Christmas Clash

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[As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing,
we are greeted with a black screen.  The sounds of Bon Jovi's 'Wanted
Dead Or Alive' slowly trickle up from a whisper to a shout as
slow-motion, grainy black and white footage of 'The Outlaw' Bobby Taylor
in battle.

#It's all the same, only the names will change
Every day it seems were wasting away#

With a subtitle that reads 'Footage courtesy of Empire Sports,' we see
Taylor throw a right hand at J.W. Hardin - a quick cut shows a right
hand thrown at Casey James - another quick cut shows a right hand thrown
at Chris Myers.

#Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night just to get back home#

The violence increases with Taylor wielding a steel chair against Myers,
then throwing
Casey James into a steel ringpost, then blasting J.W. Hardin over the
head with a fist full of barbed wire.

#I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive#

The footage of Taylor fades to black before being replaced by full-color
footage of Grant Stone's rampage of terror in the AWA.

#Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days
And the people I meet always go their separate ways

Grant Stone drills an Oklahoma Brother with a standing lariat - quick
cut to the same move on Luke Steele - and another quick cut to reveal
Shane Taylor eating the same big bicep.

#Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when you're all alone all you do is think#

The action picks up for Stone as he slams a helpless foe on the concrete
floor - quick cut to a brawl in the crowd - quick cut to him wild-eyed,
choking his victim.

#I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive#

The footage of Stone fades and is replaced by footage of Taylor and
Stone's war from Thanksgiving night.
#I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back

Taylor sinks his teeth into the flesh of Grant Stone's forehead.

#I play for keeps, cause I might not make it back

The sickening sight of a headbutt exchange is especially cringeworthy as
the two men attempt to concuss one another with their own skulls.

#I been everywhere, still I'm standing tall

Taylor wraps a camera power cable around the throat of Stone, trying to
strangle the oxygen out of his lungs.

#I've seen a million faces an I've rocked them all

The Outlaw buries a metal bar into the forehead of Stone, causing the
Kentucky native to scream out in agony.

#I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride

Grant Stone kicks Taylor low just before coldcocking the referee with a
thunderous right hand.  Quick cut to Marty Meekly getting floored by a
Bobby Taylor right hand.

#I'm wanted dead or alive

Taylor connects with a running boot to the side of the head that causes
Stone to sail off the apron into the bleachers.

#I'm a cowboy, I got the night on my side

A sped-up block of footage with Taylor raining down blow after blow
after blow to the head of Stone while up in the bleachers.

#I'm wanted dead or alive

Taylor sets for a piledriver - but gets backdropped out of the bleachers
and down to the concrete floor!

#Wanted dead or alive

Standing alone in the bleachers, we get a final silent shot of Grant
Stone with his head back, bellowing into the night before fading to
black...



**********************************************************
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***            American Wrestling Alliance		 ***
***                  Proudly Presents			 ***
***                          					 ***
***	        CHRISTMAS CLASH   		 ***
***							 ***
***   Live from West Dallas Community College  ***
***                   Dallas, Texas   			 ***
***                December 25, 2008			 ***
**********************************************************
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**********************************************************

...and then fading back up to a live shot of the basketball gym at the
West Dallas Community College.  It's your standard college basketball
gym with some bleachers lining the walls to hold all the fans.  Steel
chairs have been set up on the floor around the ring, a steel barricade
separating the seats from the ring.  The ring is your standard AWA ring.
 Right at ringside is a small wooden table where the timekeeper is
seated as well as our announce team.  

Gordon Myers is in his holiday best - a dark navy blue suit with white
dress shirt and a tie that looks like his kids bought it - odds are
since it's Christmas night, they did!  By his side is 'Announcer Of The
Mid Year' Bucky Wilde.  Sadly, Bucky's also in his holiday best which
consists of a gawdy-as-hell red suit jacket and pants over a neon green
dress shirt.]

GM:  Good evening, fans, and a Merry Christmas to one and all from all
of us here at the American Wrestling Alliance as we welcome you to
another very special edition of AWA television featuring all the stars
of the AWA, THE Major League of professional wrestling!

[The camera pans through the capacity crowd, showing lots of rabid fans
in Santa hats who've skipped Christmas dinner to go see some wrasslin'.]

GM:  And by my side as always is-

BW:  Ho, ho, ho!  MEEEEERRRRRY CHRISTMAS!

GM:  Bucky Wilde, you are certainly in the holiday spirit tonight.

BW:  You've got that right, Gordon Myers.  Lil' Bucky was a very good
boy all year and Santa Mama made sure I had my entire Christmas list
under the tree this morning.  Now, the only thing I need to make my
Christmas complete is to see the AWA's finest in action.  Oh, and if
some of these matches go my way tonight, I'll be buying you somethin'
real purty for New Year's, Gordo.

GM:  Well, I appreciate that.  Fans, it's going to be an exciting night
of action for us here in West Dallas.  And at this time, I want to
introduce the third member of our announce team tonight at Christmas
Clash who is standing by backstage to give us all the last minute news -
Jason Dane!  Jason?

[We quickly cut to the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing in a
blue suit and dress shirt.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon!  I am, indeed, here in the backstage area of the
West Dallas Community College to give you all the news that's fit for
print.  And... well, tonight, I've got a very special duty to serve as
well.

[Dane reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket, slowly lifting his
left hand to reveal ten playing cards.]

JD:  I'm the Keeper of the Cards so to speak.  Moments ago, these ten
cards were handed to me - each with a match stipulation listed on them. 
Throughout the night, we will be pulling cards from this deck and
discarding them.  In the end, there will be one card left and that will
be the match type that Bobby Taylor and Grant Stone will collide in
during the Hand Of Destiny match later tonight.  And before we go any
further, it's time to pull the first card out of the deck... to help us
with that, at this time please welcome one of the men who just possibly
may compete in the Secret Santa match later tonight - Scott Pain!

[The 6'10 powerhouse steps into view in his ring gear, sweat dripping
from his short blond hair as he approaches.  Pain extends a hand towards
Dane, pulling a card out of the mini-deck and pulling it closer to read
it.]

SP:  Texas Death Match.

[Pain flips the card away as Jason Dane speaks.]

JD:  Nine matches remaining on the list but no Texas Death Match
tonight.  Scott Pain, you may not have ANY match tonight - your
thoughts?

[Pain grins, rubbing his hands together.]

SP:  That's right.  It's a Secret Santa match for two men - but for the
other eight, it'll be like The Grinch's best day ever.  Eight men are
going to miss out on a chance to compete on the last show of the year
for the AWA and eight men are going to miss out on a chance to drive out
of here in a brand new car.

But there's more on the line than just that.  Look at the names on the
list, Jason.

[Pain holds up his open hand, counting down the names.]

SP:  Marcus Broussard, Stevie Scott, Sweet Daddy Williams, Soup Bone
Samson, Dufresne, Freeman, O'Lachlan, Despair, Maclean... they're all in
that stocking waiting for their name to be drawn.

It's a chance to take on the best the AWA has to offer - and to walk out
with a victory that'll put you in title contention.  And is there any
better Christmas gift than that?

[Pain looks down at Jason Dane.]

SP:  Keep the mic warm for me because after I win the whole thing, I'm
coming right back here to give you my New Year's Resolution.

[With a smirk, Pain walks out of view leaving Jason Dane behind.]

JD:  There you have it, fans.  Scott Pain wants to be in the Secret
Santa match in the worst possible way.  But someone who we know competed
already tonight and in fact, we will be showing highlights of that match
in just a few moments is the Japanese Nightmare, Naitomea.  We caught up
with him earlier tonight - let's hear what's on his mind!

[The camera fades to footage marked 'EARLIER TODAY.'  We open to the
face of Naitomea, or so you'd think. The black carbon-fiber helmet of a
bleached white skull with its mouth twisted in a spine chilling smile
stares back at you.' The eyes, two lenses made of an opaque material
glare with a constant red.' The camera holds its position for a few
seconds before pulling away revealing the helmet resting alone on a
bench with Naitomea sitting directly beside it with his back towards the
camera showing off his massive tattoo of a winged angel hanging limp on
a spear wielded by a horned devil.' Duffel bags are sprawled across the
floor with their contents spilling out onto the dressing room floor. The
wall lockers are filled with civilian wear and from what you can tell
some of the other wrestler's in-ring attire.  A few of the AWA backstage
and administrative staff are busy rushing around preparing for tonight's
show.' Naitomea speaks, his back towards the camera]
'
N:' Rick Marley, 'SHOWTIME' is what they call you right?' To Stevie
Scott you might be an unapologetic double crosser.' But to me you're
nothing more than a coward.
'
[Naitomea slowly spins around his head still bowed to the floor his
long, stringy jet black hair cascading over his head and concealing his
face.' He picks up his helmet by one of the horns and slowly turns it
over in his hands looking for some sort of an imperfection.]
'
N:' Regardless of the history between you two the fact you simply took
your ball and ran home refusing to face me like a man I'll never
respect.' But in a few short moments, running away isn't going to be an
option.' I will admit though you are a fine wrestler with tremendous
fighting spirit. 'You have been gifted with ability, skill, and talent.
'
[Naitomea slowly unclasps the latches on his helmet pulling it apart in
two and brings his face down into the front half of it. He takes the
back plate of the helmet and forms it on to the back of his head before
locking both jaw clasps into place and finally pulls his hair out
through the hole in the top allowing it to fall freely over his head.'
His normal voice takes on the usual high pitched, whiny wheeze of the
synthesizer in the mouth piece]

N:' I will give you the credit where it is due. 'You have all the
ability in the world. 'But you have no focus. 'You have no control.'
Without either, you are bound to lose to one thing that is truly
important... Honor.' That sounds crazy coming from me right?' A
rule-breaker, a person who respects nobody and cares for nothing.' But
in truth the blood of my ancestors runs strong though me.' Even the most
corrupt of the Japanese have some sort of honor.' Without it we are
lost.' Without it our goals in life will remain unachieved no matter how
many times we accomplish our mission.  Without it, we are nothing.

[Naitomea stands up off the bench and gives himself the once over making
sure he's prepared before he exists the dressing room.]

N:' Honor, is something you lost Rick.' Hell, maybe you never even had
it.' It took almost five months for the AWA to understand my worth and
my abilities and to give me a chance.' Every second I was afforded I
proved to everyone in the office and in this dressing room that I'm to
be taken seriously.' Who seriously would have thought a
light-heavyweight would have been in the final three of the tag team
tournament battle royal?' Who would have thought I would have been the
sole survivor of the elimination tag team match last month?' I've proven
to everyone that I deserve to be here and that I'm not to be taken
lightly.' Victory comes from honor, not the other way around.' Without
honor, there is no victory.

[Naitomea pauses and leans into the camera his glowing eye lenses
consume the camera with a blinding red hue.]

N:  Rick, by walking out you proved to the world you lacked honor.'
Tonight, I'm proving to the world that you'll lack victory as well!

[The camera goes black and we fade back to ringside where Gordon Myers
and Bucky Wilde are standing by.]

GM:  It was a wild showdown earlier tonight before we actually came on
the air.  This match was scheduled to be on this show but we want to
make sure we have time for everything else we planned on presenting to
you.  So, at this time, we're going to take a look at some highlights of
the high-flying contest between Naitomea and 'Showtime' Rick Marley. 
Enjoy!
[Cue the music video highlight package to the sounds of The Offspring's
'Genocide.'

Marley executes an Irish whip, leapfrogging Naitomea on the rebound.  As
the Japanese Nightmare hits the far ropes, he charges back towards where
Marley has dropped down to the mat, cartwheeling over him.  Marley
springs up, charging Naitomea who perfectly executes an overhead armdrag
that snaps Marley down to the mat.

The shot cuts to Marley connecting with a perfect running dropkick that
knocks Naitomea through the ropes to the floor.  Marley hits the far
ropes, rebounding back, and then handspringing into the ropes, bouncing
back to the middle of the ring in a fake dive that has Naitomea running
for cover.

Another cut before Naitomea snaps off a standing moonsault.

The next cut has Naitomea executing a backflipping dropkick, landing on
his feet on the mat in the ready position as Marley hits the mat.

CUT!  Marley connects with a step up enzugiri that knocks Naitomea back
into the corner.  Marley charges across the ring, kipping up in the
corner, and swinging back down to drive both feet squarely into the face
of the seated Japanese Nightmare.

Naitomea uncorks a springboard spinning leg lariat that takes Marley up
and over to the mat.

With Marley draped over the middle rope, half in and half out of the
ring, Naitomea snaps off a springboard dropkick right to the side of his
head that knocks him all the way out to the floor.

Marley hits a high leaping tucked standing moonsault of his own on the
stunned Naitomea.

'Showtime' lives up to his nickname by going for a Shooting Star Press -
and finding an empty pool underneath.  Naitomea quickly scoops him up,
cradling a leg - and snapping off a fishermanbuster before cradling for
a three count.

The music fades and we cut back to the backstage area where Jason Dane
is standing.]

JD:  What a highlight reel that was, fans!  It was an incredible
athletic contest and the night is still young.  Coming up next, we've
got our Secret Santa showdown and-

[Dane looks off camera confused.]

JD:  Adrian Freeman?  You're not scheduled to-
'
[An angry Freeman snatches the mic away.]
'
AF:  I'm not here for one of your little interviews, Dane.' In fact, I'm
here to ask you a question.

[Freeman pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and shoves it at
Dane.' The announcer unfolds it and looks at it.]

AF:  What is that?
'
JD:  It... appears to be the card for tonight's show?
'
AF:  And you call that a card?
'
JD:  Er... yes.
'
AF:  I don't.' It's a disgrace, is what it is.' Do you notice anything
missing?
'
JD:  Um, not really.

[An angry Freeman moves suddenly at the mic, startling Dane.]

AF:  What about me?' You know, the man who shocked the world by going
all the way to the finals of that tag tournament?' Callisto and I just
proved that we are two of the best in AWA... no, two of the best in the
WORLD.' And what do we get the next show?' Kicked back down to the level
of Soup Bone Samson and Stevie Scott, while people we beat get the
matches they want while you slobber all over them.

JD: You are on here though... you're in the Secret Santa Showdown match.

AF:  Whoop dee doo.' I can get my name drawn out of a hat for the right
to fight some loser.' I had to take a 16 hour flight and spend Christmas
Day in some ratty Texas hotel room instead of with my friends and family
down under just because I MIGHT be in a match. ''And if I do get that 1
in 5 chance, once I beat them they're going to shove off some lousy
American car on me!' Nobody buys your country's lemons, because they're
like everything else America makes: worthless.

[Jason grabs the mic back, trying to cut Adrian off.]

JD: Now hold on there.' That is a fine automobile we're giving away and
you would be lucky'

AF: I don't care about the stupid car, Dane.' All I want is some
respect.' I've earned it, but I'm not getting it... not from you, not
from the Neanderthals that fill these arena, and not from the
Committee.' And if I don't start getting respect... I'll have to take
it.

[And with that, Freeman starts to leave.]

JD:  Care to pull a card?

[An irate Australian glares at Dane for a moment, then snatches a card
from his hand, throwing it down on the floor before storming out of
view.  Jason Dane leans down, picking the card back up and reading it
out loud.]

JD:  First Blood match!  Eight matches remain in the deck - will it be a
steel cage?  Falls Count Anywhere?  Maybe even Outlaw Rules!  Stay tuned
to find out, fans!

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

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up on live action!]

GM:  Welcome back to Christmas Clash, fans.  Just before the break, we
heard from Adrian Freeman about the Secret Santa match.  Freeman's
obviously upset that he's come all the way from Australian to Texas
without any guarantee that he'll wrestle here tonight but nine other men
are in the same boat, Bucky.

BW:  Not all of those guys left the paradise of Australia for the slums
of Texas though, daddy.

GM:  Give me a break.  Fans, I'm not going to force you folks to listen
to this badmouthing of Texas for any longer.  In fact, I'm-

BW:  Hey, Gordo?  Did you hear that the governor's mansion in Texas
burned down? 

GM:  Really?  I didn't-

BW:  Almost took out the whole trailer park.

GM:  Bucky, please, I-

BW:  You know why it's easy for Texans to know what time to go to see
their Momma for Christmas?

GM:  I really don't want to-

BW:  It's whatever time the prison's visiting hours start.

GM:  Bucky!  Fans, let's go back to Jason!

[Cut to backstage where we find Jason Dane standing alongside the
members of Rough N Ready. Directly to Jason's right is Dave Cooper, with
Sarah Sharpe next to Dave. To Jason's left is Eric Matthew Somers. Dave
and Eric are dressed in their wrestling attire, Sarah wears blue jeans,
leather jacket and white shirt.]
'
JD: Rough N Ready, you were one match away from wrestling for the AWA
National tag team championship when The War Pigs took it upon themselves
to attack you before your match with Adrian Freeman and Calisto
Dufresne. And everyone saw what happened after that match... tonight,
you have a chance to even the score with the War Pigs. What are your
thoughts going into tonight's match?
'
[A hint of anger has crossed Eric's face and he appears ready to speak,
but Dave holds up his hand.]

DC: Easy, big man... I've got this first, all right?
'
[He takes a deep breath before continuing.]
'
DC: First of all, I do want to congratulate Kentucky's Pride on winning
the tournament... I'm not gonna say things would have been different if
it had been the two of us facing City Jack and Tin Can Rust for the tag
team titles... but one thing certainly would have been different... it
would have been Eric and myself facing City Jack and Tin Can Rust.
'
And why is that? Because time and again, Freeman and Dufresne have
proven that the only way they can ever get ahead in the AWA is to have
somebody else do their dirty work for them. Or if it's just one of them
in that ring, the other one does the dirty work.
'
I'll admit it... I never thought for a moment that Richard Eric Lee and
his charges would be a willing partner of Dufresne and Freeman. Our
whole mindset from the beginning was to focus on the team ahead of us in
each round of the tournament, and then when that one was done, to focus
on the next one.
'
But believe me, Eric and I will not make that same mistake again. Don't
get me wrong, Freeman and Dufresne have some things to answer for... but
tonight, it's about bringing down the War Pigs, just as we did in the
tag team tournament... only this time, when we bring them down, it's
gonna be for good!
'
[Eric, by the look in his eyes, clearly wants to talk. Jason notices
this and moves the mic toward him.]
'
EMS: War Pigs, huh... well, you boys got into a fight with us and it
didn't go so well for you, did it?
'
Now, you decide you want to live up to your name and want to turn this
into a war?
'
[His voices raises as he continues to talk.]
'
EMS: Well, you better believe you got yourself a war now! And I hear how
they say war is hell... well, hell ain't got nothing on the pain I'm
gonna deliver to the two of you! When all is said and done, you won't be
living up to the war part of your name... but you'll damn well be living
up to the pig part of your name!
'
Because you will be two pigs headed straight for the slaughterhouse!
'
[Eric appears ready to say more, but then Dave moves toward him and puts
a hand on the big man's chest.]
'
DC: Easy does it.. calm down. This is not the time to lose focus, Eric.

EMS: Dave, you ought to know me by now... I don't take anything lying
down, especially when it involves punks like the War Pigs!

DC: And all that being said, the instant you lose focus is the instant
the War Pigs get the advantage they're looking for. [Turns to Jason] If
you'll excuse us... we need to talk a little strategy.
'
[Dave then motions for Eric to follow him. Eric pauses for a moment, but
eventually does. Sarah remains with Jason as Dave and Eric walk off
camera.]
'
JD: Sarah, I assume you will be petitioning the Championship Committee
for a shot against whoever the tag team champions are in the near
future?
'
SS: Jason, I will be petitioning, all right... but not for a tag team
title shot. Not yet, anyway.
'
No, what I will be petitioning for is a match with my men against
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman.

I'm sure those two are already trying to make their case for a tag team
title shot, all on the basis that they just happened to make the finals.
But they know how they got there in the first place.
'
And more importantly... they've got a debt to pay and my men are going
to collect it.
[She pulls a card out of Jason's outstretched hand, handing it back to
him before she walks off camera.]

JD:  'I Quit' Match!  And then there were seven!  And if I were the War
Pigs, I'd be hopeful the money they got from Dufresne and Freeman is
worth the beating they may be about to walk into.  Now, let's go up to
Melissa for the introductions for that big tag team showdown!

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

************************************************************************
*			         			CHRISTMAS CLASH *
*		                                      				   *
*		        	              Rough N Ready vs The War Pigs * 
************************************************************************

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty
minute time limit.  Introducing first...

[There's quite the dramatic pause by Melissa.]

MC:  From DEEEEEEETROIT, Michigan... at a total combined weight of 555
pounds... they are accompanied to the ring by their manager Richard Eric
Lee... they are Hammer and Sabre...

THE WARRRRRR PIGS!

[The crowd roars in surprise that Hammer and Sabre are actually making
their way to the ring first.]

GM:  How about that, Bucky?  We've gotten so used to Hammer and Sabre
charging out here and assaulting the team waiting for them in the ring
but somehow, someway, they're having to come out here first!

BW:  It's that hag Sarah Sharpe - guaranteed.  She worked her womanly
wiles in the Championship Committee bedroom, I mean boardroom... hehehe.

GM:  Would you stop?

[With Black Sabbath's 'War Pigs' playing over the PA system, an irate
Richard Eric Lee steps through the curtain - or more accurately, is
being forced out of the locker room area by an AWA official or two.  Lee
is shouting at both men as he's walking towards the ring, waving his two
men out of the locker room.]

GM:  Here comes Hammer and Sabre... and they don't look any happier than
that sneaky Lee does.

BW:  Sneaky?  

GM:  What else would you call a guy who sells his team's services to
take another team out of the National Tag Team Title tournament, Bucky?

BW:  Brilliant!  Did you see the payoff they got?  Richard was showing
me his new gold chain he bought with it.  It cost more than you make in
a year, daddy!

GM:  You have no idea how much I make in a year.

BW:  If it's more than a buck and change an hour, you're overpaid,
Gordo.

[The two powerhouses step up the ringsteps into the squared circle,
their manager still protesting to anyone who will listen as Melissa
continues.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The music changes to Deep Purple...

...and the crowd EXPLODES as Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers tear
out of the entryway, sprinting down the aisle towards the ring with
Sarah Sharpe jogging behind them.]

GM:  HERE COMES ROUGH N READY!

[Somers and Cooper dive headfirst under the ropes into the ring,
springing to their feet as referee Marty Meekly rings the bell to start
the match.  Hammer and Sabre rush towards their opponents, ready for the
fight.]

GM:  Here we go!

[Somers and Hammer are drawn towards one another again, throwing big
heavy shots at one another to the cheers of the crowd.  The smaller
Sabre overwhelms the approaching Cooper, forcing him back against the
turnbuckles.  Sabre launches boot after boot into the midsection of the
mat technician in the corner.  Grabbing Cooper by the throat, Sabre
tries to strangle him - but a knee to the gut by Cooper breaks his grip.
 Hooking Sabre under the arm, Cooper spins him around in the buckles
before popping him with an uppercut to the chin.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot by Cooper!

BW:  Sabre's gonna need some of that money to get a tooth put back in if
he takes too many shots like that.

GM:  That blood money, you mean.

BW:  Call it what you want, daddy, but cash rules everything around me -
and I know Richard E. Lee feels the exact same way.  You want somethin'
in this life?  Cars, clothes, women?  It's all about the dollars.  And
if it don't make dollars than it don't make sense.

[Across the ring, a fired-up Eric Matthew Somers has bull-rushed Hammer
back into the corner, absolutely blitzing him with rights and lefts that
Hammer attempts to block to absolutely no avail.  Somers hooks his hands
together, smashing down with a double axehandle blow that puts Hammer
down on his rear in the corner.  Somers spins around, facing the
opposite side of the ring where Dave Cooper whips Sabre out of the
corner...

...right into a running big boot from Eric Matthew Somers that puts
Sabre down on the mat to a huge cheer from the crowd!]

GM:  Whooooa my!  Did you see that, Bucky?

BW:  Am I blind like your wife must've been the day she met ya?  Of
course I saw it!

