The Main Event

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                           American Wrestling Alliance
                                 Proudly Presents
 								THE MAIN EVENT!

                         Live from the Moody Coliseum
                              University Park, Texas
                                 March 21, 2009
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[As the closing notes to the Andy Griffith Show theme fades into
nothing, the viewing audience is greeted by a quick but subtle
synthisized drumbeat in the background as Marcus Broussard appears on
the screen in front of a red backdrop.]

"Adam, they say tonight was unavoidable.  Everyone says they knew it had
to happen.  Everyone, I suppose, except for us.  But now that it's here?
 I'm going to take great pleasure in showing you that I'm a changed
man... both outside the ring...

[Broussard throws a towel over his shoulder.]

"...and in."

[We cut to a shot of Adam Rogers in front of a blue backdrop.]

"Marcus, you say you're a changed man and I say that some things never
change.  When it comes down to it, I predict that you'll show your true
colors to the entire world and prove that I was right about you all
along."

[Cut away from the Natural to the grinning faces of Stevie Scott and
Sweet Daddy Williams, the duo known as Sweet Heat.  Stevie speaks
first.]

"This match is the most important one we've been in as a team.  If we
win tonight, we get a shot at Kentucky's Pride and the National Tag Team
Titles and there ain't nothin' that's gonna stop us.  Especially those
big, nasty Russians.  Right, Sweet Daddy?"

[With a slap of his belly, the big man continues.]

"You got it, Hotshot.  The Sweet Heat Express is gonna rock and roll all
over those Commie scumbags and when the bell rings, there's only gonna
be one thing left to ask... 

WHO WAN' SIT ON SWEET HEAT'S LAPS TAAAANIIIIIGHT?"

[The duo exchanges a high-five before we cut to a shot of the Russians,
the National Title belt resting around the waist of Kolya Sudakov.  His
Uncle Vladimir speaks first.]

"Stevie Scott, you coward.  You are too weak to compete with the
Russians.  You are broken... a broken man.  You look past the Russians
to Kentucky's Pride?  You make the biggest mistake of your life. 
Kolya!"

[The National Champion rolls his neck before speaking.]

"Stevie Scott.  Stevie Scott.  You embarass Kolya Sudakov.  You
humiliate Kolya Sudakov.  But you no break Kolya Sudakov.  Kolya
Sudakov... break you."

[The camera cuts from the Russians to a stern looking Tin Can Rust,
holding up his half of the AWA National Tag Team Titles.]

"Rhodes, don't think for a second you can try to pull what you did to
Vasquez with me. Tonight? I'm gonna knock some sense...

[Rust slaps the face of his title belt.]

"Into your brain."

[Scene cuts to Colt Patterson.]

"I can barely remember my first match in this business but I have no
doubt that I'll remember this one for a long time to come.  Jackson, I
have all the respect in the world for you but that's not going to stop
me from doing what I came back to do.  

[Patterson pauses.]

"Tonight, Jackson Ross... you become the answer to a trivia question. 
'Who did Colt Patterson defeat in his first match back on the way to
becoming a champion once again?'

[Patterson grins as the synth drums kick up and explode into the sounds
of Animotion's "Obsession."  As the music starts, three words pop up in
red, white, and blue font on the screen.

THE

MAIN

EVENT!

The title image fades away to a barrage of still photo shots of the
participants in the night's matches - Marcus Broussard, Adam Rogers,
Sweet Heat, The Russians, Tin Can Rust, Raphael Rhodes, Jackson Ross,
and Colt Patterson - into one giant collage of photos that freeze for a
moment before shattering into pieces.

As the pieces fall apart to reveal a screaming giant crowd jammed into
the Moody Coliseum as the voice of Gordon Myers is heard over the
cheers.]

GM:  Hello everybody and welcome to University Park, Texas!  We are live
in the Moody Coliseum on the campus of SMU where over seven thousand
fans - a record crowd for the American Wrestling Alliance - have joined
us for yet another great AWA event!

[The camera shot dissolves to reveal Gordon and Bucky standing on a
raised announce platform quite a distance away from the wrestling ring
that can be seen in the background sporting red, white, and blue ropes. 
Gordon's in a traditional black suit with red tie and Bucky... well,
Bucky's quite non-traditional in a red sportcoat with silver glittery
text on the back that reads, "VOICE OF AWA!"]

GM:  Good evening, fans.  I am Gordon Myers along with Bucky Wilde and
Bucky, what in the world are you wearing?

BW:  I'm wearing the simple truth for all of the AWA fans, Gordo.  They
all know I'm the Voice of the AWA.  You do too - you just don't like to
admit it.

GM:  I see.  Well, we'll see about as the night goes on perhaps.

BW:  We sure will.  Because I've got news, Gordo.  Big news.  HUGE news.
 I've got news so big that you haven't even sniffed it yet.

GM:  Would you care to share it?

BW:  Sure.  I'll tell you when I tell the rest of the world.

GM:  And when will that be?

BW:  Later tonight on the debut of THE CALL OF THE WILDE - my new
interview show!

GM:  They didn't!

BW:  THEY DID!  And for the debut of The Call Of The Wilde, I've got the
biggest Free Agent signing in the HISTORY of the AWA!  We're celebrating
our One Year Anniversary here tonight and I've got the biggest signing
of those 365 days, daddy!

GM:  Well, I suppose I'm looking forward to your interview show debut
then, Bucky.

BW:  You'd better believe it.

GM:  The AWA certainly knows how to celebrate our First Anniversary. 
We've got your big announcement, we've got the Sweet Heat/Russians
showdown with Stevie and Sweet Daddy trying to get that final point, 
Colt Patterson making his return to the wrestling ring, and this huge
showdown between Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers!  Bucky, we've only
got two hours so let's get right down to it.  In our opening match,
we're going to see what I can only imagine will be a brawl to recall...
Tin Can Rust versus Raphael Rhodes!

BW:  The old man better bring his set of false teeth because the Catch
Thug might send a few of 'em flying into the front row, Gordo.

GM:  Both men are standing by with comments.  Tonight, Jason Dane and
Mark Stegglet will be serving as our backstage interviewers so Jason,
Mark... take it away!

[We fade back to the interview area where Mark Stegglet stands next to
the "Catch Thug" Raphael Rhodes. Rhodes is dressed in all black for
this occasion; leg-length black tights, black wrestling boots, and black
wrist tape to match his black leather vest. He has let his mohawk grow
out even more, now sticking up a couple of inches, and he sports a
determined look on his face.]

MS: Raphael Rhodes, tonight you return to action in what is
unquestionably your biggest singles bout in the AWA to date, going
against one-half of the National Tag Team Champions, Tin Can Rust.

RR: Right. Look, tonight means a lot to me. It means revenge, it means
vindication... it means proving myself to the world and everyone
surrounding that I am not just some punk with a chip on his shoulder. 

Tin Can Rust, you and City Jack... you lads really had a lot to
celebrate, didn't you? Two times you came across my path, and two times
I lost. This time, though, there ain't a 240-pound Spanglish-speakin'
albatross around my neck, tryin' to get into wrestlin' heaven by actin'
like not throwin' cheap shots and doin' whatever it takes to win was
goin' to mean anything. Tin Can Rust... you know what I can do when I'm
being restricted... but tonight, you are going to enter a world of pain
that you never dreamed was possible, not even in your darkest
nightmares.

[Rhodes starts wringing his hands with anticipation.]

RR: I'm goin' to hurt you, Tin Can Rust, because you've got somethin'
that should've been around my waist on two separate occasions. And the
funny thing is, that ain't even the main reason I'm goin' to hurt you.
You got a bollocks name and a stupid accent, for one. Those are some
good reasons to hurt you. You fight just as dirty as me but you try to
act like you don't, and that blisters me more than anything. I may
cheat, I may do things a little on the rough side, but at least I'm
honest about it. And for all I know, you could've convinced Juan
Vasquez to take a dive when we met up the last few times, because there
ain't no way you're beatin' me under normal circumstances.

[Rhodes grins.]

RR: But most important, I'm goin' to hurt you because hurtin' you means
I send a message to everyone that said I was too small, or too mean, or
that I don't play by rules so I'll never go anywhere. _My_ way is the
_right_ way... tonight will be just another example.

[Rhodes punches his open palm, walking out of shot in the process.]

MS:  Raphael Rhodes will be looking to make an example out of Tin Can
Rust tonight but I'm sure the veteran has other ideas.  Jason?

[The shot cuts away from Mark Stegglet to Jason Dane, who stands beside
the man facing Raphael Rhodes tonight - one half of the AWA National Tag
Team Champions Kentucky's Pride - Tin Can Rust. He's dressed in his
wrestling gear of simple black wrestling tights; he also wears a blue
t-shirt with the state of Kentucky on it. On his right shoulder sits the
tag team title. Rust seems... less than enthused to be here as seen by
his peeved look as Dane starts up.]

JD:   Thanks, Mark.  And yes, I am here with Tin Can Rust, and some have
said that ever since you and City Jack won those National Tag Team
Titles, you've changed. You seem to -

[Rust interrupts with a little bit of anger in his voice.]

TCR:  I "seem" to want to win, Dane. You have people talking about me,
that I've changed? If they want to say something, they can say it to my
face and not through you. Have I gained a little more... purpose? Sure.

JD: Then -

TCR: Excuse me, but I wasn't done, SIR.

[Rust looks down at Dane with a stern look.]

TCR: I wasn't done saying that I came here with a purpose of proving a
claim to be the best tag team in the world. CJ and myself, through a
long hard road, we proved that we can win it, sure, but winning the
title wasn't just the only thing to proving to being the best. We have
to win, each and every match against each and every opponent. If that
means me toughening up? Or me not being a friend to many in the locker
rooms? Then so be it. 

JD: That doesn't seem to be the way your tag team partner sees things.

TCR: Well, Jack's a different person than me. I'm my own man and I
intend to keep things on that level. Jack and I may operate differently,
but in the end we're still as one in the ring. We're still fighting for
the same thing, know that.

JD: Can you comment about tonight's matchup with Raphael Rhodes?

TCR: Who is Raphael Rhodes, Dane?

JD: He's -

TCR: He's a man without a thing to stake his name to. He's a man, Dane -

[Rust points to the back of him.]

TCR: He's a man who's never had anything - his father's never had
anything, his father's father never had anything, and on down the line.
He's a man, Dane, who WILL never have anything. He won't have anything,
his sons won't have anything, and on down the line.

[Rust pauses looking at Dane for a moment before looking back at the
camera.]

TCR: What I'm trying to say, Dane, is there are some people who work and
accomplish things. There are people who -

[TCR looks back at Dane, almost lecturing him.]

TCR: Go into their jobs and work hard - to the bone, Dane, to the very
bone - in order to get what they want. These people? They get what they
deserve for all that they've done. They get something - a raise, a
trophy, a -

[Rust taps at his National Tag Team title slung over his shoulder.]

TCR: Championship. And the opposite of these people - these winners -
Dane? Raphael Rhodes. Calisto Dufresne. Adrian Freeman. People who never
worked for a thing. They'd rather leach off others - stake their name on
someone else's fortune. And most importantly, Dane, they're people who
come from and will always be from a line of losers. But the thing is
Dane, when these people come up against a winner? They fold and fold
hard. So for your comment for tonight's match?

[Rust pauses for a moment, almost looking annoyed as he finally answers
Jason Dane's question.]

TCR: You'll see a winner... and loser in the ring.

[Rust walks off, leaving Dane before he can ask another question of the
newly talkative Tin Can Rust.]

JD:  A very different Tin Can Rust... in my opinion at least.  My good
friend, Melissa Cannon, is standing by inside the ring.  Take it away,
Melissa!

[We cut from backstage to the ring where the mohawked Raphael Rhodes has
just stepped through the ropes and is walking past the ring announcer.]

MC:  Tonight's opening contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen
minute time limit.  Introducing first, already in the ring at this time,
standing 5'9 and weighing in at 201 pounds... he hails from Wigan,
Greater Manchester, England...

He is the Catch Thug...

RAAAAAPHAEL RHOOOOOODES!

[The fiesty Rhodes steps up on the midbuckle, sneering at the jeering
fans outside the ring.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["The Fighting Side of Me" by Merle Haggard plays as the fans cheer -
despite some of his recent words and actions - for the man coming
through the entrance, Tin Can Rust.] 

MC:  Standing 6'6 and weighing in at 259 pounds... he hails from Central
City, Kentucky and is one-half of the AWA National Tag Team Champions...

TIN!  CAN!  RUUUUUUSSSST!

[He's dressed in his usual basic wrestling gear, but also wears the
National Tag Team Title proudly around his waist as he walks towards the
ring. He sports a determined look on his face as he passed by the fans -
almost reluctantly taking away his focus from the ring as he slaps their
outstretched hands. Rust climbs up the ring step and takes off the title
belt to hand to the ref before going to his corner to wait for the
bell.]

GM:  And Katie bar the door, cause this should be one heck of a
throwdown!

[Referee Mickey Meekly takes a moment and then calls for the bell,
sending a cheer through the Moody Coliseum.  Raphael Rhodes charges
across the ring, leaping into the air and striking with a right hand
that catches TCR behind the ear, knocking him back into the buckles.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a shot!

[The veteran is having none of it though as he starts firing back,
throwing big haymakers.  Soon, the two men are in the middle of the
ring, each throwing clenched fists as fast as they can.  The crowd is
roaring for the brawling action.]

GM:  This is exactly what we thought it would be!  Tin Can Rust and
Raphael Rhodes are brawling in the middle of the ring, trying to knock
each other out with one of those punches.  

[With Rust getting the edge with the blows, Rhodes wraps the bigger man
up, sweeping the legs out of from under him as they topple down to the
canvas, rolling around on the mat still trying to throttle one another. 
Rust tries to wrap his hands around the throat of the Englishman but
Rhodes digs a finger into the eye of his opponent, flipping him onto his
back where Rhodes quickly takes the mount, throwing big punches down at
his opposition.]

GM:  Rhodes is all over him!  He took advantage of that rake of the eyes
and he's working him over on the canvas!

BW:  Not for long, daddy!

[Just as quickly, Tin Can Rust gets the edge, throwing wild shots from
the mount to the side of the head.  He promptly grabs Rhodes by the
head, slamming the back of his skull into the mat to the roaring cheers
of the crowd.]

GM:  And now it's Tin Can Rust who is all over Rhodes!

[In desperation, Rhodes reaches up and rakes the eyes again, this time
causing Rust to fall away from him, clutching at his eyes to extinguish
the pain.]

GM:  This is crazy, Bucky.  These two are all over each other and they
barely have any history together!  It's not like this is Rhodes and Juan
Vasquez!

BW:  Good thing.  And we can thank the AWA security team for that,
Gordo.

GM:  That's right.  The AWA security team is on high alert once again
and are under orders to keep Juan Vasquez OUT of the building.  He
hasn't even been allowed in here tonight, Bucky.

BW:  That should allow the Catch Thug to focus all his attention on
breaking Tin Can Rust's jaw.

GM:  Ohh!  Big right hand to the side of the jaw by Rhodes might go a
long way to accomplishing just that, Bucky.

[Rust staggers towards the buckles where Rhodes quickly pursues him,
grabbing him by the back of the head and smashing his face into the top
turnbuckle.  Grabbing Rust around the neck, Rhodes snap mares him down
to the mat.  He raises a clinched fist, shouting something derogatory
towards the fans before leaping up...

...and smashing his own fist into the canvas as Tin Can Rust rolls
aside!]

GM:  Ohh!  The fistdrop fails to meet the mark!  That's gotta hurt!

[With Rhodes down on his knees, Tin Can Rust regains his feet, slapping
the canvas with a hand before getting up.  He pulls the Englishman up by
the mohawk, blasting him with an overhand right.  Rhodes fires back with
a knife-edge chop that Rust absorbs before connecting with another
haymaker.  The crowd roars once more as Rust and Rhodes stand toe-to-toe
throwing punches and chops at one another.]

GM:  It's breaking down again!  These two men just love beating the tar
out of each other!

[A swinging right hand gets blocked by Rhodes who drives home a crushing
headbutt that sends Rust stumbling backwards towards the ropes...

...where he bounces back, throwing a HUUUUUGE right hand that knocks
Rhodes off his feet and down to the mat where he promptly rolls under
the ropes to the floor, clutching his jaw as the fans cheer.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  Down goes Raphael Rhodes and all the way out to the floor
he goes!

[The crowd roars as Rust marches around the ring, glaring outside to
where the Catch Thug is kneeling on the barely-padded concrete floor,
clutching his chin.  The grizzled veteran bellows at Rhodes, ordering
him back into the ring.]

BW:  This is a very different Tin Can Rust, Gordo - even you can see
that.

GM:  He does seem to have a fire lit under him since becoming one-half
of the National Tag Team Champions.  Even in the tournament itself, he
seemed a little more fired-up than usual.  

[Sneering at the ringside fans, Rhodes rolls under the ropes into the
ring, popping to his feet.  He barrels across the ring towards Tin Can
Rust's back, arms raised for a double axehandle blow...

...but Rust spins around at the last moment, lunging forward in a
shoulder block to the midsection where he hoists Rhodes up into the air,
tossing him down to the mat in a sort-of backdrop.  With the crowd
cheering, Rust dives on top of Rhodes throwing clubbing blows with both
hands at the downed Englishman's torso.]

GM:  Look at him!  He's just all over Rhodes!  Rights, lefts, forearms,
punches - you name it, Tin Can Rust is battering Raphael Rhodes into the
mat!

[Dragging Rhodes off the mat, Rust slams his skull into the top
turnbuckle which causes the Brit to slump down to the mat, rolling under
the ropes again...

...which this time brings Rust out to the floor after him!]

GM:  This one's spilling out to the floor already!  Look out, fans!

[Rust grabs Rhodes by the head, spinning him around and uncorking a
right hand that knocks Rhodes backwards into the steel barricade
surrounding the ringside area.  A hard boot to the chest knocks Rhodes
to a knee where Rust smashes a headbutt down into the skull of his
opponent.  Grabbing Rhodes by the mohawk, Rust slams his face into the
canvas!]

GM:  This is getting ugly in a hurry, fans.  Rust has Rhodes up against
the apron and- 

BW:  That's a choke, Gordo!

[The referee slides to the floor, reprimanding Rust.  The veteran's eyes
are wide as he digs his fingers into the throat of the Englishman who
gasps for air.  As the ref's count hits four, Rust releases the choke...

...and shoves the referee hard in the chest, knocking him back a few
steps.  The crowd buzzes with concern at Rust's actions as he turns away
from the official towards Rhodes again.]

GM:  Watch it, Rust.  That's grounds for disqualification right there!

BW:  Right now, I'm not entirely sure that he cares, Gordo.

GM:  You may be right.  Rhodes gets shoved under the ropes and Tin Can
Rust is going right back into the ring.  Going right after him with a
vengeance!

[Rust rolls under the ropes, yanking Rhodes to his feet and promptly
wrapping his hands around his throat again, shoving the Englishman back
into the buckles in a chokehold.]

GM:  Come on, Rust!  You're better than this!

BW:  The referee better keep his distance this time when he's counting.

[Meekly certainly appears to do exactly that, staying back a few steps
as he counts to four where Rust breaks the hold before throwing Rhodes
down to the mat with a biel toss.  As Rhodes stirs off the mat, Rust
charges towards him with a clothesline...

