Saturday Night Wrestling

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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
                         AWA Saturday Night Wrestling

                         Live from the WKIK Studios
                                   Dallas, Texas
                                February 7, 2009
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[As the closing notes to the "Sanford And Son" theme fade into nothing,
the viewing audience is greeted by the sounds of "One More Saturday
Night" by the Grateful Dead.

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

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

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

After a moment, we fade away from the cheaply done intro to the parking
lot of the WKIK Studios where Jason Dane is standing.]

JD:  Good evening, fans - I am LIVE in the parking lot of the WKIK
Studios where we are awaiting the arrival of- yes, yes, here he comes
now.

[Dane turns to gesture to a sparking red Ford Mustang pulling into the
parking lot.  The car's driver arrogantly parks in two parking spots
before climbing out of the vehicle.  The passenger door opens as well as
an equally arrogant man steps out.  They are, of course, Calisto
Dufresne and Adrian Freeman.  Jason Dane, mic in hand, rushes towards
them.]

JD:  Mr. Dufresne, Mr. Freeman - welcome to 2009!

[The two egotistical rulebreakers mockingly laugh at Dane as they open
the trunk, pulling their bags from the vehicle.]

JD:  Mr. Dufresne?  You ended 2008 coming up short in your quest to be a
tag team champion but then rebounded by winning the Secret Santa
Showdown - what are your goals for 2009?

[Freeman echoes the question in a mocking voice causing Dufresne to
chuckle as the two men walk past Dane.]

JD:  Guys?  Hello?

[The rulebreaking duo steps through the doorway into the WKIK Studios
leaving a frustrated Jason Dane behind...

...and we fade inside the building where we find our two favorite
announcers.

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

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

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

GM:  Good evening, fans, and welcome to another edition of AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling featuring all the stars of the American Wrestling
Alliance, _the_ major league of professional wrestling.  This is the
first Saturday Night Wrestling of 2009 and we at the AWA want to thank
all of our fans for their understanding as WKIK kicked it up a notch by
presenting NFL action over the past several weeks.  I am Gordon
Myers, your host for the next 60 minutes of action, and by my side is
the man who was recently named-

BW:  Not yet, Gordo!  Let's not spoil it!

GM:  You're waiting for the official announcement later tonight?

BW:  You got it, daddy!

GM:  We've got an exciting night of action here tonight.  The National
Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride, will be in action!

BW:  And we've got a handful of tag teams competing tonight as well,
trying to get that first point to get a shot to challenge the champs. 
The War Pigs, Rough N Ready, even those goofs Sweet Heat'll be in
action.

GM:  The Tag Team Title scene is red-hot here in the AWA, Bucky. 
Moments ago, we saw yet another tag team - Calisto Dufresne and Adrian
Freeman - making their way into the WKIK Studios...

BW:  Drivin' a brand new Ford Mustang by the way!

GM:  They certainly were - the very car won by Dufresne in that big
Secret Santa Showdown over a month ago on Christmas night in West
Dallas.  They didn't have much to say to Jason Dane but you can bet
that'll change later tonight when Adrian Freeman goes one-on-one with
Despair in our Main Event!

BW:  And I've got a feeling that this is the night that the AWA gets
cleaned up of that idiot Despair once and for all, daddy!

GM:  We'll see about that.  But in addition to all the great tag team
action, we've got also the National Champion, the "Russian War Machine"
Kolya Sudakov, in action tonight as well as he defends the gold, Bucky!

BW:  All the top contenders for Sudakov's gold are in the house tonight.
 Marcus Broussard, the former champion.  Adam Rogers, the former World
Champion.  Mark Shaw, the Number One contender.  

GM:  Not to mention men like Raphael Rhodes, Naitomea, and Soup Bone
Samson who're looking to break into the top of the contenders' list. 
Plus, that backstabbing traitor Kevin Slater makes his AWA return here
tonight... and hopefully we can find out EXACTLY why he did what he did
to Bobby Taylor at Christmas Clash.

BW:  AND I GET MY AWARD!

GM:  You certainly do.  Fans, all of this tremendous action plus you
just never know what else we'll see go down tonight in the WKIK Studios.
 It's great to be back and let's head up to the ring for our opening
matchup!

[We dissolve to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing in her
Saturday Night finest.]

MC:  The following contest is our opening match and it is a tag team
contest scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit.
Currently in the ring, hailing from the state of Texas and at a combined
weight of 480 pounds... Jorge and Jose... LOS VAQUEROS!

[Two Hispanic men dressed in blue jeans and each wearing a cowboy hat
raise their arms.]

BW:  What in the heck is a Vaquero?

GM:  That would be Spanish for "cowboy."

BW:  Since when have there ever been Hispanic cowboys?

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

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

MC:  And their opponents, accompanied to the ring by their manager,
Sarah Sharpe, hailing from Albuquerque New Mexico, at a combined weight
of 615 pounds, here are Dave Cooper and Eric Matthew Somers, the team of
ROUGH N READY!

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

GM: We all saw what went down at Christmas Clash between Rough N Ready
and The War Pigs... clearly issues have not been settled between those
two teams.

BW: Especially after what Somers did to Hammer... he could have crippled
him with that chokeslam on the floor!

GM: Somers displayed viciousness that we haven't seen out of him since
Rough N Ready came to AWA... and he's starting this match for Rough N
Ready...

[As Gordon says that, the bell rings, and Somers is immediately grabbing
Jorge and pounding him repeatedly across the back.]

GM: Somers isn't taking long to inflict damage!

BW: The referee better do his job and keep Somers in check... there's no
call for Somers to try to injure somebody like he tried at Christmas
Clash!

GM: Hard to blame Somers for acting that way after the War Pigs' attack
during Black Friday Beatdown... Somers now drags Jorge off the mat and
lifts him over his head... overhead press slam and with authority!

BW: Gordon, as far as Black Friday goes, it's sour grapes... Somers just
can't accept the fact that Dufrense and Freeman had a brilliant strategy
to get to the finals and he took it out on poor Hammer at Christmas
Clash.

GM: I'd hardly call what went down at Black Friday a brilliant
strategy... Somers now has Jorge backed into the corner and is just
repeatedly hammering him!

BW: Get in there and do your job, Meekly!

GM: Referee Marty Meekly trying to pull Somers back, and Somers just
turns and stares at him. He doesn't look to be in a good mood tonight.

BW: I'd be in a good mood if the War Pigs came out and took care of him
right now!

GM: Somers pulls Jorge out of the corner... gutwrench suplex takes him
down! Now Somers looks to his corner and tags in Cooper...

BW: Now we get to watch the senior citizen of the duo...

GM: Stop that, Bucky. Somers lifts Jorge up as Cooper runs into the
ropes.. atomic drop by Somers... right into a lariat by Cooper!

BW: I'll give 'em that... impressive double team move. They're gonna
need a lot more than that to get by the War Pigs again, though.

GM: Cooper with a cover... one... two... no, Jorge kicks out!

BW: These Mexican cowboys are showing some fight.

GM: They are from Texas, Bucky.

BW: Mexican, Texan, whatever... they're both equally stupid.

GM: Stop that, Bucky.

BW: You're right... they're all twice as smart as Rough N Ready.

GM: [sighs] Let's get back to the match... Cooper with a side headlock,
but Jorge shoves him into the ropes... shoulderblock by Cooper on the
rebound. He comes off the ropes... knee to the back by Jose!

BW: Hey, there's some tag team smarts for ya!

GM: Cooper caught by surprise as Somers tries to get into the ring, but
Marty Meekly not allowing it! Jorge now with an uppercut that knocks
Cooper into the corner... now he drives the shoulder into the
midsection.

BW: And there's a nice Irish whip to the other corner...

GM: But Cooper comes out... another lariat takes Jorge down just like
that!

BW: Gotta press your advantage, Jorge!

GM: Cooper drags Jorge up... a bodyslam and Jorge rolls to his corner
quickly to make the tag. And Jose quickly ducking between the ropes and
getting into a slugfest with Cooper!

BW: Now that's the way to take the fight to your opponent... of course,
when your opponent is eligible for Medicare, it's not as difficult.

GM: [ignoring Bucky] Jose with a thumb to the eye to gain the advantage!
Marty Meekly warning the Vaquero, but he keeps the assault... Irish whip
into the ropes and a hiptoss on the rebound.

BW: This is where Jose really needs to take advantage...

GM: Jose comes off the ropes with an elbowdrop... but there's nobody
home! Cooper gets out of the way and now drags Jose up... reaches over
to tag in Somers...

BW: And now here comes the thug of the duo.

GM: Double Irish whip into the ropes... double shoulderblock by Rough N
Ready. And now Somers dragging Jose off the canvas... he's been all
business in that ring tonight.

BW: He's a bully, Gordon, plain and simple. Can't wait for the War Pigs
to teach him some manners.

GM: Somers cinching in a bearhug... but Jorge enters the ring and comes
off the second rope... axhandle to the back breaks it up!

BW: And now Cooper comes in... and Marty Meekly shows once again he
can't keep things under control!

GM: All four men in the ring and now it's Cooper cornering Jorge... but
there's a jab to the throat and now Jorge has Cooper backed into the
corner! Somers staggering to the opposite corner as Jose gets some shots
to the back of the head.

BW: And good ol' Meekly has no clue what to do about it.

GM: Los Vaqueros with a pair of Irish whips... but Rough N Ready
reverses and Jorge and Jose are sent right into each other!

BW: And Cooper just tossed Jorge through the ropes... Marty, get him out
of there already!

GM: Meekly doing just that, but now Somers has Jose trapped in a
waistlock... and an overhead belly to belly suplex!

BW: He came that close to throwing him over the ropes! Gordon, that
would definitely have crippled Jose!

GM: You're right, Bucky, Jose almost went out of the ring... but
instead, he bounces off them and onto the canvas! And a cover by
Somers... one... two... three! It's over!

[The bell rings as now Somers rolls underneath the ropes, not even
waiting for the referee to raise his hands. Cooper climbs down from the
apron and confronts him, Somers with a hard glare in his eyes.]

MC: The winners of this match... earning their first point... ROUGH N
READY!

[Somers doesn't lose the glare in his eyes and the camera can't quite
catch what Cooper is saying to the big man. After a minute, though,
Somers and Cooper both head to the back as Sarah Sharpe comes over to
join Myers and Wilde at the broadcast position.]

GM: Sarah Sharpe joining us... what has gotten into Somers, may I ask?

SS: Gordon, it shouldn't be hard to figure out... the War Pigs cost us
the chance to reach the finals of the tag team tournament.

BW: What makes you think for a minute you would have ever beaten
Dufresne and Freeman... they proved beyond a shadow of doubt who was the
better team.

SS: In your mind, Bucky... but the War Pigs found out exactly what
happens to those who want to push Eric over the edge. Now, I know Eric
lost his cool at Christmas Clash and his actions meant we were cost a
likely victory, but believe me, Dave is going to keep reminding him
about that and not to make the same mistake the next time around.

GM: Still, Sarah, that chokeslam on the floor... that could have caused
serious injury to Hammer.

SS: Then Hammer, Scythe and Richard E. Lee should have thought twice
before making any under-the-table deals with Dufresne and Freeman. They
found out what it was like to incur Eric's wrath... and they also found
out that Dave can still pack a mean punch, regardless of the old age
jokes Bucky likes to make. I can assure you, though, that Rough N Ready
have not finished with the War Pigs... and I know the War Pigs are in
the building somewhere, but they can be thankful that Dave is keeping an
eye on Eric, or otherwise they'd be in for more pain than they felt at
Christmas Clash. And that's all I really have to say, Gordon.

[Sarah then departs the commentator's position.]

GM:  You heard the lady, fans.  Rough N Ready are on the warpath and I
wouldn't want to be either the War Pigs or Freeman and Dufresne when the
RNR Express get their hands on them.  Don't go away, fans - we'll be
right back!

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

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back up on the parking lot area where a disgruntled Jason
Dane is leaning against the wall.]

JD:  I don't understand why I have to be camped out here tonight. 
Dufresne and Freeman wouldn't talk to me - now I have to wait for- what?
 We're on?

[Dane sheepishly straightens up, putting on a professional look.]

JD:  Welcome back, fans!  I am still out here in the parking lot of the
WKIK Studios and- 

[Dane looks off camera - then points in the same direction.  The
cameraman turns his gaze towards the gesture to reveal "Hurricane" Kirk
Maclean.]

JD:  Kirk Maclean!  Welcome to Saturday Night Wrestling!

[Maclean slings his bag over his shoulder, shaking the hand of Jason
Dane.]

KM:  Thanks, Jason!  It's my pleasure to be out here tonight!

JD:  You're not scheduled to compete but I'm assuming you plan on being
in your partner's corner in the Main Event when Despair takes on Adrian
Freeman.

[Maclean nods his head.]

KM:  You're absolutely right about that.  I've got all the faith in the
world that Despair can take care of Freeman but I want to make sure that
Dufresne doesn't stick his nose in...

[Maclean's voice trails off a bit as he looks across the parking lot. 
The camera follows his gaze, resting on the shiny new Ford Mustang
belonging to Calisto Dufresne.  The camera quickly pulls back on the
grinning face of Maclean.  After a moment, Despair joins his tag team
partner.]

D:  You thinking what I'm thinking?

[Maclean turns towards his partner.]

KM:  I'm pretty sure I am.

[With a grin, Despair turns back towards the car they just parked as
Maclean puts his hand over the camera.]

KM:  I don't think you need to be around for this, Jason.

[After a moment of an obscured camera shot, we cut 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 Hollywood, California... at 245 pounds... Ricky Royce!

[Royce hops to the midbuckle, striking a double bicep pose before
flipping his long blond hair to the jeers of the crowd.  He hops down
off the buckles as the sultry sounds of LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You
Out" kicks in to the cheers of the AWA faithful.]

MC:  And his opponent... standing 6'6 and weighing in at 310 pounds...
from DEEEEETROIT, Michigan... the man with the big right hand... SOUP! 
BONE!  SAAAAAAAAMSON!

[The cheers grow louder for the big, tough veteran as he stomps into the
WKIK Studios, big silver metal chain hanging from the dog collar around
his large neck.  Samson pauses just inside the curtain, nodding his head
up and down at the cheering crowd before making his way down the aisle. 
Samson rolls under the ropes, pulling off the chain and tossing it aside
as he gets up to his feet...

...and gets promptly attacked from behind by Ricky Royce!  Referee
Mickey Meekly calls for the bell to officially start the match.]

GM:  Royce is all over Samson, battering him with big clubbing forearms
to the back of the head, knocking Samson chestfirst into the corner.

BW:  And what is going on with the matchmakers backstage?  First, we had
old man Dave Cooper out here and now Samson?  Did you realize that
Samson is turning 50 years old this year?!  FIFTY!  He's a half a
century old, Gordo!  

GM:  Yes, yes, I was aware of that.

BW:  And we get these two fossils in back to back matches?  The only
thing I can figure is that they need to get out of here early enough to
get down to the local greasy spoon for the Early Bird Special, daddy!

GM:  Give me a break!  Would you stop?

[Royce continues to batter Samson against the turnbuckles.  He turns the
veteran around in the corner, blasting him with an overhead forearm
across the chest.  Grabbing Samson by the wrist, Royce fires him from
corner to corner.  With a bellow, Royce charges across the ring at top
speed, blasting Samson in the buckles with a muscle-filled clothesline.]

BW:  Samson's being worked over by Royce already, Gordo!  This guy need
to call it a day and retire before he gets seriously hurt inside that
squared circle.

GM:  Another whip by Royce... another charge...

[But this time, the elder statesman of the AWA steps to the side,
allowing Royce to slam chestfirst into the turnbuckles.  Hooking Royce
around the waist, Samson hoists him into the air and slams him down with
a side slam.  A quick cover only scores a two count.]

BW:  Look at him trying to end the match before he needs a hit of
oxygen.  This guy should probably be in an iron lung somewhere, Gordo -
not in a wrestling ring.

GM:  I'd like to hear you say that to his face.

BW:  I would!

GM:  He'll be over here after this match.

BW:  Well, I've got something important to go do in a few seconds.

[Samson drags Royce off the mat, throwing him into the corner where he
rushes in with a clothesline of his own.  A big hiptoss throws Royce
halfway across the ring out of the corner.  Samson balls up his fists,
dancing back and forth as a staggered Royce gets back up off the mat...

...and EATS a right hook to the side of the jaw that causes Royce to
crumple unconscious to the mat.  Samson sits down on the chest of Royce,
holding up his clenched fist for the camera to see as the referee drops
down to count.]

GM:  There's one... and two... and three.  That's all she wrote right
there.

BW:  Old man or not, that right hand can turn your lights out in an
instant.  One big punch will end your night.

GM:  And Soup Bone Samson will be over here in just a moment to-

BW:  I'll be right back, Gordo.  I need to- uhh, I need to take care of
some- 

[A loud "CLUNK!" is heard as Bucky seeks cover.  The camera cuts to the
announce desk where Gordon Myers is shaking his head.]

GM:  Fans, at this time, let's welcome Soup Bone Samson!

[The man with the big right hand steps into view, resting a hand on the
shoulder of Gordon Myers.]

SBS:  Thanks, Mr. Myers.  It's my pleasure.

GM:  Fresh off another impressive victory right there, Soup Bone. 

SBS:  Just another day at the office, Mr. Myers.  I clock in when the
bell rings and when this big right hand finds the mark, it's time for
the other guy to clock out.

[Myers grins at the verbage.]

GM:  Well, since this is the first AWA show of 2009, I suppose it's only
fitting to ask - do you have a New Year Resolution you'd like to share
with the fans?

[Samson tosses the big steel chain over his shoulder, nodding his head.]

SBS:  Yeah, I 'spose I do, Gordon.  I heard that big fat scumbag Bucky
Wilde has been runnin' around and tellin' everyone that I'm turning 50
years old this year.  That right?

GM:  He did bring it up - that's for sure.

SBS:  I thought so.  I can't fault the man for tellin' the truth but the
fact of the matter is that he thinks that my age is going to keep me
from competing in the AWA this year.  But it ain't the age, Bucky - it's
the mileage.  And I got lots of miles left in this here engine.  It may
be a little rusty and it may take a little longer to get started these
days but when you put the hammer down...

[Samson lifts up his clenched right hand.]

SBS:  ...then there ain't a car on the road that can beat me.

GM:  Well said, Soup Bone.  

SBS:  So, my Resolution for 2009 is to be the same ol' dog I've always
been.  Stand in that ring and throw down... fight the good fight.  All
that stuff.  

