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

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                  April 12, 2009
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************

[As the closing notes to end titles of "Perfect Strangers" fades out, we
fade in to the locker room, during The Main Event, as a bloodied and
exhausted Marcus Broussard is helped in through the door by two
trainers. Marcus is immediately taken to the showers, where he is thrown
in boots and all. The water is turned on and the red begins to wash off,
out of his hair, off of his chest and arms, then beginning to head for
the drain.]

MB: There it is, man. Everything I have. Blood, sweat, tears.

Energy.

Love.

[Marcus has a coughing fit and reaches to turn the shower off, turning
onto his knees and then helping himself to his feet.]

MB: I came back to AWA for nights like this. The nights when the people
make you better. The nights when your best isn't good enough, and you
have to dig deeper.

[The San Jose Shark abruptly sits down again, and points at the camera.]

MB: All I wanted was a handshake. To signify that I kept up my end of
the deal. I wrestled clean. Fair. With confidence and guts and desire
and determination, like we used to talk about.

All I wanted was a handshake.

[A towel is thrown at Marcus, and he puts it over his head and then
lifts it up, showing the blood to the lens.]

MB: The match may have been a draw, Adam, but anyone watching the match,
at home or in person... it's clear who the loser was. And it's got
nothing to do with pinfalls anymore.

[The San Jose Shark tosses the blood-covered towel over the camera,
completely blackening screen as the sounds of "One More Saturday
Night" by the Grateful Dead start to play.

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

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

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

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to inside the
WKIK Studios where we find our two favorite announcers.

One is clad in a dark navy suit, white dress shirt, and red and white
striped tie.  He sports nicely-styled salt and pepper hair and a
well-groomed moustache.  He grips a wireless mic in his hand, grinning
widely at the camera.  In his late-50's and the epitome of
professionalism, this man is Gordon Myers.

By his side is... well, somewhat a bit more flashy.  With a mic in one
hand and a glitter covered briefcase in the other, this man is paunchy
to say the least.  He's got a decent sized gut pushing at the buttons on
his lime green dress shirt underneath an eye-burning yellow jacket.  His
black hair is tousled in all directions like he hasn't run a comb
through it in his life.  His teeth appeared to have been whitened
recently... perhaps several times even as he flashes a huge smile.  He's
in his late 30's... he's former manager "Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.

They're standing in front of a bluish gray standard television studio
set where you can see the AWA logo splashed across the wall above a
small television monitor.  Wilde lifts his glittering briefcase with a
flourish, slapping it down onto a wooden "desk" in front of them as
Myers begins to speak.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling
Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  We are fresh
off an incredible two hours of television a couple weeks ago when the
AWA featured The Main Event and things could not be hotter here in the
AWA, Bucky.

BW:  Year One is in the books and tonight, we start Year Two here in the
AWA, daddy!  It's time to earn my second Announcer of the Year award as
only I can!

GM:  The Main Event was red-hot action to be sure.  Of course, we just
heard from the San Jose Shark, Marcus Broussard, who had an instant
classic showdown with "The Natural" Adam Rogers that went the distance -
a one hour draw!

BW:  It was a great match.  That's for sure.  But the way I look at it
is that neither of those guys won the match, Gordo... right?

GM:  Of course.

BW:  So, if they neither of them won... they BOTH are losers in my book!
 Ahahahaha!

GM:  Give me a break.  In addition to that, we also saw Sweet Heat
defeat the Russians to earn their third point and the Championship
Committee had made it official.  In two weeks' time, Sweet Heat will
challenge Kentucky's Pride for the National Tag Team Titles!

BW:  Hopefully a meteor will hit the ring during that match and we can
crown some real champs.

GM:  To prepare for that match, Kentucky's Pride will be in action in
tonight's Main Event as they take on Juan Vasquez and a partner of his
choice - stemming from Vasquez interfering in the match between Tin Can
Rust and Raphael Rhodes two weeks ago as well.

BW:  Plus, the Gold Bomber finishes what he started on The Main Event
and puts Scott Pain on the shelf for good, daddy.

GM:  We'll see about that.  All of that plus much, much more tonight,
fans... and now to kick things off here in the WKIK Studios, let's go-

[The opening chords of "Try Honesty" by Billy Talent begin to play as
"Subzero" Adrian Freeman walks out through the entrance curtain. 
Freeman strides towards the ring purposefully. Gordon Myers goes out to
talk to him.]

GM: Im here with Subzero Adrian Freeman. Adrian

AF: Im not here to talk. Im here to wrestle. Lets get on with it.

[With that Adrain brushes past Gordon and slides into the ring.]

GM: Well that was... abrupt.

BW: Ha ha! You shoulda seen the look on your face.

[Staring down the ring from Adrian is a young, bright-eyed kid who looks
to be a bit more muscular than subzero. He wears black trunks and all
in all looks like your typical wrestler.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first,
from El Paso, Tex

[Freeman charges across the ring and tackles his opponent down to the
mat. Melissa Cannon stops in mid-introduction to duck out of the ring.
Freeman postures up and brings a forearm down across the jaw of the
surprised grappler. He smacks his opponent with the other forearm,
sending his head bouncing back like a ping-pong ball just as the bell
rings.]

GM: Adrian Freeman just got this match off to an early start! Our
apologies, folks, the young man facing him is Kyle King, whos looking
to get a big upset victory here... but he isnt off to a great start.

BW: This is what I love about Freeman! Pure aggression. He didnt wait
around until the bell like some goodie-two-shoes, he saw his opening and
took it right away.

[Freeman pulls up Kings head and then slams it against the mat. He
repeats this a few times as the crowd boos. Adrian spins around and
wraps his arms around Kyle Kings neck.]

GM: An unusual type of sleeperhold being applied right here.  

BW:  I know you don't know these things, Gordo, but thats a mixed
martial arts move known as a north-south choke. Very dangerous, but
King has got his foot on the bottom rope and Marty Meekly is making
Freeman break the hold.

[Subzero gets up, but never really lets go of King. Instead he pulls
him up and drives him against his knee in a backbreaker. King slumps
off of Freemans knee. Adrian mugs in the ring, holding out his arms as
if to welcome applause, although he only gets jeers.]

GM: It looks like Freeman is starting to take after his tag partner
Callisto Dufrense with this arrogant preening. Hes in the middle of a
match!

BW: Hey, he deserves to toot his own horn a bit. Hes obviously
outclassing this ham-and-egger.

[Freeman reaches down and slaps Kyle King across the face. King
immediately takes advantage of this, grabbing his arm and rolling the
Australian up into an inside cradle.

GM: Cradle by King! One! Two! No, Freeman kicks out, but he was
nearly upset here.

BW: But he wasnt. You just watch, Adrian Freeman knows what hes
doing.

[Freeman goes for a belly-to-back, but King breaks out of his grip with
a back elbow to the head. Kyle King runs off the ropes and knocks
Freeman down with a dropkick. He keeps running, rebounds off the
opposite ropes and comes down with a thunderous leg drop.]

GM: Leg drop, and the cover!

BW: Ack!

GM: One! Two! No... Freeman kicks out! But Kyle King is in this match
for the first time.

[King pulls up Freeman and whips him into the ropes... then almost gets
his head taken off by a leg lariat. King gets to his feet admirably
fast, but only to get caught in a hard inverted atomic drop. Hes still
clutching his privates when Freeman pulls his legs out from under then,
then turns him over to cinch in his signature Boston crab.]

BW: The Deep Freeze! Dig a hole and bury him!

[King looks at the ropes, seemingly miles away, and has no choice but to
tap out.]

MC: Your winner, at a time of 1 minute and 57 seconds, SUBZERO ADRIAN
FREEMAN.

[The crowd boos the announcement as Freeman gets back to his feet,
arrogantly sneering out at the fans.]

GM: Adrian Freeman manages to pick up the submission victory, but his
arrogance almost cost him.

BW: What are you talking about? He was feeling generous so he let the
kid show off his stuff. Then he got serious and finished him off.
Adrian Freeman continues to win here in the AWA.

[Freeman stands on the second ropes and poses for the booing fans as we
cut away from the ring to the announce desk where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.]

GM:  Nice win for Adrian Freeman right there, Bucky - a good showing.

BW:  After a months or so of slipping down the Top 10, that should knock
him up a notch or two, I think.

GM:  Agreed.  Fans, it's going to be an exciting night here in Dallas,
Texas as we still have those two big matches coming up as well as The
Russians in action among others.  But coming up right now, we've got a
very special interview to bring you.  As you know, Bucky, it has been a
rough last few months for the former World Champion, Adam Rogers.

BW: It sure has, daddy, and you can see the toll it's been taking on
him. You know, even though he likes to throw out the boy scout image,
Rogers has been known to break the rules in his past and you've gotta
wonder, Gordo...are we about to start seeing that side of "The Natural"
again?

GM: Indeed he has, and-

BW: Because I'd love it if we did, daddy!

GM: Well, hopefully we're about to get some answers because we now
welcome to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling the man in question, Adam
Rogers.

[The crowd reacts with a mixed ovation as Rogers stoically walks to the
table and takes a seat in between Myers and Wilde, picking up the spare
microphone laying there.]

GM: Adam, thanks for taking the time to join us and answer some
questions.

AR: Sure.

[Awkward moment of silence!]

GM: AsI was saying before you came out here, it's been a difficult last
few months for you here in the AWA. We saw you just a couple of weeks
ago in a match with Marcus Broussard that everyone in the wrestling
world has been talking about. After the match, Broussard extended a
hand of friendship to you, but you walked away. Why?

[Adam looks down and chuckles, rubbing his chin.]

AR: The answer to that question, Gordon, is highly complex. Let's just
say there is a lot more to this situation than anyone realizes, and more
thanI intend to share. But why did I walk away from Broussard after
that match? That's what everyone wants to know, isn't it?

What _I_ want to know, Gordon, is why everyone just expects me to accept
that this changed Marcus Broussard is for real. Tell me, how do you
know that he is? Gordon, Bucky, you guys are the experts. Tell me how
do you know that he's changed his ways?

GM: Well...I think his actions of late have been pretty consistent with
that of a changed man.

[Rogers looks at Wilde.]

AR: Bucky? You got any bright ideas?

BW: I just wish the old Broussard would come back, daddy.

AR: So neither one of you have any answers. Because there _is_ no
answer. There _is_ no way for you people to know if Marcus is legit or
not.

Now why in the world would I want to take that chance?

[Adam now turns to Myers.]

AR: You see, Gordon, here's the thing. You know about my career. You
know I've spent most of it trying to do the right thing, play by the
rules, all that...there havebeen timesI've chosen different paths, of
course, and that's why I came to the AWA...to get back to where I came
from, back to why I got into this business to begin with. So you
shouldknow, Gordon, that I have had more than my share of knives thrust
into my back.

And let's not forget that one of those knives was put there by one
Marcus Broussard. It amazes me that everyone, you included, just
expects me to forget all that...to forget that Marcus turned his nose up
at me when we both arrived here. If he did it once, who's to say that
he won't do it again? Can _you_ make me that promise, Gordon?

[Myers pauses, wanting to answer differently but knowing he can't, and
just shakes his head.]

GM: No.

AR: How about you, Bucky?

BW: Course not.

AR: Call it skepticism, call it self-preservation, call it whatever you
want. But I'm not ready to take that chance yet.

Gordon, you said it has been a difficult few months for me, and it has.
The whole thing with Mark Shaw was very hard...makes me wonder if I
haven't lost a step or two, you know? A couple of years ago, I'd have
beaten him in under 10 minutes without hardly breaking a sweat. As good
asBroussard is...a couple of years ago, he wouldn't have drawn me.

[Rogers pauses, looking down at the table momentarily.]

AR: I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about hanging it up for
good. I'm not going to be one of those guys who stays around past his
prime and ends up losing matchesin the middle of the card to guys half
his age, you know? That's not me. If I realize I can't be one of the
best, I'm done. So the next few months are going to be crucial as far
as mycareer is concerned. If I can't start winning some of those
matches that I've been losing or drawing...it might very well be the end
of mycareer.

GM: Well, I think I can speak for all of us here at the AWA and all of
our fans when I say that I hope it doesn't come to that. Adam, I really
appreciate your time and your honesty with this entire situation and
best of luck in the next few months.

[Rogers nods at Myers before exiting the scene.]

GM:  And with that, wrestling fans, we'll be right back.

[The camera holds on Gordon Myers for a moment before fading to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back to live action, more specifically to the ring
itself where Vladimir Velikov and the National Champion, Kolya Sudakov,
are standing across the ring from two much smaller men.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and we are ready for tag team action!  Take it
away, Melissa!

[The camera zooms closer to the smiling face of AWA ring announcer
Melissa Cannon.]

MC:  The following contest is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall
with a fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to
my right... the team of Eli Eaton and Thomas Tyler!