...but the Catch Thug scores a double leg takedown, ripping Rust off his
feet and down to the mat.  Rhodes rolls across the torso of Rust, ending
up near his head where he starts throwing knees strikes from all fours
into the skull of his opponent.]

GM:  Ohh!  Knees to the head!  Rust trying to cover up and-

[With his arms up in front of his head, Rust leaves his body unprotected
as Rhodes pummels the ribcage with short right hand after short right
hand.  Quickly getting to his feet, Rhodes leaps in the air, dropping
all his weight down on the ribcage in a senton.]

GM:  Backsplash by Rhodes!  There's a cover!  One!  Two!  Shoulder up
from the veteran.  That was the first pin attempt of the night and it
seemed to come at a perfect time.

BW:  One-half of the National Tag Team Champions just came close to
getting pinned in the middle of the ring.  What do you think that would
do to Rhodes' chances of getting another shot at Kentucky's Pride?

GM:  If he can find a partner and run off three wins in a row, he'd get
that shot, Bucky.



"FIVE MINUTES GONE BY.  FIVE MINUTES!"



GM:  Ten minutes remain in the time limit for this match and at this
rate, there's no way they're going that long. 

BW:  Someone will be out cold in the locker room in ten minutes, Gordo.

GM:  I think you're right.

[Rhodes grabs the downed vet by the head, slamming his face into the
mat.  Staying on all fours, Rhodes throws knees into the ribcage of TCR,
continuing trying to soften him up.  The Englishman grabs the right arm
of Rust with his right arm, pulling it back.]

GM:  He's going for those crucifix elbows!  Rhodes is going for the
kill!

[The crowd roars as Rust struggles, trying to prevent his left arm from
being trapped between the legs of the Catch Thug.  Seizing the moment,
Rust pushes his weight the other direction, rolling Rhodes up into a
cradle.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OH!  I thought he might have had him right
there!  He wrapped him up in a surprise cradle out of nowhere and almost
got the win.

[Rust rolls to his feet as Rhodes pushes up to a knee and catches a hard
boot squarely in the side of the face, knocking the Brit flat as the
Kentucky native dives atop him, throwing clenched fists once more.  Each
blow causes Rhodes' head to slam back into the canvas.  Rust wraps his
hands around the throat of Rhodes again, swinging him back and forth in
another strangling chokehold.]

GM:  And again Tin Can Rust goes back to the choke!

BW:  Listen to these fans, Gordo.  They don't know what to think of Tin
Can Rust right now.  They want to cheer him but the old man's gone
crazy!  He's snapped!

GM:  And another right hand... one more to the side of the chin.

[Rust gets back to his feet, dragging Rhodes off the mat...

...but the Brit reaches up, raking his fingers across the eyes of his
opponent, leaving him temporarily blinded.]

GM:  Ohhh!  Rust can't see a thing!

[A fired-up Rhodes grabs the Kentucky t-shirt by the collar, ripping it
off Rust's back...

...and promptly looping it around his throat!]

GM:  RHODES IS STRANGLING RUST WITH HIS OWN SHIRT!

[The referee is right on the scene, screaming at Rhodes, threatening to
disqualify him.  Rhodes drags Rust towards the middle of the ring, using
the shirt to snap mare Rust onto his rear.  Tossing the torn shirt
aside, Rhodes drives the point of his elbow down onto the top of Tin Can
Rust's skull!]

GM:  Ohh!

[With Rust sitting on the mat, Rhodes stands over him, glaring down at
his opponent...

...and SLAPS him hard across the ear, knocking TCR down to the mat!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a slap by Rhodes!

BW:  If Rust didn't need a hearing aid for that ear before, he probably
does now, Gordo.

GM:  Rhodes standing over him... OHHH!  BIG LEAPING KNEEDROP!

[With the knee crashing down on the chest of Rust, Rhodes stays in the
lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  No!  Rust gets the shoulder up!

[Rhodes drives a few right hands to the side of Rust's head before
climbing back up to his feet, dragging Rust up as well.  A few
knife-edge chops knocks Rust back against the turnbuckles.  Grabbing
Rust by the wrist, Rhodes goes for an Irish whip.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by Rust!

[The whip sends Rhodes crashing chestfirst into the buckles hard.  He
stumbles backwards, twisting around...

...where Rust grabs him by the hair, running across the ring, and
HURLING Rhodes over the top rope and down to the concrete floor below!]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Rhodes is down!  

GM:  Rust is standing tall inside the ring.  The referee is shouting at
him, reprimanding him for throwing Rhodes over the top rope - for trying
to injure him.

[Out on the floor, Raphael Rhodes has crawled over to the steel
barricade, using it to pull himself up off the floor, trying to get to
his feet.]

GM:  Rhodes is on a knee on the floor - the referee is preventing Tin
Can Rust from going out there after him.  Rust wants at him... he wants
at him so badly... you can see the fire in his eyes, Bucky.  Tin Can
Rust has got something to prove tonight.

BW:  He said he wanted to knock some sense into Rhodes... maybe he meant
that literally!

GM:  He may have indeed.  Rhodes back up to his fee- WHAT THE-?!

[The crowd ERUPTS in confusion as a ringside fan reaches over the
barricade and DRILLS Rhodes with a right hand, knocking him back down to
the floor.]

GM:  A fan just... what in the world is...

[The fan jumps over the barricade, stomping on the Englishman as AWA
security comes rushing towards him.  As a security guard on each side
grabs an arm of the attacking fan, they knock his baseball cap off to
reveal...]

GM:  VASQUEZ?!  

BW:  That son of a-

GM:  Juan Vasquez isn't even supposed to be here!  And he just jumped
the barricade and went after Raphael Rhodes!  He's... he's fighting
against security, trying to get his hands on Rhodes!

[The camera cuts to a shot of Rhodes on the mat, his bottom lip split
open with blood trickling out of it.  He looks stunned - then damn angry
- as he gets to his feet and starts towards Vasquez.  But the sea of
security fills the gap between the two men, trying to prevent them from
getting at each other.]

GM:  We've got security all over the place keeping these two apart! 
This is getting serious!  These two men... man, what's going to happen
when they finally get their hands on one another?

[Inside the ring, a livid Tin Can Rust has backed the referee against
the buckles, shouting at him.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... due to the interference by Juan Vasquez,
the referee has DISQUALIFIED Tin Can Rust!  Your winner of the match...
RAPHAEL RHOOOOODES!

[The boos shower down on Rhodes as TCR continues to scream at the
referee.]

GM:  Fans, this is... unbelievable.  This is NOT the way we wanted to
start this night but this rivalry between Juan Vasquez and Raphael
Rhodes is going to explode!  Don't go away, fans - we'll be right back!

[The camera holds on the security-filled showdown out on the floor
between Raphael Rhodes and Juan Vasquez for a moment before fading to
black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then fade back in on Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde.]

GM:  Welcome back to the Main Event, fans - and we're already having a
wild night of AWA action here in the Moody Coliseum in University Park,
Texas.  Moments ago, we saw Juan Vasquez sneak past security to assault
Raphael Rhodes during the Catch Thug's match with Tin Can Rust.  Because
of that assault, Rust was disqualified.  

BW:  And rightly so, Gordo!  You know he and Vasquez were in on that
together!

GM:  I most certainly do not know that.  In fact, moments ago, I was
informed that Tin Can Rust marched straight from the ring to the locker
room where he was on the hunt for members of the Championship Committee.

BW:  What's  that all about?

GM:  I have no idea but as soon as we find out, fans, we'll be bringing
that information to you.  Coming up next, we've got a moment that many
wrestling fans have been waiting for for a long, long time... the return
to the wrestling ring of Colt Patterson!  He's standing by right now
with Mark Stegglet!

[Cut to one of the backstage interview positions where Mark Stegglet is
standing next to Colt Patterson.  Patterson is wearing black wrestling
trunks and a white t-shirt with "COMEBACK '09" airbrushed across the
front of it.  He looks a little nervous as he swings his arms across his
upper body, trying to loosen up.]

MS:  Thanks, Gordon.  Colt Patterson, you are just moments away from
your return to the pro wrestling ring and on National Prime Time
television to boot.  How are you feeling?

CP:  How am I feeling?  There's no one word that can sum that up, Mark. 
I'm nervous... obviously.  I'm excited.  I'm thrilled to finally be
getting this opportunity after all  these years.  I'm happy to be
getting in there with a young kid who deserves a break like this as well
in Jackson Ross.

This is it, Mark.  This is what I've been waiting for years for.  The
chance to get back inside that ring in front of a building full of
screaming fans.  To feel that adrenaline - that rush - when those fans
climb to their feet to cheer for me.

[Patterson shakes his head.]

CP:  You just can't describe it.

MS:  A lot of people are speculating that you may not be able to compete
with the younger generation of talent inside that ring.

CP:  A lot of people have been telling me my whole life what they
thought I couldn't do.  Nobody thought I could win the EMWC World Title
back in the day and for sure, nobody thought I'd become the only man to
do it three times.  These young kids are tough - no doubt - but you only
need to look at the OTHER part of this talent roster.  Men like Tin Can
Rust and City Jack.  Men like Soup Bone Samson and my best friend, Scott
Pain.  They're doing it, Mark - they're living the dream just like I am.

Do I have a long road to climb?  You bet.  But tonight's just the first
step down that road.  

Jackson Ross, I've got all the respect in the world for you, kid, but
that won't stop me from doing what I need to do to get back to the top
of this business.

[Patterson pats Mark Stegglet on the shoulder before walking out of
view.]

MS:  Speaking of Jackson Ross, Jason is standing by with the
"Thunderbolt."  Jason?

[The scene changes to a second backstage interview area where Jason Dane
is standing next to Jackson Ross.  Ross is dressed in silver tights that
go to just above the knee along with a pair of black boots.  His upper
body is exposed to reveal the lean, cut physique.  He claps his hands
together and lets loose a whoop as Jason begins to speak.]

JD:  Thanks, Mark.  Jackson Ross, tonight, for Colt Patterson, it's a
dream come true to be inside this building to wrestle on national
television.  And this is certainly the biggest match of your career as
well.

JR:  Absolutely, Jase.  This is Colt Patterson's dream come true?  Well,
it's mine too.  Ever since I was a little kid sitting in the audience
watching my grandfather and father inside that ring.  I knew this is
where everything would end up.  I knew that I was meant to be inside
this ring just like them.  Every time I laid in my bed at night and
dreamed about what it would be like to wrestle in front of a huge crowd
on television.  

[Ross shakes his head.]

JR:  I still can't believe that day is finally here and against a legend
like Colt?  Unreal.

JD:  You were hand-picked by Colt Patterson for this match.  That must
be quite the honor.

JR:  Absolutely, Jase, absolutely.  I'm thrilled that Colt wanted to
make his return to the ring against me and I'm even more thrilled that
we get to do it on The Main Event here tonight.  

JD:  Ever stopped to wonder if he thought you were an easy target?

[Ross gives Jason a stern look.]

JR:  Not for a second, Jase.  But if Colt Patterson picked me for this
match because he thought he could get over on a wet-behind-the-ears
rookie, Colt Patterson's may snap awake from his dream comeback quicker
than a...

[He smirks.]

JR:  Clap of thunder?

[Another big hand clap sends Jackson Ross walking off the set.]

JD:  Two men with a lot of respect for each other are both attempting to
live their dreams here tonight.  But only one of them can have those
dreams come true.  Gordon, Bucky... back to you.

[We cut back to the elevated announce platform where our two
broadcasters are standing.]

GM:  Thanks for that, guys.  And now, we can make it official before we
go to the next match... Tin Can Rust has DEMANDED that the Championship
Committee give him a match with Juan Vasquez on the next edition of AWA
Saturday Night Wrestling!

BW:  What a match that would be.

GM:  It certainly would.  No word yet on if the match has been made but
as always, we'll keep you up to date.  Now, let's go up to Melissa for
the big return match with Colt Patterson taking on Jackson Ross!

[We 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...

[The sounds of "Thunder Kiss '65" by White Zombie rocks over the PA
system.]

MC:  Weighing in at 245 pounds from San Antonio, Texas... he is
"THUNDERBOLT" JACKSON ROSSSSS!

[Ross comes charging through the PA system to a decent reaction,
flinging his arms apart as he slams to a halt, soaking up the cheers of
the crowd.  With a big grin on his face, Ross sprints the rest of the
way down the aisle, pulling up to a halt where he deadleaps up onto the
ring apron before slingshotting himself over the ropes and into the
ring.]

MC:  And his opponent...

[The music changes to "Fuel" by Metallica.]

MC:  From Chicago, Illinois... weighing in at 265 pounds...

COLLLLLLLT PATTERRRRSON!

[Some big cheers go up for the former EMWC Hall of Famer as he stomps
through the curtain into the arena.  He pauses there, looking around at
the cheering crowd with a big grin on his face.  With a nod of his head,
he keeps on walking towards the ring, making sure to slap the
outstretched hand of everyone in sight as he walks the aisle.  He
quickly moves up the steps, climbing through the ropes into the squared
circle where he throws an arm up into the air to gain a few more
cheers.]

GM:  You are witnessing a grown man's dreams come true right here and
right now, Bucky.

BW:  It's all very touching and all but I wish Patterson had to get in
there with someone a little tougher tonight.  Maybe a Raphael Rhodes or
a Gary Bright.  The Gold Bomber would have given him a rough night for
sure.

GM:  Colt Patterson hand-picked this young man, Jackson Ross, for his
return match... and there you see a very genuine show of respect there
with a handshake in the middle of the ring between these two men.

[Patterson backs away to the corner, pulling off his t-shirt and
throwing it into the crowd.  Referee Michael Meekly takes a quick moment
to give a few words to both men before calling for the bell.]

GM:  There's the bell and awaaaaay we go!

[The veteran is all grins as he walks out of the corner, side-stepping
around the ring as the two grapplers circle one another in the early
moments of the match...

...and then lunge at one another for a collar and elbow tieup. 
Patterson uses his power edge to force Ross back against the ropes.]

BW:  And now that goof Patterson gets to prove he respects Ross as much
as he says he does.  

GM:  The referee calling for the break...

[And Colt Patterson simply raises his hands, backing away from the
ropes.  The fans cheer the show of sportsmanship.]

GM:  Clean break by Colt Patterson.  You were saying, Bucky?

BW:  If this old fossil wants to live his dream, he'd better learn to
bust someone up when he gets a chance.  This clean break stuff is
begging to send him to the glue factory, daddy.

[After a few moments, the two men go for another tieup but this time,
Ross ducks under the tieup attempt and hits a picture perfect dropkick
right on the jaw, knocking Patterson down to the mat.]

GM:  Ohh!  Beautiful dropkick by Jackson Ross!

BW:  Shoulda popped 'im one when you had a chance, Patterson!

[Patterson crawls up to a knee, eyeing Ross a little warily as he rubs
his chin.]

BW:  And it looks like that smile is gone, doesn't it, Gordo?

GM:  It certainly is.  Colt Patterson is no longer all smiles in there.

[Getting back to his feet, the two men quickly tie up again...

...and the super-speedy Ross snaps Patterson down to the mat with an
armdrag.]

GM:  Down goes Patterson again!  And Colt rolls all the way out to the
floor now.

BW:  This isn't going the way he thought it would.

GM:  Not yet.

[With Patterson on the floor, Ross hits the far ropes, sprinting across
and dropping down into a baseball slide under the bottom rope.]

GM:  Baseball slid- ohh!

[At the last moment, the veteran side-steps the baseball slide kick,
allowing Ross to slide clean under the ropes to the floor...

...where a massive forearm shot from Patterson puts Ross down on the
floor!]

GM:  What a forearm shot by Patterson!

BW:  Now THAT'S what I'm talkin' 'bout, Gordo.  He popped Ross right in
the jaw with that forearm - knocked him flat, daddy!

[Patterson quickly pulls Ross off the concrete, rolling him under the
ropes into the ring.  The veteran rolls back in as well, immediately
pulling Ross to his feet.  A hard right hand sends Ross falling back
into the ropes.]

GM:  Colt Patterson with a blistering right hand.  This guy doesn't pack
a lot of finesse in his moves but there's a bunch of mustard behind
those blows.

BW:  Sometimes with age comes wisdom.  Maybe Patterson's realized he
doesn't need a bunch of fancy moves if he can hit someone as hard as he
can in the jaw.

GM:  Patterson's got Ross on the ropes... Irish whip...

[With Ross rebounding off the ropes, Patterson hits a running
clothesline, dropping into a lateral press for a two count.]

GM:  The clothesline only gets a two count.  Patterson drags Ross back
to his feet... knee gets buried in the gut... and he's setting him up
for a suplex...

[Patterson hoists Ross up into the air for a suplex but at the peak of
the lift, Ross wriggles free, landing on his feet behind Patterson. 
Dropping down to the mat, Ross pulls the veteran down into a schoolboy
rollup.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[The crowd buzzes as Patterson fires a shoulder off the canvas just in
the nick of time.  Both men are quickly to their feet off the nearfall
as Ross throws a series of right hands, knocking Patterson back towards
the buckles.]

GM:  Ross grabs the arm... whi- reversed by Patterson!

[The whip sends Ross sailing towards the corner where he effortlessly
runs up the turnbuckles, twisting as he leaps off the top and catches
Patterson coming in with a cross body block!]

GM:  Oh my!  Amazing athleticism by Jackson Ross!

[Ross rolls right out of the cross body press to his feet, falling back
into the corner as Patterson climbs up, falling into the opposite
corner.]

GM:  Here comes Ross!

[The crowd roars as Ross runs from corner to corner, leaping into the
air for a corner splash...

...and eats the buckles as the veteran dives out of the way just in
time!]

GM:  OHHH!  

[Patterson pulls Ross out of the buckles by the back of his silver
trunks, hoisting him into the air, and dropping him down with a belly to
back suplex!]

GM:  DOWN GOES ROSS!  Cover by Patterson!  One!  Two!  Nope.  He's out
at two.  And you have to notice that neither of these men are wasting
any time in trying to get the win here.  This is a big match with big
time implications on the all-important Top 10 rankings.

BW:  Especially for Ross.  He's already in at Number 9 in the most
recent Top 10 so with a win over Patterson, he might get close to
cracking the Top 5.  

GM:  And of course, at Number 9, a loss could easily knock you out of
the Top 10 altogether.  That Top 10 is what it's all about, Bucky.  To
get the big matches and the big title shots, you've gotta be in the Top
10.

[Dragging Ross up off the mat, Patterson hoists him up for a slam and
drops Ross down in a backbreaker.  Showing off his power, Patterson
picks Ross right back up...

...and drops down in a front powerslam for another pin attempt!]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- no!

[Patterson has a few words for the official this time before dragging
Ross up and connecting with a hard right hand that knocks Ross back into
the ropes.  Grabbing him by the arm, Patterson whips him across the ring
again...

...and catches him on the rebound with a spinning powerslam!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- OHH!

[The crowd roars for Jackson Ross as the rookie fires a shoulder off the
canvas at the two count.]

GM:  A very close nearfall there for Colt Patterson.  He came so close
to getting the win there.  

BW:  And Patterson is showing some signs of frustration.

GM:  Patterson dragging Ross off the mat, shoves him back into the
buckles... another big whip...

[The crowd groans as Ross' spine smashes into the turnbuckles. 
Patterson sprins across the ring towards the dazed Ross, arm
outstretched...

...which allows Ross to throw himself into the air, hooking the
outstretched arm with his arms as his legs scissor the other arm,
toppling Patterson down to the mat.]

