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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                           Live from the WKIK Studios
                                    Dallas, Texas
                               October 10th, 2009
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[As we fade in, we hear the closing theme to the Fishing With Orlando
Wilson show as the shot starts to fade.  It is replaced with footage
marked "TWO WEEKS AGO!" where Juan Vasquez and Stevie Scott are
wrestling in the Ten Minute Challenge.  The Hotshot throws a right hand
that Vasquez blocks...

...then grabs Scott under the arm, turning him into a backslide!]

GM:  BACKSLIDE BY VASQUEZ!  ONE!!  TWO!   THRE- NO!  And this time it's
Stevie who gets the shoulder up in time!

BW:  Come on, Stevie!  Do something!

GM:  Juan Vasquez just needs to play beat the clock!  He's got about
thirty seconds left.  If he can survive, the ball's in his court!  He'll
get the title shot whenever and wherever he wants it!  

BW:  Don't forget however - whatever that means.

GM:  Both men to their feet again... right hand by Stevie... a second
right knocks Juan back to the ropes...

[Grabbing Vasquez by the wrist, the National Champion executes an Irish
whip, immediately getting ready for another Heatseeker attempt...

...but Vasquez hooks the ropes, preventing the rebound.  He grins at the
champion, pointing to a "wristwatch" as the clock hits :15.  A furious
Hotshot sprints towards him.]

GM:  Here comes Stev- OHHHHHHH!

[The crowd gasps as Vasquez sidesteps, HURLING Stevie through the ropes
and out to the floor!]

GM:  We're down to ten!  Nine!  Eight!  Seven!

[Out on the floor, a frantic Ben Waterson is shaking his client,
physically dragging him to his feet, shoving him back towards the ring
as the fans count along with Gordon Myers.]

GM:  FIVE!  FOUR!  THREE!  TWO!  ONE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd EXPLODES as a smirking Vasquez throws both arms into the air
in triumph.  Waterson lets go of Stevie Scott who slumps down to a knee,
glaring up inside the ring at a celebrating Vasquez.]

GM:  Vasquez wins!  Vasquez wins!

BW:  He did not!  He didn't beat Stevie!

GM:  He didn't have to!  Stevie had to beat him!  Stevie couldn't beat
him!  Fans, the champ could not beat Juan Vasquez!  The champ couldn't
beat him!  We're out of time!  We'll see you next time!  So long
everybody!

[And with a grinning Vasquez making the "I want the belt" gesture at
Stevie Scott, the shot freezes before slowly fading to 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 interior
of the WKIK Studios in Dallas, Texas.  The back wall is covered with
various flags from around the world.  The bleachers on three sides of
the ring stand a little taller, helping to fit a few more people into
the building.  The ring is sporting red, white, and blue ropes with
matching buckles and is lookin' good, yo.

A quick cut reveals our announce area - a brand new blue and white
backdrop with a television screen currently displaying the AWA logo
behind our announce duo.  They stand behind a small wooden podium, all
grins as the fans cheer.

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.  He's in his late 30's... he's former manager
"Big Bucks" Bucky Wilde.]

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.  Bucky Wilde, we
have quite the... unique... show in store for the fans here tonight.

BW:  You can say that again, Gordo.  What kind of ship is this
Championship Committee running?  They won't even tell ME the Main Event!
 ME!

GM:  I haven't been able to find out either.  All we could discover was
that throughout this night, we should expect to see several new faces
and perhaps some old friends as well.  And at this time...

["Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson and the AWA National Champion,
"Hotshot" Stevie Scott, both appear in the camera's view.  Both are
decked out in suits with Stevie also wearing sunglasses and carrying the
gold belt over his shoulder.]

GM: Allow us to welcome in the AWA National Champion, "Hotshot" Stevie
Scott and his manager Ben Waterson.  Two weeks ago, you basically took
over our programming but things did end-

[Waterson raises a hand and interrupts.]

ATTSBW: First of all, Myers, if you think that the way things ended two
weeks ago takes anything away from our victory celebration, you're wrong
as usual.  It wasn't even a bump on the road.

But tonight, the AWA National Champion has a lot on his mind.  So I'm
not going to take up any more of his time, Myers.  Talk to him now.

[Myers turns to address Stevie Scott, but doesn't get the chance as the
champion starts talking before Myers can ask anything.]

HSS: Juan.  Vasquez.

[Stevie grins arrogantly.]

HSS: Mr. Big Time.  The latest and greatest challenger to Stevie Scott's
AWA National Title.

[The champ looks to his manager.]

HSS: Here's another guy, Ben, who's been around the globe.  Who's
wrestled in front of hundreds of thousands of people in person and on
television in the biggest matches, and so on and so forth.

He doesn't get it, does he?

[Waterson smiles and shakes his head.  Stevie turns back to the camera.]

HSS: Let me clue you in on something, pal.  This ain't Los
ANGELES...this ain't St. LOUIS...this ain't CANADA.  You're in the AWA,
and the AWA?  This is MY backyard.  I've been here since day one.  I
didn't come strutting in here AFTER I realized that this place was going
to be something.  I didn't wait around to make sure that the AWA was
worthy of my presence before I decided to come and compete here.

[Stevie pauses, his smile now transformed into a scowl.]

HSS: The AWA is what it is, Juan Vasquez, in large part...because of ME.
 Everyone to this day still talks about WarGames, a match that happened
over a year ago.  The match that, for all intents and purposes, put the
AWA on the map.  And who made that happen?  ME.

Then we have the shot heard around the world...Ben Waterson's briefcase
on the side of Kolya Sudakov's skull.  The revelation of a plan that was
developed and played out over the course of a _year_.  Again, the whole
wrestling world still talks about it.  Once again...Stevie Scott was
involved in taking the AWA's name to another level.

[Another pause, this time to remove the sunglasses and set them on the
announcer's table.]

HSS: So if you think this is going to be easy...if you think you're just
going to waltz in here, throw your resume at me, and I'll just roll over
and lay down for the three count?  You're delusional.  If you think all
your "big time" experience is going to do you any good against me?
You're crazy.  If you think that just because I hear the name "Juan
Vasquez", I'm going to soil my pants and head for another city in
another state?  You're off your rocker.

This is MY house, Juan.  MY house.  Not yours, not anyone else's.  And
remember this...you're not the first so-called big name to come in here
and try to take me down.  Marcus Broussard?  Adam Rogers?  Big names
indeed...

...and where are they now?

WHERE ARE THEY NOW, JUAN?

[Now red-faced, Stevie stops and regains a little composure in the form
of an arrogant chuckle.]

HSS: I'll tell you where they are.

Or better yet, I'll SEND you to where they are.

So I didn't beat you in one minute.  So I didn't beat you in TEN
minutes.  Get excited about it, celebrate it, run your mouth and pump up
the fans that for some reason seem to like you.  That, ultimately, is
not what matters.  Here's what does.

See, Juan, you've gone and pissed me off now.  And when I'M pissed off,
Ben Waterson is pissed off.  When I'm pissed off, Gary Bright is pissed
off.  Those are three enemies you don't want.  But here's the
interesting thing, Juan.

Until you?  No one had pissed me off.  And yet, take a look at the trail
of bodies we've already left in our wake.

[Another pause, another grin.]

HSS: And if that's what we've done to people who HAVEN'T made us mad?

Just think about what we're going to do you YOU.

[And with that, the National Champion walks away, leaving Ben Waterson
behind to lean over the mic.]

ATTSBW:  Consider.  Yourself.  Warned.

[Waterson smirks as he claps Gordon Myers on the shoulder, walking off
camera to the jeers of the WKIK Studios audience.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring for our opening matchup!

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

MC:  Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to my right...
from Tijuana, Mexico... weighing in tonight at 190 pounds... he is
Hurricane Jarada!

[A garishly dressed luchador throws an arm up in the air.]

MC:  And his opponent... from DEEEEEETROIT, Michigan... standing 6'6 and
weighing in at 310 pounds... 

SOUUUUUUP BOOOOOONE SAMMMMMSON!

[The tough and burly veteran walks through the curtain to the sounds of
"Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J.  The crowd erupts into cheers as
the big man walks into view, the heavy metal chain draped around his
thick neck and shoulders.  He slaps the hands of all the ringside fans
before rolling under the bottom rope to even more cheers.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson hits the ring... the #9 contender for the AWA
National Title and Samson has made no secret of the fact that he wants a
shot at Stevie Scott, Bucky.

BW:  He and every other wrestler on the planet.

GM:  Soup Bone is very good friends with Sweet Daddy Williams, dating
back to their days with us in Southern Championship Wrestling, Bucky. 
Of course he'd want a shot at payback for his friend after what happened
to Sweet Daddy Williams back in July at Death Or Glory.

[Samson hands off the chain to the referee who quickly gets it outside
the ring before calling for the bell.]

GM:  Here we go...

[Jarada quickly drops into a front rolling somersault, popping up to his
feet with an "Ole!" that draws a few chuckles from the crowd...

...but not from Soup Bone Samson who buries a boot into his gut before
slamming home a heavy forearm smash to the back that knocks Jarada down
to all fours.]

GM:  Samson's one of the heaviest hitters on the AWA roster - down to
his knees as well...

[Down on all fours next to Jarada, Samson lunges forward and drives his
own skull into the luchador's.  The crowd roars as Samson follows up
with a series of the same style headbutts, causing Jarada to roll under
the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  This doesn't look like a guy worthy of a National Title shot,
Bucky?

BW:  Whether or not he deserves a title shot isn't up to me.  That's the
Championship Committee's decision.  But I can guarantee you that even if
he gets the shot, he doesn't have enough left in the tank to beat Stevie
Scott.

GM:  Hopefully we'll get the chance to see that for ourselves.

[Samson rolls under the ropes as well to the floor, pulling the stunned
Jarada off the barely-padded concrete.  Grabbing Jarada by the wrist, he
yanks him towards himself, dropping him with a short-arm clothesline
that knocks the luchador back down to the floor.]

GM:  Good grief!  What a clothesline by Soup Bone Samson, Bucky!

BW:  He's a tough old man, I'll give hm that.

GM:  Samson, a grizzled veteran at the age of 49, is one of the oldest
members of the AWA roster which makes this chase for the National Title
even more important to him.  He knows he's running out of chances - in
fact, he knows this may be his final chance, Bucky.

BW:  It's gotta be his final chance.  How many 50 year olds get a shot
at the biggest title in our sport?

[The big man rolls Jarada under the ropes into the ring before climbing
up on the ring apron, stepping through the ropes to join him.]

GM:  Both men back inside the squared circle now - Samson hauling him
off the mat by the mask...

[The crowd cheers as Samson turns Jarada away from him, reaching under
to scoop him up for a bodyslam.]

GM:  Look at this!

[With a big whoop, Samson SLAMS Jarada facefirst down to the canvas in
an inverted bodyslam!]

GM:  Picked him up the opposite way than you usually would on a bodyslam
and threw him facefirst down to the mat instead of backfirst.  That's a
devastating move from someone the size of Samson.

BW:  I'd say it's a devastating move for anyone, Gordo.

[Jarada lies facefirst on the mat which allows Samson to drop down,
smashing his head into the back of Jarada's with a swandive falling
headbutt.]

GM:  Falling headbutt - shades of Raphael Rhodes right there...

[Samson flips Jarada onto his back, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  We've got one... we've got two... and Jarada fires a shoulder up at
two!

[Nodding his head, Samson climbs back to his feet before reaching down
to drag Jarada up, shoving him back into the corner.  Grabbing him by
the wrist, he fires the luchador across the ring...

...but Jarada counters, leaping up to the second rope.  As Samson
approaches, Jarada leaps off the midbuckle, twisting his body to land on
the shoulders of the big man, his legs around the head.]

BW:  Here comes the rana... but Samson's fighting it!

[The luchador's attempt to headscissor Samson down to the mat seems to
go nowhere as the big man stands tall...]

GM:  Samson's not being taken down and-

[Using his power, Samson shoves Jarada off, causing him to backflip
through the air before landing on his feet on the canvas...

...where an IMMEDIATE right hook knocks Jarada flat!]

GM:  OHHH!  WHAT A SHOT!  

BW:  That's all.

GM:  And Soup Bone Samson just showed exactly why on any given night,
he's one right hand away from becoming the AWA National Champion.  

[Samson sits down on the chest of the unconscious Jarada, lifting that
right fist up so everyone can see it as the referee drops down to the
mat to count three.]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match...

SOUP!  BONE!  SAMMMMMMSON!

[The fans cheer the announcement as Samson climbs to his feet, allowing
his arm to be raised by the official before he steps through the ropes,
walking towards the broadcast table.]

GM:  We're about to be joined by Soup Bone Samson here at ringside. 
Soup Bone, another impressive victory.  That right hand has got to be
one of the most feared weapons in the entire AWA!

[Samson joins the announcers, putting a heavy arm on the shoulder of
Bucky Wilde - something that obviously makes Bucky a little
uncomfortable.]

SBS:  Thanks for that, Mr. Gordon Myers.  You are one hundred percent
correct, my friend.  If this big ol' right hand isn't the most feared
weapon in the entire AWA, then those turkeys in the locker room aren't
payin' close enough attention.

[Big cheer from the crowd!]

SBS:  Stevie Scott, I saw you out here with your flunky Waterson
earlier.  Talkin' a big game about Juan Vasquez.  How you been here. 
How you been the man in the AWA.  How this is your backyard.  

I hear ya, dog.  I hear ya.

[Samson nods his head slowly.]

SBS:  You been here since Day 1.  I'll give you that.  You were in
WarGames... one of the damndest fights I ever seen in my days.  I'll
give you that.  And yeah, you're the big man 'round these parts right
now.  I'll give you that too.

But someday, Hotshot... someday... your mouth is gonna write a check
that yo' bony butt just can't cover, son.

Juan Vasquez is a hell of a talent, Hotshot... a hell of a talent.  And
to hear you out here runnin' him down like you've done everyone else...

[Samson chuckles.]

SBS:  That day may be comin' sooner than ya think.  So, whether it's
Juan Vasquez... or maybe Marcus Broussard... or Adam Rogers... or Sweet
Daddy Williams...

[A smirk.]

SBS:  Or this ol' dog right here.  We're all comin' for ya, Stevie.  And
ain't a one of us gonna be happy until that National Title is offa
you...

[Samson does the "belt gesture."]

