Saturday Night Wrestling

Archived show text

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

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

                           Live from the WKIK Studios
                                    Dallas, Texas
                               October 24th, 2009
**********************************************************
**********************************************************
**********************************************************

[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!" with Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde standing in
front of the camera.]

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!  The fans are cheering as 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've got a wild night in store for these fans, don't we?

BW:  We sure do.  Three big matches already announced plus... well, you
know.

GM:  Plus, we've got the announcement that Bucky has said will be the
biggest announcement in AWA history!  The wrestling world has been
buzzing since we went off the air two weeks ago, Bucky.

BW:  As well they should.  Bigger than Slater, bigger than Destiny.  You
won't believe it when you see it.  

GM:  But we're going to have to wait?

BW:  This isn't an opening match level announcement, Gordo.  This is a
Main Event level announcement.  It's only the headliner, daddy!

GM:  I see.  Well, fans, I guess we'll be waiting to hear-

[The crowd jeers as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson strides into the
WKIK Studios, dressed impeccably as always as he takes his place with
the announce team at ringside.]

GM:  Mr. Waterson, I don't believe you're scheduled to be out here right
now, sir.

ATTSBW:  Gordon, Gordon, Gordon... if you've learned nothing else in the
few months we've been slapping people around the AWA, you should have
learned that we don't care what's scheduled.  If I feel like what I have
to say is more important than what's going on out here, then I'm coming
out here to say it.

GM:  Alright then... the floor is yours, I suppose.

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  I am here for two reasons, Gordon Myers.  You will notice that
I am NOT accompanied out here right now by the Gold Bomber nor the AWA
National Champion...

GM:  I did notice that, yes.

ATTSBW:  And the reason for that is because those two men are preparing
for battle... right here, later tonight, they'll be taking on Rough N
Ready in what should be the worst night in the lives of Cooper and
Somers... which is saying quite a bit considering how bad their lives
have been.

[Waterson cackles loudly, Bucky joining in of course.]

ATTSBW:  But that tag match is only part of why I'm out here, Gordon. 
Here's the situation... the Bomber, the Hotshot, and myself?  We have
become the victims of a conspiracy at the hands of the Championship
Committee!

GM:  A conspiracy?

ATTSBW:  You heard me, Gordon.  Those dolts in the Committee have put us
in a situation where my men are coming out here to face two men who have
teamed together for YEARS!  Now, I'm not saying we're outgunned... who
could be outgunned when Gary Bright packs the biggest set of guns in the
universe?

[More cackling.]

ATTSBW:  But what is becoming obvious is that the Committee is out to
get us!  Between this tag match tonight... Stevie being FORCED into
hosting an episode of Stevie's Hotspot, the highest rated segment in AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling history... not to mention this Vasquez
situation.  Gordon, you have to understand how delicate this Vasquez
Situation is.

GM:  I'm sorry?

ATTSBW:  A title shot whenever he wants?  Wherever he wants?  And under
whatever rules he wants?  How is that fair?  HOW?!

GM:  Those are the stipulations that your man Stevie Scott agreed to,
Mr. Waterson.

ATTSBW:  Under duress from that scoundrel Vasquez!

GM:  Well, that's an arguable point but...

ATTSBW:  Why doesn't Juan Vasquez be a man and tell us when he's cashing
in that title match?  Huh?  Why is he allowed to walk around here and
hold that over our heads?

GM:  Those are the-

ATTSBW:  THAT'S NOT WHAT WE AGREED TO!

[Gordon Myers raises his hands, begging off.]

GM:  We'll just have to agree to disagree on that one, Mr. Waterson. 
I'd assume that's the first reason you're out here tonight... but what
about the second?

[Waterson's demenaor changes greatly as a grin crosses his face.]

ATTSBW:  The second?  Well, the second is simple.  You see, Gordon...
the Bomber, the Hotshot, and myself have had several high level meetings
lately to discuss the future of our little company... our corporation...
our conglomerate...

[Waterson smirks.]

ATTSBW:  ...our syndicate?

[A chuckle.]

ATTSBW:  And we have determined that the time has arrived to expand our
organization.  Yes, yes... I know... even in these trying economic
times, our company is one of the few looking to expand right now.  Of
course, when we expand...

...careers get ended, Gordon Myers.

[Myers flinches.]

GM:  The list of names you've put on the shelf is becoming quite
lengthy.

ATTSBW:  Kolya Sudakov, Sweet Daddy Williams, Marcus Broussard, Adam
Rogers, Ron Houston... who else, Gordon?  Who is next for us?  Perhaps
it'll be Mr. Vasquez... or Rough N Ready... or maybe even that big whale
Tumaffi!  

GM:  But this expansion?

ATTSBW:  This expansion is simple.  The Bomber, the Hotshot, and myself
have consulted.  I know we previously had done some scouting to fill the
next spot in our group.  We checked out men like Pure X and Ron Houston
but just didn't find what we're looking for... yet.

[A grin.]

ATTSBW:  But you, Mr. X... you've still got a chance.

The ENTIRE wrestling world has a chance, Gordon Myers!

[Dramatic pause.]

ATTSBW:  All you have to do is prove yourself to us.  Prove yourself
worthy of joining up with the most elite organization in professional
wrestling today.  

Everyone's got a chance!  I see my old friend Vladimir in the ring right
now... he's got a chance!  Shane Destiny's going to be out here later...
he's got a chance!  The Falcons... Kevin Slater... Soup Bone Samson...
how about Rough N Ready, Gordon?

GM:  Do you really think they'd join up with you?

ATTSBW:  If they're smarter than they look, they'd be knocking our
dressing room door down right now to find out what it's going to take. 
We saw so many people debut and return two weeks ago... they've all got
a shot!  Moretti!  Riley!  Shaw!  Lawson!

Hey, how about Aaron Anderson?

[Myers shakes his head.]

ATTSBW:  The first graduate of the Combat Corner?  You know he's gotta
be thinking about it.  

Whoever it is... anyone back there in the locker room... anyone at home
watching on TV... you've all got a shot to be a part of the most elite
group in the business...

All you've gotta do is prove yourself worthy.

And to the rest of the AWA who doesn't make the cut?

[A chuckle.]

ATTSBW:  If you're not with us, you're against us.  And that won't turn
out very well for you.

Consider.  Yourselves.  Warned.

[And with that, Waterson strides out of view, leaving Myers and Wilde
behind.]

GM:  There you have it, fans.  An open call for the entire wrestling
world to... prove themselves... to Waterson, the Bomber, and the champ. 


BW:  How generous!

GM:  Give me a break.  Fans, let's go up to the ring for our opening
matchup!

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

MC:  Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten
minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring... from
Houston, Texas... Bart Stevens!

[A few cheers for the Texan.]

MC:  And his opponent... in the corner to my right... from Russia...
weighing in at 290 pounds... 

VLADIMIR VELLLLIKOV!

[Toting the heavy metal Russian chain, Velikov raises a hand to the
jeers of the crowd.  He smiles at the reaction before setting the chain
aside...

...and barreling across the ring, connecting with a big double axehandle
the back of the head and neck that knocks Stevens into the buckles. 
Referee Marty Meekly calls for the bell to start the match as Velikov
drives knee after knee up into the body of the young Texas.]

GM:  Velikov is all over him early in this one, Bucky.

BW:  Vlad made his return to the AWA two weeks ago, now he's showing
some of that famed Russian mean streak.  

GM:  Irish whip to the corner...

[A running back elbow connects under the chin, knocking Stevens down to
a knee as Velikov walks out of the corner, arms raised in the air to the
jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  Going into this match, many wondered how Velikov would fare out
here all alone, Bucky.  He's got no Kolya Sudakov backing him up
anymore.

BW:  Sure, there's no Kolya but Vlad's no slouch at all.  He's been
wrestling in the States for years, Gordo.  He's not some guy who just
became relevant when his nephew showed up.

GM:  I'm not saying that, Bucky, but you have to admit that he's a lot
less intimidating without Sudakov standing behind him.

BW:  Tell that to Bart Stevens.

[A hard boot to the chest knocks Stevens back down to the mat where a
few stomps send him rolling under the ropes to the floor.  The big
Russian steps out on the apron, dropping down to the apron.]

GM:  Velikov is out on the floor...

[The Russian hauls Stevens off the barely-padded floor by the hair,
slinging him backfirst into the ring apron.  A hard forearm across the
chest knocks Stevens down to his knees again.]

GM:  Vladimir Velikov is showing that hard-hitting tenacity that makes
him one of the most effective warriors in the entire AWA, Bucky.

BW:  That's right... and you talk about Vlad being all alone out here,
Gordo, but you heard it firsthand two weeks ago, Vlad is NOT alone.  He
said that he does not fight alone so sooner or later, we'll find out who
exactly is in Vlad's corner.

GM:  You don't have the scoop on that one?

BW:  Vlad doesn't exactly trust Americans, Gordo.

[Velikov shoves Stevens back into the ring, rolling under the ropes as
well.]

GM:  Back into the fray... Stevens to his feet... ohh!  Dropkick to the
ribs!

[The crowd cheers Bart Stevens as he connects with a dropkick to the
body as Velikov rolls under the bottom rope.  Stevens throws a few more
kicks to the ribs before reaching down, dragging Velikov to his feet and
popping him with a forearm that sends the Russian falling back into the
corner.]

GM:  Stevens on the assault in the corner... right hand... another
right... another right...

[Stevens pumps a fist and lets out a whoop to the cheers of the crowd
before grabbing Velikov by the wrist.]

GM:  Corner to corner whip... here comes Stevens!

[The Texan sprints across the ring, leaping into the air for another
dropkick...

...but Velikov sidesteps, causing Stevens to smash into the buckles
before falling down to the mat, the back of his head smashing into the
canvas.]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Velikov quickly hops up to the middle rope, standing tall...

...and drops off with a near three hundred pound kneedrop across the
chest!]

GM:  Kneedrop!  Off the middle rope!  

BW:  That'll do it, Gordo.

GM:  There's one... two... and there's three.

[The bell rings as Velikov pushes up to his knees, sneering as the fans
boo his every move.  The big Russian slowly gets to his feet, looking
down at the dazed Bart Stevens before stepping through the ropes to the
apron, and drops down to the floor.]

GM:  Vladimir Velikov with an impressive victory in his AWA in-ring
return and he's coming over here to join us now.  Mr. Velikov, welcome
back to the AWA.

[Velikov nods his head curtly.]

VV:  Comrade Gordon Myers.  Comrade Bucky.

GM:  Mr. Velikov, in the two weeks since we saw you return to the AWA,
the entire AWA has been buzzing.  You say you have not returned to the
AWA alone.  Just who have-

[Velikov interrupts with his gravelly voice.]

VV:  You need not worry, Gordon Myers.  The... how you say... secret
weapon... will be revealed in due time.  But for now, you must be
impressed with Mother Russia asserting herself inside the ring on that
pathetic American.

GM:  Well, it was an impressive victory.

VV:  That is right.  Impressive.  You... how you say... speak the truth,
Gordon Myers.  Vladimir Velikov is impressive.  Mother Russia is
impressive.  And what I do on behalf of my homeland is just as
impressive.  Mother Russia has demanded that Vladimir Velikov come back
to the AWA and dominate yet again and that is exactly what I intend to
do, Gordon Myers.

GM:  Do you have your eyes set on the National Tag Team Titles?  Maybe
the National Title your nephew-

VV:  Do not bring up his name to me!

GM:  Alright.  But what are your goals here in the AWA this time around,
Mr. Velikov?

[Velikov sneers.]

VV:  My goals are the same they always are.  To show the entire world
what a pitiful, pathetic sham of a country that America is...

[HUGE JEERS!]

GM:  Oh, come on, now.  You don't think we can let you-

VV:  What happened to... how you say... freedom of speech, Gordon Myers?
 Why are America's freedoms only-

[BIG CHEER!  The crowd roars as "Stars And Stripes" Clayton Shaw emerges
from the locker room area, all fired up as he storms towards the
announce area.  Gordon Myers raises a hand, trying to keep Shaw from
attacking Velikov.]

GM:  Whoa!  Whoa!  Take it easy, Clayton.

[Clayton Shaw slams both fists down on the wooden podium, knocking it
over as he shouts at Velikov.]

GM:  Clayton... this isn't the time or-

[Shaw rips the mic out of Gordon Myers' hands.]

CS:  You're right, Gordon!  This isn't the time... this isn't the
place... cause I don't want this red devil to have ANY excuses when I
beat the tar out of him and wave Ol' Glory over his battered body!

[Big cheer!]

CS:  Velikov, I'm sick of it... I'M!  SICK!  OF!  IT!

[More cheers!]

CS:  You might have gotten away with talkin' all this commie crud while
I was laid up but not anymore!  You want to talk bad about this
country... about MY country?  Then you do it over my dead body!

[The crowd roars again.]

CS:  Two weeks from tonight, Velikov... I'm sick of hearin' ya.  And I'm
gonna shut that trap of yours once and for all!  Me!  You!  In that
ring!

[HUGE CHEER!]

CS:  And if you've got some secret weapon, heck... bring him too!  Cause
there's more than enough of the ol' Stars And Stripes to go 'round!

[With that, a nodding Vladimir Velikov retreats towards the locker room
area.]

GM:  You heard the challenge!  Vladimir Velikov vs Clayton Shaw in two
weeks' time on Saturday Night Wrestling!  What a war that's gonna be,
fans!  Don't you dare go away, we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on Gordon Myers and a fired-up Clayton Shaw 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, fans... and during the break, we did receive word
from the Championship Committee.  It IS official!  "Stars And Stripes"
Clayton Shaw vs Vladimir Velikov in two weeks' time!  I can't wait for
that one, Bucky.

BW:  You know, I'm a red-blooded, flag-wavin' American through and
through, daddy... but if Clayton Shaw is standin' up for us, someone get
me the words to the Soviet National Anthem.

GM:  You're unbelievable... you know that?  Fans, we've got a big night
of action still to come here tonight in Dallas, Texas, at the WKIK
Studios including those two big tag team showdowns to try and crown the
#1 contenders for the National Tag Team Titles and-

[Suddenly, we hear the voice of Shane Destiny bellowing through the
studio.]

SD: Wait a minute, wait a minute, hold on!

[Destiny steps into frame as Gordon Myers sighs.  Destiny is dressed out
to compete, but clearly isn't taking this seriously as he has left
behind his entrance robe, instead choosing to wear a T-shirt promoting a
gym in Las Vegas along with his trunks and boots.]

SD: So Gordon, let me ask you a very important question.

GM: With all due respect, Mr. Destiny, we didn't have you slotted for
interview time.

SD: Look, little man, when you're Shane Destiny, it doesn't matter if
I'm _scheduled_ for time, people make time for _me_.  I don't care what
your format says, when I want to come out here and talk, nobody's going
to stop me, not even these jerks in the audience.

[A loud boo erupts from those in attendance.]

SD: Now, let me ask you that question, Gordon.  What kind of a fool does
the AWA take me for, huh?  They put me in the ring with someone who
calls himself an old dog, huh?

GM: You mean the #9 contender to the AWA National title, Soup Bone
Samson.

SD: Of course I do, these people know that.  I mean, it was only
advertised as a feature match.  But I've been sitting and I've been
thinking about Soup Bone, and I just can't shake it... he calls himself
an _old dog_?  You know what they do to old dogs when they get too old
to do anything aside from sit in the sunlight, in pure misery and agony,
right?  They take them down to the vet, the vet gives them a couple of
shots, and then they go off over that old rainbow bridge.

GM: Mr. Destiny, this is hardly fit for family viewing...

SD: They've got to know sometime!  You see, Soup Bone, I know all about
you.  You've got one move... a punch.  A punch to the head!  Isn't that
just magnificent?  The sport of professional wrestling has been maligned
and disrespected because someone who doesn't know when to hang it up
brags... _brags_... about punching people right in the face.  Well, let
me tell you something, Soup Bone... you're not stepping in the ring for
boxing.  You're stepping in the ring for _wrestling_, and you're doing
so against the best wrestler walking God's green earth today.  I'm the
man Pure X _wishes_ in his wildest dreams he could be... and you think
you're going to punch me in the head?  You think you're going to get
that ride to the top that's been evading you your whole career through
beating _me_?

[Destiny scoffs.]

SD: Well, Soup Bone... "old dog"... I'm going to do what's right and
humane tonight.  I see you suffering, I see you in misery... tonight,
Soup Bone, you're going over that rainbow bridge, just like the pathetic
old dog you are.

[Destiny walks away cackling, as Myers shakes his head in disgust.]

GM:  Fans, that showdown between Shane Destiny and Soup Bone Samson is
still to come later tonight but right now, let's go back up to the ring
for more action!

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Seattle, Washington... Kurt Gilbert!

[The long-haired slender Gilbert throws up both arms to some jeers.]

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:  The WKIK Studios has just been hit with a case of disco fever!

[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!

[A decent amount of cheers for the 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:  Hahaha!  I love it!

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 heeeeeere we go!

[Moretti slaps his hands together in rhythm, getting the crowd to clap
along with him as he circles the ring, making Kurt Gilbert do the same
thing...

...and then come together in the middle of the ring in a tieup!]

GM:  Collar and elbow lockup in the center of the ring... and Moretti
hooks in a side headlock...

[Holding the headlock, Moretti cranks down... and stomps his right foot
twice.]

GM:  Moretti turning up the pressure on the headlock...

[He cranks the headlock again... and stomps twice again.]

BW:  What is this idiot doing now?

[The crowd claps along with the stomps as Moretti repeats... and
repeats... and repeats...]

GM:  The WKIK Studios is rockin', Bucky!

[An irate Gilbert hoists Moretti off the canvas, dropping him down on
the back of his head in a belly-to-back suplex to the jeers of the
crowd.]

GM:  Ohh!

BW:  Kurt Gilbert had enough of that jerk messin' around and he made him
pay for it.  This kid reminds me a lot of Sweet Daddy Williams, Gordo.

GM:  How so?

BW:  Playin' the fool.  Tryin' to make these fans giggle.  Not being
able to focus on the action inside the ring.

GM:  He won his match two weeks ago.

BW:  Williams wins a lot of matches too.  Doesn't mean he's not a big
goof who'll never be as good as he could've been.  This guy's the same
way, Gordo.  He's trying too hard to be liked to be a winner.

[Gilbert drags Moretti off the mat, uncorking a left hand that knocks
him back into the buckles.  Doubling him up with a boot to the gut,
Gilbert buries an elbow in the back of Moretti's neck, knocking him down
to a knee...]

GM:  Gilbert's all over him... he may be looking for the upset here
tonight...

[The Seattle native hits the ropes, rebounding back with a running boot
to the side of the face that knocks Moretti down to the canvas.  A few
stomps follow before Gilbert leaps into the air, dropping an elbow
across the chest of the Disco Machine.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Big elbowdrop by Gilbert!

[Pushing up to a knee, Gilbert grabs a handful of Moretti's jet black
hair and drills him with right hand after right hand to the jaw before
throwing him back down to the mat, applying a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  And the shoulder's up at two.

BW:  This guy may be a goof but it's gonna take more than a couple of
punches to put him down.  Stay on him, Gilbert.

