Virginia as we start counting down the days until the Stampede
Cup.  We know we're going to hear updates on Kolya Sudakov and Jim
Watkins that night plus that big hard-hitting showdown between Raphael
Rhodes and Violence Unlimited's Danny Morton.  But before we call it a
night here from our old stomping grounds, we've got one more match set
to take a look at... this match happened on July 7th, a few days after
WrestleRock, in Greensboro, North Carolina and was supposed to be Eric
Preston's return match from his injury suspension. But at this point, we
all know that where Eric Preston is, James Monosso is not far behind...

BW: And vice versa, Gordo, them two just find new ways to run into one
another. They're explosive, daddy, plain and simple, them two are like a
car wreck you just can't take your eyes off of. The history, the hatred
between those two, I dunno how many times we've seen something like this
before.

GM: We're gonna jump into this match as it's in progess, with Eric
Preston taking on Rashan Hill, with Jason Dane and Colt Patterson on the
call. Let's join this match and you'll see what we're talking about.

[Cross fade to Eric Preston, wearing glossy blue tights and with a
healthy coat of sweat, taking over Rashan Hill with a headlock takedown.
The voice of Jason Dane cuts in, in mid-conversation with old
broadcasting partner Colt Patterson.]

JD: Technically sound as can be by Preston, and Hill is no small man.

CP: You got that right, Dane, Rashan Hill's got some weight behind him.
But the technique and the leverage by Preston is something we haven't
seen before. He's taking his game to a new level.

[Hill fights to his feet and lays in a left hand to the gut of Preston,
backing him into the ropes and _firing_ him off. Preston races across
the canvas as Rashan hits the deck, then hits the far ropes as Hill
hustles to his feet and leapfrogs a charging Eric Preston... but the
South Carolina native stops on a dime and turns around, just as Hill
lands...]

"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!"

JD: OH MY! OVERHEAD SUPLEX! AN ERIC PRESTON TRADEMARK, AND WHAT A BEAUTY
IT IS!

CP: That's technique, that's leverage but that's _power_ my man! Nobody
throws that better than the man from Greenville, South Carolina!

[Hill lands in the corner and valiantly struggles to his feet, as
Preston races past him into the same corner, leaps to the second rope...
and rebounds back to _drill_ Rashan with a back elbow! The crowd
explodes in cheers as Hill goes with it and rolls out of the ring.]

JD: Rashan Hill needs to get outside, needs to clear his head. The
explosiveness from Preston is unparalleled by anybody I can think of,
Colt, and he's clicking on all cylinders.

CP: The doctor's holding him out from WrestleRock was a real downer, but
he looks like he took it well, and he's back on the scene with a
vengeance.

JD: Referee Waldo Meekly laying in the count on the outside, warning
Hill to get back inside ths squared circle--

[But the count is interrupted by a slingshot puuuuu-lancha by Preston,
flattening Hill and stoking the crowd with more high impact, high risk
moves!]

CP: That'll do it!

JD: Eric Preston taking matters into his own hands, breaking the count
by himself and throwing Hill back into the ring. What an athletic move
by Preston, who's showing off his full arsenal tonight.

[Back to the aisleway, Preston lays in a European uppercut that buckles
Hill, and another that drops him to a knee. But Rashan has some fight in
him, headbutting Preston in the midsection from his knee, and throwing
another punch to the midsection... when his attention is diverted by the
ruckus in the aisleway.


RH: "MONOSSO! MONOSSO!]

JD: MONOSSO!

CP: Where you goin' Dane, I ain't Bucky Wilde! Three times the world's
champ, son, I ain't backing down!

[Hill physically pushes Preston off of him and points down the aisle, as
the crowd confirms it. James Monosso and Percy Childes leisurely make
their way to ringside, as Hill leaves the ring altogether and Preston
squints at his nemesis and then waves him on. The crowd stirs with
anticipation as Monosso smirks at Preston.]

JD: Rashan Hill got out of dodge, and who can blame him?

CP: He didn't just leave the ring, Dane, he stopped the match and warned
Preston. The match was secondary. The fans don't just want Monosso to be
stopped, the other wrestlers do too!

[Percy Childes, who is resplendent in a red dress shirt and black slacks
(if by "resplendent" you mean "pudgy and sweaty"), is carrying a
wireless microphone in one hand, with the Longhorn Heritage Championship
Belt slung over the same shoulder.  His crystal-tipped walking stick is
in his other hand.  The bald-headed goateed manager speaks in a calm,
matter-of-fact voice.]