[Still wild-eyed, Somers dives down on his knees, grabbing Sabre by the
head where he drives fist after fist into the side of the War Pig's
skull.  He quickly changes his grip, grabbing Sabre by the throat,
yanking him off the mat and slamming the back of his head back down over
and over and over.  A furious Richard E. Lee screams at the referee from
out on the floor.  Hammer drags himself off the mat using the ropes,
looking to intervene - but Dave Cooper races in, blasting Hammer with a
right hand that cuts him off.]

GM:  Dave Cooper is a mat technician but you wouldn't know that with the
way he's throwing haymakers in there right now, Bucky.

BW:  He's getting lucky in there so far but you don't want to have a
brawl with the War Pigs - I don't care who you are.  

GM:  You think Rough N Ready can't hold their own in a fight with the
War Pigs?

BW:  I think the entire AWA would have a problem in a fight with the War
Pigs, daddy.

[Cooper shoves Hammer back against the turnbuckles, throwing hooking
right hands into the midsection of the big man as Somers yanks Sabre off
the mat - and promptly HURLS him through the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  Out goes Sabre!  

BW:  And look at that goof Cooper.  He's telling Somers to get out on
the apron.  He's trying to get this down to a regular tag match.  So
much for this big brawl you thought Cooper was gonna take to the War
Pigs, Gordo.

GM:  Dave Cooper, always the level-headed member of Rough N Ready, knows
that a fight is not to his advantage - just like you said, Bucky.  Maybe
you should offer to manage Rough N Ready - that was some sound advice.

BW:  I wouldn't manage Rough N Ready if that hag Sharpe did for me what
she did for the Committee, Gordo.  They're just not good enough.

GM:  What about the War Pigs?

BW:  The War Pigs are a special type of team and they need a special
kind of leadership.  I think my good friend Richard E. Lee is doing an
excellent job with them, Gordo.

[Cooper continues to batter Hammer's midsection with right hands in the
turnbuckles before grabbing him by the wrist, firing him across the
ring.  The technician barrels across the ring, connecting with a running
back elbow against the corner.  He quickly applies a side headlock,
racing out of the corner with a bulldog headlock on his mind...

...until Hammer hoists Cooper off the mat, throwing him off to avoid the
big move.]

GM:  Ohh!  Hammer breaks up the bulldog - Cooper's back on his feet
and...

[The powerhouse barrels over Cooper with a huge running clothesline that
takes the technician down hard to the mat.  With a cackling Lee shouting
instructions from the floor, Hammer starts stomping Cooper's lower back
before moving up to the back of the head and neck.  After a few more
hard stomps, Hammer drags Cooper off the mat by the hair, throwing him
back against the ropes...

...and hits another running clothesline, this one taking Cooper over the
ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  Down goes Dave Cooper to the floor!

BW:  That's what we're talkin' 'bout, Gordo.  We're talkin' 'bout power,
'bout brawling, 'bout strength, 'bout the ability to fight like there's
no tomorrow, daddy.    The War Pigs have all that and Sharpe's goons
just flat out don't.

GM:  Hammer's going out - no, Marty Meekly cuts him off, making him stay
inside the ring.

BW:  Look out for Sabre!

[Sabre pulls Dave Cooper off the thin mats covering the concrete floor
outside the ring and promptly slams his head into the ring apron,
knocking Cooper back down to a knee.  With the referee distracted,
Richard E. Lee joins in by burying a kick into the chest of Cooper,
knocking him back down on his back on the floor.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  What business does Lee have getting physically
involved with this match?

BW:  What are you talking about?  Did I miss something?

GM:  You saw it, Bucky - admit it!  Lee kicked Cooper right in the
chest!

BW:  With his designer shoes?  He wouldn't risk those shoes.  Those are
new too, you know.

GM:  I'm sure they are.

[Sabre drags Cooper off the floor, shoving him under the ropes into the
ring.  He takes his spot in the corner as Hammer pulls Cooper off the
mat.  A big right hand sends Cooper falling back against the buckles. 
Hammer is in hot pursuit, blasting Cooper across the chest with a
forearm smash.  The referee backs Hammer away - a move that allows Sabre
to slip his arms under the throat of Cooper, choking him in the buckles
as the fans boo wildly.  Across the ring, Eric Matthew Somers steps into
the ring, looking to help his partner.]

GM:  In comes Somers and- no, the referee blocks his path.

BW:  And look at the War Pigs!

[With Somers distracting the referee, Sabre slips into the ring and they
execute a double  Irish whip on Cooper, leveling the technician with a
running double clothesline.  A few double stomps follow up before the
referee spins around, ordering Sabre out of the ring.  Sabre obliges and
then tags himself back into the ring.  Hammer holds Cooper on his feet,
arms pulled back as Sabre buries a boot into the midsection of the ring
veteran.]

GM:  Another doubleteam by the War Pigs who are definitely in control at
the moment.  Eric Matthew Somers is absolutely fuming over there on the
other side of the ring, trying to get in there to dish out some
pounding.

BW:  And the Pigs are doing the right thing.  Keep the ring cut in half,
keep Cooper in there and beat him down.  Sooner or later, Somers will
snap and not be able to control himself.

GM:  So now it's Sabre working over Dave Cooper on the mat.

[A few more kicks puts Cooper back down on the mat.  Sabre points a
finger of warning at Eric Matthew Somers before leaping into the air,
burying a fistdrop down into the forehead of Dave Cooper.  Sabre slowly
gets to his feet, listening to the orders of his manager before nodding
his head in understanding.  He drags Cooper off the mat, shoving him
back against the ropes.  A big knife-edge chop knocks Cooper down to a
knee where Sabre drags him back up before executing another chop.  Sabre
delivers a few hard right hands to the kneeling Cooper before shoving
him down to the mat.  Near the ropes, Sabre steps on the windpipe of
Cooper, causing the referee to start a five count as the War Pig tries
to strangle the air out of his opponent.  At the count of four, Sabre
backs off - which allows Richard E. Lee to reach under the ropes,
helping choke Cooper.]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Get some control out there!

[With Lee strangling Cooper, Sarah Sharpe races around the ring...

...and comes face to face with Hammer who steps in her path!]

GM:  Uh oh!

BW:  Whatcha gonna do, Sharpe?  You feel like tusslin' with Hammer?

[Sharpe pulls up short, backing off as the powerhouse of the War Pigs
stalks towards her which causes Eric Matthew Somers to drop down off the
apron, quickly circling the corner to move to his manager's aid.  Hammer
and Somers come together on the floor, throwing big blows at one another
to the roar of the crowd.  A distracted Sabre keeps an eye on the floor
as he pulls Cooper to his feet - and promptly gets a right hand to the
gut.  A second right hand knocks Sabre into the ropes where Cooper whips
him across.]

GM:  Sabre off the far side... SPINEBUSTER!  SPINEBUSTER BY COOPER!

[The crowd roars as a dazed Dave Cooper connects with the big
spinebuster, nearly putting Sabre through the ring.   The technician
slowly starts to crawl towards his corner where...

...absolutely no one is waiting for him.]

GM:  Dave Cooper's looking for a tag but Somers is out on the floor
brawling with Hammer!  Hammer and Eric Matthew Somers are beating the
tar out of each other outside of the ring and-

[Spotting his partner, Somers tries to pull out of the brawl but Hammer
hooks him by the back of the tights, holding him in place as the big man
tries to aid the downed Cooper.  Sabre slowly regains his feet, throwing
himself into a crushing double axehandle down onto the back of Cooper's
head near the corner.  A flailing back elbow from Somers knocks Hammer
aside allowing Somers to get back up on the apron - just as Sabre yanks
Cooper back away from the corner by the foot.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  That was all Eric Matthew Somers' fault, Gordo.  He let his
emotions get the advantage of him and his partner paid the price for it.
 I saw it on the Internet this week - Rough N Ready are neither 'rough'
nor 'ready' for the War Pigs, daddy.

GM:  Somers is in the corner waiting but he's just a little too late to
help his partner.

[Sabre yanks Cooper off the mat by the tights, reaching out to slap the
hand of Hammer who steps into the ring.  A double whip quickly follows
as does a leaping double shoulderblock that completely levels Cooper. 
Sabre steps out to the apron as Hammer leaps high into the air, dropping
a big elbowsmash down across the chest of Cooper.  Outside the ring, our
camera catches a shot of Sarah Sharpe shouting encouragement for her
charge.]

GM:  You can see Sarah Sharpe with a look of concern on her face.

BW:  She'd hate for all that hard work with the Championship Committee
to go to waste, Gordo.  She got this match - she got the War Pigs to
have to enter the ring first and according to her, next up, they want a
shot at Freeman and Dufresne?  Crazy girl.  You know, I hear the first
question she always asks in negotiations is 'your place or mine?'

GM:  Give me a break!  Would you stop?

[Hammer drags Cooper off the mat, hoisting him up... and then pressing
him high above.  The powerhouse walks around the ring with Cooper,
actually showing him off to the capacity crowd before throwing him down
to the mat.  Hammer dives atop Cooper, reaching back to hook a leg as
the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  No!  Shoulder up at two.

[An angry Hammer pulls Cooper up by the hair, throwing him back into the
War Pigs' corner where he tags Sabre back into the ring.  Sabre quickly
joins his partner, both men throwing punches and kicks in the direction
of the ring veteran to the jeers of the crowd.  The two men drag Cooper
out by the arms - and then HURL him spinefirst into the turnbuckles. 
They repeat the action a second time - Hammer finally stepping back out
to the apron as Sabre pulls Cooper out to the middle of the ring where
he applies a front facelock.  Sabre slowly turns Cooper over, pointing a
menacing finger at Eric Matthew Somers before snapping Cooper down to
the mat with a reverse neckbreaker.]

GM:  Ohhh!  And Sabre makes a quick cover - one!  Two!  Th- no!

BW:  That was closer though, Gordo.  The War Pigs are getting closer to
putting this old man down for a three count.  And then maybe it'll be
The War Pigs getting the next chance at the National Tag Team Titles. 
But I'm betting Richard E. Lee won't go to the same lengths to get that
title shot as Sharpe would.

GM:  Bucky, when Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers find out what
you've been saying about their manager tonight... I would not want to be
in your alligator shoes, Mr. Wilde.

BW:  I'm shakin' in said alligator shoes, Gordo.  I really am.

[Sabre drags Cooper off the mat, making another exchange as Hammer steps
into the ring.  Sabre quickly tosses Cooper into a neutral corner,
grabbing his partner by the wrist and whipping him into a running
clothesline on the veteran.  Hammer backs away, allowing Sabre to charge
in as well, connecting with a second clothesline.  Grabbing Cooper by
the head, he throws him towards Hammer who takes Cooper up and over with
a powerslam!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!  THAT COULD DO IT!

[But again, Cooper fires his shoulder off the mat just before the three
count comes down.  Hammer throws a few hammer-like fists into the side
of Cooper's head before dragging him up off the mat and hoisting him up
into another gorilla press.]

GM:  Again with the military press - walking around the ring like he's
carrying a prize of some kind.

[This time, however, Cooper manages to wriggle free, dropping out of the
press and landing on his knees behind Hammer who turns around only to
find the dazed veteran crawling through the big man's legs...

...and making a diving tag to an all-too-eager Eric Matthew Somers!]

GM:  TAG!  AND LISTEN TO THESE FANS!

[Somers steps into the ring and immediately floors Hammer with a running
clothesline.  Without missing a beat, he pivots and DRILLS the incoming
Sabre with a right hand that knocks Sabre down to the mat as well. 
Somers quickly turns around as Hammer staggers back to his feet...

...and EATS a running big boot that sends Hammer over the ropes and down
to the floor  where Richard E. Lee is quickly over to check on his
musclebound charge.  Somers snatches the recovering Sabre away from the
ropes.]

GM:  Uh oh - look out!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Somers hoists Sabre above his head in a gorilla
press of his own...

...and then charges towards the ropes, HURLING Sabre over the ropes and
down onto Hammer and Richard E. Lee to a deafening reaction from the
capacity crowd.  Somers screams out along with the crowd as he looks
down at the pile-up of bodies on the floor.  Still wild-eyed, Somers
steps out on the ring apron before dropping down to the floor below.  He
promptly pulls Sabre up off the floor, grabbing him behind the head.]

GM:  What is Somers doing now?  He's got Lee and the War Pigs laid out
on the floor - look at his eyes, Bucky.  He's just absolutely burning
with rage.  Absolutely on fire with anger at how this is- LOOK OUT!

[A huge ovation rings out as Somers storms towards the steel barricade
and HURLS Sabre over the railing and into the crowd!]

GM:  OHHHH MY!  SOMERS PUTS SABRE INTO THE CROWD!  THE FIGHT IS ON!

[Somers storms away from the railing, rapidly approaching Hammer who has
managed to regain his feet but a clubbing forearm across the back of the
head stops him short.  The big man grabs Hammer, throwing him backfirst
into the steel ringpost.]

'I'm gonna break the son of a bitch in half!'

[The shout from Somers draws a few more cheers as he approaches Hammer,
leaning over to grab the apron with both hands and then LUNGING forward
to slam his shoulder into the body of Hammer, driving Hammer's back into
the steel ringpost.]

GM:  He said he's gonna break Hammer in half and he just might do it!

BW:  Somebody's gotta stop this, Gordo.

GM:  You volunteering?

[Somers slams the shoulder home again, smashing back against the post. 
With a howl, Somers does it again... and again... and again... and
again... and again.  Hammer clings to the post, trying to stay on his
feet...

...and suddenly, a very brave Richard E. Lee charges across the ringside
area, leaping onto the massive back of Eric Matthew Somers, flailing
away with rights and lefts, trying to free his charge from Somers' path
of rage.]

GM:  He's like a gnat, Bucky - no effect on Eric Matthew Somers at all!

BW:  He got him to stop at least.  Somers should be disqualified for-

[The crowd ERUPTS as Sarah Sharpe races around the ringpost, grabbing
Lee by the back of the head, and YANKING him off Somers' back, throwing
Lee down to the floor below.  Sharpe stands over Lee, all fired up as
she spits some well-chosen words down on a stunned Lee.]

BW:  WHAT... DID... SHE... DO?!

GM:  She did what she had to do!  She did exactly what she had to do!

[Somers, for the first time in the match, cracks a grin at seeing his
manager standing over a downed Richard Lee - and promptly turns right
around, grabbing Hammer by the throat.]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  You know what this maniac is thinking!

GM:  Eric, don't do this... don't do this, Eric, please.

[Staring out over the cheering crowd, Somers hoists the muscleman in the
air...

...and DRIVES him down on the barely-padded concrete floor to a huge
roar from the crowd!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHH!


'DING!  DING!  DING!


GM:  What the-?!

[Eric Matthew Somers doesn't even respond to the ring bell, staring down
coldly at the motionless Hammer.  A battered Dave Cooper staggers around
the ringside area, joining his partner and his manager.  Cooper whispers
a few words to Somers, finally getting him to back away from the downed
War Pig.]

GM:  They're- it looks like Rough N Ready are leaving!

BW:  What's the decision, Gordo?

GM:  The referee is talking to Melissa - let's see what the ruling is.

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as Melissa Cannon and the referee
confer.  With a nod, she takes the mic.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... the referee has ruled that this match is
out of control and therefore is ruled... A NO CONTEST!

[The crowd boos the announcement as Rough N Ready retreats from the
ringside area, leaving the laid out War Pigs behind.]

GM:  A no contest.  The referee rules that he can not control the match
anymore and it's a no contest.  

BW:  Well, that doesn't solve a thing!

GM:  It certainly doesn't and you have to imagine we haven't seen the
end of this rivalry.  It's just really starting to heat up and you have
to wonder whether the War Pigs just bought Dufresne and Freeman a little
more time before Rough N Ready finally get their hands on them.  At this
time, we've got some pre-recorded footage from one of the participants
in tonight's Secret Santa Showdown - former National Champion, Marcus
Broussard!

[SCENE: AWA Christmas Clash background! The camera focuses in on the
red, white and blue sign and on the man looking at it, decked out in a
grey suit. He turns around and takes off his sunglasses, revealing
himself to be Marcus Broussard, the San Jose Shark and the former AWA
National champion. Broussard folds his shades and puts them in his
breast pocket, before running a hand through his hair.] 

MB: I guess you could say I owe a few people an explanation or two about
my actions, or lack thereof. 

When you save your hated enemy from a beatdown, I suppose people start
to wonder. Why'd you do that? What's going through your head? Where've
you been lately? 

It's fair to say that during the summer, I lost my cool. I forgot the
reasons that I attained the success that I did, and when something
didn't go the way I planned I lost it... my title, my dignity and almost
my job. They sent me home for a while, to get my head back together. 

And you know what I saw while I was sitting at home? I saw someone who
had forgotten why he got into the wrestling business to begin with. 

[Broussard smiles, and points at himself.] 

MB: By now it's no surprise to anyone that I've got high standards. I
wear nice clothes, I drive nice cars and I take pride in being the
finely groomed individual that I am. But most importantly, the standards
I have for myself in the ring are higher than most people can imagine. I
am part of the wrestling business because I am in constant pursuit of
perfection... from the time I was a kid, to the man I am today, I
strived to be the very best at what I do. 

However, somewhere along the way I lost sight of what I was doing. I
lost sight of the reason I put in all the time and effort. I let the AWA
National title blind me, and I let the fear of losing it consume me. I
did things to people and allied myself with people that I never in a
million years would have otherwise done. The AWA National title is a
thing of beauty, and a trophy to be cherished... but when the man
holding it has no scruples, and can't hold onto it with his own natural
talent, then it just doesn't mean as much. 

I will _never_ apologize for calling myself the finest wrestler in the
world today, because I believe that through and through. And I'll never
apologize for being proud of my accomplishments and all the things I've
worked for. If it irks you or rubs you the wrong way, that's not my
problem. 

But I will apologize for acting in a manner unbecoming of a champion,
and tarnishing the legacy of being the first AWA National champion. 

[The San Jose Shark cracks his knuckles and looks at the camera.] 

MB: The reason I came back to save Ron Houston is because I owed him the
very best I had to offer. Frankly, I think the man is a neanderthal, and
I don't hold him in very high regard, In fact, I think it would be fair
to say that I despise him. 

But the man held my title, the title he took from me fair and square,
after I drove him to the point of madness. I owed that man a no frills,
one on one encounter with the world's best. The way he took my title was
not on the best of terms for either of us. My plan was to make sure the
vultures around here didn't take his head off before I invoked my
rematch clause, and then win my title back in the center of the ring,
plain and simple. 

Looks like I wasn't fast enough. 

As I sat in limbo, waiting for the legalese to get ironed out, I watched
as this Russian beat Houston cleanly, for my title. And sent Ron Houston
out of AWA. 

Two things I never did. 

I'm not ashamed to say that I'm envious of your accomplishments,
Sudakov. And since I can no longer use my rematch clause against
Houston, I'm alerting the AWA, and the rest of the wrestling world that
after I win my match at Christmas Clash I am officially challenging you
to a match... just not for the title. 

I'm challenging you to a non-title match, and if I can prove myself in
that ring against you, then I will pursue a follow up match with the
title on the line. 

[The former champion points right at the camera.] 

MB: The AWA National title deserves a holder who can respect and
appreciate it's meaning, and as a man who's lost it before, I'm one of
the few who knows just how valuable it is. 

And when I win it back... maybe then, Adam Rogers will talk to me. 

[With a smile, Broussard puts his sunglasses back on and walks out of
the scene 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...

The "Earlier Today" graphic is displayed prominently on the screen as
the scene fades out into a shot of a focused-looking Juan Vasquez
walking into the arena. Juan is dressed in a white dress shirt, black
slacks and has a black duffel bag strapped across his back. He stops in
the middle of the hallway as he's greeted by Jason Dane.]

JD: Juan Vasquez, the last time we saw you in a ring, you were in the
semi-finals of the National Tag Team title tournament, where your
partner Raphael Rhodes, tagged himself into the match against eventual
champions, City Jack and Tin Can Rust, when you seemingly had the match
won. Rhodes was eventually pinned and as a result, you both lost a
chance at the tag team titles. Tonight, you and Rhodes get another
opportunity at the National Tag Team Titles. Any comments?

JV: How does that AWA commercial go?

[Juan stares into the camera and sort of tilts his head slightly to the
side.]

JV: "Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[He tilts it to the opposite side and stares off into nowhere.]

JV: "Of glory?"

[He then leans in close to the camera, staring straight at the viewers
watching at home.]

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

[He rocks back, standing straight up, hands still in his pockets. His
expression isn't one filled with much amusement or enthusiasm. Just a
very tired look.]

JV: I bet you do, Raphael. Every single waking moment of your life. How
else do ya' explain doing something so foolish? So absolutely selfish?

[Juan closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, restraining himself
before he says something that he'll regret.]

JV: It was right there for the taking, Raph. Fame, glory...the whole
damn thing. We could've won. Hell...we _should've_ won.

We had it.

We _HAD_ it.

[Juan takes his hands out of his pockets and holds them in front of the
camera, almost as if he's making a grab for those tag team titles that
are so painfully close, yet so painfully far.]

JV: And then the dream crashed and burned like a glory-hoggin' limey
flying through the air trying to knockout a Kentucky-fried southern
stereotype with his face.

[His entire being. Not just his head. No, his entire BEING almost seems
to deflate at that moment.]

JV: There's a moment for everything, amigo. Yes, even snatching defeat
from the jaws of victory.

But that wasn't it.

[Juan shakes his head disapprovingly at the camera.]

JV: That *really* wasn't it.

[Juan runs his hands down along his face and lets out a frustrated
groan.]

JV: I thought we both wanted those belts. I thought letting you loose
like a wild dog was gonna' bring us home the titles. And all it ended up
doing was proving that your way was the _wrong_ way.

[He shakes his head slowly.]

JV: Simply put, people...I messed up. I gave the kid enough rope...

[He rolls his eyes and sighs.]

JV: ...and the damn fool ended up hanging us both.

[A frown forms on his face briefly, but he shakes the negative thoughts
from his head.]

JV: But the simple fact o' the matter is...we can still be champions,
Raph. We can still pull this off. We don't need to be friends. We don't
need to shake hands. We don't need to wear matching clothes. We don't
even need to acknowledge each others' existence. I just need you to put
away that ego for however long it's gonna take to beat City Jack and Tin
Can Rust and that's all I'm asking from ya'.

Do that...and we'll win.

Ya' hear me?

_WE'LL WIN._

[Just then, Juan's gaze narrows...]

JV: We got ourselves another chance, amigo.

[...as his voice becomes slightly tinged with the slightest hint of
menace.]

JV: Lets not blow this one.

[He looks briefly at Jason Dane and nods, before walking away. Fade out.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  Welcome back, fans.  It's been an exciting night of action so far
tonight and it's only going to get better.  But for now, it's time to
pull another two cards from the deck - eliminating two more matches from
the Hand Of Destiny.

[So, Dane does exactly that, drawing two more cards.]

JD:  The Stretcher Match is gone.

[And he holds up the other one.]

JD:  And Falls Count Anywhere is eliminated!  Let's go back to ringside
to Gordon and Bucky!

[We cut back to the ringside area where our announcers are standing,
looking back into the camera.]

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  I look forward to seeing young Mr. Anderson in
action in the very near future.  And I'm definitely looking forward to
the Hand Of Destiny match later tonight.  Only five cards remain in the
deck, Bucky.  Steel Cage, No DQ, Lumberjack, Dog Collar, and Outlaw
Rules.  Any one of those just might steal the show.

BW:  Well, that's for sure.  And any one of them is also a fitting way
for Grant Stone to spend his last night in the AWA.

GM:  Win, lose, or draw - Stone says he's got nothing left to prove and
you can bet Bobby Taylor wants to give him one heck of a fight on the
way out the door as well.  Plus, from what I under-

[The well-known opening guitar riffs of "Sharp Dressed Man" by ZZ Top
come blaring through the loudspeakers of the West Dallas Community
College and the drunken frat boys waste no time in raining a chorus of
boos down on the man who is expected to step out from the locker room. 
Their drunken jeers are halted momentarily as they stare not at a man
clad in his usual three-piece suit, but rather jolly St. Nick himself!]