[Kurt Gilbert regains his feet, dragging Moretti off the mat by the
hair, throwing him back into the corner by the hair.  He grabs the wrist
of the stunned Moretti, firing him across the ring...

...and then barrels across the ring himself, leaping into the air!]

GM:  OHHHH!  He missed the running knee in the corner!

[Gilbert falls back from the corner, clutching his leg.  Moretti
promptly kicks Gilbert in the shin, causing him to double up where
Moretti quickly hooks a front facelock, shaking his rear a few times...

...and snaps off a swinging neckbreaker!]

GM:  SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE BREAKER!!!

[The neckbreaker puts Gilbert down and allows Moretti to hook the leg of
his opponent as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Here is your winner...

"THE DISCO MACHINE" GINO MORRRRRETTI!

[The Disco Machine is all smiles as he gets back to his feet, clutching
the side of his face as the referee raises his arm.  After a moment of
saluting the fans, Moretti steps through the ropes, hopping down to the
floor as he walks towards the announcers.]

GM:  Another win for Gino Moretti... on his way now to join us and- Gino
Moretti, congratulations!

[A smiling Gino Moretti waves to the cheering crowd.]

TDMGM:  Thanks, Mr. Myers.  Thank you so much.

GM:  Victorious for the second match in a row here on Saturday Night
Wrestling and I have to- now, wait a second...

[The crowd jeers out of control as The Bishop Boys and Cousin Bo step
into view of the camera.  Cletus Lee steps to the front, glaring at Gino
Moretti coldly.]

GM:  Uh, Gino... uhh... I think it'd be best if you...

[Moretti nods, not looking pleased but apparently realizing the numbers
are against him.]

TDMGM:  Yeah, yeah... I get it.

[Moretti turns and walks away as Gordon Myers turns to face Cousin Bo.]

GM:  I don't know what you're doing out here but-

[A visibly agitated Bo snatches the mic from Gordon and shoves him right
out of the picture.]

CB:  I don't have time to listen to your inane questions. Go play out in
traffic or something, I really don't care.

[Bo waves him off and turns to the camera.]

CB: Tonight, we're gonna do this a little differently. I'm gonna keep
things nice and short.

[Bo runs his free hand through his hair and grits his teeth.]

CB: Because I have had absolutely enough of the waiting. I am through
with playing games with Rough N Ready. Through with playing phone tag
with the Championship Committee.

[Bo turns red and starts jabbing a finger wildly at the camera, his
voice raising with each word he says.]

CB: And I'm sure as hell tired of watching two creaky old invalids who
can barely get out of bed in the morning hang on to those precious gold
belts by the skin of their stinkin' false teeth!

[Bo spits and punches the wall behind him. The Bishop Boys are actually
smiling at how riled up their cousin is.]

CB: So congratulations, Vasquez and Tumaffi! It's your lucky frickin'
day!

[Bo hands the mic to Duane Henry for a second and mockingly claps.]

CB: Because not only is it bad enough that you managed to get on Ben
Waterson's bad side.

[Bo wags a finger.]

CB: Oh, no. Because, as a result of that, now you're on OURS as well.
And so now the Committee decides that, in order to get that third point
we've been waiting on for FAR too long, we have to go through the two of
you.

[Bo scratches his chin pensively.]

CB: That's fine with me. So you go regale the crowd with stories of what
tough wars you've been in yet again, Juan. Go babble on about this
"great warrior soul" mumbo-jumbo you keep spouting, Tumaffi. Keep
talking.

[Bo calms himself down enough to bring his voice back down to normal.]

CB: Because we'll see just how great you two are when you get into the
ring with two men who've been waiting for fate to lend a hand for way,
WAY too long.

[Bo looks as if he's about to leave, but he stops, apparently thinking
of something at the last moment.]

CB: And Rough N Ready? I know exactly what you're thinking. Don't even
try it. Get involved and we'll make sure your in-ring career's as dead
as your managers'.

[Bo gives the cut signal and we abruptly cut 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 alongside the grizzled veteran known as Soup Bone Samson.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling and at this
time, please join us in welcoming to ringside the man who is the #9
contender to the AWA National Title and will meet Shane Destiny
one-on-one later tonight... Soup Bone Samson!

[Big cheer from the crowd!  Samson nods.]

GM:  Soup Bone, I'm sure you saw what Shane Destiny had to say out here
earlier tonight.

[Samson smiles a thin-lipped grin, slowly nodding his head.]

GM:  And?

[The big veteran scratches his chin and shrugs.]

SBS:  What is there to say, Gordon?

GM:  Uh... well, I expected more than that, I think.

SBS:  Alright.

[Samson pauses.]

SBS:  Gordon, did Shane Destiny say anything that's not true?

GM:  Well, I don't-

SBS:  Did he say something that wasn't true?  Simple question.  He's
right.  I come out here week after week and I refer to myself as an "ol'
dog."

[Samson shrugs.]

SBS:  I AM an old dog, Shane.  I'm a man far past my prime.  I'm a man
whose glory days are behind him.  I'm a man who is a lot closer to the
grave than the cradle.

But what does that really mean, Shane?

[A smirk.]

SBS:  Does it mean that you're going to put me down like a rabid ol'
pup?

[He shakes his head.]

SBS:  Maybe it does... or maybe it means that I'm desperate.  Maybe it
means I'm hungry.  Maybe it means that I know I'm running out of chances
to have nights like this.

Soup Bone Samson... the definition of a never-was if there ever was one.
 I ain't never wrestled no place big.  I wasn't in Los Angeles... I
wasn't in St. Louis or Portland... I wasn't in Baltimore or Canada...

[Another shake of the head.]

SBS:  I don't have a bunch of trophies and titles to show for my career,
Shane.  All I got are the scars on my body... the blood I've spilled in
almost every State in the union... and these people out here who pay
their hard earned money to see me do what I do.

So, you talk down to me, Shane.  You tell me that my days are numbered. 
You tell me that all I can do is throw a punch.  You tell me that I'm an
old dog that's 'bout to be thrown off a bridge.

[A pause.]

SBS:  Shane, you tell me everything that I know right here...

[Samson taps on his chest.]

SBS:  ...and we'll get inside this ring.  We'll do what we do... and at
the end of the night, we'll just see what happens.

[And with that, Soup Bone Samson strides out of the interview area to
the cheers of the fans.]

GM:  It's hard to argue with that, Bucky.

BW:  When a man is desperate, you just never know what might happen.

GM:  Fans, let's go back up to the ring for tag team action!

[We fade back up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC:  The following matchup is a tag team contest scheduled for one fall
with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... in the ring at
this time... from New York City... Hank and Harry Sanders!

[Two guys in cut-off denim shorts and wifebeaters mount opposite
corners, drawing some jeers from the crowd.]

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 of Journey's "Separate Ways" hits the PA as the Falcons make
their way into the WKIK Studios.  Both men are in matching black and
gold singlets and boots 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 Fabulous Falcons made their AWA debut two weeks ago against the
returning Bling Bling Beaumont and "Supersonic" Shannon Stokes.  It was
one heck of a tag team showdown too, Bucky.

BW:  It was, it was.  My old friends, the Falcons, came up a little bit
short but they're looking to change all that here tonight.

[As the bell rings, Ken Falcon Jr. tears across the ring, drilling a
surprised Hank Sanders with a forearm smash to the back of the head.  He
quickly hauls Sanders out of the corner to the middle of the ring where
he hooks him under the arm, taking him over in a hiptoss...

...and bringing him crashing down across a bent knee!]

GM:  Ohh!  What in the world was that?!

BW:  Hiptoss backbreaker!

GM:  A fired up Ken Falcon stomps and kicks the downed Sanders a few
times... 

[And then leaps into the air, dropping all his 230 pounds across the
chest of a downed Sanders in a backsplash senton.  Falcon rolls to his
knees, pulling Sanders up by the hair and throwing right hand after
right hand after right hand to the side of the head before dragging
Sanders off the mat by the hair, throwing him into the Falcons' corner
where he quickly makes the tag to Shane Falcon.]

GM:  There's the tag to Shane...

[The tag brings the bigger Falcon brother into the ring where they team
up to double whip Hank Sanders into the ropes.  As he rebounds back,
each Falcon grabs a leg, hoisting him off the mat over their
shoulders...

...and then SNAP him back down into a standing spinebuster slam!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  That'll get you a serious case of whiplash in a hurry and-

[Shane quickly grabs the legs of the downed Hank, reaching back to slap
his brother's hand before falling back in a catapult...

...which FIRES Hank right into a forearm smash from Ken, knocking him
back over the raised knees of Shane.  Ken grabs the top rope,
slingshotting over them...]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Slingshots into an elbowdrop!

[Shane vacates the ring while Ken Jr. drives a pair of right hands into
the downed Hank Sanders.  Ken drags him off the mat by the hair,
throwing him by his mane to the corner where Harry Sanders makes the
tag, charging into the ring...

...where Ken Jr. pushes him straight up into the air, leaving his feet
for a picture perfect dropkick right on the chin!]

GM:  Good grief!  The Falcons are absolutely dominant!

[Ken Jr. takes a knee in the ring, grinning at the crowd's shocked
reaction.]

GM:  And while the fans didn't seem too fond of the Falcons last week,
they seem to be coming around to them this time, Bucky.

BW:  They're good-looking, exciting to watch in the ring, and they've
got a legacy to live up to.  How can you not like these kids?

GM:  Even if they don't use your strategies?

BW:  Hey, everyone's got a fault.

GM:  Ken Jr. waits for Harry Sanders to get to his feet before hauling
him to the corner... another tag...

[Shane slips through the ropes into the ring, quickly scaling the ropes
and sitting down on the top.  Ken Jr. hoists Harry up in a suplex...

...and then sets him down across the shoulder of Shane.]

GM:  Uh oh!  What do they have in mind here, Bucky?

[Shane stands up, holding Harry across the shoulder...

...and leaps off the buckles, DRIVING the wind out of Harry Sanders in a
thunderous slam!]

GM:  MIDDLE ROPE POWERSLAM!  OHHHH MY!

[Shane pushes up off the canvas, leaving one hand on the chest of
Sanders as the referee makes the three count.]

GM:  That's it.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Your winners of the match... THE FABULOUS FALCONS!

[Ken Jr. and Shane trade a brief hug as they raise their arms in
victory.]

GM:  And that puts the Falcons with one in the win column after an
exciting loss to Simply The Best two weeks ago, Bucky.

BW:  The first of many, I'm sure.

GM:  Wins or losses?

BW:  Depends on their attitudes.  

GM:  I see.  Fans, don't go away, we'll be right- wait a second... Jason
Dane is back in the locker room and he's got... let's go take a look!

[We cut backstage to where we find Jason Dane standing with one of the
most despised men in the AWA, one "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.  Clad
in a crisp charcoal gray suit, Dufresne has a gym bag over one shoulder
and an irritated look plastered across his face.  His blonde hair is
pulled back into a tight pony tail.  He looks down at Dane with
impatience.]

JD: Thank you, Gordon.  I'm here with Calisto Dufresne, who just arrived
and is none too pleased with the Championship Committee's decision last
time to deny a rematch against Kentucky's Pride for the Tag Team
Championships.  Calisto, your thoughts.

CD: My thoughts?  My thoughts are that Adrian and I have suffered a
complete miscarriage of justice!  In fact, I'd go so far as to say that
our civil rights have been violated!

[Dane looks dumbfounded.]

JD: What?

CD: You heard me, Dane.  The Championship Committee is clearly a sexist
group, and they're showing that by keeping Adrian and I away from a
rematch against Kentucky's Pride.

[Dane begins to look even more confused.]

JD: I... I'm not sure I understand.  How is the Championship Committee
acting in a sexist manner?  Are you sure you know what sexist means?

[Dufresne scoffs at Dane.]

CD: Dane, I don't know if you know, but I had numerous scholarship
opportunities out of high school.  I know what sexism is.  To hold one
group of people down because they are far more attractive than another
group is blatant sexism and we're not going to stand for it! 

It's not our fault that women throw themselves at us instead of fat, out
of shape pigs like Kentucky's Pride.  We didn't _ask_ to be beautiful,
Dane.  It just happened.  Guys like City Jack and Tin Can Rust were
drawing from the short end of the gene pool, I get that.

But that's not a reason to discriminate against us.  It's wrong.

[Dane is temporarily speechless by this show of ineptitude.]

JD: Have you, uhh... ran this theory by Adrian Freeman?

CD: No, but I've ran by my high-powered attorneys.  And they are in
complete agreement with me.  And if we don't get the rematch we
rightfully deserve, this company will be hearing from them very, _very_
soon!

[With that, Dufresne thankfully storms off camera.]

JD: Wow.  Alright, well, on that note, we'll be right back, fans!

[The camera holds on Jason 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 the locker room of the Right Proper Thugs, where
we find Barrett Topps and Marcus Moore.  Moore is dressed in jeans and a
Manchester United tee shirt, while Topps is wearing ripped cargo shorts
and a wife-beater t-shirt with what we'll just have to assume are a
combination of blood and beer stains.  To say the Right Proper Thugs
look angrier than usual would be a bit of an understatement, punctuated
by the way Moore is slamming his head into the bank of lockers beside
them... and Moore's skull seems to be winning as he dents the metal.]

Topps:  Let's cut right to the chase, yeah?  We're bloody sick and tired
of the way we're bein' treated around here and we're not gonna take it
anymore.  You utter wankers thin you can just ignore us and we'll go
away?  Is that what you're thinkin'?  Because if it is, you're barkin'
up the wrong bloody tree, mates.

[Moore stops headbutting the lockers, turning to glower at the camera...
a stream of blood trickling down his face, and he doesn't seem to be
taking any notice of it.]

Moore:  Let me try to explain the situation to you.  Me and m'mate,
Barrett?   We had two choices growin' up.  We could take crap from
wankers or we could kick the crap out of wankers.  In case you're too
bloody thick to figure it out, we kicked the crap out of all the bloody
gits who got in our way.  And we're still doing that.  So when the
Championship Committee has the gall to ignore us, well... what other
option do we have than to start taking matters into our own hands, yeah?

[Topps actually laughs, which may the scariest thing he could have
done... because it's a nasty, angry sound, and there's no real amusement
in his expression at all... his face actually twisted up in a mixture of
rage and psychotic intent.]

Topps:  And that means that it don't matter who gets in our way now,
mates.  It could be Kentucky Pride.. it could be Rough N Ready... it
could be the Bishops... do you think we give a toss?  It could be the
members of the bleedin' Championship Committee if they're thick enough
to show their faces.  Yeah, that's right... because what have we got to
lose, mates?  We're not gettin' our due, so we have nothing to lose the
way I see it.  We can do anything and what are you going to do?  Suspend
us?  Fire us?  Do me or Marcus look like we give a damn?

[Moore drags his fingers against the blood oozing from the gash on his
forehead and then licks at it with his tongue, a wild look in his eyes.]

Moore:  It's no more Gentleman Jim from the Hight Street for you lot.
From this point on, it's the Right Proper Thugs verus the entire AWA,
from the bloody ring crew to the bloody championship committee.. from
the redneck in the opening match to Stevie Scott... we don't give a
toss.  You understand that?  Every American wanker is on our bloody
hitlist!

[The sound of a female, sinister laugh draws the attention of the camera
away from the Thugs, spinning to the side to reveal Lady Victoria,
dressed in black leather pants and a blood-red latex cinch-top that
barely contains her ... attributes.]

Victoria:  Oh, you poor Yanks, you've gone and upset me mates, haven't
you?  I haven't seen the lads this riled up since... well, since the
other night when we all got utterly pissed and ended up having a lovely
row with a barful of ignorant American rednecks... which is a bit
redundant, but there you go.  And we're not making idle threats here,
mates... we don't care who we have to punish to get what we want.  From
hereon out, there's gonna be nothing right nor proper about the Thugs.
From here on out?  It's bloody war... and mister cameraman?  That means
you too, now you'd better sod off before we start with you.

[And the camera man, who apparently is taking this pretty seriously,
turns and runs in the other direction while we fade back to the ring
where Melissa Cannon is waiting.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring... from Parts
Unknown... the Black Knight!

[A burly masked man raises an arm to the jeers of the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent... from San Antonio, Tex-

[The words of Melissa Cannon are cut off as Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross
comes stumbling out of the entryway, falling down on the floor in a
heap.  A moment later, Barrett Topps, Marcus Moore, and Lady Victoria
come into view as well, wearing exactly what we saw from them moments
earlier.]

GM:  What in the world-

[A hard boot to the ribcage of Ross down on all fours by Moore rolls him
to his back.  Topps quickly drags Ross off the mat as Moore hops up on
the ring apron.  Holding Ross by the head, Topps SLAMS his skull into
the steel ringpost, sneering as Ross collapses on the floor.  Lady
Victoria is just a few feet away, a big grin on her face as she shouts
instructions to her men.]

GM:  We need to get some help out here!  This was supposed to be a match
for Jackson Ross but these two... these three... Thugs are out here all
over him!  Can we get some- what are they doing?

[Topps drags Ross off the floor, hooking his arms around the waist
before hoisting Ross up and dropping him down in a backbreaker...

...just before Moore leaps off the ring apron, smashing his leg down
across the throat of Jackson Ross!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Oh my god!  

[Ross falls helplessly to the floor, completely motionless as Moore and
Topps stomp and kick Ross on the barely-padded concrete with the crowd
jeering wildly...

...when suddenly Colt Patterson comes charging into view!]

GM:  PATTERSON!

[The crowd roars as the veteran tears into anyone that moves, blasting
Moore with a right hand... then knocking Topps down with one as well. 
He tears off his shirt before flooring a rising Marcus Moore with a
clothesline!]

GM:  Colt Patterson has arrived to save his friend!

[Leaning over Marcus Moore, Patterson starts to put the boots to him,
kicking him in the torso repeatedly...

...and getting DRILLED with Lady Victoria's cane across the back from
the sauncy wench herself!]

GM:  OHHHH!

[Patterson drops down to a knee from the impact of the cane shot,
Victoria immediately screaming orders to Barrett Topps as he regains his
feet.]

GM:  We need more help!  Where is Scott Pain?

[Grabbing the discarded cane, Topps holds it with both hands and DRIVES
it into the throat of a stunned Colt Patterson!]

GM:  Good grief!  Patterson just took that cane right in the windpipe!  

[The veteran rolls back and forth on the floor, clutching his own throat
as Barrett Topps stands over him, screaming at the downed Patterson.  He
reaches down to slap Patterson HARD across the face before driving a few
more stomps down into the ribs.  Topps grabs Patterson by the hair,
hauling him up to his feet.  He shoves him towards a rising Marcus Moore
who catches Patterson by the throat.]

GM:  Look at Moore... just reading him the riot act... 

[Moore grabs the 270 pounder, hoisting him high in the air into a
gorilla press...

...and as Barrett Topps leaps into the air, Moore steps back, allowing
Patterson to fall towards Topps who raises both knees.]

GM:  OHHHH!  Patterson's face just got DRIVEN into the knees of Barrett
Topps!  Good grief!