And at some point in 2009, I want to be wearin' AWA gold around this
waist.  Whether it's the tag team titles or payin' my old friend Kolya a
visit, this ol' dog could use a nice golden collar, don'tcha think?

GM:  It'd like to see it.  How 'bout you fans?

[A big cheer goes up from the fans.]

SBS:  Much appreciated.  The rest of the AWA is on warning from here on
out, Gordon.  Cause the ol' dog is still barkin' and he ain't gonna stop
until he gets what he wants.

[Samson claps Myers on the shoulder before making his exit from the
announce area.]

GM:  Soup Bone Samson is looking for some gold, fans - and speaking of
looking for gold, let's head right back up to the ring for some more AWA
action!

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

MC: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one
fall with a 15 minute time limit! Introducing first, already in the
ring, weighing 220 pounds and hailing from Amarillo, Texas, please
welcome BUDDY MACDOOOUUUGALLLLL!!

[A small smattering of cheers for the young Buddy Macdougal, clad in a
pair of standard blue wrestling tights and blue boots, who raises his
arm in the air and giving a hook em, horns! sign to the crowd.]

MC: And his opponent weighing 245 pounds and hailing from Avery Island,
Louisiana, ladies and gentlemen, he is THE LADYKILLER CALISTO
DUFREEEEESSSSSSNNNNNEEE!!

[The studio lights begin to flicker slightly as the opening riffs of ZZ
Top's "Sharp Dressed Man" begin to blare across the sound system, the
crowd responding to the music with a chorus of boos. The camera cuts to
the entranceway, where the curtains part to reveal one of the AWA's most
despised (and annoying) characters, "Ladykiller" Calisto Dufresne.
Dufresne is clad in a black three-piece suit, his flowing blonde hair
cascading down past his shoulders. He stands at the head of the entryway
for many moments, soaking in all of the boos he probably thinks are
cheers from his "throngs of adoring fans". 

He finally begins to make his way towards the ring, ignoring every fan
who is screaming obscenities at him. They just hate him because he's
beautiful. Yeah, that's it. Dufresne finally makes it to the ring, where
he proceeds to climb up the stairs and in through the ring ropes. "The
Ladykiller" then proceeds to move to the center of the ring and slowly
remove his three-piece suit, mostly to the chagrin of the male audience,
but a few female shrieks are heard from the crowd as well. Dufresne
finally finishes removing his suit, and now proceeds to pose for the
crowd, flexing his well-defined muscles as the crowd's ever-increasing
boos become more and more evident.]

BW:  Did I miss anything, Gordo?

GM:  Welcome back, Bucky - and you know exactly what you missed.

BW:  Nothing.  That's what I thought.  But I'm back just in time because
Calisto is ready to make short work of this guy, Gordo!

GM: Hes yet to suffer a pinfall loss in his career, Bucky, as you
constantly remind me. Lets see if Buddy Macdougal can be the first.

[Dufresne leans against the turnbuckle in the corner, looking quite
bored. Buddy Macdougal on the other hand, looks anxious to get the match
started. The bell finally rings and Macdougal moves to the center of the
ring to meet Dufresne, but Dufresne hasnt moved from the corner.
Macdougal looks a bit surprised, but decides to take the attack to the
Ladykiller, dashing towards the corner where Dufresne awaits. Just
before he reaches the corner, Dufresne ducks to the side as young Buddy
Macdougal crashes into the corner. Dufresne spins Macdougal around and
lays into him with a brutal backhand chop, prompting the obligatory
WHOO!! from the crowd.]

GM: Dufresne getting the crowd involved early here, Bucky.

BW: Hes here to give his millions of fans their moneys worth!

[As Macdougal clutches his reddened chest as Dufresne grabs him by the
wrist and whips him across the ring into the opposite corner, and he
rebounds from the corner, staggering towards the center of the ring,
where Dufresne is waiting, scooping up Macdougal and slams him down with
a thundering body slam. Dufresne pops up to a vertical base and promptly
strikes a statuesque pose, flexing for the crowd, who rain down boos on
the Ladykiller. After a few moments, Dufresne heads over to the corner
once again, boosting himself up to the second turnbuckle. He takes aim
at the downed Buddy Macdougal and leaps off the second turnbuckle,
landing square to the face of his opponent with a sharp elbow drop.]

GM: Dufresne is completely in control here, coming off his impressive
victory at Christmas Clash where he walked away with a fine new Ford
Mustang!

BW: I think he's planning to donate the car to a childrens homeless
shelter after the show, Gordo.

GM: Somehow I doubt that.

[Dufresne gets back to his feet quickly and struts over to one side of
the ring, where he spies a buxom young blonde in the front row. He leans
over and says something to her, flashing a toothy smile. Her eyes go
wide and she covers her mouth, blushing. The man sitting next to her
doesnt seem too happy with whatever it was that Dufresne said, letting
the Ladykiller know hes number one. Dufresne has bigger problems,
however, as Buddy Macdougal has recovered from the elbow drop and sneaks
up behind Dufresne and executes a school boy trip, rolling Dufresne up
for the pin!




ONE!!!





TWO!!!



THR---DUFRESNE KICKS OUT!]

GM: Thats what he gets for not focusing on a strong, determined
competitor like Buddy Macdougal!

BW: He was never in trouble, Gordo. Relax.

[Dufresne pops up to his feet, looking furious at Macdougals temerity
at attempting to pin him. He begins to throw haymakers at Macdougal,
using a closed fist. The referee admonishes Dufresne, but the Louisiana
native pays him no heed as he continues his barrage. Finally, he relents
and irish whips Macdougal to the ropes, but the young man reverses it
and Dufresne is sent to the ropes instead. Macdougal leans over for a
back body drop, but is met by a boot to the face instead, stunning him.
Dufresne quickly locks him up and lifts him into the air, crashing down
with the implant DDT better known as]

GM: WHAM, BAM, THANK YOU, MAAM!

BW: Thanks for coming, Buddy, well let ourselves out!

[Dufresne places a boot on the chest of Macdougal, flexing for the crowd
as the referee makes the count

ONE!!






TWO!!







THREE!!

DING! DING! DING!]

GM:  Another impressive victory for Calisto Dufresne and singles match
or not, you have to imagine that'll help Dufresne and Adrian Freeman in
their quest to get back in the ring with Kentucky's Pride, the National
Tag Team Champions.

BW:  They won't get a point for a singles win though, right?

GM:  Nope.  To get a point, the win must be in tag team action.

BW:  What about when Freeman beats Despair tonight?  That's two wins! 
They should get a point for that.

GM:  They wouldn't.

BW:  Well, that hardly seems fair.

[As Dufresne celebrates inside the ring, Adrian Freeman rushes from the
entryway into view, calling for his tag team partner's attention.]

GM:  What's Adrian Freeman doing out here?

BW:  He's trying to get Calisto's attention.  I'm not sure why.

GM:  Freeman is- 

[The crowd buzzes with confusion as a frantic-looking Freeman waves
Dufrense over, shouting at him.  Dufresne looks confused as he listens
to Freeman... and then dives through the ropes, joining his partner on
the floor.]

GM:  What in the world is- where are they going, Bucky?

BW:  I have no idea.

GM:  Fans, we're going to take a quick break.  Do not go away!

[The camera holds on Freeman and Dufresne racing through the entryway.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up on the parking lot area where Jason Dane is looking
a little frantic.  There are angry shouts in the background - Dane
wincing with some of the words.]

JD:  Fans, welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling where... well,
let's just take a look...

[The cameraman pans away from Dane to rest on the formerly shiny brand
new Ford Mustang which now has very obviously been trashed.  An irate
Calisto Dufresne is a few feet away, screaming at everyone in sight. 
Adrian Freeman is nearby, fuming silently at the mess of dented metal
and shattered glass in front of him.

After a few moments, Dufresne reaches down onto the badly-mangled
hood...

...and holds up a tire iron.

We fade back to the announce team.]

BW:  What in the heck is goin' on out there, Gordo?  Who did that?

GM:  Well, I wouldn't want to speculate.

BW:  I would!  You know as well as I do that Maclean and Despair did
that!  That beautiful car... I told you Dufresne was going to donate
that to a children's charity today... and now Maclean and Despair RUINED
all of that!  The kids, Gordo - what about the kids?

GM:  I don't believe for a second that Dufresne was donating that car. 
And I don't believe that YOU believe it either!

BW:  I'm in shock.  Those two animals should be fined - they should be
suspended!  This can't be allowed!

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring for our next match!

[We cut up 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... he
is the Cuban Assassin #6!

[Castro's favorite wrestler throws up a beefy arm to the jeers of the
crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent... from New York City... 

SCOOOOOOOTT PAAAAAAAIN!

[Slayer's "Here Comes The Pain" starts up to a cheer from the AWA fans. 
The 6'10, 320 pounder walks through the curtain, immediately throwing a
fist in the air to even more tribute from the crowd.  Pain immediately
climbs up the ringsteps, stepping through the ropes.  He jerks a thumb
in his direction, shouting at the camera.]


"I'M THE BEST BIG MAN IN THE AWA!  I'M THE POWER!"


[Spinning away from the cameraman, Pain stands tall in the middle of the
ring as he waits for the bell to ring.  As Michael Meekly calls for the
bell to start the match, the Cuban Assassin charges out and starts
throwing right hands that don't even seem to faze Pain...

...who replies with a big boot to the chest that sends the Cuban
stumbling back into the corner.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a boot - right to the chest!

[Pain marches into the corner, wrapping his hands around the throat of
the Cuban, leaning over him in the corner.]

BW:  That's a choke, Gordo!

GM:  It certainly is.  The referee's right in there, calling for a
break.

[Breaking the choke, Pain grabs the Cuban by the wrist and fires him
across the ring, causing him to slam hard into the corner.  He
immediately stumbles out of the buckles, dropping down to his knees on
the mat where he clutches at his lower back.]

GM:  And it has been all Scott Pain at this point in the match, Bucky.

BW:  He's another old man living off his reputation but at least he can
still bring it inside the ring.

GM:  Pain grabs him by the hair... ohh!  The Cuban Assassin with a right
hand to the body!

[Pain stumbles back a step as the Cuban connects with a second right
hand to the gut.  The Cuban throws another blow, this time getting back
to his feet with his fists balled up...

...and rushes right into a right hand being wrapped around his throat!]

BW:  Another choke!

GM:  I don't think that's what he has to worry about!

[Holding the Cuban at arm's length, Pain screams in his direction and
then yanks him in, throwing him high into the air before slamming him
down to the mat with one hand!]

GM:  OHHHHH!  WHAT A CHOKESLAM!

[Pain stands over the Cuban, staring down at him with a cold gaze as the
crowd starts chanting...]

"POW-ER-BOMB!"

"POW-ER-BOMB!"

"POW-ER-BOMB!"

"POW-ER-BOMB!"

[Nodding his head, Pain rips the dazed Cuban off the mat, tugging him
into a standing headscissors.]

GM:  Pain's got him hooked - the crowd is calling for it...

[The big man hoists the Cuban high into the air over his head...

...and DRIVES him down with a thunderous powerbomb!]

GM:  OHHH!  That's it.

[Pain drops to a knee, slapping a hand down on the chest of the Cuban.]

GM:  One.  Two.  And there's the three.

[The crowd roars as Pain gets right back up to his feet.  He marches
across the ring where the cameraman is, leaning closer.]

"DUFRESNE!  FREEMAN!  SUDAKOV!  I'M COMIN FOR YA!"

[With a smirk, Pain backs away from the camera, raising a triumphant
hand in victory as we cut back to the announcers at ringside.]

GM:  A win there by Scott Pain and that has to help his quest to climb
higher in the Top Ten Contenders list.  He made it in at #10 in the last
set of ratings so you can bet he's looking to climb even higher.  

BW:  That's for sure, Gordo.  If he wants a- hey!

[Bucky Wilde's words are broken up by the arrival of Jason Dane who
looks at Gordon with eager eyes.]

GM:  Jason Dane has joined us here at the table but I can't say exactly
why.  Jason, what are you doing out here?

[Jason Dane grabs the mic.]

JD:  I had to come out here, Gordon, because I've got some very big news
that I wanted to share with the audience here in the building and of
course, at home as well.

[Gordon looks a little puzzled.]

GM:  Well, the floor is yours, I guess.  Go right ahead.

JD:  Thanks, Gordon.  I have just taken a phone call from a former
broadcast colleague of mine from the days when I worked the desk for the
EMWC.  That description is probably enough for many of you but here's
some more - he's a former EMWC World Champion and a former EMWC Hall of
Famer... and on the next AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, COLT PATTERSON,
will be here to do an up close and personal interview with me!

GM:  Wow - that's pretty big news, Jason.  Colt Patterson is coming to
the WKIK Studios for an interview.  Did he give any indication as to why
he'd be here?

JD:  He says he's got some stuff to get off his chest.  That's all he
said.

GM:  I'll certainly be looking forward to that.  Thanks, Jason.

JD:  It's my pleasure, Gordo - and it'll be my pleasure to do the
interview with Colt as well!

[Suddenly, the 6'10 frame of Scott Pain steps into view, nudging Bucky
Wilde to the side as he grabs the mic.]

SP:  Did you just say that Colt Patterson is going to be here on the
next show?

[Dane and Myers nod.]

SP:  That can't be right.  

[Pain shakes his head.]

SP:  It can't be right.  Colt Patterson is my best friend.  If he was
coming to the AWA, he would have told me.

[No words from the announcers.]

SP:  I'm... I've got to get to the bottom of this.

[Pain walks off the set leaving the speechless announcers behind as we
fade out to commercial...

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 on the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  At this time, we are joined by Richard E. Lee
and his team of Hammer and Sabre, the War Pigs.

[Enter the trio of terror into the frame, and they don't look none too
happy. Bad grammar and all.]

GM: Gentlemen, it seems that you have met your match in the form of
Rough N Ready.

REL: Met our match? Met our match? Gordon Myers, the warhasjust
begun! If you knew your history, you'd understand that early battles
don't determine the long-term outcome of any war. Yes, my War Pigs
might have lost a match to Rough N Ready...we might have battled to a no
contest at Christmas Clash...but those, Gordon Myers, those are merely
minor skirmishes compared to what looms on the dark horizon.

And my question to Dave Cooper and Eric Somers is simply this: are you
ready?

Are you ready to go to war with these two men? Because what you've
gotten so far is only a small dosage of the pain, of the destruction
that these men have to offer.

[The camera zooms in on the bald-headed Lee as his brown eyes gaze
directly into it.]

REL: When we came to the AWA, we made promises of bodies left burning in
the ring. It doesn't matter to us who that is. My men, Hammer and
Sabre, are built for war...and that's exactly what we're bringing to
anyone who gets in our way.

So boys...you'd _better_ be rough...you'd _better_ be ready...because
that's the only way you'll have a chance to survive.

[Lee strides away from the announcers.]

GM:  Let's go up to- now!

[The camera quickly cuts to the ring where Hammer and Scythe are on the
attack.  Referee Marty Meekly quickly calls for the bell as the War Pigs
completely physically overwhelm a pair of younger grapplers who don't
even receive the spotlight of a ring introduction.]

GM:  Here we go!  Young Jack Cole and his partner Tyler Martin are being
battered by Hammer and Scythe against the ropes!  Hammer is all over
Cole with some absolutely brutal shots.  These guys are serious heavy
hitters inside that ring.

BW:  Outside that ring too.  We saw what they did to Rough N Ready back
at Black Friday Beatdown when they took them out of the tournament.

GM:  In the employ of Dufresne and Freeman - don't forget that.

BW:  No one ever proved that.

[A fired-up Hammer grabs Cole by the hair, running all the way across
the ring and HURLING the rookie through the ropes and down to the floor
much to the approval of Richard E. Lee who cackles at the sight of the
rookie smacking down on the barely-covered concrete.  Nearby, Scythe
shoves Martin through the ropes and down to the floor as well, allowing
both War Pigs to mount opposite midbuckles, soaking up the jeers of the
capacity crowd as Lee gestures at both men with his rolled-up Wall
Street Journal.]

GM:  The War Pigs are boasting to the crowd that they're the top dogs in
the tag team division - and it's a hard point to argue against, Bucky. 
Obviously, there are a lot of great teams here in the AWA but you have
to admit that the War Pigs are probably physically the most
intimidating.

BW:  Absolutely, Gordo.  You can talk about Rough N Ready, you can talk
about Sweet Heat - even the Russians - but I don't think anyone is as
much of a force as the War Pigs.  Somewhere in the back, you have to
think Kentucky's Pride is watching and are more than a little bit
nervous about what they're seeing.

GM:  The War Pigs are yet another team looking to get a point on the
board here tonight as they realize that the first team to get those
three consecutive points will get the next shot at the champions.

[Licking their wounds, Cole and Martin get back up on the apron.  A few
words of encouragement from Cole sends Martin through the ropes into the
ring and right into a lockup with the big powerhouse known as Hammer.]

GM:  Hammer's getting a chance to show off all that power right here,
muscling Martin around with that collar and elbow tieup.

[Bracing himself, Hammer simply shoves Martin backwards into the ropes,
hurling him through the air with a hiptoss on the rebound that nearly
throws Martin through the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  That maniac Somers isn't the only one who can toss someone around
like a sack of potatoes, daddy!

GM:  Martin back to his feet, trying to shake the cobwebs.

[He moves in for another tieup but Hammer drives a boot into the
midsection to double up Martin.  A powerful double axehandle smash to
the back of the head knocks Martin down to a knee but Hammer quickly
pulls him back to his feet, scooping him up and throwing him down in a
big bodyslam.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a slam by Hammer!  Elbow!

[The big man leaps into the air, intent to slam his arm down on the
chest from a startling height...

...but Martin rolls aside at the last moment, causing Hammer to slam
backfirst down on the mat!]

GM:  Martin moved!  The rookie got out of the way!

[Hammer quickly regains his feet but is a little off-balance, making him
easy prey as Martin lashes out with a dropkick that sends Hammer falling
back into the corner.  With the crowd cheering, Martin approaches the
corner, throwing big forearms across the massive chest of the War Pig.]

GM:  Look at Martin!  Tyler Martin is all over Hammer!  This kid is
lookin' for an upset here tonight in the WKIK Studios and the crowd
would love to see it as well.

[Grabbing Hammer by the wrist, Martin attempts an Irish whip...

...but the big man reverses it, sending Martin racing towards the
buckles where he leaps up on the midbuckle.  He pauses for a moment as
Hammer approaches and then blindly leaps off, twisting into a cross body
block.]

GM:  CROSSBODY! 

BW:  CAUGHT!