GM:  Now what on Earth is this all about?
 
[Decked out in his red suit, black boots and red Santa hat, the
extremely  overweight Santa is flanked by two scantily-clad blonde lady
elves, their tanned and sculpted legs extending down from underneath a
(very) short green elf costume, prosthetic ears (and probably other
prosthetic parts) are visible from underneath their green hats.  Santa
carries a large red bag over his shoulder, bulging at the seams,  The
crowd is understandably confused; hearing the hated Calisto Dufresne's
theme music but seeing two beautiful women and jolly St. Nick halts
their boos as they try to figure out what is going on.]

GM:  Uhh, well folks, it appears that...Santa is making his way over to
us right now.

BW:  Who gives a lump of coal about Santa, Myers!?  Look at his elves!

[As Santa waddles towards the announce table as the crowd ogles his
elves, Gordon Myers stands to speak to Santa.]

GM:  Umm, hello Sant--

[Santa interrupts him by plopping down into the seat Myers just
occupied, dropping his bag onto the announce table with an audible
thud.]

S:  Thanks, Gordie, don't mind if I do.  

[Myers cocks his head to the side, confused.]

GM:  Well, it looks like you're a little late this year...

S:  I'm here to spread the Christmas cheer!  I've got to tell you,
though... Being a fat, tub of lard is not very easy.  You can't turn
around in a bathroom stall, you can't ride any amusement park rides, you
have to sit in the handicap seats on an airplane.  I just don't
understand what ole' City Jack sees in it, really.

[Myers squints his eyes, looking closely at Santa and examininig him,
then recoiling.]

GM:  Wait a minute; you're not Santa!  Ladies and gentlemen, this is
Calisto Dufresne wearing a Santa costume!

[The boos rain down as it all begins to make sense for the bright,
overachieving community college students.]

S:  You know that if you don't believe in Santa, you get no presents! 
And that's why I'm here!  To spread holiday cheer and provide gifts to
everyone who deserves them this year!  So be a good boy and run off to
City Jack's locker room and get me some cookies.

["Santa" snatches the microphone from Myers and remains seated.  He
begins to open his red bag as he speaks.]

S:  Now, the first gift I have to give is the easiest!  To the most
respected announcer in the business...

[Santa turns and pats a beaming Bucky Wilde on the shoulder.  Wilde is
peering into the bag, wondering what his gift could possibly be.]

S:  For you, Bucky, the only man in this organization who calls 'em how
they actually occur, I got you just what you asked for.

[Bucky interjects.]

BW:  Calis--errr, Santa!  You got me a new announce partner!?

[Santa pauses.]

S:  Well, no... but I did bring you two elves!

[Wilde's eyes go wide as Santa's two elves sit down on his lap, draping
their arms around him as he immediately tunes out anything else that is
being said.]

S:  Now let's see here...

[Santa reaches into his bag and pulls out what appears to be some sort
of leather gag, with a large red ball to go in the mouth.  He aimlessly
hands it to Myers, who stares at it incredulously.]

S:  This is for you, Gordie.  So you can let Bucky handle all the calls
in my matches.  

[Santa looks back at Myers, seeing the look on his face.]

S:  Oh, don't worry.  It's only been used once or twice...

[In a lower tone, almost to himself.]

S:  ...today.

[A snicker from Santa is heard as he reaches into his bag once again. 
From it, he retrieves a pair of wrestling titles, looking suspiciously
like the AWA National Tag Team Titles, but a whole lot more plasticky
(yes, they're plasticky.)]

S:  These are for the honorable team of Calisto Dufresne and Adrian
Freeman.  I know they're not the real thing, because the real things
were unjustly taken from them at Black Friday Beatdown, but it's the
thought that counts.  Calisto and Adrian were good 
this year; never stooping low to win a match, never putting themselves
ahead of others.

[The boos rain down as the crowd calls B.S. on that statement.]

S:  Santa knows that sometimes Christmas comes early, however!  And
Santa knows that at some point before I visit you next year that Calisto
and Adrian will be wearing gold around their waists, whether it be the
National Championship or the National Tag Team Titles!

[A nod from Santa as he reaches into the bag once again, searching for
something.  He can't seem to find it, however.  Then something dawns on
him.]

S:  Though Kentucky's Pride have been bad, bad children this year, I did
have something for them too.  But it wasn't able to fit in my bag as I
remember.  What is it, you ask?

[A sinister smirk plays across the bearded face of "Santa" as he stares
in the camera.]

S:  We wouldn't want to ruin the surprise now would we?  I don't know
when I'll be able to deliver this present to Kentucky's Pride, but rest
assured that it will be delivered eventually.  And when it is, those
boys will get what they've earned this year.

[A nod, a wink and a smile from Santa (kind of an odd thing for Santa to
do) as "Sharp Dressed Man" plays across throughout the building as Santa
slowly rises from his seat, obviously not comfortable carrying around
the extra bulk and waddles back to the locker room as the boos
continue.]

GM:  That was horrible, Bucky.  On this Christmas day, with the spirit
of loving and togetherness and giving and family in the air, this...
this...

BW:  Be careful what you say about Santa.

GM:  THAT WASN'T SANTA!

BW:  Obviously, you don't know what you're saying, Gordo.  I'm going to
give you some time to cool off.  Let's go back to that muckraker Dane
and see what dirt he's dug up now.

[Cut back to the locker room area where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  You want to talk about dirt?  I've got dirt for you, my friend! 
Moments ago, I spoke with several members of the Championship Committee
who have stated that there will be a major announcement regarding the
path to earning a National Tag Team Title shot later tonight.  No more
details as of right now but I'm told this should have a major and
immediate impact on every tag team in the AWA so I'm looking forward to
that later tonight.

But for right now, let's go to some pre-recorded comments from Adam
Rogers.

[Scene cuts to what looks like your standard back-halls setup, with a
plain white-painted wall in the background and Adam Rogers sitting in
front holding a microphone.' He wears an old't-shirt with his likeness
on it'from his days in the EMWC.' And he's somber, dang it.]

AR: So it all comes down to this, Mark Shaw.

[And there's the axe handle.' Adam looks down as he lifts it with his
right hand and gently drops it down into his left hand.' He then looks
up.' Yeah.]

AR: Are you getting what you wanted?

I know I finally did.

You see, Shaw, I told you...I was done playing games with you.' Maybe
when this axe handle introduced itself to the backside of your head,
maybe it knocked a little sense into you.' Maybe it got the point across
that I say what I mean...and I mean what I say.

[Pause, as Adam tosses the axe handle aside.' It echoes off the concrete
floor upon impact.]

AR: And so now, it all comes down to this.

Has reality begun to set it a little bit, Mark?' Has it begun to occur
to you that you might have bitten off more than you can chew?' Is it the
picture becoming more clear as to _who_ you've been messing with over
these last'few months?' You see, Mark, as I believe you're beginning to
understand, finally...there are two types of people in this business:
there are talkers, and there are doers.

You still got any doubt as to which one I am?

[A smirk.]

AR: But that's the difference between me and you, Mark.' That's the
difference between someone who's been through the ring wars, and someone
who can only talk about what they're going to do one day.' You see, I've
been in the ring with the devil himself.' I literally waded through the
fires of hell, and I still have the scars to prove it.' So you?'
Heh...you're just a trip to the candy store compared to who I've stared
at from'across the ring.

So does that mean I think you won't present a challenge?' Far from it.'
You're young, you're hungry, you have something to prove, and you're a
dang fine competitor.' But here's the question you've got to ask
yourself, Shaw.' You see, I've been there before.

Have you?

[Adam pauses to let the question sink in to, uh...whoever is listening.]

AR: Think about it.' Have you been there before?' Because all the anger,
all the rage, all the talent, all the gold envy in the world can't
replace the one thing you don't have.

Experience.

Not like I have.' Because, Mark, I've been there before.' Many times
over.

Have you?

[Rogers smiles tightly.]

AR: So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?' Everything you've done to
disrespect me, disrespect yourself, disrespect this great sport of
ours...tonight, it all comes to fruition.' Your rising star, your chance
to become the AWA National Heavyweight Champion...your chance to defeat
a World Champion.

It all comes down to this.

And now?' Don't you wish it didn't.

[We fade from the face of Adam Rogers 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 back up on live action to the ringside area where Gordon
Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to Christmas Clash.  We've got a lot more
action ahead of us here still tonight.  And at this time... after an
incredible showing in the tournament for the AWA National Tag Team
Championship with his tag team partner, Despair, please join me in
welcoming the newest member of The Dead Pool, "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean!

["Riding on The Wind" begins to blast out over the P.A. and the crowd
comes to its feet as "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean makes his way down the
aisle, taking up a position at the broadcast table alongside Gordon
Myers as Bucky Wilde looks on skeptically.]

MACLEAN: Thank you, Mr. Myers, and let me just say what an honor it is
to be a part of the AWA!

[The crowd pops.]

MACLEAN: And, yes, while Despair and I did give it a hundred and ten
percent, we fell short in the tournament to crown the first ever AWA
National Tag Team Champions.
Which reminds me. I have yet to congratulate the new champions, City
Jack and Tin Can Rust - Kentucky's Pride - on a job well done!!

[Another pop.]

MACLEAN: But don't get me wrong, boys. Despair and I are still gunning
for a shot at those belts and someday we'll get it.  However, that's not
the reason I'm out here tonight because, tonight, I'm here not as
one-half of The Dead Pool but as one of ten men whose names are going
into a Christmas stocking for a shot at a brand new Ford Mustang.
'
And, while I sure as hell won't turn down a brand new car, I'm more
interested in the opportunity to step foot inside the squared circle
with one of those nine other men, whether it's Adrian Freeman, Callisto
Dufresne, Marcus Broussard, Stevie Scott, Sweet Daddy Williams, Scott
Pain, Soup Bone Samson, Jarrod O'Lachlan, or even my own partner,
Despair.

Because I've been a wrestler over half my life and a wrestling fan even
longer so there's no way I wouldn't be excited about facing off against
the likes of one of them!

[Gordon Myers nods his head in approval and opens his mouth to speak but
is cut off by his broadcast partner, Bucky Wilde,]

BW:  You sure do know how to work a crowd, you know that? But, when push
comes to shove, do you have what it takes to beat any one of those other
wrestlers or is the mighty Hurricane just a windbag full of hot air?

GM:  Bucky Wilde!  Why would you even-
'
MACLEAN: No, Mr. Myers, he's right. I should only hope my name _is_ one
of the two names drawn tonight so I can prove to Mr. Wilde and all of
the AWA wrestling fans that "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean can talk the talk
_and_ walk the walk.

Of course it would take a man like Bucky Wilde to know hot air when he
sees it, seeing as how he's got his foot tethered to the floor to keep
from floating away.

BW:  Why, you-

MACLEAN: So, before your broadcast partner makes it so hot, humid, and
full of...himself...in here that the fans start to riot from the smell,
I think I ought to...

[Suddenly 'Daylight Dies' by Killswitch Engage begins to play and the
crowd comes to its feet yet again as the other half of The Dead Pool
makes his way down the aisle. Joining his tag team partner at the
announce desk, Despair nods his head at Maclean and then gestures for
the microphone in his partner's hand.]

DESPAIR: Well, did you guys really think I'd just stick around and keep
my mouth shut while my partner is out here?  And, Wilde, I'd suggest
you'd not answer that if you would like to walk away from this under
your own power.

[The crowd pops at the threat as Bucky shifts his weight back and forth
trying not to make eye contact.]

DESPAIR: Now I did promise Kirk not to rant too much in public about the
tag titles not being ours right now and I fully intend to follow up on
that promise'after I make sure that it's a known fact that, sooner or
later, The Dead Pool will fight and claw our way to a title shot and
take our place as the AWA Tag Team Champions.
'
But, like I said, I won't rant too much.
'
[Despair grins as he pulls off his AWA hoodie to reveal a 'DEAD POOL FOR
TAG CHAMPS IN '09...FEAR IT' t-shirt. Maclean smiles and shakes his head
at his partner's antics.]

DESPAIR: C'mon, Kirk, you know you wanna rock one of these bad boys.

[Despair tosses another shirt at Maclean, who catches it and pulls it on
over his head to a huge pop from the fans.]

DESPAIR: Anyway, the big topic of tonight - and rightfully so - the
Secret Santa match.
Now, as my partner has made it ever so clear, anyone could face anyone,
including the members of The Dead Pool facing off against each other
one-on-one.

And anyone who's kept up with either of our careers knows that there is
no lack of history between Kirk and myself. The funny part is most of
that history involves bloodshed and namely each other's. Kind of like
brothers or training partners, we more or less beat respect for one
another into each other over time. And now here we're talking about once
again trying to kill each other over a car.

A car that I could really use to pick up more dates. I need all the help
I can get''cause lemme tell ya, even my own mother wouldn't love this
beat up face.

[Bucky Wilde begins to say something out of instinct but Maclean covers
his mouth before a single word can be uttered.]

MACLEAN: Consider this me officially saving your life. Don't make me
regret it.

[Despair laughs and Bucky once again begins to shift nervously in his
seat as Despair leans in closer to him.]

DESPAIR: Like I was saying, neither member of The Dead Pool would be
stupid enough to pass up a free car. And if in order to get that free
car we had to'oh'say beat the ever lovin' snot out of each other, then
so be it.

You see, moments like this are all about business. If Kirk and me have
to face off tonight, I promise that we'll deliver a match for the ages. 
And, afterwards, we'll drive to a bar together in my brand new car and
have a party to celebrate.

After all, at the end of the day, The Dead Pool still wins.
'
MACLEAN: That's right, we do'but I'm afraid you've got one thing wrong,
partner.

DESPAIR: Oh, yeah? What's that?
MACLEAN (smirking): At the end of the day, we'll be driving away in _my_
new car.

[And, as Despair laughs out loud at his partner and the two men turn to
enter the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing alongside Jason Dane.]

JD:  And at this time, if we could please have the other eight men in
the Secret Santa Showdown come to the ring.

[Some quite festive holiday music plays over the PA as the other eight
men - Jarrod O'Lachlan, Adrian Freeman, Stevie Scott, Calisto Dufresne,
Sweet Daddy Williams, Scott Pain, Soup Bone Samson, and Marcus Broussard
- make their way down the aisle, stepping into the squared circle.  Dane
reaches outside the ring, grabbing a red and white stocking from a
ringside AWA official.]

JD:  I now hold in my hand the stocking containing the ten names of the
men inside the ring right now.  As you all know, I will draw two names
out of this stocking and those two men will battle in this ring.  The
winner of that match will win the amazing 2008 Ford Mustang you see
parked out by the entranceway courtesy of our friends at West Dallas
Ford.  

[The camera cuts to reveal a shiny red Ford Mustang parked off to the
right of the entranceway, surrounded by ropes so that the fans can't get
too close to it.]

JD:  And now... the first man who will be battling for that beautiful
new car is...

[Dane dips his hand into the stocking, pulling out a slip of paper.]

JD:  KIRK MACLEAN!

[The fiery fan favorite pumps a fist in the air as the fans cheer.  He
trades a handshake with his nearby tag team partner as he waits to see
who his opponent will be for the Secret Santa Showdown.]

JD:  And his opponent...

[Dane digs into the stocking one more time, taking a few moments before
pulling out another name.]

JD:  'The Ladykiller' - Calisto Dufresne!

[Dufresne grins arrogantly as he leans against the buckles, nodding his
head almost expectantly.  Adrian Freeman congratulates his tag team
partner before stepping out of the ring.]

JD:  If I could have the other eight competitors please exit the ring at
this time.

[Eight disappointed competitors exit the ring - but only six retreat to
the locker room.]

GM:  And it appears as though Adrian Freeman has decided to stay out
here in Dufresne's corner - and as a result, you can bet Despair's not
leaving his partner out here with these two jackals, Bucky.

BW:  Jackals?  Take that back!  Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne are
fine, outstanding young men!

GM:  Only in your warped vision of reality.

[Dufresne slides out of the corner as referee Mickey Meekly joins the
two men inside the squared circle - and calls for the bell!]

GM:  Here we go!

[Maclean immediately walks towards Dufresne, the Ladykiller sidestepping
to avoid the approach which turns into the two men circling one another
for a moment before lunging into a collar and elbow tieup.  The two men
struggle for an advantage for a moment before Maclean powers Dufresne
back, shoving him towards the buckles to the cheers of the crowd.  The
Ladykiller pauses, eyeing Maclean.  He cracks a grin before moving into
a circle once again.]

GM:  Dufresne must have something up his sleeve.

BW:  Why do you say that?

GM:  He's smiling.

BW:  So what?  A man's not allowed to smile anymore!

GM:  Not someone like him.

[They wrap up in a lockup once more, struggling in the middle of the
ring to get an edge.  Dufresne quickly jabs a thumb into the eye of
Maclean, smirking as he shoves Maclean back into the corner.   The
referee calls for a clean break - but Dufresne has no such intention,
repeatedly driving his knee up into the midsection of a still-blinded
'Hurricane' Kirk Maclean.  After the fifth knee to the gut, Dufresne
hooks the arm and executes an Irish whip across the ring.]

GM:  Maclean hits the corner hard... ohh!  Running back elbow by
Dufresne!  Another whi- reversed!

[And this time, it's Dufresne who hits the corner hard before staggering
out into a big back body drop by Maclean who pumps a fist at the
cheering crowd as Dufresne bounces off the mat.  The Ladykiller stumbles
back to his feet in a hurry but a rapidly-approaching Maclean takes him
right back down with a running leap into a headscissors takedown.]

GM:  Ohhh my!  What a move by Maclean!

[He follows up the headscissors with a picture perfect dropkick right on
the chin of Dufresne that knocks the Ladykiller to the mat, forcing him
to roll under the ropes to seek a breather.  Adrian Freeman races to his
partner's side to provide some moral support as a stunned Dufresne rests
on the barely-padded concrete.]

GM:  And Dufresne goes out to the floor - trying to recover.  Fans,
we've got to take a quick commercial break but if the match ends during
the break, the tape machines are rolling so we can bring you all the
action.  Don't go away!

[The camera holds on Freeman and Dufresne conferring on the floor as we
fade to black.

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

JD:  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 live action just as Dufresne and Maclean lunge at
one another into a tieup once again.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  Calisto Dufresne spent the majority of our
break out on the floor, stalling to give himself some time to recoup
from 'Hurricane' Kirk Maclean's lightning fast start.  Maclean had
Dufresne way off balance and now the Ladykiller's trying to find a way
to get back on even ground.

BW:  Don't worry 'bout it, Gordo.  Calisto's got this one wrapped up.

GM:  You think so, huh?

[Dufresne quickly pulls Maclean into a standing side headlock, cranking
down on the head and neck of the fan favorite with a cocky grin on his
face.  The Ladykiller shows off some of his technical skills by spinning
out of the headlock into a standing rear hammerlock.]

'HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT, GORDO?'

[The crowd boos the Ladykiller's verbal attack on the beloved
Play-By-Play man.]

BW:  He's talkin' at ya, Gordo.

GM:  I hear him.  He should focus on his opponent and leave me out of
it.

[Dufresne is still grinning as he switches to an armtwist but Maclean
quickly front rolls away from the pressure, popping up to his feet where
he lashes out with a dropkick that sends Dufresne sailing down to the
mat.  He springs up but gets floored with a reverse knife-edge chop that
takes the Ladykiller right back down.  Dufresne gets up again but a
flurry of right hands knocks him back into the corner.]

GM:  Irish whip by Maclean - here he comes!

[The Hurricane runs from corner to corner at top speed and buries both
feet squarely in the chest of Dufresne with a brutal front dropkick!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Maclean backs off, clapping his hands as the crowd cheers him on. 
Dufresne drops to his knees in the corner, clutching his injured chest. 
As the Hurricane moves back in, Dufresne lifts his arms up, begging for
mercy.]

GM:  Oh, look at him now!  Now he wants mercy?  When has he ever shown
anyone mercy?

[With Dufresne kneeling and begging, Adrian Freeman jumps up on the
apron, drawing the referee's focus and that of Kirk Maclean for just a
moment too long as the Ladykiller delivers a right hand squarely to the
Maclean family jewels.]

GM:  OHHHH!  Low blow by Dufresne!

BW:  Huh?  I didn't see that.  That stupid ref was in my way.

GM:  I'm sure he was.  

[Dufresne quickly gets back to his feet, popping the wounded Maclean
with a right hand that knocks him off his feet.  The Louisiana native
drops a knee down across the upper back of Maclean.  He regains his feet
and drops a second knee that puts Maclean down chestfirst near the
ropes.  A few stomps follow, pushing Maclean under the ropes to the ring
apron.  The Ladykiller struts away from the downed Maclean, raising his
arms as he walks around the ring.]

GM:  Look at Dufresne!  He's acting like he won something!

BW:  He's almost won a new car - give him a couple more minutes.

GM:  This guy just oozes arrogance, Bucky.  He should bottle it and sell
it to people who suffer from confidence problems because he's definitely
not lacking any of that.

[As Maclean gets back to his feet by the ropes, Dufresne grabs a double
handful of hair, smashing him facefirst into the top turnbuckle. 
Spinning Maclean around, Dufresne drills him with a right hand across
the face.  He switches gears, hitting a right to the midsection.  Then
he goes back up, hitting across the face - and then back down to the
body.]

GM:  Up and down, up and down - he's really working over Maclean in the
corner, Bucky.

BW:  Dufresne's not much of a brawler but he can throw down when he has
to, daddy.

[Dufresne winds up again...

...and gets popped with a right hand by Kirk Maclean!]

GM:  The Hurricane is fighting back!

[The right hand sends Dufresne staggering all the way back to the ropes.
 Maclean stumbles away from the corner, moving in on the Ladykiller...

...who goes to the eyes once again!]

GM:  Ohh!   Come on, referee!

[Grabbing Maclean by the arm, Dufresne fires him across with a whip.]

GM:  Irish whip by Dufresne... clothesli- ducked by Maclean!  Off the
far side!

[Maclean leaves his feet, launching into the air with a flying forearm
smash that connects solidly on the jaw of the Louisiana native.  The
crowd roars for the move as both men lie on the mat, looking to
recover.]

GM:  Both men down after that flying forearm!  Both men trying to get
back to their feet!

[Freeman and Despair stand across the ring from each other on the floor,
screaming for their respective partners to get up.  Despair slaps the
canvas over and over, causing the fans to start a rally clap for
Maclean.]

GM:  The fans are solidly behind Maclean.

BW:  No taste.

GM:  They just don't like Dufresne's tactics and attitude.  Who can
blame them for that?

[Slowly, both men work their way back to their feet, clinging to the
ropes on opposite sides of the ring to get up.  Maclean staggers across,
looking for the kill.  As Dufresne leans against the ropes, he dips into
his trunks...

...and BLASTS the approaching Maclean with a right hand.  He quickly
throws something across the ring to a waiting Adrian Freeman - all
without the referee seeing it.]

GM:  OHHH!  What the- what did he hit him with?!

BW:  A right hand straight from the bowels of Hell, daddy!

GM:  Dufresne with the cover- one!  Two!  Three!


'DING!  DING!  DING!'


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... your winner of the Secret Santa Showdown
and the 2008 Ford Mustang...

CALISTOOOOO DUFRESNE!

[Dufresne pushes up to his knees, throwing his arms triumphantly into
the air as Adrian Freeman joins him in the ring to celebrate.  A
protesting Despair slides in, talking to the referee as he drops to a
knee to check on his tag team partner.  Dufresne and Freeman exit the
ring to the jeers of the crowd as Despair tries to revive his Dead Pool
partner from the KO punch.]
GM:  What a horrible way for this match to end, Bucky Wilde - absolutely
horrible!

BW:  What are you talking about?  Calisto Dufresne is a world-class
competitor inside that ring and has won a big match on the last night of
the year here for the AWA.  What's the problem?

GM:  The problem?  He used an illegal weapon AGAIN!  Just like during
the National Tag Team Title Tournament!  He pulled something out of his
tights and laid out Kirk Maclean with it - and you know it!

BW:  I didn't see anything like that.  You must be hallucinating.