[Colt Patterson rolls onto his back, completely motionless as the Right
Proper Thugs stand over them, Lady Victoria raising both of their hands
in victory.]

GM:  The Right Proper Thugs are acting like they won something, Bucky!

BW:  They did.  They absolutely did!  They won the attention of the
Championship Committee right now - that's for sure.  Let's see the
Committee ignore them now!  Let's see the Committee pass them up for the
Bishops and Rough N Ready now!

[With Topps, Moore, and Victoria standing over the downed Ross and
Patterson, we fade 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 the WKIK Studios has been
darkened except for a single spotlight resting on the ring.  A
director's chair has been set up in the middle of that spotlight and
seated in that chair is "Superstar" Kevin Slater.]

KS:  Welcome, AWA fans, to Superstar Theater.

[The boos are loud.  Damn loud.]

KS:  Before Kevin Slater, the former two time World Champion, lowered
himself to wrestling in the sticks in places like Dallas, Texas...

[Yep, more boos.]

KS:  He worked in Los Angeles... the City of Angels... Hollywood!  He
regularly was spotted at the city hotspots with the who's who of
Hollywood!  Spielberg!  Stallone!  Cruise!  Megan Fox!


GM:  Wasn't she about nine years old when he worked in LA?

BW:  Be quiet!


KS:  Over the years, you can be sure he picked up a few things about how
Hollywood works.  

[The spotlight widens and Slater stands up.]

KS:  And you can also be sure that if there's one thing that will drive
Bobby Taylor absolutely crazy and send him running to sign that open
contract I left in the AWA offices for him, it's making fun of what he
considers to be his legacy in this business.

So, tonight... we take you back to a very special night.  We take you
back to December of 1997... to Toronto Skydome.  We take you to...

...the Legends Beatdown!

[Slater does wiggly fingers and rolls from the ring out of the
spotlight.  His voice continues to boom over the PA system though.]

KS:  Throughout the summer and fall of 1997, Bobby Taylor was a glory
hungry fool.  He thought he had the talent to be the very best in this
business.  He thought he had the skill to shine the brightest.  He
thought all he needed was an opportunity.

So, he spent several months trying to do the impossible.  He was trying
to draw John Wesley Hardin out of Portland and into Los Angeles.  He ran
around calling himself the Outlaw, running down Hardin at every
opportunity.  He knew that if he could do it... if he could draw in
Hardin... he just might cement a career for himself.

On December 31, 1997... the stage was set...

[The lights come up a bit to reveal Slater now standing in the ring with
a Stetson cowboy hat on his head.]

KS:  Now, at this point, Taylor was running his mouth as he was
oh-so-prone to doing.  He was talking trash about this old hasbeen and
that old hasbeen, trying to get people to think he was a tough guy.  But
just like that night, no one cares now about any of that either.  In
fact, no one cared about anything they were seeing from Taylor until...

[Slater swings an arm towards the entryway where a voice is heard over
the PA.]

VOICE: Ya know somethin' kid...?

[All eyes turn toward the top of the aisle, where a man stands holding a
microphone.]

Man: Ya talk too damn much.

[The crowd begins to buzz... but you know it can't really be...]

KS:  Oh, by the way, the role of John Wesley Hardin tonight will be
played by Bobby Taylor's former understudy... former EMWC... well, he
worked there anyways... MANIAC JACK!

[A decent amount of cheers for arguably the EMWC's most infamous
enhancement talent as he steps into another spotlight.]

GM:  This is ridiculous.  This is NOT what the AWA is about, fans.  

"HEY!"

[Slater leans over the ropes, pointing at Gordon Myers.]

KS:  You've got lines in this little scene as well, Gordo.  Get to it.

GM:  You've gotta be kidding me.  I'm not going to-

KS:  You do it or I'll come over there and slap your false teeth right
out of your mouth, ya dig?

[The camera cuts to Gordon who is shaking his head.  He grabs a sheet of
paper in front of him.]

GM:  AWA fans, I apologize for everything you're about to witness but...
 is that?  It can't be.  Is it?

BW:  Whoops.  My turn.  I think it is... but... is that possible?

GM:  That's J.W. Hardin.  It's J.W. Hardin-

[Slater interrupts.]

KS:  GORDON!  Once more... with feeling!

[Myers sighs heavily.]

GM:  Oh my god!  Wha- what the hell is he doing here?  The former World
Champion is here!  The REAL Outlaw!

[Maniac Jack is wearing a black duster that seems a bit too large for
his smallish frame.  A black cowboy hat sits atop his head... also a
little too large.  He speaks into the mic once more as he reads from a
sheet of paper.]

MJ:  That's one o' the dif'rences tween us, kid.  One o' the MANY
dif'rences.  But, it seems ya wanna overlook-

KS:  Jack!  Jack!  Let's skip ahead a bit.  I mean, if I remember right,
that whole thing went on for an hour or two.  We don't have time for all
that.  Let's... page 3... let's go there...

[Jack nods, quickly paging through the sheets of paper.]

MJ:  Kid, yer gonna get a lil' lesson in life tonigh-

KS:  No, no, no.  Let's keep going.  Let's skip ahead to the part where
you get into the ring...

[Jack nods, hurrying towards the ring where he rolls under the ropes. 
He gets back to his feet, producing the mic again.]

MJ:  Yer gonna get a match tonight... a lil' thing I like to call an
Outlaw Match.  No refs and no rules.  Last man standin' walks away the
winner.  And ya know somethin', kid?  That ain't gonna be you.

'Cause just like the sign out front says... there ain't no imitations
accepted!

[Maniac Jack turns to the side, rearing back a right hand...

...and throws it right at Kevin Slater who slaps it aside like shooing a
fly.  Jack looks surprised, scratching his head.]

MJ:  Kev, uhh.. I don't think that's how it went.

KS:  Hrm.  No?  Let's try it again.

[Maniac Jack nods, winding up again, and throwing another big
haymaker...

...but Slater slaps it aside again.  The crowd boos Slater as he smirks
at a confused Maniac Jack.]

KS:  Sorry, kid.  There's been a change in plans.

[Jack looks puzzled.]

KS:  The role of Bobby Taylor tonight will be played...

...by his understudy.

[And with that, Slater uncorks a right hand squarely to the jaw of
Maniac Jack, knocking him back to the ropes.  The crowd jeers as Slater
throws right after right after right after right to the jaw of Maniac
Jack, knocking him down to a knee.  Slater yanks him off the mat by the
arm, firing him to the ropes...

...and knocking Jack down to the mat in a pile with a stiff lariat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!  This kid just got rocked, Bucky!

BW:  Well, it sounds like there was a little last minute recasting. 
That kind of thing happens in Hollywood sometimes.

GM:  This is ridiculous!

[Slater drops a leg down across the back of Jack's now-hurting neck
before dragging him off the mat by the hair, tugging him into a front
facelock...

...and then hoists him off the mat, SPIKING him skullfirst to the
canvas!]

BW:  Cattlebuster!  Better than Hardin ever did it!

GM:  I don't know about that but it was very effective.  Maniac Jack
definitely did not get what he was expecting here tonight.  Kevin Slater
took advantage of this kid wanting to be back on television and now he's
making him pay the price.

[Slater grabs the discarded mic off the canvas, all grins as he backs to
the corner, hopping up on the top turnbuckle.]

KS:  The role of John Wesley Hardin, if you couldn't tell yet, is now
being played by the Superstar. 

[A smirk.]

BW:  Good casting choice.

GM:  This is just terrible.  AWA officials should get out here and stop
this.  This isn't what the AWA is all about.  This is the kind of thing
you'd expect to see in... well, in some other promotion... but not here.

BW:  Different strokes for different folks, Gordo.

[Slater is still grinning as he speaks into the mic.]

KS:  I been 'round the world and I done stepped into the squared circle
with the best o' 'em.  There been many a man I walked away hatin' and
many more who... blah blah blah...

[Slater sneaks a peek at his watch.]

KS:  Let's get to the money part of this.  The so-called Legends
Beatdown!

[Slater hops down off the buckles.]

KS:  Well, this first part was with Casey and Claw but... uhh... I need
an assistant for that one.  Let's skip that.

[Maniac Jack pushes up to a knee, groggily trying to get to his feet
where Slater pastes him with a right hand, knocking him back down to the
mat.]

KS:  Okay, who was next?

[Slater consults his sheet of paper.]

KS:  Verhoeven!  That's right.  Let's see if I can remember how to do
this.

[The former Wild Thing hauls Jack off the mat by the hair, hooking him
around the throat...

...and sloppily takes him up for a chokeslam, dropping him across his
own bent knee!]

GM:  Well, that was kind of a Slaughterslam, I guess.

[Slater ignores the jeering crowd, popping up to his feet with a roar.]

KS:  Okay... whew.  That was tougher than it looks.  That old German
kraut was stronger than I thought.  Who was next?

[The Superstar consults his paper.]

KS:  Subway Psycho?  Are you serious?  And then Kauffman showed up?

[Slater scratches his head.]

KS:  I'm sorry.  Didn't someone say this was a LEGENDS Beatdown?  Where
the heck are the Legends in this thing?  Taylor, if this is your biggest
claim to fame, you're worse off than I EVER thought you were.  Was there
anyone else worth a damn that show-


"Hey!"


[The crowd suddenly pops as Pure X steps out into the WKIK studio.]

PX: Hey, please...

[Pure X makes his way to the ring, shaking his head at the display going
on.]

PX: Let's just stop this here, ok?  For not just these people's sake or
the respect of the ring, but for your own dignity's sake, ok?

[Pure X walks up to Slater.]

PX: Did you listen to me last time? Did you at all take in what I had to
say?

KS: What YOU had to say?

PX: Yeah, me... Pure X. Your next opponent. Not Bobby Taylor and not
some fake legends. Me, the most skilled wrestler in the AWA.

KS: You don't-

PX: Get a hold of yourself, too, Slater. It almost - ALMOST - pains me
to see a man who used to be respected in the ring be nothing more than a
clown night in, night out. Wrestling chickens? Re-actors? How about
WRESTLING? How about wrestling ME?

[Pure X throws the mic down, ready for a fight as he stands between
Kevin Slater and the downed Maniac Jack.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  That's what these fans want to see!  Not some stupid skit
with Slater reliving 1997 - they want to see Slater vs Pure X and they
want to see it RIGHT!  NOW!

[Kevin Slater throws the mic aside, glaring at Pure X, balling up his
fists...

...and then laughing his head off as Shane Destiny sprints from the
locker room, diving headfirst under the bottom rope, and DRILLS Pure X
in the back of the head with a clothesline!]

GM:  OHH!  Destiny!

BW:  He's got a match tonight, Gordo!  But he's still making time to
stomp Pure X's skull into the canvas!

[The crowd is jeering wildly as Shane Destiny kicks and stomps Pure X
down on the mat while Kevin Slater stands across the ring and looks on.]

GM:  Destiny drags X off the mat...

[Hooking Pure X around the thighs, Destiny hoists him up and dumps him
down in an inverted atomic drop that is IMMEDIATELY followed up with a
running clothesline that knocks X down to the mat again.]

GM:  Pure X got caught offguard by Shane Destiny and the man who EARNED
the nickname Legend Killer is working him over!  

[Hooking on to the top rope, Destiny firmly plants his boot on the
windpipe of Pure X, pushing down to strangle the air out of the young
upstart while Destiny screams at him.]

GM:  Can we get some help out here?  Can we-

[The crowd roars as Destiny lets up for a moment...

...and Pure X uses that moment to grab Destiny's leg, ripping it out
from under him as he grabs for his foot!]

GM:  THE X!  THE X!  

[But the standing anklelock is cut short as Kevin Slater BLASTS Pure X
in the back of the head with a running forearm smash.  He quickly hooks
X in a front facelock...

...and puts him right down on the mat next to Maniac Jack with a
CattleBuster DDT!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  Come on!

[Shane Destiny slowly gets to his feet, glaring at the downed Pure X. 
He switches his gaze to Kevin Slater, giving the fellow rulebreaker a
quick nod before making his exit from the ring.]

GM:  Shane Destiny is walking out of here but the damage has been done,
Bucky.

BW:  Shane Destiny just showed exactly WHY he's one of the most feared
men in the business.  He showed exactly why he wasn't afraid to go
toe-to-toe with Tumaffi!

GM:  And now what is Slater doing?

[The Superstar retrieves the fallen mic, moving over the downed Pure X
and leaning over him.]

KS:  Hey, kid... consider your challenge accepted.

See you in two weeks.

[Slater straightens up, dropping the mic down on the chest of Pure X
before turning to leave the ring as we fade to black.

We fade back up from black on a white screen.  Black text appears slowly
on the screen.]

"Thanksgiving night"

[A voiceover begins.]

"Once a year, the very best in the AWA gather to give the entire
wrestling world something to be thankful for."

[The text appears again.]

"Dallas Memorial Auditorium"

[The voiceover.]

"SuperClash is coming."

[Information on where and when to buy tickets fills the screen before
fading out...

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and at this time, we'll be joined by a newcomer
here to the AWA, Corey Lawson!

[Corey Lawson walks into frame, his bleached-blond hair spiked up and a
big grin practically plastered across his face.  He is sporting a
beaten-up Van Halen shirt, along with teal leg-length tights with silver
tassels running up the legs, and silver wrestling boots with red
bandannas tied around his shins and wrists.  He extends a hand to Myers,
who accepts.]

CL: Golly, it sure is nice to meet you, Gordon.  I watched you on the TV
all this time and I'm so glad to be here!

GM: Well, we're certainly excited to see you, Mr. Lawson.  I've heard a
lot of good things about you from our sources around the Tennessee area!

CL: Aww man, I hope they didn't build me up too much.  I'm just so
doggone excited to be here in front of all these great fans.  I can't
wait to get in that ring and make these folks happy.  I know the AWA's
had a lot of no-good low-down sons of witches runnin' around here, but
I'm lookin' forward to gettin' in there and helpin' all the good fellers
here clean this place up so the fans can have some good, old-fashioned
wrestling to hoot and holler about!  I tell you what, man, it's just so
great to be here!

[Lawson points at Bucky Wilde.]

CL: I'm lookin' forward to your announcement, too!  I bet it's goin' to
be a big one!

[Lawson slaps the desk with excitement.]

CL: But I tell you what, it's so good to be here!  I'm ready to get in
there, Gordon.  You think these fans are ready for some wrestlin'?!

[The crowd cheers their approval.]

GM: I believe they are, Mr. Lawson!

CL: Well gosh, I reckon we ought to give it to them!

[Lawson steps out of frame and towards the ring.]

GM:  You heard the man.  I reckon we ought to give it to them as well! 
Let's go up to Melissa!

[Dissolve 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... fighting out of
Tocula, Mexico... Hurricane Jarada!

[Mild boos for the luchador.]

MC:  And his opponent, now stepping into the ring... fighting out of
Greeneville, Tennessee... standing 5'11 and weighing in at 213 pounds...


Corey Lawson!

[A pretty decent cheer goes up for the good-natured fan favorite.]

GM:  And here we go!

[Jarada and Lawson immediately tie up in a collar and elbow, the
luchador pushing Lawson backwards...

...but getting taken down with an armdrag!]

GM:  Nice armdrag by Corey Lawson!  The fans liked that one, Bucky.

BW:  You say you've heard good things about this guy?

GM:  I certainly have.

BW:  I haven't.  I hear he's a baby-kissin', hand-shakin' suckup to
these fans.

GM:  And what's wrong with that?

[Back on their feet, they tie up once again, Jarada slipping a knee into
the midsection this time.  A quick whip fires Lawson towards the ropes
where he drops down in a baseball slide, preventing hitting the ropes. 
Jarada charges towards him...

...and gets caught with a dropkick right under the chin!]

GM:  Whoa!  That dropkick was up in the lights, Bucky!

BW:  It was impressive, I guess.

GM:  Jarada back to his feet and-

[Lawson is there to greet him, firing a jab into the jaw.  A second jab
follows.  A third staggers Jarada and allows Lawson to run towards him,
leaping up to hook a headscissors...

...and take Jarada down to the mat!]

GM:  Oh my!  And the Hurricane is completely off-balance in this one. 
Corey Lawson is all over him!

[A few more jabs knock Jarada back into the ropes where Lawson grabs the
arm, going for a whip that the luchador manages to reverse.]

GM:  Lawson off the far side... ohhhh!  What a backdrop by Jarada!

[A running backsplash senton flattens out Lawson and allows Jarada to
apply a quick lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Shoulder up at two!

[Trying to ground the highflyer, Jarada quickly hooks a full
bodyscissor, squeezing the air out of the Tennessee native with his
legs.]

GM:  Jarada's trying to wind him... drive the air out of his lungs and
keep him on the mat.

BW:  Smart strategy.  It's obvious that Lawson likes to leave his feet
and he holds an edge over Jarada in that one.  Jarada isn't exactly your
prototypical luchador, Gordo.

GM:  He's a bit on the bulky side... that's for sure.

[With Lawson trapped in the bodyscissors, he starts pumping his fists in
the air.  The crowd claps and stomps in rhythm along with his fistpumps,
cheering the newcomer on.]

GM:  These fans are rallying behind Corey Lawson and it almost seems to
be driving him!  Look at Lawson!

[Suddenly with fire in his eyes, Lawson is moving his arms back and
forth, soaking up the cheers of the fans, rolling to his side so that
Jarada is pushed back against the mat...

...and throws a big right hand to the roar of the crowd!]

GM:  Jarada's holding the scissors though...

[Another big haymaker connects!]

GM:  Lawson's fighting back!  Two right hands... there's a third!

[And one more breaks the bodyscissors, allowing Lawson to spring to his
feet, pumping that fist in the air again.]

GM:  Lawson's on his feet!  He's up!

[Jarada staggers to his feet, eating a big right hand.]

GM:  Down goes Jarada!

[He gets back up...

...and gets knocked right back down!]

GM:  Down he goes again!

[The luchador climbs to his feet...

...and Lawson leaps into the air, hooking Jarada around the head and
neck with his legs, taking him down in a rana takeover where he delivers
a few more well-placed right hands before springing to his feet with a
whoop and a holler!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Corey Lawson has the WKIK Studios arockin' and arollin'!

[With Jarada down, Lawson steps through the ropes, pointing to the
turnbuckle as he starts walking down the apron.]

GM:  Corey Lawson is going up top!  Corey Lawson is gonna fly!

[Lawson pauses atop the ropes, looking out over the crowd.  He pumps a
fist as Jarada gets to his feet...

...and HURLS himself off the top, smashing down across the chest of
Jarada with a cross body that takes him down to the mat where Lawson
tightly cradle a leg!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEE!!

[Big cheer!]

MC:  Your winner of the match...

COREY LAAAAAAWSON!

[Lawson rolls off the downed Jarada, popping to his feet where he pumps
a fist again, a big grin splashed on his face as the crowd cheers for
him.]

GM:  Corey Lawson scores the win in his debut!  And these fans are happy
to see it, Bucky!

BW:  Ugh.

