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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                  April 25, 2009
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[As the closing notes to end titles of "Perfect Strangers" fades out, we
fade in to the locker room to footage marked "EARLIER TODAY" where Jason
Dane is standing in between the two men currently holding the AWA
National Tag Team titles - City Jack and Tin Can Rust, collectively
known as Kentucky's Pride. Both are dressed in their ring gear as they
await their match against Sweet Heat later on tonight. Tin Can Rust
looks stern as usual as he grips his championship title belt while City
Jack tries to feign a smile, but you can tell there's tension.]

JD: Jason Dane here with the tag team champions Kentucky's Pride and I
have to say the two of you just don't seem the same. Is it nerves as you
prepare for your first title defense against Sweet Heat tonight?

[City Jack goes to answer, but his partner Tin Can Rust grabs Dane's
hand.]

TCR: It's never nerves, Dane. Stevie Scott doesn't scare us - he never
will. That...

[Rust spits out the next word, dripping with hatred.]

TCR: ... punk will always get me ready to bash his skull in.

[Jack's face immediately goes from smile to frown as he shakes his
head.]

CJ: Rust, Rust... Come on now, there's just ain't a need none for that
there talk. Look, between what ya done last week -

TCR: Last week? You mean giving Scott what he deserved for making a fool
of me - of us?

[Jack puts his hands on his wide hips and look at Dane.]

CJ: Mr. Dane, if you don't mind much, I'd like here to talk to my tag
team partner a little bit?

[Dane nods and holds the microphone up as he backs away.]

CJ: Brother - and you know I consider you like family, man... This here
ain't right. This just ain't right with you.

[Tin Can Rust scoffs as he looks away.]

CJ: This here attitude of yours, I've seen it before done in Kentucky.
It's not good. You're lettin' all get to your head. That hubbub with
Scott, why that's all water under the bridge, you here?

[Rust looks surprised.]

TCR: "Water under the bridge"?

CJ: How much does a man have to do to prove he done turned the leaf? The
man's a good man, Rust! After you left that there ring last time out, I
done talked with Sweet Daddy and he trusts Stevie Scott. I believe he's
one helluva a man, that there Sweet Daddy Williams, and I trust what he
trusts. You got to let it go, Rust. You just got to let go what
happened.

TCR: Like you've done with Dufresne, right?

CJ: Now... now that's different.

TCR: How, Jack?! You've been chasing that rabbit longer than I have and
over the same sort of deal!

CJ: Rust, Dufresne, he... He never done changed his spots. When I came
here, he was still the same mischievous little imp that he was down in
LA. But Stevie, well... I see it - I see a man changed. I see a man
that's a good man. And besides that, you've let that title run your head
again. Like I said, you've done this before - you seem to think that
you've got really hurt everyone who wants to even step one foot on ya.

TCR: Well, what should I do, huh? Let them walk all over me? Let them
injury me like they've done to you, over and over?

[That comment seemed to have hit a spot as it's Jack who turns away. Tin
Can Rust, seeing this, drops his head.]

TCR: I'm... Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that, it's just... It's
just...

CJ: Yeah, I get it, Rust... You just want to win, right?

TCR: I...

[Rust slowly nods.]

TCR: Yeah. I mean... CJ, remember, I brought you here last year to make
our name again. To become the top tag team in the world. To be the best.
And I want to keep that, ok? 

[City Jack nods as he turns back to his tag team partner.]

CJ: Just promise me to not let the winnin' and the titles and the praise
and all that get ahead of who you are, Hugh. It's all good, that's for
right sure, but it ain't worth none if it eats you all up. What ya done
to Rhodes and Vasquez and Scott, it just ain't right, ya hear?

[Tin Can Rust nods, though his eyes narrow a bit at the mention of
Stevie Scott's name. Seeing the nod, City Jack grows a wide smile,
feeling that all's right again with the world.]

CJ: Now that's it! Now that makes this here sob ready! Let's go on out
there tonight and fight a good fight against two men who deserve their
chance.

TCR: But we're winning, right?

CJ: Sure on! Sure on! I done said fight a good fight, not nothin' else
about losing none. End of the night, we'll still have these tag
titles...

[Jack puts an hand on his partner's shoulder.]

CJ: And we'll be able to PROUDLY hold them up to everyone. Alright?

[Jack slaps Rust's shoulder, happy to have resolved the matter. City
Jack then nods to Dane as Rust follows behind, the same steely look on
his face as before.  The shot starts to fade 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.  It is a
Champion's Clash here tonight live from the WKIK Studios as we will have
two mammoth title matches, Bucky.

BW:  You betta believe it, daddy.  The National Title will be on the
line as Mark Shaw FINALLY gets his shot at Kolya Sudakov and the big,
big gold.

GM:  That should be an outstanding battle.  And moments ago, we heard
from the National Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride, as they prepare
to defend the gold against perhaps the most popular duo in the entire
AWA, Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams... Sweet Heat!

BW:  And as much as I can't stand Kentucky's Pride, I feel sick at the
thought of those two goofs with the gold, Gordo.  For one night only,
I'm rootin' for Old Man Dust and his fat friend.

GM:  That's enough of that.  For those of you who weren't with us on the
last Saturday Night Wrestling, take a look at the closing moments of
that show.

[We cut to footage marked "4-11-09" where Raphael Rhodes and the
Russians are stomping City Jack into the mat when suddenly the WKIK
Studios crowd ERUPTS into cheers!]

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 as we fade back to live action.]

GM:  A very tense showdown as we went off the air, Bucky... and at this
time, we are joined by the challengers in tonight's National Tag Team
Title match, Sweet Heat!

[Sweet Daddy Williams and Stevie Scott step into the fray, Scott
sporting a black eye from the big punch from Tin Can Rust.  Sweet Daddy
Williams does not look his normal jovial self either.]

GM:  Guys, welcome to Saturday Night Wrestling.  Stevie, you requested
this time to-

[The big man interrupts.]

SDW:  GORDON MYERS!  I ain't the type to get all roused up, riled up,
and wild-eyed but... but...

[Williams shakes his head.]

SDW:  This just ain't right, Gordo.  It just ain't right.  This ain't
how it's supposed to go down.  We're men.  We're all men who want to be
the best at what we do, right?

[Gordon nods.]

SDW:  It's... 

[Williams looks down.]

SDW:  GORDON!  THIS AIN'T RIGHT!  THAT BACKSTABBIN' SON OF A-

[Stevie holds up his hand.]

HSS: You know what, Sweet Daddy? It's alright, man. It's alright.

SDW: Alright? You kiddin' me? That fool sucker punches ya after we
help 'em out, and you sayin' it's alright?

[Stevie nods.]

HSS: Yeah, I am.

[SDW shakes his head, still furious.]

HSS: No, Sweet Daddy...I had it coming. After all the crap I gave him
and City Jack a few months ago, I got what I deserved. So it's cool.
Gordon, that's why I wanted to come out here, because I wanted to let
Tin Can Rust and the entire AWA fanbase know that I forgive him for what
Sweet Daddy accurately called a sucker punch.

But that isn't all I wanted to say.

[Scott pauses, calmly and slowly taking the microphone out of Gordon's
hand.]

HSS: I also want to say that now? We're even, Tin Can. We're even.

Me and the Daddy, we helped you out. And it's pretty clear that while
your partner, City Jack, has decided to let bygones be bygones, you have
not. I mean this sincerely when I say that I hope jacking my jaw made
you feel better. I know I got badly under your skin when I was running
with the Russians. I know I was annoying, disrespectful, and all that.
I know that. And I know you didn't take kindly to it. But like I've
said before, Sweet Daddy Williams helped me see the light. If you
haven't gotten that from all the times we've gone toe-to-toe with
Velikov and Sudakov...if you haven't gotten that from all the times I've
put my neck on the line for other people in recent months...I'm not sure
you're _ever_ going to get it.

[Stevie pauses, collecting his thoughts.]

HSS: So let me make this _crystal_ clear, Tin Can Rust. When we face
off against you tonight, you've got _one chance_.

You've got one chance to show me and the Daddy that you respect us. One
chance to show me that the past is just water under the bridge and we're
fighting for the same things now. One chance to prove that you're a
better man than I used to be. Because what you did to me? That was low
down, Tin Can. Weak sauce. So you've got one chance to prove that what
you did, that's not who you really are.

And listen to me now, because I mean this...Tin Can, if you blow that
chance? You might just get the old Stevie Scott back for just long
enough to take that gold _off_ your waist.

[Stevie turns to Williams who has seemingly calmed down. A little,
anyway.]

HSS: The floor is yours, Your Sweetness.

[Williams looks around, shaking his head.]

SDW:  Stevie baby... you're a lot more calm than I am.  I'm... I ain't
got the words, Hotshot.  I ain't got 'em.  Rust, Jack... we'll see you
later.

[Still shaking his head, Sweet Daddy Williams starts to walk out of view
when suddenly the Russians appear in the entryway, blocking his path.]

GM:  Wait... wait a second.  We want no trouble here, gentlemen.

[Vladimir Velikov, steel chain draped over his shoulders, points a
menacing finger in the direction of Sweet Heat.  The National Champion,
Kolya Sudakov, stands behind his Uncle, the title belt draped over his
shoulder.  The Russians slowly approach as Stevie Scott moves to his
partner's side.]

GM:  Mr. Velikov, please leave the ringside area.  Please get-
gentlemen, we need to get control of this situation.  We have two title
matches involving the four of you here tonight and-

[Suddenly, a fired up Sweet Daddy Williams backs up, grabbing the mic
from Gordon's hand.]

SDW:  Listen up, y'all!  Ya want a fight?  Ya lookin' for a fight?  Ya
got one, suckas!

[Throwing the mic down, Sweet Daddy Williams starts walking towards the
ring.  Stevie Scott is quick to his side, apparently trying to talk
Sweet Daddy Williams down.]

GM:  You heard that, fans.  Sweet Daddy Williams has just challenged the
Russians to a fight - maybe letting his temper get the better of him.  

BW:  Maybe?

GM:  Stevie Scott seems to be trying to talk him out of it.  

BW:  Can you blame him?  Stevie's the only one using his head out here! 
Even Sudakov's out of his mind.  If he gets hurt out here, Mark Shaw
will eat his lunch later on!

GM:  The Hotshot is trying to calm his partner down.  I don't know the
last time I've seen Sweet Daddy Williams this fired up, Bucky.  I don't
understand what's gotten into-

[The big Southerner shoves his partner to the side, sliding under the
ropes into the ring...

...where the Russians quickly storm towards him, diving headfirst under
the ring.  Sweet Daddy Williams rushes forward, dropping to a knee and
slamming forearm after forearm into the upper back of Vladimir Velikov.]

GM:  Sweet Daddy Williams is all over Velikov!

[As the National Champion gets to his feet, Williams springs up to his
feet, balling up his fist and throwing a right hand into the jaw of
Sudakov, knocking the champion backwards.]

GM:  Big right hand on the National Champion!

[A trio of right hands knocks Sudakov back against the turnbuckles...

...where a big double axehandle smash across the upper back by Velikov
knocks Williams down to a knee.  The crowd roars as Stevie Scott dives
headfirst under the ropes, popping to his feet.]

GM:  Stevie's in as well!  

[The Hotshot charges across the ring, tackling Velikov down to the
canvas where he delivers fist after fist after fist.  Sudakov yanks the
kneeling Williams off the mat, hooking a Thai clinch in place...

...and delivers knee after knee after knee to the upper body of the big
man, knees bouncing off the chest and chin.  Sudakov yanks Williams to
his feet against the ropes.]

GM:  Sudakov's all over Williams!  He's rocking the big man and- OHHH!

[A standing clothesline connects, knocking Williams over the ropes and
down to the concrete floor below.]

GM:  Williams goes down to the floor!  But Stevie's all over Velikov!

[Hitting the ropes, Sudakov DRILLS Stevie Scott in the spine with a hard
kick, knocking him down off of Velikov.  A helping hand brings his Uncle
back to his feet.]

GM:  Both Russians back up - Velikov with a couple stomps on Stevie.

[Sudakov pulls Stevie up by the hair, hurling him towards the ropes...

...and OBLITERATING the Hotshot with the Russian Sickle!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  DOWN GOES SCOTT!

BW:  That's it right there, Gordo.  There goes ANY chance that Sweet
Heat had of becoming the National Tag Team Champions here tonight.  ANY
chance.

GM:  Sudakov's got the- oh no.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as the Russian War Machine leans over,
picking up the discarded steel chain.]

GM:  Oh my... no, somebody needs to stop this.

BW:  Who?!  Williams is laid out!  He's out!

GM:  Sudakov's got the chain... Velikov's dragging Stevie up by the
hair.  He's out on his feet from that Sickle... he's barely moving!  He
can barely stand, Bucky!

[Velikov grabs the arm of the Hotshot, firing him into the ropes.  As
Scott rebounds, Velikov grabs the other end of the chain...

...and charging forward by his nephew's side, they DRIVE the steel links
into the throat of Stevie Scott!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHH!

[The Hotshot rolls around on the canvas, clutching his windpipe,
violently coughing.]

GM:  Get some help out here!  Hurry!  Stevie Scott just got drilled in
the throat with that steel chain... with that damned steel chain!  These
two... they make me sick, Bucky!

BW:  I told you, Gordo!  I told you they were risking everything!

GM:  Now is not the time for "I told you so!"   Can we get some medical
help out here for Stevie Scott?!

[The crowd jeers as Sudakov and Velikov stand over the injured Stevie
Scott, glaring down at him...

...and then breaking into cheers as City Jack leads a small army of fan
favorites from the locker room - Jackson Ross, Soup Bone Samson, Scott
Pain, Colt Patterson, Rough N Ready - that causes the Russians to bail
out of the ring.

Sweet Daddy Williams throws himself under the bottom rope, barely able
to move as he crawls across the ring, kneeling next to his injured tag
team partner, screaming for help as we fade to black...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back to live action to the ringside announce area where
a very solemn Gordon Myers looks on.]

GM:  Fans, welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling.  If you are just
joining us, you missed a brutal, vile, and violent assault on Sweet Heat
by the Russians - an assault that resulted in Stevie Scott being
clotheslined with that Russian chain, a blow that appears to have caused
serious injury to Stevie.  During our commercial break, Mr. Scott was
helped from the ring to the locker room area where he has been loaded
into an ambulance and sent to a nearby medical facility for emergency
treatment.  At this time, we do not know the condition of Stevie Scott
nor do we know the status of our National Tag Team Title match later
tonight.  

BW:  Is Sweet Daddy Williams even here?  Did he leave the building?