[The two smaller men salute the very small portion of the crowd that
cheers the underdogs.]

MC:  And their opponents... from Russia... they are Vladimir Velikov and
the AWA National Champion, Kolya Sudakov...

THE RUSSIANS!

[Big jeers pour down on the two burly Russians.  Sudakov removes the
title belt from his waist, handing it to the referee before stepping out
onto the apron, leaving his Uncle inside the ring with Thomas Tyler.]

GM:  It's going to be young Thomas Tyler starting things off with the
veteran Vladimir Velikov.

BW:  And it's going to be the worst day of Tyler's young life, daddy.

GM:  We'll see about that.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Here we go!

[Velikov stands in the center of the ring, waving for Tyler to "bring
it."  The youngster quickly obliges, rushing towards Velikov and tying
up with the big, burly Russian.  The near three-hundred pound Velikov
spins Tyler around, backing him into the neutral corner.  The referee is
quickly on the scene, ordering a break.]

GM:  The ref wants a clean break.

BW:  Want odds on that one?

GM:  Not really.

[Velikov steps back out of the tieup and slams a forearm shot down
across the chest of Tyler, knocking the youngster down to a knee. 
Velikov pulls him off the mat by the hair, connecting with a right hand
that knocks Tyler back into the corner.  The Russian pulls Tyler into a
powerful side headlock, dragging him from the buckles.]

GM:  Velikov in control in the early moments of this one, powering him
out to the center of the ring with that headlock - oooh!  Hard right
hand to the head!  That's a clenched fist, ref - take a look...

[The referee attempts to do exactly that but Velikov uses his huge back
to shield him away, driving another right hand to the skull... and
another... and another.  Finally, the referee forces him to break the
hold to which Velikov responds by shoving the youngster to the mat. 
Arguing with the official, Velikov stomps Tyler's head a few times
before dropping a crushing legdrop across the back of the head and neck
to the jeers of the crowd.]

BW:  Whatta legdrop, daddy!  This kid's neck has seen better days.

GM:  That's for sure.  Velikov drags him to his corner and there's the
tag to the National Champion.

BW:  Russian War Machine in the house!

[Sudakov immediately stomps and kicks at the downed Tyler.  The
referee's orders to cease are abided before Sudakov reaches down,
dragging Tyler up by the head, hurling him back into the buckles.]

GM:  Sudakov approaching the buckles... ohh!  Snap kick to the ribs!

[With Tyler hanging onto the ropes, trying to stay on his feet, Sudakov
hooks him under an arm and around the head, HURLING Tyler through the
air and down to the mat with a huge biel throw.]

GM:  Down goes Tyler!  Goodness gracious, Bucky!

BW:  Sudakov is not lacking in the power department - that's for sure.

GM:  The throw ends Tyler up near his corner... and there's the tag to
Eli Eaton!

[The spunky youngster slingshots over the ropes into the ring, racing
towards Sudakov.  A clenched fist catches the National Champion under
the chin, stumbling him a bit.  Eaton races towards the corner, leaping
up on the midbuckle where Sudakov is waiting.]

GM:  Punches in the corner!  One!  Two!  Three!  Four!  Listen to these
fans!

[With the crowd roaring for the barrage of blows, Sudakov reaches up and
HURLS Eaton down off the second rope, slamming down to the canvas where
the back of his head hits the mat.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Did you see that?!

[Racing out of the corner, Sudakov DRILLS Eaton with a penalty kick
style punt to the side of the head, causing Eaton to slump down
motionless on the mat.]

GM:  WHAT A SHOT!

BW:  They can call it a penalty kick but to me?  That's a penalty kill,
daddy!

GM:  Eaton is out cold - Sudakov rolls him to his back...

[The Russian War Machine pushes a single finger down in the chest of the
spunky youngster that just had his lights turned out.]

GM:  One and two and three - that'll do it.  The Russians with another
victory and that'll get them a point back on the board after Sweet Heat
wiped it clean on The Main Event.

BW:  And the National Champion wasted no time in finishing that rookie
off, Gordo.  You think he's not ready for Mark Shaw in two weeks' time? 
You'd be dead wrong.

GM:  The Russians exiting the ring - they're on their way to join us
here at ringside.  And like you mentioned, Bucky, this was a tune-up
match of sorts for Kolya Sudakov as he will be defending the National
Title against the Number One contender, Mark Shaw, in two weeks' time on
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  

[The Russians walk onto the interview set, the title belt slung over the
shoulder of Sudakov.  Vladimir Velikov starts to speak as he
approaches.]

VV:  Don't you worry about Mark Shaw, Comrade Myers!  Don't you worry
about my nephew either!  Kolya is ready... he is ready for battle... he
is ready for war.  Mark Shaw can not begin to understand what he... how
you say... has brought on!

Mark Shaw... you backjump my nephew like that traitor Stevie Scott?  You
lay your filthy American hands on my nephew, using that Backdrop Driver
to steal victory from us?  

You make biggest mistake of life, Mark Shaw.

[Sudakov grabs the mic out of Gordon Myers' hands.]

KS:  MARK SHAAAAAW!

You have these people... these AWA wrestlers... afraid of you.  They
think you big, bad powerhouse that can mow them all down.  You have
them... how you say... walk on eggshells, no?

Kolya no walk on eggshells.

Kolya not afraid!

[Sudakov holds up the National Title belt.]

KS:  Kolya come for you Mark Shaw.  You bring Backdrop Driver.  You
bring your puppetmaster.  

I bring Uncle Vladimir.  I bring this belt.

[Sudakov holds up his powerful right arm.]

KS:  I bring Sickle.  

And I leave with belt.

[Sudakov storms out of view, the title belt hanging from his fingers as
Uncle Vladimir cackles, exiting as well.]

GM:  Two weeks away - Kolya Sudakov, Mark Shaw - the National Title
hangs in the balance.  It's gonna be something else.  But right now,
we've still got a lot of action left for you tonight.  Our broadcast
colleague, Jason Dane, is standing by with the Gold Bomber, Gary Bright,
to get his thoughts just a short while before his big showdown with
Scott Pain!  Take it away, Jason!

[We cut to the backstage interview spot just beyond the entryway where
Jason Dane is standing.  By his side is the mammothly muscular "Gold
Bomber" Gary Bright.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordo!  With me right now, as you said, is the man who will
face Scott Pain later tonight.  This all started about a month ago when
Pain interrupted the pushup challenge.  Two weeks ago, it picked up a
notch when this man assaulted Scott Pain backstage in the locker room.  

Tonight, we see them clash one on one... Gary Bright, your thoughts.

[Bright doesn't even acknowledge Jason Dane before speaking.]

GB: Scott Pain.

[Bright pauses as he strikes a double biceppose.]

GB: The only pain that you will know is not your last name, but your
last claim to fame. The pain that you will endure at the hands of the
living colossus of rhodes, the walking Statue of David. Scott Pain, you
have made a grave error. You have crossed the wrong line. You have gone
into uncharted country without a map and have found yourself staring
straight up into the Mount Rushmore of professional wrestling.

Scott Pain, I don't know a damn thing about you. And I'm pretty sure no
one else does cos you are about as inconsequential in the greater
schemeof life as a lil baby ant who can't lift his weight in food. Do
you get that reference, Scott?

[Gary smirks at the camera and then proceedsraise his right hand to his
chin, flexing all the way.]

GB: It's survival of the fittest. I have been created in the image of a
god, and brought down from the heavens to illustrate, to dictate and to
elaborate on the great power that you will never know of. Scott Pain,
you have crossed a threshold that man was never meant to cross. You have
unlocked Pandora's Box... and all of its power and all of its horror...
they're going to rain down on you like a hail storm. And brother,
there's nothing you can do about it.

[Camera zooms in as the Gold Bomber flashes a brilliant white smile.]

GB: You didn't know your place. You didn't realize your mistake. You
still don't.

Tonight you will.

Tonight in front of all these people.

[Bright begins flexing his pecs.]

GB: Tonight Scott Pain, you will witness first hand what it is like to
endure the wrath of the gods.

[Bright walks out of view, leaving Jason Dane behind shaking his head.]

JD:  That's a man who oozes confidence... some would say arrogance...
but he'll need every bit of that in the ring later tonight with Scott
Pain.  Gordon, Bucky... back to you at ringside!

[Cut from the backstage area to the main area of the WKIK Studios where
Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  Gary Bright does indeed seem to be quite
confident in this big matchup with Scott Pain later tonight that could
have major Top Ten ranking repercussions.  Everyone wants a shot at that
National Title and as we saw on The Main Event, Kolya Sudakov's
championship tenure has come under extreme fire.  He already has a
litany of powerful contenders practically tripping over one another to
get a shot at the dangerous Russian.  But now, he has a very, very, VERY
big threat hovering over him... and they don't get much bigger than
Tumaffi.

BW: Tumaffi wrestles all over the world, Gordo.  He didn't come to the
AWA to settle for table scraps.  He came here to take on the best in the
world, daddy, and that's Sudakov.

[As Bucky talks, the gargantuan Samoan emerges on the scene.  He looms
over Myers and Wilde, eclipsing them with his mass and his screen
presence.  Tumaffi wears a dark-blue silk robe with green, red, and
white floral patterns, which drapes over his broad shoulders and makes
him appear even larger than he is.  As does his mane of wild black hair,
which doesn't look like it has been cut in years... and also looks like
you'd need a machete just to get started on it now.  His hair sticks out
in all directions, and his beard possesses the same qualities; it is
difficult to tell where his hair ends and his beard begins.  His wide
nose and dark eyes are the only notable visible features on his fairly
flat face, but this is enough to convey a very stern expression.  Bucky,
as usual, backs away from the interview area when Tumaffi is around,
leaving Gordon to deal with the monster.]

GM: Tumaffi, welcome back to the AWA, but the first question I have to
ask is: where have you been?

[Tumaffi answers, his voice a booming, deep bass that really doesn't
need a microphone.]

Tumaffi: A fair question, Gordon Myers.  Tumaffi indeed vanished from
the mainland altogether in the middle of last year; not just in AWA, but
every other promotion for which I fought.  Be it now known that the
patriarch of Tumaffi's family returned home to his ancestors in the
early fall, and as such, my family duty was clear.  The proper period of
mourning was to be observed, and the new order of the family had to be
established.  Family is of the utmost importance to the people of the
islands!  All other things, even glory and vengeance such as Tumaffi
would have, are insignificant in comparison.

GM: Intersting that you should mention family.  You've challenged the
National Champion, Kolya Sudakov.  His uncle, Vladmir Velikov, is
ever-present whenever the Russian War Machine is around.  He's adding
his experience to the fighting skills of his nephew, making Sudakov
practically unstoppable.  This challenge may be unlike any you have ever
faced, Tumaffi... you're not the bully this time.

[Bucky's eyes go wide as Gordon says this, and he backpedals, expecting
a furious response.  Even Gordon seems to take a half-step back,
anticipating trouble.  And indeed there is an abrupt outburst from the
giant, but it is not at all what Gordon and Bucky were expecting.

Tumaffi LAUGHS.

It is a sound never before heard on television.]

Tumaffi: HAHAHAHAHA!  Think you that Tumaffi WANTS to face inferior
opponents?  Understand me well, Gordon Myers: TUMAFFI IS THE MIGHTIEST
WARRIOR THERE IS.  It is inconsequential to Tumaffi what fighting styles
Kolya Sudakov is versed in, nor is his birthplace and nationality of any
concern, nor is his uncle worthy of contemplation.  Tumaffi is many
times greater than any mainlander, no matter which mainland they hail
from.  

GM: Any mainlander?  Those are awfully bold words.  With the likes of
Shaw, Broussard, Rogers, Vasquez, and now Shane Destiny in the AWA...
those words will be difficult to live up to.

Tumaffi: If words do not convince you, then Tumaffi shall waste no more
time speaking them!  BEHOLD NOW THE POWER OF TUMAFFI!

[With that, Tumaffi heads to the ring.  Bucky re-enters the picture, and
we cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is ready with introductions for
the next match.]

MC: The following contest is set for one fall with a ten minute time
limit!  In the ring to my left... from San Bernardino, California...
weighing two-hundred fifty-nine pounds... STEVE HAWSELD!

[Steve Hawseld, a young man in baby-blue trunks and white boots, raises
his arms.  He's blond, in decent shape, and... trying to hide the fact
that he's mildly terrified.]

MC: His opponent hails from the island of Samoa... weighing four-hundred
ten pounds... 

 		...T U M A F F I ! !

[As Tumaffi was already at ringside, there's no need for theme music. 
He enters, still draped in his robe, and upon hearing his name, he steps
to the center of the ring and bellows loudly.  The fans... cheer? 
They're cheering Tumaffi?!  Well, yes.  He said he was here to take out
Kolya Sudakov, and that seems like a popular decision in their eyes. 
Hawseld has the look of a man who is giving serious consideration to
running away.]

