Saturday Night Wrestling

Archived show text

Rendered from the original legacy TXT file. The source file remains unchanged.

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

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                October 25, 2008
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************

[As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing,
the viewing audience is greeted by the sounds of "One More Saturday
Night" by the Grateful Dead.

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

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

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

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the smiling
faces of two men.

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

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

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

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling
Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  I am Gordon
Myers, your host for the next two hours of action, and by my side-

BW:  Gordon Myers, Gordon Myers - it's a glorious day to be alive here
in the AWA and I can't even wait for you to introduce who I am.  I am
THE Buckthorn Wilde - YOUR Announcer of the Mid Year and... well, you
can tell 'em the good news, daddy.

GM:  Whether or not it's good news is debatable but AWA fans, we have a
NEW AWA National Champion!  Last night in San Antonio, Ron Houston
defended and lost his title in shocking fashion.

BW:  That's right!  That big hick Houston lost it all and the Champion
is once again someone we can be proud of!  He's once again someone we
can-

GM:  Sorry, Bucky, but the Championship Committee has cleared us to show
some footage from last night's arena event and we don't want to spoil
anything for the fans at home.  We'll be bringing you that footage
throughout the show tonight but up first, we're going to go up to the
ring for our opening contest.  We have the debut of another young
newcomer here to the AWA.  Sarah Sharpe, the manager extrordinaire-

BW: Debatable.

GM: -to Rough N' Ready, has apparently had her eye on this youngster and
has set up a special tryout match right here on the show tonight.

BW: Couldn't she do us all a favor and just use the casting couch if she
wants to sow her wild oats?  It'd save us a couple of minutes for the
real stars of the show.

GM: Not funny, Bucky.

["The Stroke" by Billy Squire hits the loudspeakers, and a man walks out
wearing a pair of basic blue tights with the word "Streetwise" written
down the left leg.  The crowd claps politely for the unknown young man
with short dark hair and a goatee, and he rolls into the ring and comes
to his feet, waving.]

MC: The following contest is a special AWA tryout match, with a ten
minute time limit!  Introducing first, in the ring at this time... 
"STREETWISE" JIMMY BARNETT!

[The man identified as Barnett waves to the crowd again.]

BW: This is Sharpe's hot prospect?

GM: Yes, he's a highly touted prospect from the New Mexico area.

BW: Then if she's so interested in this guy, where is she?  I'd have
thought she'd want to be here in person to see him wrestle.

GM: I don't know Bucky, but- wait!  Oh no!  It's the Glamour Boyz!

[The crowd quickly boos as the duo known as the Glamour Boyz suddenly
jumps out from the crowd and overcomes young Jimmy Barnett, attacking
him with kicks and punches.  Barnett goes down and tries to cover up,
but "Marvelous" Michael Taylor drops a pair of knees into the side of
his head.]

"You see, now this right here is a total shame."

[If the crowd wasn't booing before, they are now as the voice of Robert
Hoffstedder Jr. echoes throughout the building.  The Hoff climbs over
the barrier and rolls into the ring holding the most dangerous weapon he
possibly could... a house mic.]

Hoff: It would appear perhaps that Sarah Sharpe just doesn't have the
best of intentions for this young man.  You sir, have been led to the
slaughter by a woman whose heart is as black as the night sky.

[The booing gets louder, as Hoff leans in the corner, surveying the
damage.  As Taylor yanks Barnett to his feet, "Nasty" Nick Hunter
bounces off the ropes and delivers a yakuza kick square to the chest of
the vastly overmatched newcomer.  He collapses, and continues to absorb
kicks and other shots from the Glamour Boyz.]

BW: I hope Barnett is mentally taking notes right now, he's getting a
crash course in real wrestling knowledge here.

GM: Come on Bucky, they're destroying the rookie!  Never mind the
experience advantage, it's two on one!

BW: Well where's Sharpe then?  She arranged this, I say the blood is
figuratively on her hands.  And if it keeps up, it'll literally be on
her hands.

Hoff: You people here tonight are in luck, because what you're
witnessing is perfection in motion.  Michael, wow the crowd.

[Taylor obliges and walks to one corner of the ring, as Hunter drags the
limp body of the rookie to the opposing corner.  After a running start
Taylor leaps into the air and shows incredible hangtime with a seated
dropkick against the turnbuckles.  Barnett slumps over, clearly not
putting up any sort of fight at all.]

Hoff: This really is a tryout match, you see.  But Mr. Barnett, this
isn't your tryout, no.  You see, this is a tryout for the Glamour Boyz,
to make the suits in the back sit up and take notice.  They say there's
a tournament coming together all in the name of crowning National Tag
Team Champions.  Well look no further than right here, this _IS_ the hot
ticket.  Nicholas, if you please.

[Hunter obediently climbs to the top turnbuckle, as Taylor drags the
body of Barnett out into the middle of the ring.  Hunter leaps off into
a moonsault, crashing down on top of the rookie's chest to the intense
boos of the crowd.  Rolling to his feet with a satisfied look on his
face, Hunter stands next to the Hoff.]

Hoff: The Glamour Boyz are quite simply the next National Tag Team
Champions.  And this?  This is Midnight Excess.

[Hunter and Taylor grab their unfortunate prey and haul him back to a
standing position again, fully supporting his dead weight.  But before
they can exact any more damage, the crowd suddenly pops wildly for the
appearance of Rough N' Ready, who sprints from the back wearing street
clothes!  The trio wastes no time in fleeing, diving through the ropes
to the floor as Somers and Cooper slide in.]

GM: Thank goodness!  Rough N' Ready is on the scene, and the Glamour
Boyz have headed for the hills!

BW: Just as it was getting good, Myers!  I wanted to see the Midnight
Excess!

[As The Glamour Boyz and Hoff hurry away from ringside and back into the
crowd, and Cooper and Somers tend to Barnett, Sarah Sharpe, the manager
of Rough N Ready, now approaches Myers and Wilde at the broadcast set.]

BW: Somebody is late to the party!

SS: Keep quiet, Bucky. Somebody had told us that the taping tonight was
being delayed, then we get here to the building and find out that wasn't
the case.

GM: Who told you that?

SS: I got a call from somebody who claimed to be an AWA official and
told me as such... of course, when the three of us got here, there were
several in the back telling me that there was no delay. The next thing
we know, we heard that Jimmy's tryout was underway and then this
happened.

GM: Well, I'm not sure who would tell you such a thing, but thank
goodness your men got here when they did.

SS: I just wonder why we would...

[A pause, as if something has just dawned upon Sarah.]

SS: Hoff... it had to be Hoff calling us! Why else would he and his
Glamour Boyz be showing up to attack?

BW: Do we need to hear your wacko conspiracy theories?

SS: Conspiracy theory, Bucky? Your opinion... but knowing Hoff, I'd bet
on him being behind all of this. Mark my words, he and his Glamour Boyz
have not heard the last of this.

[At this point, Somers and Cooper have helped Barnett out of the ring,
and they, along with a couple of AWA officials, assist the youngster to
the back, Sarah heading off to join her men.]

GM:  Well, fans, we're off and running to a wild start here on AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling and immediately following this break, we're
going to see the first piece of footage from last night in San Antonio
where a new National Champion was crowned!

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

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up on footage.  Pretaped, of course, an hour
before show time, as Grant Stone stands next to the announcer's booth as
some early arriving fans start to pass by in the background. Stone's
dressed in his street clothes - jeans and a white T-shirt - as Myers has
on his regular show's best.]

GM: Grant Stone, you requested some time, but I-

GS: Some have questioned... why I'm here. What am I doing?

[Myers looks on, confused, as Stone continues without any question
prompted.]

GS: Week after week, another person falls. Week after week, another
unexplained action takes a career. Week after week you -

[Stone stares at Myers for a moment.]

GS: And these maggots vilify me. Some have called for me to leave...
I've been banned before... and even Kevin Slater put a misguided bounty
on my head.

I've been called a terror... A terror? 

[Stone grins for a slight moment.]

GS: These people I've put in pain? They're only a means to a way. I've
done what I've done for reason. Regardless of what you all may think, I
do have a purpose - a higher purpose than just piling up boding by my
side.

GM: Purpose? What purpose? Is this to get you into the title pict-

[Stone shakes his head.]

GS: Titles. Why would I even care about that? To represent this place?
No, no, no. Titles, prestige, fame from any place - but more to this
place? No. 

[Stone stares at Myers.]

GS: No.

[Myers becomes a bit unnerved as Stone continues to stare at him, with a
tinge of anger showing.]

GM: I- I then ask you, why? What else is there? Why then have you been
tarring Mr. Taylor's name? Why are you going to fight his brother today?

[Stone grits his teeth as he looks down to the ground.]

GS: ...

GM: Mr. Stone?

GS: Taylor...

[Stone looks up and nods.]

GS: Bobby Taylor knows. Why don't you ask him?

[With that, Stone walks past Myers as the shot cuts back to live action
where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are behind the announce desk.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans!  Moments ago, I promised you the first piece of
footage from last night's arena event in San Antonio and we are about to
deliver.  It was a wild night in San Antonio and the fans there got to
see history firsthand, Bucky.

BW:  They certainly did - and that's exactly why you can't miss a moment
of the AWA when it comes to your town, daddy.

GM:  We have a new National Champion - let's take a look at just how
that started to go down last night in San Antonio!

[We cut to footage from inside the arena in San Antono that has a
graphic reading "Last Night in San Antonio" running across the bottom of
the screen.  As we join the action, National Champion Ron Houston has
just stepped into the ring and grabbed a mic from ringside.]

RH:  San Antonio... 

[The crowd cheers.]

RH:  Ah'm very excited to be here tonight... very excited to be in this
ring to do what ah do best for all o' ya.  But before we get to that...
ah've got something to say...

[Houston leans over the ropes.]

RH:  Ya may have already heard but even though ah got this belt hangin'
over mah shoulder...

[The National Champion pats the belt draped on his upper body.]

RH:  ...ah'm lookin' to add to mah collection.

[The crowd cheers again.]

RH:  Ah've told the Champ'ship Committee that ah want in the National
Tag Team Title Tournament... they accepted.  Now all that's left is to
find me a partner.

And ah know exactly who that'd be.

[The San Antonio fans buzz with anticipation.]

RH:  There's a guy back there in the locker room that ah've had my share
of problems with.  When he first showed up, we didn't quite see
eye-ta-eye if ya get my drift.  

But time and again, he's proved himself to me... and to all of ya.

[More cheers.]

RH:  So, Adam Rogers...

[The crowd ERUPTS in a roar.]

RH:  Ah'd like you to come on down to this ring right now and help me
tell every other team lookin' to strap on those tag team titles that
they might as well stay home.  Cause when you've got Ron Houston and
Adam Rogers on the same side of the ring starin' down at ya... ya ain't
got a chance.

[Houston lowers the mic as "Smoke On The Water" by Deep Purple kicks in
to another big cheer.  After a few moments, "The Natural" Adam Rogers
walks through the curtain to another big cheer, walking down the aisle,
slapping every hand in sight as he walks towards the ring.

Rogers walks up the steps, climbing through the ropes into the ring
where he grabs the offered mic from the National Champion.]

AR:  Let me make this quick and crystal clear...

[Rogers' stony expression causes the fans to buzz.]

AR:  Ron Houston, I would be honored to stand by your side and fight for
the National Tag Team Titles!

[The crowd EXPLODES into cheers as Rogers and Houston shake hands. 
Houston holds the Natural's hand in the air, pointing to his now-tag
team partner.  After a couple moments, Houston starts to exit the ring
when Rogers speaks once more.]

AR:  One more thing, Ron...

[Houston steps back into the ring, looking at his partner.]

AR:  There's just one more thing we should discuss.  You may remember
back at The Battle Of Dallas when I won that Battle Royal... when I won
a shot at the National Title you've got over your shoulder right now.

[Houston looks down at the belt and then back up.]

AR:  A shot that I've never taken...

[Rogers pauses.]

AR:  ...until tonight.

[HUGE CHEER!]

AR:  Ron, if we're going to be partners fighting for the tag team
titles, we need to be on the same page and I don't want you standing
around wondering when I'm going to cash this in and come after the belt.
 So, I'm cashing in that title shot tonight!

[Another huge cheer.]

AR:  So, in the tournament, we'll be partners fighting side by side for
the National Tag Team Titles... but tonight?  Tonight, we go one-on-one
in San Antonio, Texas for the National Heavyweight Title!

[Another roar and with a nod, Rogers exits the ring, leaving the stunned
National Champion behind...

...and we fade back to the WKIK Studios where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  It was an unpredictable night in San Antonio last night where Adam
Rogers accepted Ron Houston's offer to be tag team partners in the
National Tag Team Title Tournament... and then turned right around to
challenge Houston for the National Title itself!

BW:  That wasn't the end of it though, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly wasn't.  Fans, if you think you knows what happens
next, you certainly haven't seen anything yet.  We'll be bringing you
more footage from San Antonio later in the show - with Bucky and I
supplying commentary.  But we do have other matters to focus on as well.
 
As you know, the American Wrestling Alliance has been on a talent search
recently, the New Blood Drive is the name. And about to join me is a man
who is part of that New Blood Drive, a young Englishman with a long
family history in the sport of professional wrestling. I am pleased to
introduce a man known as the "Catch Thug", Mr. Raphael Rhodes!

[Raphael Rhodes walks into frame, a frighteningly pale sight with a
short, stocky frame, sporting a slight mohawk. He is sporting a black
leather jacket and red leg-length tights, with powder blue kneepads and
white boots that have red and white striped socks pulled up over the
edge of the boot. Myers begins to speak to the newcomer, but Rhodes
simply raises his hand dismissively.]

RR: Hold on a minute, mate. Before I start here, the least you could
have done was straighten your tie out before you interview me. Ain't you
got proper respect?

GM: But I... 

[Rhodes takes Myers' tie into his hands and loosens the knot,
essentially unraveling his tie.]

RR: Proper enough for the sabbath now, that is! Right, now look... I
flew out to this little wastepaper basket you call a studio because the
American Wrestling Alliance is looking for new talent... a new lot to
make things interesting around here, isn't that right, Gordon?

[Rhodes pats Myers on the back, a wide grin spreading across his face.]

RR: Now you ain't going to see too many people come into this area as
good as me, so let me go ahead and introduce myself. The name's Raphael
Rhodes... my family's ran wrestling in Manchester since you lot were
nothing more than colonists serving the Queen, your rightful ruler! So
you could say... it's a natural thing for me to step into, aye? Now
look, I'm just having some fun with you, Gordon. You're no athlete so it
ain't nothing for me to mess up your tie. But what I do want you to know
is that if anyone wants to step foot into three-quarter-ton of metal,
wood, and cables and try to test me, then they can line up at the door
and I will be perfectly happy to oblige them in a little catch as catch
can.

[Rhodes scoffs.]

RR: So what's say you sit back and do your job, and I'll go do mine. But
just to warn you, mate... I ain't responsible for what the man in that
ring's got coming down his alley, savvy?

[Rhodes starts to walk away, but turns back around.]

RR: Right, look, your part is a touch off.

[Rhodes musses Myers' hair, ruining the nicely-styled coif he was
sporting.]

RR: Now it's all off. Ha ha ha!

[Rhodes walks towards the ring, cackling to himself with each step.  The
camera holds on a grumpy Gordon Myers.]

GM:  Let's go to the ring.

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time, from
Chicago, Illinois... standing 5'11 and 202 pounds... Willy Morgan!

[A few cheers go up for the small Chicagoan.]

MC:  And his opponent... standing 5'9 and weighing in at 201 pounds...
from Wigan, Greater Manchester, England...

He is the Catch Thug...

RAPHAEL RHOOOOOODES!

[Rhodes steps through the ropes to some jeers from the fans who already
are annoyed by his attitude.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes is making his AWA debut tonight, the latest person
coming in off the New Blood Drive.  He's already rubbed some people the
wrong way, Bucky.

BW:  I like what he did with your hair though, Gordo.

GM:  Give me a break.

[The bell rings as Willy Morgan and Raphael Rhodes sidestep out of their
respective cornersm, eyeing one another warily before lunging into a
collar and elbow tieup that Rhodes quickly turns into an overhand
wristlock, forcing Morgan back towards the buckles.]

GM:  Back into the ropes.  The referee is right in there calling for a
break and-

[Rhodes steps back with a smirk, patting Morgan softly on the side of
the face.]

GM:  What a jerk.

BW:  He's just confident, Gordo.  Nothin' wrong with that.

[Rhodes backs to the middle of the ring, gesturing at Morgan to come out
of the corner which he quickly does...

...and immediately finds himself trapped in a hammerlock, being pushed
across the ring chestfirst into the buckles.]

GM:  Into the buckles again - another count by the referee.  One...
two... three... four... fi-

[Rhodes breaks just before the five count, lightly patting Morgan on the
shoulder before backing to the middle of the ring again.]

GM:  A clean break by Rhodes.

BW:  Give him some credit for that, Gordo.

GM:  I just did.  

[Morgan shows a bit of fire as he comes out of the buckles again,
hooking up in a collar and elbow that Rhodes spins around, pushing
Morgan back into the corner...

...and slowly backing away, lifting his hand to pat Morgan on the side
of the face.]

GM:  Like I said, this guy is a jer-

[The crowd cheers as Morgan lifts his left hand to block the pat and
pops Rhodes in the jaw with a haymaker that knocks the Catch Thug down
to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Down goes Rhodes!

[The Brit scampers back to his feet...

...and gets caught squarely in the chest with both feet in a standing
dropkick by Morgan that causes Rhodes to roll under the ropes to the
floor.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Willy Morgan takin' it to Raphael Rhodes!

[The crowd cheers as Rhodes stomps around the ringside area, ranting and
raving at the official from the floor before climbing back up on the
ring apron where Morgan races towards him...

...and gets caught with a thumb to the eye that sends Morgan stumbling
backwards as Rhodes steps back into the ring.]

GM:  Rhodes is back in... 

[The Catch Thug charges forward as Morgan turns...

...and catches a flying knee strike to the side of the cheek that sends
Morgan spiraling back into the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot by Rhodes!

[Raphael Rhodes moves into the corner quickly, cutting off Morgan's
attempt to get away from the buckles with a forearm smash that knocks
Morgan back to the corner.]

GM:  Rhodes keeps him trapped in the buckles...


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


[The crowd boos as Rhodes lights up the chest of Morgan with a hard
backhand chop.]

GM:  This is where Raphael Rhodes wants him - cornered and at his mercy.

[Rhodes promptly hooks his fingers into the corner of Morgan's mouth,
yanking to the side in a fishhook that brings cries of pain from the
Chicago native.]

GM:  Oh, come on, referee!

BW:  Well, that's not entirely legal, I don't think.

GM:  Not ENTIRELY legal?!

[A hard boot to the gut allows Rhodes to pull Morgan out of the buckles
by the hair, yanking him into a front facelock...

...and snapping him down to the mat with a snap suplex, floating into a
pin attempt where he grinds his forearm down across the cheekbone as the
referee drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thr-

[Morgan fires a shoulder off the mat just before the three count falls,
causing an irate Rhodes to pull Morgan up by the head, pummeling him
with clenched fists before yanking Morgan off the mat.]

GM:  Both men back on their feet... whip by Rhodes...