SBS:   And right here on one of us.

[The big veteran holds up that clenched right hand before walking off
camera to the cheers of the crowd.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson has got his eyes locked on the National Champion
and Stevie Scott can add one more enemy to his ever-growing list.  Fans,
we've got to take a quick break, we'll be back with more AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling!

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

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back to live action where Gordon and Bucky are
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  It's going to
be quite the night of action here in the WKIK Studios and things are
just getting started.  We are live here in-

[Suddenly, the sharp notes from ZZ Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" reverberate
throughout the WKIK Studios as the crowd promptly responds with a
resounding chorus of boos for the most detested team in the AWA.]

GM:  Now what is this about?

[From the entrance portal emerge the tandem of "Subzero" Adrian Freeman
and "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Dufresne is clad in a pair of
designer blue jeans and a three-sizes-too-small Ed Hardy t-shirt that
just screams "douchebag", but for some reason the ladies in the crowd
love it.  Freeman heads with purpose towards our announce crew while
Dufresne lingers behind, sliding up to a young blonde in the crowd while
what appears to be her boyfriend simply looks on, stunned at the
proceedings.  The camera scans over to focus on Freeman and Gordon
Myers.]

GM: Adrian Freeman, what is the purpose of your visit out here tonight?

AF: Even you should know what we want one thing right now: a rematch
with Kentucky's Pride.  And we're not taking no for an answer.

GM: You men both know that there are rules and regulations in this
organization!  Rules and regulations you constantly break at every
opportunity.  And in this case, you don't have the requisite three
points to request a title match against Kentucky's Pride because of your
loss at No Escape!

[Calisto Dufresne appears on camera, a little smirk on his face as he
pockets what appears to be the aforementioned young lady's phone
number.]

CD: Look, Gordo, it's real simple.  Just like Adrian here said, we don't
particularly care about red tape and bureaucratic nonsense.  See, we
like to give the fans their money's worth.  We like to give the fans a
clinical display of wrestling prowess like they've never seen.  And we'd
like to give our throngs of adoring fans a tag team that know their
A-B-Cs and have a full set of teeth.

Something Kentucky's Pride just can't deliver on.

[Predictible heel pop.]

GM: Regardless of your continued verbal assault on our _great_ tag team
champions, you're going to have to earn that shot just like everyone
else!

AF: See it's kind of funny, you know... one minute you're the top
contender who's earned a shot at the belts, then all of a sudden a
braindead referee throws himself into Callisto's way and now we're lower
than dirt.  How can we go from top contenders to bottom of the rung
without being pinned or submitted?  Explain the logic there to me.

CD: You don't think we've _earned_ a shot at the gold, Gordo? Seriously?
 Can you really sit here in front of our fans with a straight face and
say that?

We've been holding this organization up by ourselves since the doors
first opened.  Scrubs like Broussard, Sudakov and Rogers were running
around in the Main Events while Adrian and I were busting our tails day
in, day out, putting on wrestling clinics and going about our business
with honor and dignity.

AF: Of course, later on we would end up beating most of the overhyped
"legends" who got that golden ticket to the Main Event.

CD:  And what happened when we were within inches of putting the gold
around our waists?  The corrupt leaders atop this organization conspired
to keep the belts away from us!

Well the buck stops here, Gordo. 

Kentucky's Pride, it's time that you "Cowboy Up".  No more running and
hiding behind fake injuries.  No more hiding behind your skirts.  No
more cowardly attacks on us. 

[The crowd just groans as Myers looks on, shaking his head.]

CD: We want that rematch, and we want it _now._

[The crowd pops as one half of the National Tag Team Champions, Tin Can
Rust, approaches the area, mic in hand.]

GM: Ladies and gentlemen, Tin Can Rust!

[The crowd pops again as Rust - dressed in jeans, a "Give Me Liberty or
Give Me Death" T-shirt in honor of City Jack, and his tag title belt
slung over his shoulder - steps next to Myers, across from Freeman and
Dufrense.]

GM: Tin Can Rust, surely you're here to set these two men straight about
the situation at hand with the AWA National Tag Team Titles.

[Rust, ignoring Myers, looks at both Freeman and Dufresne in their eyes
showing that he's not intimidated being outnumbered.]

TCR: You two want a rematch?

[Both Dufresne and Freeman nod and yell at Rust to give them their
rightful match.]

TCR: ...

[Rust looks down for a moment... but then with a curled lip and and an
angered look, brings his head up.]

TCR: Fine.

[The crowd pops at the display of machismo & cowboy-ism, but Gordon
Myers is taken aback.]

GM: Hold on there, Mr. Rust! You can't agree to that match!

[Rust looks down to his title and then back to Myers.]

TCR: I can't?

GM: No! These two men, they don't have the points and... and Jack's ey-

TCR: I'll say this straight right here, and no disrespect to you or the
Championship Committee, but... damn the points!

[The crowd pops again at the display of bravado!]

TCR: These two yellow-backed men want to step up to the plate after
injurying Jack? Thinking that they've got a wounded dog on the ground,
ready to be put down? Fine.

GM: But -

TCR: Frankly, I've never cared for the points anyway... And Jack? You
don't think he wants to get his hands on that piece of-

[Rust holds back, already having made one snafu.]

TCR: Get his hands on Dufresne again? That's all he talks about, Myers.
That's all he wants. So I say, fine, Myers. These two cowards want the
match?

[Rust looks back to Dufresne and Freeman.]

TCR: You two want this match? You want your death sentence? Fine. Let's
do it.

[And with that, Tin Can Rust storms out of view leaving a surprised
Freeman and Dufresne behind.]

GM:  I don't- can he do that?

BW:  He's one-half of the tag team champions.  If he can't accept a
title match challenge... I don't know, Gordo.

GM:  I don't either.  I think the Championship Committee is going to
have something to say about this situation!  Let's go up to the ring!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to my right... he hails
from Oklahoma City... Jack Dean!

[A few boos from the Oklahoma native.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The sounds of "What's That Sound?" by Les Rhythmes Digitales hits the
PA, bringing a grin to the face of anyone who hears it.]

GM:  And it's time to get down!

BW:  What?  What's gotten into you, Gordo?

[The crowd cheers as someone bursts through the curtain.  He wears neon
orange trunks with tassels on them that shake as he... well, shakes. 
Bobbing his head up and down, he holds up a decent-sized mirror ball on
the end of a string as he gyrates his hips on down the aisle.]

MC:  From South Siciliy, California... weighing in at 205 pounds... 

He is the DISCO MACHINE...

GIIIIIIINOOO MOOOORETTIIII!

[Some cheers for the unknown grappler as he quickly walks up the
ringsteps, climbing through the ropes into the ring.  Grinning widely,
he walks over to the referee and makes him hold the mirror ball up in
the air...

...and then proceeds to shake his groove thang with the mirror ball
overhead.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  It's time to boogie down in the WKIK Studios!

BW:  Gordon, what in the world is wrong with you?

[Moretti steps up to the middle rope, shaking his thang for the crowd,
drawing quite the squeal from the ladies in attendance.  He hops down
off the buckles, staying in the corner as he waits for the referee to
call for the bell.]

GM:  And here we go!

[A very stern-looking Jack Dean is all business as he rushes across the
corner...

...and gets sidestepped, Moretti throwing him facefirst into the
buckles!  Big cheer!]

GM:  Nice counter by Moretti!

[Moretti quickly ties up the stunned Dean in a Russian Legsweep, taking
him down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Floatover into a pin attempt - one!  Two!  Shoulder out at
two!

[A grinning Moretti rolls to his back, expressly so he can kip up to his
feet to the cheers of the crowd.  As Dean gets to his feet, Moretti
buries a knee into his gut, pushing him back against the ropes.  A big
whip fires him across...

...and allows a rump-shakin' Moretti to dash across the ring, leaping
into the air and twisting to smash his rear into the face of Jack Dean!]

GM:  Haha!  What do you call that, Bucky?

BW:  I call it a disgrace to the wrestling business.  He's like a
younger version of Sweet Daddy Williams in there.  Absolutely
disgusting.

GM:  I thought you knew the names of all the moves.

[Moretti stands over the downed Dean, looking like John Travolta in
Saturday Night Fever as he dances over his prone opponent...

...who suddenly curls up, lashing out with both feet into the gut of
Moretti, knocking him back into the ropes.]

GM:  Ohh!  Jack Dean caught him offguard there.

BW:  He caught him acting like an idiot.

[Approaching the ropes, Dean creams him with a forearm shot to the side
of the face.  He grabs the wrist, firing Moretti across the ring...

...and flooring him with a big running clothesline!]

GM:  King-sized clothesline by the Oklahoma native!  And these fans
didn't like that one bit.

BW:  Who cares what the fans like?

GM:  Dean stomping Moretti into the canvas... and a big elbowdrop down
across the chest.  There's a cover for one... for two... and a shoulder
up.

[Jack Dean argues with the referee as he drags Moretti off the canvas,
pulling him into a front facelock.  He slings Moretti's arm over his
neck, powering him up into a vertical suplex...

...and slams him down to the canvas!]

GM:  Suplex by Dean!  Another cover - one!  Two!  And the shoulder comes
up again!

[Dean throws a few right hands to the jaw of Moretti, dragging him off
the mat by his long black hair, and shoving him back into the corner. 
He quickly whips Moretti across the ring, charging across behind him...]

GM:  Here comes Dean and-

[The crowd roars as Moretti brings his feet up, catching the incoming
Dean with two feet squarely in the midsection, causing Dean to stumble
backwards out of the corner, dropping down to a knee.]

GM:  Moretti caught him coming in!  He hooks him!

[The fans cheer as Moretti shakes his hips back and forth...

...and snaps off a swinging neckbreaker!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught all of that!

[Moretti rolls into a lateral press, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match...

GINOOOO MOOOORETTI!

[Moretti springs to his feet, jumping up and down in celebration as the
fans cheer.  His music starts back up, allowing to have a little victory
dance before he exits the ring, still shakin' it as he moves over the
announce position.]

GM:  Gino Moretti, the Disco Machine... congrats on your win and welcome
to the AWA!

[Moretti grins at the reaction of the crowd as shakes Gordon's offered
hand.]

TDM:  Thank you, Mr. Myers.  Thank you so much.  This means so much to
me.  To be here, to be in front of these great fans, to have a legend
like you calling my matches.  This is... this is just perfect, Mr.
Myers.

GM:  Well, you're welcome, Mr. Moretti.  That was a very impressive
neckbreaker you used to finish off Jack Dean and-

TDM:  Excuse me, Mr. Myers but that wasn't a neckbreaker.

GM:  It wasn't?

TDM:  It's the Shake Shake Shake Breaker!

[Big cheer!  The Disco Machine grins at the reaction.]

GM:  I think our fans like the sound of that, Mr. Moretti.

TDM:  And I like the sound of them!  Woooo!

[Another big cheer from the fans.]

GM:  Well, Mr. Moretti, congratulations again and we look forward to
seeing more of-

[The cheers turn to jeers as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson emerges
from the locker room area.  He slowly walks onto the interview area,
glaring at young Gino Moretti.]

ATTSBW:  I think your interview is finished.

[Moretti looks like he's about to argue with Waterson...

...but the appearance of "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright behind the Agent To
The Stars makes Moretti think better of it, lifting his hands up and
walking slowly away.]

ATTSBW:  Now that we've cleared away the garbage.  Let's get down to
business.  It seems that no matter what we do... no matter how many
bodies we put on the shelf... no matter how many careers we end... 

The suits in this company and the fans in this company seem obsessed
with someone else.  Someone they put the full marketing force of the
company behind.  Someone they think is a superstar.

[Waterson points at the Gold Bomber.]

ATTSBW:  THIS is a superstar.  THIS is who they should be drooling over.
 THIS is the man who is truly carved from stone by the Gods and handed
down to wrestling fans to carry them into the next decade!  The Gold
Bomber, Gary Bright, is the future of this business...

...and he gets ignored by the entire AWA.

[Bright nods, gripping his hands together tightly.]

ATTSBW:  This man is a future champion.  This man is a future superstar.
 This man is a future Hall of Famer.  And yet, he has to struggle to get
on AWA Saturday Night Wrestling to compete.  He gets left off major
events by the matchmakers!

No more will we tolerate this!  This man will start getting the
appreciation he deserves starting right now.

Because the AWA is planning this big Thanksgiving night show... the
biggest event of the year is what they're saying...

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  And you can be damn sure that Gary Bright is not missing that
show.

Tonight, I want to make an official challenge... WE want to make an
official challenge...

On Thanksgiving night, the Gold Bomber...

[Dramatic pause.]

ATTSBW:  ...versus Tumaffi!

[HUGE CHEER!]

ATTSBW:  The ball is in your court, AWA... but if you do not sign this
match, you will not like the consequences.

Consider.  Yourselves.  Warn-

[The crowd bursts into jeers as The Bishop Boys emerge from the locker
room, Cousin Bo Allan leading Duane Henry and Cletus Lee through the
curtain.]

GM:  Mr. Waterson, what is this about?

ATTSBW:  Haven't a clue.

[The trio reaches the group, Gary Bright stepping up to get in between
his manager and the invading three men...

...and the crowd starts to buzz as Cletus Lee does the same, eyeing the
Gold Bomber as the two men come eye to eye.  Cousin Bo leans over the
podium, talking into the mic.]

CB:  Easy now, Cletus... take it easy.  

[An outstretched arm makes the big man take a step back.  Waterson taps
Bright on the shoulder, getting him to step back as well.]

CB:  Mr. Waterson, I'm out here for a very simple reason.

[Bo grins widely.]

CB:  Business.

[Waterson looks puzzled.]

ATTSBW:  Business?  I'm not sure what business I would have with...

[He looks dismissive.]

ATTSBW:  ...you.

[Cousin Bo grabs at his chest mockingly.]

CB:  You wound me, Waterson.  You really do.  After all we've been
through together...

[Waterson arches an eyebrow.]

CB:  If my memory serves, two weeks ago you hired my boys to do some...
personal security for ya.

[A nod.]

CB:  And in my opinion, today looks like payday.

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  Money?  You're out here to hit me up for money?

[Cousin Bo shakes his head.]

CB:  Nah, my good man.  Money is not what I'm here for.  What I'm here
for... is opportunity.

[The "Agent To The Stars" looks confused.]