*DING*DING*

BW: Something about Tumaffi just seems different to me.

GM: He seems relaxed, that's for sure.  The last time he was in AWA,
every time we saw him, he was furiously trying to cripple someone in
record time every time out here.  He was a monster, and he acted the
part.  But today, Tumaffi... he's no less confident, even arrogant...
but he gives me the impression that he doesn't feel a need to prove
anything.

[Tumaffi casually removes his robe, revealing his black tights, which
are dominated by an image of a beachfront during a storm, outlined in
shiny metallic copper.  He has eschewed footwear in favor of athletic
tape, and his meaty fingers are similarly taped.  Unhurriedly, the
behemoth steps into center ring.]

BW: Yeah, I'm not sure I like this.  The Tumaffi I know would have
already won this match.

GM: The match just started!

BW: You obviously have a short memory as to what Tumaffi matches are
usually like, Gordo.

GM: Hawseld out of his corner... collar-and-elbow tieup.  Well, sort of.
 That's the oddest collar-and-elbow tieup I've ever seen.

[Gordon says that because Tumaffi is basically palming Hawseld's face
with one arm, and the young Californian is futilely trying to lock up
with the Samoan's arm.  Hawseld digs in, drives with both legs... and
can't even budge Tumaffi.  Tumaffi looks at his opponent with
bemusement, and asks him if he's sure he wants to do this.]

BW: This match isn't gonna prove anything, Gordo.  If Tumaffi wants to
prove he's the baddest bull in the woods, nothing he does with Steve
Hawseld is gonna do that.

GM: Hawseld is an inexperienced competitor looking for a big break, and
Tumaffi will give him a multitude of breaks all throughout his ribcage
if he makes one wrong move.  Hawseld chopping the chest of the
goliath...

	[*S M A C K!*]

BW: And one chop by Tumaffi floors the kid.  Don't get me wrong, Gordo,
he's still a monster.  99 percent of the guys in the business would get
demolished faster than a Grand Slam breakfast after an all-night drive
from El Paso to Dallas.  I just don't see the fire he'd need on that
other one percent.

[Uh, oh.  Tumaffi heard that.  He turns to glare at Bucky.  His demeanor
changes entirely.]

GM: Watch what you ask for, Bucky.

BW: AH!  Uh, uh... it was scripted!  The writers made me say it!

GM: What writers?  You don't have writers!  This isn't Los Angeles.

[Steve Hawseld sees his golden opportunity... with his opponent
distracted, he goes for the opening with gusto, bounding off the far
ropes and throwing all two-hundred fifty-nine pounds into a flying
forearm.

It's unclear whether Tumaffi really felt it.  It's perfectly clear that
it got his attention.  His head swivels back to glare at Hawseld, who
runs off the far ropes to repeat the maneuver.]

GM: Hawseld off the ropes... caught by Tumaffi!  Tumaffi has him by the
neck!

BW: He's gonna chokeslam him halfway to Brazil!  He's goin' wayyyy up,
and wayyy... SWEET MOTHER OF A HOLY COW, WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!

GM: Tumaffi lifted for the chokeslam, but just let go and blasted him
with a standing lariat, flipping Hawseld over one-hundred eighty degrees
onto his face!

BW: And then he dropped down on him!  Polynesian Burial, with authority!

*DING*DING*DING*

[By the time Gordon and Bucky describe it, the match is already over...
after driving the big splash down into Hawseld's back, Tumaffi rolled
him over and covered.  The sound of a lightning strike erupts over the
PA, followed by Tumaffi's theme (reedy woodwinds and hollow drumbeats
over the sounds of a thunderstorm).  The big man gets up, and decrees
his desire for greater competition.]

BW: Not only am I a great announcer, baby, I'm a great motivator.

GM: Tumaffi does not like to be doubted, but this was absolutely no
contest for him.  We will see if Tumaffi's boasts are true when Kolya
Sudakov, or any other star in the AWA, gets in the ring with Tumaffi.

BW: I just don't think any of them are crazy or stupid enough to do that
of their own volition, daddy.

GM:  Don't confuse courage with insanity, Bucky.  Fans, we'll be right
back - don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde before fading to
black.

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

JD:  Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go,
wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA
superstars when you're away from home?

MS:  I know I would, Jason!  And I'd also love to have a place to put
out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling.

JD:  You've got that right.  Wouldn't it be great if we could combine
both of those ideas into one?

[Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!]

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new
application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors,
and happenings before the rest of the world.  And don't forget to check
out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired!  AWA Access -
coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up on the locker room area where Jason Dane is standing
between Scott Pain and his good friend, Colt Patterson.]

JD:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!  As you can see, I
have been joined at this time by Colt Patterson as well as his friend,
the man who is about to walk out to the ring to take on the "Gold
Bomber" Gary Bright - Scott Pain!

[Pain nods - not saying a word.]

JD:  Scott, did you hear what Gary Bright had to say earlier tonight?

[Pain nods again, this time smirking a bit.]

JD:  I know that he's drawn your ire in recent-

[Pain shakes his head, cutting off Jason Dane.]

SP:  That's where you're wrong, Jason.  This kid... this punk kid... he
hasn't drawn my ire.  As much as he's tried to... running me down on the
mic... jumping me from behing at The Main Event... yeah, he's tried to
get under my skin.

But Gary Bright doesn't make me angry.

[Pain looks at Jason for a second.]

SP:  Gary Bright makes me laugh.

Don't get me wrong now.  He's a tough guy, a big, strong kid.  He's been
impressive every time he's gotten into that ring.  

But... I'm not sure he's too bright... no pun intended.

[Pain grins again.]

SP:  I heard him back here with you earlier saying that he doesn't know
much about me.

[Pain sighs - then lifts his right hand and waves.]

SP:  Hey Gary... the name is Scott Pain... nice to meet you.  In case
you weren't aware, I've been around this sport for almost fifteen years.
 And yeah, once upon a time, I was a former EMWC World Champion.

[Pain shrugs.]

SP:  And actually, at one time... _I_ was in your shoes.  I was the big,
powerful kid that everyone thought had the world in front of him.  I
used to be you, Gary.

So, I know what you're thinking.

"Go for the old guy.  Make a big impact.  Get people talking.  See if
the suits notice me."

I get it, Gary.  I ain't mad at'cha.

[Pain smirks again.]

SP:  You may be big.  You may be strong.  You may even be tough.

But I've run into guys before that were big and strong and tough... guys
with lots of muscles who liked to show them off...

[Pain casts a sideways glance at his friend Colt Patterson who shakes
his head and walks away.]

SP:  And I dealt with them just like I'm going to deal with you. 
Because all the muscles in the world won't help you when I pick you up
and slam you down with the Powerbomb.

I'm not mad at you.  But I'm also not scared of you.  

[Pain nods at Dane and walks towards the entryway.]

JD:  What a matchup this is going to be!  Melissa, let's go up to you!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... standing 6 '4 and weighing in at 285 pounds... from Paradise
Valley, Arizona...

He is the Gold Bomber...

GAAAAAARY BRIIIIIIGHT!

[The imposing physical specimen steps up on the middle rope, striking a 
big double bicep pose for the jeering crowd as he smirks at their
reaction.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Here Comes The Pain" by Slayer starts up to a big cheer from the WKIK
Studio crowd.]

MC:  Being accompanied to the ring by Colt Patterson, he stands a giant
six foot ten inches tall... from Memphis, Tennessee...

SCOTT PAAAAAAAAAAIN!

[The roar of the crowd increases as Scott Pain walks through the
curtain, Colt Patterson walking right behind him.  Pain stops just
beyond the entryway, holding his arms wide, and gesturing for the cheers
to get louder which the fans happily oblige.  With a grin, Pain walks
the rest of the way to the ring, stepping up on the apron...

...which is exactly where the Gold Bomber strikes, charging at Pain and
smacking him with a muscular forearm smash to the face.  The referee
complains at the assault but Bright ignores him, throwing another blow
despite the protests of Colt Patterson outside the ring.]

GM:  Oh, come on, referee!  Get in there and stop this!

[The referee calls for the bell to officially start the match while
Bright continues to rain blows down on Pain.]

GM:  Scott Pain continues to get pummeled out on the apron and for some
reason, the referee has started the match.  That hardly seems fair.

BW:  If it's a fight that Pain wanted, it's a fight he's getting, daddy!

[With Pain barely hanging onto the ropes, Bright runs to the far ropes,
rebounding back...

...and getting a big right hand wrapped around his throat to the roar of
the crowd!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Pain's got him by the throat!

[The big man steps over the top rope, keeping the chokehold firmly
applied as he climbs into the ring.]

GM:  Pain's calling for the chokeslam!  That might end this match right
here and now!

[But before he can deliver the thunderous slam, Gary Bright reaches up
and rakes his fingers across the eye of the 6'10 beast, temporarily
blinding him.  With Pain blinded against the ropes, Bright grabs him by
the arm, firing him across the ring...

...and flooring him with a big leaping shoulderblock.  Bright quickly
does a handful of pushups before throwing himself across the chest of
Pain.]

GM:  You're not going to pin a man like Scott Pain by taking the time to
do some pushups before making the cover.  That's ego right there, Bucky.
 Arrogance getting the best of him.

[Pain, of course, kicks out before the two count comes down.  Bright
immediately gets to his feet, dragging his opponent off the mat and
shoving him back into the corner.]

GM:  Pain backed to the buckles - Bright winds up...

[The crowd jeers as the massive arm of Bright is slamming into the
collarbone of Pain over and over and over in the corner.  The referee
counts quickly, trying to force Bright to back away.]

BW:  That massive 22 inch arm meets the chest of Scott Pain!  I love it!

GM:  Gary Bright is doing a number on Pain in the corner with those
repeated standing clotheslines to the throat.  Come on, ref!  Break that
up!

[At the four count, Bright finally backs out of the buckles, holding up
the arm he used to clothesline and striking a pose with it to even more
boos from the crowd.  Using the same arm, he grabs the wrist of Pain and
fires him across the ring.]

GM:  One-armed Irish whip by Bright!

BW:  Love him or hate him, you've got to be impressed by the power of
this man.  For months, we've called Mark Shaw the strongest man in the
entire AWA - well, the Hellion better move aside because there's no
doubt in my mind that Bright can outmuscle Shaw any day of the week and
twice on Saturday, daddy!

GM:  Here comes Bright!

[The Arizona native charges across the ring, arms drawn back for a
double axehandle smash...

...and runs right into a raised boot under the jaw of Bright!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught him coming in!

[And this time, it's Pain charging out of the corner, connecting with a
running clothesline that takes Bright down to the mat.  Trying to
recover in the corner, Pain takes a breather as Bright tries to pull
himself back up to his feet.]

GM:  Bright back up... and right back down he goes with another running
clothesline!  The Gold Bomber got rocked hard right there, Bucky!

BW:  Don't worry about it, Gordo.  Bright's still got this one in the
bag.

GM:  Pain's dragging him up off the mat... oh, come on!  Back to the
eyes!

BW:  If it worked once...

GM:  Bright with a handful of hair- OVER THE TOP!

[But the 6'10 brawler somehow gets tangled up, landing on the ring
apron.  Bright is getting reprimanded by the referee as Pain uses the
top rope to pull himself back to his feet...

...which causes Bright to shove the official aside, charging across the
ring, and leaving his feet with a leaping shoulderblock that sends Pain
sailing off the apron, crashing down in a heap on the barely-padded
concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!  DOWN TO THE FLOOR!

[Colt Patterson slowly makes his way around the ringside area, kneeling
down next to his longtime friend to check on his condition.  Inside the
ring, Bright stands by the ropes, verbally abusing both Pain and
Patterson to the rage of the fans who are booing him wildly.]

GM:  There's no call for that.  None at all.  He's just all over both of
these men - running that big mouth of his.  Gary Bright's mouth is
writing checks that his body might not be able to cash.

BW:  Are you kidding me?  Gary Bright's body is like Fort Knox, daddy! 
And if he's Fort Knox, from that gut on you, I'd say you're one of those
banks that government had to bailout, Gordo.

GM:  Thank you very much for that.

[Outside the ring, Pain gets to a knee, looking up at Gary Bright who
has stepped out to the apron...

...and leaps off the apron, smashing a big forearm down across the back
of Pain's neck.]

GM:  Bright is very impressive - there's no denying that.  He pulls Pain
off the floor, shoving him back under the ropes into the ring.  Bright
up on the apron, stepping in as well.  He's in complete control of this
one right now.

[Bright reaches down to pull Pain off the mat, easily powering him up
off the mat over his shoulder, backing into the corner.]