GM:  I do not have an answer to that at this time, Bucky.  Fans, it's a
very serious situation... very serious.  We will update you on the
status of Stevie Scott as well as the title match as soon as we can. 
But for now, let's go up to the ring for tonight's opening matchup!

[We cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall with a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first, already in
the ring, weighing in at 345 pounds and hailing from Tijuana, Mexico
please welcome JOSE THE BABY BULL FLOOOOOOORRRRRRREEEEEESSSSSS

[Inside the ring, Flores raises a large arm into the air and waves at
the crowd, flashing a wide, gap-toothed smile to the fans packed into
the WKIK studios, who give a smattering of cheers for the big fella.]

BW: Where did we find this guy, the Sizzler buffet?

GM:  Bucky, at a time like this, considering what we just saw - I would
think even you would be willing to show this young up and comer some
respect.

BW: Im sure his opponent, one of my personal favorites, will show him
just that!

[Melissa continues.]

MC: And his opponent weighing 245 pounds and hailing from Avery Island,
Louisiana, ladies and gentlemen, he is THE LADYKILLER CALISTO
DUFREEEEESSSSSSNNNNNEEE!!

[The studio lights begin to flicker slightly as the opening riffs of ZZ
Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" begin to blare across the sound system, the
crowd responding to the music with a chorus of boos. The camera cuts to
the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal one of the AWA's most
despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.
Dufresne is clad in a black three-piece suit, his flowing blonde hair
cascading down past his shoulders. Oddly, Dufresnes face is covered
with what appears to be a green surgical mask and his hands are inside a
pair of rubber gloves.

Though his mouth cannot be seen, his eyes speak volumes. They dart from
side to side nervously as he approaches the ring. Flores awaits
Dufresne outside the ring, but the Ladykiller pays him no heed as he
climbs into the ring quickly and snatches the microphone from Melissa
Cannon, shooing her out of the ring in the process.]

GM: What in the world is going on here, Bucky?

BW: You got me. Maybe Calistos made a career change, albeit a small
one, and become a gynecologist.

[Dufresne reaches his free hand into his pocket, where he pulls out a
small can of what appears to be Lysol and he quickly begins spraying
down the microphone that he just took from Cannon. Flores climbs on to
the apron with a confused look on his face, but Dufresne quickly skips
over and fires off a burst of Lysol in Flores direction, which quickly
sends the young Mexico native back to the outside. The Ladykiller looks
around the studio quickly and raises the microphone to his masked face,
his words coming out a bit muffled, but audible nonetheless.]

CD: If you people think Im coming out here and wrestling tonight,
youre dead wrong.

[Boos.]

CD: If the promoters in the back think Im coming out here and wrestling
tonight, youre dead wrong too. These are unsafe working conditions!
Dont any of you watch the news!? Were under attack

[Dufresnes eyebrows furrow together.]

CD: from the swine flu!

[A confused chorus of jeers erupts.]

CD: I did my research and I know that the swine flu is deadly! And we
all know that civilization would come to a screeching halt if Yours
Truly was not around. And we also know that swine flu is contracted
from hanging around with pigs and people from Mexico. And this guy

[Dufresne jabs a finger towards Flores.]

CD: covers both of those requirements, and by the looks of it, you fat,
out of shape nobodies in the crowd fit the bill as well.

[The boos rain down even louder.]

CD: So until I can feel comfortable that this epidemic is under control
and that the AWA is protecting its employees from deadly diseases, I
will not be risking my life inside the squared circle. Now, if youll
excuse me, I have to go get sprayed down outside the studio by the
independent HAZMAT team I hired.

Good luck and Godspeed, world.

[With that, Dufresne quickly scampers out of the ring and heads up the
aisle, avoiding contact with anyone or anything. Everyone is left with
a confused look on their faces as we cut back to Bucky and Gordon.]

GM:  Well, fans... that obviously wasn't what we had in mind for our
first match of the evening.

BW:  You know, he's got a point, Gordo.  

GM:  He does?

BW:  These people DO look like they spend time with pigs.

GM:  Would you stop?

BW:  Come to think of it... you've got an affinity for pork products
too, don'tcha?

GM:  Bucky, seriously... this is no laughing matter.  Fans, at this
time, please welcome the Samoan behemoth... Tumaffi.

[Tumaffi enters from the side, like the shadow cast by an eclipse.  He
wears a dark red floral silk robe, draped over his four-hundred-plus
pound body.  A hairy, swarthy, broad-shouldered titan, Tumaffi's brown
eyes and wide, pug nose are really the only clearly visible features on
his flat face... despite a recent haircut, his dark hair is still rather
wild, jutting out in all directions, with no visible break between hair
and beard.  Bucky, as per usual, vacates the area because he does not
trust the big man not to suddenly go berserk and start attacking
announcers.]

GM: Tumaffi, last week, Shane Destiny made some very pointed remarks. 
And those remarks were pointed in your direction.

[Tumaffi rumbles his response in a booming, bass voice.]

Tumaffi: Shane Destiny needs to be very careful with such pointed words,
as they are very likely to gouge out his eyes!  What manner of man are
you, Shane Destiny, to be offended at the great Tumaffi's presence?! 
Does it disturb you that Tumaffi is feared, while you are merely
respected?  Do you not see the contrast?  When Shane Destiny approaches,
people think "oh, perhaps we will see two tiny mainlanders with
intricate grabbing-and-rolling-about maneuvers entertain us for fourty
five minutes".  When Tumaffi approaches, people think "RUN FOR YOUR
LIVES"!  Does this offend you?  

GM: Shane Destiny is a multi-time champion, Tumaffi.

Tumaffi: Shane Destiny fought many other tiny people to win those
championships.  He has never faced such as Tumaffi!  The past is of no
relevance.  Shane Destiny wished for all to worship what he was...
instead, he has come face-to-face with what Tumaffi IS.  The most
powerful, vicious, and skilled bobcat on Earth cannot hope to defeat
even an average Bengal tiger.  How much less the strongest one of all?  

So what right have you to be offended, Shane Destiny?  Do you expect to
impress Tumaffi because fourty-year old virgins who live in their
parents basements enjoy watching you wrestle?  That they call you the
best "technical wrestler" of our time?  What IS a "technical wrestler",
Shane Destiny?  Is it not a mainlander who lacks the physical power to
destroy his opponents with unbridled might?  Do you expect to suplex
Tumaffi, Shane Destiny?  To what gods will you pray for the strength to
do that?  Do you expect to strangle Tumaffi, Shane Destiny?  To what
will you turn in the hopes of developing arms that could accomplish
that?  Do you expect to injure Tumaffi's leg to attempt to counter my
size, Shane Destiny?  To what great source of wisdom and knowledge will
you turn when that bit of Wrestling For Tiny People 101 fails you?

Tumaffi accepts your challenge, and eagerly awaits the opportunity to
welcome you to the real world.  A world in which the strong survive. 
Not the clever.  Not the fast.  Not the highly trained.  THE STRONG. 
Your concept of our relative intellects is entirely backwards if you
believe otherwise!  That is all!

[Tumaffi heads to the ring, as Bucky re-enters the picture.]

BW: Gordo, did Tumaffi just say "your concept of our relational
intelligence"... uh, did he just go professor on us?

GM: He's not an uneducated man.

[We cut to the ring, where Melissa Cannon is waiting alongside a tall
fellow in black trunks and boots.  He has buzzcut brown hair and a beige
jacket.]

*DING*

MC: The following match is set for one fall, with a ten minute time
limit!

[Tumaffi enters the ring, and the fans cheer him.  The cheers aren't
quite as pronounced as last time, though, because they're not yet sure
who to root for in a potential Tumaffi-Destiny showdown; it was a bit
more clear when it seemed as if Tumaffi was going straight for Sudakov. 
Unlike last time, his opponent this week doesn't seem so intimidated.]

MC: In the ring to my left, from Houston, Texas... weighing two-hundred
fourty-seven pounds...

    ... JOSEPH PUCKETT!

[Joseph Puckett raises an arm.  He seems focused enough.  Tumaffi is
calmly divesting himself of his robe, revealing the black-and-copper
tights underneath.]

MC: His opponent hails from the Island of Samoa... weighing four-hundred
seventeen pounds... 

...TUUUUUUUUMAAAAAFFIIIIII!

[Tumaffi marches directly into center ring, and calls his opponent
forward.  Puckett complies, and we're underway.]

*DING*DING*

GM: Alright, Joseph Puckett to try it on with Tumaffi.  Slide under and
a single-leg by Puckett, but that goes nowhere as Tumaffi kicks him in
the head.

BW: This kid looks better than the placeholder he fought last time, but
he's no Shane Destiny.  That match excites me, Gordo.  I have no idea
what would happen!

GM: He's not Shane Destiny, but nobody is.  Puckett locks up... well, he
tries, but he can only lock one of Tumaffi's arms.  Quick go-behind,
though... elbow by Tumaffi ducked by Puckett, and a side headlock by the
young challenger out of Houston.

BW: Worse than useless.  This just lets Tumaffi grab 'im.

GM: An unwise maneuver, I concur.   Tumaffi hoists up Puckett, and now
has him on his shoulder... atomic drop!  And a big overhead chop across
the back drives Puckett to the canvas!

[Joseph Puckett shows some instinct by immediately rolling away. 
Tumaffi watches in mild bemusement as the Texan gets up, and circles his
gigantic adversary.]

BW: Ya gotta use your head in there with... there ya go!

GM: Puckett dropkicking Tumaffi in the right knee!  Tumaffi drops to one
knee, and Puckett moving in... Tumaffi with a headbutt to the ribcage! 
That took all the wind out of the young man!

BW: Inexperience.  If ya somehow get an opening on Tumaffi, ya gotta
follow it up!  He went straight in, but Tumaffi don't care if he's on
his feet or his knees.  He can beat you up either way.

GM: Tumaffi whipping Puckett to the corner; following in... Puckett
moves!  

BW: But Tumaffi hit the brakes!  He was waiting for that!

GM: The Samoan HAMMERS Puckett in the back of the head with a big kick! 
Great extension, getting his foot way up there for such a big man! 
Puckett on dream street as Tumaffi lifts him up.  And listen to him
calling out Shane Destiny.

[We can hear Tumaffi bellowing over the handheld.  This is pretty
typical for him, to be honest... he does a lot of yelling in the ring.]


"DESTINY!  BEAR WITNESS!"


BW: Ain't gonna be that easy with Destiny.

GM: It certainly will not.  Irish-whips Puckett off the ropes, and...
SAMOAN DROP ROCKS THE RING!  This one could be over right now!

BW: I think this kid has some fight left in him.  Though the way Tumaffi
Samoan Drops people, that might be the ONLY thing left in him, daddy!

GM: Tumaffi measuring up Puckett.  The Texan, give him credit, is
getting to his feet!  Tumaffi lunging forward... POLYNESIAN BURIAL...

BW: HE MISSED IT, GORDO!  PUCKETT DUCKED IT!  ...that rhymed, cool.

GM: AND TUMAFFI COMES ALL THE WAY BACK AROUND WITH A DISCUS CHOP!  Quick
adjustment by Tumaffi, as Puckett countered the big standing lariat, but
the Samoan recovered by changing his maneuver in mid-swing!

BW: That might be the scariest thing I've seen him do!  Everyone relies
on big guys to miss moves and hurt themselves... you can't take that for
granted against Tumaffi!  And no doubt a message to Destiny.  This guy
is NOT stupid.

GM: Puckett staggering, and now the goozle!  We know where this is
going!

[* C R A A S H ! *]

BW: LANDED ON HIM WITH THE CHOKESLAM GORDO!  LANDED ON HIM!

GM: Not many people do it like that.  That's not a finisher,
technically, but I think that's it for young Mr. Puckett.

[Tumaffi gauges that Puckett has had enough, and covers him... one, two,
three.]


*DING*DING*DING*


[A thunderclap booms over the PA, into Tumaffi's music; hollow drums and
ominous woodwinds over the backdrop of a storm.  Tumaffi stands, raises
his hands, and asks the fans who is the master (some wiseass yells SHO'
NUFF, and gets a chuckle from Bucky).]

GM: Dominant victory by Tumaffi, who did not even need the Polynesian
Burial.

BW: But the old Tumaffi would have done it anyway!  Ever since he came
back from Samoa, he's not the same guy, Gordo.  That vicious killing
streak is not there, whether he admits it or not.  It doesn't matter
when he can wipe up a guy like Joseph Puckett in under two minutes, but
you just can't do that to Destiny.  Shane is gonna take advantage if
he's not in full form.

GM: I don't think you have to have a complete disregard for life and
limb to be in full form, Bucky.  I think Tumaffi has matured because
he's faced some personal tragedy, and what we have is a more
level-headed, focused athlete.  Shane Destiny, on the other hand, seemed
disturbed and distracted by the attention Tumaffi recieved in his
return, and we have yet to see if his intensity level is on par with
what we're accustomed to seeing from him.

BW:  Tumaffi's never faced anyone like Shane Destiny, Gordo - that one? 
That's a game-changer if there ever was one.

GM:  We shall see.  Fans, don't go away, we'll be right back after this
break!

[The camera holds on Tumaffi 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 ringside area where the announce team is
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans - a Champion's Clash
edition of our show with two big title matches still to come - well,
possibly at least.  At this time, we still do not have confirmation of
that.  I am able to let you know that Stevie Scott has made it to the
nearby medicial facility where he is receiving aid as we speak.  Sweet
Daddy Williams DID leave the building with his tag team partner as well.


BW:  What about the title match, Gordo?

GM:  The Championship Committee is currently meeting.  We expect the
Chairman, Stephen Ross, to join us shortly to announce their decision,
Bucky.  But speaking of the tag team titles...

[At this point, the members of Rough N Ready walk toward the announcer's
position. Sarah Sharpe leads the way, with Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew
Somers behind her, the two of them side by side.]

GM:  ...we are now joined by Rough N Ready, who we saw last time have a
confrontation with The Bishop Boys... word is coming from the AWA
Championship Committee that a match will be signed between you and the
Bishop Boys. What are your thoughts about the chance to get a third
point toward a tag team title shot?

DC: Gordon, while getting a chance at a title shot is nice, I think what
is really going to be the reward for Eric and myself is the chance to
take another tag team who wants to cause problems in the AWA and teach
them another lesson. I heard Cousin Bo screaming about how the teams
that gave us problems before didn't present a real challenge... well,
all I'm gonna say is that our issues with previous teams had more to do
with what challenge they'd give us than they did with their attitudes.
And what have we seen so far... Gordon, what about the Glamour Boyz?