ATTSBW:  I'm not sure I fol-

CB:  It's simple, Benny.  My boys have been sittin' on two point for a
long, long while now and I think it's time to change that.  We want our
shot at the National Tag Team Titles...

[Bo smirks.]

CB:  And we think _you_ can deliver it.

[Waterson looks surprised, shaking his head.]

ATTSBW:  I'm not sure what you think I can-

CB:  You're the business man.  The negotiator.  The "Agent To The
Stars", right?  Heck, I saw Dufresne and Freeman out here two weeks ago
pestering y'all for a shot at the Pride.

[Bo nods.]

CB:  Now it's our turn.  It's time to move past these Rough N Ready
twerps and get out shot at the gold.  Jack and Rust can't duck us
forever, Benny.

[The "negotiator" scratches his chin pensively for a few moments and
then replies...]

ATTSBW:  What's in it for me?

[Cousin Bo grins.]

CB:  You go talk to the Committee... then we'll sit down and have
ourselves a little chat.  Good?

[And drawing even more boos from the crowd, all five men walk out of the
WKIK Studios together to the backstage area leaving Gordon and Bucky
behind.]

GM:  What in the world was that all about?

BW:  I have no idea.

GM:  Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and back up to live action where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are
standing and the crowd is booing crazily.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  It's been an
interesting night to say the least, Bucky.

BW:  You weren't kidding at the top of the show when you said we'd be
seeing some new faces... and some old friends.  Like this guy right
here!

[The camera pulls back a bit to reveal Vladimir Velikov standing right
next to Bucky Wilde.  He shakes hands with the color man.]

VV:  Thank you, Comrade Buckthorn.  It is... how you say... good to be
back.

GM:  Mr. Velikov, it's been a few months since we've seen you in the
AWA.  Where have you been all this time?

VV:  I returned to Mother Russia for further instruction.  After my
nephew failed, my people wished to speak with me to rediscover our
goals.

GM:  Speaking of Kolya, where is he?

[Velikov shakes his head.]

VV:  Nephew Kolya will not be joining me, Gordon Myers.  His failure has
forced him to undergo severe... re-education.  He will not be returning
to the AWA.

GM:  Ever?

VV:  Mother Russia will decide his fate.  But I have returned, Gordon
Myers... and my mission to show the world the superiority of the Russian
people remains.  And I do not fight alone.

GM:  I don't understand.  If Kolya isn't returning with you, then who
is-

VV:  That is... how you say... for me to know and you to find out,
Gordon Myers.

[Velikov chuckles with his deep gravelly laugh before walking away from
the announce duo.]

GM:  Well, like we said... it's an interesting night.  Let's go back to
Melissa for our next matchup!

[In the ring, Melissa Cannon has the mic, ready to announce the next
match.]

MC:  The following contest is a handicap match and it is scheduled for
one fall with a ten minute time limit.  Already in the ring at this
time... weighing in at a combined weight of 650 pounds... Jose Rivera,
"Hollerin'" Cody Hollin and Darren Toombs!

[Rivera raises a hand to acknowledge the crowd, while Hollin and Toombs
high-five each other.]

BW: Oh. Great. A handicap match. I wonder who their opponents are...

GM: I certainly don't need Matsui Corporation stationery to know who's
coming out.

MC:  And their opponent...

[Tomoyasu Hotei's 'Battle Without Honor or Humanity' starts to play over
the arena speakers.  Louis Matsui emerges with a smirk from the
entranceway.]

BW: Somebody _PLEASE_ give the man some competition already!

GM: Jose Rivera was out here last week and ate a size thirteen boot for
his trouble. Now he's back with a couple of students from his wrestling
school to see if they might fare better.

MC:  Hailing from Tokyo, Japan; weighing in at 420 pounds and being
accompanied to the ring by LOUIS MATSUI, 

He is MAMMOTH... MIZUSAWA!

[The curtain parts to reveal the scowling seven-footer, MAMMOTH
Mizusawa, dressed in a black singlet, black knee pads and a pair of
black boots. Matsui points with his thumb over his shoulders at
Mizusawa, who raises both his arms in the air. Both men start to make
their way down the aisle.]

BW:  I'm only saying this because I appreciate the giant's awesomeness,
Gordo, but we'll be running out of bodies to throw at him soon.

GM:  I don't know, Bucky, maybe three's a charm. Toombs looks like he
could give the big man a bit of a challenge.

BW:  At least Toombs doesn't look like he weighs 150 pounds soaking wet,
which is more than I can say about his partner.

[As Matsui walks to the ring, he pays little attention to the fans
sitting on either side of the aisle, although he is still smirking.  The
towering Mizusawa, on the other hand, walks slowly behind his manager,
glaring at the crowd.

Reaching the ringside area, Louis Matsui walks over to the announcers.
Gordon Myers, always the consumnate professional, already has a mic
ready to ask the smiling manager some questions, as the music starts to
fade. Bucky Wilde, always looking to ingratiate himself, extends his
hand for a handshake.]

BW: Welcome, Louis, always great to have you here. But, tell me, aren't
you tired of this already?

LM: Of what exactly, Mr. Wilde?

BW: Of the lack of competition, maybe. Of the fact that you have to put
on these handicap show matches just to have your client on the card-

LM: Not at all, Bucky. See, like I said before, my client serves a
higher purpose and he thrives on competition. _ANY_ competition, and I
am sure the three gentlemen in the ring will put up quite a fight
against MAMMOTH Mizusawa.

[In the ring, the three competitors look a little restless. Hollin and
Toombs seem to be discussing something, while Rivera watches the giant
and his manager. Hollin looks over and nods.]

GM: But, Louis, is there anyone on the AWA roster whom you've got your
eyes set on?

LM: To manage? Or to pit my monster against? Because-

BW: LOOK OUT!

[A commotion ensues as the three men in the ring rush the giant on the
outside. "Hollerin'" Cody Hollin leads the charge and comes flying with
a forearm. He is followed by Darren Toombs. Finally, Jose Rivera joins
his students in laying a beatdown on the big man. All three men let
loose a flurry of forearm shots, punches and kicks on MAMMOTH Mizusawa.]

LM: This is a travesty, Gordon! This is against the rules, surely!

BW: This also looks like the most competition MAMMOTH Mizusawa has had
for a while.

GM: Indeed, Bucky. All four men are fighting at ringside and the giant
is trying to ward off the blows to his head, while the referee ponders
trying to stop this melee. The match hasn't really started-

LM: The referee needs to get in there and stop these men.

GM: Would you want to try, Louis?

LM: No!

[Mizusawa is down on one knee, while trying to use his arms to shield
his face. He reaches an arm out, manages to grab a bit of Rivera's
tights and uses it to whip him into the steel ringpost.]

KLAAAAAANG!!!

GM: Mizusawa found a way to stop Rivera...

BW: One down, two to go.

GM: He swats away a kick by Hollin. Blocks one of Toombs' punches.
Mizusawa is coming back with some lefts and rights of his own!

BW: And Matsui is yelling at his charge to get back into the action. He
also just called Toombs something I could not possibly repeat on the
air.

[Toombs turns to tell Matsui to shut it, but that moment of distraction
costs him as MAMMOTH Mizusawa levels him with a massive clothesline.]

GM: Cody Hollin jumps onto the giant's back-

BW: Why do they always do that, Gordo? Don't they know that bad things
happen when they do that?

[Mizusawa tries to shake Hollin off, while approaching the ring.
Finally, he turns around and drives the smaller man back-first into the
ring post. The wind knocked out of him, Hollin starts to slide off the
giant, but Mizusawa reaches back and pulls him onto his shoulder. He
then hoists him up in a military press and tosses him over the top rope
into the ring. Louis Matsui yells at his charge to get in there and
destroy him.]

GM: The giant climbs onto the ring apron and steps over the top rope-

BW: No! Bad move, kid!

GM: Hollin tried to crotch Mizusawa on the top rope!

BW: But the giant caught him by the throat and now has him goozled!

GM: Hollin swinging and struggling but can't seem to hit the big man.
Could we see the chokeslam?

BW: Listen to Hollin holler! I love... Damnit, Toombs!

[Sliding into the ring, Darren Toombs hits Mizusawa with a double axe
handle to the back. Mizusawa lets go of Hollin and turns his attention
to Toombs. He lunges for him but is met with a chop to the chest.]

SMAAAAAACKKK!!!

[Face pop!]

SMAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!

[Heel pop!]

GM: Both men are now trading chops.

SMAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!

[Face pop!]

SMAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

[Heel pop!]

GM: Mizusawa is hitting stronger but, I tell you what, Darren Toombs is
not giving way very much.

SMAAAAAAAAACKKKKKK!!!!!!

[Face pop!]

SMAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

[Heel pop!]

SMAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

[Face pop followed immediately by a large chorus of boos as MAMMOTH
Mizusawa lands a big kick to Toombs' gut.]

BW: That'll stop him. Powerbomb him to hell!

GM: No! Cody Hollin stops Mizusawa with a jumping spin kick. He comes at
him again with a spinning heel kick. And a dropkick-

BW: Mizusawa blocks that one.

GM: But now Toombs attacks with a series of forearm shots to his back.
Both Toombs and Hollin are now working together to keep chop the big man
down. Toombs motioning to Rivera on the outside.

BW: Rivera is finally on his feet after hitting the post hard and his
students are calling the teacher for his help.

[Rivera shakes the cobwebs from his head and sees Hollin and Toombs
working on Mizusawa.]

GM: He looks uncertain about getting in the ring, though.

BW: Can you blame him, Gordo, after what the monster has already done to
him tonight and last week?

[In the ring, Cody Hollin hits a chop block on Mizusawa, bringing him
down to one knee. Darren Toombs follows up with a running elbow to the
head. He goes back to calling for Jose Rivera to get back in the ring.
Rivera hesitates but starts to make his way towards the ring.]

GM: And Matsui just stepped in front of Rivera. What is he doing?

BW: He's just telling him what's good for him and, maybe, making him an
offer he can't refuse.

[Indeed, we see Matsui hold up one finger, asking Rivera for a moment,
as he reaches into his jacket's inside pocket.]

BW: See, he has something for Rivera. He's telling him to walk away-

[Loud boo!]

GM: He just sucker punched Rivera!

[Noticing what's going on outside, Toombs turns away from Mizusawa. The
opening allows Mizusawa to sweep Hollin's legs from under him.
Meanwhile, outside the ring, Matsui's sucker punch did not quite faze
Rivera, who grabs Matsui by his collar. Toombs is yelling at Rivera to
get back in the ring.]

BW: Kick to the family jewels! Matsui might not throw a good punch, but
every man in this arena can feel that shot to Rivera's groin.

GM: Hollin is back to his feet but so is the giant... A big headbutt
sends Hollin back to the mat. Toombs, meanwhile, is stepping through the
ropes. I think he wants to check up on Rivera-

BW: But MAMMOTH Mizusawa just grabbed him by the back of his head.
Another massive headbutt!

GM: Mizusawa holding on... _BIG_ back body drop!

BW: _BIG_ body slam for Cody Hollin!

[Mizusawa pulls Toombs back up and lifts him up in a military press.
Rivera trying to pull himself into the ring, but eats another boot that
sends him right back to the floor.]

BW: MAMMOTH SLAM!!!

[Just for good measure, Mizusawa drags Hollin back to his feet and sets
him up for a powerbomb.]

GM: POWERBOMB! Right onto Toombs' prone body!

BW: These guys are done... Here's the cover...

GM: And on both men, too. ONE! TWO!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  THREE!!!

MC:  Here is your winner... MAMMOTH MIZUUUUSAAAWAAA!

[The crowd jeers the announcement as Mizusawa has his arm raised in
victory. Louis Matsui applauds his charge from outside the ring.]

GM: MAMMOTH Mizusawa is leaving here with another win and his second
handicap victory... What is Matsui up to now?

[We see Matsui standing over the recovering Jose Rivera. He extends a
hand and tries to help Rivera up. Rivera gets to his feet but pushes
Matsui away.]

BW: That ungrateful wretch!

[Louis Matsui simply shrugs and points to his charge, who is approaching
Rivera from behind. Rivera turns around and walks right into a
one-handed choke.]

GM: Now what?

BW: He tried to pay him, he tried to help him, but all for naught, so
now he's going to make him pay, Gordo.

GM: NO!  NO!  NOOOOOO!

[Rivera's body BOUNCES from the impact of being chokeslammed on the
barely padded concrete.  Both men look down at the still body of Jose
Rivera, then back to the ring where Hollin and Toombs are just now
starting to show signs of life, and, finally, Louis Matsui raises
MAMMOTH Mizusawa's hand before leading him to the back as we cut back to
the announce duo.]

GM:  Unbelievable, Bucky.  Disgusting might be a better word for it.

BW:  Maybe NOW the AWA will give this man some competition!  Maybe NOW
the AWA will take MAMMOTH Mizusawa seriously!  Louis Matsui means
business, Gordo.  And speaking of meaning business...

[There is a momentary pause before Shane Destiny walks into frame,
dressed in a suit and wearing sunglasses.  He calmly strides over to
Gordon and offers him a handshake.]

GM: Well, Mr. Destiny, you've asked for this time... the floor is yours.

[Destiny takes off his glasses and puts them neatly into the breast
pocket of his suit coat, looking right at the camera.]

SD: There's been a lot of things happening here in the AWA... a lot of
people have been running off at the mouth about how great they are, but
let me ask you this, Gordon... how many of them have gotten in the ring
and proven it, huh?  How many of them have busted their butts to get to
the level of, say, Shane Destiny?

GM: With all due respect, the wrestlers of the AWA have been proving it
in the ring night in and night out.

[Destiny takes his eyes off the camera and glares at Gordon.]

SD: Don't ever interrupt me again, little man.

[Destiny looks back at the camera.]

SD: As I was _saying_ before I was _rudely_ interrupted... there's a man
out there who says he wants to prove that, bell-to-bell, he's the
greatest wrestler in the world, and he wants to beat all the top
contenders in the world to prove himself.  But he's going out there and
beating bums like whoever he beat last week... quite frankly, I would've
been embarrassed to even be in the ring with that scrub.  Then he goes
out there and says that he's going to prove himself... against Kevin
Slater.

[Destiny scoffs, as it is becoming increasingly obvious that he is
referring to Pure X.]