GM:  And judging by the reaction from these fans, I'd say everyone will
be quite eager to see Corey Lawson back inside an AWA ring very soon,
Bucky.  This guy has electrified these fans and- 

[As Gordon stops speaking, the camera cuts from Lawson inside the ring
to the announce desk where our announce duo has been joined by a third.]

GM:  Ms. LaFoye.

["The Truth" Shannon LaFoye stares coldly at Gordon Myers, curtly
nodding her head.]

SL:  Myers.

[Gordon looks irritated.]

GM:  Obviously, you have something you want to discuss.

SL:  I do, I do.  Gordon Myers, have you ever called a woman's wrestling
match?

GM:  Absolutely.  In my career, I've called-

SL:  Here in the AWA?

GM:  Not here, no.

[LaFoye nods slowly.]

SL:  Do you object to that?

[Gordon suddenly looks uncomfortable.]

GM:  I'm not sure I-

SL:  Does it bother you that your current employer doesn't think women's
wrestling is worthy of TV time?

GM:  Well, I-

SL:  Don't bother, Myers.  I know you're only looking out for your own
paycheck so I can't possibly expect you to come close to the truth.  But
the truth in this one is pretty simple.  The AWA has no interest in
women's wrestling.  The AWA believes women have no place inside the
ring.  The AWA has no intention to change to that view any time soon.

[She pauses.]

SL:  Sound about right?

GM:  Miss, I have absolutely no idea what-

SL:  Of course, of course.. how could I imply otherwise?  

[And with that, she simply walks away leaving a puzzled Gordon and Bucky
standing behind.]

GM:  Fans, I apologize for that.  I'm not sure what that was about at
all.  Let's go back up to the ring.

[Cut to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing, looking a little
annoyed.]

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 Phoenix, Arizona... Eric Thomas!

[A tall, beefy dude that looks to be about 270 pounds raises a flabby
arm to the jeers of the crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...


<INSERT ANDERSON ENTRANCE>


[As the bell rings, Anderson and Thomas circle out of their respective
corners, looking for an opening.]

GM:  Here we go!  The debut match for the first graduation of the AWA
Combat Corner!

[The two men draw closer, Anderson dropping down to lunge at the legs of
Thomas.  He hooks the legs, pulling them out from under Thomas, taking
him down to the mat!]

GM:  And there goes Anderson, immediately showing off the skills that
made him a NCAA Division II wrestling champion at St. Cloud State
University, Bucky.

BW:  All those takedowns and riding times are great on the amateur
circuit but he's a pro now.  Can he make the transition to the pro
rings?  That's the real question.

[Anderson backs away, shifting his weight from leg to leg as he waits
for Thomas to climb off the mat.]

GM:  Both men back to their feet now...

[The All American edges in, leaning over with his arms outstretched...

...and then lunges, moving in behind Thomas into a rear waistlock. 
Thomas struggles against the hold for a bit, trying to find an escape
when Anderson suddenly hoists him high into the air off the canvas,
throwing him down chestfirst on the mat.]

GM:  Ohh my!  Look at the power on display by this young man, Bucky.

BW:  It's pretty impressive.  That's for sure.

GM:  Eric Thomas is not a happy camper, Bucky... he looks all fired up.

[An irate Thomas kicks the ropes as he gets back to his feet, pointing a
finger of warning at Anderson before charging towards him again...

...and Anderson sidesteps the charge, hooking in the waistlock again,
and again hoisting Thomas into the air, throwing him down on his chest
to a cheer from the crowd.]

GM:  And again he takes him down!  This kid is showing off the education
he received at the hands of Todd Michaelson at the Combat Corner, Bucky.

BW:  Took him long enough to graduate.  I'd hope he had learned
something.

GM:  Thomas back up!

[And for a third time, Anderson hoists him off the mat, throwing him
down...

...but this time he goes down to the mat with him, spinning around and
around across his back before popping up to his feet to even more cheers
from the WKIK Studios crowd!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  You've gotta like what we're seeing out of this kid so
far, Bucky.

BW:  I haven't seen much yet.  Just some takedowns.  My mama has a heck
of a takedown too but that don't mean she's AWA material, daddy!

GM:  Eric Thomas slowly up to his feet... he's absolutely fuming.  This
rough and tumble veteran... you know he can't be pleased at being thrown
around like this by this rookie.

[Thomas edges in slowly towards Anderson who is ready and waiting...

...and gets a finger in the eye!]

GM:  Thomas goes to the eyes!  Cheapshot!

BW:  Welcome to PRO wrestling, meat.

GM:  Meat?  Who are you, Crash Davis?

[With a blinded Anderson at his mercy, Thomas snaps off a big right
haymaker across the jaw that knocks the rookie back into the corner.]

BW:  Now we get to see just what this kid is made of.

GM:  Another hard right hand by Eric Thomas!  He's got the rookie
reeling off a pair of heavy shots there.  This brawling style... I'm not
sure Todd teaches that in the Combat Corn-

[Anderson bursts out of the corner, connecting with a solid forearm to
the side of Thomas' ear, knocking him a few feet back out of the
corner...

...which creates just enough separation for Anderson to lunge forward,
hooking his arms around the big man's legs, POWERING him up into the air
onto his shoulder before falling back in a big slam!]

GM:  OHHHH!  That'll knock the wind out of Thomas!

[With the big man dazed, Anderson quickly pulls him into a double
underhook...

...and hoists Thomas in the air, flipping him over before DRIVING him
down to the canvas with a thunderous Tiger Driver!]

GM:  OHHH!!  

BW:  You know what that was?

GM:  The Billion Dollar Bomb!  Shades of Todd Michaelson!

[Anderson dives down across Thomas, reaching back to tightly cradle both
legs.]

GM:  One!  Two!  And that's three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match...

THE ALL AMERICAN...
AARON ANNNNNNNDERSONNNN!

[A decent sized cheer  goes up from the AWA faithful as Anderson springs
to his feet, pumping his fists in triumph before the referee raises his
hand in victory.]

GM:  A big victory for the All American, Aaron Anderson, in his debut
here on Saturday Night Wrestling... and it looks like he's going to join
us here at ringside for some comments.

[Waving to nearby fans as he steps down, Aaron Anderson stops... smiles
once again... and shakes the outstretched hand of Gordon Myers as he
joins the announce team.]

GM:  Aaron Anderson, you have just made your AWA debut and in impressive
fashion.  How do you feel right now?

AA:  Well... as proud as I can be.  The training at The Combat Corner
paved the way for here today and if it wasn't for my trainers and for
Todd Michaelson I would be sitting at home watching instead.

GM:  And what can we expect from The All American in the future?

[Overcoming his slightly heavy breathing and sweat pouring down his
face, the young newcomer smiles.]

AA:  More of what you saw today.  More improvement.  More victories.
Making Mr. Michaelson, myself, my family and all these people proud!

[Slight" Hey, he mentioned us!" POP!]

AA:  And continue to be what I am... a proud All American!

GM:  There you have it, fans.  Aaron Anderson, a big win in his debut. 
We'll be right back, fans!  Don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on Aaron, Gordon, and Bucky 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, fans... and joining us at this time, a man who needs
no introduction... the Samoan Beast, Tumaffi.

[Stepping in from offscreen is the enormous frame of Tumaffi.  Clad in a
dark-green silk robe with light florals, the 400-pound powerhouse easily
dwarfs Myers and Wilde, eclipsing most of our view.  His facial
expression is difficult to read behind his wild mane of shaggy black
hair, but the gigantic Samoan isn't happy.]

GM: Tumaffi, we all heard Gary Bright issue a challenge to you for
Thanksgiving night.  What is your answer to the challenge?

Tumaffi: Tumaffi thinks that perhaps Gary Bright is not what his surname
would indicate.  Of course Tumaffi accepts your challenge!  You need not
even have made allowances for any other possibility, for Tumaffi will
never refuse a challenge.  Tumaffi understands that the mainlander
Bright is merely a tool used by the alleged champion in order to attempt
to hinder Tumaffi's efforts to regain contender status.  This is a wise
move on his part, to allow his lackey to protect him from such a dire
threat.  Be it known that Tumaffi will very gladly run this gauntlet, in
order to build a case for a championship match.

GM: That's all well and good, but it sounds like you are overlooking
Gary Bright a bit.  He's a powerful, powerful man, Tumaffi.

[Tumaffi's answer to this is laughter.]

GM: Is something funny?

Tumaffi: Indeed Gary Bright is powerful, if you compare him to yourself,
Gordon Myers.  If you compare him to the weaklings that his
insignificant agent pits him against on a regular basis, he is powerful
indeed.  But if you compare him to Tumaffi, Gary Bright no longer seems
powerful.  He seems to Tumaffi like a larger version of the usual soft
mainlanders whom Tumaffi overwhelms weekly.  His power is nothing next
to my own!  Of what use is it to be able to lift ten elephants if your
opponent can lift twenty?  Of what use is it to run a mile in five
minutes if your opponent can run it in four?  Such is the plight of Gary
Bright, whom Tumaffi will surely vanquish on his way to qualifying to
face Stevie Scott, or whomever defeats him, or whomever defeats the man
who defeats him... it is of no importance!  All that matters to Tumaffi
is crushing any resistance between myself and the National Title!

BW: I think you're forgetting something.  A couple of things, actually.

[Tumaffi turns in mild surprise.  Bucky Wilde, who normally flees the
scene when Tumaffi comes around for fear of an outburst, has not moved.]

BW: The last time we saw Tumaffi, he was busy LOSING to Shane Destiny! 
Tumaffi has shown mercy, Tumaffi has pandered to fans... how about I sum
it up for you?  Tumaffi has got soft!

[Bucky pokes Tumaffi in the midsection.  The fans react in an "is Bucky
stupid?" sort of gasp.]

BW: I used to fear you, run from the booth when you were around, but
now?  I think Tumaffi is just another guy who needs a haircut.  And that
other thing you forgot?  Tonight, you're teaming up with Juan Vasquez to
take on two guys who are what you USED to be.  Vicious killers.  And...
*gluukkk*

[Uh, oh.  Tumaffi goozles Bucky.  This could end badly.]

GM: Tumaffi!  Please!

Tumaffi: FOOL!  Do you not know to whom you speak?  Tumaffi will show
you what soft is when I pull out your femur, reduce it to jelly, and
feed it to you!

GM: Tumaffi!  You'll be suspended!  The Championship Committee will...

Tumaffi: Ah!  Another ploy by the alleged champion.  Of course.

[Tumaffi lets go of Bucky, who immediately returns to his previous
policy of vacating the area.]

Tumaffi: Far be it from Tumaffi to do the work of my rivals.  But know
that Tumaffi has heard your babble and will respond.  You say this team
represents what Tumaffi once was?  Let them be the yardstick, then!  And
we shall see indeed exactly who is soft!

[Tumaffi exits... Bucky reluctantly comes back, still holding his neck.]

BW: *cough*cough*

GM: You're lucky he realized in time that he'd be suspended.

BW: Suspended?!  He's gonna be sued!  I'll make sure he never ever gets
a title shot!

GM: In other words, you're going to make it so he has no reason NOT to
smash you to bits next time.

BW: ...well, maybe I'll just let Gary Bright take care of it
Thanksgiving.  If he makes it out of here tonight.

GM:  Fans, let's go up to Melissa for our first of three big featured
matchups tonight!

[Slow fade to the ring where Melissa Cannon is already standing.]

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

[LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out" kicks in to a big cheer from the
WKIK Studios audience.]

MC:  Standing 6'6 and weighing in at 310 pounds... fighting out of
DEEEEEETROIT, Michigan... he is the #9 contender to the AWA National
Title...

SOUP!  BONE!  SAAAAAAAMSON!

[The crowd cheers as Samson walks through the curtain.  The big man is
sporting a pair of black MMA style shorts with no shirt.  A heavy metal
chain hangs over the back of his neck as he walks into the makeshift
arena.  Samson lets loose a howl that the fans echo as he reaches the
ringsteps.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson is one of the most experienced veterans we have
here in the AWA, fans.

BW:  That's a nice way of saying he's older than Moses.

GM:  He's definitely getting on in years but what he lacks in youth, he
more than makes up for in toughness.  And with that big right hand, this
man is NEVER out of a fight, Bucky.

BW:  That's great against most guys.  But tonight, he's facing Shane
Destiny.  The man is a world class wrestler - one of the best inside the
ring I've ever seen.  He can throw blows with the best of them, he can
bend and stretch ya, and he can drop ya on your head in a heartbeat. 
He's a former champion in some pretty big places, Gordo.  Comparing
Shane Destiny to Soup Bone Samson is like comparing ice cream to horse
manure.

[Samson steps through the ropes, jogging in place as he tosses his steel
chain over the ropes to the floor.  The referee moves to the corner to
give him a few quick words as Melissa continues.]

MC:  And his opponent... standing 6'2 and weighing in at 252 pounds...
from Las Vegas, Nevada... he is the #4 contender to the AWA National
Title...

SHAAAAAAAANE DESSSSSSTINY!

[The music drastically changes to "True Faith" by New Order as the fans
start jeering out of control.  Destiny strides through the curtain to
even more boos as he slowly walks the aisle towards the ring, ignoring
the reaction of the crowd and keeping his eyes locked on the waiting
Soup Bone Samson.]

GM:  The man gives up four inches in height and a whopping sixty plus
pounds in weight yet he looks perhaps more confident than I've ever seen
him before, Bucky.

BW:  This man has stepped into the wrestling ring with names like
Courtade, Kinsey, and Martinez.  He's supposed to be scared of an old
man who never stepped out of the flea markets and American Legion Halls
until the AWA?

GM:  I think you're underestimating Soup Bone Samson, Bucky... and if
Shane Destiny is doing the same thing, he just might find his lights
turned out in a hurry.

[Destiny slowly walks up the steps before climbing into the ring.  He
leans back in the corner as the referee delivers instructions, starting
across the squared circle at Samson who is a bundle of nervous energy,
still bouncing from foot to foot while shadowboxing.]

GM:  I have a feeling we're in for one heck of a treat tonight on
Saturday Night Wrestling, Bucky.  Referee Michael Meekly with a few last
words for both men...


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  And here we go!

[The crowd cheers at the sound of the bell as Samson quickly moves from
the corner, fists balled up and in a quasi-boxing stance.  Shane Destiny
stays in the corner, pointing at Samson and complaining to the
official.]

BW:  Closed fists... you tell 'em, Shane.

[The referee steps in between, ordering Samson to open up his hands. 
The veteran reluctantly does so as a smirking Destiny edges out of the
corner...

...and then stomps across the ring, getting right in the face of
Samson.]


"You want to box?  You want to box?  I'm the best wrestler in the
world!"

[The words are punctuated by a hard shove to the chest, knocking Samson
back a step...

...until the big man comes towards him again, fists cocked at the
ready.]

GM:  Here we go!  Here we- ohhh, the referee steps in again!

[A grinning Destiny backs into the ropes, arms spread wide as the
official orders Samson to open his hands again.]

BW:  Shane Destiny is brilliant inside that ring, Gordo.  He'll get this
guy all fired up and you can bet he'll take advantage of the first
mistake that Samson makes.

GM:  You may be right about that.

[As Samson lowers his arms, Destiny slowly moves away from the ropes,
arms down as he extends his head.]

GM:  Now, what in the world is he doing?

BW:  I'm not- I get it!  He's offering Samson the chance to put him in a
headlock!

GM:  Why would he do that?

BW:  Because Shane's not worried in the slightest about what this guy
can do to him.  Shane can get out of any hold this street fighting thug
would try to put him in and he's going to prove exactly that right now.

[Samson looks suspicious but slowly moves in...

...and wraps his big arms around the head of Destiny, squeezing the
skull of the Las Vegas native.]

GM:  There's the headlock... whatcha got, Shane Destiny?

[Destiny struggles against the hold, first trying to slip his head out
from between the arms.]

BW:  Here it is... he's out... almost there, Gordo...

[But with a loud roar, Samson cranks down on the headlock.]

GM:  You were saying?

BW:  It's comin'... wait for it...

[Destiny drops down to a knee, throwing some light forearms to the ribs
of Samson, trying to break his grip...

...but the big man cranks down again causing Destiny to shout out loud.]

GM:  Hehehe... no luck, Bucky.

BW:  It's going to happen, Gordo!  Stop being so impatient!

GM:  The big man from Detroit is really squeezing Destiny's head with
that side headlock.  Destiny keeps trying to find a way out but he's not
having any success quite yet.

[The technician tries once more, hooking his arms around the waist of
Samson.]

BW:  Here comes the suplex!

[But Destiny can't budge the 310 pounder off the mat as Samson squeezes
even harder...

...which finally forces Destiny to drag Samson to the ropes, reaching
back to grab them to force a break.  Big cheer!]

GM:  He couldn't do it!  He couldn't break the headlock, Bucky!

BW:  Beginners luck.

GM:  Perhaps.  Let's see Destiny try it again if he thinks Samson got
lucky.

[Destiny seems to be thinking the same thing as he leans against the
ropes, rolling his head and neck back and forth.  He points at Samson,
shouting something the camera doesn't quite catch.]

GM:  And it looks like Destiny IS going to try it again.  He just told
Samson to prove that he can do it again... we're about to find out if it
was luck, Bucky.

BW:  Oh, believe me, it was.

GM:  Let's find out together.

[The Detroit native reapplies the headlock...

...which Destiny quickly breaks by throwing Samson off to the ropes. 
Destiny drops down, forcing a rebounding Samson to hop over his opponent
to hit the ropes again.]

GM:  Off the far side... whoooooa my!

[The crowd roars as the 310 pounder runs right over a surprised Shane
Destiny with a football tackle, knocking the technician down to the
canvas where Destiny quickly rolls under the ropes to the floor,
slapping the ring apron with both arms in frustration before turning to
pace around the ringside area.]

GM:  And I don't think this match so far is going the way Shane Destiny
thought it'd go, Bucky.  After his sneak attack on Pure X earlier
tonight, I'm sure Destiny thought the rest of this night would be smooth
sailing but so far, Soup Bone Samson seems to have his number.

BW:  Oh, it's waaaaay too early to be saying that, Gordo.

[After a few moments, Destiny seems to regain his composure, climbing
the ringsteps.  He stands near the corner for a bit, glaring at Samson
who is standing in the middle of the ring, jabbing at the air as he
waits for his opponent.]

BW:  Shane was right!  All this idiot wants to do is box!  This is
wrestling, you goof!  Try and do some wrestling!

GM:  Soup Bone Samson is gonna do what he needs to do to win this
match... and you know that big right hand is ready and waiting... locked
and loaded... ready, set, and-

BW:  We get it.

[Destiny again demands that the referee get Samson to unclench the fists
as he slowly steps back into the ring.  There is no offered headlock
this time, Destiny edging towards the middle of the ring...

...and lunging into a collar and elbow tieup that he quickly converts
into a rear waistlock.  The big brawler grabs at the wrists, trying to
break the hold.]

GM:  Now it's Samson's turn to try to find a way out of something.  He's
grabbing the wrists, trying to pull the hands apart...

[Instead, Samson opts to simply walk backwards, pushing Destiny's back
up against the turnbuckles.  The referee is immediately on the scene,
ordering a break.]

GM:  Will we get a clean break here?