[And as Morgan rebounds, Rhodes jumps slightly off his feet to connect
with a hooking lariat that takes both men down to the mat again.]

GM:  Ohhh!  He almost took his head off!

[Rhodes promptly wraps his hands around the throat of Morgan, strangling
as the referee races in for a five count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Three!  Four!  Fi- come on, referee!

BW:  He's got til five!

[Rhodes pushes up off the mat, glaring at the protesting official, and
then steps back, measuring his downed opponent...

...and then just topples over, connecting soundly with a falling
headbutt!]

GM:  Ooof!  

[Rhodes promptly throws himself into another lateral press, reaching
back to hook a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thre-

[The crowd cheers as Morgan kicks out again!]

GM:  Willy Morgan is not going away without a fight here tonight.

[Rhodes pushes off the mat, arguing with the official as he reaches down
to yank Morgan up by the arm, whipping him to the corner.]

GM:  Morgan hits the buckles... here comes Rhodes!

[A running back elbow aimed for the chest of Morgan comes up empty as
the Chicago native dives to the side, causing Rhodes to slam backfirst
into the buckles!]

GM:  HE MISSED!  RHODES MISSED!

[A dazed Willy Morgan slowly pulls himself off the mat, approaching the
buckles where Rhodes is stunned.]

GM:  Morgan moving in... and a whip of his own to the opposite corner...

BW:  This can't be what Raphael Rhodes had in mind tonight, daddy!

GM:  Here comes Morgan!

[Running from corner to corner, Morgan leaves his feet to connect with
both feet squarely in the sternum.]

GM:  Dropkick in the corner!  Rhodes staggers out... he's hooked!

[The crowd roars as Morgan hooks the front facelock, shouting to the
fans...

...and Rhodes spins him around, driving back hard into the buckles!]

GM:  OHHH!

BW:  That'll knock the wind out of Morgan!

[Wasting no time. Rhodes hoists Morgan off the mat, dumping him on the
top rope.]

GM:  He's got Morgan up top... Rhodes is scaling them as well...

[On the middle rope, Rhodes slings Morgan's arm over his neck before
stepping to the top rope.]

GM:  Oh no!  He's got Rhodes up top and- HE LIFTS!

[Rhodes hoists Morgan off the top rope, sailing through the air with
him, and crashes down to the canvas with a bone-rattling superplex that
he finishes by floating into a lateral press with a forearm jammed into
the jaw.]

BW:  Nothing fancy on that superplex - just pure impact.

GM:  That'll do it.  One.  Two.  Three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Rhodes pushes up off of the downed Willy Morgan as Melissa makes it
official.]

MC:  Your winner of the match in a time of four minutes and seven
seconds... 

RAPHAEL RHOOOOOODES!

[The arrogant Rhodes raises his arms triumphantly to the jeers of the
fans.]

GM:  Raphael Rhodes is your winner in his AWA debut and you have to
expect we'll be seeing a lot more of the Catch Thug here in the very
near future.  Fans, we've got some nice surprises for you all tonight
and we'll have one of those for you coming up next!  Don't go anywhere.

[The camera holds on Raphael Rhodes as he celebrates his debut victory
before fading to black...

...and then back up to a shot showing the logos of Pro Wrestling
Revolution, Sin City Wrestling, and Southern Championship Wrestling.]

"From Day One, the American Wrestling Alliance was determined to give
its fans the very best action available.  And on Day One, our video
library is officially open for business!"

[Cut to a closeup of the Sin City Wrestling logo.]

"Check out "High Profile" Darryl Styles on commentary.  See the Upper
Crust in action before they were the Upper Crust!"

[Now to the Southern Championship Wrestling logo.]

"Ricky Royal lit up the rings in SCW before he came to the AWA!  "Stars
and Stripes" Clayton Shaw was a SCW staple as well!"

[And then the PWR logo.]

"See Calisto Dufresne in action!  And don't forget the ever-dangerous
Kolya Sudakov!"

[Cut back to the wide shot of all three logos.]

"Events from all three promotions are available NOW exclusively through
the AWA website via DVD or download!  So, be the first on the block to
be an AWA expert and check out all of this great action today!"

[Fade to black...

...and then back up on the WKIK Studios announce desk where Gordon and
Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Well, moments
ago, we promised you a surprise and we're about to deliver.  Making his
AWA return tonight is this man, right here, Soup Bone Samson!  Welcome
back, Soup Bone.

[From off camera walks a tall, older African-American man with a steel
chain hanging around his neck.  He shakes hands with both men as he
steps into view.]

SBS:  Thank you very much, Mr. Gordon Myers.  It is my pleasure to be
back here in front of these fans in the great state of Texas.

[Some cheers for the cheap praise.]

GM:  Bucky and I are both very familiar with you from your days in
Southern Championship Wrestling with us but until now, you've only had a
couple of appearances in the AWA.  What brings you back?

[Samson nods his head.]

SBS:  It's true, boss.  It's been a while since this ol' dawg's been
barkin' up the trees down here in Texas with the AWA but... well, I
gotsta eat, Gordon.

[Samson chuckles at his own joke.]

SBS:  I've been sittin' at home for the past few months, watchin' and
waitin'... bidin' my time.  You see, when I call myself an "ol' dawg"
that ain't far from the mark, ya dig?  I'm gettin' up there in years and
I ain't got much fuel left in the ol' tank.

But I got a little bit left, baby.

[Samson smirks at the camera.]

SBS:  So, I've been sittin', waitin', and watchin' - I needed the right
time to come back, baby.  I needed the right time to come back to the
AWA and knock on the door.

[Samson holds up his big right hand.]

SBS:  And when I come a-knockin' with this, you best open the damn door,
ya hear me?  

GM:  So, you think this is the right time?

SBS:  Oh, I know this is the right time, Mr. Gordon Myers.  With the tag
tournament comin', with all the biggest and best linin' up to take aim
at the big dawgs in the AWA... and with an old friend of mine holdin'
that big Nation-

GM:  Whoops.  Sorry, Soup Bone.  We're not allowed to-

SBS:  I dig, I dig.  But you know who I'm talkin' 'bout and you know
that me and him, we done tangled up and down the Southern states for
months.  He bled, I bled, he lost, I lost - but when it was all said and
done, baby, this ol' dawg was standin' on top.

So, I'm here.  I'm here to make a little money.  I'm here to win some
big gold.  And I'm here for one more chance to come out here in front of
all these people to do what I do best.

[He holds up the right fist again.]

SBS:  One punch.  Lights out.  Believe that.

[And with that, Samson walks away from the announce team, making his way
towards the ring.]

GM:  You heard the man.  Let's go up to the ring!

[Cut to Melissa who is standing in the middle.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, now stepping into the squared circle,
hailing from Miami, Florida... weighing in at 240 pounds... Jose Cortez!

[Mild reaction for the Hispanic veteran.]

MC:  And his opponent...hailing from DEEEEEEETROIT, Michigan... weighing
in at 310 pounds... the man with the big right hand...

SOUP BONE SAAAAAAMSON!

[The crowd cheers for the grizzled veteran who is lifting the metal
chain that is attached to the dog collar around his neck.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson has arrived here in the American Wrestling
Alliance and the man with the big right hand has his focus set from the
get-go, Bucky.

BW:  You know, the AWA office needs to stop digging through the
retirement homes to find these guys, Gordo.  This guy is fifty years
old!

GM:  Almost.  Soup Bone Samson at the ripe age of 48 years old but
you'll find few men tougher than this man, Bucky Wilde.  That right hand
has left people laying for over 30 years in this business.  He has held
titles all over the world... won tournaments... he's the real deal
without a shadow of a doubt.

BW:  He's old, he's collecting Social Security, he's recovering from a
broken hip...

GM:  He is not!  Give me a break, Bucky Wilde!

[Samson removes the dog collar, leaving the chain lying in the corner. 
The referee comes over to perform the standard weapon search as Samson
locks his eyes on a bouncing Jose Cortez.]

GM:  Few men are as determined... as focused as Soup Bone Samson... look
at the stare. 

BW:  It's senility, Gordo.  He forgot where he's at.

GM:  Would you stop please?

[With the search complete, the referee calls for the bell and the 6'6
big man from Detroit strides from the corner.]

GM:  There's the bell and we're underway here on AWA Saturday Night
Wrestling on WKIK where we're kicking it up a notch with AWA action!

BW:  Cortez is staring at that right hand... he knows what it can do. 
He's been around a long time too, Gordo.

GM:  He certainly has.  Jose Cortez has wrestled throughout the
Southeast for the better part of twenty years so we've got a
half-century of wrestling experience in that squared circle right now.

BW:  That's why AWA is the place to be, daddy!  Everyone wants to be a
part of this!

[The two veterans go chest to chest in the center of the ring, Cortez
trash-talking while Samson keeps his steely gaze doing all of his
talking.]

GM:  Look at the mouth on Jose Cortez.  Samson's not saying a word but-

[The crowd boos as Cortez fires a right hand into the side of the big
man's face.]

GM:  We're rockin' and rollin' now, fans!

[Cortez uncorks a few more haymakers, knocking Samson back towards the
ropes.]

GM:  Jose Cortez is on fire in the early moments of this one... grabs
the wrist for a whip...

[As Samson rebounds, Cortez leaps into a leapfrog, allowing Samson to
deftly duck underneath, stopping in his tracks, spinning around...

...and connecting with a huge right hook on a stunned Cortez!]

GM:  RIGHT HAND!  RIGHT HAND!

[Cortez crumples like a gunshot victim and Samson sits down on his
chest, blowing on his knuckles.]

BW:  That's all she wrote, daddy!

GM:  One.  Two.  Three!

[The crowd roars as Samson stands up, the referee raising his arm in
victory.]

GM:  We talked about the big right hand... that knockout power in his
right hand and we just witnessed that firsthand here in the WKIK
studios, Bucky.

BW:  Absolutely.  Samson is known the world over for that knockout power
and Miguel Cortez is just another victim.

GM:  Let's take another look at that one.

[The replay runs with Samson ducking a leapfrog, stopping short, and
connecting with a right hook on a surprised Miguel Cortez.  As we
dissolve out of the replay, Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing at
the desk.]

GM:  And if the veteran can keep that up, you've gotta imagine he'll
shoot right up the Top Ten rankings.  It's great to see him back in-

[Kool Thing by Sonic Youth plays over the PA system, cutting off Gordon
Myers as Jarrod OLachlan walks past the curtains. The reaction from the
crowd is lukewarm.

Jarrod, wearing jeans and a tight white t-shirt, stops at the top of the
aisle and surveys the crowd on hand.

Jarrod then proceeds to walk towards where Gordon Myers is standing and
he reaches into his pocket where he pulls out cue cards. He hands Gordon
the cards and motions for him to read them out.  Gordon looks a little
puzzled but goes along with it.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, joining me right now is the AWAs hottest new
superstar. He is the coolest...

[Gordon pauses uneasily and Jarrod impatiently points repeatedly to the
cards]

GM:  ...er...sexiest...most charismatic man...I have...certainly...ever
met. Please everyone, put your hands together for the High Prince of
Hedonism, The Life of the Party, the Kool Thing himself...Jarrod
OLachlan!

[Jarrod raises his arm to the crowd. There are a few jeers and a few
boos but apart from that the reaction is quite nonexistent.]

JO: You know, you could have put a little more oomph on that
introduction.

GM: Well...I was just reading from these...

JO:  Alright nevermind. Just ask your questions and lets get this over
and done with, Ive got things to do...

GM:  My questions?  I didn't even know you were coming out here-

[O'Lachlan casts a cold look in Gordon's direction.]

GM:  Okay, well... tell the fans here in the AWA a little about
yourself, Jarrod...

[Jarrod gives Gordon a look of exasperation]

JO: Well, Gordon, I cant deny that I am a bit of a romantic. I like long
walks along the beach, watching the sun set over the horizon, and long
candlelit dinners followed by evenings spent in front of the fire
just...just chatting away the night with a special lady...

[There is an uncomfortable silence for a couple of seconds]

JO:  Cut the stupid questions and get on with it!

[Myers looks a bit exasperated as he continues.]

GM:  Jarrod, you come from Sydney, Australia with a big reputation down
under.  You have dominated the scene over there, when will fans here get
to watch you in action?

JO:  Its a long flight from Australia, Gordon, and I would have gotten
over this jetlag a hell of a lot quicker had I been put in first class,
rather than with the cattle on Economy. I am not even going to get into
the accommodation I was given, as I was promised that it was only
temporary. As it is, who knows how long it will take? But believe you
me, no one...NO ONE...is itching more than me to get into that ring.

GM: And what do you hope to achieve once you do?

JO:  Ill tell you what...

[Jarrod takes off his t-shirt to reveal a rippling six pack. Camera pans
to a few female fans in the crowd who are duly impressed before cutting
back to OLachlan.]

JO: Look at this, my man, look at this body. Michelangelo himself could
not have sculpted a more chiseled physique, but if you think my body is
an impressive work of art, then wait until I step through those ropes.

[The camera zooms in to Jarrod as he gets more intense]

JO: The way I wrestle, its an art form and every match is an OLachlan
masterpiece, accept no cheap imitations from the bums that fester this
place...

GM: Along with your wrestling reputation, you also have a bit of a
reputation of being a bit of a night owl...

JO: So? What are you getting at?

GM: Well, some people believe that it may detract from your wrestling. I
have seen many promising wrestlers ruin their careers because they did
not adequately take care of themselves and...

JO: Are you questioning my professionalism?

GM: No... I...

JO: Listen here, you do not question greatness, you do not second guess
genius, and you do not doubt brilliance, you just appreciate and you
admire. I can wrestle for 60 minutes without breaking a sweat and then
go out on the town and party well into the dawn, and I can do that day
in and day out! Thats how bloody good I am. Speaking of which...

[Jarrod takes the microphone away from Gordon and addresses the crowd]

JO:  In order to help me acclimatize and get over this terrible jetlag,
ladies, Ill be out and about all night tonight so if you see me and
youre a good looking sheila then come and say hi... men and ugly chicks,
stay away and...DONT...WASTE...MY...TIME.

[The crowd boos as Jarrod tosses the microphone back to Gordon. Kool
Thing by Sonic Youth plays over the PA system. Jarrod raises an arm as
he walks back up the aisle with a huge smile on his face]

GM:  Mr. O'Lachlan sure does think highly of himself.

BW:  Can you blame him?

GM:  Well, I... you know what?  We are ready to go with our next match,
a tag team affair with both teams already in the ring... Nature's Storm,
who we saw two weeks ago and a team making their debut tonight, Pretty
in Pink.  Let's go up to Melissa for the introduct- what the-?!

[Suddenly, two enormous men in full-length black tights, single-strip
mohawks, and red and black facepaint dash to ringside and slide
underneath the bottom rope. Tailing behind, dressed in a suit, is a bald
man with a white goatee holding a rolled-up magazine and directing the
two behemoths. They immediately attack the two contestants in the ring,
Snowblind and Lars.]

GM: What's going- we have two men, two monsters in the ring now...the
referee has signaled for the bell, and I don't know quite what to make
of this, Bucky.

[The larger of the two men grabs Snowblind and pounds him with a few
clubbing forearms before easily throwing him up into a gorilla press and
tossing him at his charging partner, Gale Force.]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Look at that, Gordo!  What power!

[Across the ring, the "smaller" of the two has sent Lars for the ride
and decapitates him with a diving clothesline on the rebound. Billy
Blaze, trying to help his partner, hits the smaller man from behind but
he simply shrugs off the blow.]

BW:  I don't even think he felt that.  He's like a fly on his back!

[Spinning around, he plants a boot into Blaze's midsection and takes him
down with a gutwrench suplex. His partner dispatches of the other three
men over the top rope in the meantime.]

GM: Bucky, these two men are taking no prisoners here. Obviously, they
wanted to make a statement here tonight.

BW: Daaang, Gordo. I don't know who these dudes are or where they come
from, but the sure look to mean business.

[The larger man motions up with his thumb, as his partner climbs to the
top rope while he lifts Blaze up onto his shoulders. Holding Blaze in
position and facing the corner, the smaller man leaps off the top,
catching Blaze's head and drives him down to the mat with an inverted
bulldog. Blaze's head bounces off the mat as he then lays motionless.]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The suited man joins them in the ring, holding their arms up as the
crowd buzzes with anticipation of what happens next.]

GM: WOW! These two men just about took Billy Blaze's head clean off his
shoulders with that move.

BW: You know it, Gordon. The tag team division in the AWA is becoming
the place to be, daddy, and it looks like this new team just made it
even stronger.

GM: Indeed it does, and in fact here they come now...perhaps we can get
some answers.

[The trio approaches the table, as the suited man takes the microphone
from Gordon Myers.]

REL: AWA, allow me to introduce ourselves to you. I am Richard E. Lee,
manager and businessman extraordinare. And I bring with me tonight two
men who will change the tag team scene in the AWA. Two men who prey on
pain and feast on fear. Evil minds that plot destruction and sorcerers
of death's construction. I give you Hammer and Scythe, the War Pigs!

[He identifies the larger man as Hammer and the smaller (though not by
much) as Scythe.]

REL: Now Gordon Myers, we have come to the AWA because I have been
informed the tag team competition here is among the best the world has
to offer. That's what I've been told...but that is not what I have seen.
What I have seen is weak teams...poorly-conditioned teams...teams with a
weak link...my War Pigs carry none of those weaknesses. They are the
biggest...they are the strongest...they are the best conditioned and
most finely-tuned machine in professional wrestling today! And it seems,
with the AWA National Tag Titles soon to be up for grabs, that we got
here just in time.

[Hammer steps forward as Lee holds the microphone for him.]

H: That's right, Richard. We came here for two reasons...one, to win the
tag titles; and two, to hurt as many people in the process. Texas has
never seen anything like the War Pigs and the path of destruction that
we leave in our wake. Tell 'em, Scythe!

S: Truer words have not been spoken, Gordon Myers. What you have here in
front of you today is the future...the future of the AWA. What you see
before you in that ring is the beginning of the wake from our path of
destruction. Nature's Storm and Pretty in Pink were merely pawns, four
men in the wrong place at the wrong time because we had to begin to make
our point and our presence felt. No, our sights are set a lot higher.
But the outcome will be very much the same.

REL: And Gordon, before we go, let me be sure to get this warning across
to all teams in the AWA who dare to stand in our way. In the ring, the
bodies will be burning as my war machine keeps turning!

[And with that, the trio storms away from the desk with Scythe making
one final growl in the direction of the camera as they walk away.]

GM:  Goodness gracious - I wouldn't want to be any team in the AWA with
these guys around.  Fans, we'll be right back!

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

...and then fade back up on a black screen with the AWA logo splashed
across it.]

"Join your favorite stars of the American Wrestling Alliance throughout
the state of Texas this week for exclusive meet-and-greet sessions."

[A scrolling list of names and locations flash by in white text:

Kentucky's Pride
Laredo Fashion Plaza - Laredo, Texas
October 28

Rough N Ready
Dallas Ford - Dallas, Texas
October 29

Sweet Daddy Williams
Houston Fashion Plaza - Houston, Texas
October 31

Werewolf Gregorson, Despair, and Adam Rogers
Harris Chevrolet - Dallas, Texas
November 1

The names end, leaving just the AWA logo behind.]

"All the stars of the AWA are comin' your way so don't miss 'em!"