BW:  Did you see that, Gordo?  No effort at all.  This guy Pain weighs
about three hundred pounds and Bright slung him up over his shoulder
like he weight a buck twenty!

GM:  I saw it, I saw it.  Like I said, Bucky, you can not deny the man's
power.  Charging out... and DOOOOOWN with a big running powerslam out of
the buckles!  There's a one... there's a two... and that's all.  Scott
Pain gets the shoulder up at two.

[The Gold Bomber questions the referee as he gets back to his feet. 
Seeing it was only a two count, Bright sneers as he drops a big elbow
down into the chest of Pain, rolling off the big man into a set of
pushups.]

GM:  Back to the pushups and these fans are letting him have it.

[Bright is quickly to his feet, delivering a few stomps to the upper
body of Pain before leaning over to drag Pain off the mat, tugging him
into a front facelock.]

GM:  And here we go!  He's calling for the Golden Drop!

BW:  That suplex into a powerbomb - if he hits it, it's over!

GM:  Bright's got him hooked - ready for the suplex...

[But before the muscleman can get him up, Pain snakes his leg between
Bright's, blocking the suplex attempt.]

GM:  Pain's got it blocked - verteran move by Scott Pain.  Bright's
still trying to get him up but Pain's got that block on... and Pain
slips out of- ohhh!  Big right hand by Pain!

[With Bright reeling from the haymaker, Pain hooks in a front facelock
of his own and takes him up and over with a suplex to the cheers of the
crowd!]

GM:  Suplex by Pain!  That big vertical suplex...

[Pain quickly gets back to his feet, backing to the corner...

...and then charges out, leaping into the air with a big legdrop down
across the chest of Bright!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Legdrop connects!  And there's a cover!  One!  Two!  Th-
no!  Shoulder up at two!  

BW:  Too close.

GM:  Scott Pain thought he had him off the legdrop... and now what's he
doing?  He's dragging Bright up off the mat...

[The crowd ERUPTS as Pain yanks Bright into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  He's calling for the Powerbomb!  Pain's gonna plant him!

[But Bright drops down to a knee, holding tight to prevent being lifted
up off the mat.  A frustrated Pain breaks the grip, throwing forearms
down into the back of Bright.]

GM:  Pain drags him off the mat... throws him back to the corner...

[A fired up Pain approaches the buckles, throwing right hand after right
hand after right hand to the roar of the crowd.]

GM:  Pain's all over him!

BW:  But that's all illegal!  Why aren't you up in arms over this?

GM:  The referee's backing him away now.  What more do you want?

[Pain takes a few steps back from the corner, being reprimanded by the
official.  He nods his head as he moves back in...

...where Bright ducks down, yanking the legs out from under Pain, and
pushing his shoulders down to the mat with a jacknife cradle.]

GM:  He's got him down!  One!  BRIGHT'S GOT HIS FEET ON THE ROPES!

[The referee doesn't see the illegal leverage and Colt Patterson, racing
around the ring to help, doesn't quite make it in time as the referee
hits the canvas three times, calling for the bell as Bright rolls from
the ring.]

GM:  He stole it!  He stole this one, Bucky!

[Gary Bright raises his arms in victory outside the ring as the ring
announcer makes it official.]

MC:  Your winner of the match... GARY BRIGHT!

[The jeers pick up as Bright sneers at the crowd.  Outside the ring, he
taunts Pain and Patterson as he backs up the aisle towards the entryway.
 The camera holds on Pain and Patterson for a bit, the big man looking
on in disbelief.]

GM:  A stolen victory for Gary Bright.

BW:  But a victory nonetheless.  And you can bet that'll put Bright in
the Top Ten, right where he needs to be, Gordo.

GM:  I'd imagine it will but how can he be happy with a win like that?

BW:  A win's a win no matter how you get it.

GM:  Unbelievable.  Fans, Gary Bright is quite the impressive newcomer
to the AWA and over the past few months, we've had quite a few
impressive newcomers to the AWA.  But perhaps none more impressive than
the man about to join us here at ringside - a man who made a surprise
debut at The Main Event, Mr. Shane Destiny.

[The crowd doesn't really know how to respond to Shane Destiny as he
walks to the interview area, eyes weary and face unshaven. He is
dressed in a plain white T-shirt and a black blazer, along with jeans.
He glares at Gordon as he reaches the interview area.]

GM: Mr. Destiny, a great deal of wrestling fans were stunned to see you
return to wrestling at the Main Event, but seem a little surprised by
your attitude change... it seems a lot has changed over three years.

SD: Hmph. I don't know how I'm supposed to take that, Gordon. A lot
has changed, and not a damn bit of it for the better.

[Destiny wipes his mouth with his hand, letting loose a sigh.]

SD: Just like I'm second to everything else in my personal life, why not
my professional life too, right Gordon? After all, I made a big debut,
right? Shocked the wrestling world, right? For about an hour, I was
the main thing on the minds of AWA fans.

[Destiny punches his open palm out of anger.]

SD: Until some savage showed up, being freed from a suspension.

GM: Mr. Destiny, you don't mean...

SD: ... yes, I mean Tumaffi. You stole my spotlight, Tumaffi. The Main
Event was _my_ night back after three years in hell, and _you_ ruined
it... because you don't know any better, right? All you know is
violence. Well, that's fine, because Tumaffi... if you want to steal
_my_ spotlight, then you'll have to be prepared to deal with the
consequences.

GM: Aren't you afraid of what Tumaffi can do to you, though? He's 400
pounds, and clearly dangerous.

SD: Gordon... I've lost everything else I cared about. What do I have
to be afraid of?

[Destiny looks right into the camera, almost as if he's talking to
Tumaffi.]

SD: I know you're stupid, Tumaffi, so I'll say this slow. You... show
up... fight me... or I find you... and you die.

[Destiny glares at the camera for a moment, then walks away.]

GM: Well, certainly some strong words from the form-

VOICE: Oy! What's all that about, hey?

[Gordon takes in a deep sigh as "Catch Thug" Raphael Rhodes walks into
frame, chewing gum and sporting a big grin.]

RR: Boy, he seems mad, ain't he? Right angry he is... 

GM: Mr. Rhodes, what _exactly_ are you doing out here? This is clearly
not your alloted interview time.

RR: Now Gordon, that ain't no way to treat an old chum! I was just
wantin' to say hi, lettin' you know I was here in the buildin'... ready
to watch some excitin' AWA action, just like all these colonists out
here.

GM: And you expect me to believe that this has nothing to do with Juan
Vasquez?

RR: Of course it does, you stupid git. I just ain't goin' to wear a
rounders cap and hide my face. If Juan Vasquez wants to continue what
he started on my path to victory over Tin Can Rust?

[Rhodes cracks his knuckles.]

RR: I'm ready for anythin' he can throw.

[Rhodes smirks and pats Gordon on the face, laughing as he walks away.]

GM:  Fans, do not go away - we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Gordon before fading to black...

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

JD:  Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go,
wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA
superstars when you're away from home?

MS:  I know I would, Jason!  And I'd also love to have a place to put
out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling.

JD:  You've got that right.  Wouldn't it be great if we could combine
both of those ideas into one?

[Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!]

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new
application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors,
and happenings before the rest of the world.  And don't forget to check
out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired!  AWA Access -
coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to live action where the current AWA National Tag
Team Champs, Kentucky's Pride, are standing with Gordon Myers.  City
Jack is wearing his normal wrestling gear as well as a smile from ear to
ear. He holds his championship title up proudly and even does a bit of a
juke n' jive to show his good spirits and good health.  Nearby, a more
stoic looking Tin Can Rust stands, his belt adorned around his waist.]

GM: Kentucky's Pride, it good to see you here again.

CJ: Good to be back, Mister Myers! Good to be back!

GM: You seem to be in a good mood, a little bit more than usual, City
Jack.

CJ: Well, why shouldn't I, Mister Myers? I'm here in front of all you
great AWA fans, getting -

[A cheer from the nearby fans sounds out, interrupting Jack after his
cheapie pop-fishing. Jack gives a sly smile before continuing.]

CJ: Getting ready to wrestle and entertain all you fine people today. Me
and TCR? We're still the tag team champions and, shoot, I done feel
great, I tell you what! First time in a long time, Mister Myers, I feel
great! No injuries, no nothing - just pure on good!

GM: Which should be important going into your match against Sweet Heat
for the Champion's Clash, right?

[Jack chuckles while Rust narrows his eyes at the mention of the number
one contenders.]

CJ: Now, come on Mister Myers, don't ya know it's the first rule not to
be lookin' none past who's first up to the plate? We got to face one of
the best wrestlers in the world in Juan Vasquez AND a man neither of us
know nothin' about cause we don't know who he is. We can't be talking
much about Sweet Heat, now can we?

GM: Well, tonight's match aside -

[Jack waves off Myers.]

CJ: No, no, no - no aside, none of that now. Look, titles on the line or
not, we got ourselves a tag match that we want to win. Last time out
here, my partner here, well... he got himself a little too hot under the
collar and all. I tried to tell him... I told him, look, this guy - this
Raphael character? He's just going try to be that scab you want to
scratch and rip off cause it ain't lookin' all that good. But if you do
it, well, you just get yourself all bloody and reopen something you
don't want. And that's -

[Jack looks over to Rust, who curls his lip at the semi-admonishment
from his tag team mate.]

CJ: And that's what we got here. We were done with these two men and
left them to be fightin' themselves, you see? But, well, WE -

[Jack again looks over to Rust, making the point known.]

CJ: We got ourselves back into this mess. So today, we just want to be
sure to resolve this whole matter BEFORE we get to them fine wrestlers
of Sweet Heat.

GM: So I take it no comment on the men vying for your title on the 25th?

CJ: Look, I respect the both of 'em. I mean, I done said it before, that
there Sweet Daddy is a man I sure can on relate to, you know? He's a
good, honest man and one tough ball o' will in the ring. And Stevie
Scott, well...

GM: And Stevie Scott? Even after all the history between the both of you
and him over the past year?

[Tin Can Rust immediately looks over to his partner with a determined
and stern look on his face.]

CJ: He's shown himself, I think, to be not what he was, you see? I'm a
forgivin' man. He fought his heart out last time 'round at the Main
Event and beat them Russians good. They'll be some tough outs, that's
for sure, and I do say worthy men to go up against us for the titles.

GM: And you Tin Can Rust? Comments about your match against Sweet Heat
on the 25th?

[Myers sticks the microphone in the face of Rust, but the man from
Central City, KY just looks down in contempt before leaving the ringside
area. Jack feigns a smile as he whisks the mic towards himself.]

CJ: Heh, you'll uh... Have to forgive him. He's, uh... Got that there
throat thing goin' on - can't speak much, you know?

[Jack nods and winks to the camera before heading out of view himself,
pausing to shake the hand of an incoming Chairman of the Championship
Committee, Stephen Ross, as he walks into the view of the camera.]

GM:  The National Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride, on their way
back to the locker room to prepare for their Main Event match later
tonight but at this time, in a bit of a surprise, we've been joined here
at ringside by Stephen Ross!  Mr. Ross, welcome to AWA Saturday Night
Wrestling!

[Mr. Ross shakes hands all around.]

SR:  Thanks, Gordon.  As always, it's my pleasure - but perhaps no
bigger pleasure than right here tonight.

GM:  No bigger pleasure?

SR:  That's right.  You know, The Main Event is being considered a HUGE
success here in the AWA front offices and around the wrestling world. 
It was a fitting night to celebrate our first birthday.  But the
Championship Committee isn't about to rest on our laurels.

GM:  I would say not.  We've got that big Champion's Clash coming up in
two weeks with those two HUGE title defenses.

SR:  That's right.  And that's just the beginning.  Last year, in one of
the first events in AWA history, we put on a show that really... it
really put us on the map so to speak, Gordon.  And I'm talking about the
Rumble.

[Big cheer from the crowd!]

SR:  In the offices, we've decided to make that Invitational Rumble an
annual event!  So, in a month or so, we're going to be presenting the
second annual Rumble!

GM:  That IS big news, Mr. Ross.  Last year, the winner was the first
man entered into the National Title Tournament.  What will this year's
winner get?

SR:  This year's winner is GUARANTEED a title shot at either Mark Shaw
or Kolya Sudakov... whoever is standing with the National Title at the
end of Champion's Clash.  Whoever has the gold in two weeks time will
find themselves with a brand new number one contender to face in short
order.

GM:  That's very exciting news, Mr. Ross - and I personally can't wait
to see all the names lined up for a shot at the National Championship.

SR:  Neither can I, Gordon.  And I can tell you as well that the AWA's
Open Door policy will be in full effect for the Rumble as well so
anyone, anywhere in the wrestling world who thinks that they've got what
it takes to knock off the AWA's top stars and become the Number One
Contender in a single night... come on down South and we'll find out
exactly what you've got!

