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
                               November 8, 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 60 minutes of action, and by my side-

BW:  Gordon Myers, how is it at all possible that for two weeks in a
row, I can't even wait to be introduced?  Two weeks ago, we got to show
you a new National Champion being crowned in the form of the Russian War
Machine, Kolya Sudakov - and tonight, one of the biggest thorns in my
side since this company has opened its doors - he's gone, daddy!

GM:  While I don't share your enthusiasm, Bucky, it certainly is big
news.  As many of you know, Werewolf Gregorson was unable to answer the
ten count in his Main Event with City Jack two weeks ago - unable to get
back into the ring in time.  We assumed it was from the head injury he
sustained when he hit the ringpost.

[Gordon looks solemn.]

GM:  However, earlier this week, we discovered it was a much more
serious situation.  Werewolf Gregorson suffered a torn ACL during that
match with City Jack two weeks ago.  Immediately following the match, he
was rushed for medical attention and subsequently had surgery on that
knee the following day.

BW:  Tell 'em the best part!

GM:  The "best part" as my questionably-moraled colleague says is that
Gregorson will be out of action for a minimum of six months.

BW:  Happy days are here again!  That little punk Despair and his rabid
dog Gregorson have been driving me nuts since Day One here in the AWA
and finally... FINALLY... they're out of here.  

GM:  Well, I don't know-

BW:  And on the eve of the National Tag Team Title tournament?!  No
Gregorson in the tourney!  No Despair in the tourney!  No-

GM:  Actually, Bucky... that's not entirely true.

BW:  What are you talkin' 'bout now?

GM:  We received word shortly before we went on the air that the
Championship Commitee will honor the spot given to Gregorson and Despair
in the tourney.

BW:  What?!

GM:  In fact, Despair WILL still be in the tournament - and he will be
allowed to select a new partner.

BW:  No!  No!  No!

GM:  Oh yes.  Despair and his partner will compete in the tournament to
crown the first National Tag Team champions, Bucky - whether you like it
or not.

BW:  I don't - believe me, I don't!

GM:  And speaking of tag teams and the tournament, let's go up to the
ring for our opening matchup!

[Cut to the ring, where Melissa Cannon is standing as are the Pigs'
opponents.]

MC: Already in the ring, at a total combined weight of 451 pounds, here
are Lars and Billy Blaze, along with their manager Raoul... 
PRETTY IN PINK!

[A few jeers and cat calls for the gay-gimmicked team.]

MC: And their opponents...

[The hard-hitting guitar from Black Sabbath's "War Pigs" cranks up and
dashing through the entryway come the newest additions to the AWA, with
their bald-headed manager in tow.]

MC: From Detroit, Michigan, at a total combined weight of-

[Cannon's introductions are left unfinished as Hammer and Scythe slide
under the bottom ropes and immediately attack their poor opponents.]

GM: Well, the War Pigs are wasting no time here, immediately taking the
fight to Lars and Billy Blaze.

[Hammer and Scythe pound their overmatched opponents in opposite corners
with kicks and punches before their manager, Richard E. Lee, shouts a
directive.]

GM: The War Pigs just pounding away, and now here's a double Irish
whip... Blaze with a leapfrog over his partner!

[And a subsequent clothesline from Hammer that dang near rips Blaze's
head off his shoulders, sending him twisting head-over-feet to the mat.
Meanwhile, Scythe grabs Lars by the head before he can stand back up.]

GM: Huge clothesline by the Hammer! And Scythe has Lars in an unenviable
position as Hammer comes over... Scythe lifts him into the air into a
vertical suplex, and hands him off to Hammer!

[Hammer takes Lars as though he weighs 50 pounds, easily lifting him
into a gorilla press. He proceeds to start doing military press reps, 10
of them to be exact, before slamming Lars down to the mat.]

GM: And a big slam by Hammer! Bucky, these two men are just devastating
their opponents.

BW: They sure are, Gordo. Man, if I was still managin', I'd be trying to
sign these guys.

[Blaze is now to his feet and attacks Scythe from behind with a running
kneelift to no effect. Scythe just turns around and drives a knee into
his stomach.]

GM: A blow from Blaze having no effect whatsoever on Scythe as Hammer
steps to the outside. Scythe sends Blaze for the ride...and takes him
down with a diving shoulder tackle!

[Immediately, Scythe jumps to his feet and drags Billy Blaze into the
corner where he tags in Hammer. Scythe holds Blaze's arms back while
Hammer unleashes a vicious kick to the ribs.]

BW: In comes the Hammer!

GM: And he is indeed hitting like one, raining blows down on the head
and back of Billy Blaze. Hammer pulls the PiP-ster back up and _shoves_
him into his own corner where he will tag in a very reluctant Lars.

[Lars slowly and cautiously climbs into the ring, where Hammer awaits.
The War Pig invites him to throw a punch, which Lars does. No effect.]

GM: Lars with a right hand that does nothing to the big Hammer. Lars now
hits the ropes and delivers _another_ blow, but no effect at all!

BW: _That_ sure had an effect, though.

[The "that" Bucky refers to is a massive short-arm clothesline that
sends Lars directly to the mat.]

GM: Indeed it does, and now Hammer sends Lars for the ride..._big
powerslam_!

[Lars sells it like death while Hammer jumps to his feet and dashes to
the PiP corner, leveling Blaze with a forearm smash. He then signals to
Scythe before tagging him in.]

GM: This could be the end for Lars...Hammer lifts him onto his
shoulders...we saw this move two weeks ago, Bucky, as Scythe now climbs
to the top.

BW: They tell me this is called the Weapon of Mass Destruction, daddy!

[As Hammer holds Lars in place, Scythe leaps off the top, grabbing him
by the head and driving him into the mat with an inverted bulldog.
Richard E. Lee lifts his arms into the air on the outside as Scythe pins
Lars by putting a hand on his chest.]

GM: One...two...three, and that'll do it. Impressive debut for the War
Pigs tonight.

["War Pigs" cranks back up as Melissa Cannon announces the victory.]

MC: Your winners of the match, in one minute and 46 seconds...THE WAR
PIGS!

[Cut to the announce table.]

GM: So the War Pigs victorious in their debut here in the AWA, and now
it appears we'll be getting a few words from them and their manager
Richard E. Lee.

[The "trio of terror" walks into the picture, with Lee pointing his
rolled-up magazine at both his men.]

REL: Why should they go out to fight, Gordon Myers? They leave that role
to the poor!

GM: What are you talking about?

REL: I'm talking about the many tag teams in the locker rooms that were
afraid, Gordon Myers! The teams that were afraid to sign on the dotted
line to face the most dominant tag team in professional wrestling today!
We left an open challenge to all the so-called top teams in the AWA to
face us tonight, and do you know how many of them stepped up to the
challenge?

GM: I would assume none.

REL: _None_, Gordon Myers! Instead, they sent those two poor lambs to
the slaughter, the poor of the AWA having to take the punishment that is
meant for them, and will one day be delivered unto them. Tell 'em,
Hammer!

H: There's a tag team tournament comin' up, I hear, Richie! And have we
been invited to the party? _No_! All because of what Richard said -
fear! Fear that the War Pigs will plow through them like a tractor
through a hayfield! But I'll tell you this, Gordon...whether they let us
into the tournament or not, it's not going to slow down the path of
destruction that the War Pigs are about to blaze! Tell 'em, Scythe!

S: It's like this, Gordon Myers. Those AWA National Tag Team Titles?
They've got our names on 'em...it's only a matter of time before we get
our shot at 'em. It doesn't matter to us when that is, because in the
meantime, we'll just leave the bodies burning like we did to _those_ two
punks, except next time we won't be so nice!

REL: Get used to it, AWA. All other tag teams are just like pawns in
chess. Wait until your judgment day comes.

[The three exit to the left, leaving Myers shaking his head.]

GM:  Fans, the War Pigs are here and they have their eyes locked on
championship gold.  We'll be right back after this break but before
that, let's hear from one of the men who will be in tonight's big Wild
Card battle royal, Shadoe Rage!

[But instead of fading away, the announcers look confused as Shadoe Rage
Shadoe Rage strides into the camera shot, dressed for battle in his ring
gear. He wears a sleeveless robe made of gold, navy and crimson patches
with long-haired gold threads on the lapel.]

GM:  Wait a second.  Shadoe Rage, we were supposed to get pre-taped
comments from you.  What on earth are you doing out-

[Rage shoves a finger in Myers' face.]

SR:  Shut up!

[He paces back and forth, licking and biting his lips. His eyes are
hidden behind aviator glasses, but the impression of intensity is still
there. The insanity simply drips off Shadoe Rage.]

SR: After months of wasting my time with a bum cowboy named Paul
Driscoll and after realising that no one would beat me for my $25,000
challenge the masterminds at the AWA put me in a tag-team tournament.
How much more are they going to do to bury me, man? HUH?!

[Gordon backsteps, shaking his head.]

SR:  Let me explain something to you! I am a professional wrestler and
when it comes to tag-team wrestling I've had more success than anybody
in the world. I did not come here for more tag-team glory. I can find
that any where and at any time. No, I demand individual competition. 
DEMAND!

[Gordon doesn't get any closer.  Someone's a nutball.]

SR:  Somebody step up and challenge me if you dare because Shadoe Rage
is simply a winner. That's all there is to it.  Don't think anybody is
safe. Don't think you've derailed me. You haven't. In fact, you've only
made more determined not to be shoved into the background. From the
school of the truth, I will never disappear. But the rest of you will.
You will disappear and die in darkness.

[Rage suddenly storms away from the announcers, climbing into the ring,
ripping his robe off and throwing it over the ropes as he steps on the
middle buckle, screaming for a challenge.]

GM:  Shadoe Rage has made an open challenge.  Shadoe Rage wants a fight
- one on one right now.  Don't go away, we'll be right back to see if
anyone answers the challenge!

[The camera holds on a maniacal Shadoe Rage before fading to black...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up on the ring where Shadoe Rage is still stomping
around, looking irate.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to the WKIK Studios where Shadoe Rage has
thrown down a challenge.  He doesn't want to be in the tag tournament -
he wants singles action and-

[The sounds of "Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing starts up to a big mixed
reaction from the AWA faithful.]

GM:  Is that-

[The curtain parts as the San Jose Shark, Marcus Broussard walks into
view.]

GM:  The former National Champion is in the house... and he is all
business!

[Broussard wastes no time walking towards the ring, rolling under the
bottom rope...

...and getting creamed with a dropping double axe handle smash when he
starts to get off the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Rage is right on top of him!