BW:  If Samson is the hero he claims to be, he'll break-

GM:  There's your break... right there...

[But the big brawler spins around in the corner, fists balled up as he
throws rapid fire rights and lefts to the midsection of Destiny.]

GM:  Ohhh my!  Right!  Left!  Right!  Left!

[The crowd roars for the flurry of fists and then somehow gets even
louder as Samson hooks Destiny under the arm, HURLING him high into the
air and down to the canvas with a biel throw!]

GM:  OHHHH!  DOWN GOES DESTINY!

[Destiny quickly scrambles to his feet...

...only to find Samson waiting for him, right hand cocked back.  The
Vegas native bails out backwards just as the fist flies, just narrowly
avoiding the knockout punch as he falls to the canvas, scooting
backwards to the corner.  The crowd roars as Destiny leans against the
buckles, eyes a bit wide as he stares at the smirking Samson.]

GM:  And Shane Destiny just showed the entire world just how badly he
wants to avoid that right hook, Bucky.

BW:  Well, of course he wants to avoid it.  He knows that punch will
turn his lights out once and for all.  But he also knows that punch is
an illegal weapon, Gordo.  And you're a hypocrite for not pointing that
out.

[Destiny slowly regains his feet, glaring at Samson as he edges out of
the corner before lunging into a collar and elbow.  Using Samson's size
against him, Destiny swings him around, pushing Samson's back against
the buckles...

...and pops the big man across the chest with a chop!]

GM:  The referee's trying to get him out of the corner and- 

[The crowd roars as Destiny shoves Samson back into the buckles,
snapping off a trio of chops to the chest.  He grabs the big man's arm
before firing him across the ring to the opposite corner.]

GM:  Samson hits the buckles hard... here comes Destiny!

[Sprinting across the ring, Destiny winds up and delivers a
bone-rattling clothesline against the buckles.  Staying in the corner,
he cradles the head of Samson and delivers a barrage of forearm smashes
to the side of the face that knocks the big man to a seated position in
the corner.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Get in there, referee!

[With Samson down, Destiny places his boot on the throat of the big man,
pushing down to choke the life out of him.]

GM:  A blatant choke from Destiny!

BW:  Yet you're not concerned about a blatant clenched fist punch.

GM:  I never said I wasn't concerned about it, Bucky.

BW:  But you cheer like a high school yell captain whenever Samson
throws it!

GM:  Yell captain?

[Destiny reaches down, hauling the big man off the mat before blasting
him with a forearm smash that knocks him back to the buckles again.]

GM:  Samson's back on his feet... ohhh!  Another big chop in the corner
by Destiny!  Absolutely devastating!

BW:  Shane Destiny's one of the hardest hitters in the entire AWA,
daddy!  Soup Bone Samson just discovered that for himself.

GM:  Another whip... 

[Destiny charges across the ring again, looking for another
clothesline...

...but at the last moment, Samson raises one of his big boots up into
the chin of the stampeding rulebreaker!]

GM:  OHHH!

[Destiny stumbles backwards out of the corner, allowing Samson to regain
his senses and charge out of the corner, connecting with a big
clothesline of his own.  The veteran quickly throws himself across
Destiny's chest as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  No!

BW:  It's gonna take more than a clothesline to pin Shane Destiny.

GM:  How about a right hand?

BW:  Very funny.

[Samson drags Destiny off the mat by the hair, scooping him up in a
bodyslam-like lift with Destiny face-up...

...and POWERS him down in a thunderous slam!]

GM:  Good grief!  A facefirst bodyslam by Soup Bone Samson - and that'll
shake Destiny to his very core!

[With Destiny facefirst on the mat, Samson lets loose a wild whoop
before throwing his 310 pound frame into the air, smashing down
backfirst on the prone Destiny!]

GM:  Backsplash by Samson!

BW:  That's a biiiiiiig senton with a lot of weight behind it!  Samson's
using his power and weight edge to take it to Shane Destiny at this
stage in the matchup.

GM:  Samson's back to his feet, dragging Destiny up...

[A desperate Shane Destiny reaches up, grabbing the front of Samson's
tights and YANKING him into the buckles, sending him smashing chestfirst
into the corner!]

GM:  Ohhh!  

BW:  Beautiful!  A brilliant move by Destiny!

GM:  Now who's being a hypocrite?

BW:  What?

GM:  The last time I checked, that was an illegal pull of the tights to
get that leverage move in, Bucky.

BW:  You gotta fight fire with fire.

[Destiny slowly regains his feet, shaking the cobwebs as he approaches
Samson who is leaning chestfirst against the buckles.  Leaning over,
Destiny grabs the middle rope...

...and DRIVES his shoulder into the lower back of the veteran!]

GM:  And he slams his shoulder into the back!

[A couple more shoulder drives to the back has Samson clinging to the
top rope before Destiny drags him out by his trunks, tugging him into a
side waistlock.  The technician hoists him into the air...

...and DROPS him down on the back with a belly-to-back suplex!]

GM:  Some power on display there by Destiny, muscling that 310 pounder
up into the air to take him down to the mat...

[Destiny promptly rolls into an MMA style mount, cradling the head of
Samson and throwing forearm after forearm into the side of his face.  At
the end of the assault, he grabs Samson's head with both hands, SLAMMING
the back of the skull into the canvas over and over before the referee
literally drags him off Samson.]

GM:  Whoa!  Look out!

[An irate Destiny gets right in the face of the referee, shoving a
finger into the face of the official, trying to back him down.]

BW:  The referee has no right... NO RIGHT... to put his hands on a
wrestler in there, Gordo!  You know that!

GM:  And Destiny is absolutely furious as he pulls Samson up off the
mat, shoving him back against the ropes... whoa!  Another big chop from
Destiny!

[A few more chops have Samson leaning on the ropes, trying to stay on
his feet as Destiny grabs for his arm.]

GM:  Irish whip...

[As Samson rebounds, Destiny hooks him, rotating quickly, and PLANTING
him into the canvas with a spinning powerslam!]

GM:  POWERSLAM!!  ONE!!  TWO!!  TH- shoulder up!  Shoulder up!

[Destiny is immediately on his feet, shouting at the official who
reiterates that it was only a two count.  The Las Vegas native shakes
his head before violently stomping Samson repeatedly into the canvas.]

GM:  Shane Destiny is showing the attitude that makes him one of the
most disliked men in the entire AWA.  That mean streak... that vicious
side of his personality...

BW:  The killer instinct that separates him from the rest.

GM:  Perhaps.

[A fired-up Destiny hauls Samson back to his feet, blasting him with a
chop...

...and getting a left hand to the body in response!  Cheer!]

GM:  Chop by Destiny...

[But Samson fires back again!]

GM:  Another chop by Destiny!

BW:  Another clenched fist by Samson!  

GM:  These two are trading shots in the middle of the ring!  Listen to
these fans!

[Destiny throws another chop but Samson slaps it aside, grabbing
Destiny's head with both hands and SLAMMING his skull into the Vegas
native's, knocking him down to the mat!]

GM:  OHHH!  HEADBUTT!

[Samson takes two steps back and swandives, DRIVING his skull into
Destiny's once again!]

GM:  FALLING HEADBUTT!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd gasps and groans as Destiny fires a shoulder off the mat just
before the three count falls.]

GM:  This match is so important to both of these men.  To Shane Destiny,
the #4 contender, a win here could put him next in line for a shot at
the AWA National Title.  And for Soup Bone Samson, a man trying to climb
from the #9 position in the Top 10 to the top of the charts, a loss here
would be absolutely devastating!

[A disappointed Samson gets to his knees, looking down in frustration
before pushing himself off the canvas.   He reaches down, hauling
Destiny up into a fireman's carry.]

GM:  This could be the Steel City Crusher - he learned this during his
days in Pittsburgh!

[Samson slowly spins around in an airplane spin and just as he looks to
spin Destiny around into an Ace Crusher, Destiny slips out the back
door, dropping to a knee.]

GM:  Ohhh - Destiny slips out and-

[As soon as Samson turns around, Destiny CREAMS him with a right hook of
his own, stunning Samson just long enough to hook him around the body,
hoisting him up and dropping him down in an inverted atomic drop...

...and then IMMEDIATELY floors Samson with a clothesline that Destiny
puts everything behind, crumbling to the mat with the effort.]

GM:  OHHHHHH!  

BW:  Haha!  How do you like THAT right hand, Gordo?

GM:  After all that talk about Samson just being a boxer, Shane Destiny
uses a clenched fist to stun Samson long enough to get that atomic drop
in!  Samson's down and-

[Destiny waves his arms in an "it's over!" gesture as he starts walking
to the corner...

...and spots Pure X standing in the aisle!]

GM:  Wait a second!

BW:  What's HE doing out here?!

GM:  Pure X - Pure X who was assaulted by Shane Destiny earlier tonight
- has made his way into the WKIK Studios once more and Shane Destiny is
livid!

[From inside the ring, Destiny points at Pure X, shouting at the young
technician he attacked just a short while ago.  He leans over the ropes
as he approaches the corner, screaming insults at Pure X.]

GM:  Pure X hasn't taken a step towards the ring though, Bucky.  Maybe
he's just scouting Destiny.

BW:  Or maybe he's trying to distract him!

GM:  Well, if that's his goal, it's working.


"TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  FIVE MINUTES REMAIN!"


GM:  Five minutes left in the time limit... and Destiny's climbing up on
the middle rope.  Destiny sitting on the top turnbuckle, still shouting
at Pure X...

[Pure X doesn't even verbally respond, just watching as Destiny runs his
mouth in his direction while standing up on the middle rope.  He raises
his right hand, showing it to X...

...and not even noticing that Soup Bone Samson is now up to a knee.]

GM:  He's calling for a fistdrop!  Another clenched fist!

[Destiny shouts at X one more time before leaping into the air...

...and EATING a precision right hook on the way down!]

GM:  OHHHH!  RIGHT HAND!  RIGHT HAND!

[The blow knocks Destiny flat just as Samson collapses from exhaustion,
falling right across the chest of the Vegas native.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEEE!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd EXPLODES into cheers as an exhausted Samson continues to lie
across the downed Destiny.  The camera cuts to a shot of a grinning Pure
X who simply turns his back and walks to the locker room.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... here is your winner...

SOUP!  BONE!  SAAAAAAAAMSON!

[An ENORMOUS roar from the crowd is heard for the announcement as the
referee flips Samson off of Destiny, raising his limp arm in victory as
the fans continue to cheer.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson has won!  Soup Bone Samson has defeated Shane
Destiny!

BW:  Thanks to Pure X!

GM:  He didn't touch Destiny, Bucky.

BW:  He distracted him!  You saw it yourself!  Shane Destiny just got
robbed by Pure X!

GM:  And with that loss, you have to imagine Destiny will tumble down
the Top 10 a bit and Soup Bone Samson should climb up!  What a big
victory here for Samson... in fact, I'd argue it may be the biggest
singles victory of his career, Bucky.

BW:  Considering who he beat... yeah, I'd say so.

GM:  Fans, we'll be right back - don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on Soup Bone Samson who is kneeling in the middle of
the ring, a very emotional expression on his face as the fans continue
to cheer for him as we fade to black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and back up to live action where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde are
standing.  The commentators are now joined by the trio known as Rough N
Ready. Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers are already dressed in their
wrestling attire. Their manager, Sarah Sharpe, is dressed in her usual
managerial attire.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and now we are joined by Rough N Ready, who
will get the oppprtunity in just a few moments to face a duo they
challenged four weeks ago, but never got to face because chaos quickly
broke out. And this match tonight could be your opportunity to secure
that final point toward getting a National tag team title shot.

SS: Gordon, that final point for a tag team title shot is something my
men have been waiting too long for... but given the circumstances going
into this match, the final point isn't the top issue on the minds of
Dave and Eric right now.

BW: You're kidding me, right? Who wouldn't want the opportunity to
finally secure a tag team title shot?

SS: You've got yourself a short memory, Bucky... Dave and Eric had laid
out the challenge to Stevie Scott and Gary Bright not simply to get that
final point, but because they felt it was long overdue that they stand
up for what's right in this place... after the likes of Marcus Broussard
and Adam Rogers were put out of commission and after City Jack got hurt,
the three of us knew that it was time for us to step forward and teach
the likes of Scott and Bright some lessons. Tonight's match is more than
just securing a final point... it's about making a point to Ben
Waterson's men that their bullying ways are going to end.

GM: You brought up City Jack... he is one half of the current National
tag team champions and his partner, Tin Can Rust, clearly wants to get
Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman in the ring again, and put those
titles up... what happens if you secure that final point tonight?

DC: Gordon, I'll answer that... I don't blame Tin Can Rust for wanting
to get his hands on Dufresne and Freeman. We've been on the receiving
end of the stunts those two have pulled off, although I'm not going to
compare them directly to what happened to City Jack. But all the same,
we know what a pain in the rear end those two can be. So if we do get
our final point for a tag team title match... we'll let Tin Can Rust and
City Jack have their match with Dufresne and Freeman first. We'll let
them settle things with those two punks once and for all... then we can
move forward to our title shot. Hey, we've been forced to wait to get
that final point for some time after the committee ruled we can't face
the Bishop Boys in another tag match... what's wrong with waiting a
little while longer so two men can teach two other men a lesson.

GM: Well, the Bishop Boys also have a tag match tonight, in which they
could secure the final point a tag team title shot as well... I don't
think they'd be as generous as you are about waiting your turn.

DC: Considering what we've dealt with the Bishop Boys the past few
months, I'd expect they wouldn't want to wait... and if somehow they
were able to beat City Jack and Tin Can Rust... although I certainly
wouldn't bet against the current champs.. then they'd have to deal with
us. And if that were to come to pass, there's no way we'd be letting the
committee come between us and the Bishops.

GM: Yet the Bishops did get hired by Waterson and Scott as security a
couple weeks ago... you don't suppose they could be swinging another
deal to...

[Eric, at that point, steps forward and pulls the mic away from Gordon.]

EMS: All I've got to say is this... Bishop Boys, you keep your nose out
of our business! I'm out of patience when it comes to punks like you,
Stevie Scott and Gary Bright... and believe me, if you thought I was
wild, crazy and dangerous before... just wait until you find out how
wild, crazy and dangerous I can be when my patience is gone!

[He then puts the mic back in Gordon's hand as he walks off the set.
Dave soon follows him, ostensibly to calm him down.]

SS: I guess that answers your question, Gordon... but believe me,
regardless of what happens in tonight's matches... we still have a score
to settle with the Bishops and it's going to be settled, whether the
committee likes it or not.

[She walks off after Dave and Eric who are headed for the ring.]

GM:  Let's go up to Melissa for tag team action!

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

MC:  The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall
with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the
ring at this time... weighing in a total combined weight of 615
pounds... from Albuquerque, New Mexico...

ROUGH N READY!

[Big cheer from the AWA faithful!]

MC:  And their opponents...

[The sounds of "Pomp And Circumstance" come blasting over the PA system
to the jeers of the crowd.]

MC:  Being accompanied to the ring by Ben Waterson... at a total
combined weight of 513 pounds... they are the team of...

"GOLD BOMBER" GARY BRIIIIGHT... and...

The AWA National Champion... "HOTSHOT" STEEEEEVIE SCOTT!

[The boos intensify as Scott, Bright, and Waterson emerge from the
entryway, slowly making their way towards the ring.  The champion is
huddled up with Waterson, gesturing at the duo waiting inside the ring,
ready to battle for their third point.]

GM:  Stevie Scott doesn't look too thrilled about getting inside that
ring, Bucky.

BW:  He has to get into the ring with two very skilled tag team
wrestlers.  He should be concerned.

GM:  Was that a compliment?

BW:  Hey, I may not like these guys but I can respect the fact that
they've been a tag team for ages and can certainly go inside that ring,
Gordo.

[Another huddle-up outside the ring goes down - and ends with Gary
Bright being ordered into the ring by Waterson and Scott.  After a
moment, a nodding Gold Bomber steps up on the apron, entering the
ring...

...and pointing straight at Eric Matthew Somers!  Big cheer!]

GM:  And the Gold Bomber wants himself some of the big dog!

[With the Bomber in there drawing some attention, it allows Stevie Scott
to sneak around the corner...

...and yank Dave Cooper down off the apron!]

GM:  What the-?!

[The National Champion takes the quick advantage to use Cooper's tights
to HURL him into the front row of bleachers as the referee calls for the
bell to start the match.  The Hotshot hammers Cooper at ringside with
Sarah Sharpe shouting to her husband.  Inside the ring, Eric Matthew
Somers spins around to spot the action out on the floor.  Somers starts
towards the ropes when Gary Bright suddenly tackles Somers, knocking him
back into the corner.]

GM:  Here we go... and this cheapshot out on the floor has Stevie Scott
all over Dave Cooper...

[The Hotshot grabs Cooper by the wrist, whipping him backfirst into the
ring apron!]

GM:  Ohhh!

[Inside the ring, Bright drives shoulder after shoulder into the
midsection of Eric Matthew Somers.  Somers throws forearms from the top,
trying to break up the corner assault and manages to catch Bright with a
big knee in between shoulder smashes, causing the powerhouse to tumble
backwards out of the corner...

...only to get FLOORED with a rushing clothesline by the big man!]

GM:  DOWN GOES THE BOMBER!

[Somers spins around, stepping over the ropes to the apron, dropping
down to the floor.  Stevie Scott immediately backpedals at the sight of
the big man marching towards him, pointing at him as he tries to step
away.]

GM:  Look at 'im!  Look at 'im!  The Hotshot is runnin' for it, Bucky!

BW:  The National Champion doesn't want to tussle with a 6'9 monster -
can you blame him?

[The Hotshot continues to back away, leaving Somers to tend to Dave
Cooper who is clutching his lower back in pain.  The champ rolls under
the bottom rope, scampering to his feet.  He quickly orders Bright out
of the ring as he waves Dave Cooper in.]

BW:  He wants Cooper in there.

GM:  Of course he does.  He just spent a couple minutes beating up
Cooper on the floor and he's obviously terrified of Somers getting his
hands on him.

[A fired-up Dave Cooper shoves past his partner, diving under the bottom
rope...

...where Stevie Scott immediately drills him with a falling double
axehandle to the back of the skull!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Another cheapshot by the champ!

[The Hotshot gets back to his feet, stomping and kicking at the downed
Cooper.  The referee steps in, shoving him back from the assault.  Scott
backs away, giving Cooper a moment to push up to all fours...

...where a running kick to the ribs knocks him right back down on the
mat.]

GM:  Good grief!

[Grabbing the top rope, the Hotshot drives stomp after stomp after stomp
into the body of Cooper, pushing him under the ropes out to the floor. 
The crowd jeers the smirking Stevie Scott as he backs away from the
ropes at the referee's orders.]

GM:  The National Champion backing off... 

[But as soon as Cooper climbs to his feet, Scott rushes across the ring,
dropping down into a baseball slide, driving his feet into the face of
the rising Cooper!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Down goes Cooper again!

[Scott rolls under the ropes, reaching down to haul Cooper off the
barely-padded floor by the hair...

...and SLAMS his face into the ring apron!]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Get in there and get some control over this!