GM: Well, we do remember their manager's claim that you wouldn't give
them work at a young age in a promotion you once ran.

DC: [nodding] And you also remember how Sarah wanted to give a promising
young man a shot at the big time and the Glamour Boyz ruined it... just
as the Bishop Boys did last time when they took it upon themselves to
take a match they weren't scheduled for, thereby robbing another team of
a chance to show what they could do. Now, the Committee told us that,
when it came to the final point we had to earn for a tag team title
shot, it had to come against competition the Committee chose, and we
understood that. The trouble with the Bishop Boys and Cousin Bo is they
fail to understand how things work around here and think they can bully
their way into what they want. Well, Cousin Bo, you called us out... you
got our attention... and now, you find out just as the Glamour Boyz
did... just as the War Pigs did... that getting our attention is not
what you want to do.

GM: Eric Matthew Somers, what about it?

[Eric has a serious look on his face for the moment, but it turns into a
more intense look as he talks.]

EMS: Duane Henry... Cletus Lee... so the two of you want a challenge?
Feast your eyes on the challenge you better be ready for... because Dave
and I live for taking punks like yourselves and tearing them apart! You
may think you are a bigger challenge than the Glamour Boyz... you may
think you are a bigger challenge than the War Pigs... but when it comes
to challenges, the one that's the biggest of all is dealing with a guy
like me who just wants to beat people up... and has a couple of people
by his side who are more than happy to let him do it!

[He then rubs his hands together, as if anticipating the moment.]

BW: You are a mental case... you know that, don't...

[He doesn't get to finish his sentence as Eric moves toward him. Dave
puts his arm up in front of Eric, but it still cause Bucky to back up a
few steps.]

SS: Bucky, don't you need to polish your Announcer of the Year award
again?

[Now Bucky looks offended.]

SS: Gordon, the only thing I'm going to add is this... the Championship
Committee tells me the match has been signed... and now the Bishop Boys
get to show us that they provide a bigger challenge. I just hope they
are ready for the challenge that lies ahead of them... and that's
getting past Rough N Ready.

[Gordon interrupts as the trio prepares to exit.]

GM:  Just one more moment, guys.  If you wouldn't mind, I'd like you to
stick around for one more moment for some footage of something that went
down earlier tonight.  We were scheduled to see the debut of two new tag
teams competing against each other for the first time. Unfortunately
that didn't-

BW: Unfortunately? What are you talking about? This was fantastic!

GM: Maybe you'd think so, Bucky, but I think it was completely
unprofessional. We're going to let you fans at home be the judge of it,
as we were lucky enough to have our cameras rolling.  The tag teams in
question are Mikey Brotman and Kyle Jenkins, together known as The
Thrillmakers, and the other team is The Right Proper Thugs made up for
Barrett Topps and Marcus Moore, along with their manager Lady Victoria
Pembroke Burton. Let's go to the tape.

[Some generic music is playing as The Thrillmakers make their way
through the entrance curtain into the ringside area where a sprinkling
of cheers are heard.  They're two fairly well built guys, probably in
their early twenties, with long blond hair and wearing yellow wrestling
tights with bandanas wrapped around their legs and arms. They could be
lead singers for a Big Hair Band.

One of the Thrillmakers, Mikey Brotman, flashes a big toothy grin as he
approaches the ringside cameraman.]

MB:  AWA, you're lookin' at the Thrillmakers! The hottest new tag team
to set foot in the AWA! And let me tell you, we're gonna-

[Before Brotman can complete his statement, two men come rushing through
the entrance curtain and barrel over Brotman and Jenkins with a shower
of blows.

One of the attackers is a largish man, though not fat, but not overly
muscular either. "Fighting fit" as the term applies. He has a light
blonde "faux-hawk" and a platinum blonde goatee, and gray eyes. He has
a tattoo of a Union Jack on his right upper arm, and the word
"Lancashire" tattooed across his stomach in a Gothic font. There are
various scars on his arms, and a few on his legs as well. One nasty
scar runs along his right cheek. This is Barrett Topps. 

The other man has long, dirty black hair down to his shoulders, dark
blue eyes, but keeps himself clean shaven. He's a pretty muscular guy,
although not a bodybuilder physique by any means. He has a lot of
tattoos on his arms (dragons, swords, naked women, skulls) all of which
seeming to to blend into one another, making for some pretty ugly
artwork at this point. He has a tattoo of the words "Manchester United"
across his throat. This is Marcus Moore. Together known as The Right
Proper Thugs.

The camera bobs and weaves as the cameraman struggles to stay out of the
fight. Marcus Moore grabs a handful of Brotman's hair and uses it to
throw the Thrillmaker facefirst into the ring apron. Meanwhile, Barrett
Topps has Jenkins down on the barely-padded floor and is biting the
man's forehead. Jenkins is struggling and kicking, but Topps is like a
pitbull.

Moore slams Brotman into the apron again, stunning the Thrillmaker. As
Brotman stumbles back, Moore gets enough space for a running start and
just drills Brotman flush in the face with a running kick.]

Topps: 'ere, let's finish these gits off.

[Topps pulls Jenkins up off the floor, hoists him up and then drops him
down across his knee with a vicious backbreaker, but holds him in place,
letting Moore get a bit of momentum and then comes crashing down with a
legdrop right across Jenkins's throat.

From off camera there is the sound of polite clapping, and the camera
spins around to find Lady Victoria Pembroke-Burton, (brunette hair
coifed to perfection and dressed in a leather skirt with leather riding
boots, a Sex Pistols t-shirt and a red riding jacket over it. A cross
between English upper-crust and hardcore punk. Her nose-ring gleams in
the light of the arena) the erstwhile manager of the Right Proper
Thugs.]

VPB: Oi, camera-git, did you get all that?

[The camera "nods" up and down in reply.]

VPB: Spot on. I want you to be sure you get that to production, yeah,
because that right there? That's gonna be our bleedin' calling card,
right? 

[Lady Victoria gets closer to the camera, with Marcus Moore and Barrett
Topps still in the background kicking and stomping away at the decimated
Thrillmakers.]

VPB: Listen up, AWA. I don't know what you tossers are used to 'round
these parts, but here's the skinny yeah? The Right Proper Thugs are
here now. You can consider it a bleedin' Brit invasion if you like,
frankly we don't give a toss what you call it. Botton line is, I want
the AWA National Tag Team Championship Belts and me mates here? They're
gonna get them for me, see? Because I'm Victoria Pembroke-Burton, and I
get what I want. And me mates? They just like to beat people up.

[The Right Proper Thugs give the Thrillmakers one last set of sharp
kicks.]

VPB: Enough's enough, boys. Let's see if there's a proper pub 'round
here. I want to get completely faced!

[The camera stays on the Right Proper Thugs a few moments as they walk
past, then spins around to show the Thrillmakers, beaten as they lay on
the ringside floor.

We CUT BACK to GM and BW, who look up from their monitors.  Still at
ringside, Rough N Ready shake their heads in irritation at what they
just saw.]

BW: I was worried. When I heard we had a team from England coming in
called the Right Proper Thugs, I was thinking they were going to be
tea-sipping nancy boys. These Right Proper Thugs are just out and out
.. um...

GM: ...thugs?

BW:   ...I hate you so much.

GM: Well, the Right Proper Thugs have definitely made an impact
tonight, but we'll have to see how they do when they actually get into
the squared circle and have to face their opponents face to face -
perhaps against a team like this one, Rough N Ready.  Thanks for your
time, guys, but right now, let's go to our next match!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time, from
Tulsa, Oklahoma, weighing in at 239 pounds... Josh Bailey!

[A scraggly-bearded wildman leaps up on the middle buckle, looking out
over the jeering crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The sounds of "Thunder Kiss '65" by White Zombie rocks over the PA
system.]

MC:  Weighing in at 245 pounds from San Antonio, Texas... he is
"THUNDERBOLT" JACKSON ROSSSSS!

[Ross comes charging through the PA system to a decent reaction,
flinging his arms apart as he slams to a halt, soaking up the cheers of
the crowd.  With a big grin on his face, Ross deadleaps up onto the ring
apron, slingshotting over the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  This guy is pure energy, Bucky!  I love it!

BW:  You would.  

GM:  This fourth-generation competitor is really making waves here in
the AWA so far.  He's already ranked Number 8 in the Top Ten - a few
more wins has got to put him in reach of a shot at the National Title.

BW:  It'd help if he'd beaten more than haman'eggers like this guy
Bailey.

GM:  He DID beat Colt Patterson at The Main Event.

BW:  In the guy's first match back in the big time in years.  Good call.

GM:  Regardless, you have to be impressed with this young man inside the
ring.

BW:  Do I?  I think he's a product of hype and good press.

GM:  Unbelievable.  

[With both men inside the ring, the referee calls for the bell to
officially start the match.]

GM:  There's the bell and we're off and running.  

[Ross walks to the middle of the ring, extending his hand...

...and gets bowled over by a rushing Bailey whose barrage of fists to
the skull quickly have Ross covering up, looking to defend himself.]

GM:  Josh Bailey is all over him, Bucky!

BW:  This kid just doesn't learn.  How many times have we seen him go
for that handshake and get his lunch stolen?

GM:  Bailey's working him over against the ropes... Irish whip...

[Bailey drops his head, going for a backdrop, but the oncoming Ross
turns around, using Bailey's back to backflip over the attempt, landing
on his feet on the canvas...

...where he promptly leaps back up, catching Bailey with a dropkick to
the back of the head that sends him toppling down to a knee.]

GM:  Down goes Bailey from the dropkick!

[Ross is quickly back to his feet, hitting the ropes in front of Bailey,
and then scoring with a low dropkick right to the jaw of the kneeling
wildman.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Nice move there by the Thunderbolt.

BW:  I can't stand the way everyone fawns over this guy like he's
something special, Gordo.

GM:  He IS something special in my estimation, Bucky.

[Ross drags Bailey off the mat, connecting with a backhand chop that
causes Bailey to fall back into the buckles.  Leaning over, Ross hoists
Bailey up, dropping him into a seated position up top.]

GM:  Uh oh - this could be trouble for the wildman from Tulsa.

[Stepping up to the middle rope, Ross pauses to pump his fist in the air
to the cheers of the crowd...

...and catches a hard left hand in the ribcage for his efforts.]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  Look at that, Gordo!  He's sucking up to the crowd, took his mind
out of the game, and paid for it right there.

GM:  A series of blows to the body by Bailey... and he SHOVES Ross off
the ropes and down to the canvas!

[Landing on his knees, Ross is quickly up as Bailey leaps from the
middle rope, double axehandle crashing down over the skull of the young
rookie.]

GM:  Bailey with the double sledge off the buckles - there's a cover! 
One!  Two!  Kickout at two.  That won't be enough to keep Jackson Ross
down for a three count.

BW:  Stay on 'im, Bailey.

[Getting back to his feet, Bailey drives kick after kick into the
ribcage of Ross, rolling him under the ropes to the apron.  Ignoring the
jeering crowd and the protesting referee, Bailey steps up to the middle
rope then steps over the ropes so he's standing on the middle rope
outside the ring...

...before leaping off, driving the point of his elbow down into the
upper back of Ross who is still on the apron!]

GM:  Ohhhh!  Nice move from Josh Bailey right there.  This guy is
showing some spirit in there, Bucky.

BW:  You don't come from Oklahoma to Texas unless you're ready for a
fight and this guy certainly is ready for a fight.  That was a creative
move from him and Ross is hurting badly.

GM:  Out on the floor now is Bailey, dragging Ross off the apron...

[Bailey actually manages to drag Ross off the apron into a hold across
the chest...

...before SLAMMING Ross down to the barely-covered floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  Bodyslam on the floor!

[The referee is immediately leaning over the ropes, screaming at Bailey
for his actions.]

GM:  The referee didn't like that - neither did these fans.

BW:  And I say who cares what EITHER of them think!  As long as he
doesn't disqualify you, the ref can't go straight to he-

GM:  Bailey drags Ross up off the mat, shoving him under the ropes back
into the ring.  He's rolling in behind him... another cover!  One!  Two!
 And Ross kicks out once more!  A lot of resiliency in this young man
for sure, Bucky.

BW:  Blah blah blah.

GM:  You really don't like this young man.

BW:  You know, Gordo... I don't like people like City Jack and Sweet
Daddy Williams.  In fact, I hate them.  But this kid... there's
something special about this kid... something that makes me hate him
just as much.

GM:  Bailey drags him up... back into the corner... Irish whip to the
opposite side...

[Bailey backs to the corner and with a bellow, he stampedes across with
his arms pulled back for a double sledge...

...and runs chestfirst into the buckles when Ross moves aside!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Ross moved!  Bailey hits the corner!

[Ross quickly moves across the ring, backing into the corner, and then
charges out, LEAPING into the air several steps from the corner,
smashing his body into the back of Bailey!]

GM:  SPLASH IN THE BUCKLES!

[Ross pulls Bailey down in a schoolboy rollup.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Oh yeah!  Ross gets the win!

BW:  With a rollup?  Where's that stupid Thunderbolt Bomb?

GM:  I think that shows the kind of guy Jackson Ross is, Bucky.  He's
willing to pass up the glory of hitting his finisher if it means getting
the win.  That's something special right there.

BW:  Whatever.  The guy couldn't get the job done convincingly and had
to squeak out a win.

GM:  Give me a break.  Fans, don't go away, we'll be right back!

[We fade away from the shot of Jackson Ross celebrating his victory...

...and then back up on a white screen.  The voice of Gordon Myers is
heard.]

"The AWA took 2008 by storm - breaking the mold of a modern wrestling
promotion.  And now, in 2009, we look to be hotter than ever.

But what if... you missed the beginning?"

[Red text appears on the screen.]

"AWA: YEAR ONE!"

[The text spins out of view to be replaced by a series of still photos
showing action from the first year of AWA action.]

"Witness highlights from the first AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.

See the very first AWA Rumble.

Highlights from Memorial Day Mayhem, The Last Stampede, Thanksgiving
weekend, and much, much more.

Plus, full matches including the 2008 Match of the Year - WarGames!

All of this fantastic AWA action will be available exclusively on DVD
and iTunes!  Check your local stores for details!"

[And with that, we fade to black...

...and then back up inside the WKIK Studios where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - and take it from me, you do NOT want to miss
AWA: Year One on DVD and iTunes when it comes out next month.  I've seen
a preview copy of it and it is absolutely fantastic.

BW:  Plus, you get to see exactly WHY I'm the Announcer of the Year,
daddy!