[The crowd jeers as the referee rings the bell to start the match, Rage
stomping and kicking at Broussard, pushing him back under the ropes and
out to the floor.]

GM:  He sends the San Jose Shark out to the floor, stepping out on the
apron...

[But the wily Broussard is one step ahead of Rage, pulling both legs out
from under Rage and causing him to slam down on the barely-padded
concrete floor!]

BW:  Sweet mercy!

GM:  The back of Rage's head just BOUNCED off those mats!

[Broussard drives a few well-placed stomps angrily into the upper body
before leaning down to pull a barely-moving Rage off the floor, shoving
him under the ropes.]

GM:  Rage back in and here comes Broussard back in as well.

[The San Jose Shark drags Rage to his feet, connecting with a European
uppercut that knocks him back against the ropes.]

GM:  Oof!  What a shot that was by Broussard!

[Grabbing Rage by the wrist, Broussard fires him into the ropes,
flooring the rebounding former Prophet with a running knee to the
midsection.]

GM:  Down goes Rage - and Broussard makes a quick cover.  One!  Two!

[Rage kicks out before the three count can fall.]

GM:  Just a two count there.

BW:  I'm a big Marcus Broussard fan - everyone knows that.  But I know
it's gonna take a lot more than a knee to the belly welly to put Rage
down for a three count.

GM:  It certainly appears so.  

[Broussard goes to pull Rage off the mat...

...but gets a thumb to the eye for his effort, causing the Shark to
blindly stumble away.]

GM:  Ohh!  Cheap shot by Shadoe Rage!

[With Broussard blinded and facing the ropes, Rage runs forward, leaping
up with a knee to the middle of the back that sends the former National
Champion falling through the ropes and down to the concrete floor
below!]

GM:  And right back out to the floor!

BW:  Rage is going up!

[The crowd begins to buzz as the manical Shadoe Rage scales the closest
turnbuckles, keeping one eye on Marcus Broussard as he does so.]

GM:  Rage to the top rope... poised and ready...

[And as the San Jose Shark wobbles to his feet, Rage leaps off his
perch, crowning Broussard with another double axehandle blow that puts
Broussard down on the floor again.]

GM:  Right back down!  Marcus Broussard came out here to accept the open
challenge laid down by Shadoe Rage and hasn't gotten on track at all
yet.

BW:  Rage has been all over him - even before the bell rang, Gordo. 
Marcus needs to dip into that bag of tricks and come up with something
nasty in a hurry.

GM:  The man from Rage Country is dragging the Shark off the mat,
rolling him under the ropes... back up on the apron now... 

[Which is Broussard's cue to throw himself from a kneeling position,
driving a shoulder into the gut of Rage and doubling him up out on the
apron.  He reaches over the top rope, hooking his opponent...]

GM:  Broussard looking to bring him in the hard way...

[And he does exactly that, snapping Rage down with a suplex before
floating over into a pin attempt for another two count.]

GM:  Rage again with the shoulder up at two.  Broussard is right on top
of him though, dragging him off the mat... oof!  Another European
uppercut!

BW:  He may want to make a dentist appointment after that one, daddy - I
think I saw a tooth fly out!

GM:  Broussard stalking him like a hunter with a wounded animal -
measuring him...

[The San Jose Shark ducks down and drives up again, smashing Rage's jaw
with a European uppercut that causes Rage to stumble chestfirst into the
buckles, clinging to the top rope to stay on his feet.]

GM:  The former National Champion moving into the corner...

[But the referee tries to stop him, protesting the attack on a
defenseless opponent...

...who proves to be anything BUT defenseless as he delivers a mule kick
squarely to the netherlands of Marcus Broussard somehow without the
referee seeing it.]

GM:  OHHHH!  COME ON!

BW:  Did Marcus Broussard just get outcheated?

GM:  Rage kicked him low!  How did the referee miss that?

BW:  Haven't you ever wondered that before?

GM:  Every night since I got into this business.

[With Broussard down on the mat clutching the family jewels, Rage
delivers a hard stomp to the chest before dropping down into a lateral
press, hooking a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  THR-

[The crowd cheers as Broussard just barely fires a shoulder off the mat
before the three count comes down.]

GM:  The low blow definitely took a lot out of the San Jose Shark as he
just barely escaped the three count right there, Bucky.

BW:  Rage is- 

GM:  He's choking him!

[The referee starts a five count as a wild-eyed Rage wraps his hands
around the throat of Broussard, screaming like a banshee as he tries to
strangle the air out of him.]

GM:  The count's to three... four... fiv- broken just in time.

[The unpredictable Rage springs to his feet, shoving a threatening
gesture in the direction of Broussard before hauling the San Jose Shark
off the mat by the hair, slamming him facefirst into the top
turnbuckle.]

GM:  Broussard stumbling away but Rage is right behind him.

[Rage throws Marcus backfirst into the corner before snapping off a trio
of jab punches into the face.  He pulls Marcus into a side headlock,
racing out of the corner...

...and getting shoved off by Broussard, slamming chestfirst into the
opposite corner before stumbling out...]

GM:  Waistlock!

[The crowd cheers as Broussard muscles Rage into the air, dumping him
down to the canvas in a bridging German Suplex.]

GM:  One!  Two!   Thre- no!  Not quite!  

BW:  Rage got a shoulder off the mat just in time...

GM:  Marcus is questioning the official, shaking his head in disbelief.

[Broussard reaches down to pull Rage up, dragging him to his feet, and
promptly burying a boot into his midsection.  He grabs the long hair of
Rage, pulling him into an inverted facelock.]

GM:  What's he going for here?

[With lightning-quick movement, Broussard spins to the side, rotating
Rage all the way towards facing the canvas...

...where he SPIKES him skullfirst with an Ace Crusher!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  And that's what you call a Godsend, daddy!

GM:  It's academic from here.  One.  Two.  And that's a three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


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

The San Jose Shark...

MARCUS BROUUUUUSSAAAAARD!

[There's a bit more applause for the former National Champion as he
exits the ring than there was when he entered it.]

GM:  Marcus Broussard is your winner, fans... and that has to be a bit
humbling for Shadoe Rage who came out here and ran down all the
competition in the AWA.  

BW:  I guess that means he won't be in the Battle Royal in our Main
Event, Gordo.

GM:  I guess not.  But this man will be - the dangerous man from the
Land of the Rising Sun... he's back in the AWA after spending the last
few weeks finishing up his commitments overseas... let's hear now from
Naitomea!

[The camera cuts to the backstage area - just before the entrance to the
ringside area.  Jason Dane is standing next to the Japanese
cruiserweight.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  Naitomea, you are back in the WKIK Studios and the
AWA officials have thrown you right into the fire in this big Battle
Royal.  If you're one of the last two remaining, you get to be in the
National Tag Team Title Tournament.  If you're not... 

[Naitomea looks up and meets the camera head on. The unmoving, chilling
smile of his helmeted face seems nerve-wracking and somewhat annoying.
His synthesized high pitched and mechanical voice echoes though the
mouth slits.]

N: Uncertainty.....

[Naitomea slowly turns his head towards Jason Dane - then looks back to
the camera.]

N: It gnaws away at you my fellow heavyweights. It tugs at you in the
quiet hours, eroding your faith in yourself, in your wrestling
abilities, in your stoicism. Uncertain because for upstarts like
yourself, respect is tantamount - beneath the hardened exterior and the
casual violence you seek the respect of our peers and employees.... and
you fear that I will not respect you if you cannot prove your worth to
me.

[small pause]

N: At its lowest level, in its ultimate truth, _RESPECT_ is simply fear,
wisely worded so as to sound acceptable. The entire group of
heavyweights here in the AWA, I dont fear any of you! One by one, youre
all just obstacles I have to climb over to prove to management and the
Championship Committee Im worth every penny of my contract. I could have
stayed in Tiger Paw where I had it safe but I came over here to the land
of giants and in just a few moments Im going to have to walk out there
and prove myself and prevail in a situation where history and statistics
show that someone of my stature doesnt even have a chance.

[With a sense of urgency Naitomea grabs the lens of the camera closes
and pulls it in until his face takes up the entire screen]

N: Tonights battle royal isn't about friendships. Tonights battle royal
isnt about enemies. Tonights battle royal isnt about petty feuds.
Tonights battle royal is about the future of AWA and myself as one half
of the National Tag Team champions...and to get that.

[Naitomea lets go of the camera and lets it back off]

N:  . .They say a bullet does more damage when it doesn't kill. So Soup
Bone, Stevie Scott, Shadoe Rage and the rest of you ..

.. what exactly are you going to do when this five foot eleven, one
hundred and ninety-five pound speeding bullet comes for you?

[Naitomea holds points a finger straight into the camera simulating a
hand pistol. He fires once, and walks out of sight, leaving Jason Dane
to shake his head.]

JD:  A very unstable Naitomea - back to you, Gordon and Bucky.

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

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  Naitomea definitely looks to be focused
heading into that Battle Royal in our Main Event tonight.

BW:  For all of these guys, it's all about the gold, Gordo.  You don't
know what it's like for them.  In this business, if you're a champion -
you make the big money, you drive the big cars, you wear the fancy
clothes, you-

GM:  I get the point.  Fans, it is indeed all about the gold - and
you're about to see one more team whose eyes are locked at the National
Tag Team Titles.  Let's go up to the ring!

[Fade up to the ring with Melissa Cannon, where two men are already
waiting in the ring, one being a blond-haired individual dressed in red
tights and the other being a guy with a buzzcut dressed in blue trunks.]

MC: This is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall... currently in
the ring, to my left... first, from Robbinsdale, Minnesota, and weighing
at 242 pounds... CURT DAVIDSON!

[The blond-haired man raises his arms.]

MC: And his tag team partner... from Detroit, Michigan, and weighing at
236 pounds... SCOTT RICHARDSON!

[The man with the buzzcut raises his arms.]

[The opening strands of Deep Purple's "Knocking At Your Back Door" kick
in, the chords seemingly building anticipation for what is to come. And
once the chords reach their crescendo and the drums kick in, that's when
Rough N Ready emerges from the entranceway.

Dave Cooper wears black wrestling trunks, matching kneepads and white
wrestling boots, and also wears a black T-shirt that says "Rough N
Ready" in white lettering. Eric Matthew Somers wears a black singlet and
white wrestling boots. Standing in between them is their manager, Sarah
Sharpe, dressed in black pants and matching jacket and a white T-shirt.]

MC: And their opponents, led to the ring by their manager, Sarah Sharpe,
and hailing from Albuquerque, New Mexico... at a combined weight of 615
pounds... here are DAVE COOPER... ERIC MATTHEW SOMERS... the team of
ROUGH N READY!