SD: So let me get this straight, you're going to get into the ring and
prove yourself against some washed up jerk?  You want to prove yourself
against _him_?  When I was coming up, I went after the greats of this
sport.  I went after Hall of Famers!  I went after legends!  And you're
going after _Kevin Slater_?!  Let me explain something to you, Pure X...
you are _nothing_, and beating Kevin Slater won't do anything more but
keep you as nothing.  Now, you've got some killer instinct... I saw what
you did to Ron Houston, and I was impressed.  But if you want to keep
pushing yourself against dregs and louts, that's all you're ever going
to be.

[Destiny grins.]

SD: But if you ever decide you want to climb up into that upper echelon,
kid... I think I can make some time for you.

[Destiny takes the sunglasses out of his pocket and puts them on as he
walks away.]

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back.  Don't you dare go away.

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

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

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

[He whips open the backpack and produces...

...a JUAN VASQUEZ BOBBLEHEAD!]

"Whoa!"

"Wow!"

"That rocks!"

"I want one... now!"

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

...until a fifth kid walks up.]

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

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

...a CITY JACK BOBBLEHEAD!]

"WHOA!"

"WOWER!"

"THAT ROCKS MORE!"

"I WANT ONE... NOW!"

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

...and then back up on live action where Melissa Cannon is already in
the ring, ready to go.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Austin, Texas... Doug Simmons!

[A young, burly African-American throws a beefy arm up to some cheers.]

MC:  And his opponent... weighing in at 220 pounds... fighting out of
Phoenix, Arizona...

SCORCHIN' SHAAAAAAAANE TAAAAAAYLOR!

[The sounds of Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff" fills the air as Shane Taylor
steps into the WKIK Studios to a decent sized mixed reaction.  Taylor
stands in a pair of orange tights with "SCORCHIN" written across the
reat in white text.  He's also wearing a silver vest with no shirt.  A
cigarette is tucked behind his ear as he walks the aisle, rolling under
the ropes into the ring...

...and immediately smashes his skull into the midsection of a surprised
Doug Simmons.  The referee shakes his head in disgust as he calls for
the bell.]

GM:  Here we go... but Shane Taylor didn't even wait for the bell,
Bucky.

[With his fist clinched, Taylor pops a doubled-up Simmons in the jaw
with an uppercut, knocking the rookie back into the ropes.  Taylor
quickly gets to his feet...

...and promptly wraps his hands around the throat of Simmons!]

GM:  Choke!  That's a choke! 

BW:  Are you sure?  It could be a vigorous neck massage.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky!

[The referee's count hits four before Taylor breaks the choke, burying a
knee into the midsection.  A hard back elbow causes Simmons to fall into
the nearest corner.]

GM:  Simmons back in the buckles...

[Grabbing Simmons by the wrist, Taylor fires him across the ring to the
opposite corner...

...and then charges across, leaping into the air.  His arm smashes
across the neck of Simmons while his feet and legs go through the top
and middle ropes.]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a clothesline!

[He removes his arm off Simmons, allowing the rookie to collapse down to
the mat while Taylor rests his head on the top rope, miming taking a nap
as the referee demands that he get back into the ring.]

BW:  Leave him alone, ref.  It's nap time.

GM:  If Shane Taylor doesn't stay on his game, it may be nap time
permanently.

[Taylor spins around, getting back inside the ring.  The Scorchin' One
struts across the ring...

...and leaps up, driving his feet down into the gut of Simmons!]

GM:  Ohh!  That'll knock the wind right out of you.  Taylor drops down
to cover - one!  Two!  And there's the three right there!

[A smirking Taylor rolls off the downed Simmons, right under the ropes
and to ringside where he struts over towards the announce area where
Bucky and Gordon are waiting.]

GM:  Another victory for Shane Taylor and-

SST:  Whoa, whoa, whoa, Gordo.  "Another victory for Shane Taylor." 
That's the best you can do?

GM:  What were you-

SST:  For all these other wrecks out here, they get "impressive wins"
and "dominating performances"... I get "another victory."  That just
don't seem right if ya catch my meanin'.

GM:  Well, I suppose it was impressive.

SST:  Damn right it was impressive.  Dominating too.  And yep, it was
another victory, Gordo.  That makes two in a row with no end in sight,
don't it?

GM:  After the loss to Kevin Slat-

SST:  I told ya, that ain't got squat to do with me no more, Gordo.  The
fella that lost to Kevin Slater?  That wasn't the real Shane Taylor. 
The real Shane Taylor won two weeks ago.  The real Shane Taylor won
right here tonight.  And the real Shane Taylor is flying up the Top 10
rankings faster than Bucky here on All-You-Can-Eat night at the
Shrimpin' Shack down on I-90.  

And you know what, Gordo?

[Taylor snaps his fingers.]

SST:  The real Shane Taylor don't fly solo.

GM:  You don't mean-

SST:  Oh, I do.  I definitely do.  I think...

[Taylor nods.]

SST:  Yeah, I think I need to make a phone call.  I'll be right back.

[Taylor storms out of view, leaving in a hurry as a stunned Gordon Myers
looks on.]

GM:  Shane, I think you can- 

[Myers looks confused off-camera.]

GM:  Uhhh... can I help you?

[A very stern looking young woman walks into view.  She's dressed in a
denim jacket and tank top with jeans, staring at Gordon Myers.]

??:  Don't remember me, Gordon?

[Gordon looks puzzled.]

GM:  I'm sorry?  Do I know-?

??:  Southern Championship Wrestling.  It's okay.  I wasn't there very
long.  I'm never anywhere very long.

GM:  Wait... wait a second.  Shannon La...

??:  Shannon LaFoye.  Yes, very good.

[Gordon nods his head, proud at his memory... yet still looks puzzled.]

GM:  I don't believe you're scheduled to be out here though.  

SL:  Nope.  I never am.  You see, Gordon, this industry seems to have a
problem with women.  Do you agree?

GM:  I'm not sure I-

SL:  How often do you see a woman in a true headlining position?  In a
place where they can make a valuable contribution to a company?  It's
always some skank dressed like a whore at ringside cheering a man on...

GM:  Now, wait a second...

SL:  No, no... I'm right.  You know I'm right.  Or maybe she doesn't
look like a whore but she's dumbed herself down to be the "good little
woman" to manage some man to success.  Hell, even one of the promoters
for this company couldn't get anywhere in this business other than the
announcer used for sex jokes until she married a man.

[A few "smarter" fans "oooooooh" at that verbal jab.]

SL:  And God forbid if any major company even attempt to have a women's
wrestling division!  It's a joke.  A fraud.  No one takes it seriously
from moment one.  

GM:  Several wrestling comp-

[LaFoye waves him off.]

SL:  You can have your women's titles... your women's tournaments... but
until this industry treats women's wrestling with respect... on equal
ground as the men... we'll never get anywhere.

GM:  Ms. LaFoye, I'm sure you make some good points but what on Earth
brings you out here tonight?

[LaFoye smirks...

...and then points to the ring.]

SL:  She does.

[The camera cuts to Melissa Cannon who looks quite confused.]

SL:  The "lovely" Ms. Cannon.  Ring announcer to the stars.

[LaFoye shakes her head in disgust.]

SL:  Tell these people the truth, Cannon.  You trained to be a wrestler,
didn't you?

[Cannon doesn't respond, still looking puzzled.]

SL:  You wanted to BE the Main Event... not to tell everyone who was
going to be in the Main Event, didn't you?  But when the going got tough
and no one wanted you to wrestle?

You fell over on your back and became an announcer instead.

[More "oooooohs!"]

SL:  You wonder why I'm out here, Gordon.  I'm out here for her and
women just like her all over the business.  The ones who are too good in
the ring to be put into the secondary roles they're shoved into.  The
ones who deserve better than what they've been handed.

I'm here to make Melissa Cannon stand up for herself.  To demand that
she get the same opportunity that so many one and done slobs here in the
AWA have.

Is she not worthy of a chance?  Is a Jamie Lilas more worthy?  Is a
Jarrod O'Lachlan more worthy?  

[LaFoye sneers.]

SL:  It's time for the AWA and the rest of professional wrestling to
step up and face the truth.  

And the truth shall set you free.

[With that, LaFoye turns and walks away from the announce desk, leaving
a puzzled Gordon Myers AND Melissa Cannon behind.]

GM:  Fans, uhhh... well, we'll be right back.

[We fade from the confused announcers to black...

...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt.  The
super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.]

"You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!"

[A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.]

"You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last
Stampede!"

[A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.]

"You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!"

[Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging
over his shoulder.]

"And now, it can be yours!"

[A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a
shot of a young fan doing the same.]

"Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA
National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA
superstars have held!"

[A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black...

...and then fades back up to live action where see a man standing in
front of a lopsided black backdrop that barely hides a wood-paneled
wall.  He has spiky, bleached-blond hair, a well-worn Lynyrd Skynyrd
T-shirt covering his chest, and a grin on his face.  The video quality
seems shockingly low and the picture has little lines of static running
through it occasionally.]

CL: Howdy there, wrestlin' fans.  My name is Corey Lawson.  I've been
ridin' up and down the roads in the great state of Tennessee for sixteen
doggone years now, hopin' and prayin' that someday I was goin' to get my
big break.  Wrestlin' in front of all these great fans in armories, high
school gyms, parkin' lots at the local auto dealership... heck, you put
up a ring and get me an opponent and you can bet your last dollar that
I'll show up.  So when I heard about this Open Door policy that the AWA
has?

[Lawson slaps his thigh in excitement; notably, the camera doesn't move
whatsoever, indicating that he is filming himself.]

CL: Woo man!  Let me tell you what, I ain't never been so excited in my
life!  So I sent off my tapes and I said, "let me have this shot.  Let
me have one match and I bet you ain't never seen nobody with the guts
and grit that this old Southern boy's got."  And doggone if they didn't
ask me to come down to Dallas!

[Lawson pumps his fist wildly, the motion of which appears to knock over
a houseplant off-camera, the resulting crash audible.]

CL: Aww dang.  I guess I can edit that out.  Anyway, look, I'm comin' a
long way from home and I'm goin' to need all the support I can get.  So
AWA fans, please come out to the matches and root me on, and I promise
you, you ain't goin' to regret hitchin' your wagon to Corey Lawson.  See
you soon!

[Lawson gives the sign language symbol for "I love you" to the camera,
and then goes to turn the camera off.  We abruptly go to black...

...and then back up to the WKIK Studios where we find Jason Dane
standing in the backstage area next to some old friends.]

JD:  Welcome back to Saturday Night Wrestling, fans, and your eyes do
not deceive you.  At this time, it gives me great pleasure to welcome
back to the AWA two men that I've known for a long, long while -
"Supersonic" Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont!  Together, they
are the Initial Public-

[Stokes raises a hand, shaking his head.]

SSS:  Nah, Jase.  That ain't us any more.

JD:  No?

BBB:  No way, baby.  No chance.

SSS:  The time off gave us some time to think about life, Jase.  We
thought about where we were and where we wanted to be.  You got some
guys walkin' around here talkin' about unfinished business, right?

JD:  Right.

SSS:  _We've_ got some unfinished business.  We've got unfinished
business from back in Los Angeles and right here in Dallas, baby.  We've
got unfinished business to show the rest of the wrestling world exactly
what we're all about.  Tell 'em, Bling.

BBB:  Ya hear him, Jase?  Ya hear my man?

JD:  Oh, I hear him.

BBB:  Ya better listen close, Jase.  The rest of the AWA better listen
up too.  There's a lot of good tag teams here in the AWA, all tryin' to
be better than the next.  But us?  We're not trying to be better than
nothing... we're Simply The Best.

JD:  Simply The Best?

BBB:  Simply The Best, ya dig?

JD:  Oh, I dig!

[Jason's having too much fun now.]

JD:  Guys, there's a lot of teams around here that might take exception
to that name.  Guys like the Right Proper Thugs... like Unfinished
Business... like your opponents tonight...

[Stokes nods.]

SSS:  Right, right.  I feel ya.  I hear they found some old friends of
ours to take us on tonight, that right?

JD:  The AWA debut of the Fabulous Falcons!

BBB:  Shucks, Jasey... you know me and Supes here have gone coast to
coast against those two.  We've put on shows from Boys And Girls Clubs
to... well, armories and American Legion Halls.

[Beaumont grins widely.]

BBB:  But at the very least, you know when we get in there with the
Falcons, you'd better hold on to the edge of your seats cause you just
might get blown right off 'em!

SSS:  That's right, baby.  So for us?  There ain't nobody better we can
get in there with tonight.  Nobody better, baby.  We want a chance to
prove ourselves again and we want a chance to announce our presence with
authority.  They say that opportunity knocks... well, tonight, our
opportunity is gonna kick the door right down!  Wooo, baby!

[A big high five goes down before Simply The Best exits the backstage
area, walking out of view.]

JD:  Gordon, Bucky... back to you!

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

GM:  Thanks, Jason.  It's Main Event time... apparently come early here
in the WKIK Studios tonight as the Fabulous Falcons make their AWA debut
against Shannon Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont - now apparently known
as Simply The Best.

BW:  Like 'em or not, Stokes and Beaumont were always entertaining and
put on some great matches everytime out.  But for them, it's from the
fryin' pan to the fire... I know the Falcons from back in Hotlanta too,
daddy.  Just like you, Gordo.

GM:  That's right.  We're both very familiar with both of these teams
and I can say this should be an outstanding showdown between very
athletic teams.  I'm looking forward to this one for sure.  Let's go up
to Melissa!

[A smiling Melissa Cannon grabs the mic to begin her introductions.]

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

["Cool" by Suga Free starts up to a big pop from the AWA faithful.]

MC:  At a combined weight of 370 pounds... they are "Supersonic" Shannon
Stokes and Bling Bling Beaumont... together they are...

Simply The Best!

[The crowd roars as Stokes and Beaumont burst through the curtain.  The
speedy Stokes sprints down the aisle, diving headfirst under the ropes
and springing to his feet to a huge ovation as Beaumont takes a little
longer, pimpin' his way down the aisle as he picks at the large afro on
his head.]

MC:  And their opponents... hailing from Las Vegas, Nevada... at a
combined weight of 490 pounds... Shane Falcon... Ken Falcon Jr.

The Fabulous Falcons!