GM:  And there's that.  Fans, if you're just joining us, you've... well,
you've missed a lot.  But most of all, you missed Sweet Heat getting
brutally assaulted by the Russians, ending up with Stevie Scott being
taken by ambulance to the local medical center.  Sweet Daddy Williams is
with him as well so the thought on the minds of many is - what happens
to tonight's National Tag Team Title match with Sweet Heat challenging
Kentucky's Pride for the gold?  Only one man has the answer to that
question and Stephen Ross, come on in here.

[The usually cool-as-a-cucumber Chairman of the Championship Committee
looks a little frazzled as he steps into view.]

GM:  Welcome to Saturday Night, Mr. Ross.

SR:  Thank... uhh, thanks.

GM:  Mr. Ross, I understand that you've been in active deliberations
with the Committee since the start of tonight's show discussing what to
do.

SR:  That'd be right, Gordon.  We've been back there for over a half
hour, trying to decide what... how to handle... well, it's been a tough
time.

GM:  Have you reached a decision?

[Ross nods.]

GM:  And...?

[No response.]

BW:  What my colleague is trying to say is - do you plan on telling
anyone or is it a secret?

[The crowd chuckles as Ross glares at Bucky.]

SR:  Fine.  Yes.  Of course.  After much debate... and I have to say
this was NOT a unanimous decision... but after much discussion, we have
made a decision.

Stevie Scott will not be able to participate in the match but the
contracts were signed.  Sweet Heat earned their title shot tonight and
tonight, that match must happen.

GM:  I don't understand.  You said yourself that Stevie can't wrestle.

SR:  But Sweet Daddy Williams can.

GM:  By himself?!

SR:  No, no, no.  Moments ago, I contacted Sweet Daddy Williams by phone
and gave him a choice.  He could either return from the hospital and
compete for the National Tag Team Titles with a partner of his choice...
or he and Stevie could forfeit, resetting their point total to zero.

GM:  That's a heck of a choice to have to make.  Sweet Daddy Williams
either has to leave his injured partner's side and take on a new partner
to compete for the titles tonight - or lose his shot at the titles
altogether?

SR:  Essentially, yes.

GM:  Did he give you any indication of his decision?

SR:  Not at this time - and we've moved the National Tag Team Title
match to the last slot on tonight's show to give him as much time as
possible to make that choice.

GM:  Well, Mr. Ross... thank you for the information and we look forward
to finding out what Sweet Daddy Williams decides.  Fans, let's go up to
the ring for our next matchup!

[We 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, he hails from Los Angeles,
California and weighs in tonight at two hundred and twenty-seven
pounds...

[Stabbing Westward's "The Thing I Hate" plays, bringing decent sized
mixed pop from the fans in attendance as the technically gifted wrestler
from PWR and RCW steps into the studio.]

MC: PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE X!

[Pure X - dress in his usual attire of a black T-shirt, black boots, and
dark green baggy pants with two cross swords on each leg in the form of
an X - holds his arms up high as he makes his way to the announcer's
area, greeting an already prepared Gordon Myers.]

GM: Pure X, you have a match now, but we still don't know who you're
fighting. Care to fill us in?

[Pure X nods.]

PX: Well, I had to twist some arms to get it approved, but I wanted to
compete in a match tonight that would demonstrate to everyone here just
how serious I am about winning the Rumble and just how serious I am in
showing that in any situation, I will prevail. And I think...

[X looks back to the entrance area and nods.]

PX: I think that this match could meet my demands and... yeah, give a
good tune-up to the Rumble.

[Pure X grins and starts to walk to the ring as Melissa announces who
Pure X will be facing.]

MC: And his opponents -


GM: "Opponents?"

BW: That's what I heard, Gordo.


MC: They weigh in at a combined Nine hundred and thirteen pounds.

[A pop from the crowd at the possibility of seeing some behemoths come
out to the ring.]

BW: That's a whole lot pounds, daddy.

GM: Has to be at least three people Pure X signed up against. What is
this man thinking?

BW: He's out to prove a point, Gordo - anyone, anyhow.

MC: They are the team of The Arizonian, Kaden Oats, Cooper Oats, and Mr.
HD!

[All four men come out of the entrance, in order of announcement: First
the bandanna wearing 6'5" Arizonian, clad in black wrestling tights,
black boots, and a wide & scarred up chest. Next is the familiar tag
team of the Oklahoma Brothers - who wear black trunks and black T-shirt
with the state of Oklahoma on them. And... then the man known as "Mr.
HD".]

GM: Mr. HD?

BW: I heard he's here to remind all you fans to make sure to get your
converter boxes before the nationwide switch to digital television cause
you're all too poor for an HD TV.

GM: Bucky!

BW: Hey, it's true. What do you want from me?

[The 6'0", 180-something pound Mr. HD - wearing a black mask with a TV
Set design on it, static-patterned wrestling tights and a black T-shirt
that has "Mr. HD" in white lettering on it - joins his teammates on the
ring apron.]

BW: For some reason, he looks kind of familiar to me. Hmm...

GM: Mr. HD aside, four against one is not the sort of odds I'd want to
set myself up with.

BW: Like Pure X said, he wants to be prepared for the Rumble and you've
got all the situations you need here. A big man in the Arizonian, a tag
team in the Oklahoma Brothers, and your unknown in Mr. HD. Like the
Rumble, Daddy, it's all about overcoming the odds.

[The bell rings as The Arizonian remains in the ring to face off against
Pure X. The two men meet in the ring and tie up, which the Arizonian
wins by backing X to the corner. Ari winds up for a big haymaker, but
Pure X blocks it in and shoots a leg to the midsection.]

GM: Kick to the gut by Pure X as he tries to overcome the odds here to
try to prove talent overcomes numbers.

[X chops away at the leg of the Arizonian, knocking the larger man to
one knee. From here, Pure X locks in and lifts the Arizonian briefly
with a front facelock before droping him to the mat headfirst.]

GM: DDT by Pure X, but no cover as X opts instead to drop to the leg of
the Arizonian. Oh! Knee shot to the knee of the Arizonian!

[Pure X hits another couple of knees to the right knee area of the
Arizonian before stepping on the back of the bigger man's right knee and
bending the ankle back over his foot. Pure X keeps this hold in until
the Arizonian grabs at the bottom rope, forcing X to break the makeshift
submission.]

GM: Pure X breaks the hold, but he drags the Arizonian back in the
middle of the ring and applies a kneebar to that right knee!

[The Arizonian claws at the mat as Pure X hyperextends the knee.]

BW: I gotta say, as talented as Pure X is, I just can't see him doing
well in the Rumble. He's a methodical wrestler going up against big
power guys and quick workers. Getting in a hold or trying to submit
someone isn't going to do anything for him when the ring fill with
thirty wrestlers, Gordo.

[Having enough of this, Kaden Oats enters the ring and shoots a kick to
the head of Pure X, forcing X to let go.]

GM: Kaden Oats in without a tag and he's got X up by the hair - and he
sends him back down with a hard clothesline!

[Some of the fans boo as the ref admonishes the Oats brother, almost
pushing him back to the corner. Meanwhile, the Arizonian has dragged
himself up to his feet.]

GM: The Arizonian's back up as he tries to shake away the effects of the
holds applied by Pure X on that right leg. And that clothesline, well,
it looked like X really got leveled by that move.

BW: It was a wicked shot, Gordo. We've seen the Oats brothers before -
beating the Russians, no less. Pure X is playing against a couple decks
here, daddy.

GM: Arizonian now making his way over to Pure X and he drags him up by
the hair.

[The Arizonian props Pure X up and rears back with his arm, then lunges
at the young technician with a huge forearm that connects on the jaw.]

GM: Oh my! Another hard power shot with that running forearm smash! Pure
X is down on the mat and this match has just blown up in the young
technician's face!

[The Arizonian lifts Pure X back up and slams him hard into the
four-team's corner, tagging out to Cooper Oats.]

GM: Tag made to Cooper Oats and now the Oklahoma Brother lays kick after
kick into the midsection of X.

BW: Relentless shots and I got to feel that both Oats brothers are a bit
ticked off being here, made to look like a collection of push overs for
Pure X to romp over.

[Cooper Oats continues the assault as Pure X slumps to the mat, Cooper
continuing to stomp away at X before tagging out to his brother.]

GM: Both Oats brothers in now and now it's two-on-one in the ring as the
Oklahomans are ganging up of X.

BW: The man brought it on himself.

[The ref starts a count on Cooper Oats, but the Oats ignore it and
double whip Pure X into the far corner, knocking him into the post
hard.]

GM: Pure X slumped over in the far corner now as Cooper finally leaves
to the apron as his brother Kaden gets into a three-point stance.

[Kaden comes out of the stance with a head of steam as he charges at
Pure X, but the young technician is aware enough to bend over at the
right time, catching Kaden Oats.]

GM: Backdrop sends Kaden Oats up AND OVER the top rope! 

BW: Kaden hit the floor below hard, I think on his shoulder. Didn't look
good and he ain't getting up.

[The ref starts a ten count, but Pure X tries to wave off the ref and
points to the rest of the team.]

GM: Is... Is Pure X refusing the countout?

BW: He's not refusing it, Gordo - he's trying to tell the ref he's
eliminated Kaden Oats! He's telling the ref that he sent Oats right over
the top. And I think the ref just agreed? Is this an elimination match
now?

[After some pleading, the ref relents and allows it, but before Pure X
can confirm it any further, he's blindsided by the other Oats brother.]

GM: Cooper Oats out of nowhere with a dropkick to the back that sends
Pure X into the ropes.

BW: He looks a little pissed at seeing his brother possibly get injured.
Shoot, these two JUST came back from being on the injured list after
their brutal beating at the hands of Grant Stone!

GM: Cooper charges at Pure X - no! Pure X ducks and pulls down that top
rope! Cooper goes over the top rope too!

BW: And he crashed onto his brother! Both Oats brothers are out - two
gone and two to go!

GM: It's now just two on one, with the Arizonian and Mr. HD left!

[The crowd starts to cheer for Pure X, who grows a grin at seeing the
"eliminated" Oklahoma Brothers on the mat below. He turns, though, to
see the Arizonian steps through the ropes.]

GM: Pure X charges at the Arizonian, but eats a big boot in the process!

[The bandanna-wearing self-proclaimed "Bandit" wobbles a bit before
crashing down himself as his targeted right leg could support his whole
frame.]

GM: The Arizonian's down too, but he falls on top of Pure X! Cover -
one, two, no! Kickout before the three count.

[The Arizonian wearily gets to two feet and brings Pure X back up with
him. With a handful of hair, the Arizonian delivers a series of
headbutts before leveling X with a short-arm clothesline.]

GM: Another cover by the Arizonian - one, two- no! Kickout at two by
Pure X.

BW: I'll give him one thing, he's at least proving that he can take on a
couple of opponents... But the ring at the Rumble will be fuller and who
knows who will be there with the open door policy? And don't forget that
he's the first man to enter the Rumble - by his own request. He's put
all the odds against him, Gordo.

[The Arizonian props X up in the corner and clubs away at him with left
and right haymakers. With Mr. HD - who seemingly hasn't any interest in
tagging in - looking on, the Arizonian locks in Pure X's head and lifts
him up.]

GM: Arizonian with a vertical Suplex attem- no! Pure X wriggles free and
now he has the front facelock applied! Kicks to the knee by Pure X

[The hold isn't kept, though, as the Arizonian powers out of the hold by
rushing Pure X into the turnbuckle. The Arizonian then brings Pure X up
and clutches his neck.]

GM: Arizonian with a hold of Pure X's neck! He lifts - OH Chokeslam, bad
knee and all!

BW: He drilled X as bad as he could with that bum wheel.

[Before the Arizonian can follow through, he's slapped on the back by
the man mostly missing in this match.]

GM: Blind tag by Mr. HD and the Arizonian does NOT look happy.

BW: That could have been the match there, Gordo. He could've gotten the
three count on Pure X.

[The slight-of-build Mr. HD makes a couple of clicking motions to the
Arizonian, as if he was pressing a remote control Power Button.]

GM: And Mr. HD... telling? I guess instructing the Arizonian that his
time in the ring is over.

BW: He... I don't know, Gordo, doesn't he remind you of anyone?

GM: Uh, Mr. HD? I can't recall - no one in AWA, if that's what you mean.

[The Arizonian shakes his head and lets Mr. HD have his go at it. He
immediately drops down and goes for a cover on the prone Pure X.]

GM: Cover - one, two- No! Kickout by Pure X! What's he doing now?

BW: I think Mr. HD is trying to turn the ref off.

[The odd Mr. HD tries to mime the remote clicking to the ref as he
disagrees with the count. He smacks his clicking hand as the ref refuses
to reverse the count. With that going nowhere, Mr. HD drags Pure X by
the arm over to the corner and props him up in the corner - kicking X's
legs out wide - and steps back.]

GM: Mr. HD setting something up here and... It looks like he's trying
to... kick Pure X, uh, "low"?

[Indeed, Mr. HD tries for a running kick to the crotch, but Pure X ducks
it in time to clutch the the kicking leg of the High-Definition one and
then wickedly spins, flinging Mr. HD to the center of the ring.]

GM: Dragon screw legwhip by Pure X! Mr. HD tries to get to a vertical
base, but Pure X meets him and chops away at HD. Irish whip into the
ropes...

[On the rebound, Pure X goes for a clothesline attempt, but Mr. HD ducks
it and rebounds on the opposite ropes and goes for another
nether-regions kick, but Pure X catches it again. This time, though,
Pure X lets go of the leg and spins Mr. HD around and locks in a full
nelson.]

GM: Full nelson applied and this could only mean one thing!

[Pure X lifts and arches back and then releases Mr. HD - who goes flying
into the ropes like a rag doll. The crowd pops for the move as Mr. HD
sort of slides lifelessly over the ropes to the floor below.]

GM: Pure Impact dragon suplex! 

BW: I think Mr. HD's reception just went out, Gordo.

[Myers can be heard groaning in pain at that pun.]

BW: The picture just got fuzzy for Mr. HD.

GM: Please...

BW: Pure X just disconnected Mr. HD's cable.

GM: Now you're just reaching.

[Pure X turns his attention to the Arizonian, who steps through the
ropes - rested after letting Mr. HD give him a break.]

GM: One to go now for Pure X in this tune-up match for the Rumble. The
two men meet in the center of the ring. Left hand by the Arizonian! Pure
X answers back with a chop!

[The two continue this exchange, punch-chop-punch-chop until the
Arizonian instinctively tries to end it with a high knee. However, the
Arizonian lifts his right knee to connect with the shot.]