[The trio makes their way to the ring, Sarah walking in front with Dave
and Eric side by side, Dave with a serious look on his face and Eric
with a mischievous grin. They reach the ringside area, where Dave is the
first to ascend the ring steps and duck between the ropes, followed by
Eric, as Sarah takes her place at ringside.]

GM: Last week we saw "Streetwise" Jimmy Barnett, an individual scouted
by Sarah Sharpe, get beaten down by The Glamour Boyz while awaiting his
tryout match.

BW: You heard Hoff, Gordon... it was his tryout match! Besides, if
Sharpe's watch is 30 minutes slow, that's her fault.

GM: Bucky, you know that Sarah suspects that Hoff set her and Rough N
Ready up so they would be late for our last show.

BW: Bah, they should have just blamed it on the traffic. People might
actually buy that excuse.

GM: Like you buy into everything Hoff has to say?

BW: Hoff is a smart man, Gordon. I can tell by just looking at how good
Michael Taylor and Nick Hunter are in the ring.

GM: Well, there is no denying the talent the Glamour Boyz have, but I'm
sure Rough N Ready will look forward to getting their hands on them,
perhaps in the tournament for the National Tag Team Titles.

BW: And then watch as the old timers fall to the young lions.

[The bell has rung and Dave Cooper is circling Curt Davidson, the two
locking up and Dave applying a side headlock.]

GM: Cooper squaring off with Curt Davidson... he gets pushed into the
ropes, but a shoulderblock takes Curt down.

BW: Off into the ropes go Cooper... hey, nice leapfrog by Curt.

GM: Cooper on the rebound... here's a hiptoss by Curt... no, a reversal
and it's Curt taken to the canvas by Cooper! Davidson up... armdrag
takedown into an armbar!

BW: Cooper might be having his way with Davidson, but it's not going to
be that easy against the Glamour Boyz.

GM: The Glamour Boyz won't have it easy against Rough N Ready either...
nor will any of the teams that face off against the two veterans.

BW: Gordon, it's easier than you think to beat Dave... you just steal
his Geritol and let the rest take care of itself.

GM: Stop that, Bucky... Davidson fighting to his feet and now he gouges
the eyes of Cooper. Takes him by the hair and slams him into the
turnbuckle! Irish whip into the opposite corner... no, reversed by
Cooper! Davidson stumbling out of the corner... a kick to the
midsection... and a nice belly to belly suplex takes Davidson to the
canvas!

[Davidson rolls on the mat in pain as Cooper now drags him up and
applies an abdominal stretch.]

GM: And now the abdominal stretch applied... but here comes Scott
Richardson... axhandle to the back of Cooper's head!

BW: Smart wrestling there by Richardson to save his partner.

GM: Referee Marty Meekly ordering Richardson out as Curt Davidson now
scoops up Cooper for the slam. He now heads up to the top rope.

[As he does, though, Cooper gets to his feet and catches him.]

GM: Davidson caught on the top rope! Cooper slams him off the top!

BW: Geez, I've lost all faith in Davidson... how can you not get to the
top rope quick enough when Cooper is as slow as molasses!

GM: Dave Cooper now sends Davidson for the ride... roaring elbow
connects and there's a cover! One... two... but there's Richardson to
break it up!

BW: Curt, you better get your partner in there... he at least seems like
he knows what he's doing!

GM: Davidson to his feet and now stomping away on Cooper... he drags him
up and sends him into the ropes... goes for the back body drop...

BW: Put his head down too soon, though... elbow to the back of the head
by Cooper!

GM: And now Cooper to his corner... he tags in the big man!

[The crowd swells as Somers steps into the ring and Davidson backs into
his corner.]

GM: And Davidson wants out of there! Tag to Scott Richardson!

BW: OK, Richardson, here's your big chance... at least look like you
know how to deal with an old man!

GM: Somers motioning to Richardson, and look at this... Scott Richardson
charging Somers and unleashing a series of forearm strikes!

BW: Hey, I like it... he's showing he won't back down from the big man.

GM: Richardson now trying to whip Somers, but the big man blocks it!
Scott Richardson now with a kick to the gut and he tries it again... but
Somers pull Richardson in toward him! Short clothesline by Eric!

BW: Now look at this... he's pulling Richardson back up and patting him
on the back. How dumb can he be not to follow up?

GM: Somers obviously impressed with... wait a minute! Eric Matthew
Somers grabs Richardson out of nowhere! Hoists him up into a gorilla
press... and slams him down hard to the mat!

BW: Wow, some sportsmanship on your part, Eric.

GM: Contradicting yourself is apparently how Bucky became the
commentator of the mid year.

BW: That's not true! It was obviously my good looks!

GM: Somers dragging Richardson to his feet... he shoves him into the
corner and tags Dave Cooper back in.

BW: Come on, Marty... get Somers out of there!

GM: He's got a five count, Bucky... Somers sends Richardson into the
ropes... clothesline takes him down as Cooper enters the ring... into
the ropes for an elbowdrop! And here's a cover... one... two... but Curt
Davidson breaks it up!

BW: Hey, Curt is learning... now stay on him!

GM: And remember, Bucky, he has a five count to get out as well.

BW: Except he should just ignore that!

[Not that it matters, as Somers has grabbed Davidson and tosses him
through the ropes.]

GM: Richardson now trying to capitalize as Meekly directs Somers to his
corner... a quick snap suplex follows and now Richardson off the
ropes... looks to drop the leg... but he missed!

BW: And the old man is back to his feet... he's kicking away at that leg
and now is trying to tie up Richardson's legs!

GM: He looks to be going for a Texas cloverleaf... but Davidson rolling
back into the ring and now dragging Cooper off!

BW: And now the big lug is coming in... Meekly, do your job!

GM: Marty Meekly losing control of this match as Somers hammers Davidson
with a headbutt... now a double whip by Cooper and Somers and they
execute a double shoulderblock!

BW: Richardson back up... he gets Somers with a dropkick to stagger him!

GM: But Cooper is right there... spinebuster sends Richardson down to
the canvas! Now he drags Davidson up... tosses him back through the
ropes!

BW: Somers finally gets back to his corner... Cooper is gonna bring him
back in!

GM: Cooper whipping Richardson into the corner... now he grabs Somers..
.Irish whip and Somers connects with an avalanche!

BW: And look at this... Somers cocking his arm back as Meekly is telling
Cooper to get out of the ring.

GM: Richardson staggering as Somers comes forward... heart punch
connects! Richardson slumps into Somers' arm... and there's an overhead
belly to belly suplex! The cover follows...

[As Meekly turns around and begins his count, Davidson tries to get back
into the ring but Cooper cuts him off.]

GM: One... two... three! This one is over!

[The bell sounds as Cooper and Somers have their arms raised.]

MC: The winners of the match... ROUGH N READY!

[Sarah Sharpe now strolls over to the announce position as Cooper and
Somers exit the ring.]

GM: And we are now to be joined by Sarah Sharpe, and Rough N Ready is
making their way here as well... Sarah, an impressive victory for your
men this week.

SS: Gordon, I appreciate it, but it seems we still have a certain
problem around these parts... a problem by the name of Robert
Hoffstedder Jr. I am all but certain it was him who set us up last week,
pretending to be an AWA official and telling us the taping was
delayed... and I feel bad for Jimmy Barnett, as he had his tryout match
ruined... I tried to get him back for another one, but he declined the
invitation.

BW: No doubt because he realized he just isn't good enough!

SS: Bucky, your remarks are neither warranted nor appreciated... I do
regret Barnett has decided to seek his fortunes elsewhere, but believe
me... these two gentlemen here [motioning to Cooper and Somers, who have
now joined Sarah] will not only see to it that Nick Hunter and Michael
Taylor are taught the error of their ways, but also that that National
tag team straps are brought into the possession of Rough N Ready.

DC: Nick Hunter and Michael Taylor... you boys got what Hoff wanted for
you, a spot in the tag team tournament. But now, you have to face the
music... you've already tangled once with Rough N Ready and you found
out that, regardless of our ages, we can still pack a hard punch... but
based on your actions last week, it's apparent Eric and myself are going
to have teach those lessons we taught you just a few weeks back. On
Thanksgiving night, you can be rest assured that, if we cross paths in
the tournament, that you will get a reteaching... only this time, we'll
make sure those lessons stick with you.

[Eric has a slight grin on his face as he strokes his beard.]

EMS: Thanksgiving... a time when people are supposed to be thankful for
everything they have in their lives. Well, I'll tell you that I'm
thankful not just to have a dependable partner in Dave Cooper, and a
terrific manager in Sarah Sharpe, but I'm also thankful that the AWA
keeps rounding up more teams for Rough N Ready to have some fun with!
Believe me, there's nothing I love more than beating people up, and now
they've stuck in those punks Freeman and Dufrense, and when it comes to
beating people up, punks like them are the ones I like to beat up the
most! Not that I haven't forgotten about what those Glamour Boyz have
been doing... and just like Freeman and Dufrense, a couple of punks they
are, as they proved last week when all Jimmy Barnett wanted was a chance
to prove himself. Rest assured, though, regardless of whether it's young
punks, promising individuals or the hardened veterans who are like us...
Rough N Ready is gonna have some fun, and get the tag team titles as the
payoff!

DC: We'll give these other duos their due... I'll admit I never expected
Kolya Sudakov to become our National champion, but he got it done... but
if he and his comrade think that means a free ticket to the tag team
titles, they better think again! And it's not because they got guys like
Adam Rogers and Rick Marley on their tails, and all that they need is a
partner... it's because they got Rough N Ready in the mix, out to prove
that they have what it takes to be the best the AWA has to offer!

GM: I'm sure, though, that the Glamour Boyz are foremost on your minds.

SS: Gordon, my men are on a mission to claim those titles... but you can
be assured that we have not forgotten about Hoff and his charges, and
somewhere down the line, they will answer to us.

[The trio then departs the announce position.]

GM:  You heard 'em, fans.  We'll be right back!

[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, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Joining us at
this time is a participant in tonight's open invitational battle royale
will be the man who made his debut recently here in the American
Wrestling Alliance, the "Catch Thug" Raphael Rhodes.

[Raphael Rhodes steps into frame, receiving a handful of boos from the
studio audience. He has decided to buzz off the mohawk and let his hair
grow in a bit, still only about a half-inch or so in length. He has
already dressed out into his ring gear for the evening, a powder blue
leg-length singlet with red kneepads and white boots, and he is also
sporting his black leather jacket.]