[Again grabbing Cooper by the hair, Scott pulls him into a front
facelock out on the floor.]

GM:  Waterson's calling for the gourdbuster!  This is the same move that
Duane Henry Bishop used to concuss Dave Cooper several months ago! 

BW:  The floor is padded but just barely, Gordo.  If Stevie hits this,
he might put Cooper right back on the shelf!

[Hooking the trunks with one hand, the Hotshot tries to hoist Cooper
into the air...

...but Dave Cooper kicks and wriggles, forcing Stevie to put him back
down on the mat where he promptly EATS a right hand from the
technician!]

GM:  What a shot by Cooper!  A big right hand stuns the champion!

[Grabbing Stevie by the hair, Cooper takes the opportunity to SLAM
Scott's face into the ring apron!]

GM:  Turnabout is fair play for Dave Cooper out here at ringside!

[Cooper pulls Scott into a side waistlock, hoisting him into the air,
and dumping him down on his own knee in an atomic drop that sends Stevie
falling flat on his face!]

GM:  Biiiiiig atomic drop out on the floor!

[Cooper yanks Stevie to his feet, throwing him under the ropes into the
ring before rolling back in himself.  He winces a bit as he gets to his
feet, promptly grabbing Stevie by the foot, preventing him from crawling
to the corner where Gary Bright is eagerly waiting for a tag.]

GM:  Cooper blocks him... Boston Crab!

[The crowd roars as Cooper flips Scott onto his stomach, yanking back on
both legs to wrench the lower back of the National Champion...

...but a running double axehandle to the back of the head by the Gold
Bomber knocks Cooper down to the mat!]

GM:  Ohhh - Gary Bright breaks up the Boston Crab!  Cooper had the
champion caught in the Boston Crab and the Gold Bomber intervened to
save his partner.

BW:  And Somers didn't like that, Gordo.

[Across the ring, an angry Eric Matthew Somers shouts in the direction
of the official as Gary Bright steps back out to the apron, waiting for
his partner to get to him.]

GM:  Cooper and Scott... both men slowly getting to their feet now...

[As they get back to a vertical base, Scott pastes Cooper with a right
haymaker, knocking him back against the ropes.  Grabbing the wrist,
Scott fires Cooper across the ring, attempting a clothesline that Cooper
ducks under, hitting the far ropes...

...and then taking Scott down with a Thesz Press, balling up his fist to
drive it down into the skull over and over and over to the roar of the
crowd!]

GM:  Cooper's lighting up the AWA National Champion!

[Getting back to his feet, Cooper reaches over and slaps the hand of
Eric Matthew Somers who steps in to another big roar from the crowd. 
Together, Rough N Ready haul the champ to his feet, firing him across
the ring...

...and sending him SAILING through the air in a thunderous double
backdrop!]

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

BW:  Just barely.  They put Stevie so high, he almost caused an eclipse!

GM:  And now it's Eric Matthew Somers' turn inside that ring with Stevie
Scott, hauling him back to his feet...

[Hooking in a front facelock, Somers lets loose a big whoop before
SLAMMING his forearm down across the back of the champion, knocking him
down to a knee.  A second forearm connects, smashing the Hotshot down to
the canvas...

...and a LEAPING forearm smash to the back makes sure Stevie stays there
as Somers flips him over, throwing his 350 pounds across the champ in a
lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Stevie slips out at two!

[Somers nods his head as he slowly pushes off the mat to his feet,
looking around at the cheering crowd...

...and throws his body into the air, smashing down with a thunderous
legdrop!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[The 6'9 beast rolls off the downed Stevie, cracking a grin at the
cheering crowd as he slowly climbs to his feet, reaching over to slap
the hand of Dave Cooper who promptly steps up to the middle rope as
Somers hauls Stevie off the mat, holding his arms behind him as Cooper
leaps into the air, connecting with a double axehandle across the skull,
sending the champion back down to the mat.]

GM:  Cooper with a cover - one!  Two!  No!  Shoulder out at two!  And at
this point of the match, just a few minutes in, you have to be impressed
with the teamwork being shown by Rough N Ready, Bucky.

BW:  Of course you do.  We all knew this was an uphill challenge for
Stevie and the Bomber.  They don't team together on a regular basis. 
They are not your traditional tag team.  But what they are are two of
the best singles wrestlers in the world.  Tonight, we may get the answer
to the long-asked question - what happens when a great tag team meets
two great singles wrestlers?

GM:  We may get that answer twice, Bucky.  Don't forget we've got the
match with the Bishops versus Vasquez and Tumaffi still to come later
tonight!

BW:  Absolutely.

[Cooper hauls Stevie off the mat by the hair, blasting him with a right
hand that knocks the champion into the corner.  With a shout, Cooper
steps up to the middle rope, fist balled up.]

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

[Cooper hops down off the buckles, grabbing Stevie by the arm and firing
him across the ring.  As the champion staggers off the whip to the
middle of the ring, Cooper buries a boot into the gut.  He quickly
hammerlocks Stevie's arm, scooping him into the air, and SLAMMING him
down onto the arm!]

GM:  OHHH!  Hammerlock bodyslam by Dave Cooper!

[Scott rolls around in pain on the canvas, clutching his own left arm in
pain as Cooper stands over him, leaping up with a big elbowsmash across
the chest!]

GM:  Leaping elbow by Cooper - a cover!  One!  Two!  No, not enough.

[Cooper pushes up to his knees, delivering a pair of right hands to the
skull of the National Champion before climbing to his feet.  Reaching
down, he drags Stevie off the mat by the injured arm, spinning it into
an armtwist that he quickly moves into a hammerlock, pushing Stevie
across the ring and slapping the hand of Eric Matthew Somers who steps
into the ring.]

GM:  Another tag right there brings in Somers... what's he doing now?

[In the middle of the ring, Somers sets and then charges the corner.  At
the last moment, Cooper steps aside, allowing Somers to avalanche the
hammerlocked arm!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Stevie falls out of the corner, dropping down to his knees in the
middle of the ring.  An angry Somers points right at Gary Bright as he
grabs Stevie by the arm again, yanking it into a hammerlock.]

GM:  He's going for the flying hammerlock!  This is what Bright used to
put Ron Houston on the shelf!  This is what-

[But just as Somers gets Stevie off the mat, Ben Waterson leaps up on
the apron, screaming and shouting.  The distraction causes Somers to
throw Stevie down to the mat, heading towards Waterson...

...but the dastardly agent drops back down to the floor, shaking his
head at an irate Somers.]

GM:  Look at Stevie!  Look at Stevie!

[Seizing the moment, Stevie is crawling for his life, trying to get
across the ring towards his partner who is stretching out for the tag
into the match.]

GM:  Bright's ready for the tag... but can Stevie get there in time?

[The Hotshot gets within range just as Somers spins around and spots
him.  A charging Somers catches Stevie by the foot, hauling him up to
his feet...

...and POPS him with  a right hand that sends Stevie falling back into
the corner where Gary Bright tags himself into the match!]

GM:  Ohh!  The right hand allowed Stevie to make the tag and here comes-
good grief!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Bright and Somers waste no time in throwing blows
at one another.  Right hands by the Gold Bomber met with right hands by
Somers, each not giving an inch as they batter each other relentlessly.]

GM:  Look at this fight!  Somers and Bright are beating the tar out of
each other and-

[A blocked right hand from Bright leads to a series of explosive
haymakers from Somers that backs the powerhouse down...

...until he reaches up and rakes the eye of the 6'9 big man!]

GM:  Ohh!  To the eyes goes Bright!

[With Somers stunned, Bright charges forward, leaving his feet with a
leaping shoulder block that takes the big man down to the mat!]

BW:  Oh my!  Big time tackle by Bright!

[The Gold Bomber immediately gets to his feet, leaping high into the air
to bring his muscular arm smashing down across the sternum of Somers
with an elbowdrop!]

BW:  What an athlete this guy is, Gordo.  Not only is he built like a
statue, he can leap higher than most cruiserweights!  You've gotta be
impressed.

GM:  There's no denying the skill of Gary Bright... but does he have
enough to withstand the natural disaster that is Tumaffi?  Tumaffi
accepted the challenge earlier to face the Gold Bomber and you can only
imagine what a war of attrition those two are gonna have.

[Bright gets back to his feet, leaping up once again, and smashing the
elbow home again!]

GM:  Another huuuuge elbowdrop by the Bomber... so much impact.  So, so
much impact.

[The Gold Bomber gets up once more, striking a big double bicep pose
before leaping high...

...and smashing the arm down on the chest once more before rolling off
the downed Somers and going into a set of push-ups to the jeers of the
crowd.]

GM:  Bright showing off that power much to the dismay of these fans here
in Dallas, Texas - the wrestling capital of the world, Bucky.

BW:  Look at the arms... the shoulders... the chest... the man was
blessed by the genetic Gods, daddy.

[Bright pushes up to his feet, standing over the downed Somers, glaring
at him as he strikes a big double bicep pose again.  Somers gets to a
knee where Bright creams him with a standing hammerblow to the skull,
knocking him back into a seated position against the ropes.  Grabbing
the top rope, Bright pushes his foot onto the throat of Somers, choking
him with his boot.]

GM:  That's a choke, ref!  That's a choke!

BW:  He knows that, Gordo.  No need to yell at him.

[The official steps in, ordering Bright to back away, starting a five
count.]

GM:  And Bright backs off at four.  These men are always ready to use
and abuse the rulebook to their advantage.  You'll never see them break
an illegal hold before four.

BW:  Of course not!  That'd just be dumb.  They get until the count of
five so why not take advantage of that loophole in the rules?  It's not
their fault the Championship Committee won't change the rules.

GM:  I suppose.  Bright now, hauling Somers back to his feet, big
forearm smash knocks Somers back  to the corner...

[Grabbing the arm, Bright powers the 350 pounder from corner to corner
in an Irish whip...

...and then barrels across the ring, smashing into the stunned Somers
with a running clothesline!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Bright backs off, flexing for the crowd as Somers stumbles out of the
corner...]

GM:  HE'S GOING FOR THE SLAM!

[The crowd roars as Bright tangles up with Somers, attempting to hoist
him off the canvas for a bodyslam...

...but Somers is ready for him, throwing forearm after forearm after
forearm down across the back of Bright, breaking up the bodyslam attempt
and sending Bright  stumbling away.]

GM:  Somers blocked the bodyslam attempt!

BW:  Just barely.  Gary was gonna put him THROUGH the mat, daddy!

GM:  We may never know for sure.

[Grabbing Bright by the back of the tights, Somers tugs him into a side
waistlock, hoisting the Gold Bomber into the air, and dumping him down
on the back of the head and neck!]

GM:  Suplex by Somers!  And both men are down after that one!

BW:  Bright landed hard on the back of the head.  That'll definitely
cloud things up upstairs for ya.  He may not have a clue where he is
right now, Gordo.

GM:  And both Stevie and Cooper are waiting for the tag... both men with
their arms outstretched... both men looking to make the exchange with
their battered and weary partners...

[The crowd is roaring for Somers to tag in Cooper as both men crawl
towards their respective partners.]

GM:  Both men need the tag... both men want the tag...

[Bright is the first to the corner, leaping to tag in the Hotshot.]

GM:  In comes the champ and-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  IN COMES COOPER!


"TEN MINUTES HAVE EXPIRED!  TEN MINUTES REMAIN!"


[Cooper catches Scott charging in with a hook to the body.  A few more
bodyshots follow before a big right hand to the skull knocking the
Hotshot down to the mat.]

GM:  Down goes the champ!

[The technician catches Stevie as he gets back to his feet, smashing him
with a forearm knocking Stevie back into the ropes.]

GM:  Whip by Cooper...

[The rebounding Hotshot gets hoisted into the air by the legs, spun
around, and DRIVEN into the mat!]

GM:  SPINEBUSTER!  SPINEBUSTER BY COOPER!

[With Scott down on the mat, Cooper crosses the Hotshot's legs, and
flips him to his stomach.]

GM:  Submission hold applied!

BW:  That's the Texas Cloverleaf!  Cooper's got him in the Cloverleaf!

GM:  The crowd is going nuts!  Stevie Scott is screaming in pain,
pounding the canvas... can he hold on?

[Cooper leans back, screaming as he tries to wrench a submission out of
the National Champion...

...when Ben Waterson leaps up on the apron!]

GM:  Waterson's on the apron and-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  SARAH PULLS HIM DOWN!

[The crowd roars as Sarah Sharpe yanks Waterson off the apron by his
custom-tailored slacks.  An irate Waterson spins around, rearing back a
right hand in a retreating Sarah's direction...

...which causes Cooper to break the hold, racing towards the ropes.  A
shout from Cooper causes Waterson to beg off, shaking his head at the
veteran.]

GM:  Cooper turns back to Stevie...  HEATSEEK-

[HUGE ROAR!]

GM:  COOPER CATCHES THE FOOT!  HE CAUGHT THE FOOT!

[With a hard spin, he swings Stevie around...

...and drills him with a running clothesline that knocks the Hotshot
back down to the mat!]

GM:  Stevie is down again!  The champ just can't get on track here
tonight, Bucky.

BW:  He needs to get out of there.  He's got the title to think about!

GM:  Cooper drags him to his feet...

[A weary Somers steps back into the ring as Cooper hops up on the middle
rope, directing traffic.]

GM:  This is it!  They're going for Rough Housing on the National Champ!
If they hit this, it's over, Bucky!

[Somers grabs the National Champion around the head and neck, looking
for the uranage slam that precedes Cooper's middle rope kneedrop...

...when suddenly all hell breaks loose!]

GM:  LOOK OUT!

[The crowd EXPLODES into jeers as Duane Henry Bishop and Cletus Lee
Bishop hit the ring.  Eric Matthew Somers immediately throws the Hotshot
down to the canvas, peeling off to DRILL Duane Henry with a right hand. 
The referee immediately calls for the bell just before a charging Cletus
Lee DRILLS Cooper with a big boot to the chest, knocking Cooper over the
ropes and down to the floor below!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

[Cletus Lee promptly spins around, blasting Somers with a right hand to
the back of the head, knocking Somers down to a knee where he's prone to
a barrage of blows from both Bishops as Cousin Bo shouts instructions
from outside the ring.]

GM:  The Bishops are all over Eric Matthew Somers!  They're beating the
tar out of him!  They're-

[Suddenly, the Gold Bomber joins the fray, driving blow after blow into
the skull of Eric Matthew Somers.]

GM:  This is a three on one!  Bright and the Bishops are working over
Eric Matthew Somers!  They're pounding Somers down and-

[A weary and battered Hotshot regains his feet, clearing traffic out for
a moment...

...and BLASTING a kneeling Somers with a Heatseeker kick under the chin,
knocking Somers down to the mat!]

GM:  OHHHH!  THE SUPERKICK CONNECTS!

[The jeers intensify as all four men now are battering Eric Matthew
Somers into the canvas as Dave Cooper lies stunned on the barely-padded
concrete floor.]

GM:  We need some help out here!  We need to-

[A big cheer goes out as Juan Vasquez and Tumaffi come barreling through
the entranceway, heading towards the ring...

...where all four men exit at the encouragement of Cousin Bo and Ben
Waterson, leaving Eric Matthew Somers pounded and pummeled on the canvas
as the cavalry arrives.]

GM:  Somers is down.  Cooper is down.  What in the world is going on
here tonight, Bucky?

BW:  I don't know but what's the official decision, Gordo?  Who won the
match?

GM:  We're going to try... fans, we need to take a quick break but we
need to find out what the official result of that match is.  We'll be
right back - don't you dare go away!

[The camera holds on a motionless Eric Matthew Somers 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 Gordon and Bucky are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and just moments ago, we saw what was
developing into one heck of a showdown between Bright, Stevie Scott, and
Rough N Ready turn into a giant mess with the arrival of the Bishops. 
During the break, we spoke with the referee on record and we got the
decision.  The Bishops had not touched anyone in the ring yet when THEY
were assaulted by Rough N Ready.  Therefore, the referee decided to
THROW OUT the match.  That's right, fans.  It was ruled a no contest.

BW:  And do you know what that means?  It means that Rough N Ready don't
get that elusive third point!

GM:  But they didn't lose the match... so they don't lose their two
points either.  A No Contest caused by the Bishops... and that gives the
Bishops a clear shot later tonight to get their third point against
Vasquez and Tumaffi.

BW:  They're gonna do it, daddy.  I can feel it in my bones.

GM:  We'll find out later tonight but right now, it's time for more
action, fans.  The Matsui Corporation has been making a lot of noise in
recent weeks about the lack of competition their man, MAMMOTH Mizusawa,
has been receiving here in the AWA.  

BW:  It's a valid point, Gordo.  The man is currently ranked #10 in the
Top 10 rankings and who... WHO... has the AWA put in there with him? 
Why aren't we seeing Mizusawa against Samson?  Vasquez?  Heck, how about
Tumaffi?  I know the fans would LOVE to see that one!

GM:  Well, he's going to be in action tonight against-

BW:  Against another scrub!  This is ridiculous, Bucky... and quite
frankly, it's an insult to Mizusawa and the Matsui Corporation!

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

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

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this time...
from Buffalo, New York... weighing in at 214 pounds... Bailey
Fitzgerald!

[A mild reaction for the New Yorker with the cropped blonde hair.]

MC:  And his 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.]

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.]

GM:  Here comes the big man along with Louis Matsui who is always at his
side.

BW:  I talked with Mr. Matsui earlier today.  He said he's refusing to
join us here at the booth tonight in protest.  

GM:  Protest?

BW:  Until this man gets REAL competition.  

GM:  Give me a break.

[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.  Matsui has a few words for his charge who nods
before stepping up on the apron, slinging a leg over the ropes into the
ring.]

GM:  Mizusawa inside the ring now... a full foot taller than Bailey
Fitzgerald...

BW:  And about two hundred pounds heavier.  This kid is in for the worst
night of his life, Gordo.

[With the big man staring down his prey from across the ring, the
referee calls for the bell.]

GM:  And here we go!

[Fitzgerald looks pretty freaked out at this point, staying in his
corner as Mizusawa stomps out of the corner, walking slowly across the
ring, stalking towards the much-smaller man.]

GM:  Fitzgerald better get out of the corner - I know that much.

[With the ring partially cut off, Fitzgerald tries to run to the left of
the giant...

...and gets caught around the head and neck, thrown back into the
buckles.]

GM:  He's caught!

[Mizusawa rears back with a big forearm, swinging it down like an axe...

...but it falls helplessly on the corner as Fitzgerald drops down to his
knees, crawling through the legs of Mizusawa and popping up to his feet
behind him where he immediately leaps up with a dropkick to the lower
back!]

GM:  Hey!  Nice dropkick by Bailey Fitzgerald!

[He quickly scampers out of the corner, moving back across the ring as a
surly Mizusawa turns around, glaring at the New Yorker.  Fitzgerald has
his fists balled up, at the ready for a fight as Mizusawa slowly
approaches once again.]

GM:  Here comes the giant once more...

[At the last moment, Fitzgerald runs forward, trying to go between the
legs of the big man again...