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

...and then back up on the announce desk where Gordon Myers, Bucky
Wilde, and "Scorchin' Shane Taylor are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and very obviously at this time, we have been
joined by Scorchin' Shane Taylor who in just a little while from now
will face the biggest challenge of my career.

[Shane Taylor rubs a hand over his closely-trimmed beard, looking over
the top of his sunglasses at Gordon Myers.]

ST:  You're absolutely correct, Gordo.  Facing Grant Stone is without a
shadow of a doubt facing the biggest challenge of my career.  Heck,
Grant Stone himself is without a doubt the most dangerous man I've ever
stepped into a ring with.

But I'm still ready.

[Taylor pauses.]

ST:  I know that not many people in this business know about me.  I've
lived in my big brother's shadow for years.  I've fought all over the
globe - but everywhere I went, it was always about the Outlaw.  

[He chuckles.]

ST:  That's fine with me.  Bobby should be proud of what he's
accomplished and I'm proud of him.  But if Grant Stone thinks I'm a
stepping stone... if Grant Stone thinks he'll get to Bobby by making me
bleed... if Grant Stone thinks he can put Kevin Slater, my friend, my
brother, in a hospital bed for money and get away with it?

He's badly underestimated me.

[He pulls the sunglasses off.]

ST:  And that's fine with me too.  I'm used to being underestimated. 
But Grant, if you're back there watchin'... look into my eyes.  Come on,
cameraman - zoom in here real close.

[The camera zooms in slowly until all we can see are the eyes of Shane
Taylor.]

ST:  See 'em, Stone?  Ya see 'em?

You see the pain?  The rage?  The fire?  

Tonight, Grant Stone... you'll see the fire.  Up close and personal.

[And with that, Taylor walks away from the announce desk, leaving Myers
and Wilde behind.]

GM:  Shane Taylor is ready for the fight of his life.  Fans, let's go up
to Melissa for our next match!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time... from
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma... standing 5'10 and weighing in at 260
pounds... David Axelrod!

[A chubby, aging jobber with a vicious combover throws a beefy arm in
the air.]

MC:  And his opponent...

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

[The WKIK Studio audience goes absolutely nutty as the self-written,
self-performed sounds of "I'm Gon' Be Your Sweet Daddy" which pretty
much sounds like you'd expect it to sound kicks in over the PA system.]

BW:  Doggoneit, Gordo.  On a glorious night like this, who brought this
buffoon to Dallas?

GM:  Oh, come on, Bucky.  The people love the Sweet Daddy!

BW:  The people?!  What people?!  Not this people!

GM:  The Sweet Daddy is in the WKIK Studios!

[Clad in a pair of eye-scorching green trunks... much too small for his
overly large stomach and thighs... the man known as Sweet Daddy Williams
flies through the curtain, immediately racing towards the roaring fans
as he trades high-fives and hugs with as many people as he can reach
from the ringside area.]

BW:  Look at this guy.  He's gonna be out of breath before he gets in
the ring!  How does he even pass the physical for his license, daddy?

GM:  Listen to these fans!  They love them some Sweet Daddy Williams!

[Sweet Daddy Williams finishes his trek around the ring, rolling under
the ropes into the squared circle.  He pops up to his feet, grabbing the
top rope and doing a little dance as the crowd roars.]

MC:  Hailing from Atlanta, G-A!  Weighing in tonight at 310 pounds... he
is SWEET!  DADDY!  WILLLLLLLIAMS!

[Another huge roar goes up from the crowd...

...but is cut short as David Axelrod storms across the ring, blasting
SDW from behind with a double axehandle sledge.]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!

[The fans jeer as Axelrod lays down an assault against the ropes,
repeatedly driving haymakers into the ample midsection of Sweet Daddy
Williams.]

GM:  There's the bell but that's an obvious disadvantage for the man
from Hotlanta, Bucky.

BW:  Good!  I don't know spit about this Axelrod fella but if he knocks
off this fat, lazy, baby-kissin', handshakin', ham-an-egger lovin' goof,
I'll nominate him for the first National Title shot at-

GM:  Quiet, you!  You know we're not allowed to talk about that until we
show the footage.

BW:  Yeah, but-

GM:  David Axelrod's got the Sweet Daddy sucking wind against the ropes,
really working him over with those right hands to the midsection.

BW:  I could throw a right hand from here and hit him in the gut, Gordo.

GM:  Bucky!

[Grabbing Sweet Daddy Williams by the wrist, Axelrod whips him off the
ropes.]

GM:  Off the ropes... 

[Axelrod sets for a backdrop a second too early, a move that allows
Williams to kick him squarely in the chest, straightening him up before
bouncing off the ropes again.]

GM:  He caught him with a boot - off the ropes!

[With a funky gait, Williams dashes across the ring and scores with a
running right hand that knocks Axelrod down to the mat where he only is
a moment before getting back up...

...and getting knocked right back down with a wild right hand.]

GM:  The Sweet Daddy is rockin' and rollin' right now!  Axelrod up to
his feet again... SCOOOOOOP!

[The crowd roars Williams slams Axelrod down hard to the mat,
immediately leaping into the air and scoring with an elbowdrop to the
chest!]

GM:  Ohhh!  You've got to be impressed by that, Bucky.

BW:  The devil if I do, daddy-o!  This guy is nothin' but a worthless
pail of garbage out by the curb of my Mama's house.

GM:  Hooks the leg - one!  Two!  Three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Williams pops up to his feet, hands raised in triumph as the ring
announcer makes it official.]

MC:  Your winner of the match in a time of one minute and fifteen
seconds...

SWEET!  DADDY!  WILLIAMS!

[The man from Hotlanta raises a hand in victory again...

...and is completely oblivious when Shadoe Rage comes charging through
the curtain, sliding under the ropes, and drilling Williams with a
leaping knee to the back!]

GM:  What the- what's HE doing out here?!

BW:  Sweet Daddy Williams is getting taken straight to Rage Country,
daddy!

GM:  Shadoe Rage has assaulted Sweet Daddy Williams from behind -
stomping him into the mat.  I have no clue what this is about.  Rage has
been doing that Open Challenge for weeks but Sweet Daddy Williams hasn't
tried to accept the challenge or anything.

BW:  You know Rage is bit a nutty, Gordo.  You're really surprised that
he's randomly attacked someone?

GM:  I suppose not but-

[Rage drags Sweet Daddy Williams off the mat, blasting him with a right
hand that knocks the big man back into the buckles.  He wraps both hands
around the throat of the man from Hotlanta, strangling the air out of
him for a bit.]

GM:  Rage throws him down by the throat out of the corner.  Uh oh!

BW:  He's going outside the ring - climbing the ropes!  You know what
that means, Gordo!

GM:  The Sweet Daddy is down, Rage is climbing the-

[The crowd ERUPTS in a confused buzz as a third party joins the fray,
sliding under the ropes into the ring and taking up a protective spot
directly between Rage and Williams.]

GM:  Is that-

BW:  What's he doing here?!

[Standing in a defensive pose, putting it all on the line to protect
Sweet Daddy Williams...

...is "Hotshot" Stevie Scott!]

GM:  Stevie Scott!  Stevie Scott is stopping Shadoe Rage from attacking
Sweet Daddy Williams!  He's blocking Rage from dropping the elbow on
him!  

BW:  I don't believe it!  Why?  Why, Stevie, why?!

GM:  Rage is backing down!  Shadoe Rage is backing off!

[Rage drops down to the apron, pointing an angry finger at Stevie Scott
who doesn't budge an inch.]

GM:  Unbelievable!  Stevie Scott has saved Sweet Daddy Williams!  I have
no idea why.  I have absolutely no idea why.  But he has done it!  

BW:  A little piece of my heart just died, Gordo.

[The fans cheer as Stevie helps SDW up off the mat and we fade to
black...

......and then 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 fades back to the WKIK Studios broadcast table where Gordon
Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  We are just
moments away from our Hour One Main Event with "Scorchin' Shane Taylor
going for payback against Grant Stone who has left a trail of bodies
behind him every week.  

BW:  I hope Shane reserved a hospital bed cause I'm bettin' he's gonna
need it.

GM:  We'll see soon enough.  But before we get to that, it's time see
more of our continuing story from last night in San Antonio, Texas.  We
announced at the start of our show that a new National Champion was
crowned last night - and in just a few moments, you're going to get to
see us get one step closer to that title change.  Remember what we saw
earlier - Adam Rogers agreed to be Ron Houston's partner in the National
Tag Team Title Tournament but then told Houston he intended to cash in
his shot at the National Title that very night!

BW:  And if you think you know what happened, you're sadly mistaken,
daddy.

GM:  You can say that again.  Let's go back to footage from San Antonio
that Bucky and I supplied commentary for this morning and get one step
closer to seeing exactly how a new National Champion was crowned.

[We fade away from the WKIK Studios to footage labelled "LAST NIGHT IN
SAN ANTONIO."  Melissa Cannon is inside the ring just as the bell
rings.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a one hour
time limit - and is for the AWA NATIONAL TITLE!

[The crowd roars.]

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

["Smoke On The Water" by Deep Purple starts up to a huge cheer from the
capacity crowd.]

MC:  Standing 6'3 and weighing in at 243 pounds from Naples, Florida...
he is the Natural...

AAAAADAM ROOOOOGERS!!!

[The crowd roars as Rogers comes trotting down the aisle, clad in a red
and white windbreaker type jacket.  He slaps the hands of all the fans
alongside the ring aisle ropes, making his way towards the ring.]

GM:  And here comes the challenger, "The Natural" Adam Rogers, looking
to finally cash in that title shot he won in the Battle Royal at The
Battle Of Dallas.  It's been a long time coming but tonight, Rogers will
challenge the man who he will team with in the tournament to crown the
first National Tag Team Champions.

BW:  You've gotta wonder, daddy, how in the world these two will be able
to work together when they're fightin' over the big gold right now
tonight?

GM:  That's another story for another tonight but tonight is all about
the National Title.

[Rogers quickly scales the ringsteps, stepping through the ropes into
the ring to the cheers of the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[But instead of the sounds of Beck, we hear "Go" by Powder.]

GM:  Oh no.

[The crowd jeers as Mark Shaw walks into view, being led down the aisle
by the hooded individual.]

GM:  Mark Shaw is coming out here - why?  What business does he have out
here?  This is a National Title match between Ron Houston and Adam
Rogers.  Shaw's had his chances!  This isn't his title match!

BW:  You try telling him that.

[Shaw reaches the ringside area, sliding into the ring...

...and getting knocked off his feet by Adam Rogers who tackles him down
to the mat, drilling him with right hand after right hand after right
hand, pummeling the barrel-chested powerhouse into the mat.]

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

[Shaw quickly powers Rogers onto his back, taking the chance to throw
bombs from the mount.]

GM: And now it's Shaw pounding Rogers!  The big powerhouse throwing
heavy rights and lefts and-

["The Hellion" quickly spins out of the mount into North-South position.
 Rogers flips to his stomach, trying to escape but finds himself locked
in a gutwrench, Shaw throwing knees up into the head and neck of the
Natural!]

GM:  Knees!  Knees!  Big knees to the head and neck of Rogers!

[Shaw climbs to his feet, pulling Rogers up to a standing position with
the gutwrench...

...but the Natural's flurry of elbows to the body breaks the gutwrench.]

GM:  Rogers is out of the grip of Shaw and-

[A barrage of right hands knocks Shaw back against the ropes where
Rogers grabs him by the wrist.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by Shaw!

[The powerhours sends Rogers into the ropes.  But as the Natural
rebounds off, Shaw sidesteps the charge, hooking a side waistlock...]

GM:  NO!

[The 270 pounder hoists Rogers into the air...

...and DRIVES him head and neckfirst down into the mat!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!  BACKDROP DRIVER!

[The impact throws Rogers onto his stomach, his arms immediately up
covering his head and neck as Shaw pushes up to his feet, glaring down
icily at the downed Rogers.]

GM:  Come on!  There's no call for this - no call at all!

[The Hellion stands over Rogers, looking down at him - then looks over
at the hooded individual...

...who drags a thumb across his partially exposed throat.]

GM:  What?!  No!

[Shaw immediately springs into action, yanking Rogers off the mat by the
back of the trunks...

...and pulling him into another side waistlock!]

GM:  NO!  Somebody's gotta stop this!  Somebody needs to-

[But before anyone can, Shaw hoists Rogers into the air again, dumping
him on the back of the head with a second crushing Backdrop Driver!]

GM:  OHHHH!  ANOTHER ONE!

[This time, just after impact, the lanky National Champion comes
steaming from the locker room area, diving under the bottom rope into
the ring...

...which causes Mark Shaw to bail out of the ring, looking up at the
pissed-off National Champion who points a  threatening finger in the
Hellion's direction.]

GM:  Ron Houston is out here to save Adam Rogers!

BW:  It's too late, Gordo!  It's absolutely too late!  Shaw has taken
Adam Rogers right out of this title match.  He saw his chance and he
took it!

GM:  The National Champion is standing over Rogers, making sure Shaw
doesn't come back in there and take another shot at him.  

[Houston stands in a defensive position for a bit as AWA officials hit
the ring, trying to help Adam Rogers.  The National Champion calls for
the mic as  the officials help Rogers from the ring.]

RH:  Mark Shaw, ya backjumpin' son of a bitch!

[Huge roar from the crowd!]

RH:  Ya want to come out here and jump mah partner?  Ya want to come out
here and rob him of his shot at this?

[Houston slaps the title belt over his shoulder.]

RH:  Ya want to take away mah chance to defend this title tonight?  The
hell with that!

[The crowd cheers again.]

RH:  Ya want to beat on someone so bad, Shaw?  Get back here and try
that with me!

[More cheers!  Shaw starts to move back down the aisle but a gesture
from the hooded man cuts him off.]

RH:  You takin' orders from some guy in a bathrobe now, son?  Come on! 
Let's do this!

[Shaw again tries to come back down the aisle...

...and again he's gestured back by the hooded man all the way through
the entryway.]

RH:  Alright, fine.  If you won't do it... someone else will.  Ah'm in
the mood for a fight and ah'm not leavin' this ring until someone gives
it to me!

[More cheers!  He's on a roll!]

RH:  So, anyone... and ah mean anyone... sittin' in that locker room who
wants a shot at this big chunk of gold... come on down and let's see
whatcha got!

[Houston throws the title belt down to the mat, mounting the midbuckle
and looking out towards the entryway.]

GM:  That's an open challenge, Bucky!  

BW:  Houston may regret that in a few seconds but I've got a feeling
there's a more than a handful of guys in that locker room that could eat
his lunch, daddy!

GM:  Who will answer the challenge?  Who will-  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

[The crowd erupts in a surprise roar as the curtain parts...

...and we fade back to the WKIK Studios where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  So, there you have it.  Adam Rogers had made the challenge and was
in the ring - waiting for his shot at the National Title.  But Mark Shaw
was having none of it. 

BW:  That's right, daddy.  The Hellion continues to show the entire AWA
that he means business.  He came out, brawled with Rogers, and hit him
with not one... but TWO... Backdrop Drivers, daddy!  And NO ONE gets up
from TWO Backdrop Drivers to keep on fighting, Gordo.

GM:  Adam Rogers surely didn't.  He was ruled unable to compete for the
National Title - again!  

BW:  He's snakebit, daddy.  The gods do not want Adam Rogers with that
belt.

GM:  So, Rogers is out.  Houston makes an open challenge for the
National Title - and yes, someone did indeed answer the challenge.  You
want to know who?  Stay tuned because later tonight, we'll answer that
exact question!  But coming up next, we've got Shane Taylor vs Grant
Stone and you do NOT want to miss that!

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

...and then back up to a shot showing the logos of Pro Wrestling
Revolution, Sin City Wrestling, and Southern Championship Wrestling.]

"From Day One, the American Wrestling Alliance was determined to give
its fans the very best action available.  And on Day One, our video
library is officially open for business!"

[Cut to a closeup of the Sin City Wrestling logo.]

"Check out "High Profile" Darryl Styles on commentary.  See the Upper
Crust in action before they were the Upper Crust!"

[Now to the Southern Championship Wrestling logo.]

"Ricky Royal lit up the rings in SCW before he came to the AWA!  "Stars
and Stripes" Clayton Shaw was a SCW staple as well!"

[And then the PWR logo.]

"See Calisto Dufresne in action!  And don't forget the ever-dangerous
Kolya Sudakov!"

[Cut back to the wide shot of all three logos.]

"Events from all three promotions are available NOW exclusively through
the AWA website via DVD or download!  So, be the first on the block to
be an AWA expert and check out all of this great action today!"

[Fade to black...

...and then back up on the WKIK Studios where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  We've had an
exciting night here in Dallas but things are about to get real
interesting real quick, Bucky.

BW:  If by interesting you mean the floor is about to be covered in
blood - you're exactly right.

GM:  You really think that Shane Taylor stands no chance against this
guy?

BW:  I look at it like this, daddy.  Every person who has stepped in
Grant Stone's path since Day One has ended up on a stretcher.  Kevin
Slater, Frank Dylan James, Luke Steele, whatever Oats brother that was a
few weeks ago.  This guy is an unstoppable monster, Gordo, and Shane
Taylor's attempts to get out of his big brother's shadow will end in an
ambulance ride.

GM:  I guess we're about to find out.  Let's go up to Melissa for our
Hour One Main Event!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty
minute time limit.  Introducing first... standing 5'11 and weighing in
at 220 pounds... fighting out of Phoenix, Arizona...

SCORCHIN' SHAAAAAANE TAAAAAAYLOR!!

["Hot Stuff" by Donna Summer starts up to a big reaction from the WKIK
Studio audience.  He walks into view, dressed in blue jeans and cowboy
boots with a very stern expression his face.]

GM:  Now that's a man who looks ready for a fight, Bucky.

BW:  We'll see.

[Taylor stops just inside the entryway, curling around to stand up
against the set wall out of view.]

GM:  What's he doing?

BW:  It looks like he'd hiding, Gordo.

GM:  Hiding from who?

[Melissa looks puzzled as she starts speaking again.]

MC:  And his opponent... 

["Camero Crash Helmet" by Borgo Pass plays over the PA.]

MC:  He stands 6'8 and weighed in at 310 pounds... from Louisville,
Kentucky... 

GRAAAAAAANT STOOOOOOONE!!!

[The crowd begins to boo uncontrollably as they wait for the entrance of
the big man.]

BW:  Did you hear that, Gordo?  Taylor's giving up nine inches in height
and nearly a hundred pounds in weight.  You really think he's gonna be
able to hang tough with Grant Stone?

GM:  We're about to-

[Grant Stone steps through the curtain to a huge outpour of boos in his
dark green wrestling trunks and black boots...

...which allows Shane Taylor to charge from the blind side, leaping into
the air with a right hand that stuns Stone.]

GM:  Here we go!

[Two more quick right hands find the mark on Stone, causing him to
stumble away from the entrance.   Taylor quickly grabs Stone by his
short dark brown hair, slamming his head into the set wall near the
entrance!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Headfirst into the wall!

BW:  I don't know what they make the walls of this set out of but I know
that had to hurt!

[Stone recoils from the blow, falling into the bleachers area where fans
quickly scatter out of the way.  Taylor steps up onto the second bench
of the bleachers, balling up his fist to the cheers of the fans, and
starts pummeling Stone.]