RR: Ain't this a lovely bunch of sods we got here tonight, Gordie? I
show up to entertain you lot and all you do is jeer me like I was a
right prat. Disappointing, that is.

GM: Well, Mr. Rhodes, with all due respect to your abilities in the
ring, you haven't exactly won any favors with your attitude thusfar.

RR: Oi, hold on, listen... just because I'm pretty good at what I do
don't make me some kind of target for discontent. As far as these people
are concerned, they don't get me hand raised. Tell me Gordie... did I
win last week?

GM: You did.

RR: And weren't it in convincing fashion?

GM: It could be argued that it was.

RR: Right! So look, as long as I take home the winner's share of the
prize, don't make a bit of difference to me what these colonists think.

GM: That's all well and good, sir, but tonight, you step into the ring
with an untold amount of people. Are you concerned for your chances?

RR: Look mate, I know I roughed you up last week, don't make me do it
again for asking such a daft question.

[Rhodes points to the ring off-camera.]

RR: That lot out there tonight? Listen, I've been in pub fights with
more people swinging arms and flailing legs than everyone in this
building today and came out on top. So there will be a bunch of people
out there looking to try and take me out. I would laugh it if weren't so
pitiful! All I need to do is avoid going over that top rope, ain't no
different than trying not to go over the bar at a pub when City beats
United and those bunch of red ponces can't take it, so they start
swinging bottles around.

[Rhodes laughs to himself, apparently the only one in the building to
understand just what he's talking about.]

RR: So not on your life and rubbish haircut am I concerned, Gordie.

GM: Well, should you come out on top, then I know you are aware that you
would gain entry into the National Tag Team title tournament. Do you
have a preference as to who your partner will be should you pull out the
victory?

RR: Let me answer that with a question for you, mate. If I get in that
tournament, I'm going to make a lot of money if I win and strap one of
those belts around me waist, right?

GM: It would stand to reason that yes, you would.

RR: Then it don't matter who's me partner, because any team with Raphael
Rhodes in it is a team well on it's way to victory. So it can be Scott,
it can be Verhoeven... it can even be you if you fancy a go at
grappling. Don't matter to me one bit.

GM: Thank you for those comments, Mr. Rhodes... but we simply must move
on.

[Rhodes simply walks out of frame.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring.

[Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing along side a man with
black bandanna mask, black wrestling tights, and black boots along with
a wide chest tattered with scars.]

MC: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit. Introducing first, and already in the ring... Weighing in at
262 pounds, he resides from Thatcher, Arizona... He is the
ARIIIIIIZONIAAAAAAAAAAN BAAAAAAAAAAAAANDIT!!!

[Some fans cheers politely as the black bandanna masked man simply nods
in acknowledgment.]

BW: Does this man have a death wish? Did he really come to AWA to
wrestle Grant Stone?

GM: After what that lunatic did to Shane Taylor, I can't see anyone who
would willingly enter the ring with that monster. But sometimes money
makes us do things we wouldn't normally do.

BW: If this Arizonian Bandit were to survive and actually beat Stone,
daddy? He'd need that money just to cover his medical bills!

MC: And his opponent...

[Borgo Pass' "Camero Crash Helmut" plays over the PA, bringing the fans
in the WKIK to boo very loudly.]

MC: He weighs in at 310 pounds and hails from Louisville, Kentucky...

[The tired, yet man of Grant Stone comes through entrance, drawing in
even more boos from the crowd. Stone approaches the ring coldly,
entering in without a reaction towards the fans or his opponent.]

MC: He is GRAAAAAANT STOOOOOOOOOOONE!!!

[The wound opened by Shane Taylor on Stone's forehead shows a sizable
and ugly scab on it, but certainly doesn't look out of place on the
scarred face and body of Grant Stone. Once inside, the ref goes to check
the Arizonian Bandit, padding him down as is ritual for pre-bell...]

GM: Stone attacks! Before the bell is even rung, Grant Stone charged and
smashed The Arizonian Bandit with that huge right hook of his!

BW: This Bandit's down, daddy! That punch leveled the man and he never
saw it coming.

GM: That punch caught the Bandit right on the temple as Stone punched
over the ref. This man doesn't need to act before the bell!

[Indeed, the ref turns to confront Stone - albeit trepidatiously - about
the rules. Stone, however, shoves the ref aside and hoists the Arizonian
Bandit up and over his shoulders.]

BW: This one's over before it even begun!

[Stone almost parades the carcass across his shoulder in that torture
rack position before coming to the side close to the ringbell. With an
intimidating glare locked on by Stone, the official scorekeeper quickly
hits the bell.]

GM: Match is official now, but can't see that it matters.

[As Stone turns away towards the center of the ring, however, the
Arizonian Bandit starts to resist and rocks enough to break the grip of
the big Kentuckian.]

GM: He escaped! The Arizonian Bandit escaped from the torture rack and
certain defeat!

BW: Better to just have gotten the inevitable over with. Take the pain
and leave the ring, Bandit. You don't stand a chance.

[As Stone turns, the Bandit shoves him into the corner as the fans begin
to stir.]

GM: Stone knocked back into the corner as the Bandit backs up... he
runs...

[As the Bandit approaches fast, Stone lifts his right boot up just at
the right time.]

GM: Oh! Huge big book caugh the Bandit flush on the center of the face!

BW: That man's brains have to scrambled now - hit on the side, hit on
the front...

[As the fans start to boo again, Grant Stone hoists the deadened
Arizonian across his shoulders again.]

BW: And now here comes the last hit, right on the crown!

[With snarl, Stone slightly run and jumps a bit before driving the top
of the the Arizonian Bandit's head into the mat!]

GM: Oh my God... 

BW: Etched in Stone! That move is just too dangerous.

GM: And no need to add anything to it! The match was over, yet this
sadistic monster had to keep going.

BW: Hey, that knew what was coming to him by trying to collect that
bounty on Stone's head. He knew he was either going to win and walk out
of the ring or lose and be carried out the ring.

[The ref looks at the motionless Bandit, sees Grant Stone hovering about
looking to work over his opponent even more and calls for the ring bell
immediately as staff and medical rushes to the ring.]

MC: Your winner of the match in a time of one minute and nine seconds...
Grant Stone.

[The fans loudly boo at the subdued announcement from Melissa Cannon. As
the staff in the ring treats the Arizonian Bandit, Grant Stone slides
out of the ring and approaches the announcers' booth.]

BW: Don't look now, but that monster of a man is coming our way.

[A visibly upset Gordon Myers steps back, showing no want to interview
Stone. Stone looks at the two announcers for a moment before picking up
a microphone from the desk.]

GS: It seems... 

[Before Stone can go on, the fans let out enough boos and jeers to
interrupt the Kentuckian.]

GS: It seems that the only way to get you to be the man who claim to be,
Taylor, is to break the bones of you own kin. 

[More boos the crowd as Stone touches his scabbed wound.]

GS: Not before the match or during the match... only after what was done
do you show any pride in your own family. Just another example...

[Stone gets cutoff again by the fans, who start to chant "OUT-LAW
OUT-LAW OUT-LAW". Stone clenches his teeth before trying to talk over
the crowd.]

GS: Just another example of you...

[OUT-LAW!

OUT-LAW!

OUT-LAW!

OUT-LAW! 

OUT-LAW! 

OUT-LAW!

Stone seethes, his breathing heavy as the fans continue with their
chant.]

GS: OF BEING A GUTLESS MAGGOT! 

[The crowd boos at that remark, taking them off the chant.]

GS: And on the day you all give thanks for your worthless, meaningless
lives... I'll make Bobby Taylor shed his blood all over the ring and
break his bones down even worse than his brother. 

[More boos from the pro-Taylor crowd.]

GS: But more important, I'll be destroying what's left of your rotted
out legacy! I'll make it known that the real Bobby Taylor was a
worthless, empty man who only ever cared about himself... who only acted
for himself... I'll show that you were only ever a sad, soulless sack of
skin...

[Stone finally shows a slight grin on his face.]

GS: Like me.

[Grant Stone toss the mic back on the desk as he exits the announcers'
area.]

GM:  That guy needs psychological help, Bucky.

BW:  I'd make sure he's out of earshot before you say that, Gordo.

GM:  You're right about that.  On Thanksgiving night, the unstoppable
force that is Grant Stone comes up against someone who just might be
able to stop him, Bucky.

BW:  We'll see about that.

GM:  We'll also see just who will be added to the National Tag Team
Title tournament later tonight - will it be this man, Juan Vasquez? 
Let's hear what's on his mind!

[The shot fades to some footage marked "Earlier Tonight."  We are out in
the parking lot area where Jason Dane is standing next to Juan Vasquez. 
His bags are set before him, his suit jacket is slung over his shoulder,
the tie around his neck has been loosened.]

JD:  Juan Vasquez, you made a triumphant return to AWA television two
weeks ago but tonight, you face yet another huge challenge as you enter
this Battle Royal for a chance to enter the National Tag Team Title
tournament.  Your thoughts?

[Vasquez grins.]

JV: The tag team titles, eh?

[A slight chuckle.]

JV: Sure, I might not have a dance partner yet and yeah...I ain't
exactly been known for my wonderful ability to form long, lasting
friendships by playing well with others, but *I* figure, that the
opportunity to get an opportunity to get twenty pounds o' tag team gold
'round my waist ain't exactly the worst thing to ever happen to me.

[Juan's eyes dart quickly from side-to-side, almost as if he's
contemplating on making a bad joke. Well, knowing Juan, he blurts it out
anyway...]

JV: That'd be my first marriage.

[As soon as the words leave his mouth, Juan quickly holds up his
hands...]

JV: Kidding!

[...and smiles an apology. ]

JV: *Ahem*...moving on...

[...]

JV: Now, I know last week, I came out here runnin' my mouth and flapping
my gums about workin' my way up and getting a shot at the heavyweight
title, but this is just something that I can't pass up.

[He fidgets around with his necktie, finally removing it and also
throwing it over his shoulder.]

JV: Okay, so maybe first I gotta' battle my way through the AWA's "nine
to some undetermined number" of other men just to earn a right to
compete in the tournament to get a shot at winning the title. And maybe,
just *maybe*, I end up with a complete jackass for a tag team partner.
And even worse yet, we don't magically end up being the best of friends
with a matching, color-coordinated tag team ensemble! 

[Gasp! Juan slaps his hands across his cheeks, opening his mouth wide in
mock shock.]

JV: BUT...is there any doubt in anyone's mind who's gonna' be standing
there in the middle of the ring with his hand held up in the air after
tossin' out each and every last one of those "nine to some undetermined
number" men, tonight?