GM: Knee to the gut, but that might have hurt the Arizonian as much as
it did Pure X!

[Pure X remains doubled over as the Arizonian tries to shakes off the
pain. When the bandanna wearing "Bandit" tries to go back on the attack,
he's met with a lunge to his right knee by X.]

GM: Knee clip to the right knee of the Arizonian! That cut the big man
down to one knee!

[Some of the fans start to cheer as Pure X grabs a hold of the leg...
but instead of his finisher The X anklelock, Pure X drops down and locks
in a kneebar that brings the Arizonian to tap out to the ref instantly!]

MC: Your winner, by way of submission,
PUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEE X!

[Pure X breaks the hold, throwing both arms up in victory.]

GM:  Pure X survives a four on one battle - some over the top rope
eliminations, a tapout right there to wrap it up.  You've got to be
impressed, Bucky.

BW:  It was impressive, I guess... but when he's got men in there like
Raphael Rhodes, Calisto Dufresne, and the like - I just don't know.

GM:  We'll know soon enough.  Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Pure X before fading to black...

...and fading back up on footage marked "EARLIER TODAY."  Stephen
Marlowe stands behind the announcers podium, dressed, as always, in
black. Behind the malevolent manager is his charge, Mark Shaw. Absent is
Gordon Myers, or any other interviewer. The Hellion is in his ring gear,
but his face is a blank slate, his eyes glazed over and his mouth and
body unmoving.]

SM: How many weeks has it been? How many times did I have to beg? How
many lucky breaks did you receive, Kolya Sudakov?

How many times were you allowed to escape?

It no longer matters. Because tonight is the Champions Clash. Tonight,
Sudakov, there is nowhere for you to run. Tonight, you lose the National
title.

This man...

[Marlowe turns and slaps his hand against Shaws chest. Despite the red
hand print on his pectoral, Shaw remains unmoving, as if in a trance.]

SM: Has suffered in ways you can never imagine. This man has been
through the desert, this man has sweat blood, this man has dedicated
himself to one goal and only one goal.

Winning the National title.

What will you do against that, Sudakov? What can a man who has ducked
every challenge, and taken every opportunity do in the face of a zealot?
What can you, a sad, pathetic excuse of a champion, do against someone
whose every waking moment is consumed by thoughts of victory? Only one
thing Sudakov.

You can only lose.

[The laugh that comes from Marlowe is decidedly sinister.]

MS: I have taken speech from Mark Shaw. I have taken everything from
him, but his desire to win. I have not allowed him to say or do
anything. And I will not, until he has won. Until he has the National
title, Mark Shaw will know no joy or triumph. Until he has the
championship that is his by rights.

Only then will he speak.

And when he is once more allowed speech.

You will hear the words of a deserving champion.

Sudakov, enjoy these last moments as champion, for after tonight, youll
never be a champion again. Enjoy these last moments free of pain,
because come tomorrow, you will only know the same agony that Ive
inflicted on Mark Shaw.

These are your final moments. Savor them.

And to the rest of you, I say, take a good look at the face of the next
National champion.

[The camera zeroes in on the dead eyes of Mark Shaw before fading to
black...

After a moment, the camera fades up from black to live action where
Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Some ominous words from... well, I was about to say they were from
the challenger in tonight's National Title match but he's... I guess you
can say he's not being allowed to talk, Bucky.

BW:  Marlowe's got a tight grip on Shaw.  He's not going to let him talk
until he wins the National Title.  

GM:  The man will be a mute for a long, long time if Kolya Sudakov gets
his way later tonigh- wait a second!  You?!  What are YOU doing here?

[The crowd jeers with shock at the arrival of a well-dressed man
carrying a steel briefcase in his hand.  He sports a stylish suit and a
wide grin as he moves his muscular body behind the podium, sliding in
front of the mic.

He is "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  Didja miss me, Gordo?

[Waterson grins at the lack of a reply.]

ATTSBW:  It's okay.  I know you did.  I know EVERYONE did!  I know that
each and every one of you have been on pins and needles, waiting to see
just when Ben Waterson, the Agent To The Stars, would return to the AWA!

GM:  I didn't think we'd ever see you again.

BW:  I wasn't sure you'd ever walk again after what Bruno Verhoeven did
to you last year.

[Waterson keeps the fake grin on his face, nodding his head.]

ATTSBW:  I know!  I know!  It's great, isn't it?  Verhoeven may have
broken my body but he did not break my greatest gift... my mind.  Am I
not the smartest man you've ever met, Gordon Myers?

[Gordon doesn't look eager to respond.]

ATTSBW:  It's okay, Gordo.  I won't make you say it.  But we all know
it's true!  I'm the smartest man in this business.  

You see, while all you peons have been out here breaking your bodies
trying to impress these people in the crowd, I've been sitting on a
beach in the Bahamas.

While you people have been smashing each other up to climb the rankings,
I've been sipping Pina Coladas brought to me by a buxom island beauty.

[Waterson cackles.]

ATTSBW:  And while you've been sitting around wondering how to climb to
the top of the mountain, I've been resting in a hammock, confident that
I had the answers everyone was looking for.

[Gordon Myers gets impatient.]

GM:  What in the WORLD are you talking about?

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  Money, Gordon Myers.  Money.

[He pauses for effect.]

ATTSBW:  You see, while I was on that beach, I wasn't thinking about
this company or this industry.  But a couple of weeks ago, a touring
wrestling show came to the island.  I decided to check it out and ran
into a few former colleagues.

Turns out that they had some news that I found quite interesting... and
potentially profitable, Gordon.

[Myers waits.]

ATTSBW:  They told me that Kolya Sudakov was the AWA National Champion
and that there was a long list of people lined up trying to get that
belt off him.  

People desperate for information.

[A grin.]

ATTSBW:  Information that I could provide... for the right price.

You see, for those of you uninformed and uneducated out there, I used to
be the manager for Kolya Sudakov when he first came to this country.  I
brought him into pro wrestling from Mixed Martial Arts.  I helped him
train for the ring.

I know everything these is to know about Kolya Sudakov.  I know his
strengths, I know his weaknesses...

...and I know how to beat him.

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  So, if you're wondering why I'm back here in the AWA, the
answer is quite simple...

Money, Gordon.  Money.

You want the secret?  You want to know how to beat the champ?

[Waterson holds up the steel briefcase, slapping the side of it.]

ATTSBW:  The answer is right here.  And the answer can be yours...

...if the price is right.

Shaw, Marlowe... you're on the clock.  Time is money.

[One more grin.]

ATTSBW:  My time... your money.  See you soon.

[Waterson cackles as he smacks the briefcase again, striding out of view
leaving a surprised Gordon Myers behind.]

GM:  Am I mistaken or did Ben Waterson just offer to... sell the secret
of how to beat the National Champion?  Unbelievable!

BW:  What is it?!  What's the secret?

GM:  I don't know!  But he claims he has it and frankly, Bucky,
considering his history with Sudakov, he just might!  And he's offering
to sell it to Marlowe and Shaw here tonight?  What a major turn of
events for tonight's National Title match!  Fans, do NOT go away, we'll
be right back!

[We hold on the shot of Gordon and Bucky for a moment before fading to
black.

After a bit, we fade back up on a slightly less black screen.  A
voiceover begins.]

"One year ago, at Memorial Day Mayhem, the AWA made history by crowning
the first National Champion."

[There's a still photo of Marcus Broussard hoisting the title belt high
over his head.  A sound clip from that night's action is heard.]

GM:  Broussard's got him hooked... Hard to the corner!  WAIT - WHERE'S
THE TURNBUCKLE?!

BW:  NATURAL BRIDGE!  IT'S ADAM ROGERS' FINISH-


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... after twenty-eight minutes and six seconds
of hard-fought action... your winner of the match...

And the FIRST AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

MAAAAAARRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSARRRRRRD!


BW:  WE GOIN' SIZZLAH!

[The sounds slowly fade away as the screen returns to black.  The
voiceover kicks in again.]

"On Memorial Day 2009... the AWA makes history... again!"

[Still photos fly back at a eye-scorching pace, shots of Adam Rogers,
Marcus Broussard, Shane Destiny, Tumaffi, Juan Vasquez, Kentucky's
Pride, Rough N Ready, the Russians, Raphael Rhodes, Sweet Heat, and
many, many others.]

"On Memorial Day 2009... are you ready... to Rumble?"

[A logo splashes on the screen.]

"MEMORIAL DAY MAYHEM '09"

[It goes up in flames before the scene fades out to black...

...and after a moment, fades back up to the interior of the WKIK Studios
where Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  You saw it here first, fans - Memorial Day Mayhem '09 is coming and
it'll feature the big Rumble event we announced last time on this very
show.

BW:  Plus, it'll have-

GM:  I don't think so, Bucky.  You don't get to do that.  Fans, before
our final match of the night, we'll be going to Jason Dane for a special
Memorial Day Mayhem Control Center where I'm told he will be announcing
the other matches signed for that night.   And at this time, we're about
to be joined by a man who very well might be competing in that Rumble in
one month's time... the one and only, Shane Destiny.

[Destiny walks through the curtain, hearing a few boos but seems to be
unaffected by them. Dressed solely in jeans and a plain black T-shirt,
Destiny strides over to the interview podium, where he offers a
handshake to Gordon, who wearily accepts.]

GM: Mr. Destiny, after the challenge to Tumaffi, you are back this week
and you don't appear dressed for combat.

SD: Should I have, Gordon? I mean, I challenged Tumaffi, and the big
lummox didn't even take the time to acknowledge me until earlier
tonight.  Tumaffi? You want Sudakov, right? You want the National
Title around your waist? Let me make this perfectly clear to you...

[Destiny looks directly at the camera.]

SD: The road to Sudakov goes through _me_. And Tumaffi, I'll be ready
for action next Saturday Night Wrestling, to show you exactly what I can
do.

GM: With all due respect towards your past accomplishments, Mr. Destiny,
it has been an awful long while since you've stepped foot in the ring.
I believe our Championship Committee is going to want to see you in the
ring before sanctioning such a bout.

SD: Then I'll tell you what, Gordon, and I know the Championship
Committee is watching this. I don't care who it is. It can be a top-5
contender, it can be someone fresh out of wrestling school. Get me an
opponent next time. I don't care who it is, I don't care how much he
weighs, I don't care where he's from. If you don't believe in Shane
Destiny...

[Destiny looks right at Myers.]

SD: ... then you're an even bigger fool than you look.

[And with that, Destiny turns on his heel with a scoff and exits the
interview area.]

GM: An open challenge for the next Saturday Night Wrestling, AWA fans...
it'll be interesting to see just who the Committee lines up.

BW:  It could be anyone, Gordo!  It could be Adam Rogers!  It could be
Marcus Broussard!  Those are some of the best on-the-mat wrestlers in
the business!  It could be-

GM:  The Cuban Assassin.  One of the Oklahoma Brothers.

BW:  Mr. HD!

GM:  The sky - or the floor - is the limit when Shane Destiny gets his
chance to - now, wait a second...

[The crowd begins to boo as an unexpected visitor comes slipping through
the curtain, approaching the ringside broadcast table.]

GM:  Adrian Freeman - what in the world are you doing out here?  You're
not scheduled to be out here right now!

[Freeman snatches the mic away from Gordon Myers.]

AF:  I'm sick of it, Gordon Myers.  Sick of it!

[Myers looks irritated.]

GM:  Sick of what, exactly?

AF:  For months, I've come out here and told you all that I was the best
technical wrestler in the entire world.  I've made men of all shapes and
sizes submit at my hands.  I've shown you all that I can back up my
words inside that ring.

And now?  Now?  After all that, all I can hear about is how other people
are such great ring technicians!

[Freeman is agitated, slapping his hand down on the podium.]

AF:  You're out here talking about Shane Destiny.  Shane Destiny is a
fine wrestler but he hasn't wrestled in years!  Do you really think he's
better on the mat than I am?  Do you?

[Gordon and Bucky don't seem eager to talk about that.]

AF:  And what about those idiots Rogers and Broussard?  Huh?  

Big deal.  They wrestled to a sixty minute draw.  Am I supposed to be
impressed?

[Gordon interrupts.]

GM:  Now, wait a second... you cannot deny that match was an outstand-

AF:  It was an outstanding example of two guys who aren't good enough to
finish off another competitor.  Both of those guys are great wrestlers
but quite obviously, they aren't good enough!

And they're certainly not better than Adrian Freeman.

[The crowd jeers this assessment.]

GM:  It doesn't sound like these fans agree with that.

AF:  Who cares what the fans think?  I speak the truth, Gordon Myers. 
You know it, these people know it, and Rogers and Broussard know it.  

In fact, if either of those two clowns want to prove me wrong, I'm going
to go stand inside that ring and give them the chance to do exactly
that.

[Gordon looks shocked.]

GM:  You're challenging Adam Rogers or Marcus Broussard?

AF:  You got it.  

[Freeman storms off the announce set, heading straight for the ring
where he rolls under the bottom rope.  Getting to his feet, he shouts in
the direction of the locker room, waving someone to come to the ring.]

GM:  Well, fans, this definitely wasn't scheduled to go down tonight but
apparently Adrian Freeman can't wait any longer.  He wants this chance
to take on Adam Rogers or Marcus Broussard to... to prove something, I
guess.

BW:  Are either of those guys even here, Gordon?

GM:  I don't - honestly, I'm not even sure, Bucky.  I haven't seen eith-

[Suddenly, "Smoke On The Water" by Deep Purple kicks in to a huge cheer
from the AWA faithful with a smattering of boos as well.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  It looks like one of them are here!

["The Natural" Adam Rogers shakes his head at the seething Freeman up in
the ring who is pacing back and forth.  Rogers slowly makes his way
beyond the entryway, dressed in street clothes as he approaches the
ring.]

GM:  Adam Rogers doesn't look ready for a wrestling match but... well,
you could probably argue that Adam Rogers is ALWAYS ready for a
wrestling match, Bucky.

BW:  Freeman looks like a caged tiger in there - just waiting for
someone to open the door up and let him loose.  This might be a big
mistake for Rogers tonight.

GM:  The former World Champion is showing no fear as he climbs up the
ringsteps, through the ropes into the ring.  Rogers is in there now,
removing his suit jacket...

[Freeman charges across the ring, drilling Rogers with a back elbow that
knocks Rogers back into the buckles.  A few well-placed European
uppercuts connect, causing Rogers to drape his arms over the buckles to
stay on his feet.]

GM:  Freeman's not gonna wait for the Natural!

BW:  Is this even a match?  There's no referee!