GM:  Shane Taylor and Grant Stone are fighting in the bleachers - this
match isn't even officially started yet, I don't think, Bucky.

BW:  I didn't hear a bell.

[Standing over Stone, Taylor drives right hand after right hand after
right hand down onto Stone's forehead...

...and then wraps both hands around Stone's throat, choking him against
the wooden bleachers.]

GM:  That's a choke!  Taylor's choking the life out of Stone!

BW:  He's out for payback for Kevin Slater - his friend, his brother...
he wants Stone to pay for what he did to the Wild Thing.  He put Slater
in the hospital - he put Slater out of the AWA altogether!

[Flat on his back, Stone reaches a hand up and rakes his fingers across
the eyes of Taylor, breaking the chokehold.]

GM:  Oh!  Right to the eyes!

BW:  The easiest way to get out of any hold, Gordo.

GM:  Cheapshot by Stone but-

BW:  Cheapshot?!  Taylor jumped him from a hiding place!

[Gasping for air a bit, Stone pushes off the bench to his feet, and
promptly clubs Taylor across the back of the head with a forearm smash
that knocks Taylor down to his knees in the bleachers.]

GM:  What a shot by Stone!  A big heavy forearm smash.

[Grabbing Taylor by the hair, Stone walks up the bleachers, dragging the
younger brother of the Outlaw behind him.  Soon, they are on the top
bench, right by the concrete wall that makes up the WKIK Studios
building.]

GM:  Both men up on the top step - Stone grabs him by the hair - oh no!

[Pulling Taylor way back, Stone SLAMS his head into the concrete wall,
causing Taylor to slump against the wall.]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  That could cause a concussion in a heartbeat, daddy!

[Stone pulls Taylor back by the hair, leaning over to yell at him.]


"YOU WANT THE BOUNTY, BOY?  YOU WANT IT?"


[A hard clenched fist knocks Taylor down to his knees again, his hands
grabbing at the midsection of Stone, trying to find a way to fight
back.]

GM:  Grant Stone shouting at Taylor about the bounty - about the money
that Kevin Slater offered up to whoever could put Stone in a neckbrace
like Grant Stone did to him!

BW:  No one's gonna take that money, Gordo.  Nobody.

[Still holding the hair of Taylor, Stone winds up...

...and drives home another right hand to the forehead of Taylor before
leaning over and biting the head.]

GM:  Ahh!  He's biting him!  Like some kind of a savage!

BW:  That's what you people don't get yet.  This guy IS a savage!  This
guy IS a monster!  You can't stop him.  Shane Taylor can't stop him.  No
one can stop Grant Stone!  He's gonna run right over everyone the AWA
puts in front of him!

[Stone backs away from Taylor, spitting on the ground.]

GM:  He busted him open!  Shane Taylor has been busted open by Grant
Stone - maybe that right hand, maybe the wall, maybe even the biting. 
Whatever it is, Shane Taylor has been split open and the bell hasn't
even rung yet.

[Taylor throws a weak right hand at the body of Stone...

...and gets a hard haymaker in return that causes Taylor to fall the
last few bleacher steps down to the concrete floor.]

GM:  Ohh!  He fell down the bleachers - and Grant Stone is coming right
down after him.

BW:  Now he's made him mad, Gordo.

GM:  Stone steps down to the floor.  Taylor's crawling, trying to get
away so he can get back to his feet.

[Stone quickly catches up to Taylor, yanking him off the floor by the
back of the jeans...

...and the Scorchin' One responds by jabbing a thumb into the eye of his
attacker!]

GM:  And now it's Taylor who goes to the eyes.

[He quickly grabs two hands full of Stone's hair, turning around...

...and DRIVING Stone facefirst into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Good gracious!

GM:  You could hear that out on Main Street!  Headfirst into that
unforgiving steel ringpost!

[Taylor grabs Stone before he can stagger away, driving a boot into his
midsection.]

GM:  What the-

[The crowd gasps as Taylor snatches the ringbell away from the
timekeeper, winding up with it, charging towards the stunned Stone...

...who replies with a big boot to the jaw of the charging Taylor, wiping
him out in a heap on the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  He nearly took his head off with that one, Bucky!

[Stone crumples against the ring apron for a bit, breathing deeply.]

GM:  It looks like Stone's a little weary.  He may not have expected
Shane Taylor to take the fight to him quite like this, Bucky.

BW:  No one in the entire AWA has given Stone any kind of fight yet. 
You think he expected one from this little punk?

[Moving away from the apron, Stone pulls Taylor off the floor and hurls
him under the ropes into the ring.]

GM:  Into the ring for the first time - and there's the bell!  This
match is legal now.

[Stone promptly rolls in behind him as Taylor pushes up to a knee,
staggering up to his feet...

...and eating a hard right hand to the head that knocks Taylor back down
to the mat.]

GM:  Another big right hand!

[Stone drops into a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- shoulder up!

[An irate Stone shoves Taylor back down to the mat, grabbing him by the
hair and driving fist after fist into the blood-covered forehead of his
opponent.]

GM:  He's trying to split him open even more!  This guy is sick!

[Furious, Stone gets back to his feet, shoving aside the protesting
referee before tugging Taylor up to his feet...

...and blasting him with a right hand that knocks Taylor back into the
ropes.]

GM:  Ohh!  

[But as Taylor hits the ropes, he bounces back and hits a right hand of
his own!]

GM:  He popped Stone with a right hand of his own!

[Stone throws a forearm to the side of Taylor's face, sending him back
into the ropes...

...where he bounces off again, throwing another right hand... and
another... and another...]

GM:  He's all over Grant Stone!

[The barrage of wildly thrown punches knocks Stone back into the buckles
where Taylor continues to throw bombs before capping it off with a boot
to the gut.]

GM:  Boot downstairs... headlock!

[Taylor races out of the corner, leaping into the air...

...and SMASHING Stone's face into the canvas with a bulldog headlock!]

GM:  BULLDOG!

BW:  I can't believe it, Gordo.  How in the world is Shane Taylor
managing to do all this to Grant Stone?  This is Grant Stone!  Grant
Stone should not be getting a fight from Shane Taylor!

GM:  Never underestimated the motivating powers of friendship.

BW:  You read that on a greeting card?

[Taylor rolls Stone onto his back before straddling his chest, throwing
clenched fists down into the forehead of the downed Stone which quickly
develops a trickle of blood into a stream.]

GM:  And now Stone's busted open too!  The bulldog split his head open!

[Taylor peels off of Stone, reaching down to pull the 6'8 beast up by
the hair with both hands...

...and then pulls him into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  He's got him hooked!  He's going for a piledriver!

[Taylor mimics spiking Stone into the mat with a piledriver as he
reaches under to hook him.]

GM:  If he hits this, he may collect the bounty!  He just might put
Stone in that neckbrace!

BW:  I don't believe it.

[With Stone hooked, Taylor tries to hoist him off the mat...

...but Stone refuses to go!]

GM:  He can't get Stone off the mat!  He can't get him up!

[Taylor promptly breaks the hold, grabbing Stone by the back of the
head, and drives his knee up into Stone's head over and over and over.]

GM:  Knees to the skull!

[Reaching back, Taylor manages to take Stone down to the mat with a snap
mare.]

GM:  Taylor takes him down and-

[He promptly leaps into the air, driving both feet down hard into the
midsection of Stone!]

GM:  DOUBLE STOMP!  Right down on the gut!

[Taylor promptly drops down on the mat, applying a two-handed chokehold
again.]

GM:  He's choking Stone again!  He's-

[Stone reaches up to jab Taylor in the eye again.]

GM:  Stone breaks free again!  The chokehold was on but Stone manages to
escape it - slowly getting back to his feet and...

[He bulldozes forward, connecting with a running clothesline that takes
Taylor over the ropes...

...and down hard on the concrete floor below!]

GM:  OHHHH!  STONE TAKES HIM OVER THE TOP TO THE FLOOR!

[The referee moves over to the ropes, quickly starting a ten count...

...and gets shoved backwards by Stone who issues a word of warning
before stepping through the ropes to the apron.]

GM:  Stone told Meekly not to count them out!  He can't do that!

BW:  You want to stop him?

[Stone stares down at the downed Taylor before dropping off the apron to
the floor.  He drags Taylor off the floor by the hair, pulling his head
back to yell at him.]


"Where's your Wild Thing now?  Where's your Outlaw now?"


[He promptly wraps his massive hand around Taylor's throat.]

GM:  Oh no.  He's dragging Taylor off the floormats by the throat...
he's on the concrete itself!

BW:  A chokeslam on the concrete?!

GM:  He's trying to put Taylor in the hospital as well!

[With a blood-covered face, Taylor lets loose a scream and buries a knee
into the midsection of Stone...

...and then yanks Stone into a standing headscissors on the floor!]

GM:  Oh my God!  Oh my God!

BW:  He's calling for a piledriver on the floor?!  He'll kill him!

GM:  If he does this, he'll end Grant Stone's career!  

BW:  He might end his life!

[Fearing the worst, Michael Meekly baseball slides under the ropes to
the floor, screaming at Taylor to break his attempt to piledrive Stone
on the concrete...

...to which Taylor responds by shoving Stone aside and flooring Meekly
with a right hand!]



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



GM:  TAYLOR KNOCKED OUT MEEKLY!

BW:  Ring the bell, this party's over!

[With the referee down, Taylor moves in on Stone again...

...who fires off a right hand to the midsection of his attacker,
doubling him up.]

GM:  Stone's firing back now and-

[Grabbing Taylor by the back of the head, Stone SMASHES his face into
the ringpost, sending him sprawling down to the barely-padded concrete
in a heap.]

GM:  Goodness!  He took him down hard!

BW:  This match is over, right?

GM:  The ref's out cold!  Who's gonna be able to stop the match?

[Stone drags a limp Taylor off the floor mats by the back of the jeans,
pulling him into his arms for a torture rack lift...

...which causes Taylor to frantically slam his elbow down repeatedly
into the back of Stone's neck, trying get free.]

GM:  He's fighting him!  He knows what happens next if he gets up in
that backbreaker!

[Stone straightens up...

...and OBLITERATES Taylor with a lunging lariat that ends with both men
down on the floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[The crowd buzzes for a bit with both men laid out on the floor.  Stone
pushes himself up in a pushup, breathing heavily as he gets up to his
feet.]

GM:  Stone back up - Taylor's still down.  We've got AWA officials out
here checking on Michael Meekly.  This match has got to be over because
of Taylor hitting the ref, I believe.

[Stone reaches down, dragging Taylor off the floor, and tugs him into a
standing headscissors with a smirk.]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  Shane Taylor tried to do it to him!  Payback's a you-know-what,
daddy!

GM:  Stone's got him hooked for a piledriver - a piledriver on the
concrete floor!  He's going for exactly what Shane Taylor was trying to
do earlier in- he lifts!

[But Taylor starts kicking his legs back and forth, trying to wriggle
free...

...which forces Stone to set him back down on the floor.]

GM:  He couldn't get the piledriver on him!  He couldn't-

[Taylor promptly stands up, backdropping Stone through the air and down
hard on the concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN ON THE FLOOR!

[Taylor falls to his knees from the effort of the backdrop, breathing
heavily as Stone lies flat on his back on the cold, concrete floor.]

GM:  Both men are down again.  We've got some help out here for Michael
Meekly - they're getting him up on his feet, carrying him back to the
locker room area.

BW:  Some of the officials have broken off, checking on Taylor...
checking on Stone...

[With a few officials crowded around him, Taylor starts shoving people
aside, climbing back to his feet and turning back towards the downed
Stone.]

GM:  Taylor's shoving people aside all over the place!  He's trying to
get at Stone!

[A final shove knocks an official aside as Taylor hurls Stone under the
ropes into the ring before rolling back in himself.]

GM:  Both men back in...

[Back inside the ring, Taylor dips into his jeans pocket...

...and pulls out a fork!]

GM:  Uh oh!

BW:  This isn't right!  Somebody stop this!

[Dragging Stone to a seated position, Taylor lifts the fork high so
everyone can see it...

...and then stabs it down into the wound of Stone, sending a cry of pain
into the air as he digs it into the flesh of his rival!]

GM:  AHHHHH!

[After a few moments, Taylor throws the fork aside, dragging Stone back
to his feet...

...and pulling him into a standing headscissors once again.]

GM:  Again!  Again he's going for the piledriver!  He's obsessed with
spiking Stone with that piledriver and sending him out of here on a
stretcher!

[But before he can, Stone drops to a knee and promptly delivers an
uppercut squarely in the groin!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  LOW BLOW!

[The low blow allows Stone to grab Taylor in a torture rack, hoisting
him up off the mat...

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

GM:  ETCHED!  IN!  STONE!

[The crowd falls silent from the dangerous looking move.]

GM:  That's it.

BW:  If there was a referee in there, you could count to twenty.  Since
there's not, someone call 911, daddy!

[Stone rises to one knee, looking down at the motionless Shane Taylor. 
He promptly rolls under the ropes, marching across the ringside area 
[A heavily breathing, highly angered Grant Stone approaches the
announcers desk, wiping the blood from his hands across his scarred up
chest. As the crowd continues to loudly boo the man from Louisville,
Stone forcibly grabs the arm of Gordon Myers and lifts it up to bring
the microphone clutch in Myers' hand.]

GS: You... You brought this...

[Stone slowly points to the bloody heap in the ring that is now Shane
Taylor.]

GS: This child to face me? You...

[Stone seethes from behind his snarling mouth.]

GS: You think you could stop me with your brother? Taylor...

[Stone's eyes narrow as he looks into the camera.]

GS: All this time - week after week after week - I've come out here and
allowed you the chance. And WEEK after WEEK after WEEK you fail to show
or even speak. You fail to be the man, the legend you pawn yourself off
to be. And each time, people like your brother - innocent people - pay
for what you've done. They pay with their health for your past and your
inaction. 

[Gordon Myers struggles to pry him arm free from Stone's grasp, but
Grant merely tugs it back.]

GS: Each week... Each week you fail to finally show yourself - to admit
your wrongs... I've tried to hurt you, Taylor, by taking out your
friends... And your callous heart didn't given one damn as I took them
out. I've tried to hurt you by taking out your talent, but you never did
a thing to stop me. And now? NOW?

[Stone's eyes go wide as he grows angrier.]

GS: Now you allow your own blood to suffer?!? You sacrifice your own
brother because you're to afraid to admit your wrongs... to face me for
what you've done?!? 

[Some AWA crew, stagehands, and referees - seeing the situation as
potentially dangerous for Gordon Myers - come by to try to pry away
Stone's grip on Myers' arm.]

GS: All this blood, on your hands, Bobby Taylor. And it will continue...

[Finally, Stone lets go of Myers and storms away, charging right back
towards the ring where he dives under the bottom rope, pushing up to his
knees where in an almost primal scream, he bellows.]

"OUTLAW!"

[Stone pushes the rest of the way to his feet, slamming his fist into
his chest.]

"OUTLAAAAW!"

[Reaching down, Stone yanks the motionless Taylor off the mat, lifting
his dead weight up.]

GM:  Grant Stone's screaming, begging for Bobby Taylor... begging for-


"OUUUUUTLAAAAAAAW!"


[Seeing no one, Stone yanks Taylor into a torture rack, hoisting him off
the mat again.]

GM:  No!  My god, no!  Somebody stop this!  Somebody-

[Stone walks around the ring with a motionless Taylor slung over his
shoulders...

...and the crowd suddenly EXPLODES!]

GM:  BOBBY TAYLOR!  BOBBY TAYLOR!

[Diving headfirst under the bottom rope, Bobby Taylor springs to his
feet as Stone shrugs his younger brother down to the mat in a heap...

...and promptly bails out of the ring!]

GM:  Oh, come on!  You wanted him, Stone!  You wanted him and now you
got him!

[Stone rubs his fingers together at Bobby Taylor as he backpedals.]

BW:  It's all about the money, Gordo!  Grant Stone's not gonna do a
thing in that ring without getting paid for it.  If Bobby Taylor wants a
shot at him, the cash is gonna be on the line.

GM:  Well, I guess that puts to rest the idea that Bobby Taylor is The
Man With The Money, Bucky.

BW:  I guess it does.

GM:  Fans, we need to get some help out here for Shane Taylor.  We'll be
right back.

[The camera holds on Bobby Taylor, kneeling over his bloodied and broken
younger brother before fading to black...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up on the announce desk in the WKIK Studios where
Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Welcome ba-

[A voice bellows from off camera.]


"STOOOOOONE!"


[Soon after, the source of the voice is revealed as Bobby Taylor,
dressed in street clothes, rushes into view, nearly barreling over
Gordon Myers as he grabs the mic from him.]

BT:  Grant Stone, you sonuva-

[Taylor screams again, lashing out with a kick at the announce desk,
knocking it over.]

BT:  It wasn't supposed to be like this, damn it.  I was supposed to be
done.  I was supposed to be retired.  All I wanted was to leave my
legacy to someone who deserved it and then walk off into the sunset. 

[Taylor shakes his head.]

BT:  But this?  This is all my fault.  I challenged you people to do
your worst.  I challenged people to break bones, bust heads, and shorten
careers to become the Outlaw.

But you, Grant Stone... you went too far.

[Taylor leans closer to the camera, pointing a warning finger.]

BT:  You don't know how hard I had to fight my gut.  You don't know how
badly I wanted to come after you after you took down Kevin - how badly I
wanted to split your damn head open and paint my living room in your
blood.  

Then there was Luke - and again, I had to fight the urge to let loose
the demons of my past to rip you to pieces, put you in a hospital bed,
and make you just another footnote in the story of my career.

But I fought the desire to end you.

[Taylor closes his eyes, burying his head in his hands.]

BT:  But my brother?  MY BROTHER?!

[Taylor kicks the downed announce desk again.]

BT:  You've crossed the line, you piece of garbage.  You want to be the
toughest man on the block?  You want to be the beast, the savage, the
monster?

You want to be the Outlaw?

[Taylor stares coldly into the camera.]

BT:  You want my name?  You want my legacy?

You'll have to tear it from my cold, dead hands cause that's the only
chance you've got of getting it.

Thanksgiving night.  

You and me - one on one - just like you've been begging for.

[Taylor pauses.]

BT:  They say that in violence, we forget who we are.  

[He shakes his head.]

BT:  In violence, I know EXACTLY who I am, Grant Stone.  Do you?

[Taylor storms off the WKIK Studios set as we fade to black...

...and then fade back up on a black screen with the AWA logo splashed
across it.]

"Join your favorite stars of the American Wrestling Alliance throughout
the state of Texas this week for exclusive meet-and-greet sessions."

[A scrolling list of names and locations flash by in white text:

Kentucky's Pride
Laredo Fashion Plaza - Laredo, Texas
October 28

Rough N Ready
Dallas Ford - Dallas, Texas
October 29

Sweet Daddy Williams
Houston Fashion Plaza - Houston, Texas
October 31

Werewolf Gregorson, Despair, and Adam Rogers
Harris Chevrolet - Dallas, Texas
November 1

The names end, leaving just the AWA logo behind.]

"All the stars of the AWA are comin' your way so don't miss 'em!"