GM:  Mr. Ross, as always, you've got a-

[Gordon is cut off by a loud voice with a Southern accent from off
camera.]

Voice: No! No! No! Stop right there, pal!

GM: What in the world? Ladies and gentlemen, we're joined at this time
by The Bishop Boys and Cousin Bo.

[A furious Bo storms onto the set and gets right in Ross' face. The
Bishop Boys closely follow, looking none too happy themselves. The
crowd, quickly learning to hate Bo's love of hearing himself talk, boos
loudly.]

CB: I want answers from YOU, Ross!

[Bo jabs a meaty finger into Mr. Ross's face.]

GM: Mr. Allan, what is the meani-

CB: [interrupting] I want to knowexactly what that farce youcall The
Main Event was!

[Stephen Ross tries to interject, but is cut off by an increasingly
heated Bo.]

CB: What did I tell you boys on the Board when we signed? I demanded
competition every single week! And since then, we have had exactly ONE
match! Against some old fool and his not so little friend who, after
wedestroyed them, will never step foot into a wrestling ring again!

[The crowd boos even louder,yelling at the Bishop Boys, prompting them
to turn around and threaten the fans. The fans that Duane Henry's
arguing with just give him an even harder time.Over onCletus Lee's
side, however, one look from him quickly quiets the crowd.]

CB: Soimagine my surprise when we show up at this little anniversary
shindig just to find out thatwe don't have a match! As a matter of
fact, we're told by security inthat impossibly dull Texan way, that
we're not even allowed into the building!

[The crowd expectedly cheers for that, but Bo continues on regardless.]

CB: So whatwe'd like to know, MR. ROSS, is exactly what problem you and
the rest of the Board have withus! HM?! And don't tell us it's because
there wasn't enough time for us to have a match. Everyone knows that's a
load of bull. You sure have enough time to pimp out the training school
and that stupid phone service thing seemingly every ten seconds.

[Ross again tries to speak, but Bo's on a tangent and can't be stopped.]

CB: Is it because you're worried we'll just disappear on you, like oh so
manywrestlershave done over the past year?Because, given the track
record of some people, that's a valid concern.

[Bo pauses to think for a second, but shakes his head.]

CB: Nah, that ain't it. I've been in your officenonstop from the minute
we arrived, so I know thatcan't be the answer.

[Ross rolls his eyes, in a way that says "Yeah, I know."]

CB: Is it because we don't fit theimage you want? Are we too wild to
fit in withthat nice clean old-school wrestlingfor thewhole family
thing you're trying so desperately to be?

[Bo shakes his head again.]

CB: I think we ALL know that can't possibly be the answer. This place
has seen double-crosses, blood, and permanent injuries from day one.
There have been bounties placed on men's heads, crazy
brawlinghillbillies, fake sons of legends, hell, even uncontrollable
Samoans have called thismadhouse ahome.

[A pop for the reference to Tumaffi.]

CB: It's enough to makepsychologists throw themselves outa window. So
what is it? Please. Enlighten me, Ross. I'm begging you.

[Just as Stephen Ross is finally going to get a word in edgewise, Bo's
look changes to one of understanding.]

CB: Ah, of COURSE,the answer was right in front of me the entire time.

[Rosslooks at Bo expectantly, awaiting this oh-so-important knowlege
that he has. Bo chuckles a little bit and points at Ross again.]

CB: You. Therest of the Board.

[Bo shakes his head laughing. Everyone waits impatiently.]

CB:All of you are scared!

[A confused murmur echoes through the crowd.]

SR: Now, wait just a sec-

[Bo interrupts yet again.]

CB: No, YOU wait a second! Isn't it obvious? Youboys took one look at
that match we had, and youimmediately regretted signing us. You all
lookedat each other and agreed we had to be stopped. And we all know
the only way you can possiblystop The Bishop Boys is to keep them away
from the ring.

GM: Now, hold on, Mr. Allan. I don't think th-

[Boy, Bo's interupting is getting annoying, huh?]

CB: Yeah, we know you don't, Myers. Wrap this around your little brain.
The AWA has worked SO hard to make their tag team division as strong as
possible. It's gonna be kinda hard to keep a division going if there's
no teams left, get my drift?

[Bo holds up his index finger to start counting off teams.]

CB: Kentucky's Pride? We'd end 'em for good if they weren't doing such a
good job of that themselves.

[Middle finger.]

CB: Sweet Heat? Please, what hope do that jiggling idiotPoppin' Fresh
and his, ahem, "Sweet" partner have against us? The Oklahoma Brothers
would present a bigger problem for us.

[Ring finger.]

CB: Rough N' Ready? Yes, very good, they've managed to run off two of
the sorriest excuses for tag teams the world's ever seen. Pardon me for
not being impressed.If you're ready for, y'know, an actual CHALLENGE, I
canthink of nobody better than the two boys standing right behind me.

[Duane Henry makes a "bring it on" gesture to the camera. Cletus Lee
just pounds his fist into his open palm loudly. As Bo is going to
continue, something in the ring catches his eye.]

CB: What the heck is that?

GM: Um, well, Mr. Allan, these two gentlemen in the ring have been
waiting for you to finish so we can bring out their opponents for our
next match.

CB: Is that so? Well,Ross, you better tell whoever's back there that we
don't have enough time for them on the show. Because, as of right now,
we're taking this match. That second point is ours.

[And with that, before anybody can say anything else, Bo points to the
ring and yells "GET THEM!" The Bishop Boys immediately make a beeline
for the ring.]

GM: Wait, uh, is... is this an official match? I'm confused. Mr. Ross,
what's going on?

[An angry Rossdoesn't hear Gordon, instead watching Bo follow his
chargesto the ring.]

BW: Heh heh, he's speechless, Gordo! Bo just told him the way thingsare
around here, and now he's takingmatters into his own hands! I love it,
daddy!

GM: [sighs] You would. Well, uh, Melissa, I guess the floor is yours.

[Melissa clears her throat.]

MC: Ladies andgentlemen, this next, um, match is scheduled for one
fall. Already in the ring at this time,hailing from Mexico City, and
weighing in tonight at a combined weight of 383 lbs., LOS PIRATASROJOS!

[Two small men dressed in all redpirate outfits, complete witha skull
and crossbones on their masks,gesture wildly to each other and at the
approaching team.]

BW: Wait a sec. Where are these guys from?

GM: Well, Bucky, as I'm sure you just heard, these two veteran luchadors
hail from Mexico City.

BW: Uh huh. And they're supposed to be pirates?

GM: Yes. I think that's readily apparent.

BW: Yeah, okay, just checking. So exactly what seas are these guys
plundering?I'm sure whatever dinner show we plucked these guys from is
nice, but Mexico City is landlocked, Gordo!

GM: Bucky, why must you always disparage the new talent looking for a
shot here?

BW: Have you seen the two crazy rednecks that're coming their way?

GM: Good point.

MC: And their opponents, at a combined weight of- ACK!

[Melissa sees Bo give The Bishop Boys the sign to go, and quickly exits
the ring. The Bishops charge the ring as Bucky laughs. Bo can be heard
yelling "Make it quick! I don't have timefor games this week!" ashe
looks back at the announce table with a sneer.]

GM: Oh my!Cletus Lee just charged one of these poor men and almost took
his head off with one of those nasty charging boots of his!

BW: Hello, contender for "Shortest Match In AWA History"!

[Cletus Lee kicks the fallen Pirata from the ring, and motions to Duane
Henry to send the other one his way. DuaneHenry hits a nasty European
Uppercut and irish whips him towards his brother, who traps his arms.]

BW: Oh boy, we know what this means.

GM: Unfortunately, yes.

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

"THUD!"

[The second Pirata limply falls to the mat as Cletus Lee lets go.]

GM: My goodness, Bucky, did you hear the soundfrom those
sickeningheadbutts?!

BW: [laughing] I sure did, daddy! Hey, Ross man, what do you think of
that? Ha!

[Stephen Ross just continues to stare at the ring, bristling at these
men brazen enough totake a match for themselves.]

GM: Wait a second, Bo's calling to his cousins. What's he doi- oh no. Oh
heavens no.This "match", if you can even call it that, is over. Mr.
Ross, do something about this, please!

[But Ross does nothing as Duane Henry picks the second Pirata up and
hoists him up in an Argentine Backbreaker. The crowd lets out a
collective "Uh-oh" when they realize what's coming up. Cletus Lee
charges the ropes behind Duane Henry, bounces off, and runs full steam
ahead, lifting his leg and hitting a thunderous big boot right to the
Pirata'shead. Duane Henry hangs on and swivels the opponent forward,
hitting a seated powerbomb. The crowd cringes at the sickening impact.]

BW: DOC ALLAN'S MIRACLE HEADACHE ELIXIR! My new favorite move! So long,
land pirates!

[The ref, who oddly hadn't shown his face up until now, slides into the
ring and makes the three count. Wanting nothing further to do with them,
the ref beats a hasty retreat. The crowd boos as "Trashville" byHank
Williams III plays. Cousin Bo, who couldn't possibly look more proud,
applauds as he stares a hole through Stephen Ross.]

GM: Thank the stars. At least it was short this time.

BW: Guess again, Gordo!

GM: What? Oh, no. Please don't. Can we get some help out here, for
crying out loud?!

[Bo points to the beaten man, and gestures for Cletus Lee to toss him.
Cletus Lee nods slightly and pulls Pirata 2 up into powerbomb position.
Bo grabs the ring mic andturns back to the announce table.]

CB: Well, Ross, what's it gonna be?!Now youdang sure can't ignore us!
We've got 2 points now! Now you HAVE to give usserious competition.

[Ross continues to stare icily.]

CB:That's not an answer. Okay, so we don't have the points to face
Kentucky's Prideyet. Cletus Lee, please show the man we mean business.

[With that, Cletus Leethrusts Pirata 2 up with ease.]

GM: Oh, for the love of - NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

[With that, Cletus Lee charges and absolutely LAUNCHES Pirata 2 with a
tossing powerbomb.  Pirata 2 hits with a sickening thud as the crowd
gasps.]

GM:  GOOD HEAVENS!  What in the world have these maniacs done?!

[Amazingly, Pirata 1 hascrawled his way back into the ring. Duane Henry
looks at him incredulously, as do many of the fans. Duane Henry shrugs,
and without any provocation from Bo, picks him up into an Argentine
backbreaker. Bo smiles.]

CB: Duane Henry, I like your initiative.

[Duane Henry doesn't know what Bo just said, nor does he care.]

CB: Well, now look, Ross. Through your complete failure to act, the
blood is now on YOUR hands! And yet you still fail to comply with our
simple request? You're a cold man, Ross. [chuckles] I think I found
something I like about you.

[Ross is shaking in anger now.]

CB: Hm,so you won't give us Sweet Heat either,huh? Too bad. I'denjoy
seeing Sweet Daddy's guts all over the ring. Oh well. The beating must
commence, boys!

[With that, Cletus Lee charges once more. And once more, WHAM!]

BW: DOC ALLAN'S MIRACLE HEADACHE ELIXIR!

GM: [bitterly] Shut up, Bucky.  Just.. just shut up.

[Gordon is red in the face as he gestures wildly at Ross to do
something.]

CB: Wow.  Just wow. Your front office at work, ladies and gentlemen.

[Bo mockingly applauds, but thethe crowd is deathly silent by now. All
eyes are on Ross, awaiting him to do something.]

CB: So you're not even gonna give us Rough N' Ready, huh? They need the
third point, we need the third point. And yet you still refuse to cave.
Amazing. Well, we're not leaving, so back to work we...

[Suddenly, the crowd ERUPTS as Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers come
pouring through the entryway, making a beeline straight for the ring
where the Bishop Boys are ready for a fight.]

GM:  HERE THEY COME!  HERE THEY COME!  YOU WANTED ROUGH N READY?  YOU
GOT 'EM!

[Cooper and Somers slide into the ring where Cousin Bo has bailed out,
leaving Cletus Lee and Duane Henry to do his dirty work.  Lee
immediately starts throwing blows at a rising Dave Cooper as Eric
Matthew Somers and Duane Henry stand toe-to-toe in the center of the
ring exchanging shots.]

GM:  Rough N Ready and the Bishop Boys are going to war in the center of
the ring!  This is breaking down!  We need to get some control out here!
 Fans, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the ring where fists are flying for a while before
fading to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up on the backstage area as Jason Dane stands by
with the young technician from Pittsburgh, PA, Pure X. Clad in a black
designed t-shirt and jeans, the mid-twenty-something man from PWR and
RCW looks down on Dane with a bit of an annoyed look from behind his
longish hair.]

JD: Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling on a night where
chaos is in the air!  Standing here one of the newer faces in AWA, Pure
X - good to see you again.