GM:  I'm sure.  Fans, Calisto Dufresne is your winner of the match and
the 2008 Ford Mustang in the process.  Earlier in the day, our own Jason
Dane managed to catch up with one half of tonight's challengers in the
National Tag Team Title match, the notorious "Catch Thug" Raphael
Rhodes.' Let's hear what he has to say.

[Fade to a locker room, with an "earlier today" graphic in the upper
right hand corner.' Jason Dane is standing next to Raphael Rhodes, who
is seated on a bench, having just arrived to the building and is opening
up his suitcase.' He is sporting a Manchester City jersey under his
leather jacket along with faded jeans.' He has let his mohawk grow out
some, but not by much, only sporting a half-inch of length at most.]

JD: Raphael Rhodes, tonight, you and Juan Vasquez get another chance at
becoming the National Tag Team Champions against the team that
eliminated you from the tournament, Kentucky's Pride.' Your thoughts?

[Dane places the microphone in front of Rhodes' face.' Rhodes casts a
glare right into the eyes of Dane.]

RR: My thoughts?' You want to know my bleedin' thoughts on teamin' with
a man who don't know what a good thing he's got goin' for him?

[Dane pulls the microphone away to retort, but Rhodes grabs Dane's wrist
to keep the microphone close to him.]

RR: No, mate, no... you were given a nose to breathe through, you
rotter.' Keep your gob shut and keep that microphone in front of me.

[Rhodes turns his eyes to the camera.]

RR: Juan, mate... you don't get it, do you?' You protested what I did to
the hick because I hurt the lad so bad that everyone was pleadin' for
him to just give up the ghost.' You said it weren't necessary, right?'
Mate... these belts ain't no joke to me.' They ain't just some trinket
that's goin' to decorate my waist, no... it's proof that my way was the
right way all along.

[Rhodes smirks.]

RR: You want to act all high and mighty because you've been there
before, ain't you?' You did a bunch of dirty deeds to build up that
reputation that you're tops, and now you want to see if you can do it
down the clean path.' I got news for you, mate... there ain't no clean
path.' You act like you're somethin' because you've been around for a
dozen years, right?

[Rhodes smacks his chest with an open hand.]

RR: Wrestlin' is my _life_.' I was _born_ into it, mate, I didn't
stumble into it because I had no education and couldn't do anything else
with myself.' I'm fourth-generation, mate, and just because I like the
pubs and I get into a few fights don't mean I don't know what I'm
doin'.' You want matchin' tights and big smiles and for us to high-five
because you _never_ got along with anybody in your life before, so you
think you're goin' to take the troubled youth from a faraway land and
make him change his ways so that way you can sleep at night?

[Rhodes spits on the floor and points at it.]

RR: That right there is just the beginnin' of what I think about you,
mate, and that's only because the words I want to say can't be said on
the telly.' I proved we could work as a team by taggin' myself in and
hittin' that headbutt, but you got so upset that someone else was tryin'
to win the match because he was hungry for success that you left me to
them wolves and they tore me right up.' Juan, one of them's got a face
like a bulldog eatin' a wasp and the other's nothin' more than a mound
of cellulite and failure, and you let them beat us because you got what
you wanted... it just wasn't the way you wanted.

[Rhodes pauses for a split second.]

RR: But it's wrestlin'... I ain't got to like you, mate.' I don't want
you around... as far as I'm concerned you're not much more useful than
pinnin' an anvil to my lapels, with as much as you tried to restrain
me.' But tonight, if I want to beat Kentucky's Pride and become a
champion, I _need_ you, mate. Not quite the same way you need me,
though... you need me to do the dirty work you wish you could do but are
afraid to, and I need you to not pack it all up.' We clear, mate?

[Rhodes nods to Dane.]

RR: Go bother someone else, mate.

[Dane pulls the microphone away, but just as the screen starts to fade,
we see Rhodes unpack a pair of knuckle dusters from his bag.' The last
thing we see and hear is Rhodes shouting and shoving the camera before
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 back up on the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing. 
Mark Shaw stands right next to him, staring straight ahead at the
camera. Sweat pours down his face, and his expression is fixed into a
mask of barely contained rage. Every line on his face is tight, and
every muscle in his shirtless body is taut and ready to explode. A pair
of hands rest on his shoulders, and the camera pans along those arms to
rest on the face of a black haired man. This second man is dressed in
clothes as black as his hair. He is small in stature, though his black
clothes show that his physique is well built. It is this second man, not
Shaw, who is the first to speak.]

Who I am has been a mystery. What I am doing is also a mystery. But
mysteries were meant to be solved, weren't they? And so here is your
answer.

My name is Steven Marlowe... and I control the man you know as Mark
Shaw.

[Marlowe falls silent for a moment, to let the weight of his words sink
in, as he does so, Shaw lowers his head.]

SM: The Hellion is my agent of destruction. He is, by the admission of
the AWA, the number one contender to your championship. He is the
greatest, most effective wrestler here. And under my guidance, he will
become so much more.

Very soon, Adam Rogers will learn exactly what I mean.

The question on everyone's mind is why.

Why has Mark Shaw been silent? Why has he stood by and said nothing,
even at the cost of his job. Even when Adam Rogers attacked him, with,
of all things, a wooden handle. Why say nothing? Why not explain
yourself?

Because I have not allowed him to.

It was a test, you see. A test to make him stronger. Everything had to
be stripped away, everything had to be lost, or nothing could be gained.
Mark Shaw had to be sent out into the wilderness.

A weapon is forged in fire and only after this ordeal can it be at its
best. Mark Shaw had to suffer, and he had to suffer in silence. Even
when it might have meant his livelihood, he had to be tested. Even as
his skull was cracked open, he had to be tested.

But the test is over now. And the Hellion has emerged.

[It is at this point, Shaw raises his head.]

MS: I am ready Rogers. Ready to go back to war. Ready to put an end to
you once and for all. I hear the AWA keep sayin' I need to explain
myself. Well, there isn't going to be an explanation.

There's just going to be violence.

I am still the number one contender. I am still better than you. I am
still the man that has stepped on you, time and time again. And now, I'm
the man you couldn't take out even with a cheap shot. You made me bleed,
but here I am. My edge is sharp. Steven Marlowe has made me more than I
was.

And I was already too much for you to handle.

Tonight, it ends. Tonight, my path to the National title begins again.
Tonight, I put an end to you and an end to this rivalry. My future is
written tonight.

Written in your blood.

I said it before, and I will say it again. My only purpose is to be the
best. My only goal is to win. You already know what I will do to win.
Tonight is just a reminder, for you, and for the whole world.

SM: You have no choice Rogers. You will fall tonight. And the world will
once again learn to fear the Hellion.

MS: And that, is a promise.

[As both men fall silent, the camera cuts away to the ringside area
where Bucky and Gordon are standing.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason - and at long last, the silence is broken by
Mark Shaw and his apparent leader Steven Marlowe.  They mean business
tonight, Bucky.

BW:  For months, tensions have been raging high between Shaw and Adam
Rogers over who is the rightful Number One contender to Kolya Sudakov's
National Championship.  Tonight, hopefully we answer that question once
and for all.

GM:  But that's a little bit away.  Right now...

[Gordon Myers holds up a playing card.]

GM:  Moments ago during the break, Bucky and I were both given the
opportunity to draw a card from the deck for the Hand Of Destiny match
later tonight.  Bucky, you want to show your card to the world?

[Bucky Wilde produces his card with a lot of hand-waving and weird
flourishes.]

BW:  OUTLAW RULES!  Taylor's bread and butter match is out the window!

GM:  Perhaps the biggest card to be eliminated from the deck so far. 
That leaves four matches... until now...

[Gordon looks down at his card.]

GM:  Lumberjack Match!  Three matches remain.  A No DQ match.  A dog
collar match.  And the unforgiving steel cage.  Two more cards will be
drawn by Grant Stone and Bobby Taylor themselves in just a short while
when we will finally know just what kind of match these two will meet in
tonight.  It's going to be a-

[A voice rings out over the PA... quite loud, quite obnoxious.]

'BLAH!  BLAH!  BLAAAAAH!'

[The crowd boos as the source of the voice, SuperAgent Triston Rockford.
 Much like his appearance at Broken Wishbones, Rockford is dressed in a
grey three-piece suit with red tie.  He has shoulder length dirty blond
hair tied back in a ponytail and sports a pair of stylish sunglasses on
his clean shaven face.  With a smirk, he reaches up and puts in his
Bluetooth earpiece as he walks towards the ring.]

TR:  Excuse the earpiece, people.  I just wouldn't want to miss
something important while addressing you morons.

[More boos for the egotistical Rockford as he continues to make his way
down the aisle.]

TR:  TR Enterprises... has ARRIVED here in the AWA!!  Ha ha!

[Rockford seems oblivious to the crowd reaction.]

TR:  I told you all that I would bring TR Enterprises to the AWA and I
told you all that I had a Christmas present that would put the AWA on
the map.  I said... no, no, no... I GUARANTEED you that I would
introduce my first client here tonight... someone who would shake the
entire AWA to its' very foundation.

And that client is...

[Rockford pauses.]

TR:  ... not quite ready to grace all you nine-to-fivers with his
presence yet!  Ah hah ha!

[Rockford seems quite pleased with himself as he turns away from the
ring, walking back towards the entranceway.]

GM:  What was that all about?

BW:  The SuperAgent is looking out for his client, Gordo.  If you ever
had someone trust you enough to let you manage them, you'd know about
it.

GM:  I'm not a manager - and neither are you anymore, right?

BW:  You got it, Gordo.

GM:  Alright.  Fans, after a long, long wait... it's time to see Adam
Rogers vs Mark Shaw - one on one!  Let's go to the ring!

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

************************************************************************
*			         			CHRISTMAS CLASH *
*		                                      				   *
*		        	                      Adam Rogers vs Mark Shaw * 
************************************************************************

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty
minute time limit.  Introducing first... 

['Go' by Powder starts up to a huge shower of boos from the AWA
faithful.]

MC:  He is accompanied to the ring by Steven Marlowe... from Los
Angeles, California... He is 'The Hellion'...

MARRRRRK SHAAAAAAW!

[The curtain parts for the shadowy Marlowe and his barrel-chested
warrior as they stoically make their way down the aisle towards the
ring.  Shaw climbs the ringsteps, settling in the corner as he waits for
his hated opponent.]

MC:  And his opponent...

['Smoke On The Water' by Deep Purple kicks in to an enormous ovation
from the crowd.  After a moment, Adam Rogers emerges from the locker
room wearing a white windbreaker jacket and carrying the ominous wooden
axehandle.]

MC:  From Naples, Florida... he is the Natural... AAAAAADAM
ROOOOOGERRRS!

[Rogers trots down the aisle, smacking the wooden axehandle against the
palm of his empty hand a few times before stopping halfway to the ring
and pointing the axehandle straight at a glaring Mark Shaw who now
stands in the center of the ring.]

GM:  There he is - the Natural, Adam Rogers, looking to finally settle
this issue with Mark Shaw after all these months...

BW:  And you can pretty much be certain that whoever wins this match is
the next in line for a shot at the 'Russian War Machine' Kolya Sudakov
and that National Championship belt, Gordo.

GM:  Which puts even more importance on this match.  Ordinarily, I'd say
this match might be a bloody slugfest of a brawl but with a title shot
going to the winner, you have to expect that they may be wary of getting
disqualified.  This might be a cleaner match than we expected.

[Rogers breaks into a sprint, diving headfirst under the bottom rope. 
He pops up to his feet, marching across the ring to meet Shaw in the
center.  The two men stand eye-to-eye, glaring at one another.  After a
moment, Rogers throws the wooden axehandle to the side as the referee
steps between the two men, pushing them back a step or two and then
calling for the bell.]

GM:  Here we go!

[Shaw immediately lunges forward, attempting to hook the legs of Rogers
in a double leg takedown but the Natural stuffs him back, backpedaling
away from the amateur wrestling move.  The two men quickly circle again,
Shaw looking for an opening as he lunges again, this time getting pushed
down to all fours while Rogers uses his own amateur skills to hook in a
gutwrench, trying to flip Shaw onto his back.]

GM:  You've gotta question Shaw's decision to try and go to the mat with
Adam Rogers.  Rogers is a three-time Florida state amateur wrestling
champion and was a national champion in his sophomore year at Florida
State University.  That's the kind of resume most men won't want to
tangle with on the canvas.

BW:  Mark Shaw's not like most men.  He probably sees it as a challenge.

[Shaw crawls towards the ropes, unable to escape the gutwrench and backs
Rogers into them where the referee calls for a break.  Rogers quickly
releases the gutwrench, giving a hard shove to the back of Shaw as he
climbs back to his feet.  Shaw kneels in the corner for a moment,
absorbing some words of instruction from Steven Marlowe before getting
back to a standing position - and getting quickly wrapped up in a collar
and elbow, forced back against the ropes by Rogers.]

GM:  The referee's calling for a break against the ropes.  Will we get
it?

[Rogers breaks away, fist cocked back at the ready but referee Marty
Meekly steps in between, shaking off the Natural.  The former World
Champion glares at Shaw for a long moment before stepping away from the
ropes to the middle of the ring.  Shaw promptly shoves Meekly to the
side, lunging for another takedown attempt - this time only going for
one leg but Rogers again ties him up in a gutwrench before being forced
back to the ropes.]

GM:  Shaw keeps going to the mat but Rogers keeps countering it, getting
the best of him.  You've gotta think that's more than a bit frustrating
to Mark Shaw, Bucky.

BW:  To a guy like Shaw who throws people around like they're nothing? 
Yeah, it's frustrating.

[Back on their feet, Shaw lunges towards Rogers with a collar and elbow
attempt that Rogers avoids, hooking a rear waistlock before hoisting
Shaw up off the mat, dumping him down on his chest on the mat - where
Shaw again immediately crawls to the ropes before Rogers can do any more
damage on the canvas.  Rogers still holds the waistlock as the referee
starts counting to five.]

GM:  Adam Rogers breaks the count at three.  A great display of
wrestling and counterwrestling by these two men in the early moments of
this one and you've gotta believe that somewhere in the locker room, the
National Champion is sitting back and watching, waiting to see who is
next on his list.

BW:  He ran Ron Houston out of the AWA.  He ran Bruno Verhoeven out of
the AWA.  Who's next?  I'd like to see him run Adam Rogers out of town,
daddy.  I'd pay good money to see that.

GM:  I bet you would.

[The two men tie up once more in a lockup, Shaw immediately moving into
a side headlock.  He uses his powerful arms to crank down on the head
and neck before breaking the hold and lifting one of Rogers' legs off
the mat.]

GM:  He quickly went from the headlock to the single leg lift and- ohh! 
Big right hand by Shaw knocks Rogers down to the mat!

BW:  Now THAT'S a single leg takedown.

GM:  I suppose.  Shaw maintaining control on the leg still.  Maybe an
attempt at a half Boston Crab?

[But it's Rogers this time who quickly gets to the ropes, forcing Shaw
to break his grip on the leg.]

GM:  Another ropebreak and thus far, this match is a stalemate, Bucky.  


BW:  These guys are very even on talent, on skill.  I expect this could
be one of the closest matches I've ever seen.

GM:  Both men bac- ohhh!  Rogers forces him back to the ropes!  What an
explosive charge by Rogers into the ropes... ohh!  Hard right hand to
the gut!

[With Shaw doubled up, Rogers pounds downwards with a forearm smash
across the back of the neck.  He connects with a second before dragging
Shaw away from the ropes.  Rogers wraps his arms around the upper body
of Shaw, attempting a belly to belly suplex but Shaw hooks his arms over
Rogers', preventing the lift.]

GM:  Shaw's fighting the belly to belly throw!  Trying to keep his feet
on the mat, spreading them wide to gain some leverage.

[With that wide base, Shaw slowly pushes backwards, edging him back
towards the ropes.  Suddenly, he tucks his head under Rogers' arm,
hoisting him up into the air and dumping him down on his back.]

GM:  What a counter!  One!  Tw- nope.  Shoulder up by Rogers and- is he
trying to bridge up?

[The crowd cheers as Rogers hooks his arms around the waist of Shaw,
bridging up off the mat and spinning around.  He releases his grip
around the waist, switching to lace his arms between the legs of Shaw
and upends him with a standup, tossing Shaw down on the mat.  Shaw rolls
away, grabbing the ropes as he gets up to his feet - Rogers standing
several feet away at the ready.]

GM:  And Adam Rogers is ready to go tonight, Bucky!

BW:  He sure seems ready.  He's been shutting down Shaw's offense at
every go so far.  Shaw needs to come up with something else in a hurry. 
He can't keep getting thrown around like this.

[Easing back to his feet, Shaw looks out at Steven Marlowe who says a
few words to his charge.  With a slight nod, Shaw edges away from the
ropes towards Rogers, locking up in a tieup... and immediately going to
the eyes!]

GM:  Ohh!  Eyerake by Shaw - well, I guess we know what Marlowe
suggested.

BW:  A smart strategy.

GM:  Strategy?  Is that what we're calling it?

[A big chop across the chest sends Rogers falling back against the
turnbuckles.  Shaw pushes him back against the buckles, blasting him
with an overhead forearm smash across the chest before dragging him out
by the hair.]

GM:  Irish whip by Shaw... clothesli- ducked by Rogers!

[The Natural slams on the brakes behind Shaw, hooking him in a bearhug
as Shaw turns around...

...and launches him overhead and down to the mat with a belly to belly
throw!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Did you see that, Bucky?

BW:  Why in the world are you always askin' me if I saw somethin',
Gordo?  I'm right here too, aren't I?  How do ya think I'd miss it?

GM:  You seem to be a bit selective sometimes in what you see so I
thought I'd check.

[Shaw rolls under the ropes to the floor, kicking the ringsteps over in
frustration as he shouts a few words up into the ring where Rogers
remains, waiting for his opponent to get back inside the ring.]

GM:  And here's a perfect example of what we talked about before the
match even started.  You might expect in a match like this for Rogers to
charge out there and take the fight to Shaw on the floor but with a shot
at the National Champion at stake, he's trying to push his emotions
aside.  Nothing is more important than the National Title, Bucky.

BW:  You've got that right.  It's the money, it's the fancy cars, it's
the prestige, and it's the women - most of all, it's the women, daddy.

[A still-angry Shaw gets a few words of advice from Steven Marlowe
before stepping back up on the apron - glaring at Rogers as he steps
through the ropes.  Rogers rushes forward into a tieup that the powerful
Shaw spins around, forcing Rogers back into the turnbuckles.  The
referee steps in, calling for a break.  And break Shaw does - just
before he lashes out with a slap across the face of Rogers!]

GM:  Ohh!  He slapped the taste out of the Natural's mouth!  What a show
of disrespect to-

[The crowd ERUPTS as Rogers explodes out of the corner with a huge
double leg takedown of the Hellion.  The cheers continue to roar as
Rogers throws wild right hands down at the skull of a stunned Shaw.]

GM:  He's all over Mark Shaw!

BW:  So much for keeping his emotions in check, daddy!

GM:  Rogers has had enough of Mark Shaw!  This is the same Adam Rogers
who busted Shaw over the skull with that wooden axehandle!  This is the
same Adam Rogers who- 

BW:  Shaw's trying to cover up but Rogers is punching right through
those arms!

[An angry Steven Marlowe climbs up on the apron, shouting at the
official...

...which causes Adam Rogers to storm in his direction, grabbing the
shadowy manager by the throat!]

GM:  HE'S GOT MARLOWE!

[But before Rogers can do any damage, Shaw slips up from behind him and
drills him with a forearm smash to the back of the head.  A second one
breaks Rogers' grip on the manager, causing him to stagger down to a
knee.]

GM:  Shaw caught him from behind - knocking him down to a knee...

[Which allows Shaw to move to the corner, pausing for a moment before
barreling out of the buckles...

...and OBLITERATING Rogers with a lariat!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  That's it!

GM:  Cover by Shaw!  One!  Two!  

[The crowd cheers wildly as Rogers pops a shoulder up off the mat just
before the three count.]

GM:  He couldn't keep Rogers down for a three count - but my goodness,
what a shot that was by the Hellion!  He nearly separated Rogers' head
from his shoulders, Bucky.

[A fired-up Shaw yanks Rogers off the mat by the hair, tossing him
backfirst into the nearest set of turnbuckles.  Moving in, Shaw launches
himself at Rogers with a forearm smash to the side of the head.  A
second forearm quickly follows, leaving Rogers' arms draped over the top
rope.  The referee steps in, trying to force Shaw back.  The Hellion
moves back a couple steps...

...which allows Rogers to fire back with a right hand as the referee
moves!]

GM:  Rogers is fighting back!

[But Shaw connects with another brutal forearm smash on target, knocking
Rogers back to the buckles again.  Grabbing the Natural by the wrist,
Shaw fires him across the ring, charging in behind him...

...and connecting with a brutal clothesline in the corner on Rogers!]

GM:  Shaw with another big clothesline - using that power edge to his
advantage.

[Grabbing Rogers around the head and neck, Shaw drags him out of the
corner, hooking him high with a bearhug.]

GM:  Belly to bel- blocked!

[Rogers spins the attempt around and snaps off a belly-to-belly suplex
of his own!]

GM:  COUNTER!  Rogers reversed the suplex into one of his own!

BW:  Shaw's down!  He got rocked by that one!  He-

GM:  The Natural pulls him up - Irish whip...

[Shaw rebounds off the far ropes...

...and gets sent sailing through the air with a big back drop!]

GM:  OHHH!  Down goes Shaw!

[But the Hellion is quick to recover, clutching his lower back as he
pushes off the mat to a knee, climbing up to his feet...

...and getting leveled with a running clothesline by the Natural!]

GM:  Rogers with a clothesline of his own!  He takes Mark Shaw down with
a clothesline of his own!

BW:  It wasn't as impactful as Shaw's clothesline but it might have been
enough.

GM:  The Natural's got Shaw down... dragging him back up though...

[Hooking a front facelock, Rogers hoists Shaw off the mat, snapping him
down to the mat with a snap suplex!  As the Natural rolls up to his
feet, he spots Steven Marlowe up on the apron again...

...and again grabs him around the neck, strangling the shadowy
individual out on the apron.]

GM:  He's got Marlowe again!

BW:  I don't get it!  What did Steven Marlowe ever do to this idiot
Rogers?

GM:  Are you serious?  Marlowe's behind all of this!  He's the reason
that Shaw turned his back on Rogers at The Last Stampede!  He's the
reason that Shaw tried to take out Ron Houston and Adam Rogers with a
steel chair on AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!  He's the reason-

BW:  Excuses, excuses!

[The Hellion slowly pushes up off the mat, spotting his spiritual leader
being choked by Adam Rogers and BLASTS Rogers in the back of the head
with a forearm smash before hooking a waistlock.]

GM:  He's got Rogers hooked-  LIFTS!

[The crowd roars as Shaw powers Rogers through the air, driving him down
on his upper back in a German suplex that creates a near-whiplash type
effect as Rogers hits the mat.  Shaw flips over, throwing an arm across
the chest of the Natural.]

GM:  Pin attempt off the suplex... one!  Two!  Thr-

[Big explosion of cheers as Rogers fires the shoulder off the mat just
before the three count.]

GM:  He just barely got the shoulder up in time!  Adam Rogers just
barely got the shoulder up before the three count!

BW:  Mark Shaw was less than a half count away from finally...
FINALLY... getting another shot at the National Title.  Shaw vs Sudakov
would sell out any arena in the world, daddy!

GM:  You may be right about that but Adam Rogers is still alive.  He's
still in this thing and still looking to be the next challenger for
Sudakov's National Championship.  Shaw is arguing with the referee about
the count right now.  He thinks that was a three but the ref says it was
only two.

[The Hellion shoves Marty Meekly aside, drawing a warning from the young
official as Shaw reaches down to pull Rogers up by the hair...

...and catches a hard right hand to the jaw!]