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

...and then after a moment, back up on the backstage area, some hallway
nearby the lockerrooms where City Jack and Jason Dane standby. City
Jack's dressed in his street clothes of jeans, a black T-shirt, and a
blue baseball cap with an outline of Kentucky on it. CJ's still holding
onto his duffelbag, showing that Dane got to him before he even had a
chance to settle in.]

JD: Jason Dane here with City Jack only hours before his big match
against former ally, Werewolf Gregorson of Dead Pool. Thank you for
taking the time to speak.

CJ: Heh, you ain't give me a choice, Mr. Dane!
 
[Jack lifts his duffel up as he smiles.]

CJ: Ain't but come in none longer than five minutes ago.

[Jack nods and lowers his duffel.]

CJ: But come on with it, Mr. Dane - I do got to prepare for this here
day and I ain't goin' to mis-prepare nothin' in a Main Event of on
Tee-Vee!

[Dane nods.]

JD: Ok... Uh, City Jack, two weeks ago you had a confrontation with
Gregorson. It's been some time now and I know you explained yourself
afterwards, but do you have anything more to add?

CJ: Now, now, now - just wait here for one little ol' second. I didn't
do nothin' wrong last time 'roud here in that there ring. I done went
down there with nothin' but the best of intentions. Things just got a
little outta hand. No bother anymore now.

JD: But it didn't appear that way at the time. Both you and Werewolf
Gregorson looked to be prepared for a fight right there and then.

CJ: Like I done said before, just a little heated.

JD: And the upcoming tournament had -

[Jack shakes his head.]

CJ: No, son, no. Ain't nothin' to do with what happened there. My back
done was turned and I felt some claw grab at my shoulder. Now, I don't
know if ya was watchin' the match, but there were these two burly
Russian bears in the ring at the time. I had to act on the only instinct
I knew then - just whap 'em with the Metropill before they done hit me
upside the back of my head with their chain.

JD: But you did know that Gregorson had fought down -

CJ: No! No, I didn't!

[The usual cool headed & easy going City Jack shows some frustration.]

CJ: Look, it happened and it was a mistake. There ain't no bad blood
between me and the Rust'er and the Wolf & Despair. Never was and never
will be.

JD: But it didn't seem that way to Werewolf Gregorson at the time.

CJ: I'm not goin' stand here and say he shouldn't have been a little
PO'ed at the time. Shoot, someone pop me in the mug, I'd be rarin' to
rip 'em up too. But if the hoss got a problem now, after I done
explained and done said my word on the matter. Then? 

[Jack tips his head to the side for a moment.]

CJ: Then he needs to go over it. Mistake happened and there ain't
nothin' I can do 'bout it now. If I done had eye on the back o' my head,
I wouldn't of struck the fella. But I don't have that there thing.

JD: So for tonight, is there anything different about this match than
any other match you've had? Take -

CJ: No.

JD: Take that you see a really angry opponent and -

CJ: NO.

JD: And possibly take out a member of opposition for your upcoming
National Tag Team Title tournament.

CJ: NO! Geez, son, don't ya listen? Look here - tonight? It is like
every other singles match I done had. I go out there and I win. I ain't
lookin' for no revenge nor I am lookin' to set anythin' straight no more
with the Wolf. I ain't goin' out there and layin' down none for the man.

JD: But-

[Jack holds up a hand, showing his frustration even further with this
line of questioning.]

CJ: AND, sir, AND... and I ain't goin' to injury no one just for an
easier path down the line. That ain't how a gentleman conducts himself
and - while my image may lie to the fact, I am a gentleman. Us two? The
Wolf and I? We're goin' out there, fightin' until the bell rings and one
of us becomes the better man. And that's it. If there's any other
underlyin' stuff going about, we'll settle in between them ropes later. 

JD: And what about Despa-

CJ: And nothing about Despair. I ain't gunnin' for him none neither. If
he wants to come on down, he sure on can - I trust the man's character
not to do anything before, during, or after the match. Now if you don't
mind...

JD: Just one more question, City Jack. What about the word that some
think that you and Tin Can Rust are taking too much cred-

[Jack, tight lipped and sick of this interview, shakes his head and
makes a movement away from Dane.]

CJ: No, sorry, son. No more questions. I got -

JD: Just -

CJ: No, I got to get ready, son.

[Jack walks off the shot, leaving a perplexed Jason Dane. He looks on in
the direction of where Jack left for a moment before returning to the
camera.]

JD: Well, that was City Jack as he prepares for today's main event. Back
to you, guys!

[We cut back to the WKIK Studios announcer area where the desk has been
put back into position with Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde standing behind
it.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to the second hour of AWA Saturday Night
Wrestling and many thanks to Jason Dane for that exclusive interview
with City Jack as he gets ready for tonight's Main Event against
Werewolf Gregorson.  As you can see, we had some furniture readjusted
during our commerical break and we're ready to go once more!

BW:  Let's show the rest of the San Antonio footage!

GM:  Not yet, Bucky.  Up next, we actually have the AWA debut of an old
friends of ours from the Southern Championship Wrestling days.

BW:  Uh oh.

GM:  Fans of the EMWC may recognize him as well as he is a former EMWC
World Champion - so let's go up to the ring to see him in action!

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

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

The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute time
limit.  Introducing first... currently in the ring at this time...
weighing in at 205 pounds from Athens, Georgia... Keith Smith!

[A few boos for the man from Athens that turn into cheers as "Here Comes
The Pain" by Slayer starts up.]

MC:  And his opponent... weighing in at 330 pounds... he hails from
Jonesboro, Arkansas...

SCOTT PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!

[A huge ovation erupts as the 6'10 monster from Arkansas steps into the
WKIK Studios for the first time.  The crowd quickly bursts into a chant
of "PAIN!  PAIN!  PAIN!" as the big man grins at the reaction.]

GM:  A former World Champion... a monster of a man... Scott Pain is in
the AWA and Heaven help those in his path.

BW:  Including Keith Smith?

GM:  Definitely.

[Pain climbs up on the apron, throwing a leg over the ropes to step into
the ring...

...where Keith Smith wastes no time in assaulting him with a series of
left hands that seem to have little effect.]

GM:  Keith Smith with the sneak attack before the bell but I don't know-

[A big cheer goes up as Pain piefaces Smith down to the mat.]

GM:  Wow!  Look at the power of Scott Pain!

BW:  Got a bit of a gut since the last time he was on TV, no?

GM:  He's a little older, a little heavier, a little wiser as well, I'd
wager...

[The crowd groans as he drives his huge boot into the side of the rising
Smith's face, flipping him to the mat.]

BW:  A little bit meaner too by the looks of that kick!

GM:  Perhaps.

[Pain stands over the barely-moving Smith for a moment, soaking up the
cheers of the crowd before leaning over to pull Smith into a standing
headscissors by the hair.]

BW:  What?!  Already?!

GM:  Scott Pain is wasting no time in his return to wrestling!  He's
putting the AWA on notice here tonight!

[Pain pauses for a moment, looking around at the crowd before hoisting
Smith into the air, pausing...

...and _driving_ Smith down to the canvas!]

GM:  POWERBOMB!

[The big man drops to a knee, placing a hand in the chest of Smith.]

GM:  One.  Two.  Three!  An impressive debut for Scott Pain.

BW:  Impressive?!  They pulled a guy who washed my windows with a
newspaper in the parking lot this morning into the ring, Gordo!  My mama
could've put up more of a fight than this guy!

GM:  She is a rather tough... and large... woman.

BW:  You got that righ- hey!

[Pain rises to his feet, lifting a victorious arm in the air before
stepping over the ropes, dropping down to the floor.]

GM:  And it looks like we're about to be joined by the former EMWC World
Champion at the broadcast table.

[Sure enough, Pain walks into view, towering over both Myers and Wilde.]

GM:  Scott Pain, welcome to the AWA!

[Pain nods his head as he leans down to speak into the offered mic.]

SP:  Thanks, Gordon.  It's great to be here.

GM:  Scott, you wasted no time in finishing off Keith Smith tonight and
I have to assume that was to send a message to the entire AWA.  

[Scott laughs.]

SP:  Sorta, Gordon.  That's part of it anyways. 

GM:  And the other part?

SP:  Well, I'm a whole lot older than when I was making a name for
myself 14 years ago back in the EMWC so I want to get in... and out...
of the ring as quickly as I can most nights.

[Gordon chuckles as well.]

GM:  That may be true but it looks as though you haven't missed a beat
in all those years.

SP:  I appreciate that, Gordon, but in this business, 14 years is a
long, long time.  Time is ticking, you know.

GM:  So, is that why you're here in the AWA, to make one last impact
before you hang 'em up?

SP:  Something like that.  The fact is I was sitting at home watching
this show a few weeks ago and I saw something that got those old
competitive fires burning.  A tournament to crown tag team champions.

GM:  Do you have a partner?

SP:  One step at a time, Gordon.  But I want in that tournament and I
want a chance to strap one of those pretty gold belts around my waist.  

[And with that, Pain makes his exit, leaving Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde behind.]

GM:  Scott Pain is in the AWA and he's got his eyes set on gold, Bucky.

BW:  Everyone does, Gordo.  It seems like the whole wrestling world is
showing up on our doorstep looking to be a National Tag Team Champion -
not to mention everyone lining up for a shot at the new National
Champion.

GM:  Speaking of which, at this time, we'll bring in a man who made
quite the debut at "The Last Stampede". He is none other than Juan
Vasquez!

["They Reminisce Over You" by Pete Rock and CL Smooth begins to play
over the PA system as  the curtains part and reveals Juan Vasquez. The
fans stand to their feet to greet the former World Champion, who's
actually dressed to wrestle this time around. Juan surveys the crowd and
slowly raises an arm high into the air, drawing a roaring cheer from his
fans. Satisfied with the response, a smile appears on his face as he
makes his way down to ringside.]

GM: Juan, let me just say it's nice to have you back. We haven't seen
you since you made your debut in Laredo. Just where have you been?

[Juan scratches his head, looking slightly embarassed.]

JV: Well, I'd love to say that I got a legitimate excuse like...I
twisted my ankle wrestling in my wingtips or something, but seriously?

[He chuckles a bit and sighs.]

JV: Maybe it's 'cause I'm a bit full o' myself, but I reallly did think
I was gonna' beat Ron Houston. And what happens? The champ does exactly
what we expect a champion to do. He pinned me clean as a sheet in the
middle of the ring. And I didn't exactly take my loss well. As a matter
o' fact...well...

...I've been sitting at home wallowin' in my own self-pity.

[The crowd playfully boos Juan a bit. He winces.]

JV: Yeah, I'm sorry, folks. After talking like a big shot, after all
that talk about how I was gonna' give the champ the hardest fight of his
life, it wasn't easy to accept the fact that he beat me. For the first
time in a long time, I really started to doubt myself.

But then I remembered.

GM: Remembered what?

[Juan goes real quiet for a few seconds. Suddenly, his eyes open wide,
almost as if a lightbulb's gone off in his head.]

JV: That I'm Juan Vasquez!

For me, there's no mountain too high, no river too deep and there sure
as hell ain't no wrestler too tough for me to conquer!

[A cheer from the crowd!]

JV: I don't care how long it takes, how hard I have to work, or how many
beatings I gotta' suffer through, because I'm gonna work my way back up
to the top, folks. I'm gonna' burn bigger and brighter than ever before!
And I swear on my children, my children's children, and on my very soul,
that I will be the AWA National Champion! I will be the greatest
wrestler on planet freakin' Earth once more!!!

[He coughs.]

JV: Well...as long as I don't wrestle any more matches in business
suits, anyway.

[Some laughter from the crowd. Juan shakes Gordon Myers' hand and makes
his way to the ring.]

GM: Very determined words from Juan Vasquez. Fans, let's go up to the
ring for our next match!

[Inside the ring, we see two men - one wearing red wrestling tights with
black trim and well...the other's Juan Vasquez.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time,
standing six feet tall and weighing in at 250 pounds... from Laredo,
Texas... Miguel Cortez!

[Cortez thrusts his arms into the arm to the jeers of the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent... he hails from Los Angeles, California...
standing 6'2 and weighing in at 238 pounds...

JUUUUUAAAAAAAANNNNNN

VAAASSSSSSQQQUUUUEEEZZZZ!!!!

[Juan climbs up to the second turnbuckle and receives a loud cheer from
the crowd.]

GM: After a long layoff, Juan Vasquez is back in the AWA ring.

BW: Layoff? He admitted he picked up his ball and went home after
getting thrashed by Ron Houston!

GM: Juan Vasquez has been to the top of the wrestling world before and
knowing his sort of determination, I wouldn't be surprised if he made it
back there again.

BW: If he doesn't run back home to mama, first!

[The bell rings, as the two wrestlers meet in the middle of the ring.
Vasquez and Cortez immediately grapple, with Vasquez quickly manuevering
Cortez into a side headlock. Cortez backs Vasquez into the ropes and
shoots him off...

...or at least he tries to!]

GM: Vasquez holds on! That headlock is cinched in tight!

[A big smile appears on Juan's face, as Cortez struggles to find an
escape. He hooks Vasquez around the waist and lifts...


*THHHUUUUD!*


...dropping Vasquez with a backdrop suplex. However, the crowd begins to
applaud once they realize...]

GM: Vasquez _still_ has that headlock on! What tenacity!

BM: He's not going to win any matches with a headlock, but this has got
to be messing with Cortez's head.

[The two wrestlers get back to a vertical base, where Cortez once again
backs Vasquez into the ropes, this time actually managing to shoot
Vasquez into the ropes. He charges in with a clothesline that Vasquez
ducks under. Vasquez stops on a dime, pivoting around...


*SMMMMMAAAAAAACCCCCCK!!!*


...and catching him with one heck of a right hand! Oohs and awes from
the crowd!]

GM:  OHHH!  A MASSIVE right hand catches Cortez right on the button!

BW:  He almost took his head off, daddy! How is he even still on his
feet!?

[Well...barely, anyway. Cortez stumbles backward a few feet, before
comically falling on his butt and immediately rolling to the outside. He
tries to maintain his balance, but it's obvious he's not all there.
Vasquez meanwhile, has grabbed onto the top rope and slingshots over...]

GM: Ohh!  What a dive!  Vasquez isn't giving Cortez any time to recover!
He's going right after him!

[Juan rolls Cortez back into the ring, shoving him into a corner. He
attempts to Irish whip Cortez into the opposite corner, but Cortez still
has enough in the tank to reverse it. Vasquez leaps onto the second
turnbuckle and backflips over Cortez as he rushes in, landing on his
feet. Cortez in the meanwhile, runs chest-first into the turnbuckle. As
he stumbles out dazed, Vasquez scoops him up, sliding him behind his
back and hooks his head and right leg...



*THHHHHHUUUUUUUDDD!!!*



...dropping him with an Air Raid Crash!!!]

GM:  THE CITY OF ANGELS!!! That's got to be it!

BW: Count to a million daddy, this chump isn't going to be kicking out
of this one!

[Vasquez rolls over and hooks Cortez's leg as the referee and crowd
count in unison.]

GM: One!  Two!  Three!  It's over!

"DING!  DING!  DING!"

MC: Your winner of the match in a time of three minutes and fifteen
seconds...

JUUUAAAAAN VAAAAAASSSSSQQQQUUUEEZZZ!!!

[Vasquez's hand is raised by the referee, before he exits the ring,
slapping the hands of various fans as he makes his way to the back.]

GM: An impressive victory for Juan Vasquez in his debut on AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling!  You can bet we'll be seeing a lot more of him as he
tries to shoot up the rankings.  

BW:  Who knows?  Maybe he'll get the first shot at-

GM:  Tsk tsk.  Not quite yet.  Fans, don't go away, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the announcers 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 come back up in the WKIK Studios where the opening riffs of
ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" begin to reverberate throughout as the
crowd erupts in a chorus of boos.  The AWA's resident narcissist, "The
Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne strolls out with a shocked look on his face
at the reaction of the crowd.  Dufresne is clad in a white collared
dress shirt (with so much starch it could probably stand up on its own)
tucked into a pair of black slacks with tight pleats and a pair of
polished black dress shoes.  His long blonde hair is pulled back into a
tight ponytail.  He struts over to our commentators, waving at his
throngs of adoring fans as he does.]

GM: Calisto Dufresne has joined us here in the WKIK studios. 

[More boos.]

GM: Obviously, Calisto, these fans are upset about your actions two
weeks ago against Rick Marley.

CD: And obviously, Gordie, I am shocked and dismayed by the reaction I'm
receiving here tonight.

[A perplexed look comes across Myers' face.]

GM: How can you be shocked!?  You viciously attacked one of the AWA's
most loved indviduals!

CD: I wouldn't go so far as to call it an 'attack', Gordie.  I would say
it was more like an example of justice being served.

[Dufresne nods to himself.]

CD: You see, my adoring fans here in the WKIK Studios watched what
happened when I starred in the Main Event of The Last Stampede.  I was
carrying my team on my broad, bronzed, statuesque shoulders when Rick
Marley, who is insanely jealous of my cult-like following and dazzling
good looks, decided to take his jealousy out on this.

[Dufresne points towards his face.]

CD: And there's no greater crime I can think of than attempting to
desecrate a national treasure.

[More boos rain down as Dufresne looks solemn and serious, pursing his
lips and shaking his head.]

GM: I don't think there's anyone in this world who saw that as the case,
Calisto, but we've come to expect that from you.  So why don't you just
tell us what's next.  Will you be willing to get inside the squared
circle and settle this fairly with Rick Marley?

CD: You know me, Gordie.  I'm not one who hides from a fight.  I'm not
one who attacks a man from behind.  So to answer your question, yes. 
Yes, I will be more than willing to stand up for my legion of adoring
fans and serve justice on Rick Marley for his heinous, callous attack on
yours truly.

[Myers looks at Dufresne in disbelief - a common look from anyone who
listens to him speak.]

CD: I understand that Marley is a little under the weather right now;
something about some facial injuries, so in the meantime, you can expect
Calisto Dufresne to be willing to take any match thrown his way.  I know
that nobody in that locker room can piss in the same pot as Calisto
Dufresne, but I promise not to take Rick Marley's transgressions out on
any of my lesser colleagues.

[A stately nod, followed by a wink, and a smile.]

GM: But-

CD: That's all the time I have today, Gordie.  I have an appointment
with the Make-a-Wish Foundation.  Apparently, there are a few thousand
dying kids whose only care in life is to meet yours truly.

Who knew?

[Boos rain down as "Sharp Dressed Man" blares over the loudspeakers once
again as Dufresne walks off, leaving the fans and commentators feeling
like they just lost 10 points from their IQs.]

GM:  There you have it, fans.  Typical arrogance in the form of Calisto
Dufresne.  And coming up next, from what I understand, we have an
international team that is bucking for entry into the National Tag Team
Title Tournament... let's go up to the ring to see them in action!

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

MC:  The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall
with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to
my right, at a total combined weight of 470 pounds, they are RUSTY ADAMS
and GEORGE MARTIN!

[Apathy greets the duo of Adams and Martin.]

MC:  And their opponents... at a combined weight of 435 pounds... the
team of HIKARIMONO and EL CORAZON NEGROOOOO!

[A decent reaction goes up for the team of the Japanese highflyer and
the original Hardcore Luchador.]

GM:  And we are ready for tag team action here in the WKIK Studios.  It
looks like it'll be Hikarimono starting things off with Rusty Adams. 
You know, Bucky, tag team wrestling is at an all-time high here in the
AWA these days as everyone is jockeying for position to get into the
National Tag Team Title Tournament.