PX: Dane... Good to be here...

[X looks like he wants to get on with the pleasantries.]

JD: I was told that you have an announcement to make tonight in regards
to the upcoming Rumble that was announced just moments ago?

PX: Yeah, yeah, I do. I wanted to say right here - on record - that I'm
declaring myself to be entrant number one for the Rumble.  I'm going to
be the first man of the thirty getting into the ring that night.

JD: That's certainly a bold thing to want, especially being so new to
AWA. I have to ask why? Is this for yourself?

PX: Hrm...

[Pure X thinks and nods.]

PX: If that's what you want to paint to the people, fine. There's no
denying from me that I have an ego and that I want to position myself in
such a way that I'm the spotlight... But that's not why I'm doing this. 

[The young technician shakes his head.]

PX: I'm doing this to show that someone who relies on true wrestling is
the master of this sport. Not bloodthirsty maniacs, not those who rely
on innate abilities like size, speed, or strength alone, and not out of
some sort of misguided feelings.

JD: But to volunteer to be the first one in the rumble? 

PX: Look, I'm not going to be like some these so-called wrestling great
who talk up a big game, but never seem to be able to lay it on the line
when it counts. I'm here to prove that my style, my training, and my
skills can go concor anything. What better way then, Dane, to prove that
than to beat each and every single person on the roster - in one match?

JD: Certainly can't argue with that, but do you think can do that
considering the magnitude of the participants?

[Pure X waves his hand dismissively to the question.]

PX: Dane, I'm here to wrestle, ok? I'm here to ply my craft in that ring
and make people say - "Wow, that's wrestling." I'm not here to get into
petty battles or waste my time getting into a one-upsmanship that
escalates into something that's certainly NOT wrestling. So as for who's
in the Rumble? It's not really a concern. I'll study them and find who
to beat them. Their size, temperament, or status?

[Pure X shakes his head.]

PX: Not a concern. And that's not ego talk - it's confidence. In my
skills and my style, to take from the first person into the match all to
the final man standing.

[With that, Pure X exits the shot, leaving Jason Dane.]

JD:  Pure X wants to be the first man in the Rumble - and I can't
imagine any of the other twenty-nine would have a problem with that. 
Gordon, Bucky... back to you!

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

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  A bold statement and challenge by Pure X -
his eyes firmly on the Rumble and the opportunity to become the Number
One contender for the biggest prize in our sport, Bucky.

BW:  The Rumble last year was off-the-charts and that was just for a
chance to be in the tournament.  This year?  With a GUARANTEED title
shot on the line?  This is gonna be crazy.

GM:  And with that Open Door policy, who knows who'll show up to go for
the gold?  Also, moments ago, we saw The Bishop Boys essentially hold
this show hostage for a period of time, brutally beating two men into a
pulp, demanding that Stephen Ross, the Chairman of the Championship
Committee, give them a match.  They begged for Rough N Ready and Rough N
Ready they got!  During the commercial break, it took several members of
AWA security to get those two teams separated and back to the locker
room area.  But will Mr. Ross sign the match that the Bishop Boys
demanded?  We'll know soon enough.

BW:  He'd better.  Otherwise, he might be the next one to get some
Miracle Elixir, Gordo.

GM:  I highly doubt that.  But speaking of tag team action, Bucky, at
this time we welcome in perhaps _the_ most popular duo in the AWA. I'm
of course talking about Sweet Daddy Williams and "Hotshot" Stevie Scott,
collectively known as Sweet Heat.

BW: Do we have to?

[Too late, Buckster. The obese frame of the Sweet Daddy cuts right in
front of Wilde, shaking his money maker at the camera...and then turning
and shaking it inWilde's face to a huge pop!]

BW: Ah! Get that thing away from me!

HSS: C'mon, Bucky! Who's your daddy, huh? _Who_ _is_ _your_ _daddy_?

[SDW stops, laughing, and slaps a high-five with Stevie.]

GM: There you have it, Bucky Wilde. Sweet Heat is having fun here
tonight.

SDW: You said it, good ol' Gordon! Sweet Heat is ALWAYS havin' fun
wherever we go. Every nightclub, every bar, every pub, every museum...

BW: MUSEUM?!

SDW: Absolutely, baby! You tryin' to imply the Sweet Heat Connection
ain't educated, ya old fizzypot?

GM:  Let's not even get into that one. Now, Stevie, you two are
sitting atop the tag team rankings with a shot at the champions,
Kentucky's Pride, in your future. We'd be remiss if we didn't talk
about that, and also about your previous issues with City Jack and Tin
Can Rust.

[Stevie nods.]

HSS: Yeah, man, that's one fine team right there. Mighty fine team.
And you're right, I had my tussles with them back when I didn't have my
head screwed on straight and was runnin' with some low-life,
crotch-sniffin' thugs like the Russians. But I gotta tell ya,
Gordo...I've got a lot of respect for those two. And when me and the
Sweet Daddy get our shot, I'm going to prove to them and once again to
all these people, that Stevie Scott has seen the light.

[Sweet Daddy leans in, shaking his head.]

SDW: Wait a minute, baby! We can't just let them steamroll us, Stevie.
There ain't no way, no how! I respect Tin Can Rust... and that ol'
Jack? Well, let's just say he knows how to party like the Sweetness
does. There ain't a pancake house within a country mile that don't
board up the doors when Sweet Daddy and City Jack are in the city
limits, amigo. But that don't mean for a second that I don't like the
idea of beating those two up and puttin' those big gold belts 'round our
pretty little waists. Owww!

[Stevie wags his index finger like DikembeMutombo.]

HSS: Don't you worry, Sweet Daddy! It ain't gonna be like that. Just
because I'm playin' by a new set of rules now, doesn't mean I won't take
the fight right to those Kentucky boys. And if they ain't fast enough,
either one of 'em could catch a Heatseeker right under their chin.

[Steviegrin~!]

HSS: Just like Kolya Sudafed!

[POP!]

HSS: But I'll tell you this, Sweet Daddy. There ain't gonna be no low
blows...there ain't gonna be no eye gougin'...there ain't going to be no
digging into my tights and pulling out a handful of baby powder and
throwing it into their eyes and taking advantage of their blindness
and...

[Pause. Overexaggerated deep breath.]

HSS: ...hitting them in the face with a chain around my fist, you know?
We gonna do this _right_, Sweet Daddy!

SDW: Just like we's always do. And those big, nasty, stanky
Russians... if they wanna stick their noses into our business again, I
got a right hand for ol' Vladdy and a Heatseeker comin' for the champ.
Heck, we just might add his gold to our collection too, baby.

[Another big high-five between the two fan favorites and they make their
exit to the cheers of the fans.]

GM:  Fans, we've got one more commercial break before our BIG Main Event
tag team showdown so don't you dare go away, we'll be right back!

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

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

JD:  Hey, AWA fans - so much of our lives are now spent on-the-go,
wouldn't you love to be able to keep track of your favorite AWA
superstars when you're away from home?

MS:  I know I would, Jason!  And I'd also love to have a place to put
out all those rumors we hear during the week that never make AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling.

JD:  You've got that right.  Wouldn't it be great if we could combine
both of those ideas into one?

[Suddenly, a giant graphic of an iPhone appears between them!]

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

VO:  Starting today, you can download AWA Access - a great new
application for your iPhone where you can get all the AWA news, rumors,
and happenings before the rest of the world.  And don't forget to check
out the "exclusive" section for matches that never aired!  AWA Access -
coming to an iPhone near you!

[Fade back to black...

...and then fade back on the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing with
the National Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride.]

MC:  The following contest is a non-title match scheduled for one fall
with TV Time Remaining.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this
time, they are the AWA National Tag Team Champions, City Jack and Tin
Can Rust... KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!

[Big cheers for the champs!]

MC:  And their opponents...

["They Reminisce Over You" by Pete Rock and CL Smooth begins to play
over the PA system as the curtains part and reveals Juan Vasquez, sans
mystery tag team partner. Juan is dressed in his usual pre-match warm-up
tracksuit. He quickly makes his way into the ring and motions for a
microphone.]

JV: I know, I know...you were expecting more than little ol' me to come
out from behind that curtain. Well, trust me...I didn't come here to
fight the tag team champions on my own. I mean, I ain't some sorta'
friendless loser that can't find a partner cause everyone hates my
stinkin' guts! Who do you think I am?

[A grin.]

JV: Raphael Rhodes?

[Big pop!]

JV: But before we get down to business, I just had a few things to say.

[He turns to Tin Can Rust and City Jack with a sincere look of regret on
his face.]

JV: First off, lemme just say that I'm sorry. I never meant to drag
Kentucky's Pride into my little feud with Rhodes and I shouldn't have
let my emotions get to me... 

[Juan pauses and extends a hand to Tin Can Rust, but is met with a cold
gaze. He withdraws his handshake.]

JV: ...but I guess that it's a bit too late for apologies.

[He shrugs.]

JV: I mean, once you've stepped into the ring, there ain't much left to
do but to let the fists fly and to let the blood flow. And while I
really didn't wanna' do this, it looks like you guys ain't so willing to
forgive and forget. 

[He turns away from Kentucky's Pride and towards the crowd.]

JV: So, I suppose everyone's wondering who my tag team partner is! 

[Big pop! Juan gives a small shrug and scratches his head.]

JV: Yeah, me too. 

[At that, the entire crowd groans. Someone even tosses an empty popcorn
container, which Juan nimbly sidesteps. He holds up his arms, motioning
for the crowd to calm down.]

JV: Kidding! Kidding! Just messin' with ya' folks. You really think I'd
come out here and fail to deliver with someone who's less than
absolutely spectacular? 

[He wags a finger.]

JV: Nononononono...I ain't gonna' drop a mook like Gabriel the Nightmare
on you folks and try to will you into believing that he's anything less
than a complete and utter let down. Maybe that's okay for *some* Latino
ubermensch out there, but never let it be said that Juan Vasquez doesn't
deliver on his promises. 

[Juan points towards the announcer's table.]

JV: Last time, Bucky Wilde said that I should go out and find the
"biggest, meanest son of a gun" I know.

[A smirk.]

JV: And ya' know what? 

[And then a grin.]

JV: That's _exactly_ what I did. 

[Some of the crowd catch on to what Juan's saying and immediately let
out a cheer. Juan cackles with glee.]

JV: I guess some of you guys out there already know who my partner is,
huh? Well then, I might as well not keep this a secret any longer.
Folks, allow me to introduce my tag team partner for tonight. 

[Juan clears his throat, before doing his best Michael Buffer
impression.]

JV: FROM ST LOUIS, MISSOURI...

[The crowd begins to stir.]

JV: ...STANDING AT DAMN NEAR SEVEN FEET AND WEIGHING IN AT THREE HUNDRED
AND TWENTY POUNDS...

[At this point, Juan pauses, just long enough to get a mischevious grin
on his face.]

JV: ...THE CHOKESLAMMIN'...

[A portion of the crowd roars with cheers!]

JV: ...HAWAIIAN SHIRT-WEARIN'...

[And to the rest of the crowd that didn't know who it was, that just
completely gave it away for them.]

JV: ...BIGGEST...MEANEST...STRONGEST SON OF GUN IN ALL OF WRESTLING!!!!

[Juan points right towards the entrance, pauses and clears his
throat...]

JV: *Ahem*

[...as a smile about ten miles wide appears on his face. All eyes turn
towards the entrance, where we see...]

JV: ...EDWIN LOPEZ.

["Some Heads are Gonna Roll" by Judas Priest begins to play over the PA
system as the monstrous form of Edwin Lopez bursts through the curtains,
thrusting his right arm into the air in the sign for the choke slam.
Edwin is dressed in one of his trademark Hawaiian shirts left unbuttoned
to reveal his ridiculously muscular body underneath, a straw hat, and a
pair of desert camo shorts. He strides down the aisle with purpose, as
the fans reach out to touch and grab at him. He climbs onto the ring
apron and steps OVER the top rope. As he and Vasquez high-five each
other, a noticeable chant of "ED-WIN!" can be heard from a portion of
the crowd. The big man takes the microphone from Vasquez and addresses
the crowd.]

EL: Well...it sure as heck isn't Luke Kinsey!

[Crowd pop! Edwin chuckles.]

EL: You'll have to excuse me, because I'm starting to get a bit
misty-eyed here...but before there was a Hawaiian shirt, before there
was the choke slam, before Juan Vasquez was a multiple-time former world
champion with more illegitimate children than he knew what to do
with...we were just two stupid kids from East Los Angeles with
ill-fitting wrestling tights and a dream.

[A smirk.]

EL: Well, actually my dream was to graduate from college, find a cure
for cancer and to eradicate world hunger. But having two life-long
friends standing together inside a wrestling ring reunited after a
decade of injury, strife, blood, guts and glory...