GM:  I don't know what this is.

[Grabbing Rogers by the shirt, Freeman rips the front of the shirt open
to expose the chest of the Natural...

...and promptly tears into said-chest with a knife-edge chop.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Big chop by the man from Australia!

[A couple more chops connect as well, keeping Rogers off-balance as
Freeman grabs for his arm.]

GM:  Whip across the ring by Freeman... here he comes...

[A running knee strike attempt comes up empty as Rogers steps out of the
corner, causing Freeman to smash his knee into the top turnbuckle.]

GM:  Ohh!  Rogers got out of the way in time!

[The Natural ducks down, hooking a single leg on Freeman...

...and SNAPPING him down to the canvas with an overhead throw to the
cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  The fans may not be sure how they feel about Rogers sometimes these
days but they know for sure how they feel about Freeman and anyone who
slaps him around.

BW:  Rogers is hardly slapping him around, Gordo.  He's taken most of
the-

GM:  Look at this!

[Grabbing the legs of the downed Freeman, Rogers steps through them,
hooking a Scorpion Deathlock before flipping Freeman onto his stomach.]

GM:  Natural Selection!  Shades of Caleb Temple's Last Rites!

[The crowd roars as Rogers leans back in the leglock, putting pressure
on the legs and back of the screaming Freeman who is filling the air
with moans of agony.

But the cheers quickly turn to boos as Calisto Dufresne emerges from the
locker room area in a hurry, diving under the ropes...

...and BLASTING Rogers in the back of the head with a clothesline that
breaks the leglock!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Come on!

BW:  Freeman came prepared!  

GM:  Calisto Dufresne has hit the ring, stomping and kicking at Adam
Rogers' head and neck!  This was a setup, Bucky Wilde - pure and simple.

BW:  I don't know what you're talking about!

GM:  Freeman goaded Rogers out here and Dufresne was waiting in the
wings to lower the boom on him!

[Dufresne drops a knee across the back of Rogers' neck before dragging
him off the mat, hooking a front facelock.]

GM:  Oh, come on... not this... 

[With a smirk, Dufresne hoists Rogers off the mat by the tights...

...and DRIVES him down to the canvas with an Implant DDT!]

BW:  WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA'AM!

GM:  Vile... absolutely vile actions by Dufresne and Freeman.

[By now, an irate Freeman has dragged himself off the mat, joining the
assault with a series of stomps to the neck of Adam Rogers...

...when suddenly the crowd goes NUTS!]

GM:  BROUSSARD!

[The San Jose Shark comes charging from the locker room area, diving
headfirst under the bottom rope...

...which causes Dufresne and Freeman to seek the safety of the floor.]

GM:  Cowards!  Dufresne and Freeman scampering out of the ring like a
couple of cowards!  You wanted the former National Champion?  Stay in
there and fight him!

BW:  Why?  They proved their point!

GM:  How?!  They jumped Adam Rogers from behind and beat him down!  Big
men!  Big, tough men!  But when Marcus Broussard came out to even the
odds, they hit the road, Buck.

BW:  Wait a second, Gordo.

GM:  What?

BW:  Marcus Broussard just saved Adam Rogers.

[Broussard stands in the ring, shouting over the ropes at the fleeing
Dufresne and Freeman who raise each others' hands in "victory" as  they
make their escape up the aisle.  The seething San Jose Shark waves them
back to the ring -  a challenge that, of course, goes unanswered.]

GM:  You're right, Bucky.  After the brutal one hour draw these two men
battled in - after their harsh words towards one another two weeks ago -
Broussard STILL wants to earn Adam Rogers' trust.  Incredible.

[Leaning over to check on Rogers, Broussard helps his former friend to
his feet...

...only to get shoved away by the Natural.]

GM:  Oh, come on, Adam!  He's trying to help!

[Rogers backs away, glaring at Broussard while gripping the back of his
neck in pain.  The glare doesn't break as he drops to the mat, only
looking away as he rolls under the ropes to the floor.  The San Jose
Shark stands in the ring, hands on his hips in disbelief as Rogers backs
up the aisle, eyes locked on the former National Champion.]

GM:  Unbelievable.  After this, Rogers STILL won't trust Broussard?

BW:  Now there's a man who knows how to hold a grudge, daddy.

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back!

[We fade from the shot of a frustrated Marcus Broussard to black...

...and then back up.  It's a shot of a few kids standing outside of a
classroom.  A fourth kid walks up to them, carrying his backpack over
his shoulder.]

4th Kid:  Hey guys... wait til you see what I got from AWAShop.com!

[He whips open the backpack and produces...

...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!]

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

"That rocks!"

"I want one... now!"

[The 4th kid looks pleased with himself...

...until a fifth kid walks up.]

5th Kid:  Juan Vasquez, huh?  That's not bad... but check this out!

[The 5th kid opens his backpack and reveals...

...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!]

"WHOA!"

"WOWER!"

"THAT ROCKS MORE!"

"I WANT ONE... NOW!"

[The fifth kid looks proud as the fourth kid looks sad at his Vasquez
bobblehead and we fade to black.

And then back up on live action.]

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  Our first hour has
come to an end and we've still got our two big Main Events to come.

BW:  Maybe.

GM:  That's right.  In case you're just joining us, Stevie Scott was
injured at the start of tonight's show at the hands of the Russians,
taking him out of tonight's National Tag Team Title match.  As a result,
Sweet Daddy Williams has been given the option of finding a replacement
partner or forfeiting Sweet Heat's title shot.  At this time, we do not
know what he has elected to do but we hope to find out very shortly. 
Fans, we are moments away from our National Title match between Kolya
Sudakov and the Number One contender, Mark Shaw... but before we go to
that, I understand that we have a tape sent in from the "Catch Thug"
Raphael Rhodes, who conveniently is in England after his hideous attack
assault on Juan Vasquez two weeks ago. Let's cue that footage.

[We crossfade over to a studio in a local television station in England,
where Raphael Rhodes is seated on a stool, a wide grin plastered across
his unshaven face.]

RR: You thought you had it all figured out, right, Juan? Get yourself a
partner from your misguided past, go after the tag champs, just to prove
a point that maybe you can beat them... and you thought I was just goin'
to sit back and watch, right? You get a big taffy-stretched man that
don't know fashion sense to replace _me_? You think your little dig
about me bein' friendless was supposed to hurt?

[Rhodes' grin doesn't even fade, as he takes a pause.]

RR: Look, mate, you got your own insecurities and frustrations and you
think you're goin' to project them out on me? Sorry, ain't happenin'
'cause you ain't good enough to try and get in my head. People said I
was crazy, goin' after four people in a match where three of them hate
me bleedin' guts and another traded his brains for height when he
reached God's table. But look at all the _havoc_ I caused! All with a
few forearms and a little help from our parka-wearin' comrades!

[Rhodes shakes his head.]

RR: And it's all because of _you_, Juan Vasquez. All because _you_
don't know when to tuck your tail between your legs and shut your
festerin' gob. I already proved you ain't got sense, and now I'm goin'
to prove you ain't got strawberry tart neither!

[Rhodes points to his chest as he states the words "strawberry tart",
indicating heart.]

RR: So you keep on sayin' blah blah blah, and when I'm back in the
colonies, I'll be glad to break up your party again, savvy?

[Rhodes mock salutes the camera, as we crossfade back to Gordon.]

GM: What an absolutely distainful display by that brash young Briton. I
personally can not wait for the day when Raphael Rhodes is forced to go
one-on-one with Juan Vasquez, Bucky.

BW:  I'm surprised in you, Gordo.

GM:  Why is that?

BW:  I thought you liked Vasquez.  Why would you wish that on him?

GM:  Give me a break.  Fans, it's time for the first half of our HUGE
double Main Event here tonight on a Champion's Clash edition of Saturday
Night Wrestling.  This match is months in the making and it is finally
here.  The Number One contender Mark Shaw taking on the Russian War
Machine and National Champion, Kolya Sudakov. 

BW:  This should be something else.

GM:  You've got that right.  Let's go up to Melissa for the
introductions!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty
minute time limit and it is for the AWA National Championship!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Introducing first... he is the challenger...

["Go" by Powder starts up to a huge roar of jeers from the capacity
crowd.]

MC:  Hailing from Los Angeles, California, he weighs in at two hundred
and seventy pounds, and stands six feet two inches.  He is accompanied
to the ring by his manager, Stephen Marlowe... he is the Hellion... he
is...

MARRRRRRRK SHAAAAAAAW!

[The curtain parts, revealing a well-dressed Stephen Marlowe as steps
into view.  After a moment of soaking up the jeers, he steps to the
side, gesturing in the direction of the curtain where the tall and well
built Hellion steps forward.  He's dressed simply, wearing only a pair
of long black wrestling pants, which vanish into a pair of black boots. 
The only colors that are not gold are the gold stenciled words "Shaw" on
his boots.  Making his way through the crowd, ignoring everything that's
around him, Shaw steps into the ring and settles in the corner, standing
with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting and ready.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The jeers intensify before Melissa says another word.]

MC:  He is accompanied to the ring by his Uncle, Vladimir Velikov...
hailing from Russia... standing 6'2 and weighing in at 260 pounds... he
is the Russian War Machine and the AWA National Champion...

KOLLLLLLYAAAAA SUUUUUUDAKOV!

[The Soviet National Anthem kicks in over the PA to an even louder
outpouring of boos.  Vladimir Velikov leads the way, stepping into view
and thrusting his fist into the air, holding the metal Russian chain
high in the sky.]

GM:  There it is, Bucky.  The weapon that threw this whole night into
chaos.  That's the weapon that took Stevie Scott's big night away from
him.

BW:  Cry me a river, Gordo.  Stevie Scott stuck his nose in the
Russians' business for weeks now so forgive me if I don't feel sorry for
him when someone smacks him across the nose for it.

GM:  I suppose that's one way of looking at it.

[A few steps behind his burly Uncle, Kolya Sudakov steps into the
camera's view.  The title belt is strapped around his muscular waist as
he looks dead-ahead at the ring where a stoic Mark Shaw is waiting for
him.]

GM:  The crowd doesn't like Shaw but they despise Sudakov.  I don't know
who they'll be rooting for in this one.

[Velikov climbs the steps into the ring, staring across as Marlowe who
is whispering in the ear of Mark Shaw the entire time.  Sudakov steps
through the ropes as well, holding the title belt high in the air before
handing it over to the referee who quickly does the same before handing
it off to the timekeeper on the floor.]

GM:  This is a very tense situation.  You can see Stephen Marlowe just
chattering away to the Hellion - what on earth could he have left to say
to the Number One contender right now, Bucky?

BW:  There's some very important advice to give just before the bell
rings.  If you ever did anything in this business besides sitting behind
a mic, you might know that.

[The referee calls for the bell which brings up a decent-sized cheer
from the WKIK Studio audience...

...which quickly turns to a loud buzz as Shaw tears across the ring as
fast as his barrel-chested powerhouse body will carry him, bowling over
a surprised Sudakov who gets knocked back into the corner.]

GM:  There's the bell and Mark Shaw is immediately all over him!  Rights
and lefts, pounding away in the corner...

[Shaw straightens Sudakov up, blasting him across the chest with a
reverse knife-edge chop.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big chop by Shaw in the corner!

[A few more chops find the mark before Shaw grabs Sudakov by the wrist,
firing him across the ring to the opposite corner.  He barrels across
the ring after him, connecting with a running clothesline against the
buckles.]

GM:  CLOTHESLINE!

BW:  Mark Shaw isn't wasting one bit of time or motion in this one,
Gordo.  Every move has a purpose and that purpose is to soften Sudakov
up for the heavy artillery.

GM:  Another whip... and another big running clothesline!

[The crowd groans as Shaw connects with another running clothesline
against the corner, causing Sudakov to slump down to a knee.  A focused
Shaw pulls the Russian off the mat, firing him across to the corner
again where Sudakov staggers out...

...right into a spinning powerslam in the middle of the ring that shakes
the squared circle!]

GM:  OHHHH!  POWERSLAM BY SHAW!  PURE AND SUDDEN IMPACT!

[Shaw stays atop Sudakov, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Shoulder up at two! 

[Outside the ring, the elder Russian breathes a sigh of relief, slapping
his beefy palm against the canvas as he shouts instructions to his
nephew.  Around the corner, Stephen Marlowe beams with pride as his
charge gets back to his feet, dropping a big elbow down across the
throat of the Russian.]

GM:  The Number One contender is all over Sudakov.  He's been waiting
weeks, some would say months for another opportunity at the National
Championship and he's not about to let this one slip through his
fingers. 

BW:  He failed against Broussard, he failed against Houston, this could
be his final chance, Gordo.  The Championship Committee isn't too likely
to give him another title match if he can't cash it in tonight against
the Russian War Machine.

GM:  I'd have to agree with that.  Shaw with another crushing elbowdrop
down on the throat.  Sudakov rolling over to his stomach and...

[The Hellion leaps into the air, dropping his large frame down on the
back of the neck with a legdrop.]

GM:  Goodness!  That's a lot of weight down on the neck of the Russian.

BW:  And the gameplan becomes obvious, Gordo.  Target the head.  Target
the neck.  Soften up the Champion for the Backdrop Driver so when it
connects, he doesn't stand a chance of getting the shoulders up.

GM:  If he keeps dropping 270 pound legdrops on the neck, that shouldn't
be a problem for him.

[Shaw climbs to his feet, dragging Sudakov up as well.  With a mighty
shove, he hurls the Russian back into the buckles.  With a wild gaze,
Shaw wraps his hands around the throat of the Russian.]

GM:  That's a choke!  A blatant choke right in front of the referee!

[The referee is immediately on the scene laying a count on the Hellion. 
The count quickly reaches four before Shaw breaks the choke.  A few more
chops connect in the corner before Shaw drags Sudakov out towards the
middle of the ropes.]

GM:  Irish whip by Shaw- no, reversed by Sudakov... SICKLE!

[But before the Russian can dash across the ring and deliver what could
be a fatal blow, Stephen Marlowe hooks his own charge's ankle, yanking
him off his feet and dragging him out to the floor to safety.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Sudakov had the Sickle ready and aimed at the skull of Mark
Shaw! 

BW:  That would've ended it all right there, Gordo.  One shot with that
Sickle would have ended it all but Stephen Marlowe earned his paycheck
right there.

GM:  He pulls Shaw to the floor...

[Marlowe stares up into the ring, fear in his eyes as he leans over to
talk to the Number One Contender out on the floor.]

GM:  Marlowe and Shaw conferring on the floor - and this National
Championship Match has gotten off to a tremendous start, fans.  Don't go
away, we'll be right back with more AWA action!