GM:  CRUCIFIX ROLLUP!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[Colt Patterson kicks out of the cradle JUST after the three count comes
down.  Ross is immediately to his feet, celebrating his victory as a
disappointed Colt Patterson rolls to his knees, looking up in
disbelief.]

GM:  Jackson Ross caught him coming in with that crucifix and Colt
Patterson looks like he can't believe it.  He got caught - no shame in
that, Bucky.

BW:  Haha!  Are you kidding me?  After all that hype about his comeback
match and dreams and all that garbage?  This guy should crawl into a
hole somewhere and hope we forget this ever happened.

GM:  Give me a break, Bucky.  Colt Patterson was in control of most of
this match but he just came up short in his attempts to win it.  Jackson
Ross is your winner and - yes, I understand we've got Jason Dane
standing by with Colt Patterson's best friend, Scott Pain.  Jason?

[We cut to the interview area where Jason and Scott Pain have apparently
just finished watching the match.  Pain is shaking his head sadly at
what he just saw.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordo.  Scott, your best friend just lost his return match
to wrestling, a match he had been waiting a long, long time for.  Your
thoughts?

[Pain is still shaking his head as he starts to speak.]

SP:  I don't know what to say, Jason.  He fought a good match.  He
fought HIS match.  If things had broken a little differently, we might
have had-

[Out of nowhere, a giant muscular double axehandle comes crashing down
on the back of Scott Pain's neck, knocking him down to a knee.  The
camera quickly pans to reveal the Gold Bomber, Gary Bright, as he
delivers a hard knee smash into the back of Pain, putting him down on
both knees.  Jason Dane scampers aside as Bright rears back, driving
double axehandle after double axehandle down into the back area of Scott
Pain.]

"YOU DON'T INTERRUPT THE GOLD STANDARD!"

[A few more  axehandle smashes punctuate his statement before he yanks
Pain off the floor, pulling him into a huge bearhug, squeezing the
ribcage and assaulted back into the massive arms of the Gold Bomber.]

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?"

[Bright uses his powerful arms to swing Pain back and forth like a
ragdoll, before throwing him down to the floor in a limp pile.  Bright
stands over Pain, sneering at the veteran before striking a big double
bicep pose.]

"Do you SEE these cannons?  You think you can compete with these?"

[Bright glares at the approaching Jason Dane, driving a hard boot into
the ribcage of the downed Pain before walking away.  He grabs Dane by
the collar before exiting.]

"Consider that a challenge."

[And with that, Bright walks away.  The stunned announcer kneels down to
check on Pain.  The camera holds on the anguished Pain 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 then we come back on the elevated announce platform where Gordon
Myers and Bucky Wilde are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans.  It's been an exciting night of AWA action here
on The Main Event so far and we've still got two big matches to go. 

BW:  PLUS?!?

GM:  Uhhh...

BW:  PLUS?!?!

GM:  Oh, okay, fine... plus the debut of Bucky Wilde's new interview
segment, The Call Of The Wilde, where Bucky apparently has some big news
for us.

BW:  Not big... HUGE!  HUGE NEWS, Gordo!

GM:  Okay, huge news, regarding the signing of a new competitor here in
the AWA - a competitor that Bucky claims is the biggest signing in the
AWA's one year history.  When will this announcement be happening,
Bucky?

BW:  Later.  It's a Main Event worthy announcement so I'll go on when I
feel like it.

GM:  I see.  Fans, in addition to that, we still have our big tag team
showdown between Sweet Heat and the Russians where Sweet Heat will
attempt to become the first team to earn their three points and get a
title shot at Kentucky's Pride.  Plus, we've got the HUGE matchup
between Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers that is just moments away.  You
do not want to miss that for sure.  But before we get to that, I
understand that Jason Dane is standing by with the Chairman of the
Championship Committee, Stephen Ross, regarding some of tonight's
action.

[We fade to the backstage area where Jason Dane is standing with a
nicely-suited Stephen Ross.]

JD:  Thanks, Gordo.  Mr. Ross, with those two big matches still to come,
we don't want to waste any time.  What's going on?

SR:  Jason, there's been a lot of craziness going on tonight.  We saw
Juan Vasquez get himself involved in the Tin Can Rust/Raphael Rhodes
match.  We saw Jackson Ross score a big win over Colt Patterson.  And
not to mention what we just saw with Gary Bright assaulting Scott Pain
backstage.  There's a lot going on and we wanted to clear a few things
up.

JD:  Like?

SR:  Earlier, it was reported that Tin Can Rust had sought out the
Championship Committee to demand a match against Juan Vasquez since
Vasquez cost him the match with Raphael Rhodes.  That request was made -
and very convincingly so - by Rust.  We were ready to make that match
when Rust's partner, City Jack, suggested we make it a tag team match so
that the world could see the National Tag Team Champions in action.

So, on the next AWA Saturday Night Wrestling, in a non-title matchup,
Kentucky's Pride will compete against Juan Vasquez... and a partner of
his choice.

JD:  A mystery partner?

SR:  If you'd like, sure.  But Mr. Vasquez has been informed that the
choice is his and thanks to the AWA's Open Door policy, we're sure that
Mr. Vasquez can make good use of his personality to find the right
choice.

JD:  Big news there.  Anything else?

SR:  Gary Bright.  Scott Pain.  Let's hook 'em up on Saturday Night
Wrestling!

[A big grin crosses Ross' face.]

JD:  Two big matches announced for the next Saturday Night Wrestling! 
Gordon, Bucky... back to you!

[We cut back to the announce area.]

GM:  Big matches indeed.  Whaddya think, Bucky?

BW:  I think Juan Vasquez should reach into his Rolodex and find the
biggest, meanest son of a gun he knows and finish off those two
dinosaurs once and for all.

GM:  I see.  Anything else?

BW:  Speaking of dinosaurs?  I think on Saturday Night Wrestling we're
going to see Scott Pain become... extinct.

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

[The camera holds on the announce duo 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 on the ringside area where Gordon Myers and Bucky Wilde
are standing.]

GM:  Welcome back to The Main Event, fans.  And our next match is the
very epitome of the phrase "Main Event," Bucky.

BW:  I may not like either of these guys these days but you speak the
truth, Gordo.

GM:  For months, the writing's been on the walls.  This match HAD to
happen.  For these two men to get on with their lives, to move on with
their respective careers, this match HAD to happen!  Adam Rogers, Marcus
Broussard... two of the very best in the world... let's hear their final
thoughts before this monumental encounter!

[We cut backstage to Jason Dane standing next to Marcus Broussard who is
dressed for battle.]

JD:  Marcus, the eyes of the wrestling world are on tonight, on the
AWA's first birthday party... and solidly on you and Adam Rogers meeting
one-on-one.  Your thoughts?

[Broussard looks past Jason Dane, like his mind is elsewhere.]

JD:  Marcus?  What's going through your mind right now?

[Still no answer from the former National Champion.]

JD:  Marcus?

[Broussard finally seems to snap out of it, turning his eyes on Jason
Dane.]

JD:  The entire world is watching you, man.  This is your moment.  What
do you have to say?

[The San Jose Shark pauses.]

MB:  It's showtime.

[And with that, the Shark walks away.  Jason Dane shakes his head in
confusion.]

JD:  Hopefully my broadcast colleague, Mark Stegglet, will have better
luck with the former World Champion, "The Natural" Adam Rogers.  Mark?

[And backstage we go to Mark Stegglet standing by with Adam Rogers.]

MS: I'm here with former world heavyweight champion, "The Natural" Adam
Rogers, who is set for his big match tonight against former ally Marcus
Broussard. Adam, first of all, what thoughts do you have on the special
interview Marcus did earlier this week?

[Rogers shrugs his shoulders with a "whatever" look on his face.]

AR: Didn't watch it. Don't care.

MS: You don't care?

AR: No. I don't care because it was a bunch of bullcrap. You know how
to tell when Marcus Broussard is lying?

MS: No...I don't.

AR: When his mouth is moving.

I'm done listening to Broussard. I'm done talking about Broussard. I'm
_done_ with Marcus Broussard. I'm going to go out there, get this crap
over with, and get on with my life.

_Without_ that selfish bast-

MS: BACK TO YOU, GORDON!

[Cut back to Myers and Wilde.]

GM:  Well, fans... it appears that for our two combatants, the time for
talk is over.

BW:  Take a clue.

GM:  I believe I will.  The hype has ended - the match is on or as
Marcus Broussard put it...

It's showtime.  

[Gordon grins.]

GM:  Melissa, take it away!

[With that, we dissolve to the ring where Melissa Cannon is standing. 
The arena is buzzing with anticipation, lending a completely different
feel to this moment... this match.]

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

["Smoke On The Water" by Deep Purple starts up to a slightly more mixed
reaction than one might usually expect for the man who uses that music
to announce his arrival.]

MC:  From Naples, Florida... standing 6'3 and weighing in at 243
pounds...

He is "The Natural"...

AAAAAADAM ROOOOOOGERRRSSS!!!

[Rogers walks through the entrance curtain into the arena, receiving far
more cheers for his arrival.  He looks around the jam-packed building
for a moment before starting the walk towards the ring.  Rogers is all
business as he makes his way down the aisle, ignoring the outstretched
hands of the fans on the barricade.]

GM:  The former World Champion - the last man to hold the
ever-prestigious EMWC World Championship - is on his way to the ring and
he looks more focused than I can ever recall seeing him, Bucky.

BW:  Rogers made no secret of it in his interview, Gordo.  He wants to
get through this match and get on with his life.  He's done with Marcus
Broussard.  All that's left is to show the rest of the wrestling world
why they should be as well.

GM:  Bucky, you and Marcus Broussard used to be-

BW:  I know, I know.  Don't remind me.

[Rogers steps through the ropes into the ring, tugging his knee and
elbow pads into place as he steps back into the corner, waiting for his
opponent.]

MC:  And his opponent...

["Super Bon Bon" by Soul Coughing starts up to an equally mixed reaction
from the AWA faithful.]

MC:  From San Jose, California... standing 6'3 and weighing in at 252
pounds... he is the San Jose Shark and a former AWA National Champion...

MARRRRRRCUS BROUUUUUSSARRRRD!

[The San Jose Shark steps into the Moody Coliseum to a blast of cheers
and boos.  He grimaces slightly at the reaction but keeps his game face
on, staring up into the ring where Adam Rogers is waiting for him. 
Dressed in dark blue trunks with gold stripes on the side, the Shark
starts the path towards the ring.]

GM:  And from the reaction these fans are giving Marcus Broussard, you
can tell that this crowd is just about split down the middle, Bucky.

BW:  Between the people who don't trust Broussard yet and the people who
don't like Rogers' recent attitude, I'm not surprised in the least. 
Frankly, I don't give two leaping lizards about either of 'em.

GM:  Does this go back to Broussard assaulting you following his loss of
the National Title?

BW:  Not at all, Gordo.  This goes back to Marcus Broussard betraying
HIS fans and betraying himself to try and be some baby-kissing Boy Scout
that we all know he's not.

GM:  He says-

BW:  I know what he says and I know what I know.  He can try to fool
everyone in the world including himself but I know that he's the same
dastardly son of a gun he's always been even if he won't admit it.

[Broussard rolls under the bottom rope into the ring, popping up to a
knee ready to defend himself if Rogers gets off to a quick start.  But
instead, he finds the Natural simply staring at him, waiting for the
match to begin.  The San Jose Shark slowly gets to his feet, keeping his
gaze locked on Rogers as he backs across to the opposite corner.]

GM:  This is what this night is all about.  All roads let to this
encounter between these two warriors.  Fans, before the bell rings,
we've got to take a quick break!  Don't go away!

[The camera holds on the staredown from across the ring between
Broussard and Rogers 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 on the ring where referee Mickey Meekly is
standing between the two combatants in the middle of the ring.  With a
quick gesture of his hand, we hear the bell ring and Meekly gesture the
two men towards one another.]

GM:  And here we go!

[As the bell rings, Broussard comes sprinting across the ring at top
speed, surprising Adam Rogers with a flurry of rights and lefts that
knocks Rogers off his feet and down to the mat.]

GM:  Oh my!  Broussard is all over him!  I didn't expect this match to
start like this and I don't think Adam Rogers did either!

BW:  He definitely didn't.  With two wrestlers as well-known for their
mat wrestling skills as these two are, you'd expect a lot of
hold/counterhold action.  But Marcus Broussard is taking the fight right
to the Natural!

GM:  And Rogers turns it over!  The Natural is taking it to Broussard
now!  Adam Rogers is no stranger to a fight if he needs one.  He's had
absolute wars over the years with men like Caleb Temple, Chris Courtade,
and countless others!

[With Rogers on top of the San Jose Shark, throwing blows down at the
head of his rival, Broussard brings up his arms, trying to cover up from
the assault.  The referee is on the scene, shouting for Rogers to break
it up.]

GM:  The ref is telling Rogers to use an open hand and-


"SLAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  OHHH!  What a shot by Rogers!

BW:  He wanted an open hand - he got one!  Adam Rogers just slapped the
taste right out of Broussard's mouth!

GM:  A complete lack of respect being shown off by the Natural!

[Rogers climbs off the downed Broussard, glaring at the referee who
continues to reprimand him.]

GM:  Well, this one started off with a fire like I didn't ex- WHOA!

[The crowd cheers as Broussard ERUPTS into a double leg takedown,
ripping Rogers' legs out from under him.  Broussard quickly retakes the
mount, driving fists down into the face of the Natural.  Covering up,
Rogers somehow manages to roll over onto his stomach, trying to prevent
further assault but Broussard breaks out of the mount, spinning round
and round across the back of Rogers before popping up to his feet.]

GM:  Broussard trying to demonstrate that he's in total control on the
mat when it comes down to it.  Rogers up to a knee and-


"SLAAAAAAAAP!"


GM:  And Broussard returns the favor!

[Stinging from the impact of the slap, Rogers slides back to a seated
position in the corner.  He reaches up to the side of his face, glaring
at Broussard who stands in the center of the ring with his fists balled
up, ready to continue the fight.  The referee steps between the two,
trying to allow Rogers time to get back to his feet.]

GM:  Mickey Meekly is trying to keep things under control here. 
Tensions are obviously very high between these two men and it wouldn't
take much to turn this into and out and out brawl.

BW:  What's wrong with that?  I'd like to see what happens when these
two BOTH throw the rulebook out the window and throw down like real men.

GM:  Rogers slow to get to his feet, shaking his head at Broussard.  

[Rogers points at the clenched fists that Broussard has armed himself
with, holding up an open hand in response.  The referee reprimands the
San Jose Shark who reluctantly opens up his hand, waving Rogers out of
the corner.]

GM:  And it looks like the fistfight is over.

BW:  For now.

[Rogers edges out of the corner slowly, waiting to see if Broussard
charges him again...

...and then they lunge at one another, quickly locking up in a collar
and elbow tieup.  Rogers snatches a side headlock in mere seconds,
snapping Broussard over to the canvas with a takedown.]

GM:  Both men down on the canvas, Rogers cranking down on that side
headlock...

[But the San Jose Shark wraps his arms around the waist of Rogers,
rolling him back onto his shoulders as the referee dives down to make a
count.]

GM:  One... two... Rogers rolls back the other way to break up the first
pin attempt of the match.  

BW:  Look at Rogers with that headlock.  He's not the biggest man in the
AWA but the intensity in his eyes as he cranks down on that headlock is
impressive.

GM:  And make no mistake, Rogers doesn't expect to get a submission out
of something like this.  This is Adam Rogers trying to wear his opponent
down by making him carry his weight around to try to escape the hold.

BW:  It's a sound strategy.  Both of these men are known for their
cardio.  Rogers immediately targets that strength and tries to chip away
at it.

[Wrapping up the Natural, the Shark rolls him to his shoulders again and
again only gets a two count before Rogers rolls back in the other
direction, cranking up the pressure.]

GM:  Rolled one way and rolled right back the other way.  Rogers remains
in control of this one and-

[Broussard forces Rogers back, slapping a headscissors around the neck
of the Natural and then cranking down with his powerful legs on the
Natural.]

GM:  Broussard counters with a leg scissors and this looks to do the
same thing as the headlock, wear down the Natural and try to take some
of that legendary stamina away from him.

[Rogers kips up, slipping out of the headscissors...

...and dives right back in, applying the side headlock once more which
Broussard quickly rolls into a pin attempt.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- ohh!  A little bit closer there!  

BW:  The difference on that one was that Broussard used Rogers' own
momentum against him.  He caught the headlock and rolled him right to
his back.  Good move by the Shark.

GM:  Rogers has the headlock on again and- Broussard pushes him back
down to the legscissors!

[In an exact replica, Rogers kips up out of the legscissors, dives into
the headlock, and gets rolled to his shoulders for another two count
before getting pushed right back to the legscissors.]

GM:  And now it's Broussard who is showing he can get out of that
punishing side headlock seemingly at will, Bucky.

BW:  Rogers won't like that one bit.

[Trapped in the leg scissors, Rogers does a back somersault which forces
Broussard to his stomach, freeing the Natural who grabs at Broussard's
ankle.]

GM:  SO CAL CLUT- NO!

[Feeling his own submission move coming, Marcus Broussard tucks his
head, front rolling to throw Rogers off...

...and then grabs for Rogers' leg!]

GM:  CLUTCH!

[Broussard applies the dangerous anklelock...

...but the Natural is right by the ropes, quickly wrapping his arms
around them and screaming for Mickey Meekly to force a break which the
official immediately does.]

GM:  Whew.  That was a close one for the Natural, Bucky.

BW:  It was a close one for both of them.  Adam Rogers might not be an
expert at the SoCal Clutch but I'll bet you he can apply it good enough
to do some major damage to Broussard.

GM:  Both men narrowly avoid that ever-dangerous anklelock submission
known as the SoCal Clutch... and Adam Rogers rolls out to the floor.

[The crowd jeers the Natural as he paces back and forth at ringside for
a bit, looking up towards the ring where Broussard is waiting.]

GM:  The San Jose Shark is waiting for his opponent to get back in the
ring.  The Natural trying to regroup a little bit, perhaps?

BW:  Gotta be, Gordo.  Rogers is not used to being outwrestled on the
mat and like it or not, that's exactly what has happened so far in this
match.  For every move by Rogers, Broussard's had a counter.  For every
hold, Broussard's had a counter.  So far, the battle within the match is
Advantage:  Broussard.

[The referee stands near the ropes, counting Adam Rogers outside the
ring.  At the count of seven, Rogers hops up on the apron, slowly
stepping through the ropes back inside the squared circle.  He rolls his
neck before edging away from the ropes towards the San Jose Shark.]

GM:  Back to the lockup... Rogers is pushing the Shark back towards the
ropes.  The referee calls for the break...

[The Natural breaks at the count of three, slowly stepping back as
Broussard balls up his fists, ready for a fight again.  Seeing no
attack, Broussard lowers his fists...

...and gets caught with a lunging knee into the breadbasket.]

GM:  Ohh!  Rogers caught him!

BW:  Smart move by Rogers.  He breaks cleanly to take Broussard's guard
down and then drills him in the gut with that kneelift.  

GM:  Irish whip by the Natural...

[Broussard ducks a clothesline attempt by Rogers, hitting the far
side...

...and then takes down a ducking Rogers in a sunset flip!]

GM:  Sunset flip!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR-

[Rogers just barely gets a shoulder off the mat in time.]