PC: You needn't concern yourself with a defensive posture, Preston. 
We're only out here to share some information with you... information
that will not only help you make a wise and valuable career decision,
but will also help you to help others from sharing your inevitable fate.
 You, eh, may want to have this recorded for posterity.  Also because
you'll start forgetting things before too long, and you may need the
reminder.

[Boooooo!  The cheap shot at Eric's concussion history makes Monosso
smile that broad, nasty smile.]

PC: You see, it all went according to the way that James Monosso
projected.  My contacts in the health insurance industry have provided
me with some rather sensitive information regarding your role model, Mr.
Todd Michaelson.  As we thought, his personal insurance carrier has
refused all claims, and dropped him from his policy altogether for
violating the Unsafe Behaviour Clause.  The company insurance won't
cover him, because they only cover non-wrestlers.

[Pausing a moment, Percy stretches his back.]

PC: They DID fully cover the examination I had after Sweet Daddy
Williams accosted me.  Just so you know how well your employer looks out
for those who look out for themselves.

[The fans boo the inherent injustice in that fact.]

PC: While James has been... freelancing... of late, his most recent
brush with permanent expulsion has led me to believe that it is time to
assert my managerial control over his career once again.  And so, you
have no cause to fear any more sudden ambushes, or random acts of
senseless violence.  Unless there's a legitimate reason for it, of
course.

[Preston rolls his eyes at that last remark.]

PC: And during my trip to the AWA offices, I happened to see your
written, formal request for a match against James Monosso at your
earliest convienience.  But you know, Eric?  I see no purpose for my
client to wrestle you.

[BOOOOOO!  Monosso starts badmouthing the fans in the aisle as Percy
goes on.]

PC: You do remember why he targeted you in the first place, yes? 
Revenge.  And he feels that he's gotten that.  Further, he continued to
target you, because you were at the time impeding the rise to power of
Nenshou.  But... well, you're no longer a factor, really.  As far as
James' final reason for waging war against you?  The "war of ideology"
which culminated against Todd Michaelson at WrestleRock?

Allow Mr. Monosso to give you the plain and simple explanation why he no
longer needs to battle you on that account.

[Percy holds the microphone back for Monosso, who stares at it and
grins, a mirthless grin which is designed solely to infuriate Eric
preston.]

JM: Because... I won.

[BOOOOOOO!]

JM: I won.  Not just the match, not just the battle, but the whole
stinkin' war!  I heard half the Combat Corner dropped out this last
week... and the other half's teetering!  I won, because I shattered the
illusion!  Michaelson's days as a living lie, as a testament to kids
that they can become wrestlers and make it... it's over.  OVER.  He'll
be right alongside me on Skid Row before too long, and all them kids he
lied to can now see the truth.

Too bad, Preston.  Too bad you didn't get to see it in time.

That ringing in your ears ain't the echo of the cheers, kid.  That's
brain cells dying.  That's the first of many signs, tellin' you you've
had it.  I did so much damage to you, that in a year-and-a-half you took
five years abuse.  All them kids'll get the same, but it'll take so long
that no one will SEE it happen.  They saw it happen to you!  And they
saw how it all ends with Michaelson!  I don't need to wrestle you,
because I already made the example of you that I wanted to make.  I just
wanted to come out and look you in the eye one last time... to tell you
face to face that I already won!

[Preston gives the duo an 'are you done' stare, then snatches the house
mic.]

EP: Congratulations, James. You beat the hell out of a guy who retired
in 1996. You damn near crippled a man who broke his back in the Clinton
administration.

[Preston sneers in dismay, and golf claps.]

EP: What a warrior you are, James. How proud you must be. And you Percy,
hell of a meal ticket ya got on your hands. When it comes to opponents
looking the other way, or people turning their backs, your man's
undefeated.

When you're broken down, crippled or not a wrestler at all, Monosso's
your guy. Can't be stopped.

You know, ha, you know, you've put me on the shelf so many times-

[Preston runs a hand through his hair, and squeezes it, equal parts
frustration and exasperation.]

EP: -you've knocked me down so many times that I kinda thought you'd be
eager to get in the ring and finish the job, to put me out for good.
Concussion here, dumbbell to the ribs there, throw in some internal
bleeding, a punctured lung... it's been a long road, man, a long list of
injuries, and I kinda thought you'd show up to put me out for good. Just
to prove your point.

But you're not going to do that. And I know why.

This last time, when the doctors kept me out on July 4, I did some
homework. I did my research, James, I listened to what you had to say.

[Monosso tilts his head in the aisle, skeptical.]