[The crowd gasps as Hammer snatches the two hundred and thirty pounder
out of the sky, holding him across his body...

...and then DRIVING him down across his knee!]

GM:  OHHH!  BACKBREAKER BY HAMMER!

[And this time when Hammer leaps up for the high impact elbowdrop, it
connects solidly across the kidneys of Martin.  Hammer rolls the kid
onto his back, pressing down with both hands on his chest.]

GM:  Cover by Hammer - one... two... and he pulls him up.  No surprise
there, right?

BW:  I didn't think they were done yet.  

GM:  Hammer pulls up Tyler Martin by the hair, dragging him up to his
feet.  Backing to his own corner where Scythe makes the tag into the
ring.

[Scythe bullrushes Martin back into a neutral corner, lashing into him
with a knife-edge chop.  Grabbing a limp Martin by the head, he throws
his upper body backwards into the buckles to expose his chest again and
snaps off another chop across the pectorals to the jeers of the crowd.]

GM:  Scythe is lighting up the youngster - snapmares him out of the
corner...

[And with Martin in a seated position, Scythe SLAMS the point of his
elbow down on the crown of Martin's skull.  Scythe pulls Martin up by
the hair again, this time throwing him down in a bodyslam.]

GM:  Big slam by Scythe.  Isn't that enough?

BW:  No way!  Do you think Cooper and Somers have gotten the point yet?

GM:  What point?

BW:  That they don't stand a chance in a war with these two men.

GM:  I doubt it.

BW:  Then it's nowhere NEAR enough, daddy!

[Scythe glares down at Martin before leaping into the air, driving a
fistdrop down on Martin's skull.  He grabs Martin by the hair, yanking
him off the mat as he gets back up.]

GM:  Both men on their feet now - another scoop...

[This time, Scythe presses Martin slightly over his head and throws him
down to the mat very close to Martin's own corner.  A battered Martin
throws a hand up to tag Jack Cole into the match for the first time. 
Scythe approaches the corner with his hands stretched high overhead in a
double axehandle...

...and catches a right hand to the gut from the incoming Cole.  A few
more shots follow, causing the crowd to rally behind the young tag team
but Scythe quickly rakes the eyes, pulling Cole into a side headlock.]

GM:  Oh, come on!

BW:  What?

GM:  It's not enough to have the sheer genetics of these two men - they
have to cheat as well?

BW:  You do what you need to do to win, Gordo.

GM:  But that's the point, Bucky.  They don't NEED to do that to win.

BW:  Eh, maybe they like it.

[Scythe drags Cole to the ropes where the youngster throws Scythe off. 
The War Pig rebounds...

...and knocks Cole flat with a running shoulder tackle!]

GM:  See!  Who needs an eyerake when you can-

[Scythe runs to the ropes again as Cole gets back up...

...and gets knocked right back down with another running shoulder
block!]

GM:  Scythe just levelled him again.  And now he's dragging Cole off the
mat - Irish whip...

[Cole rebounds off the ropes, baseball sliding through the legs of a
surprised Scythe.  As he gets back to his feet, he hits a picture
perfect dropkick to the jaw.  Cole jumps right back up, peppering Scythe
with right hands.  He grabs the wrist of Scythe, attempting a whip that
Scythe easily reverses.]

GM:  Reversed by Scythe - backdrop coming u- SUNSET FLIP BY COLE!  CAN
HE BRING HIM DOWN?

[Cole struggles to bring the War Pigs down to the mat...

...but catches a clenched fist squarely to the temple instead, breaking
the sunset flip attempt.  Scythe glares down at Cole before dragging him
to his feet by the hair, scooping him off the mat again.]

GM:  He's got Cole up - and throws him down hard in another bodyslam,
right down in the corner.

[Reaching up, Cole slaps the hand of his partner, bringing Tyler Martin
back into the ring.  He races in, fists a-flyin'.]

GM:  He's all over Scythe!  Martin backs him down to the corner!

BW:  But it's the wrong corner, Gordo.  Martin's in the wrong side of
town!

[Hammer quickly tags himself back into the match, delivering a crushing
double axehandle to the back as Scythe holds Martin in place.  Hammer
quickly pulls Martin away from his partner, scooping him up...

...and then powering him up into a huge military press!]

GM:  Oh my!  Look at the power!

[Hammer takes a few steps around the ring with his opponent held high
before simply tossing him down to the mat like a bag of trash.  A shout
from his manager causes Hammer to nod his head in response, slowly
dragging Martin off the mat.  He bends down behind Martin, tucking his
head between the legs and hoisting the youngster up in an Electric Chair
lift.]

GM:  Uh oh!  He's got Martin up - walking him to the corner...

[A quick tag sends Scythe scurrying up the ropes, stepping up to the top
rope.  He poses there for a moment before leaping from the top, cradling
the head of Martin in his arms, and DRIVING the back of Martin's head
into the canvas with an inverted bulldog headlock!]

GM:  WMD!  THEY GOT ALL OF THAT ONE!

[Scythe throws himself onto Tyler Martin as Hammer dashes across the
ring, blasting an incoming Jack Cole with a running forearm smash that
knocks Cole off the apron to the floor as the referee counts to three.]

GM:  And there it is.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match - earning their first point... THE WAR
PIGS!

[The fans boo the announcement as Richard E. Lee joins his men in the
ring just as Scythe throws a defenseless Martin through the ropes to the
floor.  Lee raises the arms of Hammer and Scythe in victory as they
parade around the ring triumphantly.]

GM:  So, that puts both The War Pigs and Rough N Ready on the board with
one point each - two points away from getting a shot at the National Tag
Team Titles and Kentucky's Pride.

BW:  And on a collision course with one another to get to those three
points first, Gordo.

GM:  You've got that right.  We're going to be seeing Kentucky's Pride
in action later tonight as well but speaking of that, what about the
last team to get a shot at the champs?  Juan Vasquez and Raphael Rhodes
challenged for those titles on Christmas night in West Dallas in a
rematch from the semifinals of the tournament that crowned the first
champs.  

BW:  That's right - and they would be the champions right now if Juan
Vasquez wasn't such a bleeding heart goofball!  He couldn't get the job
done back on Thanksgiving.  He couldn't get the job done on Christmas
night!  And finally, FINALLY - Raphael Rhodes had seen enough of it.

GM:  Let's go back to the closing moments of that match on Christmas
night and see just how the partnership of Raphael Rhodes and Juan
Vasquez came to a shocking - and violent - conclusion.  Let's take a
look.

[We fade to footage labeled "CHRISTMAS CLASH" just as the Catch Thug
sits up on the mat, shaking his head back and forth...

...and dives to his corner, slapping the outstretched hand of Juan
Vasquez who slingshots himself over the top rope, racing across the
ring, and hurling himself on top of City Jack who was just out of reach
of his partner!]

GM:  OHHH!  So close to making the tag!

BW:  Vasquez cut off the tag - now he needs to finish this fat goof and
become one-half of the National Tag Team Champions! 

GM:  Vasquez with a few well-placed stomps to the head of City Jack.

BW:  The arm!  Go for the arm, you idiot!

[Vasquez grabs the foot of Jack, dragging him out of the corner, and
then grabs the second leg, flipping through into a double leg cradle.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- kickout!

BW:  And did you see that big cheater Tin Can Rust trying to get in
there?

GM:  He was trying to save the tag team titles!  Can you blame him?

[CUT:  The footage jumps ahead to later in the match where out on the
apron, Raphael Rhodes is dipping into his trunks to the jeers of the
capacity crowd.  With boos roaring through the West Dallas Community
College gym, a sneering Rhodes pulls his hand into view, complete with a
set of brass knuckles resting on them.]

GM:  Look at that!  Raphael Rhodes is sporting brass knuckles, Bucky!

BW:  I don't think so.  He just has a really big ring on.  It's a
promise ring, I hear.  A fine young lass from London.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky!

[Rhodes peers over his shoulder, keeping the knuckles shielded from
everyone inside the ring.  An unaware Juan Vasquez hits the ropes,
rebounding back, and leaping high in the air, crashing down across the
chest of City Jack with a Tommy Stephens style senton splash.  Vasquez
flips into a lateral press, reaching back to cradle the leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-

[The crowd ROARS as City Jack fires a shoulder off the canvas just
before the three count falls.  A surprised Juan Vasquez gets to his feet
quickly, glaring at the official.  He pulls Jack off the mat, rocking
him with a right hand that knocks Jack back into the buckles.  Grabbing
Jack by the wrist, Vasquez fires him from corner to corner and charges
in behind him...

...and catches a lifted boot squarely in the jaw!]

GM:  OHHH!  CITY JACK GOT THE FOOT UP!

[But with so much ring real estate between City Jack and the other
corner, the big man opts to charge his opponent with a running
clothesline...

...that Vasquez counters with a hiptoss, quickly stepping over Jack and
snapping off a perfect standing moonsault!]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRRRR- NO!  NO!  SHOULDER UP!

[A frustrated Vasquez slaps the canvas in frustration as he waves three
fingers at the referee but Mickey Meekly confirms it was only a two
count.  Vasquez slowly gets to his feet, dragging City Jack up as well. 
The Los Angeles native wraps his arms around Jack's ample midsection,
charging towards the ropes...

...where a waiting Raphael Rhodes decides to strike.]

GM:  To the ropes...

[Rhodes uncorks a brass knuckles assisted right hand, aimed squarely for
the jaw of the approaching City Jack...

...who drops down to a knee at the last moment, causing the punch to
drill Juan Vasquez who drops like he's been shot.  The crowd erupts with
surprise as well as Raphael Rhodes' jaw absolutely drops.]

GM:  HE HIT VASQUEZ!

BW:  That was an accident!

GM:  HE DRILLED VASQUEZ WITH THE BRASS KNUCKLES!

[City Jack pushes off the mat to his feet.  Still shocked, Rhodes throws
another right but again Jack drops down, ducking the punch that spins
Rhodes around with his back to the big man from Kentucky.  Popping to
his feet, Jack winds up his big right arm...

...and DRILLS Rhodes in the back of the head with the Metropill, sending
Rhodes sailing off the apron and down to the gym floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  RHODES IS GONE!

[Clutching his injured arm in agony, Jack takes a quick two-step off the
ropes...

...and DROPS all his weight down on the chest of Vasquez in a big
splash.  Jack reaches back, hooking the leg of the unconscious Vasquez.]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THREEEEEE!!!


'DING!  DING!  DING!'


MC:  Your winners of the match and STILL AWA National Tag Team
Champions...

KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIIDE!

[Tin Can Rust steps into the ring, throwing his arms up in victory.  TCR
yanks his partner off the mat, lifting Jack's arm in the air to yet
another big wince from the big man from Kentucky.]

GM:  Alright!  Kentucky's Pride has retained the title here at Christmas
Clash - here at the West Dallas Community College gym.  City Jack and
Tin Can Rust are taking home the belts and they're about to kick off
2009 as the AWA National Tag Team Champions!

BW:  Unbelievable.  I thought this one was in the bag.

GM:  After those knucks came out, I thought you were absolutely right,
Bucky.

[As Jack and Rust exit the ring, slapping the outstretched hands of the
ringside fans, Raphael Rhodes steps into the ring, looking down at his
unconscious tag team partner who is just starting to stir a bit.]

GM:  Rhodes and Vasquez have failed in their quest to become the tag
team champions for the second time but you have to appreciate just how
close they came to winning the gold here tonight in West Dallas.

BW:  They were so close so many times.

GM:  But in the end, they came up just a little bit short and-

[And suddenly, the story of the title change that almost happened falls
to the wayside as Rhodes starts stomping Juan Vasquez on the canvas.]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  Haha!  He's had enough of that loser!

GM:  Rhodes is stomping the heck out of his tag team partner!

BW:  I'd say FORMER tag team partner at this point, Gordo.

GM:  I suppose so.

[Rhodes drops to a knee, pulling Vasquez head back by the hair,
screaming at his partner...

...and then BLISTERS him across the face with a hard slap to the boos of
the capacity crowd.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  How do you like that, Vasquez?  Merry Christmas, you loser!

GM:  Rhodes is stomping him again!

[Suddenly, the pub brawler drags Vasquez off the mat, hurling him over
the ropes and out to the floor.  He steps through the ropes, dropping
down on the barely-padded floor next to Vasquez.  Dragging his
now-former partner off the floor, Rhodes SLAMS his head into the
ringpost!]

GM:  OHHH!  TO THE STEEL!

[Vasquez collapses in a heap on the mat, a stream of blood now trickling
from his head forehead.  The maniacal Rhodes dives on top of Vasquez,
throwing punches to the head - then leaning in to bite the wound.]

GM:  This guy has snapped!  He's lost it, Bucky!

BW:  This is what happens when you take away a man's chance at a title!

GM:  He pulls Vasquez up...

[With Vasquez on his knees, Rhodes slams his head into Vasquez' skull. 
The cut deepens as Rhodes repeatedly drives headbutt after headbutt
after headbutt into his former partner's head.]

GM:  Come on!  We need some help out here!

[Finally, Rhodes breaks off the assault, throwing Vasquez down on the
floor in a heap.  With an evil sneer, Rhodes turns to the camera, blood
all over his skull...

...as we fade back to the announce table at ringside.]

GM:  There you have it, fans.  That's how the champs kept the gold and
that's how the challengers fell apart in such a violent fashion.  And at
this time, we're being joined by the man who was victim to that violent
split on Christmas night... Juan Vasquez!

[The crowd erupts with cheers as Juan Vasquez steps out through the
curtains. Juan is dressed in street clothes, his face still bearing the
marks of Raphael Rhodes' attack at the conclusion of Christmas Clash. He
walks over to Myers at ringside and shakes his hand, waving towards the
still cheering crowd.]

GM: It's good to see you again, Juan Vasquez. But I'm sure as you know,
what everyone wants to hear are your thoughts regarding the attack that
your now ex-tag team partner Raphael Rhodes, performed on you, following
your last match on Christmas Clash.

[A slight frown forms on Juan's face as he searches for the words he
wants to say.]

JV: First off, let me just say, I'm not mad at Rhodes. I'm just
disappointed.

GM: Disappointed?

[Juan nods.]

JV: For someone that seems to think that he knows all the answers, he
went out there and did the dumbest damn thing anyone ever possibly
could've done.

[Juan scratches the bandage over his eye and moves in closer towards the
camera.]

JV: He stabbed his partner in the back and didn't make sure that he left
a corpse.

[Juan pounds a fist to his chest.]

JV: 'Cause I'm still living. I'm still breathing! And you better believe
 I won't rest, until I get my pound o' flesh!

[The crowd responds with cheers, but Juan ignores it, continuing on.]

JV: Wrestling may be in your blood, Rhodes. Wrestling may be in your
soul. Wrestling may be something that you've lived, breathed and thought
about since you were still messin' your pants and wearin' diapers, but
I'll tell you right here and right now, son.

You still don't know a damn thing about wrestling.

[He places his hands on his hips, looks up and gives an exasperated
sigh.]

JV: It's sad. It's really sad.

[He looks down at his feet, shaking his head sadly.]

JV: Four generations worth of family in this sport and not a single one
of them bothered to teach you a damn thing about it, kid.

[Juan holds up four fingers and points to them, shaking his head in
disbelief.]

JV: It doesn't matter if your great-grandfather wrestled in some
carnival fifty years ago. It don't matter if your mother popped you
outta' the womb at ringside while watching your father wrestling three
midgets and a bear inside the ring. If you had a single clue about this
sport, you never would've laid a single filthy finger on me. But you
*don't* have a clue and we all saw what you did to me.

[He points to the bandage over his right eye, the partially healed split
lip and the various bruises still faintly visible on his face.]

JV: And now you're gonna' have to learn everything the hard way.

[A chuckle.]

JV: But that's fine, kid. You got the best damn teacher you ever
could've hoped for.

'Cause I'll teach you respect.

I'll teach you humility.

I'll teach you more about the life and death struggle of surviving in
this sport than eighty years of Rhodes family tradition ever could.

[A smirk.]

JV: And when I'm through with you, God-willing...

[Juan pauses and stares at Myers, giving him a knowing look, before
refocusing his attention towards the camera.]

JV: ...maybe there'll be enough of you left to start a fifth generation.

[Vasquez strides out of view, leaving Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
behind.]

GM:  Juan Vasquez is as focused as I've ever seen him and I have to
believe that he just won't stop until he gets some sweet, sweet payback
on Raphael Rhodes.

BW:  Who WILL be in action later tonight.

GM:  He certainly will.  Don't go away, fans - we'll have more exciting
AWA action for you right after this!

[We hold on Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde for a moment before fading to
black.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and we fade back up to the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky
Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, wrestling fans - and at this time, we're being joined
here at ringside by another newcomer here to the AWA - a young man from
a great wrestling family here in Texas - please welcome to AWA Saturday
Night Wrestling, Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross!

[A young African-American man walks into view, dressed in a black and
white AWA t-shirt.  He eagerly shakes hands with Gordon Myers.]

GM:  Welcome to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, Mr. Ross.

JR:  Mr. Myers, I can't even believe I'm here!  Whoo!

[The kid's exuberance gets some cheers from the crowd.]

GM:  Your family's history in wrestling throughout the state of Texas is
well-known to many but for those who don't know can you shed some light?

JR:  Absolutely, Mr. Myers.  My great-grandfather was Roger Ross.  He
promoted out of San Antonio for twenty-five years for Texas All-Star
Wrestling.  My grandfather is Oliver Ross - he wrestled under a mask for
twenty years as The Masked Maniac.

[Jackson chuckles a bit at that one.]

JR:  And of course, my father is Ellis Ross.  He runs Lone Star
Wrestling right now - they tour all the county fairs during the summer
and run a handful of shows the rest of the year.  He also is a former
Texas Heavyweight Champion as The Masked Maniac II.

Which means I know your next question, Gordon.

[Gordon looks puzzled.]

GM:  You do?

[Jackson nods.]

JR:  Yep.  You want to know why I'm not wrestling as The Masked Maniac
III.

[Gordon smiles.]

GM:  The thought did cross my mind.

JR:  It's not because I'm embarassed of it if that's what you think. 
Far from it.  It's because at nineteen years old, I'm just getting
started in this business.  I've only got a year of matches under my belt
and before I put on that Maniac mask that my family has worn so proudly
for nearly half a century, I need to prove something.

GM:  To your family?

JR:  To my friends, my family, the fans... all of the great superstars
in the back who think I'm only here because of who my father is.  I'm
here to send everyone a message.  Jackson Ross is for real.  And if you
don't take me seriously, you're going to end up on your back.