[The music changes to Journey's "Separate Ways" as the Falcons make
their way into the WKIK Studios.  Both men are in matching black and
gold singlets and boots, ignoring the fans as they stalk towards the
ring, rolling under the bottom rope to glare at their opponents as
Melissa Cannon makes her timely exit.]

GM:  The Falcons have toured all over the world, Bucky.  They've made 
quite the name for themselves on the indy circuit as one of the top tag
teams in the game.  For Beaumont and Stokes, this is a big match for
them in their return.  They definitely have their work cut out for them
tonight.

BW:  I was down in Atlanta the same time the Falcons was.  They're a
hell of a team, Gordo.  

GM:  They certainly are.  A great addition to the AWA tag team division.
 And right now, all four men are in there.  The referee needs to get two
in and two out.

[We zoom in on Stokes and Beaumont in the corner, apparently discussing
who will start the match.  After a moment, we see Stokes put out a
clenched fist at the same time Beaumont puts out an open hand. 
Dejected, Stokes exits the ring to the apron leaving a grinning Beaumont
to turn to face Shane Falcon.]

BW:  Did they just play Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would start the
match?

GM:  Appeared that way.  Simply The Best are going to be a unique team
here in the AWA, Bucky.  They don't operate the way most teams do.

BW:  I should say not.

[The referee calls for the bell as Beaumont and Shane Falcon begin
circling one another.]

GM:  Here we go!  Both men looking for an opening... and into a collar
and elbow tieup they go!

[Beaumont pushes down, trying to use his leverage advantage... but Shane
uses his power edge, shoving off Beaumont who stumbles back to the
corner.]

GM:  Some power on display by the larger of the Falcons, Shane.  He
muscled Beaumont away with that one.

[Shane curls an arm up into a single bicep pose, smirking at Beaumont as
he does so.]

"Too small, son!"

[The crowd "ooooos" as Beaumont waves Shane off and strikes a double
bicep pose of his own.]

GM:  Errr.

BW:  Those look like Q-Tips!  

GM:  Yeah, Bling Bling Beaumont certainly can not match up physiquewise
with Shane Falcon.

[Falcon chuckles at the pose and then quickly ties up with Beaumont once
more, turning him once...

...and shoving him violently down to the mat.]

GM:  Big power display there by Shane Falcon.  Maybe a little bit of a
mean strak as well.  We get it.  You're stronger than Beaumont.  Why
don't you try wrestling now?

BW:  It's all part of da game, daddy... all part of da game.

[Beaumont kneels on the mat for a second, a little shaken by the
pushdown as a few fans get on the case of Shane Falcon.]

GM:  The fans are cheering Beaumont on.  He's a fan favorite anywhere
and everywhere he goes.  The Falcons are very popular through the
wrestling world as well but Stokes and Beaumont look to have the fan
support edge in this one.  Beaumont's back on his feet now... another
tie- no, quick go-behind into a rear waistlock by Beaumont!

[Shane Falcon immediately sprawls out, trying to keep his balance as
Beaumont tries to control him with the waistlock.  Grabbing the wrists
of his attacker, Shane Falcon controls the hold for a moment, then slips
free into a go-behind of his own, slapping on the rear waistlock only to
hoist Beaumont into the air, taking him down chestfirst to the mat.]

GM:  Nice takedown by Shane Falcon... he floats over into a front
facelock now, really cranking on the neck of Bling Bling Beaum- and now
Beaumont pushes up to his feet.  

BW:  He doesn't want to stay down on the mat with those big arms wrapped
around his neck.

GM:  Both men back to their feet... Beaumont backs him to the ropes. 
The ref calls for a break and-

[Shane Falcon breaks his grip, immediately grabbing the arm of Beaumont
and hiptossing him down to the mat before applying a rear chinlock.]

GM:  Into a rear chinlock on the mat now.  

BW:  The Falcons know that Beaumont and Stokes have a tremendous speed
advantage so they want to take that option out of the playbook before it
even happens.

GM:  But again, Beaumont knows they're tryin' to wear him down.  He
pushes right back to his feet, turnin' away from the pressure.

[Beaumont hurls Shane Falcon into the ropes, breaking the headlock.]

GM:  Shane off the ropes... ohh!  Big shoulder tackle takes Beaumont
down to the mat!

[The LA native springs back up though as Shane hits the ropes again...

...and again floors him with a big tackle.]

GM:  Former football players as well were both Falcons and that tackling
skill is on display so far in this one.  Shane to the ropes aga-
dropdown by Beaumont... Shane off the far side and-

[A big cheer goes up as Beaumont hooks the arm of Shane Falcon and whips
him down to the mat with a leaping armdrag.]

GM:  Big armdrag by Beaumont!  Both men back up... and Beaumont catches
him in the gut with a solid boot.

[Grabbing the arm of Shane Falcon, Beaumont interlocks his left hand
with Falcon's right hand...

...and then delivers a hard openhand slap to the chest of Falcon.]

BW:  Ohhhh!  Big overhand chop by Blingman.

GM:  Really?  The Blingman?

BW:  No good?

[Hands still tied together, Beaumont races across the ring, climbing the
ropes in the middle of the ring, dropping down to allow the back of his
legs to spring off the ropes, flipping him in a somersault to add more
pressure to the arm...

...and then dropping down in another armdrag!]

GM:  The crowd liked that one, Bucky.

BW:  It was flashy, flippy doodah.

GM:  Dood- Shane backed to the corner... here comes Beaumont!

[A big running Yakuza kick to the corner comes up empty as Shane Falcon
ducks underneath it, rolling out of the way...

...and _drilling_ a turning Beaumont with a running back elbow, knocking
him back to the buckles.]

GM:  Back to the corner is Beaumont this time.. dazed from the elbow...

[Grabbing Beaumont by the hair, Shane Falcon pulls him out of the
corner, cocking back the other arm.]

GM:  Big clothesli- ducked by Beaumont!

[And the big man deadleaps into the air, snaring Falcon by the head and
snapping him down in a rana.]

GM:  Headscissors takedown by Beaumont... and Shane's quickly back to
his feet...

[And quickly right back off them as Beaumont springs up, popping Shane
Falcon in the jaw with a leg lariat.]

GM:  Down goes Shane again!  The former student of Todd Michaelson's got
him reeling!  A cover!

[The ref drops down and delivers a two count before Shane Falcon powers
out.]

GM:  Not enough to keep him grounded for a three... and now it's
Beaumont slapping on a front facelock, apparently trying to wear down
the bigger opponent.

BW:  He's draggin' him up though... goin' to the corner...

[Where a waiting Shannon Stokes happily makes the tag before scampering
to the top rope, leaping off to bury a right hand into the exposed
ribcage of Shane Falcon.]

GM:  Nice shot by Stokes!  He's perhaps the fastest man in the business.

BW:  Don't believe that hype neither, Gordo.

GM:  You'll see.  Stokes backs him to the ropes... big whip...

[And the Supersonic one floors Shane Falcon with a leaping back elbow
that catches the Las Vegas native squarely under the jaw.]

GM:  Down goes Shane Falcon... Stokes right back to his feet...

[Where he waits until Shane Falcon staggers up and gets caught with a
leaping leg lariat that takes him off his feet again.]

GM:  I think the Falcons are a little surprised here, Bucky.  There's no
way Shane Falcon expected to be manhandled like this in the early
moments of this one and you know Ken Jr. didn't see it coming either.

BW:  Don't you worry about it, Gordo.  The tide'll be a-turnin' quicker
than a cricket on a hotplate.

GM:  Cricket on a- Stokes pulls his opponent off the mat... big forearm
shot!  And another puts Shane back against the ropes again.

[Grabbing the arm, Stokes attempts to fire his foe off to the ropes but
Falcon twists the arm of his foe, holding his ground and not going to
the ropes.  Instead, he drops down into a drop toehold that sends
Stokes' throat slamming into the middle rope.]

GM:  Ohhh!  The windpipe hits that steel cable and-

[Ken Falcon Jr. takes a few steps down the apron and buries his boot
into the temple of Stokes.]

GM:  Oh!  That was what I'd call a cheap shot by Ken Falcon Jr...
Shane's got him hooked... and snaps him down to the mat with a side
Russian legsweep!

[Reeling a bit, Shane Falcon slaps the hand of his brother who
slingshots over the ropes, coming down with both feet squarely in the
sternum of a downed Shannon Stokes.]

GM:  OHHH!  He slingshots over the ropes and stomps him hard in the
stomach with both feet!  And there's a cover!  One!  Two!  Nope.  Stokes
slips a shoulder up.

BW:  Stokes' liver may be pokin' out his kidney right now, daddy.  That
was a vicious move.

[Pulling Stokes off the mat, Ken Falcon Jr. connects with a hard
headbutt that knocks Stokes back into the corner.]

GM:  That'll kill a few brain cells.

BW:  On which one of 'em?

GM:  Good point.  Backed into the corner... oh!  Back elbow by Ken!  And
another!  The ref's ordering him out of the corner, trying to get him
to-

[Ken Falcon Jr. throws up his hands, turning away from the corner...

...but doing a full 360 before rocking the pectorals of Stokes with a
hard chop that knocks him to a knee.]

GM:  Goodness!  What a chop delivered by Ken Falcon Jr... and he pulls
Stokes from the buckles...

[He quickly hooks Stokes, snapping him over with a suplex and floating
right into a lateral press.]

GM:  Cover by Ken Jr.  One!  Two!  Nope!  Stokes is hanging on... and
Ken Falcon Jr. takes a quick peek at Beaumont to make sure there's no
interference coming.

BW:  Very, very smart.  I bet you won't give him credit for that one
neither.

GM:  Ken Jr. climbing to his feet and pulling Stokes off the mat as
well.  Drags him back to the corner and there's the exchange back to
Shane.  Big whip... dropdown by Ken Jr and-

[The crowd cheers as Shane Falcon connects with a crushing back elbow
that takes Stokes down and allows an easy cover.]

GM:  One!  Two!  No!  Shannon Stokes is showing just how much they
underestimated he and Beaumont.  Falcon seems pretty annoyed... maybe
questioning the count a little bit.

BW:  The count does seem a little slow, Gordo.

GM:  It seems fine to me.

[Dragging Stokes off the mat by the hair, Shane Falcon drills him with a
backhand chop that knocks him back to the ropes.  The young Stokes
covers his chest with one arm, trying to protect himself by Shane jerks
the arm out of the way and blasts him with another backhand chop across
the pectorals.]

GM:  Good grief!  Another hard shot by Shane Falcon!

[But nowhere near as hard as when Falcon rears back and blasts Stokes
with an overhand chop that knocks him down to a knee, leaving a huge red
welt on the chest of Stokes.]

GM:  Ohhhhh!  What a shot!

BW:  Sounded like a dadblamed cannon, daddy!

GM:  Stokes down to a knee, trying to recover... but there's no rest for
the weary as Shane pulls him up again.  Big whip...

[And steamrolls Stokes with a running clothesline!]

GM:  Big clothesline connects... we've got a cover of one... two... t-
no!  Shoulder up again!

[The fans cheer and Falcon shows three fingers to the referee demanding
a faster count.]

GM:  Stokes dragged off the mat again... another whip...

[But as the speedy Stokes rebounds this time, he manages to duck the
clothesline attempt and rebound with a perfect dropkick to the jaw!]

GM:  Yeah!  Big dropkick on target... and now Stokes is crawling...

[Big cheer!]

GM:  He makes the tag to Beaumont!

[Climbing to his feet, Stokes quickly grabs Shane Falcon, hoisting him
up and bringing him down in a backbreaker across the knee...

...which sets him up perfectly as Beaumont deadleaps to the top rope,
dropping in a near splits, and rebounding back with a moonsault across
the chest of the across-the-knee Falcon!  Big pop!]

BW:  SPLIT LEGGED MOONSAULT CONNECTS!  

GM:  HOLY COW!  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH-

[But Shane Falcon slips a shoulder up.]

GM:  Falcon escapes!  And Ken Falcon Jr. was on his way to make the save
anyways.  

BW:  Very quick reaction by Ken Jr. and that's going to be a problem for
their opponents.  Beaumont's in control for the moment however and that
gives Stokes some time to recover out on the apron.

[Beaumont points a threatening finger at Ken Jr., threatening a backhand
as Shane Falcon slowly regains his feet.]

GM:  Shane's back up... Beaumont scoops him up from the side... and
_down_ across the knee with another backbreaker!  One!  Two!  T- nope...
no cigar.

[The man from Hollywood quickly pops up, dropping a big elbow down into
the kidneys of Shane Falcon.]

GM:  Beaumont continuing the assault on the lower back.  Perhaps that's
the strategy of he and Stokes?

BW:  I don't think they got a strategy, daddy.  These two just came out
here to be flashy and hope for the best.  There's no gameplan involved.

GM:  You may be right.  Another big elbow to the lower back.  Beaumont
pulls him up into a front facelock, backing to the corner... and a tag
to Stokes.

BW:  That seems kinda soon, Gordo.  Doesn't he need more time to
recover?

GM:  I would think so as well.

[But Stokes certainly acts fresh as he climbs into the ring, driving a
boot up into the ribcage of Shane Falcon.]

GM:  Big boot to the ribs.  They're going after the torso of Shane
Falcon... maybe seeing that as the weak point on the big man.

[As Falcon staggers away, Stokes pursues and blisters his chest with a
chop.]

GM:  Whooo!  Big chop by the Supersonic One... and he's got Shane Falcon
reeling.  He winds up...



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"



GM:  Another big chop connects!  Backed into the ropes yet again...
Stokes with a whi- reversed by Falcon!

[As Stokes rebounds off the ropes, Falcon goes for a wild swinging
clothesline but the speedy Stokes ducks underneath the blow, rebounding
off the far side where he leaps into the air.]

GM:  Headscissors!  Round and round and round he goes and-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  INTO A SUBMISSION!  He's got the neck scissored with his legs and
he's yanking back on the arm!  This could be trouble for Shane Falcon!

[Crying out in pain, Shane Falcon drops down to a knee, trying to find a
way out of the painful version of the Octopus.]

BW:  A very unique way to get into a submission hold and this Octopus
submission definitely caught Falcon off guard, Gordo.

[Rising back to his feet, Shane staggers forward and grabs the ropes
with his free hand.]

GM:  Shane to the ropes... the ref is calling for a break...

[And break Stokes does, sliding quickly from the Octopus variation into
a schoolboy rollup.]