[A happy, little sigh.]

EL: ...well, that's a pretty good feeling too. 

[Edwin looks across the ring and eyes his opponents with the slightest
of arrogant expressions on his face. He takes off his straw hat and
tosses it into the crowd, before returning his attention to Tin Can Rust
and City Jack.]

EL: Now, I suppose this is where I tell Tin Can Rust and City Jack that
they should've been more careful about letting Juan choose whoever the
heck he wanted to be his partner, because it was completely obvious to
anyone who knows a single thing about wrestling, that Juan Vasquez woud
inevitably find the one tag team partner guaranteed to have the ability
to dislodge your head from your neck within a blink of an eye. 

[A grin.]

EL: But I'm not going to say that. 

[Without any fear in his heart or hestitation in his demeanor, Edwin
walks right up to the tag team champions, towering over them.]

EL: After all, it's not everyday that you get to face the one man in the
universe who could destroy any man in any way and at any time that he
felt like. This is an endeavor that takes courage, bravery and guts
beyond human comprehension. And for that, I commend you. I praise you. 

Really...you've earned my respect.

[He turns to Juan and gives him a "Yeah, right!" sort of look.]

EL: But make no mistake about it. Right about now, there's nobody here,
there or anywhere within the tri-state area that doesn't believe that
this wasn't the biggest possible mistake you could've possibly made. A
couple of pretty pieces of jewelry around your waists doesn't impress
me. I mean, seriously, guys...

[GOOZLE~!]

EL: ...you screwed up! 

[And just as quickly, before anyone can even react, Edwin Lopez wraps
his huge paw of a right hand around Tin Can Rust's throat!  Vasquez
races towards City Jack, cutting the big man off from intervening in
Lopez' chokeslam attempt as the referee calls for the bell to officially
kick off the match.]

GM:  Here we go!  Edwin Lopez and Juan Vasquez taking on the National
Tag Team Champions!  What a main event!

[Rust drives a knee up into the gut of Lopez, breaking the chokeslam
attempt... to a bit of a disappointed reaction from the WKIK Studio
audience.]

GM:  Ohh!  Tin Can Rust breaks up the chokeslam!  He was a second away
from having his night ended right there because as any wrestling fan
knows, a chokeslam from Edwin Lopez will turn your lights out in a
hurry, Bucky.

BW:  I'm glad to see SOMEONE around here is following my advice. 
Vasquez went out and got the biggest, toughest man that he knows in
Edwin Lopez and just immediately put his odds through the roof of being
able to beat the champs tonight.

GM:  The gold is not on the line but there's a lot of pride involved for
sure.

[Vasquez and City Jack continue to trade blows, tumbling through the
ropes and out to the floor as a flurry of shots from Tin Can Rust knocks
Lopez back against the ropes.]

GM:  And fans, we just received word from the back.  We are already out
of time...

BW:  WHAT?!

GM:  BUT... the good folks, our friends, at WKIK have said that they
will stick with us until this match concludes!  We're not going anywhere
yet, fans!

[Rust continues to tee off on Lopez against the ropes...

...completely missing Juan Vasquez, who just slammed City Jack's head
into the ring apron, climbing back into the ring, approaching him from
the blind side.]

GM:  Vasquez back in!  Rust doesn't see him!

[But suddenly, the grizzled veteran does turn around, staring dead in
the eyes of the man who handed him a loss against Raphael Rhodes two
weeks ago...

...and with fire in his eyes, Rust charges Vasquez, barreling him over
with a barrage of haymakers that knocks the Los Angelino down to the mat
where the two men tussle.]

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

[Rust and Vasquez trade blows on the mat with the crowd roaring,
cheering the fight on.  Edwin Lopez staggers away from the ropes,
looking to intervene...

...but City Jack hooks his ankle from out on the floor, yanking Lopez'
feet out from under him.  The big Southerner drags Lopez under the
ropes, immediately decking him with a right hand that knocks the giant
down to a knee.]

GM:  Good grief!  We've got a brawl going on all over the place!  Inside
the ring, outside the ring - this is a fight!

[Jack does a little jig out on the floor to the cheers of the crowd...

...then POPS Lopez squarely in the jaw with a right hand, knocking him
flat down to the mat.]

GM:  OHHHH!  What a shot by City Jack!

[Inside the ring, Vasquez has regained control, knocking Rust back into
the corner with a right hand.  A pair of chops connects squarely on the
chest in the buckles.]

GM:  Vasquez has Rust cornered... chops to the chest... here's a whip!

[Rust hits the corner hard as Vasquez charges across, leaping up to
plant both feet on the upper thighs of Rust, attempting a monkey flip...

...but Rust hangs on to the top rope, causing Vasquez to plummet
backwards off the ropes, smacking the back of his head on the canvas.]

GM:  Ohhh!  

[Rust charges away from the corner, leaving his feet with an elbowdrop
crushing down on the sternum of Vasquez.]

GM:  Big elbowdrop by Rust!  And there's a cov- no!

[Instead of going for a cover, Rust grabs a handful of Vasquez' hair,
throwing clinched fists into the side of the head.  Outside the ring,
City Jack has finally ventured back into his own corner, allowing Edwin
Lopez to do the same.]

GM:  Rust is pounding Vasquez down on the mat!  This is a side of Tin
Can Rust we've been seeing more and more of as of late.  He's shown a
vicious streak in recent months since winning the titles, Bucky.

BW:  I'm not a Tin Can Rust fan by any stretch of the imagination but I
don't see how people can fault the guy for trying to be serious and win
a match.  Just because his fat slob of a partner wants to dance around
and kiss babies, it doesn't mean that's the way to be successful.

GM:  Rust drags Vasquez off the mat...

[Grabbing Vasquez by the hair, Tin Can Rust HURLS him through the ropes
and out to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Did you see that?

[The crowd jeers a bit as Tin Can Rust ignores the protesting official,
stepping through the ropes to the apron before dropping the rest of the
way down to the floor.]

GM:  Tin Can Rust is going out there after him and these fans aren't
sure they like the attitude change from TCR.  

[The camera cuts to City Jack who looks distressed at the reaction of
the crowd, trying to rally them back behind the tag team champions.]

GM:  Rust on the floor, pulling Vasquez- ohh!  Shot to the gut by
Vasquez!

[Reaching way back, Vasquez uncorks another right hand, this one across
the jaw of Tin Can Rust who stumbles backwards before staggering back in
towards Vasquez...

...who hooks Rust under the armpit, taking him down on the barely-padded
floor with a hiptoss!  BIG CHEER!]

BW:  It's just a hiptoss, people!  What's the big deal?

GM:  The hiptoss of Juan Vasquez is one of his most popular moves and I
can't explain it either.  But when you add the impact of that
barely-padded concrete floor, that hiptoss becomes a very dangerous and
effective weapon.

[Vasquez drags Rust to his feet, shoving him under the ropes and back
into the ring.  The Los Angelino climbs up on the apron, riling up the
crowd as he grabs the top rope, waiting for Rust to stir.]

GM:  Vasquez on the apron, measuring his man...

[And as the veteran gets to his feet, Vasquez slingshots up to the top
rope, springboarding off...

...and hits nothing but empty canvas in a ducked cross body block!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  There's a reason they call it high risk offense, daddy, and Juan
Vasquez just found out exactly that.

GM:  Rust dragging Vasquez by the foot to the corner - and there's the
tag to City Jack!

[A big cheer goes up for Jack as he steps into the ring, promptly
leaping up and dropping a heavy elbow down across the chest of the
downed Vasquez, quickly rolling into a lateral press for a two count.]

GM:  Only a two off the elbowdrop.

[City Jack quickly regains his feet, casting an eye towards the corner
where his partner is recovering from the early moments of the match.  A
quick shake of the head is seen before CJ drags Vasquez off the mat,
blasting him with a right hand to the jaw that knocks him back to the
ropes.]

GM:  On the ropes... irish whip... oohhh!  Big knife edge chop!

BW:  All three hundred plus pounds of his flabby frame in that one.  

GM:  Vasquez clutching his chest, rolling around on the mat.  He's out
on the apron, pulling back to his feet... ohh!  Another right hand by
Jack knocks him down to a knee.

[From the kneeling position, Vasquez slingshots himself forward, driving
a shoulder into the ample midsection of Jack to double him up.  Slinging
himself over the ropes, Vasquez attempts to take Jack down in a sunset
flip...

...but can't get the big man down.]

GM:  Vasquez going for the sunset flip!  But he can't get Jack down!

[Jack hangs on to the top rope for a second, shakes his rear back and
forth...

...and then drops his large backside down on the sternum of Vasquez,
ordering the referee to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Vasquez gets the shoulder up!

[The Liberty, Kentucky native looks disappointed as he gets back to his
feet, reaching down to drag Vasquez off the mat...

...and gets plucked into an inside cradle!]

GM:  INSIDE CRADLE!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHHH!

[The crowd gives up a collective groan as Vasquez nearly snatched the
victory from the National Tag Team Champions.  Still feeling the effects
of the squash, Vasquez tries to crawl across the ring towards his
waiting partner...

...but gets hit with a big elbowdrop on the back of the head from City
Jack!]

GM:  Jack cuts him off from the corner!  Nicely done.

BW:  I have to admit it - that was a great example of cutting the ring
in half.  Even if it was by an old, fat goof.

GM:  Jack dragging Vasquez by the foot across the ring... there's a tag
to Tin Can Rust.

[Rust steps back into the fray, immediately launching into a series of
stomps to the downed Vasquez.  With a fury in his actions, Rust drops to
a knee and wraps his hands around the throat of his opponent, strangling
him as the referee starts a five count.]

GM:  What in the- what has gotten into Tin Can Rust?

BW:  Break the hold, ref... or don't.  What do I care?

GM:  Rust breaks it at four and-

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as an exasperated-looking City Jack
reaches over the ropes, slapping the shoulder of his tag team champion
partner to bring himself back into the ring.]

GM:  City Jack just tagged himself back in!  I don't understand what's
going on here.

[Jack steps into the ring, glaring at his partner.  With a "cool it!"
and an angry gesture to the apron, Jack pulls Vasquez off the mat as
Rust steps back outside the ring.]

GM:  Jack drags Vasquez up... 

[Ducking down, Jack scoops Vasquez up, slamming him down in the middle
of the ring with a bodyslam and immediately drops an elbow across the
chest of Vasquez.  Jack gets up as quickly as he can and drops another. 
Wash, rinse, repeat.]

GM:  Infinite Elbowdrops by the champion from Liberty, Kentucky!

[After a barrage of five 324 pound elbowdrops, a gassed-out City Jack
gets back to his feet, sucking wind a bit as he reaches over and slaps
the hand of his partner, giving a few words to him as he steps out of
the ring.]

GM:  Tin Can Rust is back in... and thankfully no chokehold this time.

BW:  Not yet.

GM:  Rust pulls Vasquez off the mat... big right hand!

[The haymaker sends Vasquez spinning away from Rust and dangerously
close to his own corner.  Vasquez quickly realizes it, crawling on his
elbows and knees in the direction of Edwin Lopez' outstretched hand.]

GM:  Here he comes!  Going for the corner!

[But a rushing stomp to the back of the head of Vasquez breaks up the
tag attempt...

...and a big right hand connects with the jaw of Edwin Lopez, knocking
him off the apron to the floor!  The crowd reacts with shock and
confusion as Tin Can Rust drops down to the mat, grabbing Vasquez by the
back of the head and SLAMS his face into the mat, flipping him to his
back and hooking a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thr- no!  Shoulder up again!

[TCR quickly regains his feet, dragging Vasquez off the mat, and shoving
him into the corner.  Rust steps up on the midbuckle, holding up a
clenched fist to a mixed reaction from the crowd...

...and starts raining down blows.]

GM:  Right hand!  Right hand!  Right hand!

[The crowd counts along with the blows, reaching the count of seven
before Edwin Lopez rolls back in, getting to his feet behind TCR.  He
reaches up to grab the back of Rust's tights, yanking him down off the
ropes and slamming down on the back of his head!]

GM:  Oh my!  Edwin Lopez getting a little bit of payback before the
referee forces him back outside to his corner.  And look at Lopez - he
wants in there badly!

[A fired-up Lopez slams his hand down on the buckles repeatedly, causing
the crowd to clap in rhythm, trying to rally Juan Vasquez who is leaning
in the adjacent neutral corner, clinging to the top rope as he tries to
get to his waiting partner.]

GM:  Vasquez is on his feet!  Vasquez is trying to get across the ring! 


BW:  Lopez is waiting for him... waiting for the tag.  If he gets it,
look out, daddy!

GM:  Lopez wants that tag... his hand is out... these fans want the tag,
they're going nuts right now!  