GM:  Ohh!  Rogers caught him with a right hand when Shaw picked him-

[But that offensive attack doesn't last long as Shaw uncoils and DRILLS
Rogers with a standing lariat that takes the former World Champion off
his feet and down to the canvas.  An unfeeling Shaw stands over Rogers,
glaring down at the barely-moving Natural with hatred all over his face.
 From outside the ring, Steven Marlowe shouts some instructions at his
charge who stoically nods, reaching down to pull Rogers up by the hair
once again, tugging him into a fireman's carry.]

GM:  He's got Rogers up - helpless across those huge shoulders...

[In a show of power, Shaw powers Rogers up off his shoulders over his
head and then drops him down across Shaw's own bent knee.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Gutbuster on Shaw!  He dropped him down right across the
bent knee - the ribs slamming down on the knee.  

[Rogers rolls onto his back, Shaw kneeling next to him...

...and then slams a forearm down onto the ribcage of the Natural!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  What?  He didn't do anything illegal, Gordo!

GM:  Perhaps not but... ohh!  Another shot to the ribs!  He's just
pummeling the ribcage of the former World Champion.

[Balling up his fist, Shaw drives repeated right hands into the injured
ribcage over and over and over to the jeers of the fans.  With a sneer,
Shaw pushes up to his feet, looking out over the booing crowd.]

GM:  These fans are really letting Shaw have it - they're all over him.

BW:  He doesn't care!  He's focused on Rogers and the chance to get
another shot at the National Title!  

GM:  He's dragging Rogers up off the mat... scoops him up...

[Holding Rogers across his chest, Shaw walks around the ring a bit...

...and then dumps Rogers down across his bent knee in a backbreaker!]

GM:  Ohh!  Backbreaker by the Hellion!  Doing more damage to the ribs!

BW:  He's not done with him either.

[Proving Bucky right, Shaw lifts him back up, still holding him across
the chest as he walks around the ring...

...and brings him back down across the knee in another backbreaker
before shoving him down to the mat, applying a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thr-

[The crowd roars as Rogers fires a shoulder off the mat just in time.]

GM:  Marlowe can't believe it!  He's shouting at the official - Mark
Shaw's doing the same.  They can't believe Rogers got the shoulder off
the mat just in time.  The Hellion's got to be wondering - wondering
what he can do, wondering what it's going to take to put this man away.

[A frustrated Shaw pulls Rogers up by the hair again, connecting with a
right hand that knocks Rogers back into the corner.  Grabbing him by the
wrist, Shaw executes an Irish whip that sends Rogers hard into the
buckles.  With a howl, Shaw sprints across the ring towards the
Natural...

...who at the last moment lifts both legs, catching the Hellion squarely
on the jaw with both feet!]

GM:  OH MY!  ROGERS CAUGHT HIM COMING IN!

[Shaw staggers backwards from the impact of the feet to the jaw, leaving
him stunned several feet away from the corner.  The Natural tries to
take advantage of the situation, charging out of the corner...

...and getting PLANTED to the mat with a powerslam!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  ONE!!!  TWO!!  THRE- NO!!!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Rogers gets the shoulder off the mat just in time
again.]

GM:  So close.  Mark Shaw is inching closer and closer to the National
Title shot he's been hunting for for months.  He wants another shot at
the title.  He wants a shot at Sudakov - the Russian War Machine.

BW:  And as much as I admire Sudakov's skills - do you think he can
survive a title defense against Mark Shaw?

GM:  I'm not sure his title reign would survive either man, Bucky.

[The Natural drags himself up to his feet using the ropes as Shaw
approaches, connecting with a big right hand across the jaw.]

GM:  And again, Rogers is fighting back!

[But again, Rogers gets overwhelmed against the ropes by a barrage of
Shaw strikes.  Grabbing Rogers' arm, Shaw shoots him off the ropes...

...and then takes the Natural down with a three-point stance tackle. 
Shaw stands over the downed Rogers for a moment - and then leaps into
the air, slamming down all his weight in a splash.]

GM:  Big splash by Shaw!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- shoulder up!  Just barely!

[Shaw pushes up to his feet, yanking Rogers up by the back of the
trunks...

...and pulls him into a side waistlock.]

GM:  BACKDROP DRIV-

[Rogers flails with elbows to the side of the face then down to the back
of Shaw's neck, breaking the grip.  He then wraps up Shaw, snapping him
down to the mat with a reverse Russian legsweep.]

GM:  The Russian legsweep counters the Backdrop Driver attempt by Shaw! 
He knew that would end this thing and Rogers just barely got out of it
in time.  He snapped off that legsweep to save himself.

[With the crowd roaring, trying to inspire Rogers back to his feet, the
two men slowly start to regain their footing using the ropes to drag
themselves up off the mat.  After a bit, both men are on their feet,
staring across the ring at one another.]

GM:  Both men on their feet - both men are up...

[The two warriors stagger towards one another...

...and then THROW DOWN!]

GM:  THE FISTS ARE FLYING IN WEST DALLAS, FANS!

[With the crowd roaring, Adam Rogers and Mark Shaw stand in the center
of the ring throwing haymakers as quickly as they can, rocking one
another with some heavy blows but somehow managing to stay standing long
enough to keep the fight going.]

BW:  They're beatin' the tarnation out of each other, daddy!

GM:  AND ROGERS IS GETTING AN EDGE!

[The Natural manages to get Shaw up against the ropes, quickly racing to
the ropes behind him...

...and taking Shaw up and over the ropes to the floor with a running
clothesline that actually causes Rogers to go out to the floor as well!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  BOTH MEN OUT TO THE FLOOR!

[The crowd gasps at the sight of both men tumbling over the ropes and
out to the barely-padded floor.  Steven Marlowe quickly moves around the
ringpost, kneeling down next to Shaw to check on his protege.  Inside
the ring, the referee starts a very slow ten count on the two men
battling for a shot at the National Championship.]

GM:  Not like this - we definitely don't want to see this end in a
countout, Bucky.

BW:  We certainly don't.  I want to see a winner and I want that winner
to be Mark Shaw!

GM:  Rogers is using the apron to pull himself off the floor.  Shaw is
still down, Marlowe is whispering in his ear the entire time.  Look at
that nutcase.

[Marlowe lies on his belly on the floor like a snake, whispering to his
powerful charge as Rogers regains his feet...

...and grabs the wooden axehandle from the corner!  Huge cheer!]

GM:  ROGERS HAS THE ENFORCER!

BW:  If he uses it, Mark Shaw's gonna win this thing, Gordo!

GM:  That's exactly what Marty Meekly is shouting at him right now. 
Meekly is warning Rogers not to use that axehandle.  If he does, he'll
be disqualified for it.

[The Natural stands over Mark Shaw, axehandle in hand...

...and then points it right at Steven Marlowe!  The crowd roars in
response!]

GM:  What the-?!  He's going after Marlowe with the axehandle!

BW:  WHY?!

[Marlowe panics at the sight of Rogers marching towards him, pointing at
him with the 'enforcer' as he steps closer and closer to the retreating
manager.  Rogers grabs the axehandle with both hands, tapping it on the
ringside barricade as Marlowe scampers to his feet, trying to get the
hell out of town.]

GM:  Rogers is moving in on him!  Marlowe's trying to retreat and-

[Marlowe dives into the ring, trying to avoid Rogers.  But from outside
the ring, the Natural gets up on the apron, reaching in to grab Marlowe
by the throat, dragging him to his feet.]

GM:  Rogers dropped the axehandle but he's got his hands wrapped around
the throat of Steven Marlowe one more time!  He's choking the life out
of Marlowe!

[A concerned Marty Meekly lunges into the fray, trying to pry Rogers'
arms from around the throat of Marlowe, getting himself shielded from
Mark Shaw out on the floor as he picks up the piece of wood...

...and SLAMS it into the side of Rogers' knee!]

GM:  OHHH!  DQ!  RING THE BELL!

BW:  Meekly didn't see it!

[And it appears the youngest Meekly did, in fact, miss the illegal
attack as he was trying to help Steven Marlowe.  Rogers collapses on the
ring apron clutching his knee as Marlowe escapes.  Shaw tosses the
axehandle aside before he gets caught with it, rolling back into the
ring.  He promptly jacknife cradles the legs of Rogers.  When the
referee drops down to count, Shaw throws his feet up on the middle rope
for leverage.]

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


'DING!  DING!  DING!'


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... your winner of the match...

MARRRRRK SHAAAAAAW!

[The crowd roars their disapproval as Steven Marlowe rolls into the
ring, joining his charge in celebrating the victory.]

GM:  Mark Shaw - by hook or by crook - has won this match with a rollup
with his feet on the ropes, Bucky Wilde.

BW:  Not just the match, Gordo.  Not just the match.  He's also won a
shot at Kolya Sudakov and the AWA National Title!  And that, my friend,
is what it's all about in the end, Gordo!

GM:  It certainly is.  

[Clutching his knee, Adam Rogers rolls under the ropes to the floor
while Shaw and Marlowe continue to parade around the ring in
celebration.]

GM:  Rogers got hit in the knee with his own 'enforcer' - that wooden
axehandle - by Mark Shaw.  That allowed Shaw to score a rollup and get
the pin.  I can't believe it ended that way but it did.

BW:  Look at Steven Marlowe - absolutely overjoyed, Gordo.  His man is
going to get another shot at the National Title - another shot at Kolya
Sudakov.  

GM:  He certainly is and- wait a second!

[The crowd begins to roar as an injured Adam Rogers rolls back into the
ring, behind the back of the celebrating Shaw and Marlowe...

...oh, and he's carrying his 'enforcer.']

GM:  He's got the axehandle!

BW:  I don't like the looks of this!  What in the world is he thinking?

[Shaking with rage, Rogers waits for Shaw to turn around...

...and then barrels over him, using the axehandle to clothesline Shaw
down to the mat!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Rogers pops off the mat, taking a full baseball swing at the head of
Steven Marlowe who just BARELY dives out of the way, fleeing to the
floor in the nick of time before Rogers connects.]

GM:  Oh!  Rogers tried to knock Marlowe's head into the third row!

[Spinning back towards Shaw, Rogers takes a full overhead swing with the
axehandle, smashing it down across the ribcage at maximum impact.  Shaw
grabs at his ribs, exposing his upper body as the Natural strikes again,
this time down across the sternum.]

GM:  Rogers has snapped!  We need some help out here!

BW:  He's lost it, Gordo!  He's beating the hell out of Mark Shaw!

[The wooden axehandle comes down across the arms and torso of Shaw again
and again and again...

...until suddenly, referee Marty Meekly dives at Rogers, grabbing him
around the waist, pulling him away from Shaw.]

GM:  Be careful in there, Mart- OHHH!

[The crowd gasps as Rogers throws Meekly down to the mat, stomping
across the ring where he slams the wooden axehandle down across the back
of Shaw who rolled over to his stomach to try and protect himself. 
Rogers rolls Shaw back to his back as the ring floods with AWA officials
protesting the Natural's attack.]

GM:  The ring is filling up with officials and security trying to
restore some order - they're trying to get Rogers to back off of Shaw,
trying to get him to-

[Ignoring the officials, Rogers lashes out with the axehandle down
across the arm of Mark Shaw who raises it in defense.  The Natural drops
to his knees, pushing the wooden 'enforcer' down across the windpipe of
the Hellion, attempting to strangle the air out of him.  The officials
stand in the ring helpless, screaming for Rogers to back off...

...and suddenly, the crowd bursts into a mixed reaction as someone comes
sprinting from the locker room area.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  It's Broussard!  Marcus Broussard!  What in the hell business does
he have out here?

[Broussard dives under the bottom rope, shoving AWA officials aside as
he races across the ring...

...and wraps his arms around the upper body of Rogers, trying to pull
him off of the barely-moving Mark Shaw.]

GM:  Rogers is choking the life out of Shaw!  Broussard is trying to
stop him but Adam Rogers doesn't even know he's-

[Suddenly, Rogers blindly lashes out backwards with the axehandle...

...catching Marcus Broussard squarely in the side of the face, knocking
the former National Champion flat.]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Gordo, he just knocked the San Jose Shark flat!

[Rogers stands tall, axehandle in hand as he looks down at the
barely-conscious form of his former friend and ally.]

GM:  What is going to happen here, fans?  I have no idea!

BW:  He's gonna put Marcus in the hospital!  Rogers has lost his mind!

GM:  Rogers is looking at him - looking at his former friend and ally...

[And in the end, Rogers simply shakes his head and walks away, stepping
through the ropes and making his way up the aisle to a mixed reaction
from the AWA faithful jammed into the West Dallas Community College
gym.]

GM:  I don't understand this at all.  Not one bit, fans.  Not one bit. 
Don't go away, we'll be right back.

[We fade away from a shot of a stoic Adam Rogers walking back up the
aisle with his 'enforcer' draped over his shoulder.

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 backstage area where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  Welcome back, fans.  Tonight, we'll see the first ever Hand of
Destiny match where we'll see ten different matches have a possibility
to host the war that has gone on between Grant Stone and Bobby Taylor.
Only one of those matches will stand, so no one knows what we'll see.
But...

[The camera pans up, showing a distant looking Grant Stone standing next
to Jason Dane. Stone's still in street gear, wearing jeans and a white
T-shirt. As well, he wears the scars of the Battle at Broken Wishbones
all over his face, neck, arms, and anywhere else the skin is exposed.]

JD: We do know that it will be the last match for the man standing next
to me right now, Grant Stone. 

[Stone clears his throat, but otherwise does not respond.]

JD: Mr. Stone, you said that no matter the outcome tonight, you will
leave the AWA. That you will have accomplished all that you need to do.
But why? Surely a National Title could be in your grasp if you stay or -

[Stone looks back at Dane, a scowl on his face at the mention of a
championship.]

JD: Mis-mister... Mister Stone? Well, um, what are your thoughts going
into your still undecided match tonight?

GS: ...

[Stone turns his gaze back towards the camera, his eyes looking empty.]

GS: I laid out the man's best men... Possibly ended two careers of two
men he called friends... Ended them for no other reasons than a man paid
me to do so and because of their associations...

[Stone pauses, unemotional.]

GS: I... I cut the skin, broke the bones, and drained the blood of his
own brother...

[Stone calmly breathes, showing signs of... regret?]

GS: I forced a man who was through with fighting - a big time wrestling
owner now, no need to acknowledge the past - back in the ring. I made
him face all the wrong he's done in his life...

[Stone clears his throat again, but it does nothing to improve his
gravely voice.]

GS: And when I got the chance, I tore down anything and everything the
man held dear, reduced him to nothing but a shell of what he once was...
I took away his pride, threw his famous name on the ground and spat upon
it.

[The big Kentuckian pauses again, his eyes looking down.]

GS: And in one moment? One moment, I... I nearly ended the man's career.
Even his life. A wrong fall and he would have snapped his neck. That
close -

[Stone holds up his index finger and thumb close together.]

GS: That close to committing the worst act a human being can do... take
a man's life. That close to losing any semblance of humanity.

[Stone then turns towards Dane.]

GS: And you want to know what I thought? What I thought when I was on
the edge, looking down at a man that broke? Looking down at a man that I
almost ended?

[Stone continues his glare at Dane, who backs away - seeing that his
counterpart here isn't all that stable right now.]

GS: What I'm thinking now? What I'm thinking as I go into to some match
designed for inhumanity? Designed to finish what I didn't last month?

[Stone starts to seethe, angered at the questioning.]

JD: I - I, just -

[Grant Stone grabs Dane's arm, forcibly keeping him nearby as he raises
his voice.]

GS: I thought... "How cruel." I thought how cruel is it that I'm reduced
to be the monster... to be that animal... to act on instinct. I thought,
"How cruel is it that I've been given the setting - on a silver
[bleep]ing platter for these people to watch with some sort of twisted
interest?"

[Dane - with obvious fear in his eyes - by this point is trying to pry
himself away as Stone only clutches harder at his arm to keep the mic
near.]

GS: And I think now - I think now "How cruel is it that a man broken and
left for dead only comes back for more? How cruel... that Bobby Taylor
has forced my own hands to end him tonight?" 

[Stone eases up on the grip on Dane's arm.]

GS: That's what's going through my mind right now...

[Finally, a frightened Jason Dane is able to escape as Stone lets go of
the arm and simply walks off, leaving Dane.]

JD: Uh... Well, you heard what he had to say... 

[Dane quickly pulls one more card from the deck.]

JD:  And with the knowledge that tonight's match will NOT be a dog
collar match in mind... let's go back to ringside where Gordon and Bucky
are standing by.  Gentlemen?

[We cut back to ringside where indeed, the two aforementioned announcers
are standing.]

GM:  Thank you for that, Jason.  A very determined Grant Stone is
looking ahead to that Hand Of Destiny match and we're down to two
choices - will it be No Disqualification or will it be the unforgiving
Steel Cage?  We'll know soon enough in mere moments but before we get to
that, we've been joined here at ringside by the Chairman of the
Championship Committee, Stephen Ross!  Mr. Ross, welcome to Christmas
Clash.

[A nicely-dressed Stephen Ross steps into view, shaking hands with the
two announcers.]

SR:  Thanks, guys.  It's my pleasure as always.

GM:  We heard earlier tonight that you had a big announcement about the
National Tag Team Titles that you wanted to make.  I presume that is why
you've joined us here at ringside.

SR:  Absolutely.  I do have an announcement about the tag titles - or
more specifically about gaining an opportunity at the tag titles. 
Starting tonight, the AWA National Tag Team Title division will operate
on a 3 point system.  A victory by a tag team earns them a point.  In
order to gain a shot at the tag titles, a team must secure three
consecutive points without losing.  A loss resets your team to zero
points where they start from scratch.  Of course, the Committee reserves
the right to award a title shot to a team without the points under
special circumstances.

GM:  Of course.  And that's a huge announcement that puts great emphasis
on each and every time these tag teams step inside the squared circle.

SR:  Competition in the tag team division is very high and we feel this
will be the best chance to spotlight that competition to the max.

GM:  Competition like we'll see in tonight's Main Event when Kentucky's
Pride makes their first title defense against Juan Vasquez and Raphael
Rhodes?

SR:  You got it.

GM:  Thanks for joining us, Mr. Ross.  Fans, don't go away - we'll be
right back with the Hand of Destiny match!

[The shot holds on the announcers with Stephen Ross before fading to
black...

...and then fading back up on a pair of kids outside of what appears to
be a grade school.  They're both wearing cold weather gear as they
trudge up the steps to class.]

Kid #1:  How was your weekend?

Kid #2:  Amazing!  Did you see AWA Saturday Night Wrestling?

[The two kids talk animatedly about the show as a third joins them.]

Kid #3:  Guys!  Did you see Adam Rogers on Saturday Night Wrestling?  I
want to be just like him when I grow up!

Kid #1:  Not me.  I want to be like City Jack or Tin Can Rust!

Kid #2:  You guys are lame.  Check out my new shirt!

[Kid #2 opens his jacket to reveal a shirt that reads "San Jose Shark"
with a large golden shark taking a bite out of the text.  The others
"ooh" and "aah."]

Kid #3:  I want one of those!

Kid #1:  Me too!  Where did you get it?

Kid #2:  At AWAShop.com!

Kid #3:  I know what I want for Christmas!

[The kids continue to talk as a voiceover is heard.]

"Don't be the only one at school without your official AWA gear!  Check
out AWAShop.com today for your holiday wish list items!"

[A shot fills the screen of various wrestler merchandise before fading
to black...

...and then back up on the backstage interview area where Jason Dane is
standing.]

JD:  Welcome back to Christmas Clash, fans - and we are mere moments
away from the Hand Of Destiny match.  We've still got two cards left in
the deck and at this time, I'm being joined by one of the men in that
match... the man known throughout the industry as The Outlaw... Bobby
Taylor!  Mr. Taylor, your thoughts?

[The camera zooms out to reveal Bobby Taylor standing next to Jason
Dane.  Taylor looks quite subdued - no Stetson, no duster - simply a
pair of blue jeans and a focused warrior.  His fists are taped from
knuckle to mid-forearm as he runs a hand through his dripping hair.]

BT:  My thoughts?

[Taylor chuckles.]

BT:  I don't know if we've got enough time to talk about everything
running laps around my head right now, Jason.  Let's see if I can sum
this all up for everyone at home who may be giving the AWA a chance for
the first time here tonight.
['The Outlaw' lifts his taped hand, holding his index finger up.]

BT:  Somewhere out there, there's someone with a lot of money who
decided he wanted to make the lives of myself, my friends, and my family
an absolute living hell over the past nine months.  No one knows who it
is but apparently tonight we're going to find out.  The Man With The
Money is finally going to be revealed.

[Taylor looks down.]

BT:  Yay?

[The Outlaw looks back up at the camera.]

BT:  You would think I'd want to know who paid to drive me crazy.  You
would think I'd want to know who was tormenting my friends and family. 
But you'd be wrong.  I wish I cared.  I wish I was dying to know.

But this has become about much, much more than that.

[His eyes grow cold as he stares at the camera.]

BT:  After all the words, after the beating we gave one another on
Thanksgiving night - after all that, Grant Stone - we've got one chance
left.

I'VE got one chance left.  One chance to get the job done.

One chance to make you pay for what you did to Kevin, to Luke, to Shane,
and to everyone else who has stepped on your path.  One chance to make
you hurt like they hurt, to make you bleed like they bleed, to make you
feel like your career - your life - s over... 

...just like they did.

[Taylor closes his eyes, running a taped hand through his hair again.]

BT:  I want to hate you, Grant Stone.  I really do.  I want to despise
you for everything you did to my friends... my family.  I want to feel
the need to take these hands...

[He holds his taped hands up.]

BT:  And wrap them around your throat... and clench my fists and slam
them into your skull... again... and again... and again... until this
white tape is covered with your blood.  Until I can paint the world with
your damn blood... your cursed blood that runs through your sadistic
veins...

I wish that I hated you that much.  And until Thanksgiving Night, I
thought I did.

[Taylor cracks a smile.]

BT:  But now... now, I'm not so sure, Stone.

Because when it really comes down to it.  Are we really even that
different?  

You beat Kevin bloody... put him in the hospital... tried to end his
career.  You did the same thing to Luke.  

[Taylor shrugs.]

BT:  Is it anything that I haven't done for money?  I've beat up
people's friends all my life for money... to get under their skin... to
get ahead in the business.  I've drawn blood on every stinkin' continent
I've wrestled on for nothing more than a damn paycheck.  

So, how can I fault you for doing the same?

And there's Shane.  My own blood.  My own family.

[This one makes Taylor wince a little bit.]

BT:  You hurt my brother when all he wanted to do was what I should've
been doing.  You hurt my brother... busted open his flesh... tried to
put him in a wheelchair... just so you could get at me.

I should want to end you for that.

But you can go ask Otto Verhoeven if I've ever done the exact same
thing.

[Taylor sighs heavily.]

BT:  So, here we stand... moments before we get in the ring with each
other to beat each other to our knees... to split open flesh with fists
and steel and concrete and anything else we can lay hands on... to try
to bleed each other of our very last drop of blood... to try and put one
another on a stretcher and out of this business forever.

I've done it all before... odds are I may get the chance to do it all
again.

So, in just a few moments when I climb into that ring, I'll go through
all the motions.  I'll throw the fists.  I'll choke you with my bare
hands.  I'll throw you into steel and concrete.  I'll beat you with
steel and wood and whatever else I can find.  I'll try to bust open your
skull as you try to bust open mine.  And there's a very real chance that
when it's all said and done - one of us may never walk again.  We both
know that.

['The Outlaw' grins again.]

BT:  And through all the pain and blood and violence... from time to
time... you might just catch me with a smile on my face, Stone.  

Because this all started with me looking for my mirror image.  It
started with me wanting to find 'The Outlaw' to carry my name... my
legacy.  It started with me trying to bring forth someone willing to be
the target of the wrestling world by being the meanest, sneakiest, most
sadistic son of a bitch walkin'.  I needed the man who would bust
skulls, who would break bones, who'd bathe in his enemy's blood, who
would make people wish they'd never been born.

[The smile is still there - just moments before his toughest fight in
years.]

BT:  And I keep smiling.  Because by the end of the night, Grant
Stone... we'll know who the Outlaw truly is.

At a moment like this... the words of an old friend come to mind and
seem perfect for a night like this...