BW:  It's crazy, Gordo.  People like Scott Pain comin' out of the
woodworks to go for those titles.  Everyone in that locker room - I've
been back there - everyone is lookin' around for the right partner to
take them straight to the gold.

GM:  This is an interesting team of Hikarimono representing Tiger Paw
Pro and El Corazon Negro from SouthWest Lucha Libre.  They will
definitely be fun to watch, Bucky.

[As the bell rings , Rusty Adams immediately ties up Hikarimono in a
collar and elbow, muscling him back against the ropes.  Adams backs off
a step and throws a forearm...

...but Hikarimono ducks under it, spinning around to pepper Adams with
right hands before deadleaping into the air, connecting with a
picture-perfect dropkick that sends Adams over the ropes and down hard
to the floor below!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Just like that, the fast-paced, high impact offense of
Hikarimono takes Rusty Adams out of the ring. 

BW:  Here comes Martin!

[George Martin charges in behind Hikarimono's back...

...but soon finds himself hiptossed through the air, smashing down to
the canvas at the feet of the high-flyer.  Just as he hits the mat, the
Japanese sensation jumps back into the air, smashing backfirst across
the torso of Martin!]

GM:  Big backsplash by Hikarimono - and that causes Martin to roll out
to the floor right next to his partner.

[With both men on the floor, El Corazon Negro quickly scales the nearby
turnbuckles...

...and DIVES off the top onto both recovering opponents to the roar of
the crowd!]

GM:  OHHHHH MY!  What a dive by the luchador!

[El Corazon Negro regains his feet, firing Adams under the ropes into
the ring where Hikarimono pulls him off the mat.]

GM:  Adams tossed into the ropes... boot to the gut... 

[The Japanese competitor tags in his Mexican counterpart before hitting
the ropes behind Adams as ECN charges towards Adams.  At the same time,
they connect with a running clothesline from ECN and a rolling leg
tackle by Hikarimono to completely wipe Adams out.]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a doubleteam right there!

[Hikarimono steps out of the ring as the Hardcore Luchador pulls Adams
off the mat, shoving him back into the corner...

...and blasting him across the chest with a knife-edge chop!]

GM:  The luchador's got Adams in trouble, working him over in the
buckles.

[Another hard chop finds the mark as Adams' partner retakes his position
on the apron.]

GM:  George Martin back up on the apron now.  

[A whip by the luchador causes Adams to slam hard into the buckles which
allows ECN to sprint across the ring, leaping into the air...

...and driving both feet squarely into the chest of Adams who slumps
down in the corner on his rear.  ECN rolls back in a somersault,
slapping the hand of Hikarimono.]

GM:  He makes the tag back in to Hikarimono...

[The Japanese high-flyer charges across the ring from corner to corner,
leaping into the air where he hangs forever...

...and drives his feet into the face of Adams to the cheers of the
crowd!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Man, these guys are impressive, Bucky.

[Hikarimono drags Adams off the mat...

...and promptly gets a thumb jabbed into the eyehole of his mask!]

GM:  Cheapshot by Adams!

[Adams promptly reaches back and slaps the hand of George Martin who
dashes in and floors Hikarimono with a running clothesline.]

GM:  Oh!  Clothesline on the money by Martin!  And just like that, the
tide turns in this one as Martin stomps and kicks Hikarimono down on the
canvas.

[Yanking the Japanese masked man up by the mask, Martin hoists him in a
scoop...

...and slams him down hard to the mat before leaping up with a legdrop
across the throat!]

GM:  Nice legdrop by George Martin.  

[Martin applies a lateral press but only gets a two count out of it.]

GM:  Two count only. 

BW:  And can you imagine what an upset it'd be if Martin and Adams
scored the win here?  Would that put them in the National Tag Team Title
Tournament?

GM:  I don't know if one win alone would do it but you have to imagine
it couldn't hurt their chances with the Championship Committee.

[Dragging Hikarimono off the mat, Martin hooks him in a front facelock,
snapping him over in a vertical suplex.]

GM:  Another cover - one!  Two!  Th- not enough to keep the high flyer
down.

[Martin drags Hikarimono up again, pulling him towards the ropes before
executing an irish whip.]

GM:  Whip to the ropes... clothesli- ducked by Hikarimono!

BW:  This guy's so fast!

[As he approaches the other ropes, Hikarimono leaps to the second rope,
springing back over a charging Martin into a front somersault, popping
up into a leaping tag to the Hardcore Luchador.]

GM:  TAG!

BW:  I've always liked this guy, Gordo.  You should see some of the
matches he had in the late 90's.  Unbelievable stuff.

[El Corazon Negro sprints into the ring, dropping Martin with a leg
lariat.  He pops right back up in time to catch an incoming Adams with a
superkick right under the jaw that sends Adams through the ropes and
down to the floor.]

GM:  Adams is out!

[He quickly pulls Martin back up, hooking a front facelock before
running up the buckles, spinning out...

...and SPIKING Martin headfirst into the canvas!]

GM:  TORNADO DDT OUT OF THE CORNER!

[The luchador springs to his feet, racing to the same corner and quickly
scaling the buckles, pausing at the top...

...and soaring off through the air, smashing down with his skull into
the head of the downed Martin!]

GM:  FLYING HEADBUTT!  BULLSEYE!

[A little dazed from the impact, ECN rolls to the corner where he makes
the quick tag to Hikarimono who races up the buckles as well, pausing up
top, and leaping into a full somersault...

...before SMASHING down across the body of George Martin!]

BW:  450 SPLASH!  WHOOOOO BOY!

GM:  There's one!  There's two!  And there's three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match in a time of three minutes and
thirty-seven seconds...

The team of Hikarimono and El Corazon Negro!

[The international duo celebrate in the ring with a quick high five and
embrace, raising their arms in triumph as the fans cheer their high-risk
offense.]

GM:  Perhaps one step closer to entry into the tournament, an impressive
victory for El Corazon Negro and Hikarimono!  Fans, don't go away, we'll
be right back with the final clips from San Antonio and the crowning of
a new National Champion!

[The camera holds on the shot of El Corazon Negro and Hikarimono
celebrating for a bit before fading to black...

...and then back up to a shot showing the logos of Pro Wrestling
Revolution, Sin City Wrestling, and Southern Championship Wrestling.]

"From Day One, the American Wrestling Alliance was determined to give
its fans the very best action available.  And on Day One, our video
library is officially open for business!"

[Cut to a closeup of the Sin City Wrestling logo.]

"Check out "High Profile" Darryl Styles on commentary.  See the Upper
Crust in action before they were the Upper Crust!"

[Now to the Southern Championship Wrestling logo.]

"Ricky Royal lit up the rings in SCW before he came to the AWA!  "Stars
and Stripes" Clayton Shaw was a SCW staple as well!"

[And then the PWR logo.]

"See Calisto Dufresne in action!  And don't forget the ever-dangerous
Kolya Sudakov!"

[Cut back to the wide shot of all three logos.]

"Events from all three promotions are available NOW exclusively through
the AWA website via DVD or download!  So, be the first on the block to
be an AWA expert and check out all of this great action today!"

[Fade to black...

...and then back up in the WKIK Studios where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Since the top
of our program tonight, we've been telling you all about how a new
National Champion was crowned last night in San Antonio, Texas - and
now, we're going to show you exactly how that happened.  Don't tune out
after the final bell because immediately after this footage, we're going
to have the first interview with the new champion.  

BW:  I'm so excited, Gordo, I may need to go change my drawers.

GM:  Right.  Let's go back to last night's action in San Antonio for the
final time!

[We fade back to footage from San Antonio, the first bit is recap for us
as we've already seen it with Ron Houston standing in the ring looking
fired up.]

RH:  Alright, fine.  If you won't do it... someone else will.  Ah'm in
the mood for a fight and ah'm not leavin' this ring until someone gives
it to me!

[More cheers!  He's on a roll!]

RH:  So, anyone... and ah mean anyone... sittin' in that locker room who
wants a shot at this big chunk of gold... come on down and let's see
whatcha got!

[Houston throws the title belt down to the mat, mounting the midbuckle
and looking out towards the entryway.]

GM:  That's an open challenge, Bucky!  

BW:  Houston may regret that in a few seconds but I've got a feeling
there's a more than a handful of guys in that locker room that could eat
his lunch, daddy!

GM:  Who will answer the challenge?  Who will-  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

[The crowd erupts in a surprise roar as the curtain parts...]

BW:  IT'S THE RUSSIANS!

[The jeers are deafening as Vladimir Velikov and "The Russian War
Machine" Kolya Sudakov make their way down the aisle towards the ring,
edging past screaming, angry fans.]

GM:  What are THEY doing out here?

BW:  If I had to reckon a guess, Gordo, I'd say one of them is about to
accept that Open Challenge!

GM:  I don't think this is who Ron Houston had in mind.  I don't think-

[The words of Gordon Myers' are cut off as Velikov and Sudakov slide
headfirst into the ring...

...and immediately attack Ron Houston who tries valiantly to defend
himself with big haymakers as they storm towards him.]

GM:  It's a two-on-one attack by the Russians!  Velikov and Sudakov are
all over him!

[The fans jeer wildly as Sudakov and Velikov manage to bull rush Houston
back into the corner, pounding him with rights and lefts until they put
him down on a knee...

...which is exactly where the former MMA star wants him as he delivers a
crushing knee strike to the jaw that flattens Houston to the canvas.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Down goes the National Champion!

[The boos only increase as Velikov drags Houston out of the corner by
the legs, holding the feet to allow Sudakov to stomp and kick the
defenseless National Champion at will.]

GM:  Ron Houston is completely at the mercy of these damned Russians!

BW:  And these Russians don't have a lick o' mercy in 'em, daddy!

[A hard soccer kick to the ribs causes Houston to visibly wince as he
clutches his ribcage.  Velikov releases the legs, dragging the National
Champion off the mat by the hair and tossing him in the direction of the
ropes.]

GM:  Houston sent to the ropes...

[When he rebounds back, Kolya Sudakov is waiting for him with a
thunderous running clothesline that dumps Houston back down on the mat.]

GM:  The Russian Sickle is on target and very effective right here.  Now
what's going on?

[Barking instructions to his nephew, Velikov steps through the ropes and
begins climbing.  Sudakov pulls Houston off the mat again, this time
powering him up into an over-the-shoulder backbreaker hold...

...which allows Velikov to leap off the top, smashing his forearm down
solidly across the windpipe which flips Houston back down to his stomach
on the mat.]

GM:  Ohhh!  

BW:  We've seen the Russians finish off countless opponents with that
very move and they may have just finished off the National Champion with
it, daddy!

GM:  You may be right.  They may have done exactly-  HEY!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Marcus Broussard emerges from the locker room area,
sprinting down the aisle as Vladimir Velikov warns his nephew to get
ready for company.]

GM:  Broussard slides into the ring - Sudakov over to greet him!

[But the former National Champion is the proverbial house of fire,
overwhelming Sudakov with rights and lefts capped off by a scintillating
European uppercut that nearly knocks Sudakov off his feet.]

GM:  He's all over the Russian War Machine!  But here comes Velikov!

[The elder Russian approaches with his arms raised high, prepared to
deliver a crushing sledge blow to the back of Broussard's head...

...but the San Jose Shark wheels around at the last moment, burying a
right hand into the midsection of Velikov.  He quickly hooks a front
facelock.]

GM:  The San Jose Shark is fighting both men off!  He's fighting off
both of the Russi-

[But not for long as Kolya Sudakov approaches from behind and delivers a
brutal high kick to the back of the head that knocks Broussard down to
the mat.  Sudakov quickly grabs him by the hair and HURLS him through
the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  The Russians clear out Broussard as well!  They cleared out
the former National Champion!

[Inside the ring, Sudakov helps his Uncle Vladimir back to his feet. 
Velikov immediately begins barking instructions to his nephew as he
heads towards the buckles again.]

GM:  These Russians are setting up for something again, Bucky.

BW:  Ya think?

GM:  Velikov is stepping up on the midbuckle from inside the ring,
looking down at Houston!

[From outside the ring, Marcus Broussard reaches between the middle and
bottom ropes, grabbing Houston's right arm and trying to pull him from
the ring.  Kolya Sudakov immediately moves towards him, throwing punches
through the ropes at Broussard to try to back him off.]

GM:  Broussard's trying to save the National Champion - trying to save
Ron Houston from this brutal attack by the Russians.  Wait - what's
Velikov doing?  What's he-  NOOOOOO!

[Seeing a better target than he'd planned on, Velikov leaps from the
middle rope...

...and DRIVES his knee down on the outstretched and in the air right arm
of Ron Houston, causing the arm to absorb all of his three hundred plus
pounds.  Houston screams out in pain instantly, grabbing his right arm
and rolling to his stomach to try and protect it.]

GM:  Oh my stars!

BW:  They broke his arm, daddy!  The Russians just broke his arm!

GM:  I believe you're right.  I believe that's exactly what they just
did and-

[Outside the ring, the San Jose Shark snatches a steel chair from
ringside, diving back into the ring with it which causes the Russians to
bail out to the floor.]

GM:  And finally, Marcus Broussard is able to clear the Russians out of
here.  Unbelievable.

[Broussard stands facing the Russians for a moment, standing over
Houston as AWA officials flood the ring to check on the injured National
Champion.]

BW:  Did you ever think you'd see the day when Marcus Broussard was
standing guard over Ron Houston?

GM:  Not a chance, Bucky, but that's exactly what we're seeing here.

[The camera zooms in on a screaming Houston as the officials try to get
some control over him.]

GM:  You can see the National Champion on the mat - just in terrible
pain.  I think he does have a broken right arm, Bucky.

BW:  He'd have to after that move by the Russians.

[After a few silent moments, the officials manage to get Houston out to
the floor where Broussard joins them, helping the National Champion back
up the aisle.]

GM:  They're getting him out of here.  What a dark turn of events here
in San Antonio.  We were supposed to see Adam Rogers challenge for the
National Titl- wait a second... now what?

[The camera cuts back to the ring where Sudakov and Velikov have
returned, the elder Russian now holding the house mic.]

VV:  Hey!  

[No response.]

VV:  Hey, Ron Houston!  HEEEEEY!

[From the aisle, a pain-ravaged Houston turns back to look at the ring.]

VV:  Unless I mistaken, you issued challenge, no?

[The crowd buzzes with confusion.]

VV:  Unless I mistaken, you wanted fight.  Unless I mistaken, you
offered title match to anyone who wanted a shot at gold.

[Houston looks furious from his spot in the aisle, still cradling his
right arm.]

VV:  Unless I mistaken, my nephew, the Russian War Machine, Kolya
Sudakov has just given all fight you could handle.

[Velikov smirks.]

VV:  Unless I mistaken, Kolya also wants shot at gold - YOUR gold, Ron
Houston!

[Velikov cackles.]

VV:  So, unless I mistaken, you drag yourself back here and give Kolya
his shot at gold - or you're just another typical American coward.

[The crowd boos as Velikov laughs in his gravelly voice.]

VV:  Weak, pathetic, useless coward.  That... how you say... sound about
right, Kolya?

[Sudakov doesn't respond, an icy glare locked on Ron Houston.]

VV:  Ron Houston, don't worry.  You don't have to defend title tonight.

[Velikov shakes his head.]

VV:  Just bring the gold here and hand it to Kolya.  We will... how you
say... think nothing less of you.

[Another cackle...

...and down the aisle, Ron Houston is shoving aside protesting AWA
officials with his left arm.  The camera zooms in closer.]


"Ah can fight the sumbitch with one arm!  Ah can!"


[The officials continue to argue with Houston as he tries to bully past
them finally coming face to face with Marcus Broussard who shakes his
head, trying to talk some sense into the angry National Champion.]


"You do this?  You're playing right into their hands - giving them
exactly what they want, Houston.  You're in no shape to fight and they
know it.  They know-"


[A hard shove by Houston moves Broussard out of the way as the Athens,
Georgia Madman storms down the aisle past the protesting AWA officials. 
He grabs the title belt from one of them before stomping up the
ringsteps and climbing through the ropes.]

GM:  He can't do this, Bucky.

BW:  It looks like he's about to!

[Houston holds the belt up to the cheers of the fans, laying it down in
front of him and pointing a finger right at Kolya Sudakov.]

GM:  He's putting the title on the line!  He's daring the Russian to
come and take that gold!

BW:  And if I know Kolya Sudakov, he'll be more than happy to oblige!

[After a couple moments of a cross-ring staredown, Houston barrels
across the ring without the sound of a ring bell, throwing his left
clenched fist as quickly as he can, landing it on the skull of a stunned
Sudakov over and over again.]

GM:  He's all over the Russian!  Using that left arm to pummel Kolya
Sudakov in the corner!  

[Grabbing Sudakov by the wrist with his left hand, Houston executes a
sloppy one armed Irish whip across the ring where Sudakov hits against
the buckles...

...and charges towards him!]

GM:  Here comes Houston!

[A big left-armed back elbow catches Sudakov in the jaw in the corner as
Houston holds him against the buckles, reaching back to secure a
left-armed side headlock...

...and with a whoop, charges out of the buckles, smashing Sudakov
facefirst into the mat with a bulldog headlock!]

GM:  BULLDOG!  HE GOT HIM!

[Houston flips Sudakov onto his back, reaching back to hook the leg in a
lateral press.]

GM:  There's a cover - but we've got no referee!

BW:  I don't even know if this is a sanctioned match, Gordo.

[Just then, a zebra-shirted official dives under the ropes and starts
counting.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  

[Sudakov easily kicks out though.  A fired-up Houston quickly goes into
a mount, raining down left hands from the top onto Sudakov, blasting him
in the face repeatedly...

...but Sudakov reaches into that MMA bag of tricks to pull his legs up,
hooking Houston's arm with his legs in an armbar and cranking it in
tight.]

GM:  ARMBAR!  ARMBAR!

[A panicked Houston dives for the ropes, hooking them with his free hand
as the referee lays a count on an uncaring Sudakov.]

GM:  Break the hold!  

BW:  He's got a five count!

GM:  And he's using every second of it.

BW:  Of course he is, Gordo.  Don't be an idiot!

[At the count of four, Sudakov breaks the armbar, slowly getting to his
feet to look down at a pain-wrecked National Champion.  A few hard kicks
to the right arm follow, each sending a yelp of agony up from Houston.]

GM:  Ron Houston should not be in this match - he should not have
accepted Sudakov's challenge.

BW:  Accepted it?  He made it, daddy!

GM:  I realize that but- uh oh, he's dragging Houston to his feet now.

[A hard boot to the gut sends Houston falling back into the turnbuckles,
making him a sitting duck for the striking skills of Kolya Sudakov who
grabs Houston by the hair before delivering three crisp elbow strikes to
the left ear of the East Coast Terror.]

BW:  And this is where Kolya Sudakov is at his best.

GM:  No doubt about that.

[Two leaping left knees catch Houston in the right side of the body,
doubling him up as Sudakov secures a Muay Thai clinch, bringing his
right knee up squarely into the face four times before using the clinch
to throw Houston out of the corner and down to the mat.]

GM:  It looks like one of those knees might have busted open the nose of
Ron Houston.  We've got a stream of blood coming from the nose of the
National Champion and-

[Methodically walking towards him, Sudakov leaps into the air...