...but the giant lifts his leg and stomps down on the lower back of
Fitzgerald.  He pauses a moment...]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  Oh yeah!  Squish him!

[With a loud roar, Mizusawa leaps up, dropping all four hundred and 
twenty pounds down in a seated position on the lower back of the
helpless Fitzgerald.]

GM:  Ohhhhh.  That'll do it.  That'll finish this match right now.

[A cackling Matsui shouts instructions from outside the ring as Mizusawa
steps to the side, looking down stoically at the motionless New Yorker
on the canvas.  He slowly reaches down, hauling his victim off the
canvas by the hair...

...and powers him up into a press slam!]

GM:  Two hundred plus pounds just got pressed high overhead!  He's going
for the MAMMOTH Slam - that'll end the night of-

[The crowd cheers as Fitzgerald starts kicking and wriggling, somehow
slipping free from the giant, dropping down and landing on a knee behind
the big man.  Mizusawa slowly turns...]

GM:  Clothesline!

[Big cheer from the crowd as Fitzgerald's arm splashes across the chest
of the giant...

...but doesn't budge him an inch.]

GM:  He can't move the big man!

[With Mizusawa standing before him, Fitzgerald runs to the ropes,
rebounding back with another clothesline!]

GM:  Another clothesline... 

BW:  But Mizusawa stands tall!  Nothing can hurt this man!  Nothing can
faze him at all!

[The much-smaller Fitzgerald runs to the ropes behind Mizusawa, leaping
up and catching the giant with a flying forearm smash to the back of the
skull.]

GM:  Forearm connects!

BW:  Nothing, Gordo!  Nothing!  This man is invincible!

[Fitzgerald seems to be thinking the same thing, shaking his head in
disbelief as Mizusawa slaps himself across the chest, screaming for
Fitzgerald to hit him again.]

GM:  Don't do it, kid.  Don't!

[The New Yorker dashes to the ropes, rebounding back, arm outstretched
for another clothesline...

...when two massive paws get wrapped around his throat, hoisting him up
high into the air!]

GM:  NO!

[And HURLS Fitzgerald down to the canvas with a thunderous chokeslam!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Mizusawa steps forward, placing his boot on the chest of Fitzgerald as
the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


GM:  Another impressive victory for MAMMOTH Mizusawa, Bucky.

BW:  And another complete and total lack of competition for him.

GM:  I don't know if I'd go that far, Bucky.  Bailey Fitzgerald may not
have won the match but I think for a one on one showdown, he may have
given Mizusawa his toughest fight so far.

BW:  He couldn't even budge him, Gordo!  Are you kidding me?

GM:  I'm not kidding at all.  I was impressed by that man's fighting
spirit and-

[From inside the ring, a badly-hurting Bailey Fitzgerald rolls under the
ropes to the floor.  He drags himself across the ringside area,
approaching the announce duo.]

GM:  Wait a second, fans... is this-

BW:  You've gotta be kidding me.

[The injured New Yorker reaches the announcers, leaning heavily on the
podium to stay on his feet.  He's breathing heavy, clutching his body
parts in pain.]

BF:  Mister... Mister Myers...

GM:  Uhh... I don't think you're scheduled to be here for interview
time, young man.

[Fitzgerald nods his head.]

BF:  I know, I know.  But...

[He winces, grabbing the back of his neck.]

BF:  Eargh.  Whew.

[He breathes heavier.]

BF:  I know I... I didn't put on the best show out there, Mr. Myers.

[He nods to himself.]

BF:  But I want...

[Fitzgerald grabs at his own lower back.]

BF:  I want another shot!

[A surprised reaction ripples through the WKIK Studios.]

GM:  Are you saying... son, you can't be serious.  You want another shot
at MAMMOTH Mizusawa?!

[Fitzgerald nods confidently... and then walks off camera towards the
entryway.]

GM:  This is a wild night, fans, of AWA action and this newcomer just
challenged MAMMOTH Mizusawa to another match!  How is that for heart and
courage, Bucky?

BW:  He may have a lot of heart... and we may see that for ourselves if
the giant rips it out of his chest!

GM:  Come on, Bucky!  You have to respect the guts of that man - Bailey
Fitzgerald!  And speaking of guts and heart, ladies and gentlemen, as
you all know, City Jack -

[The WKIK crowd pops for the mention of the fan favorite.]

GM: City Jack has been out, recovering from an injury suffered at No
Escape. However, he requested time to come out here to speak, so I'd
like to now introduce him...

[As Myers finishes, the crowd pops again as City Jack steps into the
picture. He's dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His
head is bandaged so that the eye that was worked over by Calisto
Dufresne at No Escape is covered.]

GM: City Jack, welcome back to the WKIK studios.

CJ: Good to be here, Mr. Myers.

[Jack looks around, his normally jovial attitude gone.]

GM: Now you requested time tonight to appeal the Championship
Committee's decision to override the agreement made by your partner, Tin
Can Rust, at the last show to defend your titles against Calisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman?

[City Jack nods as Myers stretches out the microphone.]

CJ: That's right on, Mr. Myers. I do intend to appeal that decision.

GM: So you haven't spoken to the Committee yet?

[The man from Liberty shakes his head.]

CJ: No sir, Mr. Myers. No sir.

[Jack looks down for a moment.]

CJ: You know, Mr. Myers, I do respect you for all you do, but tonight...
I'm requesting the microphone. I gotta have it, sir.

[Gordon Myers agrees, handing Jack the mic and then stepping back. Jack
looks around to the crowd in the WKIK Studio for a moment as the people
cheer again. Jack gives a nod and then looks into the camera.]

CJ: I've been wrestlin'... twenty some plus years now. I say that a good
deal, 'specially nowadays. I might sound like a record on broke and all,
but it's important... Very important.

[Jack nods again.]

CJ: Very important to me just to show how long I done survived in this
here profession o' mine. There's some bright stars and big potentials
that never even last more than three-sixty-five schedule once. To do
that twenty some odd times around, well, I guess it shows that this here
ol' sobs been doin' somethin' right...

[City Jack pauses as the crowd quiets, listening.]

CJ: Thankful... If I had to sum it all up like, I'd say I've been
thankful. Very dang-on thankful that all the breaks went the way it went
when I first got the chance to become a wrestler. Before that day, I was
a man of many jobs, but no profession. 

[Jack lets out a slight sigh, struggling to put together this plea.]

CJ: Becomin' a wrestler, it was best thing to ever happen to me. Best
thing, that's for sure. To perform, entertain, and be a man with all the
eyes on? It's all I ever wanted. Everything I could ever ask for...

[Jack nods.]

CJ: Every night, I'm thankful to be able to compete in front of all you
fans -

[The crowd lets out another pop.]

CJ: And that's no lip service from me - it's gen-u-ine. Every day I get
in that ring is another day I have to live, in my opinion. From my start
in Kentucky, to gettin' that golden opportunity in South Laredo -

[Some of the crowd pops to the Longhorn Wrestling Council reference.]

CJ: To bein' able to do somethin' real special in the Grand Isle, I was
always thankul to accept all the risks of bein' in that there ring cause
it did mean one more day of doing something I love. 

[Jack once again nods.]

CJ: And I... I've had it all, really... I've really experienced a full
on time here...

[City Jack breaks again, sighing as he continues to be
uncharacteristically solemn.]

CJ: I've had the highs and I've had the lows... Probably for every win I
done got, I also had some deep bruise, some sprains, some huge gash
cuts, some broken bones. Shoot, I venture to guess my noggin' ain't on
the right, none, neither for all the abuse it's taken!

[Jack lets out a short half-smile.]

CJ: But...

[City Jack pauses again, taking in a deep breath.]

CJ: I need... I need to... I'm askin' you all from the Championship
Committee right here to reconsider. I front of all these great AWA fans
here -

[The crowd lets out another pop, this one of the cheap variety.]

CJ: - in the studio and at home, I'm pleadin' my case right here!

[Jack points down as he continues.]

CJ: NOw, I know that you all know this ain't 'bout the rules, none. I
know this here decision of yours to override my man Tin Can Rust's
agreement had nothin' to do with those three points.

[Jack points to his bandaged eye.]

CJ: This here eye, that's what it's about... That's what this here
decision's over. But I got to say to you all members of that
Committee... I'm fine.

[The crowd lets out a cheer at Jack's declaration.]

CJ: I'm fine to compete. I'm fine to put it ALL on the line. I'm fine to
defend them titles... And I'm fine to put them on the line against them
two backslidin' yellow tails Ca-lis-to Dufresne and Adrian Freeman!

[The fans cheer on the plea from City Jack!]

CJ: When my man Rust accepted that challenge, he did so KNOWING me and a
KNOWIN' what I want. Knowin' me, he knew what I've done in my career and
how I've done it through the years. He knew that I wasn't goin' hide
behind no rules from a challenge... 

[Jack shakes his head.]

CJ: That I've always put myself out there, one hundred percent or ten
percent... Cause it's out there, in that ring, where I can say I do
LIVE! Cause it's out there, in that ring, where I do make myself CITY
JACK!

[Jack nods, showing a bit more intensity.]

CJ: And most important? He knew that I wanted my hands 'round the neck
of Dufresne... Especially after tryin' to take away my ability - my
chance, my LOVE - to be wrestler. 

[The fans cheer as Gordon Myers walks back up into the shot.]

CJ: So I'm pleadin' - beggin' you all on the Championship Committee to
reconsider... Reconsider for two proud men who don't know no better, but
sure on want to make sure to defend ourselves in a right, proper way. 

[The camera holds on the focused and emotional face of City Jack 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...

As the commercial fades out, we reopen the show inside the ring, where
the AWA National Champion "Hotshot" Stevie Scott is standing in the
middle of a couple of folding chairs.  "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright stands
near a corner, his massive arms crossed.  Neither look too terribly
happy.  Stevie, dressed in a blazer and dress pants, paces the ring as
he begins talking.]

HSS: Alright, let's get a couple of things clear right off the bat.

[He raises an index finger.]

HSS: One...I am only out here for Stevie's Hotspot because I am being
_forced_ to do this by one Stephen Ross.  I have no desire to be out
here wasting _my_ time talking to chumps right after me and the Bomber
just got done putting the boots to those old geezers we beat up earlier
tonight.

[Two fingers.]

HSS: Two...this is also the _last_ Stevies's Hotspot that you'll ever
see on AWA programming.  Ben Waterson has since taken care of any
contract loopholes that allowed otherwise.  As the AWA National
Champion, my time is _way_ too valuable and important to be spent
standing up here as some sideshow.

[Three fingers.]

HSS: Three...before I bring out tonight's guest, I have a few things to
say about _my_ situation with my latest and greatest challenger, Juan
Vasquez.

Who, by the way, has it all wrong.

[Stevie pauses and chuckles.]

HSS: It seems that Mr. Vasquez thinks that I'm going to be...looking
over my shoulder.  That I'm going to be...worrying about when he's
coming for my title and with what stipulations.

Well, Juan, I _do_ realize the fact that the only way you're going to be
able to beat me _is_ with some crazy stipulations in your favor...but
that hardly guarantees your victory.

Because, while you may very well be able to stack the deck against me,
you forget a few things.  You forget...

[Stevie points his thumb back to Bright, who still stands motionless in
the corner.]

HSS: ...that I have the Gold Bomber on my side.  You forget that I have
Ben Waterson, the greatest managerial mind in wrestling, on my side.

And who, exactly, do you have on _your_ side, Juan?

[Stevie mockingly scratches his chin.]

HSS: Oh, that's right.  NOBODY.

That's the problem with chumps like you.  You've been all over the
place, wrestled under every organization known to man, and in the
process?  In the process, you've alienated yourself.  You're here in
AWA, and you're here _alone_.

[Stevie stops pacing and takes a seat in one of the folding chairs.]

HSS: Think about it.  You got here, you formed a team with Raphael
Rhodes, and within a month's time you two clowns were already beating
the hell out of each other.  That's what happens with you and your
friends, isn't it, Juan?  How many bridges have you burned in your time
in wrestling?  Is it so many that you can't call for backup when you're
going to need it?

Yes, Juan, you have your stipulations.  You have that going for you.

But, brother...that is ALL you have going for you.

You don't have the _allies_ that I have.  You don't have the
_connections_ that I have.  You don't have the _money_ that I have.  And
you damn sure don't have the _ability_ that I have.

[Smirk.]

HSS: So take a minute, Juan, and _think_.

Think about the mess your ego has gotten you into.  Think about how
you're going to try to get out of it.  But most importantly, think about
where your next job's going to be.

Because when _I'm_ done with you?  There won't be enough of you left to
stay in the AWA.

[Stevie stands back up.]

HSS: OK, so now let's get this debacle over with.  My guest tonight is
someone who, apparently, got his feelings a little hurt a couple of
weeks ago.  So come on out, Raphael Rhodes... let's have a little Dr.
Phil session or something.

[The sounds of "Chemistry" by UNKLE filters through the public address
system, as the entrance curtain bursts open, with Raphael Rhodes
emerging, eyes fixes solely on the ring.  The crowd responds with a
mixed reaction for the man who hasn't been seen since the steel cage
showdown with Juan Vasquez at No Escape.  He slowly walks towards the
ring, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a black towel hanging around
his neck.]

GM:  There he is, Bucky.  It's been several weeks since we've seen this
man inside an AWA ring but in just moments, he'll be standing in there
face to face with the man who he secured a bogus countout victory over a
few weeks ago. 

BW:  You can't imagine that Rhodes is pleased about that.  It surely
doesn't appear that way.

[Rhodes calmly walks up the ringsteps before climbing into the ring.  He
stands near the ropes for a moment, glaring at Stevie Scott who has a
hand offered.  Rhodes stares at the offered hand, all business inside
the ring.]

GM:  Uhhhh.

BW:  I'm not sure I like the looks of this, Gordo.

[Ignoring the offered hand, Rhodes strides across the ring and gets
right up in the face of Stevie Scott.  To his credit, the National
Champion doesn't back down, returning the stare at the man from the
United Kingdom.]

GM:  This could be about to break down at any moment, Bucky!

BW:  Come on!  Give peace a chance!

[Seeing his partner in crime in jeopardy, Gary Bright steps forward,
nudging his way in between Rhodes and Scott.  The powerhouse shouts a
few words in the direction of Rhodes as the crowd buzzes about what may
be about to happen...

...and suddenly, a voice rings out!]

"STOP!  STOP THIS!  STOP RIGHT NOW!"

[The jeers go wild as "Agent To The Stars" Ben Waterson comes rushing
from the locker room area.  He promptly makes his way up the steps,
entering the ring to take a spot right next to the Gold Bomber.  The
National Champion looks at Waterson with some confusion as the Agent
tries to intervene.]

ATTSBW:  Raphael Rhodes... you do NOT want to do this.

[More boos from the fans.  Rhodes' expression doesn't change at all as
he continues to stare at the National Champion.]

ATTSBW:  Believe me.  You do NOT want to do this.  Raphael, I know
you're a smart man.  And I know you're a business man.  You know when to
separate a personal issue from a business issue and that's exactly the
situation in front of us right now.  This is a business issue.

[Still no reaction from the UK warrior.]

ATTSBW:  Earlier tonight, I came out here and I challenged the entire
wrestling world to impress us.  I told them all to step up to the plate
and show myself, the Bomber, and the National Champion that they were
worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as us.  I wanted people to
prove themselves to us.

Well, Raphael... without question, what you did at No Escape... you
proved yourself to us.

[The jeers intensify.]

ATTSBW:  You fought your heart out in one of the damndest brawls I've
ever seen in my life.  You bled, you sweated, you battled... and in the
end... 

...you lost.

[Rhodes visibly flinches at that statement, his gaze still on the
champion.]

ATTSBW:  I know what that felt like for you.  To spend so many months in
a war with someone and after all is said and done, to come up short in
finishing him off.  I know what it felt like.  It was disappointing. 
No, it was heartbreaking, Raphael.

And you never wanted to feel that way again.

[Waterson pauses.]

ATTSBW:  So, the opportunity is in front of you, Raphael.  You want to
avoid that feeling for the rest of your career, the choice is clear...

You unclinch those fists at your sides.  You forget about the little fun
that we had at your expense a few weeks ago.

[One more pause.]

ATTSBW:  And you shake my hand.

[The jeers go nuts as Rhodes turns to glare at Waterson, finally
breaking his gaze away from Stevie Scott.  Waterson slowly extends his
hand.]

ATTSBW:  It's the easiest thing you've ever done, Raphael.  You shake my
hand.  You shake the Bomber's hand.  You shake Stevie's hand.  And when
it's all said and done, you join the most elite group in professional
wrestling.  The clothes, the cars, the houses, the jewelry, the money,
the women...

The opportunity to be the best in the world.  Look around you, kid!

[Rhodes continues to stare at Waterson.]

ATTSBW:  You've got the greatest mind in professional wrestling steering
the ship.  You've got the best body in professional wrestling - the
future of our sport - watching our backs.  And you've got the AWA
National Champion - the best in the world - being THE MAN in this
business.

It's your chance, Raphael.  It's your opportunity.

It's your choice.

[And with a gesture from the Agent To The Stars, Bright and Scott back
away, exiting the ring and leaving Raphael Rhodes to stare motionlessly
at them as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

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

GM:  Welcome back, fans... and what in the world did we witness before
the break, Bucky?

BW:  Opportunity knocking for Raphael Rhodes.

GM:  Rhodes came out here for Stevie's Hotspot and I have to be honest,
I thought he was coming to clean Scott's clock, Bucky.  But Waterson...
he made the pitch.  He made the offer.  Raphael Rhodes was given the
chance to join up with Waterson, Bright, and the National Champion...
and he called it the most elite group in pro wrestling.  Rhodes, Bright,
Scott, and Waterson.  I don't know if I could argue with that statement,
Bucky.

BW:  The most elite group in pro wrestling - how could he possibly turn
that down?

GM:  He didn't... but he didn't accept either!  We tried to get him to
join us for comments on Waterson's offer but he refused.  What in the
world is he going to do, Bucky?  

BW:  We'll have to wait and find out.

GM:  Fans, I guarantee you that we'll be hard at work over the next two
weeks to get that answer for you and if we can't, I'm going to confront
Raphael Rhodes myself to get the answer LIVE in two weeks' time!

BW:  Big man.  It STILL won't top the news I've got still to come
tonight.

GM:  Your big announcement!  When is it coming, Bucky?

BW:  I told you it was a Main Event announcement and last I checked,
we've still got a couple more matches to go.

GM:  Fans, we've got more than that.  Jason Dane is standing by in the
Control Center with all the news on our next big event!  Let's go to him
now!

[We fade to a shot of Jason Dane sitting behind a desk in a makeshift
"studio."  There are TV monitors behind him showing various AWA action. 
He's all grins as he begins to speak.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  And fans, welcome to the Control Center!  For
weeks, the speculation has been running wild but now, tonight, we can
confirm that on Thanksgiving Night, the AWA will be in action for
arguably our biggest night of the year!

The Dallas Memorial Auditorium will play host to an event so huge it can
only be called...

SUPERCLASH!

[Dane pauses for dramatic effect as the brand spanking new SuperClash
logo fills the screen along with the date and venue of the event.]