GM:  Nicely done!  One!  Two!  Nope.  Shane Falcon out of there.  Not
enough to keep a big guy like him down yet.

[Stokes scampers to his feet, trying to keep the advantage as he blasts
Shane in the cheek with a forearm shot.]

GM:  Forearm blow delivered by Stokes.  Not a lot behind those but still
effective.  A second forearm blow knocks Falcon back into the ropes
again.  Stokes grabs the arm... another whi- no, another reversal!

[The speedy man from Colton, California is hurled to the ropes...

...where a boot to the back of the head is provided by Ken Falcon Jr.,
staggering Stokes who falls forward into the waiting arms of Shane
Falcon.]

GM:  Shane's got him... LIFTS!

[The crowd gasps as Falcon hurls Stokes straight up...

...and then _spikes_ him down to the canvas with a standing
spinebuster!]

GM:  OHHHH MY!  What a spinebuster slam by Shane Falcon!

BW:  Now _that's_ power, daddy.

GM:  It certainly is.  Shannon Stokes had everything going his way and
just like that it's all crashed back down to Earth.  Falcon is dazed
otherwise I think he might be able to get a three count off that.  That
had to knock the wind out of Shannon Stokes.

BW:  He's kinda rude though.

GM:  Rude?

BW:  Yeah.  If he was gonna be way up there, couldn't he have changed
the lightbulbs for us?

GM:  Would you stop?  Give me a break.

[With Stokes down, Shane Falcon hooks him around the knees for a
catapult and yells out, "boot!" as he drops back, leveraging Stokes to
sail into the corner where Ken Falcon Jr. has placed his boot to jam
into the face of Stokes.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Nice doubleteam by the Falc- oh come on!

[The crowd boos as Shane races across the ring and drives a forearm into
Beaumont, knocking him off the apron...

...and then charges back the other way with a corner splash, driving the
kneeling Stokes' face into the midbuckle.]

GM:  Good grief.  High impact offense on display by the Falcons tonight
and Shannon Stokes is wishing he had a little longer on the apron right
about now, I'd wager.  There's a tag... the exchange made with Ken
Falcon Jr.  Ken steps in now... Stokes is pulling himself to his feet
with the aid of the ropes.

[Facing the corner, Stokes does not catch a glimpse of Ken Falcon Jr.
before being hooked in a side waistlock, hoisted in the air, and dropped
down on the canvas with a belly to back suplex.]

GM:  Big suplex by Ken Jr!  Cover!  One!  Two!  Thr- no!  Stokes still
got a shoulder up!

[Stokes  immediately starts crawling for the corner...

...but gets cut short when Ken leaps into the air, dropping a knee
across the back of the head.]

GM:  That'll stop the attempt to get to the corner for now.  The Falcons
are doing a terrific job of isolating Shannon Stokes inside that ring
and working him over.  They've kept the fresh man out and have done so
in impressive fashion.

BW:  Improved a lot since you last saw 'em?

GM:  Absolutely.  They were fantastic last time I saw them... but very
raw.  Now they've got the polish of a championship-caliber team.  Ken
off the ropes... ohhhh!  Big leaping kneedrop to the chest!

[Ken Falcon Jr. smirks as he climbs to his feet, reaching up to slap the
hand of his brother as he yanks Stokes off the mat.]

GM:  Both Falcons in once more... double whip...

[Both Falcons drop down into a three point stance and _obliterate_ the
rebounding Stokes with a double running tackle.]

GM:  Ohhhhh!

BW:  They's puttin' their football skills to good use, daddy!

GM:  Shane with a cover... one!  Two!  Thr-

[The fans cheer as the shoulder comes up!]

GM:  Still not enough to keep Stokes down.  The kid is showing great
heart here tonight in Reseda, fans.  He's taken everything the Falcons
can throw at him and he just keeps coming for more.

BW:  Not like he has a choice.

GM:  He could quit... he could give it up and take the pin.  Shane
Falcon pulls him off the mat...


"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  Chop by Stokes!  He's trying to fight back!  He's-

[But a clubbing forearm to the back of the neck puts Stokes back in
control as the crowd deflates.]

GM:  Front facelock applied by Shane, dragging Shannon back to the
corner... and another exchange with brother Ken.  The referee trying to
keep the double teams under control but- what on earth are they doing
here?

[Shane hoists Stokes up for a suplex but sets his legs down on the
shoulders of Ken Jr., leaving Stokes facing down between them...

...and then both Falcons suddenly shove Stokes as high as they can in
the air, letting him hang high above the ring for a moment before
crashing to the canvas with a thud!]

GM:  Ken Jr. with a cover!  ONE!!!  TWO!!  THRE- NO!!!

[The crowd roars for Stokes as he continues to battle.  Ken Falcon Jr.
points an accusing finger at Beaumont who was halfway across the ring
when the kickout occurred.  The ref moves to force Beaumont from the
ring as Ken pulls a limp Stokes off the mat by the hair.]

GM:  Ken's got Stokes right where he wants him, backed to the corner
once again... ohhh!  Big chop by Falcon! 

[He spins and drives an overhand chop to the chest as well.]

GM:  Good grief!

[Grabbing Stokes by the arm, he fires him across the ring to the
opposite corner.]

GM:  Here comes Falcon!

[But at the last moment, Stokes kips up in the air, hooking a
headscissors...

...and snapping Ken Falcon Jr. down to the canvas!]

GM:  Counter!  And Stokes needs to make the tag!  He desperately needs
to-

[Ken Falcon Jr. quickly recovers, sprinting towards the rising Stokes...

...and catches Falcon, spins with him, and _plants_ him with a
spinebuster!]

GM:  SPINEBUSTER!  SPINEBUSTER BY STOKES!!  He needs to make the tag
now, Bucky!

BW:  He doesn't even know where he is, Gordo.  There ain't no chance
that-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  DIVING TAG BY STOKES!!!

[Across the ring, Ken Falcon tags in Shane who sprints in...

...and gets drilled in the jaw with a leaping dropkick by a fresh Bling
Bling Beaumont!]

GM:  Dropkick on Shane!  He caught him right under the-

[Another big cheer!]

GM:  And a drop toehold takes down Ken Jr!  He tried a sneak attack and
got caugh-



"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"



GM:  Ohhh!  Big chop by Shane backs Beaumont to the ropes!  And another
one!  Irish whip...

[And as Beaumont rebounds, Shane hurls him skyward in a spinebuster
attempt...

...and gets caught with two feet squarely in the chops!]

GM:  DROPKICK COUNTER!!  BEAUMONT COUNTERED THE SPINEBUSTER!

[Popping back to his feet with the crowd roaring, Beaumont is greeting
by an attacking Ken Jr.]

GM:  Right han- blocked by Beaumont...




"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!"



GM:  BACK HAND!!  

BW:  THE PIMP SLAP!!!

[With Ken Jr. dazed, Beaumont hooks a front facelock, races up the
ropes, spins through the air, and _spikes_ him headfirst into the canvas
with a tornado DDT!]

GM:  Ohhhhh yeah!  Ken Jr got planted and he's gone!  He's out to the
floor!

BW:  Uh oh... clear the runway, daddy!

GM:  Beaumont's lookin' to fly!

[A hard boot knocks Ken Jr. towards the fans as Beaumont grips the top
rope, ready to slingshot to the floor...

...but a forearm to the back by Shane Falcon breaks it up.]

GM:  These fans are upset.  They wanted to see the dive!  And Shane with
a pair of knees to the lower back, working over Beaum-

[The fans roar again!]

GM:  STOKES!  STOKES!

[Shannon Stokes starts flailing away with rights and lefts at the back
of Shane Falcon, allowing Beaumont to roll under the ropes to escape the
attack.]

GM:  I can not believe Shannon Stokes is back in this fight!

[A pair of forearms knocks Shane Falcon back to the ropes.]

GM:  Big whip... clothesli- ducked by Falcon... OHHHHH!

[A running boot to the side of the head knocks Stokes through the ropes
and down to the floor.  A few feet away, Beaumont drills Ken Jr. with an
overhand chop and then slams his head into an open bench seat in the
crowd before rolling back into the ring.]

GM:  Stokes is out on the floor.  Ken Jr. is in the crowd.  Shane and
Beaumont are back in.

[Shane Falcon, in the meantime, has dropped off the apron to the floor
where he is kicking a prone Shannon Stokes.]

GM:  Beaumont's alone in the ring... he's... oh my god!

[Beaumont deadleaps to the top rope, turning away from the crowd as he
does so, and backflips off in a picture perfect moonsault onto a stunned
Shane Falcon!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  What a dive to the floor!  All hell has broken loose in here!

GM:   All four men are out on the floor.  I can't even believe that-
would you look at that?!  Bling Bling Beaumont is the first to his feet!

[Clutching his ribs, Beaumont soaks up the cheers of the crowd as he
stumbles through the scattered chairs, climbing back up onto the ring
apron.]

GM:  Beaumont's hurting but he's back up on the apron.  What on earth
does he plan on doing now?

[Still holding his ribs, Beaumont is oblivious to Ken Falcon Jr. who
slides in, dashes across the ring, leaps _over_ the ropes and snares
Beaumont in a rana that snaps him down to the floor!]



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



GM:  Are you kidding me?!  What in the world are we witnessing here
tonight in the WKIK Studios?! 

BW:  We got bodies everywhere, daddy!  It's like an RV overturned on
I-95!

GM:  Who's going to recover first?!  Who in the world can possibly
recov- It's Shane Falcon!  Shane Falcon is the first one to his feet...
and he's throwing Beaumont back into the ring. 

BW:  Still the legal men!

GM:  Shane Falcon in there with Beaumont... what the-

[The crowd gasps in awe as Falcon military presses Beaumont into the
air, turning once for the crowd to see...

...and then drops him down over his shoulder, DRIVING him down in a
powerslam in one motion!]




"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"





GM:  POWERSLAM!  HE PLANTS HIM!  ONE!!!!  TWO!!!!  THRE-

[MASSIVE CHEER!]

GM:  KICKOUT!!  KICKOUT!!  MY GOD, HE KICKED OUT!!!

BW:  What is it gonna take to finish this guy off, daddy!

GM:  Shane can't believe it... he's on his feet... and he makes a tag to
Ken Jr! 

[Ken Falcon Jr. steps in, yanking Beaumont off the mat and hooking him
in a half nelson.  The crowd buzzes with anticipation.]

BW:  Half nelson suplex?!

GM:  If he hits this, it's over!

BW:  I thought it was over a long time ago!

[Beaumont fights the lift, driving his elbow down into the side of the
head... once... twice... three times breaks the hold.]

GM:  Beaumont frees himself... to the ropes... clothesli-

[But Falcon ducks the clothesline, reapplying the half nelson.]

GM:  SUPLE-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  Beaumont backflipped out of it!  He landed on his feet... TAG TO
STOKES!!  STOKES LEAPS TO THE TOP!!  CLOTHESLIIIIIII-

[But the springboard clothesline is cut short as Ken Falcon Jr.
sidesteps, hooks the half nelson, and _dumps_ Stokes on top of his head
and neck.]

GM:  OHHHHH MYYYYY GOOOOOOD!!!  ONE!!!!  TWO!!!  THRE- NOOOO!  BEAUMONT
BREAKS THE PIN!!!

BW:  I don't know if that does Stokes any favors, daddy.  He may have a
concussion after that!

GM:  Or worse!

[Shane Falcon races into the ring, pulling Beaumont off the mat and
hurling him out to the floor.]

GM:  There goes Beaumont.  Ken Jr. and Stokes are the legal men... Ken
Jr pulls Stokes up... oh no, what is he going to-?

[The crowd buzzes as Ken Jr. hoists Stokes up into a crucifix powerbomb
position...

...and as he brings him down to spike him home, Shane leaps into the air
to apply a reverse neckbreaker at the same time!]




"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"




GM:  That's it!  That's gotta be it!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRE-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  AGAIN!  BEAUMONT MAKES THE SAVE AGAIN!!

[And as the referee escorts him out, Ken Jr. tags in Shane who promptly
waves for Ken Jr. to springboard.]

GM:  What in the world is s this?  Shane's got Stokes up on his
shoulders... Ken Jr. on the apron... SPRINGBOARD!!!

[But the clothesline aimed for Stokes comes up empty, causing Ken Jr. to
tumble all the way to the floor as Stokes deftly avoids it by turning
the electric chair lift into a victory roll.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THR-  And now it's Shane Falcon who narrowly avoids
the pinfall!!  What a match!

[Shane Falcon wobbles to the corner where his brother is nowhere to be
found.  He leans against the buckles sucking wind as Stokes battles up,
charging the corner with a Tiger Wall flip...

...and drives the back of his foot into Shane's skull with a kick!]

GM:  FLIP KICK!!!  OHHH MY!!!

[Stokes front rolls across the ring and lunges to tag in Beaumont who
quickly goes up top as Shane Falcon staggers from his corner...

...and the crazed Beaumont _hurls_ himself  across the ring with a
breathtaking crossbody block!]

GM:  MY GOD!!  HALFWAY ACROSS THE RING!!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRE- NOOOOO! 
He can't hold Shane Falcon down!

[Beaumont pumps his arms as he pulls Shane Falcon off the mat once more
and makes the tag, hoisting up Shane and slamming him down to the mat
near the corner... then pointing for Stokes to go up top.]

GM:  Stokes is going up top!  This could be all she wrote! 

[Ken Falcon Jr. pulls himself into the ring, sprinting across and
_drilling_ Beaumont in the back with a leaping double knee that sends
him crashing into the ropes which crotches Stokes up top.]

GM:  Ken broke up whatever Stokes was going for there... ohhh!  Big chop
on Beaumont... ohhhh!  He hurls him over the top to the floor!  And he's
going out after-

[Grabbing the top rope, Ken Falcon Jr. grabs the top rope, slingshotting
himself over the ropes onto a stunned Beaumont!]



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



[The roar of the crowd is deafening as Ken Falcon Jr. puts his body on
the line with a slingshot plancha to the floor that wipes out Bling
Bling Beaumont, knocking both men into the first few rows of bleacher
seats.]

GM:  They're out of it!  There's no way either of them are getting back
into this!

[With Stokes crotched, Shane Falcon quickly scales the corner.]

GM:  He's... it looks like he's going for a superplex!  He's got Stokes
hooked up there on the top!  He's got him set up for it!