[The 6'9 big man stands in the corner, one hand on the tag rope, one
hand stretched out as far as it'll reach in the direction of Juan
Vasquez who finally takes a step out of the buckles.]

GM:  Vasquez is making the move!  He's heading for his partner!

[But a dazed Tin Can Rust is up to a knee, pushing up to greet Vasquez
midway down the ropes.  Grabbing Vasquez by the arm, Rust fires him
in...

...and catches him around the body on the rebound, swinging him around,
and DRIVING him down in a sidewalk slam!]

GM:  CAN CRUSHER!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!

[Rust throws himself across Vasquez as the referee drops down to the
mat.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- LOPEZ MAKES THE SAVE!

[The crowd cheers as Edwin Lopez walks back to the corner, screaming at
Vasquez to get over to him in time.]

GM:  It's been a long time since these two men have teamed up but
tonight, they look like it's been a day, Bucky!

BW:  They're showing some good instincts but let's not kid ourselves -
Rust and Jack are a well-oiled... but fat and old... machine.

GM:  Rust crawling to his own corner... there's the tag to City Jack!

[Jack rushes in, grabbing Vasquez by the foot, keeping him just out of
reach from Edwin Lopez.]

GM:  Ohh!  So close!  He cut Vasquez off just barely!

[Jack pulls Vasquez up to his feet, still holding on to his foot...

...which allows Vasquez to leap into the air, smacking Jack in the back
of the head with his other foot!]

GM:  OHHH MY!

BW:  ENZUGIRI!  HE GOT ALL OF THAT!

[Jack crumples to the canvas in a heap from the impact of the kick to
the head as the crowd roars for the fiesty Vasquez' blow.]

GM:  And now's the time for Juan Vasquez!  He MUST make the tag, Bucky!

BW:  Lopez is ready.  Lopez is waiting!  He wants in there so badly!

[The crowd grows louder as Vasquez inches closer and closer and
closer...

...causing Tin Can Rust to step into the ring, moving to try and cut off
the tag...

...but not getting there in time!]

GM:  TAG!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Edwin Lopez steps into the ring, immediately
flooring Rust with a right hand!  Rust is quick to get back to his feet,
getting shoved back to the corner by Lopez who quickly whips him from
corner to corner...

...and then charges across the ring, CONNECTING with a running big boot
to the jaw!]

GM:  OHHH MY!

[City Jack regains his feet as Lopez turns to face him, grabbing him by
the arm and tossing him into the ropes.]

GM:  Jack off the ropes...

[And Edwin Lopez decides to show the AWA faithful EXACTLY how strong he
is, hoisting Jack up into a gorilla press...

...and throwing him down to the mat, pumping his fists in triumph as the
crowd roars.]

GM:  What power by Edwin Lopez!

[This time, it's Rust who staggers out of the corner, rearing back with
a right hand that the powerful Lopez blocks...

...and then grabs Rust under the arms, shoving him up into the air in a
flapjack type toss, grabbing Rust out of the air in a fireman's carry,
and SLAMMING him down to the mat in a Samoan Drop!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Edwin Lopez is a one man wrecking machine right now!

[Screaming at his partner, Lopez pulls City Jack up off the mat,
hoisting him up into a fireman's carry as well.  Vasquez quickly goes up
the ropes, stepping up to the top turnbuckle.]

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

[Vasquez leaps off the top turnbuckle, driving both feet down on the
back of the fireman's carried City Jack, and then SPRINGING off Jack's
back into a beautiful splash on the downed Tin Can Rust!]

GM:  OHHHHH MY!  DID YOU SEE THAT?!

[Vasquez reaches back to hook a leg on TCR when the referee waves it
off.]

GM:  No!  No!  City Jack and Lopez are the legal men!

[Lopez promptly walks out to the middle of the ring, pushing Jack up and
over his head...

...and DROPS him down across a bent knee!]

GM:  GUTBUSTER!  GUTBUSTER!

[The big man applies a lateral press, reaching back to hook the leg.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THR-  NO!  JACK KICKS OUT AT TWO!

[Pushing back off the mat to his feet, Lopez raises his big right hand
into the air to a mixed reaction from the crowd.]

GM:  I think this crowd wants to see the chokeslam but they may not want
to see it on City Jack, Bucky.

BW:  Beggars can't be choosers!

GM:  Lopez is pulling Jack off the mat...

[The crowd cheers as Lopez hooks his hand around the throat of City
Jack...

...and promptly gets a desperation Metropill to the side of the jaw,
causing a loopy-looking Lopez to stumble backwards into the ropes.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[Pulling himself off the mat, TCR races across the ring, connecting with
a running clothesline that takes Lopez over the top rope and down to the
floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  Big shot by Rust!

[But as soon as Rust turns around...]

GM:  BIG right cross by Vasquez!  Good grief!

[The right hand actually knocks Rust down to a knee which allows Vasquez
to leave his feet, scoring with a running low dropkick to the jaw that
takes Rust down to the mat.]

GM:  Nice shot by Vasquez!

[Jack rushes towards Vasquez...

...and gets HIPTOSSED right onto the downed Tin Can Rust!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  That's a lot of weight down on Rust!

GM:  What in the world is Vasquez doing?

[Getting a running start, Vasquez leaps HIIIIIGH into the air, and comes
crashing down backfirst onto both stacked members of Kentucky's Pride!]

BW:  SENTON SPLASH ON BOTH MEN!!

GM:  A double cover!  ONE!!!  TWO!!  THRE- DOUBLE KICKOUT!

[Vasquez gets hurled off both men to the cheers of the crowd.  He
quickly pulls City Jack off the mat, backing him into the ropes with
chops.  Outside the ring, Edwin Lopez grabs Tin Can Rust by the ankle,
dragging him under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Lopez pulls out Rust!  They're going at it on the floor!

[Vasquez throws a few more chops at the chest of Jack before grabbing
him by the arm, attempting an Irish whip but having it countered by the
Liberty native who sends Vasquez into the ropes.]

GM:  Reversal!  Vasquez off the ropes - ducks the clothesline from Jack,
off the far side... METROPI- ducked as well and - OHHHHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Vasquez throws himself through the ropes,
completely wiping out Tin Can Rust with a missile-like dive!]

GM:  Incredible dive by Juan Vasquez takes out Tin Can Rust... 

BW:  It might have taken out Juan Vasquez as well.  He looks pretty
shaken up from it.

[Out on the floor, a stunned Vasquez waves his partner back to the
ring.]

GM:  He's telling Lopez to get back in the ring... he's the legal man. 
He's got to finish this one!

[Lopez nods his head, stepping back up on the apron where City Jack
meets him with a right hand.  The crowd roars as Jack throws a few more,
staggering the big man on the apron.]

GM:  Jack's trying to take the big man down!  He's trying to- NO!

[The crowd jeers wildly as Raphael Rhodes emerges quickly from the
locker room area, standing over the downed Juan Vasquez, taunting him.]

GM:  Get him out of here!  I don't want to see this match end like this.
 I don't want any part of this!

[Rhodes kneels down next to Vasquez, grabbing him by the hair and
barking into his face.]

GM:  This is ridiculous.  This is completely-

[From behind, Tin Can Rust grabs Rhodes, yanking him to his feet and
BLASTING him with a right hand to a roar from the crowd!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  These two have unfinished business as well!

[The crowd roars as Rust and Rhodes throw right hands at each other as
quickly as they can.  Vasquez crawls away from the battle, moving
towards the ring where City Jack continues to hammer away at Edwin Lopez
who is still out on the apron.]

GM:  Vasquez rolls into the ring.  He's not going to let Rhodes ruin
this chance to beat the National Tag Team Champions.  Rhodes and Rust
continue to trade right hands out on the floor!

[Jack turns to face the oncoming threat, catching Vasquez right in the
side of the head with a Metropill forearm smash, knocking Vasquez to a
knee.  Using the moment, Lopez steps back into the ring, leaning against
the ropes to catch his breath.]

GM:  Jack pulls Vasquez off the mat... another big right hand to the
side of the head!

[Out on the floor, Raphael Rhodes rakes the eyes of Tin Can Rust,
stepping up on the apron...

...and getting popped with a right hand to the jaw by Edwin Lopez,
knocking him back down to the floor!]

GM:  Nice shot by Lopez!  

[City Jack grabs Vasquez by the arm, whipping him across the ring...

...where he somersaults into the waiting arms of Edwin Lopez who hoists
him up into powerbomb position.]

GM:  What in the-

[Lopez turns around, facing outside the ring where Tin Can Rust has just
pulled Rhodes off the mat...

...and shoves Vasquez off, flipping him off his shoulders in a back
somersault down onto both Rust and Rhodes!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHH!  MY HEAVENS, WHAT WAS THAT?!

[A grinning Lopez looks out at the roaring crowd, slowly lifting his
right hand to the air.]

GM:  He's calling for the chokeslam!  He's-

[But as the big man turns around...]


"WHAAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  METROPILL!  METROPILL ON THE JAW!

[The impact of the blow knocks Lopez back into the ropes where he
bounces back, slowly stumbling towards Jack who wraps his arms around
the waist of the big man...

...and hoists him up into the air, DRIVING his three hundred plus pounds
down on top of Lopez in a Metroboom!]

GM:  METROBOOM!  METROBOOM!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!!

[The crowd roars for the announcement as a weary City Jack gets back to
his feet, raising an arm in triumph...

...and then quickly boos as Raphael Rhodes rushes City Jack from behind,
flooring him with a running forearm smash to the back of the head!]

GM:  Ohh!  What the- where did he come from?

[The crowd jeers as Rhodes stomps the back of Jack's head into the
canvas over and over...

...and the jeers grow even louder as Rhodes is joined inside the ring by
Vladimir Velikov and Kolya Sudakov!]

GM:  What the- get the Russians out of here!  They've got no business
being out here!

BW:  The Russians don't need ANYONE'S permission to be out here!  You
think they've forgiven and forgotten the bad blood between them and
Kentucky's Pride last summer?  You think they're not looking to get a
shot to put those tag team titles around their waists?

GM:  Well, of course they are but- 

[With Rhodes and the Russians stomping the downed City Jack, the WKIK
Studios crowd suddenly ERUPTS!]

GM:  SWEET HEAT!

[The roar of the crowd greets Sweet Daddy Williams and Stevie Scott as
they charge into view, diving under the bottom rope into the ring. 
Williams immediately tears into Vladimir Velikov, drilling him with a
series of right hands that knocks the big Russian through the ropes to
the floor.]

GM:  Velikov's cleared out!  

[But Kolya Sudakov isn't so easily chased, battering Stevie Scott back
into the corner...

...but the oncoming Sweet Daddy Williams turns the tide, putting both
Sweet Heat members against the National Champion.]

GM:  Double whip on Sudakov... 

[As the champion rebounds, Stevie and Sweet Daddy each grab a leg,
hoisting Sudakov up into the air...

...and dropping him facefirst on the mat with a flapjack!]

GM:  FLAPJACK!!  OH YEAH!

[Kolya Sudakov quickly regains his feet...

...but a double clothesline from the Number One contenders to the
National Tag Team Titles takes him over the top to the floor!]

GM:  Sudakov is out of there as well!  Sweet Heat's cleared out the
Russians!

[Raphael Rhodes slips from the ring, trying to avoid further conflict
but Sweet Daddy Williams goes right outside the ring after him, leaving
Stevie Scott alone in the ring...

...where he completely misses Tin Can Rust sliding into the ring behind
him.]

GM:  What a chaotic finish here to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans...
it's been a wild night here in Dallas and- OHHHH!

[The crowd EXPLODES in jeers as Stevie Scott turns around and eats a
HUGE right hand from Tin Can Rust that knocks him flat.]

GM:  What in the world?!

[Rust stands over the downed Stevie Scott, an icy expression on his face
as he looks down at the man who will attempt to challenge to take his
tag team title in two weeks' time.]

GM:  That was no accident, Bucky!  Tin Can Rust just laid out Stevie
Scott!

BW:  He's made no secret that he doesn't like Stevie, he doesn't trust
Stevie... and now he's shown the entire world that he means every word
he says!

GM:  Tin Can Rust... standing over Stevie Scott.  These fans are in
shock and quite frankly, so am I!

[After a moment, Sweet Daddy Williams is back inside the ring, getting
right up in the face of Tin Can Rust...

...but a stunned City Jack wedges himself between the two men, trying to
cut off any more potential conflict.  Sweet Daddy's mouth is going a
mile a minute as he shouts at Tin Can Rust who glares coldly at the
verbal assaulting fan favorite.]

GM:  Fans, we've got to go!  Unbelievable.  For Jason Dane and Bucky
Wilde, I'm Gordon Myers and we'll see you next time... at the matches!

[The camera holds on the ring where Sweet Daddy Williams is trying to
get past City Jack at Tin Can Rust...

...and we fade to black.]