[The camera holds on Kolya Sudakov pacing back and forth inside the
ring, ready for battle 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 where we've been joined at ringside
by another party.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - and as you can see, we've been joined out here
for this big National Title Match by a man who returned to the AWA
earlier tonight, "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson.

BW:  He's got the briefcase too!

GM:  But what does that mean, Bucky?  Have Marlowe and Shaw bought the
secret that Waterson's talking about?  Did they buy the secret that will
make Mark Shaw the National Champion?

[Waterson doesn't make his intentions known immediately, simply walking
out and standing in a neutral corner with the steel briefcase resting on
the ring apron.  From across the ring, Vladimir Velikov can be heard
barking in Russian in the direction of the agent who ignores the elder
Russian's cries.]

GM:  Waterson's return can't be sitting well with the Russians, Bucky.

BW:  I wouldn't think so.  Waterson was charged by the Russian
government with the task of guiding Sudakov here in the States - both in
MMA and professional wrestling.  The government decided ultimately that
he'd failed and sent Uncle Vladimir here to replace him.  And now
Waterson is making that situation even worse by selling the secret to
beat Sudakov?  He'd better keep an eye open or he'll end up in Siberia,
daddy.

[Back inside the ring, Kolya Sudakov has manages to use a series of knee
strikes to the head that put Shaw back against the ropes, his arms
draped over the ropes.  The Russian grabs the top rope, lashing out with
a high kick across the sternum of Shaw that sends a loud "CRACK!"
through the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Goodness gracious - what a kick by Sudakov!  He really laid into
the Number One contender with that one.  And a second kick right to the
same target.

BW:  Never forget the near lethal striking abilities of Sudakov.  He was
no slouch in the MMA world where striking is so very important, Gordo. 
He could cave in your nose with a knee and take off your head with a
kick in an instant.

[Grabbing Shaw around the head and neck, Sudakov throws the Hellion back
into the buckles.  A big looping right hook catches Shaw on the ear,
knocking him down to a knee.  The Russian quickly hooks a Thai clinch,
throwing knees up into the face repeatedly.  Shaw throws his arms in
front of his face, trying to defend himself to no avail.  A knee right
up the middle to the nose straightens Shaw up, causing him to grab the
ropes to stay up.]

GM:  Sudakov with a whip... SICKL-

[But as the Russian rampages towards the corner, Shaw brings both feet
up, catching Sudakov under the chin.  As the Champion staggers
backwards, Shaw slips around him to hook a side waistlock.]

GM:  HERE IT COMES!

[The Hellion urgently tries to hoist Sudakov up into the air but the
desperate Russian throws elbows down on the back of Shaw's neck,
breaking his grip...

...and with a handful of hair, he HURLS Shaw over the ropes and down to
the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Shaw crashes down on the barely-padded floor, Stephen Marlowe
immediately to his side to check on him.  With a grin on his face, Ben
Waterson walks around the corner as well, nearing Shaw.]

GM:  Look out here... Waterson is out on the floor by Shaw and
Marlowe...

[Smirking, Waterson repeatedly slaps the side of the metal briefcase,
causing Marlowe to angrily shout at him to stay away from the Hellion. 
Shaw eases back to his feet, shaking his head to try and clear the
cobwebs as Waterson calls his name, trying to get his attention.]

GM:  Is Waterson trying to appeal directly to Shaw?

BW:  We haven't seen Shaw speak to anyone directly in weeks.  Marlowe
has brainwashed this man who was once one of the most popular
competitors in the entire AWA.

GM:  Shaw's up on the apron...

[But a running Yakuza-style kick from Sudakov connects right on the jaw
of Shaw, sending him sailing off the apron and into the front row of the
ringside bleachers.]

GM:  OHHHH!  Heavens almighty!  Sudakov sent him flying with that one!

BW: I told ya, Gordo!  He could kick the head off a lion!

GM:  Shaw is laid out in the front row.  Stephen Marlowe is screaming at
Ben Waterson.  He can't believe what he's seeing.

BW:  Shaw is his golden ticket, Gordo.  He knows how badly Shaw needs to
win tonight.  He knows that if Shaw fails tonight, it may be over for
BOTH of them here in the AWA.

GM:  Sudakov's going after him!

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as the Russian War Machine rolls under
the bottom rope, pulling Shaw out of the front row by the hair. 
Dragging Shaw away from the crowd, Sudakov SLAMS his face into the ring
apron.]

GM:  Oof - hard to the apron right there.  Now what in the world is he-
LOOK OUT!

[The crowd roars as Sudakov whips Shaw in the direction of the
bleachers, hurling him several rows up into the wooden seating.  The
fans scatter as Shaw's massive body goes flying up amongst them. 
Sudakov rolls under the ropes, ordering the referee to start a ten
count.]

GM:  Look at this - Sudakov's willing to take a countout win.

BW:  A win's a win, Gordo.  If Sudakov gets a countout, he keeps the
title.  Period.

GM:  The referee starts the count - and Stephen Marlowe is right over
there in the crowd, trying to physically drag Shaw out of the bleachers
by the arm.

[That's exactly what he's doing, grabbing Shaw by the wrist and tugging
him down the wooden bleachers back towards the ringside floor.]

GM:  Marlowe is physically involving himself in this matchup and-

BW:  Velikov's not happy about that either.

[The elder Russian barks angrily in the direction of the referee who is
not reprimanding Marlowe for his actions.  Soon, Shaw is lying on the
barely-padded concrete once more as Marlowe sits on the ground next to
him, breathing heavily.]

GM:  That took a lot out of Marlowe but was it enough?  The ref's count
is up to five... now six...

[The crowd boos Ben Waterson as he stands over Shaw, holding the steel
briefcase over him like bait, enticing Shaw to get back to his feet. 
After a few more moments, Shaw reaches a knee at the count of eight...

...and then hurls himself under the ropes at nine, right into a barrage
of stomps and kicks to the body by Sudakov.]

GM:  The Russian War Machine is all over him!

[Dragging Shaw to his feet, a heavy right hand knocks the Hellion back
against the buckles.  A whip sends Shaw to the other corner where a
running forearm nearly knocks the big man off his feet.]

GM:  Goodness!  Quite a shot there by Sudakov.

[With Shaw in the corner, Sudakov hops up on the middle rope and starts
raining down right hands.]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FOUR!"

"FIV-"

[But before another blow can land, Shaw reaches up and shoves Sudakov
down off the ropes, sending him crashing down onto the canvas.  The
Russian quickly rolls to a knee...

...and gets BLITZED with a running lunging tackle!]

GM:  OHHH!  

[The Hellion flips Sudakov to his back, applying a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- shoulder up!

[Flipping Sudakov to his stomach, Shaw hooks a front facelock and starts
throwing knees up to the skull of the National Champion.]

GM:  Knees to the head!  This is a page out of the playbook of Sudakov,
Bucky!

BW:  The referee's down on the mat, checking on Sudakov.  This could be
it!  The Russian may have to give it up!

GM:  Velikov's screaming at him - ordering him not to submit.

[Grabbing the wrist of Shaw, Sudakov spins out of it, breaking the grip,
and then hooks a front facelock of his own...]

GM:  KNEES!

BW:  Uh oh!  

[The crowd actually roars a bit as Sudakov starts throwing knees to the
skull of Shaw - just like the Hellion did to him moments ago.  Knee
after knee makes impact with Shaw's head as it's Stephen Marlowe's turn
to scream at his man.]

GM:  Now it's Shaw trying to fight it off - trying to get out of the
kneestrikes to the skull...

[Outside the ring, Ben Waterson is slamming the briefcase repeatedly
into the apron as well.]

GM:  Waterson screaming at Shaw, Marlowe screaming at Shaw...

[Shaw gets his legs underneath him, pushing up to his feet...

...and then LAUNCHES Sudakov up, over, and down to the canvas with a
released Northern Lights style throw.  He immediately collapses back
down to a knee on the mat as Sudakov rolls out to the apron where
Velikov immediately crouches next to him, trying to give him some
advice.]

GM:  Sudakov's down on the apron... Shaw's trying to recover...

[Getting back to his feet, Shaw approaches the ropes, reaching over them
to grab the Russian.  Pulling him to his feet, Shaw hooks a front
facelock.]

GM:  Looking to bring the Champion in the hard way...

[But Vladimir Velikov bursts into action, grabbing the leg of Shaw.  The
momentary distraction is all Sudakov needs to rake the eyes of Shaw,
causing him to stumble away from the ropes as the Russian steps back
into the fray.]

GM:  Both men back inside the ring... Sudakov fires him to the ropes...

[And floors the Hellion with a leaping shoulderblock, immediately
applying a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Kickout by Shaw!

[Sudakov springs up off of Shaw, retreating to the corner where he slaps
his own bicep before preparing for the Russian Sickle.]

GM:  The Russian is ready... the Russian is set...

[Stephen Marlowe leaps up on the apron, screaming and shouting at Shaw
as the Hellion slowly staggers off the mat.]

GM:  Shaw to his feet... SUDAKOV!!

[The Russian War Machine stampedes across the ring, arm outstretched...

...but the barrel-chested Shaw somehow avoids it, hooking a side
waistlock on Sudakov as he goes by.]

GM:  HE'S GOT SUDAKOV!!  BACKDROP DRIV-

[But suddenly, out of nowhere, Ben Waterson reaches up with his metal
briefcase...

...and SLAMS it squarely into the back of Stephen Marlowe, knocking
Marlowe off the apron and down to the barely-padded concrete.]

GM:  Ohh!  What in the world did he do that for?

BW:  You shoulda paid the man, Marlowe!

[The Hellion shoves Sudakov aside, stalking across the ring to where
Marlowe has fallen off the apron...

...which allows Sudakov the chance to set and pounce, DRIVING his arm
into the back of the distracted Shaw's head!]

GM:  SICKLE!  SICKLE!  SICKLE!

[The Russian flips Shaw onto his back, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEE!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match... and STILL... AWA National Champion...

KOLLLLLLYAAAAA SUUUUUUDAKOV!

[Sudakov rises up off the mat, snatching the title belt out of the hands
of the referee as Vladimir Velikov rolls into the ring, eager to
celebrate the victory with his nephew.]

GM:  Sudakov is your winner - he retains the National Title here tonight
against Mark Shaw but... 

BW:  There's no "buts", Gordo.  Kolya Sudakov is still the champ -
period.

GM:  Perhaps but what in the world got into Ben Waterson?  He offers to
sell the secret to beat Sudakov and then he... basically, he just cost
Mark Shaw the match, Bucky.  Shaw was getting ready to deliver the
Backdrop Driver and he just- wait a second!

[The crowd bursts into a surprised reaction as Sudakov and Velikov both
begin stomping the downed Mark Shaw.]

GM:  The Russians are all over Mark Shaw!  I don't like Mark Shaw but he
doesn't deserve this either, Bucky!  We need to get some help out here
right now!

BW:  Just like Stevie Scott found out earlier tonight.  It just doesn't
pay to cross the Russians, daddy!

GM:  What is- what is Velikov doing?

[The elder Russian hands the steel chain over to the Russian War Machine
as he leans down to grab Shaw's right foot.]

BW:  I'm not sure but I don't think it's good news for the Hellion.

GM:  Velikov's got the foot of Shaw, extending the right leg... I don't
understand what he's trying to - NO!

[The crowd gasps in shock as Sudakov WHIPS the chain down over the
straightened kneecap - a blow that sends an agonizing howl of pain out
of Mark Shaw.]

GM:  Ohhh!  The Russians are out for blood!

[Sudakov pulls the chain back...

...and SLAMS it down over the kneecap again!]

GM:  This is out of hand!  I'm not a Mark Shaw fan but... ohhh!  Again
on the knee!

[A couple more steel chain blows fall on the kneecap of the Hellion
before the ring fills with AWA officials.  The storm of officials
somehow manage to subdue both Russians, forcing them from the ring to
the floor.  With the fans crazily booing the foreign rulebreakers, they
make their exit from the WKIK Studios.

Inside the ring, a medical team has joined the fray to work on Mark Shaw
who is clutching his kneecap, screaming in pain as the EMTs try to get
him under control.

We fade to black...

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

JD:  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 ringside area where the announce team is
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Moments ago,
during our commercial break, Mark Shaw had to be helped from the ring by
AWA medical personnel.  We do not know the severity of the injury to the
right knee but.. well, it didn't look good, Bucky.

BW:  It definitely didn't, Gordo.  And if the Russians set out tonight
to eliminate people who had their eyes on the National Title, they did a
fine job of it.  First Stevie Scott, now Mark Shaw - both headin' for a
night's stay at the hospital.  There can be no doubt after tonight that
Kolya Sudakov and his Uncle are two of the most dangerous men in our
sport.

GM:  And with Stevie and Shaw out of the picture, one has to wonder just
WHO can stop the Russians.  Perhaps it'll be the man who wins the second
annual invitational Rumble, Bucky.

BW:  The announcement was made two weeks ago that the winner of the
Rumble will receive a guaranteed title shot.  There'll be a lot of guys
looking to take that home with them.  And with the AWA's Open Door
policy, you just never know who may show up in that match.

GM:  I'll tell you who DOES know some of the names in that match and
that's Jason Dane.  Jason is standing by in the Memorial Day Mayhem
Control Center with some big details on that event just about a month
away!

[We fade from the announce duo to a funky looking Memorial Day Mayhem
graphic with "CONTROL CENTER" typed out in bold font underneath it.  The
graphic dissolves to a makeshift studio setting where Jason Dane is
seated behind a desk shuffling some paperwork.]

JD:  AWA fans, welcome to the Memorial Day Mayhem Control Center where
we're going to get you all the news fit for print on the big Memorial
Day Mayhem 2009 card coming up in just about a month's time.

In fact, it has been announced that MDM '09 will go down on May 25th
LIVE from the historic Arena Theatre in Houston!  The fans of Houston
are in for an exciting night of AWA action as we will be officially
kicking off our big summer tour that night as well.

So, we now know that the second annual Rumble match will go down at
Memorial Day Mayhem - and we also know that Pure X has made the very
bold move of declaring himself the first man into the match.  He will be
entering the ring at #1 with 29 other men looking to toss him over the
top on their way to winning a shot at Kolya Sudakov and the National
Championship.

But tonight, we've got more names to add to the list...

[Dane turns slightly as a MDM graphic appears from nowhere over his
shoulder.  The graphic is quickly replaced by a photo.]

JD:  "The Natural" Adam Rogers!  The former World Champion has been
chasing the National Title since he arrived here in the AWA.  Will he
finally get his opportunity?