GM:  Well, best of luck to you, Jackson, on your AWA debut.

JR:  Thank you, Mr. Myers.  It's a great honor to have you calling my
first match on television.  

[Jackson shakes hands with the veteran announcer again before jogging
out of view towards the ring.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring to see Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross in
his AWA debut!

[We cut to the ring where Ross has slingshotted over the top rope into
the ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first in the corner to my left... weighing in
at 235 pounds... Karl Kane!

[The distinguished veteran raises an arm to a mixed reaction from the
crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent... hailing from San Antonio, Texas... weighing in
at 245 pounds... JACKSON "THUNDERBOLT" ROSS!

[Ross lifts an arm to a sprinkling of cheers.  He claps his hands
together as the referee signals for the bell to be rung to start up the
match.]

GM:  And this one is unnnnnderway!

[The fourth-generation competitor steps out of the corner to the middle
of the ring, extending his hand in the direction of Karl Kane.  Kane
looks a little surprised but quickly accepts the handshake to cheers
from the crowd.]

GM:  Karl Kane has been around this business for a long, long while so
this should be a good test for the rookie's skills.  And you often think
of young competitors as brash and cocky but Ross showed a lot of respect
right there for the veteran with that handshake.

[The two men circle one another with the crowd clapping for them both as
they lunge into a tieup.  Kane quickly switches to a standing waistlock,
stepping through into a snap mare that takes Ross down to the mat.  Kane
steps away, allowing the rookie to get back to his feet.]

GM:  And the former Southern Heritage Champion - one of the top regional
titles in the Southern States - takes Jackson Ross down in the early
moments of this one with a snapmare.

BW:  Maybe next time Ross won't shake his hand - he'll suckerpunch him!

GM:  You'd like that, wouldn't you?

BW:  What do I care if Ross is a loser from his debut match on?

[The two competitors tie up once again but this time it's Ross who
applies the rear waistlock.  He holds it for a moment as Kane looks for
an escape and quickly finds one, dropping out of the waistlock into a
drop toehold that puts Ross down on his chest.  Kane again quickly
releases the hold, simply stepping back and watching as the youngster
gets back to his feet.]

GM:  Jackson Ross should be incredibly frustrated at this point, I would
think but he seems to be in good spirits.

[Still smiling, Ross claps his hands together and lunges back in for
another tieup.  This time, Kane pushes Ross back against the ropes where
he quickly grabs the wrist, firing Ross across the ring.  As the
youngster rebounds back, he leapfrogs over a doubled-up Kane's attempt
at a backdrop and then hangs on to the far ropes as Kane rears back for
a right hand.]

GM:  And that time it's Ross who gets the upper hand!

BW:  How?  Because he avoided getting his teeth knocked out?

GM:  Even Karl Kane is enjoying this.  Look at the grin on his face. 
The game of human chess is in full swing in this one, Bucky.

[Easing away from the ropes, Ross slowly reaches out for a tieup and
catches a knee squarely in the midsection.  Kane pushes Ross back
against the ropes...

...and then buries a right hand into the gut of the "Thunderbolt!"]

GM:  Ohh-  those veteran wiles on display by Karl Kane.

[Grabbing Ross by the arm, Kane fires him across the ring, ducking down
for a backdrop again...

...but this time, the athletic Ross spins around, using Kane's own back
to assist in a backflip over the top of the throw.  He lands on his feet
behind Kane and as the veteran turns around, he eats a high standing
dropkick under the chin that sends him sailing down to the mat.]

GM:  Oh my!  Tremendous dropkick by the fourth-generation grappler...
and here he comes again!

[Kane scurries to the corner to cover up, pulling up to his feet.  Ross
immediately charges in, leaping up into a big monkey flip throw out of
the corner down to the mat.  The crowd cheers the flashy move as Ross
springs back to his feet and connects with another leaping dropkick,
this one knocking Kane through the ropes and out to the floor.]

GM:  Karl Kane gets sent out to the floor courtesy of that high flying
dropkick by the "Thunderbolt!"

[Ross steps out on the apron, leaning against the ringpost as he waits
for Karl Kane to get up...

...and then sprints the length of the apron, leaping off at the last
minute with a somersault, and knocking Kane down to the floor in a heap
to the roar of the crowd!]

GM:  Wow!  

BW:  I bet the Masked Maniac I or II never tried that one!

GM:  I think you're right, Bucky!  A death-defying dive off the ring
apron by Jackson Ross has put them both down on the floor and-

[With the crowd still cheering, Ross climbs to his feet and backs into
the crowd, leaning backwards as the fans clap him on the back and
shoulders - a few leaning in to embrace the newfound fan favorite as he
pumps his fist up and down in the air.]

GM:  Look at these fans showing their support for Jackson Ross!

BW:  Great.  

GM:  Ross drags Kane off the mat, rolling him under the ropes into the
ring and now the Thunderbolt rolls back in with him.

[Pulling Kane off the mat, Ross shoves him back into the corner.  With a
quick grab of the wrist, Ross fires Kane across the ring and sprints in
behind him.  At the last minute, Ross hurls his body into the air for a
corner splash...

...that Kane leaps to the side to avoid, causing Ross to slam chestfirst
on the top turnbuckle!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  That might do it, Gordo.  That high risk offense is high risk for a
reason.  He may have rolled the dice right there and come up snake eyes
in a big, big way.

[A staggered Kane drops to the mat, pulling Ross down in a school boy
rollup.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- shoulder up!  Jackson Ross came oh-so-close to
losing his AWA debut right there.  The wily veteran Karl Kane avoided
the corner splash and almost got the three count.

BW:  Kane's got him in trouble now.  A few stomps to the gut.

GM:  He's trying to soften up the ribs and chest where Ross took the
hard miss in the corner.  A veteran move right there - finding your
opponent's weakness and exploiting it.  That youthful enthusiasm might
have cost Ross and cost him big.

[With a double handful of hair, Kane drags Ross off the mat, connecting
with a right hand that knocks Ross back against the buckles.  A few hard
kicks to the ribcage follow before the referee backs him out of the
corner.  Ignoring the official, Kane steps back in, grabbing the middle
rope as he leans over and repeatedly driving his shoulder into the
midsection of Jackson Ross.]

GM:  This is exactly what we just talked about - trying to take
advantage of a mistake made by the youngster.  I almost called him a
rookie there but he does have a year of experience under his belt.

BW:  Yeah, wrestling for his family throughout the state of Texas.  He's
hardly a traveled, experienced veteran at this point, Gordo.  He said
himself that his dad only runs a handful of shows a year.

GM:  Kane drags him out of the corner... gutwrench!

[The veteran snaps the kid over to the mat with a tightly executed
suplex before throwing himself into a lateral press.]

GM:  Another cover - one... two... thr- nope, he can't get him yet.

[Climbing to his feet, Kane drives a few more stomps down into the
ribcage before leaping up, smashing a knee down across the ribs.  Ross
sits up from the impact and catches a quartet of hard right hands that
knocks him back down to the mat.  Standing up again, Kane straddles Ross
and then leaps up, driving down all of his weight in a seated position
on the gut.]

GM:  Ohh!  Seated splash to the midsection!

[Reaching back, Kane hooks a leg as the referee drops down to the mat.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thr- another kickout!  We're at the five minute mark of
this one and Jackson Ross, if nothing else, has shown tremmendous
resiliency inside that squared circle!

BW:  He's shown he can take a beating - that's true.

GM:  What don't you like about this young man?

BW:  He's a kid who hasn't proven a thing in this sport but the silver
spoon is shoved so far down his throat now we're stuck with him being
shoved down our throats.  Some hard working guy just got held back so we
could get the wrestling equivalent of a trust fund baby on Saturday
Night Wrestling.

GM:  You've got a lot of nerve after all the talking about your Mama's
money I've heard over the years.

[Pulling the youngster off the mat, Kane connects with a European style
forearm uppercut that knocks Ross back into the buckles.  Grabbing him
by the arm, Kane fires him across the ring...

...where the athletic Ross runs up the turnbuckles, backflipping over a
charging Kane to land on his feet near the middle of the squared circle.
 Kane spins around, charging out of the corner, and catches a boot
squarely to the midsection.  Ross immediately jumps straight up in the
air, driving both feet down on the back of the doubled-up Kane's head.]

GM:  Ohh!  

BW:  Double stomp on a STANDING opponent!  I can't say I've seen that
too many times!

[With Kane flat on his back on the canvas, Ross stomps him hard on the
gut, forcing him to sit up as he dashes to the ropes, rebounding back...

...and dropping down into a baseball slide, connecting with a huge
clothesline!]

GM:  OHHH!

BW:  Now I KNOW I've never seen that!  

GM:  Starting to change your mind about this kid?

BW:  Not yet.

[Ross throws himself into a lateral press, reaching back to hook a leg
as the count reaches two.]

GM:  Two count only but the tide has definitely turned in this one. 
Jackson Ross is takin' it to Karl Kane right here in the WKIK Studios,
Bucky.

["Thunderbolt" drags Kane off the mat, whipping him to the far corner. 
Ross backs to the far corner, breaking into a full sprint...

...and leaps into the air, hurling himself towards his opponent.]

GM:  HE LEAPS!!  OHHHHH!!  BIG SPLASH IN THE CORNER!

[Ross backs away, waiting as Kane staggers from the buckles into another
boot to the midsection.  "Thunderbolt" quickly hooks a front facelock.]

GM:  He just called for a "Thunderbolt Bomb!"  

[Reaching back to hook a leg, Ross hoists Kane off the mat for a
fisherman suplex, stopping at the peak of the lift...

...and swinging Kane back down in the same direction he came up,
slamming him down to the mat in a sitout spinebuster slam!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

[Ross rolls across the torso of Kane, hooking both legs.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match in his debut...

"THUNDERBOLT" JACKSON ROSSSSSSS!!

[Ross climbs back up to his feet, all smiles as the referee raises his
hand in victory.]

GM:  Jackson Ross, a winner in his AWA debut!  And in my opinion, this
kid has all the natural tools to become a major superstar here in the
AWA, Bucky.

BW:  We'll see about that, Gordo.  Let's get him in there with some
tougher competition - men like Raphael Rhodes, like Naitomea, like
Freeman and Dufresne.  Then we'll see what he's made of.

GM:  Only time will tell - that's for sure.  And right after this break,
we've got a very special moment for all of the AWA fans...

BW:  Is it time?!  Is it?

GM:  It is.

BW:  Yes!  Don't go away, fans - we'll be right back with the greatest
moment of 2009 so far!

GM:  It's only our first show.

BW:  BEST.  MOMENT.  OF THE YEAR!

GM:  We'll be right back.

[With Jackson Ross at ringside trading high-fives with anyone in sight,
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 we fade back up to the ringside area where Gordon Myers is
standing.]

GM:  Ladies and gentlemen, at this time, we would like to welcome to AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling - a representative of the Just The Facts!
wrestling website... reporter Chock Full!

[There's a slight reaction for Chock Full - the most famed "dirt sheet"
writer in the game.  Full is in his early 40s, sporting a Marc Ecko
ensemble of jeans, a designer brown t-shirt, and a black JTF blazer. 
He's accompanied by some generic lackey type who is carrying an armful
of plaques.  He shakes hands with Gordon as he approaches.]

CF:  Thank you for that, Gordon.  We at Just The Facts! were very
pleased with the invitiation from the AWA brass to come out here tonight
on Saturday Night Wrestling and present these plaques.  

GM:  And we are equally pleased to have you here tonight.  For the first
set of awards, I am honored to present one of the members of the AWA
front office and the Head Trainer for the AWA training school... Todd
Michaelson!

[Michaelson is dressed in a pair of blue jeans with a white AWA t-shirt.
 He shakes hands with both Gordon and Chock as he steps into the
interview area.]

CF:  Mr. Michaelson - while you and I have seldom seen eye-to-eye, I'm
very happy we could put aside our differences for this night at least.

[Todd nods his head in response.]

CF:  For the first award, we want to congratulate the AWA's The Last
Stampede on being the first runner-up for Event of The Year.

[Full's lackey hands Todd a plaque celebrating what he said.  Todd
smiles as he looks at it, setting it down on the makeshift announce
desk.]

CF:  Also, to the AWA - to this very show in fact - we want to present a
second runner-up award to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling for Show Of The
Year!

[Michaelson collects the second plaque, putting it down on the table.]

CF:  The AWA as a whole also picked up this award as the first runner-up
for Promotion Of The Year.

[And yet another plaque on the stack!]

CF:  And finally, to the AWA for Match Of The Year for The Last
Stampede's WarGames: The Match Beyond!

[A big cheer goes up from the AWA fans as Michaelson collects the final
plaque, shaking the hand of Chock Full as he holds up the handful of
plaques to the crowd.]

CF:  We also have an award for first runner-up for Tag Team Of The Year
for Kentucky's Pride - unfortunately, the National Tag Team Champions
are getting ready to compete in just a little while and couldn't come
out to accept this from me.  Congratulations to them though as well.

GM:  Alright, that's it, right?

[A loud throat-clearing is heard from off camera.  Chock Full cracks a
grin.]

CF:  Nope.  We've got one more to present.  Well, actually, two more. 
The category of Announcer Of The Year was well-represented by the AWA as
the second runner-up award goes to... Gordon Myers!

[A big cheer goes up for the Dean of Announcing as the veteran
play-by-play man accepts the award with a wide grin.]

GM:  Thank you very much - it's a great honor.

CF:  And of course... for the Announcer Of The Year... the one and
only... Bucky Wilde!

[Everyone's favorite colorful color man bursts into view, snatching the
plaque away from Chock Full - and of course, leaving him with an offered
handshake that is never accepted as Bucky hugs his plaque, then kisses
his plaque, then hugs it again, then checks his hair in it.]

GM:  Bucky, congratul-

BW:  Thank you, Gordo!  Thank you!  And of course, I want to thank you
too.  It takes being with you each and every week, boring these people
to tears, to make me look so good.  

Wait... wait...

[Bucky looks solemn.]

BW:  That's not true.  I look this good all on my own!  Hahahaha!

[Gordon shakes his head as Bucky jumps up and down clutching his
plaque.]

GM:  Fans, let's go up to the ring for singles action!

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

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

[The smallish Hawkins raises a hand to a cheer from the hometown crowd.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Go" by Powder starts up to the jeers of the capacity crowd.]

MC:  From Los Angeles, California... he is the Number One Contender to
the National Title... being accompanied to the ring by Steven Marlowe...

He is "The Hellion"...

MARRRRRRK SHAAAAAAAW!

[The curtain parts and the boos grow louder for the evil mastermind
Marlowe and his barrel-chested warrior as they stride into the WKIK
Studios.  They pause a few feet past the curtain - and a silent gesture
from Marlowe causes Shaw to sprint the rest of the way, diving headfirst
under the bottom rope into the ring.]

GM:  Shaw's in there!

[A stunned Hawkins throws punches and kicks at Shaw, trying to slow down
his onslaught...

...but Shaw simply hooks Hawkins under the armpits, lifting him off the
mat and throwing him into the nearest corner.  Approaching the corner,
Shaw connects with a brutal knife-edge chop that knocks Hawkins off his
feet and down to a seated position in the buckles.]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Now THAT'S how you throw a chop, Gordo.

GM:  He knocked him clear off his feet with one chop!  Probably knocked
the wind right out of the kid.

BW:  If he didn't before, he's about to.

[Holding onto the top rope, Shaw throws knee after knee after knee into
the face of the seated Hawkins.  The referee backs him away which sends
him sprinting to the ropes, charging back across the ring to drive
another knee squarely into the face of a stunned Hawkins, knocking him
through the ropes and out to the floor.]

GM:  This is hard to watch.  Any time this maniac Shaw gets in there,
it's hard to watch.  He's just not happy winning a match.  He's only
happy when he's seriously hurt someone.

BW:  I don't know about that.  He seemed pretty happy when he beat
Rogers at Christmas Clash.

GM:  An illegal victory by the way.  He hit Rogers in the knee with the
wooden axehandle and then used the ropes for leverage!

BW:  Rogers brought the axehandle into the match!  It's his own fault!

[Stepping out to the apron, Shaw drops down out on the floor.  He pulls
the motionless Hawkins off the thin mats and hoists him up over his
shoulder.]

GM:  Uh oh - what's gonna happen here?

BW:  Look out!

[Shaw charges towards the steel ringpost, DRIVING Hawkins' skull into
the steel to the amusement of Marlowe whose face is covered with an evil
sneer when the camera finds him.]

"Put him in."

[Nodding at his manager's instructions, Shaw drags the dazed Hawkins off
the floor, scooping him up...

...and pressing him high overhead, holding him there for a moment before
throwing him over the ropes back into the ring.]

GM:  Pure power there.  Mark Shaw is one of the strongest men in the
entire AWA without a doubt.  He has yet to meet anyone inside that ring
he couldn't throw around easily.

[Shaw rolls under the ropes back into the ring, climbing back up to his
feet just as Hawkins pushes up to all fours.  Reaching down, the Hellion
hooks Hawkins around the torso, gutwrenching up off the mat and into the
air...

...before SLAMMING him down in a powerbomb!]

GM:  Goodness!  

BW:  Hawkins looks like he's been through a car crash, Gordo.  That
powerbomb nearly put him through the canvas.  So much raw power - it's
hard to imagine.

GM:  Look at Shaw - just glaring down at Hawkins like he's garbage under
his feet.

[The Hellion reaches down, dragging Hawkins off the mat by the hair.  A
hard slap sends him spiraling back into the buckles.  Shaw charges
towards the corner, connecting with a clothesline to the back of
Hawkins' head.]

GM:  Hawkins gets hit hard - stumbling out...

BW:  Look out!

GM:  Shaw hooks him... OHHHHHH!

[The crowd roars as Shaw hoists Hawkins into the air, dumping him down
on the back of his head and neck at a sickening angle with the Backdrop
Driver.]

GM:  That'll do it.  One!  Two!  Thr- what the?!

BW:  He pulled him up!

GM:  He certainly did!  But why?

[Outside the ring, a grinning Steven Marlowe shouts something at Shaw. 
The Hellion nods, dragging Hawkins back to his feet.]

GM:  Hawkins can't even stand on his own!  That is awful!

[Shaw promptly wraps his arms around the waist of Hawkins in a bearhug. 
He pauses for a moment before popping his hips, driving Hawkins down to
the mat in a belly-to-belly suplex!]

GM:  Ohhh!  

[The Hellion kneels on the canvas, staring out at his manager who looks
on silently for a moment.  Then he gestures to Shaw who immediately
breaks into action.  He pulls Hawkins' limp form off the mat again and
in a show of power, hoists Hawkins up into the air, twisting him around
and driving him down in a sitout powerbomb!]