GM:  The San Jose Shark scores a near fall there.

BW:  Never forget how dangerous the cradles are of both of these men. 
In a heartbeat, either Rogers or Broussard could wrap this match up in
one of those tight cradles.  Sunset flips, schoolboys, small packages...
and don't forget the White Lightning rollup.  These two men are the very
best in the business when it comes to moves just like that.

GM:  Rogers rolls away, Broussard on the attack...

[Backed into the corner, Rogers is trapped when the San Jose Shark
drills him with a knife-edge chop in the corner.  Holding Rogers by the
side of the head, Broussard connects with a pair of forearm smashes to
the ear.]

GM:  Whip by the Shark... in he comes!

[Broussard charges across the ring at full speed...

...and runs RIGHT into the raised boots of Rogers that cause Broussard
to stumble backwards from the impact.  The Natural charges from the
corner, leaving his feet with a flying dropkick that takes Broussard off
his feet.]

GM:  Ohh!  Nice dropkick by the Natural!  

BW:  Not your typical offense from Rogers.  He's dipping a little deeper
into the well to come out with some moves that perhaps Marcus Broussard
hasn't seen from him before.  

GM:  A good point, Bucky.  At no time, can we forget the past of these
two men.  They've got a lot of history together so they know each other
very well - outside the ring and inside it as well.

[Pulling Broussard back to his feet, Rogers uncorks a chop that knocks
Broussard back into the buckles.  A trio of chops in the corner has
Broussard slumped down to a knee before the Natural yanks him up by the
arm, firing him across to the opposite corner.]

GM:  The Shark hits the corner hard... stumbling out...

[The Natural sprints across the ring, a clothesline aimed at his
opponent...

...a clothesline that Broussard ducks under, allowing Rogers to slam
chestfirst into the corner before he too stumbles out of it, right into
the waiting arms of Marcus Broussard who hoists Rogers high overhead and
hurls him across the ring with an overhead belly-to-belly suplex!]

GM:  OHHH!  WHAT A THROW BY BROUSSARD!

[The crowd roars for the big suplex, a move that causes Rogers to bail
out of the ring once again, dropping to a knee as he reaches down to
clutch his back in pain.]

GM:  Adam Rogers again heads for higher ground... that suplex really
caught him by surprise, Bucky.

BW:  Of course it did.  Once again, he thought he was in control of the
match and once again, Broussard turned the tables in a big, big way.  He
threw him halfway across the ring to the mat and Rogers is trying to
figure out what in the world is going wrong tonight in University Park,
Texas, Gordo.

GM:  Broussard hasn't raised the stakes yet though.  He has yet to try
to pursue Rogers outside the ring.

BW:  Once that happens, all bets are off in this one, Gordo.  That's
when you know that any friendship these two once had is long, long gone.

[Inside the ring, the San Jose Shark waves for Rogers to get back inside
the squared circle while the Natural pushes up to his feet, glaring
inside the ring at his opponent.  Rogers points a finger in Broussard's
direction, shaking his head back and forth.]

GM:  The Natural pulls himself up on the apron... what's he saying to
Broussard?

[Whatever it is, it sparks the San Jose Shark to race over to the ropes,
tangling up with the Natural.  A pair of right hands from Rogers gets
the edge for him, charging down the apron to slam Broussard's head into
the top turnbuckle!]

GM:  Ohh!  Hard to the buckles goes Broussard!

[Rogers slips through the ropes, sliding into the ring behind Broussard.
 Grabbing the Shark by the back of the head, Rogers drives his head into
the buckles again.  The Natural spins Broussard around in the buckles.]

GM:  The San Jose Shark's in the corner... Rogers winds up...


"WHAAAAAAAAAP!"


[A big chop finds the mark across the chest of Broussard, his arms slung
over the top rope to stay on his feet.]

GM:  Big chop on target by Rogers!

[The referee pleads with Rogers to get out of the corner seconds before
Rogers delivers another bone-rattling chop up against the turnbuckles. 
Grabbing Broussard by the hair, Rogers pulls him away from the corner,
doubling him up and driving an elbowsmash down on the back of the San
Jose Shark's neck, knocking Broussard down to a knee.]

GM:  That'll knock a man down for sure.

[A second elbowsmash to the back of the neck puts Broussard down on the
mat.  Rogers stands over him for a second before leaping up, dropping a
leg down on the back of Broussard's neck.]

GM:  And just like that, it looks like Adam Rogers has painted a
bullseye squarely on the neck of Marcus Broussard and is going right
after it.

BW:  That shows a different mentality from Rogers here tonight.  He
really does want to end this situation with Marcus Broussard once and
for all.  

[With Broussard on the mat, Rogers drags him up, applying a front
facelock, leaning on the neck of Broussard, pushing him back down to a
knee.]

GM:  Rogers continuing to work the neck - trying to soften up that neck
for something.  Maybe a DDT or a brainbuster.  

BW:  Or a hospital bed.

[Rogers breaks the front facelock, delivering a hard double axehandle
smash on the back of the neck that puts Broussard facefirst back down on
the mat again.]

GM:  A couple of hard stomps to the upper body of Broussard - the
referee is right there to make sure Rogers is using the flat of the
boot.

[A few more stomps to the ribcage causes Broussard to roll under the
ropes out on the apron.  Rogers reaches over the ropes, dragging
Broussard up to his feet...

...and suplexes him over the ropes and down on the mat!]

GM:  He brings in the former National Champion the hard way!  Big time
impact on that suplex, Bucky.

BW:  Both of these men throw those suplexes like the very best in the
game.  No exception there.

[With Broussard on the mat, Rogers drops down to a knee, applying a
front facelock once more, putting more pressure on the neck of the San
Jose Shark.]

GM:  Rogers applies that facelock, dragging Broussard off the mat...
pulling him over by the ropes... 

[A hard right hand knocks Broussard back against the ropes, clinging to
the top rope to stay on his feet.  A few kicks to the body follow. 
Ignoring the referee's cries to back off, Rogers grabs Broussard by the
arm, firing him across the ring...

...and executes a picture perfect drop toehold which causes the Shark's
throat to SLAM into the middle rope at shocking velocity!]

GM:  Ohhh!

BW:  Man oh man... that'll knock the wind right out of you.

GM:  Broussard's throat - his windpipe - slammed right into that middle
rope and that's not a soft target, fans.  That rope is steel cable
covered in a thin piece of rubber.  Having your throat slammed into a
steel cable like that could end a night in a hurry.

[Rogers moves back to his feet, grabbing Broussard's arms to drape them
over the middle rope.  The Natural races to the opposite ropes,
rebounding back...

...and THROWING himself in a cross body squarely to the upper torso of
Broussard, slamming his throat against the steel once again!  Broussard
collapses off the ropes, clutching his throat in pain as a shower of
boos pour down on Rogers.]

GM:  A devastating move right there by the Natural - and you can hear
the reaction from these fans for that move.  That was a dangerous move
and these fans are letting Adam Rogers know exactly how they feel about
it.

BW:  And Rogers doesn't look like he cares in the slightest.  This is a
very different Adam Rogers that we're used to seeing.

GM:  Rogers drops down into a cover - one.. two... kickout by Broussard.

[The Natural grabs Broussard by the wrist, dragging him over by the
ropes.  Pulling the Shark up by the arm, he drapes him over the middle
rope yet again.  The Natural steps out to the apron, measuring his
target...

...and then running two steps down the apron before leaping off,
bringing his elbow smashing down across the back of Broussard's neck,
again smashing his throat into the middle rope!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Rogers DRILLS him with that elbowsmash!  Fans, we've got
take a quick break.  Don't go away!

[The camera holds on Adam Rogers outside the ring, walking around the
ringside area with some fans giving him a hard time as we fade to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back on the ring where Marcus Broussard is sitting against
the turnbuckles in the corner with Adam Rogers standing over him,
driving boots into the upper body of Broussard.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans - and as you can see, nothing has changed during
the commercial break.  Rogers is still all over Broussard, stomping and
kicking the downed San Jose Shark.

[Grabbing Broussard by the head, Rogers pulls him off the mat.  He
drives a pair of elbowsmashes down into the back of the neck, keeping a
hold of him to keep him on his feet.  He reapplies the front facelock in
the center of the ring, slowly twisting around.]

GM:  Look at this!  Rogers is going for a reverse neckbreaker!

BW:  Continuing to attack the neck.  Rogers has a gameplan and he's
working it to perfection right now.

GM:  The neckbreaker is ready... it's set...

[But the San Jose Shark brings up his own hands, hooking them around the
wrists of Rogers and pushing up.]

GM:  Look out!  Broussard's trying to power out!

BW:  No way!

GM:  He's getting out of it!  He's escaping the neckbreaker!

[The crowd cheers as Broussard breaks free of the grip but quiets as
Rogers quickly turns around and buries a boot in the gut of the San Jose
Shark before leaping into the air, taking Broussard down in a sunset
flip...

...but Broussard rolls right through it, grabbing the legs of Rogers,
and flipping forward in a double leg cradle!]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THR-  NO!

[The crowd roars for the near fall as Rogers scampers to his feet,
driving an elbowsmash down on the back of the neck again, knocking
Broussard down to the mat.]

GM:  And again, Adam Rogers is right on top of Broussard - not letting
up for even a moment.  

BW:  Broussard had a moment to recover and regroup right there with the
cradle but Rogers didn't give it to him.  Rogers got right up and went
right back after the neck of Broussard.

GM:  Dragging the former champ to his feet now, Irish whip to the
corner... ohh!  Big back elbow to the jaw!

[Grabbing Broussard by the wrist again, Rogers fires him across the
ring...

...and charges in after him.]

GM:  CLOTHESLIIIII-

[The crowd roars as Broussard sidesteps the charge, allowing Rogers to
slam chestfirst into the buckles...

...and allowing Broussard to slip in behind him, reaching back with both
arms to underhook Rogers.]

GM:  Broussard's going for a backslide!

BW:  Remember what we said about the cradles.  A backslide could end
this match at any time, daddy!

GM:  Broussard's trying to get him down but Rogers is fighting it!

[The roaring crowd is seemingly split in half as both men struggle to
get the edge with the backslide.  The cheers from the Rogers' camp grow
louder as the Natural spins the backslide around with him facing the
ring now.]

GM:  Rogers turns it around... trying to bring him down...

[But Broussard changes tactics, climbing up the buckles with his feet
while still trapped in the hold...

...and flipping clear over the top, landing on a knee in front of a
stunned Rogers who he promptly lunges at, driving all the way back to
the corner, knocking the wind out of the Natural to the cheers from the
Shark's fans.]

GM:  Ohh!  What a counter by Broussard!

[Doubled up in the corner, Broussard grabs the middle ropes with both
hands and SLAMS his shoulder into the ribcage of Rogers.]

GM:  Another shot to the ribs!

BW:  Broussard's trying to do some damage in a hurry!  Going after a
man's ribs like that is a great way to take some of the wind out of his
sails, take some pepper out of his punches if you know what I mean,
daddy!

GM:  Another tackle to the ribcage!

[The crowd roars as Broussard drives shoulder after shoulder after
shoulder into the body of Rogers, repeatedly doubling up the Natural in
the buckles.]

GM:  Broussard straightening up...

[Reaching back, the Shark takes Rogers down with a snap mare before
backing to the buckles...

...and then charging out, leaping over Rogers and grabbing his head
before snapping it down violently!]

GM:  Necksnap out of the corner!

[Rogers immediately grabs at his neck, thrashing about on the canvas as
Broussard sits on the canvas, catching a breather.]

GM:  Payback's a son of a gun, Bucky!

BW:  That's exactly right and don't think for a second that Broussard
wasn't thinking about that when he went after the neck right there.  The
San Jose Shark made a very deliberate attack on the neck just to give
the Natural a little bit of his own medicine.

GM:  Broussard slow to get to his feet, trying to get some air into his 
body after the sustained beating he's taken from Adam Rogers thusfar in
this matchup.  

[As he reaches a vertical base, he pulls Rogers off the mat into a front
facelock...

...and SNAPS him over in a suplex, floating into a lateral press as he
reaches back to hook a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Kickout at two.  

BW:  A lot of impact on that snap suplex, Gordo.  That'll shake your
teeth right out of your mouth.

GM:  Broussard brings Rogers back to his feet - ohh!  Big right hand to
the jaw - and that'll shake the teeth out of your mouth too, Bucky.  A
second big right hand puts Rogers back against the turnbuckles.

[Grabbing Rogers by the side of the head, Broussard snaps off a series
of brutal forearm smashes to the side of the face, smacking into the jaw
over and over and over.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky!

BW:  This is gettin' good now, daddy!

GM:  Broussard is working him over in the buckles...

[Hooking Rogers by the back of the head, Broussard drives a forearm up
into the underside of the chin!]

GM:  European uppercut by Broussard!

[Pulling down on the Natural's head again, the San Jose Shark snaps off
another big uppercut under the jaw, nearly knocking Rogers over the
ropes to the floor from the impact.  Broussard pulls Rogers back down to
the mat, grabbing him by the arm.]

GM:  Whip across the ring... Rogers staggers out of the corner...

[Broussard scoops him up and drops him down across the knee in a side
backbreaker.  Holding him across the knee, Broussard puts a hand on the
thigh and one on the upper torso, pushing down to bend Rogers across the
knee.]

GM:  Ahhh!  A modfied version of the bow and arrow or the surfboard
submission right there, Bucky.

BW:  Rogers crying out in pain - the work Broussard did to the ribs is
really paying dividends right now just like all my stock portfolio is.

GM:  Your stock is doing well?  

BW:  You need my Mama's financial advisor, daddy.

[Broussard releases the submission, sliding Rogers down onto his
shoulders with a leg cradle.]

GM:  One!  Two!  And that's all.  Rogers kicks out yet again.

BW:  It's gonna take more than a side backbreaker to finish off Adam
Rogers and you can be sure that Broussard knows that too.  He's just
trying to make Rogers use energy to kick out of those pin attempts.

GM:  Broussard back to his feet - a few stomps to the downed Rogers,
forcing him under the ropes to the apron.

[With Rogers on the apron on his back, Broussard races to the ropes,
rebounding back with a baseball slide kick to the ribcage that knocks
Rogers outside the ring.]

GM:  Ohh!  Out to the floor goes Adam Rogers!

[Broussard kneels on the canvas, catching another breather as Rogers
clutches his ribcage out on the floor.]

GM:  Broussard has turned the tide and is taking the fight to the
Natural but can he keep it up?  Don't go away, fans!  We'll be right
back!

[The camera holds on the injured Adam Rogers 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 then fade back on the ring where Adam Rogers has rolled back into
the ring and Marcus Broussard is slowly approaching him.]

GM:  Welcome back to The Main Event, fans.  We are in the middle of this
exciting, brutal showdown between Marcus Broussard and Adam Rogers. 
During our break, both men got some much-needed time to regroup and
recover.  They've both been absolutely punished by one another over the
course of this match so far.

[Broussard drags Rogers off the mat...

...and suddenly finds himself plucked into a small package.]

GM:  SMALL PACKAGE OUT OF NOWHERE!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHH!

[The crowd explodes in a mixture of disappointment and joy as Broussard
fires a shoulder off the mat just in time to break the pin attempt.]

GM:  So close!  So very close right there!

BW:  Beware the cradles, daddy!

GM:  Broussard back to his feet- ohh!  Big diving double axehandle blow
across the back of the head!

[A few stomps to the back of the head hit the mark, taking some steam
out of Rogers before Broussard drags him back up... scooping him up in
the air and slamming him down to the mat!]

GM:  Big bodyslam by the former champ... where's he going?

[The crowd buzzes as Broussard steps up to the midbuckle.  He holds a
clenched fist high in the air before leaping off the middle rope,
driving a punch down into the skull of the downed Rogers!]

GM:  Fistdrop off the middle rope!  There's a cover!  One!  Two! 
Shoulder up again!

[Broussard looks a little irritated at Mickey Meekly, questioning the
speed of the count as Meekly insists it was a two count.  Slowly getting
to his feet, the San Jose Shark continues to talk to the referee as he
rises.]

GM:  Broussard is questioning the count.  I'm not sure that's wise.

BW:  He's losing some focus here.  Losing his cool a little bit.

GM:  He's climbing the ropes again... if he's going up there, he'd
better go a little faster, Bucky.

[This time as Broussard steps up to the middle rope, he finds Adam
Rogers on his feet...

...who drills him in the midsection with a right hand!]

GM:  Ohh!  He got caught by Rogers!  The Natural caught him on the
middle rope!

[Reaching up to hook a front facelock on Broussard, Rogers grabs a leg
as well, hoisting the Shark off the buckles and up onto his shoulder.]

GM:  What in the world is he?

[With Broussard's neck cradled against his shoulder, Rogers walks to the
middle of the ring...

...and drops down to his knees, jolting the neck of the Shark from the
impact!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  I've never seen that from Rogers before!  We talked about him
digging deep for moves that Broussard hasn't seen from him and you can
be sure that was one of them right there!

GM:  Look at Broussard - rolling around on the mat, cradling his neck. 
That did some king-sized damage to the chances of Marcus Broussard in
this matchup!

[Rogers drops down onto Broussard, shoving him down into a lateral
press.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- shoulder up by the Shark!

[Pushing up to his knees, Rogers grabs Broussard by the head and
delivers a quartet of stiff right hands to the temple before shoving him
down again, driving his forearm down into the face as he applies another
cover.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Again - the shoulder goes up!

BW:  Did you see that arm in the face?  Rogers just turned the vicious
volume up to level nine, daddy!

GM:  We are a hair over twenty minutes into this match and Adam Rogers
may have just sent a message to Marcus Broussard that this fight is just
starting for him.

[Rogers is the first to his feet, reaching down to drag Broussard off
the canvas by the hair.]

GM:  Both men back to a standing position.... ohh!  Big elbowsmash to
the back of Broussard's neck - and another one!  There's a third from
the Natural, continuing to soften up the neck of the former National
Champion.

[The Natural guides the Northern California native away from the corner
then stops short, grabbing him by the back of the trunks and HURLING him
back to the buckle so that the back of his head and neck SNAP forward in
a whiplash type motion.]

GM:  OHHHH!

BW:  Such a simple move but so, so effective, Gordo.

GM:  Broussard's down on the mat... he looks like he's been in a car
wreck, holding the back of his neck.  Rogers snapped him backwards into
the buckles and the impact jolted Broussard from head to toe!

[Rogers stands over Broussard for a moment, catching his breath as he
glares down at his opponent.  Reaching down, Rogers drags his limp form
back to his feet, tugging him into a front facelock.  The Natural
pauses, looking out over the crowd...

...and then DRIVES Broussard's head into the mat with a DDT.  Rogers
immediately flips him to his back, applying a lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- NO!  NO!  SHOULDER OFF THE MAT!

[The crowd roars for the near fall as Broussard fires a shoulder off the
mat just before the three count.  An irate Rogers glares at the
official, holding up three fingers and getting a shake of the head in
return.]

GM:  Rogers thought he had him right there and I can't blame him.  The
impact on that DDT was just... well, it was bordering on sinful, Bucky!

BW:  I don't know about that but he sure rang Broussard's bell.

GM:  He's upset at the referee but unlike Marcus Broussard earlier on,
Rogers is keeping his focus on the match and his opponent.  Maybe shades
of Rogers' experience in the big match environment.  He's dragging the
San Jose Shark off the mat... ohh!  Big right hand knocks the Shark back
into the ropes.