[He looks around a bit, before subtlely(Not really) pointing to
himself.]

JV: Is there anyone on this planet, in this solar system, in this
galaxy, beyond the stars and all points inbetween that thinks for a
second I'm not gonna' find myself fighting alongside some other S.O.B
lucky enough to call me his tag team partner in that tag team tourney?

[Once again, he looks around the parking lot, before shaking his head
slowly and mouthing the word "No."]

JV: I mean, it don't matter if my partner's Adam Rogers or Rick Marley!
Stevie Scott or Scott Pain! Soup Bone Samson or hell...

...a can of soup!

Juan Vasquez is gonna' win this battle royal! He's gonna' take those
first steps back towards greatness and glory. And I promise you people.

Right here.

[He pounds a fist down onto the bench.]

JV: _Right now._

[Juan looks around and leans in towards the camera.]

JV: It don't matter who they pair me with or what they put me up
against. Whether it be angry half-literate communists, Ron Houston's
amputated zombie right arm, or Shadoe Rage's misplaced sense of
masculinity! I've already made up my mind about this. I already got my
heart set on going beyond this battle royal and grabbing that beautiful,
shiny, brass ring. 'Cause folks, when all's said and done...

...Juan Vasquez will be one-half of your first ever, AWA National Tag
Team champions.

[A wink.]

JV: And that's all they is...to it.

[Vasquez pats Jason Dane on the shoulder and walks past him through the
entrance to the building.]

JD:  One thing about that man is - he's never lacking for confidence. 
Time will tell if that confidence is well-founded.  Back to you guys.

[We cut back inside the WKIK Studios where AWA fan favorite and
resident high flier "Showtime" Rick Marley stands with Gordon Myers.
The dark haired cruiserweight stands with a serious expression on his
face as the announcer holds the mic between them.]

GM: Rick Marley, you've had issues with Adrian Freeman and Callisto
Dufrense pretty much since the doors opened here in AWA.  You've had
matches against them, unsanctioned confrontations, and faced them in
one of the most brutal matches in the entire sport....War Games...

[Crowd pop for the War Games match, which brings a smile to Marley's
face.]

GM: ... and after the events of the recent past... The Championship
Commitee has made it official.  You WILL meet Freeman and Dufresne in
the National Tag Team Title Tournament.  But as of right now, you stand
here ready to take on both men...but with no announced partner, how
exactly do you intend to do that?  You're not going to try this as a
handicap match, are you?

[Marley shakes his head negative before responding.]

RM: Gordo, I was born at night, but I wasn't born last night.  I don't
have a lot of nice things to say about either Freeman or Dufrense, but
if I stepped in there against those to vultures solo, it'd be a quick
trip to the hospital for me.  As much as I'd like to come out here and
do the tough guy bit where I squint at the camera and talk like Clint
Eastwood...it's just not gonna happen.

Maybe if I were a foot taller and two hundred pounds heavier it'd be
different.

Instead I have to settle for my sparkling personality and roguish
charm...or at least the ability to see my own feet while standing.
That counts for something, right?

GM: Well, if you have no intention of going out there alone, who do
you intend to partner with for the match, Mr. Marley?

RM: You make it sound so formal...like I had to go up to him, get down
on one knee...

[Marley assumes the pose, taking Gordon's hand in his like he's ready
to propose marriage and begins speaking in an overly breathy voice.]

RM: ...Will you do me the honor of being my...tag team partner for
this tournament...baby?

[Rick shakes his head and stands up.]

RM: I'm short enough compared to most of the guys here...don't need to
end up on my knees to  make it even worse.  AWA doesn't have a midget
division, after all.

Listen Gordo.  I talked to a guy that's highly qualified to go out there
and introduce Dufrense and Freeman to what swallowing their own teeth
feels like...to toss 'em around like rag dolls and do his best
Terminator impression...

And I SERIOUSLY considered keeping it under my hat for a bit just to
mess with people...

[The crowd boos and Marley looks around with a slight smile before
motioning them to calm down.]

RM: The I decided not to be a jerk...so don't worry...you won't be
disappointed.

GM: So who did you ask, Mr. Marley?

RM: After the display that he put on during the last show, I decided
that I couldn't go wrong with the one man wrecking machine that is Scott
Pain!

[Crowd pop]

RM: You see Gordo,Dufrense and Freeman are like a cancer here in AWA,
and I've let them stay long enough.  It's time to get serious about
treating the disease before it spreads and kills the host.

GM: Kills the host?

[Marley nods, his face grave.]

RM: I'm afraid if you spend too much time watching them wrestle, your
eyes start to dissolve.  I read that somewhere.  Scott Pain is just the
guy to help me cut this cancer out!

GM: Mr. Marley, I thought you said you intended to get serious.  These
two men...

[Marley holds up his hand, shaking his head...this time his expression
is deadly serious...almost angry.]

RM: No...not men.

Dufrense and Freeman are a lot of things.  They're dangerous.  They're
talented.  They're vicious.  But they're not men...not real men.

And they've pretended long enough.  Come tournament time, me and Pain
are gonna show them what the difference is.

[Marley turns without another word and heads back towards the locker
room.]

GM: Strong words from "Showtime" Rick Marley...we'll see if he and his
partner can back them up!  Fans, don't go away, we'll be right back!

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

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

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

GM:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  It's been an
exciting night here so far and it's not over yet.  All night long we've
been talking about the National Tag Team Title tournament.  We've got
teams still trying to get in, we've got teams jockeying for position in
the seedings, and later tonight, we've got individuals looking to create
a team to get in the back door of the bracket.

BW:  But with Shadoe Rage bowing out of the Battle Royal and Scott Pain
being selected as the partner of that flying bug, Rick Marley - the odds
just got better for men like Vasquez, Rhodes, and Samson, Gordo.

GM:  They certainly did.  But we talked about seedings.  Seedings could
be absolutely vital in this tournament - and when you're in a team that
has never been a team before, every match is so, so vital.  And at this
time...

[The camera pulls back a bit as two figures stride into view.]

GM:  We're going to see one of those teams in action.

[One man is staring intently into the camera, the other is busy staring
at himself in a large hand mirror. Both figures are recognizable and
both figures receive a chorus of boos from the crowd. One man (can you
guess which?) is clad in nothing more than a pair of designer blue jeans
and a crew neck white t-shirt that is so tight it looks like he got it
at Baby Gap. He runs a hand through his long blonde hair with his free
hand, flashing the mirror a pearly-white smile. Adrian Freeman, ever
focused, is already dressed in his wrestling gear and sporting a cocky
smirk that looks as though he's been taking lessons from Dufrense.
Standing next to the dynamic duo is Gordon Myers, looking
none-too-pleased with his current assignment. He looks at the camera,
remaining as professional as possible, and begins.]

GM: Adrian Freeman, Calisto Dufresne, welcome to the WKIK Studios this
evening.

CD: It's your pleasure, Gordie.

[Myers closes his eyes, looking like he's fighting off an oncoming
migraine, but continues.]

GM: It's been announced by AWA officials recently that due to your
continued harassment and undeserved abuse of Rick Marley that the two of
you will be paired together to face Rick Marley and we now know, Scott
Pain, in the first round of the National Tag Team Tournament. Your
thoughts?

AF: Undeserved abuse? The man's been making a laughingstock out of me
for months now, but when push came to shove? I beat him. I guess
revealing the AWA's marketable golden boy for what he really is counts
as abuse nowadays. And you can see how biased this organization is by
their reaction. They order me into the tournament, treating me like some
sort of pawn, but they let Marley pick whoever they want to be his
partner. But you know what? I don't mind. I guess I'll have to suffer
through the punishment of teaming with a great wrestler and winning the
tag titles.

[He slings an arm around Calisto, who casts an askew glance at Freeman.]

CD: Look. We all know what happened at The Last Stampede. We all know
that Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman had the match wrapped up with a
nice little bow, but Stevie Scott and the Russians threw it away. It was
of no fault of our own that our team lost that match. _We_ are not
quitters. So if the AWA wants to let us prove that point and let us run
through Rick Marley, Kentucky's Pride and anybody else, so be it.

[An affirmative nod punctuates his point.]

GM: Are you worried about Marley's selection, Scott Pain?

[A shocked look plays across Dufresne's face.]

CD: Worried? The last time Calisto Dufresne was worried was when I snuck
in the Avery Island police chief's house in the middle of the night and
his 18-year old daughter was waiting for me with ice cubes, whipped
cream and a power drill. This is nothing compared to _that._

[A shudder racks Dufresne's body.]

AF: Yes, well... er... I'm not worried either. There's not a man in the
AWA that I fear.  Especially this old relic from the mid-90's who
suddenly thinks he can hang with the future of this business.

GM: Both of you are known as singles competitors but will be facing off
against quite a few established tag teams in this tournament. How can
you find a way to gel in a short period of time to give yourselves the
best chance to win?

AF: Sure, we may not have teamed together much. But we're both high
class individuals stuck in Redneck Central, USA.

[That gets about the reaction you might expect.]

AF: We're both skilled technical wrestlers who know what it's like to
put on a mat clinic in front of people who just want to see a barfight.
And we're the only two people in this federation to recognize the
parasite known as Rick Marley for what it was. Honestly, all that gives
us a bond like brothers.

CD: Not to mention, Gordie, we may not be tag team wrestlers because
individually, we're not hacks who need the help of other people to win
matches.

[A collective groan from the audience.]

CD: We have more talent in our fingernail clippings than these other
shmucks have in their entire bodies. So, teamwork and years of working
together don't matter when you're at the talent level that we are.

[Myers cocks an eyebrow.]

GM: Awfully confident of that, aren't you?

CD: I like to call it honesty. And we'll show you just what we mean in a
couple of moments when we steal the show with our performance.

AF: Together, me and Calisto will leave a trail of broken hearts and
bent spines across Texas.

GM: Any last thoughts?

AF: I'd like to congratulate the new champion Kolya Sudakov, for
restoring that belt to some class. And I think I speak on behalf of both
of us when I say that when you're considering your contenders...
remember who backed you up when you needed it.

[Dufrense nods, before launching into something completely different.]

CD: To all my throngs of adoring admirers out there, make sure you run
out to the concourse and pick up the newest item in the AWA merchandise
store - the Calisto Dufresne FatHead! That's right, folks, you can get a
life-size replica of yours truly to mount on your wall! So everytime you
walk by it, you'll remember what you wished you could look like. It's
great for self esteem! And with the holidays coming around, it makes a
great gift for your wives and girlfriends. Millions have already said
that their women have put it on the ceiling over their bed so that when
they're...