GM:  Good grief!

BW:  Wait a second, Gordo.  The belly-to-belly... now a tilt-a-whirl
Tiger Driver... do you see a pattern here?

GM:  What are you- are you kidding me?

BW:  Not a chance!  First, Broussard... then Rogers... he's sending a
message to everyone who thinks they can get between him and the National
Title he's been chasing for almost a year now!

GM:  Hawkins can't even move - can't even stand.  What else can he-?

[At a one word shout from Marlowe, Shaw drags Hawkins off the mat one
more time...

...and then OBLITERATES him with a standing lariat!]

BW:  And don't look now but I think that was a Russian Sickle, daddy!

[The Hellion plants one finger on the chest of a motionless Hawkins as
the referee drops down to count.]

GM:  One.  Two.  Three.  That's it.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match... MARK SHAW!

[Shaw slowly gets back to his feet, jerking his arm away from the
referee as he attempts to raise it.  Steven Marlowe joins his charge
inside the ring and with a wicked smirk, raises Shaw's arm in triumph. 
A steely-eyed Shaw stares off into the distance as the boos continue to
pour down.]

GM:  Mark Shaw is your winner - and can anyone stop this man when he
gets his shot at the National Title?  Fans, we'll be right back - don't
you dare go away!

[The shot holds on a focused Mark Shaw before fading to black...

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

Kid #1:  How was your weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kid #3:  I want one of those!

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

Kid #2:  At AWAShop.com!

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

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

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

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

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

JD:  Welcome back, fans - and I have some breaking news that just can't
wait any longer.  As you know, we were scheduled to have Kevin Slater in
action here tonight and perhaps more importantly, we were going to have
Mr. Slater telling the world exactly why he assaulted Bobby Taylor at
Christmas Clash.  

But moments ago, I was informed by the Championship Committee that
"SuperAgent" Triston Rockford has pulled his client from appearing here
tonight citing contractual obligations that were not met.  I repeat -
Kevin Slater will NOT be in action here tonight nor will he appear on
Saturday Night Wrestling in any fashion thanks to the actions of Triston
Rockford, his agent.

However, at this time, I am honored to be joined here backstage by the
Chairman of the Championship Committee - Stephen Ross!

[A well-dressed Ross steps into view, looking solemn at the camera.]

JD:  Thank you for joining me, Mr. Ross.

SR:  The pleasure is mine, Jason.

JD:  All we've heard is that Slater is not going to appear because his
agent pulled him from the show.  Is that correct?

[Ross sighs deeply before speaking.]

SR:  That is correct.  Earlier this evening, I received a phone call
from Triston Rockford, Mr. Slater's new agent, regarding some provisions
of Slater's contract that he did not believe the AWA was meeting. 
Because of that, Mr. Rockford has declared that he is holding out his
client until further notice.

JD:  Wait - you mean this isn't just for tonight?

[Ross lifts a hand.]

SR:  We are hopeful that this is just for tonight but...

[Ross shrugs.]

SR:  When you're dealing with an agent - you never know.what will
happen.  Triston Rockford has quickly proven himself to be the Scott
Boras of the AWA, Jason.  I have not enjoyed my dealings with him so
far.

JD:  Well, in light of that news, this makes for an awkward question
but... any update on the condition of "The Outlaw" Bobby Taylor after
that brutal assault by Slater at Christmas Clash?

[Ross nods.]

SR:  Absolutely.  Bobby's banged up - that's for sure.  He sought out
his own doctors so our knowledge is a little fuzzy but I believe there's
been talk of a concussion.  I know he also suffered a broken nose as
well.  Plus a few other minor injuries.  But most of all, I think
Bobby's going through a lot mentally.  He's been in a lot of wars over
the years and had a lot of people jump him but I don't think he ever
expected it to be Kevin Slater.  So, physically?  Yeah, he's banged up a
bit but I think it's mentally that'll take the longest to heal.

JD:  Has he given any indication as to when he'll come back?  When he'll
be looking to get Kevin Slater in the ring?

[Ross shakes his head.]

SR:  Right now?  I'd say it's more a matter of if... not when, Jason.

JD:  There you have it, fans.  Will the Outlaw ride through the AWA once
more?  And just when will Kevin Slater end his holdout?  Back to you at
ringside, Gordon!

[We cut back to ringside where Gordon Myers is standing.]

GM:  Thanks for that, Jason.  Kevin Slater a holdout?  Now I've seen
everything, Bucky.

BW:  I'm sure there's a valid reason for it, Gordo.  I've met with
Triston Rockford before - he's a brilliant man.  He wouldn't hold out
his charge if there wasn't a reason for it.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Fans, let's go up to the ring!

[Cut to the ring where Melissa is standing.]

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

[Small cheer from the AWA crowd as Change from the Deftones starts to
kick up]

MC: His opponent from, Japan, weighing in at two hundred and five
pounds... THE JAPANESE NIGHTMARE

NAITO.........MEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[The masked Japanese luchador erupts though the curtain holding his
signature carbon fiber helmet by one horn and immediately starts jawing
with the fans seated at the entrance aisle eliciting jeers and thumbs
down from the entire row. He continues this until he rolls into the
ring and goes to his corner. He drops his glowing eyed helmet into the
corner.]

GM: How about that Bucky?  Fresh off his huge win against Rick Marley
at Christmas Clash the fiery Naitomea looks motivated here tonight. But
do you think he'll ever earn the respect of the AWA faithful?

BW: Do you think thats something hes even interested in.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Naitomea and Williams circle each other and then tie up. Naitomea hits
a lighting fast knee to the stomach and pulls Williams in close with a
headlock. Williams fighting to break free starts ramming forearms into
the lower back of Naitomea.]

GM: Naitomea is really wrenching that in but those elbows look like
theyre angering the masked man instead of hurting him.

[Williams delivers a few more rapid forearms and Naitomea just gives up
the hold and spins around 180 degrees towards Williams]

SMACK!

BW: Oh I love it!

[Naitomea hauled off and with disgust landing a huge open hand slap to
Carls face so hard the force dropped him to a knee]

GM: Does this kid respect anybody? Naitomea walks over to the reeling
Williams and grabs a handful of hair at the base of his skull. Brutal
headbutt!

[Naitomea grabs a arm and pulls Williams up to the mat. With a spin, he
locks in an arm wretch]

BW: Side Russian leg sweep by Naitomea, and he nips up!




"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"



GM: Standing leg drop! He rises to his feet quickly and AGAIN down with
another leg drop.

BW: Wow! This kid is lighting quick Gordo and he has been saying for
the past 4 months hes going to get noticed around here in the AWA.

[Naitomea picks Williams up off the mat and points to the adjacent
turnbuckle. He leans forward into Williams to gain momentum and then
reels back and fires the hometown wrestler towards the turnbuckle but
Williams with his bigger size and strength stops on a dine and instead
fires Naitomea instead into the turnbuckle with an impact so hard you
might have thought the ring moved half a centimeter]

GM: Naitomea just crashed into the corner with devastating force

BM: That impact into the corner causes Naitomea to stagger back into
Carls waiting arms...




"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"




GM: SIDE BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX, HE HOLDS IT FOR A COVER!  ONE!  TWO! 
THR-

BW: MY WORD THAT WAS CLOSE! Could you imagine if we had such a major
upset here tonight!

GM: Carl Williams leaps to his feet his head in his hands that he was
so close to victory but he pulls the kid up to his feet. Williams fires
Naitomea into the ropes. HES AIRBORNE!

BW: Naitomea is flailing in mid air!

[Naitomea lands square on his back and immediately springs up onto his
knees then falls face down to the mat kicking his feet in agony, one
hand holding his lower back. Williams points out to his local hometown
crowd to thunderous applause]

BW: Williams goes right back towards Naitomea and drags his dead weight
up off the mat. He locks in a front face lock. He hoists him up...

[He holds...

...and holds...

...and still holds...]

GM: What a great display of strength here by Carl Williams, hes had
him up for about 10 seconds now

BW: Naitomea suddenly comes to life and starts bicycling his feet into
the air trying to throw off Williams momentum.

GM: The Japansese Nightmare is trying to get out of this, Williams
takes a few steps to the side losing his balance!

[The quick, agile luchador finally breaks the momentum and drops.
Spinning 180 degrees down he lands behind Carl Williams. Without
hesitation he shoots in grabbing him around the waist and hoists him up
into the air with a belly to back lift.]

BW: This could be what weve been waiting to see for months now!

[Naitomea stops at the crest of his lift and spins Carl Willams into a
sit-down Blue Thunder powerbomb]

GM: THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE THE DREAM! He nailed it in the blink of an
eye! He holds it for a cover.  One!  Two!  Three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC: Your winner in four minutes, twenty nine seconds. The Japanese
Nightmare, Naitomea!

BW: The kid wins it here tonight Gordo and we finally see the debut of
his signature move. Personal feelings aside you have to give it to him
as a competitor!

GM: That I can agree with, Naitomea is doing everything he can here in
the AWA to get noticed and I think the brass might have finally picked
up on him. Well be back after this!

[The camera holds on a victorious Naitomea 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 fade back on live action on the ring where Melissa Cannon is
currently standing.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is a non-title
match with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in
the ring at this time... the team of Miguel Cortez and Bubba Jackson!

[The two veterans are jeered by the crowd as they're introduced.]

MC:  And their opponents... they are the AWA National Tag Team
Champions... Tin Can Rust... City Jack...

KENTUCKY'S PRIIIIIIIIDE!

[The music kicks up as the championship duo makes their way through the
curtain to a tremendous ovation from the WKIK Studios audience.  City
Jack is all smiles, the title belt slung over his shoulder as he slaps
the hands of all the ringside fans.  Tin Can Rust seems to be all
business as usual, quickly scaling the ringsteps while his partner
continues to party with his fans.]

GM:  TCR hits the ring and- look out!

[A shower of boos erupts as both Bubba Jackson and Miguel Cortez bumrush
the tag champ, knocking him back into the corner with a barrage of
punches and kicks.]

GM:  They're all over Tin Can Rust!  He got inside the ring without his
championship partner and these two veterans are taking full advantage of
it.

BW:  The titles aren't on the line but beating the champs, even in a
non-title match, would be a big step towards getting a shot at the gold,
Gordo.

GM:  Jackson is raining down big haymakers on Tin Can Rust.  He's one of
the toughest veterans in the sport, Bucky.  He may not get the headlines
but he's tough as nails.

[The beating continues until...]

GM:  CITY JACK!

[The big Kentucky native rolls under the ropes into the ring, stomping
across the ring.  Miguel Cortez peels away from the attack on Rust,
charging in towards him...

...and gets dropped with a big right hand of his own.  Jack keeps on
moving past the downed Cortez.  He grabs Bubba Jackson by the shoulder,
swinging him around, and popping the veteran with a big right hand that
takes Jackson over the ropes to the floor.]

GM:  Ohhh!  All the way over the top and down to the floor!

[Grabbing his partner by the wrist, Kentucky's Pride barrels out of the
corner to connect with a running double clothesline that takes down
Cortez.  Jack immediately clutches his right arm after the blow.]

BW:  Look at that, Gordo!  That arm still isn't healed up from Christmas
Clash when he accidentally hit the ringpost!

GM:  It certainly looks that way.  It looks like-

[Tin Can Rust spots his injured partner and immediately pulls Cortez off
the mat.  He promptly hooks a front facelock, hoisting Cortez up for a
suplex...

...and then dropping him facefirst on the mat!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Gourdbuster!

[Rust flips him onto his back, dropping into a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Three!  Whoa - just like that!

BW:  They didn't waste any time with that.  Kinda arrogant if you ask
me.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... KENTUCKY'S PRIDE!

[Rust immediately rolls off the mat, moving to check on his partner who
is leaning against the buckles clutching his injured limb.  Jack waves
him off, shaking his partner's hand before stepping out on the apron. 
The two men quickly exit the ring, making their way towards the locker
room area.]

GM:  Tin Can Rust, if we can get a quick word?

[TCR waves off the announcer, walking past him on the way to the locker
room.]

GM:  Fans, it looks like Kentucky's Pride doesn't have time to speak
with us right now.

BW:  They've got to get to the hospital and get City Jack a new arm.

GM:  Fans, we'll be right- wait a second!

[Surprisingly, without music or fanfare of any kind, a young man -
around mid-20s or so - steps out of the entrance way. He's got long
brown hair, wears a black T-shirt and jeans, and has a bit of scowl on
his face.]

GM: That's... Pure X? What is he doing here?!

BW: Heard of him - wrestled out in LA, up in St. Louis, and someone who
said - what were the exact words, Gordo?

GM: He called the AWA a "wasteland", if I remember correctly. Why is he
here?

[Some of the fans nearby heard what Myers said while others had long
memories of Pure X's trashing of AWA in some of the industry magazines,
so they start to boo the man known for being a master technician in the
ring.] 

GM: Pure X, what brings you out here, sir? What brings you to AWA?

PX: What brings me out here? Simple. I'm here to wrestle.

GM: I'd assume that - that's a given.

PX: Is it? 

[Pure X raises a questioning eyebrow.]

PX: It's a given that I'm here to wrestle?

GM: Well, why else would you be here?

PX: After watching what the sport has become today, I think I have to
make sure my intentions are known. I'm here to wrestle.

GM: As opposed to what?

PX: To what you all saw here at Christmas Clash. What was that, twelve
matches - none of which involved any actual wrestling?

GM: You're referring to the Hand of Destiny match?

PX: Yeah, "Hand of Destiny". Blood, carnage, mayhem...

[Pure X shakes his head.]

PX: Myers, what the hell has this sport - this sport that I love, that I
was trained to perfectly perform... What has it become?

GM: Excuse me?

PX: "Hands of Destiny" matches. Cage matches. Barbed wire. Ten man free
for alls. Six people in a ring doing pointless acrobatics. Blood, broken
bones - even fingers being torn off. Here, just last month, two grown
men doing all they can to put the other in a wheelchair. I see this and
I ask myself Myers, "where's the sport?"

[A few fans of said contests start to boo the young man known as Pure
X.]

PX: Where did the sport of wrestling go? What happened -

[Pure X points to the ring.]

PX: - to that? What happened to that ring?

GM: I'm not sure I follow -

PX: That ring is sacred. Between those three ropes and four turnbuckles,
a contest of talent takes place. A battle of technique - suplex, throws,
counters - that's what takes place in that ring. A battle of wits, to
see who's trained more, who's plied their craft better - that's what
takes place in that ring. That is what that platform is for... But
today?

[Pure X shakes his head.]

PX: What I see today? From that "Universal" federation, that "garbage"
out West and a couple states over from here in Texas... and even
overseas? Even here in the American Wrestling Association?

[The young master technician looks at the ring for a moment.]

PX: What I see is a complete desecration of that ring and all it stands
for. To say it sickens me just doesn't even begin to describe it. 

[Pure X turns his attention back to Gordon Myers.]

PX: Myers, that I have to qualify myself as a wrestler - not some
garbage specialist, not some sideshow act, and not some sort of failed
acrobat... That I have to say - in a WRESTLING promotion - that I'm a
wrestler? That, more than anything, pisses me off.

[Some of the fans get on Pure X's case, booing the former PWR and
RCW'er.]

PX: So to answer your question again, Myers, why am I here? I'm here to
wrestle. I'm not here to satiate some blood lust, pull some sappy
woe-is-me crap, or defile that ring in any way. I'm here to restore the
tradition of the ring, what the legends of the past built through their
hardwork. 

[The fans start to mellow down on their booing of Pure X, listening to
what he has to say instead.]

PX: Look, I know my rep follows me and I know I can have a bit of mouth,
but that shouldn't matter when I step into the ring. Everytime I go into
the ring, I want live up to everyone who has poured their soul into
making the sport of wrestling what is was. And everytime I do that? I
want to prove that the only way one can claim to be the single best
wrestler in the world is to show the proper respect and be in a pure
wrestling ring. 

[A couple fans actually cheer X now having heard him, though not all are
sold.]

PX: And Myers? With a little work, AWA? Can be that pure wrestling ring
once again.

[With that, Pure X nods and walks off the set - still to more boos than
cheers, but a better welcoming than when he came in.]

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

[The camera holds on Gordon for a moment and fades to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back up on the announce desk area where Gordon Myers
and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  We've had an
exciting night here in the WKIK Studios in downtown Dallas, Texas.  Just
before the last commercial break, we saw Pure X - a man who last
competed in a very major promotion in St. Louis - make his AWA debut out
here with us.  And he's not the only one debuting here tonight.  At this
time, please welcome the "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright!

[Gary Bright walks into the camera's view for the first time.  Bright is
an imposing physical specimen who looks to have been chiseled out of
marble by an expert artisan.  His long beach blond hair is slicked back
to just about his neck.  He smirks at Myers as he flexes his well-tanned
22" biceps.]

GM:  Gary Bright, at 6'4 and 285 pounds, you are quite the intimidating
powerhouse. 

[Bright nods his head, slowly flexing his massive left arm as he starts
to speak.]

GB:  Gordon Myers, there's nothing that upsets me more than when I turn
on my tv. I turn it on and I seeboys parading aroundpretending to be
athletes. They flex those tiny lilT-Rex arms andcall themselves
superior athletes. I call them superiortrash. Forsome time now the AWA
has lacked a man among boys. It has lacked a hammer tonail the final
coffin in the career of those who should never have had the opportunity
to have stepped in a wrestling ring.

[Bright stands there as the audience doesn't really know how to react...
but you can hear a few jeers as one heckler in the front yells out "Who
do you think you are?"]

GB:  By the look of you, boy, I'm not your daddy. Looking at your wife,
I'm not her lover. I'm a bona fide, 100%, all natural, modern wonder of
the world. A living, breathing God sent down from the heavens, created
in the mold of perfection. I am everything you wish that you could be
and everything you never will be. You got that, jack?

[The boos rain down.]

GB: Tonight is the night when all thestars are bright, but none shine
brighter than Mr. Saturday Night, "Gold Bomber" Gary Bright.

[Bright walks away, heading towards the ring.]

GM:  He doesn't lack for muscles and he doesn't lack for arrogance
either, Bucky.

BW:  Arrogance.  Confidence.  It's a thin line, daddy.

GM:  Let's get up to the ring and see if he can back up his words!

[We cut up to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing as Gary Bright
steps through the ropes into the ring.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit.  Introducing first... in the corner to my right... weighing
205 pounds... Jason Sanders!

[A few mild cheers for the smallish Sanders.]