[Rogers grabs the wrist of Broussard, setting for an Irish whip.]

GM:  Irish whi- reversed by Broussard!  Rogers off the ropes...

[Broussard drops his head to set up a backdrop... perhaps a little too
early as Rogers drives boot up into the face of the former National
Champion, sending Broussard falling back into the ropes.]

GM:  Rogers saw the backdrop coming!  Broussard is on the ropes!

BW:  Here he comes!

GM:  The Natural charges and-

[And the San Jose Shark drops his head, HURLING Rogers up and over the
top rope to the barely-padded floor with a massive backdrop that brings
the entire crowd to their feet!]

GM:  OHHHHH MY!!!

BW:  I can't believe I just saw that!  

GM:  Broussard has been beaten and battered and he's absolutely gotta be
tired, Bucky.  I don't think he meant to do that but I don't know for
sure.  It looked like a desperation move to me!

[A tired Broussard steps through the ropes to the ring apron, backing
all the way up to the ringpost, clinging to the top rope and sucking air
into his body as Rogers rolls back and forth in pain on the floor.]

GM:  Rogers is down... Broussard is waiting...

BW:  And remember what I said, Gordo?

GM:  What's that?

BW:  I said whoever follows their opponent to the floor first would send
a message that this match had changed to a fight!  That the rules were
out the window and so was any friendship they ever had!

GM:  I don't know about that but Broussard is waiting, measuring his
man...

[A tired Rogers pushes up to a knee, staggering to his feet...

...and Broussard races down the length of the apron, THROWING himself
off the apron in a highlight-reel style clothesline that sends both men
crashing down to the floor once again!]

GM:  OHHHH!  BOTH MEN DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW!

[With both men down and the crowd roaring, the referee steps up to start
a double count on the two wrestlers.]

GM:  Mickey Meekly is starting the double count.

BW:  And I do not want to see this match end like this, Gordo.

GM:  Neither do I but it may happen right here.  These two men just took
a ton out of one another in the first twenty or so minutes of this
matchup and I have to wonder how much they've got left in this one.

[Broussard pushes himself up to his knees, breathing heavily as he tries
to recover.  The referee's count hits four as Broussard wraps a hand
around the metal barricade surrounding the ringside area, dragging
himself to a standing position.]

GM:  I don't know how Broussard's up.  I don't know how.  

BW:  He should roll back into the ring and win this thing by countout. 
He's got nothing left to prove in this one.

GM:  Says you.  He wants to beat Adam Rogers fair and square in the
middle of the ring to prove to his former friend exactly what he's made
of.

BW:  Bah.  

GM:  Broussard's up, moving in on Rogers now as the count reaches seven.
 Whatever he's doing, he'd better hurry with it.

BW:  Put Rogers into the post and get in there to beat the count.

GM:  The count's at eight... he drags Rogers up...

[As the count hits nine, Broussard hurls Rogers under the ropes into the
ring.  And juuuuuuust in time, the San Jose Shark throws himself in to
beat the ten count.  The referee waves off the count as the fans cheer.]

BW:  What an idiot!  This guy is a moron, Gordo.  He's a top contender
to the National Title.  If he would have taken the countout win, he
would be sure to be next in line after Mark Shaw for a shot at the gold.
 Now?  Who knows what'll happen.

[Broussard is the first to his feet, backing Rogers into the corner
where he blasts him with another chop across the chest.  A few more
shoulders driven to the body seem to soften Rogers up a little bit more
before the San Jose Shark deposits the Natural up on the top rope.]

GM:  Uh oh - look out for this one, fans.

[From a standing position on the mat, Broussard connects with a pair of
right hands to stagger Rogers some more before he steps up on the bottom
rope.]

GM:  Broussard's climbing right up there with the Natural...

[The San Jose Shark steps up to the middle rope, pausing for a moment...

...and eating a right hand from Rogers!]

GM:  The Natural's fighting back!  He's fighting back!

[Broussard throws a right of his own - but gets drilled with another by
Rogers.  And another.  And another!]

GM:  The Natural's in trouble and he knows it!  He's trying to knock
Broussard down a peg and get the advantage back in this one!  

[The Shark goes to throw another right hand but Rogers blocks it and
scores with a headbutt that catches Broussard right on the bridge of the
nose, knocking him down to the mat.]

GM:  He knocks Broussard off the ropes!  Rogers knocks him off the
ropes!

[The former National Champion, clutching his nose, quickly pushes up to
a knee just as Rogers leaps from the midbuckle with his arm raised up
for an elbowsmash...

...but Broussard raises his arms in time to block the blow from his
former friend and ally, then brings them down lightning fast to wrap
around the body of Rogers.]

GM:  HOOKED!

[With a pop of the hips, Broussard hoists Rogers into the air, pivoting
through the sky...

...and DRIVES Rogers down to the canvas with a thunderous belly-to-belly
suplex!]

GM:  BELLY TO BELLY!  HE HIT ALL OF THAT ONE!!!

[The impact of the suplex sends Rogers sprawling on the canvas, rolling
away from his rival as Broussard lies flat on the canvas, sucking air
into his body.]

GM:  The effort involved in that belly to belly took a lot out of
Broussard.

BW:  And the impact of it took a lot out of Rogers!

GM:  Rogers is rolling out of the ring... rolling to the floor.  Marcus
Broussard has won a ton of matches with that belly to belly suplex over
the years and Adam Rogers knows it.  He knew that he had to get the heck
out of that ring or become another notch on Marcus Broussard's wrestling
boots!

BW:  Again, there's that knowledge between these two men - the history
that gives them both an insight into the other man.  Adam Rogers felt
the belly to belly - he knew what was next and he got out of there
before anything else could happen.

GM:  Broussard's crawling across the ring, trying to get over here by
the ropes where Rogers is.  He's trying to get a chance to go after the
Natural.

[Broussard pulls himself up using the ropes, stepping through the ropes
to the apron, looking down at a recovering Adam Rogers.  The Natural is
clutching his own ribs as he gets to his feet, turning around as the
Shark leaps...]

GM:  Double axehandle!

[But Rogers somehow lashes out, catching Broussard in the midsection
with a right hand that doubles up the San Jose Shark.  Slipping in
behind Broussard, Rogers hooks him by the back of the trunks...

...and THROWS him backwards into the steel barricade, the spine slamming
into the unforgiving solid metal as Broussard's head and neck snap
forward!]

GM:  OHHH!  AGAIN!  Just like he did earlier inside the ring on the
buckles now Rogers does it out on the floor!  Marcus Broussard's head
and neck just got whiplashed once again!

[But this time, Rogers isn't done as he drags the San Jose Shark away
from the barricade.]

GM:  Rogers hooks him around the head and neck with one arm... what
the-?  NO!

[The crowd gasps in unison as Rogers HURLS Broussard into the air with a
biel throw that results in Broussard's back SMASHING into the steel
barricade once again!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  Down goes Broussard again!

GM:  That might do it.  That might be enough to finish him off right
there, Bucky.

BW:  You might be right.

[Rogers leans against the ring apron, clinging to the steel ringpost as
he tries to allow his body to recover.  Inside the ring, referee Mickey
Meekly is ordering the two men to get back inside the squared circle.]

GM:  Mickey Meekly is ordering them in... but he's not counting.

BW:  And without a count, they've got no reason to get back in there. 
Meekly's letting his emotions - his desire to see a clear winner in this
one - distract him from his job, Gordo.

GM:  You may be right about that one.

[Stumbling away from the apron, Rogers reaches down to pull Broussard
off the floor by the hair.  He drags the San Jose Shark's limp form away
from the barricade, grabbing him by the hair...

...and SLAMS his skull into the steel ringpost!]

GM:  OHHHH!  Come on, Adam!

BW:  These fans didn't like that one either but who cares?  Adam Rogers
is doing whatever it takes to win this match and to get in a position to
get a shot at the National Title.

GM:  Rogers fires Broussard under the ropes into the ring... rolling in
as well... this might be it, fans.

[Rogers applies a lateral press, reaching back to hook a leg.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- 

[Most of the crowd cheers as Broussard fires a shoulder off the canvas
just before the three count comes down.  An unbelieving Rogers glares at
the referee before sliding into the mount, grabbing Broussard by the
head...

...and driving a clenched fist into the skull!]

GM:  Oh, come on!

[A second clenched fist snaps Broussard's head back before Rogers drags
it back up, driving another fist into the skull.  The Natural climbs to
his feet, dragging Broussard off the mat.]

GM:  Whip to the corner... 

[Rogers charges the several steps as fast as he can, rocking Broussard
in the buckles with a clothesline!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Clothesline in the corner by the former World Champion!

[Rogers spins around in the corner, sucking wind as he applies a loose
side headlock...

...and stampedes out of the corner, leaping into the air, and SMASHING
Broussard's face into the canvas with a bulldog headlock!]

GM:  OHHH!  That might do it right there!

[The Naples, Florida native flips Broussard to his back, applying
another lateral press.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THR- NO!  NO!

[The crowd roars as Broussard fires the shoulder off the mat just in the
nick of time yet again.  An irate Rogers quickly retakes the mount,
driving his fist into the forehead of Broussard.]

GM:  Goodness!  What a shot by Rogers!  And another one!  Come on,
referee!  Get in there!

BW:  Uh oh, Gordo.  Don't look now but I think... yep, he's busted open!

[The camera zooms in on a hard right hand by Rogers, revealing a stream
of crimson now coming from the forehead of the San Jose Shark.]

GM:  The bulldog split him open and those right hands aren't doing him
any favors right now!

[Rogers pulls out of the mount, looking down at his clenched fist that
is now covered in the crimson of his opponent.  Broussard rolls to his
stomach, trying to crawl away from the Natural who simply reaches down
and drags him to his feet by the back of the trunks, using them to throw
him back into the buckles.]

GM:  Back in the corner... 

[The Natural moves in, rearing back...

...and snapping off a big chop across the chest that echoes throughout
the building.]

GM:  Good grief, Bucky!

[Another hard chop rattles across the chest, causing Broussard to slump
down to a knee.  Rogers squares up, dragging Broussard back to his feet
before stepping up to the midbuckle.]

GM:  He's got that cut forehead in his sights!

[And starts raining down right hands on the wound, a portion of the
crowd counting along...]

"ONE!"


"TWO!"


"THREE!"


"FOUR!"


"FIVE!"


"SIX!"


"SEVEN!"


"EIGHT!"


"NINE!"


"TEN!"


[Rogers stops with the punches for a moment, holding the clenched fist
high in the air as Broussard slumps down to a knee, slipping between the
legs of Rogers and staggering out towards the middle of the ring to
escape the assault of the Natural.]

GM:  Broussard slips away.  I don't even know if Rogers realizes it!

BW:  Oh yes, he does!

[Rogers takes a quick look over his shoulder to gauge the distance and
then blindly leaps off, twisting around into a cross body press...

...but Broussard, in total desperation, manages to hook his arms around
the head and neck of his opponent, and DRIVES his skull into the canvas
with a three-quarter nelson bulldog!]

GM:  OHHHHHH!

BW:  Did you see that?!

GM:  Out of nowhere - he drives his skull to the mat!

BW:  We talked about dipping into the playbooks... that was a Foxden,
Gordo!  That was Jeff Matthews - both of these men's former partner -
that's his signature move!

GM:  Broussard hit it all and both of these men are out flat in the
middle of the ring!  If the San Jose Shark could make a cover, this
match might be over right now!

[But both men are absolutely motionless at this point, the crowd roaring
their support for their favorites as referee Mickey Meekly stands
between the two, checking on them both...

...and then signaling for a double count.]

GM:  The referee's going to count them both down again.

BW:  Meekly's gonna need an armed escort to get out of this place if he
ends the match like this.

GM:  Nevertheless, Mickey Meekly is doing his family proud by sticking
to the rules and starting this ten count.

BW:  Doing his family proud?  His grandfather made his name in a place
where NO ONE stuck to the rules, Gordo!

GM:  Those days are over, Bucky.  Rules are cool.

BW:  ...

GM:  Oh, give me a break.

[The referee's count hits three as the crowd splits into two very
distinctive chants.]

"MAR-CUS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"MAR-CUS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"MAR-CUS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"MAR-CUS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"MAR-CUS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"MAR-CUS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

[The count hits five before the first sign of life - Marcus Broussard
rolling onto his back, chest heaving back and forth as he pulls air into
his body.]

GM:  Broussard is the first to stir!

BW:  All he did is roll over to his back, Gordo.  That ain't nothin'
yet.

GM:  It's more than Adam Rogers has done!

[Broussard rolls over again, now on his knees and elbows as he locks his
eyes on the still unmoving Adam Rogers.  The count hits seven as
Broussrd inches closer to Rogers...

...and then lunges, throwing an arm across the chest of the Natural!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-  OHHHHH!

[The crowd echoes Gordon's "OHHHH!" through the arena as Adam Rogers
fires a shoulder off the mat just in time.]

GM:  He could have had him, Bucky.  If he had made the cover earlier, I
think he could have had him.

BW:  You may be right but we'll never know.  Adam Rogers is still alive
in this one.

GM:  For now.  We are just over thirty minutes into this match, Bucky,
and I haven't a clue as to how either of these men are still going.  How
is it possible?

BW:  When this match started, we talked about their incredible
endurance.  Now we're seeing that stamina firsthand.  They've beaten,
battered, stretched, and bent the crap out of one another but they're
still fighting.

[The bloodied Marcus Broussard scoots to the buckles, leaning against
them in a seated position on the canvas as he pulls air into his lunges.
 Adam Rogers rolls to his stomach finally, pushing up to his knees as he
stares across the ring at his opponent.]

GM:  Both men starting to stir... trying to get to their feet...
goodness, look at the blood flowing down the face of the San Jose Shark.
 That can't make his chances in this one any better.

BW:  Wrestlers respond differently to tasting their own blood.  Some get
freaked out... some get fired up... whatever the result, you can bet
that his endurance will suffer because of it.

GM:  Rogers up to a knee... now all the way up to his feet...

[A dazed Rogers stumbles towards the corner where Broussard is seated in
the corner...

...and delivers a hard kick to the side of Broussard's head.  A couple
more follow right behind before Rogers drags Broussard up to his feet in
the buckles.]

GM:  Headlock...

BW:  He's going for it again!  He's gonna split him all the way open
now!

GM:  Charging out of the corner... bulld- shoved off by Marcus!

[The hard shove sends Rogers a few feet away where he grabs the ropes to
prevent hitting the buckles.  The Natural spins around, charging back
towards his opponent who sidesteps, hooking an arm around the waist of
Rogers...

...then hooking the other arm before charging towards the original
corner, smashing Rogers' upper body into the buckles before rolling back
into a reverse rolling cradle.]

GM:  WHITE LIGHTNING ROLLUP!  A PAGE OUT OF ROGERS' BOOK!

BW:  No bridge though!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHH!

BW:  It was the lack of the bridge.  He didn't do the bridge so he
didn't have enough leverage to keep the shoulders down for a three
count, daddy!

[Rogers dives atop a tired Broussard, peppering the cut forehead with
vicious straight right hands, drawing more and more blood from the
wound.]

GM:  Uh oh.

BW:  I think he got under the skin of Rogers with that one.  He just
tried to beat the Natural with his own signature move and Rogers is
showing some serious fire now.

GM:  Rogers pulls him up... Marcus can barely stand...

[And with a dazed Broussard barely on his feet, Rogers hits the closest
ropes, leaping into the air, and smashing the Shark across the throat
with a leaping lariat!]

GM:  Ohhh!  He caught him with that lariat right there!

[Rogers, halfway across the ring away from Broussard from the impact of
the lariat, slowly gets back to his feet.]

GM:  There's no cover off the lariat.  That's surprising right there.

BW:  Maybe he thinks he needs to do more damage.  So far, these two have
come close to putting each other away but not close enough obviously.

GM:  Rogers is slowly stalking towards Broussard...

[Looking down at his bloodied opponent, Rogers pulls down his kneepad.]

GM:  What in the world?

BW:  He's exposing the kneecap!  Exposing the solid bone under that
kneepad!

[Rogers takes a quick two step, leaping into the air, and driving the
knee down into the bloodied skull in a bone-on-bone strike, rolling
through the kneedrop to a seated position on the canvas.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big kneedrop by the Natural... scooting back...

[Rogers simply throws an arm across the chest of Broussard as Mickey
Meekly drops down to count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Shoulder up!  

BW:  Rogers knew that wasn't going to keep Broussard down.  He just
wanted to make him expend more energy by kicking out of the lateral
press.

GM:  The Natural is back to his feet... where's he going now?

[A large portion of the crowd starts to jeer as Rogers hops up on the
middle rope, making sure his kneepad is still pulled down to expose the
kneecap...

...and LEAPS from the midbuckle, smashing the knee down into the skull
once again!]

GM:  Second rope kneedrop by Rogers!  Bone on bone kneedrop once more!

[Climbing back to his feet, Rogers pulls his kneepad back in place
before dropping into another lateral press, reaching back to loosely
hook a leg.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- again!  Again, Broussard gets a shoulder off the
mat!

[This time, Rogers doesn't even look upset as he pushes up off the
canvas.  He nudges Broussard with his boot, rolling him over to his
stomach.  A hard kick to the ribs follows... and a second boot to the
ribs forces Broussard out on the apron.]

GM:  The San Jose Shark, the former National Champion, has been driven
out to the ring apron once more.  Rogers steps out there after him...
ohh!  Hard kick to the midsection!  

BW:  I don't like the looks of this one, Gordo.

[Rogers delivers a few more stomps to the downed Broussard on the apron
before reaching down to drag him up to his feet, turning him so that
he's draped over the top rope.]

GM:  What in the world is he...?

[With Broussard facing the ropes, Rogers moves in behind him, hooking a
waistlock...]

GM:  WHAT THE-?!

BW:  HE THINKS HE'S IN LOS ANGELES AGAIN!

GM:  Referee, get in there!  You can't let this happen!

[The crowd jeers crazily and buzzes with concern as Rogers braces
himself, arms wrapped around the body of the former National Champion.]

GM:  He's trying to German suplex him off the apron!  He'll kill him,
Bucky!

BW:  He might!

GM:  Broussard's hanging onto the ropes for his life!  He knows how
dangerous of a situation this is!  

[Rogers' arms strain and struggle, trying to wrest Broussard away from
the ropes in the German suplex.  The San Jose Shark's deathgrip on the
ropes prevent any lift.]

GM:  Broussard was aware enough to get a good grip on those ropes! 
Thank heavens for that!

[Frustrated, Rogers breaks his grip, dropping down to the floor where he
pulls Broussard's feet out from under him, causing the Shark's face to
slam into the ring apron!]

GM:  Ohh!  

BW:  Check your dental work, Shark!

GM:  A painful move right there but much better than the alternative,
that's for sure.  What in the world got into Adam Rogers right there? 
The Natural went over the edge for something that... well, I don't even
want to imagine what would have happened if he had hit that.

BW:  Rogers has absolutely kicked it into another level since Broussard
tried to use the White Lightning rollup.  He saw that as a major insult
- a figurative slap in the face from his former friend and now he's
going to make him pay for it.

[Grabbing Broussard by the back of the hair, Rogers slams his face into
the apron again, throwing him down to the floor afterwards.  The
bloodied Broussard slumps backwards against the steel barricade, trying
to recover as Rogers stands over him, glaring at his former friend.]