...and drives down a kneedrop to the chest, staying kneeling on him as
he gestures to the referee.]

GM:  Referee down to count.  One!  Two!  Thr-

[Houston fires his left shoulder off the canvas just before the three
count falls.]

GM:  Shoulder up!

[Sudakov slams home a few right hands as Houston tries to fight his way
up off the mat.  He pulls Houston up by the injured right arm, tossing
him towards the corner.]

GM:  The Russian sends Houston into the buckles - ohhh!  Snap kick to
the ribcage!

[The Russian reapplies the Thai clinch before delivering three right
knees to the body of the National Champion.]

GM:  Sudakov with more blows to the body, trying to soften up Ron
Houston for something... Sudakov steps back, another kick to the body! 
And another!  And anoth-

[The third kick is somehow caught by Houston who swings Sudakov around
in the buckles, leaning over to slam his left shoulder into the ribcage
of the Russian!]

GM:  Houston's fighting back!  Shoulder to the ribs!  He drives it in
again!  Third time's a charm!

[With the crowd roaring, Houston steps up to the midbuckle and starts
raining down clenched fists on a stunned Kolya Sudakov.]

GM:  He's beating the tar out of the Russian, Bucky!

BW:  I can't believe this!

[The crowd counts along with the beatdown.]

"ONE!"

"TWO!"

"THREE!"

"FOUR!"

"FIVE!"

"SIX!"

"SEVEN!"

"EIGHT!"

"NINE!"

"TEN!"

[With the crowd roaring, Houston drops down off the buckles, reaching
under Sudakov's armpit with his left arm...

...and hoists the Russian high into the air, throwing him out of the
corner to the mat!]

GM:  Big time biel throw by the champion!

[Sudakov quickly scampers to his feet as Houston races towards him...

...and gets Sudakov's massive hand wrapped around his throat, shoving
him down hard to the mat.]

GM:  Oh!  Chokehold takedown by Sudakov!

[The referee starts an immediate five count as a ruthless Sudakov
strangles the air out of Houston.]

GM:  He's choking the life out of the champion!

BW:  Houston's putting on one heck of a fight with what I've gotta
assume is a broken arm, daddy, but the Russian is just too much for him
at every turn.

GM:  Vladimir Velikov is out on the floor, ordering his nephew around.

[Nodding at his Uncle, Sudakov slowly climbs to his feet, glaring down
at Houston who is gasping for air.]

GM:  Ohh!  He stomped the arm!  What a brutal attack that was.

[Sudakov drags Houston up by the injured limb again, stretching it out
and delivering a hard kick to the bicep before tucking it behind the
National Champion in a hammerlock.]

BW:  Look at this, Gordo - look at this!

[The Russian hoists Houston off the mat in a bodyslam position...

...and SLAMS him down on top of the bent injured arm!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  If that arm wasn't broke before, you can betcher life it sure is
now!

GM:  Another cover.  One!  Two!  Thr- shoulder up!

[Again, angered by the kickout, Sudakov takes the mount, throwing right
hands at the downed Houston.  After a few moments, the official forces
himself in, pulling Sudakov off of Houston...

...and getting shoved hard away by the wild-eyed Russian!]

GM:  That's it!  DQ him - right now!

BW:  No!  No!  No!  

[Sudakov walks towards the referee who is leaning against the buckles,
staring coldly at the cowering official.]

GM:  Look at this nutcase!  He's in a match for the National
Championship and he's bullying the referee instead!  Call for the bell,
Michael Meekly!

[With the Russian distracted, Houston tries to act, crawling towards
him...

...and pulling him down in a schoolboy rollup!]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRE-  OHHHHH!

BW:  That was TOO close, Gordo!  Sudakov just barely got the shoulder
up!

[Sudakov is quick to his feet as is Houston.  The Athens, Georgia Madman
throws two big left hands to the jaw of Sudakov, knocking him back
against the ropes...

...and catches a hard right forearm to the chest that knocks Houston
down to the mat again.  The East Coast Terror rolls through it, pushing
up to all fours.]

GM:  SOCCER KICK!

[Sudakov races forward, looking to boot Houston's head into the last row
of the building...

...but Houston rolls aside, causing Sudakov to whiff on the kick.]

GM:  He misses the kick!  Houston's out on the apron!

[And as the National Champion reaches his feet on the apron, Sudakov
charges forward again...

...and connects with a rushing Yakuza kick that sends Houston sailing
off the apron, slamming down on the barely-padded floor!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  Houston gets sent to the floor - and that's not where you wanna be
with the Russians, daddy!

GM:  It's certainly not.

[Out on the floor, Houston lies on the mats clutching his injured right
arm as Kolya Sudakov ignores the referee's protests as he steps through
the ropes to the apron, hopping down to the floor.]

GM:  Both men are out on the floor now.  You can hear Vladimir Velikov
shouting instructions to his nephew.  He knows just how close they are
to winning that National Title.

BW:  You can bet on that, Gordo.  He's gotta be feeling it now.

GM:  Sudakov drags Houston off the floor...

[Grabbing the East Coast Terror from behind, Sudakov rushes forward,
smashing Houston's shoulder into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  Ohhh!  

BW:  And if that broken arm wasn't painful enough, how 'bout that,
daddy-o?

GM:  That could have separated the shoulder in an instant.

[Sudakov stands over the downed Houston, watching as the National
Champion crawls away from him.]

BW:  Look at 'im running, Gordo.  Look at 'im tryin' to hide from the
challenger.

GM:  Sudakov's a man on a mission- no loss of focus at alkl.

[Reaching down, Sudakov hauls Houston back to his feet, hurling him
under the ropes into the ring before rolling back in behind him.]

GM:  Both men back inside the ring - Houston clutching that right arm
and shoulder.  Sudakov reaching down to-

[The crowd ROARS as a left uppercut catches Sudakov under the chin.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot by the champ!

[Houston pushes off the mat to his feet, uncorking another wild left
hand that knocks Sudakov back into the ropes.  Grabbing the Russian's
wrist with his left hand, Houston executes a weak Irish whip...

...that Sudakov easily counters.]

GM:  Reversal by Sudakov...

[The Russian barrels across the ring, arm outstretched...]

GM:  RUSSIAN SICKLE!!

[But Houston ducks under the clothesline attempt, instinctively rearing
back with his right hand and throwing a clenched fist directly into the
cold, black heart of the Russian.]

GM:  PULSE KILLER!  HE DRILLED HIM!

[The Pulse Killer heartpunch connects squarely in the chest of Sudakov,
sending him spiraling back into the ropes where he staggers back out...

...right into a fireman's carry lift by Ron Houston!]

GM:  Houston's got him up!  He's going for the Fade To Black and one arm
or not, if he hits this, it's all over!

BW:  This can't be happening.  It just can't be happening.

GM:  He's got him up!  Airplane spin!

[The crowd roars as Houston spins round and round and round with Sudakov
draped across his shoulders...

...and finds himself unable to hold on with his injured limb, allowing
Sudakov to slip free where he quickly throws himself to the ropes,
rebounding back just as Houston turns around.]

GM:  SICKLE!

[Sudakov THROWS himself into a brutal running clothesline that flips
Houston inside out and dumps him in a heap on the canvas as the Russian
tightly hooks both legs.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match in a time of seven minutes and six
seconds...

AND NEW AWA NATIONAL CHAMPION...

"THE RUSSIAN WAR MACHINE"... KOLLLLLLYA SUUUUUDAKOVVVVV!!

[The crowd ERUPTS in jeers at the announcement as trash starts flying
towards the ring.  Sudakov snatches the title belt from a despondent
Michael Meekly, throwing his arms up in the air, holding the gold high
above to be seen.  After a moment, Vladimir Velikov steps into the ring
to join him, celebrating the title victory...

...as we fade back to the WKIK Studios where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  There you have it, fans.  The AWA has a new National Champion and
his name, I'm sorry to say, is Kolya Sudakov.

BW:  Happy days are here again!  But that's not even the best part of
it.  Tell 'em the best part, daddy!

GM:  Due to injuries suffered at the hands of the Russians, Ron Houston
will be out of action indefinitely with a broken right arm and a
possible severe rotator cuff injury.  We wish him the best of luck in
his recovery and hope to see him back in action in the very near fut-

[The gravelly voice of Vladimir Velikov interrupts as the fans begin to
boo.]

VV:  Boo hoo, Comrade Myers, boo hoo.  I did not come out here to have
you... how you say... cry me a river.  Ron Houston was weak.  He was
pathetic.  He was a coward.  And he was a worthless American.  You
people wonder how Mother Russia will retake its' spot at the top of the
world - look no further than Ron Houston.

[The camera pulls back as Kolya Sudakov walks into view, the National
Title belt secured around his muscular waist.]

GM:  Fans, at this time, we welcome here to ringside Vladimir Velikov
and his nephew, the new National Champion, "the Russian War Machine",
Kolya Sudakov!

[Velikov claps as the fans boo Sudakov who smirks as he slaps the title
belt around his waist.]

VV:  Comrade Gordon Myers, the road to Moscow is paved in gold!  I made
the call - I made the call to Comrade Putin last night to inform him
that at long last, our campaign here in America was complete.  We had
seecured the ultimate prize.

GM:  But how can you feel good about-

VV:  There are no sympathies in a war, Comrade Gordon Myers.  Ron
Houston was weak - he could not stand up to the power of Mother Russia! 
And now the road to Moscow is paved in gold!

GM:  So you say but-

VV:  I made the call!  I told Comrade Putin we would be in his office
today to lay down that gold belt before him - to offer it up as tribute
for him to do with it as he pleased...

[Myers looks disgusted.]

GM:  You were going to give the title belt to-

VV:  Don't interrupt me again, Gordon Myers!  We offered him the title. 
We offered him your country's greatest prize in this sport.  And he...
how you say... wanted us to finish the job.  He wants Kolya to stand
tall and be a dominant champion.  He wants Kolya to defeat one and all
challengers who come his way.  

GM:  What are you saying?

[Velikov grabs Myers by the shirt collar.]

VV:  I told you not to interrupt me!  What I'm saying is quite simple,
Gordon Myers - by order of the Russian president, we are staying in
America.  And by the same order, I am issuing an open challenge to the
entire AWA to step up like men - like warriors - and try to take the
belt off my nephew.

GM:  An... an open challen-

[Velikov shakes Myers violently.]

VV:  YOU HEARD ME, GORDON MYERS!  YOU HEARD-

[The crowd bursts into a mixed reaction as Marcus Broussard suddenly
appears on the stage, shoving Velikov away from Gordon Myers.  Kolya
Sudakov steps up, glaring at Broussard who returns the stare.

And with the staredown in full effect, we fade to black...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up on the announce desk in the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Thankfully,
we have restored some order here to the WKIK Studios.  During our break,
the Russians left peacefully as did the San Jose Shark.

BW:  Who may have saved your hide.

GM:  Perhaps.  Fans, we've had a wild night here in Dallas, Texas and
last night in San Antonio but we've still got a little ways further to
go.  Coming up next, Mark Shaw is in action - let's go to the ring!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time, from
Dallas, Texas, standing 6'0 and weighing in at 240 pounds... George
Tate!

[Some mild reaction for Tate.]

MC:  And his opponent... 

He stands 6'2 and weighs in at 270 pounds... from Los Angeles,
California...

He is the Hellion...

MARRRRK SHAAAAAW!

[Shaw steps through the corner to stand behind the cloaked individual. 
He pauses there, arms down, head bowed as he waits for instructions...

...which comes in a slight wave towards the ring that sends Mark Shaw
barreling towards the ring, diving under the bottom rope into the
squared circle.  He springs to his feet as a fearful George Tate covers
up and the bell rings.]

GM:  Here we go!

[Shaw bulldozes Tate into the cover, throwing heavy forearm blows that
knocks Tate down to a knee where the forearms keep on coming until Tate
hits the canvas - and then come the stomps!]

GM:  He's all over this guy!

BW:  Mark Shaw's been a totally different guy since he got involved with
this hooded guy, Gordo.  He's refused to give interviews.  He's been
absolutely brutal, ruthless inside the ring.

GM:  He just stomped him clean out of the ring.  

[Shaw steps through the ropes, dropping down to the floor.  He yanks
Tate up by the back of the trunks, hoisting him in a scoop.]

GM:  A bodyslam on the floor?

[The crowd gasps as Shaw powers Tate overhead in a military press...

...and HURLS him down on the barely-padded concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[The crowd boos wildly as Shaw stares out, hollow-eyed, over the masses.
 He blankly reaches down, yanking Tate off the floor by the hair,
rolling him under the ropes.]

GM:  Both men are back in the ring... Shaw pulls him up...

[The big man from Los Angeles pulls Tate into a side waistlock...

...and rockets him over onto his head and neck with a Backdrop Driver!]

GM:  BACKDROP DRIVER!

[Shaw kneels next to the downed Tate, pushing a lone finger into his
chest.]

GM:  One.  Two.  Three.  That's it.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match in a time of forty seconds... MARK SHAW!

[Shaw shoves the referee aside who comes to raise his hand, reaching
down to drag the barely-moving Tate back to his feet.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Give me a break!

[The referee protests but a sharp look from Shaw backs him off as the
Hellion pulls Tate into a second side waistlock...]

GM:  Not another one.  Please, not anoth-

[The crowd ERUPTS as "The Natural" Adam Rogers comes sprinting from the
backstage area, a wooden ax handle gripped in his hands.  He dives under
the bottom rope, rearing back with the wooden stick...

...and coming up just empty as Shaw dives backwards, fleeing the ring
just in time.  A furious Rogers slams the ax handle into the top rope,
pointing at Shaw with it from inside the ring as the Hellion makes his
retreat.]

GM:  Adam Rogers has hit the ring!  Adam Rogers has saved this kid from
a second Backdrop Driver with that ax handle - he had to do it, Bucky!

BW:  Rogers took two of them last night - and that took him out of his
title match with Ron Houston.  He knows what happens when you take two
of those.

GM:  Rogers is standing over Tate with that wooden ax handle, glaring at
Shaw as he walks back towards the locker room.

[A fired-up Adam Rogers checks on Tate briefly before AWA officials hit
the ring.  Rogers exits the ring, stomping over towards the broadcast
position.]

GM:  Adam Rogers, you were robbed of your shot at the gold last night in
San Antonio.  Tonight, you chase off Mark Shaw with that wooden ax
handle.  What's going through your head right now?

[Rogers slams the ax handle down on the wooden broadcast desk.]

AR: You see, Gordon Myers...there comes a time in every man's life when
he has to make a choice. A choice about what he's going to stand for...a
choice about how he's going to conduct himself, the values he is going
to uphold and exemplify. It became clear last month what Mark Shaw's
choice was, when he gave me a concussion after taking the coward's way
out and hitting me from behind in the back of the head with a steel
chair.  It became more clear last night in San Antonio when I had my
shot at the National Title ripped out of my hands again.

[Rogers brandishes the ax handle.]

AR: Well now, I've made my choice, too.

Mark Shaw...I'm through fooling around with you. For a while there, I
was just going to keep you at arm's length. I knew you weren't in the
right frame of mind. I knew you were obsessed over the AWA National
Heavyweight Title. It was all you could think about. You ate it, you
drank it, you slept it, and as long as that what your obsession, so be
it.

But now? Now, it's gone too far.

[Adam pauses, shifting his head from one side to the other.]

AR: You see, Shaw, I don't even know what this is about for you anymore.
Is it about the title, is it about the threat of a former World Champion
standing in your way, is it about feelings of inadequecy that you have
every night when you look at yourself in the mirror? I don't know. And
you know what? It doesn't matter. Because for me? For me, it's personal
now, son.

[The crowd roars!]

AR: Take it from someone who's been around for a while, Shaw. Titles are
titles. You win them, you lose them, and the glory from holding one is
usually fleeting. But a man's pride...a man's honor...a man's
dignity...those are the things that stay with you forever. Those are the
things that mark your legacy.

So think about that, Mark Shaw. Think about your legacy.

[Rogers pauses, rubbing his chin and looking down at the ax handle in
his right hand.]

AR: Actually, forget your legacy.

[He taps the handle into his hand a couple of times.]

AR: You better think about your _career_ instead.

[The crowd erupts into cheers again! Rogers storms off the set, leaving
a gape-jawed Bucky Wilde and a grinning Gordon Myers behind.]

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back with our Main Event!  Don't go away!

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

...and then fade back up on a black screen with the AWA logo splashed
across it.]

"Join your favorite stars of the American Wrestling Alliance throughout
the state of Texas this week for exclusive meet-and-greet sessions."

[A scrolling list of names and locations flash by in white text:

Kentucky's Pride
Laredo Fashion Plaza - Laredo, Texas
October 28

Rough N Ready
Dallas Ford - Dallas, Texas
October 29

Sweet Daddy Williams
Houston Fashion Plaza - Houston, Texas
October 31

Werewolf Gregorson, Despair, and Adam Rogers
Harris Chevrolet - Dallas, Texas
November 1

The names end, leaving just the AWA logo behind.]

"All the stars of the AWA are comin' your way so don't miss 'em!"

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

...and then back up on the announce desk where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  After a crazy
couple nights of AWA action, we've reached this week's Main Event with
City Jack taking on Werewolf Gregorson in what should be an outstanding
showdown of sportsmanship.

BW:  Sportsmanship?  City Jack suckerpunched Gregorson two weeks ago,
Gordo!

GM:  It was an accident and you know it, Bucky.  You know it.

BW:  I know no such thing, daddy-o.  All I saw was Gregorson trying to
help City Jack against the Russians and he took a Metropill right upside
the head for it.  That's a suckerpunch where I come from.

GM:  Let's let the fans decide.  Let's go back two weeks ago and take a
look at exactly what we're talking about!

[We fade to footage labeled "AWA Saturday Night Wrestling - 10/11/08"
just as Kolya Sudakov drags Despair off the mat by the back of the
shorts,  throwing him into the buckles...

...and nearly caving in his chest with a snapping kick to the upper
torso!]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky.  What a kick that was and- now what's going on?!

[The crowd jeers as Vladimir Velikov slides into the ring, bringing the
big metal chain with him.]

GM:  The Russians are both in there!  How fair is this?!

BW:  It's not a match,  Gordo.  This isn't a sanctioned match.

GM:  Velikov is in - and we've got a two on one attack on Despair!  The
Russians are working over Despair in the corner!

[Sudakov and Velikov pummel Despair in the turnbuckles to the jeers of
the crowd.]

GM:  Sudakov throws Despair to the mat out of the buckles.  What's gonna
happen to him now?  

BW:  He's going to regret getting involved in this, Gordo!

GM:  They've got that chain - and we've seen this before.  The Russians
have that heavy metal chain, stretching it out between them.  Sudakov
holding one end, Velikov the other... waiting for Despair to rise...
waiting for Despair to-

[The crowd EXPLODES as City Jack and Tin Can Rust come charging from the
back, rolling under the ropes as the Russians charge forward.]

GM:  KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!

[Tin Can Rust tackles Despair to the mat, avoiding the steel chain
clothesline...

...and sending Kolya Sudakov running right into a Metropill forearm
smash from City Jack that knocks the big Russian flat!]

GM:  DOWN GOES SUDAKOV!