EP: Yeah, that's right. I listen. I'm probably one of the few who do- I
listen a hell of a lot more than he does, that's for sure.

[Preston points to Childes, who waves a hand.]

EP: And you know something. James?

You're right. You and me? Not so different after all.

[The crowd boos at the thought, but Preston holds up a hand.]

EP: I saw the tape, James, I listened. I dunno if you were gonna be
Hamilton Graham, but surely you could have been Alex Martinez. Surely
you could have been a huge, _mega_ star in the business. It was all
right there, man, right in front of you. And it got taken away, the rug
got pulled out from underneath you, and it landed you in the nuthouse.
Homeless, helpless, begging for food, begging for a way back in, at the
absolute mercy of _anybody_ who would do you a favor.

Yeah, yeah, I know the feeling, I know that tune. Remember when we first
met? When we first crossed pathes?

I was Michaelson's Golden boy. I was his next Devon Case.
Advertisements, endorsements, cars, money, women, I had it _all_, and I
had it all handed to me. Without earning one lick of it. I was the
homemade superstar, straight out of the Combat Corner, who had main
events at SuperClash with my name on them.

And faster than you could say what just happened, it was all ripped
away. One day I was out for a week with a bad headache, the next day I'm
in my basement, looking at my fax machine, wondering why it's not
working? why's it not beeping, where's my schedule, where's my tickets?
Dammit, where's my airtime, why am I being forgotten?

Out of sight, out of mind, James, and I was both. Because of bad luck
and bad timing, Watkins and Stegglet tried to sweep me under the rug and
move on to the next flavor of the month. I was nothing, I was _less_
than nothing! I was _erased_ from the AWA!

[At that, Monosso cackles in satisfaction. Preston, meanwhile, is
burning a hole through him from inside the ring.]

EP: If you were at rock bottom, then I was next in line. 

But that, right there, that's where it ends. We couldn't be more
different.

Adversity introduces a man to himself, James, tough times make tough
people. I fought and clawed and scratched my way back here. They
wouldn't give me plane tickets so I drove, they wouldn't give me airtime
so I BOUGHT MY OWN! Every day, every match, every drop of blood and
sweat was shed so I could get _back_ to the AWA, so I could get _back_
in this ring. Nothing came easy, _nothing_ was handed to me, I had to
set the damn ring back up just to get back _here_, right now.

Tough times make tough people? THEN YOU'RE LOOKING AT ONE!

[The crowd EXPLODES at the emotional Preston, whose voice cracks with
pent up frustration.]

EP: And you, you, mister tough guy, mister terrifying monster, you
didn't fight back. You hid in whatever hole would take you and blamed
anyone you could think of. Wrestling, the government, the aliens, people
on the street, people off the streets, you couldn't accept the fact that
YOU caused YOUR OWN MISERY! It was your fault you gutless sack of
garbage, _you_ put yourself on the street, _you_ put yourself in the
looney bin.

[That last line makes Monosso blow up.]

JM: I DIDN'T PUT MYSELF IN THE ASYLUM!  YOU DON'T KNOW NOTHIN' ABOUT
WHAT HAPPENED!  YOU WEREN'T THERE!

[Preston ignores his outburst and keeps talking.]

EP: And rather than take your medicine and fight like hell to get it all
back, you sat in the corner like a little girl and cried the blues until
Childes picked you out of the lost and found. You didn't have the balls
to get back up on your own two feet and take back what you lost, no, no,
that would have been too difficult. That would have required a spine,
that would have required some intestinal fortitude, and we both know
you're a quart low. 

And don't confuse crazy for brave, James, just because you can't stand
to look at yourself in the mirror every day, just because you hope if
you do something crazy enough in the ring that you won't wake up the
next morning, don't think I don't know what that is. That's called self
loathing, and who could blame you.

If I had to live with the fact that deep down, I'm a spineless, gutless
sack of wet trash, I'd try to off myself every night in the ring too.

[Preston slaps the ropes and spits down the aisle, towards the gruesome
twosome.]

EP: And you, Childes, you perpetrate the myth every waking moment. You
walk around like you've got Godzilla by the tail, when you know deep
down in that artery clogged heart of yours that what you have is a
creature born from strategy and luck, a mindless tool who does your
bidding and then comes back for a Scooby Snack. But you're looking at
one man who's seen what's behind the curtain, I know your game.

And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of you, I'm sick of him, I'm sick of this
crusade you have to prove what a black hole wrestling is, when you're
the first person with your hand out on the first and fifteenth. Sure,
wrestling ruins lives, except for when it brings you envelopes filled
with dead presidents, then it's a-okay.