GM:  Rogers reaches down, pulling Marcus up by the arm... ohh!  He pulls
him into a clothesline!  Absolutely devastating move right there by the
Natural!

BW:  Broussard is just taking an absolute beating right now, Gordo. 
Rogers is all over him at every chance.

GM:  Dragging him up by the wrist again... tugs him into a front
facelock...

[The crowd buzzes with concern as Rogers shouts "DDT!"...

...but before his head can be spiked into the barely-padded concrete,
Broussard LUNGES forward, slamming Rogers' back into the ring apron!]

GM:  OHH!  BIG COUNTER BY BROUSSARD!  HE SAVED HIMSELF RIGHT THERE!

[And as Broussard takes a few steps back, he LAUNCHES Rogers up and over
with a Northern Lights suplex on the barely-padded concrete floor!]


"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


GM:  GOOD GRIEF!

BW:  This is getting CRAZY here in University Park, Texas, Gordo!

GM:  These two men - former allies, former friends - are laying
EVERYTHING on the line to try and win this match.  This match means SO
much to both of these men!  This is insane, fans!

[A dazed Broussard drags Rogers off the floor, rolling him under the
ropes into the ring.  The San Jose Shark climbs up onto the apron,
trying to catch a breath before stepping back into the ring.]

GM:  Broussard's about to get back in- 

[Seizing a moment, Rogers THROWS himself off the mat through the ropes
in a tackle that sends both men tumbling down to the floor once again.]

GM:  There wasn't much impact behind that tackle.  Not much there but
there was enough to get them both back out to the floor.  Both men on
the floor, trying to recover... fans, we've got to take another quick
break!  Do NOT go away!

[The camera holds on a downed Broussard and Rogers for a moment before
fading to black.

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back up on live action where a dazed Adam Rogers is
using the ropes to pull himself up on the apron, turning around to lean
on the ropes, gesturing for Marcus Broussard to get back to his feet.]

GM:  Fans, we're back and this fight has continued during the break on
the floor!  Broussard was able to beat the count back into the ring but
Rogers dragged him right back out and threw him headfirst into that
steel barricade!  That cut on the head of Marcus Broussard is as wide as
the Grand Canyon and has completely covered his face in his own blood!

BW:  And Rogers wants to do even more damage!  He's sitting there
against the ropes, ready to dive off onto the San Jose Shark.  Marcus
Broussard may be regretting making this challenge right about now,
Gordo!

GM:  You may be right, Bucky, and we still have that huge tag team match
to come tonight not to mention Bucky's big announcement but right now,
the eyes of the wrestling world are on these two men in this ring -
their battleground where they've done so many things to each other, it'd
take us forever to recount it all!

[Broussard, up to a knee, looks up at his former friend...

...and then lunges forward, grabbing the front of Rogers' trunks and
YANKING him forward off the apron, a move that sends Rogers sailing
through the air...]



"CLAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!"
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



GM:  TO THE STEEL!  HEADFIRST TO THE STEEL!

[Rogers slumps to the floor, his head having slammed directly into the
edge of the steel barricade surrounding the ring.  A dazed Marcus
Broussard approaches, dragging Rogers up by the back of the hair,
revealing a large cut across his forehead.]

GM:  Oh my... oh my stars.  Look at that, Bucky!

BW:  And now it's Adam Rogers who has been split open!  We've got both
of these men bleeding profusely!

GM:  And if you parents at home hadn't figured it out yet, parental
disrection is definitely advised at this moment in time!

[Broussard grabs two hands full of Rogers' hair, SLAMMING his skull into
the steel again.  He drags him back by the hair... and SLAMS his head
into the metal!]

GM:  Three times to the steel has got that cut split wide open!

[Dragging Rogers up by the hair, the San Jose Shark rolls him under the
ropes into the ring.  Broussard rolls in right behind him, pushing up to
his feet and leaning against the ropes.]

GM:  Both men are back inside the ring... 

[Rogers uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet, blood streaming down
his face to the roar of the crowd...

...and finds himself hooked in a waistlock by Broussard for just a
moment before the former National Champion takes him up and over in an
impactful German suplex!]

GM:  GERMAN!  HE DRILLED IT!

BW:  No bridge on that one either.  I think all the damage that Rogers
did to his neck earlier in the match has prevented him from being able
to use those bridges.  It's too much pressure on his neck.

GM:  Broussard rolls over, throws an arm across...

[Referee Mickey Meekly dives to make the count.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE- OHHHHHH!

[A limp shoulder barely slips off the mat before the three count comes
down.]

GM:  So close!  

BW:  And if Broussard had ANYTHING left in the tank to make a real
cover, he might have been able to get the three count right there,
Bucky.  If he had ANYTHING left.

GM:  These two men are giving it all they've got... everything in their
bodies to win this match.  The German suplex got 'im close but it wasn't
enough.

BW:  It seems like we've been saying that all night.

GM:  Broussard's in a crouch... watching... waiting...

[And when Rogers pushes up to his feet, Broussard throws himself so that
his shoulder slams into the back of Rogers' knee, knocking him down to
the mat where Broussard immediately grabs for the foot...

...and catches an upkick from Rogers right in the jaw that sends
Broussard falling backwards.]

GM:  Broussard - you know what he wanted there, Bucky.

BW:  He had the SoCal Clutch in mind and Rogers knew it.

GM:  I think it's going to be very difficult for one of these men to get
the win with a move they're known for.  They're going to have dig down
deep and come up with something unexpected.

[A crawling Rogers pulls himself up in the corner, shaking out his knee
as a wobbly Broussard approaches.  Rogers tries to fire a right hand but
a knife-edge chop by Broussard knocks him back to the buckles.]

GM:  What a chop by Broussard!

[Grabbing Rogers by the head, Broussard blisters him with a forearm shot
to the side of the face.  Still holding him, the San Jose Shark throws
forearm after forearm after forearm after forearm after forearm...

...and then gets caught with a headbutt to the bridge of the nose that
sends Broussard falling backwards.]

GM:  Ohh!  Rogers caught him!

[Pulling Broussard off the mat, Rogers lashes out with a chop... and
another... and another... and keeps throwing chops until Broussard is
backed down all the way across the ring.]

GM:  Fans, we are over forty minutes into this match and these two men
are throwing shots at one another like it's more like four minutes! 
Incredible!

[With Broussard trapped in the corner, Rogers grabs him by the head and
delivers a pair of crushing headbutts to the back of the skull. 
Grabbing Marcus around the waist, Rogers hoists him up and deposits him
up on the top rope.]

GM:  Rogers quickly scaling the ropes... wasting no time here...

[On the middle rope, Rogers hooks a double underhook...

...then steps up to the top rope, maintaining the lock.]

GM:  Oh no.

BW:  Look out below!

[Rogers hoists Broussard up into the air with a beautiful double
underhook superplex, hurling him three-quarters of the way across the
ring with ring-shaking impact!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  What a move!

GM:  If Rogers can cover him, it's over!  

BW:  He can't do it though, Gordo.  He threw him too far away!

[Down on the mat, a tired Rogers crawls and crawls, trying to get all
the way across the ring where he threw his opponent.  The crowd is
roaring as the Natural inches closer and closer...

...and throws himself on top of Broussard as Mickey Meekly dives down to
the mat!]

GM:  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRE- FOOT ON THE ROPES!!

[The crowd explodes in a mixture of elation and deflation as Broussard
throws a boot over the bottom rope at the very last second.  A stunned
Rogers pushes up to his knees, burying his face in his hands in
frustration and shock as the crowd continues to echo throughout the
Moody Coliseum.]

GM:  I can't believe it!  I can't believe he got that foot on the ropes!

[Rogers pushes up to his feet, dragging Broussard up.]

GM:  Both men up... ohh!  A hard right hand to the forehead!

[Pulling Broussard's hair out of his face to expose the cut forehead,
Rogers balls up his fist and drives his knuckles into the wound over and
over and over again.]

GM:  Come on, referee!  Get in there!

BW:  There's nothing illegal about that!

GM:  It's a clenched fist in the corner!

BW:  Semantics.

[Grabbing Broussard by the hair, Rogers throws him down to a knee on the
mat as he steps up on the middle rope.  The Natural stands tall, waiting
for Broussard, then leaps up with a double axehandle aimed squarely at
the skull of the Shark...

...who EXPLODES from the kneeling position, connecting with a European
uppercut that nails Rogers right under the chin!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

BW:  Where in... where in the world did THAT come from, Gordo?!

GM:  I have no idea!  Marcus Broussard just ERUPTED into a European
Uppercut and Adam Rogers is OUT!

[The San Jose Shark pushes slightly up off the mat, throwing an arm over
his rival.]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-  



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



GM:  THIS TIME, IT'S ADAM ROGERS' TURN TO GET A FOOT ON THE ROPES!  CAN
YOU BELIEVE THIS?!

BW:  This place is going nuts, Gordo!  I can barely hear myself!

GM:  That may be a good thing, Bucky, but this match continues!

[Broussard pulls himself off the mat using the ropes, hanging onto them
to stay on his feet.  He reaches down, dragging Adam Rogers off the mat,
a trickle of blood now coming from the corner of the Natural's mouth as
well.]

GM:  Rogers' mouth is bleeding as well - maybe a broken tooth... maybe
he bit his tongue on that European uppercut.  Who knows for sure?

BW:  How can you tell with all the blood covering Rogers' face?

GM:  The Shark's got him up - he smells blood in the water.  He knows
exactly how close he just came to winning this match just moments ago. 
He grabs Rogers by the trunks... what's he- OHHHHHH!

[The crowd roars as Broussard HURLS Rogers shoulderfirst into the steel
ringpost!  Rogers stumbles back from the impact, turning around...

...and getting taken down in a Fujiwara Armbar!]

GM:  ARMBAR!

BW:  The Fujiwara Armbar!  Another trademark of Jeff Matthews!

GM:  The crowd is on their feet!  We've seen this from Broussard before,
Bucky.  

BW:  He busted up Ron Houston's arm so badly with this hold, we STILL
haven't heard from Houston!  Broussard is an expert with this hold -
he's one of the best in the business at slapping it on!

[Referee Mickey Meekly is on his belly, screaming at Adam Rogers.]

GM:  Meekly's asking if he gives it up but the Natural is screaming back
at him - telling him he doesn't!

[Broussard tries to plant his feet under him, attempting to wrench back
harder on the arm but keeps slipping.]

GM:  This hold is on tight but Broussard is trying to make it tighter.

BW:  I don't know if he's got the energy, Gordo.  He's having trouble
getting those feet planted for the Fujiwara and that's allowing Rogers
to get closer and closer to the ropes!

[A closeup camera shot of Adam Rogers demonstrates the pain ravaging his
body, blood pouring from the wound on his forehead, pulsing more and
more crimson out with each and every heartbeat that drives him to
continue.]

GM:  Rogers is fighting the pain!  He refuses to quit!  This man refuses
to lose this match to Marcus Broussard!  He may have told the world that
he had no interest in this match but you can bet your bottom dollar that
he will do ANYTHING to avoid losing this match!

BW:  Will he risk permanent injury to that shoulder?

GM:  He might!

BW:  Marcus might rip that arm clean off and take it home as a prize to
boot, daddy!

[With the crowd roaring for the submission hold attempt, a very loud
chant starts to grow once more.]


"ROG-ERS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"ROG-ERS!"

"ROG-ERS!"


GM:  You can hear these fans trying to rally behind the Natural!

BW:  What?!  They were booing him five minutes ago!  How fickle are
these fans, Gordo?  I told you all they were fickle and useless!

GM:  But they're trying to inspire Adam Rogers to get out of this hold
and continue the fight!  They're trying to inspire Adam Rogers to break
the Fujiwara Armbar and keep this magnificent battle going!

[With the chant echoing throughout the arena, Rogers draws within a
couple of feet of the ropes, his hand outstretched as far as it will go,
inching closer... and closer... and closer... until...]

GM:  HE GOT THE ROPES!

[A HUGE roar goes up from the record-setting AWA crowd as the referee
orders Marcus Broussard to break the armbar, something he reluctantly
does almost immediately.]

GM:  What resiliency, what guts on display by Adam Rogers to survive
that armbar after his shoulder hit the ringpost!  And equally, how
amazing is the sportsmanship by Broussard to not even milk that Armbar
for ANY of the five count that he is allotted!

BW:  Should I get him a merit badge?  What a Boy Scout!

GM:  Rogers is down, clutching the shoulder.  Broussard is down - that
Armbar took a lot out of him trying to keep it applied.  The only people
not down right now is this entire arena, on their feet, and screaming
their lungs out for the two men inside the squared circle right now! 
This is a classic encounter unfolding before our very eyes, Bucky!

[Very slowly, Marcus Broussard rolls away from the downed Rogers,
looping a hand over the top rope.  He breathes heavily as he struggles
to pull himself off the mat, leaning against the ropes to try to recover
as his rival continues to lie motionless on the canvas.]

GM:  The San Jose Shark is on his feet - leaning on the ropes... he can
barely stand.  Adam Rogers is flat on his stomach... he can't even move.

BW:  Do you know how much pain he must be in from that Fujiwara?  He
might have a separated shoulder and I know you've never been in the ring
but I can tell you that when you have a separated shoulder you NEVER
want to move again, daddy!

GM:  We are over forty-five minutes into this match and these two men
continue to amaze me!  How in the world they can possibly still be
standing and fighting is beyond my comprehension, Bucky!

BW:  I hate to give either of these guys credit for anything but this is
somethin' else, Gordo.

GM:  Broussard is moving in... Adam Rogers still hasn't moved so this
may be the moment of truth for the former National Champion.  If he was
ever going to win this match, now may be the time.

[The Shark reaches down, dragging a pain-ravaged Rogers up to his feet. 
Grabbing the injured arm, Broussard whips him across the ring, causing
Rogers to SLAM chestfirst into the corner.]

GM:  Ohh!  Good grief!

BW:  That's the kind of move that early in the match, you're able to
turn into or get your arms up to absorb some of the impact but this late
in the match, with this much punishment dealt out, and especially with
the pain in that arm, there's no chance of that.

GM:  Here comes Marcus!

[The Shark charges across the ring, leaping into the air to drive a high
knee squarely between the shoulder blades, knocking Rogers facefirst to
the corner again.  And this time as he stumbles backwards...]

GM:  COBRA CLUTCH!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Broussard hooks in the submission hold, grabbing
the injured arm with one arm as the other hooks in behind the neck,
trying to render his opponent unconscious.]

GM:  Broussard slaps on the cobra clutch!  He's trying to take the last
breaths out of Rogers, trying to knock him out in the middle of the ring
for a definitive victory!

BW:  Rogers looks to be out on his feet!  He's barely putting up any
struggle at all!  This might be it, Gordo!  Marcus Broussard may have
just finished off the Natural!

GM:  It's not over yet and Adam Rogers has been counted out early
before!  This man does not know how to lose, Bucky.  He simply doesn't
know how to lose!

BW:  Well, the former champion may be about to tutor him in that
firsthand.

GM:  Rogers is fighting it a little bit... trying to get to the ropes...

[But the San Jose Shark pulls him away, dragging him away towards the
center of the ring.]

GM:  He pulls him to the middle!  Rogers is fading!  

BW:  Turn out the lights - the party's over!

GM:  Rogers is fading... he's fading fast.  Referee Mickey Meekly is
right in there, checking so he can call this match to a halt if Rogers
loses consciousness...

[With one last bit of energy, Rogers starts dragging his opponent across
the ring towards the corner, trying with every last bit of strength to
get to the ropes...]

GM:  He's not close enough, Bucky... he's not going to make it.

BW:  Meekly's right in there to check.  I think he's gonna call it.  I
think he's-

[Drenched in desperation, Rogers kicks out his legs, pushing off the top
turnbuckle to flip over the top of Broussard.  With the cobra clutch
still applied, Rogers has managed to force the Shark's shoulders to the
canvas.]

GM:  COUNTER!  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREE-




"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



GM:  BROUSSARD!  BROUSSARD GOT A SHOULDER UP!

BW:  That was the closest fall of the night, Gordo.

GM:  It certainly was.  And Adam Rogers was less than a half count away
from winning this match.  He came up with a beautiful counter with the
match slipping away from him and was a heartbeat away from ripping
victory from the jaws of defeat!

BW:  He saved himself - but for how long, Gordo?  How much can he have
left in him after being trapped in that cobra clutch for that long?  He
was basically unconscious when he got that rollup!

GM:  I don't know.  I just don't know how much he has left but I could
say that for both of these men and have been thinking exactly that for
quite some time now!  We are closing in on the fifty minute mark of this
match and I don't have any idea how either of these men are still
standing.  Quite frankly, I'm surprised we're still standing, Bucky.  My
voice hasn't had this much of a workout in years.

[An exhausted Marcus Broussard drags Rogers up off the mat, bending down
to scoop him up for a bodyslam.]

GM:  Big scoooop... CRADLE!

[The crowd ERUPTS as Rogers ties up Broussard in a tight cradle, pulling
him down to the canvas out of the bodyslam!]

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THRE-  OHHHHHH!

[Broussard kicks out just before the three count, leaving both exhausted
men lying on the canvas as a wornout crowd roars their shock at yet
another nearfall.]

GM:  Broussard with a simple bodyslam and it almost cost him everything.

BW:  And it all comes back to those cradles, Gordo.  This entire match
I've been saying that one of those cradles could end this thing in an
instant and it almost did exactly that right there.

[Rogers, feeling a surge of strength inspired by the inside cradle, gets
back to his feet.  Broussard meets him there only to get rocked by a
right hand from the Natural.]

GM:  Ohh!  Big right hand by Rogers!

[The Natural grabs Broussard by the wrist, firing him to the ropes.]

GM:  Broussard hits the ropes, rebounds off...

[The crowd ERUPTS as Rogers catches the returning Broussard around the
head and neck.]

GM:  SLEEPER!

BW:  Broussard almost finished this thing with the cobra clutch... maybe
the sleeper will be enough for Rogers to finish it!

GM:  He's got it on - but it's not very tight.  The injured arm from the
Fujiwara may be preventing him for getting enough leverage on the
sleeperhold.

[With the hold not tight enough to immediately put the San Jose Shark
down, Broussard immediates throws himself backwards, sandwiching Rogers
against the turnbuckles!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Hard to the buckles to try to break the hold!

BW:  But Rogers still has it on him!  The Natural's still trying to
constrict the neck, trying to render him unconscious but...

GM:  BACK TO THE BUCKLES AGAIN!

[The crowd roars for the attempt to break the hold but roars just as
loud as Rogers shakes his head, refusing to break the sleeperhold that
is slowly starting to take an effect on the former National Champion. 
Broussard staggers out of the buckles...

...at which point Rogers jumps onto his back!]

GM:  HE'S ON HIS BACK!  THE SLEEPER'S APPLIED STILL!

[Broussard stumbles out to the center of the ring, arms pumping back and
forth, trying to find a way out of the hold.]

GM:  We've got less than ten minutes remaining in the time limit for
this match!  Ten minutes for one of these men to figure out a way to put
the other one down!

BW:  I don't see how either of these guys could last another ten
minutes.

GM:  I agree but I could've said the same thing twenty minutes ago! 
These two are surprising the entire world here tonight.  What a match!

[Broussard stands straight up in the middle of the ring...

...and then leaps in the air, SMASHING Rogers into the canvas in a blow
that finally breaks the sleeperhold!]