MC:  And his opponent... weighing in at 285 pounds... from Paradise
Valley, Arizona...

"GOLD BOMBER" GARY BRIIIIIGHT!

[Bright strikes a big double bicep pose to the jeers of the fans.  He
smirks at their reaction before lowering his arms.  As the referee calls
for the bell, Bright strides to the center of the ring, arrogantly
gesturing for Jason Sanders to attack him.]

GM:  Young Jason Sanders looks a bit nervous, Bucky.

BW:  Can you blame him?  Some genetic freak of nature is standing across
the ring from him.  Looks like something wheeled out of an Italian
statue museum, Gordo.

GM:  He definitely is physically impressive.

[Working up the courage, Sanders rears back and delivers a knife-edge
chop across the massive pectorals of Bright.  Bright waves his arm,
calling for another blow.  Sanders looks a bit edgy before delivering
another big chop.]

GM:  Those chops aren't exactly soft as a feather either, Bucky.

BW:  They're not - not at all but Bright doesn't look like he even feels
it.

GM:  He wants more of them...

[Another big chop connects but Bright responds by tilting his head back
and laughing at the much smaller competitor.]

GM:  He just laughed at him, Bucky!  What a jerk!

[Sanders uncorks another chop attempt...

...but this time, Bright grabs him by the wrist.  He tightly holds it in
place, resisting as Sanders tries to jerk his arm free.  After a moment,
Bright pulls Sanders' arm hard and nearly rips his head off his body
with a standing lariat!]

GM:  Ohh!  Short-arm clothesline by the Gold Bomber!

BW:  He drilled him with that muscular arm - could've broken a
collarbone real easily.  

[Bright stands over the downed Sanders, smirking at him...

...and then leaps high into the air, dropping a big elbow across his
chest.]

GM:  Oh!  High impact elbowdrop!  One!  Two!  What the-?

[The crowd jeers as Bright rolls off the downed Sanders, moving into a
series of push-ups on the canvas.]

GM:  Now he's just trying to show this young man up.  This is totally
uncalled for!

BW:  I kinda like it.

GM:  You would.  Bright's dragging him off the mat- oh, big forearm
smash sends Sanders falling back into the corner.

[Bright wraps his hands around the throat of Sanders, strangling the air
out of him as the referee starts a five count.  At the count of four,
Bright steps back to break it.  Grabbing the wrist of Sanders, Bright
fires him across the ring.  When Sanders hits the far side, Bright
barrels across behind him...

...and DRILLS him with a running clothesline in the corner!]

GM:  Ohh!  He moves pretty well for a big man too, Bucky.

[Pulling Sanders out of the corner, Bright scoops him up...

...and presses him straight up high into the air overhead.]

GM:  Good grief!

[The powerhouse walks around the ring, not even showing any sign of
exertion as he shows off the helpless Sanders to all the fans in the
house and all the fans watching at home...

...and then effortlessly throws him down to the mat in a heap.]

GM:  This guy isn't even breaking a sweat, Bucky.

[A few hard stomps sends Sanders rolling under the ropes and out onto
the ring apron.  The referee gets between Bright and Sanders, screaming
at the Gold Bomber to back off while the young Texan tries to recover
out on the apron.  An arrogant Bright ignores the referee, reaching over
the ropes to pull Sanders up off the mat.  Pulling down on Sanders'
head, Bright strangles him on the top rope.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  There's no need for that!

[After a few seconds, Bright breaks the choke, leaving Sanders leaning
over the top rope.  Without warning, Bright breaks out into a run to the
far ropes, rebounding back...

...and leaving his feet, connecting with a flying shoulderblock that
sends Sanders sailing off the ring apron and crashing down in a pile on
the concrete floor!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  He sounded like a package of meat shoved off the kitchen counter,
Gordo!

[Smirking at the referee's cries of agitation, Bright slowly pushes back
up to his feet.  Nudging the referee aside, Bright strikes a double
bicep pose, turning so the fans can see him on all sides.  The jeers are
all over him as he steps out to the apron before dropping down to the
floor.]

GM:  And he's going out after him?  Come on!  Just let the poor kid get
counted out!  

BW:  Why would you do that?  This guy doesn't need to win this by
countout.  He's got this all wrapped up - it's in the bag, Gordo.

GM:  We'll see about that.

BW:  If you think this kid has a chance against Bright, I've got some
property in the swamps of Florida with your name on it, daddy!

[Outside the ring, Gary Bright drags the barely-moving Sanders off the
thin mats, hurling him back under the ropes into the ring.  A front row
fan climbs to his feet, screaming in the direction of Bright he spins
around and returns the favor.]

GM:  We've got a situation out here at ringside - can we get some help
out here?

[A couple of AWA security team members step between the irate Bright and
the screaming fan.  Bright tosses a few more insults and threats in the
direction of the fan before stepping back up on the apron.  Inside the
ring, Jason Sanders is back on his feet as Bright steps through the
ropes...

...and promptly eats a dropkick from Sanders!]

GM:  Oh yeah! 

[The crowd roars as Sanders throws a flurry of punches...

...and snaps off a big superkick that knocks Bright back into the ropes.
 With his opponent dazed, Sanders scampers outside of the ring, quickly
scaling the corner.]

GM:  Sanders is up top!  He's gonna fly!

[Bright staggers away from the ropes, looking up into the sky as Sanders
takes flight, soaring through the air in a cross body...

...but gets caught in the powerful arms of the Gold Bomber!]

GM:  CAUGHT!

BW:  Caught like he was nothing!  Like a foul ball at a Little League
game!

[The powerhouse drops to a knee, smashing Sanders' back down across the
bent leg.  Bright stays kneeling for a moment, smirking at the referee
who is calling for a pin attempt...

...but the Arizona native climbs back up to his feet again, turning
around so a second set of fans can see him.]

GM:  Pure power... this is power on the same level as Mark Shaw, Bucky.

BW:  We talked about Mark Shaw possibly being the strongest man in the
entire AWA - well, we may have a new candidate for that honor, Gordo. 
We just may.

GM:  You can say that again... ohh!  Another backbreaker!

[Bright repeats the process - slowly getting back to his feet, still
holding the limp form of Jason Sanders across his chest with his
muscular arms.  He turns 90 degrees to his right, facing the third side
of the ring...

...and DROPPING Sanders down across his knee again!]

GM:  This is ridiculous.  Can someone stop this guy?

BW:  Maybe a freight train.

GM:  He picks him up again - how many of these do we need to see, Bucky?

[Back on his feet, Bright takes one arm away from Sanders, still holding
him with one hand.  He points a menacing finger in the direction of the
angry fan before turning one more time to face the announcers.]


"THIS ONE'S FOR YOU, BUCKY!"


[Still holding him up with one arm, Bright waits...

...and then drives Sanders down across the knee harder than any of the
other backbreakers before.  He shoves him off the bent knee, dropping
into a lateral press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Thr- oh, come on!

[The fans jeer more as Bright pulls Sanders up by the hair, refusing to
stay on his opponent for the three count.]

BW:  That one was for me, Gordo - did you see that?

GM:  Yes, I did.  Impressive.  

BW:  A one-armed backbreaker after three other backbreakers?  That's
more than impressive, Gordo - more than impressive.

[Bright climbs to his feet, yanking Sanders up with him, and pulls him
straight into a standing front facelock.  He slings Sanders' arm over
his neck.]

GM:  What's he going for now?

[The Gold Bomber hoists Sanders up in a vertical suplex and promptly
removes his arm, holding Sanders up in a one-armed suplex.]

GM:  One armed again!  This guy is a beast!

[The crowd jeers louder and louder as Bright holds Sanders up in a
delayed suplex position...

And holds...

And holds...

And holds...

And holds...]

GM:  Good grief!

[Finally, Bright lifts his hand back up onto Sanders and then powers him
up into the air, dropping down in a sitout powerbomb!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match... he is the Gold Bomber... 

GARRRRY BRIIIIIIIGHT!

[Bright slowly gets back to his feet, smirking arrogantly at the crowd
as he strikes another big double bicep pose.]

GM:  Gary Bright with a win in his debut and if he keeps things up like
this, there'll be a lot more wins in his future, Bucky.

BW:  And if he keeps dedicating moves to me, I'll pick him as the next
National Champion!

GM:  You're too easy.  Fans, don't go away - we'll be right back after
this break with Sweet Heat in action!

[We fade away from a shot of a victorious Gary Bright staring out at the
jeering fans.

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

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

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

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

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

JD & MS:  NOW WE CAN!

[A voiceover takes over - thank God.]

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

[Fade back to black...

...and then back up on the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing
and looking quite frantic.]

JD:  Welcome back, fans, to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling and we've got
big breaking news that just went down here in the backstage area!  Just
moments ago, I received word from the Championship Committee that
Despair is-

[From off camera, a hand covers up the mic, yanking it away from our
fiery backstage reporter.  The camera pulls back to reveal Adrian
Freeman standing nearby with the mic in hand.]

AF:  Tsk, tsk.  I wouldn't want you to spoil our surprise.

[With a wicked grin, Freeman looks at the camera.  As his music kicks in
over the PA, Freeman cups a hand to his ear.]

AF:  They're playing my song.  Excuse me, Jason.

[Freeman tosses the mic aside and the camera cuts to the other side of
the entryway where the arrogant Australian is striding into the WKIK
Studios.]

GM:  Adrian Freeman is on his way out here, fans - and he looks ready
for battle.  But he's not even supposed to be out here yet!  This isn't
Main Event time... I don't understand this at all.  And unfortunately it
looks like he has decided to say a few words first.

BW:  Do I detect a hint of bias? As a commentator, you have to be
unbiased, Gordo.

[Gordon just scoffs at his partner's hypocrisy. Adrian Freeman reaches 
onto the commentator's table and grabs a microphone.]

GM: Adrian, in just a few moments you're going to go head to head with
Despair in our main event. You've got to be excited for this match-up.

AF: Excited? I'm nothing of the sort. Why would I be excited when,
instead of getting the first point towards earning me and Callisto a
rematch with those disgraceful excuses for champions Kentucky's Pride, I
have to go out tonight and wrestle that lunatic Despair? I don't have
to prove myself by beating these Neanderthals anymore. I, with some
help from Callisto, broke Rick Marley's spirit and chased him out of the
AWA. You saw his last match... he was barely a shell of his self. He
looked so bad out there the AWA had to air "highlights" of his match in
one last attempt to save face.

GM: I saw that match first-hand and let me assure you--

AF: Are you still trying to shill that worthless pretty-boy?

GM: Are you still running him down even after he's out of the company?

[Freeman pauses, taken a bit aback. Bucky stares at Gordon,
mock-horrified. After a moment, Adrian continuies.]

AF: You're right for once in your life, Gordo. Marley is the past, now
it's on to new targets, namely the Dead Pool. Dead Pool, you boys have
got to be the unluckiest team in the AWA. This is the third show in a
row you've had to contend with me and Callisto, and it's not going to
turn out any better than the previous two times. Despair, when Werewolf
Gregorson got hurt you could have gone into singles competition. But
instead you got out your little black book and started dialing numbers
until you found someone washed-up and desperate enough to team with you.

You want to know why he did that, Gordo? Because he knows that he
couldn't hack it in one on one competition. Unfortunately, that's
exactly what he finds himself in tonight... singles competition with one
of the best in the business. But this is just the start. Callisto and
I are going to tear through all of the weaklings hiding in the tag ranks
and claim our rightful spot as champions.

GM: So you're focusing on the tag team division and your team with
Callisto Dufrense?

AF: Yes, those tag belts are my main focus at this point. I mean, I've
done more than enough to earn a shot at the National Title...

[Gordon looks incredulous.]

AF: ...but seeing as how I keep getting passed over, I've decided to
focus on a division where I can rise by my own merits. When Callisto
and I get those three points we'll get our shot automatically and take
those belts. No Championship Commitee, no politics involved whatsoever.

But first, I have to expose Despair as a joke. Just another day at the
office.

[Freeman turns away abruptly and slides into the ring, waiting for
Despair.  Melissa Cannon steps into the ring to join him.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is our MAIN
EVENT of the evening.  Introducing first... already in the ring at this
time... weighing in at 190 pounds from Sydney, Australia...

"SUBZERO" ADRIAN FREEEEEMAN!

[Freeman smirks at the jeering crowd as he leans back against the
buckles.]

GM:  He looks pretty confident in there, Bucky.

BW:  When doesn't he look confident, Gordo?  And rightfully so, I might
add.

[Cannon continues.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[But before Melissa can say another word, Jason Dane dashes through the
entryway.  He makes a bee-line towards the ring where Melissa moves to
the ropes to listen to him.]

GM:  I'm not sure what's going on at all now... what is Jason Dane doing
out here?

BW:  I don't know either but... well, by the look on Adrian Freeman's
face, I'd wager a guess that he knows, Gordo.

[Inside the ring, Freeman looks like the proverbial cat that ate the
canary as Dane speaks to Cannon.  After a few moments, Dane pulls away
and makes his way to the announce desk.]

GM:  Jason, what in the world is going on?

JD:  Gordon, I was trying to tell everyone before Freeman interrupted me
backstage but apparently Despair is not going to compete tonight.  Not
to slander anyone but moments ago, he was assaulted by... someone.

BW:  Wait a second, Dane - are you implying that-

JD:  I'm not implying anything, Bucky.  I'm just saying that Despair was
attacked by someone not very long ago and he will not be here tonight to
compete as a result of that attack.

[Inside the ring, a badgering Freeman makes Melissa makes another
announcement.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... due to Despair not being able to compete
tonight... your winner of the match via forfeit is Adrian Freeman.

[Freeman leaps up and down in the air, pumping his fists in triumph as
the fans boo wildly...

...a reaction that quickly turns to cheers as "Hurricane" Kirk Maclean
sprints through the curtain, diving headfirst under the bottom rope into
the ring.  He springs to his feet, leaping into the air with a dropkick
to the back of the celebrating Freeman - a blow that causes the
Australian to tumble over the ropes and crash down on the concrete
floor!]

GM:  OHHH!  DOWN TO THE FLOOR GOES FREEMAN!  Maclean had seen 
enough of this idiot taking advantage of Despair's situation!

[Maclean doesn't even blink at the situation, sliding to the floor where
he pulls Freeman up off the thin pads by the hair...

...and HURLS him into the ringpost!]

GM:  TO THE STEEL!

BW:  Maclean's snapped, Gordo!

GM:  He certainly has.  He's gone off the deep end at the thought of his
partner being taken out by this goon!

BW:  Hey!  You don't know that Adrian did that to Despair, Gordo.  You
can't say that - you can be sued for saying that!

GM:  I may not know it for sure but... ohh!  AGAIN TO THE STEEL!

[Outside the ring, Maclean takes the mount and starts pummeling Freeman
with right hands on the floor.  After a few more blows, Maclean pulls
the Australian up, firing her under the bottom rope into the ring.  The
"Hurricane" rolls back in behind him, dragging Freeman back to his feet
inside the ring.]

GM:  Maclean's got him back up... setting him up top...

[Turning his back on Freeman, Maclean reaches back behind him and grabs
Freeman under the armpit.  He walks away from the corner with Freeman
high up in the air.]

GM:  He's got Freeman up!  He's got him trapped and-

BW:  DUFRESNE!

[The "Ladykiller" dashes through the entryway, diving headfirst under
the ropes into the ring.  As he gets to his feet, we catch a glimpse of
a metal object in his hand.]

GM:  HE'S GOT A TIRE IRON!

[Dufresne winds way back from the blind side...

...and SLAMS the metal bar into the side of Maclean's right knee!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

BW:  He nailed him, Gordo!  He drilled him right in the knee!

[Maclean crumples to the mat, clutching his now-injured leg as Freeman
drops down to the mat.  After a moment, the Australian regains his feet
and the rulebreaking duo begin viciously stomping the leg of the downed
Hurricane.]

GM:  We need to get some help out here and we need it now!  Kirk Maclean
has been violently assaulted by Dufresne and Freeman and... oh no.

[At a few words from his partner, Dufresne rolls under the ropes to the
floor.  Grabbing Maclean by the feet, Dufresne pulls him towards the
ringpost, twisting the legs around the steel and slapping on a ringpost
figure four leglock.]

GM:  Figure four leglock around the steel!

[Screams of pain echo through the WKIK Studios as Kirk Maclean cries out
in agony over and over.  With a twisted grin, Freeman stomps and kicks
at the downed Maclean...

...and then picks up the dropped tire iron!]

GM:  Oh no... oh please no.

BW:  Freeman's got the tire iron!

[The Australian rolls out to the floor, clutching the metal tire iron in
his hands as he stares at Dufresne ripping and tearing at the knee of
Kirk Maclean...

...and with the same wicked sneer, Freeman SLAMS the tire iron into the
injured knee once again!

With the crowd stunned into silence by the screams of pain from Maclean,
Freeman winds up and hits the knee again.  And again.  And again.  And
again...

...until finally a swarm of AWA officials and security team members
flood the ringside area to prevent Freeman from striking another blow. 
With much effort, they manage to extricate Maclean from the figure four
leaving him howling in anguish as the rulebreaking duo is forced away
from the ringside area...

...and 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...

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

Kid #1:  How was your weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kid #3:  I want one of those!

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

Kid #2:  At AWAShop.com!

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

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

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

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

...and then back up to live action where a solemn Gordon Myers is
standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, fans.  We apologize
for the extended commercial break but if you were with us just moments
ago, you saw the absolutely brutal and heinous assault perpertrated by
Adrian Freeman and Calisto Dufresne on Kirk Maclean.  Maclean was
helpless and his knee was savagely assaulted by that dastardly duo. 
During the commercial break, an EMT team assisted Kirk Maclean from the
ring and to a waiting ambulance in the back where he has been rushed to
the nearest medical facility.  We have no current word on his condition
but we hope to bring that to you as soon as it become available.  And at
at time like this, it's hard to say but... well, let's go up to the ring
for our next match...

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

MC:  The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall
with a fifteen minute time limit.  Introducing first... already in the
ring at this time... THE CHAIN GANG!

[Two generic-looking biker types by the names of Ripper and Torch raise
their arms to some jeers from the crowd.]

MC:  And their opponents...


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


[The crowd ERUPTS as the sounds of "I'm Gon' Be Your Sweet Daddy"
self-performed by Sweet Daddy Williams sounds out over the WKIK Studios
PA system.  After a moment, the curtain parts and one of the most
popular teams in the entire AWA comes shakin', jiggin', and jivin' their
way into the makeshift arena.]

MC:  They are Sweet Daddy Williams and "Hotshot" Stevie Scott...