[The powerful Falcon lifts Stokes into the air, pausing in mid-lift to
show off his power.]

GM:  A delayed superplex?!

BW:  Look at the strength, Gordo!  Look at the power, daddy!

[But suddenly, the strength fails as Stokes lashes out with a pair of
knees to the top of the head, flipping over the top of Shane Falcon and
landing on his feet on the canvas behind him...

...where he immediately deadleaps straight up in the air, hooks Shane
around the head, and _spikes_ him with a reverse rana!]





"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"





GM:  DID YOU SEE THAT?!  DID YOU SEE-  ONE!!!!  TWO!!!!  
THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!


"DING! DING! DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... 

SIMPLY THE BEST!

[The crowd roars, coming to their feet in a standing ovation for the
match they just witnessed.]

GM:  Un-be-lievable!  I cannot believe what we just witnessed.  What a
match... what a battle.  These two tag teams put it all on the line as
they wanted to make the big impression on the AWA in one team's debut
and the other's return.  Simply The Best - Beaumont and Stokes - are
your winners!

BW:  Take absolutely nothin' away from the Falcons though.

GM:  Not at all.  A brilliant performance by both teams.  My god... what
a war that was.  I don't even know if Stokes and Beaumont know they've
won.  And the Falcons are laid out as well.  This crowd is still
standing!  Still cheering on all four men for the incredible effort we
just witnessed.  These two teams may have just put the entire AWA tag
team division on notice - there's some new kids in town and they're
feelin' good!  Fans, we've got to take a quick break.  Unbelievable! 
Don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on the grinning Gordon Myers before fading to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up to live action where we find Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde at ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans... and at this
time, I'd like to welcome with me at ringside... the #1 contender to the
AWA National Title... Juan Vasquez!

[The crowd responds with a loud chorus of cheers, as Juan Vasquez
appears. Juan is dressed in a tailored black suit with pink dress shirt
and a solid black tie. His face still wears some of the scars of his
in-ring war with Raphael Rhodes, but he's looking much better these
days. Other than that, he appears to be in extremely high spirits.]

GM: Juan Vasquez, last time on Saturday Night Wrestling, you accepted
Stevie Scott's one minute challenge and outlasted him. You then issued a
ten minute challenge of your own, putting your title aspirations on the
line in a bid to win a shot at the champion's title. You outlasted the
champion and earned yourself a shot at Scott's National title anywhere,
anytime, and with any stipulations of your choosing. Your thoughts?

JV: Well, ya' know...ever since he got his hands on the National title,
Stevie Scott's been spreadin' around a lot of misery and a lot of pain
in the AWA. But no matter how many bones he's broken, shoulders he's
torn apart and people he's beaten and bloodied, I'm willing to bet those
injuries ain't nothing compared to the one I gave to him two weeks ago. 

[The crowd murmurs with confusion at the mention of an injury to Scott.
Meanwhile, Juan gives a sly grin.]

JV: That big ol' bruise to his ego.

[The crowd roars with a loud cheer! Meanwhile, Juan pulls up his left
sleeve and holds up his wrist to his face, tapping his watch with his
finger.]

JV: Last time out, in this ring, I showed that it don't matter if it's
one minute, ten minutes, one hour, ten hours...ten months...or TEN
YEARS...

[A chuckle.]

JV: Stevie Scott can't beat me. 

[Once again, the crowd roars with delight. The pure joy on Juan's face
is evident as he soaks in the cheers.]

JV: Ooo...I like the sound of that. Lemme repeat that for ya', just in
case you didn't hear me the first time.

[He brings the microphone up to his lips and says each word slowly,
loudly and with barely restrained giddiness.]

JV: STEVIE SCOTT. 

CAN'T. 

BEAT ME!!!

[The hooting and hollering from the crowd is louder than ever before, as
Juan punctuates the statement by throwing a punch into the air. A faint
chant of "JUAN!" can be heard in sections of the crowd, as Vasquez
spends a few seconds riling up the crowd some more, before continuing
on.]

JV: And I know he's just dying to prove me wrong, folks. I know Stevie
wants just one more chance to shut my big ol' yap, but the next time we
meet? 

[Juan points a finger to his chest.]

JV: It's when *I* say so. 

[Juan straightens out his tie and proceeds to brush some imaginary dirt
off his shoulder, looking mighty proud of himself.]

JV: Call me, Charlie, folks...'cause I got the golden ticket. A title
shot any time I want, anywhere I want any...

..._way_ I want. 

[The endless implications of "any _way_ I want" has the crowd buzzing.]

JV: And if ya' folks don't mind, I think I'm gonna hold onto my golden
ticket for a little while longer. I ain't exactly decided when, where,
and how I wanna' do this yet...but as long as I'm holding this baby in
my back pocket?

[Juan grins.]

JV: Stevie ain't untouchable. He's the diamond with a flaw. 'Cause even
though he's got the National title 'round his waist and a couple o'
cheap floozies in his limo, he knows deep down that black, shriveled
thing he calls a heart, that all his bragging and showboating ain't
worth a thing until he beats the man that took away his pride, tarnished
his legacy...and made him look like a dang fool.

And as long as keep him in suspense, Stevie ain't gonna' rest easy. Ben
Waterson's gonna' be constantly looking over his shoulder. Gary Bright's
ain't gonna' get a wink o'sleep watching Stevie's back...'cause they
know that I can call my shot and take that twenty lbs. o' gold from
him...

Any. Time. I. Want. 

[As the crowd cheers once more, Juan nods his head in approval.]

JV: You've had your way with the AWA for way too long, amigo...but now
I'm the one in control. 

[An ominous chuckle.]

JV: And until the day comes that I decide I wanna' take that National
title and give the folks a champion they can finally be proud of?

[Juan says the next words with cruel, mocking glee.]

JV: I'm sure as heck gonna' enjoy myself watching ya' squirm. 

[With a grin, Vasquez walks out of view, leaving Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde behind.]

GM:  You heard the man.  Just when WILL he cash in his shot at the
National Title?  Only he knows for sure.  And now, coming up next is-

[The crowd gives a nice cheer as Hank Williams, Jr.'s, "You Can't Judge
A Book By The Cover" plays over the P.A.  The big Texas native arrives
on the scene in his ring attire of plain old black tights, red-and-white
cowboy-style boots, and a large tan cowboy hat.  He heads straight over
to the table where he shakes hands with Gordon Myers.]

GM: Vernon Riley, welcome to the AWA.

VR: Whoo Gawhdon!  DALLAS, TEXAAAAAASSS!

["You said our city" pop!]

VR: Lemme tell ya, Gawhdon, it's an honor and...a pleasure...to be back
in the grand ol' state of Texas.

Ya see, Vernon Rilaaaayyy...he's been around the block a time or two, ya
know what I mean, Gawhdon?  And I bring...a lot o' miiilleeesssss...to
the AWA.  A lot o' experience, if ya will.  But that don't mean that I
ain't willin' to pay my dues.

[Big Vern adjusts his Stetson and continues.]

VR: If there's one thing I respect, Gawhdon, it's the up-and-comin'
talents in professional rasslin'.  And I don't want to be the guy who
comes in here, flauntin' all his accomplishments...braggin' about all
the champeenships he's won all ovah this great nation of
ouuuuuuuurs...takin' away opportunities from the young bucks back there
who've been workin' hard and payin' their dues with their own blood,
sweat, and tears if ya will.

[Vern pauses.]

VR: And in that same vein, Gawhdon Myyahhhhhhs...if there's one thing I
_don't_ respect...it's a man who gets by on dirty play...on
cheatin'...on hidin' behind others.

And when he cheats, lies, and steals his way to a championship...ol'
Vern respects it even less.

[Vern raises a meaty finger and points it at the camera.]

VR: Listen up, Stevay Scott!  There's a myriad of reasons that Vernon
Riley has returned to his home state of Texas and has come to the AWA.

And you just happen to be one of 'em.

Like I said...I'll pay my duuuuuues.  I'll bide my...tiiiiiime.  But one
way or another, mark my words...I _will_ get these hands on you.

[On cue, Riley holds up his hands.]

VR: These hands, Stevay Scott...they've taken apart men a whole lot
better 'n you are, ya hear?  They've embarassed...humiliated...defeated
wrestlers whose boots you ain't even worthy to lace.

And when they get a hold of you?  Wooooooo-eee!

They gonna make you wish you'd never helped bring Vernon Riley to the
AWA.

[Riley slaps Myers on the back and quickly exits the camera eye.]

GM: Let's go to the ring and see Vernon Riley's AWA debut.

[Let's.  His opponent is already in said ring, a small and young looking
kid.  Riley climbs in and starts loosening up by stretching out his
arms.]

MC: This match is scheduled for one fall...introducing first, from Cape
Canaveral, Florida, weighing in at 217 pounds...SCOTT CRUISE!

And his opponent, making his AWA debut, from Amarillo, Texas and
weighing in ay 295 pounds...

VERNOOOOOON RILEEEEEEEYYYYYY!

GM: And Scott Cruise wasting no time as he attacks the big veteran
before the bell.  The youngster throwing rights and lefts at Riley in
the corner...

[Pop!]

GM: RIley reverses it!  Riley's got Cruise tapped in the corner!

[Riley peppers Cruise with left-handed jabs, backing up slightly as his
opponent staggers out of the corner.  Cruise, attempting to fight back,
throws a wild right hand that comes nowhere close.]

GM: And there it is, the big elbow smash to the top of the head sends
Cruise down to the mat!  One of Vernon Riley's signature moves there,
Bucky.

BW: The only signature move that doesn't involve the buffet line.

GM: Cruise knocked flat on his back as Big Vern pulls him back up...
Irish whip to the far side and a biiiiiig backdrop off the rebound!

[The crowd pops again as Riley starts dancing around a bit.  He stands
back, waiting for Cruise to get up.  Which he does eventually, and heads
right into the waiting Riley.]

GM: Left jab!  Left jab!  Left jab!  One more and Cruise is staggering!

[Riley shakes his knees back and forth and rolls his hands together
before delivering another elbowsmash to the top of Cruise's head.]

GM: Another one of those big elbows to the noggin of Scott Cruise!  The
kid is on the ropes and Riley may be getting ready to finish this one
off.

[Indeed, Riley waves a mock lasso in the air before pulling Cruise to
his feet and locking on a front facelock.]

GM: Here it comes!

[Pop!]

GM: DDT!  Cattlebuster style!  That'll do it...one, two, and three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Vernon Riley is a winner here in his AWA debut and I have a feeling
this is just the beginning for this Southern superstars.  Fans, we've
gotta take a quick break - we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Vernon Riley getting his hand raised before we fade
to black...

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up to live action where we find Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  Well, we've seen a lot of big debuts tonight
and a handful of returns as well... but this next return is quite
special, I think, Bucky.

BW:  Whatever.

GM:  I know you're not the biggest fan of this man but he was an AWA
original - someone we know from his time in Southern Championship
Wrestling as well - but an injury in early '08 took him out of action. 
He's barely been seen or heard from, focusing full-time on his
recovery... and now he's back.

BW:  Oh yay.

GM:  Let's go up to Melissa for his big return!

[The camera cuts to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring... from Parts
Unknown, weighing in at 310 pounds...

THE BLACK KNIGHT!

[Quite a few jeers for the bulky masked man.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Stars And Stripes Forever" blasts over the PA to a HUGE recognition
cheer from the crowd!]

MC:  Standing 6'2 and weighing in at 280 pounds... from Charlotte, North
Carolina...

"STARS AND STRIPES" 
CLAAAAAAAAAYTON SHAAAAAAAAAW!

[The cheers intensify as Shaw steps through the curtain, rockin' a black
singlet with camo fatigure t-shirt with cut off sleeves.  His boots are
covered with stars and stripes as he walks towards the ring, immediately
circling around to slap the hands of everyone who wants a high five.]

GM:  Clayton Shaw is back, Bucky!

BW:  All we need is that fat hog the Sweat Daddy to come back and my day
would be complete.

GM:  You mean the Sweet Daddy.

BW:  Sure I do.  

[After a few more high fives, Shaw rolls under the bottom rope...

...and immediately gets a barrage of stomps by the Black Knight as the
referee rings the bell to start the match.  A big elbowdrop smashes down
across the sternum before the masked man regains his feet.]

GM:  Out of nowhere, a sneak attack by the masked Black Knight, stomping
and dropping that elbow.

[The masked man hauls Shaw to his feet, shoving him back into the
corner.  He leans over, grabbing the middle rope, and drives his
shoulder into the body once... twice... three times...

...but a fourth one meets the rising knee of Clayton Shaw, a blow that
sends him staggering back.]

GM:  Ohh!  Shaw caught him with the knee...

[He grabs the masked man around his beefy neck, leaping into the air and
smashing his head down on the hooded figure!]

GM:  Headbutt!

[The impact of the headbutt sends the masked man falling back to the
corner.  Grabbing the wrist, Shaw fires him from corner to corner before
charging in behind him...

...and CONNECTING with a running clothesline in the buckles!]

GM:  And "Stars And Stripes" looks like he hasn't missed a beat, Bucky.

BW:  The same ol' jackanape he's always been - sounds about right.

GM:  Another whip...

[Shaw marches across the ring, nodding his head as he steps up on the
middle rope, raising his big right hand...

...and drives it down on the skull as the crowd counts along!]

"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
"FOUR!"
"FIVE!"
"SIX!"
"SEVEN!"
"EIGHT!"
"NINE!"
"TEN!"

[Shaw hops down off the ropes, grabbing the masked man under his beefy
arm...

...and somehow muscling him up into a big hiptoss throw!]

GM:  Ohh yeah!  Look at the power from Clayton Shaw right there!

[The big former Marine backs to the corner, leaning over the slap the
mat with both hands as the Black Knight slowly stirs to his feet...

...and then charges across the ring, leaping into the air to floor the
masked man with a big flying shoulderblock!]

GM:  DOWN GOES THE KNIGHT!

[With the masked man down, Shaw nods his head to the cheering fans as he
gets back to his feet.  Reaching down, he yanks the masked man to his
feet, grabbing one wrist with his left hand as he snakes the right one
under the Knight's armpit and behind his neck.]

GM:  Cobra clutch!

[Shaw slowly starts to turn round and round, trying to gain more and
more momentum as he does so.]