JD:  We are sure to have more announcement of matches throughout the
days and weeks to come but for now... here's what we've got...

You heard the challenge two weeks ago and we heard it answered tonight. 
You often have heard it wondered who would win a contest between the
Irresistable Force and the Immovable Object.  In about one month's time,
we'll find out when the Gold Bomber, Gary Bright, goes one-on-one with
the mighty Tumaffi!

What a showdown that'll be, fans.  

I'll be back later tonight with more matches to be announced but for
now, let's go back to the ring where one-half of the National Tag Team
Champions, Tin Can Rust, is in action!

[We fade away from the Control Center to ringside where Melissa Cannon
is 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 Havana, Cuba... the Cuban Assassin #6!

[The wild-bearded Cuban stomps around the ring to the jeers of the
crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["The Fighting Side of Me" by Merle Haggard starts up to a huge cheer
from the AWA fans.]

MC:  Weighing in at 259 pounds and fighting out of Central City,
Kentucky...

He is one-half of the AWA National Tag Team Champions...

TIN!  CAN!  RUUUUUUUUST!

[The cheers grow louder as TCR strides into the WKIK Studios.  The shiny
gold belt is slung across his shoulder as heads towards the ring.  He
wastes no time in getting to the ring, pulling himself up on the apron. 
While stepping through the ropes, the Communist Cruncher leaps into
action, blindsiding Rust with a flurry of punches against the ropes.]

GM:  Here we  go!  The Assassin is wasting no time in this one,
battering Rust back against the ropes...

[Grabbing TCR by the wrist, the Cuban attempts a whip.]

GM:  Cuban whi- reversed by Rust!

[The Assassin hits the ropes, rebounding back into the waiting arms of
TCR who hoists him up under his right arm, swinging around...

...and DRIVING him down in a thunderous slam!]

GM:  CAN CRUSHER!  GOOD GRIEF!

[Rust throws himself on the downed Assassin, reaching back to hook a leg
as the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  And that's a three for sure.  Tin Can Rust makes quick
work out of the Cuban Assassin and-

[The crowd roars in surprise as Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman
emerge from the locker room, diving under the ropes into the ring.  Tin
Can Rust quickly gets to his feet at the sight of them...]

GM:  Rust is up!  Rust is on his feet!

[Dufresne is the first one up...

...and the first one down thanks to a big right hand from TCR, knocking
him off his feet.]

GM:  Big right hand by Rust!  

[Adrian Freeman dives at the legs of Rust, wrapping his arms around
them.  A fired-up TCR throws rights and lefts at the back of Freeman's
head, trying to free himself from the Aussie's grip...

...but the momentary tieup allows Dufresne to DRILL Rust in the back of
the head with the discarded title belt!]

GM:  OHHH!  He hit him with the belt!

[The blow from the National Tag Team Title belt knocking Rust off his
feet puts the brawler on the mat at the mercy of Dufresne and Freeman. 
The Australian crawls over Rust's prone form, throwing right and lefts
at the downed tag champ while Dufresne delivers stomps from his feet.]

GM:  We've got a mugging!  An out and out mugging of Tin Can Rust at the
hands of Dufresne and Freeman!  They're all over the man who is one-half
of the tag team champions!

BW:  This is great!  Rust is out here all alone against two men who
would like nothing better than to put him in a matching hospital bed
right next to his running buddy, daddy!

[Freeman hauls Rust off the mat by the head, tying his arms behind him
as Dufresne delivers blows to the body.  Grabbing the title belt,
Dufresne throws it down on the mat, pulling Rust into a front facelock
as Freeman hoists the legs off the mat in a wheelbarrow...]

GM:  NO!  NOOOOO!

[Dufresne SPIKES TCR's skull into the title belt on the canvas as
Freeman sits out with the legs.]

BW:  Double-team Wham Bam, Thank You Ma'am! on the champ!

[With Rust laid out at the hands of Dufresne and Freeman, the dastardly
duo stands over him, glaring at the motionless fan favorite...

...and then quickly turn their attention towards the entryway as City 
Jack emerges from the back, his eye still heavily bandaged but carrying
a steel chair!]

GM:  OH MY GOD!  

[The crowd roars as Jack rolls into the ring, popping to his feet with
the chair in his hands.  Dufresne is the first to bail from the ring,
leaving his partner inside as Jack rears back with the chair, taking a
big baseball-bat style swing that Freeman lunges underneath to avoid,
taking Jack down to the mat in a double-leg takedown!]

GM:  OHHH!  He missed with that chair and Freeman's got him- no!

[The Australian takes the mount on the downed Jack, grabbing him by the
head and DRIVING a clenched fist into the bandaged eye!]

GM:  Ohh!  Come on!  We need some help!

[Dufresne dives back into the ring, immediately joining his partner in
raining down blows on the bandaged eye.  Getting to his feet, the
Ladykiller stomps down hard on the bandages!]

GM:  OHHH!  My god in heaven... we need help and we need it badly.  We
need to get-

[Grabbing the discarded chair, Dufresne turns it upside down so that the
edge of the chairback is facing down.  Nodding his head, he orders his
partner to pin Jack's head down to the mat, causing the injured eye to
be facing straight up...

...and Dufresne slowly raises the chair!]

GM:  NO!  NOOOOO!

[And suddenly, a large man in a hooded sweatshirt has come rushing from
the crowd into the ring, shoving aside a security guard who tried to
block his path.  Once inside the squared circle, he races at top speed
towards Dufresne...

...and OBLITERATES him with a spear tackle, wrecking Dufresne and
dumping him on the mat.  The man quickly picks up the chair, holding it
high as Freeman bails out of the ring as well.]

GM:  Who the- who is that, Bucky?

BW:  I don't have a clue.  He's got that hood on and I can't-

[Still holding the chair in his hand, the hooded man slowly walks
towards the downed City Jack.]

GM:  Now, wait a second...

[Reaching up with his free hand, the man removes the hood to reveal...]

GM:  WEREWOLF GREGORSON?!?!

[The crowd ERUPTS at the sight of one of the AWA originals now standing
in the middle of the ring, staring down at the prone City Jack.]

GM:  Where in the world did HE come from?

BW:  He was in the crowd, Gordo!  I didn't even see him out there!

GM:  Wherever he was, thank heavens he was able to stop Dufresne and
Freeman from doing any more damage to- 

BW:  I wouldn't thank him so quickly, Gordo.

[Gregorson steps closer to Jack, looking down at him, still holding the
chair much like Dufresne did moments ago, ready to be driven down into
the injured eye at any second...]

GM:  What is he doing?

BW:  Gordo, it was City Jack who injured Gregorson all those months ago!
 It was City Jack who put him on the shelf for months!  Maybe he stopped
Dufresne so he could do it himself!

GM:  No!  I don't believe it!  Gregorson took out Dufresne because he
saw an injustice about to occur.  A horrible, brutal injustice that
could have blinded City Jack permanently!

BW:  He's gonna do it himself!  He's gonna show Jack what it's like to
be on the shelf!

[The former Dead Pool member stands over the prone City Jack, both hands
now on the steel chair, moving it slightly higher as the fans are
screaming, pleading with him not to do it...]

GM:  What is he going to do?  What is Werewolf Gregorson going to do?

[Suddenly, a staggered Tin Can Rust THROWS himself over his partner's
face, lifting his arms to shield his friend from any further attack. 
Gregorson looks down at TCR, his gaze suddenly broken by Rust's
arrival...

...and throws the chair aside, walking out of the ring, and heading
straight for the locker room entryway.  The crowd buzzes with confusion
as Tin Can Rust lies over his friend in a protective blanket, waving his
arms and screaming for help.]

GM:  We need to get some medical help out here to check on City Jack. 
That eye could have been put in an even worse situation after what we
just saw.  What a night this has been, Bucky.

BW:  Tin Can Rust gets laid out by Dufresne and Freeman.  City Jack
tries to save him but gets beaten down.  And then the return of Werewolf
Gregorson!  But whose side is he on?  Whew.

GM:  And this STILL isn't over!  We've got another big match still to
come in mere moments plus...

BW:  PLUS my big announcement!

GM:  Fans, don't you dare go away!  We'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the ring where a kneeling Tin Can Rust is checking
on his heavily-bandaged partner's eye 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 Gordon and Bucky are at
ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and we have just been informed that we are
running VERY short on time!  So, without anything further, let's go to-

BW:  Not so fast, Gordo.

GM:  Excuse me?

BW:  If we're running out of time, I think there's only one thing that
these fans want to see and it's NOT Tumaffi and Vasquez teaming up out
here tonight.  

GM:  Bucky, I'm sorry but-

BW:  No need for apologies, Gordo.  You people wanted a Main Event? 
Well, you got it!  I'm the man who announced that Shane Destiny was
coming to the AWA in the biggest Free Agent signing in AWA history!  I'm
the man who brought Kevin Slater back to the AWA at Memorial Day Mayhem!
 And tonight, I'm the man who says that as big as the Destiny and Slater
news was... I'm about to do it one better.  

GM:  Bucky, we don't have time for-

BW:  Make time.  It'll be worth it.

[Gordon sighs.]

GM:  Let's roll the tape...

[Segment cuts to the pre-taped bit where we see Bucky Wilde sitting down
in front a black backdrop with an empty chair next to him...

But soon that chair's filled by a man familiar to wrestling in Detroit,
LA, and St. Louis... A man hated and loved by million... A man who's
been elected to the Professional Wrestling Hall of Fame... 

One Mark Langseth.]

BW: Mark Langseth, welcome.

[Dressed in a suit & tie, Langseth grabs a microphone and clears his
throat. His mid-length hair looks the same, but the signs of time are
starting to show via a couple gray strands here and there and some more
defined lines on his face. But overall, he's still in good condition -
as well as a forty-year-old man who's gone through the battles that
Langseth as could look.]

ML: Thank you, thank you. Been a while since I did any widespread sort
of filming, you know.

BW: It's alright, Mr. Lan-

ML: Mark.

BW: Mark. But what brings you here to the AWA? Why did you request a
meeting with the Chairman of the Championship Committee Stephens Ross
earlier today?

ML: Well, some of you may know that I previously had an agreement with
AWA with a wrestling company I ran up in the Northeast in terms of
talent exchanges. So I requested a meeting with Ross about firming up
that relationship, but...

[Langseth grows a sly grin on his face.]

ML: Well, I had a bit of an ulterior motives in coming down here to
Dallas.

BW: Ulterior motive?

ML: Hrm.... Well, I've been watching, of course. Some of the people I
trained getting their feet wet down here. I see the competition, see the
wrestling, even some guys I've wrestled with before while in Los Angeles
in EMWC - you know, Rogers, Broussard, Slater, Vasquez. Can't say I
really ever saw eye to eye with any of them while I wrestled, though...
Heh...

BW: So is this something more? Do you want to try to put more of your
trained people in AWA?

ML: Hmm... No, it's not that. I, uh... I brought up to them... If I
could...

[Mark Langseth laughs to himself again, unable to hide his happiness.]

ML: I asked if I could be on the roster.

[Bucky Wilde does a double take at what Langseth just uttered.]

BW: Wait, you? On the AWA roster? As a manager or -

ML: No, as an active wrestler. I want to get back in the ring. I want to
wrestle again.

BW: But all your injuries? I think even you yourself said that you
couldn't be involved with wrestling again because of your back.

[Langseth nods.]

ML: Yeah... Yeah, and Ross brought up the same thing while I met with
him. But I assured him that I've been working back to get into ring
shape and that I've been medically cleared to wrestle. The doctors gave
me the ok and, well, here I am.

BW: But why, Mark? What's there left to prove for you?

ML: Look, I've done everything you can do in this business... I've
wrestled at the top of the game in the top promotion. Been in front of
thousands of fans all over the world and wrestled against the best. I've
owned, trained, promoted, helped backstage, and even managed - all after
my retirement. Pretty much I've done everything short of setting the
ring up.

[Langseth smiles.]

ML: But it's eating me up inside. The Hall of Fame induction last year?
That was bittersweet. On one hand, it said, "Mark, you've done a great
job and you deserved to be honored." But the other hand...

[Langseth raises his left hand.]

ML: The other hand said, "Mark, you're done. Thanks for the memories,
but time's passed you by."

[Mark shakes his head.]

ML: And I just... I just feel like there's one last run in me, you know?
That one last piece of me I can give back for all this business has
given me.

[Langseth pauses.]

ML: It's been... four years now? Four years since I stepped into the
ring competitively. Four years since I last tasted a moment of triumph
or the felt the bitter sense of defeat. Win or lose... I still feel I
want 'em both, you know? It's hard to describe...

[Langseth slings back his hair and clears his throat.]

ML: But... I...

[Mark nods.]

ML: I want to come back. I want to wrestle again. I want to climb that
mountain one... one last time.

[Mark sits back, a bit more comfortably after explaining himself.]

ML: And what better place than AWA, right?

BW: So what was the resolution? What did the committee decide?

ML: Well...

[Langseth pulls a rolled up document from his suit jacket pocket and
unfurls it for the camera.]

ML: If this signed contract is any indication, I'd say they decided that
I can wrestle in the AWA ring now.

[The camera zooms in on the piece of paper, the AWA logo splashed across
the top and a big signature at the bottom reading Mark Langseth...

...and then we fade back to live action where a dumbstruck Gordon Myers
is looking on at a cackling Bucky Wilde, his jaw dropped.]

GM:  I... I... I don't believe...

BW:  I told you, Gordon!  I told you I had the biggest scoop ever!  You
didn't believe me and now I've shocked everyone!  I've shocked you! 
I've shocked all these people in Dallas!  I've shocked the world!

GM:  Fans... I'm not sure what to... Mark Langseth... in the AWA?

BW:  It's the biggest news in AWA history, Gordo!  Bar none!

GM:  I can't- but it's Main Event time.  Mark Langseth?

[With Gordon still at a loss for words, Melissa Cannon is already inside
the ring.]

MC:  The following contest is your MAIN EVENT of the evening! 
Introducing first...

[Without any warning or entrance music, the Bishop Boys emerge from the
entrance tunnel to the boos of the crowd.]  

MC:  At a total combined weight of 568 pounds... fighting out of
Kingsland, Arkansas and being accompanied to the ring by Cousin Bo...
they are Duane Henry and Cletus Lee...

THE BISHOP BOYS!

[Cousin Bo leads the way, very focused as they march down the aisle
towards the ring.  Duane Henry is right behind him with Cletus Lee
bringing up the rear.  They are a very different team on this night.  No
mouthing off to the camera, no taunting the fans, just business as they
scale the stairs, stepping into the ring.]

GM:  The Bishops are in and they are all business.  Cousin Bo is giving
both of his cousins some last minute advice before-

[The sound of Melissa Cannon's voice interrupts.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[A single deep bass drum beats... BOOM.  Then again, a little louder. 
And again.  With the sound of rain in the background, the drum beats
resound throughout the arena, like the approaching footsteps of some
terrible monster.  Upon their climax, the crackling BOOM of a
thunderbolt is heard over the PA.  Hollow-sounding drumbeats and
reedy-toned woodwinds form an ominous tune (amongst the backdrop of the
thunderstorm) over the PA, as the behemoth form of Tumaffi steps forth
from the curtain.]

MC:  At a total combined weight of 643 pounds... they are the team of
JUAAAAAAN VASQUEZ and the mighty TUUUUUMAAAAAFFIIIII!

[The cheers intensify as Vasquez joins the big man in the entryway.  The
two men exchange a nod at one another before heading towards the ring...

...when suddenly Stevie Scott and Gary Bright emerge from the tunnel in
street clothes, heading straight for the fan favorite duo!]

GM:  LOOK OUT!

[The Hotshot DRILLS Vasquez in the back of the head with the National
Title belt, knocking him down to the concrete floor.  A few feet away,
Gary Bright blasts Tumaffi across the back of the neck with a double
axehandle!]

GM:  We've got a fight on the floor!  The Bishops are looking on from
inside the ring... I'm not sure- did Cousin Bo know this was coming?

BW:  From the smirk on Cousin Bo's face, I'm guessing he did, Gordo! 
Waterson and Cousin Bo may have set this all up!

GM:  Tumaffi's fighting back... he and Bright are beating each other
senseless!

[The crowd roars as the two brawling beasts disappear behind the
entrance curtain, the battle still raging as they do.  With Bright and
Tumaffi out of the picture, Scott drags Vasquez off the floor, dragging
him by the hair towards the ring where he fires him under the ropes into
the ring.]

GM:  Oh no!  We've got Vasquez all alone in there against three men! 
It's a three on one!

[Stevie joins the Bishops inside the ring and with an order from Cousin
Bo, all three men start stomping Juan Vasquez into the canvas.  After a
bit of a beating, Duane Henry hauls Vasquez up by the hair.]

GM:  Uh oh - what do they have in mind here?

[Duane Henry fires Vasquez into the ropes, directing traffic as Cletus
Lee steps up, hoisting the rebounding Vasquez into the air by the legs.]

GM:  FLAPJAAAAAA-

[But as Cletus Lee falls back with Vasquez, Duane Henry loosely hooks a
front facelock and SPIKES the fan favorite skullfirst into the canvas
with a thunderous DDT!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHH!

[The crowd jeers wildly as Stevie Scott leaps on the prone Vasquez,
throwing punch after punch after punch at him before wrapping his hands
around the throat of his next challenger.]

GM:  He's choking the life out of Vasquez!  He's choking him!

[Cletus Lee and Duane Henry take turns stomping the downed Vasquez as a
maniacal Stevie Scott squeezes the air out of his upcoming opponent,
screaming like a banshee as he does so.]

GM:  This is out of control!  Juan Vasquez is in some serious trouble!

BW:  And it's just like Stevie said earlier... who is going to help Juan
Vasquez?  Who is going to save Juan Vasquez?

GM:  I don't know but-

[BIG CHEER!]

GM:  ROUGH N READY!  ROUGH N READY!

[The crowd EXPLODES as Dave Cooper and a hobbling Eric Matthew Somers
come charging through the curtain, heading straight towards the ring. 
Cooper rolls under the ropes as Somers climbs the steps...

...and at a shout from Cousin Bo, the Bishop Boys flee the ring
alongside Stevie Scott!]

GM:  Fans, we're out of time!  We've gotta go!  We'll see you next time
at the matches!

[With the two sides squaring off inside the WKIK Studios, shouting words
back and forth, we fade to black...

...when suddenly a flashing white screen with red letters reading
"BREAKING NEWS!" appears.  A quick cut reveals Jason Dane inside the
SuperClash Control Center!]

JD:  Fans, we're almost out of time!  I've just got a few moments but we
HAD to break in to give you this info!

The Championship Committee has relented and after what we heard and saw
tonight, the AWA National Tag Team Titles WILL be defended at SuperClash
when Kentucky's Pride takes on Calisto Dufresne and Adrian Freeman... in
an UNSANCTIONED MATCH!

We've got more but we've gotta go!  Hit the AWA website IMMEDIATELY
after we go off the air for more information!  An emergency edition of
AWA Access!  Fans, we're out of time!  So long every-

[And the scene abruptly cuts to black.]