[The photo changes.]

JD:  The former National Champion, Marcus Broussard!  A year ago at this
event, Broussard became the first National Champion.  This year, he
hopes to earn the title match he's been after for months.

[The photo changes.]

JD:  How about this entry?  This guy won't have a problem having the
power to throw guys over the top.  The "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright is in
the Rumble!

[Another new photo.]

JD:  The Open Door policy is in full effect for the Rumble as one of the
most breathtaking aerial stars in the world today, SouthWest Lucha
Libre's Estrella Fugaz will be looking to make a huge splash in a
heartbeat.

That gives us our first five entries into the Rumble.  Later this week
on AWA Access, we will present the next five!

But that's not all, folks.  In addition to the Rumble match, the
Championship Committee has scheduled a long-awaited showdown.

Raphael Rhodes.  Juan Vasquez.  It's finally going to happen!  This
rivalry has been brewing since December when Vasquez and Rhodes failed
to capture the National Tag Team Titles from Kentucky's Pride and
exploded afterwards.  Since then, they've been trying to get their hands
on one another when possible.

On Memorial Day, that match is on!

We've got so much more to announce for the days and weeks to come but
for now, let's go back to the ring and find out what will happen with
our other Main Event!

[We fade out from the Control Center...

...and back to the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are
standing.]

GM:  Alright, fans, it's the moment of truth.  We've talked about it all
night and now it's time to find out.  Did Sweet Daddy Williams come back
from the hospital to compete tonight?  And if so, who on Earth did he
find on such short notice to replace his tag team partner, Stevie Scott?

Let's go up to the ring!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with TV Time
Remaining and is for the AWA National Tag Team Titles!  Introducing
first... 

[Stephen Foster's "My Old Kentucky Home" plays as the fans in attendance
stands to cheer for Kentucky's Pride. As with last week, some of the
fans let out jeers as Tin Can Rust comes through the entrance. However,
that quickly ends as City Jack quickly follows - a big smile and big pat
on the back to his stoic-looking partner Rust.  City Jack then races
past (as fast as he can) to slap the hands of the nearby fans. Rust,
though, locks his eyes on the ring as he walks past the fans. After
allowing half the nearby fans to greet him, City Jack finally joins Tin
Can Rust up to the apron and into the ring.]

MC:  From Kentucky... they are the AWA National Tag Team Champions...
City Jack and Tin Can Rust...

KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIIDE!

[Jack throws another arm in the air, soaking up the cheers as Tin Can
Rust stays focused on the entryway, waiting to see if their opponents
will show up.]

MC:  And their opponents... 

[Melissa pauses, shrugging her shoulders in the direction of the
timekeeper.]

BW:  Like you said, Gordo - the moment of truth.

GM:  All eyes are on the entryway, waiting to see if-


"WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET DADDY'S LAP TANIIIIGHT?"


[The crowd EXPLODES into cheers as Sweet Daddy Williams, dressed in
street clothes, comes tearing through the curtain, heading straight
towards the ring.  He's showing no signs of his usual jovial personality
as he dives between the bottom and middle ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Here comes the Sweet Daddy - but where's his partner?

BW:  I knew a big, fat goof like him wouldn't be able to convince
someone to jump on a sinking ship with him.

GM:  Well, if that's true, that could be a big problem for-

[A second figure emerges from the entryway, drawing more cheers from the
crowd.]

GM:  It's Soup Bone Samson!  The man with the big knockout punch is
going to be Sweet Daddy Williams' tag team partner here tonight and
attempt to wrest the National Titles from Kentucky's Pride!

[Samson joins Sweet Daddy Williams inside the ring, quickly pulling him
aside to try and calm the big man down.]

GM:  Samson's trying to get Williams' head in the game.

BW:  Good luck with that.

GM:  I know you're being snide with that comment, Bucky, but there's an
element of truth to it.  After what happened to Stevie Scott, Williams'
good friend and tag team partner, at the start of tonight's show, how
could he possibly be able to focus on this match and the tag team
titles?

BW:  He'd better figure it out in a hurry.

GM:  Well, it looks like Soup Bone Samson has talked him into getting
out on the apron.  Samson's going to be starting this out... and it
looks like City Jack has talked Tin Can Rust into sitting out the start
of this one too.  Perhaps hoping cooler heads prevail and this doesn't
turn into a brawl.

[The referee calls for the bell to start the match.  Setting the tone,
City Jack strides across the ring and shakes the hand of Soup Bone
Samson.]

GM:  And off we go!  A handshake trying to keep things civil and it'll
be Soup Bone Samson and City Jack starting off this National Tag Team
Title match.  And you have to wonder if Stevie Scott is watching this
match somewhere, rooting on his partner.

[The two men tangle in a collar and elbow that City Jack quickly breaks
up with a knee to the midsection that causes Samson to stumble
backwards.  A pair of chops knocks Samson back against the ropes.  City
Jack takes a moment to pump a fist to the cheers of the crowd before
rearing back the right hand...

...and having it blocked by Samson who throws a series of right hands of
his own, staggering Jack.]

GM:  Samson's fighting back!  The man with those rockhard punches is
lighting up one-half of the tag team champions!

BW:  And those are closed fists, Gordo.  So much for not turning into a
brawl!

GM:  Jack's in trouble!  Jack's been rocked!

[A big wind-up left hand knocks City Jack clean off his feet to a mixed
reaction from the crowd.  Samson starts measuring City Jack, big right
hand reared back and ready to fly...

...but City Jack wisely scoots backwards towards the corner, pulling
himself up using the ropes as he clutches his jaw.]

GM:  Samson knocked him down with that big left hand... but City Jack
luckily avoided the big right hook - that knockout power hook.  If
Samson hits that, there could be new tag team champions crowned, Bucky.

BW:  I'm not fond of Soup Bone Samson either but I respect the right
hand.

GM:  Samson moving in on Jack - another tieup...

[Jack quickly spins Samson around, powering him back against the
buckles, and connecting with an overhand chop to the chest of Samson.  A
second chop connects as well...

...but another big left hand knocks Jack off his feet again, putting him
back down on the canvas.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky!

BW:  Like I said, I respect the right hand.  Soup Bone Samson has the KO
power to turn Jack's lights out.

[This time, City Jack opts to roll under the ropes to the safety of the
floor to rethink his options.  He clutches his jaw again, dropping to a
knee as he looks up in the ring where Soup Bone Samson is dancing back
and forth, right hand at the ready.]

GM:  Out to the floor goes City Jack to regroup and Soup Bone Samson is
ready with that equalizer.

[Jack stands out on the floor, walking back and forth for a while as the
referee starts a ten count.  At the count of four, Jack climbs up on the
ring apron, stepping through the ropes back into the ring.  He stands
across the ring, staring at Samson...

...who slaps the outstretched hand of Sweet Daddy Williams to a big
cheer from the crowd.]

GM:  In comes Sweet Daddy Williams and will you listen to these fans
here in the WKIK Studios?  Ohhh my!

BW:  These are the same people that make Miley Cyrus the #1 singer in
the world, Gordo.  There's no accounting for horrible taste.

[The two popular stars engage in a collar and elbow tieup, muscling back
and forth for a moment before Jack applies a side headlock.]

GM:  Headlock locked in by City Jack... maybe trying to slow things down
after the knockdowns he took from Samson.

[Williams grabs the wrist of Jack, spinning it around into a standing
hammerlock.]

GM:  Reversal by Sweet Daddy.

[Jack turns back into the pressure, forcing Williams back into the
Kentucky's Pride corner where Tin Can Rust slips into the ring, rapidly
throwing right hands at Sweet Daddy Williams.]

GM:  Was there a tag there?  I didn't see- look at this!

[Sweet Daddy Williams starts throwing right jabs at both TCR and Jack,
battling back out of the corner before delivering a crushing double
elbowsmash that knocks both men flat, allowing Williams to free himself
from the corner.]

GM:  Oh my!  Sweet Daddy Williams is fired up tonight... City Jack back
to his feet and- jab!  Jab!  Jab!  Jab!

BW:  This goof is all over City Jack.   I've never seen him like this,
Gordo.

GM:  He's all fired up by what happened to his partner earlier tonight. 
That's gotta be it.

[The rapid jabs have City Jack dazed and a wound up right hand knocks
Jack off his feet, falling back to his corner where he slaps the hand of
Tin Can Rust who steps into the ring, glaring across it at Sweet Daddy
Williams who is crouched at the ready for a fight.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  If Williams wants a fight, Tin Can Rust has no problem giving him
one, Gordo.

GM:  You've got that right.

[Rust lunges forward, throwing big right hands that knock Williams all
the way back to the corner...

...where he starts fighting back, throwing rights of his own that rattle
the brain of Rust.]

GM:  He's all over Rust, battering him back to the corner!

[Getting near the corner, Rust buries a knee in the gut of the oncoming
Williams, spinning him around and shoving him back into the Kentucky's
Pride corner.  Leaning over, Rust grabs the middle rope, driving
shoulder after shoulder into the ribcage of Sweet Daddy Williams.]

GM:  Ohh!  He's got the Sweet Daddy right where he wants him, working
him over with those shoulders to the body.

[Stepping out of the corner, Rust hooks a three-quarter nelson,
snapmaring him out of the corner and down to the mat.  The veteran
brawler immediately leaps into the air...

...and delivers a crushing kneedrop down across the chest, reaching back
to hook a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Out at two.  It's not gonna be that easy to beat Sweet
Daddy Williams... not on this night at least.

[Pulling Williams off the mat, Rust makes the tag to City Jack who
delivers a hard right hand to the body before grabbing Williams by the
head and slamming him facefirst into the buckles.  Spinning him around
in the corner, Jack throws a pair of forearms into the chest before
grabbing him by the wrist.]

GM:  Big whi- reversed by Williams!  Jack hits the buckles, staggers out
and... OHHHHHH!  Big back body drop by Sweet Daddy Williams and City
Jack is down hard on that one!  Williams makes the tag to Samson,
bringing in that KO power.

[Pulling Jack off the mat, Samson slams him headfirst into the buckles. 
Grabbing Jack by the arm, he attempts a whip that City Jack manages to
reverses...

...which sends Samson right into a raised knee by Tin Can Rust!]

GM:  Ohh!  He caught ol' Soup Bone coming in!

[Jack looks a little frustrated, giving a few words in the direction of
his partner as he wobbles across the ring, making the exchange with TCR.
 Rust is quickly through the ropes, dragging Samson off the mat, and
delivering a knee into the body that he follows up with a left hook to
the ribcage that knocks Samson down to a knee.]

GM:  Blows to the body by Rust take Samson down... ohh!  Big double
axehandle across the back of the head and neck by Rust!  That puts
Samson down on the mat...

[A big leaping stomp to the ribcage draws some boos from the crowd. 
Rust looks out over the fans for a moment, shaking his head before
repeating the move, driving another boot down into the midsection of
Soup Bone Samson.]

GM:  Two big stomps to the body.  The fans didn't seem to care for that
but Tin Can Rust didn't seem to care, Bucky.

BW:  And there's a kneedrop down on the ribs as well!  All over the body
of that ol' fossil Samson.

GM:  Rust drags Samson up off the mat... irish whip...

[Rust sets for a backdrop but Samson slams on the brakes, dropping to a
knee...

...and POPPING Samson under the chin with an uppercut!  The blow draws
cheers from the fans as both men attempt to get to their respective
corners.]

GM:  Samson caught him - and there's the tag!

[On the other side of the ring, Rust falls into a tag to City Jack as
well.]

GM:  Both men make the tag!

[The two fan favorites charge towards one another, Williams sidestepping
the charge and throwing Jack off to the ropes...

...and dropping him with a leaping clothesline!]

GM:  Oh my!  He caught him with the clothesline!

BW:  The bigger news is that he left his feet to do it!  Amazing!

GM:  Would you stop?

[Williams pumps a fist in the air, grabbing the foot of the downed City
Jack...

...and wrapping him up in a figure four leglock!]

GM:  FIGURE FOUR!  FIGURE FOUR ON CITY JACK!

[The crowd erupts in cheers, sensing they may be about to see the titles
change hands...

...but an incoming Tin Can Rust puts a stop to those ideas, dropping a
huge knee down on the chest of Williams.]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on, referee!

[The referee reprimands Tin Can Rust, forcing him back out of the
ring...

...which allows Soup Bone Samson to step into the ring, picking a dazed
City Jack up.]

GM:  The referee's got his back turned... he's not seeing-

[The crowd ERUPTS in a mixed reaction as Samson UNCORKS the huge right
hook, dropping Jack with the knockout punch!]

GM:  KO!  KO!  

BW:  We're running out of time!

GM:  Jack got knocked out!  

[A dazed Sweet Daddy Williams rolls over, throwing an arm across the
chest of City Jack as the referee sprints across the ring, diving down
on the mat.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-  OHHHH!  

BW:  RUST SAVED THE TITLES!  TIN CAN RUST SAVED THE TITLES!

[And IMMEDIATELY gets back up, uncorking a right hand of his own that
knocks Samson off the apron and down to the floor.  Rust spins around,
ignoring the referee as he pulls Sweet Daddy Williams off the mat,
firing him towards the ropes...

...and catching Williams under his arm, spinning around with him before
DRIVING him down to the canvas with a side slam!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  CAN CRUSHER!  CAN CRUSHER BY RUST!!!

[The referee forces Rust back, driving him out of the ring as a weary -
and unaware - City Jack pulls himself to his feet using the ropes.]

GM:  Wait a second!  City Jack doesn't know what's going on.  He
doesn't-

[Jack shakes the cobwebs, hitting the ropes he's leaning against...

...and drops all 324 pounds down in a bellyflop splash on the motionless
Sweet Daddy Williams!]

GM:  OHHH!  

[The referee spins around, dropping down on all fours.]

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


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... and STILL AWA National Tag Team
Champions...

KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!

[Rust pumps a fist in triumph, snatching the title belts away from the
referee.  He leans over, helping City Jack off the mat and slapping one
belt on his chest while lifting the other one up himself.]

GM:  Kentucky's Pride has retained the titles... they beat the team of
Sweet Daddy Williams and Soup Bone Samson.  This wasn't the match we
wanted to see but it was a heck of a showdown anyways, fans.  Stevie
Scott has got to be proud of his partner wherever he is.  Fans, we are
out of time.  For Bucky Wilde and Jason Dane, I'm Gordon Myers.  So long
everybody!

[The camera holds on a celebrating Tin Can Rust and a slightly confused
City Jack...

...as we fade to black.]