[Myers' eyes open in shock and he yanks the microphone away from
Dufresne.  After a moment, Dufresne walks away to join his partner,
Adrian Freeman as he climbs up into the ring.  The two men settle into
one of the corner.  Opposite them are two middle-aged journeymen, both
sporting short haircuts, potbellies, and black singlets.]

GM: Honestly, that Dufrense... I honestly don't know how we fit two egos
that big into the interview area.

BW: Two egos, huh? Yours and who else's?

GM: Well, we're about to see whether these two can truly function as a
tag team. Let's take it up to Melissa Cannon for the announcement.

[Cut to Melissa, standing in the middle of the ring.]

MC: The following match is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall.
Introducing first, weighing in at a combined 472 pounds, Brad Pierce and
Lance Fitzpaine.

[The journeyman team raises their arms and garners some polite
applause.]

MC: And their opponents, weighing in at a combined 435 pounds, the team
of Calisto Dufrense and Adrian Freeman!

[A huge chorus of boos descends upon the duo. Freeman ignores it, while
Dufrense blows a kiss at a female audience member. The bell rings,
barely audible over the boos, and Freeman and Pierce steps forward.]

GM: Here we go. Freeman and Pierce with a collar-and-elbow in the middle
of the ring... Freeman gains controls of the arm and goes behind Brad
Pierce, applying a basic wristlock. He snapmares Pierce down to the
canvas, still keeping control of that arm.

BW: Like Adrian Freeman or not, you have to admit that there aren't many
who can match him hold-for-hold.

GM: I'm not sure I'd go that far.

[Freeman twists the arm of the grounded Pierce, causing him to squirm in
pain. The Australian rears back and chops his grounded opponent in the
chest.]

THWACK!

[Pierce clutches his chest with his free arm, but Freeman kicks the arm
away and delivers a series of harsh chops to his opponet.]

THWACK!

THWACK!

THWACK!

BW: Just listen to those chops! Let me tell you, those don't tickle!

GM: Freeman leaving red marks all over the chest of Brad Pierce. He
pulls him up and takes him over with a vicious belly to belly suplex!
Adrian Freeman bridges into the cover... one, two, Pierce kicks out.

[Freeman doesn't waste any time, floating over the prone body of Pearce
and putting his previously wrenched arm into a cross armbreaker.]

BW: Cross armbreaker! That's it!

GM: Nope, Martin managed to get to the ropes. He now reaches up and tags
in his partner, Lance Fitzpaine. Freeman also heads over to his corner
to make the tag.

[Dufrense immediately hits Fitzpaine with a clothesline that wobbles the
Texas veteran. He then drills his opponent with an European uppercut.
Dufrense sends Fitzpaine off the ropes. Fitzpaine comes back with a
running clothesline, but Dufrense ducks under it.]

GM: Lance Fitzpaine is looking for the opportunity to get some offense
in. He goes again for the clothesline, but Calisto Dufrense blocks it
with a boot to the gut. He picks Fitzpaine up into a fireman's carry...
delivers a fireman's carry bulldog!

[Dufrense stands above his fallen opponent and strikes a pose, flashing
his pearly whites to the audience. They heap jeers upon him. Calisto
drags Fitzpaine over to his corner as Adrian Freeman steps through the
ropes.. Referee Marty Meekly orders Freeman back to his corner, but the
Australian pays him no mind.]

GM: Freeman obviously planning something here. Calisto slingshots
Fitzpaine up... right into a dropkick by Freeman! He knocks Fitzpaine
back and across the knees of Dufrense, right into a pinning predicament.

BW: Looks like teamwork to me, daddy!

GM: One. Two. Brad Pierce breaks up the pinfall. Freeman isn't happy
about that...

[Freeman picks up Pierce and delivers an inverted atomic drop that sends
the journeyman rolling out of the ring, clutching his groin.]

GM:  Ohhh!  That'll hurt! 

BW: I think I speak for all the men in the audience when I say "ouch".

GM: Yet somehow, that move is legal. Freeman finally going back to his
corner. Dufrense drives Pierce into the mat facefirst with a rocker
dropper! He tags in Freeman again. Both men stay in the ring, they're
setting up for something again.

[Calisto pulls a groggy Fitzpaine into DDT position. He and Freeman say
something to each other, but the cameras don't pick up on it. Freeman
comes up behind Fitzpaine and pulls him up by the leg, then both jump
and drive him into the mat facefirst.]

GM: An assisted version of Dufrense's finisher, the Wham Bam Thank You
Ma'am!

[Dufrense rolls Fitzpaine over to the pin, which Meekly counts to three
on.]

BW: Put a fork in them!

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, your winners in 3 minutes 17 seconds... Adrian
Freeman and Callisto Dufrense!

[Freeman and Dufrense raise each others' arms, smugly celebrating their
victory in the ring. The crowd just boos, but the two men are either
oblivious or ignoring them.]

GM: Well, it was smooth saying for Dufrense and Freeman in their first
match as a tag team. But I doubt Rick Marley and Scott Pain will go down
that easily - I don't think- uh oh.

[The crowd jeers wildly as Dufresne yanks Fitzpaine off the mat,
throwing him through the ropes to the floor...

...and then exits the ring after him.]

GM:  What's going on now?

BW:  I think I know.  I think I know EXACTLY what's going on.

GM:  I'm afraid I do as well.

[Dufresne and Freeman drop off the apron to the floor where Freeman
immediately grabs Fitzpaine by the arm, dragging him off the thin
padding to the fully-exposed concrete floor.]

GM:  Oh no.  Don't do this.

BW:  This is a message to Rick Marley, Gordo!  This is exactly what
Dufresne did to Rick Marley!

GM:  Somebody's gotta stop this!

[The egotistical Dufresne smirks as he stands over Fitzpaine, slapping
him in the back of the head.]

GM:  Come on!

BW:  He's gonna break this guy's nose like he did to Marley.

GM:  Dufresne's positioning him facedown on the floor.  This guy isn't
even putting up a fight at all.  There's no call for this, Bucky - no
call for it at all.

[Still smirking, Dufresne stands right next to the downed competitor's
head, slowly raising  his foot...

...to which the crowd ERUPTS as Rick Marley comes tearing out of the
entryway, hitting a full body tackle on Dufresne to take him down to the
floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  MARLEY WITH THE SAVE!

[The crowd roars as Marley throws right hands like crazy on the downed
Dufresne...

...which makes him easy pickings for Adrian Freeman who drives his knee
into the back of Marley's head, knocking him down to the floor.]

BW:  But who is gonna save Rick Marley?

GM:  Marley saved Fitzpaine but- oh no.

[Dufresne quickly gets to his feet, repeatedly stomping the downed
Marley on the floor as Freeman joins in, both men kicking "Showtime"
furiously.]

GM:  Dufresne's shouting at- oh my stars... he just told Freeman to put
him on the concrete!

[The Australian drags Marley off the padding, pressing his face down on
the floor again.]

GM:  They're going to take Marley out of the tournament!  They're going
to-

[The crowd ERUPTS once more, this time for the appearance of big Scott
Pain as he lumbers into view...

...and sends the much smaller men scampering away as Pain reaches his
downed tag team partner.]

GM:  Scott Pain saves Rick Marley!  Scott Pain has saved his teammate
from being taken out of the tournament - and we'll be right back, fans!

[The camera holds on Scott Pain helping Rick Marley back to his feet 
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.  And at this time, we welcome Adam Rogers to the
program...and Adam, there's a lot of things happening in the AWA right
now and especially with Adam Rogers.

[Rogers, clad in a t-shirt and jeans, walks into the picture as Myers
introduces him. Nodding in response to Gordon's statement, he leans
toward the mic.]

AR: There is, Gordon. The American Wrestling Alliance has, as I've hoped
it would, really taken off. There are more and more wrestlers who now
want to come here to test themselves against the best. It's a pleasure
for me to be here and a pleasure to compete in front of these great
Texas fans.

[Cheap pop!]

GM: Of course, at the moment you have your hands full in your quest for
the AWA National Title and in particular with the actions of one Mark
Shaw.

[Rogers smiles.]

AR: You know what, Gordon? I have nothing to say about Mark Shaw that
hasn't already been said. In due time, my actions against him will do
all the talking that needs to be done. But let's talk about that AWA
National Title for a minute.

Throughout much of my career, Gordon, as you know...I was the hunter.
Chasing the big titles but for years, they always alluded me before
finally breaking thru a few years ago. And now, I look at this situation
with the AWA National Title, and it's like deja vu all over again. I'm
right there among the top contenders, but every time I'm set to get my
shot...something happens to prevent that. Now, as I've said before, my
primary goal in wrestling is no longer winning titles. That said, it
would also be foolish to say the National Title was not a goal of mine.
It is. And I have to tell you, Gordon, how frustrating it's been for me
to have incident after incident keep me from getting my shot while a tag
team specialist steps up, gets a title match, and wins it.

[The frustration clearly evident on his face, Rogers continues.]

AR: _But_...as I said before...in due time, I'll get my shot. And I know
how to make the most of it.

GM: Speaking of titles, you also have entry into the upcoming AWA
National Tag Team Title tournament with a partner of your choosing after
the injury to Ron Houston. Do you know who that partner will be at this
time?

[Another smile from the Floridian.]

AR: We'll just have to see how things play out, Gordon. You know...I've
got a lot of connections from other places, a lot of friends. Who knows?
I might give one of 'em a call and see if I can convince, say, a Madfox-

[Pop!]

AR: -to come down to Texas and chase some titles just like old times.

GM: Adam Rogers, are you saying what I think you're saying?

[Again, Rogers grins.]

AR: You'll just have to wait and see.

[Rogers turns and walks away from the table.]

GM:  Fans, the ring is filled with competitors looking to get into the
tournament - let's go up to Melissa for the official announcement!

[Cut to the ring where a nervous Melissa Cannon is surrounded by
wrestlers ready for battle.]

MC:  The following contest is our MAIN EVENT of the evening and is an
Open Invitational Battle Royal!  To be eliminated, a competitor must go
over the top rope and have both feet touch the floor.

[Inside the ring, Juan Vasquez tugs on the top rope, loosening up while
Naitomea adjusts his mask a few feet away.]

MC:  The last two men standing will be entered as a tag team in the
tournament to crown the first National Tag Team Champions!

[A big cheer goes up.  Soup Bone Samson grins at the reaction while
Sweet Daddy Williams does a little bump and grind.  Stevie Scott looks
on amused.