SWEET HEAT!

[The cheers grow louder as the two fan favorites hit the ringside area,
making their way around the ring to high-five each and every fan with an
offered hand.]

GM:  Well, Bucky - I have to admit that I'm usually very happy and
excited to see Sweet Heat in the house but after what we just saw happen
to Kirk Maclean, I'm a little distracted.

BW:  Let's see - that goof Maclean got what was coming to him.  It
sounds like Despair did too.  If only someone would come out here and
clean Sweet Heat's clocks too, this would be the greatest episode of
Saturday Night Wrestling ever!

GM:  Unbelievable.  I can't believe you just said that.

[The popular duo climb up the ringsteps, moving through the ropes into
the ring to the cheers of the AWA faithful.]

GM:  Well, Sweet Heat may have their work cut out for them here tonight
as they try to get a point on the board of title contention.  With these
two big bikers standing in their path, I'm not sure this is what Sweet
Heat had in mind tonight.

BW:  With that fat goof Williams and that mental midget Scott in there,
you know this isn't going to end up well.

[After a few brief conversations, Stevie Scott stays in the ring to
start the match against Ripper.  The referee calls for the bell to
officially start the match.]

GM:  And here we go...

[The big brawling Ripper immediately takes the shortcut by raking the
eyes of Stevie Scott seconds into a collar and elbow tieup.  A few
well-placed right hands has the Hotshot reeling as he falls back into
the corner of the two big bikers.  From outside the ring, Torch reaches
in to wrap an arm around the throat of Scott.  The referee immediately
moves in to count as Scott struggles against the doubleteam.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  We've already got a doubleteam - an illegal
doubleteam, I might add - just moments into this match.  I'm getting
pretty sick of these doubleteams trying to injure an opponent.

BW:  That's because you're a bit of a fancypants, Gordo.

[A quick tag brings Torch into the ring.  The two bikers deliver a trio
of hard kicks to the body of Scott before grabbing him by the arms,
pulling him towards the middle of the ropes.  A big double whip sends
Stevie across the ring...

...and down to the canvas courtesy of a running double clothesline!]

GM:  Down goes Stevie!  A big double clothesline by The Chain Gang puts
the Hotshot down hard on the mat... and one has to wonder if the
incident with Kirk Maclean isn't weighing on the minds of Stevie Scott
and Sweet Daddy Williams as well.  The AWA locker room is very tight
knit and seeing something like that can't be easy for anyone.

BW:  You think so?  I'm thinking Sweet Heat is doing cartwheels inside
because The Dead Pool just got knocked out of the tag team division -
perhaps permanently!

GM:  Not everyone is as self-centered as you are, Bucky.

BW:  Sure they are.  They just don't want to admit it.

[The long-haired Torch drops an elbow down across the chest of Scott,
throwing himself into a lateral press for a two count.  Pulling the
Hotshot to his feet, Torch blasts him with a right hand that causes
Stevie to stumble back into the ropes, clinging to the top rope to stay
on his feet.  A second big right hand nearly knocks Stevie down to the
mat but Torch grabs him by the hair, pulling him back to his feet.]

GM:  Big whip by Torch... clothesline ducked by Stevie...

[And as the Hotshot rebounds, he leaps into the air and connects with a
spinning heel kick that knocks Torch down to the mat.  Seizing the
moment, Stevie wobbles across the ring and makes the tag to Sweet Daddy
Williams who races in with his fists a-flyin'.  He snaps off a couple of
jabs to the rising Torch before uncorking a haymaker that knocks the
incoming Ripper off the apron and sends him down to the floor.  Grabbing
Torch by the wrist, SDW whips him to the ropes, leaping into the air and
driving his rather ample rear into the face of the rebounding Torch!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Down goes Torch!

[Looking to wrap it up, Sweet Daddy slaps the hand of Stevie who steps
into the ring, stomps his foot a few times to rally the fans, and
without much fanfare, he snaps off the Heatseeker superkick to the jaw
of Torch, knocking him flat.]

GM:  Stevie with a cover - one!  Two!  Three!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... SWEET HEAT!

[The popular duo trades a quick embrace before exiting the ring, walking
straight over to the announce table.]

GM:  And we're about be joined here at ringside by... here they are,
Sweet Daddy Williams and Stevie Scott... Sweet Heat!  Congratulations on
your victory, guys.

[Sweet Daddy Williams takes the mic as Stevie Scott nods in thanks.]

SDW:  Thankya very much, Gordie.  

GM:  I have to say though - after you both got to the ring, you didn't
quite seem like your normal cheerful selves.  You seemed somewhat
distracted.

SDW:  Well, we was... we was.  You know, the Hotshot and mahself have
been runnin' round these parts since Day One now and we both have seen a
lot of bad things go down, ya dig?

GM:  You're referring to what we just saw with Kirk Maclean?

SDW:  That's exactly right, baby.  What we saw?  What happened?  That
just ain't right.  It just ain't right at all.  Those two roodypoos
Freeman and Dufresne have been causin' all sorts of ruckus 'round 'bout
town for months and the Hotshot and mahself... well, we's thinkin' it's
'bout time to do somethin' 'bout it, ya dig?

GM:  Is that a challenge?

SDW:  It's a-

[The crowd begins to boo as Vladimir Velikov and the National Champion,
Kolya Sudakov, walk through the curtain.  The National title belt is
slung over the shoulder of the Russian War Machine as they approach the
announce desk.]

GM:  What in the-

SDW:  What's up with this now?  What is up with this?

[The Russians draw closer, Vladimir Velikov snatching the mic as he
approaches.]

VV:  No one cares about your challenges.  No one cares who you think you
can beat.  And no one cares about Kirk Maclean.  You are taking up the
interview time of my nephew, a true winner - a true champion - Kolya
Sudakov, the Russian War Machine!  Step aside, Comrades, and we will
forgive this offense.

[Stevie Scott starts to step towards Velikov but Gordon Myers and Sweet
Daddy Williams step in his path.]

VV:  Your friends are wise, Comrade Hotspot.  The Russians have
unfinished business with you going back to WarGames.  We have not
forgotten your weakness - your cowardice, your American values that
humiliated us in the cage.  Step aside, Comrade Hotspot or we may... how
you say... choose tonight to remember it.

[The tussle grows a bit as both teams get a little more aggressive.]

GM:  Gentlemen!  Gentlemen, restrain yourselves!

[The camera abruptly fades to black...

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

Kid #1:  How was your weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kid #3:  I want one of those!

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

Kid #2:  At AWAShop.com!

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

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

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

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

...and then back up on the announce desk where Gordon Myers is standing
with both Russians.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - well, we were able to get Sweet Heat out of
here to let these... these gentlemen have their interview time.  Mr.
Velikov?

[Velikov snorts.]

VV:  Gentlemen.  Watch your tongue, Comrade Myers.  I know what is
behind your words and I don't appreciate it... nor does my nephew.

[The muscular Sudakov glares at the elder play-by-play man.]

VV:  Everywhere nephew Kolya turns these days, it seems another one of
your Americans are stepping up to challenge him for the AWA National
Title.  Everywhere we look, there is a Mark Shaw... there is an Adam
Rogers... there is a Marcus Broussard... all lining up for their chance
at the title.

GM:  It's a tough group.

VV:  It is... it is.  But it is also a group of cowards, Gordon Myers.

GM:  Cowards?

VV:  You heard me.  All your Americans talk... how you say... a big
game.  But who steps up to face Kolya?  Who ACTUALLY steps up to face
Kolya?  Not Mark Shaw.  Not Marcus Broussard.  Not Adam Rogers.  Not
even the weak and feeble like Soup Bone Samson.  They all talk about
facing the champion but none of them really have the courage to do so,
Gordon Myers.  Where are they?  Where are these great American hopes?

GM:  They're back in that locker room and if you keep talking like
that...

VV:  What?  What?  What will they do?  WHAT?!

[Gordon starts to back away.]

VV:  Watch the ring, Gordon Myers.  Watch what happens to your American
challengers when they meet a true Russian warrior - a champion worth the
gold he carries unlike your pathetic tag team champions.  That old
dinosaur Rust and his fat slob Jack.

GM:  Your mouth is writing a check that-

VV:  Gordon Myers, it is YOUR mouth that should be of concern.

[And with that, the Russians storm out of view towards the ring where
Melissa Cannon is waiting.]

MC:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute
time limit and is for the AWA National Championship!  Introducing first,
he is the challenger... already in the ring at this time... weighing in
at 205 pounds... Keith Smith!

[Smith raises an arm but keeps an eye on his incoming opponent.]

MC:  And his opponent... he is the AWA National Champion... accompanied
to the ring by his uncle Vladimir Velikov... he is the Russian War
Machine...

KOLLLLLYAAAAA SUUUUUUUDAKOV!

[The Russian War Machine steps into the ring, hands the title belt to a
waiting referee...

...and then barrels across the ring, assaulting a shocked Keith Smith
with a barrage of punches in the buckles.]

GM:  Sudakov's all over him and- whip to the other corner...

[And as Smith staggers out, Sudakov sprints across the ring...

...and OBLITERATES a dazed Smith with a running Russian Sickle!]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[Sudakov drops down to a knee, pressing both fists down on the chest of
Smith.]

GM:  One.  Two.  Three.


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winner of the match and still National Champion...

KOLYA SUDAKOV!

[Sudakov climbs back to his feet, snatching his title belt away from the
referee.  The Russian throws the belt over his shoulder as he walks away
from the downed opponent.]

GM:  Well... what can you say about that?

BW:  Now THAT is a dominant champion, Gordo.  Who can actually stop the
Russian War Machine?  Who?

GM:  We'll see, Bucky.  We'll see.  Joining us at this time will be a
man who performed a most despicable action on, of all days, Christmas,
by outright assaulting Juan Vasquez at the conclusion of the National
Tag Team title bout. Please welcome the "Catch Thug", Raphael Rhodes.

[The studio audience certainly isn't thrilled with the instruction, as a
cascade of boos greets Raphael Rhodes as he saunters out with a smug
smirk across his face. He is dressed for combat, sporting red
leg-length tights with white kneepads over top, as well as blue
wrestling boots with a single white star at the top of each boot. He is
also sporting a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off, leaving frayed
cuffs at the shoulders. Gordon goes to say something but Rhodes calmly
pulls the microphone towards him.]

RR: Oh my giddy aunt, you lot of oxygen thieves sure don't like me, do
you?

[Rhodes lets go of the microphone with a big grin emerging across his
face.]

GM: Well, with all due respect, Mr. Rhodes, you certainly haven't given
them much reason _to_ like you with your behavior since arriving here in
the AWA.

RR: Listen mate, I can't help it if they are jealous. There ain't been
another man like me to step through these doors and there won't be one
like me since. And I'm sure there was plenty of fan mail in the post
for the last month while we were on holiday because of some inferior
sport that showed up here, but it's all been carted off somewhere.

GM: I somehow doubt that, sir.

RR: You can doubt that if you want, but you ain't got much right with
you anyway, so pardon me if I ignore your opinion.

[Gordon looks visibly dismayed and disgusted with this turn in the
interview, but presses on anyway.]

GM: If we could, Mr. Rhodes, go back a few weeks, I'd like for you to
take a look at this monitor and explain your actions at Christmas Clash.

[The video is overtaken by the footage from the end of the National Tag
Team title match, where Rhodes attempts to nail City Jack with a pair of
brass knuckles but Jack is able to dodge, causing Rhodes to strike Juan
Vasquez instead.]

RR: Now see, I said I'd do anything to win those belts, and I ain't
afraid to admit that I wanted an insurance policy. Juan Vasquez cost us
the belts before so I brought my knuckle dusters just to be safe. And
there you see I was gettin' ready to knock ten bells out of City Jack...
all Vasquez had to do was just hold City Jack in place and I was goin'
to finish him off, and he couldn't even do that right.

GM: I disagree with that, sir! From this footage, Juan Vasquez did not
even see you with that dastardly weapon!

RR: It don't matter what he saw, all he had to do was hold him and I was
goin' to do the dirty work he was scared to do for him. And what did he
do, Gordon? He failed yet again and he went down like a bag of hammers.

[The footage then shifts to Rhodes assaulting Vasquez with punches and
kicks after the conclusion of the bout, including Rhodes slamming
Vasquez head-first into the ringpost as well as biting at the wound on
Vasquez's head.]

RR: And you see there, mate, I weren't too thrilled about havin' yet
another loss on my record because of Juan Vasquez.

GM: Don't you think you went too far? Don't you have remorse for your
actions? I mean... biting the man?

RR: What, ain't you been in a fight? You got to use what you can when
it's your life out there... if a man's bleedin' and you want that cut
open more, you take your teeth and you rip it open.

GM: That is absolutely disgusting!

RR: This ain't a game to me, Gordon. I ain't here to look pretty on the
telly, smilin' and shakin' hands and tellin' kids to grow up drinkin'
their milk. I'm here to win, and when I lose because of someone's
inadequacies, I tend to get a bit angry. Juan Vasquez did sweet F.A. in
that ring to help us win, and I'm sick of it.

[We fade back to the studio, where Rhodes' grin still exists, but Gordon
looks pale, clearly disgusted by the footage just aired.]

GM: And you're not worried about Juan Vasquez coming after you for
revenge?

RR: Look. I've been in a lot of fights. I've lost a few, sure, but I
won a whole lot more than I've lost. And it ain't nothin' to me to put
Juan Vasquez down again... you saw what I did to him, mate. I don't
need the knuckle dusters to put down a washed-up pitiful excuse for a
"man" who's not worth a toss like Vasquez.

[Rhodes points at the camera.]

RR: I know you're watchin', and I know you're seethin', Vasquez. You're
wishin' you could come right over here and shut my mouth because you
want all these people to think you're still tops. Well, you ain't tops,
Vasquez, and you're havin' a laugh if you think you are. You're at the
last stop of your career, mate... you come lookin' for me and you'll be
spendin' the rest of your life in a home, waitin' for a nurse to feed
you because you can't move your arms or legs anymore. Savvy?

[Rhodes sneers at Gordon, then walks away...

...and comes face to face with Juan Vasquez, still in street clothes,
now standing in the aisleway blocking the path of the "Catch Thug."]

GM:  Uh oh!  This could get ugly in a hurry!  This could-

[The crowd's yearning to see a throwdown is cut off by AWA security
rushing to the scene, eager to avoid any of the craziness we've seen
throughout the night.  And as Vasquez and Rhodes stand several feet
apart, screaming at one another over a sea of AWA officials, we fade to
black...

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

Kid #1:  How was your weekend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kid #3:  I want one of those!

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

Kid #2:  At AWAShop.com!

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

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

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

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

...and then back up on the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing.]

MC: This match is scheduled for one fall, with a fifteen minute time
limit. Already in the ring at this time, from Alexandria, Virginia...
weighing 282 pounds...


KENNY PRESTON!


[Preston, in great shape, raises his hands to the audience and then
pounds his chest, letting out a loud war whoop.]

GM: Kenny Preston's a second generation wrestler, Bucky, son of the
great "Dream Machine" John Preston. What do you know about him?

BW: Well he's a big strong baby bull, Gordo, y'know, he's a puppy with
big paws. He's gonna be a player one day, but he needs some schoolin' in
the ring. 

GM: His opponent might just be the guy to give it to him.

[Back to Melissa.]

MC: His opponent... from San Jose, California... weighing in tonight at
252 pounds... the former AWA National champion!

MARCUS BROUUUUUSSAAAAAAAAAAAARD!

["Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing fires up in the WKIK Studios to a loud
reaction. Mostly boos, but some cheers as well, as the former AWA
National Champion walks out. He wears gold wrestling trunks and gold
boots, with matching knee pads and white wrist tape. His dirty blonde
hair is cut a little shorter than before, and his once stubbley face is
clean shaven. He still shows the same focus and concentration as ever,
walking to the ring with a calm demeanor and his eyes locked on the
ring.]

GM: The San Jose Shark trying to get some momentum back on his side here
on AWA Saturday Night, after a fairly uneventful return.

BW: Believe it or not, the Shark got lost in the shuffle since he came
back. He had some business with Ron Houston, who got run out of town by
Sudakov, and he's been looking for something to do since then.

GM: As of late, Broussard has laid out a challenge to the National
Champion, and of course has gotten tangled up in the Rogers/Shaw mess.
It's fair to say that with a few good matches, Broussard could be right
back on top of the heap.

BW: A champion don't forget how to be a champion, Gordo, 'specially not
one like Marcus Broussard. It's only a matter of time.

[Broussard enters the ring and raises his hands, as Michael Meekly pats
him down for objects. Satisfied, the referee backs off as Broussard
loosens up in the corner.]


*DING DING DING*


GM: Broussard in the corner loosening up, Preston being checked down by
the ref, and the match has officially started. A classic battle of
strength against skill, as the two competitors circle one another...
collar and elbow tieup to start the match, and Broussard easily
manuevers into a side headlock.

BW: The San Jose Shark is silky smooth, daddy, and young Preston may
just find that out.

GM: Kenny Preston grabs Marcus and throws him into the ropes, and hits a
shoulderblock on the way back. That must be like running into a brick
wall. 

BW: Kenny Preston is sturdy, no denyin' that.

[Broussard gets to his feet and charges Preston again... and again
catches a shoulderblock, this time knocking him down.]

GM: A second big shoulderblock by the youngster, who's crouched in the
ring, daring Broussard to charge at him again... Broussard charges,
Preston swings- no, Broussard slides between the legs of the big man!
And now he grabs the side headlock again, and takes him over!

[Polite applause from the crowd, as Marcus wins the first battle of
wits.]

GM: Broussard gets the big man right where he wants him, back on the
canvas, but my goodness did he have to struggle for it.

BW: But he got the big man down on the canvas, mission accomplished. 

[Not for long...]

GM: But Kenny Preston fights right back up and grabs Marcus around the
waist, lifting him into the aiirrr- no, Broussard shifts his weight and
brings Preston right back down to the mat. Broussard now really cinching
in on that side headlock, applying undue pressure to the head and neck
of Kenny Preston. 

BW: He about to pop his head off like a bottle cap.

GM: Preston again now, trying to get to standing base, powering up to a
vertical position on brute strength alone... he's got Marcus on one
foot, and lifts him now, let's see if Broussard can shift his weight
again-



"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUD!"



GM: Oh no, not in the slightest, Broussard tried to use his leverage to
bring Preston to the mat but the rookie just shotputted him halfway
across the ring!

BW: He coulda won second place at the county fair with that one, Gordo,
there wasn't no technique there, he just chucked 'im.

GM: The former National champ was a little taken a back by that one, as
helps himself up in the corner...