GM:  Good grief!  What a counter to break the hold!  

BW:  He drove him backwards into the mat to break it - and now, once
again, both of these men are down on the mat.  They're both sucking wind
and like I said, Gordo, there's no way either of these men can last
another ten minutes.  Whoever hits a big move first is going to win this
thing - no doubt.

[With both men down on the mat, Broussard rolls over to his knees, hands
on the mat, breathing heavily as Rogers sits up on the mat, shaking his
head to try to clear the cobwebs.  The San Jose Shark pushes his way
towards Rogers who rolls to his knees.]

GM:  Both men on their knees... both men ready to keep going...

[From a knee, Broussard throws a weak right hand at Rogers.  The Natural
recoils backwards, lashing out with a kneeling chop across the chest of
the Shark.]

GM:  These two are on their knees fighting!  Incredible!

BW:  I don't know that I've ever seen that.

GM:  They want to win this match so badly - they're beating each other
up from their knees!  This is crazy!

[The crowd roars as the two men continue to exchange right hands from
their knees, throwing as hard as their exhausted bodies will let him
throw.  A stunning forearm smash by Rogers causes Broussard to topple
over on the canvas, bringing the crowd to their feet as a fired-up
Rogers pushes off the mat, letting loose a scream of triumph as he
stands.]

GM:  Rogers is up and the fight is on!  

BW:  He should stop wasting his energy screaming like an idiot though.

GM:  Would you stop?  Give me a break!  Rogers leaning over, trying to
pull Broussard up off the mat.  The Natural drags him to a knee and-

[Suddenly, Broussard stands up...

...but he's not alone as he scoops Rogers up onto his shoulders in a
fireman's carry lift in the process.]

GM:  The Shark is up!

BW:  And he's got Rogers in trouble!

[Staggering out to the middle of the ring with Rogers draped over his
shoulders, the San Jose Shark pauses, sucking in as much wind to fuel
him as possible...

...and slowly starts to turn!]

GM:  What the-?!

BW:  IT'S AN AIRPLANE SPIN!

GM:  We've got under eight minutes to go and Broussard's got Rogers up
in an airplane spin!

[The crowd starts to cheer louder as Broussard's speed increases, going
round and round and round as quickly as his exhausted body will carry
him.]

GM:  Look at 'im go, Bucky!  Look at 'im go!

BW:  I'd count how many rotations he's done but I can't count that fast!

GM:  I wouldn't want you to have to take your shoes off either.

BW:  Ha ha, Gordo.

[The spin grows faster and faster...

...and then becomes erratic, not staying in the center of the ring as
Broussard slowly starts to get off-balance from the dizzying effects of
the airplane spin as well.]

GM:  Uh oh!  Uh oh!

[Broussard starts to drift towards the ropes as he approaches somewhere
around twenty rotations on the airplane spin.]

GM:  Look out, Marcus!  Don't get too close to the-



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"


[The crowd reacts in shock as Broussard's spinning form gets too close
to the ropes and the duo tumbles over the ropes, crashing down to the
barely-padded concrete floor in a heap.]

GM:  Oh my!

BW:  I didn't see that one coming.

GM:  Broussard is down!  Rogers is down!  Both men have tumbled over the
ropes to the floor and we've got to take our final commercial break of
this match!  Fans, we'll be right back for the conclusion of this
matchup!

[The camera holds on a motionless Broussard and Rogers out on the
barely-padded concrete floor

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then come back up on live action where both men are back on their
feet, trading hard right hands at ringside.]

GM:  Welcome back, fans, and we are on the verge of a double countout! 
The referee's count is up to eight... now to nine...

[The two men pauses in mid-punch and dive under the bottom rope into the
ring to break the count.]

GM:  Just in time!  Both men back inside the ring with just moments to
spare!

[Back to their knees, the kneeling slugfest continues to the roar of the
crowd.  Broussard grabs the ropes behind him, pulling up off the mat...

...and gets drilled with a right hand that knocks him through the ropes
and out on the apron!]

GM:  Goodness!  What a shot by Rogers!

[The blood-covered Natural reaches over the ropes, dragging Broussard
off the apron...

...where the San Jose Shark slingshots between the ropes, driving his
shoulder into the midsection of Rogers, a blow that doubles him up and
sends him staggering away.]

GM:  Ohh!  Broussard caught him in the gut - where he's going?

[The former National Champion moves quickly to the corner, moving step
by slow step up the ropes...

...where he's met by Adam Rogers!]

GM:  He took too long!  Rogers caught him up top!

[The slugfest continues on the top rope, the two warriors trading right
hands with their fans living and dying with every blow to the side of
the head.]

GM:  This is a precarious position for these men to be in... a very
precarious- ohh!  Another hard right hand by Broussard!  The San Jose
Shark is trying to knock Rogers back down inside the ring!

[A huuuuuge right hand from Rogers seems sure to knock Broussard
backwards to the floor but the Shark hooks a hand around the top rope,
keeping himself on his perch... just barely.]

GM:  Ohh!  That was close, Bucky!

BW:  This match almost ended with a fractured skull!  Broussard almost
flew off the ropes and down on the concrete floor!

GM:  Rogers is pounding him!  Broussard's trying to hang on but Rogers
is trying to knock him off the ropes!  We've got less than five minutes
to go and-

[Broussard lashes out with a forearm smash that causes Rogers to sail
off the ropes, crashing down on the mat on his knees.  The San Jose
Shark steadies himself as Rogers tries to rise again.]

GM:  Broussard's up top... he's poised... Rogers is-

[The crowd collectively gasps as Broussard leaps from the top rope in a
breathtaking dive...

...hooking the ducking Rogers on the way down, pulling him into a sunset
flip!]

GM:  SUNSET FLIP OFF THE TOP!!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!  THRE-



"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"



GM:  SHOULDER UP!  SHOULDER UP!  SHOULDER UP!

BW:  Unbelievable!

GM:  We are just over four minutes from the time limit for this match
and these two men, if it's even possible, have GOT to turn it up a notch
right now if they want to finish this thing!

BW:  Broussard landed very hard on that sunset flip, Gordo.  I think
he's in trouble.

[Proving Bucky right, Rogers staggers to his feet first.  The roar of
the crowd seems to inspire the Natural as he nods his head at the
cheering fans, reaching down to drag Broussard off the canvas by his
blood-soaked hair.]

GM:  Rogers pulls him up... but does he have anything left in the tank
to finish him off?

BW:  We're about to find out.

GM:  Waistlock by Rogers...

[Rogers charges Broussard towards the buckles...

...but at the last moment, the San Jose Shark brings his feet up,
kicking off and rolling back over Rogers, ending up with an inverted
facelock applied on the Natural sending the crowd into a frenzy!]

GM:  He's going for the Godsend!  I don't think he's even DONE that move
in years!

[In desperation, Rogers spins through the inverted facelock, driving
Broussard back into the buckles.  He throws a few shoulder tackles into
the ribcage of the San Jose Shark.  Grabbing the arm of the weary
Broussard, Rogers fires him into the corner with such velocity that
Rogers himself falls to his knees.]

GM:  OHHH!  BROUSSARD HITS THE CORNER CHESTFIRST!

[Rogers quickly gets back to his feet, hooking the rear waistlock once
more.]

GM:  Rogers hooks him... charges to the corner...

[The Natural slams Broussard's chest into the corner, pulling him back
into a rolling reverse cradle.]

GM:  White Lightning cradle!  ONE!!!  TWO!!!

[Rogers attempts to lean back with the bridge to secure the pin...

...but is unable to do so, slipping out of the cradle attempt and
allowing Broussard to escape the pin without a kickout.]

GM:  Ohh! 

BW:  Miscalculation by Rogers!  He thought he needed the bridge to
finish off Broussard but when he went for it, it cost him everything! 
He couldn't hold the cradle when he went for the bridge and it allowed
Broussard to slip out the back door!

GM:  There's less than three minutes remaining in this match!  Under
three minutes to go!

[Rogers drags Broussard off the mat again, reapplying the waistlock.]

GM:  He's going for it again!

BW:  Rogers is convinced this is what he needs to win this match.  It's
all or nothing with this rollup, I think, Gordo.  If he's going to win
this match, it's going to be with this rollup.

GM:  Rogers has it hooked in again...

[The Natural charges the corner again, smashing Broussard facefirst in
the corner, rolling back into the White Lightning rollup...

...and keeps on rolling, hoisting Broussard up into the air and PLANTING
him on the back of his head and neck with a German suplex!]

GM:  OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

BW:  That's it!  That's it right there!

[But before Rogers can cover, the exhausted Broussard rolls clear under
the ropes out to the ring apron.]

GM:  Broussard escapes!  Broussard rolls out to the apron, desperate to
avoid that pinfall attempt!  He knows that if Rogers covers him, this
match is over and the San Jose Shark is desperate to avoid that at all
costs!

[Wrecked with exhaustion, Rogers stumbles towards the ropes, reaching
through them to drag Marcus Broussard back inside the ring...

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

GM:  What the-?!

[The crowd rumbles with concern as Rogers signals for a piledriver.]

GM:  The Natural's calling for a piledriver!  He's gonna spike Broussard
with a piledriver and-

BW:  Nobody's ever done this in the AWA!

GM:  You don't think I know that?  This could end Broussard's career!

BW:  And this is why he went after the neck all match!  I couldn't
figure out why and now we all know.  He's been planning this from the
get-go!

GM:  Under two minutes to go!

[Rogers reaches down, wrapping his arms around the midsection of Marcus
Broussard...

...and seems to hesitate for a split-second, looking around at the
buzzing crowd.]

BW:  Do it!  DO IT, ROGERS!

GM:  Adam Rogers is having second thoughts!  He knows this move could
cripple his former friend and he looks like he's not so sure he wants to
do it!  

BW:  Damn it, Rogers - spike him!

GM:  Shut up, Bucky!

[The Natural seems to be even more confused as he looks around at the
roaring crowd...

...and even moreso when Broussard straightens up, backdropping Rogers
down to the canvas!]

GM:  HE'S OUT OF IT!  THE SHARK COUNTERS THE PILEDRIVER ATTEMPT BY
ROGERS!

BW:  Gaaaah!

GM:  Marcus drags Rogers up... whip to the buckles...

[And as the Natural staggers out of the corner, Broussard is waiting
with his arms outstretched...]

GM:  BELLY TO BEL- ohh!  Headbutt to the cut!

[Broussard stumbles back, allowing Rogers to duck down, hooking both
legs and yanking them out from under the former National Champion.]

GM:  NATURAL SELECTION!  HE'S GOING FOR THE LEGLO-

[But as Rogers attempts to step through the legs of San Jose Shark,
Broussard reaches up and grabs the foot of his opponent, blocking the
step-through needed to apply the move formerly known as Caleb Temple's
Last Rites.]

GM:  BROUSSARD IS BLOCKING IT!  WE'RE UNDER A MINUTE TO GO!

[Rogers struggles with the San Jose Shark, trying to get the foot
planted on the mat so he can turn the former National Champion over into
the scorpion deathlock...

...but in doing so, he loses his grip on the legs of Broussard, a
mistake that allows Broussard to kick up, rolling backwards while still
holding the foot of Rogers, knocking Rogers down to his stomach while
Broussard scissors the leg, grabbing the ankle of the foot he was
holding!]

GM:  OH MY GOD!  WHAT A COUNTER! 

BW:  SO CAL CLUTCH!  SO CAL CLUTCH!

GM:  HE'S GOT THE CLUTCH LOCKED ON IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RING!  THERE'S
NO WAY OUT OF THIS HOLD!  ROGERS IS TRAPPED IN THE ANKLELOCK!

BW:  Now it's a fight against time!  We've only got about fifteen
seconds to go!

GM:  Rogers is screaming in pain!  Flailing his arms on the mat!  He's
desperate to find a way out of this painful, agonizing submission hold
but I don't know if he can do it!

BW:  He just has to hang on, Gordo!  All he has to do is hang on!

GM:  I know it, you know it, the fans know it - and you can bet Adam
Rogers knows it!

[The lovely voice of Melissa Cannon fills the air.]

"TEN!"



"NINE!"




"EIGHT!"


[On the mat, Rogers claws at the canvas, screaming in pain.  The
blood-covered visage of the Natural fills the screen just before he
buries his head in his arms.]



"SEVEN!"





"SIX!"





"FIVE!"


[The shot cuts to Marcus Broussard, just as bloody, just as weary, but
with an intensity covering his face fueled by the opportunity to snare
this victory just in time.]


"FOUR!"





"THREE!"






"TWO!"







"ONE!"






"DING!  DING!  DING!"


[The crowd EXPLODES as Broussard IMMEDIATELY releases the hold, falling
flat on his back.  He looks up expectantly at the official, questioning
him with just a gaze...

...and getting the expected reply, arms waved back and forth with a
shake of the head.  Referee Mickey Meekly points to his wrist,
signalling that the time, has indeed, expired.]

MC:  Ladies and gentlemen... the 60 minute time limit for this match has
expired.  This match is declared... a DRAW!

[The crowd roars - not with disappointment but with the thrill of
thousands of fans who know they have witnessed something very, very
special inside the blood-covered squared circle.]

GM:  Fans... these fans here in University Park, Texas, are on their
feet paying tribute to these two men and... well, Bucky, I think I'm
going to join them.

[A "CLUNK!" is heard as Gordon Myers apparently rises to join the
standing ovation.]

BW:  You would, Gordo.  In my opinion, all that effort was a waste
because we still don't know which of these are the better man inside
that ring, daddy!

[Marcus Broussard crawls away from Rogers, climbing up to his feet with
the aid of the referee.  The San Jose Shark, covered in blood, nods his
head in thanks at the cheering crowd, holding up a weary arm in tribute
to the fans pouring their hearts and souls out for him.  

Across the ring, Adam Rogers has also managed to work his way to his
feet... or foot more accurately.  He holds the other foot precariously
off the mat, obviously feeling the effects of the SoCal Clutch.  He
clings to the top rope, not responding at all to the crowd.  His teeth
are clenched as he leans on the buckles, trying to stay on his feet.

With the crowd still roaring, the San Jose Shark slowly steps from the
corner, the referee helping him as he walks from corner to corner to
stand just a few feet away from his former friend, the Natural, Adam
Rogers...

...and extends his hand.]

BW:  Oh, I'm gonna puke.  60 minutes of that guy trying to bust you up
and you want to shake his hand?  No wonder you're a FORMER champion.

[Rogers looks down at the outstretched hand, using his arm to wipe some
of the blood away from his eyes.  He glares at the hand long and hard,
the crowd roaring, cheering him on to accept the handshake...

...and simply drops down to the mat, rolling under the ropes and out to
the floor where he is immediately met by AWA medicial team members,
helping Rogers exit the arena to a shower of disappointment from the
fans in the house.

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...

...and then fade back up to live action where Bucky Wilde is standing
all alone in the middle of the ring.  There's a makeshift "set" mainly
consisting of a cheap looking leopard pattern "bearskin" rug and a
couple of stools.]

BW:  Welcome to...

THE CALL OF THE WILLLLLLLLDE!

[Bucky pauses - waiting for cheers that just don't seem to come.]

BW:  Hrmmph.  Not exactly what I had in mind but it'll do for now. 
It'll do for now, you see... because when I drop the bombshell on you
guys that I plan on dropping in just a few moments, then you'll KNOW
that when Bucky Wilde comes out here for The Call Of The Wilde - it's
the real deal, daddy!

The Call Of The Wilde is going to be where the big news is made, the
biggest of announcements are heard, and the best moments in the entire
AWA happen!

[Bucky pauses again - but still doesn't get much of a reaction.]

BW:  The facts are these, people...

Tonight is the AWA's first birthday party!

[Finally - a big cheer!]

BW:  Thank you!  Thank you all!  I knew you'd come around.  Well,
yeah... so it's the AWA's first birthday party.  And we wanted to do it
up in big time, Bucky Wilde prime time fashion, daddy.  

So, we gave you some good matches, right?

[Another cheer - Bucky smiles.]

BW:  And now... the moment that EVERYONE is waiting for.  You can listen
to ol' Gordo over there that people tuned in to see Colt Patterson's
"big" comeback... or that match we just saw... 

[More cheers!  Bucky does not smile.]

BW:  But the fact is, you're all waiting for the news that I'm about to
deliver to the world.  

The AWA's first birthday DESERVES a birthday gift like no other.  So,
when my sources in the Talent Relations office told me about the big
signing they wanted to announce tonight... I told them that I was going
to do it.  I was going to bring this man to the AWA as only I can do it!

[Bucky pauses again - consulting some notes in his hands... or maybe
written ON his hands.  Who knows.]

BW:  People, this is huge... HUGE.  This man is one of the most talented
competitors ever to step into a wrestling ring.  This man is one of the
most dangerous men to ever step into a wrestling ring.  This man is one
of the most successful men to ever step into a wrestling ring.

And tonight, for the first time, he's going to step into an AWA
wrestling ring.

[Pause for dramatic effect.]

BW:  At this time... please welcome to the American Wrestling
Alliance... my good friend...

SHANE DESTINY!

[The crowd audibly gasps a bit at the name-drop as all eyes turn towards
the entrance curtain - and yes, after a tension-filled moment, Shane
Destiny walks through the entrance, looking vastly different from the
last time he was seen on television; his face is weathered, covered with
beard stubble, almost as if he hasn't slept in days. His hair is a
shaggy mess, and he looks like he has trimmed down significantly since
his last appearance. He is dressed in a black button-down shirt with a
pair of jeans and seems to carry a scowl on his face.] 

GM:  Shane Destiny?!  Are you kidding me?  Fans, I know everyone here
thought Bucky was... well, let's face it, I thought he was as full of it
as everyone else did.  But he was right!  This is huge!  Shane Destiny's
here in the AWA!  What a birthday gift!

[Destiny steps through the ropes into the ring, looking out over the
crowd that is cheering a man who is the biggest name they've seen added
to the roster of their favorite promotion in quite some time.  He
doesn't react to the cheers though, simply reaching over and accepting
Bucky's handshake before taking the offered microphone.]

SD:  Thanks, Bucky.

[Destiny pauses for a bit, looking over the still-cheering crowd.]

SD: Two and a half years is a long time to spend away... I thought I
could keep away, you know? I thought that, after the EMWC folded, maybe
it was best for me to go home, spend some time with my kids, enjoy life
away from the road and all of it's temptations. Settle down with my
loving wife, start a school, train the future.

[Destiny pauses to laugh to himself.]

SD: Never thought I'd end up this way... wrestling was my mistress,
something I always thought I could step away from and go back to my real
life at some point. But it seems that wasn't good enough for some,
Buck... as you know, I'm sure. I gave up the prime years of my
marriage... she didn't know how to be with me. She didn't know what it
was like to be around me... I changed on the road, and she didn't
understand what I had become or what I was doing. 

But my mistress understood. 

[Bucky looks a little confused - shocking, I know.]

SD:  And how pathetic am I, Buck... when the wife leaves, you go to your
mistress, thinking she would actually love you, but she's using you more
than you're using her.

[Another pause, with a sigh attached, as Destiny hangs his head and
looks at the floor.]

SD: We tried to pretend everything was okay, but when the wife and the
mistress caught up with each other, well... it's the end for Shane
Destiny, right? So I packed up everything I worked so hard to gain in
my life and I watched a moving truck come up to my house... well, it
_was_ my house... and take it all away. Turns out that when you get 
divorced and you spent most of the weeks leading up to it crawling
inside of a bottle, the judge doesn't exactly look too favorably on
you. So my wife, my kids, my business, my school... my life, Buck. I
lost it all. I didn't even know who I was, but suddenly, probably after
another empty bottle, I think I figured it all out.