Melissa Cannon goes to exit the ring, walking past Raphael Rhodes, Bruno
Verhoeven, and Jarrod O'Lachlan on the way out.]

GM:  Melissa makes her way out of the ring.  There's fourteen guys in
there including some folks you might not expect to be in there but hey,
anything can happen and you've gotta take your shot.

BW:  You've got veterans in there like Karl Kane and Bubba Jackson. 
You've got promising youngsters like Kendall Stanton and Max Steel.  I
think I even see Lord Azteca.

GM:  And don't forget about the Cuban Assassin #6.

BW:  Who could forget Castro's favorite wrestler?

[There's a moment of tension as everyone waits for the bell to ring to
start going to battle...

...when the PA starts up.]

GM:  Apparently we've got a last minute entry into the match to make an
even fifteen entries and-

BW:  Wait a second!  Do you hear that music?

GM:  I do.  

BW:  Don't you recognize it?

GM:  I don't think- wait a... is that...

[The crowd begins to buzz at the sounds of the Misfits' "Kong At The
Gates."]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  It can't be!

[Two men emerge from the shadows of the entryway, each clinging tightly
to a thick metal chain, directing...

...it!]

GM:  Oh... my... stars.

[Walking backwards, a small man in a wide brimmed hat emerges, hands
waving desperately.

And then... he (it?) emerges.]

BW:  Holy... dear... god...

[Massive to say the least, the absolute definition of giant appears.  A
burlap bag of some sort is over his head, turning as he does.  No eye
holes are cut in it, the leviathan guided by the voice of the man
leading him down the aisle.  Trunk sized arms hang, muscles straining
against skin.  Hair covers his arms and exposed chest, a thick morrass
climbs up the immeasurable limbs.]

GM:  Look at the size of this man!

BW:  He had to duck to get through the entryway!  I've never seen
anything like that!

[He wears heavy pants to the ring, feet somehow shoved into heavy soled
boots. A loose, open vest covers his chest, straining against his
football field wide back.  The man guides the rather melancholy (in body
language at least) giant to the ring, slowly scaling the ringsteps as
they draw closer to the squared circle.]  

GM:  Is this guy leading him trying to get in the ring?

[Leaning forward, the small man strokes the monster's shoulder, almost
as if a soothing petting.  He slowly reaches up to grab the top of the
sack.  He clutches the top...

He backs off...

He pulls...

...and it is unleashed.]

GM:  LOOK AT HIS EYES!

[A wild man, eyes darting everywhere, trembling, shaking, spittle
running down his face, the monster steps easily up onto the apron and
just as easily over the ropes and into the ring.  The men inside the
ring, petrified and as stunned as anyone, suddenly snap to life, the
prospect of the danger snapping them back to their senses...

...and the bell rings.]

GM:  COLOSSUS HYDE IS IN THE AWA - AND HERE... WE... GO!

[Wisely, the entire ring seems to converge on the 7'1, near five hundred
pound giant that now stands in the middle of the ring, wild punches and
kicks being thrown by anyone close enough to connect.  Lord Azteca is
quick to scale the ropes, waving people aside.]

GM:  Azteca is trying to part the seas...

[The luchador throws himself over the people who wouldn't move with a
cross body...

...and gets caught like a small child in the waiting arms of Colossus
Hyde who pushes against the mass of humanity holding him back.]

GM:  Hyde caught him! 

BW:  How is he even moving?!  Look at all the people swinging at him and
he's just absorbing it like he can't even feel it!  How in the heck does
he-

[Hyde simply presses Azteca up...

...and chucks him down to the barely-padded floor with little effort. 
Karl Kane and Soup Bone Samson quickly go to work, pummeling the massive
exposed back from behind.]

GM:  The two veterans working on Hyde - these two have fought with and
against one another all over the Southern states for years, Bucky.

BW:  Years?  More like decades!

GM:  Would you stop?

[Absorbing the blows to the back, Hyde slowly turns around to face his
attackers, grabbing both men by the back of the head with his massive
hands...

...and slams their heads together, sending Kane sailing down to the mat
as Samson staggers away.]

GM:  Oh!  No chance there for Samson and Kane - but look at this!

[The crowd roars as Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams rush towards
Hyde, peppering him with double team jabs...

...followed by a double team shake and shimmy

...a double team high five

...and a double team clothesline that knocks Hyde back about two steps
before a big overhand chop to the head sends Sweet Daddy Williams down
to the mat.]

GM:  Good grief!

[Stevie throws a barrage of punches, trying to battle back.  He's
quickly joined by Jarrod O'Lachlan and Kendall Stanton to make a triple
team of punches.]

GM:  They're trying to chop the big man down!  They're trying to take
him down off his feet where they might stand a chance to fight back!

BW:  But if they get him down on the mat, they can't get him over the
ropes!

GM:  That's an excellent- WHOA!

[The crowd roars in shock as Hyde lunges forward, smashing a headbutt
into Jarrod O'Lachlan's forehead that knocks the Australian off his
feet...

...and uncorks a brutal backhand chop that knocks Stanton down to the
mat as well.  Hyde shoves past Stevie Scott, trying to move across the
ring where Naitomea has peeled off from the attack on the big man and is
kicking Max Steel repeatedly in the midsection in the corner.]

GM:  We're down to fourteen men in there but-

[Raphael Rhodes decides to take a shot, leaping onto the massive back of
Hyde, hanging on with his left arm as he throws the right forearm
repeatedly across the face of Hyde.  The distraction serves to do enough
to allow Bubba Jackson to throw a barrage of punches into the
midsection.]

GM:  Another two on one on Hyde and-

[Blindly reaching out, Hyde grabs Bubba Jackson around the throat,
lifting him into the air...

...and HURLING him over the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  BUBBA JACKSON IS GONE!

BW:  We're down to a very unlucky thirteen.

GM:  A VERY unlucky thirteen as long as Colossus Hyde is inside the
ring.

BW:  This guy doesn't even need a tag team partner, Gordo.  He might be
able to win the tag team titles on his own.

GM:  Everyone needs a tag team partner.

[Hyde reaches back and somehow grabs Rhodes around the neck, whipping
him down to the mat in a snap mare.  He reaches way down to pick Rhodes
up...

...but a snapping uppercut from Rhodes straightens Hyde up and allows
the "Catch Thug" to roll out of the giant's warpath for the time being.]

GM:  Rhodes gets away - look at Stevie Scott!

[The crowd cheers as Stevie Scott delivers a hard double axehandle to
the back of Jarrod O'Lachlan, preventing him from shoving Sweet Daddy
Williams over the ropes to the floor.  The Hotshot and the Sweet Daddy
exchange another high five before moving back into the fray against
Bruno Verhoeven.]

GM:  In a match where it's every man for himself, Stevie Scott and Sweet
Daddy Williams are working very well together tonight in this Battle
Royal.  What a team they'd be in that tournament - what champions they'd
be as well, Bucky.

BW:  A world where Sweet Daddy Williams is wearing gold is a world I
just might have to leave, Gordo.

[The muscular Max Steel shoves Naitomea aside as he powers out of the
corner, moving towards Juan Vasquez who is trying to shove Kendall
Stanton over the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Max Steel is heading for Vasquez.  

BW:  Imagine what that'd do for Steel's career to eliminate a big star
like Juan Vasquez, Gordo.  You don't have to win this thing to make a
name for yourself.

GM:  You certainly do not.

[Steel blasts Vasquez with a big double axehandle from behind, breaking
the efforts on Stanton...

...and then attempts to shove Vasquez over the ropes himself.]

GM:  Steel saved Kendall Stanton although I don't think he really cared
about doing that.  But now he's trying to-

BW:  RHODES!

[The crowd roars as Raphael Rhodes slides up from the blind side and
upends Steel, sending him over the ropes to the floor.  Vasquez goes
over the ropes as well but hangs on, dragging himself under the bottom
rope where Rhodes repeatedly stomps him.]

GM:  An opportunistic move by Raphael Rhodes sends Max Steel out of the
ring and out of this match.

[Striking up a partnership for the moment, Naitomea and Jarrod O'Lachlan
get Soup Bone Samson in the corner, working him over with blows to the
body.]

GM:  The man from Japan and the newcomer from Australia are doing a
number on the veteran.  

BW:  Samson's big right hand isn't doing him any favors right now.

GM:  Not at the moment but you always have to keep an eye open for it
cause if you don't, it'll end your night in a heartbeat.

[Each man grabs a leg on Samson, trying to hoist him off the mat.]

GM:  Here we go... Soup Bone Samson in a bit of trouble...

[But the veteran gets saved by a forearm across the masked man's back by
Karl Kane.]

GM:  Ohh!  Kane saves Samson again and- LOOK OUT!

[Coming seemingly from nowhere, Hyde shoves Kendall Stanton and Cuban
Assassin #6 down to the mat, grabbing Kane by the head...

...and HURLING him to the floor!]

GM:  Karl Kane is gone!

BW:  We're down to eleven men!  Vasquez, Naitomea, Samson, Stevie, that
old fool Williams, Raphael Rhodes, The Butcher, Jarrod O'Lachlan,
Kendall Stanton, the Assassin, and that monster Hyde!

GM:  Hyde grabs Naitomea by the mask, hoisting him in a double choke...

[The fiery cruiserweight flails and kicks and wriggles until a knee
catches Hyde in the face, breaking the grip long enough for Naitomea to
get the hell out of Dodge...

...but Soup Bone Samson isn't as lucky as a big boot from Hyde catches
him square in the jaw and sends him over the ropes to the floor.]

BW:  And there goes the other old man!  

[The crowd boos the elimination of Samson...

...but quickly turns to cheers as a double clothesline from Stevie Scott
and Sweet Daddy Williams takes Cuban Assassin #6 over the ropes to the
floor!]

GM:  Haha!  And Stevie gets a little payback for that loss to the
Assassin a few weeks back!

BW:  Just like that, we're down to nine.  The eliminations can happen in
a hurry in a Battle Royal - one of the most dangerous matches in the
game, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly is.  All those limbs flying everywhere.  How easy
would it be to catch a stray finger in the eye or have someone fall on
your knee, give you an ACL tear like Werewolf Gregorson?

BW:  Real easy, Gordo.  Real easy.

GM:  With nine men left in the ring, the picture becomes a little
clearer.

[Colossus Hyde is being worked over in the turnbuckles by Juan Vasquez
and Stevie Scott.  Nearby, Naitomea has Kendall Stanton down on the mat
with a boot on his windpipe.  Raphael Rhodes is pummeling Sweet Daddy
Williams with European uppercuts against the ropes while Jarrod
O'Lachlan tries to get Bruno Verhoeven's legs over the ropes.]