[Taylor reaches off camera, pulling back a black Stetson hate that he
tugs down onto his head.]

BT:  Ain't life grand?

[And with that, the Outlaw of Professional Wrestling strides out of
sight, snatching a playing card from the hand of Jason Dane as he walks
past leaving Dane behind holding only one card.

Dane looks down at it - and then turns it to face the camera that slowly
zooms in to reveal the answer we've been waiting for...]

'NO DQ'

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

************************************************************************
*			         			CHRISTMAS CLASH *
*		                                      				   *
*		        	                     Grant Stone vs Bobby Taylor * 
************************************************************************

MC:  The following contest is a NO DISQUALIFICATION match!

[The crowd cheers!]

MC:  It is scheduled for one fall with no time limit.  Introducing
first... hailing from Kentucky... 

GRAAAAAANT STOOOOOONE!

["Camero Crash Helmet" by Borgo Pass plays as Grant Stone steps out to
some boos. Stone ignores most of the calls from the crowd, letting his
glares from side to side do the talking. Stone wears his dark green
wrestling trunks and black boots and approaches the ring with a sneer.
Once to the ring, he backs away into the corner and awaits his
opponent.]

GM:  Grant Stone is a man on a mission - and that mission is ending
Bobby Taylor's career once and for all here tonight.  This is No
Disqualification - that means anything goes and you can bet that Stone
will use that to his every advantage here tonight in West Dallas.

BW:  Taylor's no stranger to the weapons and such either.  Like he said,
he's spilled blood on every continent he's wrestled on.  Don't play this
like Taylor's at a disadvantage tonight, Gordo.

GM:  Not at all.

[Stone leans against the buckles waiting as the music changes to AC/DC's
'Back In Black.'  The crowd roars wildly.]

MC:  And his opponent... 

From Phoenix, Arizona... he is the Outlaw of professional wrestling...

BOBBY TAAAAAAAYLOR!

[The ovation is near deafening as Taylor strides through the entrance
curtain, looking out over his cheering fans.  He snatches the black
Stetson off his head, tossing it to the side as he stands with hands on
hips staring down the aisle.]

GM:  The Outlaw of professional wrestling is in the house - and he is
ready for a fight! 

BW:  You're looking at a man who may be about to step inside the ring
for the last match of his career, Gordo.  And that may not be by choice.
 There's a decent chance that Taylor exits that ring on a stretcher just
like Slater and Steele and lil' Shane Taylor before him.

GM:  You've got that right - that's for sure.

[Taylor strides down the aisle, waving his taped fists back and forth
across his body as he tries to stay loose.  He circles the ringside
area, staring up into the ring at the waiting Grant Stone, before
climbing up onto the apron, stepping through the ropes...

...and getting ambushed by a charging Grant Stone who blasts Taylor in
the upper back with a pair of forearm smashes.  Referee Mickey Meekly
calls for the bell to start the match as Stone yanks Taylor into the
ring by the head where he delivers three big haymakers to the side of
the head before slamming a knee up into the sternum of Taylor, sending
him staggering back a few steps.]

GM:  The fight is on!  The bell has rung and there's no
disqualifications in this one!  Stone attacked Taylor before the bell
predictably, I suppose.

BW:  No shocker but it's also perfectly legal.

GM:  It certainly is.  Big right hand by Stone knocks Taylor back
towards the ropes.  Another right hand finds the side of Taylor's face,
knocking him down to a knee.

[A desperate Taylor lunges at the leg of the incoming Stone, grabbing
the Kentucky native around the thigh.  Stone responds by throwing blows
down on the back of Taylor's head and neck rapidly.  Taylor rises up
under the onslaught of blows, still clinging to the leg as he gets to
his feet.]

GM:  Look at Taylor!  He's being battered by Stone but he refuses to
buckle under the blows to the head and neck!  All the way back to his
fee- ohh!  Eyerake by Stone!

[And from a standing position, Stone throws himself into a huge
clothesline that takes Taylor down to the mat.  The Outlaw immediately
rolls away from his attacker, rolling under the ropes and out to the
barely-padded floor.  A wild-eyed Stone marches towards the ropes,
looking to continue the assault but he gets a little too close as Taylor
reaches under the ropes, ripping Stone's legs out from under him and
dragging his rival out to the gymnasium floor.]

GM:  Out to the floor!  Taylor's taking this fight out to the floor and
it's all legal!  There'll be no no-contest like Broken Wishbones!  This
is a fight to the finish, Bucky!

BW:  I'm not sure if this is a good idea for Taylor but I'm not sure
it's a good idea for Stone either.  This is gonna be a war of attrition
out there and whoever is the last man left standing is going to win it.

[A wild haymaker by Taylor comes up empty as Stone ducks under it,
popping Taylor in the side of the face with a right hand that sends
Taylor staggers back towards the steel barricade.  Stone grabs Taylor's
hair by the left hand, throwing a jaw-rattling forearm smash into the
left side of Taylor's face nearly knocking him over the railing.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot by Stone!

BW:  But Taylor's fighting back!

[The crowd roars as Taylor throws a series of fast right hands that
causes Stone to backpedal away from the attack.  Taylor stalks towards
him, grabbing Stone by the back of the head and smashing him with a
headbutt that knocks Stone down to a knee.]

GM:  Good grief!  

BW:  That's sickening.  He could have split his own damn skull open with
that.

GM:  Taylor's got the ringsteps!

[With a grunt, Taylor hoists the wooden ringsteps up over his head,
staggering towards Stone with them...

...and SMASHING Stone in the side of the head with the steps, sending
Stone down to the floor in a heap!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Now THAT'S how you start a fight, Gordo!

GM:  The fight is ON for sure now!

[Taylor drops the ringsteps, sending them clattering a few feet away as
he stands over the downed Stone who is clutching the side of his head. 
A dazed Stone pushes up to all fours.]

GM:  Stone recovering quickly - I think Taylor just caught him with a
glancing blow with those steps and-

BW:  Gahh!  That wasn't a glancing blow with that kick to the ribs,
Gordo!

[The hard stomp to the ribs causes Stone to roll away from Taylor,
ending up very close to the ringside barricade.  Nearby, Taylor reaches
over the ringside barricade and comes back with a steel chair in his
hands.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  This could get ugly in a hurry.

GM:  It certainly could.  Taylor's got the chair...

[Still dazed, Stone drags himself up to his feet, leaning against the
steel barrier...

...and gets a steel chair THROWN at him, partially blocked but still
effective!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[The crowd roars for Taylor as he stomps around the ringside area, taped
fist raised in the air in salute to the fans.  As he reaches Stone, he
drags him to his feet off the floor...

...to which Stone fires back with a blow to the midsection.  Getting
back to his feet, Stone pops Taylor in the side of the jaw with another
haymaker that puts Taylor down to a knee.  Clutching him by the hair,
Stone SLAMS a knee up into the side of Taylor's face.]

GM:  Ohh!  These two are trading some of the most vile blows that I've
ever-

[With a shove of Stone, Taylor pushes up to his feet, snapping off a
hard knife edge chop that causes Stone to fall back against the railing.
 Taylor moves in on the stunned Stone...

...who lashes out with a chop of his own that causes Taylor to stumble
backwards.  Regaining his footing, Stone spins Taylor around and pops
him with another big chop that knocks Taylor back into the railing.]

GM:  A trade of knife-edge chops out on the floor - these two are taking
the hide off one another.  Big red welts already starting to form on the
chests of these two warriors.  

BW:  Can you imagine what one of those chops must feel like?

GM:  No, I certainly cann- OHHHH!

[A third big chop sends Taylor toppling backwards over the barricade and
into the front row of seats at ringside.  The big man steps over the
railing as well, putting both men right in the middle of the AWA
faithful.]

GM:  Uh oh - this battle has spilled into the crowd already, Bucky.

BW:  And if you're sitting at ringside, I've got one word for ya - RUN!

[The fans start to scatter a bit as a fired-up Stone drags Taylor off
the floor by the hair, wading through the sea of AWA faithful as he
walks through the gym, knocking over steel chairs with each and every
step.]

GM:  It's starting to look like a warzone out here.  Chairs getting
knocked over, people screaming and running for cover.

BW:  It looks like Godzilla has come to town.

GM:  Stone pushes through the fans - over by the wall...

[The crowd roars for the violence on display as Stone SLAMS Taylor's
head into the gym wall.]

GM:  Ohhh! 

[Taylor leans against the wall, trying to stay on his feet as a fiesty
Grant Stone fakes a backhand at a fan that got a little too close.  The
cameraman gets closer, zooming in on Stone who shoves the cameraman
aside as he marches towards Taylor who is staggering away from the big
man.]

GM:  Stone's on the prowl - look out!

[Stone connects with a crushing headbutt that sends Taylor staggering
back a few more steps, dropping down to a knee that Stone quickly yanks
him back from by the hair before smashing him in the side of the head
with a forearm smash that causes Taylor to fall into the wall again,
clutching at it to stay on his feet.]

GM:  Taylor's leaning against the wall - trying to stay standing.

BW:  Here comes Stone!

GM:  The rampaging Kentucky native storms towards Taylor...

[...who raises his leg, catching Stone squarely under the chin with a
big boot that knocks the big brawler backwards and down on all fours. 
Leaning against the wall sucking air, Taylor charges away from the wall,
drilling Stone in the ribcage with a hard kick that sends Stone
sprawling back towards the section of scattered fans.  Still stunned,
Taylor walks towards his rival, pulling him off the ground.]

GM:  Taylor drags him off the floor... ooh!  European uppercut by
Taylor!

[Stone clutches his chin as he falls backwards, leaning against the
chairs in the crowd.  Taylor quickly approaches...

...and catches a bone-rattling uppercut from Stone that causes Taylor to
fall backwards towards the wall again.  Grabbing Taylor by the back of
the head, Stone slams another European uppercut on the mark.  Leaning
against the wall, Taylor spits a crimson wad on the floor but only has a
moment to recover before Stone slams a forearm to the side of the face.]

GM:  Grant Stone is just battering Taylor with forearm smashes and
uppercuts.  The kind of blows that'll break a jaw in an instant.  

BW:  And as much as Taylor is fighting back, it just doesn't seem like
enough.

GM:  Ohh!  Big right hand to the top of the head!  Taylor staggering
away, trying to get a second wind as Stone stalks him around the West
Dallas Community College gymnasium!

[Stone grabs Taylor by the back of the head, spinning the Outlaw around.
 Taylor promptly throws a fist to the stomach of his rival, doubling him
up...

...and then DRILLS Stone in the side of the face with a full force
straight right hand, knocking Stone down to a knee.]

GM:  What a right hand!  Did you see- I'm sorry, of course you did.

BW:  Stone better be checking his teeth after that one.

[Down on his knees, Stone grabs a nearby steel chair, flinging it in the
direction of Taylor but narrowly missing.  But the throw serves to
distract Taylor long enough for Stone to get back to his feet, slamming
home a big boot to the chest that knocks Taylor back towards the wall. 
Grabbing Taylor by the hair again... Stone SLAMS him headfirst into the
wall once more!]

GM:  Again to the wall!  Taylor's head has been slammed over and over
into the wall by Grant Stone.  That could very easily cause a
concussion, Bucky.

BW:  A lot of things these two are going to do to one another could
cause a concussion.

GM:  Stone pulling him away from the wall- oh!  Right hand to the gut by
Taylor!  And a left!  And another right!  And another left!

[With Stone reeling from the attack, Taylor grabs him by the head...

...and SLAMS home a headbutt that catches Stone squarely on target,
causing Stone to stagger away, spiraling down to collapse on the floor
of the gym.]

GM:  DOWN GOES STONE! 

BW:  It was another one of those headbutts - those things make me feel
sick to watch them, Gordo.  It's disgusting to hear the impact of one of
those headbutts on another man's skull.

GM:  Taylor's- what IS he doing?

BW:  It looks like he's making a pile of steel chairs!  He's folding up
steel chairs and dumping them down on the floor.

GM:  He's got one of those chairs, coming over to Stone...

[And with the folded chair in his hands, he DRIVES the edge of the
chairback down into the midsection of the big man from Kentucky.]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  That'll break a rib in a hurry!

[With Stone clutching his ribs, Taylor continues to pile the chairs on
the floor for a few more moments before slamming a stomp down on the
ribcage of Stone.  The big man rolls to the side as Taylor grabs another
chair off the floor...

...and THROWS it down on the ribs of Stone!]

GM:  Oof!  Another shot to the ribcage!  Taylor may be looking to bust
up the ribs of Grant Stone - making it difficult for the man to breathe.

BW:  And if a man can't breathe, he can't fight.

GM:  Taylor's dragging Stone up off the floor... what in the world is
he-?

[The crowd starts to buzz as Taylor pulls Stone over near the pile of
chairs, swooping down to scoop Stone up for a bodyslam...

...but Stone wriggles free, landing on his feet behind Taylor, hooking
him around the waist, and hoisting him up in the air in a belly-to-back
suplex.]

GM:  NO!  NO!  NOOOOOOOO!

[The crowd EXPLODES in a stunned reaction as Stone DUMPS Taylor down on
the back of the head and neck on the pile of folded-up steel chairs on
the exposed gym floor!]

BW:  That's it!  That's it right there!  Grant Stone has won this match
and this war.

GM:  It was a horrible sight but it may not be over yet.  Bobby Taylor
has a lot of fight in his mind, body, and soul, Bucky.

BW:  It's over.  Ring the bell.

GM:  Stone slowly back to his feet... that took a lot out of him as
well...

[Slowly approaching the downed Taylor, Stone lashes out with a hard
stomp to the midsection, causing Taylor to roll away from the blow. 
Pulling the Outlaw to his feet, Stone leads him down towards the
barricade around the ring.]

GM:  Stone's dragging him back to the ring - looking to finish this.

[With a powerful hurl, Stone throws Taylor over the railing into the
ringside area before stepping back over the barricade himself.  Taylor
pushes up to a knee, clutching the back of his head...

...and then gets BLASTED with a hard forearm smash to the side of the
face by Stone!]

GM:  Ohh!  Another hard shot on target!

[Barely conscious on his knees, Taylor breathes heavily as Stone
approaches and throws a wild right hand to the midsection in
desperation.  Stone doubles up, reaching down at Taylor...

...and gets DRILLED with another straight right hand that spirals Stone
away from the impact in a complete 360 degree spin...

...that leads right back into a LUNGING lariat to the kneeling Taylor
that completely wipes him out!]


'OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!'


GM:  WHAT A SHOT!  STONE COMPLETELY LAID HIM OUT WITH THAT LARIAT!

[Both men lie motionless on the floor for a moment, breathing heavily as
the referee yells for both men to get back inside the ring.  After a
bit, Stone pushes up off the floor, clutching the side of his face where
Taylor connected with the straight right hand before dragging his
opponent up by the hair, firing him under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  And after all that, these two are actually back inside the ring.  I
didn't know if we'd even see that for the rest of the night, Bucky.

BW:  It was quite the fight out there.  I'm surprised they didn't bring
some of the outside back in with them.

GM:  Both men back in now and- CHOKE!

[The crowd boos wildly as Stone wraps his hands around the throat of
Taylor, strangling him on the canvas as Taylor flails to try to free
himself.  Breaking the choke, Stone slams home several right hands
before throwing himself into a lateral press, reaching back to hook the
leg.]

GM:  ONE!  TWO!

[Taylor kicks out of the pin attempt which seems to have no effect on
Grant Stone who rolls him towards the ropes.]

GM:  Taylor out at two - and it almost seems like Grant Stone doesn't
even care.

BW:  If you wanted to rip your opponent apart, wouldn't you want him to
kick out?

GM:  Stone pushing Taylor's throat down over the bottom rope - he's
choking him again!

[The crowd boos as Stone strangles Taylor over the ropes, slamming
forearms across the face of Taylor with crossface blows to the cheek and
to the eyesockets.  After a few blows, Stone stands up, looking down at
the beaten Taylor hanging over the bottom rope.]

GM:  Stone's just looking down on Taylor - trying to figure out the next
way to punish the Outlaw.

[The powerful man from Kentucky shoves the referee back against the
buckles, grabbing at his belt.]

GM:  What the-?  Stone's taking his belt off the referee!  Grant Stone's
snatching the leather belt off the referee and... no!


'SMAAAAAACK!'


GM:  Ohh!  He lashed Taylor across the back with that leather belt!

[Stone cracks a grin as he glares down at Taylor who rolls over onto his
back, wincing from the lashing...

...and then a second lash comes down across the chest with the belt!]

GM:  Ohh, come on!  Referee, get in there!

BW:  And do what?  This is no disqualification!

GM:  I know but-


'SMAAAAAAACK!'


GM:  OH!

[With a hard kick to the ribs, Stone causes Taylor to roll over on his
stomach.  Kneeling on the back of Taylor, Stone loops the leather belt
around the throat of his victim, pulling back with it.]

GM:  Now he's choking him with that belt!

[Dragging Taylor off the mat using the belt, Stone blasts him with a
haymaker that knocks Taylor back into the buckles.  Holding the Outlaw
by the hair, Stone drives another hard hooking right into the side of
the face.  Grabbing Taylor by the wrist, Stone goes for an Irish
whip...]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by Taylor!

[The Outlaw rampages across the ring towards the cornered Stone, rocking
him with a running clothesline in the buckles!]

GM:  Stone's laid back in the buckles now, arms draped over the ropes.

[Lifting a clenched taped fist to the sky, Taylor soaks up the roar of
the crowd for a moment before slamming the hand across the chest of
Stone in a knife-edge chop and then drilling Stone with a straight right
hand in the same motion.  The barrage continues - chop, straight right,
chop, straight right, chop, straight right.  The crowd roars for the
beatdown of the Kentucky native as he slumps down to a knee, a trickle
of blood now running from his nose down into his mouth.  A fired-up
Taylor lets loose a whoop as he applies a side headlock on Stone,
charging out of the corner...

...and SMASHING Stone facefirst into the canvas with a bulldog
headlock!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Taylor flips Stone onto his back, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  

[Stone kicks out of the pin attempt - but as Taylor clears away, we
catch our first glimpse of his face, now covered in a crimson flow.]

GM:  Stone's busted open!  I don't know if it was the punches or the
bulldog but Grant Stone has been busted open by Bobby Taylor in some
fashion.  

[Gritting his teeth, Taylor takes the mount on Stone, grabbing him by
the back of the head to deliver punch after punch to the cut forehead
with his heavily taped right hand!]

GM:  He's trying to rip that wound apart - trying to tear that gash-
AHHH!

[The crowd gasps in horror as Taylor leans over to bite the wound of his
opposition, causing Stone to scream in pain as Taylor sinks his teeth
into his flesh.  After a few moments, Taylor gets back to his feet,
crimson covering the sides of his mouth and chin - and delivers a hard
stomp down on the face of Stone.]

GM:  Taylor is dragging Stone off the mat- ohh!  Big right hand to the
side of Stone's face, knocking him back against the buckles.  The Outlaw
backing down, all the way to the opposite corner...

BW:  Stone looks like he's out on his feet... he can barely stand and-

GM:  TAYLOR!

[The Outlaw storms across the ring at top speed...

...and DRIVES his big boot into the jaw of Stone!]

GM:  BIG BOOT IN THE BUCKLES!

[Stone staggers out of the corner, right into a kick to the midsection
from Taylor.  The Outlaw yanks Stone into a front facelock.]

GM:  Taylor's got him hooked!  Cattle Buster comin' up!

[But before Taylor can spike his skull into the canvas, Stone yanks
Taylor backwards, standing tall and backdropping Taylor over the ropes
and down to the barely-padded floor below!]

GM:  OHHH!  BACKDROP TO THE FLOOR!

BW:  Taylor SLAMMED into the floor, Gordo!  This could be it.

[The referee frantically slides to the floor, diving to his knees to
check on the condition of the fallen Outlaw.]

GM:  Mickey Meekly is checking on the Outlaw's condition - trying to see
if he can keep going in this match, this fight, this war.  Taylor is
down.  The referee is kneeling right there next to him.

BW:  Stone's down on his knees inside the ring.  He's in not much better
condition.

[On the floor, the referee lifts Taylor's arm that limply falls to the
ground.  He repeats the process to the same result.]

GM:  The referee may be about to stop this match, Bucky.

BW:  It's a good idea - in my oh-so-humble opinion.

GM:  Wait a second!  Taylor's not out yet!  The crowd is cheering for
the Outlaw who is on his back, one hand raised in the air.

[The blood-covered white taped fist is limply in the air, narrowly
avoiding the match being stopped.  Referee Mickey Meekly waves his arms
for the match to continue as he rolls back into the ring.  A dazed
Taylor throws his arm over the steel barricade, hoisting himself up to
his knees as Grant Stone steps out onto the ring apron, dropping down to
the floor...

...and charging towards Taylor - DRIVING his knee into Taylor's face - a
move that slams the Outlaw's head into the steel railing!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Check the fifth row, daddy!

GM:  For what?

BW:  The Outlaw's skull!

[Reaching down, Stone drags a limp Taylor off the railing to his feet. 
The Kentucky native hurls Taylor back under the ropes into the ring. 
Reaching into the crowd, he grabs a few chairs, throwing them over the
ropes where they barely miss landing on the dazed Outlaw.]

GM:  Stone is throwing chairs inside the ring - rearranging the ringside
furniture.

BW:  This can't be good news for Taylor.

GM:  I wouldn't think so.

[Stone rolls under the ropes back into the ring, climbing to his feet. 
Taylor is a few feet away, slowly crawling towards the opposite side of
the ring.  With a smirk, Stone scoops up one of the chairs that was on
the canvas, opening it up and setting it back down on the canvas.]

GM:  Stone's got a chair set up inside the ring and I don't like the
looks of this, Bucky.

BW:  I'm right there with you.  I'm no Bobby Taylor fan by any stretch
of the imagination but even I don't want to see him crippled on national
television.  Isn't there enough blood on Grant Stone's hands?

GM:  If this is Stone's last night in the AWA, he's going to make it one
to remember if he hits this move.

[With the chair in position, Stone pulls Taylor off the mat by the back
of the jeans.  Shifting position, Stone hoists Taylor up across his
broad shoulders in a torture rack...]

GM:  Oh no... ohh no!

BW:  You know what's coming - we all know what's coming!

GM:  Stone's got him up... moving over by the chair... if he hits this,
it's over!

BW:  If he hits this, Grant Stone will END another career!

GM:  He's got him up... he's got him in position...

BW:  ETCHED!  IN!  STO- OHHHH!

[But before he can deliver the crushing Burning Hammer on the open steel
chair, Taylor swings out of the lift to land on his feet behind Stone,
wrapping his arms around the waist of Stone, falling back against the
ropes...

...where he hoists Stone up into the air, dumping him over the ropes and
DOWN on the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  OUTLAW'S CURSE!!!  OUTLAW'S CURSE!!!

[With the crowd roaring, Grant Stone lies motionless on the gym floor,
the back of his head having slammed into the ground as Taylor leans
against the ropes, having exhausted himself with his desperate move. 
After a moment, Taylor drops down to a knee, breathing heavily as the
referee slides out to the floor next to the downed Stone.]

GM:  Grant Stone was thrown over the top - thrown down to the floor.  He
landed on those mats but that wasn't enough to cushion the blow - that's
for sure.  He could have a concussion, Bucky.

BW:  Or far worse.

GM:  That's for sure.  The referee is checking on Stone - trying to make
sure he's able to continue just like they did with Taylor earlier.

BW:  Look out - here comes trouble!

[Dropping down on his back, Taylor rolls under the bottom rope to the
floor.  He slowly stalks towards the downed Stone.  The protesting
referee steps in his path...

...and gets shoved down to the floor!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  Good thing this is no DQ, Gordo.

GM:  I suppose.

[The Outlaw reaches down, dragging a limp Grant Stone off the floor,
shoving him under the ropes into the ring.  Taylor rolls back under the
bottom rope as well, covering Stone.]

GM:  Cover!

BW:  But Taylor, that idiot, shoved the referee down!  There's no one to
count the pin attempt.

GM:  Can we get another referee out here?

[The curtain parts...