[Destiny looks back up at the camera, eyes bloodshot, a tear forming in
his eyes.]

SD: I'm only built to hurt people. 

[Destiny pauses to let that one hang in the air for a moment.]

SD:  I tried to love, I tried to cherish, but I failed miserably at
that. Now I've got an injunction against me telling me I can't see my
kids because I'm a threat to them. Figures... my money's good enough
for them, but the man who actually _earned_ the money isn't. 

So okay, I'm a threat... if that's how society is going to see me, then
that's what I'm going to be. So I bought a new pair of boots, I got
some practice under my belt, and I'm ready to start my new life. What's
that old cliche, Buck... a man is most dangerous when he has nothing
left to lose?

[Destiny breaks into a smile.]

SD: If that's the case... then I'm the most dangerous man alive. I will
make the entire AWA feel the pain that I've felt for the last two and a
half years. I will make you feel my misery, my sadness, my torment, my
anguish... because making others suffer might finally bring me peace. 

[Destiny takes a long look at Bucky - who suddenly looks like he's a
little uneasy to be inside the same ring with the man he introduced to
the AWA - and then simply drops the mic on the mat before turning and
walking away.

Bucky Wilde stands in the ring alone, watching Destiny walk back up the
aisle as we fade to black...

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

"Have you ever dreamed of fame?"

[Cut a little closer.]

"Of glory?"

[A little closer.]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Two young students are grappling on the canvas.]

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

You want to wrestle!"

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

...and then back on the ring where Melissa Cannon is already standing
with four men staring each other down.]

MC:  The following contest is a tag team match scheduled for one fall
with TV Time Remaining!  Introducing first... in the corner to my
right... from Russia... they are Vladimir Velikov and the AWA National
Champion, Kolya Sudakov...

THE RUSSIANS!

[Boos pour down on the ring for one of the most hated duos in the entire
AWA.]

MC:  And their opponents...

[Already a cheer!]

MC:  In the corner to my left... fighting tonight to earn the right to
challenge the National Tag Team Champions, Kentucky's Pride... STEVIE
SCOTT... SWEET DADDY WILLIAMS...

SWEEEEEEET HEEEEEEEEEAT!

[Sweet Daddy Williams hops up on the midbuckle and shakes his groove
thang in a little back and forth shimmy to drive the fans into a frenzy.
 Stevie Scott grins at his partner's antics, giving him a high-five as
he hops back down to the mat.  The two men huddle up, trading some last
minute words as Vladimir Velikov slaps his nephew on the shoulder before
stepping to the ring apron.]

GM:  Kolya Sudakov is going to start for his team but who will be
starting for Sweet Heat?  

BW:  Either one of them is a dead man in there with the Russian War
Machine.

GM:  Perhaps, Bucky.  Perhaps.  

[Patting his partner on the chest, Sweet Daddy Williams steps up to the
plate as Stevie Scott steps out to the apron.]

GM:  And it's going to be Sweet Daddy Williams squaring off with Kolya
Sudakov to start this match off.  This should be very interesting. 
Personally, I might have gone with Stevie Scott if it was me, Bucky.

BW:  It's not much of a choice in my opinion but why?

GM:  He's got the history.  We've seen him pin Kolya Sudakov with that
Heatseeker before.

BW:  We have not!  That was not a legal pinfall in a sanctioned match! 
It was cheap shot in a sneak attack - plain and simple!

GM:  That's a matter of opinion, I suppose.

BW:  No it's not!

[The bell rings leaving Sweet Daddy Williams alone inside the ring with
Kolya Sudakov, the AWA National Champion.]

GM:  And here we go!

[Sweet Daddy Williams immediately begins circling the ring, hopping in a
little sidestep, stopping to shake his rear back and forth to the
squeals of the crowd...

...and to the annoyance of Kolya Sudakov who rushes Sweet Daddy
Williams, overwhelming him with a barrage of rights and lefts that
knocks the big man back into the ropes.]

GM:  Sudakov's all over him on the ropes!

[Grabbing Williams by the wrist, Sudakov fires him across the ring,
setting for the Russian Sickle...

...that the Sweet Daddy ducks, spinning on his heels to lash out with a
jab to the jaw of Sudakov.  A second and third jab follow, Williams
dancing back and forth as he peppers the National Champion.  After a
bit, the Sweet Daddy winds waaaaaaaay up...]

GM:  He's got the champion reeling early and...

[Williams pulls up...

...and jabs two fingers in the eyes of Sudakov, causing the Russian to
fall blinded to a knee.]

BW:  Where's your indignation now, Gordo?

GM:  The Sweet Daddy off the ropes...

[And drills the kneeling Sudakov with a clothesline, knocking the
Russian off his feet and down to the canvas.  Williams pops up on the
midbuckle, shaking back and forth as Sudakov rolls around on the canvas
rubbing his eyes.]

GM:  Sweet Heat has taken the early advantage on this one.  They're
looking very good in their quest to win their third point of contention
and earn their chance at the champs!

BW:  Stop saying that!  If I ever have to see these two idiots as tag
team champions, I may have to come out of retirement to finish them off
for good.

GM:  Williams drops down off the ropes... clothesli- ducked by Sudakov!

[And with the Sweet Daddy off balance, Sudakov snaps off a high kick to
the side of the head that knocks Williams down in a motionless heap.]

GM:  Ohhh!  What a kick by the National Champion!

[Still reeling from the eyegouge, Sudakov slaps the hand of his uncle,
Vladimir Velikov.  The burly Russian slips through the ropes into the
ring, stomping and kicking the downed Williams.  He drags the puffy fan
favorite off the mat, driving a boot into the gut...

...and then slams home a forearm smash to the back of the neck, knocking
Williams down to the canvas.]

GM:  Velikov on top of Sweet Daddy Williams, pounding away on the downed
fan favorite.  The referee is right there, trying to break it up.  

[Velikov barks at the official in Russian as he gets back to his feet,
dragging Williams off the mat...

...and promptly HURLING him through the ropes and out to the floor!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Velikov puts Sweet Daddy Williams out to the floor... and
Sudakov's going after him!

[The Russian War Machine pulls Williams off the floor...

...and SLAMS him skullfirst into the steel ringpost!  The crowd jeers
wildly as Sudakov pulls Williams up, shoving him under the ropes back
into the ring where Velikov quickly drops down into a cover.]

GM:  One!  Two!  And Stevie breaks up the pin!

BW:  That's about the only thing he's good for, Gordo.

GM:  We'll see about that.  Michael Meekly is forcing Stevie Scott out
of the ring now and there's a tag back into Sudakov.  The Russians are
keeping the fresh man inside the ring.

BW:  Which is absolutely key to tag team wrestling, Gordo.  You'd know
that if you were ever actually in the ring.

GM:  Sudakov's stomping the heck out of Sweet Daddy Williams... oh, come
on!

[The fans jeer as Sudakov taunts Stevie Scott, causing the Hotshot to
slip into the ring, ready to rumble...

...which allows Velikov to slip back inside the ring as the duo whips
Sweet Daddy Williams across the ring, tossing him up and over with a big
double backdrop!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Stevie Scott made a mistake right there - a big one that
might cost his team seriously.  

[With Velikov slipping back outside the ring, Kolya Sudakov leaps into
the air, dropping a big elbow across the chest of Sweet Daddy Williams. 
He quickly applies a lateral press as Michael Meekly drops down to make
the count.]

GM:  One!  Two!  Th- ohh!  Stevie makes the save again!

[But this time, Stevie Scott stays in the ring, shoving past the referee
and blasting Velikov with a dropkick that sends the big Russian sailing
off the apron to the floor below.  Scott spins around, making a lunge at
Sudakov...

...and gets grabbed around the waist by the referee who drags him away
from the action, shoving him back towards the corner.]

GM:  Oh, come on!  Let him get in there!

[Sudakov drags Sweet Daddy Williams back to his feet, scooping him up,
and slamming him down to the mat with a massive bodyslam!  Williams
rolls over to his stomach as Sudakov drops down to all fours, throwing
knees in the direction of Williams' head.]

GM:  Ohh!  Knee!  Knee!  Knee!  

[Stevie Scott breaks free of the referee's grip, connecting with a low
dropkick that sends Sudakov sailing away from Sweet Daddy Williams. 
Stevie rushes over, helping his partner up off the canvas...

...and then connecting with a running double clothesline that knocks
Sudakov down to the mat.]

GM:  We've got all four men in the ring... Velikov's back in there now,
swinging at anyone who moves!

[The crowd roars as Velikov and Sweet Daddy Williams tangle once again,
throwing right hands at one another.  Stevie Scott races over to help,
throwing punches at Velikov's massive skull until Meekly pulls him off
again.]

GM:  The ref gets Stevie out of there but... 

[With Vladimir Velikov and Sweet Daddy Williams brawling in the corner,
referee Michael Meekly races over to try and break it up.]

GM:  It's breaking down inside the ring!  Velikov and Sweet Daddy are
rockin' each other and- what in the world is Kolya doing?  What is he
doing?

[The crowd begins to buzz as a kneeling Kolya Sudakov pulls the National
Title belt into his hands, kneeling over it to hide from the approaching
Stevie Scott, looking to pull the Russian up to his feet...]

GM:  Stevie!  Don't do it, Stevie!  Look out!

[And as soon as Stevie Scott pulls the Russian War Machine off the
canvas, Sudakov unloads with the National Title belt, DRILLING the
Hotshot right between the eyes, causing him to collapse on the canvas in
a heap.]

GM:  NO!  Ahhh, no!

BW:  Cover him!  

[Sudakov tosses the belt aside, diving on top of the downed Stevie
Scott...

...but failing to notice the man outside the ring who dives under the
bottom rope, sliding in behind the Russian at the orders of his manager,
Stephen Marlowe.]

GM:  SHAW!  MARK SHAW'S IN THE RING!

BW:  REF!  TURN AROUND, REF!

[Shaw yanks Sudakov bodily off the mat, hooking in a side waistlock...

...and LAUNCHES Sudakov over his head, DUMPING him down on the head and
neck in a Backdrop Driver!]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!

[With Sudakov motionless on the canvas, Shaw grabs the downed Stevie
Scott, bodily pulling him up by the arm and throwing him across the
chest of the downed National Champion, sliding out of the ring just
before the referee spins around...

...and dives down to make the count.]

BW:  NO!  NO!

GM:  ONE!!  TWO!!  THREEEEEEEEE!!!


"DING!  DING!  DING!"


MC:  Your winners of the match... SWEEEEEEET HEEEEEEEEAT!

[Sweet Daddy Williams connects with a few more punches on Velikov,
knocking him down to the floor before rushing to pull his partner back
to his feet.  The duo embrace in the corner to the cheers of the crowd
as Vladimir Velikov sits on the floor in shock.]

GM:  The Russians have been defeated!  Sweet Heat has earned their third
point - and they're going to challenge Kentucky's Pride for the National
Tag Team Titles!

BW:  This is horrible.  This is the worst night of my life!

GM:  Stevie Scott and Sweet Daddy Williams are overjoyed!  They look
like they've already won the tag team titles, Bucky!

BW:  Ahhh!  Don't say that!

GM:  Mark Shaw was sending a message to the National Champion and in the
process, he just giftwrapped a third point for Sweet Heat.  Sudakov is
STILL down!

[With Stevie and the Sweet Daddy celebrating, Mark Shaw rolls back under
the ropes into the ring, standing over the downed Kolya Sudakov, looking
down with an icy stare at the man he's destined to challenge for the
National Title.]

GM:  Shaw and Sudakov - now... finally... I think that match HAS GOT to
happen, Bucky!

BW:  For ages, Mark Shaw has been the Number One contender.  For ages,
he's had that title shot dangled in front of him.  Now, Kolya Sudakov
WILL give him what he's wanted for so long.

[From outside the ring, a furious Vladimir Velikov rolls into the ring,
Russian chain draped over his shoulder.  He stomps across the ring,
getting right in the face of Mark Shaw.]

GM:  Uh oh.  This could end badly for Velikov.

BW:  Vlad... Vlad, that's not a good idea.

[Velikov jabs his finger into the chest of Shaw, screaming in Russian at
the barrel-chested powerhouse.]

GM:  This may not be the best plan that Vladimir Velikov has ever had,
Bucky.

[With Velikov shouting continuing to shout at Shaw, Stephen Marlowe
climbs up on the ring apron.  The Hellion is vacant-eyed, staring
blankly at Velikov's barrage of insults until Marlow shouts a single
word.]

GM:  What did he-

[Shaw OBLITERATES Velikov with a standing clothesline that lays Velikov
flat on the canvas to a mixed reaction from the crowd.  The Hellion
immediately goes to work on Velikov, stomping and kicking the larger
Russian man on the canvas.]

GM:  Shaw's all over Velikov and Marlowe loves it!  That sick,
manipulative maniac has got Shaw on a puppet string!  

[The big man yanks Velikov off the mat, throwing him back into the
buckles where he starts raining forearms down on Velikov from all sides,
knocking him down to a knee...

...when a rising Kolya Sudakov DRILLS Shaw in the back of the head with
the National Title belt!]

GM:  Ohhh!  Sudakov drills Shaw from behind!

[The blow knocks Shaw down to the mat, leaving him prone to an assault
from both of the Russians.  A barrage of kicks and stomps pour down all
over Shaw until Sudakov pulls him off the mat.  A double whip sends Shaw
across the ring...

...and a running double clothesline takes Shaw off his feet!]

GM:  Double clothesline by the Russians!

[Sudakov drops down on Shaw, driving punch after punch after punch down
on the Hellion.]

GM:  Sudakov is all over the Number One Contender!  He's all over-

[Suddenly, the crowd ERUPTS as Sweet Heat comes charging back down the
aisle.  Sweet Daddy Williams and Vladimir Velikov immediately pick back
up where they left off, trading punches in the corner as Stevie Scott
stands behind Sudakov, stomping his foot over and over and over. 
Slowly, the National Champion gets to his feet, turning to face the
source of the noise...]

GM:  HEATSEEK-

[But this time, Sudakov knows it's coming, sidestepping the superkick
attempt and CRUSHING Stevie Scott with a Russian Sickle that flips Scott
completely before dumping him in a heap on the canvas.]

GM:  OHHHHHHH!  DOWN GOES STEVIE SCOTT!

[And as Velikov delivers a low blow on Sweet Daddy Williams, the
Russians turn their focus to a doubleteam on Stevie Scott, stomping and
kicking the downed Hotshot.]

GM:  We need to get some help out here!

[The crowd roars as Jackson "Thunderbolt" Ross comes charging in from
the entry area, hopping up on the apron.  He leaps up onto the top rope,
springboarding off...

...and getting snatched out of the sky by Sudakov who pivots and DRIVES
Ross down to the canvas with a uranage slam!]

GM:  OHHHH!  

BW:  So much for the fourth-generation star, Gordo!

GM:  At least he tried!  Where is everyone else in that locker room?

[Without warning (and on cue), Juan Vasquez comes sprinting in from the
locker room area...

...and on cue, he gets tackled before he even reaches the ring by
Raphael Rhodes who starts throwing right hands at the downed Vasquez. 
Running past the duo is a group of AWA "enhancement talent" who dive
into the ring.  A sea of AWA security rushes onto the scene as well at
the sight of Vasquez and Rhodes squaring off once again.]

GM:  We've got bodies all over the place!  We've got people flooding the
ringside area - trying to get this situation under control!  

BW:  There's security in there - there's... I see The Cuban Assassin...
I see some of the luchadors... I see... good grief!  Sudakov's hitting
anything that moves!

[The Russians continue to beat down anyone who comes across their path,
throwing bodies from the ring at a rapid pace.]

GM:  The Russians are reigning over the AWA ring.  Can anyone stop them?
 Can anyone stop...?

[A single deep bass drum beats... BOOM.  And the AWA fans predictably
lose their collective minds.]

GM:  What the-?!  Is that-?!

BW:  It can't be!

[Then again, a little louder.  And again.  With the sound of rain in the
background, the drum beats resound throughout the arena, like the
approaching footsteps of some terrible monster.]

GM:  It can't be!  Fans... fans, can it really be him?!  

BW:  We haven't seen him in months!  He's been gone for ages!  Heck,
he's still suspended, isn't he?!

GM:  I... I don't know!

[Hollow-sounding drumbeats and reedy-toned woodwinds form an ominous
tune over the PA.  The fans rise to their feet, the action inside the
ring completely frozen as all eyes turn towards the entrance way.

To a sight unseen in the AWA in over six months.]

GM:  MY GOD!  IT'S HIM!

BW:  Oh...my...god.

GM:  TUMAFFI HAS RETURNED!

[The behemoth form of Tumaffi steps forth from the curtain to an
ENORMOUS SHOCKED REACTION!  The monstrous Samoan pays the fans little
mind as he marches down the aisle.  A mountain of muscle and fat, the
dark-toned Tumaffi has massive shoulders, thick limbs, and a big round
gut.  His hair is nearly as mountainous as his physique, as he sports a
wild black mane that would make a lion envious!  His long, cascading
hair and beard seem connected in a way that leaves little visible
determining point as to where one ends and the other begins.  So hairy
is the man that it is difficult to make out his brown-eyed, big-nosed
face.

A pair of security guards attempt to block his path into the ring.

Big mistake.]

GM:  OHHHHH!

[A pair of chops to the throats of the guards leave them gasping for
air, clutching their throats on the sideline as Tumaffi strides up the
ringsteps, climbing through the ropes, and for the first time in over
six months...

...steps into HIS ring.]

GM:  IT'S SHOWTIME!

[Tumaffi immediately bellows as loudly as his lungs will allow him, an
instant challenge to anyone in the vicinity.  A pair of security guards
rush him, trying to barrel him back to the corner but a crushing
headbutt to one sends him sprawling from the ring to the floor.  The
second is hooked around the throat, hoisted high into the air...

...and DRIVEN down to the canvas with a chokeslam!

The thunderous chokeslam seems to give the rest of the people in the
ring the idea to live to fight another day, bodies spilling from the
ring - some by their own choice, others at the hands of the massive
Tumaffi who is wading through the sea of humanity and sending people
sailing with chops, headbutts, and whatever other weapons he deems
needed.

Until finally, he comes eye to eye with Kolya Sudakov.]

GM:  Oh yeah!  This is what I want to see!

[The Russian War Machine shows no fear of the mighty Samoan, staring
dead into the eyes of the monstrous behemoth.  Sudakov is stoic as he
holds his ground, the title belt now slung over his shoulder as a symbol
of his power.

Tumaffi does not move to assault Sudakov, only to glare at the man
before him.  He releases another mighty bellow, a roar that would send
most men fleeing for their very lives.

But leaves Kolya Sudakov with an evil sneer on his face.]

GM:  Fans, I have no idea what is going to happen here!  But we've got
to go!  We're out of time!

BW:  What?!  No!

GM:  We'll keep the cameras rolling and we'll bring you what happens
next on the next AWA Saturday Night Wrestling!  For Jason Dane, Mark
Stegglet, and Bucky Wilde, I'm Gordon Myers and we'll see you next
time... at the matches!  So long, everybody!

[The camera holds on the massive staredown between Sudakov and
Tumaffi...

...and then fades to black.]