So go ahead and throw on hypocrite to the list of everything else you
two wastes of flesh are. I can't stand the sight of you two anymore, but
I know that you're going to hide behind your empty words and turn down a
match. Because if you do, you've got to look into the eyes of someone
who did what you couldn't do, who succeeded where you failed. Bullies
pick on those who have the traits they themselves wish they had... and
you're looking at someone who took adversity head on and stood up to the
pressure.

But not you. You wilted. You crumbled.

You're soft.

[Preston points an accusatory finger at Monosso.]

EP: But I'll tell you this. I would sign away my life and social
security for a match with you, I'd sign away my condo in the Keys and my
time share in the Hamptons if I had them anymore. But I don't, they're
gone. I spent _everything_ I had to get back here, I gave it _all_ away
to come back here and look _you_ in the eyes!

[Preston stops talking, but still breathes heavy. He looks down at his
hands, then back out to the Unholy's.]

EP: All I got left is two fists and one beating heart, but there's no
price I won't pay. Tell me what you want, fat man, name your price and
I'll sign on the dotted line. I didn't come all this way for nothin'.

[Preston drops the mic and leans on the ropes, the rant of a lifetime
having taken everything out of him.  Percy calls for the mic, but
Monosso isn't done.]

JM: So after all that, lemme ask one question.

Did you manage to extend your career by even one second?

Did you just talk Todd Michaelson off his hospital bed?

Oh, that was two questions.  Sorry... like you, I had a lot of
concussions, and like you, sometimes my mind don't figure quite right. 
You say that you listen?  If you listened, you'd know... wrestling ain't
a-okay when I do it!  I do it cause it's all I CAN do!  If I had
anything else, you'd never see me again!  All the rest of what you said
is the same useless namecalling that it always was.  All the rest of
what you said just shows that even now, you STILL missed the point!

All that fightin', scratchin', an' clawin' your way back up the ranks. 
In ten years when you can't hold your hands steady, in twenty years when
you can't sit down because your hips don't work anymore, and in thirty
years when you're dead... will it matter?  Whoopie, you got hurt,
abandoned, rejected, and came back.  I did that over and over.  You did
nothin' that I didn't do!  The difference is that they locked me in a
padded cell for five years, and I came to see that all that fightin',
scratchin', an' clawin'... it's worthless!  It wasted time I coulda used
to do somethin' sustainable!

An' as far as it bein' my fault that they dropped me, that they locked
me up... 

[Uh, oh.  This is the topic where Monosso is really starting to
unravel.]

JM:  ...MY fault?  You stuck-up punk, you don't know nothin'!  You
deserve what's gonna happen to you!  When you lose everyone that you
ever gave a damn about, because they turn on you, because they don't
like what your concussions and your pain and your hell on Earth do to
you... then let somebody tell you it's your fault!  You'll want to stab
their guts out!

[At that last remark, Percy holds up his walking stick.  Monosso glares
at the crystal tip more a moment before handing the microphone back to
Childes.]

PC: While the mad Monosso and I do not always agree on all things, there
is one thing he's said that I do believe: you are a very slow learner
who quite frankly does not yet comprehend his situation.  Since the
sands in the hourglass apparently are not falling fast enough for you, I
will agree to one FINAL match between yourself and Monosso...

[The fans erupt into cheers!  Well, until the next line.]

PC: ..._IF_ you agree to the stipulation.  I will tell you what it is
first, and then you may decide at your leisure.

EP: This ain't multiple choice, Percy, spit it out.

PC: It is a very simple stipulation, and it offers no great advantage
for either man.  It is... a Towel Match.

[Pretson quirks his eyebrow at that.  The fans are waiting for the other
shoe to drop.]

PC: I will be Monosso's cornerman.  And yours must be Todd Michaelson.

EP: Why?

PC: Very simple, young fool.  You have already lost; you've suffered
brain damage.  You may not think of it in those terms, but that's what
it is.  So you need to know that you're finished.  And how can we make
that clear to you?  Michaelson.  He would not submit at WrestleRock, so
we shall complete the victory.  I want him to quit Preston.  Not just on
himself... but on _you_.  I want him to confess, with one throw of a
towel, that both of you are utterly defeated, and that James Monosso was
right all along.  

And when your dimming eyes see that the man you put so much trust in has
given up on you, Eric Preston... you'll be giving up right along with
him.  Ha ha ha ha ha!

[Childes turns and heads back down the aisle, with Monosso continuing to
glare at Preston in his wake...

...as we fade to black.]