GM:  Two of these nine men are going to be the Wild Card entry in this
tournament coming up.  Who would you like to see, Bucky?

BW:  Naitomea and Raphael Rhodes might break a few bones on their way to
the gold, Gordo.

GM:  How about Juan Vasquez and Stevie Scott?  Pure charisma right
there.

BW:  Maybe the kid'll pull it off - Kendall Stanton in there with any of
those guys would be a major upset.

GM:  I've got one for you - Colossus Hyde and Bruno Verhoeven.

BW:  You could just hand them the gold right now, Gordo.

GM:  You've got to win that tournament to win the gold and once you're
in the tournament, anything can happen.

BW:  Are you saying - you've got be in it to win it?

GM:  Essentially.

[Raphael Rhodes whips Sweet Daddy Williams across the ring with the
new-found daylight...

...and floors the fan favorite with a back elbow under the jaw, knocking
him down to the mat to the jeers of the crowd.  He turns away from the
downed Williams, trying to help O'Lachlan with Verhoeven.]

GM:  There's a nice shot of the international flair of the AWA as you
have a Brit and an Australian trying to eliminate a German.  

BW:  A rather angry, big German at that.  I don't know how smart of an
idea that is.

GM:  I think it's a real good idea.  Why would anyone want to keep
Verhoeven inside the ring?

[From his perch over the ropes, Bruno starts fighting back, connecting
with a hard right hand to the jaw of O'Lachlan that knocks him to a
knee.  Verhoeven swings back down onto his feet just as Rhodes reaches
him...

...and a slugfest ensues!]

GM:  OHH!

[The crowd roars at the rapid-fire exchange of blows from the German who
has been trained in boxing and the Englishman who has fought in pubs his
entire life...

...and somehow, someway Rhodes starts to get the better of the exchange,
forcing Verhoeven down to a knee.]

GM:  Are you kidding me?

BW:  Raphael Rhodes is out-punching a boxer?!

[With Verhoeven on a knee, Rhodes delivers a crunching kick to the face
that knocks Bruno down to the mat and gives Rhodes a bit of a roar from
the crowd...

...before he replies to the cheering fans with an obscene gesture.]

GM:  Classy.

BW:  Haha!  I love it!

[Turning away from the downed Verhoeven, Rhodes scans the ring, looking
for another fight...

...but promptly turns the other way as Hyde shoves down Stevie Scott,
wrapping a big hand around the windpipe of Juan Vasquez.]

GM:  He's got Vasquez by the throat!

[Jarrod O'Lachlan sees a chance to make an impact, racing towards the
distracted Hyde...

...who wraps a hand around his throat as well!]

GM:  HE'S GOT O'LACHLAN TOO!

[But before he can execute a double chokeslam, Vasquez and O'Lachlan
both deliver kicks a little bit low, breaking his grip.  The Australian
promptly hits the ropes, running back...

...and getting caught by the hair, thrown clear over the ropes by Juan
Vasquez!]

GM:  VASQUEZ TOSSES O'LACHLAN!

[A grinning Vasquez shrugs at the protesting O'Lachlan.]

BW:  It's every man for himself and we just saw that again.

GM:  We certainly did.

[Vasquez' celebration is short-lived as Raphael Rhodes nails him with a
forearm smash from behind, knocking him towards the ropes where Rhodes
quickly upends him...]

GM:  VASQUEZ GOES OVER!

[But the wily Vasquez hangs onto the ropes again, slipping back into the
ring where Rhodes starts stomping away.  A few feet away, Naitomea is
desperately clinging to the top rope as Stevie Scott, Sweet Daddy
Williams, and Kendall Stanton all try to eliminate him.

Which leaves two men staring across the ring at one another.]

GM:  Uh oh!

BW:  This is what this crowd wanted to see!

[The crowd roars as Colossus Hyde and Bruno Verhoeven slowly edge
towards one another...

...and then let the violence fly.]

GM:  Bruno's throwing bombs!  Really nailing the big- OHHHH!

[The crowd falls silent as Hyde executes a giant chop to the skull,
knocking Bruno flat.]

GM:  Oh... oh my stars.

BW:  He just knocked the Butcher flat with ONE shot!  I can't believe
it!

GM:  How in the- how did he-

[Hyde reaches down, pulling a limp Verhoeven off the mat into a scoop,
walking to the ropes...

...and just dumping him to the floor like a sack of trash.]

GM:  Bruno's gone!  Bruno's been eliminated!

BW:  I can't believe what I just saw, Gordon Myers!

GM:  Neither can I but we just witness- SWEET DADDY!

[The chubby fan favorite charges across the ring, throwing his weight
behind a running clothesline to the massive back of Colossus Hyde.]

GM:  Clothesli-

BW:  Oh, this is going to be great.

[Shaking with rage, a wild-eyed Hyde turns around, grabbing Williams by
the head and neck...

...and executes a HUUUUUGE biel throw over the ropes and down to the
floor below!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[Hyde looks down at the motionless Williams...

...and promptly steps OVER the ropes to the protesting screams of the
man who led him to the ring.]

GM:  HYDE'S GONE!  HE WENT OVER THE ROPES HIMSELF!

[The crowd roars as a confused Hyde drops down off the apron...

...and promptly wraps his hands around the throat of the downed
Williams, squeezing the windpipe with his massive paws!]

GM:  Oh no!

BW:  He's going to take that old fool's head home as a trophy, daddy!

[Stevie Scott quickly peels away from Naitomea, leaving Kendall Stanton
to deal with him as he moves over near the ropes.  The Hotshot leans
over the ropes, swiping at Hyde to try to break his grip but the giant's
focus is locked on his prey.]

GM:  He's strangling the life out of Sweet Daddy Williams!  We need some
help out here!  We need to get some help out here to-

[Ever opportunistic, Raphael Rhodes slinks up behind Stevie Scott and
promptly chucks him over the ropes and down to the floor!]

GM:  STEVIE'S GONE TOO!

BW:  We're down to four!

GM:  Juan Vasquez, Naitomea, Raphael Rhodes, and Kendall Stanton are
battling to see who will be the Wild Card team in the National Tag Team
Title Tournament!

BW:  And Sweet Daddy Williams is battling for his life!

[Shaking off the effects of his fall, Stevie Scott crawls over to Hyde,
trying to break the grip on Sweet Daddy Williams.  AWA officials quickly
hit the scene as the fan favorite's face turns a bright red.]

GM:  He's turning red!  He can't breathe!

BW:  That's kinda the point of it, Gordo!

GM:  Someone needs to stop that monster!

[Stevie Scott battles up to his feet, locking his arms around Hyde's
arm, trying to pull it away from Sweet Daddy Williams' throat.]

GM:  Stevie Scott is trying to fight him off - trying to break his grip.
 

[The AWA officials are screaming in the direction of the "guide" who
protests for a moment before nodding his head, climbing up the ringsteps
with the burlap hood in hand...

...and slipping it over the beast's head.  The effect is instant, his
arms going slack to his side as Sweet Daddy Williams gasps and coughs,
trying to pull air into his body.]

GM:  Finally!  Finally they get this... this guy to put the hood back
on.  Finally, Colossus Hyde stops his assault on Sweet Daddy Williams.

BW:  Did you see his reaction when that hood went on?  That's just
creepy, Gordo.  Absolutely frightening.

GM:  It certainly is.

[The AWA officials stay at ringside, trying to get Hyde, Scott, and
Williams away from ringside...

...just as Kendall Stanton comes crashing down on top of all of them,
courtesy of a cackling Raphael Rhodes and a silent Naitomea who looks
down coldly from behind his mask.]

GM:  We're down to three!  Naitomea, Rhodes, and Vasquez are your final
three competitors in this Battle Royal.  Only one more man to eliminate
and the final two will be your Wild Card entry into the tournament!

[Rhodes turns to face Vasquez and then quickly turns his attention to
Naitomea, saying a few words to the man who just helped him eliminate
Kendall Stanton.]

GM:  Rhodes is trying to make an alliance - trying to find an ally in
there.

BW:  Why not?  A two-on-one is a great way to solidify a tag team,
Gordo.

GM:  I suppose that's true.

[Naitomea looks at Rhodes for a bit before nodding his head.]

GM:  And it looks like we've got an alliance on our hands!

[The two men quickly shake hands, turning to move in on Juan Vasquez who
looks back and forth, trying to figure out his options.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is in trouble!  Juan Vasquez is in serious trouble
right here!  Naitomea is moving in and-

[But just as the masked man reaches Vasquez, Rhodes swoops in from
behind...

...and tosses Naitomea over the ropes to the floor!]

GM:  What the-

BW:  Raphael Rhodes just betrayed Naitomea!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... your winners of the match and the WILD CARD
team for the National Tag Team Title Tournament...

JUAN VASQUEZ... and RAPHAEL RHOOOOODES!

[The crowd responds with a mixture of cheers and boos as Vasquez looks
on shocked at Rhodes' actions.  The cocky Brit smirks at the reaction
before dropping down to the mat, rolling out to the floor.]

GM:  We're out of time!  We've got to-

???:  Not just yet.

[The camera quickly cuts to the announce table where Gordon and Bucky
have been joined by a third party.  An African-American dressed to the
nines in a dapper suit, he looks down his hawkish nose over the bridge
of his glasses with a big grin.  Fixing his perfectly tailored tie,
Jonathan H. Smith looks about the studio, clearing his throat before
beginning.]

JHS: Ladies and gentlemen... my name is Jonathan H. Smith. Attorney at
large and now legal consultant.

[He pauses, letting people ponder the consequences of the as yet minor
announcement. As some begin to come to their own conclusions he
continues.]

JSH: I am not a legal consultant to AWA itself but rather a member of
it's roster and their handler. I, Jonathan H. Smith, am the legal
consultant for a man whom you saw earlier tonight, scant minutes ago.
For the man who opened the eyes of everyone in the locker room and
audience, a man who dropped jaws and shattered careers. I am announcing
myself as the legal consultant for Mr. Kyoto...

[Pause. Dramatic effect really.]

...and for the seven foot plus, near five hundred pound tsunami of
destruction. The man-beast, the destroyer of worlds, the ultimate threat
in all the wrestling world, Colossus Hyde!

[The crowd buzzes some more this time.]

JHS: And to keep this brief, as I am a very, very busy man. Too busy
for... these people (utmost derision!) certainly.

[He smirks as many boo his arrogance.]

JHS: AWA. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

[The camera holds on the smirking Jonathan H. Smith...

...as we fade to black.]