[And he doesn't hear the rumbling Preston, who is sprinting toward the
corner and aiming for the nose...






"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"]

BW: Sweet jiminy Jesus!

GM: That could have knocked Broussard's lights out! An hellacious mafia
kick from the thundering Kenny Preston, and he about sent Broussard into
the Southern hemisphere with that. 

BW: He caught him in a perfect position, Gordo, Marcus was just turning
around in the corner, his body had nowhere to go and that left his head
and knock to take all the impact.

GM: That most definitely rung the bell of Marcus Broussard, and Kenny
Preston has seized control of this match! Hard whip to the otherside...


"OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!"



GM: Biiiiig avalanche in the corner! 

BW: Flattened him like a flapjack baby, with a side of double bacon and
homefries, extra crispy.

[Mmmmmmm. Denny's.]

GM: Broussard's on dream street as he staggers out- right into a double
choke!

[But instead of living out every young muscle head's dream and hitting a
Firebomb, Preston just lifts Marcus into the air and lets him stay
there, choking him out to a surprising reaction from the crowd.]

GM: The former champion is getting choked out right here in front of us,
and the crowd doesn't know what to think.

BW: These Longhorns hold grudges for a long time, baby, and Marcus
Broussard done wrong to a lot o' folks. But these Longhorns is also dumb
as dirt, and they couldn't see the beauty in Marcus beforehand. Either
way, gonna be a long time before they forgive him.

GM: Kenny Preston throws Marcus into the corner and rumbles to the far
ropes, as Broussard stumbles out of the corner...




"WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!"





BW: HEY-OH!

GM: Big lariat from the big rookie, and Marcus Broussard corkscrews to
the mat! This is unbelievable Bucky! An unheralded, unknown, unseen
rookie from God knows where is on the precipice of a monumental victory!

BW: Toddy Mike must be on pins and needles, baby, because this is one of
his kids standing toe to toe with the San Jose Shark!

[Preston drags Broussard to his feet, then lifts him onto his shoulders.
Marcus slides off to Preston's right and shoves him into the ropes, but
Kenny bounces back with a kick to the gut. He easily steps into a
vertical headscissors and _lifts_ for a powerbomb, but at the height of
the lift Broussard buries his thumb in Preston's eye!]

GM: That's an underhanded trick, but Broussard _needed_ to pull that out
of his bag. Preston's clawing at his eye, trying to get his vision
right, and here comes Marcus Broussard off the ropes--!







"THUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDD!!!"







BW: PUT THE BABY TO BED, THAT DONE DID IT!

GM: THUNDEROUS SPINNING SPINEBUSTER BY KENNY PRESTON! MARCUS BROUSSARD
DEFLATED LIKE A BALLOON WITH A HOLE IN IT!

[Preston, unwisely, pops to his feet and pounds his chest at the crowd,
bellowing at the audience who gives it right back to him!]

BW: What in the heck, cover him you dummy!

GM: Preston drops into a belated cover...

[The crowd, sensing they're seeing something huge, counts along...]








"ONE!!"












"TWO!!!"
















"OOOOOOOHHHHHH!"


[The crowd stomps their feet and claps at the unexpected competitive
match.]


GM: Marcus Broussard kicks out after a picture perfect spinning
spinebuster by Kenny Preston!

BW: I can't believe I'm seeing this, Gordon Myers, this kid is taking it
to Marcus Broussard!

GM: This crowd has become a pro-Kenny Preston crowd, and they are
showering praise on this young man right now! And Preston is just as
excited!

[Preston pops up and plays to the crowd, holding his arms out as if to
embrace the crowd's love. He turns around and points at the recovering
Broussard, who is on his hands and knees, and then goes over and
paintbrushes the back of the former champion's head. A light kick to the
side of the head, and Preston turns around to the crowd with a smirk.]

BW: Oh Gordo, I can't believe I'm seeing this. This kid is taunting the
San Jose Shark, and isn't paying him any attention. Five minutes ago, no
one knew who Kenny Preston was. 

GM: I am absolutely shocked at what has transpired in this match, and I
must assume that Marcus Broussard is as well. The former National
Champion is on his hands and knees, groggy to the world, and he's being
taunted by someone making his first appearance on AWA TV. 

[But Kenny Preston takes it a little too far. He casually strolls up
behind Broussard and pulls him out of the corner, talking large amounts
of trash along the way. As he turns him around, the cornered Shark
lashes out...

"WHAAAAACK!"


...with a headbutt right in the mouth!]

GM: Oooh, a headbutt right to the kisser, and that's an
uncharacteristically gritty move by Broussard.

BW: I think maybe his pride has been hurt more than anything, Gordo.

GM: A knee downstairs, and a European uppercut by the former champ.
Preston staggers back, here comes Broussard... running dropkick right on
the money, and the former champion is _rallying_ against this young
rookie.

[Not only is he rallying, but the dropkick sent the jacked up Preston
stumbling back into the ropes... where he gets caught in between the top
and middle strands, in essence crucifying himself in the ropes!]

BW: Uh oh, you're in trouble now big boy!

GM: Preston's caught in the ropes, and Broussard saddles up right next
to him!


"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"
"THWAAAACK!"


GM: A series of boots by a furious Marcus Broussard, who is now teeing
off with right hands to the noggin of Preston!

[The former champion calmly laces right hand after right hand into the
head of Preston, making sure each one hits the mark and has maximum
effect. After five or six, Marcus backs off... and then lays in a hard
back elbow to the side of Preston's face. The crowd, previously
anti-Broussard, now cheers for the hard nosed side of the Shark that had
not been seen before.]

BW: Dang jethro, this is a side of Marcus Broussard he's never shown
anyone. I kinda like it!

GM: Broussard's been man handled, and disrespected, in a way that we
have never seen before, and that's making him fight back in a way he
usually doesn't!

[By now, Michael Meekly has untied Kenny Preston, but the onslaught
doesn't let down.]

GM: Broussard with Preston by the head... headfirst into the top
turnbuckle! Preston turns around in the corner... and a _hard_ chop
across the chest! 

BW: I didn't know he had it in him!

[And now, back to your regular program, as Marcus takes a step back and
drills Preston right in the thigh with his golden boot.]

GM: A very pointed boot to the thigh of Kenny Preston, and another, and
one more makes his leg crumble. 

BW: And the Shark smells blood, Gordo, this is how he got his name.

GM: Broussard now, grabbing Preston by the wrist... whips to the far
side!

[Preston, still with a little pep in his step, goes hard to the buckle
but gets his hands up, then kicks his legs up and out, no doubt assuming
Marcus would be following him in... whoops.]

GM: Preston expected to see Broussard pass under him- but Marcus is
right behind him... chop block! He might have blown Preston's knee out!

BW: The big fella hit the deck hard, Gordo, he played too fast and loose
with Marcus Broussard, and The Man is going to make him pay! 

GM: Off the far ropes now... knee drop to the side of the face! That'll
have Preston checking his dental work. 

[As Preston rubs his jaw with his hand, Broussard makes his way to his
feet, turns his right foot on it's side and drops a knee on the ankle of
the big man.]

GM: A precise knee to the ankle this time, and we know what this is
leading to, Bucky. Broussard laying in a stomp to the ankle, now
another. Kenny Preston rolls onto his stomach, Broussard measures him-
and he drives the point of his boot into Preston's ribs. 

BW: The old adage is that you wanna keep a big ol' boy like Kenny
Preston on the mat, and Marcus has taken that to a new level, Gordo. He
hasn't let Preston _move_ since he got him down.

[Broussard gets real close to the gasping Preston and tells him in no
uncertain to "show some respect!" He follows that up with another
measured boot to the ribcage, and then continues the onslaught on the
lower extremities.]

GM: Broussard is now folding Preston's leg at a 90 degree angle... and
putting his boot in the crook of Kenny's knee...




"OOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!"




GM: My goodness, that'll, that'll break a kneecap! Broussard jumped into
the air with his foot in the back of Preston's knee and just
_obliterated_ that kneecap. 

BW: This is what happens when you don't show a former National champion
the respect he deserves, daddy, you get messed up!

GM: Preston is writhing in pain, and Marcus now is dragging him towards
the ropes... and now he lays that right leg on the middle rope and,
what's he doing Bucky, what's Marcus Broussard trying to- oh my!
Broussard has tied up the right leg of Preston in the ropes, and he's in
no shape to get out of it! 

[Cooly, Broussard ascends to the second rope and stands up, leaping back
into the ring and driving a hard elbow to the forehead. Preston
convulses as Marcus circles his body, and then drops an elbow on the
exposed ankle.]

GM: An all out assault on the ankle, like we expected Broussard to
employ, but it's come in one gigantic spurt of energy and offense.
Broussard now, laying in the boots, again and again and again and again.
He's shown very little mercy since Preston disrespected him, Bucky. This
is a Marcus Broussard we haven't seen before. Perhaps a more dangerous
one. And one who has been clean as a whistle, I may add.

BW: It looks to me like during the layoff, the Shark hit the gym hard
and worked on sharpening his offense. He's regained the focus he may
have lost somewhere along the line.

GM: The referee now _forcing_ Broussard to back off, and he untangles
Preston from the ropes, and I'd be very surprised if he can hold his own
weight. 

[Like Bambi learning how to walk, Kenny Preston gets a wide base with
his feet and then uses one hand to make a tripod, slowly pushing himself
to his feet, awkwardly... and then Broussard strikes with a kneelift to
the sternum, doubling Preston over.]

GM: Kenny Preston doubled over from the kneelift, here's Broussard into
a vertical headscissors... he lifts for a piledriver maybe... NO!
PRESTON STANDS UP OUT OF IT!

[The young powerhouse stands straight up, and Broussard flips over,
landing in a sunset slip position...]

GM: ONE!!!!!













TWO!!!!!!!!!!













TH- NO, PRESTON KICKS OUT!

[Broussard rolls him backward, and again, until Kenny Preston is lying
on his back... then Marcus stands up, grabs the right leg... and cinches
in the So Cal Clutch!]

GM: SO CAL CLUTCH! MARCUS BROUSSARD HAS PROCURED THE SO CAL CLUTCH!



*DING DING DING*



BW: And Kenny Preston has to submit! The San Jose Shark with another
victim, Gordo!

GM: But not without a huge challenge from Kenny Preston, who was seconds
away from a career defining victory. in fact, I'm going to the ring
right now to talk with him about it.

[A "THUNK!" is heard as Gordon Myers puts down his headset and starts
walking towards the ring where a triumphant Marcus Broussard is enjoying
some cheers from the AWA fans.  Broussard is all grins when Gordon steps
into the ring, shaking the hand of the veteran commentator.]

GM:  Congratulations, Marcus.  That was a very impressive win for you in
your return to the squared circle here on AWA Saturday Night Wrestling. 

MB: Thank you, Gordon. Good to be back in the ring, doing what I do
best. 

GM: You recently issued a challenge to the AWA National Champion at
Christmas Clash, but have heard nothing back. And you also got involved
in Adam Rogers' match with Mark Shaw, and were on the business end of a
wild Adam Rogers swing. What do you have to say about that? 

[Marcus wipes his brow and puts his hands on his hips, then leans into
the microphone.] 

MB: Somewhere down the road, I'll get my shot at Sudakov. He's the top
dog right now, he's got a strangle hold on the National Title and he
_is_ to be respected. 

But not feared. 

I've seen the carnage he's brought to the AWA since putting Ron Houston
down, and a lot of people seem to think he's a runaway train. That he
can't be stopped... but I'm not one of those people, Gordon. Many men
have I faced that were twice my size and twice my weight, and all of
them ended up in the same predicament. Wondering how it came to be that
the San Jose Shark made them submit in the middle of the ring. 

GM: Are you saying- 

MB: I'm saying it can be done, Gordon. Not that it'll be easy. 

[The veteran announcer raises his eyebrows and nods his head in slight
shock.] 

GM: Very bold words, Mr. Broussard. Perhaps you have some more bold
words for your former ally and mentor, Adam Rogers? 

[The crowd pops at the name, and Broussard can only smile.] 

MB: My former friend and mentor. Ha. This isn't the Adam Rogers I knew.
The Adam Rogers that went nuts with an axe handle, and whacked me in the
face, that's not the man I learned under and admired. He's let the
gravity of the situation get to his head and he's let himself do things
that he wouldn't normally do. Somewhere along the way all of the lessons
he taught me about cool, calm and collected disappeared. And in it's
place-

[Broussard pauses mid-sentence as his attention turns elsewhere...namely
to the direction where Adam Rogers is walking toward him from. Rogers
wears tattered blue jeans, a t-shirt, and carries the axe handle in his
right hand. Broussard steps back and holds up his hands, but Adam just
grabs the mic from Myers.]

AR: You've got some nerve, Marcus.

[Adam glares at him for a tense moment.]

AR: You've got some nerve coming out here and getting all preachy about
me. Need I remind you that _I_ was the one trying to tell _you_ those
things a few months ago? And what did you do, Marcus?

WHAT DID YOU DO?

[Myers and Marcus both take a half-step back, eyes wide at Rogers'
anger.]

AR: I'll tell you what you did. You _ran_. You lost your title, you
tucked tail, you ran away. And now?

[Adam laughs.]

AR: Now, you just show back up a changed man? Now, you want to come
tell _me_ about cool, calm, and collected? How about I tell _you_ a
little something, pal?

[Rogers pokes Broussard in the chest as he says those last words. The
San Jose Shark bows up a bit in defensive mode, but Rogers goes back to
talking.]

AR: First of all, let me tell you a little something about friendship.
It's being there for someone when they need you...like I _tried_ to do
for you, Marcus. Ignored phone calls, cold shoulder backstage, didn't
matter...I still tried to be there because I knew you needed it. But
let me ask you this.

Where were _you_ when _I_ needed you?

Where were _you_ when Mark Shaw was using every dirty trick in the book
to get an edge on me? You were God-knows-where, having a little pity
party or something about losing your precious title to Ron Houston. As
usual, Marcus, you were worried about one person.

_You_.

So yeah.

[Adam pats the axe handle that is draped over his shoulder.]

AR: You say I've lost my cool? Yeah, I've gotten a little nuts.
Because I _had_ to. Because I had to do _something_, since my so-called
"friends" were nowhere to be found.

Because I had to something when-

[Without warning, the words of Adam Rogers are cut off when Vladimir
Velikov and Kolya Sudakov hit the WKIK Studios for the second time
tonight.  Gordon Myers beats a retreat at the sight of the Russians in
the ring leaving just Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers alone with the
National Champion and his Uncle.]

BW:  Get out of there, Gordo - this is 'bout to get crazy!

[Rogers takes a double-handed grip on the axehandle, standing at the
ready as Velikov and Sudakov stand, ready to strike.  Broussard has his
arms up as well, ready to defend himself...

...which turns out to be a good idea as the Russians rampage in his
direction, enveloping him in a sea of punches and forearms that bullrush
Broussard back against the ropes where the beating continues.]

BW:  Gordo, get over here.

[There's a brief scuffling sound as presumably Gordon works to get his
headset back on.]

GM:  Fans, it's broken loose here in the WKIK Studios again!  The
Russians are all over Marcus Broussard - a vicious assault on the former
National Champion!

[Velikov's heavy blows manage to knock Broussard down to a knee,
allowing Kolya Sudakov to turn away from the San Jose Shark, staring
down the Natural...

...and inviting the Natural to bring the fight to him!]

GM:  Sudakov's challenging Rogers!

BW:  It sure looks like it!  That's a former World Champion in there,
Kolya - you sure you wanna do that?

GM:  Sudakov, the Russian War Machine, he wants it... but is he gonna
get it?  Is he going to-

[The boos start to pour down as Adam Rogers simply shakes his head,
turning away from his former friend and partner as the Russians batter
him in the corner.  Rogers steps out of the ring, dropping down to the
floor and not looking back as he makes his way towards the exit.]

GM:  Rogers is walking out!  I can't believe it!

BW:  After everything they've been through, Adam Rogers just walked out
on Marcus Broussard when the San Jose Shark needed him the most - just
like Rogers accused Broussard of doing!

GM:  And now Marcus Broussard is at the mercy of the Russians!

[Rogers walks through the curtain...

...just as Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams come blowing through it
in the other direction!]

GM:  SWEET HEAT!  SWEET HEAT!

[The fan favorite tag team hits the ring, Sweet Daddy Williams
immediately assaulting Velikov with a barrage of right hands that bowl
the elder Russian through the ropes and out to the floor.  The hefty
heavyweight goes through the ropes after him as Stevie Scott and Kolya
Sudakov start trading blows in the middle of the ring.]

GM:  We've got a throwdown between the Hotshot and the Russian War
Machine!

[The crowd roars with each and every blow thrown by both men - but soon,
Sudakov starts to get an edge, using his superior striking skills to
batter Stevie back against the ropes.  Grabbing him by the wrist,
Sudakov fires him into the ropes...

...and gets tackled by a fired-up Broussard!]

GM:  Oh yeah!  The Shark is all over the Russian!

[Broussard throws right hands as quickly as he can at the former MMA
star who tries to turtle up to defend himself.  Across the ring, Stevie
Scott slides to the corner, leaning over the ropes to check on his
friend...

...and then starts stomping his foot on the mat.]

BW:  What is that idiot Stevie doing?

GM:  He's- 

[Sudakov suddenly turns Broussard over, throwing a few blows of his own
before getting up a bit staggered...

...and turning around into a waiting Stevie Scott who lashes out of the
corner, catching the National Champion RIGHT under the chin!]

GM:  HEATSEEKER!  HEATSEEKER!

[The impact of the superkick puts Sudakov flat on his back.  Almost
instinctively, Stevie Scott dives across the chest of the National
Champion, cradling both legs tightly.]

BW:  Look at that idiot.  This isn't a match - there's no ref!

[But there is a very willing Marcus Broussard who drops down to his
knees.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEEE!!!

[Stevie Scott leaps to his feet as the crowd ERUPTS in one of the
loudest cheers in AWA history.  The nearby San Jose Shark gets to his
feet, glaring down at the barely-conscious Sudakov.  Soon, Sweet Daddy
Williams gets back in the ring, celebrating with his tag team partner as
the crowd continues to roar.]

GM:  STEVIE PINNED THE CHAMP!  STEVIE SCOTT PINNED THE NATIONAL
CHAMPION!

BW:  It doesn't mean anything!

GM:  Try telling Stevie that!  It may not be legal, it may not go down
in the record books, but on this night?  Stevie Scott is on top of the
world!

[And with Stevie continuing to celebrate with his partner and friend...

...we fade to black.]