...but it's not a referee who makes his entrance into the West Dallas
Community Center gym.]

GM:  What the-?

BW:  WHAT IS _HE_ DOING HERE?!

[The crowd ERUPTS as 'Wild Thing' Kevin Slater strides into the
building, grinning at the crazed reaction from the AWA faithful.]

GM:  After all these months, Kevin Slater has returned to the AWA!  He
looks great!

BW:  Where's the neckbrace?

GM:  It's all gone!  Slater's back and he's better than ever!

[The Wild Thing walks down the aisle, slapping the hands of any AWA fan
who holds it out in his direction.  He makes a beeline towards the ring
where his friend is doing battle and stations himself in Taylor's
corner.  With the crowd still roaring, Slater starts rhythmically
slapping the mat over and over and over until the crowd starts clapping
along, chanting in time.]

'OUT-LAW!'
'OUT-LAW!'
'OUT-LAW!'

[A grinning Slater continues to lead the cheers for his friend as Taylor
hoists the barely-moving Stone off the canvas.  With Stone barely able
to stand, Taylor blasts him with a right hand that knocks Stone back
against the ropes.  Stone bounces off the ropes, firing back a right
hand of his own that knocks Taylor back a couple of steps.  With the
fans roaring, the two men stand in the center of the ring...

...and THROW DOWN!]

GM:  Right hand by Taylor - Stone returns fire!

[Taylor uncorks a knife edge chop that causes Stone to spiral away,
falling into the ropes.  The Outlaw approaches him from behind but gets
popped with a knife-edge chop of his own.]

GM:  Ohh!  Taylor falls back, dropping to a knee.

[Grabbing Taylor by the hair, Stone throws a barrage of forearms into
the side of Taylor's head - hitting him again and again with hard blows
to the skull.  Pushing back to his feet, Taylor throws the arm off,
driving a straight right into the side of Stone's head, knocking him to
a knee where the Outlaw grabs him, slamming his skull into Stone's head,
knocking Stone silly...

...but not preventing Stone from behind able to drive his clenched fist
up into the groin of his enemy!]

GM:  OHHHH!  LOW BLOW!  LOW BLOW!

[Stone shoves himself off the mat as Taylor recoils in pain from the
groin strike, yanking Taylor by the back of the jeans, tugging him into
a torture rack lift...]

GM:  HE'S GOT TAYLOR UP!  ETCHED IN STONE IS ON THE WAY!  ETCHED IN
STONE IS-

[But as Stone turns around with Taylor on his shoulders, his eyes come
to rest on Kevin Slater out on the floor.  The camera very clearly
catches Stone saying, 'What the hell are you doing here?']

GM:  Stone spotted Slater!

BW:  Stay focused!

[The momentary distraction of Kevin Slater's appearance at ringside
causes Grant Stone's grip to loosen on Bobby Taylor, allowing the Outlaw
to slip free, landing on his knees behind the sadistic killer from
Kentucky.  Taylor seizes the moment to dip into his boot, pulling
something unseen out.  And as a surprised Stone turns around to face the
Outlaw...]


'WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!'


GM:  GOOD GOD!  GOOD GOD!  

[The burst of flame flying out of the hand of 'The Outlaw' Bobby Taylor
tears through the sky, lighting up the face of Grant Stone who wails in
agony from the impact of the scorching fire with his flesh.  Stone's
hands shoot up to his burnt face, spinning away from Taylor who tosses
the lighter aside, burying his foot into the midsection of Stone.  He
promptly hooks a front facelock on Stone, hoisting him slightly off the
mat...

...and SPIKING him skullfirst into the steel chair resting on the
canvas!]

GM:  CATTLE BUSTER DDT!

[Taylor flips Stone onto his back, throwing himself across Stone's
chest.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEE!!!


'DING!  DING!  DING!'


MC:  Your winner of the match... BOBBBBBBYYYYY TAAAAAAAYLORRR!!!

[A tired Taylor rolls off his defeated opponent to his knees, pumping
his blood-covered taped fists in the air in triumph.]

GM:  Wow!  What a victory for the Outlaw!  He finally vanquished Grant
Stone - this psychotic nutcase who has put countless men on the shelf
here in the AWA in his months here.  So many people run out of town by
Stone and finally - FINALLY- someone was able to beat him at his own
game.  He's been bloodied and now he's been beaten, Bucky Wilde.

BW:  I didn't think it was possible, Gordo - I really didn't.  I
expected Stone to run right over Taylor and run right out of town in a
victory parade.  And he just might have done it if it hadn't been for
Kevin Slater distracting him.  The Wild Thing finally gets his payback
as well - as cowardly as it might have been.

GM:  Cowardly?  All he did was stand out here at ringside!

BW:  His face is assault enough, Gordo.

GM:  Give me a break.

[With Stone being helped from the ring by AWA officials, Kevin Slater
rolls into the ring to help his friend off the mat.]

GM:  Grant Stone is being helped down the aisle and right out of the
AWA.  He said win, lose, or draw - he was gone from the AWA and that's
exactly what we're witnessing.  Goodbye, Grant Stone - and good
riddance!

[A final camera shot of Grant Stone being aided through the curtain bids
a fond farewell to the sadistic monster before cutting back to the ring
where Kevin Slater has helped his friend to his feet - and they are now
embracing in the middle of the ring to the cheers of the capacity
crowd.]

GM:  Taylor and Slater are together again - the Cult of Personality is
alive and well in the middle of the ring here at Christmas Clash and
what a fantastic Christmas gift this is for the AWA fans!  

BW:  Ugh.  You're starting to make me sick now, Gordo.

GM:  I can't help it, Bucky.  This is a great moment for the AWA and for
its fans.

[Taylor and Slater step apart, their arms raised in triumph as they walk
around the ring paying tribute to the fans...

...when suddenly Slater yanks his friend's arm, pulling him into a
three-quarter nelson before DRIVING Taylor's skull into the canvas!]

GM:  What the-?!

[The crowd falls silent in shock as Slater pops back up to his feet,
staring down at the motionless Taylor on the canvas.  Taylor reaches out
at Slater, his hands wrapped around Slater's ankle.  The Wild Thing
cracks a grin...

...and then stomps down hard on the back of Taylor's head.  The silence
breaks out into boos as Slater continues to violently stomp on his
downed former friend and ally.  The stomping continues for several
moments before Slater backs away, still looking down at Taylor.

Slater reaches into the pocket of his jeans - slowly withdrawing a roll
of cash.  He peels a few bills off the roll, holding them high for
everyone to see - and then drops them down on the chest of the Outlaw.]

GM:  What... what does that mean?  Is he... is Kevin Slater... is he The
Man With The Money?

BW:  I don't understand.  How does that make any sense at all?

GM:  I don't know.  I just don't- now what the hell is HE doing out
here?

[Cackling like a madman, Triston Rockford, SuperAgent, walks out of the
locker room area.  Rockford hustles down the aisle, quickly climbing the
steps to get inside the squared circle...

...where he proudly embraces Kevin Slater to the jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  This is what Rockford was talking about?  This is the centerpiece
of TR Enterprises?  The man who would shake the foundation of the entire
AWA?

GM:  Apparently so.

BW:  Then I'm going to say he succeeded because consider the AWA shaken
to the very core right here tonight!

[Rockford looks down at Taylor - then signals to Slater who quickly
steps out on the ring apron, heading towards the corner.  While Slater
scales the ropes, Rockford picks up one of the discarded steel chairs,
placing it firmly over the face of the downed Outlaw.]

GM:  This is... this is not good, Bucky.

BW:  Depends on your point of view, Gordo.  I came here tonight to see
Bobby Taylor put out of the sport and if Grant Stone's not going to do
it, I'm just as happy to see Kevin Slater do it.

GM:  Slater's on the top rope... come on... we need some help out here
for-

[Slater leaps off the ropes as he has done so many times in his storied
career, sailing through the air...

...and SLAMMING down on the steel chair with his own flying elbow drop,
smashing the steel into the head of the motionless Taylor whose body
doesn't even move an inch from the impact of the move.]

GM:  This is sickening, Bucky.  Absolutely sickening.

[The Wild Thing gets back to his feet - his hand raised by Triston
Rockford to a huge shower of boos from the AWA faithful.  Slater looks
out over the jeering crowd, shaking his head at the reaction.]

BW:  I can't believe these fans are booing Slater, Gordo.  After all
he's done for them.

GM:  What?!  Are you serious?  He just stabbed his friend in the back
and you're surprised that the fans are booing?

BW:  For over ten years, this man has done EVERYTHING for the fans. 
He's broken his body time and time again for the fans.  And now... when
he needs the fans?  They stab HIM in the back.

GM:  You're out of your mind, Bucky.  Give me a break.

[As Rockford pulls the chair away from Taylor's head, we see that the
Outlaw has been split wide open from the elbow drop.  Blood is pouring
down the forehead of Taylor as Slater and Rockford laugh at the Outlaw's
fallen state.  Slater kneels down over Taylor, battering the cut
forehead a few times before getting back up...

...and slowly wiping his hand - and his friend's blood in the process -
across his own white t-shirt.  With Rockford directing traffic, Slater
pulls Taylor off the mat by his long hair, tugging him into a standing
headscissors.]

GM:  Haven't we seen enough, damn it?!

BW:  Take it easy, Gordo.

GM:  Can we get some help out here before it's too late?

[Slater mimes executing a piledriver on Taylor - a gesture that causes
the crowd to buzz with concern.]

GM:  No.  Absolutely not - this just cannot happen.

BW:  We've never seen a piledriver executed in the AWA, Gordo.

GM:  You don't think I know that?  If he hits this... I shudder to think
what might happen.

[The Wild Thing leans over, wrapping his arms around the waist of his
former friend...

...when suddenly, the ring floods with AWA officials including Todd
Michaelson and Jon Stegglet looking to break up the beatdown. 
Michaelson ends up being the one to drag Slater off of Taylor, shoving
him back.  Slater tries to take a step towards Michaelson when Triston
Rockford steps between the two men, forcing Slater to exit the ring.]

GM:  And finally... finally... the AWA officials get out here to help
Bobby Taylor.  It's about time.

BW:  But the damage has been done and has been done bigtime, daddy.

GM:  It certainly has.  

[The camera zooms in on a smirking Kevin Slater having his shoulder
patted by Triston Rockford as they slowly exit the ring and back down
the aisle away from the ring.]

GM:  Can someone... can we get those two pieces of garbage out of here? 
Fans, Bobby Taylor is hurt and hurt badly.  And while we get Taylor some
medical help, we need to take a quick break.  Don't go away.

[The camera holds on the ring where an EMT team has arrived to check on
the beaten and fallen Bobby Taylor 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 we fade back up to the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - and if nothing else, no one can claim this
Christmas night has been uneventful, Bucky.

BW:  The no-contest with Rough N Ready and the War Pigs.  Dufresne wins
the new Ford Mustang.  Shaw finally beats Rogers.  Stone AND Taylor get
chased out of the AWA.  And now there's this.

GM:  It's Main Event time here at Christmas Clash for the National Tag
Team Titles and now, at this time, let's welcome to ringside the
National Tag Team Champions - City Jack and Tin Can Rust - Kentucky's
Pride!

[City Jack leads the way towards the broadcast desk, with Tin Can Rust
following behind. Jack pats the title around his shoulder with some glee
- even doing a short juke n' jive as he nears the desk. Rust, though,
looks all business and seems disinterested in this meeting.]

GM: City Jack, Tin Can Rust - our National Tag Team Champions!

[The fans nearby cheer.]

GM: It's been about a month since you beat Calisto Dufresne and Adrian
Freeman for the titles -

CJ: And it's been one long, long, LONG month of partyin' there, Mr.
Myers!

[City Jack raises his title in the air, getting some more crowd pops, as
Tin Can Rust simply nods - not breaking his serious demeanor.]

CJ: But, no sir, it wasn't all joyous celebration. Once we heard that we
had to put these grand titles up for grabs tonight, we me and the
Rust'er here made sure to do our best to prepare. We don't want to be a
one n' doner here now.

[Jack and TCR both shake their heads.]

CJ: We want to keep these titles as long as possible. We want to make
sure that no other hands but those of these two Kentucky boys hold them!

[Some more fans cheer the champs nearby.]

GM: Tonight you face a rematch of the semi-finals, against Juan Vasquez
and Raphael Rhodes. Some have said that you benefited from not having
faced a real team in the tournament, that you only faced make-shift
teams consisting of two men who wouldn't normally get cooperate, like
Rogers and Shaw... Or tonight, Vasquez and Rhodes. 

[Rust, with a curled lip, juts in.]

TCR: What are you trying to say?

GM: I'm just reporting what I've heard -

TCR: Well what you've heard is a bunch of bull-

CJ: Hey, hey, hey now! Let's -

[Jack puts an arm around Rust, pulling him back.]

CJ: Now let's just calm on down here.

TCR: Well it's not true! We battled each and every team the AWA has at
some point during our time here and we've bested them all! We,
Kentucky's Pride, ARE the best tag team! 

[Some of the crowd cheers, though some are put off by Tin Can Rust's
attitude.]

TCR: And I'm not going to let some sort of double-speak take any of that
away!

[Jack pats his partner on his back and looks at Rust.]

CJ: Heh, hey, just sooth it on down now, ok?

[Jack nods... as does Rust. With that Jack turns back to Gordon Myers
with a smile.]

CJ: See Rust here? He's just a gamer. Like we said before, we came to
the AWA with a purpose of bein' the best tag team in the world. Now, if
there's any doubt in that locker room that that's the case? Well, come
on down. We'll fight anyone, anywhere for these titles cause that's what
a champion does - prove night in and night out that yeah, you deserve to
be wearin' them straps around your waist.

[Jack looks down at his rotund self.]

CJ: Or, heh, in this ol' sob's case, 'round the shoulders.

[Jack cracks a smile and a wink.]

CJ: But tonight, Mr. Myers? No matter if them two are together for a
team or not, we'll be ready. We've had some weeks to heal up, prepare,
and just be all the ready for this match here. If Vasquez and Rhodes
want to give us a fight, then we sure do welcome the challenge. But just
know one thing here - these titles we're holding?

[Jack holds up his tag team title and points to the one around Rust's
waist.]

CJ: We ain't given them up, no way, no how. Vasquez and Rhodes, they can
fight and fight - and even fight dirty if it comes to it again... But by
the end of the night, these titles are certainly returnin' to the
bluegrasses and even bluer skies of Kentucky!

[Jack once again holds the AWA National Tag Team titles up high as the
crowd pops once again for the champs. As Jack goes over to the fans,
Rust ascends the ringsteps and stands on the apron, ready for the match.
 After a moment, 'Return Of The Tres' by Delinquent Habits starts up to
a loud cheer from the AWA fans.  The curtain parts to reveal the
makeshift squad of Juan Vasquez and 'Catch Thug' Raphael Rhodes walking
down the aisle with a purpose.]

GM:  And here come the challengers - they look quite focused here
tonight, Bucky.

BW:  I talked to both of these guys earlier tonight and I'm pretty sure
we're not going to see a repeat of last month's miscommunication.  These
two want the tag titles and are both willing to do whatever it takes to
get them.

[Vasquez quickly climbs the ringsteps, stepping up to the middle rope to
soak up the cheers from the crowd as his mohawked tag team partner
slides headfirst under the bottom rope, sneering from his knees at the
opposition who eyes him warily.  Melissa Cannon takes the mic.]

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

[Big cheer as Jack and Rust hand the belts over to the referee, AWA
Senior Official Michael Meekly, who raises the gold high in the air for
one and all inside the West Dallas Community Center gym to see.]

MC:  Introducing first - they are the challengers... at a total combined
weight of 439 pounds... they are the team of 'Catch Thug' Raphael Rhodes
and JUAAAAAAN VASSSQUEZZZ!

[The cheers echo throughout the building for Vasquez who ignores them,
eyes locked across the ring on his opponents.  Rhodes pushes up to his
feet, having to be restrained by Michael Meekly from getting an early
start on the physicality.]

MC:  And their opponents... at a total combined weight of 583 pounds... 
they are the AWA National Tag Team Champions...

Tin Can Rust... City Jack...

KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIIIIIDE!

[Jack waves his arms back and forth to salute the cheering fans while
Tin Can Rust keeps a very determined glare on his face as he watches
every movement by Vasquez and Rhodes.]

GM:  A rematch of the semifinals at Black Friday Beatdown - a match with
a little bit of a controversial ending.

BW:  Controversial?  If Rhodes had been able to cover after that diving
headbutt, Kentucky's Pride would have been out of the tournament on the
spot.  This match would probably not even be happening tonight.

GM:  Rhodes made the blind tag in when Vasquez seemingly had the match
won and then he went for the headbutt that you mentioned.  That was all
she wrote for the Wild Card duo in the tournament.  But tonight -
tonight could be a very different story.

BW:  But time could be a very important issue.  You heard Melissa say
the time limit was TV Time Remaining and by a glance at my gold and
diamond encrusted watch my Momma gave me this morning - that gives us
about twenty-five minutes to get this one in the books, Gordo.

GM:  They only went about twelve minutes at Black Friday Beatdown so we
should have plenty of time to get this one in.

BW:  Are you sure about that?  This is a much different match, Gordo. 
Both teams are rested and fresh - this isn't a semifinal match.  This is
one and done for these two teams tonight.  Juan Vasquez might be able to
take them twenty-five minutes on his own.

GM:  It would not be in his best interest to do that - not tonight if he
wants to be a tag team champion.

[After a few words in each corner, City Jack opts to stay inside the
ring as Juan Vasquez does the same.  Referee Michael Meekly gives a few
more words to both teams before signaling for the bell.]

GM:  And awaaaaay we go!  

[Vasquez is all business as he circles out of the corner, keeping pace
with Jack as the big man rapidly sidesteps in a skipping fashion. 
Before long though, the two men are tied up in the middle of the ring. 
Vasquez wastes no time in grabbing the arm of Jack, pulling up on it in
a hammerlock.]

GM:  Vasquez goes right to the right arm - perhaps trying to take the
Metropill out of City Jack's playbook for tonight.

BW:  Which is a smart move, Gordo.  It was the Metropill that directly
led to that loss last time.  It's a dangerous weapon and if you can take
it out - you're in a much better place to try and win the tag team
titles.

[Jack rocks back and forth, wincing in pain as he tries to find a way
out of the hold.  Reaching back, Jack hooks Vasquez around the head and
neck but as the Los Angelino turns up the pressure, Jack releases his
snap mare hold.  Stepping on the back of Jack's knee, Vasquez forces him
down to a knee.  With a quick switch of the grip, Vasquez turns it into
an armbar from behind the downed Jack.  The fan favorite from Kentucky
forces up to his feet, holding his ground...

...and then yanks Vasquez down with an armdrag!]

GM:  Nice counter by the big man from Kentucky!

[Vasquez pops back up, ready to charge back in...

...but the injured arm cranked back and ready to fly in a Metropill
forces Vasquez to slam on the brakes, diving back to the safety of his
corner as Jack jiggles his hips in the direction of the challengers to
the squeal of the crowd.  Smirking at his opponents, City Jack walks to
the corner where he slaps the hand of Tin Can Rust, bringing his
championship partner into the match.]

GM:  And there's the tag to Tin Can Rust.

[TCR slowly steps into the ring, keeping an eye on Juan Vasquez who tugs
at the ropes, staying loose as the opposition changes out.  With a nod,
Vasquez slaps himself across the chest, moving quickly to his side as
Rust does the same.  The two men move towards a collar and elbow but
Vasquez brings his knee up into the midsection of Rust to catch him by
surprise.]

GM:  Vasquez caught him with the knee!  That's questionable
sportsmanship.

BW:  Juan Vasquez is not your typical baby-kissin' good guy, Gordo. 
He's tread on both sides of that locker room over the years so don't be
surprised if he takes a shortcut or two to become a champion here in the
AWA.

GM:  Big backhand chop by Vasquez puts Rust back against the ropes -
ohh!  And a second big chop by the challenger!

[Vasquez turns away from Rust, flexing his bicep before turning back to
Rust...

...and getting drilled with a haymaker to the forehead that causes
Vasquez to stumble back.  He's quick to fight back though, throwing a
blow to the body that Rust seems to not even feel as he connects with
another knuckleshot to the forehead.  The crowd roars as Rust rallies,
throwing right after right after right to the head of Vasquez, finally
knocking him down to the mat!]

GM:  Tin Can Rust is all over him, Bucky!

BW:  Those are illegal, Gordo - clenched fists!

GM:  Vasquez back to his feet... 

[And again, Vasquez slams on the brakes - this time as Tin Can Rust is
spinning his hand round and round in preparation for the Tin Jaw Rocker.
 Rust moves in to close the distance - only to be wisely wrapped up by
Vasquez, who pushes Rust back into the neutral corner.]

GM:  Vasquez ties him up and backs him down.  Right han- blocked by
Rust!

[The fans roar once more as Tin Can Rust connects with a big right hand
that knocks Vasquez off his feet - forcing the Los Angeles native to
roll away from the corner, coming up on his feet...

...right next to City Jack whose threat of the Metropill causes Vasquez
to backpedal, falling down to the mat where he quickly butt-scoots back
to his corner where Raphael Rhodes is waiting.]

GM:  Haha!  I like Juan Vasquez as much as the next guy but he wisely is
showing a lot of respect for both that Tin Jaw Rocker as well as the
Metropill.  He knows very well that either of those blows could turn
your lights out in an instant.

BW:  Vasquez is staring at them both - trying to regroup a little bit. 
I don't think this is how he wanted to start this match off.

[In the corner, Rhodes offers a tag but Vasquez waves him off, climbing
back up to his feet.  On the other side of the ring, Tin Can Rust slaps
the hand of his partner who happily gets back in the ring...

...and busts out a little side-to-side hip wiggle that causes Vasquez to
look around a little irritated at the cheering crowd.]

BW:  They're starting to get to Vasquez, Gordo.

GM:  He looks a little steamed - you may be right.

[Vasquez marches out of the corner towards Jack, promptly wrapping him
up in a side headlock, wrenching down on the head and neck of the big
man from Kentucky.  He quickly backs Jack into the corner where without
a tag, Raphael Rhodes steps into the ring, squaring off...

...but before the challengers can do any damage, Jack begins firing back
with haymakers on both men that back them away from the corner far
enough for a two-step running clothesline to put them both down on the
mat!]

GM:  DOWN GO VASQUEZ AND RHODES!

[Jack jigs all around the ring, sharing a quick moment of celebration
with his partner as Rhodes and Vasquez get back to their feet.  This
time, Rhodes insists on a tag and gets one, bringing the 'Catch Thug'
into the ring legally for the first time in the matchup.  Rhodes steps
through the ropes, all fired up as he points in the direction of City
Jack, miming breaking Jack in half.]

GM:  Is that a threat?

BW:  No threats needed, Gordo - I don't think Raphael Rhodes would have
a second of a problem if he decides to snap this fat slob in half.  City
Jack is an embarrassment to actual athletes all over the globe.

GM:  Rhodes stomps out of the corner, tying up with Jack...

[Who uses his girth edge to push Rhodes back into the buckles, making
the exchange with Tin Can Rust again who steps into the ring...

...and lays in a right hand to the midsection of Rhodes!]

GM:  Ohh!  Big shot to the belly by the brawler from Kentucky!

[Grabbing Rhodes by the wrist, Rust fires him in...

...and wraps him up in a sleeperhold on the rebound!]

GM:  SLEEPER!

[The crowd erupts as Rust leans in on the hold, trying to render the
challenger unconscious and end the match early.  Rhodes battles against
the hold, trying to find an escape and eventually opting just to back
down into his own corner, pressing Rust's back against the buckles...

...where Juan Vasquez wraps his arm around the throat of Rust, allowing
Rhodes to get free and throw a series of kicks to the body.  Grabbing
Rust by the back of the head, Rhodes DRILLS him with a European uppercut
that snaps Rust's head back against the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big uppercut by Rhodes!

[Grabbing Rust by the back of the head, Rhodes slams home a clenched
fist to the eyebrow - then a second - then a third.  Still holding the
head, Rhodes drills him with a headbutt that knocks Rust down to a knee
where Rhodes continues to pummel with kicks and forearm smashes to the
face.  Reaching up, Rhodes slaps the hand of his tag team partner.]