GM:  He's spinning him... Stars And Stripes Forever!

[Shaw somehow manages to get the Black Knight just a hair off the mat,
swinging him around in the cobra clutch...

...just before the referee calls for the bell!]


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Shaw releases the hold, allowing the masked man to fall back down to
the mat in a heap.]

GM:  That'll do it for the Black Knight in this one.

[Shaw has his arm raised by the official as the ring announcer makes it
official and the former Marine rolls under the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  And these fans are still going wild as "Stars And Stripes" Clayton
Shaw works his way over here to us for a few quick words.  Clayton, it's
good to have you back!

[The former Marine is all grins as he happily shakes the hand of Gordon
Myers.]

CS:  Gordon, Mr. Myers... this is the greatest night of my career, I
tell you that for sure.

[Still smiling, Shaw lets loose a whoop as the fans cheer.]

GM:  It's been well over a year since we've seen you in action now,
Clayton.

CS:  It has, it has.  The Russians... those mean, nasty Russians... they
banged me up pretty good last year when I was tryin' to support some
friends of mine.  I sat at home and watched a lot of AWA Saturday Night
Wrestling, Mr. Myers... and I saw a lot of stuff that quite frankly,
made me sick to my stomach.

[The fans echo Shaw's statement, earning another nod from him.]

CS:  And these people... you know they saw it too, Mr. Myers.  I saw a
lot of stuff go down that made me a little bit ashamed to be a part of
the AWA... and made me mad as hell that I couldn't be here to do
something about it!

[Big cheer!]

CS:  I'm sick of it!  These fans are sick of it!  And Gordon, Mr. Myers,
I know you're sick of it too!

[More big cheers!]

CS:  Tonight, Clayton Shaw is back and things are about to get very,
very physical around here.  Stevie Scott, I'll give you all you can
handle.  Gary Bright, come flex your muscles in my direction and I'll
slap your teeth right out your head!  Dufresne!  Freeman!  Slater! 
Destiny!  All of ya... come find me... I dare ya.

GM:  I notice that you don't mention someone who we saw return to the
AWA right here tonight, Clayton... Vladimir Velikov.

[Boos from the crowd.  Shaw nods at their reaction.]

CS:  I feel the same way, guys... believe me.  Yeah, I saw Velikov out
here earlier runnin' his mouth.  I guess some things never change,
right?  Well, I haven't forgotten what those Russians did to me last
year.  Sudakov, he may be gone... but Velikov, you should've stayed back
in that wasteland you call home!

Yer tellin' everyone that you've got someone comin'.

[Shaw grins.]

CS:  Well, you can bring him too, Velikov!  Because you may have fired
the first shot but I'll be damned if I lay down my guns without a fight!
 

[And with that, "Stars And Stripes" makes his exit from the ringside
area to the cheers of the WKIK studio crowd.]

GM:  Welcome back, Clayton Shaw, and I think Vladimir Velikov may have
picked a bad time to return to the AWA, Bucky.

BW:  Vlad's got something... or rather, someone... up his sleeve.  I'm
not too worried.

GM:  Well, fans... during that last match, we were handed an
announcement on behalf of the AWA Championship Committee.  

BW:  Bah.  I've got an announcement that'll put whatever they got to
shame.

GM:  This is the first I'm hearing of this.  Would you care to share?

BW:  Not yet.  Not yet.  

GM:  Alright, well... we've actually got TWO announcements from the
Committee... from the desk of Chairman Stephen Ross... 

[Gordon lifts a piece of paper and starts to read.]

GM:  The following are in response to conversations that have been held
with AWA competitors and representatives throughout tonight's edition of
AWA Saturday Night Wrestling.  Number one - earlier tonight, the team of
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman - a team with only one point of
title contention at the moment - challenged Kentucky's Pride for a
rematch for the National Tag Team Titles.  One-half of the tag team
champions, Tin Can Rust, accepted their challenge for a title match in
complete violation of AWA rules and regulations.  

After further consideration, the Championship Committee has ruled that
Dufresne and Freeman...

[Dramatic pause.]

GM:  ...will NOT receive a rematch for the National Tag Team Titles
until such time that they have secured three points of contention!

[A mixed reaction from the fans on hand.]

GM:  And number two... after much discussion with several individuals,
it has been ruled that the situation between Rough N Ready and the
Bishops has gone on long enough.  With both teams stuck at two points,
they continue to collide in an effort to earn their third point.

With that in mind, the Committee has named a DOUBLE MAIN EVENT for the
next Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  In the first match, the Bishops will be taking on the team of Juan
Vasquez and Tumaffi!

And in the second match, Rough N Ready will be competing...

...against Stevie Scott and Gary Bright!

[HUGE CHEER!  Gordon puts the piece of paper away and looks around with
a smile at the roaring crowd.]

GM:  Wow.  How about that, fans?  How about that?  What a night it'll be
two weeks from now with that huge double Main Event as the Bishops and
Rough N Ready will BOTH be looking to get their third point to challenge
Kentucky's Pride... who apparently will NOT be facing Dufresne and
Freeman anytime soon!  

BW:  Big news from the Committee on both counts... but not as big as
mine.

GM:  What on earth are you going on about?

BW:  We've still got some more stuff to come tonight.  But before we go
off the air tonight, I'll shed a little more light on my announcement. 
Believe me... it's gonna be huge.

GM:  Well, speaking of big announcements... I think this one's gonna
surprise some folks as well.  Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, please
join me in welcoming the AWA's Lead Trainer.  He is a former World
Champion and former all-star announcer... TODD MICHAELSON!

[Big cheers from the crowd as Michaelson walks into view.  He smiles at
the reaction, waving to the fans as he approaches the announce desk,
shaking hands with Gordon and Bucky.]

GM:  Todd, I understand you requested this time specifically for
something very special.

[Todd nods.]

TM:   Gordon, one of the first things we did when the AWA opened its
doors was to open the AWA Combat Corner - the official training school
for the AWA.  We knew that we'd need a fresh crop of talent to lead the
way - to lead the AWA into the next decade and beyond.

Now, granted... it's taken a little bit longer than we'd hoped...

[Todd grins.]

TM:  But tonight... right here in Dallas... it's my great pleasure...
one of the biggest honors of my career in fact... to introduce to you
the first graduate of the AWA Combat Corner and the first man to enter
the AWA roster from the school...

"ALL AMERICAN" AARON ANDERSON!

[To a smattering of polite applause, forced or not, enters side camera a
young man of impressive physical stature.  Tall and accompanied by a
confident walk comes the aforementioned Aaron Anderson.  His hair is
short, worn messy styled as is the fashion.  He wears a green and gold
"Combat Corner" track suit and a wide proud smile.  He lifts one strong
arm for a curt wave before standing beside Michaelson.

The microphone is raised to his mouth and as such he begins...
nervously.]

AA: AWA... how are you tonight?

[Again, another smattering of applause.]

AA:  I am proud to be here tonight, the first graduate of the AWA Combat
Corner!  It's been a life long dream of mine to become a professional
wrestler.  I sat and watched wrestling every Saturday morning with my
grandfather, God rest his soul.  I went to events with my friends as a
teenager.  Even when I entered the college ranks and became an All
American collegiate wrestler I would sneak away and watch wrestling on
TV.

[He smiles widely, his teacher returning the gesture.]

AA:  And now, as of today, thanks to Todd Michaelson, a man I admire so
much and who has done so much for me...

[He abruptly clears his throat, wracked with nervousness.]

AA:  ... ahem, sorry about that Gord.  These cameras still make me
pretty nervous.

[Gord chuckles.]

GM:  And what are your plans now, as the first graduate of the Combat
Corner young man.

AA:  I guess it's time the "All American" became ALL AWA.

[The corny comment gets a pretty good cheer from the crowd.  Anderson
seems to take that as his chance to leave on a high note, exiting
alongside his teacher as they exit the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Fans, it's an exciting night here in the AWA!  We need to take one
final commercial break and we'll be right back with some closing
thoughts!

[The shot holds on Gordon and Bucky for a moment before fading to black.

...and then back up on a shot of the AWA National Title belt.  The
super-excited voice of Mark Stegglet is heard over it.]

"You've seen it on Saturday Night Wrestling!"

[A shot of Marcus Broussard with the belt over his shoulder.]

"You've seen it on AWA supercards like Memorial Day Mayhem and The Last
Stampede!"

[A shot of Ron Houston wearing the belt in a promo picture.]

"You've seen the best the AWA has to offer wearing it!"

[Now a shot of Kolya Sudakov in a fighting pose with the belt hanging
over his shoulder.]

"And now, it can be yours!"

[A shot of Stevie Scott holding the belt high in the air fades into a
shot of a young fan doing the same.]

"Available NOW on AWAShop.com, get the official replica of the AWA
National Title belt that only the best and brightest of the AWA
superstars have held!"

[A closeup of the AWA National Title slowly fades to black...

...and then back up one more time to the announcers.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to- 

[The words of Gordon Myers are interrupted by a clatter of voices coming
from off camera, all loud and seemingly agitated.  After a bit, Stevie
Scott, Gary Bright, and "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson emerge on
camera, quickly moving into the interview area.]

GM:  Gentlemen, you had your time out here tonight.  Our show is almost
over and-

GB:  OVER?!  WE decide when things are over, Myers!  You understand me?

GM:  Take it easy now... 

ATTSBW:  Why should we take anything easy?  The AWA is trying to pull
one over on all of these people but we can see it clear as day, Gordon
Myers!  

A tag match with Rough N Ready?!

[Big cheer!]

GM:  These fans seem to like it.

ATTSBW:  Of course they do!  They're as big of idiots as Cooper and
Somers are!  And don't even get me started on that Sarah Sharpe woman,
Gordon.  This is absolutely ridiculous!

GM:  It seems fair to me.  You did get involved with their situation two
weeks ago and-

ATTSBW:  They got involved in ours!  I don't care if them and the
Bishops beat each other to a pulp.  I don't give a damn.  We've got no
part in their war and the Committee knows it!

GM:  Earlier tonight, it sounded like you were going in front of the
Committee to get them a tag title shot!

[Waterson looks flustered...

...and then points to Stevie Scott!]

ATTSBW:  This is NOT the way to treat the National Champion! 

HSS:  That's right, bossman!  What about this Juan Vasquez situation? 
These idiots in the front office are busy putting me in a tag team
match.  

Me?

[Scott scoffs.]

HSS:  I'm the National Champion!  I face who I want to face!  Those
people don't tell me what to do!

GM:  The last time I checked, you've got a contract with the AWA and
they certainly DO tell you what to do!

HSS:  Watch your mouth, Gordo.  There's a Heatseeker with your name on
it if I hear much more out of you tonight.  The fact is you're looking
at the true power in the AWA and the Championship Committee just can't
stand it!  They can't stand that we do what we want, when we want! 
Rough N Ready?  Juan Vasquez?  

[Scott storms away for a moment in anger.]

ATTSBW:  Juan Vasquez, you're a funny, funny man.  You make these people
laugh.  Hell, you make yourself laugh.  That's good, kid.  It's real
good.  Because you're going to need that sense of humor when you see
what you look like in the mirror after we're through with you!  

[The Gold Bomber says something to Waterson unheard by the mic. 
Waterson laughs loudly at the comment.]

ATTSBW:  That's right, Bomber.  If there's anything LEFT of Juan Vasquez
after the Bishops get through with 'im in two weeks time.  I think Mr.
Allan and I need to have another conversation real soon.

You think you're making us wait for you, Vasquez?

[Waterson shakes his head.]

ATTSBW:  That's fine.  That's great.  Because IF you get past the
Bishops, we'll be right there waiting for you, Juan.  Right there to
show you why this man...

[He slaps Bright's chest.]

ATTSBW:  ...is the future of professional wrestling.  And why this
man...

[He slaps the Hotshot's chest.]

ATTSBW:  ...is the best wrestler in the world.  And why this man...

[He slaps his own chest.]

ATTSBW:  ...is the mastermind that brought it all together.  You're
going to find out firsthand that you should have stayed in Canada and
never stepped a toe into the state of Texas, you piece of...

[Waterson trails off as Myers interrupts.]

GM:  Excuse me, Mr. Waterson?

ATTSBW:  This better be good, Myers.

GM:  Oh, I think it is.  During our last commercial break, we were told
that there is going to be a very special edition of Stevie's Hotspot in
two weeks' time as well...

[Waterson looks puzzled, staring at Stevie Scott.]

ATTSBW:  Stevie, I don't think we should be doing that when you've got a
match to-

HSS:  It wasn't me.  

ATTSBW:  Myers, what the-

[Gordon Myers raises a hand.]

GM:  Two weeks ago, Stevie Scott had a victory... a countout victory...
a much disputed countout victory that the Championship Committee eventually rescinded...

[Waterson starts to look nervous.]

GM:  Over a man who was suspended and unable to appear that night.

ATTSBW:  And?

GM:  And in two weeks, that man would like to have a word with you...

[Gordon points at Waterson...

...and then at the National Champion.]

GM:  And you!  Raphael Rhodes returns in two weeks!

[A shockingly big mixed reaction goes up from the AWA faithful!  A
furious Stevie Scott storms away, leaving Waterson and Bright to trail
behind him.]

GM:  Hahaha... well, fans... I guess that just about wraps it up for us
here tonight.

BW:  Not so fast, Gordo.

GM:  Ah yes, your big announcement.  

[Gordon seems to not believe Bucky.]

BW:  You doubt me, Gordo?

GM:  Well, I...

BW:  You doubt the man who broke the news about Shane Destiny?  You
doubt the man who brought Kevin Slater back to the AWA at Memorial Day
Mayhem?  I break the big news, daddy!

GM:  Okay, so what now?

BW:  I was going to tell you, Gordo... but now you've offended me.

GM:  It wasn't like-

BW:  Nah, nah.  You're just going to have to wait with the rest of the
peons out there.

GM:  Bucky, don't be like-

BW:  I'll give you a hint.  The night I introduced Shane Destiny to the
world, I said it was the biggest announcement of someone coming to the
AWA ever.

GM:  Right.

BW:  In my opinion, this one tops it.

GM:  Are you kidding me?  Who?

[Bucky grins.]

GM:  Bucky, don't be like that!  Who is it?  Bucky?

[And with Gordon continuing to get words out of the suddenly mute
Buckthorn Wilde...

...we fade to black.]