[City Jack spins on his heels, slamming a right hand into the head of
Vladimir Velikov, knocking him back into the turnbuckles.]

GM:  Velikov gets rocked as well!  City Jack is taking on the Russians!

[Tin Can Rust gets back to his feet, drilling a rising Sudakov with a
righ hand that knocks the big Russian back against the turnbuckles. 
Rust quickly leaps to the midbuckle, fist clenched.]

GM:  Mounted punches in the corner!  Right hand!  Right hand!  Right
hand!

[Rust takes a momentary break, shouting to the fans...

...and gets upended by Sudakov, tossed over the ropes and down to the
concrete below!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN TO THE FLOOR GOES RUST!

[The big Russian grabs the discarded chain off the mat, shaking the
effects of the punches in the corner as he stomps across the ring to
where Jack is pummeling Velikov.]

GM:  Look out, Jack!  Look out!

[Wrapping the chain around his arm, Sudakov winds up...

...and brings it down hard across the back of City Jack's head, knocking
him down to a knee to the jeers of the crowd!]

GM:  OHHHH!  What a shot by Sudakov!  Despair's down!  Rust is on the
floor!  Jack is down and- GREGORSON!  THE WEREWOLF IS HERE!

[The WKIK Studio fans ERUPT in cheers again as a street-clothes clad
Werewolf Gregorson comes charging from the locker room area, diving
under the bottom rope...

...and DRILLS a turned-around Sudakov with the Silver Bullet spear!]

GM:  SPEAR!  SPEAR ON SUDAKOV!  GREGORSON TAKES HIM DOWN!

[The crowd roars as Gregorson throws right hand after right hand at the
downed Sudakov as Velikov staggers out of the buckles, shoving past the
kneeling, stunned City Jack.]

GM:  Velikov's coming out of the corner and-

[The crowd groans as Velikov drives a big boot into Gregorson's face,
knocking him out of his mount position on Sudakov.  The elder Russian
drives stomp after stomp down on the prone Gregorson as City Jack slowly
gets back to his feet.]

GM:  The Russians are taking on the Dead Pool AND Kentucky's Pride! 
This is nuts!

BW:  Look out, Vladdy!

GM:  Ohhh!  City Jack spins him around... right hand!

[The big right hand knocks Velikov off his feet, putting him down on the
canvas.  Jack quickly pulls the big Russian back up, battering him with
right hands again.]

GM:  Jack is pummeling Velikov!  Give it to him, Jack!  Show him what-

[Getting back to his feet, Gregorson grabs City Jack by the shoulder...

...and the Kentucky native spins around, knocking Gregorson off his feet
with a Metropill forearm to a collective gasp from the crowd!]

GM:  Oh my stars.

BW:  Did you see that, Gordo!?  Didya see it?!

GM:  I saw it, Bucky.  But it was an accident.  Look at City Jack - he
can't believe it!

[With City Jack distracted, the two Russians bail from the ring, making
their escape from the WKIK Studios as City Jack stands over the downed
Gregorson.]

GM:  City Jack... it was an accident, a total accident, but City Jack
just knocked Werewolf Gregorson flat as can be.  I can't believe it.  I
just can't believe it.

[From across the ring, Despair shoves past City Jack, helping his
partner back to his feet.]

GM:  Despair's helping Gregorson and-

[The crowd gasps again as Gregorson shoves Despair aside, getting right
into the face of City Jack.]

GM:  Oh no!  Come on, guys - it was a mistake.  It was an accident!  

BW:  Gregorson doesn't think so!

GM:  He's just upset.  Despair is right there as well, trying to talk to
him.  City Jack's trying to explain what happened but Werewolf Gregorson
isn't listening one bit!

[Gregorson and City Jack are nose to nose, shouting at one another.]

GM:  Hopefully we can get this under control - fans, we'll be right
back!

[The shot holds on City Jack and Gregorson nose to nose as we fade away
from the taped footage back to live action...

...and directly to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with TV Time
Remaining and is our Main Event of the evening!

[A big cheer goes up from the WKIK Studio crowd.]

MC:  Introducing first...

[For the first time in a while, Chet Atkins' version of "Classical Gas"
sounds out over the PA as the man from Liberty, Kentucky strides into
the studio.] 

MC:  Standing 6'2 and weighing in at 320 pounds... from Liberty,
Kentucky...

CITY JAAAAACK!

[Most of the fans give him a loud cheer as City Jack comes down the
aisle - shaking some fans' hands as he passes. Jack's dressed in his
usual attire of a brown wrestling singlet and black boots; his face,
while smiling, shows a hint of seriousness to the match ahead. After a
quick go around the ring to pass by the fans, Jack walks up the ring
steps and through the ropes.]

GM:  Sounds like these fans are okay with City Jack's explanation of
what happened two weeks ago, Bucky.

BW:  Bah.  What do they know, daddy-o?  This guy's dirty and I know it!

[City Jack leans in the corner as Melissa continues.]

MC:  And his opponent... from Anchorage, Alaska, and weighing in at 285
pounds...

[The howl of a wolf echoes through the arena, and a montage of voices
begins to play over the P.A.

"Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!"

"He's dead, Jim."

"FATALITY!"]

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, being accompanied to the ring by his tag team
partner, Despair, he is WEREWOLF GREGORSON!!

[The crowd comes to its feet with a loud cheer as Dream Evil's "The
Chosen Ones" begins toblast out over the P.A. and the 6'8" tall
Gregorson steps out onto the stage with Despair at his side.)

# We are the chosen ones, we sacrifice our blood
We kill for honor
We are the holy ones, our armor stained with blood
We killed the dragon

In glory we return, our destination's end
We slayed the dragon!
No more living in fear, it's time to raise our king.
We made it happen - we're the chosen ones!

[Dressed in black MMA-style shorts with red and silver claw marks on the
side of each leg, the silver-haired Gregorson looks out at the crowd,
then cups his hands around his mouth and lets out a wolf-like howl
before making his way down the aisle to the broadcast position at
ringside.]

GM: And it looks like, ladies and gentlemen, that we are being joined by
Werewolf Gregorson and Despair - The Dead Pool!!

[Gregorson takes the mic from Gordon Myers as he looks up at City Jack
in the ring.]

WG: Thats right, Gordon Myers. The Dead Pool. Werewolf Gregorson,
Despair, The Outlaw Travis LaGrange, and Spikyjim. Love us or hate us,
this is who we are.

BW: I hate to break it to you, Gregorson, but, uh, theres only the two
of you here.

WG: Two of us is all it takes, Bucky Wilde, and, believe me when I say
this  the AWA isnt ready for all four of us at the same time.

BW: Oh, come on. You cant really expect us to believe 

WG: Bucky, I dont care what you believe. In fact, youre not even
relevant to this equation.

D: Thats right, Buckster. This is all about the big guy here and that
guy up in the ring - City Jack.

[The crowd cheers.]

WG: Thats right - City Jack. This isnt about War Games or the AWA
National Tag Team Championship. This is about pride. You see, I know
City Jack didnt hit me on purpose two weeks ago but honor dictates it
that I dont simply turn the other cheek and walk away.

No, if City Jack is man enough to throw the first punch, whether he
meant to or not, he should be man enough to meet me in the ring and
settle this face-to-face.

[City Jack nods his head approvingly from up in the ring and gestures
for Gregorson to speed it up and step inside.]

WG: This way, regardless of who wins or loses, we each still have the
other mans respect.

[Gregorson hands the microphone back to Gordon Myers and turns to enter
the ring.]

GM: Respect, ladies and gentlemen, thats what this is all about. And, as
Werewolf Gregorson steps into the ring and Despair takes his place in
the big mans corner, Gregorson offers his hand to City Jack as a sign of
respect and the referee calls for the bell.

[The crowd cheers as City Jack happily takes the handshake before
breaking away, slapping his own arm as the two men begin to circle one
another with the crowd cheering them on.]

GM:  Here we go - both men circling in the early moments, looking for an
opening...

[The two men lunge at one another, hooking up in a collar and elbow
lockup, jockeying for position.]

GM:  Both men trying to get the edge in the tieup - City Jack weighs
more but I'd argue that Werewolf Gregorson may be stronger.

BW:  I'd agree with that but this match is going to come down to who
gets dirty first, daddy-o.  Whoever gets dirty first is gonna win it
all.

[After a bit of a struggle, the two men break apart, nodding at one
another in a show of respect.]

GM:  No one could take the edge there.  Neither could get an advantage. 
But you could see the respect there, Bucky.

BW:  For now, Gordo - for now.

[The two men circle for a bit and then lunge back into the tieup - a
tieup that City Jack quickly turns into a side headlock.]

GM:  Headlock on - CJ really wrenching down on that but Gregorson's
powering him back towards the ropes... fires him off...

[City Jack hits the far ropes, rebounding back to duck under a
clothesline attempt by Gregorson to hit the other ropes.]

GM:  Jack off the far side... Gregorson with a knife-edge chop, ducked
by Jack... 

[Gregorson sets for a backdrop as the big man approaches but Jack pulls
up short, driving a boot up into the jaw of Gregorson to stand him up...

...and then POPS Gregorson in the side of the face with the Metropill
forearm smash that puts Gregorson down on the mat to the cheers of the
crowd!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught him with that forearm smash!

BW:  Just like last time, daddy!  He's rubbing salt in the wounds of
Gregorson!

GM:  He is not!

[The former Marine rolls out to the floor, clutching the side of his
face as Despair moves over to his side to talk to him.]

GM:  Gregorson out to the floor.  He got nailed with that Metropill for
sure.  

BW:  Admit it, Gordo.  Just like two weeks ago.  Just like City Jack did
to him last time.

GM:  It was the Metropill that floored Gregorson last time - indeed.

BW:  He's rubbing it in!

GM:  Oh, come on.  He's explained the situation twice now.

BW:  He can explain all he wants but did you hear him apologize?  I know
I didn't!  Did he apologize to Gregorson for flooring him with that
forearm two weeks ago?

GM:  I don't know.

BW:  What?!  Don't try to cover for him, Gordo!

GM:  I'm not!

[Gregorson glares at City Jack on the floor for a bit, Despair talking
the whole time.  Eventually, the former Marine starts to walk up the
wooden ringsteps.]

GM:  In case our fans at home are wondering, apparently City Jack asked
Tin Can Rust NOT to be out here tonight.  He asked him to stay in the
locker room and let this be a one on one showdown.  But apparently,
Werewolf Gregorson had other ideas.

BW:  The last time Gregorson tried to go one on one with him, he got
suckerpunched.  Of course he wants backup out here!

GM:  Gregorson back into the ring - and right back to the tieup!

[But this time, Gregorson bears down and uses his power advantage to
back City Jack into the corner.]

GM:  Backed to the buckles - the ref lays a count down...

[But before he can get to five, City Jack spins Gregorson around in the
corner, breaking away and cocking his right arm back...

...but not throwing it!]

GM:  Look at that!  City Jack used that experience edge to turn the
former Marine around in the buckles but he didn't throw the cheapshot. 
Give him credit for that, Bucky.

BW:  I'm not givin' that big goof credit for anything!

GM:  City Jack backs away - showing that sportsmanship.

[Gregorson kneels down in the corner, Despair giving a few words of
advice from out on the floor.  After a few moments, Gregorson stands
back up, eyeing City Jack warily.]

GM:  Both men back up - back to the middle of the ring...

[Back to the collar and elbow tieup, Gregorson quickly pulls City Jack
into a side headlock.]

GM:  And now it's Gregorson with the side headlock, bearing down, trying
to wrench the neck of City Jack.

[Jack tries to throw the former Marine off but the powerhouse hangs on,
forcing Jack to toss a couple of forearms at the ribcage, trying to
break the headlock to no success...

...and then Gregorson squeezes harder, forcing Jack down to a knee.]

GM:  Jack with an elbow to the gut - there's one more...

[Gregorson releases the headlock just enough to drive a series of
clenched fists into the skull of City Jack...

...and then reapplies the headlock.]

GM:  Gregorson sticking to the basics, trying to wear the big man down.

BW:  And with a gut like that, it won't be too tough to do.

GM:  We'll see about that.

[Using the headlock, Gregorson powers City Jack's back into the buckles,
leaning on him...

...and then quickly dropping down to drive his shoulder into the ample
midsection of the man from Liberty, Kentucky.]

GM:  Ohh!  Shoulder to the gut!  Questionable sportsmanship there by the
former Marine but the Dead Pool have made it clear that they're not
about to get bullied - not about to get pushed around by people who'll
go to any extremes to win a match.  The feud with the Russians and
WarGames seems to have changed them, Bucky.

BW:  If they'll stop kissing babies and get down to business, I might
like 'em a bit more.

GM:  You're a Dead Pool fan now?

BW:  Let's not get carried away.

[With the referee counting, Gregorson drives a second shoulder into the
body, staying in position as the referee reprimands him for the attack.]

GM:  Gregorson hasn't backed away yet - and a THIRD shoulder tackle to
the midsection!  

BW:  That'll take the air out of someone in a hurry and when you're as
big as City Jack, it'll really do a number on ya.

[Gregorson finally backs away, the referee shouting at him as Jack
slumps down to the mat.]

GM:  The referee didn't like that at all - and the fans are little bit
of Gregorson's case for it too.

[The former Marine looks agitated at the handful of jeering fans,
shaking his head in disbelief as he moves back towards the corner where
City Jack is seated, leaning against the buckles.]

GM:  Gregorson ignoring the ref, dragging Jack off the mat to his
feet... what's he- oh my!

[The crowd gasps as Gregorson hoists City Jack up into a scoop for a
bodyslam, showing off his power...

...and then decides to show it off a little more, actually managing to
press City Jack into the air for a moment before throwing him down to
the mat to a thunderous slam!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

BW:  Unbelievable!  I didn't think Gregorson had power anywhere NEAR
that!  

GM:  All the energy - all the adrenaline.  That had to play a part in
being able to do that, Bucky.  That had to.

BW:  Maybe - but look at Gregorson looking out at the crowd, almost
daring them to boo him now.

GM:  That's not what he's doing!

[Gregorson pulls the recovering City Jack off the mat, firing him
towards the ropes...

...and flooring him with a running back elbow!]

GM:  Down goes Jack again!  And this time, Gregorson makes the cover.

[The referee drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Not enough - Jack's got a shoulder up at two.

[Gregorson shakes his head as he pushes himself up to his feet, reaching
down to drag Jack off the mat...

...and getting a big right hand to the midsection!]

GM:  Jack's fighting back!

[The crowd roars as Jack throws another right hand, this one catching
Gregorson in the jaw and sending him back into the ropes.]

GM:  The former Marine is dazed - Jack with a whip...

[The Irish whip sends Gregorson into the ropes as Jack ducks down for a
backdrop...

...and eats a hard boot to the face as Gregorson pulls up, dropping Jack
down to the mat again as Gregorson falls back into the ropes, rubbing
the side of his face.]

GM:  Gregorson pushes off the ropes...

[And a big leaping legdrop smashes down across the collarbone of City
Jack!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Another cover!  One!  Two!  

[Again, City Jack fires a shoulder off the mat to break the count and
bring a shower of cheers from the fans.]

GM:  Another kickout for City Jack.

BW:  And you people wonder why Gregorson and Despair are frustrated.

GM:  What are you talking about now?

BW:  They bled, they sweat, they put their bodies on the line for these
fans and this country against the Russians for months - and still it's
City Jack and Tin Can Rust getting all the cheers!

GM:  You're hallucinating again.

[A frustrated Gregorson throws a handful of right hands into the side of
City Jack's head, quickly hooking a leg and ordering the referee to
count again.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- 

[The crowd cheers as City Jack kicks out.]

GM:  A little closer but still not enough to keep the big man from
Kentucky down, Bucky!

[Irate, Gregorson drags City Jack off the mat...

...and promptly HURLS him through the ropes and down to the concrete
floor in a heap!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Down to the floor goes City Jack!

[The referee reprimands Gregorson...

...which allows Despair to walk over near the downed City Jack.]

GM:  Uh oh - I don't know if I like the looks of this, Bucky.

BW:  Come on, kid.  Waffle the big goof and win it for your boy!

[Despair looks down at City Jack who is pushing up off the floor at his
feet, pushing up to his knees...]

BW:  City Jack's on his knees - right in front of Despair.  All Despair
has to do is-

[The crowd ERUPTS into cheers as Tin Can Rust emerges from the locker
room, walking swiftly towards his downed partner and Despair who quickly
backs away.]

GM:  Tin Can Rust is here!  Rust may have just saved his partner
although there was no sign that Despair was going to do anything to him.

BW:  Of course he was.  Despair was going to take Jack out and win this
match for Werewolf Gregorson and Rust stuck his big crusty nose in the
way as usual!

[With Despair backed off, Rust helps Jack off the floor, giving him a
few words of support as he steers him back towards the ring.]

GM:  Rust is pushing Jack back towards - now what's going on?

[Gregorson steps out to the apron, dropping down to the floor...

...and shoving Tin Can Rust away from City Jack to the shock of the
crowd.]

GM:  Uh oh.  This is getting ugly!

[Rust shows restraint, not wanting to get his partner DQd as he backs
away, shouting a few words in Gregorson's direction as the Werewolf
grabs Jack...

...and promptly SLAMS his head into the ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  He sends City Jack to the post!

[With Jack clinging to the ringpost, trying to stay on his feet,
Gregorson slowly backs away, pointing a finger of warning at Tin Can
Rust to stay away from his partner...

...and then drops down in a crouch, eyeing Jack.]

GM:  What is he- 

BW:  He's going for the Silver Bullet!

GM:  Out on the floor?!

BW:  Not just out on the floor but up against that ringpost!

[Gregorson slaps the bare concrete, shouting "COME ON!" as a weary City
Jack slowly turns around...

...which causes the former Marine to sprint forward at top velocity.]

GM:  SPEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAA-



"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"



[The crowd gasps in collective unison as City Jack dives aside, causing
Werewolf Gregorson to slam into the ringpost at top speed, immediately
crumpling to the concrete floor from the impact.]

GM:  HE HIT THE POST!  GREGORSON HIT THE POST!

[City Jack uses a burst of energy to roll himself under the ropes into
the ring just as the referee's count hits seven...

Eight...


Nine...


Ten.]



"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match as a result of a countout...

CITY JAAAAAAAACK!

[A tired City Jack leans against the turnbuckles as Tin Can Rust joins
him inside the ring.  Out on the floor, Despair has joined his partner
who isn't moving an inch from the impact of the steel to his skull.]

GM:  City Jack avoided the Silver Bullet!  Jack avoided the Silver
Bullet and he won this thing by countout because of it.  Gregorson's
down and he's STILL not moving, Bucky.

BW:  He had him, Gordo.  He had him beat.

GM:  But not on this night.  Not on this night where we showed you the
crowning of a new AWA National Champion in Kolya Sudakov.  Not on this
night where we saw a whole new side of Adam Rogers as he laid it on the
line for Mark Shaw.  Not on this night where we saw the return of the
Outlaw and his challenge to Grant Stone.  What a night of AWA action
it's been.  For Bucky Wilde, I'm Gordon Myers until next time when we'll
see YOU... at the matches!

[The camera holds on a triumphant City Jack doing a little tired jig of
celebration inside the ring...

...and then cuts to a scathing glare from Despair outside the ring
before we fade to black.]