GM:  And there's the tag to Vasquez - snap mare out of the corner by
Rhodes- ohh!  Hard stomp down to the face!

[With Rust down on the mat, Rhodes steps out of the ring to leave him to
Juan Vasquez.]


'FIVE MINUTES HAVE ELAPSED!  FIVE MINUTES!'

GM:  Five minutes gone - still plenty of time left in this one.

[Vasquez drags Rust off the mat by the head, slamming him facefirst into
the top turnbuckle.  Spinning TCR around in the corner, Vasquez lights
him up with a knife-edge chop.  A second chop quickly follows in suit.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez working over Rust in the corner.  Irish whi- reversed
by Rust!

[And as Vasquez bounces hard off the buckles, Rust sets and LAUNCHES him
through the air with a big back drop!]

GM:  Ohhh my!

[The Los Angeles native slams down hard on the canvas but isn't there
for long as Rust drags him off the mat, pulling him towards the
Kentucky's Pride corner where Rust slams Vasquez' head into the lifted
boot of City Jack before tagging the big man back into the ring.]

GM:  And in comes City Jack off the tag.  Right hand on Vasquez - and
another sends Juan staggering back to the ropes.

[A quick whip sends Vasquez hurtling across the ring...

...where he runs right into City Jack's shouldertackle that knocks the
Los Angeles native off his feet to the cheers of the crowd.  Vasquez
quickly regains his feet only to eat a jab from City Jack.  The crowd
roars as Jack starts dancing around, throwing snap jabs to the face of
his challenger.]

GM:  Look at City Jack!  That man really knows how to put on a show,
Bucky.

BW:  And this is exactly why he's one of the most hated men in the
locker room, Gordo.  This dancing around... this shakin' and bakin'...
this shuckin' and jivin'... all that flashy showboat stuff designed to
humiliate his opponents.

GM:  Oh, give me a break.  He's just having a good time.

[With Vasquez staggers from the jabs, Jack winds up that big right
forearm smash, letting it fly...

...but Vasquez ducks underneath it, charging to the far ropes where he
rebounds back and CREAMS a surprised Jack with a spear tackle that takes
both men down to the mat to the cheers of the crowd.  With Jack on his
back, an enraged Vasquez takes the mount, throwing furious fists at the
head of his opponent.]

BW:  Don't look now, Gordo - but I'm thinkin' Vasquez didn't think Jack
was just havin' a good time either.  He's all over the fat moron, City
Jack.

GM:  Look at Vasquez!  Something really got under his skin and he's
working over City Jack like he's his most hated rival.  Really pounding
him with those clenched fists.  He's battering Jack into the- 

[Grabbing Jack by the head, Vasquez starts slamming the back of the big
man's skull into the mat over and over.]

GM:  Oof!  Ahh!  Come on, referee!  Get in there!

[Mickey Meekly does exactly that - stepping in and forcing Vasquez to
back away.  With fire in his eyes, Vasquez looks towards his corner
where a smirking Raphael Rhodes softly claps his hands in his partner's
direction.]

GM:  Well, I guess Rhodes approves of his partner's actions - I'm not
sure I agree with him there.

BW:  Whatever it takes to become a tag team champion.  Remember that,
Gordo.

GM:  I know that's your personal philosophy but I think Juan Vasquez is
better than that.

BW:  Do you now?

[Vasquez angrily pulls City Jack off the mat, dragging him towards the
neutral corner where he throws the big man down into a seated position
in the corner.  The referee steps in his path as he moves in on him but
Vasquez moves the AWA's Senior Official aside as he lunges towards the
seated City Jack, slamming his knee into the face of the tag team
champion.]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a knee to the head by Vasquez!

[The crowd groans with every blow as Vasquez repeats the act - throwing
knee after knee after knee into the skull of the dazed National Tag Team
Champion.  After a half dozen knees in the corner, Vasquez charges to
the far ropes, rebounding back...

...and absolutely DRILLING City Jack squarely in the temple with a
running knee smash to the side of the head!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The impact of the blow knocks City Jack flat on his back on the canvas
under the bottom rope.  Vasquez leans over the ropes, soaking up the
mixed response from the stunned crowd.  A few hard stomps to the ribs
knocks Jack under the ropes and out to the floor.  With a hand on the
apron, Jack tries to steady himself to keep from falling flat on his
face.  Seizing the moment, Vasquez hits the far ropes again, rebounding
back...

...and snapping off a picture perfect baseball slide dropkick that
catches Jack squarely in the temple, causing the big man to topple
across the ringside area, throwing his arms over the steel barricade to
keep on his feet.]

GM:  Vasquez sends City Jack out to the floor... where's he going?

BW:  It looks like he's going out after him, daddy!

GM:  The Los Angeles native steps up to the second rope... now to the
top...

[Facing away from City Jack, Vasquez stands high above his target and as
a dazed City Jack shoves off the railing, staggering towards the ring...

...Vasquez throws himself backwards in a picture-perfect moonsault from
the top rope that brings him crashing down across the upper body of City
Jack, knocking both men down to the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH MY!

[The crowd ROARS for Vasquez' daredevil move as the two men lie
motionless on the barely-padded floor.  Inside the ring, Michael Meekly
starts a ten count on both men as Tin Can Rust and Raphael Rhodes
encourage their partners from their places out on the ring apron.]

GM:  A suicidal dive to the floor by Juan Vasquez may have just
completely changed the complexion of this entire match, Bucky.

BW:  A stupid, foolish move by Vasquez.  He got mad at Rhodes for the
swandive headbutt at Black Friday Beatdown?  Well, that was ten times
dumber right there, Gordo.

GM:  But he nailed it all and just like that, City Jack finds himself in
quite a bit of trouble.  The National Tag Team Titles appear to be in
danger for the first time in this match, Bucky.

BW:  They sure do - and I'm lovin' every second of it, daddy!

[Out on the floor, a slightly banged up Juan Vasquez pushes off the
mats, shaking the cobwebs as he gets back to his feet.  The count is up
to six as Vasquez reaches down to drag City Jack back to his feet...

...but Jack fires the first shot, connecting with a hard blow to the
midsection that doubles up Vasquez.  A stiff uppercut snaps Vasquez
backwards, knocking him back into the steel ringpost.  Inside the ring,
Raphael Rhodes slips through the ropes, distracting the official to
break the ten count.]

GM:  Rhodes breaks the ten count - Vasquez hanging onto the post, trying
to stay on his feet.  City Jack's back up out on the floor as well,
moving in on Vasquez.  

BW:  A brilliant move by Rhodes inside the ring though because as we all
know, you can not win the tag team titles on a countout.  He knew they
were getting close and he managed to break the count before it could get
too close.

[With Vasquez leaning against the steel ringpost, Jack connects with a
right hand... and another right... and a third right.  Feeling the
cheers of the crowd, Jack lets loose a whoop as he rears back with the
Metropill...

...and lets it fly just as Juan Vasquez ducks out of the way, causing
Jack to slam his right forearm at full force into the solid steel
ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  HE HIT THE POST!  BUCKY WILDE, HE HIT THE STEEL POST!

BW:  I saw it!  I saw it!

[The camera cuts to Raphael Rhodes who looks like Christmas came just a
little late for the Catch Thug.]

GM:  Rhodes just got EXACTLY what he wanted for Christmas, Bucky!

BW:  He certainly did.  Raphael Rhodes smells blood in the water -
National Tag Team Title blood!  He just realized that they are closer to
those belts than ever before.

GM:  Look at City Jack - he may have broken his arm, Bucky.


'TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TEN MINUTES!'


[The announcement seems to bring a little more urgency to the men inside
the ring as well as the buzzing fans outside the ring.  Vasquez looks
down at City Jack who is on his knees clutching his injured arm.  The
Los Angeles native looks a little surprised - and perhaps a little
remorseful? - before rolling under the ropes into the ring to break the
count again.]

GM:  Vasquez back inside the ring - the referee is reprimanding him for
not getting in the ring earlier.

BW:  And look at how helpful Raphael Rhodes is.  He's gonna help City
Jack back into the ring...

[Rhodes pulls Jack up off the floor by the back of the trunks, turning
him towards the ring...

...and then spins around, HURLING City Jack skullfirst into the steel
barricade!]

GM:  OHHH!  COME ON!

BW:  Hehehehe.

GM:  You liked that?

BW:  Oh, shut up, Gordo.  You can't blame the guy for going all the way
to win those titles.

[Pulling Jack up again, Rhodes shoves his prone body under the ropes
into the ring and screams for Vasquez to make the cover.  Looking a bit
conflicted, Vasquez drops down in a lateral press.]

GM:  No, no - not like this.  

BW:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

GM:  FOOT ON THE ROPES!

[The crowd cheers as the dazed City Jack throws his foot over the bottom
rope just in time to break up the pin attempt.]

GM:  Jack just barely saved their titles right there.

BW:  Drag him out to the middle of the ring and do it again, Juan!

[Juan Vasquez pushes up to his knees, looking down at City Jack whose
left hand is wrapped around his now-bleeding right forearm.]

GM:  Look at that, Bucky.  City Jack's arm is cut.  He must have cut his
arm when he hit the ringpost.

BW:  He needs to go after the arm, Gordo.  Vasquez needs to go after the
arm.

GM:  And Raphael Rhodes is telling his partner the exact same thing
right now.  Rhodes is screaming at Vasquez - ordering him to go after
that injured right arm.  The Metropill arm is damaged and Rhodes wants
him to go for the kill.

[Shaking his head, Vasquez climbs to his feet, looking down at City Jack
who has started crawling across the ring, trying to get across the ring
where Tin Can Rust is waiting with his arm outstretched.]

GM:  Jack's trying to get across the ring - and this is a moment of
great conflict for Juan Vasquez.  You can see it on his face, Bucky.

BW:  But why?  Why?!  This is wrestling - not knitting!  Take advantage
of your opponent's mistakes and become a champion!

GM:  Vasquez is a good sport.  He's got honor and dignity and-

BW:  And he's too weak to be a champion if he doesn't try to seize this
moment.

[Vasquez looks down at City Jack...

...and then walks to his corner, slapping the outstretched hand of the
'Catch Thug' who sprints into the ring, diving onto the back of Jack
with a blow to the back of the head that cuts off the tag attempt.]

GM:  Well, what do you think about that, Bucky?

BW:  It's better than nothing.  If you're not man enough to take
advantage of the situation, at least have the guts to tag in someone who
is.

GM:  Rhodes is all over Jack, punches to the back of the head and neck.

[Grabbing Jack by the foot, Rhodes drags him as far away from Tin Can
Rust as possible before stomping hard down on the injured right arm that
causes Jack to yelp in pain.]

GM:  Here we go - I expect a full assault on that arm by Raphael Rhodes
right now.

[Rhodes proves Gordon right with a series of stomps on the arm before he
drops down to his knees, yanking City Jack by the wrist to fully extend
and expose the injured limb.  He kneels on the wrist with his right leg,
driving a few more short right hands into the arm before pushing up in
the air, bringing ALL his weight down on the arm!]

GM:  Ohhh!  All the weight down in that kneedrop on the arm!

[The 'Catch Thug' switches his position to a straddle on the back,
grabbing the right arm and pulling it back in a seated armbar.]

GM:  Oh my!

BW:  This could be it right here, Gordo.

GM:  City Jack - look at the expression on his face.  He's in horrible
pain - tremendous agony as Rhodes cranks back on that injured arm.  Tin
Can Rust is screaming encouragement to his friend and partner - trying
to rally him to get across the ring and make the tag.

[The camera cuts to TCR who is slapping the top buckle, trying to get
his partner going.  A quick cut to the other side shows Juan Vasquez
staring expressionless into the ring, watching as his partner rips and
tears at the injured limb.]

GM:  Vasquez doesn't look like he has any idea what to think about this
scene in front of him.  He obviously wants to be a tag team champion but
at what price, Bucky Wilde?  

BW:  Juan Vasquez disgusts me.  Period.

GM:  Oh, come on, Bucky.  Who wants to win a title at the expense of
their opponent being permanently injured?

BW:  Someone who WANTS to be a champion, Gordo.

GM:  We obviously disagree on that one.

[With Jack refusing to submit, Rhodes breaks the armbar.  He again pins
the wrist to the mat - this time with his foot...

...and then leaps straight up into the air, crashing down with all his
weight with a senton on the injured arm!]

GM:  Ohh!  Backsplash on the arm!  Rhodes is a savage, sadistic-

BW:  Winner?

GM:  Not yet he isn't.  Things may look bleak for Kentucky's Pride right
now but we've seen them battle back from near defeat before.  These guys
survived and WON WarGames, Bucky.

BW:  That was then - this is now.

GM:  And the timekeeper just let us know that we are under ten minutes
remaining in the show.  We've got less than ten minutes before we go off
the air here tonight so if this match doesn't end in ten minutes, we've
got a time limit draw on our hands.

BW:  Absolutely NO ONE wants to see that, Gordo.

GM:  That's for sure.

[Rhodes gets back to his feet, repeatedly stomping the injured right arm
to the jeers of the fans.  Kneeling on the mat over the arm, Rhodes
pulls up on the wounded limb, trying to torque it against his weight to
torture the downed City Jack.]

GM:  Armbar submission hold applied by Raphael Rhodes.  The Catch Thug
is really pulling up on that arm, trying to force City Jack to give up
the National Tag Team Titles here in West Dallas tonight.

BW:  It'd be one heck of a Christmas gift, Gordo.

GM:  For you, perhaps.  For most of us, it's the proverbial lump of coal
in the stocking.

[The Catch Thug screams at the official, ordering him to 'ASK HIM!'
which of course, the referee does.  But through gritted teeth, City Jack
screams a refusal to submit, trying to inch his way across the ring.]

GM:  Jack's fighting it - he's trying to scoot across the ring to get to
his partner.

[Across the ring, we find Tin Can Rust slapping the buckle again,
begging his partner to get across and make the exchange.]

GM:  Rust is trying to rally his partner - these fans as well are
solidly behind the men from Kentucky, Bucky. 

BW:  All the fans in the world can't make the pain in that arm go away.

GM:  We'll see about that.

[Rhodes breaks the armbar, putting himself firmly between the crawling
City Jack and Jack's corner.  A few more stomps to the right arm find
the target, causing Jack to roll onto his back, clutching his injured
wing.  Rhodes reaches down to grab the right arm, tugging hard at it to
pull Jack up to his feet.  Bending the arm at an obscene angle and
pushing hard on it, Rhodes backs him down into the corner.]

GM:  Jack back to the buckle- ohh!  What a forearm by Rhodes!

[Jack clings to the top rope, trying to stay on his feet.  The British
pub brawler throws a series of hooking punches to the ample midsection
of the tag team champions before grabbing him by the head and connecting
with a leaping knee to the jaw that knocks Jack down to a seated
position in the corner.]

GM:  Rhodes is working him over in the corner.


'FIFTEEN MINUTES!  FIFTEEN MINUTES!  FIFTEEN MINUTES GONE BY!'


GM:  Fifteen minutes have expired in this matchup.  We're running low on
time here in this one.

[Rhodes drives a few knees to the face of the seated City Jack before
pulling him out of the corner by the injured arm.  A quick whip throws
City Jack into the ropes and a hooking lariat takes him down to the mat.
 Rhodes is smirking at the desperate Tin Can Rust as he gets back to his
feet.]

GM:  The Catch Thug has all the confidence in the world right now,
Bucky.

BW:  And why shouldn't he?  He's got this thing well in hand.

[The British brawler pops himself up on the middle rope, looking across
the ring at Tin Can Rust...

...and then leaps into the air, skull aimed squarely at City Jack.]

GM:  HEADBUTT!

[The crowd ROARS as Jack rolls out of the way!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  HE MISSED THE HEADBUTT!

[Flat on his stomach, City Jack begins the long crawl across the ring. 
Nearby, Raphael Rhodes flails about on the canvas, clutching his
forehead in agony.]

GM:  City Jack is down!  Rhodes is down!  The entire outcome of this
title match may rest on who makes the tag first!  Who is able to get to
their corner and make the tag to their partner!

BW:  Rhodes doesn't even know where he is!

GM:  Jack is crawling across the ring - inch by inch he's getting closer
to the corner where Tin Can Rust is ready and waiting.  Inch by inch
he's getting closer to saving the National Tag Team Titles!

BW:  Rhodes is-

[The Catch Thug sits up on the mat, shaking his head back and forth...

...and dives to his corner, slapping the outstretched hand of Juan
Vasquez who slingshots himself over the top rope, racing across the
ring, and hurling himself on top of City Jack who was just out of reach
of his partner!]

GM:  OHHH!  So close to making the tag!

BW:  Vasquez cut off the tag - now he needs to finish this fat goof and
become one-half of the National Tag Team Champions! 

GM:  Vasquez with a few well-placed stomps to the head of City Jack.

BW:  The arm!  Go for the arm, you idiot!

[Vasquez grabs the foot of Jack, dragging him out of the corner, and
then grabs the second leg, flipping through into a double leg cradle.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- kickout!

BW:  And did you see that big cheater Tin Can Rust trying to get in
there?

GM:  He was trying to save the tag team titles!  Can you blame him?

[Back on his feet, Vasquez drops an elbow across the chest of City Jack.
 Quickly getting back to his feet, the Los Angeles native drops another
elbow - and another - and another - and another - and another.  Throwing
himself into a lateral press, Vasquez reaches back to tightly hook a
leg.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRE- NO!  SHOULDER UP!

[Vasquez begins to show signs of frustration as he sits up after the pin
attempt, shaking his head.  Jack again begins to crawl - trying to get
across  the ring to where Tin Can Rust is waiting for him.]

GM:  Vasquez slowly back up to his feet - wondering what it's going to
take, wondering just what he can do to take out City Jack once and for
all.  What's it going to take to become a National Tag Team Champion
tonight?

BW:  I don't know but if he went back on the arm, they'd be a lot
closer, Gordo.

GM:  You may be right about that.  Vasquez is dragging City Jack up off
the canvas... getting him up on his shoulders in a fireman's carry...

[Standing in the middle of the ring, Vasquez somehow manages to muscle
City Jack up and over his head...

...and DOWN across a bent knee in a gutbuster!]

GM:  Ohhh!  That might do it, Bucky!

BW:  Cover him, you idiot!

[Out on the apron, Raphael Rhodes is dipping into his trunks to the
jeers of the capacity crowd.  With boos roaring through the West Dallas
Community College gym, a sneering Rhodes pulls his hand into view,
complete with a set of brass knuckles resting on them.]

GM:  Look at that!  Raphael Rhodes is sporting brass knuckles, Bucky!

BW:  I don't think so.  He just has a really big ring on.  It's a
promise ring, I hear.  A fine young lass from London.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky!

[Rhodes peers over his shoulder, keeping the knuckles shielded from
everyone inside the ring.  An unaware Juan Vasquez hits the ropes,
rebounding back, and leaping high in the air, crashing down across the
chest of City Jack with a Tommy Stephens style senton splash.  Vasquez
flips into a lateral press, reaching back to cradle the leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd ROARS as City Jack fires a shoulder off the canvas just
before the three count falls.  A surprised Juan Vasquez gets to his feet
quickly, glaring at the official.  He pulls Jack off the mat, rocking
him with a right hand that knocks Jack back into the buckles.  Grabbing
Jack by the wrist, Vasquez fires him from corner to corner and charges
in behind him...

...and catches a lifted boot squarely in the jaw!]

GM:  OHHH!  CITY JACK GOT THE FOOT UP!

[But with so much ring real estate between City Jack and the other
corner, the big man opts to charge his opponent with a running
clothesline...

...that Vasquez counters with a hiptoss, quickly stepping over Jack and
snapping off a perfect standing moonsault!]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRRRR- NO!  NO!  SHOULDER UP!

[A frustrated Vasquez slaps the canvas in frustration as he waves three
fingers at the referee but Mickey Meekly confirms it was only a two
count.  Vasquez slowly gets to his feet, dragging City Jack up as well. 
The Los Angeles native wraps his arms around Jack's ample midsection,
charging towards the ropes...

...where a waiting Raphael Rhodes decides to strike.]

GM:  To the ropes...

[Rhodes uncorks a brass knuckles assisted right hand, aimed squarely for
the jaw of the approaching City Jack...

...who drops down to a knee at the last moment, causing the punch to
drill Juan Vasquez who drops like he's been shot.  The crowd erupts with
surprise as well as Raphael Rhodes' jaw absolutely drops.]

GM:  HE HIT VASQUEZ!

BW:  That was an accident!

GM:  HE DRILLED VASQUEZ WITH THE BRASS KNUCKLES!

[City Jack pushes off the mat to his feet.  Still shocked, Rhodes throws
another right but again Jack drops down, ducking the punch that spins
Rhodes around with his back to the big man from Kentucky.  Popping to
his feet, Jack winds up his big right arm...

...and DRILLS Rhodes in the back of the head with the Metropill, sending
Rhodes sailing off the apron and down to the gym floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  RHODES IS GONE!

[Clutching his injured arm in agony, Jack takes a quick two-step off the
ropes...

...and DROPS all his weight down on the chest of Vasquez in a big
splash.  Jack reaches back, hooking the leg of the unconscious Vasquez.]

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


'DING!  DING!  DING!'


MC:  Your winners of the match and STILL AWA National Tag Team
Champions...

KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIIDE!

[Tin Can Rust steps into the ring, throwing his arms up in victory.  TCR
yanks his partner off the mat, lifting Jack's arm in the air to yet
another big wince from the big man from Kentucky.]

GM:  Alright!  Kentucky's Pride has retained the title here at Christmas
Clash - here at the West Dallas Community College gym.  City Jack and
Tin Can Rust are taking home the belts and they're about to kick off
2009 as the AWA National Tag Team Champions!

BW:  Unbelievable.  I thought this one was in the bag.

GM:  After those knucks came out, I thought you were absolutely right,
Bucky.

[As Jack and Rust exit the ring, slapping the outstretched hands of the
ringside fans, Raphael Rhodes steps into the ring, looking down at his
unconscious tag team partner who is just starting to stir a bit.]

GM:  Rhodes and Vasquez have failed in their quest to become the tag
team champions for the second time but you have to appreciate just how
close they came to winning the gold here tonight in West Dallas.

BW:  They were so close so many times.

GM:  But in the end, they came up just a little bit short and-

[And suddenly, the story of the title change that almost happened falls
to the wayside as Rhodes starts stomping Juan Vasquez on the canvas.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  Haha!  He's had enough of that loser!

GM:  Rhodes is stomping the heck out of his tag team partner!

BW:  I'd say FORMER tag team partner at this point, Gordo.

GM:  I suppose so.

[Rhodes drops to a knee, pulling Vasquez head back by the hair,
screaming at his partner...

...and then BLISTERS him across the face with a hard slap to the boos of
the capacity crowd.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  How do you like that, Vasquez?  Merry Christmas, you loser!

GM:  Rhodes is stomping him again!

[Suddenly, the pub brawler drags Vasquez off the mat, hurling him over
the ropes and out to the floor.  He steps through the ropes, dropping
down on the barely-padded floor next to Vasquez.  Dragging his
now-former partner off the floor, Rhodes SLAMS his head into the
ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  TO THE STEEL!

[Vasquez collapses in a heap on the mat, a stream of blood now trickling
from his head forehead.  The maniacal Rhodes dives on top of Vasquez,
throwing punches to the head - then leaning in to bite the wound.]

GM:  This guy has snapped!  He's lost it, Bucky!

BW:  This is what happens when you take away a man's chance at a title!

GM:  He pulls Vasquez up...

[With Vasquez on his knees, Rhodes slams his head into Vasquez' skull. 
The cut deepens as Rhodes repeatedly drives headbutt after headbutt
after headbutt into his former partner's head.]

GM:  Come on!  We need some help out here!

[Finally, Rhodes breaks off the assault, throwing Vasquez down on the
floor in a heap.  With an evil sneer, Rhodes turns to the camera, blood
all over his skull...

...as we fade to black.]